Rapture of the desert

by Violet Winspear

  "I thought for a moment that you had been robbed." He made a significant movement with a lean, sun-dark hand. "Women such as yourself are a natural target for the bold, bad element swarming here in Port Said."

  "What do you mean — women like myself ?" Her eyes blazed in her face, from which the flush had abruptly fled leaving her cheeks pale with annoyance. It seemed to her that the arrogant superiority of this Sheik, as she supposed he was, was far more infuriating than the sidling up to her of a petty thief. The thief had got away with something valueless, but this man seemed to imply that she was a fool . . . or worse.

  "You are a tourist, are you not ?" he said. "On your first trip to the East, I presume. You should be more on your guard, mademoiselle. The next time an attempt might be made to steal your person."

  "Really! "

  "Yes, really." The eyes that glinted within the folds of the gold-roped headcloth seemed to be infinitely mocking, and yet at the same time diabolically in earnest. Then as Maud approached the counter, the Arab bowed and strolled off with a tall, haughty self-assurance, making no sound as he moved away, like an alert and graceful animal.

  "Don't tell me you've been flirting with one of the local Sheiks?" said Maud, half amused, and half serious. "It doesn't do —"

  "On the contrary! The darned man was being officious and sarcastic." Chrys gazed after him with fury in her eyes, noticing how the crowd fell back to give passage to his robed figure. "He seemed to imply that I should be on a lead and not allowed to run free. I expect he's one of those who has a harem filled with tame gazelles! "

  "Very likely," laughed Maud. "Now have you sent off your wire?"

  "No, but I won't be a moment." Chrys quickly scribbled a message of reassurance to her parents and handed the form to the clerk. Then she went with Maud to the train, where they settled themselves in a first-class carriage, and Chrys listened to the excited voices of the passengers and the porters, and remembered amidst the strangeness of it all the accident at a London railway station which had led her to this moment. Her face was reflective, and after several moments she became aware that Maud was gazing at her with a hint of curiosity.

  "Still thinking about your brush with the Sheik ?" she asked.

  Chrys shook her head. "He had the type of arrogance I hoped I'd seen for the last time. There was something in his manner — a sort of mocking superiority — which reminded me of someone else. I suppose men of the East, and those who assume their ways, have an affinity — but it's rather disturbing to suddenly see it again."

  "The men who inspire anger and fury, and a sort of fear, are deeply fascinating to some women." Maud opened a magazine with an air of casualness. "Sure you aren't fascinated?"

  "Quite sure," said Chrys, and suddenly she laughed. "For someone who threatened me with hell if I should lose my head over a man, you seem, Maud, determined to awake my interest in one of the brutes."

  "It isn't that," said Maud. "I merely find it hard to believe that someone as pretty as yourself should have her head so well screwed on. Any other girl would have been in a regular dither of excitement to be spoken to by a Sheik. He was obviously that from the look of him, and the manner. You do realize that some of these personages have a lineage as ancient as that of an English duke? They expect to be treated as if the sun shines out of their eyes."

  "Especially by a member of the female sex, eh ?" Chrys crossed her long slim legs and admired the blue

  and white styling of her court shoes. "Well, I don't suppose we shall be seeing that particular desert hawk again, so I'm not about to worry that I spoke up to him instead of swooning."

  "I saw him board this train, as a matter of fact." Maud flicked the pages of her magazine. "He entered a reserved compartment, with the curtains drawn, and for all we know he might be travelling to Beth Kezar. Destiny, or kismet as the Arabs call it, might throw you into his path again. If so, then you'd better give him a smile or two. He may be the local kaid, who has the power to give or withhold permission for horses and porters to be supplied for our trip to the ruins."

  "He may be no more than an overbearing Arab with an inflated sense of his own importance," said Chrys. "Ah, the train is starting! We're on our way! "

  "You sound like an eager kid on her way to a sandy beach instead of the vast and mysterious desert." Maud looked indulgent. "I'm glad you aren't the nervous sort, or haven't you yet realized that the desert is hot and lonely and unpredictable?"

  Chrys thought over Maud's words, and for the first time she seemed to realize that she was heading into a world of lonely vistas and hot bright noons filled with the silence of eternity. Her blue eyes dwelt on her employer and for the briefest of moments a little fear and uncertainty stirred in their depths. She had given no heed to her parents' suggestion that she work in West-cliff and live at home with them during her year of enforced retirement from her ballet career. She had rushed headlong into this job, as if she needed desperately to get away from England, and it was only now that she felt a sense of dislocation, the jolt of being miles from the safety and security of the seaside town where she had been born and gone to school, and knew every street.

  "Chrys, have I made you feel uncertain?" Maud asked.

  At once the hint of fear was veiled by Chrys's lashes.

  She shook her head. "The strangeness of it all just swept over me — you know, a feeling of being wafted as if on a magic carpet from the places so well known to the edge of the unknown. I read somewhere that the desert is a sphinx, which accepts some people and rejects others."

  "It is a place of moods," Maud agreed. "It can be capricious, and inclined like a jealous lover to expect total surrender to its mixed charms. Look out of the window, Chrys, and see the unveiling of some of those charms."

  Chrys looked and caught her breath in delight. The train swept past a huge oasis of towering palms, whose sleek trunks and pendant leaves were reflected in the mirror-like surface of a huge pool. On the edges of the oasis there was a native village, and the inhabitants could be seen going about their tasks in their dark blue robes, while camels stood tethered like sand-coloured idols among the trees.

  It was like a tapestry, vividly seen and then swiftly out of focus as the train sped on its way.

  It was the first glimpse Chrys had had of the pastoral East, almost a scene from the Old Testament itself, and her quick sense of adventure swiftly banished from her eyes, and her thoughts, that flash of alienation. She sat close to the window and drank in the various scenes of village life, to which Maud was so accustomed that she read a magazine article while Chrys absorbed with growing wonder the sand-gardens of the village dwellers, the children with dark-honey skins, graceful and thin as fawns as they darted among the houses of sun-tried mud, flat-roofed and slotted with narrow dark windows and doors.

  Cups of tea were brought to them about noon, and Maud unpacked the sandwiches and tomatoes which the chef of the cargo ship had supplied. "I don't care for the lunches served on trains," she said. "The chops are usually tough and everything is smothered in mint sauce."

  Chrys was perfectly happy to lunch here in their compartment, picnic fashion. The sandwiches, some of smoked salmon and others of thinly sliced beef, were delicious, and she knew in her secret thoughts that she didn't fancy seeing again that tall, fierce Arab with the black moustache like a whiplash across his upper lip. He had seemed capable of carrying out any threat to a woman, being what he was, an Arab to whom women were mere objects of pleasure, or displeasure.

  She ate a beef sandwich and felt certain that like the desert itself the attitudes of its men had not changed for centuries. It was not a country to engender, or invite change. It was ruled by the sands, which encroached upon each mile of cultivation like the greedy seas that gnawed the cliffs of northern lands. Already she had glimpsed one or two veiled women, and the strangeness of those covered faces still lingered in her mind to underline the purdah attitudes still deeply ingrained in the Eastern soul.

  After lunch it grew t
erribly warm in the compartment, and though Maud drowsed, Chrys found the heat almost suffocating and all at once she had to escape into the corridor to try and get a breath of air.

  She arose from her seat and carefully opened the door of the carriage. She stepped outside and immediately felt a welcoming breeze along the passageway. She had discarded her blazer and it was such a relief to feel the slight coolness against her neck and her bare arms.

  Lost in her relief, leaning with eyes half-closed as the train sped through the hot sunlight towards its destination, she was unaware of a figure at the far end of the corridor until the aroma of a cigarette began to steal to her on that whisper of a breeze. But for several moments more her relaxation was undisturbed, until suddenly her nostrils taughtened, her senses grew alert, and every nerve in her body came alive to the fact that the aroma of the smoke was strangely familiar ... and had no place to be so, here on this oriental train!

  Her eyes flashed open and she turned her head and saw instantly the tall figure in the flowing robes. He stood yards away from her, silent and still, and yet directly she noticed him he became as intrusive as a bee inside the glass of the windows.

  Even as a sense of animosity flickered through her, the familiarity of the cigarette smoke was explained. She must have caught a whiff of it on his robes, when she had stood near to him at the telegraph counter. She resented his presence, even though he seemed unaware of her. He made it seem almost compulsory that she return to the guardianship of Maud, to sit sedately in that stuffy carriage until the afternoon heat waned and gave the relief that she wanted right now.

  Well, she wouldn't retreat, unless he had the nerve to approach her.

  He didn't stir an inch in her direction, yet all the time Chrys remained in the corridor she was aware of him, and she hated the strength of his silent personality and the unsettling effect he had upon her. In the end she wanted to return to the calm company of Maud, and when she finally did so she felt ridiculously like a female in flight.

  She didn't tell Maud that she had seen the Arab again, but was glad when as the sunset flared over the sands the train arrived at Beni Kezar and they were kept too busy checking their baggage as it was loaded on to a trolley to notice if the Arab left the train at the same station as themselves.

  "That seems to be everything," said Maud. "Now let's get to the hotel for a cool bath, and a nice hot dinner."

  "Amen to that," said Chrys, and as they left the station into the dusk of the evening she glanced up at the sky and saw a shooting star falling through the velvety darkness. "Oh, look! How lovely, Maud! "

  "You might think so," said Maud drily. "The arabs believe that a shooting star is an arrow of Allah thrown to pierce an earthly devil."

  "It could be cupid at work," jested Chrys, and then she caught her breath as a moment before they entered their cab she saw a tall, unmistakable figure enter an adjacent cab and drive off into the night.

  Maud gave her an enquiring look as she caught her small gasp. "I hope the 'arrow' hasn't pierced you, Chrys."

  Chrys smiled, and once again she kept silent about seeing the Arab, but as their cab swept through the dark streets to the hotel she prayed fervently that they wouldn't see him there, lording it over everyone.

  It wasn't a large hotel and they were soon shown to their adjoining rooms, with a bathroom close by. "I'm dying for a bath, so it's age before beauty," said Maud. "I'm told that dinner is at eight, so we have plenty of time to dress for it. See you later! "

  Left entirely alone at last, Chrys unpacked what she would need for the night, and then went out on the balcony to take a look at Beni Kezar by the light of the stars. Plumbago plant sprawled all over the ironwork of the balcony, and the air held a tangy freshness which Chrys breathed in to the bottom of her lungs. That air came from the desert, she surmised, and she leaned forward and explored with her eyes the rooftops and minarets of this desert town. Beyond its walls lay the savage, untamed sands. Wild, relentless place of dreams, and demonic sunlight Scandalous and secretive as a woman, holding, so it was said, heaven and hell for those who dared to travel there.

  There were ruins about fifteen miles from Beni Kezar which Maud wanted to see again. She had last visited the place with her husband, and Chrys suspected that her employer wished to renew old memories far more than she wished to search for relics.

  Anyway, whatever her reason it would be interesting, and would surely add to Chrys's own experiences of life.

  She returned to her bedroom, to find Maud in the adjoining doorway, towelling her short hair. "The bath-

  room is all yours, Chrys. The hot water system hums like a rocket about to take off, but it actually works. Mmm I feel so refreshed after that stuffy train journey, so now you cut along and have your soak."

  Chrys was off at a run, and there in the ornately tiled bathroom she emptied about half a bottle of cologne into the water and sank her slim body into it with a sigh of sheer luxury. She splashed about for as long as she dared, and returned to her room feeling thoroughly refreshed herself. She was almost dressed for dinner and putting on her nylons when Maud entered, clad in beige lace and winding the small gold watch on her wrist. "It's nice to dress up," she said, "and we shan't be able to in the desert. Shirts and shorts will be the order of the day there — my, Chrys, you do have nice hair! Mine was almost that colour when I was a girl, but the years and many hot suns have taken out all the colour and left me quite grey. You are almost Nordic, Chrys. Any of that blood in your family?"

  "Not as far as I know. My sister Dove is fairer still." Chrys fixed her floss-combed hair into a tortoiseshell slide, and ran a powder-puff over her face.

  "When we get into the desert, Chrys, I'm going to suggest that you wear a hat. I have a floppy-brimmed one which will suit you. The Arabs rather like golden hair — it's such a contrast to the brunette hair of their own wives and girls."

  "Now don't you go telling me that I'm likely to be carried off," Chrys protested, half laughing, and half serious. "That darned Arab threatened me with the same fate! "

  "The one at the station?" Maud stared at Chrys, the smile wiped from her lips. "You realize that he's here at Beth Kezar?"

  "So you noticed as well?"

  "Could hardly avoid doing so. He's unusually tall, and those golden head-ropes mean he's an important man. Did he really make such a threat?"

  "Well, I felt a hand in my pocket — that little charm

  was stolen while I was at the telegraph counter, and he noticed and said I had better be careful or someone might steal me next time."

  "Very likely he was kidding you," said Maud, "but let's hope we don't run into him again. I don't suppose he's the kaid of Beth Kezar, or there would have been a contingent of bodyguards with him. He's probably a local landowner, with a big house somewhere on the edge of the town."

  "With high walls and a harem somewhere inside them." Chrys tilted her nose in scorn. "If he has ideas about adding me to his collection, then he's in for a shock. I was once told that I'd scratch like a sand cat if I was ever taken advantage of."

  "I believe you would, at that." Maud looked her companion over, and a hint of worry showed in her eyes. "You dress so simply and manage to look so eye-catching. I wonder if I did right to take you on as a companion. This place is half off the map, and some of its people are still rather primitive. Chrys, when we make camp in the desert, promise me that you'll never stray too far away. I don't know how I'd face your parents if anything happened to you."

  "Maud, I'm twenty-two and perfectly capable of taking care of myself." Suddenly it was Chrys who was offering Maud reassurance. "I'm sure I'm far too thin to attract the roving eye of an Arab. I thought they fed their women on honey and doughnuts in order to make them nice and plump. Look at me! I haven't an ounce of fat on me."

  "True," said Maud, breaking into a smile. "Let's go and remedy that right now. I'm ravenous! "

  They locked their doors and made their way down to the hotel dining room. There were
very few guests, and they were the only Europeans at the present time. A waiter conducted them to an alcove table, where in comparative privacy they ordered their meal from the man, who was clad in spotless white, except for a red cumerbund and turban. Maud ordered for both of

  them, juicy lamb cutlets, runner beans, and creamed potatoes. And as a starter, savouries wrapped in vine leaves, with a plate of rice and mushrooms. She vetoed wine, murmuring in an aside to Chrys that Arabs looked down on women who imbibed. Instead she asked for Arabian coffee, which was brought to them with their savouries.

  It was a rich, hot, satisfying meal, and Chrys was able to eat with appetite because that arrogant Sheik was nowhere in sight to watch her every action. No doubt he was enjoying kous-kous, surrounded by his adoring flock of kohl-eyed concubines!

  "You'll have a sweet to finish with ?" said Maud. "Please, but nothing too sweet after that very satisfying dinner. Fruit perhaps."

  "Fruit it shall be." Maud called the waiter and told him they should like some grapes, washed in ice-water. While they waited for the grapes to be brought to them, Chrys fingered the bowl of apricot-coloured roses which stood on the table. For some reason they made her think of high white walls and rambling cloisters, and sheets of greenery studded with these delicate and highly scented roses.

  She gave a start as another of the silent-footed waiters came to her side and with a small bow handed her a small box, waxed and sealed, but unmistakably with her name printed on the label.

  "What is it? What does he say, Maud?" She looked at the package as if it contained a small bomb.

  "He says a man brought it and requested that it be given to Mademoiselle Devrel. Take it, Chrys," Maud urged, "and stop looking as if it might explode in your face."

  "Whatever can it be?" Chrys took the box and murmured her thanks to the waiter. "No one here knows my name, apart from the hotel manager."

  "It looks to me suspiciously like a present," said Maud. "Do open it and find out, or I shall bust a stitch with curiosity."