by Anne Herries
It was getting difficult to put one foot in front of the other now. Her feet hurt so much it was painful to walk…the sand was burning the bottom of her feet and her arms felt sore, as did her face. She would have terrible sunburn when she got back to the village.
She wondered whether she ought to try and use her compass, and then she realised that she had no longer got her shoulder bag. She must have dropped it somewhere.
She didn’t want to lose that bag! It had all her money in it. She was sure she had brought it out of the car with her…or had she? She couldn’t remember.
Her head was beginning to spin as she looked back over her shoulder. If she’d dropped her bag, she ought to go back for it…but what was that? Something was coming towards her out of the sun. She put up her hands to try and protect her eyes so that she could see more clearly. It was an animal…a camel…a man on a camel was riding towards her.
She waved to him, shouting in a voice so hoarse that she knew it came out as no more than a whisper. But the man had seen her. Yes, he was making his camel squat in the sand…he was getting down and coming towards her.
Chloe’s head was spinning. The man was dressed in the robes of a Bedouin…just like the extras had been wearing at the film location. She took a few steps towards him, then gave a sigh and crumpled into a heap just as he reached her.
She heard him say a few words in a language she could not understand and then he bent over her. Chloe stared up into a dark ugly face. He didn’t look a bit like Rudolph Valentino, and when he grinned at her she saw that his teeth were blackened and rotten, and he had a big gap in the front where several were missing. It gave him a villainous look and she was suddenly terrified.
She gave a little shriek as his hand reached out to her, and then fainted.
‘You will not find her now,’ Mohammed said. ‘The light is fading, Pasha. It is a pity she did not stay with the car…’
They had found the car easily, Pasha spotting it from the air. His heart had raced with excitement, believing they had found her, but after landing on the hard surface of the road to investigate further, discovered only the shoulder bag lying inside on the passenger seat where Chloe had thrown it the previous evening. He had known despair then, for the desert was a treacherous place for a young woman alone.
After a brief search of the immediate area, he had taken the plane back into the air, determined to find her. But although they retraced the road time after time, they saw no sign of her ever having been there. Pasha had been extending his search the whole time, flying in ever increasing circles and criss-crossing the same territory in the hope of seeing something that would give him a clue.
‘She cannot have just vanished into thin air,’ he said and frowned. ‘But you are right, Mohammed—we shall not find her once it is dark. We must return to the village and see if there is news of her. If not, I shall organise another search at first light.’
‘I do not think she could survive another night in the desert,’ his cousin told him. ‘She had no water…it was a very foolish thing this woman did, my cousin.’
‘Impulsive and foolhardy,’ Pasha agreed. ‘But she did not understand how cruel the desert can be. She imagined it would all be like the settlements around the village, and must have thought she would be able to buy whatever she needed for her journey.’
‘How can this be?’ Mohammed frowned. ‘Are these infidels such fools as to visit our deserts without guides?’
Pasha did not answer immediately. Sometimes he forgot the prejudices and hostility that others amongst his people felt towards the West. Prince Hassan and his friends were very pro-British, but many resented the influence of any Westerners in their lives.
‘She is merely a woman,’ he answered at last with a shrug. ‘Women need the strong hand of a man to protect them, Mohammed.’
‘It is true,’ his cousin agreed. ‘Do not trouble yourself further, Pasha. If it is written that the woman shall die here, you must accept it.’
Pasha made no reply. His religious beliefs were his own, and he would not argue them with his cousin. Besides, he was hoping that there would be some news when he returned to the village.
He had made arrangements for searches to be made on the ground, and he could only hope that the guides and trackers he had paid would have had more luck than he’d had in the air.
‘Water…’ Chloe moaned as her eyelids flickered. ‘Please…water…’
A woman bent over her, holding a little metal cup to her lips and allowing her a few sips. She drank greedily and begged for more, but the cup was withdrawn.
‘No more…’ the woman replied. Chloe had spoken in English, but the reply was in French. ‘Too much is not good…little by little…’
Chloe tried to thank her but her tongue was too swollen and the words would not come out as more than an indistinct mumble. She was conscious of pain everywhere. Her face, arms, neck and feet felt as if someone had poured scalding water over them, and she felt light-headed and sick.
‘Please…I’m ill,’ she whispered. ‘Get help…’
She had tried to speak in French, but she knew that her words were a jumbled-up nonsense. She couldn’t think properly. All she knew was that she felt dreadfully ill.
‘Help me…’ she whispered as the tears trickled down her cheeks. ‘Help me…’
She did not know to whom she was making her plea for help, but as she drifted away into unconsciousness again a face came to her mind. If only he would come to her. But why should he? He must think her a foolish girl and unworthy of his notice.
‘One of my people has found something.’ Mohammed brought Pasha the shoes and showed them to him. ‘She must have thrown them away because she could not walk in them.’
‘Then she did try to walk back to the village,’ Pasha said. ‘Tomorrow I shall go back into the desert…’ He broke off as there was a commotion outside the door, and then one of Mohammed’s guards came to tell him that a man wished to see him. ‘Let him come in.’
‘He is not of our tribe, my lord. He stinks of camel dung.’
‘Bring him to me if he has news,’ Pasha said. The insult was usual when a member of another tribe intruded into jealously guarded territory. Mohammed had set up his camp just beyond that of the film location, and his guards stood at the entrance to his tent, in which Pasha was a guest for the night. ‘I shall hear what he has to say.’
‘Enter, you son of a she-dog,’ the guard muttered at the man who waited outside. ‘Mind your manners with His Highness or I’ll kick your skinny—’
‘Come forward, friend,’ Pasha invited, cutting off the insults in mid-flow. ‘Tell me your news and you shall be paid.’
‘May the blessings of Allah be upon you, lord,’ the man replied and flung himself to his knees before Pasha. ‘I have heard of your greatness and the generosity you bestow on those who serve you.’
‘Yes, yes,’ Pasha said, controlling his impatience as best he could. ‘Have you news of her—the woman I seek?’
‘I found her half-dead, my lord—she is at my encampment being cared for by the women. Word had reached us that you searched for an English woman and I sent my men out to look for her, knowing that you would be generous to those who found the woman…’ His eyes narrowed craftily.
‘You shall be well paid for your services,’ Pasha said. ‘I have given my word—but tell me, is she very sick?’
‘Had I not come upon her she would undoubtedly have died. But I spared no effort to track and help the woman you desired found.’ The man’s eyes gleamed with greed as he tried to impress upon Pasha the value of what he had done. ‘But it was the will of Allah that I found her. May the blessings of Allah be upon your house, my lord…’
‘Yes, yes, thank you,’ Pasha replied. ‘And upon yours—where can I find Miss Randall? How far is your camp?’
‘It has taken me half a day’s journey to reach you, lord.’
‘Then if we set out now…’
‘You cannot go now,
’ Mohammed said. ‘If it is the will of Allah that she lives you will find her still alive tomorrow, Pasha. This man must rest and eat. The morning will be soon enough…’
Pasha felt the frustration eating at his guts, but he knew that Mohammed’s counsel was good. It would be better to let the man rest, and the camel needed food and water. He would also need camels himself, and servants to bring all the baggage he might require when he found Chloe. If he took the plane, there was no guarantee that he would be able to land safely or take off again.
This man’s women were tending Chloe, and they would know how to deal with her hurts, probably as well as the hospital staff he would have rushed her to if he could—perhaps better. He would take modern medicines with him, which might help if she needed treatment the Bedouin people could not provide.
‘As you say,’ he replied. ‘She is in the hands of Allah—it will be better to wait until the morning.’ He looked at the messenger. ‘You will be paid when I have seen the woman.’ He named a sum which seemed to almost overcome Chloe’s rescuer, who was obviously not a wealthy man.
‘May the blessings of Allah be upon your house.’ He salaamed and bowed, walking backwards out of the tent.
After the man had gone, and Mohammed had left to give instructions as to where the stranger should be housed for the night, Pasha paced the tent impatiently.
He was not content to leave the fate of Chloe Randall in the hands of Allah or anyone else—but he knew that he could do nothing more for the moment. Except pray. It was a long time since he had prayed. Since Lysette’s death he had not been sure that God existed at all except in the minds of those who believed.
‘Grant me this,’ he found himself making a bargain with his own gods—the gods of honesty, justice and duty by which he lived. ‘Grant me her life and I shall try to be a better man.’
Chloe woke again and it was night. She cried out and someone came to her, lifting her as she sipped at the water again. It hurt when they touched her, but then someone smeared something on her arms and it eased her a little.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered. ‘Thank you…please help me…’
She was drifting back into that nightmarish place of pain and thirst, the fever taking her into a world of strange dreams where she was not sure what was real and what was false.
The pain was always there in the background each time she woke, but gradually she became aware of a change. She thought that someone else came to her, bending over her and whispering words of comfort. She was given something that seemed to ease her pain, but it made her sink into an even deeper state of unconsciousness so that she was not even aware of being tended.
The terrible thirst had somehow gone, and her body no longer felt as sore as it had, but she could not seem to shake off this drowsiness…a state of being drugged… Somewhere at the back of Chloe’s mind was a fear that she had been drugged and imprisoned against her will, and she sat up, crying out in terror.
‘Lie still, you foolish girl,’ a gentle, reassuring voice told her and she instinctively obeyed. ‘No one is trying to harm you. You have been very ill, but I am here now. I shall take care of you and you will soon be well. There is nothing to fear while I am with you.’
Insensibly, the voice calmed her and she drifted into sleep once more.
It was light when she woke again, and looked about her as she struggled to remember where she was.
‘Water…may I have some water, please?’
For the first time the words came out clearly. Chloe was aware that her body no longer felt as sore and painful as it had, and her tongue seemed to have shrunk to its normal size again. She tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness swept over her and she fell back against a pile of soft cushions again.
The cushions smelled of something nice—a fresh perfume like roses. It was not the same as the smell she had noticed when she first came to herself, which had been unpleasant. But where was she? Looking round she saw that she seemed to be in a large tent… Suddenly, Chloe remembered. She had been in the desert when someone came riding towards her on a camel.
She remembered that she had been frightened by the look of him, and she thought she had fainted from terror—or perhaps she had simply passed out from heat exhaustion.
A man had entered the tent and was approaching her couch. He was dressed in flowing white robes and wore the headdress of the Bedouin people. Was it the man who had found her? Her nerves fluttered and she felt a moment of fear. What did he want of her? Would he accept money for helping her or…? Her heart raced, and then she saw his face and she stared at him in disbelieving wonder.
‘You came…’ she whispered and wondered if she was dreaming. ‘How—how did you know where to find me?’
‘My cousin had the word put out that I was looking for you. The man who found you was not of my cousin’s family, but he came to me and told me…and I came to you as soon as I could.’ He smiled at her in a way that set Chloe’s pulses racing wildly. His dark eyes were so intense, so full of fire that it set her tingling. ‘How do you feel now?’
‘Better,’ she said feeling foolishly shy as she saw his expression. He looked as if he were struggling with some deep emotion—almost as though he might devour her at any moment. ‘I was so thirsty, but I am better now, thank you. Someone has been looking after me…’ She stared at him, a flush in her cheeks. ‘Was…was it you?’
‘Some of the time. I brought medical aids with me that are not readily available here in the desert. You were in such pain, but the drugs eased you.’
‘I was so foolish,’ Chloe said. ‘I thought I could drive to the fort in a few hours…’ She blushed as she saw that the expression in his eyes had changed now, becoming slightly amused, indulgent and yet critical—almost as if she were a naughty child. ‘I had realised my folly and intended to return to the village and get someone to drive me back to Marrakesh.’
‘And what made you feel so desperate that you sought to escape that night?’ he asked, his eyes going cold suddenly. ‘What did that swine do to you?’
‘He—he made suggestions I didn’t care for, that’s all,’ she said and lowered her eyes, unable to meet his gaze. ‘He was going to make me the next Mary Pickford—but he wanted certain things in return and he grabbed me…’ She faltered, then looked at him. ‘I was foolish. I realise that all I needed to do was lock my door, but—’
‘You panicked and ran?’ Pasha nodded as if he understood. ‘Perhaps it was the first time a man had made those suggestions to you?’
‘He wasn’t very nice,’ Chloe said. ‘The things he said made me feel sick inside. I hit him and he was furious. I just wanted to get away from him, and I didn’t realise the fort wasn’t nearby.’
‘By air, perhaps,’ Pasha said. ‘Professor Hicks gave you a sketch from imagination, Chloe—that drawing in your bag is nothing like the kind of map you would need to find the place. Besides, you would have needed experienced guides, camels and a supply of water to last several days. You also needed the proper kind of clothes.’
‘Yes, I realise all that now,’ Chloe said. She fluttered her hands nervously on the covers, which were cool linen and smelled of a light, fresh perfume. ‘You must think I’m such a fool!’
‘You have been naïve,’ he replied. ‘But you are not the first European to underestimate the desert. You knew nothing of its dangers—or of how to protect yourself. I blame Professor Hicks for giving you the impression that it was less than a day’s journey from the village—and for leaving you alone with that man. He should be ashamed of what he did—and I shall tell him so when I see him.’
‘No—please…’ Chloe begged. ‘It wasn’t really his fault. I should have thought more carefully. I suppose I’ve always been a little impulsive.’ She put out her hand to touch his as he handed her a little cup of water. ‘I don’t know how I can ever thank you for what you have done for me.’
‘There is no need of thanks. I had my own reasons for distrusting Harwood, and it was fortunate
that I was able to raise the alarm. Otherwise…’ He shrugged. ‘But as my people say, it was the will of Allah that you live.’
‘The man who found me and the women who cared for me when I was first brought here…’
He smiled as she faltered, understanding what she was trying to say. ‘They have been paid and departed two days ago.’
‘Then this tent…’ She looked about her again, becoming aware that it was rather attractive, and furnished with rich carpets on the floor, chests of wood bound with brass, brass lamps, little wooden tables and another couch piled with colourful cushions. ‘This is yours?’
‘No—though it is similar to one that I sometimes use. This was borrowed from my cousin Mohammed Ibn Ali, who has many such in his possession. His men are guarding our camp, and his women have been tending you these past five days. Since you were too ill to be moved, we brought these comforts to you.’
‘Have I been ill that long?’ She stared at him, swallowing hard. Her throat felt tight and she found it a little difficult to breathe normally. ‘The professor will be wondering where I am!’
‘He has been told that you are being cared for, and that you will be returning to Marrakesh with me when you are well enough to travel.’
‘Oh.’ Chloe was not sure what to say. He had not suggested that she travel with him, merely informing her that it would be so. Her stomach clenched as she looked at him, and she licked her lips with the tip of her tongue, feeling oddly shy. ‘Thank you. I think I must have been a great deal of trouble to you?’
‘There is an ancient law that says when you save a life you are responsible for that person. I could do no less than see you safely back where you belong, Chloe.’
‘You…you are very kind…’
‘No.’ He frowned at her. ‘Never confuse what is done because it is right or necessary with kindness. I am not kind, Chloe. When you know me better you will discover that when I do something, I do it for a reason.’
‘Oh.’ She was at a loss to understand him. What was he saying? She did not think he wanted payment, and would not have dared to offer money. So what was his reason for having taken charge of her life?
