by Seth Hunter
But then the caravan arrived, and he stopped thinking about anything else for a while.
It was an extraordinary sight – not even Spiridion had seen the like – and for the next hour they watched as the heavily laden camels swayed and jostled into the compound with an attendant – a camel-puller as he was known – at the head of every file of eighteen beasts. The procession seemed endless. In a very short time the compound was filled and still they came. The confusion was indescribable.
It was impossible to imagine how they might all be stabled, much less watered and fed. And yet, presumably something of this nature had occurred at every resting point on their long journey.
Men and beasts alike were covered in a fine grey dust which rose to air like smoke shot through by rays of sunlight. A smell rose with it that was unlike anything Nathan had encountered anywhere in the world, even in the bowels of a ship of war. And the noise! The jingling of the bells they wore and the harsh, guttural cries of their attendants … The entire procession put Nathan in mind of a circus come to town, or the travelling fair, or even the madhouse. But there was also something grander, more dignified, something of the splendour of a royal progress, which he attributed to the imperial presence of the beasts themselves, their strangely elegant, swaying movement and the way they looked about them with an air of great consequence and contempt for every inferior species of the Creator’s imagining.
The sheik and his immediate following had taken themselves off to the mescid, or house of prayer, which was raised on stilt-like columns in the centre of the compound. Presumably to give thanks to Allah for delivering them safely to Aleppo.
It was normal, Mr Abbott said, for the camels to be rested for several weeks after such a journey, but it was quite possible that the sheik and his followers would not wish to tarry in the city, given the current state of hostilities, for they were likely to break out again, the consul said, at any time.
The dragoman was despatched to find out if this was so, and to offer whatever inducement might be necessary for them to contemplate an immediate return to Baghdad.
While he was gone they watched the unloading of the camels and Mr Abbott gave them a catalogue of the goods they had brought.
‘Coffee from Mocha, tobacco from Persia, muslins, shawls and suchlike from India, some jade from China – and silk, of course. And I expect there will be a quantity of opium, which is my own particular interest at the moment. It is much in demand in England, war having had the usual adverse effect upon supplies, and will fetch a very good price if only I can get it back there.’ He smiled kindly upon Nathan. ‘But that is now far more likely than it was, thanks to you fine fellows – and your Admiral Nelson.’
Nathan acknowledged his appreciation with a small bow. He said he was sure that Admiral Nelson would be pleased to have been of service.
He recalled that Spiridion had mentioned the trade in opium while they were on the Pigeon. ‘It is used for medical purposes, is it not?’ he enquired of the consul.
‘Well, you might say that,’ Mr Abbott acknowledged, though his smile had become cynical. ‘It is the chief ingredient of laudanum, which, I am told, is an excellent panacea for the troubled mind. Indeed, I believe half the gentlewomen in England would be lost without it.’
Now he came to think of it, this was a complaint Nathan had heard uttered by his mother on occasion, though with more sympathy to her sex.
‘But here is your man,’ the consul concluded, as the dragoman made his way along the balcony towards them. ‘Let us hope he brings the news you desire.’
Surprisingly, he had. The sheik was by no means eager to remain in Aleppo and was willing to conduct the foreigners to Baghdad for the sum of 1,000 Turkish piastres – which included a dozen camels to carry them and their baggage. But he would need three days to rest the camels, he said.
After some calculation, Nathan worked out that 1,000 piastres came to about 80 English pounds, a considerable sum for a journey of 450 miles.
‘One can travel poste from London to Edinburgh for five pounds,’ he assured the consul, ‘including tips.’
‘But then one would be considerably further from Baghdad than one is now,’ Mr Abbott pointed out reasonably.
‘I suppose we can trust this fellow?’ Nathan enquired, meaning the sheik.
‘With your life,’ Mr Abbott replied simply. ‘His good name is everything to him.’
It was only when the deal was done and a dozen camels had been allocated to their personal use that Nathan recalled that he had not the slightest idea of how to ride one.
Chapter Six
Ships of the Desert
‘There cannot be too much to it,’ Nathan assured Tully as they viewed the beasts from a safe distance. ‘Not when you can ride a horse. I am sure a few hours’ practice will be sufficient to get the hang of things.’
For another small outlay, a period of tuition had been arranged for them in the courtyard of the Joumrok Khan, and Nathan, Tully and Blunt had duly presented themselves for the first lesson. Spiridion remained adamant that neither he nor Mr Banjo were in need of lessons, having had as much experience of camels as they should ever desire in the deserts of Tripoli and Egypt.
‘Evil-looking brutes, ain’t they?’ remarked Blunt, as they approached a little closer.
‘That is because they have split lips to assist them in grazing,’ Nathan informed him, with a great air of knowledge, having spent the previous evening in discussion with Mr Abbott. ‘But as a point of interest, their name is derived from the Arabic word, gml, meaning beauty.’
‘Gummel?’
‘Slightly more guttural, I think. From the depths of the throat.’
‘And is there anything else you feel we should know about them?’ Tully enquired sardonically. ‘Before we embark upon the exercise.’
‘Only that they have the ability to kick with all four legs and in almost every direction, and you should not approach them head on, as it were, as they have a reputation for bringing up a kind of green bile and spitting in your face, which can be very unpleasant.’
‘Yes, I imagine it would,’ declared Tully faintly.
‘They are called the ships of the desert, you know,’ Nathan informed him.
They approached obliquely, from the starboard quarter. ‘They seem considerably larger than they did yesterday,’ Tully observed.
‘That is because yesterday we were looking down upon them,’ Nathan advised, ‘and now we are looking up. But if it were not for the hump, I do not think they would be very much larger than your average horse.’
‘And yet the hump is a significant feature of the animal’s physique,’ Tully pointed out. ‘And it is the hump that we will be riding upon, is it not?’
Nathan confirmed that this was indeed the case.
‘And, at a rough guess, I would say it is about seven or eight feet from the ground,’ Tully estimated, looking up.
‘This is true. But you must not display any nervousness,’ Nathan instructed him. ‘Camels are very intelligent creatures and can detect nervousness with great acuity. It makes them nervous, and, believe me, you do not want a nervous camel.’
‘Good God!’ Tully stopped in his tracks, clapping a hand to his nose as it was assailed by a most noxious smell. ‘Is that them?’
‘Well, it is certainly not me,’ Nathan assured him, frowning a little, for it was indeed a remarkable stench. ‘I suppose it is the sulphur,’ he proposed.
‘The sulphur?’
‘They are sometimes treated with a substance to protect them from infestation. Especially mites. A mixture of olive oil, turpentine and sulphur. It is a powerful deterrent, I am told.’
‘It would stun a bilge rat,’ Tully confirmed, ‘at forty paces.’
Nathan overcame his own repugnance and advanced towards the beast of his choice.
‘Good morning to you, sir, and how does one come aboard?’ he enquired of the gentleman who was holding the brute’s head. He being a Bedouin and lacking a
single word of the English tongue, gazed back with a blank expression, but Grammatico, who was in attendance, explained that the animal would be induced to sit so as to enable the rider to mount.
‘And so must the mountain come to Mohammed,’ Nathan remarked to his companions cheerfully as the beast obligingly lowered itself to the ground. It was not a very good joke but it was the best he would make for some considerable time. There were no stirrups and nothing that could reasonably be called a saddle, save a kind of wooden stool with a leather cushion that was placed athwart the camel’s hump. Nathan settled himself upon this convenience, took the reins in his right hand, and signalled to the groom that he was ready.
He was wholly unprepared for what happened next, the camel’s method of rising being first to ascend at the stern and then at the bow, a manoeuvre which pitched Nathan head first upon the brute’s neck, momentarily threw him back upon the hump, and finally deposited him heavily upon the ground.
‘I expect you made it nervous,’ Tully remarked when he had ascertained that Nathan was not crippled. ‘There seems to be more to it than you proposed.’
His own performance bore out this wisdom, though he did manage to cling to the brute’s neck for a few seconds longer than his captain.
‘You are supposed to be riding it,’ Nathan advised him, ‘not making love to it. There, now you have made it angry.’ The camel, having finally divested itself of its load, delivered a quantity of green bile in the direction of its tormentor.
Blunt, despite having had the advantage of observing these manoeuvres, fared no better, and complained that he had sprained his wrist.
‘Do not be a baby, Blunt,’ Nathan instructed him coldly. ‘How are you to travel in the Orient if you cannot ride a camel?’
Blunt had no answer to this, but possibly he had reviewed his ambition, for after another tumble he refused point-blank to mount the animal again on the grounds that his wrist was so badly swollen he could no longer grip the reins. Nathan sent him back to their quarters to have it attended to, while he and Tully continued with the lesson. After several tries they successfully mastered the art of remaining seated while the animal was standing. When it was moving, however, it was a different matter.
The animals moved in the manner of certain vessels Nathan had known whose construction inclined them, in anything but the calmest of seas, to roll at the same time as they pitched. But though he had accommodated himself to this motion on the deck of a ship, he was unable to do so whilst perched upon the hump of a camel. He obeyed the injunction of the dragoman to dig his heels in, but found this to be of little assistance. For the first time in his life he began to sympathise with those unfortunate creatures known as landsmen who, having been pressed into the King’s service, were exposed to the ridicule of their more accomplished fellows as they were thrown about the decks of a ship of war.
They persisted with fortitude but their continuing failure had an injurious effect upon the body and a depressing one upon the spirit. News of their venture seemed to have spread about the neighbourhood and before long a substantial crowd had gathered, leaning down from the balconies to shout advice and encouragement to the two foreigners while deriving a great deal of pleasure every time one of them fell off.
After one such upset, Nathan observed Spiridion looking down at him from the balcony, with Mr Banjo beside him. Even at this distance Nathan could see there were tears in his eyes and he suspected they were not of sympathy.
‘Your seat is all wrong,’ Spiridion called down. ‘Do not try to struggle against the camel’s natural motion. A good seat will enable you to stay upon the hump without rolling off to either side.’
Mr Banjo murmured some words in his ear.
‘Oh yes, and you must show confidence.’ He took a moment to compose himself as Mr Banjo turned his back, his shoulders shaking. ‘Camels admire confidence in the rider. You must not show – a lack of confidence.’ He too turned away.
Nathan waited for the camel to sit and then climbed back on again.
‘Hup, hup,’ he commanded with as much confidence as he could muster. But he fell off again within a few steps, and lay in a winded heap upon the ground.
The dragoman suggested that he might consider using a tartavan.
‘And what, pray, is a tartavan?’ Nathan enquired, when a part of his breath had returned to him. He had hopes that it might prove to be a more stable animal, equally suited to travel in the desert, but it was not. It was a form of covered litter which fitted upon the camel’s hump and was usually provided for women of substance and their maidservants. Or invalids. Or the very old.
It said much for Nathan’s state of mind that he did not reject this out of hand. ‘How would it play with the gallery?’ he enquired, glancing upward. The dragoman did not understand. ‘Would it be considered effeminate? A weakness, the mark of an effete foreigner?’
The dragoman thought this was not improbable. Nathan looked up at the brute that had been the source of his discomfort. ‘Well, what about the animal itself?’ he enquired. ‘Is there nothing smaller? Just while we are learning.’
‘I do not think there is a camel much smaller than the one you are attempting to ride,’ the dragoman replied bluntly. ‘Not one that would bear your weight. But you could try a horse.’
Nathan stared hard at him. ‘What do you mean, “a horse”?’
‘It is an animal very like a camel,’ replied the dragoman, ‘but without the hump.’
‘I know what a horse is, damn it,’ said Nathan. ‘We rode them from Scanderoon.’
‘Forgive me, effendi,’ said the dragoman, ‘I do not understand.’
‘I was not aware that horses were an option.’
‘An option?’
‘I did not know that horses were on offer.’
‘But of course. We do not have a great need for them in Aleppo. But there are many in the surrounding area. Very fine horses.’
‘And we are permitted to ride them?’
The dragoman’s bemusement increased. ‘But of course, if that is your wish.’
‘I mean in the desert,’ Nathan persisted, with considerable restraint. ‘I was under the impression that horses could not be used in the desert.’
‘Oh but it is only a little desert between here and Baghdad,’ the dragoman assured him. ‘You will need to carry water for them, but it can be arranged. For a price.’
‘Why did you not tell us we could ride horses?’ Nathan demanded of Spiridion when they were reunited.
‘You never asked me,’ replied Spiridion. ‘I thought you wanted to ride a camel. I thought you had set your heart on it.’
‘The horses are delivered,’ Grammatico announced grandly, when he joined them for dinner the following day, ‘and you are to leave at dawn.’
Nathan’s pleasure in receiving this news was diminished somewhat by the stiffness of his joints. He felt as if he had been beaten with staves and enveloped in a wax dressing. His smile, too, was waxen. Tully was no better. Blunt had his arm in a sling. But it was clearly unwise to allow for a period of convalescence. There had been a further outbreak of gunfire in the city, and though it was quiet now, Mr Abbott advised that the war between the two factions might resume at any moment.
His servants had purchased a considerable quantity of equipment and provisions for the journey including tents, bedding and camp furniture, even a generous supply of rum, beer and wine from merchants in the Christian quarter who, considered by the locals as already damned, were permitted to deal in alcohol. The sheik’s men would provide fodder for the camels and there was additional barley for the horses and a dozen skins of water – the horses, unlike the camels, would have to be watered twice a day and the distance between wells or watering holes was likely to be greater than the distance they could travel. ‘You should also take a cook and one other servant,’ Mr Abbott advised, ‘given Mr Blunt’s present incapacity.’
But this would require more camels – and more money.
‘P
ay,’ said Nathan, waving a weary hand, ‘pay.’
The consul had a final warning before they parted: ‘I employ my own spies in Aleppo,’ he told Nathan, ‘and they have reported that the French mean to stop you, or at least make the journey as difficult for you as they can.’
‘You are saying they mean to attack us?’
‘I do not know what they plan, exactly. And I do not think the French will be involved directly, for they lack the means. But there are many robbers on the route to Baghdad. They move in great bands, they are heavily armed, and they take what tribute they can from the camel trains. It is possible that French agents have offered to pay them for delaying you as much as they can, or even stopping you altogether. This is what my spies have reported. It may not be true – but you should carry arms at all times, and never stray far from your escort.’
Chapter Seven
The Assassins
Dawn over Aleppo was more a withdrawing of night than a coming of day: a creeping back of the darkness into the desert, leaving a sky the colour of a freshly opened oyster that lightened perceptibly as the sun rose, its golden image mirrored in the many domes and cupolas of the still-sleeping city, a flight of snow-white doves soaring about the minarets of the Great Mosque, and the cries of the muezzin ringing out over the rooftops: ‘Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar … As-salutu Kahrun Minan-nawm …’ ‘God is the greatest, God is the greatest … Prayer is better than sleep …’
There was no sleep in al-Joumrok Khan, nor much in the way of prayer, so far as Nathan could see. Just a moaning, groaning cacophony of complaint as the camels were loaded up for their long journey. From time to time one of them would move at exactly the wrong time – or exactly the right time, as far as the camel was concerned – and the load would slip, and the cameleer would unleash a torrent of abuse. The camel would respond in kind, from either or both ends of its anatomy: a belching, farting eruption of rage and derision, celebrated by the fiendish, braying approval of the donkeys in the surrounding stalls.
