Blue Horizon c-3

by Wilbur Smith

  A mass of shrieking Turks erupted from the head of the trenches. As they raced forward across the last few yards before the breaches, the guns of the defenders on the parapets blazed down upon them, and the archers loosed flights of arrows.

  The leading attackers were across the open ground before the gunners could reload. They left dead and wounded littered upon the shot-torn earth, but wave after wave ran forward to take the place of the fallen.

  They clambered over the rubble and the shattered stone blocks, and swarmed through the breaches. As soon as they were through they found themselves in a maze of narrow alleys and dead-end lanes. Dorian had ordered barricades built across every one. The Turks had to take each by storm, running into a hail of close-range musket fire as they charged. As soon as they scaled an obstruction, the defenders ran back to the next line of defence and the Turks were forced to attack again. It was gruelling and bloody work, but gradually Mansur and bin-Shibam's depleted forces

  were driven back into the main souk, and the Turks were able to outflank them, and reach the main city gate. They slaughtered the men who tried to defend the winches and forced the gates wide. Kadem and Koots, at the head of two thousand Turks, were waiting outside and the moment the gates swung open they rushed in.

  From the top of the minaret Dorian saw them pouring like floodwaters down the narrow streets. He was relieved that over the past months he had been able to spirit most of the women and children out of the city and into the desert, for they would have been lambs to these wolves. As soon as the gates were open, he ordered the hoisting of the previously prepared flag signal to the Sprite and the Revenge. Then he turned to his councillors and captains. "It is over," he told them. "I thank you for your courage and loyalty. Take your men and escape if you can. We will fight again another day." One at a time they came forward to embrace him.

  Bin-Shibam was covered with dust and black with smoke; his robe was stained with the dried blood of half a dozen flesh wounds. It mingled with the blood of the Turks he had slain. "We shall wait for your return," he said.

  "You know where you can find me. Send a messenger to me when all is in readiness. I shall return to you at once," Dorian told him, 'if God is willing. Praise God."

  "God is great," they replied.

  The horses were waiting in the lanes before the small north gate. When it was thrown open Mustapha Zindara, bin-Shibam and the rest of the council rode out at the head of their men. They fought their way through the attackers who raced forward to cut them off, then galloped away through the palm groves and irrigated fields. Dorian watched them go from the minaret. He heard footsteps on the marble stairs and turned with his sword in his hand. For a moment he hardly recognized his own son under the coating of grime and soot.

  "Come, Father," Mansur said, 'we must hurry."

  Together they ran down the stairs to where Istaph and ten men were waiting for them in the mosque.

  "This way." An imam stepped from the shadows and gesticulated. They hurried after him, and he led them through a labyrinth of passages until they reached a small iron gate. He unlocked it and Mansur kicked it open.

  "Stay with God's blessing," Dorian told the imam.

  "Go with God's blessing," he replied, 'and may He bring you swiftly back to Oman."

  They ran through the door and found themselves in a gloomy

  alleyway so narrow that the latticed balconies of the top floors of the deserted buildings almost met overhead.

  "This way, Majesty!" Istaph had been born in the city, and these alleys had been his childhood playground. They raced after him and burst out into the sunlight again. The open waters of the harbour lay before them, and the Sprite's longboat was waiting out in the bay to take them off. Mansur shouted and waved to Kumrah who stood at the helm. The oarsmen pulled together and the longboat shot in towards them.

  At that moment there was an angry din behind them. A mob of Turkish and Omani attackers poured out from the mouth of one of the alleys on to the wharf. They charged towards them, their front rank bristling with long pikes and bright-edged weapons. Dorian glanced over his shoulder and saw that the longboat was still a pistol shot away across the green waters. "Stand together!" he cried, and they formed a tight circle at the head of the landing steps, shoulder to shoulder, facing outwards.

  "Al-Salil!" shouted the Arab who led the attack. He was tall and lean, and he moved like a leopard. His long, lank hair whipped out behind him and his beard curled on to his chest.

  "Al-Salil!" he shouted again. "I have come for you." Dorian recognized that fierce, fanatical glare.

  "Kadem." Mansur recognized him at the same moment, and his voice rang with the force of his hatred.

  "I have come for you also, you bastard puppy of a dog and an incestuous bitch in heat!" Kadem shouted again.

  "You must take me first." Dorian stepped forward a pace, and Kadem hurled himself upon him. Their blades clashed as Dorian blocked the cut for his head, and then sent a riposte at Kadem's throat. Steel rang and scraped on steel. It was the first time they had matched blades, but Dorian knew at once that Kadem was a dangerous opponent. His right arm was quick and powerful, and in his left hand he held a curved dagger, poised to strike through any opening.

  "You murdered my wife!" Dorian snarled, as he thrust again.

  "I give thanks that I was able to do that duty. I should have killed you also," Kadem answered, 'for my father's sake."

  Mansur fought at Dorian's right hand and Istaph on the left, guarding his flanks but careful not to block or impede his sword arm. Step by step they gave ground, retreating to the head of the landing, and the attackers pressed them hard.

  Dorian heard the bows of the longboat bump against the stone wall below them, and Kumrah shouted, "Come, al-Salil!"

  The steps were greasy with green algae and Kadem, seeing Dorian about to escape his vengeance a second time, leaped in furiously. Dorian was driven back another pace on to the top step, and his right foot slipped on the greasy surface. He went down on one knee and was forced to save his balance by dropping his point for an instant. Kadem saw his chance. He launched himself, all his weight on his right foot, lunging for Dorian's heart.

  The moment his father had gone down, Mansur anticipated Kadem's response. He turned, poised and ready. Kadem swung his body forward and for an instant his left flank was open as he launched himself into the attack. Mansur hit him, going in under his raised arm. He put all his anger, hatred and grief for his mother behind the thrust. He expected to feel his point slide in deeply, that clinging reluctance of living flesh opening to the steel. Instead his sword arm jarred to the strike of steel on the bone of Kadem's ribs, and his wrist twisted slightly as the point was deflected. Nevertheless, the thrust ran along the outside of Kadem's ribcage, and up under his scapula. It touched no vital organ but the force of it spun Kadem sideways, throwing off-line the thrust he aimed at Dorian. Kadem reeled away, and Mansur pulled his blade free and struck again. But with a violent effort Kadem blocked the second blow, and Dorian leaped back to his feet.

  Father and son went at Kadem together, eager for the kill. Blood was pouring from the wound under Kadem's arm and cascading down his flank. The shock of the blow and the realization that he was in mortal danger from two skilled swordsmen blanched his face a dirty treacle colour.

  "Effendil' Kumrah shouted, from the longboat. "Come! We will be trapped. There are more Turks coming." The enemy was thronging out of the mouth of the alleyway, and rushing towards them.

  Realizing their predicament, Dorian hesitated and that was all Kadem needed to break off and leap out of play. Instantly two swarthy, armoured Turks jumped forward in his place and rushed at Dorian. When he struck at them his blade skidded off their chain-mail.

  "Enough!" Dorian grunted. "Get back to the boat!" Mansur feinted at the bearded face of one of the Turks, and when he ducked back Mansur stepped across to cover his father.

  "Run!" he snapped, and Dorian bounded down the steps. Istaph and the others
were already on board, and Mansur was left alone at the head ? of the landing. A line of pikes and scimitars pressed him back. He had a glimpse of Kadem ibn Abubaker glaring at him from the back row of the attackers; the wound had not dimmed his hatred.

  "Kill him!" he screamed. "Let not the pig-swine escape."

  "Mansur!" He heard his father call from the bows of the longboat. Yet he knew that if he tried to run down the steps one of the pike men would send a thrust into his exposed back. He turned and jumped, launching himself out over the stone edge of the wharf. He dropped ten feet and landed feet first on one of the thwarts. The heavy planking cracked under his weight, and he toppled forward. The longboat rocked violently and Mansur almost went over the side, but Dorian grabbed and steadied him.

  The oarsmen heaved together and the longboat shot away. Dorian looked back over the stern just as Kadem staggered to the edge of the wharf. He had dropped his sword and was clutching the wound under his arm. The blood flowed through his fingers. "You shall not escape my vengeance!" he shrieked after them. "You have my father's blood on your hands and your conscience. I have sworn your death in the sight of Allah. I will follow you to the gates of hell."

  "He does not understand the true meaning of hatred," Dorian whispered. "One day I hope to teach it to him."

  "I share your oath," said Mansur, 'but now we have to get our ships out of the bay and into the open sea, with Zayn's entire fleet to oppose us."

  Dorian shook himself, throwing off the debilitating throes of grief and hatred. He turned to look at the mouth of the bay. Four of the big war dhows were anchored in sight, and two more under sail.

  "No sighting of the ArcturusT he asked Mansur.

  "Not these past three days," Mansur replied, 'but we can be sure she is not far off, lurking just below the horizon."

  Dorian went up on to the deck of the Revenge, then called down to Mansur in the longboat. "We must try at all times to keep one another in sight, but there is sure to be fighting. Should we become separated, you know the rendezvous."

  Mansur waved at him. "Sawda island, north tip. I will wait for you there." He broke off at the sullen boom of a cannon, and looked back at the city walls above the harbour. Powder smoke bloomed on the parapet but was swiftly blown aside by the wind. Moments later a fountain of spray leaped from the surface of the sea close alongside the Sprite.

  The enemy have seized the batteries," Dorian shouted. "We must get under way at once."

  Another cannon shot bellowed out before Mansur reached the Sprite. Although this ball fell well short, Mansur knew that the gunners would soon have the range.

  Pull!" he shouted to the rowers. "Pull or you will be forced to swim!"

  The crew of the Sprite, urged on by the fall of shot around them, had

  the anchor cable singled up and the falls dangling over side from the davits, ready to retrieve the longboat. As Mansur bounded up on to the deck, he ordered the jib set to bring her round to face the entrance to the bay. As the Sprite turned on to the wind Kumrah broke out all sails to the royals.

  The evening offshore wind had set in and was blowing steadily from the west, h was on their best point of sailing and they flew down towards the mouth of the bay. As they came up with the Revenge, she backed her mainsail to allow the Sprite to take the lead. The entrance was treacherous with hidden shoals, but Kumrah knew these waters better even than Batula in the Revenge. He would lead them out.

  Mansur had not realized until then how swiftly the day had sped away. The sun was already low on the peaks of the mountains behind them, and the light was rich and golden. The batteries on the parapets of Muscat were still blazing away at them, and one lucky shot punched a neat hole in the mizzen topmast staysail, but they drew steadily out of range and could look ahead to the blockading ships across the entrance. Two of the war-dhows had hoisted their anchors, set their huge lateen sails and were moving out into the channel to meet them. Their passage through the water was sluggish compared to the two much smaller schooners, and they fell away noticeably even though they were not pointing high up into the stiff evening breeze. In contrast, the two schooners had set all sail and were tearing down the length of the bay.

  Mansur looked along his deck and saw that his gunners were all at their action stations, although they had not yet run out the guns, which were loaded with round-shot. The slow-match was smouldering in the sand tubs and the men were laughing and talking excitedly. The days of gunnery practice and their successful attack on the Turkish infantry had imbued them with confidence. They were chafed by the inactivity of the last few weeks while they had been forced to lie at anchor, but now that Mansur and al-Salil were back in command of the flotilla they were eager for a fight.

  Kumrah made a small adjustment to their course. Although Mansur trusted his judgement, he felt a twinge of unease. On this heading Kumrah would take them into the boiling white surf below the cliffs that guarded the entrance to the bay.

  The nearest war-dhow altered her course towards them as soon as Kumrah's turn became apparent. They began to converge swiftly. Mansur raised his glass and studied the dhow. It was crammed with men. They lined the windward rail and brandished their weapons. She had already run out her big guns.

  "She is armed with short-barrelled Ostras," Kumrah told Mansur.

  "I do not know them."

  "That does not surprise me. They must be older than your grandfather." Kumrah laughed. "And with a great deal less power."

  Then it seems we are in greater danger of striking the reef than receiving a ball from those ancient weapons," Mansur said pointedly. They were still charging straight in towards the cliffs.

  "Highness, you must have faith in Allah."

  "In Allah I have faith. I worry only about the captain of my ship."

  Kumrah smiled and held his course. The dhow fired her first ragged broadside from all fifteen of her starboard guns. The range was still too far by half. Mansur spotted the fall of only one shot, and that was short by half a musket. However, the faint cheering of the dhow's crew carried to them faintly.

  Still the huge dhow and the two small ships converged. Gradually as they bore down on the breaking white water the cheering from the dhow subsided and the pugnacious display with it.

  "You have terrified the enemy, as you have me," said Mansur. "Do you intend scuttling us on the reef, Kumrah?"

  "I fished these waters as a boy, as did my father and his father before me," Kumrah assured him. The reef was still dead ahead, and they were closing rapidly. The dhow fired another broadside, but it was clear that the gunners were distracted by the menace of the coral. Only a single large stone ball howled over the Sprite and severed a mizzen shroud. Quickly Kumrah sent two men to replace it.

  Then, without reducing sail, Kumrah steered into a narrow channel in the reef that Mansur had not noticed. It was barely wide enough to accept the beam of the schooner. As they tore through, Mansur stared with dread fascination over side and saw huge mushroom heads of coral skimming by less than a fathom below the churning surface. Any one of them would have ripped the Sprite's belly out of her.

  This was too much for the nerves of the dhow captain. Mansur could see him in the stern of his ship, screaming and gesticulating wildly. His crew deserted their posts at the guns and scrambled to take in the billowing lateen sail and bring their ship on to the other tack. With the sail down they had to run the boom back to bring its butt round the mast, then home again on the port side. This was a laborious business and while they were about it the dhow wallowed helplessly.

  Stand by to go about!" Kumrah gave the order and his men ran to the stays. He was staring ahead, shading his eyes with one hand, judging his moment finely. "Up helm!" he called to his helmsman, who spun the wheel until the spokes blurred. The Sprite pirouetted and shot through the dogleg turn in the channel. They raced out of the far end into the

  deeper water, and the helpless dhow wallowed directly ahead of them with her sail in disarray and her guns unmanned.
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