by Marie Laval
‘This is what I have been looking for all these years,’ he said, tracing the symbols carved on the stone. ‘And what the Tuareg keepers want.’
‘It’s a map, isn’t it? A map to the mines.’
His finger traced the top of the tablet and he recited, solemnly.
‘A gift from King Igmazen of Garama to the powerful queen of the West whose eyes shine like the green stones that have made our people’s fame and fortune. Her fruitful loins gave our Great King three daughters. May her name shine forever in the hearts of the people of the Veil.’
He looked up and smiled. ‘Well, that’s more or less exact. The old writing isn’t an easy script to read and is always open to interpretation. Below, here, are the instructions to find the mines.’
He pointed to a series of dots, circles, and lines. ‘I just finished translating it today.’
‘How did you know it would be here?’
‘When I found inscriptions and drawings in the mountains referring to the union of King Igmazen of the Garamantes and Tin Hinan, I knew I had to search for the queen’s tomb, but we were attacked as we left the Hoggar…’
He sighed deeply. ‘The Tuaregs rescued me. I asked them about the tomb and they agreed to show it to me. The keepers only allowed me in here because I promised to give them something which would make their people rich and powerful.’
‘The location to the mines.’
He nodded. ‘That’s right. They need money, a lot of money, to buy weapons to fight the French army. I also gave them my solemn promise I wouldn’t disturb anything and I would respect the remains of their queen.’
‘But if the tablet was here all along, why didn’t they take it and find the mines for themselves? You said yourself that Tifinagh, the Tuareg alphabet, is based on the ancient Garamantes writing. They could have translated it themselves.’
‘They might have, but you are forgetting something, Harriet. No Tuareg would ever break into this tomb. It is sacred. Look at these artefacts. The gold and silver, the emeralds and carnelian stones have remained buried and untouched for centuries, even though the land is so dry and barren people hardly have enough to survive.’
She knelt beside him. It was true. The tomb contained a real treasure. The Queen’s body was covered with a shrivelled and dried-up sheet of leather. Her diadem was of solid gold, as were nine bracelets on her left arm. On her right arm were eight silver bracelets and around her neck snaked a necklace made of gold stars.
He gestured to a pile of papers and sketchbooks on the ground.
‘I have started to draw every single object and artefact but there is so much...I have months of work ahead of me.’
She gasped. ‘You mean you’re not coming back to England with me?’
He didn’t answer, but combed his long, dirty grey hair with his fingers.
‘Of course you’re not. This is the discovery you have waited all your life for.’ She took a deep breath and tilted her chin up. ‘In that case, I will stay here and help you.’
Her father smiled and stroked the side of her face gently.
‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I would be much happier if that guide of yours took you back to Algiers and you waited for me there. How good is he?’
She swallowed hard. ‘Lucas is the best…But he’s in danger. There’s a man who swore to kill him, a French lieutenant. And there’s that gang of raiders I told you about, the ones who captured Archie.’
Her father let out a harsh laugh. ‘Captured? I don’t think so. He is one of them, Harriet. Always has been.’
She gasped. So Lucas had been right.
‘I don’t understand. Who are they, and how do you know them?’
Her father closed his eyes briefly.
‘Because I, too, was one of them, once.’
Chapter Twenty-Six
He stood up and rubbed his face harshly with his hands.
‘I’m not proud of it. I was a young man and got caught in…ah…a rather difficult situation.’
His voice became a raspy whisper, his breathing fast and wheezy. He closed his eyes. ‘I had no other choice than do what they wanted. It was the only way for me to keep working at the museum, doing the work I loved. I tried to get out so many times over the years but they wouldn’t let me.’
She stepped towards him. ‘Father, you are scaring me. Who are these people? What are they involved in?’
He opened his mouth to answer but suddenly sagged against the stone wall, one hand clutched to his chest, his face contorted in pain.
‘Father, what’s wrong?’
His face was grey. She rushed to him and slipped an arm around his waist to support him.
‘Here, let me help you out. You need some air.’
He grimaced again and bent forward.
‘They are called the Brotherhood of the Silver Wolf,’ he breathed. ‘I am sorry, Harriet, so sorry I put you in any danger. You’re a brave girl, you’ll fight them. You still have Barbarossa’s map, don’t you? The treasure—you must go and find it. But before, there is something else you have to do…there are papers and files about the Brotherhood. I wrote where they are at the—’
He gasped and leaned more heavily against her. Now wasn’t the time to tell him she had pledged the map to Lucas Saintclair.
‘Don’t talk,’ she said.
When they reached the entrance, she looked at the rope ladder and sighed in frustration. ‘I have to get help. You won’t be able to climb out.’ She brushed his damp hair away from his face and kissed his forehead. ‘I’m leaving you my water. Here, I’ll unscrew the top for you.’
She placed the water gourd next to him before climbing up the rope ladder. ‘I promise I’ll be quick,’ she said when she reached the top.
She ran to her horse and started riding back towards the camp, but the midday sun beat down on the plains, merciless. A heat haze distorted the parched, baked landscape. She twisted the scarf on her head and made sure her face was covered. However much she wanted to ride flat out to the camp and get help, she had to pace the horse or it would collapse in the stifling heat, leaving her stranded.
Her father was ill, alone and unable to defend himself against predators—or men.
She bit back a sob of despair. Assuming she made it back to the camp, would anyone there be able to help? The horse lost its footing and slipped on loose stones as it climbed a rocky outcrop. She jumped down and patted its neck. Its eyes were sunken, its breathing fast. Too fast. If the animal didn’t drink and cool down soon, it would die. She sheltered her eyes with her hand to peer into the distance but water holes and gueltas were more often than not well hidden and almost impossible to spot for the untrained eye. She pulled on the reins and uttered soothing, encouraging words for the horse to follow as she climbed up the slope in the searing heat.
Sweat trickled from her forehead, stinging her eyes. Her lips were so parched they cracked and she tasted blood inside her mouth. Her throat felt raw, her head throbbed. She stumbled on a rock, fell down on her knees and let go of the reins. Next to her the horse hung its head and panted hard. She pushed herself up, staggered a little further. At this rate she would never make it back to the Tuareg camp.
At first she thought the sound was her heart pounding or the blood roaring in her ears. Then she saw a cloud of dust in the distance and a rider going flat out towards the tomb. His horse was black. He wore a white and blue Tuareg tunic and headscarf. Lucas!
Hope surged inside her. It was him. She had to turn round, go back to the tomb. She pulled the horse back down the slope, but the animal was so exhausted it hardly moved. She pulled harder, patted its neck and stroked the side of its mouth. It still didn’t move. So she left it there and ran down the hill, her legs weak and her lungs burning. She slipped, scrambled back onto her feet and started the long walk back towards the tomb.
She was half way there when the sound of horses galloping behind her broke the burning silence of the plain. There was nowhere for her to hide, so s
he spun round and pulled her dagger out, waiting for them to approach.
She recognized Mortemer’s red and navy blue uniform straight away. There were half a dozen French soldiers with him. The other riders were in civilian clothes, and among them was Archie. She had to send them away from the tomb, away from her father and Lucas.
‘Eh bien, who do we have here?’ Mortemer said in French when he drew rein in front of her.
She pushed her veil down and tilted her chin. Her fingers gripped the dagger more tightly. Ignoring Mortemer, she turned to Archie and plastered a fake smile on her face. He mustn’t suspect that she knew he had betrayed her and her father.
‘Oh Archie, I’m so happy you’re safe!’ She started in a happy, excited voice. ‘I have been so worried about you. You were right about Saintclair all along. He stole the ransom. He abandoned me in a Tuareg camp and went back to In Salah yesterday with the gold. You must go after him straight away.’
Mortemer and Archie burst out laughing.
‘That was a convincing performance, Mademoiselle Montague,’ Mortemer said at last. ‘Unfortunately for you, we have been on Saintclair’s trail since last night and we happen to know where he is at this very moment.’ He pointed to the tomb. ‘Am I right?’
Archie rode closer, held out his hand. ‘Come with me, dear. Don’t do anything silly.’
She narrowed her eyes, all pretence gone.
‘Silly?’ She was so angry she could hit him. ‘How could you do this to my father, to his team members, to me? My father considered you like his son. Yet you betrayed him. You pretended you wanted to rescue him when you belonged to that gang all along. I hate you!’
She turned away and started walking towards the tomb but Mortemer manoeuvred his massive grey horse to block her way and she had to move back for fear of being trampled upon. Mortemer stared down at her, his eyes dark and lifeless.
‘I suggest you do as you’re told and get onto Drake’s horse now.’
He left her no choice. She had to run. She darted towards the tomb but only covered a few yards before Archie’s horse came up behind her. Archie grabbed the belt at her waist and lifted her up in the air. He shoved her across the saddle like a sack of grain before ripping her headscarf off. Then he took hold of her braid, pulled her head back and slapped her across the face.
The blow took her breath away. White stars danced in front of her eyes. She lifted a hand to her cheek and felt blood trickle down.
‘That was just to give you a taste of what’s to come if you resist me, my dear.’ He took hold of the reins and she saw a glint of silver on his finger.
He was wearing a ring, the jade ring with the snarling silver wolf at its centre, and it had cut the skin on her cheek. He spurred his horse to join the others. Mortemer’s men had already lined up at the base of Tin Hinan’s tomb. One of them held the reins of Lucas’ black horse. At least Lucas was inside with her father.
Mortemer pulled his pistol out. ‘Give yourself up, Saintclair,’ he shouted in French. ‘It’s over.’
There was no answer.
‘Damn the man, he’s hiding inside the tomb,’ the French lieutenant muttered between clenched teeth. ‘I’m going up there. I want to finish this, once and for all.’
‘Take Harriet with you,’ Archie suggested. ‘I seem to remember Saintclair was rather fond of her.’
He pushed her off the horse. She landed onto the rocky ground.
‘Was he?’ Mortemer jumped down from his horse, pulled his pistol out and held it to Harriet’s head.
‘Get up and do exactly as I say.’
‘You can go to hell,’ she riposted, wrapping her arms around her knees and curling into a ball.
He leaned forward. ‘You will go to hell a long time before I do, Mademoiselle Montague.’
He slid the cannon of his pistol along her cheek. ‘Yours is a simple choice. Life or death. What do you choose?’
The cruel glint in his eyes sent a shiver of repulsion down her spine. He would shoot her there and then without hesitation. Reluctantly, she got to her feet. He wrapped his arm around her chest, holding her like a shield as they went up the monticule, the barrel of his pistol digging into the side of her head. They finally reached the top. There was nobody there.
‘Saintclair!’ Mortemer shouted. ‘I have Harriet Montague here with me. I’ll shoot her if you’re not out here within the next twenty seconds.’
He armed the pistol, pressed it harder and kneed her in the small of the back. She bit her lip to refrain from crying out. Next, he kicked hard at the back of her leg and this time she couldn’t hold back a whimper of pain as she fell.
‘Release her,’ Lucas ordered from inside the tomb. ‘Release her and send her back down. Then I’ll come out and we’ll sort this out, man to man.’
Mortemer tensed behind her. ‘You’re in no position to negotiate.’
‘I don’t mind waiting in here for the Tuareg keepers to arrive and see what they make of you and your men,’ Lucas retorted calmly. ‘Somehow I don’t think they’ll be well disposed towards a handful of French soldiers.’
Mortemer sighed. ‘All right. I’ll let her go. For now.’
He pushed her away from him, muttered between his teeth. ‘Get down.’
‘I need to check if my father is all right first,’ she protested. ‘He collapsed and—’
Mortemer pointed the gun to her chest. ‘Get down.’
He turned away from the entrance of the tomb for only a split second, but it was enough for Lucas to run out. Darting one clear, piercing look towards Harriet as if to make sure she wasn’t hurt, he lunged at Mortemer.
The two men wrestled on the ground, kicking and punching each other as they rolled over in the dust. Both were armed. Mortemer still held his pistol. The blade of Lucas’ knife glinted in the sun. The fight didn’t last long. Lucas straddled Mortemer, hit him on the nose, and bashed his hand onto a rock until he dropped his weapon. Mortemer yelped with pain and stopped struggling. Lucas looked at Harriet. A smile appeared on his lips.
‘I knew you wouldn’t do as you were told and stay at the camp,’ he said. ‘You never do…’
She didn’t see Archie behind him until it was too late. The shot cracked, loud as thunder. Lucas let out a roar of pain, clutched at his chest and collapsed onto Mortemer.
Behind him, Archie smiled as he lowered his pistol.
Mortemer pushed Lucas off and stood up, a grin of triumph on his lean face.
‘Well done, Drake,’ he said. He felt the pulse at Lucas’ throat and declared. ‘Dead, at last. He won’t make a fool of me ever again.’
It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true! Harriet’s heart stopped. She stared at Lucas’ body, inert on the ground, at the blood stain spreading on his chest. Archie had shot him in the back and the bullet had gone right through his body.
She reached out to touch him but Archie grabbed her arm to hold her back. Mortemer kicked Lucas’ body into the tomb. It fell with a thud. The lieutenant leaned over the edge, looked inside and shook his head.
‘The old man’s dead too.’
‘Let me go to him. To them!’ she wrestled against Archie.
‘You can’t do anything for either of them.’
‘Leave me alone. I don’t want to see you or be near you. Ever.’
‘Too bad you feel that way, dear. We are going to see quite a lot of each other…when we’re married.’
He held her tighter. ‘Now you’re going to calm down or I’ll be forced to hurt you again.’
‘I don’t care what you do. My father is in there, Lucas is in there.’
Desperation made her stronger. She almost managed to slip out of Archie’s grip, but he held her wrists and twisted her arms in her back.
‘They’re dead.’ He looked towards the tomb. ‘I’m going down there now to see what your father found. The old man will make my fortune.’
The emeralds, the tablet with the location of the mines, the dozens of precious necklaces and
bracelets and the fragile remains of Tin Hinan crowned with gold and delicate ostrich feathers. Archie would wreck it all in his greed. How could she have been so blind, so naïve when it came to him, and misjudged him so?
‘Lieutenant, you need to take a look at this,’ one of Mortemer’s men called from the bottom of the hill. ‘We have company and I don’t think they’re in a friendly mood.’
Tuaregs warriors lined the horizon. Veiled in indigo blue and riding their tall, white mehari camels in the hazy heat, they looked more like spectres than men of flesh and blood. Were they the keepers of Tin Hinan’s tomb coming to fight against the French trespassers?
‘There’s no time to explore the tomb, Drake. We must leave at once,’ Mortemer said. ‘There aren’t enough of us to fight them.’
‘What about Saintclair’s and Montague’s bodies?’ Archie asked.
Mortemer shook his head and started running down the tomb.
‘Let them rot in there. Come on.’
Archie pulled her along, but she dug her heels in the ground.
‘Leave me here. Please leave me,’ she pleaded. ‘What do you care if I stay here?’
She fought him all the way down the tomb, and when he tried to lift her onto his horse, she bit him.
‘Now you really asked for it,’ he yelled after she sank her teeth into his forearm. He slapped her hard on the side of the head and a black curtain descended on the world all around.
Her skull throbbed. Her throat was parched and raw. She licked her cracked lips and opened her eyes onto darkness. All she could see were a few shapes—furniture probably—and a weak ray of light under a door. Men talked outside with hushed voices. Slowly, because every move hurt, she pressed down on the rough, prickly mat under her and tried to sit up. As dizziness engulfed her, she took short, shallow breaths and lifted a hand to her cheek. It was sore and swollen where Archie had hit her. The blood was dry but the cut still stung.
Who were the men talking in English outside? She squeezed her eyes shut and curled her firsts into tight balls. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore. Lucas and her father were dead. Mortemer and Archie had won. Her breath caught in her throat. Long, deep sobs raked her body as grief took over. She wanted to howl and scream. She wanted to die.
