Wilbur Smith - C11 Blue Horizon

by C11 Blue Horizon(Lit)

  As Tom stooped to drag the Arab off his brother's inert body, Mansur dashed into the hut. "For the love of God, what's amiss?"

  "This swine set upon Dorry."

  Mansur helped Tom to lift Dorian into a sitting position. "Father, are you hurt?" Then they both saw the terrible knife wound in his bare chest. They stared at it in horror.

  "Yassie!" Dorian wheezed. "Look to her."

  Tom and Mansur turned towards the small figure curled on the mattress. Neither of them had noticed her until then.

  "Yassie is all right, Dorry. She's sleeping," Tom said.

  "No, Tom, she is mortal hurt." Dorian tried to shrug off their restraining hands. "Help me. I must attend to her."

  "I will see to Mother." Mansur jumped up and ran to the mattress. "Mother!" he cried, and tried to lift her. Then he reeled back, staring at his hands, which were shining with Yasmini's blood.

  Dorian crawled across the floor, dragged himself on to the mattress and lifted Yasmini in his arms. Her head lolled lifelessly. "Yassie, please don't leave me." He wept tears of utter desolation. "Don't go, my darling."

  His entreaties were in vain for Yasmini's elfin spirit was already well sped along the fatal way.

  Sarah had been awakened by the uproar. She came swiftly to join Tom- A quick examination showed her that Yasmini's heartbeat had stilled, and she was past any help. She stifled her grief, and turned to Dorian for he was still alive, if only just.

  At Tom's curt order, Batula and Kumrah dragged Kadem out of the hut. Using rawhide thongs, they tied his elbows and wrists behind his back. Then they pulled his ankles to his wrists and bound them together. His spine arched painfully as they riveted a steel slave collar round his neck and chained him to a tree in the centre of the encampment. As soon as the dreadful tidings of the assassination flashed through the camp, the women gathered around Kadem to curse and spit at him in anger and revulsion: they had all loved Yasmini.

  "Keep him secure. Do not let them kill him, not yet, not until I order it," Tom told Batula grimly. "You sponsored this murderous swine. The duty is with you, on your own life."

  He went back into the hut to give what help he could. This was not much, for Sarah had taken charge. She was highly skilled in the medical arts. She had spent much of her life tending broken bodies and dying men. She only needed his strength to pull the compression bandages tightly enough to stem the bleeding. For the remainder of the time Tom hovered in the background, cursing his own stupidity for not anticipating the danger and taking precautions to forestall it.

  "I am not an innocent child. I should have known." His lamentations hampered rather than helped, and Sarah ordered him out of the hut.

  When she had dressed Dorian's wound and he was lying more comfortably Sarah relented and allowed Tom to return. She told him that although his brother was gravely injured, the blade had missed his heart as far as she could divine. She thought it had pierced the left lung, for there was bloody froth on his lips.

  I have seen men less robust than Dorry recover from worse wounds. Now it is up to God and time." That was the best reassurance she had for Tom. She gave Dorian a double spoonful of laudanum, and, once the drug had taken effect, left him with Tom and Mansur to tend him. Then she went to start the heartbreaking process of laying out Yasmini's body for burial.

  The Malay servant girls, also Muslim, helped her. They carried i as mini to Sarah's own hut at the far end of the encampment, laid her on the low table, and placed a screen round her. They took away the bloodied robe and burned it to ash on the watch fire They closed the

  lids of those magnificent dark eyes, from which the luminosity had faded. They bathed Yasmini's childlike body and anointed her with perfumed oils. They bandaged the single dreadful wound that had stabbed through to her heart. They combed and brushed her hair, and the silver blaze shone as brightly as ever. They dressed her in a clean white robe and laid her on the funeral bier. She looked like a child asleep.

  Mansur and Sarah, who after Dorian had loved her best, chose a burial site in the forest. With the crew of the Gift, Mansur stayed to help dig the grave, for the law of Islam decreed that Yasmini should be buried before sunset on the day of her death.

  When they lifted Yasmini's bier and carried her from the hut, the lamentations of the women roused Dorian from the sleep of the poppy and he called weakly for Tom, who came at the run. "You must bring Yassie to me," Dorian whispered.

  "No, brother, you must not move. Any movement could do you terrible ill."

  "If you will not bring her, then I will go to her." Dorian tried to sit up, but Tom held him down gently, and shouted for Mansur to bring the funeral bier to Dorian's bedside.

  At his insistence, Tom and Mansur supported Dorian so he could kiss his wife's lips for the last time. Then Dorian worked free from his own finger the gold ring over which he had spoken his wedding vows. It came off with difficulty for he had never before removed it. Mansur guided his father's hand as he placed it on Yasmini's slim tapered finger. It was far too large for her, but Dorian folded her fingers around it so that it would not slip off.

  "Go in peace, my love. And may Allah take you to His bosom."

  As Tom had warned, the effort and sorrow exhausted Dorian and he sank back on to the mattress. Bright new blood soaked into the bandages about his chest.

  They carried Yassie out to the grave, and lowered her into it gently. Sarah placed a silk shawl over her face, and stood to one side. Tom and Mansur would let no one else undertake the harrowing task of covering her with earth. Sarah watched until they had finished. Then she took Tom's hand on one side and Mansur's on the other and led them back to the camp.

  Tom and Mansur went directly to the tree where Kadem was chained. Tom was scowling darkly as he stood over the captive, arms akimbo. There was a large swelling on the back of Kadem's head from the blow with the pistol barrel. His scalp was split and the blood was already congealing into a black scab over the laceration. However, Kadem had recovered consciousness and he was once more alert. He stared up at Tom with a steely, fanatical gaze.

  Batula came and prostrated himself before Tom. "Lord Klebe, I deserve all your wrath. Your accusation is just. It was I who sponsored this creature and brought him into your camp."

  "Yes, Batula. The blame is indeed yours. It will take you the rest of your life to redeem yourself. In the end it may even cost you your own life."

  "As my lord says. I am ready to repay the debt I owe," Batula said humbly. "Shall I kill this eater of pig flesh now?"

  "No, Batula. First he must tell us who he truly is and who was the master who sent him to carry out this vile deed. It may be difficult to make him tell us. I see by his eyes that this man lives not on an earthly plane, as other men."

  "He is ruled by demons," Batula agreed.

  "Make him speak, but make certain he does not die before he has done so," Tom reiterated.

  "As you say, lord."

  Take him to some place where his cries will not affright the women."

  "I will go with Batula," said Mansur.

  "No, lad. It will be grisly work. You will not want to watch it."

  "The Princess Yasmini was my mother," Mansur said. "Not only will I watch but I shall delight in every scream he utters, and glory in every drop of his blood that flows."

  Tom stared at him in astonishment. This was not the winsome child he had known from birth. This was a hard man grown to full maturity in a single hour. "Go with Batula and Kumrah then," he agreed at last, 'and note well the replies of Kadem al-Juri."

  They took Kadem in the longboat to the head-waters of the stream over a mile from the camp and found another tree to which to chain him. They tied a leather strap round his forehead, then back around the hole of the tree, twisting it tightly so that it cut into his flesh and he could not move his head. Mansur asked him his real name, and Kadem sPat at him. Mansur looked at Batula and Kumrah.

  "The work we must do now is just. In God's Name, let us begin," said Mansur.
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  "Bismallahr said Batula.

  While Mansur guarded the prisoner, Batula and Kumrah went into the forest. They knew where to search, and within the hour they had found a nest of the fierce soldier ants. These insects were bright red in colour, and not much bigger than a rice grain. The glistening head was armed with a pair of poisonous pincers. Careful not to injure them and even more careful to avoid their stings, Batula picked the ants out of the nest with a pair of bamboo tweezers.

  When they returned Kumrah cut a hollow reed from the stream verge, and carefully worked one end of the tube as far as it would go into the opening of Kadem's ear.

  "Regard this tiny insect." In the jaws of the tweezers Batula held up an ant. "The venom of his sting will make a lion roll on the ground roaring with agony. Tell me, you who call yourself Kadem, who are you and who sent you to commit this deed?"

  Kadem looked at the wriggling insect. A clear drop of venom oozed out between the serrated jaws of its mandibles. It had a sharp, chemical odour that would drive any other ant that smelt it into an aggressive frenzy.

  "I am a true follower of the Prophet," Kadem replied, 'and I was sent by God to carry out His divine purpose."

  Mansur nodded to Batula. "Let the ant whisper the question more clearly in the ear of this true follower of the Prophet."

  Kadem's eyes swivelled towards Mansur and he tried to spit again, but his mouth had dried. Batula placed the ant in the opening of the reed tube in his ear and closed the end with a plug of whittled soft wood.

  "You will hear the ant as it comes down the tube," Batula told Kadem. "Its footsteps will sound like the hoofs of a horse. Then you will feel it walking in your eardrum. It will stroke the membrane of your inner ear with the sharp tips of its feelers. Then it will sting you."

  They watched Kadem's face. His lips twitched, then his eyes rolled back in their sockets until the whites showed and his whole face worked furiously.

  "Allah!" he whispered. "Arm me against the blasphemers!"

  The sweat burst out from the pores of his skin like the first drops of monsoon rain, and he tried to shake his head as the footfalls of the ant in his eardrum were magnified a thousand times. But the thong held his head in a vice-like grip.

  "Answer, Kadem," Batula urged him. "I can still wash out the ant

  before it stings. But you must answer swiftly." Kadem closed his eyes to shut out Batula's face.

  "Who are you? Who sent you?" Batula came closer and whispered in his open ear. "Swiftly, Kadem, or the pain will be beyond even your crazed imagining."

  Then, deep in the recesses of the eardrum the ant humped its back and a fresh globule of venom oozed out between its curved mandibles. It sank the barbed points into the soft tissue at the spot where the auditory nerve was closest to the surface.

  Kadem al-Juri was consumed by waves of agony, and they were fiercer than Batula had warned him. He screamed once, a sound that was not human but something from a nightmare. Then the pain froze the muscles and vocal cords in his throat, his jaws clamped together in such a rock-hard spasm that one of the rotten teeth at the back of his mouth burst, filling his mouth with splinters and bitter pus. His eyes rolled back in his skull like those of a blind man. His back arched until Mansur feared that his spine would crack, and his body juddered so that his bonds cut deeply into his flesh.

  "He will die," Mansur asked anxiously.

  "A shaitan is hard to kill," Batula answered. The three squatted in a half-circle in front of Kadem and studied his suffering. Although it was dreadful to behold, none of them felt the slightest twinge of compassion.

  "Regard, lord!" said Kumrah. "The first spasm passes." He was right. Kadem's spine slowly relaxed, and although a series of convulsions still shook him, each was less violent than the one before.

  "It is finished," Mansur said.

  "No, lord. If God is just, soon the ant will sting again," Batula said softly. "It will not finish so swiftly." As he said it, so it happened: the tiny insect struck again.

  This time Kadem's tongue was caught between his teeth as they snapped closed. He bit through it, and the blood streamed down his chin. He shuddered and leaped against the chain. His bowels loosened with a spluttering rush, and even Mansur's lust for vengeance faltered, the dark veils of hatred and grief parted and his instinct for humanity shone through. "Enough, Batula. End it now. Wash out the ant."

  Batula withdrew the wood plug from the end of the reed and filled his mouth with water. Through the hollow reed he spurted a jet into Kadem's eardrum, and in the overflow the drowned red body of the insect was washed down Kadem's straining neck.

  Slowly Kadem's tortured body relaxed, and he hung inert in his bonds. His breathing was rapid and shallow, and every few minutes he let out a harsh, ragged exhalation, half sigh and half groan.

  Once again, his captors squatted in a semi-circle in front of him and watched him carefully. Late in the afternoon, as the sun touched the tops of the forest trees Kadem groaned again. His eyes opened and focused slowly on Mansur.

  "Batula, give him water," Mansur ordered. Kadem's mouth was black and crusted with the blood. His torn tongue protruded between his lips like a lump of rotten liver. Batula held the waters king to his mouth, and Kadem choked and gasped as he drank. Once he vomited up a gush of the jellied black blood he had swallowed, but then he drank again.

  Mansur let him rest until sunset, then ordered Batula to let him drink again. Kadem was stronger now, and followed their movements with his eyes. Mansur ordered Batula and Kumrah to relax his bonds to allow the blood to flow back, and to chafe his hands and feet before gangrene killed off the living flesh. The pain of the returning blood must have been agonizing but Kadem bore it stoically. After a while they tightened the leather thongs again.

  Mansur came to stand over him. "You know well that I am the son of the Princess Yasmini whom you murdered," he said. "In the eyes of God and of men, vengeance is mine. Your life belongs to me."

  Kadem stared back at him.

  "If you do not reply to me, I will order Batula to place another insect in your good ear."

  Kadem blinked, but his face remained impassive.

  "Answer my question," Mansur demanded. "Who are you and who sent you to our home?"

  Kadem's swollen tongue filled his mouth, so his reply was slurred and barely intelligible. "I am a true follower of the Prophet," he said, 'and I was sent by God to carry out His divine purpose."

  "That is the same answer, but it is not the one I wait for," Mansur said. "Batula, select another insect. Kumrah, place another reed in Kadem's ear." When they had done as he ordered, Mansur asked Kadem, This time the pain may kill you. Are you ready for death?"

  "Blessed is the martyr," Kadem replied. "I long with all my heart to be welcomed by Allah into Paradise."

  Mansur took Batula aside. "He will not yield," he said.

  Batula looked dubious. His tone was uncertain as he replied, "Lord, there is no other way."

  "I think there is." Mansur turned to Kumrah. "We do not need the reed." Then, to both of them, "Stay with him. I shall return."

  He rowed back down the stream. It was almost dark by the time he reached the encampment, but the full moon was already lighting the eastern sky with a marvelous golden glow as it pushed over the tops of

  the trees. "Even the moon hastens to assist our enterprise," Mansur murmured, as he went ashore on the beach below the camp. He saw the lamplight shine in chinks through the thatched wall of his father's hut and he hurried there.

  His uncle Tom and aunt Sarah sat by the mattress on which Dorian lay. Mansur knelt beside his father and kissed his forehead. He stirred but did not open his eyes.

  Mansur leaned close to Tom and whispered low, "Uncle, the assassin will not yield. Now I need your help."

  Tom rose to his feet and jerked his head for Mansur to follow him outside. Swiftly Mansur told him what he wanted, and at the end said simply, "This is something that I would do myself, but Islam forbids it."

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p; "I understand." Tom nodded and looked up at the moon. "Tis favourable. I saw a place in the forest close by here where they feed each night on the tubers of the arum lily plant. Tell your aunt Sarah what I am about, and that she is not to fret. I shall not be too long gone."

  Tom went to the armoury and selected his big double-barrelled German four to the pound musket. He drew the charge and reloaded the weapon with a handful of Big Looper, the formidable lion shot. Then he checked the flint and the priming, made sure that his knife was on his belt and loosened the blade in its sheath.

  He selected ten of his men and told them to wait for his call, but he left the camp alone: silence and stealth were vital to success. When he waded across the stream he stooped to take up a handful of black clay and smear it over his face, for pale skin shines in the moonlight and his quarry was stealthy and cunning. Although it was a huge creature he was hunting it was nocturnal in its habits, and for that reason few men ever laid eyes on it.