The Sleeping Sands

by Nat Edwards

  ‘I would be delighted if you would join me for dinner,’ replied the Governor. ‘The Bakhtiari among my forces are preparing a mock battle as form of entertainment. I trust you will find it most diverting.’

  ‘I am truly honoured, Excellency,’ replied Layard, bowing deeply and taking his leave. As he left the castle, a figure stepped from the shadows of a doorway and grasped his arm.

  ‘I will watch the boy, Effendi,’ hissed Saleh, the Lur. ‘Fear not. I will do my best to see no harm comes to him. But you must leave; the army prepares to march on Kala Tul.’

  ‘I had no intention of staying,’ said Layard quietly, ‘but I didn’t want to give the Matamet any excuse to detain me. Thank you my friend, for looking after the boy.’

  ‘Your servant, Effendi,’ murmured the Lur and melted into the shadows.

  Layard moved quickly and quietly through the town, slipping away unseen to join Au Isfendiar and his men at the old canal.

  ‘There is no time,’ he told the old soldier when asked for news of the boy, ‘I fear treachery. We must ride for Kala Tul now, as fast as we can!’

  With the countryside between Shuster and Kala Tul deserted, no fresh horses could be found and the going proved slow and arduous. The party’s mounts were on the verge of collapse when they at last arrived before the Khan five days later.

  Exhausted, Layard related what had transpired to the Khan.

  ‘My contact among the Matamet’s forces tells me that the army is readying itself to march against you,’ he said. ‘on the plain by the castle I saw matchlock men and cavalry from the Bakhtiari, Arab lancers, at least two new regiments of Persian serbázes and heavy artillery that can take down Kala Tul’s walls.’

  ‘I am sure that you saw just what the Matamet wanted you to see,’ said the Khan, bitterly. ‘He never once intended to keep his oath.’

  The Great Khan slumped in his seat, looking suddenly old and bent.

  ‘It was all for nothing then, my friend,’ he said forlornly to Layard, ‘I have given up my eldest son and still it is not enough. What more can I give?’

  At that moment there was a commotion outside the hall. A few seconds later a ragged horseman entered, breathing heavily. Layard recognised him as Mohammed Hussein, one of Ali Naghi Khan’s retinue that he had met the year before in Isfahan.

  ‘Oh, Great Khan,’ panted the man, dropping to his knees, ‘I bring news from Shuster.’

  ‘Go on,’ commanded the Khan.

  ‘I have been held as a prisoner by the Matamet ever since your brother was seized at Kala Tul,’ continued the warrior. ‘As soon as your son was delivered into his hands he ordered the army to make ready to march and called on me to bring you a message.’

  ‘Well,’ demanded the Khan, ‘what is the message?’

  ‘I am afraid to speak, Great Khan,’ stammered the man, ‘it is too terrible.’

  ‘Speak,’ ordered the Khan, ‘no harm shall come to you for the perfidy of that Persian dog.’

  ‘He says that, unless you surrender to him, he shall put your son to death.’

  CHAPTER 18

  FOR THE NEXT FEW DAYS, KALA TUL WAS A WHIRL OF SHOUTING, clamour and the braying of animals as the Bakhtiari prepared to march. Layard was struck at the resilience and resolve of the nomads who for so long had been in a torpid state of despondency. Although they had greeted the Matamet’s news with dismay and a chorus of wailing and lament that their time on the earth had come to an end, they also displayed a sense of grim fatalism so that now, when their fate seemed to have been sealed, they acted as one determined entity.

  Once again, Layard felt that he was becoming swept away by a torrent of events swirling about him. Men, women and children all now set to the business of packing their tents and preparing their arms to march. Friends who before might have taken the time to talk to Layard, or to explain what was happening, were now too preoccupied with the urgency of moving from Kala Tul before the Matamet’s army could arrive. Layard did his best to be of assistance, but his own intermittent fever had returned and he was assaulted by bouts of fatigue and dizziness that confined him for long periods to the enderun. Deep in council with his remaining brothers and war-chiefs, Mehemet Taki Khan could spare little time for his friend and, between bouts of fever, Layard was forced to piece together what was happening from snippets of conversation and rumour in the corridors of Kala Tul.

  The tall peaks around the castle were permanently crowned by looming black storm-clouds and the air became heavier and more suffocating with each passing hour. Layard lay exhausted on his divan, watching the glowering sky through a narrow window and despaired for the Bakhtiari. He realised that, for weeks he had not given a single thought to his mission. He cared far more for the fate of the Khan and his family than any shadowy plans hatched thousands of miles away.

  In his fevered dreams he heard the voices of his uncle, Ben Disraeli and John Barrow telling him about great games and opportunities in the East – about the dream of a new Empire. Shivering, despite the oppressive muggy heat, he woke with the conviction that all of their brave talk had been a delusion. Here, in Kala Tul, as the bones of the earth and the very sky itself seemed to join with the forces of the Persian State to crush the Bakhtiari, he could see that all that mattered to him was to try and protect this small outpost of freedom and dignity.

  At last, the hour came to leave. Barely strong enough to travel, Layard was helped in his packing by men sent to him by the Khan. Often, they would intervene with some task Layard was engaged in, gently guiding his shaking hands as he tried to fasten his saddle, or firmly taking from him a bundle he was vainly attempting to lift.

  Between the rumble of thunder in the mountains and the bustle of the caravan, Layard was disoriented and confused as the Bakhtiari left the stronghold of Kala Tul. Conscious of little but the swirling colours, smells and noises around him, he concentrated his attention on the effort of staying in his saddle and of avoiding being left behind by the rapidly moving throng. At length, the Khanum noticed that the Englishman was sagging in his saddle and slowly drifting to the end of the caravan. She spurred her own horse and rode back to Layard, tying his mount to her own, so that, for the rest of the flight, he was led like a child by the Khan’s wife.

  The caravan drove on. Layard fell deeper into his fever and struggled to keep track of time. He tried to note each day in his journal, but sometimes found that he would wake to find nothing but illegible scrawled lines written on its pages, as if by some other, alien hand. So it was that he could tell neither whether one week nor two had passed when at last the tribe descended into a vast labyrinth of marshes, ponds and lagoons. The marshes seemed endless; rank with the buzzing of flies and haunted by the cries of strange, unseen birds.

  ‘We are in the land of the Ch’ab Arabs,’ explained Mehemet Taki Khan, riding alongside his wife and Layard. ‘The Ch’ab have long been loyal to Kala Tul and have little fear of the Matamet. Their marshes run all the way to the Shat-el-Arab waterway. They are too deep and winding to allow any attack. The Ch’ab will provide my people with sanctuary and, if the worse befalls us, a route to escape.’

  ‘Ah, to think that we have come to this,’ wailed the Khanum, ‘arriving like beggars to ask for alms from our own subjects.’

  ‘We will be safe among the Ch’ab,’ insisted the Khan, ‘there is no shame in accepting the hospitality of friends. We are not so far from Shuster. From here I may yet be able to prevent a war that would destroy our people.’

  Despite the fetid miasma of the marshes, Layard soon felt his strength begin to rally. His fever still came and went, but his dreams became easier. No longer did he hear the great Mind breathing in the dark. He began to help around the Bakhtiari camp and joined Mehemet Taki Khan’s councils.

  The Khan was preparing to offer himself as a hostage for his people. His brothers would have none of it.

  ‘The Persians will put out your eyes, just as they did our father,’ insisted Au Khan Baba. ‘They already have ou
r brother and your son. Au Kelb Ali lies almost at death’s door – if you were to go too, our people would be left thrashing in the mud like a headless snake. It would not be long before the vultures picked us clean.’

  ‘He is right, brother,’ said Au Kerim, ‘we cannot afford to lose you. I will go and negotiate with the Persians.’

  ‘No, my brother - I have brought our people to this pass,’ insisted the Khan. ‘If I had attacked the Matamet the moment he came into the mountains, we would have driven him back. Our allies would still be beside us and we would still hold Kala Tul. Instead I prevaricated and listened to the councils of our foolish brother, while all the time the Matamet was strengthening his position and poisoning the tribes against me.’

  ‘It wasn’t your fault, brother,’ cried Au Khan Baba, ‘the tribes were fearful of some strange presence in the mountains. Many had already fled and those that stayed were so wracked with terror that they had open ears for the Matamet’s lies. We have been haunted by some strange and powerful evil for long months. The Matamet is just the dog who follows at its heels.’

  ‘You have always been the most generous hearted of us,’ said the Khan, kindly, ‘but I have to take responsibility for the plight of our tribe. If it were not for my inaction, we would not be skulking in these marshes, nor –‘ he paused for a moment, a shadow passing over his face, ‘nor would our brother Kelb be dying in this foul air. I must go to Shuster.’

  ‘At least let me try to rescue the boy first, before you surrender,’ pleaded Au Kerim, for whom any capitulation was unthinkable.

  ‘The Matamet has turned Shuster into a fortress,’ replied the Khan, sadly, ‘you would be cut down before you came within a mile of the boy – even if you knew where in Shuster he is being held.’

  ‘I can find him,’ interjected Layard. ‘I have a man in Shuster watching him. I am still under the protection of the Shah’s firman, so I can get close to him. Let me try to secure his release.’

  ‘You are almost as sick as our brother,’ responded the Khan, ‘besides, my friend,’ he added in a kinder tone, ‘I could not ask you, an honoured guest, to take such a dangerous part in my family affairs.’

  ‘You once asked me to join your family,’ replied Layard, ‘and it was the most welcome and generous offer I have received in my life. I spent my childhood moving from one place to another – being passed between families, who simply wanted to shape me into something I never was. You, on the other hand, have accepted me purely for what I am and have opened your hearts to me.

  ‘Oh, Great Khan,’ continued Layard, passionately, ‘know now, in your hour of need, that I have never felt more a part of any family than I now feel a part of yours. I am feeling well enough to ride to Shuster. Let me bring home your son.’

  A yellow moon hung huge and pregnant over the marshes, painting them in a thin, haunting light. Layard stood, listening to the unceasing chorus of the reedbeds. Night birds, frogs and crickets had taken over the chore, from their daytime companions, of filling the night with the screeching, chirping and croaking that waged a constant war upon human sleep.

  A soft step beside him disturbed his reverie. It was Khanumi.

  ‘I don’t understand you, Frank,’ she said, softly.

  ‘My Lady?’

  ‘When the Great Khan asked you to join his family, he was the most powerful ruler in the mountains, with a lands and dependencies stretching from the Shat el Arab to the walls of Isfahan. You could have become a prince among our people. Yet you refused. Now,’ she continued, ‘when my brother in law is penniless and defeated, living at the mercy of his neighbours in a strange land, you declare your desire to be a part of his family. What could possibly benefit you to be thus part of a family of beggars?’

  ‘There are still riches enough in the Khan’s family,’ said Layard, earnestly, turning to face Khanumi.

  ‘It is a shame that your clumsy tongue copes with our language so poorly,’ laughed Khanumi, with an exaggerated toss of her head. ‘You appear to be speaking meaningless nonsense. I have concluded, upon observation, that you foreigners must quite simply be insane.’

  She skipped lightly away from Layard, leaping effortlessly over a small stream and twisting mid-leap, to land facing the Englishman.

  ‘I suppose that the only cure for your madness will be to let you act it out,’ she called, ‘at least Au Kerim proposes to travel with you to keep a watch upon you. You will probably be captured, anyway – or eaten by some wild beast. And, if by some miracle you aren’t eaten-’

  She suddenly turned and ran lightly away among the silver moonlit pools. Layard stood, mesmerised as many times before, watching her figure recede into the gloom.

  From the darkness, a faint voice called.

  ‘I will be waiting for you, Mr Layard.’

  Au Kerim insisted on riding with Layard to the outskirts of Shuster, where he intended to wait for Layard and the boy upon his escape. He also brought with him two trusted retainers whose job was to infiltrate the Matamet’s camp and move among the Bakhtiari there, gaining intelligence and identifying any that might be persuaded back to the Khan’s side.

  After an uneventful journey from the marshes featuring a few days ride across more deserted countryside, the party arrived at their destination at dusk. Layard, who had exchanged his Bakhtiari robes for Persian dress, took his leave both of Kerim and the Bakhtiari spies in the shadows beneath Shuster and made his way into the town. He was challenged at the gate by two guards, but they were local Shusteris who were quite satisfied with his story of being a physician from Isfahan who had been called to treat one of the Persian officers. He passed without problem and set out to find Baron de Bode’s quarters, where he hoped to meet with Saleh the Lur. After a frustrating hour of fruitless searching, he was at last directed to a small half-ruined house which he was informed formed the quarters of the Frank cavalry instructor. To his dismay, they were empty. He turned away from the house, at a loss where to search next.

  He was stopped by a low whistle from the side of the house. A tall figure stepped out of the shadows and beckoned to him. It was Saleh.

  ‘The Baron has left the camp,’ explained the Lur, when Layard joined him. ‘He felt that the Governor’s treachery in the case of the Khan’s son was ungentlemanly and resigned his commission. He has, I believe ridden to join the Shah’s army at the Turkish border. I declined to leave with him, thinking that I may yet do some small service for the boy. I have been waiting for you, Effendi.’

  ‘You are a true friend, Saleh,’ whispered Layard. ‘where is Hussein Kuli being held?’

  ‘He is at the house of Au Mohammed Zamaun, a Shusteri chief. He is treated well. The young prince has made something of an impression among the Matamet’s officers.’

  ‘Can he be easily removed from the house?’ asked Layard.

  ‘I believe he can, Effendi,’ grinned the Lur, bending to lift up a bundle that had been lying at his feet.

  Layard followed Saleh to the house of Au Mohammed Zamaun. The Sheikh was away at council with the Matamet’s officers. Saleh introduced Layard as a visiting Persian physician who had been called to check on the boy, following an illness he had recently suffered. They were shown to Hussein Kuli, who displayed a remarkable quickness of mind by pretending not to recognise Layard until they were left alone with him. Saleh and Layard quietly and quickly explained their plan to the prince.

  Saleh had with him a bundle of girl’s clothes, with which they dressed the boy. Then, bundling up his Bakhtiari robes and weapons, they moved carefully through the house, slipping out of the courtyard and moving into the now dark and deserted street.

  ‘Wait,’ hissed Hussein Kuli, ‘I must get Julfa.’

  ‘We don’t have time,’ whispered Layard, ‘we must leave now before the Sheikh returns and raises the alarm.’

  ‘I cannot return to my father without her,’ insisted the boy, ‘she is his favourite mare. I could never leave her among the enemy.’

  Layard looked a
t the resolve in the young man’s face. Despite his disguise he remained every inch the young prince. Layard could see that there was no negotiation on the matter.

  ‘Very well,’ he sighed, ‘go and fetch her – but be quick about it.’

  Saleh and Layard kept watch along the street, while Hussein Kuli crept back into the courtyard, where Julfa was tethered. The mare whinnied softly in recognition of her master. The boy untied the mare and began to cross the courtyard.

  Just then, there was a cry from the house and the boy’s tutor came stumbling out, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

  ‘What are you doing, young sir?’ he cried out in alarm, ‘and why are dressed in that costume?’

  Layard cursed softly and ran to the courtyard gate. He hissed at the mullah to be quiet.

  ‘We are rescuing Hussein Kuli,’ he whispered, urgently, ‘keep your voice down!’

  ‘No, I forbid it!’ said the mullah angrily. ‘It is against all propriety.’

  ‘Look,’ said Layard, ‘you can come too – but we have to leave now.’

  ‘Yes, come with us,’ said the boy, going to his tutor’s side and pulling at his robe, ‘my father is nearby – we can go to him tonight.’

  ‘A prince does not sneak out of a house at night like a thief,’ snapped the tutor, ‘and dressed as a girl? It is unthinkable!’

  ‘Look, you fool,’ snapped back Layard, ‘the Matamet is threatening to kill the boy if his father doesn’t surrender. We have to go now.’

  Within the house, Layard could hear voices and movement, as the servants were roused by the conversation in the courtyard.

  ‘I cannot permit it!’ insisted the mullah, seizing the boy by the shoulders. ‘The prince will be killed for sure if you are caught. It is too dangerous.’

  At that moment, there was a shouting in the street behind Layard. Saleh came running to him and grabbed him by the arm.