Tawny Sands

by Violet Winspear

  There was a sound of strange music emerging from the heart of the place, and Janna thought of snake-charmers, and sellers of spices, red pomegranates, and Arabian silver.

  She dismissed with a little laugh the idea that she must wear a veil before she dare venture into the souk. That was just another of Don Raul's sardonic jokes. He knew that a European was not expected to behave like a Moorish woman . . . why, even they were allowed to go unveiled into the streets if they wished, but lifetime habits were not easy to break and Janna saw several figures go flitting by, making mystery with one eye revealed, the rest of their person swathed in the baracan.

  Suddenly she was seized by the spirit of adventure and knew she must take a look at the souk. It had such an intriguing air, and Don Raul might be kept so busy that he wouldn't find time, after all, to show her around. She darted back to the patio for her jacket and purse, and five minutes later was crossing the square towards the enticing noise and mystery of her first Arabian market. She told herself she wouldn't venture too far into its winding alleyways, but just far enough to get the feel of the atmosphere, and to purchase some small memento of her visit.

  Dusk was falling quickly now, and the yellow lamps were springing alight along the lanes of stalls. They lit the dark eyes of the vendors, and made more colourful the heaps of wares and vegetables. The throaty language mingled with the bursts of music, and Janna felt a sudden panic as she entered the place and found herself in a throng of strangers and swept along on the tide of shoppers, idlers, and bargain-hunters.

  Soon, however, her nervousness was overcome by the

  fascinating displays set out on every side of her. Handwoven silks of every colour and so soft to the touch. Rugs in bright Arabian designs. Hammered jewellery and strings of beads. Silver bird cages. Heaps of symbols in the shape of fish, stars, and the Hand of Fatima.

  Mounds of mint sent out a tang that mingled with smoking kebab. Pumpkins towered over purple figs and sweet lemons. Apricots and henna were piled beside slippers of soft leather, and gorgeous stuffs for bride dresses were surrounded by chattering women. The scent-sellers displayed their wares in the tiniest phials, and the most ornamental flagons, but Janna's eye was caught by a little box in the shape of an ark.

  She picked it up and at once the vendor rattled out a price which she guessed to be ridiculously high. She shook her head and offered ten dollars for the box. He threw up his hands in horror, and she pointed out a dent in the lid. He shrugged and lowered the price to thirty dollars. Janna at once replaced the box on the stall.

  `Twenty-five dollars,' he choked, and his swarthy face looked cunning within the cowl of his burnous.

  Janna traced the patterns with a fingertip. 'Fifteen,' she said, and felt quite pleased with herself for having the nerve to bargain with the man.

  His eyes glittered, taking in her clothes, and her fairness of hair and skin. 'Twenty,' he said obstinately.

  `Okay, keep it.' She turned away, and at once let out a startled cry as his hand grasped her by the shoulder.

  `The romi rich,' he said loudly.

  `I am not !' She threw off his hand, and her face whitened as the crowd of people seemed to press in upon her. Their eyes seemed hostile, and the musk of their robes caught in her throat. She glanced around her and felt she had to get out of the crowd before it trampled her. She opened her purse with shaking fingers and was about to pay for the box when a hand closed on hers and the purse snapped shut.

  She glanced up wildly and found herself looking at a tall

  cloaked figure. 'Oh . . .' The word broke from her as the crowd melted away, and the stallholder retreated behind his pile of brass and copper wares.

  Fingers gripped her elbow and she was hustled along the lanes until they reached the square, with the lamps of the mosque casting patterns of gold upon the walls and roofs of the houses.

  `I should bend you over my knee and give you a spanking, but I think your encounter with that rogue has taught you a lesson. What did you intend to do with that piece of junk you were buying?'

  Her nerves still felt shaken by the incident, and she felt so mortified that he of all people should have had to come to her rescue. 'I liked it . . . it was unusual.'

  `You are like a child, with about as much sense. I suppose you thought it clever to go alone into the souk? I shudder to think what other trouble you could have got into if I had not been there.'

  `You're much cleverer, aren't you?' She felt furious with him for finding her embroiled in an argument over a worthless brass box. Her cheeks tingled. In the folds of his Arabian cloak he had followed her through the twisting lanes of the souk, waiting for her to get into some sort of trouble so he could act the superior male. 'I hope you enjoyed spying on me?'

  `My visitor had just left and I was about to come out to the patio when I saw you snatch up your coat and go hurrying out into the street. I followed you, naturally.' The strange light of the square was caught and held in his eyes, as she was held by his steely fingers. 'Are you impulsive, foolhardy, or inspired to annoy me? If so, then we are not going to be very good friends.'

  `I thought cool indifference was what you wanted of me, Don Raul. Some part of our act should at least be genuine.' `You are trying my patience, Janna.'

  `Why, because I won't be cowed by you?'

  `I expect you to behave with a reasonable response to my

  orders. I don't make them just to be tyrannous. I make them for your own good. This is Morocco, let me remind you. Here you are a young stranger, and in the souk you were obviously frightened when you became the centre of a crowd of people so unlike yourself. Most of them were merely curious, but there were no doubt others who thought you alone, who might have decided to rob you of your purse . . . or even your innocence.'

  `W-what do you mean?'

  `You know well enough what I mean.'

  `Such a thought never entered my head!'

  `Then allow it to do so in the future. You seem unaware of the fact that you are no longer a little typist trailing in the shadow of a noisy novelist. You now wear attractive clothes, the sheen in your hair has been brought out, and upon your hand you wear the Romanos emerald.'

  `The emerald!' she gasped. Don Raul, I never gave it a thought—oh, it might so easily have been stolen! No wonder you're annoyed with me.'

  `Over the emerald, eh?'

  `I—I never realised. I'm unused to wearing something so valuable. Please, won't you keep it yourself just to be on the safe side?'

  He raised her hand and studied the rich glimmer of the stone in the lamplight of the city square. 'You are an unusual girl, Janna. So you quite forgot you were wearing my ring?'

  `I'm afraid so—' And then she glanced up into his face and felt her heart give a painful twist. The woman he loved should be wearing the ring, but instead it masqueraded on the hand of someone who meant little to him. He had not followed her into the souk because he feared for her safety. He had been keeping an eagle eye on the emerald ring that she wore.

  `All's well,' she said brightly, 'the ring has come to no harm, and I'll be more careful of it in future, if you insist that I go on wearing it.'

  `I do insist.'

  She smiled. 'How fascinating the mosque looks with lamps glimmering through the lattices. It glows like a great jewel itself. Are visitors allowed up there on the balcony that encircles the tower beside the dome?'

  `Would you like to go up and view the city from the muezzin tower? I warn you the climb is a steep one.'

  `It would be an experience—'

  `You seem very eager to experience everything in one day.' `Don't we leave tomorrow for El Amara?'

  `Do you wish to?'

  `Don't I have to bow to your wishes, senor?'

  Not in every single thing, senorita.' His tone was dry. `We can stay another day, and this time I will take you to a dealer of genuine antiques and you may choose a jewel box of real value.'

  `I—I wanted only a memento of my visit to Benikesh.'

&
nbsp; `As if you were taking home an ashtray or a stick of rock from the seaside?'

  `I suppose so.' His hand had slackened and she edged away from him. 'There's no need to laugh at me. I certainly couldn't afford a genuine antique.'

  `You would not have to buy it yourself.'

  `I would prefer to.' She tilted her chin. 'It isn't nice to keep taking presents, and they mean so little to you because you can buy whatever you please. You don't know the thrill of buying some small thing just for the pleasure it gives. You're spoiled, Raul Cesar Bey.'

  `And you are unspoiled.' His voice went dangerously soft, and she found herself not free at all but enveloped suddenly in the swirl of his cloak. 'Come, we will climb to the tower of the mosque and you may wish upon a star. I daresay that will please you more than any jewel.'

  `Yes.' She felt curiously breathless as he strode with her across the square, holding her close to his side so his cloak enfolded her.

  The night was drenched in the aromas of this desert city,

  and the stars hung low in the indigo sky. What would be her wish? And did this place hold magic enough to make it come true?

  Inside the dimness of the mosque they had to discard their shoes for slippers without heels, and these made the steep climb to the tower rather hazardous. Janna bent suddenly and removed hers. She ran ahead of Don Raul on nyloned feet, up and up the stairs to the stars, out upon the narrow balcony with its latticed railing. The wind came at her and she caught her breath. A desert wind, blowing in from those wide and limitless spaces, across which she would travel to a house in a pomegranate grove.

  Her breath escaped in a little gasp as a tall cloaked figure came to the parapet and they gazed together at the big Arabian stars, tawny and glowing, there to be plucked, or so it seemed, but when Janna stretched out her hand she found it empty.

  `So lovely,' she breathed. 'A city of magic and out there beyond the walls a thousand leagues of sand. It frightens me a little. A world so different from mine, and yet you've known it all your life and can have no fear of its strangeness. No fear of anything really.'

  `I should not have bothered with you if you were the sort who developed the vapours at every mishap,' he said. 'You are not without nerve.'

  `I shook a bit in the bazaar,' she chuckled, and her annoyance with him had died away, was forgotten up here, where one was conscious of greater things than petty angers.

  `The stars are like people,' he murmured. 'Though they seem so close together in the sky, they are really far apart. Each star is lonely.'

  `Yes, one feels that.' She glanced at him and saw his profile outlined strong and forceful against the starlight. Was he feeling lonely for the woman he had left behind in France? Was he wishing that she were here beside him . . . instead of a girl who resembled Joyosa? Her gaze fell to his hands, clenched on the rail, the knuckles agleam

  against the bronze skin and the black iron.

  He no more relished a game of deception than Janna, but he found it a necessity. He could not fight with the frail Princess Yamila . . . he needed Janna to play the part of Joyosa; to enact the lack of love he had found in the girl chosen to be his bride.

  Janna gazed at the stars that blazed over the desert. Their warmth was too far away and she gave a slight shiver and wished she might be enfolded again in the cloak of Raul Cesar Bey. It would not be easy, what he asked of her, to pretend she was indifferent to him. She had never been more aware of anyone as in this moment upon the balcony of an Arabian tower.

  Janna had never known love or tenderness. She had learned young the meaning of inner loneliness, but here on the edge of the desert she became aware of what love could mean; how much joy it could bring if felt in all its depth by two people.

  But at El Amara she must hide what was growing in her heart, and act the ice-maiden. That was what Don Raul asked of her . . . a coolness to convince his grandmother that a girl-bride was not for him.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THEY were to make the journey to El Amara by safari car, and it wasn't until they were on the point of departure that Janna learned it would take two days and they would spend a night in the desert. Don Raul seemed unconcerned by the conventions that ruled Latin lives . . . he was much more a man of the desert. It had angered him that she should go unveiled into the souk, yet he spoke quite casually of this desert journey that would involve them in a rather compromising situation.

  They would be so alone, and when she looked at him with this reflected in her eyes, he smiled in that half-mocking way of his, an eyebrow peaked against his bronzed skin.

  `Shall we take Hussein with us, or do you trust me to behave like the perfect gentleman?'

  `You aren't perfect, senor, except in one sense.'

  And may I know what that is?'

  `You may not.' She was flushing slightly as she turned away to adjust her sun-glasses. He wore an open-collared pale tan shirt with matching slacks, and his desert shoes made his walk even more silent and pantherish. It was the look of him that was disturbing.

  He walked around the car, examined the engine, made sure they had plenty of water, and a spare tyre. The car was tough and built to travel across the sands. Their luggage was loaded, and there was a wicker hamper of food, a pair of sleeping-bags, and a revolver which he slid into a pocket beside the driving seat. Janna did not comment on this. She was level-headed enough to know that certain dangers lurked in the desert . . . poisonous snakes, wild jackals, and sand-cats large enough to rip a person to pieces.

  `I think I have made a thorough check of everything.' He stood with narrowed eyes a moment, and then he glanced keenly at Janna. 'You wish Hussein to travel with us?'

  She shook her head before she realised the significance of her reply. Her heart shook a little. 'Unless you want him along,' she added hastily.

  `He has a young family here in Benikesh. I should hate to drag him away from them just for the sake of one night in the desert . . . wouldn't you?'

  `It would seem unnecessary,' she agreed.

  `Quite.' His tone was dry. 'We are not about to spend the night guiltily. You noticed there were two sleeping-bags?'

  `Please ' The word broke from her, and she was glad her eyes were concealed behind smoked glasses. They might look more hurt than shocked, for it hurt to love a man who was tempted not by her charm but by her naiveté. It amused

  him that he could taunt her to a blush with one of his audacious remarks. 'Orphan Annie isn't used to sophisticated company, senor. You must forgive me for being so prim and proper.'

  `You are forgiven, chica.' He re-entered the house for something, leaving her to gaze at the minarets of the mosque, and at the archways perfect for framing palm trees and stately robed figures. A city of sun-bleached walls, of wooden balconies that jutted over narrow streets, and a smell of ripe spicy fruits and stews. Exciting and yet like a mirage that had slipped in and out of her life. The burning reality, the memory she would carry away with her, was of starlight over the city, and the wind snatching her breath as she awoke to love and knew it would bring her trouble rather than joy. Every moment, every glance, everything shared with Don Raul would be a bit of heaven and a bit of hell, and yet she wouldn't have missed any of it to be again the nonentity Mildred had made of her. This, at least, was living.

  Already the warmth of the morning had grown stronger, and as Don Raul returned to her side she braced herself for the journey ahead. She had no illusions about the desert being beautiful under the sun; she knew the sands were cruel, especially to a novice.

  Don Raul carried a small leather satchel in his hand. 'This is a first-aid kit,' he said. 'I know I am acting as if we are setting out on a safari, but the desert is an unexpected place. Anything might happen, and it can do so in the flicker of an eyelid. I hope I am not alarming you, chica?'

  Not at all' She smiled, though she felt the stirring of her nerves as his arm brushed hers. 'I realise that the desert is vast and unpredictable. I'd hate to be lost in it.'

  `Even tha
t could happen,' he warned, 'if a sirocco blew up and covered all landmarks, or I ran the car into one of the gulleys that lurks like a greedy mouth in the sands. Because I know the dangers, we take more water than we shall need for the journey . . . only a few weeks ago a couple were

  stranded when their car broke down. They were Americans and had stocked up on Coca-Cola but not on water. A burning desert thirst is more intense than any other kind, and the only thing that slakes it is the pure aqua, so you can imagine the torment of those people. By the time a band of 'nomads found them, they were so exhausted as to be almost dead.'

  Janna shuddered. 'You . . . you don't spare my feelings, senor.'

  `No. I don't believe in anyone harbouring romantic notions about the dangerous things in life. They must be faced with the eyes wide open, and if they can still be loved, despite their menace, then life has increased in excitement.' His eyes held Janna's, and then a glint of a smile crept into their darkness. 'But I won't disillusion you completely. The desert as night begins to fall is the most lovely place on earth. And at dawn, as the desert awakes to the touch of the sun, one can believe that in the Garden of Allah the first man and woman fell in love. Make no mistake, Janna. Once you have known the desert, you are never again free of its strange enchantment. It haunts you when you are away from it. It calls you back with a siren's voice.'

  `I'm a female,' she said demurely. 'What sort of voice does the desert use to call a woman?'

  `How would I know that?' At once the light in his eyes became a wicked one. 'You will have to tell me when you have heard it.'

  Confused by the purr in his voice, and by the strong brown throat in the opening of his thin shirt, she turned to the car. 'Are we ready to leave, senor?'