by Chris Dolan
Aliyyah sat up straight so that she was looking down on him and said, “I will go with you, Tom.”
“We will go wherever you want, darling, and live how you want to live. Everything you do and love here – we’ll find a way of bringing your life with us.” They laid their heads back against the cool stone, closed their eyes, and daydreamed together.
“It is intriguing, Tom. You have so much trouble believing in something as unworldly as a god, but you act so doggedly in the name of something even more fanciful.”
“And what is that?”
“Love.”
As he went down to dinner that night, uniformed and shoes on his feet, there was a spring in his step that he wasn’t sure he had felt before, not just here but in his whole life. His stay, he thought, had been a genuine convalescence. The long hours of sleep – though they had been disrupted by unwelcome dreams – the walks, sunshine, the meagre but healthy diet. He had lost weight, felt rested, and now he was taking a prize he had not known existed back to his own world.
His sense of celebration was made even greater when he saw, at the table, not only Duban and Ma’ahaba in their usual places, but Aliyyah too. Dressed in bright embroidery – the work, he knew now of Ma’ahaba’s hand – she sat and smiled broadly at him when he entered.
Duban was less pleased and Ma’ahaba looked lost in thought, barely greeting him. But they dined together peacefully enough. There was wine on the table. A bottle, Haldane thought, that was similar to the special, and supposedly last, one they had had before. But none of them took it – Haldane because he wanted to preserve the feeling of clarity he was enjoying.
They ate first small dishes of artichoke and mint with a red sauce that Haldane thought might be made from pomegranate. His sense of taste was as sharp as he felt generally and the food tasted bright and energizing. No mention was made of any plans for the following night until, as Duban got up to fetch the next course, Haldane decided to speak plainly.
“I cannot give you an exact time, but soon after nightfall tomorrow my people will airlift anyone who wishes to go to safety.”
“How sure of this safety are you, Captain?”
“Perfectly, Ma’ahaba. There’s no doubt you will all be safer there than here. And wherever you decide to go afterwards.” He turned to face the older woman directly. “If any of your allies or friends wish to join us, there will be space for them, if you can let me know how many.”
Duban re-entered with a tray of salvers. “Your planning is not quite so accomplished as you suggest, Thomas. You know very well our friends only visit us sporadically. We have not had time to forewarn them of your proposal.” Under the lids of the silver platters were rice with nuts, aubergines, vine leaves with fillings that smelled of coriander and honey. “And may I say, my son, you use the term ‘ally’ somewhat loosely. I imagine we all do.”
“I don’t follow.”
Ma’ahaba answered. “Factions within factions. Changing sides. Even our ‘allies’ are a little uncertain these days who is fighting whom.”
“Let alone why,” Duban added.
“Confused,” Aliyyah said softly, as if to herself. “Confusion frightens me. Not understanding what is going on leads to fear. And fear leads to hate. Hatred to violence.”
Duban considered her sorrowfully for a moment, then spoke to Haldane. “A decision taken thousands of miles away apparently alters everything these days. A slight turn in local loyalties… The man who saved you, Thomas. No one is quite sure if he’s on the same side anymore.”
“Not that he, or his friends, have changed sides,” said Ma’ahaba, “but the sides around him may have.”
“All wars begin simply enough,” Duban sighed. “When war rages, the laws are dumb, and reason dies. Eventually old friends are sundered, brother fights brother, until battle erupts in every individual’s heart. In all likelihood you, Thomas, will be safe, though even that cannot be assured. As for the rest of us…”
Haldane turned to Aliyyah. “Don’t let them scare you. I will ensure your safety. Something I can’t do while you remain here.” He turned to the others. “Or you.”
“I think Tom is right. Please come with us,” the young woman spoke confidently. “So many things could go wrong here. Even if the war doesn’t reach our door, our protectors may have to flee, and then we might starve.”
Duban looked at the food, untouched, on his plate. “We shall not starve. We do not ask for much and what we need the earth supplies. It is our very remoteness, my child, that protects us. Few people know of us – though that,” he shot a look at Haldane, “will change tomorrow night. Those who do know us, shield us. The General looks after us from afar. Out there, you will have only Captain Haldane. Captain Haldane who considers the idea of remaining among loved ones and praying for peace foolish activities.”
“In my base camp they have services, Duban. Soldiers meet and pray with the chaplain. Across the line, the enemy are summoning their god. Hundreds of men dropping to their knees and screaming out to the heavens. If there are gods up there they’re probably killing and mutilating each other too. The heavens are ablaze, and we fan the flames.” Haldane shook his head. “It seems to me, sir, that prayers are more often offered up for victory and death than for peace. Those pious little words rising up from the earth like nerve gas. Yes, sir, with the greatest respect those decisions are foolish.”
“While you fire the guns. And out of faith, Thomas. Faith that you and your men can make us all like you and then we shall all be happier and better. But is it so?”
“Yes. It is. Aliyyah, for instance, can live a full life.”
“I already do, Tom. And I did even before I met you. Now it is simply full in another way.”
“Our friend,” Duban spoke to Aliyyah, “thinks us backward. We have not given up the things he has. We have not seen the light he has seen.”
Ma’ahaba put her hand on Duban’s. “Come now uncle, the Captain is man of action and all men of action are dreamers at heart. I wonder, Captain, in my rustic way, what if in the future it is discovered that the human animal needs illusion? To survive. Including the delusion that we needn’t be deluded?”
She stood up and began clearing the platters and salvers away though no one had eaten much. Haldane helped her. “May I tell you a silly story?” she said. “To pass the rest of the evening without more squabbles.”
Nobody replied, so Ma’ahaba began, as she worked. “One day a poor man finds a lamp, lying unclaimed in the street. He takes it home, and begins to polish it. Nothing happens. The poor man says, ‘How I wish I could believe in genies.’ Upon which, a genie emerges! ‘That,’ says the genie,” and here Ma’ahaba put on a deep voice, “‘was your first wish. I grant you two more.’ The poor man, not wanting to be selfish but rather share his discovery with all mankind says, ‘I wish all men believed in genies. How much better their lives would be.’ The genie snaps his fingers and says, ‘It is so, if you wish it. And your final request?’”
Ma’ahaba sat back down to finish her tale. “The poor man thought long and hard and decided that he had been generous enough and should look after his own desires. ‘I wish,’ he said, ‘for a beautiful jewellery box crammed full of sapphires and diamonds and emeralds and rubies!’ The genie snapped his fingers again. But no such box appeared. ‘What’s wrong?’ the man asked, and the genie replied, ‘Just because you believe in me, doesn’t necessarily mean I exist.’”
No one responded to her story. But after a moment, Aliyyah spoke. “I dreamt of you last night, Tom. You were walking up a hill. You looked weary, but like a man at the end of his journey, his mission accomplished. It was in a strange land. Or strange to me at least. A cool, creamy place. And the sound of the sea. Or how I think the sea might sound, having never heard it.”
“Were you there, Aliyyah? Were you there with me?”
“I did not see myself. But I suppose I might have been. If I was the see-er.” And she laughed at the idea. Then she stood
and looked at Duban. “Master, you have taught me everything, and every moment was a joy. And every ounce will stay with me until the day I die. One of the many things you taught me was that those who do not move do not notice their chains. I have noticed them now. And I know it is right that I go with Tom tomorrow. I will walk up that hill by his side.”
Duban closed his eyes. Aliyyah went to Ma’ahaba, and embraced her. Aliyyah went to Ma’ahaba, and embraced her. “Am I doing the right thing?”
Ma’ahaba held on to her. “I do not know, Aliyyah.” Then she loosened her embrace to look at her stepdaughter’s face. And she smiled. “One of the very many things I do not know.”
“Oh Ma’ahaba, I will not miss you because you will be with me every day. I know you cannot leave Duban here alone. But I pray in my heart that one day you will join us, and we can live through the stories you told me of the old days.” She then crossed to stand at Haldane’s side. She took his arm and led him towards the door.
Duban, his eyes still closed, said, “It is a mistake, Aliyyah. My powers weren’t enough to keep you here. But you will know. You will come to see that I was right. I am done with words. I have failed them. We must now witness what awaits us all when language ends.”
In the doorway Aliyyah turned and, to the soldier’s surprise, she laughed. She looked at her uncle, shook her head, and laughed. Haldane laughed with her, as the old man bowed his head.
Throughout the next day Haldane felt as strong as ever, but he was anxious. He made contact twice more with his unit to make sure that all parties were agreed on the plan and that nothing was going wrong. In the early morning he met only briefly with Aliyyah. She wondered what she should take with her.
“Nothing, my dear. It will make the rescue easier if we’re not carrying anything.”
“Oh but my robe. I haven’t finished it yet.”
“You mean the one that becomes your shroud – leave that of all things!” Haldane laughed.
“It is also a wedding gown.”
“We’ll find you something much better.”
He noticed that the cape and shawl she was wearing were old-looking and grey, presumably keeping clean clothes for the flight to safety. She spoke about other items she had wanted to take with her, some books and embroideries, but she began listing them in her own tongue.
“When we get out of here, you must teach me your language.”
“I’m sorry. Was I not speaking English?” She looked worried for a moment. “Forgive me. I’m tired.” They turned and made their way back to the house. Haldane could see she was nervous, strained. As she must be, taking the biggest decision of her life.
He did not seek her out for the rest of the day, much as he wanted to encourage her, he must have faith in her resolve. Once or twice he went down to the great chamber but never found anyone there. As always there was water and fruit and cardamom tea for him.
Sitting on his bed he had, for the first time, a clear picture of his mother in his head. A dainty woman, always smiling. “A saint,” everyone said. His father, his teachers, parishioners. Her life, everyone agreed, was in the service of others. She was always helping some poor or sick neighbour, or at prayer meetings, or praying, cleaning the church, talking to believers and non-believers alike. In his mind’s eye she was indeed smiling, radiantly, somewhere just above his head.
But then it came to him what had made her seem so withdrawn from him. When he was young, just a boy, she had become ill. He was too young to understand, but the illness was in her head, not her body. She forgot things, became confused, and he remembered vividly, painfully, the first time she forgot his name. He saw now she was not old at the time, but he knew even then that this should not be happening to her. What she never forgot, however, was her prayers. The last time he saw her, as he was leaving to go to war, she did not know how to say goodbye to him, but sat in her seat by the window, whispering the Lord’s Prayer. The soldier sat on his bed and wept, deeply and, he thought, for the first time, at the long slow separation from his mother. Until he decided he must stop. That weeping was pointless. Today of all days, when he needed to be strong and ready for the night’s task. He stood to attention, back straight, forcing himself to be and look like the professional soldier he was.
He didn’t hear a sound all day, as if everyone had left the house. Doubtless they were ensconced in their private rooms. Would Ma’ahaba come out tonight to bid them farewell? Was Duban somewhere devising ways of obstructing Aliyyah’s departure? Might he try and lock Aliyyah in her room? Then Haldane thought that unworthy of the old man – Duban might have crazy notions and be overly protective but he would not harm his charge in any way, nor physically try to constrain her.
Dusk fell. And it felt like a protective layer, like cover fire, as if the first part of his plan had gone right. Slowly – too slowly – evening hardened into night. The soldier put on his uniform and his boots. He took the radio, and some tools, and went out for the last time.
He exited via the great chamber, turned at the near wall of the house, heading towards the old fountain where he had showered in the afternoon. Taking the path to the original front of the building where the door within a door lay between alabaster carvings, he saw that Aliyyah was already outside, and waiting. She was sitting, staring straight in front towards the gate. He spoke her name softly but she didn’t hear. Only when he was almost next to her and spoke again did she react. She looked up at him and he knew she was frightened.
Tonight the moon was out and the stars clear. Aliyyah now, although she seemed to him pale in the moonlight and fragile, she was no shadow, but flesh and blood, his companion, perhaps one day soon his spouse, as real and as mortal as he. Her eyes cloudy olive in the night. They took each other’s hands. “Ready?” he asked. She nodded and they set off down the path.
In his urgency to get to the appointed spot – the old gate – the path seemed longer than ever, winding pointlessly round copses of trees and bushes. He checked every few seconds that he had the pliers to cut the chains on the gate. Hopefully that wouldn’t be necessary – the ’copter would hover this side of the wall and winch them both up without difficulty.
Halfway along Aliyyah turned to take an offshoot path.
“It’s this way, Aliyyah, no?” The girl looked confused for a moment, then nodded, smiled hesitantly and took his hand to follow him. He felt her shiver, out of agitation surely for the night was warm and close.
They did not speak, Haldane straining, listening for the first hum of the aircraft. By what he reckoned to be two-thirds along the route there was still no sound. That was okay. They may have to wait a little for their rescuers. So long as they were in the right place at the right time, ready, they could wait all night.
At least there was no sign of Duban. Nor – and it disappointed him – of Ma’ahaba. Though it was possible, of course, that the old man would be waiting by the gate. Whenever the path was straight enough and free of roots and stones, he searched the skies. It was possible that the high-altitude airstream was running in such a way that they would see the ’copter before they heard it. The stars seemed lower, closer, tonight than ever before. Great splashes of silver, throbbing fretfully, as if the sky were trying to eject them.
Aliyyah tripped once or twice, though she knew this path so well and normally she was nimbler and surerfooted than he. When he caught her arm, at her third stumble, he felt how thin her arm was, the bone close under the skin.
At last he recognised the shape of the last twist in the path that took them out at the gate. At the same moment they heard a distant buzz that seemed to come from the stars themselves, droning like wasps. He could see, far off, but low, a red light flashing and knew that everything was on schedule. Turning the final bend he thought the gate was clear.
A moment later, Duban stepped out into the clearing.
“One last time, do not leave us, Aliyyah. I shall not speak again. No words of mine will influence either of you. But I will remain here. My pre
sence is not a reproach, merely a reminder.”
Haldane could tell by the sound that the helicopter was large, probably a Puma, and it was approaching faster than he had anticipated. “Stand back, Duban. We need space.” But the old man placed himself directly in front of the gate, in the middle of the clearing, where it would be easiest for them to be picked up.
Haldane took the radio and placed it on the ground, switching it on so that it lit up in the dark. It didn’t give much of a glow but, apart from a few lanterns in the house some distance away, it was the only light in the vicinity. He knew that the instruments on the aircraft would find them anyway, picking up the radio waves, and with the powerful searchlights that were already sweeping the sky.
“Move away, man!”
But Duban stood his ground. Soon the massive Puma was over his shoulder and heading directly for them. Haldane clenched Aliyyah’s hand tight. “Don’t worry. They’ll let down a ladder. Your uncle will be fine.” He had to shout now over the noise of the engine. “You will go first. I’ll help you climb up!”
“Aliyyah!” Ma’ahaba’s voice was distant and high as she rounded the bend towards them. She was half-running, but stopped short of them. “I’ll stay here. I only wanted to say goodbye.”
Aliyyah turned to her and Haldane could feel her hand tremble, and the blood in her wrist pound. “Please, Ma’ahaba, come with us!” He shouted. The older woman shook her head and remained where she was. Haldane looked to Aliyyah, expecting her to make a final plea to her oldest friend. But she did not. She merely stared in Ma’ahaba’s direction as though there was nobody there at all.
With the helicopter now nearly over them, Ma’ahaba screamed at the top of her voice to Duban. “Get out of the way! Let them go, Duban!” But he, too, remained motionless, looking up at the helicopter, so near it blocked out moon and stars, and seemed larger than it really was, looming in the dark. It dropped down further still and a soldier could be seen lowering the ladder. As it dropped, closer and closer, thundering, the more it swayed under the turbulence of its own blades. Haldane pointed to the radio on the ground, and shouted towards Ma’ahaba. “It still works! We can speak. Whenever you wish.” He couldn’t tell if she had heard or not.
