position and was reaching about for me. With a scream that was even louder, he tugged the stick from his eye and threw it aside. I grabbed at the fallen stick and, with all my remaining force, got myself to my feet. I swung another blow at him, and knocked him to the floor. I could have stood there, panting and clutching at my chest, to watch the man writhe in the only hell he’d ever know. But he was high on hashish and high on God. Astonishingly, he was scrabbling with his arms to roll over and get up again. I knocked at his other eye, and missed. I caught him a blow on the forehead with the handle of the stick, and knocked him flat again.
‘Take hold of his shoulders,’ I gasped at Edward. ‘Put all your weight on his chest. Try to keep him on his back.’ I stood at right angles to the killer, his head at my feet. I watched a moment, trying to predict his convulsive, still shrieking movements. Then I lifted the stick again. As if spearing a fish in the sea, I rammed it with all my aged force into his open mouth. I felt his front teeth shave the polished wood, and the softness of his palate. I felt the momentary resistance of his tongue, as, rammed like wadding into a blocked latrine pipe, it went downwards into his throat. I felt the grating resistance of bones beyond the back of his throat. Edward still gripping like mad on to the shoulders, I stepped back for a better position. Using it as a lever, I pulled the stick towards me. The man’s upper body arched. His arms went up in a last, despairing flail. Then his screams turned suddenly to a dull, frothing choke. If there was the click of snapping bones in his neck, I didn’t hear. But the good eye opened wide and the whole body went limp.
I flopped down on the dead man’s chest and clutched at myself. My heart was going like the drum at the end of an erotic dance, and I couldn’t catch my breath. I shut my eyes and tried to ignore the renewed white flashes. I let myself go loose and rolled off the man on the hard floor. I could feel a burning pressure in my nose and a spurting wetness all over my upper lip. Given a little more time to think, I might have reflected on an end that my barbarian ancestors would have thoroughly approved. But this wasn’t the end – not yet. I did catch my breath, and, slowly, my heart returned to a bearable, if uncertain pounding.
I grabbed at the dead man’s clothing and pulled myself into a sitting position. I shook my head and opened my eyes and looked round. At first, I thought Edward had been badly injured. Gasping and shaking, he was on all fours, his head pressed against the cold tiles. He looked to be in a spasm of unbearable agony. I raised a hand uselessly towards him, and tried to cry his name. But it was only an orgasm. The hard flogging, and then the thrill of violent death had been too much for the boy. He sobbed uncontrollably as he reached the point of total crisis, and bit hard on his forearm until blood mingled with saliva. By the time he was done, and he lay quivering, face down on the floor, I was well out of danger. I still was in no condition to try standing. But I reached forward, and let a hand fall on his chilly, sweating back. He lifted his head on to his forearm and looked back at me with a dreamy smile.
‘My dear boy,’ I said, keeping my voice as steady as I could, ‘you really need to control these urges. One day, I promise, they’ll put you at a serious disadvantage.’
Not moving his head, he raised his free hand and brushed a lock of damp hair from his eyes. ‘We killed the fucker,’ he said in English. ‘We did it together.’ He squeezed his eyes shut and repeated himself, now exultant: ‘We did it together.’
‘We did indeed,’ I said. ‘And you fought like a lion.’ I paused and chose my words. ‘I’m proud of you,’ I ended simply. I thought of reaching for that fallen chair and using it to pull myself to my feet. But that effort could wait until I was in better breath. ‘Now, be a good lad,’ I went on in a more businesslike tone. ‘Go and pull on that cord over there. The sooner we get help from downstairs, the better. We don’t know if this man was the only one sent.’
Edward smiled again and sat up. ‘There’s a dead slave outside the door,’ he said. ‘Other than that, we’re alone.’
I was no judge of that. It seemed still and silent all around. But, with my hearing, there might have been a riot in progress a few doors round that inner corridor.
‘And your own night company?’ I asked with unusual delicacy.
He smiled brightly and pointed at the now abandoned cane. ‘I beat her unconscious,’ he said. ‘She didn’t even wake up when the noise started.’ He jumped up, whole patches of his body marked and bloody in the lamplight.
‘You’d better get some clothes on,’ I said flatly. ‘I suppose we might also wait for your – your signs of excitement to pass off.’ He looked down and laughed. He moved his feet apart and stretched his arms. He stamped on the floor and laughed again.
‘Oh, that won’t go down in a hurry,’ he cried, again exultant. ‘After this, I don’t think it will ever go down.’ He put his head back and laughed louder, and arched his entire body. Then, silent, he looked down at me, his face now taking on a strange, doubtful expression. He came and sat between me and the twisted body of the man we’d just killed. He swallowed and leaned forward. He put a hand on my shoulder. I took his hand and slapped it softly. I laughed weakly until I thought I’d have my first coughing fit in ages. I took the hem of my robe and wiped away some of the blood from around my nose.
‘My dear young man,’ I said. ‘All else aside, this is hardly the time or place for such things. Our wisest course of action, I do suggest…’ I trailed off. The boy wasn’t listening. And when did I ever behave wisely? If I’d behaved with an ounce of wisdom, Edward would by now be spending some of Ezra’s money in Spain, and I’d be hidden away in some desert monastery, waiting for death. Instead, we were sitting in the heart of the Caliph’s empire as his guests, with the body of some drugged-out religious assassin freshly dead beside us.
And, now the killing was over, it really was very still and quiet.
Chapter 38
‘But I’d never have thought it possible!’ Karim shouted, all trace of the cautious diplomat erased from his voice. ‘I cannot express how proud…’ He paused and remembered his calling. He turned back for another look at the twisted, now stiff corpse at his feet. ‘Dog of an unbeliever!’ he snarled. He kicked hard at the body, then bent down for another inspection of the congealed blackness of the right eye and the congealed brown mass within the open, sagging mouth. I had another rueful look at my walking stick. Covered in muck, its bottom length ruined, someone had pulled this out, and it lay unregarded beside the body. He stood up and grinned at me. ‘Nice work, My Lord. I can tell you that few survive an encounter with the Angels of the Lord. Yes – very nice work!’
I got to my feet and winced at the pain that flooded in from every joint. I leaned on the broom handle one of the slaves had given me as an improvised new stick, and pointed at the body.
‘I wouldn’t dream of telling you your business, Karim,’ I said. ‘However, before you dictate the arrest order for all my workmen, I would ask you to look at these stains on the dead man’s clothing.’ I poked my stick between the parted legs. ‘I suggest that, rather than having come in with the others yesterday, and then hiding somewhere, it seems more likely that he climbed up the outside water screw. The window beside it was left open to bring in fresh air, and Edward found it pushed wide open. I have no doubt an investigation from the outside will confirm my belief. I do beg you not to put some very competent workmen on the rack, but instead to have bars fitted on all windows that can be reached from the outside. You might also make some enquiries within the palace to find out how the man got past the outer security, and how it was he knew where I was and how to get at me. You will agree that trousers are not commonly worn in Syria, and that those leather patches on the knees seem to make light work of climbing high metal pipes.’
Karim’s face tightened for a moment. Then again, I was turning his easy case into a long and possibly embarrassing enquiry. But he smiled and nodded back obediently. It would all be as I asked, he assured me with florid courtesy. I took the cup of something dull that a slave was pressing on me, and wondered if my workmen were getting over the shock of hearing Karim scream threats at them. He got up, his smile now broader.
‘My Lord will forgive me if I take my leave of this company,’ he said gravely. ‘I have my report to complete for His Highness the Governor of Syria. I will assure you of the great interest he takes in your comfort and security. I am sure that, in view of last night’s most regrettable incident, he will wish to receive you even in advance of this evening’s banquet.’ He looked again at the corpse and frowned.
‘Something I shall need to cover in my report,’ he went on, ‘is the apparent delay between the time you sent this piece of meat to Hell and your call for help. Everything points to a death no later than the midnight hour. Your call was just before dawn.’
