to his desk and picked up the whalebone riding crop that lay upon it. He turned back to her. 'Disrobe!' he ordered. She stood motionless, her face expressionless.
'Do as your father orders,' said Caroline, 'you blatant hussy.' She had stopped weeping and her tone was vindictive and gloating.
'Disrobe at once,' Guy said again, 'or I shall summon two of the seamen to do it for you.'
Verity lifted her hands to her throat and untied the ribbon that held her blouse closed. When at last she stood naked before them she raised her chin defiantly, shook out her hair and let it hang forward over her shoulders to screen her proud young breasts, and cover her pudenda.
'Lie face down over the day bed her father ordered.
She went to it with a firm tread. She stretched out on the buttoned green leather. The lines of her body were sweet and smooth as those of ;1 a Michelangelo marble. I will not cry out, she told herself, but her |
muscles convulsed instinctively as the whip hissed and clapped across her buttocks. I will not grant him that pleasure, she promised herself, and closed her eyes as the next stroke fell across the back of her thighs. It stung like the bite of a scorpion. She bit her lip until blood seeped salty and metallic into her mouth.
At last Sir Guy stood back, his breath fast and ragged with the effort. 'You may dress yourself, you shameless harlot,' he gasped.
She sat up slowly, and tried to ignore the fire that raged down her back and her legs. The front of her father's breeches was on a level with her eyes and she smiled with cold contempt as she noticed the tumescent evidence of his arousal.
He turned away hurriedly and threw the whip on to the desk top. 'You have been deceitful and disloyal to me. I can no longer trust you. I shall keep you confined to your cabin until such time as I have decided what additional punishment is appropriate,' he warned her.
Dorian and Mansur stood with the sheikhs on the balcony of the minaret, and watched the plumes and tops of the bronze soup bowl helmets of the Turkish assault troops showing above the parapets as they moved up the approach trenches. As they massed below the walls Zayn al-Din's heavy batteries redoubled their rate of fire. They had changed their ammunition. Instead of stone balls, they swept the parapets and breaches with cartloads of fist-sized pebbles and cast-iron pot legs The guns fell silent and the Turkish trumpeters sounded the charge; the drums pounded out an urgent beat.
A mass of shrieking Turks erupted from the head of the trenches. As they raced forward across the last few yards before the breaches, the guns of the defenders on the parapets blazed down upon them, and the archers loosed flights of arrows.
The leading attackers were across the open ground before the gunners could reload. They left dead and wounded littered upon the shot-torn earth, but wave after wave ran forward to take the place of the fallen.
They clambered over the rubble and the shattered stone blocks, and swarmed through the breaches. As soon as they were through they found themselves in a maze of narrow alleys and dead-end lanes. Dorian had ordered barricades built across every one. The Turks had to take each by storm, running into a hail of close-range musket fire as they charged. As soon as they scaled an obstruction, the defenders ran back to the next line of defence and the Turks were forced to attack again. It was gruelling and bloody work, but gradually Mansur and bin-Shibam's depleted forces
were driven back into the main souk, and the Turks were able to outflank them, and reach the main city gate. They slaughtered the men who tried to defend the winches and forced the gates wide. Kadem and Koots, at the head of two thousand Turks, were waiting outside and the moment the gates swung open they rushed in.
From the top of the minaret Dorian saw them pouring like floodwaters down the narrow streets. He was relieved that over the past months he had been able to spirit most of the women and children out of the city and into the desert, for they would have been lambs to these wolves. As soon as the gates were open, he ordered the hoisting of the previously prepared flag signal to the Sprite and the Revenge. Then he turned to his councillors and captains. 'It is over,' he told them. 'I thank you for your courage and loyalty. Take your men and escape if you can. We will fight again another day.' One at a time they came forward to embrace him.
Bin-Shibam was covered with dust and black with smoke; his robe was stained with the dried blood of half a dozen flesh wounds. It mingled with the blood of the Turks he had slain. 'We shall wait for your return,' he said.
'You know where you can find me. Send a messenger to me when all is in readiness. I shall return to you at once,' Dorian told him, 'if God is willing. Praise God.'
'God is great,' they replied.
The horses were waiting in the lanes before the small north gate. When it was thrown open Mustapha Zindara, bin-Shibam and the rest of the council rode out at the head of their men. They fought their way through the attackers who raced forward to cut them off, then galloped away through the palm groves and irrigated fields. Dorian watched them go from the minaret. He heard footsteps on the marble stairs and turned with his sword in his hand. For a moment he hardly recognized his own son under the coating of grime and soot.
'Come, Father,' Mansur said, 'we must hurry.'
Together they ran down the stairs to where Istaph and ten men were waiting for them in the mosque.
'This way.' An imam stepped from the shadows and gesticulated. They hurried after him, and he led them through a labyrinth of passages until they reached a small iron gate. He unlocked it and Mansur kicked it open.
'Stay with God's blessing,' Dorian told the imam.
'Go with God's blessing,' he replied, 'and may He bring you swiftly back to Oman.'
They ran through the door and found themselves in a gloomy
alleyway so narrow that the latticed balconies of the top floors of the deserted buildings almost met overhead.
'This way, Majesty!' Istaph had been born in the city, and these alleys had been his childhood playground. They raced after him and burst out into the sunlight again. The open waters of the harbour lay before them, and the Sprite's longboat was waiting out in the bay to take them off. Mansur shouted and waved to Kumrah who stood at the helm. The oarsmen pulled together and the longboat shot in towards them.
At that moment there was an angry din behind them. A mob of Turkish and Omani attackers poured out from the mouth of one of the alleys on to the wharf. They charged towards them, their front rank bristling with long pikes and bright-edged weapons. Dorian glanced over his shoulder and saw that the longboat was still a pistol shot away across the green waters. 'Stand together!' he cried, and they formed a tight circle at the head of the landing steps, shoulder to shoulder, facing outwards.
'Al-Salil!' shouted the Arab who led the attack. He was tall and lean, and he moved like a leopard. His long, lank hair whipped out behind him and his beard curled on to his chest.
'Al-Salil!' he shouted again. 'I have come for you.' Dorian recognized that fierce, fanatical glare.
'Kadem.' Mansur recognized him at the same moment, and his voice rang with the force of his hatred.
'I have come for you also, you bastard puppy of a dog and an incestuous bitch in heat!' Kadem shouted again.
'You must take me first.' Dorian stepped forward a pace, and Kadem hurled himself upon him. Their blades clashed as Dorian blocked the cut for his head, and then sent a riposte at Kadem's throat. Steel rang and scraped on steel. It was the first time they had matched blades, but Dorian knew at once that Kadem was a dangerous opponent. His right arm was quick and powerful, and in his left hand he held a curved dagger, poised to strike through any opening.
'You murdered my wife!' Dorian snarled, as he thrust again.
'I give thanks that I was able to do that duty. I should have killed you also,' Kadem answered, 'for my father's sake.'
Mansur fought at Dorian's right hand and Istaph on the left, guarding his flanks but careful not to block or impede his sword arm. Step by step they gave ground, retreating to the head of the landing, and the attackers pressed them hard.
Dorian heard the bows of the longboat bump against the stone wall below them, and Kumrah shouted, 'Come, al-Salil!'
The steps were greasy with green algae and Kadem, seeing Dorian about to escape his vengeance a second time, leaped in furiously. Dorian was driven back another pace on to the top step, and his right foot slipped on the greasy surface. He went down on one knee and was forced to save his balance by dropping his point for an instant. Kadem saw his chance. He launched himself, all his weight on his right foot, lunging for Dorian's heart.
The moment his father had gone down, Mansur anticipated Kadem's response. He turned, poised and ready. Kadem swung his body forward and for an instant his left flank was open as he launched himself into the attack. Mansur hit him, going in under his raised arm. He put all his anger, hatred and grief for his mother behind the thrust. He expected to feel his point slide in deeply, that clinging reluctance of living flesh opening to the steel. Instead his sword arm jarred to the strike of steel on the bone of Kadem's ribs, and his wrist twisted slightly as the point was deflected. Nevertheless, the thrust ran along the outside of Kadem's ribcage, and up under his
