the lagoon, near where Mansur had shot the buffalo the previous day. Then he laughed as he pointed out the trenches and overgrown excavations all around their encampment that the Dutch had dug in their efforts to find and retrieve the plundered treasure. 'While they sweated and swore, our own father, Hal Courtney, had spirited away the booty long before,' he told them, but they had heard the story often enough not to be amazed by it. In the end even Tom was defeated by the silence, and instead of regaling them further he addressed himself to the bowl of spiced buffalo stew that the women had served after the fish.
Dorian ate little. Before the silver coffee-pot was brought from its cradle over the coals he told Tom, 'If you agree, brother, I will speak to Kadem now and give him my decision.'
'Aye, Dorry,' Tom agreed. 'Twould be best to have done with the whole business. The ladies have been sitting on a nest of ants since yesterday.' He shouted for Batula. 'Tell Kadem he might join our council, if he has a mind.'
Kadem came striding down the beach. He walked like a desert warrior, lithe and long-limbed, and prostrated himself before Dorian.
Mansur leaned forward eagerly. He and Dorian had left the camp earlier that day and passed many hours alone together in the forest. Only they knew what they had discussed. Yasmini looked at her son's shining face and her heart sank. He is so young and beautiful, she thought, so bright and strong. Of course he pines for such an adventure as he sees here. He knows only the ballad singers' romantic vision of battle. He dreams of glory, power and a throne. For, depending on the choice Dorian makes this evening, the Elephant Throne of Oman might one day be his.
She drew the veil over her face to hide her fears. My son does not understand what pain and suffering the crown will bring him all the days of his life. He knows nothing of the poison cup and the assassin's blade. He does not understand that the caliphate is a slavery more oppressive than the chains of the galley slave or those of the worker in the copper mines of Monomatapa.
Her thoughts were interrupted when Kadem greeted Dorian. The rrophet's blessing upon you, Majesty, and the peace of God. May he bless our undertakings.'
It: 1S eary to sPeak of Majesty, Kadem al-Juri,' Dorian cautioned him. Wait rather until you have heard my decision.'
Your decision has already been made for you by the prophet and
saint Mullah al-Allama. He died in his ninety-ninth year, in the mosque on Lamu island, praising God with his last breath.'
'I did not know he was dead,' Dorian said sadly, 'though, in all truth, at that venerable age it could not have been otherwise. He was a holy man indeed. I knew him well. It was his hand that circumcised me. He was my wise councillor, and a second father to me.'
'In his last days he thought of you, and made a prophecy.'
Dorian inclined his head. 'You may recite the words of the holy mullah.'
Kadem had the gift of rhetoric, and his voice was strong but pleasing. 'The orphan from the sea, he who won the Elephant for his father, shall sit upon its back when the father has passed, and he shall wear a crown of red gold.' Kadem spread his arms. 'Majesty, the orphan of the prophecy can mean no other than you. For you are crowned now in red gold, and you were the victor of the battle that gave the Elephant Throne to your adoptive father, Caliph Abd Muhammad al-Malik.'
A long silence followed his ringing speech, and Kadem stood with arms outspread like the Prophet himself.
Dorian broke the silence at last. 'I have heard your pleas, and I will give you my decision that you must take back to the sheikhs of Oman. But first I must tell you how I have reached it.'
Dorian placed his hand upon Mansur's shoulder. 'This is my son, my only son. My decision touches him deeply. He and I have discussed it in every detail. His fierce young heart is hot for the enterprise, just as mine was at the same age. He has urged me to accept the invitation of the sheikhs.'
'Your son is wise far beyond his years,' said Kadem. 'If it please Allah, he shall rule in Muscat after you.'
'BismalWi!' cried Batula and Kumrah together.
'If God pleases!' cried Mansur in Arabic, his expression rapt with joy.
Dorian held up his right hand, and they fell silent again. There is another who is touched deeply by my decision.' He took Yasmini's hand. 'The Princess Yasmini has been my companion and my wife all these years, from childhood to this day. I swore an oath to her long ago, a blood oath.' He turned to her. 'Do you remember my marriage vows to you?'
'I remember, my lord husband,' she said softly, 'but I thought you might have forgotten.'
'I swore two vows to you. The first was that, even though the law ana the prophets allow it, I would take no other wife than you. I have kept that vow.'
Yasmini was not able to speak, but she nodded. At the movement a
tear that trembled on her long eyelashes detached itself and splashed upon the silk that covered her bosom, leaving a wet stain.
The second oath I swore that day was that I would not cause you pain if it was in my power to prevent it.' Yasmini nodded again.
'Let all of you here present know that if I were to take up the invitation of the sheikhs to the Elephant Throne, it would cause the Princess Yasmini pain more poignant than the pain of death itself.'
The silence drew out, tingling, in the night, like the threat of summer thunder. Dorian stood up and spread his arms. This is my reply. May God hear my words. May the holy prophets of Islam bear witness to my oath.'
Tom was amazed by the transformation that had overtaken his younger brother. Now he looked like a king indeed. But Dorian's next words shattered that illusion. Tell them that my love and admiration is with them still, as it was at the battle of Muscat and every day since then. Despite this, the burden they would place upon me is too heavy for my heart and my shoulders. They must find another for the Elephant Throne. I cannot take up the caliphate and keep true to my oath to the Princess Yasmini.'
Mansur gave a small involuntary cry of distress. He leaped to his feet and ran into the night. Tom jumped up and might have chased after him had not Dorian shaken his head. 'Let him go, brother. His disappointment is sharp, but it will pass.' He sat down again and turned to smile at Yasmini. An expression of adoration shone upon her lovely face. 'I have kept both my oaths to you,' Dorian said.
'My lord!' she whispered. 'My own heart.'
Kadem stood up again, his face expressionless. He bowed deeply to Dorian. 'As my prince commands,' he agreed softly. 'Would that I could call you 'Majesty'. It saddens me, but that is not to be. God's will be done.' He turned and strode away into the darkness, heading in the opposite direction to that taken by Mansur.
It was the time of the evening prayers and the man who called himself Kadem al-Juri performed his ritual ablutions in the salt waters of the lagoon. Once he was cleansed, he climbed to a high place on the rocks above the ocean. He spread his prayer mat, recited the first prayer and made the first prostration.
For once neither the act of worship nor submission to the will of God could calm the anger that seethed within him. It required all his self iscipline and dedication to complete the prayers without letting his
unruly emotions mar them. When he had finished, he built a small fire from the faggot of wood he had gathered on the way up the hill. When it was burning brightly Kadem sat cross-legged on the mat in front of it and gazed through the curtain of shimmering heat at the glowing wood.
Rocking slightly, as though he were riding a racing camel across the desert, he recited the twelve mystical sura of the Qur'an, and waited for the voices. They had been with him since childhood, since the day of his circumcision. Always they came to him clearly after praying or fasting. He knew they were the voices of God's angels and of his prophets. The first to speak was the one he dreaded most.
'You have failed in your task.' He recognized the voice of Gabriel, the avenging archangel, and quailed before the accusation.
'Highest of the high, it was not possible that al-Salil could spurn the bait that was so carefully prepared for him,' he murmured.
'Hear me, Kadem ibn Abubaker,' said the angel. 'It was your overweening pride that led you into failure. You were too certain of your own powers.'
The angel used his true name, for Kadem was the son of Pasha Abubaker, the general Dorian had slain in the battle on the banks of the river Lunga twenty years before.
Pasha Abubaker had been the half-brother and boon companion of Zayn al-Din, the Caliph of Oman. They had grown up together in the zenana on Lamu island, and it was there that their destinies had first become entangled with those of Dorian and Yasmini.
Much later, in the palace at Muscat, when their royal father was dead and Zayn al-Din was caliph, he had appointed Abubaker supreme military commander and a Pasha in the service of the caliphate. Then he had sent Abubaker with his army to Africa to hunt down and capture Dorian and Yasmini, the incestuous runaway couple.
At the head of his cavalry squadrons Abubaker had caught up with them as they were trying to escape down the river Lunga and reach the open sea in Tom's tiny ship, the Swallow. Abubaker had attacked them while they were stranded on the sandbar at the mouth of the river. The battle was
