“It worked. They retreated.”
She put her arms around my neck and clung. “Ethan, it’s so hor -
rible.”
“Maybe they won’t come back.”
She shook her head. “You told me Bonaparte is implacable.” I knew it would take more than an electric chain to defeat Napoleon.
Miriam looked down at herself. “I look like a butcher.”
“You look beautiful. Beautiful and bloody.” It was true. “Let’s get you inside.” I boosted her up and she leaned against me, one arm around my shoulders for support. I wasn’t quite sure where to take her, but I wanted to get away from Jericho’s foundry and the combat wall. I began to walk us toward the mosque.
Then Jericho appeared, led by an anxious Ned.
“My God, what happened?” the ironmonger asked.
“She got caught up in the fighting in the breach. She performed like an Amazon.”
“I’m all right, brother.”
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His voice was accusatory. “You said she’d simply help with your sorcery.”
She interceded. “The men needed ammunition, Jericho.”
“I could have lost you.”
Then there was silence, and the strain of two men wanting a woman for different reasons. Ned stood mutely to one side, looking guilty as if it was his fault.
“Well, come back down to the foundry, then,” Jericho said tightly.
“No cannonballs will reach us there.”
“I’m going with Ethan.”
“Going? Where?”
They both looked at me, as if I knew. “Going,” I said, “where she can get some rest. It’s noisy as a factory at your forge, Jericho. Hot and dirty.”
“I don’t want you with her.” His voice was flat.
“I’m with Ethan, brother.” Her voice was soft but insistent.
And so we went, she leaning on me, the metallurgist left standing in the garden in frustration, his hands closing on nothing. Behind us, artillery rumbled like distant drums.
My friend Mohammad had taken quarters at Khan el-Omdan, the Pillars Inn, rather than sail away and leave us to Napoleon. In the excitement of working on the chain I’d forgotten about him, but I sought him out now. I’d wrapped a cloak around Miriam, but when we appeared at his apartment we both looked like refugees: smoke- stained, filthy, and torn.
“Mohammad, we need to find a place to rest.”
“Effendi, all the rooms are taken!”
“Surely . . .”
“Yet something can always be found for a price.” I smiled wryly. “Could we share your room?” He shook his head. “The walls are thin and water scarce. It’s no place for a lady. You don’t deserve better, but she does. Give me the rest of the money Sir Sidney gave you for your medal and your winnings at the duel.” He held out his hand.
I hesitated.
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“Come, you know I won’t cheat you. What good is money, unless you use it?”
So I handed it over and he disappeared. In half an hour he was back, my purse empty. “Come. A merchant has fled the city and a young physician has been using his home to sleep, but rarely gets to.
He rented me the keys.”
The house was dark, its shutters drawn, its furnishing draped and pushed against the wall. Its desertion by its owner had left a desolate air, and the doctor who had taken his place was only camped there. He was a Christian Levantine from Tyre named Zawani. He shook my hand and looked curiously at Miriam. “I’ll use the money for herbs and bandages.” We were far enough from the walls that the guns were muted. “There’s a bath above. Rest. I won’t be back until tomorrow.” He was handsome, his eyes kind, but already hollowed from exhaustion.
“The lady needs to recover . . .”
“There’s no need to explain. I’m a doctor.” We were left alone. The top floor had a bathing alcove with a white masonry dome above its pool that was pierced by thick panes of colored glass. Light came through in shafts of multiple colors like a dismantled rainbow. There was wood to heat the water, so I set to work while Miriam dozed. The room was full of steam when I woke her. “I’ve prepared a bath.” I made to leave but she stopped me, and undressed us both. Her breasts were small but perfect, firm, her nipples pink, her belly descending to a thatch of pale hair. She was a virginal Madonna, scrubbing both of us of the dirt of battle until she was once more alabaster.
