Glosh.”
“What is your destination?”
“I travel to the new city of Addis Ababa in the hills, where I purpose to barter my salt for ingots of copper.”
“Go with God, good merchant.”
“Stay with God, mighty Atalan, and may angels guard your sleep.”
When the caravan owner left the audience hall, Osman gestured al-Noor to his side. When the aggagier knelt beside him he whispered, “The merchant is a spy. Kill him. Do it secretly and with cunning. None must learn who delivered the blow.”
“As you order, so shall it be done.”
The staff left the hall, each making an obeisance to the Khalif as he passed, but when al-Jamal rose to follow them Osman said curtly, “Sit by me. We shall talk a while.”
By this time Rebecca could act the part of a concubine. The Mahdi had taught her how to please an Arab master. Flattery was the one sure way to achieve it. She was always astonished at how they would accept the most extravagant hyperbole as nothing more than their due. While she spouted this nonsense she could efface herself and keep her true feelings hidden. She sat as he had ordered and, with her face veiled, waited for him to speak.
“Remove your veil,” he said. “I wish to see your face while we discourse.” She obeyed. He studied her features in silence for a while, then asked, “Why do you smile?”
“Because, my lord, I am happy to be in your presence. It gives me great pleasure to serve you.”
“Are all the women in your country like you?”
“We speak the same language, but none of us is like the others. Great Khalif, I am sure your women are no different.”
“Our women are all the same. The reason for their existence is to please their husbands.”
“Then they are fortunate, great Atalan, especially those who have the honour to belong to you.”
“How did you learn to read and write?”
“My lord, I was taught to do so from an early age.”
“Your father did not forbid this?”
“Nay, sweet master, he encouraged it.”
Osman shook his head with disapproval. “What of his wives? Did he allow them to indulge in such dangerous practice?”
“My father had one wife, and she was my mother. When she died he never remarried.”
“How many concubines?”
“None, exalted Khalif.”
“Then he must have been very poor, and of little standing in this world.”
“My father was the representative of our queen, and well beloved by her. I have a letter from Her Majesty that says so.”
“If the Queen truly loved him, she should have sent him a dozen wives to replace the old one.” Osman was fascinated by her replies, each of which led him immediately to another question. He found it difficult to imagine a land where it rained almost every day and was so cold that the raindrops turned to white salt before they hit the ground.
“What do the people drink? Why do they not die of thirst if the water turns to saltV
“My master, before very long the snow turns back to water.”
Osman looked up to the spade-shaped windows. “The sun has set.
You must follow me to my quarters. I wish to hear more of these wonders.”
Rebecca’s spirits quailed. Since she had been taken into his zenana, she had been able to avoid this confrontation. She smiled prettily, and covered her mouth with one hand as she had seen the other women do when overcome with shyness. “Again you fill my heart with joy, noble lord. To be with you is all in this life that gives me pleasure.”
The cooks brought up the evening meal to his quarters while Osman prayed alone on the terrace, which commanded a grand vista of distant mountains. As soon as he had completed the complicated ritual he dismissed the cooks, and ordered Rebecca to serve his food, but showed little interest in it. He took a few mouthfuls, then made her sit at his feet and eat from his leavings.
He continued to ply her with questions, and listened intently to her replies, hardly allowing her a chance to swallow before he asked the next question. Some time in the early hours of the morning she slumped over and fell into a deep sleep on the cushions from sheer exhaustion. When she awoke it was dawn and she was stretched out still fully dressed on his angareb. She wondered how she had got there, then remembered her dream of being a small girl again and her father carrying her up the stairs to bed. Had the Khalif carried her to bed? she wondered. If he had, that was some small miracle of condescension.
She heard excited shouts and galloping hoofs from below the terrace and rose from the bed, went to the window and looked down. In the courtyard Osman Atalan and some of his aggagiers were trying out a string of unbroken three-year-old horses that had been the gift of the governor of Gallabat. Penrod Ballantyne, almost indistinguishable from the Arabs, was up on a frisky bay colt that was bucking furiously around the yard with arched back and stiff legs. Osman and his other aggagiers shouted with laughter and offered ribald advice.
These days, whenever Rebecca laid eyes on Penrod her emotions were thrown into uproar. He was a heartbreaking reminder of that long-ago existence from which she had been snatched so untimely. Did she still love him, as she had once thought she did? She was not sure. Nothing was certain any longer. Except that the man who stood at the opposite end of the yard now ruled her destiny. She stared at Osman Atalan, and the despair she thought she had subdued returned in full force to overwhelm her like a dark wave.
She turned from the window and stared at the Webley revolver that lay on a side table across the room. She had seen the Khalif place it there before he went to his prayers the previous night. It had probably been taken from a dead British officer at Abu Klea or perhaps even looted at the sack of Khartoum.
She crossed the room and picked it up. She opened the action and saw that every chamber was fully loaded. She snapped it shut and turned to the mirror on the facing wall. She stared at her image as she cocked and lifted the pistol to point at her own temple. She stood like that trying to summon that last grain of determination to press the trigger.
Then she noticed in the mirror the initials engraved discreetly in the butt plate of the weapon. She lowered it and examined the inscription. “D. W. B. From S. I. B. With love,” she read. “David Wellington Benbrook from Sarah Isabel Benbrook.”
This had been her mother’s gift to her father. She hurled it from her and ran from the room, back to the zenama to find Nazeera, the only person in the world to whom she could turn.
Penrod sat the colt easily and let him work himself into a lather as he whipped from side to side with long elastic jumps, then stood on his hind legs and pawed at the sky. When the colt lost his balance and toppled backwards, the watching aggagiers shouted and al-Noor beat on his leather shield with his scabbard. But Penrod jumped clear, still holding the long rein. With a convulsive heave the colt came up again on all four legs, and before he could break away, Penrod sprang lightly on to his bare back. The colt stood on planted hoofs and shivered with outrage and frustration at being unable to rid himself of the unfamiliar weight.
“Open the gates!” Penrod shouted, to the captain of the city guard, then lashed the colt across the shoulder with the end of the reins. He sprang into startled flight, and Penrod turned him towards the open gates. They flew through and out into the lane, scattering chickens, dogs and children, skirted the souk, then ran out into the open country, still at full gallop. Almost an hour later horse and rider returned. Penrod walked the colt round the courtyard, turning him left and right, halting him, making him back up and stand at last. He threw one leg over his neck and dropped to the ground, stood at the colt’s head and stroked his sweat-drenched neck.
“What think you, Abadan Riji?” Osman Atalan called down from the terrace. “Is this a horse fit for an aggagier?”
“He is strong and swift, and he learns quickly,” Penrod responded.
“Then he is my gift to you,” said the Khalif.
Penrod was astonished at this mark of approval. It enhanced his status yet again. He lacked only a sword to be counted a full warrior of the Beja. He clenched his right fist and held it to his heart in a gesture of respect and
