chilled.
“From where I sit yours looks soft enough to tempt me.”
“Stop this childish squabbling,” said Nazeera sternly, although she found it more than a little flattering that she could still be at the centre of such rivalry for her waning charms. “We have important things to discuss. Bacheet, tell him what you have already told me.”
“My master, al-Sakhawi, and I escaped from Khartoum on his steamer, the night that the Dervish attacked and captured the city. We found the girl-child, Filfil, and took her with us. Once we were clear of the city, we moored the steamer in the Lagoon of the Little Fish. My master sent me back here to seek out al-Jamal. However, he can tarry no longer at the lagoon. The Dervish are diligently searching both banks of the river for him, and within a short while they will surely find him. He is forced to flee further up the Blue Nile into the kingdom of the Emperor John of Abyssinia where he is known and respected as a trader. When he is secure there he will be able to make careful plans for the rescue of al-Jamal and al-Zahra. My master is not yet aware that you and your master are here in Omdurman, but when I bring him this news I know that he will wish to join his efforts with your master’s to achieve the rescue of the two white women.”
“Your master is called al-Sakhawi for his generosity and liberality. It is rumoured that his courage surpasses that of a buffalo bull, although no man has ever seen him fight. Now you tell me that this renowned warrior intends to run away and leave two helpless women to their fate. On the other hand, I know that Abadan Riji will remain here in Omdurman until he has procured their escape from the blood-drenched clutches of the Mahdi,” Yakub said scornfully.
“Ha, Yakub, how edifying to hear you talk of blood-drenched clutches,” said Bacheet smoothly. He stood up to his full height and sucked in his belly. “The yapping of a puppy must not be mistaken for the baying of the hound,” he said mysteriously. “If Abadan Riji wishes the assistance of al-Sakhawi in arranging the rescue of al-Jamal, he may desire to send a message to my master. He can do so through Ras Hailu, an Abyssinian grain trader from Gondar whose dhows trade regularly downriver to Omdurman. Ras Hailu is a trusted friend and partner of my master. I will not waste more breath and time in arguing with you. Stay with God.”
Bacheet turned his back on Yakub and stalked away.
“You are like a small boy, Yakub. Why do I allow you to waste my time and breath?” Nazeera asked the sky. “Bacheet was speaking good sense. It will need more than reckless courage to lift my girls from the zenana of the Mahdi, and to carry them thousands of leagues across the desert to safety. You will need money to place as bribes within the palace, more money to buy camels and provisions, still more money to arrange relays along your escape road. Does your master have that much money? I think not. Al-Sakhawi does, and he also has the patience and brains that your master lacks. Yet in your arrogance and conceit you turn away the offer of assistance that will certainly make the difference between success and failure in your master’s enterprise.”
“If al-Sakhawi is a man of such merit and virtue, why do you not marry your beloved al-Jamal to him, rather than to my master, Abadan Riji?” Yakub demanded angrily.
“That is the first sensible thing you have said all day,” Nazeera agreed.
“Are you against us? Will you not help us to free these women? Knowing how much I love you, Nazeera, will you turn me away in favour of that beardless creature, Bacheet?” Yakub assumed a piteous expression.
“I am newly arrived in Omdurman. I know very few people in this city. I have no way to enter upon the pathways of power and influence. There is little in which I can help you. One thing only is certain. I will not risk the lives of the two girls I love to some wild and reckless scheme. If you want me to give you what help I can, you must work out a plan that has more chance of success than of failure. It must be a plan that above all, takes into account their safety.” Nazeera began to pack up her pots and dishes. “It must be a plan in which I can place my trust. When you have made such a plan, you can find me here every sacred Friday morning.”
“Nazeera, will you tell al-Jamal that my master is here in Omdurman, and that soon he will rescue her?”
“Why would I kindle false hope in her heart, which has already been broken by her captivity, the death of her father, the loss of her little sister Fifil, and the sickness of her other sister al-Zahra?”
“But my master loves her and will lay down his own life for her, Nazeera.”
“As he also loves the woman Bakhita and fifty others like her. I do not care if he lays down his life for her, but I will not let her lay down her life for him. Have you never seen a woman stoned to death for adultery, Yakub? That is what will happen to al-Jamal if your plans fail. The Mahdi is a man without mercy.” She tied a cloth round her dishes and lifted it on to her head. “Come to me again only when you have something sensible to discuss with me.” Nazeera walked away, balancing the parcel gracefully on her head.
How much money do you have?” asked Yakub’s putative uncle, Wad Hagma. Penrod looked into his guileless eyes and replied with a question. “How much will you need?”
Wad Hagma pursed his lips while he considered. ‘I will have to bribe my friends in the Mahdi’s palace to clear the way and they are important men whom I cannot insult with a paltry sum. Then I will have to find and pay for the extra camels to carry so many people. I must provide fodder and provisions along the road, pay the guards at the border. All this will cost a great deal, but of course I will take nothing for my own trouble. Yakub is like a son to me, and his friends are my friends also.”
Of course, he does this willingly and without thought of his own rewards.” Yakub endorsed his uncle’s altruistic intentions. They were sitting together by the small fire in the soot-blackened lean-to kitchen of the caravanserai, and eating the stew of mutton, wild onions and chilli. Considering the insalubrious surroundings in which it had been cooked and the-venerable age of the flyblown ingredients, the dish was tastier than Penrod had expected.
‘I am grateful to Wad Hagma for his assistance, but my question was, how much does he need?” It was only as a last resort that Penrod had agreed to enlist the assistance of the uncle in his plans. Yakub had convinced him that Wad Hagma knew many of the Mahdi’s entourage and members of his palace household. With his uncle to help them, Yakub had considered it unnecessary to bring to his master’s attention the offer of assistance conveyed by Bacheet on behalf of his own master, al-Sakhawi. In any case, his animosity towards Bacheet was so deep that he could not bring himself to do anything that might redound to his rival’s credit or profit. He had refrained from mentioning to Penrod his meeting with Bacheet.
“It will not be less than fifty English sovereigns,” Wad Hagma said, in a tone of deep regret, watching Penrod’s reaction.
“That is a small fortune!” Penrod protested.
Wad Hagma was encouraged to be dealing with a man who considered fifty sovereigns only a small fortune, rather than an extremely large one, so he immediately raised the bidding. “Alas, it could be a great deal more,” he said lugubriously. “However, the fate of these poor females has touched my heart and Yakub is dearer to me than any son. You are a mighty man and famous. I will do my best for you. In God’s Name I swear this!”
“In God’s Name!” Yakub agreed automatically.
“I will give you ten pounds now,” said Penrod, ‘and more when you show your intent in deeds rather than in fine words.”
“You will see that the promises of Wad Hagma are like the mountain of Great Ararat, on which the ark of Noah came to rest.”
“Yakub will bring the money to you tomorrow.” Penrod did not want to reveal where he kept his purse. They finished the meal and wiped the last drops of gravy from the bottom of the dishes with scraps of dhurra bread. Penrod thanked the uncle and wished him goodnight, then he signed to Yakub to follow him. They walked out into the desert.
“There are already too many people in Omdurman who know who we are. It will be unsafe to stay any longer in your uncle’s house. From now onwards we will sleep every night at a different place. Nobody must be able to follow our movements. We must see but never be seen.”
It was some months after she had been confined in the zenana before the Mahdi took any further notice of Rebecca. Then he sent her and Amber new wardrobes of clothing. Amber received three simple cotton dresses and light sandals. Rebecca was sent apparel of a more elaborate but modest design, as befitted a concubine of Allah’s prophet.
The clothes were a welcome distraction from the boredom of the harem. By this time Amber had recovered sufficiently from her illness to take an active interest, and they tried on the dresses and showed them off to Nazeera and to each other.
The zenana was an enclosure the size of a small village. There was only one gate in the ten-foot-high wall of
