Basimah began to wail again, her loud keening drowning out the cries of the rooster, which had just begun to crow the dawn.
‘How?’ Turan asked.
Yusuf’s gaze burrowed into Turan. ‘We are not sure-yet.’ ‘Do you wish to say something to me, Brother?’ Turan flared.
‘That is enough!’ Ayub snapped as he stepped between them. ‘This is a day of mourning. I will not have your petty squabbling.’ He turned to Turan. ‘I must speak with you.’ Ayub led Turan a few paces away, and they spoke in low voices. After a moment, Ayub called the head slave, Harith, over to join them.
John stepped past Yusuf and peered into the well. Sa’ida floated at the bottom, her pale, broken body barely visible in the gloom. John turned away. ‘Perhaps she killed herself,’ he whispered to Yusuf. ‘I would not blame her.’
‘No, he did it,’ Yusuf snarled, gesturing towards Turan. ‘I am sure of it.’
John nodded. He made a show of looking about, then turned back to Yusuf. ‘Have you seen your sister, Zimat?’
Yusuf’s face paled. Basimah looked up from where she knelt. ‘Zimat?’ she whispered, then her voice rose to a scream. ‘Zimat! Where are you my child!’
‘I am here!’ Zimat called, hurrying over from the direction of the barn.
‘Thank Allah!’ Basimah cried as she rose and embraced her daughter.
Turan and Ayub walked back over to the well. Turan went straight to John, grabbed his right arm, and twisted it behind his back. John began to struggle, but Yusuf shook his head. He turned to his father. ‘What is this?’
‘Turan says the Frank killed his wife, then hid in the stables. Harith has confirmed that John was not in his room last night.’
John shook his head. ‘But-’
‘Silence, slave!’ Ayub snapped. ‘Turan will stay here and prepare his wife for burial. Yusuf, you will leave now to inform Sa’ida’s father of this tragedy and to present him a gift in recompense for the loss of his daughter. You will bring him back with you, and when the two of you return, the Frank will be executed. That should appease Waqar.’
‘But John is innocent!’ It was Zimat, and all eyes turned to her. She blushed and lowered her gaze.
Ayub frowned. ‘This is no business of yours, Daughter. I have spoken. It will be done.’ He nodded towards John. ‘Take him to the cell.’
Yusuf reined his horse to a stop as the city of Baalbek came into sight. Waqar and the five mamluks who accompanied him also halted. It had taken them nearly a week to find Waqar, who had taken his herds to summer pastures in the mountains north of Hama. Yusuf had welcomed the delay. Every day he spent searching for Waqar meant another day that John would live. But now, after four days of hard riding, they had reached Baalbek.
‘At last,’ Waqar muttered. ‘I will gut the Frankish bastard myself.’
Yusuf grimaced and spurred his horse forward, riding at a fast trot. He and his men passed through the city gate and wound through the town to the villa. As he rode into the courtyard, Yusuf saw Turan speaking with their uncle, Shirkuh, who had just arrived and was still covered with the dust of the road. Turan saw Yusuf and his eyes narrowed. Shirkuh grinned. ‘Nephew!’ he roared.
‘Ahlan wa-Sahlan, Uncle,’ Yusuf said as he slid from the saddle. He put his hands on his uncle’s shoulders and exchanged the ritual three kisses on the lips.
‘You greet me as a man now,’ Shirkuh noted. He squeezed Yusuf’s arm, feeling his hard bicep. ‘And by Allah, you are a man. Soon enough, it will be your turn to join me in the court of Nur ad-Din.’
‘My turn?’
‘Your father has decided that Turan is old enough to begin his service to his lord. I have come for him. We leave tomorrow for Aleppo.’ Shirkuh looked past Yusuf to Waqar. ‘And who is this?’
‘This is the Bedouin sheikh Waqar, father of Sa’ida,’ Yusuf informed him. ‘Waqar, this is my uncle, Shirkuh.’
‘As-salaamu ‘alaykum,’ Waqar called out as he dismounted.
‘Wa ‘Alaykum as-salaam, sheikh. I mourn with you for your loss,’ Shirkuh replied, and the two men exchanged kisses. ‘Now come, all of you. Let us go in for refreshments. I am eager to see my brother.’
Turan shook his head. ‘Later, Uncle. I must speak with Yusuf.’
Shirkuh frowned. ‘But you insult our guest.’
‘My most sincere apologies, Sheikh,’ Turan said, bowing to Waqar. ‘After tomorrow, I will not see my brother again for many months.’ Waqar nodded.
‘Very well,’ Shirkuh said. ‘But do not be too long.’
Yusuf followed Turan around the side of the villa to the rear courtyard, where Turan turned to face him. ‘I have a score to settle with you before I go, little brother.’
‘And I with you.’ Yusuf raised his fists. ‘You killed Sa’ida. Admit it.’
‘Who will make me? You?’ Turan turned in place as Yusuf began to circle around him. ‘Careful, Brother, your Frank is not here to save you this time,’ Turan said as he casually cracked his knuckles. Yusuf sprang forward and snapped off a jab, catching Turan in the jaw. Turan stumbled back, surprised. ‘You little bastard!’ He brought his fists up and began to circle, mirroring Yusuf.
‘Why did you kill Sa’ida?’ Yusuf asked. ‘Did she laugh at the size of your zib?’
Turan’s face flushed red. He stepped forward and swung for Yusuf’s head. Yusuf ducked the clumsy blow and punched Turan twice in the gut before moving away, leaving his brother doubled over, hands on his knees.
‘I must have gotten close to the mark,’ Yusuf taunted. ‘Or was it that you could not get it up?’
‘I will kill you!’ Turan roared. He charged towards Yusuf, who stood his ground. At the last second, Yusuf jumped to the side and smashed his fist into Turan’s face before tripping his brother and sending him sprawling in the dust. Turan rolled over, furious, but Yusuf was on him immediately. He slammed his knee into Turan’s gut as he knelt over his brother and punched him in the nose, feeling a satisfying crunch. He hit Turan again and again, as his older brother vainly tried to defend himself. Turan’s nose was gushing blood and his lip was split, but Yusuf kept punching. He bared his teeth as the anger and frustration built up over so many years boiled over within him.
‘You bastard,’ Yusuf growled as he swung down. ‘ Bastard! Bastard ! Bastard!’ Yusuf swung again, but this time Turan caught his punch. He yanked Yusuf’s arm, pulling Yusuf off his chest. Yusuf tried to shake free, but Turan’s grip was like a vice. Turan rose to his feet and spun Yusuf around, putting him in a headlock. He pulled his forearm tight across his brother’s throat, choking him.
‘I did kill Sa’ida,’ Turan whispered in Yusuf’s ear. ‘It was that bitch’s fault my zib would not rise. And it’s your fault I married her in the first place. Shall I kill you, too, little brother?’ He squeezed tighter. Yusuf’s face was shading from bright red to purple, and he was starting to see spots of light dancing across his vision. ‘No smart replies now, eh? Can’t talk your way out of this.’
Yusuf snapped his head backwards and Turan fell back, hands over his face. Gasping for air, Yusuf spun around to face him. But the air would not come. It was one of his fits. Not now, not now, Yusuf thought to himself. He dropped to his knees, his chest heaving as he struggled for air.
Turan smirked, despite his swollen right eye and the blood running from his nose. ‘What’s the matter, little brother? Trouble breathing? And you wonder why I am Father’s favourite. You’re pathetic.’ Yusuf closed his eyes, shutting out Turan. He forced himself to breath evenly and slowly. He could defeat this. He must not try to catch his breath; it would come to him if he was patient. He opened his eyes and got to his feet.
‘Still fighting?’ Turan sneered, his teeth stained red with blood. ‘You should have stayed down.’ He surged towards Yusuf, who threw a jab, catching Turan in his bloodied nose. Yusuf slipped away and started circling. He grinned. His breathing had returned to normal.
‘I’ll wipe that grin off your face,’ Turan hissed. He stepped forward and threw a windmill punch. Yusuf ducked the blow and then unleashed a combination: two quick blows to the gut and an uppercut that snapped Turan’s head back. Turan stumbled backwards, his arms down. Yusuf stepped forward and threw two hard punches to his brother’s stomach, driving the wind out of him. Then Yusuf reared back and put all his force behind a straight cross that caught Turan square on the jaw. Turan’s legs gave out, and he sank to his knees, his eyes
