Bragi shouldered his pack and started toward Kamer Strotheide. Their way led round its knee. Sometimes he looked up toward Ragnar’s cairn. Only once did he look back.
The women and children and old people were abandoning the steading that had been home to generations. Most would flee to relatives elsewhere. A lot of people were on the move during these times of trouble. They should be able to disappear and elude the spite of the Pretender’s men.
He wondered where his mother would go...
Forever afterward he wished that, like Haaken, he had refused to look. He could, then, have remembered Draukenbring as a place alive, as a last hope and refuge quietly awaiting him in the northland.
Chapter Four
A Clash of Sabers
Nassef looked back once. Heat waves made the bowl of Al Rhemish a tent city writhing beneath dancing ghosts. A muted roar echoed from the valley. He smiled. “Karim,” he called gently.
A hard-looking man whose face had been scarred by the pox joined him. “Sir?”
“Go back down there. Visit our people. The ones who met us when we came in. Tell them to keep the riots going. Tell them I need an extended distraction. And tell them to pick five hundred willing warriors and send them after us. In small groups, so they’re not noticed leaving. Understand?”
“Yes.” Karim smiled. He was missing two front teeth. Another was broken at an angle. He was an old rogue. He had seen his battles. Even his gray-speckled beard seemed war torn.
Nassef watched Karim descend the stony slope. The former bandit was one of their more valuable converts. Nassef was sure Karim’s value would increase as the struggle widened and became more bitter.
He swung his mount and trotted after his sister and brother-in-law.
El Murid’s party consisted of almost fifty people. Most were bodyguards, his white-robed Invincibles, who had been guaranteed a place in Paradise if they died in El Murid’s behalf.
They made Nassef uneasy. They had eyes madder than those of their prophet. They were fanatically devoted. El Murid had had to bend the full might of his will to keep them from storming the Royal Compound after the trial.
Nassef assumed his post at El Murid’s right hand. “It went better than we hoped,” he said. “The boy’s attack was a godsend.”
“Indeed it was. To tell the truth, Nassef, I was reluctant to do it your way. But only the intercession of the Lord Himself could have made it so easy. Only He could have brought about an attack so timely.”
“I’m sorry about the ankle. Does it bother you much?”
“It pains me terribly. But I can endure it. Yassir gave me an herbal for the pain, and bound it. If I stay off it, I’ll be good as new before long.”
“During that farce of a trial... For a minute I thought you were going to give in.”
“For a minute I did. I’m as subject as anyone else to the wiles of the Evil One. But I found my strength, and the lapse made the outcome sweeter. You see how the Lord moves us to His will? We do His work even when we think we’re turning our backs on Him.”
Nassef stared across the barren hills. Finally, he replied, “It’s hard to accept a defeat hoping it will yield a greater victory someday. My friend, my prophet, they signed their death warrants today.”
“I’m no prophet, Nassef. Just a disciple of the Lord’s Way. And I want no deaths that can be avoided. Even King Aboud and the High Priests may someday seek the path of righteousness.”
“Of course. I was speaking figuratively. Saying that by their actions they have doomed their cause.”
“It is often thus with the minions of the Evil One. The more they struggle, the more they contribute to the Lord’s work. What about the raid? Are you
“I sent Karim back to Al Rhemish. If our people do what we ask, if they keep the riots going and send us five hundred warriors, we can. There’ll be no one to stop us. All the lords came to Al Rhemish to see our humiliation. The riots will occupy them through Mashad. We’ll have a week’s lead.”
“I just wish we could have christened the baby.”
“That was a pity. We’ll return, Lord. We’ll see it done, some Mashad. I promise it.”
For once Nassef’s words burned with total sincerity, with absolute conviction!
The by-ways of the desert were long, lonely and slow, especially for a man apart from other men. There was no one for El Murid to confide in, to dream with, except Meryem. The Invincibles were too much in awe of him, too worshipful. Nassef and his handful of followers remained engrossed in their scheming against tomorrow. The riders who overtook them, coming from Al Rhemish by tens and twenties, were all strangers. The fast friends who had been his first converts, the others who had come with him out of El Aquila, were all dead, sainted.
Nassef’s struggles on his behalf took their toll.
The Disciple rode beside the white camel, his child in his lap. “She’s such a peaceful, tiny thing,” he marveled. “A miracle. The Lord has been good to us, Meryem.” He winced.
“Your ankle?”
“Yes.”
“You’d better let me take her back, then.”
“No. These moments are too rare already. And they’re going to become rarer still.” After a minute alone with his thoughts, “How long will it be before I can set aside my staff?”
