Desert God (21 page)

Between them they had dragged her to the foot of the rock wall. Here I saw there was another of the fissures in the face of the cliff. But this one was wider than and not as steep as the first one.

It was more like a staircase than a chimney. I knew that I could climb it easily but the camels would have to find another way to reach the top of the cliff. I looked back and saw Zaras leading the first camel along the base of the cliff towards me. As he reached me he shouted urgently, ‘What is happening, Taita? What do you want us to do?’

‘Tehuti has been taken. They must have been lying in wait for her here. She wandered off on her own and they took her.’ I pointed up the cleft in the cliff. ‘They have dragged her up there, where our camels can’t follow.’

‘Who are these men? Where did they come from?’

‘I know not, Zaras. Ask no more pointless questions. Ride on along the base of the cliff until you can find a way to climb it. I am going straight up after them.’

‘I’ll send half my men to follow you up, and support you. Then I’ll take the others around with me, and meet you at the top of the cliff.’

I did not answer him, but saved my breath for the climb that confronted me. I climbed steadily, husbanding my strength. I could hear Zaras’ men coming up behind me. Although all of them were much younger than me I drew ahead of them steadily.

Halfway to the top of the wall I heard voices from above. I paused for a few seconds to listen. I do not speak the Arabian language perfectly, but I understood enough to follow the gist of it.

The men above me were Bedouin and they were urging each other to greater speed. Then faintly I heard Tehuti scream: I would know that voice anywhere and in any circumstances.

‘Take courage, Tehuti,’ I threw my head back and shouted up at her. ‘I am coming. Zaras also is coming with all our men.’

The sound of her voice was a goad to me; I flew at the climb again with renewed strength and determination. Then above me I heard the whinny of a horse, the stamp of hooves and the jingle of harness. The men who had her were mounting up.

Tehuti cried out again but the sense of her words was lost in the shouting of the Arabs as they mounted, and then the cracking of the whiplashes as they urged their mounts into a gallop. Horses snorted, and then their hooves thudded on the soft sands.

I realized then why these bandits had left their horses at the top of the cliff. They knew that they would be able to return to them swiftly, whereas we would lose time in finding another way to bring our camels around the impassable cliff.

I hurled myself up the last few yards of the climb and tumbled over the lip of the cliff. I paused there to take in the situation.

In front of me was a rabble of some thirty or forty Arab riders, dressed in dusty burnous and keffiyeh head-dress. By this time they had all managed to mount their horses and most of them were already racing away from where I stood, urging their mounts on with wild yells, shouting at each other triumphantly.

One of the bandits was still wrestling with Tehuti. He had thrown her over the front of his saddle, and as I watched he mounted up behind her. He was a big powerful-looking brute with a curling dark beard. He answered closely to the description that I had received from Al Namjoo of the bandit Al Hawsawi, the Jackal. But I could not be certain this was him.

Tehuti was kicking out at him and screaming, but he held her down easily on the saddle with one arm pinning both of hers. I saw that her tunic and her hair were still wet from the pool. Her damp curls dangled and danced about her head.

She glanced back and saw me on the lip of the cliff, and her face lit with a pathetic gleam of hope. I could read her lips as she mouthed my name.

‘Tata! Please help me!’

With his free hand on the reins her captor sawed the stallion’s head around and then booted the animal into full flight out across the rock-strewn plain, speeding away from me. Once he looked back under his arm and he grinned at me jubilantly. Now I was certain that he was the Jackal. Fleetingly I wondered how he had known that we were coming to this Miyah Keiv in the striated cliff.

His gang closed up around him in a tight mass. I could not count their numbers. Watching them go I was almost overwhelmed with the wave of savage but helpless rage that swept over me and threatened to smother me.

Swiftly I gathered my numbed wits and slipped the recurved war bow from my shoulder. In three swift movements I had rebraced the bowstring, and I was reaching back to take an arrow from my quiver.

The range was opening swiftly. I knew that within seconds both Tehuti and her captor would be beyond bowshot. I took my stance, left shoulder leading the target, and I raised my eyes above the distant horizon, judging the angle of loft that I must give my arrow to reach out to the Jackal.

Battle joy engorged my heart as I realized that the body of the Jackal was interposed between Tehuti and me, and that unwittingly he was shielding her from my arrow. I could loose cleanly without fear of hitting her. I drew and the fletching of the arrow touched my lips. Every muscle in my arms and upper torso was racked by the immense weight of the tensed bow. There are very few other men who are able to draw my bow to full stretch. It is not merely a matter of brute strength. It also requires poise and balance, and achieving a sense of oneness with the bow.

When I opened my three fingers that held the bowstring it slashed back, scorching the skin of my inner forearm. I felt the blood spring brightly from the wound it inflicted. There had been no chance for me to secure the leather arm guard to protect myself from it.

I felt no pain. Instead my heart soared upwards as swiftly as the arrow I had let fly, for I saw that I had made a perfect shot. I knew that the swine who held Tehuti was dead without him yet being aware of it.

Then suddenly I shouted aloud with rage and frustration as I watched the horseman who rode hard behind my target swing his horse off the line. Horus alone knows why he did so; probably it was to avoid a hole. Whatever the reason, he blotted out my view of the target. I saw my arrow drop on him like a stooping falcon and take him high in the back, an inch to one side of his spine. He threw his head back, and writhed with agony as he tried to reach over his own shoulder to grasp the shaft of the arrow. But he was still blocking my aim.

I nocked a second arrow and let it fly again in the despairing hope that the wounded man might slip from the saddle and fall to earth while the arrow was still in flight, thus opening up Al Hawsawi’s body. But the wounded Arab clung stubbornly to his saddle; only when my second arrow struck him in the back of his neck did his limp carcass flop from the saddle and roll in the loose dust kicked up by the horses in front of him.

By that time Al Hawsawi was out of range. I let another arrow fly after him even though I knew that I had no chance of touching him. But I still cursed myself and all the dark gods who had protected Al Hawsawi when my last arrow dropped twenty paces behind the heels of his horse.

I started to run to where the body of the man was lying with two of my arrows in him. I wanted to reach him before he died so that I could beat and kick some information out of him. Perhaps if I were fortunate I might even learn for certain the name of the villain who had taken Tehuti, and where I might find him again.

It was not to be. The nameless bandit was dead when I stooped over him. His one eye was rolled up into his skull so only the white was showing, while the other eye glared up at me in dumb outrage. I kicked him anyway; more than once. Then I sat down beside him and sent up a desperate prayer to Hathor, Osiris and Horus, pleading with each of them to keep Tehuti safe until I could come to her.

The thing I hate most about the gods is the fact that they are seldom at hand when most you need them.

So while I waited for Zaras to find me I turned my hand to cutting my arrows out of the corpse of the bandit I had brought down. There is no fletcher in all of Egypt who can turn out an arrow to match one of mine.

I
t took Zaras almost another hour to arrive. The band of Bedouin bandits had long disappeared into the glare and dust of the horizon by that time. I am a man who usually has complete control of my emotions. I can stay calm and composed in the face of disaster and tragedy. By this I mean the sack of cities, the massacre of armies and suchlike lesser mishaps. But with the loss of Tehuti I found myself in a towering, shaking and impotent rage. The longer I had to wait the more my emotions seethed and boiled.

The men that Zaras had sent to climb the cliff after me became the target for my fury. I raved at them, excoriating them for being so tardy and ineffectual. I accused them of cowardice and deliberate procrastination when I needed their assistance.

When I finally picked out the dust of Zaras’ camels approaching along the upper rim of the striated rock wall I could not contain myself an instant longer. I started to run back to meet him. I was shouting at him to hurry whilst he was still beyond earshot.

However, when he came close enough for me to read the expression on his face the realization dawned on me that his distress equalled and possibly outstripped my own. As loudly and as bitterly as I was screaming at him to hurry, even louder he was imploring me to tell him where Tehuti was and if she were still alive.

It was then I realized that it was not some casual and transient infatuation that gripped these two young people. This was the same grand and immaculate passion that I had cherished for Tehuti’s mother, Queen Lostris. I could see that Zaras’ anguish for the loss of Tehuti was as devastating as mine had once been for her mother.

In the moment I recognized this fact I knew also that the world had changed for all three of us.

I
watched Zaras bringing his men towards me as fast as the camels could gallop. These were all magnificent beasts.

Over a short distance the Bedouin horses would be able to outrun my camels, but they could not maintain that pace for more than two or three hours. On the other hand my camels could run all day long, over sandy and treacherous ground. My camels had recently drunk their fill of water. They would not have to drink again for ten or more days. In these conditions of thirst, heat and heavy going in the sand the horses would be down by sunrise tomorrow, while my camels could still be running a week from today.

I had my orders for Zaras ready when he came up to where I stood. He had an armed man on the back of every camel. Very swiftly I had half of them dismounted and on their way back to the cavern on foot to stand guard over the other two girls. Of course Bekatha’s safety outweighed that of Loxias a hundredfold, but none the less I had grown fond of the little Cretan lass.

Zaras had shown the good sense to have each of the camels loaded with full water-skins. This accounted for his delayed arrival. Now half the saddles were empty and I would be able to rotate the riders at regular intervals. I was also pleased to see that Zaras had brought our head guide Al Namjoo with him. Nobody knew the ground better than he did.

As we mounted up with each rider leading a spare camel on a guide rope behind him, and the water-skins bulging and gurgling reassuringly, I was prepared to wager a bag of silver mem that I would catch up with Al Hawsawi before noon on the morrow.

The wind had dropped to a soft breeze, but it was still too hot to give us much relief. At the very least it no longer had the strength to obliterate the Jackal’s spoor until I had the chance to read it. I kept the camels moving at a pace that I judged carefully.

I calculated the passage of time by the angle of the sun, and three hours later I could already see that we had gained substantially on our quarry. We stopped briefly to rotate our mounts and I allowed the men to each drink two mugs of water before we started off again. We were not pushing hard yet; but keeping to a swinging trot that the camels made look so relaxed and easy.

Another two hours and I received proof positive that we were wearing down the fugitives. We came upon one of the Jackal’s horses broken down and limping slowly along the tracks left by its herd mates. I was grimly satisfied with our progress, and I told Zaras that I hoped we might even catch them before nightfall.

This opinion proved premature. An hour after I had expressed it we came to the first split. I held up my hand to signal my cohort to halt. Then I confirmed this with a verbal command to Zaras.

‘Let the men dismount and stretch their legs. They can each drink two mugs of water. But they must stay back and take care not to confuse the tracks until I have read them.’

Splitting the chase was an old Bedouin ploy that consisted of dividing their numbers into two equal groups. Then each group would take off in a separate direction. In this instance it was doubly effective, in that it would be impossible for us to decide which of the two groups had taken Tehuti with them. We would be forced to split our own forces to follow both of theirs.

I dismounted and handed the reins of my camel to Zaras to hold for me. I went forward on foot, stepping gingerly until I reached the point at which the gang had split. I saw that they had not dismounted to do so. Thus I was unable to pick up Tehuti’s footprints. I squatted down and once again called on my gods for help.

‘Great Horus, let me see. Open these weak blind eyes and show me the way, I beg of you. Open my eyes, beloved Hathor, and I will make you a blood sacrifice to delight your heart.’

I closed my eyes and listened to my heart beat twenty times before I opened them again. I looked around carefully but my eyesight was unaltered. The desert was the same. There was no translucent glow lighting the brutal sands; no dancing shadows to lead me on.

Then I heard a voice, and I cocked my head to listen to it. But it was only the wind soughing through the dunes. I turned my head slowly to allow the wind to brush my ear. I heard her then, softly but distinctly.

‘Let Hathor show you the way.’ It was the voice of Tehuti. I looked about me quickly expecting to find her at my shoulder. But she was not there. I closed my eyes and waited for the little miracle I knew would come. Silently I bowed my head and closed my eyes in atonement to the goddess Hathor for the recent derogatory thoughts I had directed at her.