Night of a Thousand Stars (25 page)

“Syrians don’t take care of their things,” Sebastian told me solemnly.

That earned him a quick slap across the face from Faruq, and when it was done, Sebastian was smiling with a bloody lip.

“You oughtn’t provoke him,” I told him softly.

He shrugged. “I was bored.”

I rolled my eyes and we moved on, out of the shadow of a spindly tree and up the ridge. The going was slow with our hands bound before us, and more than once Faruq cursed us, his tone so vicious I was glad I didn’t speak Arabic. But Sebastian kept up a steady translation, commenting with admiration on the ruder bits.

“I say, old man, you’re quite wrong. I would never do that to a donkey,” he called back at one point. “They kick, you know.”

“His temper is worsening,” I told Sebastian quietly as we scrambled over stones.

“He’s getting nervous,” he replied, using the sound of the shifting rocks to cover our voices. “It’s going to make him unpredictable.”

“Then should you really be baiting him?” I demanded.

“I know what I’m doing,” was all he would say in reply. We toiled upwards, climbing over ever-larger rocks until at last Faruq was forced to dismount and leave his horse. He carried his saddlebag and kept his pistol trained upon us, but he needn’t have bothered. With the tortuous ground and our hands firmly bound, we were lucky to keep upright, and we didn’t always manage that. More than once we stumbled, sometimes because I got too far ahead and sometimes because Sebastian lagged too far behind. We grew too tired and too hot to talk, and finally we reached the top of the plateau, the ruined tower of the castle keep looming above us in the afternoon sun.

“The Chastel Noir, built by the Templars during the Crusades and ugly as sin,” Sebastian pronounced. “Part of a series of citadels they erected to establish Western rule in the Outremer.”

“Invaders,” Faruq spat. “Coming here to take away our faith and replace it with your own.”

“Steady on,” Sebastian said lightly. “I seem to recall your lot did the same thing to Spain. It’s a bloody bad idea when anyone does it, I think we can agree.”

Faruq did not respond. He merely jerked his chin towards the castle keep. “Inside.”

I moved to obey, walking under the arched stones that had stood nearly a thousand years, impervious to the desert sands and sea-borne winds. It might stand a thousand more, bearing no trace of the lives that had been lost within its walls, I thought grimly. And two of those lives might well be ours.

Twenty

Faruq still gave no sign of noticing our pursuers and Sebastian was careful not to draw any attention to them. I was fairly giddy with the notion that help was so close at hand, but Faruq had already proven he was at ease with violence and not particularly sensible when it came to employing it. I made every effort to keep myself calm and focus on the essentials. The sun was lowering itself beyond the western horizon. Somewhere behind the hills the Mediterranean Sea was glittering in the waning rays, and I wondered if I would ever see it again.

Sebastian read my thoughts as handily as a carnival trickster. He caught my eye and gave me a firm nod, lifting his chin with an expression of resolve so complete, I felt my chest tighten and sudden tears prick my eyes. He wanted to save us, and he would try until his last breath to do it.

I made up my mind then that I would do everything in my power to save us both. I could not have his death on my conscience, and although the current situation was beyond anything I had experienced, there had to be something I could do.

Faruq fed and watered his horse, and after it was comfortably settled turned his attentions to us. “I will leave you tied together for now,” he told us. “You can eat easily enough.”

He proved his point by giving us nothing but cold flatbreads, which we shared between us. Sebastian scrupulously tried to divide the portion in half, but I refused to finish all of mine, and he shrugged and took the rest, bolting it down with scarcely a chance to chew it. He must have been utterly starved, I thought with a pang. When we had eaten, Faruq untethered us from one another long enough to let us take a moment’s privacy behind a bush that had forced its way out of the citadel walls, twisting itself into a parody of a shrub. It wasn’t much privacy, but it was something, and I was grateful to have a moment to myself even if my hands were still bound. I must have taken too long because Faruq raised his voice, calling out cheerfully, “If you are not out by the time I count to twenty, I will shoot him in the other arm.”

I was back before he reached five. Sebastian gave me a ghastly smile, and I thought it must be playing havoc with his nerves to be threatened so often with physical violence. I tried to give him a reassuring smile in return, but I suspected it came off a bit sickly. I was wondering what was keeping our saviours from staging a rescue, and it was not until Faruq left to take his own moment behind the bush that Sebastian muttered an answer to the question.

“Waiting for daylight,” he said softly. “Suicide to try this track in the dark. Better to come on at first light and try to surprise him while he’s still asleep.”

I nodded and Sebastian leaned into me, giving me a cordial shove with his good shoulder. “Try to get some sleep tonight. The real fun will start tomorrow.”

His sudden bravado moved me as much as the sight of him, battered and bloodied, and I promised myself I would stay awake as late as I could, plotting some sort of strategy to free us both.

But the long walk and the hot sun had taken their toll, and by the time the purple twilight had faded to blackness, I slipped into sleep. Faruq did not kindle a fire, and Sebastian and I slept back to back, taking warmth from one another as the cool velvet shadow of night fell over the citadel. Faruq talked in his sleep, muttering something in Arabic, while Sebastian slept heavily, rolling over onto my arm more than once and pinning me under his substantial weight. I tried to shift him without waking him, but it proved impossible, and so I slid into sleep again, dreaming I was weighted down by stones, crushed to death by Faruq’s slow torture as he demanded the location of the treasure—a location I could not give.

I woke with a start, my face damp with sweat, to find Faruq grinning at me.

“Pleasant dreams?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said loftily. “I was handing you over to the authorities for arrest. It was quite gratifying.”

He laughed then, but there was an edge to his mirth that told me I had struck a nerve. He reached out a booted foot and kicked Sebastian, who groaned deeply.

“Don’t do that!” I ordered.

Faruq shrugged and I roused Sebastian as gently as I could. He slept like the dead, and in the end I was forced to pinch him soundly on his bare cheek just above his beard.

“Ow!” he complained, sitting upright and rubbing at his cheek. “That was uncalled for.”

“Not entirely,” I told him. “It’s morning.”

He looked around, a small smile touching his lips. “So it is.” He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the sweet sea-borne air of the hills, and I marvelled at his good mood.

“You haven’t any coffee. I would have thought you’d be a misery this morning,” I told him.

Faruq rose to check on his horse, and Sebastian turned to smile at me, his expression deeply malicious. “A misery? Not a chance, dear child. There’s going to be a fight today. And a good one.”

I stared at him in dismay. “Sebastian, I hardly think you’re in any shape to take on Faruq,” I began.

He kept his grin. “It won’t be with Faruq.”

Before I could ask what he meant, he rose and stretched, testing his wounded arm. He looked through the slit in the robe.

“How is it?” I asked.

“Passable. It could do with a thorough cleaning and perhaps a stitch or two, but I’ve had worse.”

“I can’t imagine how,” I said repressively. “Honestly, if you insist on treating this all as a game,” I began, but he had stopped listening. He had edged us closer to the wall of the citadel, a broken course of stones that only came to our waists. He peered over, sweeping his eyes over the plain below. His gaze fixed on a small tree some hundred yards off the base of the hill. There was movement underneath it, and his smile deepened. “Come on, then,” he muttered.

“Where are they? Who are they?” I asked softly.

He shrugged. “No idea. But pretend you’re admiring the sunrise. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked, jerking his chin towards the rays that spread over the length of the desert landscape. The dusty rocks were every colour of gold—bronze and apricot, copper and peach—

I gasped and Sebastian shot me a quick look. “What is it?”

“Peaches,” I told him slowly. “I know who Faruq’s partner is.” I thought back to the day I had lunched with Armand, his elaborate pursuit of me—too elaborate it had seemed at the time. I thought of the apparent genteel poverty of the Courtempierres, the missing art and furnishings, the
comtesse
’s lack of jewels. They needed money, lots of it if Armand was going to sustain the lifestyle he enjoyed. He and Hugh must have concocted the scheme together, each of them playing for me until the
comtesse
proved troublesome by setting Faruq on me and following me herself. That must have been her idea—to put a little distance between her beloved son and me. She forced the matter, letting Hugh work on charming me into divulging something. No dirty work for her precious Armand.

Sebastian was still looking at me intently and I roughed out the idea for him as swiftly as I could. “And you don’t like coincidences,” I finished. “In my theory, there are none. Hugh needs a local contact to help him out, Armand needs money. They conspire together and either take Faruq into their confidence to help and he double-crosses them or he overhears enough to make his own play for the gold.”

Sebastian nodded slowly. “Well done, Poppy. I think you’ve sussed it. Pity it’s probably too late.”

“What do you mean too late?” I demanded.

But he merely nodded to where Faruq was standing at the edge of the precipice, staring, his mouth open in rage.

He turned slightly, but before he could say a word he gave a little shudder and only then did I hear the shot. It was a strange trick of the distance that I could see the bullet strike his head before I heard it, but the sound of it still echoed over the desert floor even as Faruq fell to the ground.

“Oh, my God,” I managed, turning my face to Sebastian’s shoulder.

“Don’t look again,” he ordered me. He pulled off his outer robe, laying it over the remains of Faruq’s head.

It was better now that I could not see him. It seemed hours but in fact it was only a minute or two before they reached us—Armand and the
comtesse
and the colonel, very red in the face and still holding his rifle.

He glanced down at the motionless form of Faruq. “Always was rather handy at a distance,” he said mildly. “The villain had it coming, although I’m sorry you had to see it, child,” he said to me.

My knees nearly buckled with relief. “Colonel!” I cried. “I’m so happy to see you.”

“And I you, my dear,” he said with a regretful tone. “But I do wish it had been under more pleasant circumstances.”

“So do I,” I told him fervently.

But even as I said the words, something hovered in the air, crushing my euphoria. “Oh, Colonel,” I murmured. “Not you.”

He shrugged, lifting the rifle. “I’m afraid so, my dear. But you’ve been mighty useful, and I thank you for that.”

He nodded towards my bound wrists. “I say, there’s no call for a white woman to be trussed up like that. Cut her loose now,” he ordered Armand.

Armand complied with a curl to his handsome lip. “I don’t know,” he said softly into my ear. “I rather like you this way. Perhaps I’ll keep you when this is all over.”

Armand had no personal interest in me, of that I was absolutely certain. He simply wanted to unnerve me by threatening me with the most intimate sort of violence, and it was a coward’s trick.

I gave him a cold smile. “You’d have to use force, Armand. I’m afraid that’s the only way I’d have you.”

His smile thinned and he gave my ropes a quick twist, tightening them like a garrote around my poor wrists. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of screaming, but something in my face must have shown because Sebastian chose that moment to speak up.

“Is this the famous Continental wooing up close?” he drawled. “Not terribly impressive, Count. Come here and hold hands with me and see if you like it better.”

Armand—understanding it for the threat it was—laughed, but I noticed he was careful to stay far out of Sebastian’s reach even though his hands were still bound.

The
comtesse
moved forward to Sebastian, her robes fluttering in the breeze. “Here is a copy of the document you and your colleagues found at the monastery near Ashkelon, the same document given to Lady Hester Stanhope. It is written in mediaeval Italian, and it details the locations of several treasure troves hidden by Christians along the coast when this was the kingdom of the Outremer. We do not care about the smaller treasures. You know the one we want,” she told Sebastian in a chillingly conversational tone. “The Templar gold, all three million coins of it. It is here, somewhere along this coast. And you will find it for us.”

Sebastian said nothing for a long moment then stirred lazily. “Oh, sorry, is this where I ask what dire thing will happen to us if we don’t?”

Her smile was thin. “I think you know the answer to that. For every hour you delay, I will remove one of Miss March’s fingers,” she said, grabbing my hand. She pulled up the index finger of my right hand. “I think I will begin with this one to give you an incentive to work hard.”

She put out her free hand and her son handed over his dagger. She put it to the base of my finger, pricking out a ruby droplet of blood.

“Oh, don’t let’s descend to melodrama,” Sebastian said, rolling his eyes. “I can tell you right now without even studying the document that you’re in the wrong part of the country for that. In fact, you’re in the wrong country altogether.”

“What do you mean?” the
comtesse
demanded, her eyes narrowed.

Sebastian looked bored. “We’re in Palestine, dear lady. The treasure you want is in the Lebanon.”

“And how do you know this?”

He waved a hand towards the document. “Because the three locations detailed in the map are Ashkelon, a site north of Jaffa, and a third site just out of Sidon, near Lady Hester’s home at Djoun. Now, why else do you suppose the lady chose to make her home on that remote hillside save for the fact that it was an abandoned monastery? Shall I give you a moment to work it all out?” A note of condescension crept into his voice. “Very well, I’ll just hand it to you on a platter. She chose that location precisely because it was where the treasure was originally buried. She didn’t have to dig it up.
It was there all the while.
”

I had no idea what Sebastian’s strategy was. He told me he had already searched the place thoroughly himself, and he had insisted there was no way the treasure could have been buried there. He had sworn that too much time had passed and too many owners and squatters had come and gone. But the instant I grasped what he was up to, so did the
comtesse
.

Her smile was predatory. “Very clever, Mr. Fox. It is no coincidence, I think, that you have given us the location farthest from where we now stand. You hope that we will take you with us all the way back to Sidon. It is a substantial trip. You are thinking you could well make your escape while we are en route.”

He shrugged. “I’m merely giving you the facts as I see them. If you choose to ignore them, so be it. Don’t find the gold. I don’t much care.”

“But you will, I think,” she said, picking up my finger where she had left off.

Just then the colonel, who had been remarkably restrained during the exchange, spoke up. “I say, Sabine, that’s just not cricket. You can’t maim an Englishwoman for sport. I won’t have it.”

She turned to him, her eyes glittering. But she gave him a gracious nod and dropped my hand. She held out the dagger to her son, and as she passed it to him, their eyes met. Something was decided between them, wordlessly, and I felt a chill pass through me.

Before I could understand what was happening, Armand stepped behind the colonel and embraced him. Reaching in front of the old man, he slipped his blade from one ear to the other. A spray of crimson showered the sandy ground, and it was done. The colonel slipped to his knees, an expression of surprise on his ruddy features, and then he fell to his face.

I could not speak. The sound was stuck in my throat. But there was another sound, a high keening moan of despair, and it was not until the
comtesse
lifted her hand and slapped me sharply that I realized it was mine. I fell silent, grateful for the burst of pain in my cheek.