The Black Stallion Returns (8 page)

Mr. Coggins emptied his glass and then went on. “The Bedouin, his horse, and camel rule supreme in the desert. His tenacity and endurance have enabled him to survive where almost everything else perishes. Yes, and he still lives as his forefathers did, in tents of goats’ or camels’ hair, and grazes his sheep and goats in
the same ancient pastures. The nomad of the desert is a bundle of nerves, bones and sinews. Dates and milk are the chief items on his menu.”

“No solid foods at all?” Mr. Volence interrupted.

“Dates and camel flesh are probably his only solid foods,” Mr. Coggins replied. “Incidentally, the Bedouin considers the camel a ‘special gift of Allah.’ He feasts on its flesh, covers himself with its skin, makes his tent of its hair, and uses its dung as fuel. It is his constant companion, his means of transportation, his wealth and his blood.”

Having listened very intently, Alec broke in, “But his horse. I’ve always thought that that was his most valued possession.”

“It is, Alec,” agreed Mr. Coggins with a smile. “But it is an animal of luxury, whose feeding and care constitute a problem to the man of the desert. Its possession is an indication of wealth. And now just a little more about the Bedouin’s horse, as indeed I know how greatly you are interested. Contrary to the belief of most people, the Arabian horse was a late importation into ancient Arabia. But once there, it had a perfect opportunity to keep its blood pure and free from admixture. As we are all aware, the pure-blooded Arabian horse is known throughout the world for its physical beauty, endurance, intelligence and faithfulness to its master. Yes, the Arabian horse is the origin from which all western ideas about good breeding of horseflesh have been derived.”

Alec, vividly recalling the Black’s great size and amazing speed, said: “A moment ago you implied that the Bedouin desires to keep the blood of his horses
pure and free from admixture. Yet the horse which we’re looking for may not be a pure-blooded Arabian. To the best of your knowledge do you think it possible that there might be a Bedouin who is intermingling the blood of Arabian horses with that of other breeds in an effort to create a breed that will have the stamina and heart of the Arabian together with the speed and power of another bloodline?”

“Quite possible, Alec,” Mr. Coggins replied. “The Bedouin is a past master of horse-breeding, as we all know. Therefore, it’s only natural that some of them might attempt to create the perfect horse, especially since the horse’s chief value to the Bedouin lies in providing the speed necessary for the success of his raids.”

Alec suddenly noticed that Raj had entered the room and was standing silently behind Mr. Volence. He had been listening to the conversation and his soft mouth was tight and grim.

“Are the Bedouins ruthless?” Alec heard Mr. Volence ask.

“No, not unless it’s absolutely necessary. In the case of raids no blood is shed except in cases of extreme necessity. The principal causes of conflict are the keen competition for water and good pastures.”

Henry moved uneasily in his chair. “Bejabbers,” he said, “we’re sure gonna be lucky if we return in one piece!”

Mr. Coggins said quietly, “On the contrary, Henry, your chances are good. I hope I haven’t given you the impression that the Bedouins are inhospitable, because they’re not. However dreadful the Bedouin may be to his enemy, he is loyal and generous within the laws of
friendship. Hospitality is one of his supreme virtues, and he considers it his sacred duty. He will never refuse a guest, or harm him after accepting him as a guest. It would be an offense against his honor and a sin against God. On the other hand, to make him your enemy is to die. For the law of the desert is that blood calls for blood, and death for death. A blood feud between desert tribes might easily last for fifty years or more.”

Mr. Coggins stopped, glanced at his watch. His gaze shifted to Raj, who nodded. Then he turned to his guests. “A Bedouin is waiting in the other room and I want you to meet him. He may be the guide for you. However, before we go in I want to tell you his story briefly, as it’s important that you should be aware of it before you hire him.” Mr. Coggins paused a moment before continuing. “This man arrived in Haribwan only a few weeks ago, an outcast from his tribe. He had committed some crime within his clan, escaped with his life, and become an outlaw. The fate of which,” he explained, “is worse than death. For to live without protection of a tribe in the desert is in most cases to die many horrible deaths. By some means, however, this Bedouin managed to reach Haribwan alive. His knowledge of the Rub‘ al Khali is greater than that of any man I’ve ever met … perhaps that accounts for it.

“Knowing that I was looking for a man to guide you across the desert, this man came to my home one night and offered to go. I had seen him in town, and was acquainted with the story I’ve told you. When I asked him if he didn’t fear for his life if he undertook the trip, he didn’t answer. He only replied that his fee would be high. He said further that he was one of the
few Bedouins of the desert who knew the mountains to the east including the Kharj district. Realizing that I would not be successful in finding another who would take you into the mountains, I told him to return tonight. Now you know the story and it will be up to you to decide. Much thought must be given before you make your decision, for as I have told you, he is an outcast, a man who has lost his tribal affiliation and whose capture means death. Why he chooses to leave Haribwan and take this great risk, I don’t know. His fee will be very high, and with the money he may hope to buy his way back into his clan. Anyway, there’s no getting around the fact that he is the only man who will take you to the Kharj district. Other guides will go across the desert, but no farther.”

Heavy silence fell on the room as Mr. Coggins finished. The faces of Alec, Henry, and Mr. Volence were without expression for they were weighing the risks they would have to take. Raj stood rigidly behind the table.

Finally, Mr. Coggins said, “Your decision does not have to be made at once. Come, and I will show you this Bedouin.”

They entered a long room dimly lighted by one oil lamp which hung like a chandelier from the center of the ceiling. A figure in white rose from the sofa. Slowly he made his way toward them. He stopped only a few yards away and now Alec could distinguish his features which were faintly outlined beneath the white head shawl around which ran a bright red band. With the exception of a deeply furrowed scar that ran from his left ear down to his chin, he was much like the Arabs Alec had seen on the train. He had the same flat cheekbones, broad jaw and straight nose, and like them was of medium height.

For some unexplainable reason, Alec’s thoughts suddenly turned to Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak, and then to Raj. It was strange that both of them were so unlike the other Arabians he had seen, including Ibn al Khaldun. Raj and Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak were tall of stature and high-cheekboned. Alec heard Mr. Coggins’ voice as he
spoke in Arabic to the newcomer, who bowed slightly, acknowledging the introductions.

“He cannot speak English,” Mr. Coggins explained, “so I’ll act as interpreter. What are some of the things you’d like to know?”

“See if he can tell us anything about Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak … where he lives, and if he could guide us to him,” Mr. Volence answered.

“Also,” said Alec, “if he’s ever heard of an Arabian named Ibn al Khaldun.”

“Let’s not forget,” Henry spoke up, “to ask how much this will cost us, and what kind of security he’s goin’ to give us to make sure he doesn’t leave us in the middle of the desert.”

Mr. Coggins smiled at Henry’s remark. “Yes, that’s pretty important,” he said. Then, turning to the Arab, he conversed with him.

Soon Mr. Coggins turned back to them. “He’s heard of Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak,” he explained, “but knows nothing about Ibn al Khaldun. Abu Ishak lives in the most mountainous section of the Kharj district.… Few have seen him or his home although many in the mountains and the Rub‘ al Khali know his name.”

“Will he attempt to find him for us?” Alec asked.

“Yes, but his fee will be higher. He says the risks involved are great and the compensation must also be great. He asks one thousand dollars.”

“A stiff price,” Mr. Volence muttered. “Much more than I expected to pay. Will that amount include the cost of the caravan and supplies?”

Mr. Coggins turned to the Arab, spoke with him, then to Mr. Volence. “Yes, it will include everything. The price, I know, is exorbitant, but we must remember there is no one else who can do the job you want done.” He nodded his head in the direction of the Arab. “He knows it, too,” he concluded.

Mr. Volence was silent a moment, then asked, “What security will he give?”

“Only his word,” Mr. Coggins replied, “but I have yet to regret trusting the word of a Bedouin.”

“Even an outcast like him?” Henry questioned.

“Yes, Henry,” Mr. Coggins replied. “He may kill and plunder, but his word is good.” He turned to Mr. Volence again. “The Bedouin says that only half the fee is necessary now, and from that he will buy supplies and camels and hire the men necessary for the trip. When you return to Haribwan, you will pay him the rest of the money. He cannot assure you that he will find Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak, but will continue the search in the mountains until you tell him to return.”

Alec watched Mr. Volence closely, awaiting his decision. Would he think it worth the large sum of money asked? They could, he supposed, hire another guide to take them across the desert, but what then? They certainly couldn’t seek Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak alone. They might attempt to find another guide, but as Mr. Coggins had said, the chances of finding one were very slim and much time would be wasted. Alec felt certain that having gone this far Mr. Volence would not turn back now. He had gambled on many long shots in his life, and would gamble again on finding Abu Ja‘
Kub ben Ishak regardless of the high price being asked by the guide.

To the right of Mr. Volence, back in the shadows of the room, Alec saw something move. Looking closer, he distinguished the tall frame of Raj. How long he had been there, Alec did not know. He wanted to know Raj better … to find out how he felt about everything—horses, books, school, his life in Arabia. And in turn Alec wanted to tell him about the United States, about his home, about his horse.

Mr. Volence broke the silence. “Tell him, Bruce, that I’ll pay his price,” he said quietly.

Henry turned to Alec, a broad grin on his face. “I knew he’d come through,” he whispered.

Mr. Volence had the gold medallion in his hand. After Mr. Coggins had finished talking with the Arab, Mr. Volence said, “Bruce, ask if this means anything to him.”

Mr. Coggins took the medallion and scrutinized it carefully before handing it to the Bedouin. All eyes were turned toward the small man in the white flowing robe. His eyes narrowed as he gazed at it in his hand. Minutes passed and still he did not answer. Alec might have been mistaken in the dim light, but he thought he saw the long muscular fingers tighten over the medallion, then relax.

The Bedouin nodded his head negatively and then handed the medallion back to Mr. Volence. A few minutes later he made his departure after telling them that they should be ready to leave in two days.

After the door had closed behind the Bedouin, Mr. Coggins asked, “This medallion … where did you get it?”

Mr. Volence told him the complete story, then asked, “Do you think, Bruce, that it could be the Phoenix?”

“It could have been meant as such, Charlie.” Mr. Coggins lowered his voice and murmured, “The Phoenix, bird of Araby, is rising again. Its wings are strong.”

They looked at him questioningly. “What does that mean?” Alec asked.

“I don’t know. Just something I happened to think of. Heard an old Arab who returned with a caravan a few weeks ago quote it. I’m surprised I remembered it. Just the association with this,” he added, handing the medallion back to Mr. Volence.

The following day was spent in acquiring clothes for the trip. “That’s all you have to worry about,” Mr. Coggins had told them. “The Bedouin will take care of everything else.”

When they returned after having done their shopping, Alec, anxious to see himself in this new raiment, rushed to his room. Carefully he placed the white flowing robe and head shawl on the bed.

When he had finished dressing he stood before a long mirror. Curiously he gazed at his reflection. The head shawl, held tight by a black cord, fell low over his forehead, covering his red hair, and down the back of his neck. A white upper garment was draped loosely over his shoulders, and his legs were covered by a long white skirt held securely by a black sash. His American shoes had been discarded and he wore Bedouin sandals. With freckled face, tanned by the hot Arabian sun,
he could have been mistaken for a Bedouin youth, providing one did not approach close enough to see the light-blue eyes and pug nose.

Later that afternoon he walked into the library to find Mr. Volence with their host. They stopped talking as soon as they were aware of Alec’s presence. Mr. Coggins held a pistol lightly in his hand. “I was suggesting to Charlie,” he told Alec, “that I supply you each with a gun for your own personal use. The Bedouin will secure arms, but it will be better if you have a gun of your own as well.”

Mr. Volence looked skeptically at Alec. “Know how to handle one, Alec?”

“Sure. Dad’s best friend is a cop in New York, and he used to take us to their indoor pistol range quite often. They said I was a pretty good shot.”

“Fine.” Mr. Coggins smiled. “I’ll have a gun ready for each of you.” He turned to Mr. Volence. “Charlie, there’s another matter I’d like to talk to you about. The Bedouin, as you know, does not speak any English, and none of you can speak Arabic. Also, chances are that of the few men hired to make the trip, none will speak English.”

“I’d thought about that, Bruce. It’s had me a little worried. Perhaps we should tell the Bedouin to be sure to hire one man who can speak English.”

“I hesitate to do that, Charlie, because he’ll hire men best suited for their jobs and may not be able to find a competent man who can also speak English. Furthermore, it would put my mind more at ease if I were certain you had someone you could definitely trust on
this trip.” He paused, then continued, “I was thinking that Raj might go along with you.”