The Sleeping Sands (34 page)

She skipped lightly away from Layard, leaping effortlessly over a small stream and twisting mid-leap, to land facing the Englishman.

‘I suppose that the only cure for your madness will be to let you act it out,’ she called, ‘at least Au Kerim proposes to travel with you to keep a watch upon you. You will probably be captured, anyway – or eaten by some wild beast. And, if by some miracle you aren’t eaten-’

She suddenly turned and ran lightly away among the silver moonlit pools. Layard stood, mesmerised as many times before, watching her figure recede into the gloom.

From the darkness, a faint voice called.

‘I will be waiting for you, Mr Layard.’

Au Kerim insisted on riding with Layard to the outskirts of Shuster, where he intended to wait for Layard and the boy upon his escape. He also brought with him two trusted retainers whose job was to infiltrate the Matamet’s camp and move among the Bakhtiari there, gaining intelligence and identifying any that might be persuaded back to the Khan’s side.

After an uneventful journey from the marshes featuring a few days ride across more deserted countryside, the party arrived at their destination at dusk. Layard, who had exchanged his Bakhtiari robes for Persian dress, took his leave both of Kerim and the Bakhtiari spies in the shadows beneath Shuster and made his way into the town. He was challenged at the gate by two guards, but they were local Shusteris who were quite satisfied with his story of being a physician from Isfahan who had been called to treat one of the Persian officers. He passed without problem and set out to find Baron de Bode’s quarters, where he hoped to meet with Saleh the Lur. After a frustrating hour of fruitless searching, he was at last directed to a small half-ruined house which he was informed formed the quarters of the Frank cavalry instructor. To his dismay, they were empty. He turned away from the house, at a loss where to search next.

He was stopped by a low whistle from the side of the house. A tall figure stepped out of the shadows and beckoned to him. It was Saleh.

‘The Baron has left the camp,’ explained the Lur, when Layard joined him. ‘He felt that the Governor’s treachery in the case of the Khan’s son was ungentlemanly and resigned his commission. He has, I believe ridden to join the Shah’s army at the Turkish border. I declined to leave with him, thinking that I may yet do some small service for the boy. I have been waiting for you, Effendi.’

‘You are a true friend, Saleh,’ whispered Layard. ‘where is Hussein Kuli being held?’

‘He is at the house of Au Mohammed Zamaun, a Shusteri chief. He is treated well. The young prince has made something of an impression among the Matamet’s officers.’

‘Can he be easily removed from the house?’ asked Layard.

‘I believe he can, Effendi,’ grinned the Lur, bending to lift up a bundle that had been lying at his feet.

Layard followed Saleh to the house of Au Mohammed Zamaun. The Sheikh was away at council with the Matamet’s officers. Saleh introduced Layard as a visiting Persian physician who had been called to check on the boy, following an illness he had recently suffered. They were shown to Hussein Kuli, who displayed a remarkable quickness of mind by pretending not to recognise Layard until they were left alone with him. Saleh and Layard quietly and quickly explained their plan to the prince.

Saleh had with him a bundle of girl’s clothes, with which they dressed the boy. Then, bundling up his Bakhtiari robes and weapons, they moved carefully through the house, slipping out of the courtyard and moving into the now dark and deserted street.

‘Wait,’ hissed Hussein Kuli, ‘I must get Julfa.’

‘We don’t have time,’ whispered Layard, ‘we must leave now before the Sheikh returns and raises the alarm.’

‘I cannot return to my father without her,’ insisted the boy, ‘she is his favourite mare. I could never leave her among the enemy.’

Layard looked at the resolve in the young man’s face. Despite his disguise he remained every inch the young prince. Layard could see that there was no negotiation on the matter.

‘Very well,’ he sighed, ‘go and fetch her – but be quick about it.’

Saleh and Layard kept watch along the street, while Hussein Kuli crept back into the courtyard, where Julfa was tethered. The mare whinnied softly in recognition of her master. The boy untied the mare and began to cross the courtyard.

Just then, there was a cry from the house and the boy’s tutor came stumbling out, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

‘What are you doing, young sir?’ he cried out in alarm, ‘and why are dressed in that costume?’

Layard cursed softly and ran to the courtyard gate. He hissed at the mullah to be quiet.

‘We are rescuing Hussein Kuli,’ he whispered, urgently, ‘keep your voice down!’

‘No, I forbid it!’ said the mullah angrily. ‘It is against all propriety.’

‘Look,’ said Layard, ‘you can come too – but we have to leave now.’

‘Yes, come with us,’ said the boy, going to his tutor’s side and pulling at his robe, ‘my father is nearby – we can go to him tonight.’

‘A prince does not sneak out of a house at night like a thief,’ snapped the tutor, ‘and dressed as a girl? It is unthinkable!’

‘Look, you fool,’ snapped back Layard, ‘the Matamet is threatening to kill the boy if his father doesn’t surrender. We have to go now.’

Within the house, Layard could hear voices and movement, as the servants were roused by the conversation in the courtyard.

‘I cannot permit it!’ insisted the mullah, seizing the boy by the shoulders. ‘The prince will be killed for sure if you are caught. It is too dangerous.’

At that moment, there was a shouting in the street behind Layard. Saleh came running to him and grabbed him by the arm.

‘It is Au Mohammed and his men,’ he gasped, ‘they are calling out the guards. We must run Effendi!’

Layard looked helplessly back at the prince, who was struggling in his long robes as the mullah dragged him back into the house.

‘Effendi!’

Layard turned and ran with Saleh as the Sheikh and his men came running into view, followed by a group of serbázes. The two ran into the dark maze of narrow streets behind the Sheikh’s house, the soldiers in pursuit.

Trusting to Saleh’s knowledge of the town, Layard followed the Lur, twisting and turning through one alley after another. Sometimes the noises of pursuit were distant, other times it sounded as if the soldiers were at his very heels. At length, the sound of the chase grew more distant and Saleh felt is safe enough to draw up in a narrow doorway.

‘You must leave the town now, Effendi,’ he whispered, ‘the town will soon be swarming with soldiers. If the boy’s tutor lets slip that it was you who attempted the rescue, the Matamet will be sure to throw you in jail.’

‘I cannot leave the boy,’ Layard replied.

‘I will keep watch on him,’ replied the Lur. ‘You can do more for him if you remain free. Go now, and come back with some men. There are some in the town who have no love for the Matamet and are still loyal to the Khan. I will seek them out. Together we shall mount a raid and free him. But you must go now! Here, this is the way to your horse.’

Saleh led the Englishman to where his horse had been tethered, ready to carry off Layard and the boy. In the streets behind them, they could hear fresh sounds of pursuit as more guards joined the search. From the west, Layard could hear the sounds of hoofbeats – horsemen cutting off his escape from the gate.

‘No time, Effendi,’ panted Saleh, ‘ride now – ride for the marshes!’

He slapped the horse’s rump as Layard galloped past the sleepy Shusteri gate-wardens and headed out into the night.

At the appointed rendezvous, there was no sign of Au Kerim or his men. Layard had little time to speculate whether the sound of the general alarm had driven them off as the hoofbeats of his own pursuers were closing upon him. He spurred his horse and galloped along the stony road.

The horse was a fine Arab mare, belonging to the Khan himself. Normally it would have been a more than a match for the Persian cavalry horses that followed behind. However, it had ridden a long road from the marshes without rest and was tired, while the Persians rode fresh mounts. Layard could hear the soldiers gaining on him, while his own horse laboured beneath him, hot foam on her sides. Realising he could not outrun his pursuers on the road, he jerked the reins sharply to one side and drove the horse into the scrubby hills by the side of the road. The country was dry and barren, punctuated by dense thickets of thorn-bushes and steep sided, winding gullies. Into this maze, Layard now careened wildly, turning his mount one way and then another to lose the pursuit; with each turn becoming lost deeper within the wilderness.

The horse snorted in pain as it turned its hoof on a large loose stone and stumbled down the side of a steep gully. Layard jumped clear as the horse fell and sprang quickly to its side, placing his hand on its flank and whispering to calm it. He knelt by the horse, listening to the night. A hawk mewed faintly. There was no sound of the soldiers.

Sighing with relief, Layard pulled the horse to its feet and remounted. He spurred her on to a trot, but the fall had made her lame. All the mare could manage was a slow, limping walk. Layard drove the flagging horse on for another mile or so in the dark. As the moon began to show through the clouds above, Layard came at last to a circular hollow, forming a dead end to the gully he had been following. There was a pungent chemical smell in the air and steam rose from vents in the ground, which looked black and sticky in the moonlight. Layard realised that it must be a naphtha well. He was faced with the choice of retracing his way on the lame horse, or camping for the night among the cloying bitumen fumes of the naphtha. He tugged at his horse’s reins to turn back, but the mare dropped her head and planted her feet firmly on the ground. She was too exhausted to go anywhere.

Layard dismounted and pulled off his saddle, making the horse fast to a thorn bush. He carried his carpet to a shelf of flat rock that seemed reasonably clear of naphtha fumes, spread it out and lay down on the ground. He looked up at the stars in some vain hope of orientating himself in the wilderness. Before he could focus on a single constellation, he had fallen into a deep sleep.

In the dark, the Mind sat, brooding and watching. Layard could hear its familiar, monstrous breath. It crawled closer to him, flowing like liquid around him. The black presence oozed around him and ran deep into the rocks themselves, bubbling and gurgling. Long tendrils of blackness, fluid and intelligent crept from the rocks and ran like snakes around Layard’s helpless form, coiling around his limbs and creeping up his body. He could feel the soft tickling presence on his neck as the tendrils wormed up and across his face, working closer to his nostrils and ears. He felt the subtle slithers of malice crawling into his skull. Around him the breathing grew deafening – it’s rhythmic machine sound pounding like thunder. The blackness bubbled and oozed from the rocks – now magnified and relentless. It flowed in a torrent over Layard, submerging him. Still the black flood rose. Layard knew that it was unstoppable; that it would not end until it had engulfed his world. As he sank back into the sticky, oozing blackness, he heard screaming.

Layard jerked awake – still screaming. The mare snorted angrily at him, disturbed from her sleep. In the pale morning sunlight, the thick billows of naphtha fumes swirled around him. Coughing, he staggered away from them, grabbing up his blanket. The mare still too lame to bear him, he took her bridle in his hand and turned from the hateful place. He was lost and alone once again.

C
HAPTER 19

T
O
L
AYARD THE DAY SEEMED TO LAST FOR EVER
. The sun burned as a dim, liquid presence through a thick haze of heat and dust. Time seemed to hang, suspended from the flattened and blurred landscape; each distended second mocking the European’s microscopic progress as he led his horse across the expanse of dirt and thorn that the world had become. There were no birds; no calls of sheep or goats; no distant shouts of shepherds or caravan drivers. The unsteady crunch of boot and hoof was accompanied only by a droning buzz of insects, flattened and stretched by the viscous air. Step by faltering step, man and beast trudged on through the wilderness until at last, a cold breeze caused the man to look up. The sun was fading at last.

Dawn brought no respite for Layard. As the sun rose it discovered that the man was as lost as he had been the day before and the mare was as lame. Day followed day. The two walked on through each painful and endless hour and each sweltering day until at last the reddening sun would once more dip to the west. The certainty that each day would be the same as the one before hung as heavily on Layard’s heart as the certainty that each day his small store of supplies would be less. Then, as the sun set once more one evening, the monotony was broken.

An eerie, monstrous bellow echoed around the walls of the narrow valley that Layard had entered. He froze, startled by the sudden noise. It sounded once more, louder and more terrible than it had been before. Layard looked around, searching out shelter and trying to determine the origin of the awful cry. Ahead, the valley turned a sharp bend, marked by a tumble of fallen rocks. Above, deep fissures eaten into the walls by long-forgotten streams left dark, shadowy clefts that might offer a hiding place – or else be inhabited by the owner of that unearthly voice. The cry came again, still louder – filling Layard’s ears and echoing around the valley so that he could not tell whether the creature lay in wait ahead, above or was in close pursuit behind them.

The mare whinnied in fear and shook her head urgently. Layard tensed, his heart racing and every instinct urging him to run. Then a new noise reached his ears.

‘Yah Mohammed! Yah Allah! Yah Ali!’ came a loud chorus of shouts, followed by the unearthly bellow. It seemed now to Layard to be coming from the trail ahead; too close now for any chance of flight. He steadied the horse and readied his gun, waiting to see what would appear from behind the fallen rocks ahead.