John Schettler - Touchstone

The two travelers had come to the scene an hour earlier, escorted by their guide, Khalid. He was especially gracious, bringing them cool water and a plate of sweetened bread and dates when he arrived at their room that morning. They ate, and then were eager to reach the site of the impending discovery, though they did not share their real intent with their host. Nordhausen carried on about his interest in the old Egyptian carvings in the region, and Khalid was only too happy to banter with him about the improvements the Arabs had made to the architecture in centuries past.

Now they were standing in the lee of a high tower on the wall, watching with keen interest as the work parties cleared the rubble away by slow, tedious labor.

Though Maeve wanted to remain as inconspicuous as possible, it was hard for the other Westerners at the scene not to notice them. A few French infantry were eyeing her from a distance, though Khalid played his role of the cordial host well, and made it seem that he was entertaining guests, or trading partners in some long planned exchange of commerce. It was a ruse that seemed to be working, for no one bothered them until LeGrand arrived in his coach and fixed his grey eyes upon them with a squint of suspicion.

Khalid was quick to notice. He turned to Robert and leaned in close, as Arabs are accustomed, as if confiding some intensely personal matter.

“He is here.”

“I beg your pardon?” Robert was not quite in tune.

“You know the man of whom I speak. The grey one in the coach, near the gate by the west wall. You must be very cautious now, my friends. This man is dangerous.”

“You know him?” Robert expressed his natural curiosity, hoping to ferret out the relationship between the two that he was already suspicious of himself.

“Let us say that I have had dealings with the man. He is not to be trusted.”

“Ah… Then he is another trader?” There was something in Robert’s voice that was not lost on his host. Khalid smiled, his dark eyes narrowing under their heavy brows.

“He trades in things that most men would be wise to leave in peace,” said Khalid. “But, then again, the commerce of the hour brings us all here to some end or another, does it not?”

Robert nodded agreeably, though the insinuation was not lost on Maeve, who regarded the Arab with a knowing gaze. She was keen to observe the obvious tension in the man’s face and deportment now that LeGrand had arrived. The interloper was down from his coach and making his way boldly across the courtyard, intent on trio by the tower.

“Bonjour, Madame,” LeGrand said politely, bowing as he stepped into the shade of the tower. “Monsieur.” He said to Nordhausen, and then proffered a wan smile in Khalid’s direction, nodding his head in a mock bow.

Khalid touched his heart with his hand, and made a shallow head bow in return. “You are very punctual, LeGrand,” he said in English, with just a hint of annoyance.

“Oh?” said LeGrand. “And just what brings you into the company of these good people, Sheik? Are you working some trade for the Sultan?”

“The Sultan? His army is very close at hand, but I do not think he has trade on his mind. The Pasha is here to throw out the French, as you well know.” He lowered his voice, covering the remark with a strained smile.

“Not something you want to lord on about,” said LeGrand. “Particularly in English—not with the British fleet about in these waters. Rumor has it that the French are becoming more and more suspicious of local traders. Information passes in whispers, even as coinage moves from one purse to another. They wonder how Nelson and his fleet managed to make such a good accounting of the French Army’s movements when they were in Palestine.”

“Do they?” Khalid was still smiling, though his eyes were smoldering with restrained hostility. “They are a curious lot, are they not?”

“Curious, indeed,” LeGrand returned. “As you seem to be. Pray tell me, what business do you have here today? Are you hoping to win a contract for the repair of these walls?” He gestured at the tawny fortifications.

“Nothing so enterprising,” said Khalid. “I was merely extending the hospitality of my people to these strangers, and seeing to their comfort. The professor here has an interest in ancient stone carvings, and I thought we might tour the fortifications.”

“Ah,” said LeGrand. “Good day, professor. Ready for the revelation?” he rubbed his palms together. “In spite of what my friend says, I think we can all safely acknowledge why we are here, yes? Now then…” he squinted at the sun. “You may wish to move this way in a moment.” LeGrand gestured to his right, where a low pile of loosened stone provided them a slight rise in elevation and a better view of the digging party. The low baritone of the French officer of engineers could be heard, exhorting the laborers to strain a bit harder at the iron lever they had wedged into the base of the large, half-exposed rock they were working.

“Come, professor, Madame… It is almost time.” There was just a trace of urgency in LeGrand’s voice, and Maeve could see that Khalid had been edging closer to the work crews, trying to appear uninterested, but keenly aware of their steady progress.

Robert turned, and then heard a loud chink as the iron lever slipped. A hard crack followed, and the large rock fell suddenly away from the base of the wall in a cloud of silt and dust. LeGrand rocked on his heels, a smile of anticipation on his face. There was an audible gasp as the dust settled around a dark squarish shape that had been exposed in the side of the wall. The officer had immediately taken note of it, and was leaning in, intent on some discovery in the rubble.

Two of the workmen rushed from the scene, as though frightened by what they had uncovered. The officer shouted after them, then barked loudly at the two French soldiers standing the watch, and the men came running in response.

Now Nordhausen saw that the two laborers had gone to fetch a sturdy rope and tackle. The officer was giving orders, his riding crop pointing this way and that, and he soon eyed the coach that LeGrand had arrived in, pointing at the horse. It was clear that he wanted to utilize the animal to help haul something out of the rubble. LeGrand, still beaming with a smug, self-satisfied expression, strode forward to offer his services. He gestured to Nordhausen with his hand, beckoning him to follow.

Robert and Maeve needed no encouragement. They were inching closer, trying to remain discreet, but keenly interested in the find. Khalid was right on their heels.

LeGrand stepped up, bowed to the French officer, and then gestured magnanimously at his horse and tackle, where the soldiers were already loosening the carriage harness and hitch to free the beast for their purposes, whether LeGrand approved or not. Dust clouded the scene, obscuring the find, but LeGrand acted as though he was playing out a well rehearsed part.

“Be my guest,” Nordhausen heard LeGrand say in French. “But what is it you have discovered, monsieur?”

LeGrand turned, expectantly, his face still molded in a jovial smile, and then he froze, as though struck by the officer’s riding crop. His eyes widened, bright ovals above the doughy cheeks of his face, and his jaw gaped open with a look of complete astonishment.

“Mon dieu! ” the invocation escaped his lips as he gazed, and Nordhausen hurried forward to see what he was looking at, tripping on a pile of loosened rock. As he rose, Khalid strode boldly forward, a look of great satisfaction blooming on his face when he saw LeGrand’s reaction. He started to laugh, pointing a long thin finger at LeGrand as he spoke.

“Not what you expected, monsieur?” His eyes glittered. “Something to put a little fire in your next courier dispatch?” Now his laughter could not be restrained.