Richard Blake - The Sword of Damascus

‘But if it was the Empire,’ Edward broke in, ‘why did Brother Joseph tip us off? I saw him only briefly in that ship off Cartenna. But I am convinced he was urging the fleet on to kill us all. He’s been around Damascus for months. Now, he gets himself into the presence of the Caliph to warn us against coming back here to bed. It doesn’t make sense.’ I could have told Edward much else about our friend Joseph. But I hadn’t done so yet, and I saw no point in doing so now. ‘And,’ he added, ‘what was he doing in Jarrow?’ The boy sat back in his chair and looked up at the deep blue of the sky. ‘I still don’t know where he fits into all this.’

I thought he’d ask more about Joseph. But we were now approaching one of the larger dunes, and I could see Karim waiting there as agreed. I wriggled into a more comfortable upright position and stared at Edward.

‘These are all worthless questions,’ I said. ‘There will be no investigation of the murder attempt. There will be no further discussions of Joseph or of Jarrow.’ I shut down the confused objection with a wave of my hand. ‘I want you to know that your usefulness to Meekal will soon be at an end. Don’t try reminding me of the oath he took in front of Karim and all those religious scholars. If he broke his public oath to an emperor, you can forget about any promises he might have made in private. Besides, Karim is also on his list. Meekal spoke to me last month of the statue I commissioned of myself back in my twenties. I had it done in the ancient style – all nudey and tarted-up realistic. He asked if Karim didn’t remind me of the thing. Of course, I passed it all off with a joke. Even so, I’ve seen him staring thoughtfully at Karim. The moment I’ve given him the last secret of that weapon – and it can’t be held back beyond tomorrow – he’ll have me killed. He’ll then kill you. He’ll also kill Karim. He suspects the blood relationship, and he doesn’t want a Saracen blood feud on his hands – not even from someone like Karim. Because he wants the matter to end there, he’ll get Karim sentenced to death in the regular way. But it’s certain death for us all.’

‘But he can’t kill Karim,’ Edward broke in. ‘He’s Saracen nobility. He’s too well connected.’

I laughed again. That wasn’t how Karim had seen things when I’d explained myself earlier. I’d almost had to offer him wine to bring him out of the resulting funk.

‘He can and will kill the poor lad,’ I replied. ‘Except for a sort of stepmother who’s little more than a prisoner in the palace, his connections are all far off in Medina. And they are all part of the losing side in the last civil war. It’s a shame you didn’t understand what Meekal was told in that obscene ceremony. But its meaning has always been clear enough to me. My grandson fancies himself as the next caliph. And he thinks he’ll be that before the close of business tomorrow. I didn’t look too closely. But, when I was there the day before yesterday, I saw that the fire kettles had been mounted on a new base that swivels. His first demonstration of the Greek fire will be against the Caliph and anyone sitting beside him. That will probably be the whole Council. He’ll blow the Caliph and all his Council to charcoal. Then he’ll do away with me. Then he’ll finish things for the pair of you. Don’t try telling me otherwise. I’ve known the fucker all his life. I know the workings of his mind. Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven just about sums up his entire approach to this long and expensive project.’

We were now almost level with Karim. He smiled uncertainly back at me and bowed. ‘Edward, I want you to get on that horse and bolt for it with Karim. The commander of the guard has been bribed and will look the other way unless he’s forced to notice what’s happening. You have twelve pounds apiece of Meekal’s gold. That should get you to Medina with plenty left over. Meekal can’t last as caliph. He’s not a Saracen. And, again, I know him. He’ll grasp at power like at sand – the harder he grasps, the more it will slip between his fingers. He’ll be gone within a few months – a year at most. You can then come back here if you want. Or you can go anywhere else within this vast but ramshackle empire.’

There was no point trying to restrain the babble of protests that now broke from Edward’s lips. I let it pour out until the boy was short of breath.

‘We haven’t long now,’ I said urgently. ‘So don’t waste my time with talk about taking me with you. One way or the other, my life will soon be over. Even Meekal won’t be up to making the end specially painful. For you, blinding and castration will just be the start of things. I’ll repeat myself. You got me out here using poor Wilfred as your hostage. You then stepped unwittingly straight into his shoes. Now, I’m giving you the chance to get away before it’s too late. Take the chance and go. It’s too late for elaborate farewells. Just go. If you want to thank me, do so by living better than you’d have managed in England. Live long as well – disprove what I sneered at you all those ages ago back in Jarrow. But go now. Take my last command as your lord – and go!’

Edward grabbed at my hand and kissed it. He wanted to say more, but he was shaking too hard with sobs, and Karim was making desperate clicking noises to keep the horses calm. They mounted together. I heard a long groan of agony from Edward as his own horse darted forward. They scrambled up the high bank to the top of a dune. They looked down a moment on me and on the long caravan of armed might surrounding my chair. I looked away and didn’t watch them disappear over the other side of the dune. Assuming we took the usual time to get to the Saint Theodore Monastery, and assuming I could keep Meekal busy with our joint unlocking and registering, they’d have a thirty-mile start on any pursuit. That was the most they’d have, though. Meekal would eventually realise his hostage was gone, and would certainly lead the pursuit. And he was fast on horseback. But thirty miles, and no surety as to their direction of escape – that should be enough.

I drank deep from my beer jug. I focused on the merry jingle of the bells on my chair as I fought back the tears. It would have been glorious to be with them – speeding across the level sand towards the horizon, towards adventures that might give some minstrel a lifetime of unlikely tales. But, for all I could give myself new hair and teeth and ears and eyes, even I couldn’t make the waters of time flow uphill.

‘Did you catch up with them?’ I asked in Greek. I splashed with every appearance of happiness in the bathwater – cool this time, and a great relief after a day of almost lunatic activity in the desert.

‘Get out of here – all of you!’ Meekal roared at the attendants. They dropped their instruments of cleansing and bolted from the room. Meekal pulled the door shut with a crash that made all the glass pieces in the window rattle. Still sweaty and covered in sand from the long and fruitless chase through the desert, he towered over me. ‘What the fuck are you up to?’ he demanded, back in Greek.

‘Nothing, my dear – nothing at all,’ I said. I took up a flask of scented oil and poured some of it over my scalp. ‘I can only tell you that Karim rolled up late while we were somewhere outside Damascus and suggested another race across the sand. That’s what I told you when we met up earlier. And that really is all I can tell you now. I can’t imagine why you’re making such a fuss about things. I fail to see why you had to dash straight off into the desert with your escort and leave me alone all day with dear Silas for company. If it hadn’t been for the Caliph’s inspection tomorrow, I’m sure I’d never have got him to break all your security rules, not to mention some of your locks. All that – and the boys will probably soon be back here for a late dinner. In a moment, I’m sure Edward will come through that door. What a silly man you are to get into such a lather. Was the auditing so stressful?’