Lara Temple - The Lord’s Inconvenient Vow

‘So. You are the youngest Sinclair, yes?’ al-Walid said, slapping his knees. ‘You are very like your brothers.’

‘You remember them?’ Sam asked, not certain if this was a compliment.

‘Of course. There was trouble when they came here last. Remember?’ He turned to Edge.

‘Of course. A Bedawi tribe took offence at our exploring Senusret’s ruin. We had a worrisome moment until you and Poppy came to our rescue.

Al-Walid laughed.

‘A worrisome moment! You three were nearly skewered on a spit like lambs over a fire! I forgot you speak like a rock after sitting out in the coldest night. I named you well, Geb.’

‘Geb?’ Sam asked and al-Walid’s laughing eyes turned to her.

‘Geb. God of earth. You do not know the story?’

Sam shook her head, her curiosity sparked as much by Edge’s annoyed frown as by al-Walid’s enthusiasm.

‘Good. Now I have something to share by the fire tonight. But first—Aziza’s honey cakes!’ he announced as women entered the tent bearing trays.

‘You like?’ Aziza’s smile was confident which was hardly as surprising as Sam reached for her third helping of the date-filled cakes. Sam laughed and nodded, licking the sticky residue on her lips.

‘These are dangerous; it is impossible to eat only one!’

‘Truly these are the only reason al-Walid married me.’ Aziza sighed, but her smile belied her words and al-Walid gave a snort of dismissal.

‘It is lucky I had not tasted your cakes before I bargained with your father or I would have dispensed with your dowry completely. Whenever the neighbouring tribes stir the dust, I remind them that to insult me is to forfeit these delights. Our disputes rarely pass the rising of a new moon.’

‘A very interesting negotiation tactic. We never thought to employ anything so sensible during the war.’ Edge smiled at Aziza.

‘That is because you are English,’ al-Walid dismissed. ‘The French would win every battle. You are lucky your stubbornness compensates for your lack of taste. Now tell me why you are here, Geb.’

‘Why do you presume we are here on my business and not Poppy’s?’

‘Because you are simmering like a pot on a campfire and your brow is as dark as a sandstorm on the horizon. Or would you prefer to discuss this in four eyes?’

Edge shook his head.

‘No, I would be grateful for Sayidti Aziza’s thoughts as well. You are right, it is my problems that bring us here. Or rather my brother’s.’

When Edge finished recounting his quest al-Walid beckoned to one of the men beside him and after a few swift words the man departed and with him al-Walid’s solemn mood.

‘By darkness tomorrow we shall know if your brother has come through our desert. Now go rest and tonight we shall hold a feast to celebrate old friends and new.’

‘Good Lord, I shall need a camel to move me,’ Poppy groaned as he rose and helped Janet to her feet from the low cushioned stools beside the campfire outside al-Walid’s tent.

‘You are retiring for the night so soon?’ al-Walid asked.

‘You must excuse our old bones, my friend.’

‘Of course, but the young must at least remain until I fulfil my promise to tell them about Geb and Nuut, yes?’

‘That excuses me, I dare say,’ Edge said, beginning to rise.

‘Sit down, Geb.’ al-Walid waved him back. ‘You are still but halfway on your journey through life.’

Edge grimaced.

‘That is a depressing thought.’

Janet touched his arm as she passed.

‘The second half shall be better, Edge.’

Sam waited for Edge’s expression to reflect his disdain of such a very Janet-like comment, but though he shook his head he smiled at her.

‘From your mouth to Allah’s ear, Aunt.’

Al-Walid leaned back, staring at the darkened sky. Sam eyed the cushions next to her with longing, wishing she was brave enough to stretch out like al-Walid. In her previous life she would not have thought twice about doing just that. Behind them the fabric of the tent flapped as the evening winds pummelled it like a beast trying to escape, but beyond the vain flapping the only sound was the shushing of the wind in the palms.

‘This is a good wind,’ al-Walid said. ‘It will be cool tonight and some dew tomorrow. Shu is hard at work.’

‘Shu?’ Sam asked.

‘The god of air and wind, aanisah .’

‘Do you believe in the old gods, then?’

‘We believe first in Allah and in Mohammed his prophet, but the old gods are part of this land my ancestors came to before our memory began. It is smart to heed them because they gathered much wisdom about the desert. Shu was the father of Nuut, goddess of the sky. Have you heard of her?’

Sam had, but she wanted to hear al-Walid’s tale so she shook her head. Out of the corner of her eye she caught a flash of Edge’s smile, but ignored him. She didn’t care if she was behaving like a child. She felt like one again and it was wonderful.

‘Nuut and Geb were inseparable and one day the greatest god of all, Ra, grew jealous of their closeness so he set Shu to keep the lovers apart—that is why the air stands between the earth and the sky, do you see?’

‘Yes, but how sad!’

‘Awful,’ Edge interposed, his voice as dry as the desert. ‘He was such a successful guardian they only succeeded in siring five children.’

‘It is still sad. Five stolen encounters hardly amount to a happy relationship.’

‘Five children would naturally imply a great many more than five encounters,’ Edge replied. ‘Given the limited likelihood of conception at each encounter that would mean—’ He broke off and Sam couldn’t help laughing.

‘Must you ruin the story with both pedantry and prudishness, Edge? Where is your sense of romance and excitement? Besides, these were gods—perhaps part of their divine properties was to time their encounters perfectly and each encounter was so magical as to...’

‘Yes, very well. Why don’t you allow Sheikh al-Walid to continue?’

Sam smiled at his discomfort and turned back to al-Walid.

‘Did Ra punish them?’

‘No, their children prospered and ruled the earth, but also caused much strife. In the temple of Senusret beyond the valley you can see the images of Geb and Nuut—Geb is composed of earth and trees and Nuut is arced above him, made of the night sky and stars with hair both dark and touched with sunset. Very like you, Najimat al-Layl.’

Sam gasped in surprise. ‘That is what Ayisha our housekeeper calls me; how did you know?’

‘Poppy effendim has spoken much of his household over the years. Your name was well chosen, Night Star—your eyes are like stars and your hair shades of darkness.’

‘It was not meant as a compliment, Sheikh al-Walid,’ Edge interposed. ‘Ayisha named her thus because Sam... Lady Carruthers often wandered at night and set the whole household searching for her.’

‘Thank you for clarifying that, Edge,’ Sam said with a bite and Edge bowed.

‘You are welcome, Sam.’

She turned her shoulder to him.

‘But why do you call Edge Geb, Sheikh al-Walid?’

‘Ah, yes. The name was given him by the tribe that tried to capture him and your brothers at Senusret’s temple. It is told that at the peak of the battle the god Geb appeared on the temple roof in the form of a statue with emeralds for eyes and brought with him a great sandstorm, whipping the very earth from under them. We came across them riding away from this apparition and they warned us not to risk our souls by proceeding and angering Geb.’

‘But that could not possibly have been Edge,’ Sam said primly. ‘He does not approve of climbing on the antiquities. Do you, Lord Edward?’