Bahaa Taher - Sunset Oasis

I raised my forefinger in Mahmoud's face and said, jokingly, 'Don't drag us back to politics. We've agreed that we've finished with that subject, and the comparison isn't very exact.'

Then I addressed myself to Wasfi. 'But last time you were trying to say something about the temple of Bilad al-Roum. What exactly have you read about it? I'd be most interested to know.'

Wasfi made an attempt to master his chagrin and speak normally. 'You must have read about it as I have. It was probably a Greek or Roman temple, because they called it the "Doric Temple". It's clear that its columns were of the Greek Doric order and not of the Egyptian.'

'Unfortunately we can't be sure,' I said, 'because it's been completely destroyed.'

'You're right,' said Wasfi, 'but I read too that there are caves carved out of the rock in the neighbouring area. All of them have been robbed and there are no carvings to be seen, but they were probably Greek or Roman tombs.'

I thought for a moment, then asked him, 'Do you intend to visit the temple, Captain Wasfi? Khameesa isn't far away and it's rich in antiquities not to be found elsewhere. If you're thinking of visiting it, I could go with you.'

With a certain hesitancy, he replied, 'If His Excellency permits.'

Mahmoud, who had bowed his head and was paying no attention to our conversation, said, 'On your leave day you are free, Captain, to go where you wish. But you, Catherine… Would you take Fiona with you on such a trip?'

I responded, quickly, 'I mean after things have improved. Soon, of course, when the weather is better.'

Fiona paid attention when he mentioned her name and said, addressing me, 'Of course, Catherine. I have to go with you on a visit to the lake. Perhaps we'll discover something under the water there!'

We laughed out of mere politeness. The party had come to an end and the evening died the moment talk of politics had begun and I hadn't succeeded in reviving it. On the contrary, Mahmoud had succeeded in embarrassing me, so I kept quiet. Wasfi seized on the moment of silence that followed to gather his books and put them in his bag, after leaving the journal on the table and thanking me for the tea, of which he hadn't drunk two sips.

He got ready to depart, so Fiona, seated, extended her hand to shake his and said, 'Try to visit us from time to time, Captain Wasfi.'

That would give him great pleasure and he hoped that the new medicines would help her to get better quickly. I walked a few steps with him, thanking him for the visit, and Mahmoud accompanied him to the door. I heard Wasfi say, 'I'll give orders for them to have the white stallion ready for Your Excellency. I know you like him.'

At the door, however, Mahmoud said suddenly, 'I'll go back to the station with you.'

He waved goodbye as he left without looking in our direction and the moment they'd gone out Fiona stood up and said, picking up the parcel, 'I'm going upstairs to rest a little. Perhaps we can begin trying the sheikh's medicines tonight.'

I followed her with my eyes as she walked slowly towards the small staircase and painstakingly mounted its steps.

If only you knew how much I hope this treatment helps, even if I'm not convinced by it. I too, though, like you, dream of a miracle of any kind. You performed a real miracle yourself when you wrested the chagrin and anger from the sheikh's heart and made him send you these things, so complete the miracle and let yourself live… and let Mahmoud live too!

Yes, Mahmoud loves you, there can be no doubt. How lor have I known that? Perhaps from the first instant, when he stood at the door, taken aback and disconcerted at the sight of you. And I feel it now, when he tries to keep his eyes off you. Sane or insane, he's not a good actor. They're the same gestures and facial expressions that I saw at the beginning of our relationship, when he was trying to escape from love by retreating into himself and by silence, by avoiding confrontation and by depression. This time, though, I think his confusion is greater and his sorrow deeper. He knows, of course, that winning you is less likely, and I know his love for you and I'm not angry. I don't feel even the natural jealousy of an abandoned spouse. I tell myself, it's fair! It's the necessary retribution. I stole Michael from you, so if you now perform the miracle of getting better, I shall give him to you, or give you to him. But will you accept? Do you love him in return? I haven't seen any love for him in your eyes. I mean, that kind of love. Or perhaps the saint would consider such a belated exchange of men a sin? If that's the case, then it doesn't matter, Fiona. Perform the miracle of getting better, and then leave him to me, by which I mean leave him to himself, for we haven't been lovers since we came to this oasis, and we haven't been spouses since Maleeka's blood came between us. He no longer touches me and I too no longer want him to touch me.

How did it all happen? If I could talk to an innocent young lady like yourself about things of that sort, I'd ask you. In fact, though, I have no one but myself to depend on. I have to look more deeply inside myself to find out what happened. Or rather, I have to forget it all and leave it behind me. I have to resume my work and my search. That alone is the way out that will bring back the true Catherine.

I was leafing through the journal that Wasfi left without concentrating when I was surprised by Mahmoud's familiar knocks, followed by his opening the door and rushing in.

He took in the room with a quick look and then came and sat down next to me.

I asked him, 'Are you going to rest a little before going out on patrol?'

He laid his arms on the table and put his head between his hands, saying, 'No. I'm not going out tonight. I postponed the patrol until tomorrow. I felt tired.'

I smiled to myself. I know that tiredness, Mahmoud! I know it very well!

Light white clouds that herald no rain but veil the sun and the heat.

From the window of my office I watched them gathering and then moving apart in widening circles. It would be a hard day for Fiona and Catherine. She's unlucky, Fiona. Our main problem here is the killing heat, but she has come at a time when at night we search for the slightest warmth. I hope Sheikh Yahya's medicines do her some good. Yesterday I saw the worry in Catherine's eyes as she looked covertly at her sister. Fiona was indeed as pale as death. No, don't think of death! Didn't she get excited and redden as she answered Wasfi when he described the revolutionaries as traitors? No, her health will surely return with these medicines, and the sparkle will return to her eyes as she tells her Irish tales in the evenings, and that pure gaze of hers that pierces the soul will remain.

Enough!

I rose and went to the window and looked out over the forecourt of the station. Haven't you had enough yet, my dear captain, of the marching, running and jumping exercises that you've been at with the soldiers since sunrise? The poor wretches are perfectly ready now to do battle with any army, but to what purpose? At the moment of danger, nothing can save you from the shell of a cannon (so long as it fires!). Maybe I'll test your courage by sending you on patrol with them into the desert to look for the Bedouin. Flattery won't help you then the way it does with the agwad. Either you chase them away or they make you their prey!

You didn't bat an eyelid when Fiona said that defeat didn't strip revolutionaries of their heroism. You fell silent out of good manners because you were my guest, but I saw the chagrin in your eyes. And who precisely are those Egyptian 'forefathers' of yours whose antiquities you're studying, my dear blond Circassian captain?

During the revolution I met a few good Circassians who loved Egypt as their homeland. Most, though, considered themselves the masters, and they conspired more than once to kill Urabi, the 'peasant', and were happy to see him defeated, just as you were. How then do the antiquities of the ancestors of these peasants, whose glory you want to restore, concern you?