‘But even if the passage is all right, we can’t get to the main court – the fire’s there too by now – you can see it! And it’s no good trying the postern, Charles, it’s locked, and the key’s out, they said so. And even you surely can’t pick locks in the dark?’
‘Not to worry, I’ve got the key.’ He grinned at my look, fishing somewhere in the tatty off-white trousers, and producing a ring of keys that gleamed and rattled. ‘What do you bet it’s one of these? I snitched it off poor old Jassim when I made a break for it. They were no use for getting back in with, because they bolt the gates as well here, but if one of these fits the postern we’ll get out.’ He stopped short with his hand on the door. ‘Look, before we go down you’d better dip a hankie or something in the lake to hold over your mouth if the smoke’s bad. Come on, it won’t take a moment.’
‘Have you got something?’
‘Half a trouser leg will do for me if I can tear the things.’
We ran down the steps. ‘Where did you get that Carnaby Street rig anyway?’ I asked.
‘Oh, it’s quite a saga, I’ll tell you about it later. I suppose they’re Jassim’s, but never mind, they’ve had a dip now and only smell of weeds and water-mint and lovely mud. I only hope I can tear the beastly things, they’re still damp and as tough as hell … There, that’s it. What the well-dressed refugee is wearing. While you’re about it I’d splash a bit more water over yourself, too …’
It was like kneeling by a lake of liquid fire, but the water was cool and sharply restorative. Its flickering reflection caught Charles’s laughing face and brilliant eyes. I laughed back at him. It was impossible to be afraid. A light, almost wild exhilaration seemed to possess me, something sharp and positive and clear, the aftermath of a far more powerful drug than any Grafton had given me.
He jumped to his feet. ‘That’s better, shall we go?’ We ran up the steps. Most of the small animals and birds seemed to have dispersed into the cool shadows of the bushes, or among the wet growth at the water’s edge. ‘This way, my lovely lady Christabel; give me your wet little hand. If anyone had told me when I had to share the bath with you twenty years ago …’ A pause while we negotiated the threshold of the painted door. This was made no easier by the fact that he held me all the time, and I him … ‘Though as a matter of fact I don’t think I had any doubt even then. It’s just been a case of taking the air here and there for a few years till the true north pulled, and here we are. D’you feel like that?’
‘Always did. When I saw you in Straight Street, the bells went off like a burglar alarm and I thought “Well, really, here he is at last.”’
‘As easy as that. Are you all right? There is a bit of smoke after all.’
There was in fact a good deal. If it had been possible to feel fear any more, I might have felt it then. As we crept down the spiral stair – slowly because we had no light and even a twisted ankle might have meant disaster – the heat grew palpable, and smoke met us, the real thing, acrid and heavy and scraping the lungs like a hot file. The dogs whined at our heels. Nothing else had followed us.
‘Will they be all right – the animals?’ I asked, coughing.
‘Should be. There’s always the water if things get desperate, Once the fire’s out and the place is cool again, the birds will be able to get out into the valley, and I’m afraid I’m not just terribly concerned about the rats and mice. Hold it, here’s the door. Let’s see what’s cooking outside.’
He pulled it open cautiously. More smoke came wreathing in, and with it a red and sullen light, that flickered. He shut it quickly.
‘Hell’s delight! It looks as though we may have to try the window after all. We can—’
‘Perhaps it’s only the torches they lit for the fun and games tonight,’ I said quickly. ‘They frightened me to death when I came this way before. There’s one just outside.’
He inched the door open again and craned through, and I heard his grunt of relief. ‘You’re right, praise be to Allah, that’s all it is. Our luck’s in. The smoke’s seeping under the Prince’s door like floodwater, but no fire.’ He pulled me through and let the door swing shut after the dogs. ‘Come on, darling, we’ll run for it. Thank God to be able to see. Can you make it?’
‘Of course. Let’s just hope we don’t run smack into the caravan.’
‘The camels are coming, yoho, yoho … Don’t worry about that, love, I tell you our luck’s in – and it’s going to hold.’
And it did. Two minutes later, after a terrifying run along a passageway hot and choking and blind with smoke, we reached the postern, and while Charles fumbled with the lock I felt for and dragged back the heavy bolts. Then the key clicked sweetly in the oiled wards, and he pulled the door open.
The hounds brushed past us. Ahead was clear air, and the cool rustle of trees. My cousin’s arm came round me and more or less scooped me up the rocky ramp and on to the clean rock under the trees. The postern door clanged to behind us, and shut us out of Dar Ibrahim.
19
… A charm
For thee, my gentle-hearted Charles …
S. T. Coleridge: This
Lime-Tree Bower my Prison
Only then did I notice the shouting. Not the noise from the direction of the midan, of which I had been vaguely conscious all the time, but a new uproar, as of an excited crowd, which came from beyond the west wall where the main gate stood.
With the hounds trotting, sober now, beside us, we picked our way through the dancing shadows of the trees and along under the rear wall. The shade it cast was inky black, the night sky above it fierce as a red dawn.
At the corner of the Seraglio, below Charles’s window, we paused to reconnoitre. There seemed to be no one about. We ran across the path and into the belt of trees which overhung the Nahr el-Sal’q. High above us I could hear the cry of some wheeling birds, jackdaws, I think, flushed from the burning walls. Far down at the foot of the cliff I saw, through the stem of the trees, the red gleam of the river, this time dyed by the fire.
We paused in the darkness of the sycamore grove. There was smoke, thin and stinging, in the air, but it smelled fresh after the garden. Charles held me close.
‘You’re shivering. Are you cold?’
‘Not a bit, not yet, there hasn’t been time – and you must admit it was warm enough in there! Charles, the shouting. Ought we to go and help?’
‘Not the slightest need,’ he said shortly. ‘Apart from the fact that I don’t give a damn if Grafton and Lethman are both crisped to a cinder, half the village is there already by the sound of it, and with the place going up like a torch, any minute now they’ll be running sightseeing buses from Beirut. And there’s the little fact that nobody came to look for you. Let them burn. But for heaven’s sake, what were you doing back in there? You were supposed to be miles away and as innocent as the day. What happened?’
‘They brought me back.’ As briefly as I could I told him my story, cutting through his shocked comments with a quick: ‘But you? What made you come back for me? How did you know I was there?’
‘Darling, I heard you, screeching like a diesel train just before the place went up in smoke.’
‘You’d have screeched if you’d been me, let me tell you! But never mind that now – how did you get in? They said you’d escaped by the main gate.’
‘I had. They tried to dope me with their filthy pot, and I filled the place with smoke and pretended to be stoned, and poor old Jassim fell for it and I clobbered him and got out. The only trouble was that when they laid me out first and locked me up they took my clothes … I can’t imagine why Lethman thought that would stop me from getting out if I could find a way, but it seems he did.’
‘He probably wanted them to wear. He went up to drive your car away, you know, and he’d want to look like you if anyone saw him.’
‘I suppose so. He might in that case have left me with something more than an old blanket for the duration. And I rather cared for that shirt, blast him
. Well, I took Jassim’s keys off him and hurtled out of my little pad in a state of nature, and grabbed a few dreary-looking garments that were lying about in the gate-house. Don’t you like them? I took what you might laughingly call the bare minimum, and ran for it. I knew if anyone followed me they’d go straight down by the ford, so I doubled round the back, this way, under the Seraglio windows. Big deal. There went our hero, stark naked, with his pants in his hand, and leaping like a grasshopper every time he trod on a thistle.’
‘My poor lamb. Still, you wouldn’t be the first.’
‘What? Oh, storming the Seraglio. Sure … Well, I stopped under the trees to put the pants on. As a matter of fact there was a shirt and a kaffiyeh as well, if only I could find them … then I heard you scream. Did that so-and-so hurt you?’
‘Not really. It was the cat I was screaming at, not him. Go on, I want to hear about you. How did you get back in?’
He had been casting about under the trees while we talked, and now pounced on something with a soft exclamation of satisfaction. ‘Here they are … I suppose I shall be thankful of this shirt, such as it is, before the night’s out … Where was I? Oh, under the Seraglio windows – just about here, in fact – when I heard you scream. I tore into the pants and shoes and belted back to the main gate, but they’d barred it again. While I was trying it, all hell broke loose inside the palace, and then I smelled the smoke. I imagined that if the fire was bad they’d open the gate, but even so I didn’t fancy our chances, so I ran round here again. I knew the postern had been bolted again after they caught me, so I didn’t waste time trying it; I simply ran round to that window and climbed in. It’s not a bad climb at all.’
‘Not bad!’ It was the first time I had seen it from outside. I stared up at the sheer black wall. ‘It looks impossible!’
‘Not for your big brave cousin. Anyway, I knew you were in the garden, because when I was half-way up I heard you swearing at the dogs, and as soon as I got in I saw the Noah’s Ark act on the island. That’s all … I wish Jassim’s wardrobe ran to socks – there’s nothing more disgusting than wet sandals. Look, why don’t you put the head-cloth round your shoulders? It’s not too filthy, and at least it’s dry. Let me tie it … What’s this round your neck?’
‘Oh, I forgot I’d put it on. It’s a charm I got for you against the Evil Eye. You wanted one for your car, you said.’
‘For my love, I said. You’d better keep it, it seems to work … There. Now you’re almost up to my standards.’
‘Flattery will get you nowhere.’
‘I’m not flattering, you look wonderful. There’s some weed in your hair, and that frock looks as if it had been poured over you out of a dirty jug, and your eyes are as big as mill-wheels and as black as outer space.’
‘I’ve been smoking their filthy pot, that’s why.’
‘Du vrai?’ he asked. ‘I thought as much. Nice?’
‘Hellish. You think it’s rather pleasant and you stop worrying about things, and then suddenly you find your bones have sort of rotted from inside and your brain’s made from old rags and you can’t even think. Oh, Charles, it was so awful, they’re dealing in the stuff … they’ve been planning for months—’
‘Darling, I know. Lethman told me quite a lot, probably more than he realised. Did you know he was a junkie?’
‘Grafton told me. I ought to have guessed from the way he looks sometimes, but I never thought about it. Did he tell you Great-Aunt H was dead?’
‘I knew that.’
I stared. ‘You mean you knew it all along? Was that what you were making all the mystery about?’
‘I’m afraid so.’
‘How did you find out?’
‘Guessed, to begin with. Didn’t you ever know that she had your cat phobia? Full blast and all the stops out?’
‘Did she? I don’t think I ever knew that. We never had a cat at home, of course, so when she stayed with us the subject wouldn’t come up. Yes, I see now. I suppose as soon as I told you “she” had a cat in her room you knew there must be something wrong. But Grafton would know, surely?’
‘He can’t have realised the cat was in the room that night. More likely he never even thought about it. They may have always had stableyard cats – must have, now that I think of the rat population of the Seraglio – but in Aunt H’s day they’d never have invaded that room.’
‘Because of the dogs?’
‘One imagines so. From the way these terrifying brutes behave with you and me’ – he indicated Star and Sofi, who grinned amiably, feathering their tails – ‘they were probably treated as pets with the run of the place, and I know Samson always slept on her bed, and he was death on cats. If “the doctor” was scared of the dogs and shut them up, then the inevitable would happen … Let’s get somewhere where we can see, shall we?’
We began to pick our way along the stony cliff-top through the thickest part of the grove.
‘Yes, go on.’
‘Well, the cat business made me think there was something decidedly off-key somewhere, so I made up my mind to get in and look around and find out what, if anything, had happened to the real Aunt H. The fact that Lethman and Co. had let you wander around the place indicated that she wasn’t hidden there. I thought she must be dead. Then when I got in and saw her things were left lying about derelict – the Koran and the Dogs of Fo – and that Samson had died and apparently not been buried properly with the benefit of clergy along with the other dogs, I was sure of it. So after you’d gone off to bed that night I went snooping back, and you know what happened; I got caught and knocked out and locked up and that was that. Here we are, steady, hang on to those dogs and don’t let anyone see you. My God!’
We had reached the corner now, and we could see.
The scene was like something from a coloured film of epic proportions. The walls towered black and jagged against the leaping flames behind them, and one high roof, burning fiercely, was now nothing but a crumbling grid of beams, Windows pulsed with light. With every gust of the breeze great clouds of pale smoke, filled with sparks, rolled down and burst over the crowd which besieged the main gate, and the Arabs scattered, shouting and cursing and laughing with excitement, only to bunch again nearer the gate as the cloud dispersed. The gate was open; both the tall double leaves stood wide, and there was a coming and going of men through the general mêlée which indicated that some salvage work was going on – and also that Grafton would be lucky if he saw any of the salvaged goods again.
It was to be presumed that the remaining inmates of the palace were safe: the mules had certainly been got out; here and there among the crowd I saw the wicked heads tossing, the fire-light bright on teeth and eyeballs, as the loot piled up on the glossy backs, and yelling Arabs fought for the head-ropes. Then I saw the chestnut horse, its coat as bright as fire, and someone who could only be John Lethman at its head.
He was dragging something – some cloth or blanket – from the beast’s head. He must have had to muffle its eyes and nostrils to get it out of the burning stable. It was fighting him, jibbing and terrified, as he tried to pull it clear of the crowd.
I clutched Charles’s arm. ‘Lethman’s there! He’s got the horse out. Charles, he’s mounting! He’ll get away!’
‘Let him go. He can’t do a thing. Grafton’s the one – hullo, look, they’re stopping him.’
Lethman, astride the chestnut, was fighting with knees, whip and head-rope to turn it for the corner where we stood hidden, and the track past the Seraglio wall to the open hillside and freedom. The animal, its ears laid flat back on its skull, whirled plunging in the dust, and the crowd scattered in front of it – all but one man, and he ran in under the vicious hooves and jumped for the head-rope and held it fast. He was shouting something at John Lethman. I saw the latter throw out an arm, pointing back to the blazing building, and he yelled something, his voice suddenly clear and powerful above the excited roar of the crowd. Faces turned to him like leaves when the wind blows throu
gh them. He brought his whip slashing down at the man below him, and drove the chestnut forward at full gallop towards the grove where we stood.
The Arab, struck by the beast’s shoulder, was sent flying. As he rolled clean over, and came unhurt in one swift bunching movement to his feet, I saw that it was Nasirulla. Two or three other men had started, vainly, to run after John Lethman. One of them, yelling like a dervish, waved a shotgun. Nasirulla snatched it from him, whirled, levelled it, and shot.
But the chestnut was already out of range round the palace wall. It went by within a few feet of us. I never even saw John Lethman’s face; he was just a crouching shadow against the bright mane, gone with a crash and sparkle of hoofs and the horse’s snorting terror.
Nor did I notice at what moment Star and Sofi left us. I thought I saw two shadows, swifter than the horse and far more silent, whip through the trees to vanish in its dust, and when I looked round the hounds had gone.
The shot harmlessly chipped the masonry at the corner of the palace. The men who were running our way hesitated, saw it was no use, and milled aimlessly about, shouting.
‘I think that’s our cue to go, my love,’ said Charles in my ear. ‘Any minute now and they’ll all be coming to look for a way round the back.’
‘Wait … look!’
What happened next was almost too quick to understand, and certainly too quick to describe.
Nasirulla had hardly paused to see if his shot had gone home. While plaster still scaled from the bullet-marks on the wall he turned and shoved his way back towards the gate. The others crowded back with him.
Then we saw Henry Grafton. The knock on the head had obviously not incapacitated him for long, and apparently he had been organising the salvage operations. As the crowd by the gate eddied and momentarily thinned I saw him, just emerging past the gatehouse, his arms full.
One or two men ran forward, presumably to help him. Another tugged one of the mules nearer. Then Nasirulla yelled something, high and clear, and I saw the crowd check again, and men turning. There must have been women there; I heard one screaming something that sounded like invective. Grafton paused, staggering a little as the man who had taken half his load abandoned it suddenly and left him. Nasirulla ran forward, still yelling, and as Grafton turned to face him, flung the gun up at a range of perhaps ten yards, and fired again.