Swords of Arabia: Betrayal (10 page)

***

Some
time
later,
the
four
prisoners,
already
looking
years
younger
having
been
fed,
watered,
been
allowed
to
wash,
have
their
beards
trimmed
and
provided
with
clean
clothes,
were
shown
into
the
small
audience
chamber
attached
to
Firyal’s
large
airy
apartments
overlooking
the
harbour.

Seated
with
Zahirah
on
the
small
dais,
she
smiled
as
they
entered
and,
waving
away
her
attendants,
she
gestured
to
the
light
food
and
drink
placed
on
small
tables
before
a
jumble
of
large
cushions
placed
near
the
dais.

“Brothers,
nephew,
cousin,
we
greet
you
and
welcome
you
back
into
our
family,”
she
said,
rising
with
difficulty
and
gesturing
they
be
seated.
As
a
mark
of
the
informality
of
the
meeting,
both
she,
scorning
any
help,
and
Zahirah,
left
the
dais
and
also
seated
themselves
amongst
the
cushions, where
they
all
engaged
in
light
conversation.

Then,
after
several
minutes,
Abdul
cut
through
the
social
pleasantries.
“Sisters,
my
apologies
for
any
haste,
but
I
think
you
can
appreciate
our
wish
to
return
to
our
homes,
see
our
loved
ones,”
he
said
seriously.
He
showed
no
trace
that
he
was
aware
that
his
audience
knew
that
at
home,
he
was
in
fact
regarded
indifferently,
an
indifference
he
fully
returned.
Preserving
the
proprieties
was
important
however,
as
he
thrust
through
to
the
main
reason
for
his
interjection.
“We
understand
that
we
are
–
to
some
extent
at
least
–
indebted
to
yourselves
for
our
release,
and
we
thank
you,”
he
continued,
as
the
two
women
shrugged
away
any
major
part
in
the granting of their
freedom.
“We
were,
though,
somewhat
surprised!”
he
continued
and
then
paused,
leaving
an
opening
for
the
two
to
explain,
if
they
so
wished,
why
they’d
reversed
their
well-known
aversion
to
the
quartet.
Firyal
did
so
wish,
to
an
extent
anyway.

“Whatever
small
part
we
may
have
played,
it
was
merely
that
both we
and
our
family
in
Narash
are
too
small
to
survive
if
we’re
divided.
We
hope
that
by
the
gesture
taken
by
my
grandson
and
Nasir,
you
will
see
that
we
mean
neither
you
nor
your
families
any
harm,
and
we
hope
that
any
past misunderstanding, on
either
side,
could
be
laid
to
rest,”
she
ended.
The
slight
upward
lilt
turned
the
last
part
of
her
sentence
into
a
gentle
question
should
they
wish
to
hear
–
and
answer
it.

“The
price
for
our
release
is
our
support
for
Talal
as
emir.”
Abdul
stated
bluntly.
“I’m
surprised,
frankly
that
the
family
have
chosen
him,
the
times
being
what
they
are,”
he
added.

Firyal,
glad
that,
despite
the
recent
devastating
changes,
the
quartet
were
still
as
cut-off
from
events
as
she’d
ordered
many
months
ago,
shook
her
head.
“My
grandson
is
not
yet
confirmed
by
a
family
council.”

“Ah
–
so
the
price
of
our
release
is
our
supporting
the
boy!”
half-sneered
Mansour,
sensing
a
weakness
in
the
two
women
who
were
still,
he
had
not
the
slightest
doubt,
his
bitter
adversaries,
and
would
always
remain
so.

Showing
no
sign
that
the
very
core
of
the
reasons
behind
the
meeting
had
been
reached,
Firyal
shrugged
dismissively
and
replied
grandly.
“We
are
family,
Nephew;
why
would
we
wish
to
bargain
like
traders
in
the
souk
?”
She
was
happy
to
ignore
both
the
fact
that
she
and
Zahirah
did
so
virtually
every
day, and
that
the
men
seated
opposite
her
were
well
aware
of
their
activities.

“Then,
why?
Why
release
us,
if
not
to
support
Talal
in
the
council?”
probed
Abdul,
keenly
aware
of
what,
despite
their
elegant
denials,
must
be
the
real
reason
behind
their
seeming
generosity,

Zahirah
interposed
quietly.
“If
you
feel
it
right
to
support
Talal,
then
you
will
do
so;
it
would
be
unseemly
of
us
to
link
support
for
him
to
your
being
released.
For
our
part,
it’s
simple
enough.
My
son
and
many
others
wish
to
try
and
break
through
the
endless
cycle
of
brother
killing
brother,
uncle
killing
nephew
in
the
endless
circle
of
blood-letting,
that
is
all.”

Abdul,
watching
her
closely,
didn’t
believe
for
a
moment
her
disinterest
in
getting
their
support,
but
admired
the
faultless
way
she
spoke
as though this were the case.