Desert Song (DeWinter's Song 3) (20 page)

He kissed her lips and found that her face was wet with tears. "Have I hurt you?" he asked, stroking her gently.

"No, not hurt. It was . . . just that I was so much a part of you. I never knew you could be so close to another person."

He stared at her, wondering why he felt this tenderness, this fullness in his heart. Why was there a thick lump in his throat making it impossible for him to answer her?

He held her tightly against him, knowing they might soon be parted for all eternity. What was this emotion she aroused in him? He did not care to examine these new feelings, because he had to let her go before morning.

Mallory curled up in his arms, and he saw mischief dancing in her eyes. "So that is what it feels like to have a legend make love to you." She smiled. "Well, Akhdar 'em Akraba, I now believe the legend is more reality than fable."

Michael shook with laughter as he crushed her in his arms. "I see that you are going to be a most disrespectful wife. Will you not show me the respect deserving of a legend?"

Her eyes suddenly flickered, and she touched her lips to his. "Oh, yes, I will show you respect. What is it that the green-eyed scorpion desires?"

"You," he whispered. "I desire you."

Mallory willingly came to him, and he took her again and yet again. As morning approached, his lovemaking became more desperate. Each time Michael reached for her, Mallory came willingly into his arms.

Neither of them knew that they were of the same mind: he wanting to plant his seed in her so the DeWinter line would continue; she wanting him to impregnate her so she would have something of his to cling to should he not return.

Michael eased himself out of bed and stared for a long moment at Mallory, who had given him a night such as he'd never known. Her sweetness had touched him as no woman ever had, and he was tempted to go back to bed and take her to him once more.

With a resigned sigh, he tiptoed out of the bedroom and lit a candle in the small sitting room. He sat at the gilded desk and removed a piece of paper from the drawer. In a bold hand, he began to write.

Dearest Mother,

This is to introduce you to the former Lady Mallory Stanhope, who is now my wife. You will find her sweet of nature and gentle in mind. Take her to your heart, as I have taken her to mine. Make her your daughter. If God is merciful, she may bear the next DeWinter heir. Today I ride with an army of thousands in the hope of rescuing Father. I feel your prayers are with me, and I will need them to sustain me through the coming days.

Your loving son,
Michael

Michael placed the letter in his belt, thinking he must be sure to give it to the king and ask him to see that it reached his mother.

He took out another sheet of writing paper and sat for a moment. Leaving a message for Mallory was much more difficult. His heart was full of emotions he was not yet able to put into words. Dispassionately, he wrote, then folded the page and propped it against a candlestick so she would be sure to find it.

Michael paused at the bedroom door and resisted the urge to wake Mallory so he could have her blessing before leaving. He slipped a burnoose about his head and moved down the corridor. The sun would be up in two hours, and they would have to be well on their way before then.

Chapter 22

The sun seemed to burst through the morning sky with radiant pinnacles of light. Michael  rode at the head of the bedouin forces, beside Prince Khaldun and Sheik Hakeem. Each man's thoughts were on the battle ahead, and the women that they had left behind.

Their number increased rapidly as they moved past friendly Bedouin villages. Camels and horses trekked side by side, their riders silent as they massed into an army.

By midday, the blistering sun hit the desert like heat on an anvil, and their numbers had now swelled to over a thousand. When the heat became unbearable, Prince Khaldun called a halt at an oasis, where each man was left to find his own shade.

Prince Khaldun then called the leaders of every tribe to his side so they could best make their strategy. In no time at all, arguments broke out as each man was sure his own idea was the best.

At last, Michael held up his hand. "I have a plan that might work." All attention was riveted on him, and the Bedouin leaders respectfully waited for him to speak.

"As you know, I have to locate my father and bring him safely out of Caldoia before you strike. Those of you who have been to Caldoia have told me that the city is virtually impregnable. Unless we can get men on the inside of the walls, it would be folly to pit our full strength against Sheik Sidi Ahmed. He would like nothing better than for us to attack in force."

"That is so," Hakeem said, nodding his head in agreement. "But every man here is willing to die for this just and worthy cause, if Allah wills. They desire to rid the desert of this traitorous Turkish scourge."

"What is your plan?" Khaldun asked Michael.

"Actually, it isn't my plan at all. It was implemented effectively by an American general when he was fighting against my country."

"Did this American general win the war?" Hakeem asked with interest.

"Most assuredly. General George Washington led our commander to believe he was going to a certain city, when in fact he turned his troops and went in a different direction. Our British general, Lord Cornwallis, was duped into leaving strategic positions undefended and assembling his troops where he thought General Washington was going to strike. The war was lost because of this duplicity."

Hakeem's crafty old eyes surveyed the men who surrounded him. It was a good plan, but the sheiks would follow Lord Michael only if they were convinced he had support. Hakeem knew he would have to use the legend against his own friends, for their own good, of course. "I like it—I like it! It is a plan worthy only of a great general, or, the green-eyed scorpion."

The others began to mumble among themselves, while Prince Khaldun smiled knowingly at his father-in-law. "The Hakash, who are allies of Sidi, live to the north. We could make a great show of going in that direction," the prince said.

One of the lesser sheiks was skeptical. "It is a good plan, and one Sidi would not know about. But my concern is the danger of splitting our forces."

"That is a real danger," Michael admitted, "and this is not foolproof."

Hakeem sighed in exasperation. The green-eyed one was losing them. "I see no other way to lure the camel from his dung heap," he said fervently. "Now, Akhdar 'em Akraba, tell us more about this remarkably ingenious plan."

Michael's eyes met Hakeem's, and the older man just stared at him innocently. But Michael knew what the wily old fox was doing. "Since you ask, Sheik Hakeem, this is what I believe we should do," Michael said, taking his sword and drawing a line in the sand. "We send half our forces to Hakash, to draw Sidi from Caldoia, while the rest remain hidden here."

"Yes!" Hakeem shouted, infecting the other sheiks with his enthusiasm.

"The caravan route is nearby, is it not?" Michael asked.

"It is but a day's ride to the north," Khaldun answered.

"That is good," Michael said. "Should Sidi's spies see the dust when you send for the men to join the main force, they will believe it is a caravan."

Hakeem nodded in approval. He had known the green-eyed one would come up with a good plan, he had just needed prodding.

"It will work," Khaldun said. "I believe it is such a fresh idea that Sidi will never suspect a trap until it's too late."

Hakeem's dark eyes brightened. "I will send Abu, who is known and trusted in Caldoia, to spread the false information that we are about to attack Hakash."

"Are you certain we can trust him?" Michael wanted to know, since he would be putting his life, and his father's, in Abu's hands.

"I would trust him with my life." Hakeem shrugged. "Even if he is caught and tortured, he will not give away our plan. I know he would die rather than betray me." The old sheik beamed. "This will work because it is brilliant. If only I had thought of it first."

Khaldun shook his head. "Do not be too quick to celebrate. The walls of Caldoia are high and well guarded, and there will still be a sizable army inside the city."

"If Abu does his duty, he will be able to open the gates for us. But if he does not, the whole plan may fail," one of the sheiks warned.

"I will go with him," Michael said. "I have to free my father before the attack."

Khaldun nodded. "I will not try to stop you. If it were my father, I would do the same. But I must warn you to be careful. Your eyes will give you away at once. And they will be expecting you to try to free your father."

Michael took his knife from its sheath and cut a strip from his robe. He then gritted his teeth and cut a long slash across his arm and soaked the cloth in his own blood, while the others watched in amazement. "Before I enter the city, I will tie this about my eyes, and Abu will tell everyone who asks that I have a head wound." His eyes went to Hakeem. "At least now I won't have to ride your damned camel."

"It may work," Khaldun said, fearing what might happen to Michael if his identity was discovered. "Be on guard, my friend. I do not want anything to happen to you."

"If I have not joined you in three days, go ahead with the attack, because it will mean I have failed," Michael said.

"Don't forget that Abu must open the gate," Hakeem reminded him.

Michael looked at his two friends, and then allowed his eyes to drift over the hundreds of loyal men that had gathered to do battle. Many of them he would never meet, and yet he owed them more than his life. "I pray to God that the three of us will soon be reunited."

"May Allah make it so," Hakeem said.

"And may your father be among our numbers," Khaldun added.

* * *

Mallory awoke to find it was midmorning and Michael wasn't beside her. She slipped out of bed and ran to the garden, hoping he would be there—but he wasn't. After a thorough search of the quarters, she realized he was gone. He hadn't even awakened her to say good-bye.

When she entered the sitting room, Mallory found the letter Michael had left. She could tell by the long strokes of the pen that it had been written in haste.

Dear Mallory,

It is difficult to leave you so soon after our marriage, but you know how important it is that I find my father. I have left instructions that you are to be escorted to Cairo without delay. Prince Khaldun has left one of his most trusted guides as your escort. The man will see you safely to your mother and father. You are to meet him in the north courtyard after breakfast. Please do not delay your departure. I want you away from Kamar Ginena before war explodes around you.

How could Michael be so cold and distant after what had happened between them last night? How could she return to her father's house as if nothing had happened? At least if she remained here, she would have news of the war.

With a heavy heart, she packed her few belongings while trying to ignore the panic that was building inside her. What if something happened to Michael? It could take weeks for her to receive word in Cairo.

A servant entered, carrying a tray with Mallory's breakfast. "Where is the north courtyard?" she asked hurriedly. The woman merely shook her head, not understanding her words. When the servant departed, Mallory went in search of her guide. There had to be something she could do to help Michael, there just had to be.

After asking several people directions, Mallory was finally able to locate the man who was to be her guide. He was packing supplies on a horse, and he looked up as she approached.

"Lady, my name is Fizal. I am to be your guard. Are you ready to leave?"

"Fizal, will it be just the two of us going to Cairo?"

"Yes, lady, but you will be safe with me. I will protect you with my life."

"How well do you know the city of Caldoia?"

"Very well, lady. I have many friends there. My cousin, Jabl, is a night guard at the tower."

"Have you told Prince Khaldun or my husband about your cousin?" Mallory asked.

He shook his head. "I am but a humble servant, and it is not permitted to speak to the great ones without permission."

"Can you take me to Caldoia?"

His face visibly paled. "Oh, no, lady. To do this thing would be to forfeit my life. I was told to take you to Cairo, and this I must do."

"You must help me, Fizal. My husband is in grave danger because he will attempt to break into the prison to rescue his father."

He shook his head. "He cannot get to his father, lady. The guards will shoot anyone who comes near the prison."

"Will your cousin betray you?"

"No, lady. He is of my blood."

"Then you will take me there, and convince your cousin to help us."

"No, lady. I cannot take you to that evil place. It is unsafe for an Inglizi woman."

"I will dress as a serving woman and cover my face. We must hurry, Fizal."

He looked doubtful. "Will not the green-eyed one want Fizal's head for taking his woman into danger?"

"I will tell him I insisted, so he can hardly blame you for following my orders."

"I will do it if you ask it of me, lady. But I think the green-eyed one will put an end to my poor, miserable life when he discovers what I have done."

"I'll meet you here in an hour," she said, turning toward the palace.

When she reached her bedroom, she found that the serving woman was waiting for her, concerned because Mallory hadn't eaten. It took several moments for Mallory to make the servant comprehend that she wanted to trade clothing with her. At last the woman nodded her head in understanding, clearly delighted to exchange her plain cotton robe for one of silk.

Mallory hurried to the courtyard, where Fizal would be waiting for her. She wore a black robe and a head covering that was decorated with silver coins. With each step she took, it made a jingling sound.

Mallory wondered what Yasmin would think when she realized that she had left without saying good-bye, so she left Michael's letter as explanation. Hopefully, everyone would conclude that she had returned to Cairo as he had directed.

She was soon mounted and rode through the city streets beside Fizal. No one questioned them, and they passed unchallenged through the gates and to the desert beyond.

Mallory was glad her veil shaded her face against the uncompromising sun. Every muscle in her body seemed to ache, and she wondered if there was an end to this sea of sand.

They passed a tribe of Bedouin who showed little interest in them. Her veiled gaze traveled over the faces of the men, and she noticed their skin was like worn leather.

"They have a harsh life, Fizal."

"The land demands it of them." He spat. "When their sheep overgraze the land, they move to other lands. They are like the shifting sands, always restless, ever moving."

That night, when they stopped to make camp, Mallory was too exhausted to eat the food Fizal offered her. There was a small pond filled with spiky reeds that was shaded by date palms and short scrub bushes. She dipped her hands in the water and drank deeply, then washed her face.

Fizal had raised a small tent for Mallory and made her a bed of soft sheepskin. As soon as she lay down, she fell asleep. She did not know that Fizal sat up guarding her throughout the night.

* * *

Michael could see great earth-colored domes rising into the sky, and he knew that they were approaching Caldoia, so he tied the bloodstained bandage around his head and allowed Abu to lead him to the city.

They were stopped at the gate, and Abu spoke to the guard. "My brother has had a bad accident and needs medical attention."

The guard looked at the injured man. "You had better seek help for him soon. It appears to be a bad injury."

"I will do that, my friend."

"From where do you come?" the guard asked.

"I am of the Hakash. And I am most troubled."

"Why is that?"

"As I was bringing my brother here, I saw many men riding toward my village at great speed. They were of the Sawarka and Jebeliya tribes."

The guard's eyes widened. "Are you certain of this?"

Abu continued to spin his lie. "I can tell you on my mother's life that I speak the truth."

"Then I must alert the captain of the guards. He has been expecting an attack, but he thought it would be here."