Swords of Arabia: Warlord Page 15

  The rescuing fleet was even closer however, and, though it represented rescue, she was alarmed to see that several of the town's large boats were in the convoy. She knew that if they were all filled with armed men, then the town had been all but stripped of any defensive capacity. They had to be turned round, and quickly, if there was to be any chance of stopping whatever their mysterious enemy had planned

  On her order, the captain sent two men, one to the bow and the other up into the rigging, to shout and get the boats to turn and speed back to the harbour. At first, the men's cries, almost lost in the din of shouting and gunfire, seemed to be unheard. Indeed, to Zahirah's alarm, several of the approaching craft were now veering off to chase the enemy boats as they turned and raced away.

  Any relief she felt was lost in her realisation that, beaten as the attackers now were, their flight was, at best, a distraction and, at worst, a deliberate decoy. She knew also that if the town's boats pursued them, they'd lose any advantage gained by her small fleet's unexpected return to the harbour.

  The outcome of the whole confrontation hung in the balance, as the approaching boats sped towards the fleeing enemy and away from the harbour mouth; away from where, she was increasingly sure, they were desperately needed. Unable to further influence events, she fiercely gripped the gunwales of the ghanjah and watched helplessly as the force fragmented, their vengeful pursuit of her attackers threatening everything.

  Then, suddenly, it all changed.

  First one of the relief craft slowed, then ponderously tacked about and, still slowly at first, but then increasingly swiftly, started to speed back to the harbour. Then another turned, and then another, until the whole relief force was racing back to the town.

  Her impassive features giving no sign of the staggering relief she felt, as her own boat swiftly joined them, Zahirah prayed they were in time. She ordered her attendants to have the children ready for........what? She didn't know. All she did know was that they must be protected, yet the whole party be ready to move and take advantage of whatever was happening when they docked.

  If it docked. Suddenly her whole body almost convulsed with the sudden chill gripping it, as she realised her threefold dilemma. She couldn't disembark the children into possible danger, until she knew what the situation was, what risks they might face on shore. Nor could she safely leave them on a boat which only minutes before had shown itself vulnerable to attack. Equally if the town itself was being threatened, the men with her might be needed to strengthen the garrison in the face of whatever menace it was facing.

  But first, they must reach the hoped for safety of the harbour. For, whatever awaited them inside the walls of the town, the recent sudden attack had shown her they weren't safe outside them. As they neared the entrance, the unmistakeable sound of gunfire, made them all realise that the town's safety may prove a mirage. She pondered her options, and swiftly realised that, really, there was only the one. She would gather all the guards onto her own boat, ensuring that both the children and the wounded were surrounded by loyal tribesmen. She would then order the boat to be moored in the middle of the harbour, clear of other craft. Depending on what she found when they got inside the harbour itself, she would either stay with them or go ashore with as many warriors as could be spared from guarding those left behind. She would send as many as possible, though, as they would be needed for the coming fight; for fight there would be, of that, she was now certain.

  Her mind made up, she turned and quietly told the captain and Mahmud, the young man who'd so ably and suddenly taken command, after Fahad had been wounded.

  Both gasped when she told them of her possible intention to disembark, but, seeing her determination, neither argued the point. Mahmoud said nothing because, he too, was impatient to get ashore and fully intended being her guard when she left the boat. The captain remained silent because the eventful voyage had shown him the futility of trying to dissuade Zahirah from anything she had set her mind on.

  The ghanjah sailed in, and, as their rescuing craft had waited for her boats, she headed a small but sizeable, fleet as they passed between the low headlands. Everyone was alert for any sign that the emplacements were hostile, watching carefully for any sign of aggression. Beyond brief waves of encouragement from the few defenders left in them, however, nothing happened, so they passed safely – and thankfully – between them. They all relaxed a little, despite the continued sound of gunfire from the town itself, as their boats sailed through into the congested harbour, seeking the clear space Zahirah had ordered.

  “Lady, there are many more boats than is usual,” the captain, noted in surprise. Always busy, the large harbour seemed unusually crowded with all types of craft, from the smallest of small fishing dhows, to larger ghanjahs. There were even one or two showing the unmistakeable craftsmanship of the Omani from far down in the south, as well as two from lands in the even more distant Europe.

  She turned back from asking Mahmoud to have two of their escorting boats delay a little, and get what information they could from some of the other craft clustering in the harbour. “No,” she replied, turning to the captain, as their boat quickly pushed aside the last of the craft blocking their view of the dockside and the water near it. “Look, all the berths are deserted.” She was right, and they all looked in surprise and unease at the sight of the empty berths. Not only the dockside itself was empty, an almost unheard of event in the thriving port, but several hundred yards out from the land there was nothing, no boats at all. All the vessels, they now saw, were clustered together out in the harbour itself. Which told Zahirah that the danger, though real, was at present only land-based; otherwise, the boats would have left the harbour entirely and fled further down the coast, away from whatever was threatening them.

  A sudden and absolute silence descended as their boats were sighted, and dropped anchor, away from other craft, her escorting boats forming a protective ring around the ghanjah. Looking at the faces surrounding her, Zahirah saw they were as un-nerved by the sudden, complete silence as she was herself. The crashing, discordant sound of gunfire, had segued into a silence so total that the splashing of their anchors hitting the water's surface seemed obscenely loud.

  It didn't last. Cries of “Look! It's the Lady Zahirah!” echoed round the bay, as word of their arrival swept across all the other craft. The cries mingled with the renewed sound of gun-fire coming from the town, as the attackers recovered from the double-shock of both their sudden arrival and of seeing the considerable fleet behind them.

  As Mahmoud was quickly organising his men ready to go ashore, the two boats tasked with getting information re-joined them and pulled alongside. “The guns started less than one hour-glass ago, Lady. No one knows who they are, but, they say, a caravan was used to get near the gates and then many men suddenly appeared in the streets around the town gates, killed the guards and many are already in the town, with yet more trying to stop the gates being closed against them.

  Ya Allah! Ya Allah! Inside! The dogs have got inside! Zahirah thought wildly, though her face remained impassive. Mohammed! May Allah protect him! She felt her heart physically clench as if a fist had seized it and was squeezing the very life out of her, at the thought of harm coming to him. In the four years since she had been given to him in marriage, she had grown to care very much for the young warrior, a man outwardly as tough and as hard as any fighter had to be to survive the harsh life of her country. Inside, however, was a different matter and she had found, to her surprise, a gentleness quite lacking in many Arab men; certainly, she'd thought with acid frequency, much more than his half-brother, Fouad.

  Moving swiftly, to take advantage of the surprise their arrival had created, Mahmoud ordered the majority of the fighting men to embark onto the small boats he'd requisitioned to take them to the dockside. With the men from both the town and the fortlets who'd sailed to their aid, he had over a hundred men available for the landing. This was so, even after both leaving a strong guard for Zahirah and the ch
ildren, and sending others to board three of the largest boats in the harbour. These were to lie across its mouth to strengthen its defence against the sea-borne attackers, now returned and circling outside the harbour.

  Zahirah nodded her approval as she saw the swift efficiency of the young officer. Although the attack seemed to be entirely land-based, she realised that the barricade, as well as stopping any reinforcements to the invading force from arriving by sea, would also stop any of the town's attackers fleeing by boat.

  Chapter 18

  “Mohammed! Watch your back!” Mohammed whirled round at Daoud's shout, just as the scimitar was slashing down to slice into his skull. His own sword desperately deflecting the blade, Mohammed lunged forward, his dagger flashing out and across, ripping open his assailant's stomach, leaving the man screaming, while desperately trying to hold in his entrails. But Mohammed's left flank was left dangerously exposed and another assailant, his sword already running with blood, lunged forward, aiming to plunge it deep into the young warrior's side. Only a rapid side-step, saved him; even so, the weapon slashed savagely and deeply across his stomach.

  Daoud cursed the idiot who'd panicked and rushed up to Mohammed with news of Zahirah's plight. Should they survive, he vowed he'd have the man flogged. Such a distraction, at such a time, could kill a man; the messenger's act was made even worse by it being unnecessary.

  “Don't worry, my friend,” he gasped, breathing heavily, as he fought to get near Mohammed. “She's near and the Lady Firyal has already sent vessels to her aid.” Anticipating Mohammed's urgent question, he added, “Some, a few only, from the forts and more from Suleiman Ilahi, the merchant.”

  Mohammed's nodded, huge relief giving way to anger at the danger to his wife and children. His fury made him oblivious to his wound and carried him forward, nearer, yet nearer, to the gates. Whilst his and Daoud's men, desperately fended off the attackers, yet more poured in from outside. These pushed even more desperately to get inside as they saw the opening momentum of the huge gates first start to slow, and then almost stop. Those already inside, seeing their plan in danger of collapsing, and themselves being cut off from reinforcements, turned with even more savagery on the still small defending force.

  Men fell all around both Mohammed and Daoud, but, slowly, their two forces won through right back to the gates themselves. There, combining their strength with the few defenders still holding out near to the huge double structure, they pushed desperately against the heavy wooden surfaces. Taking quick advantage of a sudden lessening of the pressure from the attackers, they slowly, very slowly, began to force them back. At the same time, the rest of their men, reinforced by others running to their aid from the town, held off those opponents inside. These grew ever more desperate as they saw their attack was at risk of failing with the gates closing, slowly, but very surely. They then faced the horror of the dawning realisation that, with the gates closed, they themselves would be isolated and trapped inside the town – and in the power of its vengeful inhabitants.

  *

  Zahirah paced the deck of the ghanjah, feeling more powerless than she'd ever felt since the very earliest days following her arrival in Narash. Outwardly impassive, inwardly she raged as she paced the deck, watching the boatloads of warriors race to the dockside; their short journey made against the raw sounds of guns firing and men screaming.

  The attackers, massing outside the gates, were so engrossed in the fighting, they'd scarcely heard either the earlier brief silence or the subsequent cries of alarm and were unaware of Zahirah's sudden return. They were unconscious of the fast approaching threat from the water's edge until, at almost the last moment, they heard the cries of warning from the caravan. Seasoned fighters, they swiftly realised that once the new force landed, they'd be outnumbered and trapped – hemmed in between the town's walls and the waters of the harbour. They'd have no chance of escape, let alone regain the initiative and capture the town. To avoid this, a large group ran from the gates, taking massive pressure off their defenders, and mounted a spirited and vicious defence of the landing areas. Their ancient rifles, spitting smoke and fire, did heavy damage as Zahirah's men tried to land.. Yelling at their apparent victory, many rushed to the very edge of the dockside, the better to launch a final volley onto the struggling loyalists and felt the euphoria of victory already spreading amongst them.

  A euphoria as short-lived as it was mistaken. Suddenly, many gaps appeared in their ranks as sudden withering gunfire decimated them. Many collapsed where they stood, others toppled over the side of the docks, some already dead, others to drown in the water.

  Zahirah, watching from the ghanjah as the boats raced towards the town, had realised that in their haste to land and help the town, they'd not kept any reserve back to give covering fire as they attempted to dis-embark. Quickly, she ordered her own boat nearer, perilously nearer, to the quayside and, as quickly, had her guards ranged along the gunwale. Firing above the heads of their landing force, they sent wave after wave of gunfire into the ranks of the attackers.

  The unexpected extra fire broke the insurgents and most turned to flee – and found they couldn't. Armed tribesmen suddenly appeared at the mouth of every alleyway leading into the small square barring their escape, at the same time themselves pouring volley after volley of deadly fire into the now panicking attackers. Those that turned to flee back into the shelter of the caravan found that it, itself, was disintegrating as it was attacked from the rear by another body of heavily armed warriors who'd appeared silently, as if from nowhere. The defenders learned later that they were tribesmen from outlying villages who, hearing the gunfire, had hurried to the town's aid.

  Their arrival, following the earlier lessening of the pressure when many turned to fight Zahirah's men, meant that, at last, the massive gates were almost shut. Cries of fury grew from those attackers still outside, as they saw their attack failing. Anger still made many thrust their heavy swords through the narrowing opening, yet others fired their rifles into the town, some even threw themselves bodily at the ever narrower opening One man, pushed from behind by his enraged and increasingly desperate fellow fighters, fell between the gates and lodged fast, trapped by his hips. His body prevented the gates being completely closed, and the opening still left the town vulnerable. Ignoring his screams, his colleagues kept hacking through the opening and firing into the defenders, now, at last, gathered in force immediately behind the gates.

  Mohammed solved the problem by slashing down hard with his sword, severing the screaming man at the waist. He staggered slightly as he did so, as men continued to hack and slash through the fast narrowing opening. The man's lower half was pushed back outside and his upper half trampled underfoot, as the defenders, finally, slammed the gates shut. They then turned on the remaining attackers. Now trapped, these were doubly dangerous, as a cornered rat is dangerous. Their despair and fury caused yet more casualties amongst the defenders before they, in turn, were either killed or disarmed.

  Few were disarmed, though, and most fought until they were either killed, or so badly wounded that disarming them was easy. Their very ferocity, when so obviously beaten, raised alarm bells in Mohammed's mind, even as he cut and slashed them into that death they all seemed to prefer to submission.

  But, at last, it was almost over. The gates had been closed. Reinforcements hurried to the ramparts to reinforce the defenders who'd stayed on the ramparts. Together they beat off the remaining assailants who tried to storm the walls in one final despairing act of anger. They'd banked on a quick entry to the town bringing a swift end to their surprise attack. Though numerous around the gates, their force wasn't strong enough to take walls defended by warriors not only alerted to their attack, but outraged at the insult both to their town and to their absent Sheikh.

  Then, as suddenly as it began, the fight was over. Already the blood spilled was either draining away into the packed earth of the square, or drying in the still fierce afternoon heat, already half covered by dust. One
after another, the few remaining insurgents, at last, chose survival. They threw down their weapons and raised their hands in the universal gesture of surrender and were herded into a cowering group under the walls of the fort.

  “We have them, Mohammed!” Daoud said triumphantly, throwing the last of the captured weaponry at his friend's feet.

  “We have indeed, my friend, we have…” Mohammed didn't finish. He collapsed at the feet of the horrified Daoud, the front of his white robes bright crimson. This grew darker as more of his lifeblood poured out of the wound given him through the closing gates he'd successfully defended for his brother.

  The jubilation of the loyalist forces massed outside, gave voice in their mighty roar as the huge gates swung slowly open. So complete was their relief in their victory, that their cheers and roars only slowly subsided, broke off into something more uncertain, as they saw the those standing inside the gates weren't sharing their joy; saw the bleakness in their faces.

  Zahirah, seeing the rout, ordered the ghanjah to dock. She quickly gathered the children round her, as the boat pushed into the jetty and stood at the gunwale exulting in their shared victory The ghanjah made fast as the gates were opened. Moving quickly down the gangplank, the children clustered around her and surrounded by her guards, her joy gave way to misgiving, as the men outside the walls fell silent. Then she saw what they'd already seen – the bleakness on the tired faces of the walls' defenders. A bleakness that intensified when they saw her, her slight, veiled figure suddenly as still as stone.

  She watched, wordless, as Daoud, moved out from the clustering throng.

  “Lady,” he said and stopped, not able to continue.

  “You are to be congratulated, on saving the town.... And..my..my husband?”