Swords of Arabia: Betrayal Page 5

  That left two, and suddenly there was a major surprise. Faisal, after remaining silent throughout the long day, suddenly spoke.

  Ah! Here comes his bid! thought Nasir wryly, impressed by his uncle’s timing. The meeting had been going on so long that many in the room were almost unconsciously drifting into agreeing to support anyone, to bring it to an end.

  But Nasir was wrong

  “I think we have spoken long enough.” Sure he had the attention of everyone in the room and being a born showman and storyteller, the stockily built prince, with an incongruously aesthetic looking face, paused for effect - and then changed everything, everything entirely.

  Chapter Seven

  “It is time to resolve this, re-affirm our family’s unity; become as one again.” He paused, then continued. “I feel our brother Badr should become our next emir.”

  It was if a thunderclap had crashed scant inches above everyone’s head. The sudden, stunned silence in the room was total as every man took in the seismic shift the declaration of Faisal, himself with powerful backers, had brought about.

  Behind the half-screens, Zahirah and Firyal exchanged alarmed glances. An alliance between the two powerful princes was one eventuality they had not foreseen. “Ya Allah! We’re lost! thought Nasir, his alarm matching that of his two kinswomen. Looking round he could see the sudden master-stroke had un-nerved and unbalanced everyone sitting round the room. Supporters of Mahmoud looked as stunned as those supporting Talal. The only ones who looked at all happy besides Badr’s and Faisal’s supporters, were Nasim and Yusuf who now clearly realised they’d never have won against such an alliance. Nasir felt the whole room shift and he knew the mood was swinging swiftly, and rapidly starting to harden behind Badr’s candidature. Men turned where they sat and started to look towards Badr. Though he remained silent and unmoving, he seemed to grow almost visibly, a man well able to take the throne and rule in his brother’s place.

  But, if one unexpected interjection can unsettle, unbalance, a meeting so can another. Suddenly, Sultan, a half-brother of Faoud’s and a mid-ranking sheikh who’d always kept studiously neutral of all the factions within the family, suddenly cut across the growing clamour for Badr.

  “What say you, kinsmen? Shall we support our brother Badr, another whose supporters talk family unity but act otherwise? I see much similar double-talking in those who secured the citadel; turned it into a haven such as we all must feel entirely secure in, and at such speed too!” This was almost purred by the softly inflected voice of the portly prince. Nasir sat very still, intently studying his uncle, whose pudgy, but still darkly handsome features, showed a growing anger, as he launched his attack on not just Badr, but the memory of Fouad and, through him, Talal, his son. “Though why it was deemed necessary, with ibn Saud himself in disarray and so far from our borders, I know not!” He smiled a little mockingly, entirely aware that everyone in the room knew against whom the citadel had been secured, and it wasn’t any external threat but was aimed at many now sat in that very room. He looked ostentatiously around. Apart from the two guards at the door and a half dozen around the room there were no others in evidence. For there to be so would be too stark an insult to what were, after all, family members and a few highly placed and trusted outsiders. He and no one else in that room, however, had the slightest doubt that the corridors surrounding the chamber were full of armed men ready to respond at the first hint of danger to Talal.

  “One is impressed by the talk of family unity. Our hearts are stirred by the rallying cry of us all standing together, shoulder to shoulder, a family united against a common enemy. It warms this warrior’s heart to hear it; or,” he paused and then continued, his voice now brimming over with a scathing sarcasm. “it would, if all this fine talk wasn’t coming from the very sections of the family who supported our nephew when he arrested four of our number and kept them immured in the filthy dungeons right beneath our very feet!” The loud voices of agreement, showed Nasir that Sultan was voicing views held by many in the room. That none of those same voices would have dared to speak out when Fouad was the ruling emir was a symptom of how much had changed, was still changing.

  “Sultan is right! There has been much talk of unity, of family feeling! I tell you frankly, that those and some of the other platitudes uttered today, make me sick to my stomach!” spat Sahir, another uncle, suddenly apparently unable to control his temper and ratcheting up the already dangerously high tension several more notches.

  “Family unity? Yet many of you supported Fouad when he threw into prison his own blood and left them there to rot as if they were no more than the lowest scum. Lay out your claim for Badr, or for this, this child!” he sneered, insultingly emphasising the last word. “All of you bargain as would with any stall-holder in the souk if you wish, but do not shroud your wishes in baseless platitudes! Nor ask me to support either Talal, who is much too young to lead us, or Badr, who, though I admire him as a warrior, was one of the ones who most strongly supported Fouad in his decision two years ago!”

  The rest of the family members were shocked into silence by the vehemence of the elderly princes. Many agreed with their sentiments, but their voicing them in such an insulting way meant that they ran the very real risk of ripping the family apart; not to mention putting themselves in real jeopardy should either Talal or Badr emerge victorious from the assembly. In addition, as both Abdullah and Nasir, who’d also both vocally and openly supported Fouad at the time, were known to have tempers as equally fiery as Sahir’s, the entire room was torn between turning back to the dais, in some concern and much anticipation, to watch their reaction, or to keep watching Badr, to see how his own, rarely lost, but equally volcanic temper dealt with the near-insult.

  Whichever way they looked they were all looking in the wrong direction.

  The real surprise was taking place behind them. With the intense concentration of most in the room focused on the group on the dais, it took some moments for them to realise that, at a discreet sign from Nasir, the huge doors had been flung open.

  It was only as, by one and twos at first, and then the entire room turning as one, that all were stunned into immediate silence as, lead by Abdul, the small group of now ex-prisoners, walked into the room. The gathering was even more astounded when Nasir, with obvious difficulty, rose from his place and, embracing each man in turn, waited until each had taken his traditional place in the circle and returned slowly to his own place next to his nephew.

  “You were saying, Uncle?” he said quietly, turning towards where Sahir was sitting, still open mouthed but by now entirely silent; as indeed, apart from the greetings to the quartet, were most in the room. Abdullah spoke again before the silence broke.

  “I see you are bereft of words with the joy of seeing our kin restored to us,” he said smoothly.

  “It’s a trick!” blustered Husain.

  “Brother, I’m not sure what you mean?” queried Abdullah politely, delighted at the effect the sudden appearance of the four had had. Looking around the gathering, he could see surprise giving place to uncertainty.

  “I don’t know, yet, but it must be! It’s as the salubbah and their magical tricks. You see something done that is impossible to do but you don’t know how! Here, it’s that we don’t know why,” he spluttered, slowly winding down as he sensed he’d lost his audience. Hiding his fury he looked across at Badr who throughout had kept his features impassive, betraying nothing of any anger that he may have been feeling at the sudden side-swiping of his plans. Indeed, Badr wasn’t looking at him. His gaze was very still and very intently focused on the new arrivals. That subtle and fast-thinking prince had already realised that they held the key to his succession. Their sudden appearance had given them a stature they’d probably not have had previously and being sworn, though silent, enemies of Fouad, would back anyone opposed to his line to succeed. Badr’s supporters relaxed slightly as they more slowly reached the same conclusion.

  “Perhaps our kin, newly r
estored to us, should express their views,” Sultan interposed smoothly. Unlike Husain, he rarely let his temper show. His family sometimes wished he would. For so ferocious was his grip on it that when he did erupt it was if the entire skies had fallen in on the unfortunate who had roused his wrath. “They must surely have the clearest idea of the best way forward, having had so much opportunity for reflection!” he added with deliberate savagery, again causing unrest in the room. Although many did agree with both him and Sahir as regarded the imprisonment of family members, they also admired Fouad’s strength in doing it and were aware, from family history, just how destructive dynastic in-fighting could be.

  Zahirah and Firyal, watching carefully, saw that a crucial stage of their strategy had worked. Sultan’s entirely unexpected, and uncharacteristic, attack on both Badr and Talal, so strongly backed by Sahir, had, as planned, stopped dead in its tracks Badr’s swiftly growing momentum towards the throne. Their attacks, allied to the carefully timed and totally unexpected appearance of the ex-prisoners, along with Nasir’s warm welcome, had given the Talal faction a sorely needed breathing space. More importantly, it had unsettled many in the room. The two arch-plotters were particularly pleased to see that it had especially rattled the now combined supporters of Badr and Faisal. So far their massive gamble was paying off. Whether the rest of their careful planning would now succeed, or uncoil hideously and destroy everything, was now out of their hands and they could only sit silently and watch the drama unfolding the other side of the screens.

  “Welcome back amongst us, brother,” said Faisal, smiling and bowing his head slightly towards Abdul, as he attempted to recover the ground lost first to Sultan’s and Sahir’s outbursts and then to the stunningly unexpected appearance of the quartet. “I was just saying before you arrived, I support Badr, our brother, as the only candidate strong enough to take Fouad’s place. The only one able to lead us against ibn Saud and any who threaten us. The only one strong enough to hold us all together, ensure we stay united. I would believe you would agree with this and join us?” he ended, his confident manner making the question in his voice the merest formality.

  Abdul, despite his miscalculation of a couple of years previously, was an astute political operator and, looking round the large, airy room, he could see that the gathering had reached a turning point. The atmosphere, though still far from unanimous, was increasingly moving toward a majority, if not a consensus, for Badr. He knew that the support of his own small group would deliver his half-brother his victory. With a smile of triumph toward the screens he adopted a serious expression and began to speak.

  “The one advantage of being thrown into a cell is that one has no distractions from daily living. And one has much time to reflect on just on how much of one’s life is outside one’s own control. We all pay lip service to it being in Allah’s hands but many do see ourselves as having some role to play in its direction...”

  “Well said, brother,” interrupted Faisal, approvingly, though a trifle impatiently. Like the others he could sense the prize was within Badr’s grasp, and without him having scarcely spoken; a triumph indeed. A triumph that would bring rich rewards to those who helped him attain it and, he hoped, retribution for those who didn’t. But his brief and pleasant reverie suddenly started to dissolve for reasons he was momentarily unable to understand. Then, what Abdul, who had continued speaking over his interruption, was actually saying hit him with a force that literally knocked his breath from his lungs.

  “I believe we should confirm the family’s previous decision, though one taken in our absence,” he added with only the faintest trace of bitterness, “and confirm Talal as our next Emir.”

  Chapter Eight

  If previous surprises had stunned the room into speechlessness, Abdul’s announcement had entirely the opposite effect, and the gathering exploded into a roaring wall of sound, or rather, many opposing walls of sound, each ricocheting into each other and around the large room. Total confusion reigned and Abdullah was seemingly powerless to stop it as many voices were all raised at once and all were yelling differing messages, each grouping almost screaming at the others.

  “You’ve been bribed!” Sahir shouted out, still acting his part, though echoing the thoughts of many in the room. Then, as though realising what he’d said, he hurriedly apologised. “My apologies, but if not that – what? You were never close to Fouad,” he said, belatedly seeming to choose his words with more care.

  “No,” Abdul responded quietly, “you now speak only the truth. Nor were my feelings made warmer by being his guest for such a period – and so I would tell him, were he here! But, kinsmen, he isn’t, and that’s my point. I disagreed with him on many things. So many, that he believed me capable of the treachery of being party to a plot which involved the killing of my own kin.” Here his eyes rested briefly on Nasir as he continued. “Nevertheless, I believe we owe it to his memory to try and achieve what he wished – a clear and undisputed line of succession. He could have had us killed at any time these past two or more years and he didn’t. All know Fouad was not weak, so perhaps it was because he saw another way for us to rule and be ruled. That is why we,” he gestured, indicating the three other ex-prisoners seated near him, and, at his orders, totally silent, “wish also to try this new way.” He stopped suddenly and raised his hands to indicate he’d ended what he wished to say.

  After he had finished, the room was momentarily silent. All sensed the decision now rested on a knife-edge. A decision that had come down to a choice between Badr the proven warrior and statesman and Talal, untried and not even a man. That the boy’s candidature had lasted as long as it had, was mute but powerful testimony to his father’s stature even in death. Without that, even the powerful forces lined up behind him would have been defeated hours earlier and the prize awarded to an exultant Badr.

  It still might.

  Nasir knew suddenly that the time for him to speak had arrived. Seeking a nod from Abdullah, he took a deep breath. Nervous though he was, knowing what rested on his words, nothing showed either on his face or in his voice. He couldn’t afford to show even the smallest sign of hesitancy or uncertainty. Abdul’s totally unexpected release followed by his even less anticipated support for Talal had sharply tilted sentiment in favour of the young claimant, as they’d planned, but not enough to ensure his ratification. Even more importantly, Nasir also knew that the moment had arrived for the largely silent Badr to speak. He knew that once he did, Talal’s cause would collapse. Even as he prepared to speak, Nasir realised that he’d left it too late as he saw Badr also gesture his own wish to address the gathering. He knew that if Badr caught the attention of Abdullah he would, by virtue of his age, be allowed primacy and invited to speak before he himself.

  Then fate – or pre-planned manipulation, many were never quite sure – intervened. Jabir, a brother sitting next to Badr, touched his arm as though wishing to speak to him and thus distracted the claimant’s attention for a micro-second. This, allied to Abdullah’s unusual failure to notice his nephew’s now slightly belated indication that he wished to speak, meant that he acknowledged Nasir’s signal, an opportunity which the young prince took quickly, all nervousness forgotten,

  “Brethren, uncles, brothers, cousins. As is right, amongst you, I’ve remained silent until now. Which, while frustrating,” he added, his wry humour raising a laugh, “was also of immense value as I listened all the more closely to what older, and no doubt wiser, heads than mine had to say on what is the saddest and most momentous occasion that I’ve ever had to live through since I began sitting with you in this, our family council. Saddest that we are without our kinsman, Fouad...” He paused, fearing his voice would betray him.

  Firyal and Zahirah listened intently, their eyes missing nothing. They saw his anguish and admired the way he mastered it and continued with what he wished, and needed, to say.

  “... And momentous because to have lost possibly the greatest emir Narash has ever had would be grievous at a
ny time. But for it to happen now, during what are perhaps some of the most dangerous times we have ever faced, could well cause some of us to wonder how we will surmount our difficulties, survive the times, without Fouad.”

  Pausing, his black hooded eyes, so like Fouad’s, raked the room, gauging it’s mood. “Some, no doubt, feel it’s impossible without this particular one of our kin assuming the leadership, yet others would have us believe that another is the only one who can lead us in this, one of our darkest hours. Yet to say that is to deny Fouad his greatest legacy – Talal. Yes,” he agreed, seeing many eyes move automatically to the boy sitting beside him, “but more, much more than Talal himself.” Seeing looks of puzzlement on many faces, he paused for a moment and then continued. “We all know what has happened in previous times when our Emir has died. Brother has fought brother, uncle has fought nephew, cousin fought against cousin. All became involved in the blood-letting whether they wished to or not. We were blessed that Fouad’s own succession was trouble-free and bloodless, by the good-fortune that he was with his father when he was killed and other contenders were scattered far and wide.”

  Firyal, sitting behind the screen, reflected that had she been both able to speak and wished to, neither of which applied, she could have told the assembled gathering what had really happened and why; also how much planning it had taken. But some tales were best left untold, so, as she continued to listen to Nasir, both her face and her lips remained closed.

  “Some of you look puzzled, I see, but it is the simple and obvious fact that we are sitting here, in peace, discussing who will take his place. We have not rushed off in all directions, some of us west into the deserts, some east across the waters; all trying to win support for our bid to become the next emir. Fouad showed another, better, way to proceed. It was to discuss amongst ourselves and decide in peace what should happen next. Logically it should be to confirm what we have already decided – that his son should take his place. I myself, “ he continued his voice hardening, “make no secret of my support for my brother’s wishes. Lest anyone,” he added calmly, “feel it’s blind, and perhaps stupid, loyalty to a dead man that hinders my making a wiser, better decision, let me tell you why I give my support to my nephew.” Here he turned and gave a quick smile to the young boy. “Not only do I believe that he has already shown traits which will, in due time, make him a strong and wise ruler, it goes deeper even than that. It rests on my belief as to what would happen should anyone but Talal be named. Anyone amongst us has, by blood, some claim to sit where Fouad sat. And therein lies our real and mortal danger. Like all of you, I value Narash as it is, independent and free from outside controls and alien ways. I think I speak for most when I say I have no wish to again have the Wahabbi foot on my neck!”