City of Jasmine (16 page)

“Why on earth did you do that?” I demanded.

His expression was dazed, but not from the slap. He shook his head slowly. “The same reason you slapped me. I simply didn’t have a choice. Palmyra, you said? This way.”

He turned and began to walk. And somehow, for all my fine speech and taking the bull by the horns, I had an unwelcome suspicion that Gabriel had somehow found the upper hand again.

Eleven

We had only walked an hour or so before the sun began to rise, and for a moment, as that long yellow light gilded the entire world, it felt like a promise that everything was going to be all right. I lifted my wind-roughened face to the golden warmth. Soon it would be hot, searing everything below including us, but for the moment, I could worship it. I closed my eyes and sniffed deeply, smelling the few scrubby plants that managed to survive. There was something that smelled like sage, and for a moment, I thought of all my favourite dishes—crisp potatoes and new bread and roast goose with sage stuffing.

“Good God, if your stomach roars any louder they’ll be able to track us by the sound of it,” Gabriel said irritably.

I stuffed a date into my mouth and didn’t answer. It was just like him to ruin a perfectly lovely moment.

I ate another date and sulked while Gabriel drank and rested. He looked awful—pale under the ruddy sunburn he had acquired and his cheeks were so obscured by overgrown beard even a pirate crew would have thought him disreputable.

He opened one eye and looked at me quizzically. “Admiring the view?”

“Actually I was thinking how frightful you look.”

“Clearly you haven’t got a mirror.”

I opened my mouth to let him have it, but nothing came out. He cocked his head. “No response to that? Come on, Evie. I miss scrapping with you.”

I didn’t bother to answer. I merely sat, my eyes fixed upon the horizon. Gabriel noticed the direction of my gaze and swiveled his head. In the distance, a cloud of dust and sand was coming and just before the cloud was a party of darkly robed horsemen brandishing rifles. Bedouin.

“Not again,” he muttered.

I sighed and stood, brushing off my hands. Gabriel stood at my side and together we waited. There was no point in running simply because there was nowhere to run
to
in that vast nothingness.

“I’m really beginning to despise this desert,” I told him.

He didn’t respond. Instead, he narrowed his eyes at our approaching company and then turned to me with an equally casual tone. “There’s a good chance this isn’t going to end well, my dear. If it doesn’t, don’t bother burying me. Just take the tin box out of my pocket and send a postcard to my mother, will you?”

“Your mother already thinks you’re dead,” I reminded him.

“Yes, well I never liked her much. Maybe this shock will kill her.”

“Gabriel Wilberforce Starke,” I began, but there was no time for more. The horsemen were upon us, and I stared openmouthed at the first of them to reach us.

“Good day, Frau Starke! Herr Rowan,” cried Herr Doktor Schickfuss. “How pleased I am to have found you.”

He was followed by Daoud and his compatriots and I rolled my eyes at the sight of them. “Honestly. Over 200,000 square miles of desert and it’s him again,” I muttered to Gabriel.

Daoud was smiling broadly, as was Herr Doktor, and it seemed silly to make a fuss just because we’d been caught a second time. I moved forward with a sigh and put up my wrists to be tied.

Gabriel had other plans. Or perhaps his reluctance was just an excuse. He lashed out with his fists and two of Daoud’s men were prone on the desert floor before they knew what happened. It occurred to me once again that Gabriel might not be terribly skilled as a criminal genius. He entirely missed Daoud leading his horse around behind and turned a fraction of a second too late. One swift kick to the jaw from Daoud’s boot and a second to his cheekbone and Gabriel went down, his eyes rolling back in his head as he hit the ground hard enough to shake it. Herr Doktor’s eyes rounded and he made some guttural exclamation as he smiled. He seemed to be enjoying himself thoroughly.

“It is like the earthquake when he falls! Boom!” he said with a nod towards Gabriel’s prostrate form.

I shrugged and held up my wrists as Daoud bound them, a little less gently than the time before, and hauled me up onto his horse behind him. Gabriel was trussed like a Christmas goose and draped over the back of another horse, his head lolling as we moved out.

Daoud turned his head and flicked Gabriel a malicious glance. “I like him better that way.”

“So do I,” I replied. “But you’re wasting your time. We already told you we don’t have the Cross. Countess Thurzó does and she’s well gone, probably already in Damascus by now.” Of course, she could be absolutely anywhere in Syria at that point, but short of torture, I wasn’t going to give Daoud a single piece of helpful information.

Daoud shrugged. “I know precisely where to find the countess—and the Cross, when I want them. Unfortunately, the Cross, as you must know, is incomplete, and I believe you know the whereabouts of the heart of the relic.”

“But I don’t!” I told him. “I promise. I’ll swear on anything you like.”

He merely smiled. “Come. We have much to talk of, Madame Starke.” But apparently not just yet. He touched his horse’s flanks and we were off again, racing across the desert and into the lowering curtain of purple twilight.

* * *

Gabriel bounced around like a sack of turnips, but the journey didn’t seem to do him much harm. He came to when they cut him off his horse and he rubbed his jaw, cursing at Daoud and giving me hateful looks into the bargain.

“That bruise is turning a spectacular shade of violet.” I nodded towards his cheekbone. “I have a dancing frock just that colour.”

He said something obscene that I didn’t quite catch but went peacefully enough as they herded us into the same low black goat’s-hair tent we’d escaped from two hours before. “Home sweet home,” I murmured.

“I swear to God, Evie, one more word, and I will tell Daoud to use your bones for a toothpick,” Gabriel vowed.

I would have responded, but Daoud turned to us after giving instructions. “We will rest here today,” he said with a courteous little bow. “First, we will eat together, for the custom of desert hospitality must not be forgotten.”

Within moments we were seated on the same cheap Turkish rug, eating precisely the same food as the previous meal. In fact, I suspected it was exactly the same dinner, warmed over and served again.

I scooped up a greasy handful of vegetable stew with a bit of flatbread and crammed it into my mouth like a farmhand. It wasn’t very good, but it was hot and filling and I was making up for lost time.

While I ate, I took stock of the gentlemen. Gabriel, with his unkempt hair and assortment of bruises, looked a mess, but Daoud had a sort of careless elegance in his robes, and the little German was almost as tidy as a Thurzó. His complexion had pinked up under the desert sun and wind, but his eyes were bright and his white beard was neatly clipped with a tremendous pair of moustaches waxed to little curls at the end.

“I admire your moustaches, Doktor,” I told him.

Gabriel made a faint gagging noise, but Herr Doktor smiled and simpered. “You should have seen them before the war,” he told me. “Nine inches on either side!”

“Well, they’re much nicer than the kaiser’s,” I told him. He bowed at me, and I decided it was time to take the bull by the horns. “So what’s your interest in all this, Doktor?”

His great white bushy brows rose. “My interest? The Cross, of course! Since the greatest of Holy Roman Emperors, Frederick Barbarossa, led the Third Crusade, it has been the holy quest of the Teuton to protect the most precious relics of Christendom.”

“Didn’t he die in a Turkish river?” Gabriel asked pleasantly. “Drowned in his own armour, if I recall. He never even made it to the Holy Land, much less led the Third Crusade.”

The old gentleman flushed a dark red and lifted his finger to wag it at Gabriel. Before he could get going, I poured a little oil on the troubled waters.

“But the Third Crusade would never have happened if the great Barbarossa hadn’t pushed Richard the Lionheart to go,” I said quickly. “Everyone knows that.”

Gabriel snorted but said nothing more. His jaw must have been screaming in order for him to give up so easily, but the little German settled back, mollified.

“Excellent,” I murmured. “No point in fighting the Third Crusade all over again.”

“Particularly as we all know Salah al-Dln won,” Daoud added smoothly.

Herr Doktor threw him a pained look, but Daoud went on munching contently. “Tell me, Daoud,” I said, keeping my voice pleasant, “how did you and Herr Doktor come to work together?”

Daoud shrugged. “There are two groups of people who seek treasure, madame—brigands and archaeologists, and both will pay dearly for what they want. When the Thurzós moved so quickly to accept my proposal, naturally I wondered which other archaeologists might be willing to do the same, and for an even greater sum of money.”

“That’s rather brilliant,” I told him in perfect honesty.

He quirked a smile at me. “As I said, a Cartesian brain.”

“And you, Herr Doktor,” I said, turning to his partner. “You have the funds to secure such a find?”

“I will.” He and Daoud exchanged the complacent glances of a pair of intriguers who both think they’ve gotten the better of a bargain.

Suddenly, I was struck with an idea. “Daoud, did you approach any of the other archaeologists first?”

He shrugged. “Only Miss Green, but she does not have money.”

Gabriel growled. “Gethsemane knows, then?”

“Not what the relic is,” Daoud corrected. “Only that I have the means of acquiring something very special and very expensive. But she does not have the money, so I do not talk to her. I turn instead to Herr Doktor.”

Schickfuss was beaming happily, his cheeks glistening with grease. “My museum will pay much for this. It will go far towards improving the spirits of my saddened homeland,” he said, a faint shadow in his eyes.

“Your homeland bloody well can’t afford it,” Gabriel said with a merry laugh. “How do you intend to pay Daoud? With cobblestones pried up from the Unter den Linden?”

Daoud looked at Schickfuss curiously, but the little German was staring at Gabriel, his eyes popping. “How dare you speak so slightingly of my homeland?” He rose, clapping his hand to his belt, where I noticed for the first time a small knife marked with the Teutonic cross of the old empire. He ranted on, but Gabriel merely chewed his food, and I hurried to settle the old fellow.

“Herr Doktor, please, I’m sure he didn’t realise what he was saying. The pain from his jaw, and he hasn’t eaten properly in days, and hasn’t slept much, and of course, he’s still terribly upset from when I shot him—”

Schickfuss stopped midrant and stared at me. “You shot him?” He peered at Gabriel then nodded. “This I can understand. But what was it that tempted you to shoot him?”

“Well, it’s rather a long story and I’m afraid I’d rather not go into it just now. Why don’t we all sit down and have a nice dinner? You can tell me more about your plans for the Cross and the museum, and he will keep his mouth shut. If he doesn’t, perhaps we’ll shoot him again.”

At length, Herr Doktor permitted me to coax him into sitting down and finishing his meal.

Daoud, who had continued to eat without the least concern, nodded at the German. “I told you Madame Starke would try her charms on you. She talks too much, but you will get used to it.”

“No, you won’t,” Gabriel interjected.

Daoud laughed, and by the time we were finished eating, the atmosphere had grown positively chummy. I learned that Daoud had a wife and two sons, and that Herr Doktor hailed from Silesia.

“Such beautiful country, Frau Starke!” he told me. “Have you never been? Ach, you must go and fly over it in your aeroplane. Such beauty must be seen best from above, I think. So lovely a land as God accounted himself pleased when he made it. Of course, what will become of it now...?” He trailed off unhappily. “Always the rest of Europe fights over us. We have been Polish and Prussian and Bohemian. But really, we are Germans.” His face was woebegone, and I felt a pang of sympathy for him, but Daoud made an unpleasant noise.

“How do you think we feel? At least it’s your own kind fighting over you. Our land doesn’t even belong to us, so I think we will speak no more about who is to be pitied.”

Of course, there was no reply to make. Daoud was entirely correct. It was tiresome enough that Europeans quarrelled among themselves for bits of their own continent; it seemed pure bad manners they insisted on doing it elsewhere.

Herr Doktor looked uncomfortable, and Daoud did not attempt to soothe the moment. He rose, beckoning his fellows to come and clear away the food and bind me up again.

Gabriel quirked a brow inquiringly. “Not me? Let me guess, I’m the after-dinner entertainment.”

Schickfuss chuckled while Daoud gave a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “As a matter of fact,” he said, reaching a hand under Gabriel’s arm and hauling him to his feet, “you are.”

I started to rise, as well, but one of the guards shoved me back onto my heels and motioned for me to stay. The men moved out of the tent then, and only Daoud had a backwards glance for me. “Do not fear, Madame Starke. I will leave him in one piece. Mostly.”

He dropped the flap of the tent and I was left alone, although I had little doubt guards were posted outside, and probably far more diligent than the first lot. I had seen only one of them since we’d been returned to the camp and he had been sporting a blackened eye and a sour expression, doubtless the result of Daoud’s disappointment at the fellow letting us escape.

The next few hours were not pleasant ones. I couldn’t tell if they’d taken Gabriel into another tent or left him outside, but I could hear raised male voices from time to time and other sounds I didn’t like to think about. At one point I heard Gabriel’s quick, taunting laugh, and what followed turned my stomach to water. I crawled far away from the tent flap and curled up as best I could with my hands bound behind me. I must have slept, for the sky was just beginning to grey when the flap was lifted and Gabriel was chucked inside. He landed limply on the Turkish rug and did not move.

Daoud came in behind him followed by Herr Doktor. Daoud looked oddly satisfied as he regarded his handiwork, and I noticed his hands were marked with blood. He came to me and took a knife from his belt. One quick slash and I was free, chafing my wrists as he stepped back.