Dazzle The Complete Unabridged Trilogy (118 page)

How like men, she thought grimly, as soon as they had guns
in their hands they immediately became fierce warriors.

For that, she knew, was Abdullah's appeal. He fed upon
and nurtured the Arabs' fear and hatred of the Jews, a fear
which was increasing with every passing year. Although she
had never left the oasis since she and Naemuddin had returned from their holy pilgrimage to Mecca nearly thirty years before,
how many countless travellers passing through had told story
after story of the Jews taking over, pushing the Arabs from
their lands? Even from a distance, they said, one could
immediately differentiate a Jewish settlement from an Arab
one. The Jewish settlements were always green and lush, the
Arabs' invariably dun brown or yellow.

Was this not irrefutable proof, they argued—and none with
more passion than Abdullah—that the Jews were draining the
land of its precious resources, just as they were draining al-
Najaf of its precious water?

She thought suddenly of the first Jew she had ever met. How
many years had passed since then? She couldn't remember
exactly, but it seemed only yesterday that the injured one-
legged stranger had been a guest in this very room, had been nursed back to health by Jehan herself. Since then, the com
munity of the Jews was said to have thrived beyond compre
hension while their own had fallen upon bleak and fruitless
times. It was as if the Jew she had nursed had been sent to al-
Najaf as a portent heralding changing fortunes and bitter times
and, yes, ultimate doom.

Yet, was this not the very same Jew who visited on occasion,
who honoured her husband with the Arab-like gestures of
obeisance which, as leader of the tribe, were Naemuddin's
due, who brought them gifts of green crops and sometimes
even a whole lamb, and who talked with him far into the night,
discussing peaceful cohabitation? Was this not the same Jew
who brought word of the far lands beyond the seas, of cities where magic boxes whisked people to rooms high in the sky, of a land so huge that part of it was sleeping while part of it
was awake and strange rainbow jewels hung in icy skies?

She could only shake her head and wonder. Sometimes it
was all too much, even for an intelligent woman like her, to
comprehend. Like Naemuddin, she was confused by how the
world was shrinking; how al-Najaf was no longer a secluded
little community surrounded by rock and sand. Jews and all
sorts of Europeans . . . from everywhere, strangers were
crawling across the sands, strangers who, Abdullah roared,
were infidels and must be slaughtered . . . and strangers who,
Naemuddin argued, they must live peacefully beside.

But she felt no fear for herself or her husband. They were
both aged and had lived contented lives; their remaining years
were in the hands of Allah. But what of Najib and Iffat? Her
precious grandchildren had their entire lives ahead of them.
What would this shrinking, violent world do to them?

When he spoke again, Naemuddin's voice was weary. 'Now
go, my wife,' he told Jehan, 'and join the women. We have
talked enough. I wish to have a little time alone to pray. Soon
the men will be here, and I must formulate my thoughts before
they come, or else I shall be as stupid as the goats we tend.'

Jehan nodded. 'I shall do as you wish, my dear husband,'
she said with automatic obedience. She let go of his hands and
rose to her feet. But she did not leave. She hesitated, lowering
her eyes demurely. 'No matter what happens, I am proud of
you, my husband,' she said softly. 'Few men know that only
through peace and without bloodshed can we be fruitful and
multiply. To me, you will always be a great leader.'

He regarded her fondly. Despite her age, Jehan was still a
handsome woman, broad of shoulders and square of face. If
anything, the passing years had only ennobled her features,
and there was a strength behind her intelligent eyes that shone
clean and bright and sure. In many ways he found her even more attractive now than he had during her more youthful
years.

'And no matter what happens,' he replied gently, 'you will
always be my beloved wife, Jehan.'

'If it is the will of Allah,' she replied quickly.

He nodded. 'May he be merciful and beneficent.' Then he
glared up at her, his eyes suddenly flashing like heat lightning,
and his voice rose to a thunderous roar. 'Now, go and join
the other women so that I can enjoy some peace from your
jabbering tongue, woman! Or
Wallah!
By God! I will toss your
useless carcass out into the desert where the birds will feast
upon you and your bones will turn white under the sun!'

'Dani!' Tamara called out in a pleased voice when she heard
him come in. 'You're back so soon!'

She tried to hurry toward him, but her movements were
slow and clumsy. The size of her stomach and the weight of
the baby made her walk like a duck.

He took her in his arms and kissed her. Then he pulled away
and looked down at her belly. 'How's the little kicker?' he
asked in Hebrew.

'Kicking,' she laughed, also speaking Hebrew, which was
now second nature to her. 'Whatever it is, it's sure impatient
to get out.'

'I can't really blame it, with such a radiant mother to look
forward to.'

She couldn't help smiling. Why was it that everyone always
had to refer to pregnant women as 'radiant'? 'Darling, I thank
you,' she said, 'even though you're obviously biased.'

She led the way through the living room out to the large
stone-flagged porch Dani had added to the house the previous year, and which she had lined with terra-cotta tubs filled with
bright red geraniums. Gently she lowered herself into one of
the white wicker armchairs she had ordered from London and
waited until he pulled one up and sat down also.

'When do you have to leave again?' she asked.

'Not until Monday afternoon. There's another boat coming
in Tuesday night sometime,' he said.

She nodded. He was referring to the
Aliyah Beth,
the illegal
boatlift which was bringing Jews, mostly survivors of the Nazi concentration camps, into the country by the thousands. Since
the unrelenting British still kept enforcing the White Paper,
the only way to enter the country was on the overcrowded ships which dared run the British blockade, usually under
cover of darkness. The immigrants then were either ferried in
or in some cases had to wade ashore, holding their children and few precious personal possessions above their heads so
they wouldn't get soaked. Dani and many others had formed
groups who met the ships and helped the immigrants come ashore and disperse to shelters. It was a highly dangerous
undertaking, with thousands of potential accidents waiting to
happen.

'About the ship coming in on Tuesday,' Tamara prodded.
'You don't expect something to go wrong, do you?'

'I'll be there to meet it, as usual, but I think you should talk
your father out of coming along this time. He won't listen to
me—maybe he will to you.'

'Why?' She looked at him sharply. 'Do you anticipate any
special trouble?'

'I always anticipate trouble, you know that,' he said, lighting
a cigarette, and she nodded. 'That's why we've been so lucky
thus far. Not one of us in my group has ever been caught.'

'But Tuesday. Why are you so worried about Tuesday?'

'It's that other boat, the
Philadelphie.
'

'The French one that's tried to unload twice already?'

'That's right. Both times it was chased off after the Royal
Navy fired warning shots over the bow.' He dragged nervously
on his cigarette. 'Right now it's in Cyprus. It's the worst-kept secret in the Mediterranean that they're just waiting to try
again.'

'So there might actually be two boats, not just one?'

'Not only that, but the British are on full alert because of
the one in Cyprus.'

'Damn.' She looked out at the distant mountains, so jagged
and purplish and crystal clear. Then she turned to him again.
'How many people do you think are on each boat?'

He sighed and shrugged expressively. 'Who can begin to
guess?' He flicked a length of ash into the ashtray on the glass-
topped wicker table. 'From what we could see from the shore
before the
Philadelphie
was chased off, the decks were
teeming.'

She was anxiously silent.

'And that last rust bucket that made it through, a week and
a half ago, couldn't have been more than fifteen hundred tons,
but it had over nine hundred people crammed aboard. Nine hundred.' He shook his head. 'If one of those overloaded tubs
happens to sink, it would make for a catastrophe like nobody's
ever seen. There aren't nearly enough lifeboats to go around.
A lot of those people are old and sick, and there are quite a
few kids too. They're not exactly aquatic athletes, not after
what they've been through in the camps.'

'So what do you suggest we do?' she asked.

'Do? We can't do anything, that's what makes me so damn
furious. Until the British lift the immigration restrictions,
there's only one way in, and that's through the
Aliyah Beth.
All we can do is to have as many people as possible stationed
ashore to help them.'

'Well, that's better than doing nothing.' She smiled. 'You
know, I'm so proud of you. I've never known a man who's
more unselfish.'

'Me?' He gave a short laugh. 'No, not me. Your father—
now he's another story altogether. No matter what goes on in
this country, you can bet that he's always in the thick of it,
artificial leg and all.'