The Black Stallion Returns (15 page)

Raj touched him on the shoulder. “They have finished,” he said.

Sagr reared as Abd-al-Rahman’s long limbs squeezed about his girth. The young Bedouin chief touched his neck with the rein. Sagr whirled, and without a backward glance Abd-al-Rahman rode toward his stronghold, followed by his men.

Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak watched them for a minute, then turned back to his men, his face stern and cold.

“Abd-al-Rahman,” Raj explained to Alec, “claims
to know nothing of the disappearance of Shêtân. Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak does not believe him and he told him so in words that were as sharp as the point of his dagger. If Shêtân is not returned by the time the sun rises above the mountains tomorrow morning he will attack the stronghold of Abd-al-Rahman.” Raj’s eyes turned to the mass of rocks piled high on top of one another. “Much blood will be shed, Alec, if the sun rises without Shêtân’s being returned.”

Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak spoke to his men, and when he had finished they dismounted and made camp. The tall sheikh then walked up to Alec and Raj. “It is best that you go now,” he said. “You will be taken to the mountains to the south end of the plains, and there you will wait until we have finished.” Without further word he turned to leave.

Alec stopped him and proceeded to tell him about Ibn al Khaldun: how they had traveled with him in the plane from the States, and of the gold medallion which he wore around his neck.

“It is as I thought,” Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak said. “The arms of Abd-al-Rahman are long.”

He left then, and a few minutes later a Bedouin rode up and motioned Alec and Raj to mount. As they rode past the men, Alec could not help being surprised at their calmness. The coming battle seemed no great adventure to them. The horses, unsaddled, had been watered and were grazing. The Bedouins seemed content with the world; they sat on the ground, smoking, talking. Some even slept, their head shawls pulled down over their faces to shade them from the scorching sun. Only Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak moved among
them, once more checking their guns, their ammunition, and his head did not turn toward Alec and Raj as they passed.

Alec stared at the rocks behind him. How many men did Abd-al-Rahman have in his stronghold? Would they come forth to battle on the plain or would Abu Ishak’s men have to scale the cliffs? Many of the men who now were stretched contentedly on the ground would probably be dead before the sun set the following day. Didn’t that matter to them? Were they so hardened that they never even gave it a thought? His gaze shifted back to the horses as they moved slowly in their grazing, their long, slender necks bent to the ground. Centuries had been spent in their careful breeding, yet many of them, too, would be dead the following day. Abu Ishak had bred them for war or racing … and war had come first.

Riding swiftly behind the Bedouin, who seemed anxious to return to the others, they reached the mountains to the south in an hour. There the guide left them.

Alone, Raj and Alec looked at each other, their faces grave.

“Guess all we can do now is wait,” Alec said.

“
Ê
 … yes,” Raj replied, then added, “If we were to ascend the mountain a short way, we should be able to see them.”

Alec nodded, and moved his horse. A short while later they arrived at a small overhanging plateau, where they stopped and dismounted. In the distance they could make out Abu Ishak’s men, and still farther ahead the stronghold of Abd-al-Rahman. They waited in silence, both thinking of the battle that would be held the following morning.

The sun was still high in the heavens when Alec felt Raj’s hand on his arm. He rose to his feet and shielded his eyes from the rays of the sun. “Look to the
west of the rocks, Alec, to the side away from the men of Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak. Is that not a figure on horseback emerging from the stronghold of Abd-al-Rahman?”

Alec stood beside his friend and looked in the direction in which he was pointing. It was several minutes before he could see anything in the glare of the sun, then his eyes made out the moving figure. “Yes, Raj,” he said, “I see him now.”

They watched as the horseman made his way to the western edge of the plain, then turned to the south. “He’s coming this way,” Alec muttered.

“He goes around the men of Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak,” Raj said. “They cannot see him for he is farther away than their eyes can observe.”

Alec nodded.

An hour passed, and without changing direction, keeping close to the western mountain range, the horseman came down the plain.

“He does not ride like Abd-al-Rahman. It is not he,” Raj said.

“No. Nor is it Sagr, for this horse is black,” mused Alec.

The horseman was less than a quarter of a mile away. He was pushing his horse hard. Suddenly he left the cover of the mountains and headed straight in their direction.

“It is as though he makes for the trail below,” Raj said. “It is best that we hide.”

Alec said nothing. His eyes watched the hard-riding figure. He was getting close now. The reins! They were held in the rider’s right hand! A left hand?
Alec could see none. His fists clenched until white showed beneath his deeply tanned skin. “Raj!” he shouted. “It’s Ibn al Khaldun!”

“He turns toward the path,” Raj said. “Come, we must hide or he will see us.”

Quickly they led their horses away from the trail and into the dense brush. There they waited. “He will not be able to see us here,” Raj said.

Tossing their leads, the horses moved uneasily; ears pricked quickly forward. “We must keep them quiet,” Alec warned, rubbing the soft muzzle of his horse.

The ringing sound of hoofs against stone came closer. Peering out of the brush, Alec and Raj saw the bobbing head of the horse, his eyes prominent in his head and white lather standing out against his black neck. Ibn al Khaldun sat heavily on his back, his broad shoulders hunched forward.

He reached the level plateau, and without resting, drove his horse onto the trail above.

Alec and Raj waited in silence until the sound of hoofs could be heard no more. “He’s up to something,” Alec said. “Wonder what it is?”

Raj shrugged his shoulders. “It is not good, Alec, for he rides hard.”

Alec fumbled with the reins, then said, “Raj, let’s follow him. We have time, and I have a feeling …”

“
Ê
 … yes, but we must be careful, Alec. He is a treacherous man from all you have told me of him.”

Without another word they mounted and started up the trail, Raj leading the way. They rode cautiously without pushing their horses. When they reached the
summit, Raj stopped and dismounted. Closely he inspected the terrain, then mounted again. He beckoned Alec to follow and turned off the trail. They rode down a small ravine for over an hour, then Raj turned up a well worn path that led up the side of a steep cliff. They slowed their horses to a walk. Turning in his saddle, Raj said, “I do not think he is far ahead now, make note of the worn trail. Many horses have traveled on it.”

A short while later the trail narrowed as it wound its way among overhanging rocks. Then as they turned a bend the trail widened and led into a long canyon. Raj stopped and dismounted. “It is best that I go ahead by foot,” he said. “Wait.”

A short time later he returned. The muscles in his face were taut as he said, “Ahead is a village and many men, Alec. I did not see Ibn al Khaldun, but that he is there, I am certain. Let us hide our horses and go by foot through the rocks. We can get very close and still remain unobserved.”

Under the protection of the large rocks they made their way slowly up the canyon. Alec, following the slouched figure of his friend, wondered about the men hidden away in this isolated canyon. Where did they fit into the picture? Were they Abd-al-Rahman’s men? Had Ibn al Khaldun come here to tell them of the impending battle? If so, Alec knew that it would be likely that they would attack from the rear the following day.

They were near the floor of the canyon, and Alec, afraid that they would be discovered, whispered, “Let’s go higher, Raj, we’re too close.”

The Bedouin youth shook his head. “We will not be observed, Alec. The village is concealed in a hollow
and under the large cliff ahead. We can be almost in it without being seen.”

A few minutes later they clambered up the cleft of a large rock. “You can see it now, Alec, but be careful as we are only a few feet away from them.”

Cautiously, Alec peered through the fissure in the rock. The village consisted of only one long, straggly street of dirty huts. Men, unclean and scarred, stood in small groups; some shouted in high-pitched quarrelsome voices, their hands heavy on the butts of their guns; still others, unmindful of it all, ate hungrily, using daggers for knives. A large corral was behind the hut nearest Alec and Raj, and the horses in it were lean and unkempt with long manes and tails.

There was an air of evil throughout the valley. Alec knew that these were men of whom he had heard from Mr. Coggins, from Raj. They were deserters, runaways … men who had been cast out from their tribes, and who had been fortunate to escape with their heads. What were they doing here? Certainly even Abd-al-Rahman would not sink so low as to harbor such a clan. Or would he?

A figure walked out of the hut in front of the corral. “Raj! There’s Ibn al Khaldun!” Alec whispered.

With mincing steps, which carried his heavy body amazingly fast over the ground, he came toward them. The men standing about looked at him sullenly and lowered their voices. Ibn al Khaldun did not appear to notice, nor did he deviate from his direction which took him past them. He stopped a short distance away from the rock behind which Alec and Raj were hiding. As though undecided as to his next move he stood
there. Then, removing a silk handkerchief from the pocket of his robe, he rubbed it across his perspiring face.

Alec moved uneasily in his crouched position. Had he seen them?

Ibn al Khaldun suddenly turned toward his men and in a loud, harsh voice called one of them. There was a movement in a small group and a Bedouin of slight frame rose from his seat on the ground, scraped his dish clean of food with his dagger, and brought it to his mouth. Swallowing, he threw the dish down, wiped the dagger on his grimy robe, and walked forward.

Alec grasped Raj by the shoulder. For the Bedouin walking toward Ibn al Khaldun was the man who had stolen the Black and killed the sentry … the man for whom Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak and his warriors were searching! Alec’s heart pounded madly. If he was here, then the Black was here! His gaze shifted quickly to the corral, but there was no sign of the stallion. Ibn al Khaldun! Perhaps he had already done away with the Black! Still, he’d only just arrived.… He hadn’t had much time.

The sound of Ibn al Khaldun’s voice raised high in anger attracted Alec’s attention to the swarthy Bedouin. The deserter from the tribe of Abu Ishak was cringing in front of him.

Ibn al Khaldun suddenly reached down and with his one hand grabbed the slim Bedouin by the neck. He pulled him off his feet, and in a single movement tore a chain from his neck, and threw him backwards to the ground.

Then he stood over him, the chain dangling from his fat hand.

Alec’s throat tightened, for hanging on the gold chain was a medallion … 
the
medallion!

As Ibn al Khaldun spoke to the Bedouin at his feet, the others slunk forward, only evil and viciousness written on their countenances.

“Raj,” Alec whispered, “tell me what he says.”

His friend nodded and spoke softly, his eyes upon the moving lips of Ibn al Khaldun. “He says the Bedouin rider has not obeyed his orders, and for that he must die. He was to have stayed in the valley of Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak until the race was run. He was to have held Shêtân back so the chestnut stallion, Sagr, could easily have won.”

The slim Bedouin, his pupils dilated with fear, grabbed Ibn al Khaldun’s leg and babbled hysterically.

Raj began again. “He claims that it was impossible for him to hold back Shêtân … that the best Bedouin rider would be overmounted on Shêtân … that not even with a heavy bit had it been possible for him to control the stallion. And Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak had learned that he had used the heavy bit against his instructions … had seen him try to break the spirit of Shêtân with a crop. He had become suspicious. The only way left had been to steal Shêtân. And why was it not better this way? The men of Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak would not find Shêtân in the corral up the canyon, which was strong and high enough to hold him. And when the sun rose on the new day, the tribes of Abd-al-Rahman and Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak would battle.
Much blood would be shed, many would die. And when the battle waned and even the victors were exhausted from loss of blood, they could descend upon them in all their fury and kill them all. Was not that what he wanted?”

Raj stopped. He and Alec watched Ibn al Khaldun as he struck the man at his feet, knocking him unconscious. Then Khaldun turned to the others and his small pig-eyes swept over them. Finally he spoke, his voice harsh and threatening.

Alec, his eyes still on Ibn al Khaldun, listened as Raj interpreted for him. “He says that by Allah, he is still their leader, that he will do their thinking for them. Let no others disobey his orders, or they will suffer the same as the one at his feet. Had they forgotten that they were murderers, who by themselves could not have lived a day outside the confines of this canyon? Were they so blind that they could not still see the furrowed scars on their bodies? Had they forgotten the floggings they had received in payment for their crimes? Did they not remember, one and all, coming to him in fear, pleading for protection from those whom they had wronged?”

Raj stopped as Ibn al Khaldun raised the gold medallion over his head for all to see. Then he spoke again, and Raj continued, “He says that for years they have looked forward to the day when, like the Phoenix, they too would rise again with strong powerful wings. But to rule the mountains and the desert, they would first have to destroy the kingdoms of Abd-al-Rahman and Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak; this he had told the first of them twenty years ago. They were few then and not
strong, but he, Ibn al Khaldun, had planned well. Had they not murdered the mother, the father, the warriors of Abd-al-Rahman in the desert? And had he not thought to leave Abu Ishak’s dagger behind, knowing well that the young son of Abd-al-Rahman, who bore his name, would seek vengeance upon Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak, the man his father thought to be his best friend?”