The Book of the Seven Delights (33 page)

The pass came into view around the last perilous bend and flashes of memory brought back their previous flight through the pass… bullets flying, rocks grinding underfoot and careening off the edge of the sheer drop beside them. Her mouth dried and her palms dampened as they approached the gray granite walls of the pass itself.

There were half a dozen rifle-carrying guards on duty. She rounded her shoulders and crouched lower in her saddle, trying not to stare at them, but feared they could see right through the veil over her face and would know she was a foreigner. She held her breath, but they looked past her to Apollo, who was riding the lead camel. To her surprise, they looked past him as well to focus on the camels themselves.

Topsel and Haffe dismounted and distributed tobacco, asking directions from the guards to the center of the settlement. The guards laughed when they revealed their mission, and pointed them to the right path.

But Abigail wasn't able to breathe comfortably until the entire party was through the main street and they were stabling their animals at the corrals.

Two mules laden with gifts and one camel went with Haffe and Topsel to Barek's tent. Topsel did the talking and was soon granted entrance for an audience with the head chieftain. Apollo and Abigail watched from a distance as they unpacked the mules and had Topsel's sons carry the gifts inside the chieftain's tent. All was quiet for a time as they helped the servants erect their own sleeping tents at the edge of the compound and eyed the path to the Marrakech road. They had to hope that Cousin Topsel was as persuasive as he was romantic and that Haffe's heart would be satisfied in the outcome.

When she looked at Apollo, he smiled, shrugged, and went back to brushing the horses they had unloaded. She went back to drawing water for the animals stashed behind the tents… still loaded with the amphora and supplies, awaiting their escape. She caught several unveiled women watching her as she went back for more water and prayed they couldn't tell she was a foreigner… and wouldn't throw her down the well if they found out she was an infidel.

The sun was sinking fast and the cold, clear sky was reddening when a commotion arose from the front of Barek's tent. Abigail and Apollo froze, watching Haffe and Topsel burst outside with Barek and several of his men. The pair seemed to be in good spirits, trading banter and good-natured jibes with Barek's men as they inspected the mule and camel that had been brought to the tent for that purpose.

There were several exchanges that bore the stamp of a universal bit of horse trading, then Barek himself ran a hand over the camel and pronounced it acceptable.

Abigail sagged with relief and then glanced at Apollo, who was so absorbed in what was happening that he was forgetting to slouch. She called his name quietly and made a hiss that got his attention. He quickly mended his posture and faded back toward the tents…

… just as Topsel, Haffe, Barek, and a throng of men headed in their direction. Their faces were red and their manner expansive, the effect, no doubt of Barek's rule-bending fermented honey drink. They seemed to be coming to inspect the rest of the mules and camels being offered. But it was clear from their curious stares at the tents and Topsel's retinue that they wanted a closer look at all of Haffe's and Topsel's assets.

Haffe tried to intercept their interest, drawing their attention back to the two horses he had brought…

mentioning the name Joleef… indicating that one would make a fine gift for his future bride. But they spotted Abigail and asked point-blank what the men were doing traveling with a woman.

She was a kinswoman, Topsel said, brought to welcome the bride and be her companion on the journey to her new home. Barek studied her for a time, making Abigail nervous and bringing Haffe's patter of persuasion to a fever pitch.

Out of nowhere, a number of women appeared, approaching at a determined pace. They were unveiled and wore colorful striped tunics and skirts, and headpieces ringed with chains that bore rows of silver coins as decoration. They studied Abigail, who lowered her head. The woman at the front of the contingent approached Barek and spoke to him directly, pointing at Abigail.

Alarmed, Abigail bowed and began to back toward the nearest tent.

"Stay where you are!" Haffe declared in French that Apollo translated. "It is Barek's sister. Joleef's mother." He bowed to the woman and forced a broad smile. "She is upset that a woman in our company wears a veil. These mountain tribes do not veil their women. She does not wish Joleef to go to a man who will make her hide her face."

Of all the potential hitches in their plan, this was one they could never have anticipated. Abigail stared at Joleef's mother, torn between applauding her courage in standing up for her daughter and wishing she would just shut up and go away. Reassuring Barek's kinswoman that veiling was not required in Haffe's clan would require stripping her disguise and revealing her identity.

Tension mounted as both objections to the match and attempts at placation flew. Barek's men seemed amused by Haffe's position and began to call out suggestions to him… some of which made his face redden.

When Haffe turned to Topsel for help, the cousin tried to explain away her veil as a practice sometimes adopted on journeys… to afford a woman protection from strange eyes. It was her choice, he said. And she wanted to wear it.

Barek finally spoke, pointing to the spot on the ground before him. From the panic in Haffe's eyes as he turned to Abigail and beckoned, it was clear that Barek intended to speak to her and decide the matter for himself.

There was nothing to do, but comply. She took modest steps, approaching with her head bowed, trying to behave like a proper Berber woman… whatever that was. When she arrived at the spot and Barek asked her a question, she spotted Haffe nodding surreptitiously and followed his lead. A second question caused Haffe to wag his head and she did that, too. The final question made Haffe's eyes widen with alarm… not something she could answer with a simple yes or no. She squeaked out a word that sounded like "ariaha," praying that wasn't a Berber word for "stuff it in an orifice of some sort."

All was silent for a moment and she thought she might have gotten by. Then a young woman came rushing up and threw something on the ground at Barek's feet. Abigail gasped. It was an English riding boot.
Hers
.

An instant later, the women were snatching off her veil and cloak and baring her Western clothes.

Barek's eyes widened.

All at once, Apollo ripped off his burnoose, Haffe tried to grab Abigail back out of the way, and Barek's men rushed to surround them with drawn knives and lowered guns. In seconds they seized Apollo and dragged him struggling before Barek, whose looked at him with disbelief.

"You!"

Not a muscle moved, not an eye blinked as Barek's reaction echoed through the camp. Abigail was frozen like a desert mouse before a hawk. Apollo braced for what could only be an explosion of epic proportions, followed by a dose of fierce Berber retribution. Haffe prepared to see his friends punished, his suit for Joleef's hand denied, and he and his cousin humiliated and stripped of all of the gifts they had brought… perhaps even the clothes on their backs.

Then Barek let out a roar and lunged at Apollo, wrapping arms around him and lifting him off the ground.

Apollo struggled… then heard and felt what sounded like a laugh. A few panicky heartbeats later, Barek dropped him on his feet and pushed him back to arm's length, looking at him as if he were a long-lost relation! Then he grabbed Abigail and did the same, swinging her around and laughing, saying the same things over and over again.

"My friends… my very good friends!" Haffe translated, clasping his heart, which had finally started to beat again. "How wonderful it is to see you!"

When he put Abigail down she staggered, disoriented by that unexpected barrage of goodwill. Locating Apollo, then Haffe, she mouthed the questions: "We're his friends now? How can that be?"

Barek sensed their confusion and laughed in a way that made mirth a command for his followers. They, too, began to laugh… even the women. Then the head chieftain wrapped one arm around Haffe's neck and the other around Apollo's and turned toward his tent, calling in perfect English: "You come, too, Englishwoman!"

"You did me a great service, at your last visit," Barek declared after they had been hugged again, kissed on both cheeks, and commanded to sit at his right hand. As they were brought fresh slippers and settled onto the silken cushions, the chieftain explained.

"Your story, Englishwoman… it was inspired by Allah Himself… to burn the ears of a pair of jealous kinsmen… traitors. Hearing your story, they believed I had learned of their plot to unseat me as head of the clans and brashly implemented their coup on the spot. But it was their own guilt that made them believe it was more than just a story and betray their own treachery. My men were able to capture and dispatch them and their accomplices. By the time I learned the truth, you had already escaped through the pass and been chased by my men. Some French Legionnaires arrived shortly after… offered to catch up with you and send you back to me. But of course, I did not see them again." He looked with satisfaction around his elegant tent. "In the days since, loyalty and harmony have been restored."

"Drink!" He commanded, waving the serving girls over to fill their cups with honey brew. "And eat your fill. This is a time for celebration. Allah has returned you to me and even brought me a husband for my niece… which will save me the expense of a journey to Imilchil."

Haffe's face fairly split with a grin and he let out a whoop of joy that brought laughter from every quarter of the tent. Topsel hugged him roundly, then reached for his own sons and ruffled their hair, admonishing them to take a lesson from their cousin on how to choose a bride.

Abigail and Apollo stared at each other in disbelief and then joined in the laughter… and the food… and the drink…

When Joleef entered the main tent to help serve, portly Barek rocked to his feet and called Haffe forward to join their hands and declare that the wedding preparations would begin immediately. A roar of approval went up and Abigail spotted Joleef's formidable mother at the side of the tent watching with a critical but not disapproving eye.

Later as the dancing and the music and the feasting settled into a pleasant haze of indulgence, Barek leaned toward Apollo and Abigail.

"You are quite a storyteller, Miss Merchant. I hope the chieftain of this 'British Museum' appreciates the work of so fine a woman."

"Thank you, Lord Barek," she said, tossing a meaningful look at Apollo. "I hope to convince him to do so. I must say, your worship, your command of English is a most wonderful surprise."

"It pays for a ruler or chieftain to keep a few tricks up his
jellaba
, eh?"

"Indeed." Apollo laughed, slipping an arm around Abigail, lest there be any doubt about her availability.

"I am wondering," the head chieftain said. "Whatever happened to those Legionnaires? Did they find you?"

"They found us," Apollo said, glancing at Abigail.

"Bad men," Haffe said, wagging his head. "Deserters. Traitors. One got away, but was no doubt swallowed by the desert itself. The
goumiers
carry the head of their leader back to the French officers even now."

"May Allah send the same fate to all traitors," Barek declared, holding his cup aloft and waiting expectantly for the cheer that quickly filled the tent.

That night they slept in the comparative luxury of Barek's tents and the following day Apollo and Abigail left with fresh provisions, well-rested horses, and a pang of loss in their hearts from saying good-bye to Haffe.

The little Berber's huge, dark eyes filled with a prism of tears as he dug the toe of his boot into the dirt and tried to unstick the words in his throat.

"Much thanks, Miz Abi-gail, ma'am," he managed to get out.

"It is I who should thank you, Haffe. Without your help, Apollo might not have survived and I never would have found the Library. I'll see that your name is remembered in all of the reports and publications.

And I promise to send you a third share of whatever we might be paid for our work." He nodded and then suddenly threw his arms around her and hugged her for a long, tearful moment.

"Smeeth… I wish you well with this bad man. Be careful, eh? I tell you… go to the Sultan of Casablanca and ask in the name of Allah for his help. Not even a sultan can deny you if you ask in such a way." He reached out his hand to Apollo, and when Apollo took it, pulled him close to whisper: "I would wish you a gloriously fat wife, but"—he looked a bit woefully at Abigail—"I do not think the milk of six camels would be able to fatten her."

Apollo threw back his head and laughed, pulling Haffe into a full embrace as the little Berber rattled off more blessings and good-byes.

It was difficult to climb aboard the horses and head back out into the forbidding mountain terrain, knowing that they would miss the celebration of Haffe's longed-for wedding. Tears streamed down Abigail's cheeks when she turned in her saddle and saw Haffe and Joleef standing together and waving until they were out of sight.

Apollo looked a bit misted himself as he held out a hand to Abigail. When she placed hers in it, he squeezed her fingers and said, "I know. I'll miss the little wretch, too. But, just think: You can read the third 'delight' to me by the campfire. It will be just you and me." He waggled his eyebrows, then seemed to sober. "There will be vegetation and dried wood around… I hope you won't miss the
parfum de
camel dung
."

The third delight was called
Dancing
. And there was no better place to do it, the scroll said, than under the stars.

"Perfect," Apollo said as he pulled her back against him and nuzzled the nape of her neck. "Read on."

They were in a clearing in the middle of thickets of small trees and brambles, just off the road. There was grass and wood for a fire and clear air that made the stars above twinkle.