The Desert Castle (6 page)

‘
One day I
’
ll show you the more famous Desert castles,
’
Gregory told them.
‘
Qasr Amra, and Qasr el Azraq, where Lawrence of Arabia had his headquarters for a while, while he was waiting to go on to Damascus. But today I think we
’
ll go
s
traight home to my Qasr el Biyara. Okay
?
’

Even Lucasta agreed to this plan, though the sight of the desert had oppressed her spirits. Her mother had been right about one thing. The castle was certainly miles from anywhere and she couldn
’
t for the life of her think what they were going to do with themselves when they got there.

‘
What does El Biyara mean
?
’
Marion asked, turning the title over in her mind.

‘
The Castle of Cisterns. It was originally built by the Nabateans, who carved out the
ci
ty of Petra. They were the masters of irrigation and invented terracing to get better use out of the land. Our water is still drawn from one of the cisterns at the castle. It
’
s as good now as it was then.
’

But when Marion first saw the castle all she was aware of was the bitter feeling of disappointment. It looked so insignificant. They came to a gate that was so neglected and rusty that she wondered it opened at all. A small boy heard the Landcruiser coming and ran ahead of them to drag the heavy iron doors apart, catching the coin Gregory tossed to him with a flashing hand. There was no road after that, just a track that bounced from boulder to boulder as they progressed up a faint incline towards a building that had settled into the sand like a hen into her nest. Some of the walls had broken down into rubble, others were still
s
urmounted by a series of little domes that surrounded the main part of the b
uild
ing, the roof of which was not peaked, but rounded, giving the appearance of sausages lying side by side in a frying pan.

‘
It isn
’
t a castle at all
!
’
Lucasta exclaimed.
‘
It hasn
’
t even got a garden.
’
She didn
’
t try to hide her disappointment at the sight of her temporary home. She pointed at a tuft of green stuff that might have been some kind of grass.
‘
Is that all you can grow
?
’

Her uncle grinned at her.
‘
What did you expect, an oasis like Lawrence
’
s castle at Azraq
?
’

‘
No, but you said the Nabateans were gardeners—
’

‘
Wait until you see inside,
’
he bade her. He turned his head towards Marion, his disapproving look falling into place as his eyes met hers.
‘
Are you disappointed too
?
’
he demanded. She shook her head.
‘
Why not
?
’
he jeered at her.

‘
Why do you want me to be
?
’
she countered.
‘
Is it very beautiful inside
?
’
she added on a sudden inspiration.

‘
I think so,
’
he admitted.
‘
Come in and see for yourself.
’

Her legs were stiff after sitting for so long, first
i
n the aeroplane the day before, and then in the Land-cruiser that morning. She wished that she could throw a leg over the edge of the vehicle in the same way that he did, but her legs were not nearly long enough and she was forced to jump down from what seemed to be a great height, knowing that he was waiting for her to fall and make a fool of herself. She cast him a childish look of triumph as she landed safely on both feet and felt annoyed at the answering flash of amusement in his eyes.

‘
I was beginning to think I
’
d have to fetch a step
-
ladder,
’
he mocked her.

She laughed with him.
‘
You cast aspersions on my lack of inches at your peril,
’
she warned him.
‘
I
’
m very sensitive about it.
’

‘
Why
?
’
he said, genuinely surprised.
‘
Everything about you is in perfect proportion, so why should you care? If anything it adds to your charms.
’

Her mouth fell open in astonishment
‘
Don
’
t be
silly
!
’
she rebuked
him.

‘
But it
’
s true,
’
he declared.
‘
That fragile daintiness was the first thing I noticed about you. I
think
most men would find it attractive—but I suspect you know that very well
!
’

‘
There
’
s nothing in the least fragile about me
!
’
she retorted, as angry as she was embarrassed.
‘
I
’
ve always been as tough as they come
!
’

He raised his eyebrows and she knew that he was laughing at her and that made her crosser than ever.
‘
Miss Shirley, you
’
ve got to be kidding
!
’

‘
And don
’
t call me Miss Shirley!
’
she snapped.
‘
At least, not like that! I know you don
’
t like me—
’

‘
Who
’
s
being silly now
?
’
he taunted her.
‘
Come on inside, Marion. I have something rather special to show you
!
’

She saw that Lucasta had gone ahead, running over the rough ground, intent on being the first to see where her uncle had chosen to live. Marion followed more slowly, stepping through the heavily studded door into the dim interior with a feeling that she was going forth to meet her destiny and that the dye had been cast long, long before that it was here, that something momentous was going to happen to her.

‘
Through here,
’
Gregory urged her, breaking the spell of fearful anticipation she had woven around herself.
‘
These used to be the rooms where the Emirs and their courtiers relaxed in the evenings. There! What do you
think
of that
?
’

Marion looked about her with total belief. The walls were covered with the most
stunning
frescoes she had ever seen. Here was a young girl, beautiful in her nakedness, emerging from her bath; there was a hunting scene, with a hawk about to swoop on its frightened prey; and on the third wall a feast was in progress, the men elaborately robed, the women scarcely clad at all as they danced before their masters.

‘
Well
?
’
he demanded.
‘
Well, what do you think
?
’

S
he put her hands up to her face.
‘
Oh, Gregory
!
’
she breathed.
‘
They
’
re gorgeous! How I wish my father could have seen them!
’

CHAPTER
III

‘
Can you do it?
’

I
t was the second time he had asked her, but still Marion hesitated.
‘
I thought it was contrary to the Moslem religion to depict living creatures
?
’
she said aloud.

‘
That came later than when these were executed,
’
he answered impatiently.
‘
It was forbidden because it was thought to be imitating the work of the Creator. In Moghul India, though, it was encouraged for the very same reason. What about it, Marion? Can you do anything to preserve them? They need quite a bit of restoration work done on them too. Can you do it
?
’

‘
I t
hink so,
’
sh
e said.
‘
I
can clean them. I can
’
t promise to do more than that.
’
She peered anxiously at a piece of the wall in front of her.

‘
You ought to get an expert—
’

‘
I
have. I got you.
’

‘
I
’
ve done similar work with my father,
’
she encouraged herself, chewing her lower lip thoughtfully.
‘
But I
’
ve never been
responsible
—I
’
d never forgive myself if I did anything to harm them
!
’

G
regory came and stood beside her.
‘
I
didn
’
t pick you blind,
’
he said.
‘
I
made a few enquiries about you before I
’
d ever seen you—
’

‘
From my mother, I suppose
?
’

H
e nodded.
‘
And from some of your father
’
s colleagues. The results were pretty favourable or you wouldn
’
t be standing here now.
’

H
er eyes widened.
‘
You mean you believe I can do it?
’

‘
Don
’
t you
?
’

H
e seemed incredibly tall. Of course he didn
’
t believe in giants, he was one himself!

‘
But what about Lucasta
?
’
she asked
him.

‘
Give her something to do,
’
he advised.
‘
I
’
ll see what I can do about finding her some other playmates to amuse her while she
’
s here. Perhaps Denise will oblige—
’
He broke off as the sound of female laughter rang through the castle.
‘
Speak of the devil,
’
he murmured.
‘
I didn
’
t know she was coming over today, but perhaps it
’
s just as well. You had to get to know each other sooner or later.
’

H
urrying, high-heeled footsteps came running towards them and a se
c
ond later a tall, blonde-haired girl stood in the doorway.

‘
Are you surprised to see me,
cherie
?
’
she asked in prettily accented English. She pouted her full lips like a naughty schoolgirl.
‘
I know you said not before next weekend, but I was lonely without you. I wanted to see for myself this art woman you are bringing here. Is this she? But you are playing some game with me! I do not believe that this one is interested only in stupid pictures
!
’

‘
Believe what you like,
’
Gregory replied, sounding amused.
‘
Did you come alone
?
’

‘
No, I brought the English engineer with me to meet your niece, Lucasta.
’
She put her hand on Gregory
’
s arm, spreading possessive fingers along his sleeve.
‘
You need not look like that, with the disapproving mouth!
Surely you would prefer he takes an interest in Lucasta
—
than he does so in me?
’

G
regory didn
’
t bother to answer her.
‘
The art woman, as you call her, is called Marion Shirley, Marion, this is Denise Dam. She lives in Beirut, but since Papa presented her with her own aeroplane the world has become her oyster.
’

‘
Why shouldn
’
t he give me my own plane
?
’
the French girl smiled up at him.
‘
He approves of you, darling, but he likes me to come and see you.
’

‘
But not alone,
’
he reminded her, the caustic note in his voice betraying the fact that they had argued about that before.