The Gabriel Hounds (37 page)

‘My poor lamb. Still, you wouldn’t be the first.’

‘What? Oh, storming the Seraglio. Sure … Well, I stopped under the trees to put the pants on. As a matter of fact there was a shirt and a
kaffiyeh
as well, if only I could find them … then I heard you scream. Did that so-and-so hurt you?’

‘Not really. It was the cat I was screaming at, not him. Go on, I want to hear about you. How did you get back in?’

He had been casting about under the trees while we talked, and now pounced on something with a soft exclamation of satisfaction. ‘Here they are … I
suppose I shall be thankful of this shirt, such as it is, before the night’s out … Where was I? Oh, under the Seraglio windows – just about here, in fact – when I heard you scream. I tore into the pants and shoes and belted back to the main gate, but they’d barred it again. While I was trying it, all hell broke loose inside the palace, and then I smelled the smoke. I imagined that if the fire was bad they’d open the gate, but even so I didn’t fancy our chances, so I ran round here again. I knew the postern had been bolted again after they caught me, so I didn’t waste time trying it; I simply ran round to that window and climbed in. It’s not a bad climb at all.’

‘Not bad!’ It was the first time I had seen it from outside. I stared up at the sheer black wall. ‘It looks impossible!’

‘Not for your big brave cousin. Anyway, I knew you were in the garden, because when I was half-way up I heard you swearing at the dogs, and as soon as I got in I saw the Noah’s Ark act on the island. That’s all … I wish Jassim’s wardrobe ran to socks – there’s nothing more disgusting than wet sandals. Look, why don’t you put the head-cloth round your shoulders? It’s not too filthy, and at least it’s dry. Let me tie it … What’s this round your neck?’

‘Oh, I forgot I’d put it on. It’s a charm I got for you against the Evil Eye. You wanted one for your car, you said.’

‘For my love, I said. You’d better keep it, it seems to work … There. Now you’re almost up to my standards.’

‘Flattery will get you nowhere.’

‘I’m not flattering, you look wonderful. There’s some weed in your hair, and that frock looks as if it had been poured over you out of a dirty jug, and your eyes are as big as mill-wheels and as black as outer space.’

‘I’ve been smoking their filthy pot, that’s why.’

‘
Du vrai?
’ he asked. ‘I thought as much. Nice?’

‘Hellish. You think it’s rather pleasant and you stop worrying about things, and then suddenly you find your bones have sort of rotted from inside and your brain’s made from old rags and you can’t even think. Oh, Charles, it was so awful, they’re dealing in the stuff … they’ve been planning for months—’

‘Darling, I know. Lethman told me quite a lot, probably more than he realised. Did you know he was a junkie?’

‘Grafton told me. I ought to have guessed from the way he looks sometimes, but I never thought about it. Did he tell you Great-Aunt H was dead?’

‘I knew that.’

I stared. ‘You mean you knew it all along? Was that what you were making all the mystery about?’

‘I’m afraid so.’

‘How did you find out?’

‘Guessed, to begin with. Didn’t you ever know that she had your cat phobia? Full blast and all the stops out?’

‘
Did
she? I don’t think I ever knew that. We never had a cat at home, of course, so when she stayed with us the subject wouldn’t come up. Yes, I see now. I
suppose as soon as I told you “she” had a cat in her room you knew there must be something wrong. But Grafton would know, surely?’

‘He can’t have realised the cat was in the room that night. More likely he never even thought about it. They may have always had stableyard cats – must have, now that I think of the rat population of the Seraglio – but in Aunt H’s day they’d never have invaded that room.’

‘Because of the dogs?’

‘One imagines so. From the way these terrifying brutes behave with you and me’ – he indicated Star and Sofi, who grinned amiably, feathering their tails – ‘they were probably treated as pets with the run of the place, and I know Samson always slept on her bed, and he was death on cats. If “the doctor” was scared of the dogs and shut them up, then the inevitable would happen … Let’s get somewhere where we can see, shall we?’

We began to pick our way along the stony cliff-top through the thickest part of the grove.

‘Yes, go on.’

‘Well, the cat business made me think there was something decidedly off-key somewhere, so I made up my mind to get in and look around and find out what, if anything, had happened to the real Aunt H. The fact that Lethman and Co. had let you wander around the place indicated that she wasn’t hidden there. I thought she must be dead. Then when I got in and saw her things were left lying about derelict – the Koran and the Dogs of Fo – and that Samson had died and apparently not been buried properly with the benefit of clergy
along with the other dogs, I was sure of it. So after you’d gone off to bed that night I went snooping back, and you know what happened; I got caught and knocked out and locked up and that was that. Here we are, steady, hang on to those dogs and don’t let anyone see you. My God!’

We had reached the corner now, and we could see.

The scene was like something from a coloured film of epic proportions. The walls towered black and jagged against the leaping flames behind them, and one high roof, burning fiercely, was now nothing but a crumbling grid of beams, Windows pulsed with light. With every gust of the breeze great clouds of pale smoke, filled with sparks, rolled down and burst over the crowd which besieged the main gate, and the Arabs scattered, shouting and cursing and laughing with excitement, only to bunch again nearer the gate as the cloud dispersed. The gate was open; both the tall double leaves stood wide, and there was a coming and going of men through the general mêlée which indicated that some salvage work was going on – and also that Grafton would be lucky if he saw any of the salvaged goods again.

It was to be presumed that the remaining inmates of the palace were safe: the mules had certainly been got out; here and there among the crowd I saw the wicked heads tossing, the fire-light bright on teeth and eyeballs, as the loot piled up on the glossy backs, and yelling Arabs fought for the head-ropes. Then I saw the chestnut horse, its coat as bright as fire, and someone who could only be John Lethman at its head.

He was dragging something – some cloth or blanket – from the beast’s head. He must have had to muffle its eyes and nostrils to get it out of the burning stable. It was fighting him, jibbing and terrified, as he tried to pull it clear of the crowd.

I clutched Charles’s arm. ‘Lethman’s there! He’s got the horse out. Charles, he’s mounting! He’ll get away!’

‘Let him go. He can’t do a thing. Grafton’s the one – hullo, look, they’re stopping him.’

Lethman, astride the chestnut, was fighting with knees, whip and head-rope to turn it for the corner where we stood hidden, and the track past the Seraglio wall to the open hillside and freedom. The animal, its ears laid flat back on its skull, whirled plunging in the dust, and the crowd scattered in front of it – all but one man, and he ran in under the vicious hooves and jumped for the head-rope and held it fast. He was shouting something at John Lethman. I saw the latter throw out an arm, pointing back to the blazing building, and he yelled something, his voice suddenly clear and powerful above the excited roar of the crowd. Faces turned to him like leaves when the wind blows through them. He brought his whip slashing down at the man below him, and drove the chestnut forward at full gallop towards the grove where we stood.

The Arab, struck by the beast’s shoulder, was sent flying. As he rolled clean over, and came unhurt in one swift bunching movement to his feet, I saw that it was Nasirulla. Two or three other men had started, vainly, to run after John Lethman. One of them, yelling like a
dervish, waved a shotgun. Nasirulla snatched it from him, whirled, levelled it, and shot.

But the chestnut was already out of range round the palace wall. It went by within a few feet of us. I never even saw John Lethman’s face; he was just a crouching shadow against the bright mane, gone with a crash and sparkle of hoofs and the horse’s snorting terror.

Nor did I notice at what moment Star and Sofi left us. I thought I saw two shadows, swifter than the horse and far more silent, whip through the trees to vanish in its dust, and when I looked round the hounds had gone.

The shot harmlessly chipped the masonry at the corner of the palace. The men who were running our way hesitated, saw it was no use, and milled aimlessly about, shouting.

‘I think that’s our cue to go, my love,’ said Charles in my ear. ‘Any minute now and they’ll all be coming to look for a way round the back.’

‘Wait … look!’

What happened next was almost too quick to understand, and certainly too quick to describe.

Nasirulla had hardly paused to see if his shot had gone home. While plaster still scaled from the bullet-marks on the wall he turned and shoved his way back towards the gate. The others crowded back with him.

Then we saw Henry Grafton. The knock on the head had obviously not incapacitated him for long, and apparently he had been organising the salvage operations. As the crowd by the gate eddied and momentarily thinned I saw him, just emerging past the gatehouse, his arms full.

One or two men ran forward, presumably to help him. Another tugged one of the mules nearer. Then Nasirulla yelled something, high and clear, and I saw the crowd check again, and men turning. There must have been women there; I heard one screaming something that sounded like invective. Grafton paused, staggering a little as the man who had taken half his load abandoned it suddenly and left him. Nasirulla ran forward, still yelling, and as Grafton turned to face him, flung the gun up at a range of perhaps ten yards, and fired again.

Grafton fell. As he dropped the load and went slowly, how slowly, forward over it, the Arab swung the gun butt uppermost, and ran forward, and the crowd with him.

Charles pulled me back under the trees.

‘No. No. There’s nothing you can do. He’s dead, quite certainly. We’ll get the hell out of here, Christy my girl, before that bunch of J. Arthur Rank extras really gets going.’

I was shaking so much that for a moment I could only cling, and say through chattering teeth: ‘It was Nasirulla. I suppose – was it because of Halide?’

‘Sure to be. Nasirulla may have tried to salvage the stockpile before Grafton could stop him, and found the body. Or he may simply have been asking Lethman if she’d got out, and what we just saw was Lethman passing the buck. Hold up, sweetheart, I think we can get down to the ford this way. Can you make it? Let’s get the hell out, shall we? Arab mobs are not exactly my thing at the best of times, and I doubt if this lot found
us here if they’d stop to listen to my elegant literary Arabic. It’s all right for you, they’d only rape you, but I don’t want to be castrated the day I get engaged.’

‘That’s my big brave cousin.’ The little spurt of laughter I gave was more than half hysterical, but it steadied me. He took my hand, and together, by the light of the now dwindling fire, we made our way down the cliff path, across the river still running scarlet for Adonis, and gained the safe shadows of the far valley side.

My dog brought by Kings from Saluq.

Ancient Arabian Poem

It was noon next day. The high hot sun poured into the village street. We sat on the low wall that bordered the graveyard, waiting for the car to take us to Beirut.

It was already difficult to remember clearly what had happened last night after we had left the scene of the fire. I had no recollection of the climb up the path to the village. I must have accomplished it on some emergency high-octane mixture of reaction, love, and residual hashish fumes. The only memory I retain to this day is some queer detached nightmare of staring eyes and neat hoofs pattering like rain and the smell of goat, as (Charles tells me) we disturbed the sleeping flock, and from some invisible corner the faun tore himself from a fascinated grandstand view of the fire to offer his entirely practical help as escort up to the village.

It was he who piloted us at length through the deserted streets to a house near the far end, set slightly apart behind a terrace of apple-trees. No light showed, but a woman was awake and peering half fearfully out
of the door at the fire which still spurted among the smoking ruins across the valley.

The boy shouted a greeting, and then a flood of what must have been explanation. I was too dazed by now and too tired to care what was said or what happened, just so that I could get out of my damp and filthy clothes, and lie down somewhere and sleep.

Charles’s arms lifted me up the steep rough steps of the terrace. He must have been as tired as I, because I seem to remember that he paused to collect himself before trying to speak to the woman in Arabic. Some minutes later, after an exchange helped out (from somewhere out of sight) by the faun, we were taken into the house; and there, behind the curtain which divided the single room, I undressed by the light of a small yellowish candle which spluttered as it burned, wrapped myself in some loose cotton garment which came from a box in the corner and which smelled clean, lay down on a bed of blankets which did not, and was almost immediately asleep. The last thing I remember was my cousin’s voice, softly talking in his slow Arabic, and waiting – as I found out later – for the headman, the woman’s husband, to come home from the fire.

So all the explanations had been made. Henry Grafton was dead – had died mercifully enough from the shot – and Lethman had vanished clear away into the High Lebanon. I never heard or cared overmuch what happened to him. He was gone, faceless and shadowy as the night-hunter with his horse and his Gabriel Hounds,
as much a victim as poor Halide of Grafton’s single-minded greed. The girl’s body had been recovered. Some freak of breeze and fire had left the underground corridor more or less undamaged, and with it the contents of the storeroom, which the police, arriving with the dawn light, found mysteriously depleted but still well worth impounding and investigating.