The Gabriel Hounds (9 page)

‘Very likely.’ I didn’t know whether Hamid’s dry tone meant that he was thinking of the economies obviously practised in the palace, or of John Lethman’s gold wristwatch. He added: ‘I do not suggest anything, me, but I have a very unpleasant nature.’

‘So have I. And if he really is smoking marihuana – hashish, that is—’ I took a breath. ‘That settles it. I shall
insist, whatever he says. I’m terribly sorry to have kept you hanging about like this, you’ve been very patient.’

‘You are paying for my car for the day, and for my time. How I spend the time is no matter, and it saves petrol to sit in the sun and smoke.’

I laughed. ‘You got something there. And you’re right, I must see her. If necessary I shall play hell and insist.’

‘There’s no need.’

I jumped. I hadn’t heard Mr Lethman come back, but he was there, with Jassim behind him, coming quickly along the shaded side of the arcade, and looking as if he’d been hurrying. Or, I thought, as if he’d had a slightly dicey interview. At least he looked wide awake now, even brisk.

‘She’ll see me?’

‘Yes, she’ll see you, but I’m afraid it’ll have to be later tonight.’ He made an apologetic gesture. ‘I’m sorry, I did try to persuade her, but I told you, it’s not a good day, so I didn’t like to press it. She’s had a touch of bronchial asthma lately, nothing to worry about, but it sometimes prevents her from sleeping. She won’t hear of calling the doctor, and since we still had the prescription from last autumn – it was the same trouble then – I didn’t overrule her. In a way it’s the remedy that’s the trouble, rather than the disease. She finds it depressive. To tell you the truth, the idea of a visit from you cheered her up a good deal.’

‘That’s wonderful. I promise not to tire her.’

‘Have you made arrangements with your driver? I’ll fix you up with a room now, before I go back to your great-aunt.’

‘It’s all settled. Hamid’s coming back for me tomorrow.’

‘Fine,’ he said, as if he meant it. ‘Well, if you’ll come with me, Jassim will show your driver the way back to the gate.’

As I said goodbye to Hamid, I thought I saw Jassim looking at me rather longingly, as if he would have liked to throw me out, too. But he eventually shuffled off into the shadows, and Hamid, with a final cheerful wave to me, went after him.

Mr Lethman led me the other way, towards the rear of the buildings.

‘So she didn’t take much persuading after all?’ I said.

‘None at all,’ he admitted, ‘once she’d grasped who you were. To be honest she couldn’t remember much about you, but she’s very keen to see you now.’

‘I had a feeling she might be. Sheer roaring curiosity, I suppose.’

He glanced down with what looked like surprise. ‘Well … yes, you could say so. Don’t you mind?’

‘Why should I? The motive doesn’t matter as long as the result’s all right. She’s seeing me, isn’t she? Anyway, it’s only fair. What d’you imagine
my
main motive is for visiting Dar Ibrahim?’

‘I – yes, of course.’ He sounded disconcerted.

‘What’s the matter? For goodness’ sake, does that shock you?’

‘No. But … you’re a very unusual girl, aren’t you?’

‘Because I insist on my own way, or because I don’t think relations are obliged to be fond of one another whether they like it or not? It’s not unusual, it’s only
that most people won’t admit it.’ I laughed. ‘Oh yes, I like to go my own way, but I recognise other people’s right to do the same thing. It’s about the only thing in my favour.’

‘What if their way isn’t the same as yours?’

‘Oh, if I feel really strongly about anything, it’s full steam ahead and damn the torpedoes, but I’m open to argument. Where are you going to put me?’

‘In the Seraglio.’

‘Well, that’s putting me in my place, isn’t it? Under lock and key?’

‘Just about. At least, all the windows are barred.’ He smiled down at me, suddenly charming. ‘It’s only because it’s the best end of the palace, I assure you … We may be grudging hosts, but once we’ve had to give in, we do the thing properly. First-class accommodation, to make up for lack of welcome. Did you know that the Lady Hester Stanhope graded her guests according to status? I believe the third-class used to get a pretty rough night.’

‘She would. It’s nice of you to top-grade me when I’m giving you all this trouble.’

‘Heavens, it’s no trouble. Actually I’m delighted you’re staying – your great-aunt isn’t the only one who likes company … I’m simply relieved she took it this way and I didn’t have to quarrel with you. I’m certain your visit will do her a world of good – in fact, I can’t help thinking it would be nice if she took a sudden shine to you and pressed you to stay for a few weeks, then
you
can sit and read the Koran to her at three in the morning, and give me a night off.’

‘Is that what you do?’

‘It has been known. Shall I suggest it to her? How long can you spare?’

‘I’ll let you know in the morning.’

He laughed, and pushed open a wooden gate that hung a bit crooked under a weed-grown arch.

‘In here,’ he said, and ushered me past him.

And still a Garden by the Water blows …

E. Fitzgerald:
The Rubáiyát

of Omar Khayyám

‘O
H
!’ I said, and stood still.

John Lethman shut the gate behind him, and came to my elbow. ‘Do you like it?’

‘
Like
it!’ I drew a breath. ‘What did it used to be?’

‘Oh, just the Seraglio Garden. I’m afraid it’s terribly neglected.’

It was, of course, but this was a large part of its beauty. After the prospects of sun-baked stone and dusty ruin that had been assaulting my eyes all afternoon, the riot of green and flowers and the shimmer of cool water was wonderful.

It followed the now familiar pattern of the courtyards, a paved space decorated with flowers and bushes, with a pool at the centre, surrounded by shaded arcades out of which opened the various rooms and offices. But this place was huge. Apparently the Seraglio rooms and garden filled the whole width of the palace, stretching well back over the surface of the plateau. On three sides of this vast space ran the arches
of the long colonnades, throwing their pattern of sun and shadow over the doorways of what had been the women’s apartments. On the fourth side – to the north – the colonnade marched with the outer wall where a row of delicate arches looked out across the Nahr el-Sal’q towards the village and the distant snows of the High Lebanon. High though these windows were, they were heavily barred with lattices so close that a hand could hardly have been thrust through them.

Within this frame of columns, long ago, some expert had laid out a big formal garden, and had somehow led water down from some high spring to feed the trees and flowers and fill the pool – no ornamental pond this time, but a wide stretch of water, almost a lake, which held at its centre a small island crowned with a grove of trees. On this, at the heart of the green grove, I saw the glint of gilded tiles – the roof of a miniature building like an exotic summerhouse or folly; a Persian-style kiosk with an onion dome, decorative pillars and latticed arches and shallow, broken steps.

There had once been a bridge across to the island, a slender, pretty affair; but now half-way over a broken gap yawned, some six feet wide. The lake itself was paved thickly with lily leaves, and at the edge the irises had spread into dense battalions of spears. All round the brink went a wide paved walk where ferns and briars thrust up the cracked marble slabs. From the shingled roofs of the arcades and down between the pillars jasmine and purple bougainvillaea and roses hung festooned like cobwebs, and every cornice was white with birds’ droppings and fully inhabited by
doves calling ‘
Yusuf, Yusuf
’, like mad things. The contrast between the formal design of oblong lake, graceful arches and elegant kiosk, and the riotous natural growth that had invaded them, was excitingly attractive. It was like a formal Persian painting gone wild.

‘Not a weed out of place,’ I said. ‘It’s gorgeous! And to think I was always sorry for those poor women. Well, that settles it, Mr Lethman, I’ll move in tomorrow for a long, long stay. How long can you do with me?’

‘Wait till you’ve seen your room before you commit yourself,’ he said, leading the way.

The room was midway along the south side of the garden. It was a plain square room, with a highish ceiling and chequered marble floor and patterned mosaic on the walls in panels of blue and gilt framing texts of Arabic writing. Unlike the other rooms I had seen so far, this one was clean, and well-lighted by a triple window which looked straight out over the Adonis gorge. The window was barred, but not so heavily as those which gave on the plateau. And for obvious reasons: the outer wall of the Seraglio apparently rose straight from the edge of the rock above the river.

‘The bedroom’s next door,’ said Mr Lethman, ‘and the bathroom’s the one after that. When I say “bathroom”, of course, I mean the whole works, a hammam – steam rooms, cold rooms, massage rooms, the lot.’ He grinned, ‘But guess what, no steam.’

‘Any hot?’

‘You can’t be serious? But there is running water, straight off the snow, and it’s all yours.’ The smile faded, and he looked at me a little doubtfully. ‘You know, it’s terribly brave of you to stay. We’re not geared for this kind of thing.’

‘I’m enjoying it,’ I said truthfully.

‘I suppose whatever else it is, this end of the place must seem like a slice of real Eastern romance? Heaven knows I hope you can keep your illusions … I’m afraid the bedroom’s not ready yet. I’ll send Halide along to fix it up in a minute, and bring you some towels. Is there anything else you’ll want?’

‘Only a toothbrush, and I don’t suppose the hammam runs to that. Don’t look so worried, I was only joking. I’ll do very well for one night, if supper could possibly include an apple? I hope Great-Aunt Harriet’s régime does run to supper?’

He laughed. ‘Have a heart. What’s more, you’ll be glad to hear that Halide doesn’t feed me on your great-aunt’s diet! I’ll have to leave you now, I’m afraid.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘You’d like a drink, I’m sure. I’ll send one straight away. It’ll soon be too dark for you to explore much, but go where you like – except for the Prince’s rooms, of course, and either Halide or I will be there to fend you off if you lose your way.’

‘Thanks, but I’ll just stay here. The garden’s lovely.’

‘Then I’ll be back to join you in about half an hour, and we’ll eat.’

When he had gone I sat down on the divan cushions, looking out over the gorge where the last of the light netted the tips of the trees with gold. Below, the
shadows deepended through purple to black. It would soon be dark. I realised suddenly that I was tired, and hoped that when Halide came with the drink it wouldn’t be the conventional Arab welcome of arak.

It wasn’t, and it wasn’t brought by Halide, but by a stocky young Arab who was presumably the brother, Nasirulla. He was dressed like Jassim in white robes, and came in silently with a tray which held a lighted lamp, two glasses, and a bottle of the golden wine of the Bk’aa. This is a lovely wine, light and dryish and about the best that Lebanon produces, and he couldn’t have brought anything I’d sooner have had at that moment. I began to think kindly of Mr John Lethman.

When I spoke to Nasirulla he eyed me sidelong, shook his head, and said something in Arabic. Then he set the lamp in a niche near the door, sketched a salaam, and went out.

With the coming of the lamp the darkness, as it always does, seemed to fall quickly. Only minutes after Nasirulla had left me the blue sky beyond the windows dimmed to blackness, and by seven o’clock it was quite dark.

I sat curled on the window-seat, sipping the golden wine, and wondering what the night would bring.

It was very quiet. The night sky was like black velvet spangled with big stars, and, as if it had indeed been a velvet curtain, all sound seemed to be cut off, even the faintest murmuring of the river below my window. In the garden the doves had fallen silent and not even a breath of air stirred the feathery trees. Through the
open door I could smell jasmine and roses, and some other strongly scented flowers, and below those exotic scents, as a sort of reminding undertone, the sweetish stagnant smell of the pool.

Mr Lethman came back at about a quarter to eight, and with him Nasirulla with the supper tray. There was soup, scalding hot in a big Thermos jug, and a dish of
shawarma
– mutton flavoured with vinegar, lemon, onion and cardamom seeds and grilled on a long spit. With this came a bowl of salad, a dish of pale butter and half a goats’ milk cheese, a pile of unleavened bread and some apples and another bottle of wine. Nasirulla put this down on the low table, said something to Mr Lethman, and then left us.

I said: ‘If you call this living simply, count me in.’

He laughed. ‘I told you Halide fed me extra on the side. By the way, Nasirulla says she’s on her way to do your room now.’

‘I’m giving you a lot of trouble. I mean, bringing the tray all this way for one thing. Where d’you usually eat?’

‘Here, quite often.’ He added apologetically: ‘You’ll probably find out, so I may as well tell you, these are my rooms. No, listen, please … I was going to sleep over the other side tonight anyway, so you’re not to think you’ve put us to any trouble at all.’

‘Not put you to—? Mr Lethman, I don’t know what to say! Turning you out of your room!’

But he cut short my protestations by serving the soup and handing me mine in an eared round mug along with some Arab bread, then refilling my wine
glass. It seemed almost as if he were bent on making amends for his earlier reluctance to let me in; or as if, once the Lady Harriet had accepted me, traditional Arab hospitality must have its way, and there was literally not enough that he and the Arab servants could do to make my stay a comfortable one. Any connection between my lively host and the harassed, sleep- or smoke-bemused young man of the afternoon seemed purely coincidental. He seemed to be laying himself out to entertain me, and we chatted pleasantly throughout the meal.

He knew a fair amount about the history of the place, and was very entertaining about what he called the Lady’s ‘cut-price court’ of Dar Ibrahim, but I noticed that he said very little about Great-Aunt Harriet herself, and behind his reserve I thought I could sense respect and liking for her. Whatever else he mocked, and however much she might invite it, he did not mock his patroness, and I liked him the better for it. He was certainly interested in everything I could tell him about the family. The only thing I refrained deliberately from mentioning was Charles’s presence in Syria, and the fact that he, too, was planning a visit. I intended to find a good moment to tell Great-Aunt Harriet myself that he wanted to see her, and so by-pass all the difficulties of persuasion at second-hand. Not that, if Charles was right, any persuasion would be needed. If she had agreed so readily to see me, whom she would hardly remember, then her favourite Charles was practically in already.