Scales of Gold - Dorothy Dunnett [259]
They watched him out of sight, and then prepared as well as they could for the day, and the night, and the storm. But first, the sick man died, and they gave him a mantle of sand.
The storm came, and they lived through it for two lightless days, and into the dawn of a third. Their food and drink, which was almost nothing, had been apportioned to last precisely four days.
They had the camels, slumped bickering and groaning beside them. These had little urine to yield, and could give no more blood and still walk. If the takshif didn’t come back, it would be necessary to ride them, or to kill and eat them and walk. It would be necessary, but not likely to be very successful.
Nicholas had stopped being hungry, and thought he would vomit if he had to eat camel again. Umar said Nicholas would be surprised what he could do, given a little discomfort.
They joked when they could. They sat together, five men, and talked sometimes, but talking was painful. Nicholas dreamed a great deal. In some of his dreams, he was with Godscalc, bleeding, retching, striving to climb down some impossible gully. In some he was in Famagusta, where others were starving and he was in a kind of pain that was worse. He was always in pain, waking or dreaming. They all were.
‘Well?’ Nicholas said on the fourth morning. ‘I wager you a piece of camel against a big layer-pasty that he’s missed the way and gone on to Marrakesh. A really big layer-pasty, the kind with duck and pigeon and goose and whole eggs in it. And a girl, all covered with sugar.’
‘That’s disgusting,’ said Umar. ‘You’re thinking of your stomach again. If you must think of something tasty, why not mutton? Or remember the Koy’s last feast, when he tried to serve lion?’
‘Lion suet,’ Nicholas said. ‘Lion suet is good for the ears. Bel was always trying to melt it. Do you hear anything?’
Sometimes, they forgot to listen. Sometimes, their eyes burning and swollen, they couldn’t see. One of the men said, ‘My lord!’ He lurched to his feet.
Nicholas sat with his back to the sun, and didn’t turn. He sat opposite Umar, and let Umar’s face tell him what was happening behind him.
Umar said, ‘Which camel are you going to eat? You’re not damned well going to cheat and eat the fresh ones. I want to see you eat something that stinks as much as you do.’
His face quivered, then steadied. Nicholas took both his hands and held them tightly. Then he got up, for the three others were standing embracing each other and calling, and when he went forward, they put their arms round his shoulders too, and then Umar’s.
‘Allah!’ said Nicholas crossly. ‘But you are a hard race to kill, you great bullocks from Guinea. What is a poor trader to do, who led you out here to die so that he could eat all the camels?’
They laughed as if they were drunk. They laughed, and croaked, and kissed one another and him, for the takshif was riding towards them, with three mounted men and five camels.
Chapter 37
THE WATER OF Bir al Ksaib was brackish and warm, and better than wine. There was food there. They rested for three days, and took fresh camels, and completed their journey to Taghaza. It was not easy.
It was further than the way they had come, and the winds were still blowing. But they had strong mounts, and willing men to go with them, and a new guide. The blind takshif would have come, and their drovers, but Nicholas gave them great presents and turned them back. He tried to turn back Umar too, but failed. ‘You didn’t keep your wager,’ Umar said. ‘If you won’t eat the camel, then you have to supply me with the pie.’
There wasn’t much likelihood of finding a layer-pasty in Taghaza, but Nicholas was willing to try. Umar, with his bright intelligence and generous nature, was the golden thread which permeated the whole Olympian experience; Umar as a whole man of his own race at last, and able at last