climbed wearily up and spoke in a quiet voice that nobody else could hear. ‘Between you and me, we’re in trouble. The drought is getting worse, crops are failing. If there’s a famine, God help us. Law and order will break down, bandits will once again rule the roads and tribes of nomads will see Nimrud as easy pickings. Under a determined attack, what chance will we have?’
Hormuzd hurried over. ‘Sir, I have some difficult news.’ His young face seemed old with care. ‘Raiders attacked our raft as it was unloading near the fortress. The ropes and felts are gone.’
‘All of them?’
‘All gone.’
Then so were his chances of shifting the bulls and lions. The hundreds of yards of rope had been for easing the statues onto the huge cart, and then for towing the cart down to the river. Thick felt carpets were needed to cushion the fragile alabaster during itstwo-mile journey to the river. And without those ropes and felts he couldn’t secure the wall slabs to the rafts. It would be impossible to pack the smaller treasures into chests and crates safely. If there were no soft padding, none would survive the long journey by raft to Basra.
Austen pictured the risky journey. At Basra, his marvels would be loaded onto a ship for Bombay, transferred to another ship, flung by gales around the Cape of Good Hope, then bashed through the stormy Atlantic, north to faraway England. One shift in the cargo, one careless handling, and treasures as wonderful as the jewels of Aladdin’s cave would be smashed to worthless junk.
But, without the ropes and felts, nothing would be shipped from Nimrud at all.
Another awful thought occurred to him. If news of one successful robbery were to spread, no one would fear him and Nimrud would soon be under attack. Replacement ropes and felt would take weeks to arrive. By then, he’d be out of money, out of workers and out of ammunition after having defended the treasures from repeated attacks.
He had unearthed a vast treasure that he couldn’t move. But raiders would. What they didn’t smash, they’d take away to sell in the markets.
Chapter 34
‘There are more of them than I expected.’ Austen drew on the reins and checked his pistols. Abraham Agha, bristling with weapons, flexed his fingers. ‘I count forty-three.’ He spoke calmly, as if the odds were in their favour.
When they trotted towards the black tents, the crowd parted uneasily. At the sheik’s tent, Austen leapt from his horse, thrust his spear into the ground and tethered his horse to it, as a sign that he was now under the sheik’s protection. He and Abraham marched straight inside and the sheik half-rose to his feet. Austen sat on the carpet and Abraham stood guard, each hand on a pistol.
At the end of the long tent, servants hastily dragged ropes and felts out of sight. But there were too many to hide and heaps lay there in full view.
‘The peace of Allah be with you, sheik.’ Austen’s face gave away no feelings.
‘And with you, O Lion.’
‘By the laws of our friendship, sheik, what is my property is also yours. What is yours, I may claim.’
‘May Allah keep you in good health.’
Austen made a show of examining his rope which was wound around the central pole of the tent. ‘Some of my property is important to me, but of less value to others.’
‘What might those things be, Lion of Nimrud?’
A rope rubbed noisily against the base of the tent as somebody outside dragged it away.
‘My ropes and mats of felt.’
The sheik looked steadily at the piles of rope and matting. ‘Let me be your sacrificial lamb if any of your ropes or felts are in my tent.’
A crowd at the tent door added their voices in unison. ‘Our sheik speaks the truth.’
‘Two men against so many? The sheik opened his hands. ‘If you found any of your property here, why, I would happily return it.’
‘Two against so many? I learnt long ago that the estimation other people have of me is no true guide. What matters
Hormuzd hurried over. ‘Sir, I have some difficult news.’ His young face seemed old with care. ‘Raiders attacked our raft as it was unloading near the fortress. The ropes and felts are gone.’
‘All of them?’
‘All gone.’
Then so were his chances of shifting the bulls and lions. The hundreds of yards of rope had been for easing the statues onto the huge cart, and then for towing the cart down to the river. Thick felt carpets were needed to cushion the fragile alabaster during itstwo-mile journey to the river. And without those ropes and felts he couldn’t secure the wall slabs to the rafts. It would be impossible to pack the smaller treasures into chests and crates safely. If there were no soft padding, none would survive the long journey by raft to Basra.
Austen pictured the risky journey. At Basra, his marvels would be loaded onto a ship for Bombay, transferred to another ship, flung by gales around the Cape of Good Hope, then bashed through the stormy Atlantic, north to faraway England. One shift in the cargo, one careless handling, and treasures as wonderful as the jewels of Aladdin’s cave would be smashed to worthless junk.
But, without the ropes and felts, nothing would be shipped from Nimrud at all.
Another awful thought occurred to him. If news of one successful robbery were to spread, no one would fear him and Nimrud would soon be under attack. Replacement ropes and felt would take weeks to arrive. By then, he’d be out of money, out of workers and out of ammunition after having defended the treasures from repeated attacks.
He had unearthed a vast treasure that he couldn’t move. But raiders would. What they didn’t smash, they’d take away to sell in the markets.
Chapter 34
‘There are more of them than I expected.’ Austen drew on the reins and checked his pistols. Abraham Agha, bristling with weapons, flexed his fingers. ‘I count forty-three.’ He spoke calmly, as if the odds were in their favour.
When they trotted towards the black tents, the crowd parted uneasily. At the sheik’s tent, Austen leapt from his horse, thrust his spear into the ground and tethered his horse to it, as a sign that he was now under the sheik’s protection. He and Abraham marched straight inside and the sheik half-rose to his feet. Austen sat on the carpet and Abraham stood guard, each hand on a pistol.
At the end of the long tent, servants hastily dragged ropes and felts out of sight. But there were too many to hide and heaps lay there in full view.
‘The peace of Allah be with you, sheik.’ Austen’s face gave away no feelings.
‘And with you, O Lion.’
‘By the laws of our friendship, sheik, what is my property is also yours. What is yours, I may claim.’
‘May Allah keep you in good health.’
Austen made a show of examining his rope which was wound around the central pole of the tent. ‘Some of my property is important to me, but of less value to others.’
‘What might those things be, Lion of Nimrud?’
A rope rubbed noisily against the base of the tent as somebody outside dragged it away.
‘My ropes and mats of felt.’
The sheik looked steadily at the piles of rope and matting. ‘Let me be your sacrificial lamb if any of your ropes or felts are in my tent.’
A crowd at the tent door added their voices in unison. ‘Our sheik speaks the truth.’
‘Two men against so many? The sheik opened his hands. ‘If you found any of your property here, why, I would happily return it.’
‘Two against so many? I learnt long ago that the estimation other people have of me is no true guide. What matters
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