Swords of Arabia: Betrayal by Anthony Litton Page B

crashing shut behind them, sheltering them from the still growing force outside, was one of the most beautiful many of them had ever heard.

 
    Chapter Twelve
     
    “A close call, Kerim! Did the rest of your day go well?” the general asked, raising his cold, tired eyes from the despatches he was reading as the younger man, still dust-covered from their race, entered the suite of rooms the delegation had been given at the palace. The older man had to raise his voice to carry over the howling winds striking and buffeting the hurriedly closed shutters.
    “Indeed, it did, sir,” responded Kerim coolly. “I won a race in the face of the fiercest competition, on the most wonderful horses and my falcon caught most of the quarry!”
    “And your own quarry?” the general asked quietly, his black eyes piercingly clear and dominating his dark, heavily moustached face.
    Only by the slightest hesitation did Kerim display his anger at the older man’s choice of words. “If sir, you mean did I raise the matter of a future alliance with the Lord Nasir, my friend,” he added with only the slightest emphasis on the last two words, though not one missed by his superior. “I did. As you ordered, sir,” he ended with only the slightest of distaste seeping through.
    “I hope it was in terms somewhat more enthusiastic than those you are showing now!” snapped the officer, his harsh voice cutting and his heavy shoulders bunching in anger.
    “You needn’t worry, sir, I did my duty, though, to be honest, I doubt it will do us much good.”
    “You pointed out the advantages of their continuing with our historic alliance, I hope?”
    “I did, though to be frank I feel the phrase ‘continuing alliance’ ceased to have any meaning to Narash once we fled al Hofuf; without any warning to, or regard for, our allies left behind!” flashed Kerim.
    “And you pointed out the possible dangers should they not willingly continue with that which has never been formally revoked?” continued the general, almost as though his young subordinate hadn’t spoken.
    “If you mean, did I threaten them with an attack on either the town or the inland oases, by ourselves or the Rashid, you need have no fear, sir, I would have done my duty, had it been necessary. But Nasir was ahead of me and acknowledged they were aware of the risk, though to be fair they were, post-al Hofuf, more worried about the Rashid than ourselves!”
    “Captain Celik,” said the older man after some seconds quietly observing the young officer. “I would warn you that I find your tone and, indeed, your words somewhat less respectful than those I would expect from a military officer on a military mission – and being uttered to his superior officer!” He then went on ominously. “Here, you are under my command. Pray don’t address me as though you are at your cousin’s court!”
    Kerim had been on the verge of offering a polite apology. After all, he regarded the man well enough and had no wish to offend him, but the general’s words wiped any such idea from his mind, replacing them instead with a white-hot fury.
    “That sir, is insulting! I have never, ever, used my relationship to the Sultan to help my military career, nor have I allowed it to make me forget the respect due to my superior officers.” He paused, struggling to control his temper and then went on, more calmly, though only slightly so, such was both his outrage at his superior’s comments and his discomfort in being put in the position of appearing to threaten his friends. “I give you my opinion on this matter because I know the Narashi. I’m one of the few who do, despite our much-vaunted alliance with them!” He took a calming breath before continuing. “If, if my behaviour seemed less than respectful, if you feel either my manner or words have been less than should be expected from a junior officer, I apologise but, frankly sir, I don’t feel they have been!”
    The older man looked calmly back