Desert Barbarian

Marie felt sorry for him. It was a terrifying thought… to be tied for life to an unknown person, committed to them whatever their character—a form of Russian roul­ette which could have lifelong consequences.

'It has been our custom for so long,' Aziz sighed. 'My father honestly cannot understand why I resist it. He only met my mother on their wedding day, and it is true that theirs was a very happy marriage until the day she died.'

'Perhaps your marriage will be happy too,' Marie said gently. 'Surely if you've known about it for so long, you must have adjusted to the idea?'

'Aissa is my beloved,' Aziz said quietly. 'She always has been. In Europe we saw each other frequently, and we learnt to love. Now that we are back here life has grown bitter for us.'

Rahaib was waiting for her outside the palace. He had been shopping in the market for a gift for Lispa, who had just told him that she was again expecting a child. Rahaib was unusually gay, singing softly under his breath as he drove back to the bungalow. A package lay on the seat beside him. It was, he had informed Marie proudly, some fine silk from which Lispa could make herself a new sari.

'Red as the pomegranate, red for passion,' he said de­lightedly. 'Gold as the sun, gold for joy.'

'That's very poetic, Rahaib,' Marie said teasingly.

He smiled at her over his shoulder. 'Lispa is a good wife. She has borne me three sons. Perhaps she will bear me a fourth.'

'Wouldn't you like a girl this time?'

'If the gods desire it I will have a girl,' Rahaib said care

lessly, and added. 'But I wish for a son.'

Marie laughed. 'You're a chauvinist,' she said.

He was puzzled. 'What does that mean?'

'It means you think boys are more important than girls,' she told him.

'They are,' he said in bewilderment. 'Look around you. It is obvious.'

'Yes,' she said drily, 'I'm afraid you are right.'

Rahaib flicked a glance at her apologetically. 'In your world I know it is different, but here we do things as we have always done.'

As he turned back to the road he gave a soft exclama­tion of surprise. 'There is a car across the road…'

'Someone has broken down,' said Marie, leaning for­ward to stare ahead.

A dark car was slewed across in their path, and beside it a young man in a thin shirt and trousers was waving at them. Rahaib slowed down and stopped just in front of the car.

The young man came round to speak to Rahaib. 'Please, sir, would you look at my engine? It is not work­ing.' He spoke in heavily accented English, but he looked Indian.

Rahaib gave him a scornful glance. 'Certainly I will look,' he replied. 'You should learn to mend your car before you begin to drive it, though.' He climbed out and walked to the other car. The bonnet was raised already, and he bent over to look at it. Immediately the young man raised a heavy wooden club and struck him down with one carefully placed blow on the head.

Marie gave a scream of dismay, as Rahaib slumped forward silently. The young man dragged his body away, flung him on to the side of the road. Marie fumbled for the keys in the dashboard, but before she could move over and start the engine there were several young men climbing into the vehicle beside her. One of them held a small gun.

She looked at them, shivering. This was no romantic game, like the one Stonor had played. This was real.

'We must blindfold and gag you, miss,' one of them said. 'Please make no trouble. We do not want to hurt you.'

Their eyes were implacable. She looked round at their faces and felt icy cold.

One of them bound a piece of cloth over her eyes, then stuffed a handkerchief into her mouth. Then she was led away, stumbling awkwardly, and placed in the other car. The engine started and the car swung round, churning dust and small stones, and drove away at breakneck speed.

The drive lasted for what seemed to her a very long time. When the car stopped at last, she was asked to get out. Guided by the hand of one of the young men, she was led into a house, then she heard the door close behind her.

The gag and blindfold were removed, and she put up a hand to her trembling lips. Pieces of lint were adhering to her inner mouth. The young men gestured for her to walk into a small room, and Marie obeyed silently, star­ing around her. Shutters had been placed over the win­dow. The room was lit by an oil lamp. The only furni­ture was a small camp bed covered by some blankets and a pillow; two wooden chairs of great age, a low round table and a heavily carved chest with a domed top.

'Why have you brought me here?' she asked shakily, looking at the men.