Lord of Desire

It was with tremendous effort that Jafar dragged his mind from his half-agonized, half-optimistic thoughts of Alysson, and focused his attention on what the colonel was saying.

"You are aware, are you not, of the responsibilities of the Bureaux Arabes?" Bourmont asked.

Jafar thought back, recalling what he knew of the Arab Bureau. It was the system by which the French government ruled the native peoples of the country—a department of the French military staffed with French officers to administer the conquered territories and supervise the native chiefs. The Turkish hierarchy of khalifas, aghas, and caids had been retained, but at every level a French intelligence officer, acting as advisor, actually did all the governing- raising taxes and administering justice through a docile Muslim nominee.

"I know something of it," Jafar replied. "It is the institution through which the French army maintains domination over Muslim populations by controlling their tribal chiefs and councils."

The colonel stiffened slightly at the veiled contempt in his guest's tone. "Assimilation is the goal of the Bureau, not domination. The native tribes are allowed to govern themselves, with chiefs selected and approved by the Arab Bureau. It is a fair and just system."

"I expect that depends upon one's point of view."

"Perhaps," Gervase agreed. "But regardless, it is the only system we have to work with. As head of the Bureau, my primary job is to protect our settlers. There are some hundred thousand of them now, half of them French, and there will be more to come. Now that the war is over—"

"You will come in ever greater numbers," Jafar said grimly, "all burning with a love of conquest."

This time Bourmont sat up in his chair. "The French presence has not been all bad for your country. Look at the advantages we have provided. When we arrived seventeen years ago, Algiers was suffering from plague and famine and was almost a ruin."

"Is that what you believe, or what you were told?"

The colonel hesitated, angry color rising in his face.

"Your father no doubt used numerous fallacies to justify his rape of the Kingdom of Algiers," Jafar observed, his tone cool. "But I was here seventeen years ago, Colonel, and I can assure you Algiers was in no way suffering the kind of devastation you speak of."

"I had thought," Bourmont said just as coolly, "we had tacitly agreed to allow the past to remain in the past. My father has been dead nearly a decade now, and I would be well satisfied to leave him buried and forgotten."

"Indeed, we did. Forgive me. Please continue, Colonel."

"Yes, well then. As I was saying, the task of protecting the colonists will be easier, now that the war has ended, but there are other aspects of this situation which concern me. I intend to provide justice for the Arab population, if I can. My predecessors . . . lacked what might be called the virtue of the victor. The balance of the spirit and of the heart. The regard for the right of the weak. I hope to do better."

Returning a look of polite restraint, Jafar made no reply.

"If we mean to have a peaceful and effective administration, I believe we must have accurate and comprehensive knowledge of the people we govern—the customs and social organization, the language, the institutions. I want the Bureau staffed with officers well acquainted with the entire way of life of the native population. Which leads me to my point. I would very much like your help."

"Mine?"

"I am prepared to offer you an official position in the Bureaux Arabes." When Jafar's jaw hardened, Gervase held up a hand. "I can see by the look on your face that you mean to reject the idea, but before you decide, consider this. Holding a position of authority in the French government is the best way to influence your country's conquerors and protect your people. You would have the autonomy to govern a major part of your province, maintaining Arab justice while administering French laws. In exchange, you would act in the role of interpreter, judge, tax collector, intelligence officer. More importantly, you would advise me on the effectiveness of our policies and aid me in making appropriate changes and improvements."

Repressing his first inclination to tell Bourmont precisely what he could do with his offer, Jafar remained silent. In fact, he had to admire the colonel, both for the courage to present his plan honestly and without the use of threats, as he might have done, and for the plan itself. Enlisting the aid of the enemy to subjugate itself was clever and quite tenable in this

case. Yet the colonel's paternalistic view of his responsibilities struck Jafar as genuine. It was even possible—no, likely—that the colonel's motives were philanthropic, that he truly did want to foster peace between the Arabs and the French.

Jafar forced himself to let out the angry breath he had been holding. Glancing toward the curtained window, he saw the dwindling daylight and thought of Alysson. This was the best time of day, when late afternoon passed into evening, when waning sunlight faded from rose-gold to soothing violet. This was the time of day when he missed her most sharply. Unless one counted the moments when he woke each morning filled with a relentless ache, or when he restlessly sought sleep each night, or when he rode one of his horses, or when he visited any of the places he had been with her, when he walked through his empty house, when he gazed out at his barren courtyard and saw no defiant young Englishwoman sitting among the almond trees, her face lifted to the sun as if she wanted to wring every drop of energy out of life . . . when he simply existed. His sense of bereavement never left him.

But now he was being offered the chance to influence the future of his country. Even more, he was being offered salvation. The chance to have Alysson at his side without betraying his duty. If he were to accept Bourmont's proposal, he would be allying himself with the French. In his people's eyes, his marriage to a European would serve the same purpose as marrying the daughter of a neighboring ruler—the strengthening of tribal alliances. He could make Alysson his first wife . . . his only wife. If she would have him.

Even if that audacious dream were unattainable, he could not pass up the colonel's proposal if Bourmont was sincerely interested in working toward justice for the Algerian people. No matter if it galled him to play the role of the vanquished.

No doubt it galled Bourmont also to ask for aid from the man who had stolen his love and nearly destroyed his forces. They were each in positions that required compromise— although his own position was by far the weaker. The French were the victors for the moment. And like in the negotiations regarding his sultan, he would have to press for the best terms possible and continue from there.

Bowing to fate, Jafar returned his solemn gaze to Bourmont, who was quietly waiting. "I will consult with the other tribal leaders of my province, Colonel," Jafar said finally.

Bourmont eyed him quizzically. "I had assumed you would be able to make such a decision on your own."

Jafar permitted himself a brief smile. "No, the decision is not mine alone. I rule at the will of my people, not at my own whim. It is our way. If you mean what you say, if you intend to allow us to retain our customs and way of governing, you will try to understand."

"Yes . . . of course, I should have realized."

"And," Jafar said mildly, "if you can summon a bit more patience, I can promise you that your offer will be given careful consideration. I will even tell you that I mean to advise our council of the advantages of your proposal and give it my full support."