In the Eye of the Storm (Storm and Silence 2)

We were just riding through a shadowed valley between two bare hills when I decided to make another attempt at the fortress. Driving Ambrose closer to Mr Ambrose, I cleared my throat.

Nothing happened.

I cleared my throat again.

‘Do you have a cold?’ Mr Ambrose asked without looking at me.

If I had, it would be from your voice and not the climate!

‘No!’ I glared at him. ‘I’m not putting up with this any longer! I’m not walking blindly into a trap! If you have got a plan, fine! Share! If you haven’t got one, then at least admit it! After what you did back in the sandstorm, I wouldn’t be surprised if you thought you could just march right through anything and anyone because you’re so high and mighty! But at least admit it! And if you do have a plan after all, I want to bloody know what it is! I want to know what you plan to do when we meet the-’

‘Bandits!’ Mr Ambrose growled.

‘Yes, that’s exactly it.’ I nodded. ‘So are you going to tell me?’

But Mr Ambrose wasn’t paying any attention to me. He turned around, signalling to Youssef. ‘Bandits! There! Bandits!’

Slowly, the realization sank in: he wasn’t talking to me anymore. Mr Ambrose raised his arm, and I followed it with my wide-eyed gaze. There, on top of the nearest hill, stood a figure, its silhouette sharply contrasting against the burning blue sky. My heart picked up the pace. More figures appeared, right and left, mounted and unmounted, until we were surrounded by a virtual forest of men.

‘Oh.’ I swallowed. ‘I guess our talk will have to wait.’

Raising their sabres, the bandits gave a guttural war cry and charged down the hillside.

Camelkaboom

I expected Mr Ambrose to charge at the bandits single-handedly. I expected bullets to fly and gallons of blood to flow. I expected a terrifying battle. What I didn’t expect was Mr Ambrose sliding from his camel, falling to his knees and throwing his rifle away.

‘Please! Please don’t hurt us! We are just merchants! We mean nobody any harm. Please don’t hurt us!’

I stared at him open-mouthed.

The foremost bandit, the leader, to judge by the arrogant smirk on his face, pulled his camel to a halt in front of Mr Ambrose and spat on the ground.

‘English pig! So much for your famous “stiff upper lip”! Tell your men to throw their weapons away!’

‘Men!’ Mr Ambrose called, his voice trembling, yes, actually trembling with fear! ‘Throw your weapons away, immediately! These people won’t harm us if we don’t resist!’

The bandit laughed.

‘I didn’t say anything about that, pig! Out of my way!’

‘But…’

Mr Ambrose didn’t get any further. Driving his camel forward, the bandit leader rode directly at him, and Mr Ambrose had just enough time to throw himself out of the way. Riding directly into the centre of the valley, the leader raised his gun over his head and shot into the sky, silencing everyone.

‘All right, men!’ he hollered. ‘Gather up the weapons! Drive the camels to the east of the valley, and those English pigs to the west!’

So far, I had watched the whole proceedings with mouth agape. But now my stunned brain jumped into action. I drove my camel forward and bent down to pick up Mr Ambrose’s fallen rifle from the ground.

‘Hey, you!’ A shot rang out over my head. ‘Stop that!’

I was just about to right myself and return fire - if I could figure out how a rifle worked in three seconds, that is - when a hard hand grabbed my wrist and pulled me down from the camel. A moment later I was flat on the ground, encaged in Mr Ambrose’s arms.

‘Forgive my wife!’ he pleaded with the bandits. ‘She’s had a heatstroke. She’s not right in the head!’ And into my ear, he hissed in his usual, cold, commanding tone: ‘If you don’t keep still, I will knock you out, understand?’

I froze. That didn’t sound like the voice of a defeated man. That sounded suspiciously like a man with a plan.

‘Your wife?’ The bandit barked a laugh. ‘You’ve got one woman among you all, and she’s the only one who is man enough to pick up a rifle! That is a good joke! So much for the famed courage of the English! Now, do as you’re told! Get over to the west of the valley, or I’ll shoot you down here and now!’