The Amenokal said, looking at Isobel, "I hear that in the lands of the
Roumi women are permitted in the higher councils."
Homer said steadily, "This I have also been amazed to hear. However,
it is fitting that my followers remain here while El Hassan discusses
matters of the highest importance with the Amenokal and his
chieftains. This is the Sitt Izubahil, high in the councils of her
people due to the great knowledge she has gained by attending the new
schools which dispense rare wisdom, as all men know."
The Amenokal courteously said, "_La Bas_," but Isobel held her peace
in decency amongst men of chieftain rank.
When Homer and the Tuaregs had disappeared into the tent, she said to
Cliff, "Stick by the car, I'm going to circulate among the women.
Women are women everywhere. I'll pick up the gossip, possibly get
something Homer will miss in there."
A group of Tuareg women and children, the latter stark naked, had
gathered to gape at the strangers. Isobel moved toward them, began
immediately breaking the ice.
Under his breath, Cliff muttered, "What a gal. Give her a few hours
and she'll form a Lady's Aid branch, or a bridge club, and where else
is El Hassan going to pick up so much inside information?"
* * * * *
The tent, which was of the highly considered mouflon skins, was
mounted on a wooden frame which consisted of two uprights with a
horizontal member laid across their tops. The tent covering was
stretched over this framework with its back and sides pegged down and
the front, which faced south, was left open. It was ten feet deep,
fifteen feet wide and five feet high in the middle.
The men entered and filed to the right of the structure where
sheepskins and rugs provided seating. The women and children, who
abided ordinarily to the left side, had vanished for this gathering of
the great.
They sat for a time and sipped at green tea, syrup sweet with mint and
sugar, the tiny cups held under the teguelmoust so as not to obscenely
reveal the mouth of the drinker.
Finally, Homer Crawford said, "You spoke of the magical instrument of
the Roumi which I gave you as gift, O Amenokal, and named me El
Hassan."
Several of the Tuareg chuckled beneath their veils but Crawford could
read neither warmth nor antagonism in their amusement.
The elderly Melchizedek nodded. "At first we were bewildered, O El
Hassan, but then my sister's son, Guemama, fated perhaps one day to
become chief of the Kel Rela and Amenokal of all the Ahaggar, recalled
the tales told by the storytellers at the fire in the long evenings."
Crawford looked at him politely.
Melchizedek's laugh was gentle. "But each man has heard, in his time,
O El Hassan, of the ancient Calif Haroun El Raschid of Baghdad."
Crawford's mind went into high gear, as the story began to come back
to him. From second into high gear, and he could have blessed these
bedouin for handing him a piece of publicity gobblydygook worthy of
Fifth Avenue's top agency.
He held up a hand as though in amusement at being discovered.
"Wallahi, O Amenokal, you have discovered my secret. For many months I
have crossed the deserts disguised as a common Enaden smith to seek
out all the people and to learn their wishes and their needs."
"Even as Haroun el Raschid in the far past," one of the subchiefs
muttered in satisfaction, "used to disguise himself as a lowborn
dragoman and wander the streets of Baghdad."
"But how did you recognize me?" Homer said.
The Amenokal said in reproof, "But verily, your name is on all lips.
The Roumi have branded you common criminal. You are to be seized on
sight and great reward will be given he who delivers you to the
authorities." He spoke without inflection, and Crawford could read
neither support nor animosity--nor greed for the reward offered by El
Hassan's enemies. He gathered the impression that the Tuareg chief was
playing his cards close to his chest.
"And what else do they say?"
The elderly Melchizedek went on slowly, "They say that El Hassan is in
truth a renegade citizen of a far away Roumi land and that he attempts
to build a great confederation in North Africa for his own gain."
One of the others chuckled and said, "The Roumi on the magical
instrument are indeed great liars as all can see."
Homer looked at him questioningly.
The other said, laughing, "Who has ever heard of a black Roumi? And
you, O El Hassan, are as black as a Bela."
The Amenokal finished off the mystery of Crawford's recognition.
"Know, El Hassan, that whilst you were here before, one of the slaves
that served you for pay shamelessly looked upon your face in the
privacy of your tent. It was this slave who recognized your face when
the Roumi presented it on the magic instrument, calling upon all men
to see you and to brand you enemy."
So that was it. The Reunited Nations, and probably all the rest, had
used their radio and TV stations to broadcast a warning and offer a
reward for Homer and his followers. Old Sven was losing no time. This
wasn't so good. A Tuareg owes allegiance to no one beyond clan, tribe
and confederation. All others are outside the pale and any advantage,
monetary or otherwise, to be gained by exploiting a stranger is well
within desert mores.
He might as well bring it to the point. Crawford said evenly, "And I
have entered your camp alone except for two followers. Your people are
many. So why, O Amenokal, have you not seized me for the reward the
Roumi offer?"
* * * * *
There was a moment of silence and Homer Crawford sensed that the
sub-chieftains had leaned forward in anticipation, waiting for their
leader's words. Possibly they, too, could not understand.
The Tuareg leader finished his tea.
"Because, El Hassan, we yet have not heard the message which the Roumi
are so anxious that you not be allowed to bring the men of the desert.
The Roumi are great liars, and great thieves, as each man knows. In
the memory of those still living, they have stolen of the bedouin and
robbed him of land and wealth. So now we would hear of what you say,
before we decide."
"Spoken like a true Amenokal, a veritable Suliman ben Davud," Homer
said with a heartiness he could only partly feel. At least they were
open to persuasion.
For a long moment he stared down at the rug upon which they sat, as
though deep in contemplation.
"These words I speak will be truly difficult to hear and accept, O men
of the veil," he said at last. "For I speak of great change, and no
man loves change in the way of his life."
"Speak, El Hassan," Melchizedek said flatly. "Great change is
everywhere upon us, as each man knows, and none can tell how to
maintain the ways of our fathers."
"We can fight," one of the younger men growled.
The Amenokal turned to him and grunted scorn. "And would you fight
against the weapons of the djinn and afrit, O Guemama? Know that in my
youth I was distant witness to the explosion of a great weapon which
the accursed Franzawi discharged south of Reggan. Know, that this
single explosion, my sister's son, could with ease have destroyed the
total of all the tribesmen of the Ahaggar, had they been gathered."
"And the Roumi have many such weapons," Crawford added gently.
The eyes of the tribal headmen came back to him.
"As each man knows," Crawford continued, "change is upon the world. No
matter how strongly one wills to continue the traditions of his
fathers, change is upon us all. And he who would press against the
sand storm, rather than drifting with it, lasts not long."