The next day they acquired horses and supplies and donned Arab clothing before heading north-north east into the dry, rocky lands beyond Ankara. After six days of easy travel they sighted the coast of the Black Sea and here, William Häfner parted company with them, for his destination lay far in the north.
After their farewell, Holmes and Elizabeth travelled on a more southerly route and after four days began to search for word or sign of the Divine Wind and his men.
Elizabeth’s contacts in this part of the world were extensive and hard news soon reached them. They would find the Divine Wind near Samsat.
Elizabeth was pleased when she heard this. “Cyrus has been moving further south. Good. They have itched to do some real work beyond petty raiding and sabotage, and the real work lies south.”
Another three days brought them into the camp itself. Their way was more cautious, for as the Turkish front was pushed north, the countryside grew busier with the movements of troops and civilians.
Elizabeth’s welcome was a reserved and respectful one but there was genuine warmth there. Even Cyrus, when they stepped into the command tent, threw his hands up and said “Praise Allah! Your timing is perfect as usual. I am faced with a dilemma only you can answer.”
Later, he spoke of the night of the German raid. “We lost five men—either killed or captured. Our casualties were so light because we scattered so quickly. The Germans destroyed the camp, of course and left before sunrise the next day. By sunrise of the day after that, most of the men had trickled back into the camp. We stayed another two days for stragglers and to finalize the tally of missing, then moved far north into the no-man’s plains up there, where not even the Turks will go. When I thought the Germans had truly lost interest in us, I started bringing us south again.”
“You’ve done well, Cyrus,” Elizabeth assured him.
After two days, Holmes announced his intention to leave.
“But we’re travelling south, anyway,” Elizabeth pointed out. “And it’s safer travelling with a group.”
“A group of Bedouins amongst growing numbers of desperate Turks? I believe I would be able to travel faster and less conspicuously on my own.” He shook his head. “It’s time, Elizabeth.”
He was given supplies and gifts, clothing and whatever else he requested. Two horses—one as burden-bearer, the other the same horse he had been given by the Australian captain, east of Jerusalem, weeks before.
He left at sunrise the next day and no one stirred in the camp save Elizabeth, who emerged from the tent wrapped in her modest Bedouin woman’s disguise but with her veil removed.
Holmes stood before her. “Thank you,” he said simply and took her hand and kissed it. Then, moving more freely with the help of a roughly hewn crutch, he clambered with practiced awkwardness into the saddle and stowed the crutch. He turned the horses southward and departed.
* * * * *
“Sir? Captain! Are you awake? Captain!”
The exhortations brought Cameron Rowe slowly awake, to find his sergeant standing over him.
He sat up slowly, as the aches and bruises of a dozen days’ hard fighting reminded him of their presence. There was a steady throbbing from the bullet wound in his shoulder. He would need to have it seen to again. All of it was a weary reminder of the grim odds they were battling just now.
“What is it, Hughes?” he asked the sergeant. “And what time is it?”
“Just gone two in the afternoon, sir.”
They had been out on reconnaissance the night before and Rowe had only fallen onto his camp bed a scant three hours before. He groaned.
“I’ve got a fellow being held on the sentry line. He’s asked for you by name, sir, or I would have tossed him out on his ear.”
“Why does he want to see me? Did he give you his name?”
“That’s just it, sir. He says his name is Sigerson but the bloke’s one of those Bedouin raiders or I’m a monkey’s uncle. Injured, though.”
Rowe stood up. “I’ll see him.” He reached for his coat and stepped outside, to where the table and pair of camp chairs sat. His office.
He could see where the guards were standing bracketing a tall Arab dressed in dusty, filthy robes. Hughes waved to them and they pushed the fellow forward a little. He was using a crutch and despite his maimed hobble, he covered the ground quickly. As he got closer, Rowe studied the eyes above the folds of the headcloth wrapped around his face. They were the eyes of the man he had spoken to, several weeks ago, just outside Jerusalem.
As he got closer, Sigerson pulled the headcloth loose, revealing his face.
“Sit,” Rowe said, as soon as he reached the table.
“Thank you, that would be appreciated,” Sigerson told him, sinking into the chair and propping the stiff, splinted leg in front of him.
“You’re still not traveling the easy path, I see,” Rowe observed.
“The difficult way is often the most rewarding, haven’t you noticed?” There was an air of humor, almost joy, emerging from the man but it was so faint, Rowe thought he may be imagining it. A contained man but one much changed from the last time he’d seen him.
“You found what you were looking for, in the north?”
“Oh, yes. I found answers, indeed.” This time, Sigerson did smile. He reached into his robes and withdrew a stiff packet of papers, bound with an elastic band and placed them in front of Rowe.
“You’ll find in there the disposition, placement, strengths and numbers of most of the Turkish troops in and around Amman and everything within striking distance to the north that could be brought to bear upon the allies.”
Rowe looked at the packet, stunned. After a moment, he said slowly, “Do you know how valuable this information is? Do you know how we have been rebuffed twice at Amman?”
“Yes.”
“It is precisely because we are not certain of the disposition of Turks in and around Amman that we have come to grief.”
“Now you are certain, aren’t you?” He tapped the packet. “I would appreciate it if you would pass this onto Chauvel and Allenby. They could use it, I’m sure.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Rowe said dryly. “But you should give it to them yourself. They would want to thank you, even if they could do nothing else.”
“No. I have lingered around Amman longer than I should, gathering this information. I did it not for praise from generals but as thanks to you and your men for your help in December. You should pass this on and there’s no need to mention my name.”
“I could not falsely claim this as my own work.”
“Then say it was a native of these parts, who has since returned to his home. It will be close enough to the truth.”
“You are going home? To London?”
“To London, yes, where I must deal with the last few tasks I have remaining. Then home, to Sussex.”
“And the native of these parts…” Rowe pointed to his dusty robes. “You have lost all your reluctance,” he observed.
“If you face the truth squarely, captain, it draws the sting. After that, there is no need to fear it anymore.”
Rowe smiled a little. “I won’t profess to understand you, sir but I’m glad to see you survived your excursion to the north.”
Sigerson got to his feet and thrust the crutch under him. “I have returned your horse. I suspect you might need extra mounts in the next few months.”
“That we will.” Rowe got to his feet again. “Get yourself some supplies from the canteen before you leave, Sigerson. And thank you. Your gift may just make the difference.” He touched the packet of papers.
“That was its intention. I have a personal interest in ensuring the Turks are driven far from here.”
Rowe held out his hand, which Sigerson gripped readily. “It has been a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Holmes.”