CAPTAIN OF HIS SOUL by Marcher

gama39@austarmetro.com.au

PG 13

"No coward soul is mine, no trembler in the world's storm troubled sphere..." - Emily Bronte

CHAPTER 11 ~ PRIDE THAT LICKS THE DUST

Forgetting the impending battle of words between himself, Emir and Jonathan, Rick's feet crunched on the sand spattered road as he turned, squinting his eyes against the bright rays to search out his son.  He saw nothing other than a handful of people milling on the streets, several beast drawn carts and a single parked car.  Half turning back to Jonathan, he asked uncertainly,  "You sure?"

"I'm certain it was."  Still shielding his eyes, Jonathan stepped up beside his taller companion.   He too had lost sight of the child and now with furrowed expression,  urgently picked out spots ahead without result and wondered if his eyes had been playing tricks on him.  "Although I can't see my sister anywhere."  Before another word was uttered, Alex wandered into view from behind the stationary car; and even from this distance it was obvious he was lost and distressed. 

Leaving Emir to wonder and Jonathan to limp behind him, Rick disregarded the prolonged ache in his leg and hurried to the aid of his small son. At this point he was unsure whether the fact that Evelyn was nowhere in sight worried or angered him.   Too much had happened over the last few months and this was just one more hassle he could do without.  For a man who had lived with trouble and death for most of his life, he felt himself drowning in the wake of recent events.  He wanted to distance himself from it as he had always been able to do, but it was impossible.Ethan was his son!  No matter that he died before he even lived.  He wasn't a soldier cut down in duty, nor a barefoot child beggar from the seedy
underbelly of Egypt.  Ethan was his...and the grief of his loss would not subside quickly.  Slipping quietly into old habbits had provided his ravaged heart with a haven  As much as Emir smuggled for the money, this time Rick joined the collusion for nothing more than the thrill of the chase. He needed to breath again..to live!  To risk the danger and survive it!  He knew the truth of himself with every step he took towards Alex.   Shame may have etched it's mark on his conscious over the doubt his actions could cast over his wife and son, but it's force was less than that of his sorrow
and confusion.  He cursed the heat, something of a daily ritual it seemed lately, and imagined the fierce arguement he and his wife were bound to engage in once they found each other.

~~~~

Hidden and alone, Evelyn's small frame was huddled into the corner of the cemetery wall where she had crawled for safety.  Her arms locked tightly around her knees and for the longest time she thought of nothing other than the loose tie on her shoe.  When at length, she eventually endeavoured to fix it, her hands shook too much and her fingers seemed useless.  Silence surrounded her and the world seemed as though it was a thousand miles away.  Her parched mouth felt as though it had doubled in size and her jaw throbbed.  Tentatively she touched her mouth, instantly pulling her hand away, wincing sharply at the pain.  Her sudden gasp of pain only served to throw herself into a coughing fit that was fuelled by the sand irritating her throat.  A layer of sand had settled beneath her clothes, scratching against her skin while she shuddered from the fit.  In fact, the grit was everywhere; in her hair as well as her shoes and between her fingers.  The more she coughed the worse it irritated.  It was her own distressed sound which echoed off the walls and faded away once more into silence when it at last subsided.

Slowly and carefully, she raised herself and leaned against the wall before dusting down her wrinkled skirt and ridding herself of the most visible coating of dirt. Her hand skimmed over a damp patch which for a moment confused her.  Was it blood?  Hard to tell against the colour of her skirt, but there seemed no other explaination for it.  Had she fought that hard?   What she wanted was a bath.  Yes!  She needed to rid herself of this dirt, and the sooner the better!  Taking a step forward her legs wobbled, refusing to support her weight and forcing her to thrust a hand against the wall to steady herself.  Any movement caused a terrible pain to just about any part of her body and her head began to throb out of time with her jaw.  Swaying and trying to focus, Evelyn caught her breath once more and cast a cautious eye around and between the headstones, seeking out any sign of movment.  There was nobody! She had been left completely alone.   Ethan's grave was on the other side of the cemetery and she was as grateful for that as she was for her solitude.

Instantly, her mind fell to Alex!  Frantically turning her head left and right, she found no trace of him.   Leaning forward, still relying on the steadying influence of one hand scraping the stone wall with her fingertips, she began calling her son's name as well as she was able.Her rasping efforts only triggered another coughing fit that dropped her back to her knees.  A consuming sense of terror engulfed her as she remembered trying to hide him behind her then urgently pushing him away hoping he would find safety.  Her first and only thought was that they had taken him!  Stolen Alex away from her just as Ethan had been.  Silent tears flowed slow and steady as she pulled herself up again, step by step clinging onto the wall as she made her way to the cemetery gates.  Still no Alex!  "No, no, no!"  her doleful murmuring almost too quiet for even herself to hear. 

Looking out with the dead behind her, she was faced with the same backstreet she had ventured down after deciding to visit her child's grave. It was still practically deserted except for a middle aged local woman stacking empty baskets onto the back of a cart.  Evelyn summoned every remaining shred of her English dignity and straightened herself, clearing her tearful vision with the back of her hand.  Each step was arduous agony, but she she had little choice.  The sturdy cart-loader turned when Evelyn was only a few yards away and set down the basket she held.  The woman was visibly taken aback by the stranger's piteous condition and offered a timid, helping hand which Evelyn either didn't see or refused to accept.  In a broken voice, the American's wife began asking questions of her son.  Had there been any sign of him?   Perhaps wandering alone or being carried away by two Legionnaires?  The cart-woman stared back shaking her head in apology; not in answer but through in her inability to speak English.  Now with clear desperation, Evelyn lowered her hand to demonstrate Alex's height and persisted, "A small boy!  About this tall!  I fear he may be lost!"  Once more the woman shook her head, not understanding.  Evelyn had reached the end of her endurance.  Her head clouded and she stumbled a few paces over the cobbled road and collapsed.

~~~~

Alex struggled against the large hands which lifted his feet high from the road, his hoarse cries filling the ears of all those nearby.   It took minutes of reassuranace from his father before the child recognized him, but once he did he clung to Rick's chest and his wails settled into deep sobs.   Jonathan covered the distance, puffing as he arrived and rubbed his hand over the top of his nephew's head.  "Is he alright?"

Rick turned full circle without catching sight of Evelyn before answering, "Yeah, he looks okay.  Can you see Evie anywhere?"  Any initial anger he felt over the situation was fast dissolving into a real concern for her whereabouts.  Even Jonathan could only offer a worried grunt in response.  Both men knew that Evelyn would not willingly leave Alex to his own devices in the Cairo Marketplace and an uneasy feeling settled over the pair, perfectly relayed to each other without need of a single word.

"Well do you know where she was going at least?"  Jonathan's question carried every ounce of alarm and accusation that he had intended to convey; and O'Connell's response was as equally defensive.

"You heard as much as I did!  She just said she was taking Alex for a walk!"

"Perhaps if you two had been on more civil terms lately, she might have extended the courtesy of telling you exactly where she was walking to!"

"Do you wanna pick a fight with me here in the street, or would you rather help find your sister?!"

"I have seen many times how families quarrel amongst themselves, and it makes me happy not having to endure such pleasantries of the domestic household."  Both Carnahan and O'Connell broke there steely glare of each other and trained it accurately upon Emir, but the Egyptian's sarcasm did not falter.  "Can I now freely assume that I've bought into the family business and that this waif belongs to you, O'Connell?"

"Assume what you want, Emir!"  Rick's blunt tone was wasted on the half-Egyptian who simply dropped his shoulders in frustration over the delay in their business.   "Find Nasser and tell him to wait until he hears from me."

"And that would be when, do you think?  It becomes more dangerous for us the longer we hold onto these items!  And if we waste too much more time the buyers will get cold feet!  You know that as well as anybody!"

"Not much longer!"  O'Connell snapped, "He'll hear from me by tonight!  Just find him and tell him!"

"And tell him there's an extra share of the booty to be divvied up as well!"  Hammond was taken aback by Jonathan's announcement and  shot a look of dumfounded surprise at the American. 

O'Connell too turned to Jonathan and with a certain tone of defeat in his voice, waved Emir on his way and groaned, "Yeah, tell him that as well."

Emir cursed in his native tongue and shuffled on his way,  sporadically turning back to mutter his disapproval under his breath. 

He hadn't gone ten feet when a breathless shout caught the attention of all those who mingled about the vacinity, which was soon followed by the appearance of the cart-woman stumbling into the street.  O'Connell and his companions stared silently as she halted to rest her plump frame against a shop wall to catch her breath.  The woman raised her arm as though it were made of lead and waved to several men clustered on the other side of the road before glupling her breath and gasping, "Yalla!"  The group she had signalled made their way across the street shouting her name, believing her to be ill or suspecting trouble in the nature of business.  Their concern heightened when she leaned her hands heavily against her thighs, her chest still heaving for air and choked out her words, "Yalla!...hi iHtaj...musa'adi!  la-t a Ht haunik"

Her plea intrigued Emir who ambled his way back to his companions and stared down into the alleyway from where the woman appeared.  Straining his head from side to side he enquired lazily,"Do you see anything?"

O'Connell ignored him.  His full attention was focused on the woman.  His knowledge of the local language served him well enough to get by, but her breathless cries made little sense to him other than to convey the obvious urgency of what she was trying to say.  Considering the manner in which Alex had been left to fend for himself, the woman's sudden, distressed appearance filled him with unease.  It was Jonathan who answered Emir with his usual degree of intolerance, "See what?  Even if I could speak the lingo, it would be impossible to understand her through all that heavy breathing!"

Emir buried his hands in his pockets and nodded his head in the direction of the alley, ""Something's happened to someone in there.  A woman from what she says."

Still doubled over from her unexpected exertion, the matriach of these men lifted her head to see them stood fussing over her instead of following her instructions.  She slapped one of them on the hip and swatted her hand in the direction behind, repeating urgently, "Yalla!!"

The feeling in the pit of  Rick's gut was fast developing into sickening knot.  Without wasting time on explanations, he pushed Alex into Jonathan's arms and followed the group, almost certain of what he would find.

~~~~

Neil Waters' pace waned in the footsteps of his Corporal, Haris Furborough as they made their way through the bustling streets.  They still had a few hours to kill before the Regiment moved out and Furborough had been emphatic they make the most of the time they had left.  As he had pointed out previously to his young command, there was no telling when such a variety of entertainment would be next be available to them.  However, his blithe quip of  'make hay while the sun shines' left a sour taste in the young American's mouth.  Private Waters was struggling to comprehend the event he had not only been forced to witness, but to stand guard over.  Warnings were beginning to flash in his mind and he fixed his eyes on the back of his vulgarian Senior Officer.  A hatred began to plant it's first seeds in his heart as he watched Furborough walk ahead of him.  An irksome bile was churning slowly in the pit of his stomach and was gathering an intesity.  Waters found his feet would carry him no further of their own accord without question.  He stopped dead in his tracks and watched the uniform clad figure ahead of him merge into the crowd.  He thought of the small boy she had pushed to safety, unwittingly creating an unusual concern for the child.  He then thought of the woman herself and spat to be rid of the rising insipid taste in his mouth before denouncing the Legionnaire ahead of him, "Who was she?!"  It was a demanding shout but there was no immediate retaliation from Furborough.  He only turned his head over his shoulder to cast an almost mocking look at his younger comrade.

"She was reprisal!"

Confounded, Water's shuffled on the spot, shaking his head.  He was at a total loss as to how make sense of this!  He tried forming words of reply but blind astonishment prevented him from uttering anything other than a few confused gasps.  Furborough ambled back to his side and jolted the boy with an overly firm slap of confidence to his shoulder, "Of course, I wasn't expecting to run into the little lady all alone, completely by herself!   But chance is a fine thing, hey!  Is it not?"

The Private shook his head in furious confusion, "What did she do?  She hardly looked the type to steal or ..."

"She was pay back for my recent injuries."  Furborough interupted with a sickening sneer, but he continued regardless of his friends obvious disdain, "A bonus you could say."

Waters' was losing patience and gaining anxiety in the face of The Corporal's outrageous arrogance, "But how does she figure in your broken face?  She sure as hell wasn't strong enough to lay you out!"

Furborough's small eyes narrowed as he stepped up close and spoke in sinister breath against Waters' cheek, "You might say she was the beginning of all my trouble in this town.  Women are always trouble." He mused aloud before adding somewhat lightheartedly, "Besides which, she was only a folly!  I plan to exact my revenge on the man himself before we pull out today."  The Corporal of the Legion glanced skyward to track the point of the sun before casting his eyes into the crowd, "There's still a few good hours of sunlight left.  Anyway, he shouldn't be too hard to find once he finds her." 
The malice in his laugh snaked it's way into his arm and wrapped itself around Neil Waters' shoulders.  Furborough leaned a heavy, overly friendly force around the Private's neck, motioning for him to follow but Waters' recoiled from the Corporal's contact and moved out of reach.  A chilling realization washed over him and the young American stammered, aghast,

"That was O'Connell's wife!"

The nefarious soldier scoffed in reply, "Yeah.  Well so he says."

"Then that kid was his as well!"

"Possibly?  What difference does it make?"  Furborough's anger began to rise as Waters' stepped further away from him.  "Don't go all prissy on me now, you little prat!"  His voice boomed through the crowd drawing peculiar looks from the cram of people about them, but Waters continued to shake his head and raise his hands as if to rid himself of any responsibility of the Englishman's actions.

"I'm not taking the fall for this!  For you or anyone!  I was under O'Connell's command in Syria and I don't plan getting on the wrong side of him... especially over this!" 

The Private turned his back and pushed his way through the crowd, gladly leaving Corporal Furborough to his own amusement.  Whether or not he would report the matter was still undecided.   The events of the afternoon held too much over his own head to simply go blurting out all the horrid details!  Besides, he needed to consider the pros and cons of truth telling before any safe decision could be made.  Haris Furborough was shouting, unsuccessfully attempting to force himself through the crowd in pursuit of Waters.  "Ya bleedin' toe-rag!  Come back 'ere!"  Amusingly, it occured to
Waters that if the over confident Haris had any idea of how heavily he was tipping the scales against himself in this decision, he would shut up here and now!

Stiff with fury, Furborough cursed repeatedly then shoved a fruit monger to the ground in a fit of rage.  A fierce growl lurked in his throat as he watched Waters fade into the crowd and he kicked a basket spilling fruit over the prone vendor and onto the road.  He turned away without a word of apology and stepped over the chaos he had created.  Neil Waters could be dealt with later.  Right now, Corporal Furborough was going to pursue his orignal quarry and fry the lesser fish later.

~~~~

The still healing injury to his leg prevented Rick summoning the speed he required to keep pace with the old woman's minders.  The effort it took simply to reach Alex before he wandered onto the middle of the road had already created a further mischief to his wound.  He felt something give at least ten yards before he held his son safely.  Now, as he pressed a hand over his thigh attempting to counteract the throbbing with pressure, he  felt the hot flow of blood seeping through his trousers and the wound began stinging, irritated by the material.  The thought crossed his mind that this could be a wasted, painful effort if all he found at the end was an old upturned cart with an even more ancient female trapped beneath a mountain of cabbages. On the other hand, he considered it might be a blessing if he did.

After six or seven narrow turns through the alley, he at last caught sight of the men about fifty feet ahead of him.  Three stood staring down at a fourth man who was hunkered beside a pathetic form lying all too still in the shadows.  O'Connell was forced to stop momentarily for the sake of his injury and stole an inspection of his now blood soaked leg.  There was nothing to be done for that right now, but a foreboding sense of fear tinged with guilt caused him to delay in stepping any closer to the scene ahead of him.  He could hear Jonathan approaching from around the corner, his exagerated moaning preceeding him, and it sounded as though the old cart-woman was not far behind.  The thought of enduring her ten to the
dozen high pitched histrionics and Jonathan's hypochondria made the decision for him.  Pushing aside trepidation, O'Connell swallowed and  moved carefully forward.

At first it was difficult clearly make out anything other than it was a woman lying slumped and battered on the cobblestones.  However, each step revealed more of what appeared to be a murder!  There was no immediate sign of life from this disguarded body and he was already refusing to believe it could be Evelyn! 

He stopped and concealed himself in the shadows.  Common sense was telling him to spare his leg and seek treatment, whereas his heart was warning of a tragedy too great to face if he kept walking.  It couldn't be her!  Not left to the rats in a dirty back lane of Cairo.  Not her!  But as fate would have it, any repudiation was quickly erased by a gust of wind tossing Evelyn's hat against his leg then into the shadows and beyond.

"Aaaaaah!"  His low groan of recognition emanated from deeper than he would have believed, hurting his chest and throat.  He punched his hand into the wall so hard his knuckles scraped and bled.  Jonathan rounded the corner with Alex on his hip and the old woman two paces behind.  Rick raised a hand to his brother-in-law to halt him.  "Stay there!"  With his heart pounding in his chest, the ex-Legionnaire slammed one foot in front of the other until he was able to push one of the local men aside and dropped to his knees beside his wife.  The blood from his own wound was now flowing freely, mixing with Evelyn's that had stained her dress.  He cradled her head in his hands, whispering her name.  Her eyes remained shut, her face drained of colour.  She was a mess!  Covered head to foot in sand and dirt!  Wet blood smeared her hands and clothes, her hair looked as though it had been yanked free of it's pins and even her shoes were untied.  Desperate for any response no matter how small, he spoke her name again and again, but she remained as she was. 

"My God!"  Jonathan stood looking over Rick's shoulder, shocked by his sister's appearance. Anger filled the American's eyes when he saw Jonathan still had hold of Alex and demanded he remove the boy quickly.  None-the-less, Jonathan did not budge, "Evie?"

"Just get him out of here, Jonathan!  Now!"

Evelyn murmured.  So quietly, Rick wasn't even sure if he'd really heard her.  Then she coughed, once at first, then in a fit as she fought against the sand lodged in her throat.  Her husband laughed fleetingly with relief then gently rolled her onto to her side to ease the spasms which closely followed the convulsions in her lungs.  Pressing his face against hers, he spoke no louder than a whisper, "I'm sorry, Sweetheart!  I'm so sorry!  Just breath.It'll be fine."  In the same movement, O'Connell lifted his head to search out her brother, "Jonathan!" 

"I'm already gone, Rick!  Just stay with her and I'll be back as soon as I can!"



END CHAPTER

hi iHtaj musa'adi…la-t a Ht haunik…yalla
She needs help…down there…hurry.