The thought was immediately followed by a vivid mental image of Jean Cameron's pleading face. Please, Ross, I am begging you. Even now he could not be completely certain of Ian's fate, and Jean would still be left with a faint, destructive thread of hope.
Beyond that, Ross realized with painful clarity, he did not entirely want to be saved from the bittersweet pleasure of Juliet's company. "Your counsel is wise, Abdul Wahab, but I cannot go back without positive proof. If my brother is dead, perhaps the amir will allow me to take his body back to England."
The leader looked pessimistic, but nodded. "So be it."
Wanting to know more about the ferengi, Ross said, "The man who was executed—what was his condition?"
"Very grave. He was scarcely more than bones, with terrible sores all over his body. He looked like an old man, though I think he was not." Abdul Wahab grimaced. "Did you know that the amir breeds special vermin in the Black Well, solely to make the prisoners suffer more? I do not think that the ferengi would have survived much longer as a prisoner. At least the sword spared him further suffering."
"My brother would have died bravely," Ross said, his voice not quite a question.
"Aye, he did. Though he was weak, he stood tall and with his right hand he made the sign of the cross over his breast as he spoke in his own language. I cannot know for certain, but I believe that he commended his soul to the Christian God." The kafila-bashi inclined his head respectfully. "It would have been more fitting for a warrior to die in battle, but I assure you that he did not disgrace himself or his family."
Ross was surprised. His brother-in-law had never been religious, and the sign of the cross was hardly standard practice among Scots Presbyterians. Yet he could understand the gesture. Months of imprisonment could change anyone's spiritual beliefs, and crossing himself sounded like Ian's last gesture of defiance, a public proclamation of his nationality and religion.
Even at the end, he had been unbroken. Perhaps that would be some comfort to his family.
"Thank you for your information, Abdul Wahab." Ross got to his feet. "As compensation for the fact that my presence might cause trouble, I and my servant Jalal are well armed, and we will gladly use our weapons in the defense of the caravan."
"God willing, your arms will not be needed, but I am glad to know that you have them." Two more men entered the cubicle, so the caravan leader gave a nod of dismissal and turned to deal with the next problem.
Saleh beside him, Ross went out into the courtyard, thinking that matters were going well. The kafila-bashi seemed a capable and tolerant man, and with luck they would make it across the Kara Kum without incident. Ross looked forward to beginning the last leg of the journey.
Unfortunately, before that would happen, he must tell Juliet what he had learned about her brother. That he was not looking forward to at all.
Chapter 8
Juliet hunkered against the wall of the caravansary, arms crossed on her raised knees as she idly watched Murad tend the fire and prepare the evening meal. During the course of the day, the Persian had given up trying to make conversation, for she responded to his efforts with either silence or a growled monosyllable. She regretted the rudeness, but it would be folly to become friendly with the young man. The less Murad knew about her, the better.
She shifted position to ease the chafing of the vestlike garment she wore under her robes to flatten her breasts. She had never bothered with such a thing before; though she habitually wore male dress, it had always been a matter of convenience rather than a serious attempt to disguise her gender.
But this journey was different, so she had taken precautions to reduce the chance that anyone might realize that she was female. Knowing she would have to wear it continuously, she had deliberately fashioned the vest to be as loose as possible, but it was still a bloody nuisance. At least the weather was temperate now; the garment would be far more uncomfortable in the summer heat.
Glancing across the courtyard, she saw Ross and Saleh weaving their way between the fires and dozing camels. Ross wore his Asiatic garments as if he had been born to them; it was hard to believe that he was an English aristocrat.
Her expression safely hidden behind her veil, Juliet smiled a little, thinking that now he looked like an oriental aristocrat. There was nothing her husband could do to make his appearance undistinguished.
Now that everyone was together, it was time to eat. After Ross, Saleh, and Juliet had seated themselves around a low circular table, Murad set a large platter in their midst, then took his own place. The chunks of roast mutton purchased in the bazaar were served on a bed of cooked rice obtained from the caravansary cookshop, and there was fresh flat bread as well.