The Lioness of Morocco(61)

“You wish to accompany us?” Sibylla asked.

“Of course,” Sabri answered, tormented with worry about Emily. “We have no idea what to expect. One doctor may not be enough.”



Early the following evening, Sibylla, Frédéric, Thomas, and Sabri, together with the qaid’s six armed cavalrymen, arrived at the gates of Qasr el Bahia. Anxiety had hastened their journey. They had stayed in the saddle all day and paused only to let the horses have a drink of water. Both humans and animals were utterly exhausted.

The closer the group got to its destination, the lower morale sank. Thomas and Sabri conferred softly about what sort of medical emergencies they might have to deal with. Frédéric’s expression was gloomy. Sibylla’s thoughts were with Emily and André. Still, she noticed how desolate the countryside they were traveling through looked. Swarms of crows and ravens were circling in the sky and devouring the locusts as though they were at a banquet. Sibylla had never seen so many insects and could not help but shudder at the sight. They were on the ground, in the shrubs and trees, buzzing through the air in swarms, and falling into her hair, into the folds of her clothing, and onto her increasingly unsettled horse. Two shepherds they met told them that this was merely a remnant of the huge swarm now on its way to the ocean, darkening the sky along its way. The bare landscape suggested an infestation of biblical proportions. The trees and shrubs were bare and leafless and there was not a single leaf of grass for the horses to eat. Fortunately, John had insisted on packing fodder for them.

Qasr el Bahia looked forbidding in the evening light. No torches burned in either of the two donjons or in the iron brackets framing the gate. Everything seemed eerily still, almost uninhabited.

Frédéric jumped off his horse and pounded on the gate with both fists. “It’s me! Open up! I’ve brought help! Can you hear me? Open up!”

Sibylla’s heart was racing. What would they find inside? Had Emily really not been hurt? And what about André? She could not bear to think about the possibility that she had come too late and he had died of his wounds.

Creaking and scraping sounds came from the other side. A bolt was moved aside, a chain was loosened, and finally, the gate was opened just enough to allow one rider at a time to pass through. Once the last of the riders had entered, the slender adolescent bolted and barricaded the gate again.

“Frédéric! I’m so glad you’re back!” The boy scrutinized the newcomers cautiously.

Frédéric embraced him. “Christian! Did you take good care of everyone? How are Baba and Imma?”

“Not well.” Christian shook his head despondently.

“Where are the injured?” Thomas inquired. Sabri had already begun to unload the mule. Some farmhands came to take care of the horses.

Sibylla slid out of her saddle and looked around. Low tents were ringed around a flickering fire in the middle of the courtyard. Men were sitting together in small groups and talking quietly while smoking a water pipe. A servant distributed bowls with food and tea. Women were taking care of the younger children. Sibylla looked around for Emily, but could not find her anywhere. People came to greet the new arrivals. Some were limping, some had their arms in a sling, some using branches as crutches. An old man with a dirty bandage wrapped around his head said to Sibylla in despair, “How could our own flesh and blood abuse us in this way?”

“Mummy!” Emily came running out of the house and threw herself into her mother’s arms. “Finally, Mummy! I’ve been waiting for you!”

Tears streamed down Sibylla’s face. Emily had been a little girl the last time she had called her that.

“Promise me that we will never again let a whole year pass without speaking!” Sibylla implored her and stroked her daughter’s hair.

“Never again, Mummy!” Emily promised.

“Little sister, I’m so glad that you’re all right!” Thomas also embraced Emily.

Then came Sabri.

“I thank God that nothing has happened to you,” he said quietly and squeezed her hand.

“I’ve been told there are two dead. Is that right?” Thomas asked.

Emily nodded. “One of the attackers. Frédéric and Christian saw Father strike him with a shovel after he shot at Aynur. And Aynur’s servant, Tamra. The bullet that grazed Aynur struck Tamra in the heart.”

“Where were you during the raid, Miss Emily?” Sabri asked.

“I hid in the house with Malika and my youngest brother.”

“Good,” Sabri replied. Their eyes locked for several seconds.

Then Sibylla asked, “How is André?”

“Father is still unconscious. I’m very worried.”

Sabri took charge. “Thomas, I suggest you go inside and treat Monsieur Rouston and his wife. I’ll take care of the injured out here.”

“Good idea. Afterward, I’ll come and join you,” Thomas agreed. “Emily, can you take me to them?”

“I’ll come with you!” Sibylla hastened after them. “To help.”



Christian, Emily, and Malika had carried their father into a small room normally used to accommodate passing travelers. He lay motionless on the bed draped in a woolen blanket. The right side of his face was bluish red and severely swollen. He had a gaping wound on his temple, two fingers wide and one finger long. The margins were black with dried blood.

“My God,” Sibylla muttered. She leaned forward and placed her hand on the uninjured side of André’s forehead. His skin felt cold and waxy.

“If I am to examine him, you’ll have to make room, Mother.” Thomas sat down on the bed. He palpated André’s face while Sibylla watched intently.

“The skull is not broken,” Thomas finally determined. He took the oil lamp from the nightstand and held it over André’s face. “The wound looks bad, but it’s already begun to heal and the bone is intact. I’m going to clean and bandage it. We can treat the swelling with cold compresses. And the rest we shall have to leave to time.”

“The rest?” Sibylla probed. “Do you mean if he’s going to wake up?”

Thomas gently opened André’s eyes with his thumb and forefinger, and examined the pupils under the light. “The loss of consciousness is profound. I’ll be able to tell whether he’s suffered any brain damage only once he has awakened. I hope that that will happen within the next two days.”

“And if not, Hakim?” a quiet voice asked. “Does that mean Baba will die?”

A dainty young woman dressed in traditional Berber attire was standing in the doorway. Emily introduced her. Thomas hesitated. Malika was certainly entitled to know her father’s likelihood of survival, but at the moment, Thomas himself was uncertain.

Finally, he explained, “The sooner your father regains consciousness, the better his chances of a full recovery. But even if it takes longer, we shan’t give up hope!” he added upon seeing Malika’s horrified expression. “Your father is a strong man. His chances are good. Would you please take me to your mother now, Mademoiselle Rouston?”

Malika nodded. “She’s in the bedroom she shares with Baba.”

“Is there anything we can do?” Sibylla asked.

Thomas picked up his doctor’s bag from the floor. “Get some hot and some cold water, soap, and clean towels, and bring everything here. I’ll be back as soon as I’ve taken a look at his wife.”

“I’ll show you where everything is, Mother,” Emily spoke up. “And then I’ll see if Sabri needs help.”



The bedroom was empty when Thomas and Malika entered. The rumpled bedclothes indicated that Aynur had lain here, but she had vanished.

“I told her not to get up!” Malika became very agitated. “She has a fever and she’s lost a lot of blood.”

“Do you have any idea where your mother might be?”

“No doubt she’s keeping vigil over Tamra, her servant. Tamra’s death has devastated her. Christian and I had to drag her away from the body so that we could tend to her wounds.” Malika rushed to lead the way to the adjacent chamber, a small room with a narrow bed against a brown mud wall, a woven rug, and a chest under the small window. A single candle stood on the ledge and its flickering light allowed him to make out the body of a very old woman on the bed and Aynur sitting on a stool next to her. Her back was turned and all Thomas could see was the long dark-blue veil that covered her hair.

“Imma,” Malika began, “the hakim is here. He wants to treat your wound.”

Thomas took a step forward. “Madame Rouston? I’m Dr. John Hopkins from Mogador. I’m told you were shot during the raid. With your permission, I would like to examine your wound.”

Aynur turned partway around. “I’ve been waiting for two days to bury Tamra next to my little daughters. As long as she lies here, waiting for her immortal soul to rise to God, I am not going to leave her side, Hakim.”

“The cemetery lies outside the walls,” Malika quietly explained. “And we’re afraid that the attackers are still out there.” She turned toward her mother. “I have good news, Imma. Qaid Samir has sent soldiers to protect us. We will bury Tamra first thing in the morning. So, please, allow the hakim to examine your wound.”