Danger in the Desert Read online

  “I am terribly curious as to where we are going and what we are doing,” Malva asserted. “Equally you are quite right that it will be a surprise and I must not spoil the moment when I gasp at what you are showing me.”

  Royden grinned.

  “I know that you are trying to get me to give you some little hint of what it is,” he said, “but I refuse to be drawn out, so please go to bed and don’t forget to be ready to leave immediately we have finished breakfast.”

  Malva walked to the door.

  Then she turned back.

  “I still think that today is the most delightful day I have ever spent and if only I could give this bay a present as a token of gratitude of what it has meant to me, I should be very glad to do so.”

  Royden laughed as she ran up the companionway towards her bedroom.

  She climbed into bed and because she felt so happy she fell asleep almost at once.

  She dreamt that once again she was lying in the shimmering waves and the sunshine was turning the whole world into a Fairyland.

  *

  She woke with a start because she heard a sound.

  At first she did not recognise what it was.

  Then she was aware that it was something beating or scratching at the porthole.

  She rose from her bed and crossed the cabin to pull back the curtain.

  Then she saw in the light from the moon that a bird was caught in some way at her cabin window.

  It was trying in vain to escape.

  She reached out, but the bird was at the part of the porthole that did not open.

  She was unable to reach it, but she could see that it was caught by one leg although she was not certain what it was trapped by.

  She stretched out as far as she could.

  But it was impossible for her arm to pass the open porthole.

  She now realised that to release the bird she must go up onto the deck above.

  She put on her dressing gown and her soft slippers and found a pair of scissors in her drawer and with these she would cut away what was keeping the bird a prisoner.

  As Malva opened the door of her cabin, she then hesitated for a moment wondering whether she should ask Royden to release the trapped bird instead of going on deck herself.

  Then she told herself that he would be fast asleep and it would be unnecessary to wake him, especially as she herself was now so awake.

  She moved slowly towards the companionway and walked out on deck without making a sound.

  There was, she knew, usually a seaman on duty, but she had suspected long ago that when they were in Port he slept because it was so quiet.

  Only when they were in a Port like Gibraltar did he make his rounds dutifully and stayed awake all through the night.

  Her cabin was halfway along the deck and she had no difficulty in finding it from above and then leant over the rail.

  She saw the bird fluttering frantically beneath her.

  As she looked down, she could see that its leg was attached quite firmly to the side of the porthole.

  She knelt down and bent forward to cut him loose with her pair of scissors.

  As she did so, a heavy cloth was thrown over her head and she was lifted up from the deck.

  A strong man was holding her in his arms.

  She wanted to scream and tried to do so.

  But the cloth was thrust into her mouth while it was open.

  Try as she could she was unable to make a sound.

  Then she was lifted up into the air and she thought for a moment that she was being flung into the sea.

  Then she was aware that another man was holding her tightly.

  As he lowered her, a third man held her firmly against him.

  Next she was aware that they were in a boat and being rowed towards the shore.

  She tried to scream again, but it was impossible to do so because the thick cover which had been thrown over her head prevented her from closing her lips.

  Try as she may, no sound came out.

  In fact there was no sound at all, only the lap of the water as the rowing boat slid through it.

  Then the soft crunch as it came up on the beach.

  One of the men picked her up in his arms.

  She knew that she was being carried up the rough path that she and Royden had used which was the only way of entering the bay.

  Then she was unceremoniously thrust into the back of a carriage which she thought must be enclosed.

  Two of the men climbed in beside her and the door was closed.

  There was a slight pause before the horses drawing it started off.

  Malva guessed that there were two horses and they were certainly being driven very swiftly.

  At first it was very rough and uneven so that the carriage swayed and bumped over the stony ground.

  Then they were on what she supposed was sand and the carriage was moving even more swiftly.

  Now the ride was smoother with only occasional bumps.

  It was with increasing horror that she realised she was being kidnapped.

  She could only imagine it was somehow connected with the Vizier they had visited yesterday.

  ‘How could he do such a thing?’ she asked herself. ‘And why?’

  There was no answer to this and she realised that there was nothing she could do.

  The heavy rough material covering her head also covered her arms.

  Although she tried to move, it was quite impossible as there were two men sitting either side of her.

  She was crushed between them and she recognised that she was completely helpless and it was no use trying to move or release herself in any way.

  The horses were travelling swiftly and she guessed that the man in front was using his whip liberally to keep up the speed.

  She wanted to cry out.

  She wanted to ask where they were taking her.

  But it was impossible to do anything but fight for her breath because of the heaviness of the material that covered her.

  She was frightened, desperately frightened.

  At the same time she told herself that she had to keep herself calm enough to argue with her captors when she learnt who they were and what they wanted of her.

  It had taken her and Royden over an hour-and-a-half to reach the Vizier’s Palace yesterday.

  But now, if that was where they were taking her and she had a very strong suspicion that it was, the horses stopped outside what she was sure was a gate.

  Then they were moving more slowly down, as she suspected, the lane that led to the front door of the Palace, although she was not sure that was where she was being taken and if so why and for what reason.

  Surely the Vizier was not holding her captive for money.

  How could he dare to offend a visitor to his part of the world by taking her prisoner?

  ‘It must be someone else,’ she thought wildly.

  Yet at the same time she remembered that both she and Royden had disliked the Vizier.

  There had been something about him which she felt was unpleasant.

  Even so to insult an innocent visitor to his country, even though he did not realise that Royden was of any Social importance, would be to create a scandal that would certainly be taken up by the British Ambassador.

  It could even cause a major international furore that would prevent other people from visiting this country.

  The horses came to a standstill and now the men beside her lifted her out of the carriage.

  But instead of putting her down onto the ground, as she expected, they then carried her between them for what seemed a long way.

  She was sure that now they were in a room perhaps the grand one she had seen the day before yesterday with the elaborate mosaic floor.

  Again she was only guessing.

  Then she heard a door open.

  The next moment she was put down almost roughly on a couch or a bed.

  For the first time one of the men who was carrying her spoke.


  He was addressing someone else.

  Although she could not understand what the man was saying she felt that he must be telling whoever was listening that he had brought back the woman he had been sent to kidnap – and here she was.

  Then Malva lay gasping for breath because it had been hard to breathe while she was being carried from the carriage to where she was now.

  The heavy material which covered her completely was moved slowly off her.

  She now found herself looking at two women, who were very much like those she had seen yesterday and were dressed in the same manner.

  “What is happening? And where am I?” she asked in French.

  To her relief one of them replied to her in the same language.

  “You are here in the house of His Excellency, the Vizier.”

  “I thought it was where I was,” Malva exclaimed. “But please tell me why have I been brought here in such an extraordinary manner?”

  “The Vizier will tell you that himself,” the woman replied.

  Her French seemed somewhat limited.

  Then she turned and spoke to the other woman in another language, which must have been Arabic.

  She went away.

  Then Malva sat up, smoothing back her hair from her face and trying to breathe naturally although it was a tremendous effort.

  A few minutes later the woman who had left the room came back with a tray on which there was a glass of what looked like wine.

  She handed it to Malva, who took it and sipped what she thought was a strange but rather sweet wine.

  She felt relief from the dryness of her mouth.

  “Drink it all and you will feel better,” one of the women said.

  Because her throat was feeling parched and she was finding it difficult to express herself, Malva did as she was told.

  Then, as she finished the glass, she realised that she had been drugged.

  Even as her eyes closed and she was aware that she was falling backwards, it was much too late to do anything about it.

  *

  It must have been many hours later when Malva opened her eyes because the sun was streaming in through a long pointed window.

  She was sure that she must have been unconscious for several hours.

  As she looked round the room, she was trying to remember why she was there and what had happened.

  Then she realised that she was wearing her dressing gown and all that had happened last night came flooding back to her.

  The room she had been taken into was beautifully decorated like the rest of the Palace and the bed she was lying on had a silk embroidered cover.

  At the same time she had been taken forcibly away from the yacht and she could only lie there and wonder what Royden was doing about it and if he would guess what had happened to her.

  ‘He might think I have drowned accidentally,’ she thought. ‘In which case he will go away and I will never see him or home again.’

  Then she told herself he would be aware that she had left her bed.

  He would be intelligent enough to realise that her dressing gown was missing whilst her bathing dress was where she had left it, hung over the wash basin so that it should dry.

  ‘Save me! Save me!’ she tried to cry out to him.

  She wondered if he would know how frightened she was and how it was a desperate situation that it was impossible for her to escape from.

  She remembered only too well the number of men and women who were waiting on the Vizier.

  And there would indeed be no escape for anyone His Excellency wished to keep prisoner in his Palace.

  ‘What can I do? What can I do?’ she asked herself again and again.

  But there was no answer.

  All she could think of was how cleverly they had spirited her away, having lured her on deck by tying a bird against her porthole.

  Now, as she lay back against the soft cushions, she was aware that the heavy material in which she had been kidnapped had vanished.

  After she was drugged one of the women must have put a silk covering over her.

  She still felt very dizzy and it was difficult to think clearly because of the drug.

  She kicked herself for having been so stupid as to drink it just because her mouth was dry from lack of air.

  Now she wondered what she could do and how it seemed almost impossible for her ever to reach Royden or let him know where she was.

  ‘How dare the Vizier do anything so disgraceful as to capture a British woman and make her his prisoner?’ she asked herself.

  He probably thought they were French and would not be aware that he was insulting a country as important as England.

  ‘I must keep my head and think what I can do and what I can say,’ she told herself.

  Then, as the drug was still making her feel faint and it was impossible to think, she closed her eyes and fell asleep.

  When she awoke, she knew instinctively that it was much later in the day.

  There was a woman sitting just inside the door and apparently watching her.

  As her eyes opened, she turned her head first one way and then the other and made an effort to sit up.

  The woman then hurried out of the room and Malva thought that she had gone to fetch the older woman.

  In this she was right.

  The two women who had been in the room when she had arrived came hurrying back in.

  “You feel better? You like something to eat?” the first woman to enter the room asked her.

  “I would like a drink of water, clear, clean water,” Malva answered in French, “and with no drug in it.”

  The woman laughed.

  “You sleep and sleep always good when one is tired or frightened.”

  “What I want to know,” Malva said, sitting up and trying to speak firmly, “is why I am here and why I have been taken prisoner in this most unpleasant and offensive manner.”

  The two women looked at each other.

  One shrugged her shoulders.

  “His Excellency tell you later what you ask,” she said. “Now when you have eaten, we will help dress you.”

  Although she was very frightened, Malva did not want the women to know this.

  She therefore ate a little of the food they offered her.

  She drank the clear water which they had told her had come from a spring that was pure and good for those who drank it.

  She examined the water very carefully before she put it to her lips and she was sure that they were telling her the truth and, as she was very thirsty, she drank a glassful and felt better for doing so.

  She was too scared, although she was determined not to show it, to want anything to eat.

  The fruit they had brought her was, she was certain, safe to eat and so she ate a piece of plum and felt better still.

  The moment she finished eating the food was taken away.

  Then clothes were brought for her to wear.

  They were naturally Eastern dress but attractive and colourful and were covered with shining jewels.

  She sat down and one of the women brushed and combed her hair until it looked as striking as if she had done it herself.

  Then at last there was a knock on the door and an order was given by one of the white-robed servants.

  She could not understand what he had said, but she thought that the women were first of all surprised.

  They chatted amongst themselves in low voices as if they were talking about something strange and unusual that had happened.

  Because the day was drawing on and she could now think clearly, Malva was becoming increasingly concerned of what might happen when she met the Vizier.

  She had the idea, in fact she was sure, that he had kidnapped her for some secret reason that she could not fathom out.

  She could only tremble and pray to God fervently that somehow Royden would save her from whatever fate was to be hers.

  She had not read a good number of books about the East without realising that a fair-h
aired woman was very attractive to men who were always surrounded by women with dark hair.

  She also knew that someone as prominent as the Vizier would have numerous concubines at his disposal.

  If she was honest, she was sensible enough to be aware that this was the reason why she had been brought to the Palace.

  ‘Rather than become one of his concubines,’ she thought, ‘I would rather die.’

  Then she wondered how it would be possible to kill herself without a proper weapon to do it with.

  The women dressing her were fussing over her for what she suspected was an ominous reason.

  They brought a collection of jewels to put round her neck and there were bracelets for her wrists and jewels to place in her hair.

  When they had finished, they looked at her with pride.

  Then one of them said,

  “You are very beautiful, pretty lady. Vizier will think so and you be very grateful to His Excellency.”

  Malva stared at her.

  Then she realised that this was the reason she had been taken prisoner.

  The Vizier obviously wanted a fair-haired woman in his harem.

  And that was why he had looked at her in such a strange and intrusive way when they had first met.

  She wanted to scream, to run out of the room and try to escape from the Palace, but she knew that whatever happened she must keep her head and appear calm.

  The women were attaching jewels to her ankles and to her feet.

  Now they walked over to the door and there was a whispered conversation outside.

  When they came back, one of the women said,

  “His Excellency is waiting for you. You come with me.”

  The two women drew her through the door.

  It was then she recognised one of the magnificent rooms they had passed through before.

  She was aware that, at the far end of it, the Vizier was sitting at a table.

  Because there was nothing else she could do, she walked with the women across the room.

  She knew from the way they moved that they were in point of fact showing her off as if they had performed some clever feat in dressing her as they had.

  As they then sank to the ground with bowed heads before the Vizier, Malva stood up holding her head high and regarded him defiantly.