Swords of Arabia: Betrayal Read Online Free

Hillal,” the older woman began, naming Fouad’s four surviving full brothers. “I see them all being behind Talal, though for their own very varied reasons,” she added, a world of motherly cynicism in her voice. “Ali and Habib are away patrolling the inland oases, so it will take time for them to get back here. Hillal I sent out with a strong guard and is moving around the town. His presence will reassure our friends and warn those ill-disposed to us,” she continued quietly. “Zafar is here in the citadel and will join us shortly. Should it be deemed necessary he will accompany you and Talal onto the Eastern balcony; though I would advise doing that only as a last resort.”
    Zahirah nodded, awed as she always was when she observed the older Sheikha at work. Whether they were events she had caused to come to pass and then moulded to her aims, or those, as now, cataclysmically unexpected, she rarely took a false step. She had carefully ensured that the brother most likely to challenge for the Emirship was out in the town, near enough to watch but safely out of the citadel. Zafar, the son inside the citadel, was the least likely of the four to mount a challenge. Though of high status and thus useful to have by their side, he was notoriously lazy and had no interest in becoming Emir. Indeed, Firyal’s plump, gentle youngest son had little interest in anything except his racing camels and his falcons: on both of which he spent lavishly, too lavishly. His mother’s quiet funding ensured both his gratitude and his support when needed.
    Assured that all that could be done in the short term had been done, Zahirah concentrated on her children. There would be precious little time available to spend with any of the five in the coming days, so she took them in her arms and comforted them as they wept. She raised her eyes from them only twice in the next few hours. Once, on hearing of Nasir’s collapse, she ordered, on Firyal’s suggestion, his removal to a room adjacent to the large chamber and had his wives and children brought into the citadel as well. They were both well aware that of all Fouad’s family he was the one seen as closest to Talal and themselves. They were equally aware that, seriously wounded as he was, he was vulnerable as never before. Though unlikely, it was not impossible that his family were at some risk, also, hence their move into the safety of the old fortress.
    “Mother, how... How did father die?” Talal suddenly. She looked down at him with infinite sadness. At ten years of age the boy, her eldest surviving child, and his father’s heir, would now, she knew, have to grow rapidly – too rapidly – into manhood.
    She’d seen the question shadowing his eyes, black and so like his father’s, from the moment she’d entered the room and knew it must be answered. The one question that she doubted her son, and perhaps many others, would understand the answer to. Looking up, she saw the same question mirrored in his grandmother’s eyes. In truth, that they hadn’t asked it hours before was mute testimony in itself to the shock they wall felt. But now, she knew she couldn’t put off explaining what was inexplicable to those closest to both Fouad and to herself.
    Breathing deeply, she started to speak, but then a commotion at the door made her turn quickly. She relaxed only slightly as Badr, Faoud’s powerful half-brother, strode into the room, at the head of half a dozen heavily armed men, his long, loping stride carrying him across the room with unconscious arrogance. He emanated an absolute surety of his right to be there, a power he exuded wherever he went and whatever the circumstances. He seemed entirely oblivious to Daoud shadowing him and his men with a dozen of his own from the garrison. Any prince of the house being accompanied into the citadel by even a small group of armed men was in clear violation of rules in place since Fouad’s father’s time. None watching felt it was an