Together we began to search the area. It was mostly scrubland with a few clumps of stunted trees among the tangle of thickets and rough grasses. We had been searching for perhaps an hour, circling the nest and checking the ground, when we found a second nest. This time it was in use. A clutch of half a dozen huge eggs lay on the ground. The undergrowth around the nest had been pressed down by a heavy weight, and the nest was less than an arrow’s flight from a small lake. A well-marked trail led through the undergrowth towards the water. Several more tracks indicated that the creature patrolled around the margins of the lake, and that worried me. Thoughts of crocodiles and water serpents came into my head.
Osric went up to the nest and laid a hand on an egg. ‘It is warm,’ he said. ‘The parent cannot be far off.’
He crouched down, listening, then touched the egg again. ‘I think I detect something moving. I believe the eggs will hatch soon.’
A tight knot of fear gathered in my stomach. I was remembering the terror I had felt back in the forest when the aurochs had appeared behind Vulfard and me. ‘We mustn’t be caught between the beast and its nest. That could be dangerous,’ I said.
‘If it is a crawling beast that comes from the lake, then we would be safer if we were off the ground,’ Osric answered. He pointed to a nearby grove of trees. ‘If we can get ourselves up into one of those trees, facing the nest, we should be safe, and have a good view.’
We made our way to the grove and managed to find a tree into which we could climb ten or twelve feet off the ground. Branches and leaves partially blocked our view, but the path leading to the nest passed less than ten feet away.
For an hour or two we crouched among the branches, tormented by insects and growing increasingly uncomfortable as the branches dug into us. Lying in wait for the aurochs, beside Vulfard, had been damp and tedious but more comfortable. My shoulder wound began to ache again.
We heard the creature before we saw it. It was the sound of a large animal coming towards us through the underbrush, moving confidently, a little clumsily. Once or twice I thought I heard the sound of a heavy footfall.
We clung to the branches, peering down the track.
The creature stamped past, very close. Osric and I were nine feet off the ground, yet the creature’s head was on a level with us. It was massive. I held my breath in case it turned its head and saw us. The eyes were bright and beady and the beak was a heavy, pointed spear and sharp enough to do serious damage. The body was covered with a heavy coat of dark brown feathery bristles. A glimpse of the massive claws at the end of its two scaly legs, thicker than my thigh, made me shiver. Each claw was nine or ten inches long.
The animal reached its nest, and stood there, peering about as if seeking an enemy. Then, squatting backwards, it lowered itself down to cover the clutch of huge eggs. Even when the beast was seated, the head on the snake-like neck was five feet above the ground.
Osric and I waited for the creature to settle before we cautiously climbed down and crept away, keeping the grove of trees between the beast and us.
After we had gone perhaps two hundred paces, Osric turned and looked at me. ‘That was neither griffin nor rukh. It cannot fly,’ he said. The wings had been little more than stumps.
‘It’s not in the Book of Beasts,’ I said. ‘There’s a creature called an ostrich which it resembles. But it is nothing like as big and massive.’
‘What do we do now?’ Osric asked.
‘Nothing,’ I replied. I had already come to a decision as we were creeping away from the giant bird.
Osric gave me a look that was full of understanding. ‘You’re thinking of Walo, aren’t you?’
I nodded. ‘He was so certain that the Book of Beasts is correct and he died because of it. Today we’ve only learned that those huge eggs belong to a different beast, neither rukh nor griffin. That doesn’t prove that such creatures don’t exist somewhere else.’
My friend knew me well enough to understand what I had in mind. ‘So we report to Sulaiman that we failed to find the creature that laid the eggs.’
‘Exactly. Then the search for the rukh and griffin will continue, and even be encouraged. The sailors already believe they’ve seen rukh’s eggs.’
Osric considered before replying. ‘If we bring back news of that extraordinary creature we’ve just seen, Musa’s colleagues in the caliph’s library can add it to the Book of Beasts and from there it will spread far and wide.’ He treated me to a quick, conspiratorial grin. ‘But I agree with you: it is better that we encourage the search for the griffin in the hope that Walo’s trust will one day be justified. And I have a suggestion.’
I looked at him enquiringly. ‘What’s that?’
‘We return to that empty nest, gather up as many fragments of the eggshells as we can find, and bring them back to Baghdad. Let others draw their own conclusions.’
Chapter Eighteen
Throughout the long, dreary voyage back to al-Ubullah, everyone on board was exhausted and dispirited. Walo’s grisly death continued to cast its shadow. Osric and I passed many hours in shared gloomy silence, and it was obvious that Zaynab had been deeply affected too. Quieter and more withdrawn than on the outward trip, her sadness revealed itself in the way she sat by herself in her customary place on the foredeck, staring out towards the horizon. Had the situation been different I would have gone over to talk with her and tried to ease the common sorrow. But Walo’s death served to increase my previous reticence. I was very much in love with Zaynab and it made me fearful that I would mishandle the situation with a clumsy intrusion on her grief. Again and again I told myself to wait until we were back in Baghdad. There I would find the right moment to reveal my feelings. With a lover’s stubborn blindness I pushed aside all thoughts that Zaynab was returning to her former life as Nadim Jaffar’s costly slave-singer. Somehow the obstacle would be overcome. All that mattered to me was that somehow I would find a way into Zaynab’s affections so that we shared the same feelings for one another, and together we would explore where it might lead. That heady prospect helped me endure the miserable ordeal of our homeward journey.
When we docked in al-Ubullah, the barid’s agents whisked Zaynab away to bring her more speedily to Jaffar’s home while Osric and I proceeded upstream to Baghdad by barge. There Jaffar’s steward was waiting on the quayside to bring us to meet his master.
*
‘I was losing hope of ever listening to my favourite singer again,’ said the nadim with a welcoming smile when we were ushered into his presence. Attended by a secretary, Jaffar received us in a small, open courtyard in his riverside palace where the steward had taken us straight from the docks. The nadim was evidently not due to meet the caliph, for Jaffar was no longer wearing black, but dressed in loose trousers of white silk, a long purple tunic, and a light cloak of the same colour trimmed with gold. Bare-headed, he was standing in the shade of a miniature pavilion of yellow-and-blue striped silk erected among the immaculately tended flowerbeds. Even here in the open air, I noted, the air was subtly scented with perfume and I wondered how soon Sulaiman intended to deliver his precious lump of whale phlegm to his patron.
Inside the carpeted pavilion were soft cushions and a tray with a jug and cups for guests, but Jaffar did not invite us to be seated. It was clear that he was in a hurry. ‘My young friend Abdallah will want to know how you got on with your search for the rukh,’ he said.
‘Your Excellency,’ I began, ‘we found traces of the creature, but not the rukh itself.’ I unfolded the length of velvet I was carrying and showed him the largest fragment of the eggshells Osric and I had gathered. ‘We came across what we believed was a rukh’s nest but it had been abandoned. Here is a piece from one of the eggs.’
Jaffra took the eggshell from me and examined it. ‘I shall give this to Abdallah, though I doubt it will settle his argument with the crown prince about the existence of the rukh. I expect there will be a deadlock.’