“Oh, they’ve tried, but Charles Martel put an end to Moslem expansion in Europe at the battle of Tours in 732.”
“True,” said Maeve. “And ever since then it seems the West has been on the offensive. Recent history would argue that you’ve got it all wrong, Doctor. The West has been sticking its thumb in the Islamic pie for the last few centuries—not the other way around.”
“I suppose that’s one way of looking at it.” LeGrand set down his cup, crossing his arms. “It really does come down to a clash of cultures when you get to the root of it all. The Islamic world is still centuries behind the West in terms of its social systems and politics.”
“And so your Order is helping them along?” Maeve had that look in her eye that Robert knew all too well. He gave LeGrand a sideward glance, wondering if he knew what he was in for, and smiling uncomfortably.
“Helping them is perhaps not the right way to think of it,” said LeGrand. “After Palma, the proverbial gloves have come off, Miss Lindford. Think of it like your 9/11 event in New York. That certainly catalyzed the American government. ”
“With disastrous consequences,” Maeve put in quickly. “Don’t you think all that trouble in Iraq had something to do with the plans made by this Husan al Din?”
“It probably spawned a hundred such plans, many you have yet to live through, I’m afraid. The worst was Palma, but we fixed that.”
“And it undoubtedly created a few more problems at the same time,” said Maeve.
LeGrand did not answer immediately, a troubled expression on his face. “If you must know, things have taken a turn for the worse in recent years. They’ve discovered how to travel in time as well.”
“Yes, we know, and now they have a mind to meddle in your affairs, just as you seem set on meddling in theirs.”
“That’s about the size of it. A bothersome lot, these Arabs. The Turks weren’t nearly so bad. Oh, I suppose it wouldn’t matter if they were all living in Africa or huddled on some island continent like Australia. But the simple fact of the matter is that the whole of the Islamic Crescent sits atop 90% of the world’s oil and gas.”
“How inconvenient,” said Maeve.
“To be sure, madam. The West needs that oil throughout the twenty-first century… until alternative energy sources can be properly developed.”
“Rubbish,” said Maeve. “We have the ability to develop and deploy hydrogen based fuel systems even in my day. The only reason we don’t is the enormous profit involved in the sale of a diminishing resource like oil.”
“True,” said LeGrand. “No argument here. Still, facts are facts. Whether the West needs the oil or not, the powers that be have decided they need it, and that makes for some particularly troublesome times in the storied conflict of Western nations with the Islamic world. It starts with freedom fighters in Afghanistan and becomes airplanes crashing into the World Trade Center, and worse…” He seemed to catch himself, realizing he might reveal the course of future events to these people, and somehow alter them. “Well we all know how it ends, don’t we? It ends with Palma. After that, we simply decided we had to put stop to it, once and for all.”
“Oh, that much is obvious,” said Maeve. “Let’s call it what it is Doctor, war.”
“They call it that.” LeGrand came back at her quickly. “I believe the word is Jihad.”
“Nonsense,” said Maeve, folding her arms abruptly—a very bad sign as far as Nordhausen was concerned. The conversation was becoming more and more heated, and he was considering what he might say to cool tempers down.
Maeve started in again: “It’s true that the Islamic world is far behind the West in terms of social equity and justice. But it is equally true that Western powers have never really had any noble interest in dealing with that. They’re motivated by political and economic reasons—like this expedition by Napoleon. He wanted to campaign through the Middle East to isolate Britain from her colony in India.”
“And he disarmed the peasant rabble,” LeGrand cut in. “He broke the back of the Mamluk hegemony, established new political systems, built hospitals to curb disease—”
“Carried in the plague,” Maeve raised her chin, unwilling to allow her host to serve these facts unchallenged. “He massacred hundreds of prisoners in Palestine, put down the Cairo insurrection with ritual beheadings, then tried to cart off virtually anything he could find of interest. Thankfully, he loses. The British win and so they decide set up shop in Egypt until well into the twentieth century. Got to keep a close eye on Suez, you see.”
“Well,” said LeGrand, a bit disconcerted. “It’s been my experience that the British usually leave things better off than they find them.”
“Chin, chin old boy,” Maeve winked at him, unyielding. “Yes, when the natives get restless there was always the Martini & Henry rifle and a bayonet to set things right. England created the situation that led to unrest and division in the Middle East for decades. The Sykes-Picot agreement just drew arbitrary lines in the sand here after the First World War, irrespective of cultural and ethnic differences. It created pacific little countries like Iraq, a gross conglomerate of Shiite, Sunni, Kurdish and Turkomen tribes, and all the misery that has resulted. Then, seeing the mess they’d made, Britain calmly withdrew ‘East of Suez’ and left it all to their new friend to sort out—the good old U.S.A. Now, don’t get me started on how that turned out.”
“Oh, I know exactly how it turns out, madam. You forget, it’s all history to me.”
“Spare me the details,” said Maeve, realizing she could not fight in that corner. “I can see where it’s heading quite well, thank you.”
“Come, come,” said LeGrand, trying to diffuse the situation. “If I didn’t know better I would have to ask myself who’s side you are on here.”
Maeve fixed him with a riveting stare, but LeGrand met her gaze with heavy lids, a look of suspicion settling into his fleshy features.
“Well, Doctor,” she said with an air of finality. “You didn’t invite us to tea to quibble over politics. Suppose you tell us what your real mission is here, and why you were warned to be on the lookout for two Americans on the road west of the city? Be quick about it, sir. The morning is wearing thin.”
17
Le Grand seemed taken aback by Maeve’s remark. The fire in her eyes seemed to surprise him, and he took a guarded posture, eying Nordhausen as though to see where he came down in the argument that had been unfolding. “Madame,” he said at last, “you make it sound as though there is some nefarious plot in the works.”
“You said it yourself, Doctor,” Maeve went on. “You received a message telling you to be on the lookout for two Americans on the road. You were kind enough to return my purse, but you, and your people, have had a good long look at my notes in the bargain, and this Order you speak of certainly knew what we were about here.”
“That you were about here,” LeGrand corrected. “Yes, we knew that much. The Touchstone database also indicated that there was a variation concerning the Rosetta stone as well. To put it bluntly, it was lost, as far as history was concerned. It’s significance as a key to the hieroglyphics was completely undone. We assumed you were interested, even as we were, but we did not know why.”
The ire in Maeve’s eye had not diminished. “Really? Even with a century or more to think it over? Don’t be coy, Doctor. From your perspective in the future this Order of the Temporal Knights knows very well what we are about—and why. If you will not at least grant me the courtesy of honesty, then I’m afraid I will have to insist that we leave here at once. We’ll find our way to the discovery site on our own.”