At dusk last night, hot food and a bottle of water had been brought to Ross by an old woman.
“Thank you,” he said, his head aching and the fever already with him. “Where is Her Highness?” The woman shrugged. She was heavily lined, pockmarked, with brown stubs of teeth. “Please ask her to receive me.” Later he was sent for. In the headman’s room, watched by the headman, his wife, some of his brood, and a few elders, he greeted Azadeh carefully - as a stranger might a highborn. She wore chador of course and knelt on carpets facing the door. Her face had a yellowish, unhealthy pallor, but he thought it might be from the light of the sputtering oil lamp. “Salaam, Highness, your health is good?”
“Salaam, Agha, yes, thank you, and yours?” “There is a little fever I think.” He saw her eyes flick up from the carpet momentarily. “I have medicine. Do you need any?” “No. No, thank you.”
With so many eyes and ears what he wanted to say was impossible. “Perhaps I may greet you tomorrow,” he said. “Peace be upon you, Highness.” “And upon you.”
It had taken him a long time to sleep. And her. With the dawn the village awoke, fires were stoked, goats milked, vegetable horisht set to stew - little to nourish it but a morsel of chicken, in some huts a piece of goat or sheep, the meat old, tough, and rancid. Bowls of rice but never enough. Food twice a day in good times, morning and before last light. Azadeh had money and she paid for their food. This did not go unnoticed. She asked that a whole chicken be put into tonight’s horisht to be shared by the whole household, and she paid for it. This, too, did not go unnoticed. Before last light she had said, “Now I will take food to him.” “But, Highness, it’s not right for you to serve him,” the kalandar’s wife said. “I’ll carry the bowls. We can go together if you wish.” “No, it’s better if I go alone beca - ”
“God protect us, Highness. Alone? To a man not your husband? Oh no, that would be unseemly, that would be very unseemly. Come, I will take it.” “Good, thank you. As God wants. Thank you. Last night he mentioned fever. It might be plague. I know how Infidels carry vile diseases that we are not used to. I only wished to save you probable agony. Thank you for sparing me.”
Last night everyone in the room had seen the sheen of sweat on the Infidel’s face. Everyone knew how vile Infidels were, most of them Satan worshipers and sorcerers. Almost everyone secretly believed that Azadeh had been bewitched, first by the Giant of the Knife, and now again by the saboteur. Silently the headman’s wife had handed Azadeh the bowls and she had walked across the snow.
Now she watched him in the semidarkness of the room that had as window a hole in the adobe wall, no glass, just sacking covering most of it. The air was heavy with the smell of urine and waste from the joub outside. “Eat, eat while it’s hot. I can’t stay long.”
“You okay?” He had been lying under the single blanket, fully dressed, dozing, but now he sat cross-legged and alert. The fever had abated somewhat with the help of drugs from his survival kit but his stomach was upset. “You don’t look so good.”
She smiled. “Neither do you. I’m fine. Eat.”
He was very hungry. The soup was thin but he knew that was better for his stomach. Another spasm started building but he held on and it went away. “You think we could sneak off?” he said between mouthfuls, trying to eat slowly.
“You could, I can’t.”
While he had been dozing all day gathering his strength, he had tried to make a plan. Once he had started to walk out of the village. A hundred eyes were on him, everyone watching. He went to the edge of the village then came back. But he had seen the old truck. “What about the truck?” “I asked the headman. He said it was out of order. Whether he was lying or not I don’t know.”
“We can’t stay here much longer. A patrol’s bound to come here. Or your father will hear about us or be told. Our only hope is to run.” “Or to hijack the 206 with Nogger.” He looked at her. “With all those men there?” “One of the children told me that they went back to Tabriz today.” “You’re sure?”
“Not sure, Johnny.” A wave of anxiety went over her. “But there’s no reason for the child to lie. I, I used to teach here before I was married - I was the only teacher they had ever had and I know they liked me. The child said there’s only one or two left there.” Another chill swirled up and made her weak. So many lies, so many problems the last few weeks, she thought. Is it only weeks? So much terror since Rakoczy and the mullah burst in on Erikki and me after our sauna. Everything so hopeless now. Erikki, where are you? she wanted to scream, where are you?
He finished the soup and the rice and picked at the last grain, weighing the odds, trying to plan. She was kneeling opposite him and she saw his matted hair and filth, his exhaustion and gravity. “Poor Johnny,” she murmured and touched him. “I haven’t brought you much luck, have I?”
“Don’t be silly. Not your fault - none of this is.” He shook his head. “None of it. Listen, this’s what we’ll do: we’ll stay here tonight, tomorrow after first light we’ll walk out. We’ll try the base - if that doesn’t work then we’ll hike out. You try to get the headman to help us by keeping his mouth shut, his wife too. The rest of the villagers should behave if he orders it, at least to give us a start. Promise them a big reward when things are normal again, and here…” He reached into his pack into the secret place, found the gold rupees, ten of them. “Give him five, keep the other five for emergency.”
“But… but what about you?” she said, wide-eyed and filled with hope at so much potential pishkesh.
“I’ve ten more,” he said, the lie coming easily. “Emergency funds, courtesy of Her Majesty’s Government.”
“Oh, Johnny, I think we’ve a chance now - this is so much money to them.” They both glanced at the window as a wind picked up and rustled the sacking that covered it. She got up and adjusted it as best she could. Not all the opening could be covered. “Never mind,” he said. “Come and sit down.” She obeyed, closer than before. “Here. Just in case.” He handed her the grenade. “Just hold the lever down, pull the pin out, count three, and throw. Three, not four.”
She nodded and pulled up her chador and carefully put the grenade into one of her ski-jacket pockets. Her tight ski pants were tucked into her boots. “Thanks. Now I feel better. Safer.” Involuntarily, she touched him and wished she hadn’t for she felt the fire. “I’d… I’d better go. I’ll bring you food at first light. Then we’ll leave.”
He got up and opened the door for her. Outside it was dark. Neither saw the figure scuttle away from the window, but both felt eyes feeding on them from every side.
“What about Gueng, Johnny? Do you think he’ll find us?”
“He’ll be watching, wherever he is.” He felt a spasm coming. ” ‘Night, sweet dreams.”
“Sweet dreams.”
They had always said it to each other in the olden time. Their eyes touched and their hearts and both of them were warmed and at the same time filled with foreboding. Then she turned, the darkness of her chador making her at once almost invisible. He saw the door of the headman’s hut open and she went in and then the door closed. He heard a truck grinding up the road not far off, then a honking car that went past and soon faded away. A spasm came and it was too much so he squatted. The pain was big but little came out and he was thankful that Azadeh had gone. His left hand groped for some snow and he cleansed himself. Eyes were still watching him, all around. Bastards, he thought, then went back into the hut and sat on the crude straw mattress. In the darkness he oiled the kookri. No need to sharpen it. He had done that earlier. Lights glinted off the blade. He slept with it out of its scabbard.