Swords of Arabia: Betrayal by Anthony Litton

by the softly inflected voice of the portly prince. Nasir sat very still, intently studying his uncle, whose pudgy, but still darkly handsome features, showed a growing anger, as he launched his attack on not just Badr, but the memory of Fouad and, through him, Talal, his son. “Though why it was deemed necessary, with ibn Saud himself in disarray and so far from our borders, I know not!” He smiled a little mockingly, entirely aware that everyone in the room knew against whom the citadel had been secured, and it wasn’t any external threat but was aimed at many now sat in that very room. He looked ostentatiously around. Apart from the two guards at the door and a half dozen around the room there were no others in evidence. For there to be so would be too stark an insult to what were, after all, family members and a few highly placed and trusted outsiders. He and no one else in that room, however, had the slightest doubt that the corridors surrounding the chamber were full of armed men ready to respond at the first hint of danger to Talal.
    “One is impressed by the talk of family unity. Our hearts are stirred by the rallying cry of us all standing together, shoulder to shoulder, a family united against a common enemy. It warms this warrior’s heart to hear it; or,” he paused and then continued, his voice now brimming over with a scathing sarcasm. “it would , if all this fine talk wasn’t coming from the very sections of the family who supported our nephew when he arrested four of our number and kept them immured in the filthy dungeons right beneath our very feet!” The loud voices of agreement, showed Nasir that Sultan was voicing views held by many in the room. That none of those same voices would have dared to speak out when Fouad was the ruling emir was a symptom of how much had changed, was still changing.
    “Sultan is right! There has been much talk of unity, of family feeling! I tell you frankly, that those and some of the other platitudes uttered today, make me sick to my stomach!” spat Sahir, another uncle, suddenly apparently unable to control his temper and ratcheting up the already dangerously high tension several more notches.
    “Family unity? Yet many of you supported Fouad when he threw into prison his own blood and left them there to rot as if they were no more than the lowest scum. Lay out your claim for Badr, or for this, this child!” he sneered, insultingly emphasising the last word. “All of you bargain as would with any stall-holder in the souk if you wish, but do not shroud your wishes in baseless platitudes! Nor ask me to support either Talal, who is much too young to lead us, or Badr, who, though I admire him as a warrior, was one of the ones who most strongly supported Fouad in his decision two years ago!”
    The rest of the family members were shocked into silence by the vehemence of the elderly princes. Many agreed with their sentiments, but their voicing them in such an insulting way meant that they ran the very real risk of ripping the family apart; not to mention putting themselves in real jeopardy should either Talal or Badr emerge victorious from the assembly. In addition, as both Abdullah and Nasir, who’d also both vocally and openly supported Fouad at the time, were known to have tempers as equally fiery as Sahir’s, the entire room was torn between turning back to the dais, in some concern and much anticipation, to watch their reaction, or to keep watching Badr, to see how his own, rarely lost, but equally volcanic temper dealt with the near-insult.
    Whichever way they looked they were all looking in the wrong direction.
    The real surprise was taking place behind them. With the intense concentration of most in the room focused on the group on the dais, it took some moments for them to realise that, at a discreet sign from Nasir, the huge doors had been flung open.
    It was only as, by one and twos at first, and then the entire room turning as one, that all were stunned