characters.’
‘You would send me a message,’ she said.
Well, there, out of our pleasantries, leaped the scheme. It was ready-made. It only needed details to be filled in by a woman’s wit and a soldier’s experience.
A basket of food to be left out for me. Excellent! Where to leave it? But the answer springs to the lips. Where there was a clear field of fire, so that the gendarmes could settle down on a rock
overlooking the basket, and be confident. Then the men of Ferjeyn had to be considered. They must be decoyed away from the route I would take back to the Jebel Sinjar.
It was easy. There was a little glade on the south-western slope of the mountain, commanded by the necessary rock. It was a spot well-known to us, where we used to go in the heat of summer,
before the babies could walk, and let them crawl on the grass. Now, if I were coming from the Jebel I should traverse the southern slopes of our mountain and reach that glade without ever crossing
the pastures. And any man of Ferjeyn would be sure of it. So there was no need for any cordon across the top.
Helena made up a basket of food, and pretended to be taking it up the mountain to her uncle. Boulos was really there, hoping, I am sure, to warn me off if he could; it was not likely that John
would have had a chance to speak with him yet. First, she had to find the gendarmes and act suspiciously and draw their attention. Then she must make them follow her, and pretend not to be aware of
it. That was difficult—impossible if she had not been acting in character. But all Ferjeyn knew what she was. If a starving husband had managed to let her know he needed food, she would have
blindly taken it to him, though he were armed and mad and had tried to kill her.
She returned at the beginning of the night. Meanwhile the children had come home and were keeping guard—all but the youngest who was under the bed with me. She had no doubt that she had
been followed. The gendarme was clumsy when sneaking through the woods on foot.
I said my farewells, and plunged into a night that was also of the spirit. As I have said, I planned to go back to the Yezidis. The route, the people, the hiding-places, I had worked them all
out. A lot of fuss about nothing. Such planning was against my principles. I should have known better.
On the track between my house and the pastures there should be a picket. Even if I were expected elsewhere, that was an elementary precaution to take for the safety of my wife and children. I
was glad to find three of my fellow-townsmen alert and in the position I would have chosen for them myself. It gave me confidence that Helena was always in their thoughts. With all its faults, it
was a gallant little town, my Ferjeyn. The three men were facing uphill, and I was able to leave the track and pass boldly round them. When they heard me, they challenged. I replied in the falsetto
of an idiot that it was Nadim Nassar returning from his wife. They laughed.
It was impossible to guess the position of the rest. If the men of Ferjeyn wished to capture me before I collected my basket of food, they would be under cover on the eastern slope; if they
wanted the gendarmes to take all responsibility, they would be in the trees between the glade and my house, ready to pick up my body or intercept me if I escaped. In either case they would not be
on the pastures.
As in all attempts to predict the behaviour of opponents, my reasoning was neither right nor wrong. There were, in fact, a few men on the top; but they kept to the east, well away from the
gendarmes’ preserves. The pasture was by no means an open alp. It was the rugged top of a mountain, sown with rocks and bushes, where the grass grew in hundreds of little patches rather than
a continuous meadow. Well, with the half moon showing every bush as a movement and every shadow as inhabited, the men of Ferjeyn were nervous. They were smoking, and whispering to keep up their
courage. They were
‘You would send me a message,’ she said.
Well, there, out of our pleasantries, leaped the scheme. It was ready-made. It only needed details to be filled in by a woman’s wit and a soldier’s experience.
A basket of food to be left out for me. Excellent! Where to leave it? But the answer springs to the lips. Where there was a clear field of fire, so that the gendarmes could settle down on a rock
overlooking the basket, and be confident. Then the men of Ferjeyn had to be considered. They must be decoyed away from the route I would take back to the Jebel Sinjar.
It was easy. There was a little glade on the south-western slope of the mountain, commanded by the necessary rock. It was a spot well-known to us, where we used to go in the heat of summer,
before the babies could walk, and let them crawl on the grass. Now, if I were coming from the Jebel I should traverse the southern slopes of our mountain and reach that glade without ever crossing
the pastures. And any man of Ferjeyn would be sure of it. So there was no need for any cordon across the top.
Helena made up a basket of food, and pretended to be taking it up the mountain to her uncle. Boulos was really there, hoping, I am sure, to warn me off if he could; it was not likely that John
would have had a chance to speak with him yet. First, she had to find the gendarmes and act suspiciously and draw their attention. Then she must make them follow her, and pretend not to be aware of
it. That was difficult—impossible if she had not been acting in character. But all Ferjeyn knew what she was. If a starving husband had managed to let her know he needed food, she would have
blindly taken it to him, though he were armed and mad and had tried to kill her.
She returned at the beginning of the night. Meanwhile the children had come home and were keeping guard—all but the youngest who was under the bed with me. She had no doubt that she had
been followed. The gendarme was clumsy when sneaking through the woods on foot.
I said my farewells, and plunged into a night that was also of the spirit. As I have said, I planned to go back to the Yezidis. The route, the people, the hiding-places, I had worked them all
out. A lot of fuss about nothing. Such planning was against my principles. I should have known better.
On the track between my house and the pastures there should be a picket. Even if I were expected elsewhere, that was an elementary precaution to take for the safety of my wife and children. I
was glad to find three of my fellow-townsmen alert and in the position I would have chosen for them myself. It gave me confidence that Helena was always in their thoughts. With all its faults, it
was a gallant little town, my Ferjeyn. The three men were facing uphill, and I was able to leave the track and pass boldly round them. When they heard me, they challenged. I replied in the falsetto
of an idiot that it was Nadim Nassar returning from his wife. They laughed.
It was impossible to guess the position of the rest. If the men of Ferjeyn wished to capture me before I collected my basket of food, they would be under cover on the eastern slope; if they
wanted the gendarmes to take all responsibility, they would be in the trees between the glade and my house, ready to pick up my body or intercept me if I escaped. In either case they would not be
on the pastures.
As in all attempts to predict the behaviour of opponents, my reasoning was neither right nor wrong. There were, in fact, a few men on the top; but they kept to the east, well away from the
gendarmes’ preserves. The pasture was by no means an open alp. It was the rugged top of a mountain, sown with rocks and bushes, where the grass grew in hundreds of little patches rather than
a continuous meadow. Well, with the half moon showing every bush as a movement and every shadow as inhabited, the men of Ferjeyn were nervous. They were smoking, and whispering to keep up their
courage. They were
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