“And as soon as you have a reply from the qaid, go to the doctor’s house and tell him to come here!” John directed the man, who nodded earnestly.
“I’m so glad that you are here,” Sibylla confessed with relief. “There is so much going on, I can hardly think clearly.”
“Anything you need, Mother,” John said as he embraced her.
The door to the drawing room opened and Victoria entered carrying a tea tray. “Nadira told me what happened. I hope Emily is all right,” she said as she poured.
“A cup of tea is exactly what I need right now.” Sibylla gave her daughter-in-law a look of gratitude and Victoria blushed.
She poured John a cup as well. Then she sat down on the divan and looked from one to the other. “I hope no one’s been seriously hurt.”
John stirred his tea. “That’s what we’re all hoping.”
Half an hour later, Hamid returned with the message that the qaid would have an armed escort waiting in front of the city wall shortly before sunrise.
With the gatekeeper came not only Thomas but also Sabri. Both physicians inquired immediately about the number of wounded and what types of injuries had been sustained, but neither Sibylla nor John could tell them.
“I’ll return to the maristan,” said Sabri, “and load a mule with medicine, bandages, and surgical instruments. That way you can stay with your family, Thomas. We’ll all meet by the city gate in the morning.”
“You wish to accompany us?” Sibylla asked.
“Of course,” Sabri answered, tormented with worry about Emily. “We have no idea what to expect. One doctor may not be enough.”
Early the following evening, Sibylla, Frédéric, Thomas, and Sabri, together with the qaid’s six armed cavalrymen, arrived at the gates of Qasr el Bahia. Anxiety had hastened their journey. They had stayed in the saddle all day and paused only to let the horses have a drink of water. Both humans and animals were utterly exhausted.
The closer the group got to its destination, the lower morale sank. Thomas and Sabri conferred softly about what sort of medical emergencies they might have to deal with. Frédéric’s expression was gloomy. Sibylla’s thoughts were with Emily and André. Still, she noticed how desolate the countryside they were traveling through looked. Swarms of crows and ravens were circling in the sky and devouring the locusts as though they were at a banquet. Sibylla had never seen so many insects and could not help but shudder at the sight. They were on the ground, in the shrubs and trees, buzzing through the air in swarms, and falling into her hair, into the folds of her clothing, and onto her increasingly unsettled horse. Two shepherds they met told them that this was merely a remnant of the huge swarm now on its way to the ocean, darkening the sky along its way. The bare landscape suggested an infestation of biblical proportions. The trees and shrubs were bare and leafless and there was not a single leaf of grass for the horses to eat. Fortunately, John had insisted on packing fodder for them.
Qasr el Bahia looked forbidding in the evening light. No torches burned in either of the two donjons or in the iron brackets framing the gate. Everything seemed eerily still, almost uninhabited.
Frédéric jumped off his horse and pounded on the gate with both fists. “It’s me! Open up! I’ve brought help! Can you hear me? Open up!”
Sibylla’s heart was racing. What would they find inside? Had Emily really not been hurt? And what about André? She could not bear to think about the possibility that she had come too late and he had died of his wounds.
Creaking and scraping sounds came from the other side. A bolt was moved aside, a chain was loosened, and finally, the gate was opened just enough to allow one rider at a time to pass through. Once the last of the riders had entered, the slender adolescent bolted and barricaded the gate again.
“Frédéric! I’m so glad you’re back!” The boy scrutinized the newcomers cautiously.
Frédéric embraced him. “Christian! Did you take good care of everyone? How are Baba and Imma?”
“Not well.” Christian shook his head despondently.
“Where are the injured?” Thomas inquired. Sabri had already begun to unload the mule. Some farmhands came to take care of the horses.
Sibylla slid out of her saddle and looked around. Low tents were ringed around a flickering fire in the middle of the courtyard. Men were sitting together in small groups and talking quietly while smoking a water pipe. A servant distributed bowls with food and tea. Women were taking care of the younger children. Sibylla looked around for Emily, but could not find her anywhere. People came to greet the new arrivals. Some were limping, some had their arms in a sling, some using branches as crutches. An old man with a dirty bandage wrapped around his head said to Sibylla in despair, “How could our own flesh and blood abuse us in this way?”
“Mummy!” Emily came running out of the house and threw herself into her mother’s arms. “Finally, Mummy! I’ve been waiting for you!”
Tears streamed down Sibylla’s face. Emily had been a little girl the last time she had called her that.
“Promise me that we will never again let a whole year pass without speaking!” Sibylla implored her and stroked her daughter’s hair.
“Never again, Mummy!” Emily promised.
“Little sister, I’m so glad that you’re all right!” Thomas also embraced Emily.
Then came Sabri.
“I thank God that nothing has happened to you,” he said quietly and squeezed her hand.
“I’ve been told there are two dead. Is that right?” Thomas asked.
Emily nodded. “One of the attackers. Frédéric and Christian saw Father strike him with a shovel after he shot at Aynur. And Aynur’s servant, Tamra. The bullet that grazed Aynur struck Tamra in the heart.”
“Where were you during the raid, Miss Emily?” Sabri asked.
“I hid in the house with Malika and my youngest brother.”
“Good,” Sabri replied. Their eyes locked for several seconds.
Then Sibylla asked, “How is André?”
“Father is still unconscious. I’m very worried.”
Sabri took charge. “Thomas, I suggest you go inside and treat Monsieur Rouston and his wife. I’ll take care of the injured out here.”
“Good idea. Afterward, I’ll come and join you,” Thomas agreed. “Emily, can you take me to them?”
“I’ll come with you!” Sibylla hastened after them. “To help.”
Christian, Emily, and Malika had carried their father into a small room normally used to accommodate passing travelers. He lay motionless on the bed draped in a woolen blanket. The right side of his face was bluish red and severely swollen. He had a gaping wound on his temple, two fingers wide and one finger long. The margins were black with dried blood.
“My God,” Sibylla muttered. She leaned forward and placed her hand on the uninjured side of André’s forehead. His skin felt cold and waxy.