“Yea, verily! But the daughter of swine would take the white people alive for ransom,” yelled back Abdul. “We are surrounded, Excellency. To the glory of Allah we die fighting.”
Trenchard gave one quick look over his shoulder towards the tent where, outlined against the light of the fire, Sir Richard and Helen stood shoulder to shoulder with smoking rifles in their hands. “Fire!” he shouted, as Zarah raised her spear and threw it with unerring aim.
“Out knives and fight to the death!”
He yelled the order which transports the Arab to the seventh heaven of delight as the spear buried itself in Sir Richard’s gallant old heart, and the enemy moved suddenly and swiftly down upon them.
“Fall back and give no quarter!” he shouted again, unwitting in the din and turmoil of a party of Bedouins which, attracted by the red glow in the sky and the sound of firing, raced towards the scene of battle from the west.
Shouting encouragement, firing until his rifle became too hot to hold, Trenchard backed slowly towards Helen, who knelt clasping her grandfather in her arms. Wounded, shouting, the men fell back slowly to form a square round her Excellency the white woman, who had accounted for more than one of the enemy and who, in her bravery, was to be ranked with the most famous of hadeeyahs, even Ayesha, the wife of Mohammed the Prophet, whilst the spy who had loosened the camels worked his way sideways until he stood close behind the white man for whose capture alive a great reward had been promised.
“Stand fast, men, they’re on us!” shouted Trenchard as, with a ringing yell, the enemy charged, just as the six camels, their long leather thongs burned through, shrieking and maddened with the agony of their burns and wounds, rushed the gallant square.
“God have mercy upon us!” Helen cried as she sprang to her feet to watch the terrible sight of horses and camels fighting to the death, making an impassable wedge separating her from Ralph Trenchard.
Outlined against a background of orange light, they looked like mighty prehistoric beasts as they reared and plunged, falling to their knees, scrambling to their feet, shrieking as only horses and camels can shriek, in pain and fear. Sick to the heart, she tried in vain to catch a glimpse of the man she loved, whilst Zarah, with Al-Asad at her side, rode round and round the camp, shouting the battle-cry, yelling encouragement to those of her men who were left alive to fight.
Just for the moment Helen stood searching vainly for her lover, her ears deaf to the din of the battle, her eyes blinded to the terrible sights, then flung herself down beside the old man she loved so deeply. Where she loved she had no fear, neither could any task be too hard for her to undertake for the loved one’s welfare, so that she knelt beside Sir Richard and gently drew out the spear which had pierced the gallant heart. When she understood that it had for ever ceased to beat she gathered him up into her strong arms and kissed his white hair. She held him so, just for a little while, as her mind uncontrollably raced back through the happy years spent with him; then she laid him down upon the desert sand and, picking up her rifle, rose to her feet.