The Sheik Retold(51)

"The woman nearly died in childbirth and never fully recovered, yet she made no complaint and seemed content as long as the child was with her. She was a child herself in a great number of ways. The sheik sent her to the tent of one of the headmen, whose wife looked after her with devotion, but eventually, she was even given a tent and servants of her own. It never occurred to her that there was anything odd in her continued residence in the sheik's camp.

"The sheik himself, who had never looked twice at a woman, became passionately attached to her. My father says he has never seen a man so madly in love. He repeatedly implored her to marry him, but she would never consent, though she gave no reason for her refusal. Her refusal made no difference with the sheik. His devotion to her was wonderful.

"It was only on her deathbed that she finally revealed her pitiful history. The only daughter of one of the oldest noble houses in Spain, she was given in marriage at the tender age of seventeen to Lord Glencaryll, who had seen her with her parents in Nice. It was an arranged marriage, and though she grew to love her husband, she was always afraid of him. He had a terrible temper that was easily roused, especially while in drink, when he behaved more like a devil than a man. Making no allowance for her youth and inexperience, her life was one long torture.

"Glencaryll had brought her to Algiers, wishing to make a trip into the desert. Even though her child was soon to be born, she made no objection for fear of upsetting him, but one night something happened that sent her fleeing into the desert, mad with fear. She would never say what happened, or even who she was, lest she be sent back to her husband.

"The birth of the child only made her more determined to preserve her secret and spare her son the suffering she had endured. On her deathbed, she made my father and the sheik swear that Lord Glencaryll would not be told of his son's existence until after he was grown. She then wrote a letter for her husband, which she gave into my father's keeping, together with her inscribed wedding ring, and a miniature of Glencaryll that she had kept hidden.

"In the last few days that she lived, the sheik's devotion awakened an answering tenderness in her heart. She was happiest when he was with her, and she died in his arms with his kisses on her lips. She had begged his forgiveness for the sorrow she had caused him and for keeping from him the fact that she was not free. She also left her boy in his keeping. Upon her death, all the passionate love the sheik had for the mother was transferred to the son.

“Ahmed Ben Hassan adopted him formally and made him his heir, giving him his own name—the hereditary name that the sheik of the tribe has borne for generations. His word was law amongst his people, and there was no thought of opposition to his wishes. On the contrary, his choice of successor was received with unanimous delight. He idolized the boy, and Ahmed grew up believing the sheik was his own father."

I listened to this story with incredulity but knew it was all true. I wondered what sort of man Ahmed would have been if the little dark-eyed mother had lived to sway him with her gentleness. Poor little mother, helpless and fragile—yet strong enough to save her boy from the danger that she feared for him. She had paid with her life but died content that her child was safe.

"When did you come to know him, Monsieur le Vicomte?"

He looked both hurt and surprised at my formal address. "Please, Mademoiselle Mayo, given our extraordinary circumstances, can we dispense with such formality?" He smiled. "If you would grant me the privilege, I would have you call me Raoul."

His sincerity warmed me. "Very well, Raoul. You must also let me be Diana."

"If you will honor me with your friendship, Diana, my life is at your service."

He raised my fingers to his lips with a touch of old-world chivalry. I guessed the kiss was meant to seal our pact of friendship. It was a moment longer before he answered my question.

"When did I come to know Ahmed?" He drew on his cigarette and paused to exhale a wispy stream of smoke. "I must have been eighteen when I first saw him. He was a boy of fifteen and had come to Paris to be educated. He was such a handsome, high-spirited lad and seemed in many ways a great deal older than I, in spite of my seniority. But in other ways he was a perfect child. He had a fiendish temper and resented any check on his lawless inclinations. He loathed any restrictions put upon him and hated town life. He'd been accustomed to having his own way in nearly everything and was not prepared to give anybody else the obedience that he had given the sheik so willingly."

I smiled inwardly, for I had been much the same. Aubrey’s word was my only law, and I couldn't wait until the day I could cast off that despised yoke.

"There were some very stormy times," he continued, "I never admired my father so much as in his handling of that young savage. Even then, the only threat that reduced Ahmed to order was that of sending him home to the sheik in disgrace, but in spite of his temper and his diableries, he was very lovable and everybody liked him. After a year in Paris, my father sent him for two years to my old tutor in England. He was an exceptional man, used to dealing with exceptional boys, and Ahmed did very well with him. I don't mean that he did much work—he evaded that skillfully to spend most of his time hunting and shooting. The only thing that he studied at all seriously was veterinary surgery, which he knew would be useful to him with his horses.

"With plenty of means to amuse himself in any way that he wished, Ahmed quickly developed into a polished man of the world—'Le bel Arabe' he was called. He was courted and feted in a way that would have turned most people's heads, but Ahmed was perfectly indifferent to the flattery and the attention that his money and his good looks brought him. The sheik was very rich and very generous, keeping him lavishly supplied, but always fearing the call of civilization would take away his adopted son. But Ahmed was bored to extinction and always secretly longing to go back to the desert. It was the desert, not civilization, that called loudest to him. He loved this life and adored the sheik. To be the son and heir of Ahmed Ben Hassan seemed to him the highest pinnacle that any man's ambition could reach. So, at the end of his nineteenth year, he shook the dust of Paris off his feet and came home.