A bazaar experience
After the sedan chair passes, a heavily veiled woman dashes out of the jostling crowd and runs up to Margaret, stopping short in front of her. The woman’s rapid Arabic is almost too much for Margaret—she seems to be saying something to the effect of “Beware the Ides of March”. The woman continues to repeat this message, without even holding out her hand for a coin, as one might expect from a marketplace prognosticator.
Shirley watches for pickpockets, armed men, or anyone taking an excessive interest in the interchange. He beckons Esperanza closer, looking around him for side streets or other ways out of the bazaar. He does not, however, insist on immediate flight. He understands no Arabic at all, though he hears the urgency in the woman’s voice; Margaret will have to gauge the threat and respond.
Margaret is a little taken aback, but says at once “A thousand thanks, Lady, but could you please repeat that a little more slowly? My command of the tongue of tongues is not yet so fluent as I would like.” She smiles, but does not try to touch the woman; she is being very careful to do nothing that might be interpreted as a threat. She is paying as much attention to their surroundings as she can, but her primary focus is on the woman. She trusts Shirley and Esperanza to warn her of other things.
The woman’s slurred speech slows slightly. “Beware! Beware the eagle!” The woman swoons, and begins to slowly crumple to the ground in front of Margaret.
Shirley steps forward to put his arm under the woman’s shoulders before she can collapse entirely. “I am not liking this,” he says crisply to Margaret and Esperanza. He is not looking at them, as they are known quantities; his eyes restlessly scan his surroundings. “Were we in York, I should say we were being pinned down for an unpleasantness. Esperanza, watch behind us, please. Margaret, tell me where best to go; we can do nothing for her in the middle of the street.” He tests the woman’s weight, to see if he can carry her.
“I quite agree.” Margaret looks up; they are mere feet away from Government House and relative safety. “Take her in. The guards should keep away any unpleasantness, and I can examine her in the entryway.”
A small boy bursts out of the crowd, pointing at Shirley and the unconscious woman. His eyes go wide as he takes in the scene. His high-pitched cry carries above the noise of the bazaar. “My grandmother—what have you done to my grandmother?!!”
Margaret looks up, takes in both the child and the response his shriek is beginning to attract. She turns to Esperanza and says, very quietly, “Run for the guard at the entry to Government House.” Esperanza is off like a shot, weaving through the crowd like the most experienced Bahraini messenger boy. Her slight form disappears from sight.
Then Margaret turns toward the child and calls, very clearly: “Come here, please, and help us! Your grandmother has fainted. We are trying to help her. I am a physician. What is your grandmother’s name, Child of Allah? Does she suffer any illness?” Margaret is both keeping her guard up and attempting to project reassurance. She is also shifting to be between the crowd and the woman and Shirley. Shirley stands as still as he can, supporting the woman’s weight against his shoulder and hip. His face is carefully blank of any expression, though his eyes still rove nervously about. Margaret and Esperanza are doing all that can reasonably be done; it falls to him not to spoil their good sense.
Another veiled woman steps out of the crowd, and puts her arms around the little boy, who is now weeping. “Ah, I am so sorry,” she says to Margaret in Arabic. “My mother-in-law is—often confused. I did not realize she had left the house until I heard Faisal crying out.” She ruffles the boy’s hairaffectionately. “But please, let me take her fromyou, and we shall not trouble you further.”
Margaret nods her understanding, responding in Arabic, “But how will you get her home? She cannot walk, and perhaps should be examined. I am a physician, and my companion has gone for assistance. Would you like us to take her to Government House, where I can examine her? I will see to it that no male eye sees her face, and of course, it would be a great help if you would come with her.” Though understanding none of it, Shirley nonetheless feels a slight relief at the tone of the exchange. He shifts the woman so that her head rests more comfortably against his shoulder. His arm is tiring; he tries not to let that show in his face.
Margaret looks briefly toward Shirley, then back to the daughter-in-law. “Your pardon, please. I must tell my friend what is happening.” She turns back to Shirley. “Evidently the woman who has collapsed is this one’s mother-in-law. I have offered assistance, if they will let us take her to Government House so I can examine her. I can’t do much here; if I lift her veil on the public street, I will create a scandal as great as disrobing in front of Buckingham Palace. Can you see any sign the guard is coming? And is she” nodding toward the woman he is supporting “showing any sign of stirring? If she can get home with her daughter-in-law’s assistance, it might be best for everyone.”
“It would, but I do not think the lady can cooperate,” Shirley answers. “I cannot turn my head to look for Esperanza and the guard without loosing my hold, I am afraid.”
Margaret catches the strain in Shirley’s voice. “Shirley? It does not appear will will need to run anywhere this instant, and that this lady will be cared for even if we depart abruptly. Can you let her down so that her weight is on the ground, and support her head and shoulders? That must be a terribly awkward position.” She reaches to help shift the woman, at the same time asking the daughter-in-law in Arabic, “Does your husband’s mother suffer often from fainting spells?”
“I can—manage a few minutes more,” Shirley says, arriving with Margaret’s help at a more secure two-armed hold. “A shame to—cover her clothes in dust.”
The daughter-in-law’s voice trembles a bit, perhaps in embarrassment rather than fear. “I cannot afford to pay you for your services, Doctor…” As she begins to speak, the mother-in-law stirs a bit in Shirley’s arms, as if she is slowly becoming conscious. At the same time, Esperanza bursts through the crowd, trailed by two British Army guards from Government House. “Señora Doctor—this Sergeant Andrews speaks the Arabic much better than I—”
“The cavalry is here, Doctor. Why don’t you finish your talk with the young woman?” Shirley catches Esperanza’s eye and with a motion of his head invites her to help him. Esperanza catches Shirley’s meaning and bounds over to his side to assist him in righting the mother-in-law.
Margaret sighs in relief, then tries to deal with everyone. To Esperanza, “Thank you, my dear, you did magnificently!” To the daughter-in-law: “I was not concerned about the payment. Your husband’s mother collapsed at my feet; since I have the skill to do so, I offer what brief aid I can.” That is said with a slightly preoccupied smile, as she notices the mother-in-law’s motion. “Call her name, would you? She is more likely to respond to you in this state
than to me.”
The daughter-in-law tells Faisal to stay put, in Arabic, then moves to the older woman’s side. Gently, she takes her mother-in-law’s hand and pats it, crooning, “Nura? Nura? Can you hear me?” The old woman groans and tries to sit up.
Then Margaret addresses herself to Sergeant Andrews: “Thank you so much for coming. Could you please ask the crowd to leave us some space? I have stretched my Arabic quite to its limits.” Sergeant Andrews says, first in English, then Arabic, “Move along, please. There’s nothing to see here. Please go on about your business.”
Margaret reaches around to check Nura’s pulse. She decides, from the young woman’s demeanor, that this has happened before. The young one is concerned and possibly somewhat embarrassed, but not shocked or surprised. “How long does usually take her to awaken, when this happens? Does she have any lingering difficulties beyond confusion?”
Nura’s daughter-in-law sighs heavily. She leans close to Margaret and whispers, “She claims to have visions. These visions make her—mad, somehow. She babbles, and does not remember where she is. This is why I try to keep her in the house, or with me. She must have gotten confused and wandered off—I apologize most humbly if she has discomfited you in any way.”
Margaret nods reassurance, and says to the other Guardsman, “I don’t know yet if it will be needed, but is there a quiet room in Government House where I can examine this woman in private? I rather feel honour-bound to render what slight assistance I can, if it is accepted, as I am
not certain she would have collapsed had our paths not intersected.””
“Er—I, that is—” the other Guardsman looks over at Andrews, who is still exhorting the crowd to move along. “It’s rather irregular, you see, but I suppose arrangements could be made…” he finishes lamely.
Shirley exchanges a brief amused glance with Margaret. “To be sure, sir, I shall take responsibility for any irregularities,” he says. “You need not worry.” Margaret nods to Shirley at that. At first he is not quite sure, but he is not mistaken; there is a definite twinkle in her eye at the Guardsman’s confusion.
If Nura’s pulse seems steady, Margaret will turn to the daughter-in-law. “Shall we go in? You and Faisal too, of course; she should not be left alone with strangers. Or would you rather take her home? I will be happy to assist further, and payment is not an issue at all, but I will not insist, since she seems to be waking on her own.”
Nura’s pulse is steady enough, if slightly fast. She is obviously trying to get to her feet, and her daughter-in-law stands to assist her. “You are most kind, Doctor, but I believe it is best if Faisal and I simply take her home. Perhaps she will sleep for a while.” She calls out to her son “Faisal, come here—help Grandmother.” Obviously, this is nothing new to the boy; he obediently goes to Nura’s side andtakes her hand in his. “I am terribly sorry if she has disturbed you, or your companions.”
The Guardsman who isn’t Sergeant Andrews watches as Nura and her family slowly make their way down a side street. “I suppose that’s, er, it then? But you must come along to Government House—you’re expected of course! Lord Brixby is quite keen to meet you.”
“Indeed,” says Shirley, a faint amusement still lurking in his voice. “Well, we must not disappoint.”
He offers Margaret his arm. As she takes it, she can feel his pulse still racing despite his unruffled exterior. When they pass through the gate, the wary sergeant behind them, he says quietly to her, “That was extraordinarily well-handled. Thank you. One wrong step and we’d have caused a riot.”
When she takes Shirley’s arm, Margaret’s hand is shaking ever so slightly. She is slightly rumpled, but outwardly serene. “I know; I was terrified of it, especially when the boy began screaming. I hoped you would not mind if I took charge, but a woman is often less threatening, and I had the advantage in the matter of the language.”
“Mind? Mind?” He chuckles. “What do you take me for?”
She laughes a little. “A most atypical Englishman, certainly! The young woman says Nura is slightly mad, and she may be; what she said to
me made little enough sense. She bade me beware the Ides of March, and the Eagle. The worst of it is,” and she sounds a bit embarrassed, “I’ve had odd encounters before, and I cannot quite dismiss such warnings out of hand.”
Shirley shakes his head. “We have had so many warnings that I cannot imagine doing anything different because of this one. I do not discount it, but I shan’t hide in a corner because of it, either. And sometimes it is better not to try too hard to understand. Consider Oedipus.”
“Mm, yes. I shan’t do anything differently, but please don’t be surprised if I give statues of eagles wide berth.” Obviously, she’s laughing at herself. Equally obviously, she’s still a touch unnerved by the whole encounter.
Shirley puts his hand over hers. “I will warn you of eagles,” he says. Margaret gives him a grateful smile.
Without further ado, Shirley, Esperanza, and Margaret are escorted into Government House and settled in a small, bright, immaculate sitting room. Esperanza is enchanted by a curio cabinet that contains an amazing variety of seashells. Not a speck of dust nor grain of dirt has dared make an appearance in the room. The windows have fine cotton-mesh screens over them. The furniture has been rigorously polished, as has the grate and the various fixtures around the room. Sergeant Andrews excuses himself, leaving the as-yet unnamed Guardsman with the Ellipsoids.
“Oh, dear,” says Shirley, surveying his dusty garments and the immaculate room with comic dismay. “We are a ruffianly lot, aren’t we?”
“Rather, but I daresay no one could have got through the past 10 minutes unrumpled. I, for one, am glad of the opportunity to sit down and catch my breath. I trust the maids will forgive us the extra work, and hopefully we shall have the opportunity to refresh ourselves later.” And she suits the deed to the word, taking her seat in a comfortable-looking chair then begins trying vainly to push her hair back into some semblance of order.
A shake of the head and a few finger-combs suffice for Shirley’s hair to fall back into place. His clothes he can do nothing about; Scotland Yard will simply have to deal with him as he is.
Scotland Yard. Shirley can hardly believe what he just thought.
A young woman in a maid’s uniform enters the room. She looks uncertainly at the disheveled trio of adventurers, and drops a brief curtsy. “His Lordship invites you to luncheon at one o’clock, Mr. Addam, Miss-Doctor-Byrd. And Miss Esperanza as well. If you should like to refresh yourselves, I can show you to guest rooms. His Lordship would be happy to send up a valet for you, Mr. Addam. And, ah, Mr. Addam, there’s another gentleman what wishes to speak with you after luncheon, a Mr. Baxter. Didn’t state his business, I’m afraid, but said the Major told you to expect him.”
“Thank you, miss; pray lead on,” Shirley answers, rising from his chair. “I need no valet, though I am grateful for Lord Brixby’s kindness. And I will be pleased to speak with Mr. Baxter after luncheon. Did our trunks arrive intact?”
“I believe that your luggage was delivered shortly before you arrived. If you’ll kindly follow me?”
The maid leads Shirley, Margaret, and Esperanza through immaculate hallways and up a spotless staircase. At the top of the stairs, she turns left,
and gestures to two rooms on opposite sides of the hall. “Mr. Addam, your luggage is in the blue room, and Dr. Byrd, yours and Miss Esperanza’s are in the lavender suite. Lord Brixby has already taken the liberty of ordering baths for you. If you should need anything, please ring.”
“Thank you, miss. I am sure all is satisfactory.”
Shirley enters the room indicated to him, and checks to be sure that the door locks. The lock, like everything else, is in apparently perfect condition. The well-oiled bolt slides home with barely a click.
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