 
The Boy in White Linen

Jon Jacks

Other New Adult and Children's books by Jon Jacks

The Caught – The Rules – Chapter One – The Changes – Sleeping Ugly

The Barking Detective Agency – The Healing – The Lost Fairy Tale

A Horse for a Kingdom – Charity – The Most Beautiful Things – The Last Train

The Dream Swallowers – Nyx; Granddaughter of the Night – Jonah and the Alligator

Glastonbury Sirens – Dr Jekyll's Maid – The 500-Year Circus

P – The Endless Game – DoriaN A – Wyrd Girl – The Wicker Slippers

Heartache High (Vol I) – Heartache High: The Primer (Vol II) – Heartache High: The Wakening (Vol III)

Miss Terry Charm, Merry Kris Mouse & The Silver Egg – Seecrets – The Cull – Dragonsapien

Text copyright© 2013 Jon Jacks

All rights reserved

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A planet of blue, white, green,

Serenely circling, seemingly endlessly, irrevocably,

But yet a small ship, tossed on a sea of unknowing;

Are we lost?

Are we all alone,

after all?

Lillianne Violet Pine, Jerusalem 1920

*

# Chapter 1

The road to Jerusalem, April Fools' Day, 1920

_'A...ttishoo!_ '

'God bless you, Miss Pine.'

Through bleary eyes, Lillianne gratefully reached for the pristinely ironed handkerchief Captain Hilary had deftly produced from his top pocket.

'It's the dust I'm afraid; it gets everywhere.'

Lillianne was beginning to wonder if she would have been better taking the train rather than insisting on travelling overland 'along a route Jesus would have recognised'. It was a far more boring trip than she had expected, the land they were passing through hardly seeming to change. Worse still, even her uncle's Rolls Royce seemed incapable of protecting her from either the worst of the bumps and jolts of the potted road or the fine red dust that seemed to coat everything.

'Captain?' The soldier chauffeuring them spoke over his shoulder as he kept his eyes on the road. 'I think I just heard gunfire south of here.'

'Drive on, Broadley; Miss Pine's safety is our main concern today.'

'Sir; it's probably a settlement under attack!'

Captain Hilary glanced back through the car's rear window, through the clouds of dust, at the truck following on behind them.

Lillianne turned to look with him, even though she knew what she would see; a truck that looked like it had served in the recent Great War, badly dented but now repainted as a police vehicle. Even through the plumes of dust their own car was throwing up behind them, Lillianne could see that the truck and its occupants were suffering even more bone-jarring jolts than they were.

She couldn't make out the driver, or the man or men crammed into the seat next to him. The men in the back of the truck were completely out of view, of course. But she had seen them all earlier when Captain Hilary had arrived to tell her he'd been appointed by her uncle to make sure she arrived safely in Jerusalem. They weren't what she'd been given to expect by her uncle's telegram promising a 'military escort'. They were policemen, obviously recruited from the local population. Yes, they were armed, but their dress and attitude were what could only be called slovenly.

Not that the sole British solider accompanying the captain was any more inspiring. He was better and more smartly dressed, yes, yet now and again he seemed to treat his commanding officer with a strange mix of apparently calculated ignorance and casual rudeness.

She had been surprised by the captain's lax attitude to the indifference of his men to his authority, as if he were resigned to it. She felt sorry for him, in a way; perhaps he had tried earlier to instil a sense of hierarchy, only to find his threats carried little or no weight. This was some form of protectorate, after all (Was that the right word? She felt sure it was), rather than a part of the Empire that the British had real control over; 'You must realise we're effectively only there to advise and help,' her mother had explained, trying to dissuade her from going ahead with her trip even as she planned it.

The captain turned around in his seat. He glared at the back of the head of the driver.

'And you seriously think that getting these men involved wold help the settlement, do you?' he said. 'We both know full well that they're far more likely to end up joining in the attack.'

The driver jerked forward, slamming down hard and abruptly on the brakes. The car juddered and bumped as it slewed to a halt, throwing up even more clouds of dust.

'Sidney!' the captain yelled furiously.

Behind them, there was a loud squeal, a cacophonic protesting of tortured metal, as the truck tried to stop. It spun aside, partially turned off the road, and swung around almost side on to the back of the car.

'Get back in the car, Sidney!'

Ignoring the captain's command, the driver stepped out onto the dusty road.

'We can't help them!' Flinging open his own door, the captain leapt out of the car. 'There are hundreds of settlements scattered across Palestine! We can't protect them all!'

The driver was striding towards the idling truck, his only response to the captain being a dismissive cry over his shoulder.

'I'm not asking you to protect them all, Harry! Just _this_ one!'

Harry?

Lillianne was amazed by everything she was witnessing.

Is this how private soldiers now addressed their commanding officers in the British army?

'Sid! I've protected you enough from all this madness, this insubordination!'

Quickly stepping out of the other side of the car, Lillianne watched in bemusement as the driver continued to ignore his captain. Instead, he shouted up to the men in the back of the truck, something in Arabic that she couldn't understand. Grinning wryly, as every bit as bemused by everything as she was, the men swapped questioning glances before one of them threw down a rifle to the waiting Sidney. A box of ammunition immediately followed, which Sidney deftly caught in one hand.

'The settlers don't trust us anymore, Harry!' Turning off the road, he strode out across the rocky ground towards the settlement, from where the sharp crack of gunfire could now be clearly heard. 'We're not stopping the Fedayeen from attacking them, and we're not letting them arm themselves either!'

'They've already got guns, Sid, you know that! The war's just ended and there are thousands out there unaccounted for!'

Standing on the side of the road, watching his driver walk away from him, Captain Hilary fumed impotently, a hand quivering over his holstered revolver as if he were struggling with the side of him that said he should draw it, threaten to fire, call his man back 'or else!'

'The Palestinians have lived here over a thousand years!' he cried out instead. He was having to shout out louder now that Sidney was refusing to turn back. 'The way they see it, the settlers should never have been allowed in! We can't be seen to be taking sides, Sid!'

'Hah! Tell that to the young Miss's uncle and all the rest of the top brass, Harry! Pro-Arab most of 'em – and you know that!'

Giving Lillianne a swift, apologetic look, Captain Hilary noticed at last that the men in the back of the truck, having stood up to get a better view of Sidney's leaving, were all grinning hugely at his humiliation. With a brusque waving of an arm, an even brusquer yell in Arabic, he ordered the truck's driver to begin backing up onto the road.

'Sorry, Miss Pine,' he said, indicating that she should get back into the car as he moved towards the driver's door. 'I did warn you that this was a far from ideal time for you to visit–'

'...and that if I hadn't just turned up more or less unannounced, I would have been refused permission to visit? Yes, I _do_ remember, Captain.'

She ducked her head, crouching slightly as she stepped back inside the Rolls Royce's spacious interior. The captain slipped into the driver's seat, slamming his door shut.

_'Shouldn't_ we help them?' Lillianne asked, taking her own seat. 'The people being attacked, I mean. And your soldier friend?'

'Help him?' Captain Hilary started the car rolling slowly forwards. ' _God_ help him, Miss Pine! And yes, God help _us_ too; we've got a clash of festivals – Passover, Easter, the Moslem Nebi Musa – and thousands of armed men out there who were all fighting in the Great War for differing, conflicting goals that were never going to be realised.'

Seated in the back and just off to Captain Hilary's side, Lillianne at last had an opportunity to more closely study him. From her first sight of him, she had thought him smart and attractive, still boyish in the softness of his face, yet somehow more angularly hard and handsome when he was stern or authoritative. In his light green officer's jacket, his khaki shorts and his jauntily positioned hat, he cut a rather dashing figure who would _definitely_ impress her friends back in the school dorms when she sent back any photographs of them strolling through Jerusalem together.

'Surely my uncle's men are perfectly capable of controlling it all, Captain?' she replied proudly.

'Your uncle's men,' the captain chuckled wryly, giving a backward nod of his head to draw her attention to the truck following on behind, 'are all half trained like those men back there, Miss Pine. And we've got less than two hundred of them to police Jerusalem.'

'And you don't think that will be enough, Captain?'

'Well the Turks, Miss Pine, they've run and known what this country's like for more or less a millennium; and even for a _normal_ Nebi Musa procession, they'd flood the streets with _thousands_ of soldiers.'

Glancing over his shoulder, he attempted a grin, but it appeared to Lillianne to be strained, even pained.

'As I said, Miss; God help us all.'

*

# Chapter 2

Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it.

Song of Songs 8; 7

Surprisingly modern, and enclosed within its own small yet well-appointed garden, the house could have been lifted from a French town's suburb then deliberately set down where it had wonderful views of the pink-walled old city.

The wheels of the Rolls Royce crunched satisfactorily on the gravelled drive as Harry expertly curled it around the large (but dry) fountain situated directly in front of the house's grandly decorated porch.

(Lillianne couldn't remember at what point on the long journey she had taken to calling him Harry but, as he hadn't objected, as he had in fact seemed to become more at ease with her, she had insisted – Miss Pine being too formal, Lillianne far too tiresome – that he should either call her Lilly or, better still, like all her _closest_ friends, Lil.)

The noise of the arriving car having alerted the staff, a nervously hand-wringing maid almost instantly appeared at the door and, by the time Harry had helped Lil demurely step out of the car, a clutch of others had joined her. In their midst stood an imperiously straight-backed, relatively fashionably dressed woman who observed Harry and Lil's familiarity with a frown of disapproval.

'Miss Pine! Captain! I would remind you that decorum is expected even in front of staff!' With the very slightest of stoops, she peered into the back of the car. 'Your chaperone, Miss Pine? I was led to believe you would be arriving here with a Miss Anne Corr as your companion; doesn't she understand that her role is to remain in constant attendance?'

'Or, er, I'm afraid that I've had to leave Anne behind as she was so unwell, Miss, er...please accept my apologies, ma'am, but I wasn't informed of your name.'

As she apologised, Lil bent a knee in a slight curtsy, a simple act that appeared to appease the woman at least a little, for she no longer sounded quite so irate when she next spoke. With nothing more than the flick of a hand and a lowering of her eyes, she also indicated to the staff that the car should be unloaded.

'Miss Debussy is my name; and I have been left in charge of the household – and of your wellbeing too, Miss Pine – until your uncle's return. He will not be pleased to hear you have arrived here without the chaperone we were promised would be accompanying you.'

'I _am_ sorry Miss Debussy, but there was nothing much that could be done of it, as she was sorely ill.'

'Sorely ill? Not the flu, I trust?'

'I fear it may well be the flu; poor Anne wasn't well at all, the last I saw of her.'

'Then it may well be for the best that she did not come–'

'My point exactly, ma'am; we thought it best for everyone that she remained where she was–'

– 'as would have indeed been the best course for _you_ to take as well, Miss Pine!'

Miss Debussy was obviously angered by Lil's unfortunate interruption, the burgeoning signs of her better nature gained by the young girl's curtsy instantaneously withering.

'These are _not_ good times to be visiting Jerusalem, Miss Pine, and had we had more notice of your intention to visit rather than a seriously delayed letter and an ambiguously worded telegram–'

Miss Debussy's eyes widened in fury as she was interrupted again, this time by the poorly suppressed giggling of the maids. The young servant who had unloaded and picked up the heaviest of the cases from the back of the car was heading back towards the door, the paper fish pinned to his back now plain for all to see.

Sensing Miss Debussy's growing anger, the youngest of the maids diffidently curtsied ( _much_ lower than Lil could have managed, or believed appropriate) then rushed over towards the unfortunate man, swiftly removing the fish with an apologetic, 'Poisson'd Avril, Jacques!'

'When are you expecting my uncle to arrive home, Miss Debussy?' Lil asked, taking advantage of the interruption to deflect Miss Debussy from her line of questioning.

'Your uncle has been called away on urgent business in Damascus.'

Miss Debussy's eyes flicked worriedly towards Harry as she spoke, an anxiety that was instantly reflected in his apprehensive frown.

Why should they both display such concern over her uncle's departure to Damascus? Lil wondered.

She looked towards Harry questioningly, relying on the friendship that she believed had developed between them on the journey to prompt an answer from him.

Perhaps, she hoped, it was more than friendship? After all, in the village that lay just outside her school, as well as the village where her parents lived, she was considered 'a blossoming beauty' (as she had overheard herself being described – in a variety of similar terms – a number of times by nearby adults). The way she was treated, too, particularly by men, particularly by _young_ men, had changed remarkably over the last few years as she had grown from pretty, vivacious girl into well-mannered, self-conscious young woman.

'Don't you mind, young Miss,' a shop boy would whisper with a conspiratorial wink, secretively handing her the full weight of chocolates or complete length of lace that she had admitted she didn't have enough money to buy.

She had always caught, too, out of the corner of her eye – even though she tried so hard to pretend that she _hadn't_ noticed, that she _didn't_ care – the admiring, sometimes even longing looks cast her way as she went about the village streets and greens. She knew it meant she had a certain power over her admirers, that her attractiveness could be used to make them help her in extra special ways that would be denied to others who asked for such favours. Indeed, she had grown to expect a special kind of treatment, from young men especially – but strangely, too, from people from all walks of life, including other women – to the extent that her friends would marvel and giggle at her audacity as she would seemingly innocently ask for aid or items that anyone else wouldn't even think of requesting.

She felt sure that even the handsome, elegant Captain Hilary wasn't totally immune to her allure when it came to appeals for answers or help.

'There's been a coup in Syria, Miss Pine; with Faisal installed as king–'

'Captain, I'm sure Miss Pine has no interest whatsoever in the politics of this region! However, having said that, it's just one more thing that makes the timing of your arrival even more unfortunate, Miss Pine.'

Lil groaned inwardly, realising that her ploy had backfired, for now Miss Debussy was once again raising questions about her arrival.

'We've already had violent riots here over Passover,' Miss Debussy continued. 'And it's not even as if we Christians are safe; from what I've heard about this Moslem festival that's coming up, it just seems to give them an excuse to make all kinds of mischief for any Christian groups they come across on their walk to Jericho.'

Lil once again looked to Harry for an explanation.

'The Nebi Musa procession I mentioned?' Harry said helpfully. 'It runs from Jerusalem to Jericho, where they believe Moses is buried. Christian communities on the way have usually faced trouble.'

'Then can I hold you responsible for Miss Pine's safety, Captain?' Miss Debussy demanded sourly. 'Seeing that you were more than aware of the problems we face, yet brought her out here regardless?'

'Miss Pine can be very insistent, ma'am.'

'A slip of a girl, Captain?' She looked Lil up and down in a distasteful manner that implied she fully understood why the captain had been incapable of refusing her requests. 'If you can't control a young girl, what possible hope have we for Jerusalem?'

'Oh, in Har – Captain Hilary's defence, Miss Debussy, I should point out that he took great care in explaining the many dangers I face here.'

Lil glanced Harry's way, a mischievous glint in her eyes that left him in no doubt that he owed her for saving him from Miss Debussy's wrath with her little white lie. Yes, he had mentioned the problems Jerusalem faced when they had first met, but he hadn't gone into any details, nor had he forcibly insisted that she stayed on the coast.

'He also most assuredly reassured me that I would indeed be safe,' she continued without a pause, 'as my uncle had specifically appointed him as my personal guardian for the duration of my stay. And therefore my safety and wellbeing is entirely in _his_ hands, Miss Debussy, _not_ yours.'

'Then that, at least, is something to be thankful for,' Miss Debussy sighed, almost closing her eyes in relief and therefore unaware that she had cut of Harry's attempt at a protest.

Lil rewarded him with a gracious if somewhat triumphant smile. On the journey out, far from informing her that he would be constantly on hand to assure her safety, he had warned her that she would probably have to remain confined to the house, as no military or police personnel could be spared to accompany her.

'I should have no need to remind you, Captain, that you are foremost an officer of his Majesty's forces, and it is therefore beholden upon you to remain at all times a gentleman!'

Miss Debussy sternly addressed Captain Hilary as if she were a haughty headmistress administering punishment to a wayward schoolboy. Lil had to supress the giggle she felt building in her throat.

Suddenly, Miss Debussy was addressing her in the same authoritative manner.

'Of course, to ensure that all things take place within the bounds of propriety, I shall naturally choose someone suitable from amongst the girls making up my staff to accompany you as chaperone until the arrival of your friend, Miss Pine.'

'Of course, ma'am; and I thank you for it.'

It wasn't ideal, Lil realised; not what she had hoped for, at least. But a chaperone drawn from the servants? How difficult would she be to handle? (Or, if necessary, even dupe?)

Snapping smartly to attention, snapping his cap back onto his head with a smooth, practiced move, Harry apologised but said he couldn't stay any longer as he was already late reporting back to barracks.

Lil wasn't sure if he was just a little too eager to be off. Was he hoping that he wouldn't be landed with accompanying her around Jerusalem after all?

As Harry turned to leave, there was a flurry of signals and commands from Miss Debussy as she urged everyone, including Lil, to move inside the house.

Lil hesitated, using the excuse that something was caught in her shoe to pause on the step, to glance behind and watch Harry leave, hoping to catch him glancing back at her.

Striding past the parked Rolls Royce, his heavy boots crunching nosily on the loose gravel, he headed towards the truck waiting for him at the gates.

Then, just as he neared the gates – he looked back.

She smiled.

He smiled, embarrassed that he'd been caught out looking back at her.

Yes, Lil thought; Captain Hilary would be calling for her in the morning.

This was going to be a very interesting holiday after all.

*

# Chapter 3

He maketh them the cedars of Lebanon also to skip like a calf; Lebanon and Sirion like a young unicorn.

Psalms 29:6

Disappointingly, the stone that had shone with such exotically pink hues when she had seen the city from the house appeared to have been transformed into regular if large blocks when viewed from up close. Even so, it was still quite enthralling to be passing along narrow alleyways that seemed to have remained unchanged for hundreds, perhaps even thousands of years.

'It's like a maze,' Lil gasped in wonder, looking up at cramping walls that gave the sense that they were about to crash down on you at any moment.

'That's the intention, I'm afraid,' Harry observed with a strange hint of bitterness. 'Changes in the streets, the buildings; most of them made with the aim of inconveniencing anyone wishing to pray at the Wall.'

'Then why don't they change it back? I thought the Wailing Wall was in the Jewish quarter of the city?'

'They _live_ here, but they don't _own_ it. The Husseinis, the Nashashibis, and other Moslem landlord families; they own it all. They won't even sell the Wall, no matter how much Baron Rothschild puts on the table.'

Although Lil would have been quite happy for Harry to continue with his history lesson of the city had they been walking hand in hand as they wound their way around the ancient streets, somehow it was all becoming increasingly boring listening to him explain what had happened here almost a thousand years ago, what had happened there two thousand years back; and all because, of course, it all came across as nothing more than a guided tour thanks to Mary's continued presence.

Mary – there were just so many Mary's weren't there, making it so hard to differentiate one from the other? (Though the poor girl insisted, of course, that _hers_ was the more French sounding _Mari_ ) – was the maid Miss Debussy had chosen to be Lil's chaperone, the very same demurely subservient, pretty little thing who had relieved poor Jacques of his humiliating fish symbol.

She stared, almost constantly, at poor Harry, wide-eyed in her obvious admiration. As he pointed things out, explained their role in famous historical events – the fall of Jerusalem to the Crusaders, the destruction of the Old Temple – she would look about her in wonder, as if he were conjuring up around her real people who were re-enacting their ordained tasks all over again.

Worst of all, Harry appeared to relish her enthusiasm for his tales. He smiled, laughed, chuckled appreciatively when she asked for further details.

Wasn't a chaperone supposed to diffidently stand to one side, to stay silent unless spoken to? Especially a _maid_. Especially a maid who, as Miss Debussy had expressed it, was 'all we can spare, what with us preparing the house and grounds for any possibility of whatever mischief making these people might get up to over the next few days.'

Damn Miss Debussy!

Couldn't she have spared one of the uglier maids, rather than this excitable little thing, with her faltering, French-accented English, her sparkling amber eyes, her bob of dark hair that jauntily swung from side to side as she glanced about her, following Harry's directions?

Had Miss Debussy appointed Mary as her chaperone on purpose? To ensure Harry focused any amorous intentions he might have on a more expendable maid, as opposed to the niece of her employer, a well-brought up girl placed under her protection?

Lil lightly touched one of Harry's hands, smiled, caught his eyes as she said, 'Harry, could we look around the market now?'

'Lil, I'm really not sure it's safe in the present circumstances–'

'Harry! You're a British officer! Who in their right minds would cause any of us any trouble as long as you're with us?'

Harry looked troubled, frowning painfully as he weighed up the chances of anything going wrong in the Moslem quarter. Yes, Lil was right; many Moslems recognised that the British administration was as pro-Arab as it could be, with most of its higher-ranking officers actively working to fulfil the promises made when they had fought together to oust the Turks. (It was rumoured that King Faisal's ascension in Damascus had been aided by the British.) Besides, it was an administration that ruled with a relatively light touch – and no one wished to run the risk of bringing the full weight of its wrath down upon them.

'All right,' Harry said, 'but we must stay togeth–'

Knowing what he was about to say, knowing that once she heard it in full it could be used to curtail her freedom, Lil excitably skipped ahead, weaving through the bustle of people who, rounding a corner, had suddenly appeared around them. She glanced back over the heads of the people she was swiftly passing, laughing, catching and relishing the anxiety on Harry's face as he called after her and vainly tried to follow while keeping Mary close by.

The crowd was growing, thickening, and Harry was held back a number of times as he looked back to check that Mary was keeping up with him. Lil, however, lithely hopped aside whenever anyone seemed about to block her path. Seeking out gaps and paths that sometimes seemed to almost magically appear before her, she found herself moving surprisingly quickly through the noisy throng.

She felt giddy, light headed, flattered and pleased that Harry was showing such concern for her, chasing her through alleyways that people had trodden in biblical times, trying to fight his way past people dressed as if they had stepped from the pages of the Gospels.

She looked back, looking for him once more. But he was far behind now, out of sight. All she could see was a sea of heads, every one clad in a sourly-coloured headdress, a dusty cloth.

'Harry?' she called out, worried now that she had gone too far, that her pristinely white dress and hat made her stand out as different, alien.

The passing people smiled, or smirked, or scowled; Lil wasn't sure.

She decided she wouldn't call out again. Standing up on her tip-toes, she was accidently nudged again and again, such that she was nearly sent sprawling.

Way back up the alley, quite higher there than here because it rose gently, she caught a flash of pure white amongst the milling crowds.

It snorted. It tossed its head.

It started moving towards her, passing through the throng of people, every one of whom appeared bizarrely oblivious to its presence, as if it remained somehow unseen. Even though it towered over them. Even though it was the most unusual, most magical thing she had ever seen.

It was a unicorn.

And somehow, deep inside her, she knew she should move towards it, to touch it, embrace it – yet also knew that she wasn't ready (Ready for what? Did that make any sense?), that this would be foolish, wrong.

As if to make up her mind for her, an excited yell coming from way beyond the unicorn woke her up from her daze.

It was a policeman, standing halfway up a flight of stone steps set against one of the walls. He pointed towards her, even as he called on the aid of other policemen amongst the crowd with a wave of his rifle.

He leapt down from his step.

And he and the other policemen began to chase Lil.

*

# Chapter 4

He maketh my feet like hinds' feet, and setteth me upon my high places.

Psalm 18; 33

For a while, Harry had managed to keep Lil in sight. Her white clothes, particularly her spectacularly large floppy hat, were unmistakable amongst the more soberly dressed people, many of whom had clustered around him as if with the deliberate intention of creating an obstacle course preventing his pursuit.

Then, abruptly, as she ducked around a tightknit family group, she had effectively vanished, failing to come back into view beyond the group as he had hoped.

He caught a flash of white, a swiftly moving blur, a ray from the sun striking it, highlighting it.

But it wasn't Lil.

It was a pure-white deer.

*

The watchmen that go about the city found me: to whom I said, Saw ye him whom my soul loveth?

Song of Songs 3; 2

'Mary, I need to run; I have to leave you.'

Grabbing Mary's hand, Harry looked into eyes imploringly.

'But ma'am told me not to leave–'

Mary paused, realising how ridiculous she sounded. Miss Pine had already left them way behind. If Harry didn't chase after her, they might not find her for ages.

Glancing over her shoulder, Harry suddenly shouted out something in Arabic, something hard and harsh like a command.

Whirling around, she saw a policeman forcibly barging his way through the crowds towards them. As Harry cried out to him, he almost froze in shock, his eyes widening in either fright or amazement; Mary wasn't quite sure which. He shook his head, as if attempting to clear his head from an intoxicated stupor.

He nodded, yelled something that sounded like an agreement back at Harry, then smiled warmly at Mary as he drew closer.

'This policeman and the others with him will see you safely out of the city,' Harry said reassuringly to Mary as, taking out his notepad and a pencil, he quickly wrote down a short message that he handed to her. 'Take the day off; go to this hotel and order whatever cakes or coffee you want, putting it on the account I have there. _Don't_ go back to the house.'

His eyes were still pleading for her consent. She nodded, understanding his concern that ma'am would be furious if she discovered that they had lost Miss Pine. It would be bad for her, as well as for this beautiful Englishman.

He smiled.

'Thank you, Mary!' He clenched her hand warmly.

Then he turned, rushing off into the madding crowd.

*

# Chapter 5

Let her be as the loving hind...and be thou ravished always with her love.

Proverbs 5; 9

He couldn't see her.

All he could see was that white hind, which effortlessly stayed ahead of him as if the crowd were constantly parting for it like a compliant Red Sea.

As he couldn't see Lil, he followed the hind instead, sensing in some indescribable way that it was in some way connected to her, if only through the similarity of the colour of its flesh and her clothes.

Why is no one staring in amazement at the hind? he wondered. Don't they see it?

And if they don't see it, why are they moving out of its way, allowing it such an easy passage through them?

Fortunately, the crowd, perhaps at last sensing the urgency of a British officer passing amongst them, were also making his own way through them relatively painless. He even, at times, appeared to be gaining on the hind, until it disappeared around a corner, passing out of his view. Whenever he turned the corner himself, the hind was way ahead once more, as if it had leapt a great, unimaginable distance.

Now and again, as if he had unintentionally, unknowingly, bumped into them in his haste, someone would whirl around, stare at him in shock, even exclaim a muted cry of either anger or surprise. Harry would apologise, but he had no time to offer further redress.

On the edges of the crowd, he frequently caught sight of a policeman pointing him out and, doubtlessly recognising the needs of a British officer much as the crowd had, they would attempt to join the chase only to be thwarted by the chaotic crush of people.

Still the hind kept effortlessly ahead of him, like the details of a dream avoid you the more you wish to scrutinise them.

He swept around yet another corner, expecting to see the hind once more frustratingly farther ahead of him; but he was wrong.

The hind had vanished.

All he could see were countless heads, waves of milling people crammed into a narrow street that curved down and away from him; a sea of life flowing away from him, leaving him behind, a fish left stranded and floundering on a hot, unforgiving beach.

*

# Chapter 6

A young man was following Him, wearing nothing but a linen sheet over his naked body; and they seized him. But he pulled free of the linen sheet and escaped naked.

Mark 14; 51-52

Harry slowed, taking the time to observe the houses and shops running either side of him.

Was there a thin alley he had missed whenever he had been down this street before?

Was there an entrance to one of the shops or houses that the hind – no that _was_ ridiculous, surely? No matter how much everyone had managed to ignore the presence of the hind so far, a hind walking through a narrow, low door would _have_ to draw attention – wouldn't it?

But if that were so, why hadn't he heard the surprised cry that would draw him to the hind's hiding place?

A flash of white!

He caught it in the very corner of his eye, at the very edges of his vision.

The hind!

Maybe even Lil!

His head whirled around. He found himself looking towards a stall that spilled out onto the street, its wares virtually surrounded by a tightly bunched group of people.

The blaze of white he thought he had seen had either vanished or he had simply imagined it – no, there it was again, beyond everyone else, over by the wall.

Harry began to quickly stride over towards the wall, his eyes never leaving that glimpse of white cloth, even though it meant he was rudely pushing aside anyone in his way. He was just about to cry out Lil's name when there was a brief flurry of movement, the splash of white edging to one side, away from the shadows and covering of the stall's crude awning, the veiling line of people opening up like tattered theatre curtains.

It wasn't Lil.

It was a boy. A boy dressed in crisp white linen.

Then the boy slightly moved aside once again, revealing yet another burst of white just beyond him.

'Lil!' Harry cried out at last, a cry of relief, of happiness.

Lil looked up in surprise. Seeing Harry rapidly making his way towards her through the crowds, she smiled, cried out joyously, 'Harry!'

They threw their arms around each other; perhaps, Harry thought, too warmly, too enthusiastically.

He stepped back, fighting back the urge to clasp her by her hands.

'Lil, you shouldn't–'

'I'm sorry Harry; it was childish, silly, I know. I didn't mean to run so far ahead – I thought, stupidly, that I was being chased!'

'Chased? Well, _I_ was chasing you, Lil – but only to keep you safe!'

'No, no, Harry; I mean I was being chased by – ohh, forget it, Harry. I must have been – it must have been the heat. It's just so unbelieving hot here! It makes you dizzy, like I'm almost on the verge of fainting sometimes!'

'You _do_ get used to it – well, not _completely_ , but enough to help you get through the day.'

Harry noticed that the boy was still standing alongside them, observing their actions and conversation with what seemed to be pleasant bemusement. With an embarrassed, irritated frown, Harry spoke harshly to him in Arabic, asking him who he was.

'I'm Azar,' the boy replied, politely holding out his hand for a handshake from the surprised Harry, 'and you're Captain Hilary, I take it?'

The boy's English was remarkably faultless, such that Harry had heard only from those who had attended the very best private schools.

'Oh, I told Azar I was lost, and that I was looking for you,' Lil urgently broke in, sensing Harry's bewilderment that the boy knew his name.

Harry turned back to her, scowling in a mix of anger and concern.

'Lil! You just went up to someone, asking for their help without knowing who they were? And it didn't dawn on you that the chances were they wouldn't know what you were saying?'

'She _was_ very lucky that she asked me, Captain; I _can_ speak English, as you can see.'

'Yes, yes; she was lucky, Azar. Thank you, Azar, for helping Lil – Miss Pine – but now we must–'

'Harry,' Lil said, lightly placing a hand on his chest, looking up at him excitedly, imploringly, 'Azar has said he has a house nearby; a house that's thousands of years old!'

'Has he?' Harry eyed Azar suspiciously.

'I invited her to stay with my sisters – Mary and Martha – while I went looking for you,' Azar explained with a warm grin. 'It's close by; and as Lil – sorry, she did say I should call her Lil, Captain! – has told you, it really is a house that has been standing virtually untouched since the time of Christ.'

'You're a Christian?' Harry asked curiously.

Azar nodded.

'And my sisters, too. And if I might answer your next question before you ask it Captain, we live here because of the connection we feel the house gives us to those earlier times.'

'And your English?' Harry still remained highly suspicious. 'Where did you learn to speak so well?'

'I'm a fast learner, Captain; I picked it up from–'

Harry frowned at him doubtfully.

'You picked it up? How old are you Azar? Sixteen? Eighteen at most?'

'Harry!' Now Lil gave Harry an angry, admonishing slap on his chest. 'Why are you being so rude to poor Azar?'

Harry caught Lil's hand in his, glanced down at her.

'Why? Because...because there's something not quite right here.'

He glared at Azar distrustfully.

Azar chuckled.

'Please, Captain; I understand your doubt. You have to ensure Lil's – Miss Pine's – safety, yes? You are understandably nervous and suspicious of everyone who might approach her. Especially at a time of such troubles. Surely, though, you are curious as to what happened to your friend, Sidney?'

'Sidney?' Harry was taken aback. 'What do you know of him? Where is he?'

The tone of mistrust had instantly returned to his voice, now more pronounced than ever.

'He will be at my house shortly,' Azar replied with another charming grin. 'I think he would like to talk to you, Captain.'

*

# Chapter 7

Until the day break, and the shadows flee away, turn, my beloved, and be thou like a roe or a young hart upon the mountains of Bether.

Song of Songs 2; 17

Harry had had a great deal of difficulty explaining Private Broadley's disappearance to his superiors; he had gone Absent Without Leave. There was no better way of describing it.

And yes, he admitted in his debriefing, Broadley had taken a gun with him.

Harry had only narrowly avoided a serious reprimand for his ineffectual command of the situation. Fortunately, every officer was needed; his version of events had been grudgingly accepted.

'If I see him, you do realise it's my duty to arrest him?' Harry warned Azar as they approached the house.

'Yes, that's what Sidney said too.' Far from seeming troubled, Azar grinned yet again. 'Although he also said that you wouldn't.'

Harry visibly bristled at Azar's reference to his humiliating indecisiveness. Feeling sorry for him (while also wondering why Harry continued to treat this troublesome Broadley so ridiculously leniently!), Lil reached for his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze.

'We'll see; we'll see about that, Azar!' Harry declared as authoritatively as he could manage.

As they reached the doorway, Azar opened the door then stood aside, indicating to Lil with a graceful wave of an arm that she should enter first, followed by Harry.

Inside, with the only light coming from the open door behind them and a small, bare window positioned in the same wall, it seemed incredibly dark as the eyes slowly adjusted to the sudden change from the bright sunlight outside. The room smelt of stale oils, sweat, smoke, the latter creating a permanent haze even as the eyes began to pick out the shadowy shapes of a simple table, even simpler chairs around it, a person in traditional garb seated to one side.

'Harry,' the man said in hearty welcome, rising to his feet, the room being so low that his covered head almost brushed the thick, bowed ceiling beams.

Harry squinted his eyes, like he was trying to confirm what his ears had already told him.

'Sidney,' he said gruffly.

*

# Chapter 8

I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes, and by the hinds of the field, that ye stir not up, nor awake my love, till he please.

Song of Songs 2; 7

'I should arrest you...'

'I noted a "should" there, Harry!' Sidney laughed. 'Does this mean I can at last begin to hope that you're beginning to see sense?'

'Well, there's no point in me beginning to hope that _you're_ going to see sense, is there?'

'That depends on your definition of sense, Harry; me, I think I'm the one that's got it right. And I haven't given up on you yet – hence me sending young Azar here out to look for you. Though I hadn't expected him to end up bringing the young Miss Pride back with you!'

'Pine; the name's _Pine_ ,' Lil insisted irritably.

'I know what you're name is young missy. And I think your uncle's going to have an awful lot to answer for when he finds himself standing in front of those pearly gates he professes to believe in.'

'Sid! Lil's hardly to be held responsible for her uncle's actions! She's not even directly related, for God's sake!'

'Attitude, Harry; it's your _attitude_ that's finally going to decide which side you're on when the war comes!'

'War? What war? Rag bag armies on either side. Mayhem, chaos, murders; oh yes, you're all more than capable of causing all of that. But don't glamorise it by terming it a war, Sidney!'

'Rag bag armies? Yeah, Harry, because we've been disbanding what little already remained of the Jewish regiments that helped liberate Palestine, and confined what few soldiers there still are to Sarafand camp. But we don't do a thing about Faisal infesting the country with his Sherifian officers, even though we know they're stirring up trouble.'

'Azar?'

It was a woman's voice, coming from the doorway behind them.

There were actually two women standing there, waiting for everyone to move farther inside, to make room for them. Although heavily and unflatteringly garbed, in long robes and headdresses, what little of what was revealed of their faces was enough for Lil to realise they were attractive, possibly even beautiful women, with arching cheekbones, curvaceous mouths and large, expressive eyes.

'Ah, my sisters, Mary and Martha,' Azar exclaimed happily, stepping aside and indicating that everyone else should do the same.

Before the two women could step inside, however, Sidney began to brusquely barge his way past everyone with a gruff, 'It's all right; I'm leaving.'

Reaching the doorway, he stopped to tenderly take the hand of one of the women, leading her back outside, saying, 'Martha.' The rest of his rapidly delivered message for her was in a language Lil didn't understand and, besides, anyone in the room wishing to eavesdrop would have struggled to hear his whispering voice clearly.

'Azar,' he suddenly declared loudly, ducking slightly beneath the doorway so that he could look back into the room. 'Think on it; Ha-Shomer needs everyone we can recruit. Otherwise people you know will die, if Husseini's Fedayeen have their way in Jerusalem.'

As a final parting gesture, he raised an arm, clenched a fist, in some form of salute.

'El Sid!' Azar replied with a similar raising of the arm and an amused chuckle.

Spinning on his heels, Sidney strode away, a vanishing mirage in the incredibly harsh light of the sun.

'El Sid?' Harry glowered at Azar suspiciously once more.

'A private joke, Captain. Sidney stirs me up with tales of how the Spanish knight El Cid defeated the Moslems.' He turned to Lil, offering her a further explanation. 'Cid is Arabic for "lord", el for "the".'

Lil smiled gratefully, although she was puzzled that Harry had allowed such a simple thing to re-ignite his distrust of Azar.

'Captain?'

The two women had been patiently waiting for introductions to be made. Now, at last, Mary observed Harry with the lowered eyes of a slightly admonishing gaze.

'Oh, I'm _ever_ so sorry, Miss!' Harry apologised, accompanying it with a sharp, diffident and embarrassed bowing of his bared head (he had already removed his cap immediately on entering the house). He turned to Martha, offering her the same apologetic bow.

'And sorry to you too, Miss! What must you both think of me?'

'Please don't concern yourself, Captain,' Martha replied kindly.

'We did notice you were busy,' Mary added, her dark eyes sparkling with amusement. 'I'm Mary,' she said, offering him her hand, her eyes now narrowing seductively. 'And this is my sister, Martha.'

With a fleeting twist of her head, she briefly drew his attention back to her smiling sister before quickly latching her eyes on his once more.

'And you, I presume, are Captain Hilary; or Harry, as Sidney refers to you.'

Lil inwardly bristled, annoyed by the way this beautiful, confident woman so easily held Harry's stupefied gaze. How poorly did she herself – so recently a silly little girl, who would grow unnecessarily excited over ridiculous tales of girlish adventures read beneath her bed sheets – compare with this striking woman?

'Yes, Harry, please call me Harry; and this is–'

'Miss Lillianne Pine,' Martha finished for him, stepping closer towards Lil and placing a motherly arm around her shoulders.

'Lil, please call me Lil! But...how did you know my name? How did you know who I am?'

'Sidney again, of course.' Martha gave her a warm smile. 'He told us how he and Captain Hil – Harry – brought you here.'

Lil abruptly remembered what Sidney had also said earlier about her – or, more specifically, her uncle.

'Wait; can anybody please explain what that awful man – sorry, Martha, but he _was_ awful to _me_ earlier – meant when he said my uncle wouldn't get into heaven? How _dare_ he say that?'

'He said that?' Martha shook her head in amazement. 'I'm sorry, Lil; he's just so incredibly passionate about _everything_ at the moment. And he believes your uncle is one of those who's stoking up trouble by assuring Faisal that the Arabs of Palestine will rise up to support his takeover of this country.'

'Creating a supposedly "united Syria",' said Mary, gloomily nodding in agreement.

'I...I don't really know my uncle,' Lil admitted uncertainly, 'but _surely_ he wouldn't say such a thing...'

'Unfortunately, Lil, we're every bit as split in our aims for Palestine as Jerusalem is,' Harry explained gently. 'Officially, we're against all this dangerous nonsense; but there are influential people secretly taking up entrenched positions on both sides of the argument.'

Lil let out a sour laugh.

'Oh, wonderful; so I come here for a break, and find myself caught up in all this intrigue and distrust? What were those things Sidney mentioned earlier; this Ha-Shomer and Fedayeen? Different armies?'

'More or less,' Azar confessed. 'Ha-Shomer is organising armed resistance against the Fedayeen suicide groups – who everybody believes were formed by our very own mayor's nephew, Hajj Amin al-Husseini.'

'One of the el-Husseini family; our landlords.' Martha, having gathered together a pile of plates while they talked, was quickly placing them around the table. 'Enough talk; time to eat, I think. You'll be staying a while, of course?'

'Yes, you must,' agreed Mary enthusiastically. 'We can even eat outside if you prefer; we have a very small garden, with a shading olive tree – our very own Garden of Gethsemane.'

Harry shook his head sadly.

'No, I'm sorry, Martha, Mary, Azar; we would like to, I assure you – but I must return to duty, and therefore I'm afraid Lil must also leave with me.'

'Duty? I thought your duty was taking care of me?' Lil asked, even though she was secretly glad that Harry had turned down the chance to stay longer with Mary.

'As appointed by Miss Debussy, _not_ your uncle,' Harry chuckled. 'I've made it my duty to look after you while I'm _off_ duty, Lil – but otherwise, we're too shorthanded for me to be spared to escort you around the city.'

Lil pouted disappointedly, hiding the fact that she was thrilled that Harry had set aside his own time to accompany her around the city.

'But tomorrow, Captain,' Azar said, 'you _must_ visit us tomorrow, yes?'

'Of course, Azar! Would the afternoon, around two, be fine by you?'

He was answered by nods and smiles.

Lil smiled too, but she was furious that Harry had accepted the invite after all.

She wanted Harry all to herself, she didn't want to share him; let alone lose him to the ridiculously gorgeous Mary.

*

# Chapter 9

He hath as it were the strength of an unicorn.

Numbers 24:8

As soon as they stepped outside the house, Lil reached for and grasped Harry's hand.

Although he didn't make any effort to shake her hold loose, he looked down at the clasped hands with an expression that Lil presumed might be puzzlement.

'To make sure I don't get lost again, Harry? You wouldn't want me to get lost again, would you?'

'I suppose not,' he grinned back, giving her hand a warm, reassuring squeeze.

Lil had to stop herself from almost skipping with joy. (How childish would _that_ look?)

'So, where to now, Harry?'

'Now? Back to barracks for me; back to the house for you, I'm afraid.'

'Harry! There's still so much to see!'

'Yes, and I'm going to be seeing it on while on duty, Lil! As for you, remember Mary?'

'Mary?' Lil, still holding tightly to Harry's hand, stopped them both in their tracks. 'I _knew_ that's why you agreed to go back there tomorrow! Because of _Mary_! I _saw_ you looking at her, Harry! And you know absolutely _nothing_ about her!'

Harry grinned with amusement at Lil's petulant stance, her angry scowl.

'Lil; I meant Mary the _maid_. Remember _her_? I told her to take part of the day off, so now we need to meet up with her again before I can return you both to the house!'

'Oh, Harry; I'm sorry!' Lil felt like a peevish little six-year-old. 'I...I'd forgotten all about poor Mary!'

'She'll be fine, don't worry; but you won't be if Miss Debussy sees you turning up without her!'

'Hah; then _I'd_ be the one being confined to barracks, or whatever it is you call it.'

Lil set off at a jaunty walk, weaving her way once more through a growing crowd, this time still holding onto and almost dragging Harry along after her.

'Oh, and Lil,' Harry said, 'I accepted _Azar's_ invitation to come back tomorrow because I thought you found him, well, _interesting_.'

'Harry! Azar _is_ nice; but he's just a _boy_. I'm not _interested_ in boys; they're much too immature and silly!'

Lil was talking too much, she knew. But she was trying to cover up her dismay that, not only had Harry failed to understand that her primary interest lay in _him_ , but he also seemed to think she was still childish enough to want to hang around with a boy like Azar; and, worse still, Harry didn't seem to mind – let alone being _jealous_! – that she _might_ be interested in Azar!

'I thought he seemed quite intelligent, for his age,' Harry replied. 'Though there _is_ something odd about them _all_ , don't you think? The way they all speak such perfect English, like they've all had the best schooling anyone could afford.'

'So? They might have been wealthy at some point. They all seem incredibly nice people to me – but, the way you stare so suspiciously at poor Azar, you seem to think he's either going to rob me at any minute or join up with you friend "El Sid's" freedom fighters.'

Harry shrugged.

'Maybe yes, you're right; I'm just being too suspicious, what with the tensions flooding around this city and–'

Harry stopped in midsentence, his attention caught by a small group of policemen standing nearby, many of whom were arguing angrily amongst themselves. Harry stormed over towards them, barking out what sounded to Lil like furious orders in Arabic.

The policemen briefly snapped to a lazy form of attention, even though some of them still continued to attempt to put their side of the argument across to Harry. They pointed first here then there, disagreed with each other, shook their heads, glared at each other, made dismissive, perhaps even insulting gestures.

Harry listened patiently, only interrupting irritably every now and again, a puzzled frown growing on his face. With a finally volley of barked commands and a waving of an arm, he ordered them on their way.

Even as the policemen walked off, Harry seemed contemplative, even highly apprehensive.

'What's wrong Harry,' Lil asked, gently placing a hand on his waist. 'Has there been trouble?'

Harrys shook his head, like he was coming out of a dream, like he had been distracted.

'What? Oh, no, no...'

He faded off, as if he were still attempting to ponder a particularly troublesome problem

'Harry?' She said it in such a way that it was obvious she was demanding more of an answer.

'Hmn? Oh, sorry, sorry; it's crazy, I mean really crazy!'

'What's crazy, Harry? Try me – please.'

'It must be the heat; and they're all under a lot of strain, what with all these tensions building throughout the city.'

'Harry!' Now she managed to say it with tone that implied she was becoming ever more frustrated by the way he was avoiding answering her question.

'They saw a _unicorn_.' Harry blurted it out, like he was embarrassed even mentioning it. 'There, I told you it was crazy, isn't it?'

'A _unicorn_?'

She bit her tongue, controlling her temptation to admit that she had also seen a unicorn. But what had Harry said? That it was _crazy_?

'That is...strange, isn't it,' she said instead. 'What... what did they do?'

'They tried to chase it; but it wasn't easy, because not every one of them saw it. Just one of them, actually. That's why they were arguing, the ones who didn't see it claiming that the one who did had been fooling around with them, pointing at nothing, telling them to keep chasing nothing but empty air. Yet they met another group of policemen chasing it. Same thing though – only one of the group saw it.'

'So, they didn't _catch_ it?'

'They'd get close, but as soon as they'd turned a corner...'

He paused, like he was thinking deeply once more, his face creasing all the more in puzzlement.

'Yes, as soon as they'd turned a corner...?' Lil probed.

'Well, it sounds crazy, I know – I don't know why I'm telling you this, it seems like we're all suffering some form of collective madness – but the unicorn was far ahead of them; almost as if it had flown over the crowds.'

He gave her a troubled smile.

'That's _ridiculous_ , don't you think?'

Lil slipped her arm through his, clasping his hand tightly once more.

'I...I don't know what to think,' she admitted, returning his smile.

She wasn't to know that Harry was as disturbed by the sighting of the unicorn as she was.

Naturally, he had recognised the similarity to the sighting of the unicorn to his own sighting of the white hind.

Had everyone, somehow, really seen the hind, but, somehow, bizarrely, mistaken it for a unicorn?

Or was he suffering his own form of madness?

*

# Chapter 10

Will the unicorn be willing to serve thee, or abide by thy crib?

Job 39; 9

Lil was already bored with the tennis match.

Mary was far from being a competent opponent. She returned very few volleys, and only those that Lil deliberately lobbed her way. She'd giggle triumphantly even if she did little more than reach the ball in time.

What's more, the house's lawn was hardly an ideal court, with bared, dried patches that made the ball skip oddly, or simply fall dead upon the floor with hardly a bounce.

Still, Lil had to admit that, so far, this morning had passed quicker than yesterday afternoon, which had seemed to drag endlessly once Harry had dropped her and Mary off at the house. Mary had had to immediately return to work, leaving Lil with nothing much to do but make a quick and ultimately uninteresting exploration of the house before settling down with a book in her room.

How could she concentrate on a book after all that had happened to her the previous day?

Harry was the most amazing man she had ever met.

All right, so he wasn't as strongly _authoritative_ as she always imagined her ideal man would be; but he still commanded _some_ respect among his men, as she'd seen when he'd taken control of the arguing policemen.

And what was all that with the _unicorn_?

How was it possible to see a _unicorn_?

They were mythical animals, weren't they?

What did Frazer say about them in the book he'd written about legends?

Did it actually mention unicorns? She couldn't remember.

She'd seen copies of mediaeval illustrations or tapestries of them; beautiful works of art, portraying gorgeous, almost angelic creatures.

Didn't one show them hunting the unicorn? Why would they hunt such a beautiful, innocent creature?

And wasn't there another that showed the unicorn calm and resting, lying its head in the lap of a young girl?

Had the hunters used the girl to trick the unicorn, to make it easier to trap?

There was a bloody scene, she remembered that; and yet, afterwards, the unicorn was shown whole again, only held within a small, fenced enclosure.

At the time, when she had seen a book's coloured plates of the tapestries, she thought they must have placed them in the wrong order. It didn't make any sense, the way they were displayed.

Thinking once again of the puzzle of the unicorn, Lil let a shot of Mary's whistle past her without the slightest attempt to stop it.

'At last!' Mary yelled out excitedly, 'A point to me, Miss!'

Grinning, Mary raised an arm to wipe the sweat off her brow in an attempt to stop it running down and across her eyes.

Lil grinned back. Whereas she was bored with this tiresome match, Mary was obviously enjoying it all immensely. Going by Mary's inept way of playing, Lil assumed that the maid either didn't really get much time to practise or wasn't usually allowed to use the court. Probably the latter, seeing as how Miss Debussy had only grudgingly allowed Mary to join Lil on the court.

Did Miss Debussy presume that Lil should be able to knock the ball around on the court without anyone being there to return it? It seemed so, because Lil had had to more or less beg Miss Debussy to allow Mary time off.

'Mary? Could we stop for a minute?' Lil asked as she rose from picking up the ball.

'Yes, yes, of course, Miss. Do you need a drink?'

Mary was already making her way over towards the tray holding the jug of water and glasses that Jacques had brought out earlier, placing it on top of a small sheet he had laid out across the grass.

'Yes, that would be nice,' Lil agreed, jauntily swinging her racket as she made her way towards the edges of the court.

'Mary,' she said uneasily as the maid poured out a drink for her, 'what do you know about unicorns?'

'Unicorns?' Mary said it as if it were an incredibly strange question.

With a delicate flick of her white dress, Lil sat down on the sheet, inviting Mary to join her with a wave of her arm. Mary glanced down at Lil as, with a bending of her knees, she sat down beside her.

'I think, Miss, that there is something about a...an _untouched_ girl calming them.'

'Untouched girl? Oh, _virgin_ , you mean?'

Lil giggled, blushed, trying to hide her embarrassment behind a raised hand. Mary laughed too, but more openly and with less shame.

'But...why a virgin, Mary?' Lil asked innocently once she'd calmed her giggling.

An equally mystified Mary pouted as she considered this.

'Could it be that...that she's seen as being pure – _untouched_ , as I said at first? Sort of like Paradise before we sinned – that sort of thing, perhaps?'

'When the animals were all innocent too, you mean? Yes, yes; that would make sense, wouldn't it?'

Lil took a drink of the water, flicked her hair away from her face. There was something else that she'd remembered, something, though, that she was plucking up the courage to say. Back in the school dorm, with her friends gathered around, she might have said it with undisguised, scandalous relish – but here, with Mary, a girl she hardly knew and a maid at that?

'Mary, wasn't there also something about the horn being sought after?' she said finally, deciding that she would only hint at what she knew rather than saying it in full.

'Oh yes, yes, that's right,' Mary said gleefully. 'To grind down and use as a love potion, so that – ohh, Miss! I'm sorry! I've only just realised!'

Lil was a little bewildered by Mary's embarrassment and her apologies. She knew Mary meant that it was used as an aphrodisiac (come to think of it, were they confusing the unicorn horn with a rhino horn?), and yes, it was a _little_ shameful to be discussing such a thing; but Mary appeared completely mortified.

'Oh Mary, there's nothing wrong with an _aphrodisiac_ , you know.' Lil said it as nonchalantly as she could, in an attempt to sound incredibly worldly and grown up.

'I mean the horn's _shape_ – and what it's supposed to _do_ , Miss!'

Lil frowned in puzzlement once more; and then, thinking of the horn, it abruptly dawned on her.

'Mary!'

'Miss!'

Neither could suppress their laughter anymore.

They rolled around the sheet, almost knocking over the tray and its water jug.

'Well, where today then, girls?'

Lil looked up. Harry was leaning over them, grinning hugely like he was close to laughing.

Lil was aghast. How stupid she must look, tumbling around on the ground like some little girl!

She leapt to her feet, hiding her blushing face as she quickly brushed her dress clear of a few blades of dried grass that had stuck to it.

'Harry,' she mumbled irately, 'you're supposed to _announce_ your arrival! Not catch a _young_ _lady_ by surprise!'

Out of the corner of her eyes, she noticed that Mary wasn't the slightest bit embarrassed. Rather, having slowly risen from the floor, she was simply beaming stupidly at Harry, as if she were entranced by his presence.

'Mary,' Lil snapped. 'We should let Miss Debussy know we are leaving.'

'Oh, yes, yes; of course Miss, I'll let her know straight away.'

She scampered across the grass, heading back to the house.

And so, while Mary had her back to them, while no one else (she hoped!) was looking their way, Lil reached for and grabbed Harry's hands – then jerked him towards her as, lifting herself up on her tiptoes, she leant forward and kissed him.

*

# Chapter 11

And the unicorns shall come down with them, and the bullocks with their bulls; and their land shall be soaked with blood.

Isaiah 34; 7

Harry was quiet, thoughtful, as they made their way around the market.

His brow became increasingly furrowed, as if his anxiety was growing with every step.

Lil couldn't stand it anymore. Just about the only conversation so far had been between her and Mary, and Lil was not only finding it increasingly tiresome – Mary was hardly the type you could gossip or share secrets with, or even reveal your most mundane thoughts to, really – but she was also positively dying for the opportunity to talk to Harry on her own to see what was troubling him.

Was he really so upset that she had stolen a kiss?

Did he really dislike her that much? (Or did he think she was too young?)

When Mary at last dropped back a little from them to look over a necklace hanging from a stall's awning, Lil couldn't hold back from blurting out an apology while she had the chance.

'Harry, please, I'm _so_ sorry,' she said, tenderly placing a hand on his while looking directly into his eyes with a pleading gaze.

Harry appeared either dumbfounded or remarkably distracted.

'About earlier I mean; I'm _so_ sorry.' Lil was ashamed. 'I know I shouldn't have done it, but...but...'

She couldn't explain why she had kissed him like that, unasked for and so impetuously.

It had just seemed the _right_ thing to do at the time.

'Earlier?' Harry now seemed distant, genuinely mystified. Then his eyes lit up with understanding. 'Oh, the kiss!'

He managed to grin while also frowning, leaving Lil puzzled as to what he had thought about her stolen kiss.

'I suppose I quite enjoyed it!' he winked. 'Rather unexpected, though; not quite sure why I deserved it! Oh, and it had better be our secret, eh? Something Miss D should never ever know of!'

Lil almost jumped for joy – but that would be so so wrong, so so so childish!

'As if I would, Harry!' she said. 'But, if it wasn't my kiss that was bothering you – what is? I can see you're worried.'

'Its things I'm picking up being said around here, all these complaints that the Jews are changing everything. That they're wanting to introduce a more European way of life.'

'That's a good thing, surely?'

Harry shook his head.

'Not for the Moslems; that isn't what they want. It goes against their way of life, their religion. They feel their wishes are being driven into the background; feel it can only end up in their destruction.'

As they'd talked, they hadn't realised Mary had drawn up alongside them until she spoke out in agreement with Harry.

'The Captain's right Miss; everyone seems edgy, or angry, or both.'

Lil noticed that Mary hadn't purchased the necklace she had spent so long admiring; probably because the poor girl couldn't afford it, Lil reasoned. Should she offer to buy it for her? She might have done if she hadn't felt a little irritated that Mary had obviously listened into at least the very last part of her conversation with Harry. Worse still, Mary was more or less implying that, like Harry, she was more observant and sensitive to her surroundings than Lil was.

'You probably don't notice as much as we do, Lil, because you're not used to how it normally is in the market,' Harry said, as if aware of her irritation with Mary. 'There's an incredible tension in the air; and I wonder if it's that that's leading to these strange... _hallucinations_ we talked of yesterday.'

He looked towards Lil, locking his eyes with hers as if trying to drop her a hint of what 'hallucinations' referred to without letting Mary understand its meaning.

Mary fleetingly glanced at them both curiously.

'Hallucinations?' she said. 'Do you mean – unicorns?'

'Mary!' Lil gasped with both surprise and relief. 'You saw one as well? Then I'm not going crazy after all!'

'You saw a unicorn too Lil?' Harry's brow creased in concern.

'Well yes, yes! I thought it was chasing me at first. But Mary saw it too!'

Mary shook her head sorrowfully.

'Sorry Miss! I didn't mean I'd _seen_ it. I just _guessed_ that the Captain meant a unicorn; because of the way you were looking at each other, and the way you wanted to talk about unicorns this morning.'

'Mary!' Lil stomped her foot in fury. 'You've just made me look a complete fool in front of Harry! Was that delibe–'

'Lil, Lil!' stepping forward, Harry embraced Lil around the shoulders, holding her to him reassuringly. 'Mary _hasn't_ made you look a fool! Other people saw the unicorn too! I've been asking around; there _were_ other groups of policemen that saw it – or, rather, one or at most two people in each group saw it. They saw odd people amongst the crowd pointing to it as well.'

'Then what does it mean, Harry? Why do _some_ people see it, but not others?'

Harry shrugged as he stepped back away from her.

'I don't know; it makes even _less_ sense to me now that I know you saw it too.'

'Why? Why does _me_ seeing it make it even more of a puzzle?'

'Because before I'd put the sightings down to some sort of growing, mass hysteria–'

'Harry!'

'No, no; sorry! I'm not saying _you're_ suffering from hysteria. It's the fact that _you've_ seen it too that makes me begin to wonder – well, does it actually exist? Have we really got a unicorn running around Jerusalem?'

'But isn't that _wonderful_ , Harry?' She drew closer to him, tenderly placing a hand on his arm. 'A magical creature like a unicorn – surely it's a _good_ sign?'

Harry shook his head, the anxiety having returned to his face.

'To the Jews, a unicorn signifies that their suffering has finally resulted in the coming of their Messiah. To Muslims, it's the karkadann, a terrifying beast born in blood that brings terror to everyone unless it's calmed by the song of the ring dove.'

'Really?' Lil chuckled. 'All that nonsense read into such a beautiful animal?'

Harry's laugh was low and bitter.

'I take it you don't know what a unicorn represents to Christians?'

'Yes, yes, I _do_ know,' Lil said hurriedly, embarrassedly, even though she wasn't really sure if Harry meant some meanings other than those she and Mary had discussed earlier. She didn't want to run the risk, however, that he _did_ mean those shameful meanings they'd giggled at. It had been uncomfortable enough talking about them with Mary without going through them again with Harry present.

She blushed, turned her face away from him in the hope that he wouldn't notice.

'So,' Harry said, 'in the present circumstances, where we've already got signs of trouble brewing, I think the very last thing we need is a sign that everyone's going to read as proof that major changes are about to take place.'

'Yes, yes, you're right Harry,' Lil agreed distractedly, thinking once again of the unicorn, of its horn, of the virgin.

What kind of sign was the unicorn for her? she wondered nervously.

*

# Chapter 12

When Jesus had thus said, he was troubled in spirit, and testified, and said, Verily, verily, I say unto you, that one of you shall betray me. Then the disciples looked one on another, doubting of whom he spake. Now there was leaning on Jesus' bosom one of his disciples, whom Jesus loved.

John 13; 21-23

'Ah, the two Marys and Lilly can take the chairs, I think, yes Captain?' Azar declared happily as he pointed out the simple wooden chairs he had brought out into the small garden towards the house's rear. 'We can take the larger stones as our seats, unless you don't think you'll be comfortable?'

'The stones will be fine, thank you Azar,' Harry replied, moving over towards a line of boulders edging the plant border that Azar had covered with cloth and cushions.

The garden might have been incredibly tiny, cramped between three high walls and the house, but it was well appointed with brightly coloured and sweetly scented flowers and bushes. An olive tree had also been carefully trained to subserviently bend and offer shade from the sun.

Martha's absence had already been apologised for, but she had more than made up for this by providing a large and sumptuous choice of meat and vegetable delicacies she had prepared earlier before leaving. As Azar and Mary brought them out, they spread then across a colourfully patterned rug they had raised slightly on a low wooden table. There was also a sour wine that, somehow, complimented the spicy food.

The conversation was light, fun, and lacking in seriousness, Lil finding that – of all things – the most irritating thing about it all was Harry. He would constantly probe poor Azar and Mary for any details they could give him about any areas they thought might be ripe for an outbreak of trouble. She had to forcibly hold herself back from rebuking him when, in an obvious return to his suspicions of Azar, he once again rudely asked him how it was that he and his sisters spoke such perfect English, as if Harry had chosen to either deliberately ignore or disbelieve the poor boy's previous answer.

'We have always had a mix of people living in or around Jerusalem, Captain, people interested in researching and even experiencing its history; many of them wanting to feel a connection to the past that still exerts such an influence on them even today. Why, even their names, of course, are taken from that period; Andrew. James, Peter. Strange, don't you think, Captain, that they are granted names of disciples who often meet such violent deaths? Peter, crucified on his inverted cross; the beheading of James.'

Harry rewarded him with a grin and a nod of the head.

'Thankfully, there wasn't any disciple called Harold; although _King_ Harold was supposed to have died with an arrow in his eye. Which, once again, is hardly a pleasant way to die.'

'Well, although I'd doubt he was called _Harold_ , Captain, there is actually a disciple mentioned in the Bible whose name we are left unsure of.'

'An unnamed disciple?' Harry paused while he considered this. 'Surely not, Azar. That would have been noticed and commented on by now! I'm almost _certain_ I've seen a list of the twelve disciples _somewhere_!'

'Twelve disciples, Captain? But what of Judas's betrayal? As soon as Jesus declares at the Last Supper that someone seated amongst them will betray him, Judas is, of course, no longer regarded as a disciple. And therefore another immediately replaces him.'

'There's no mention of this replacement, Azar!' Harry protested.

Lil was already bored with the turn of the conversation, yet, seeing that Mary the maid was enthusiastically following Azar's argument, she herself pretended to be interested.

'He's leaning against Jesus himself, Captain,' Azar said. 'We read in John's gospel that the disciple whom Jesus loved is leaning against him! And this is the _very_ first mention of Jesus's beloved disciple!'

'But you've just named him yourself, Azar. The beloved disciple is _John_! Everyone knows that!'

'Do they? There are six referrals to the beloved disciple, Captain; and not _one_ names him! Check it yourself.'

'But it's more or less an accepted fact that it's John!'

'Accepted, Captain, yet _not_ a fact.' As he spoke, Azar reached beneath the rug to draw out a small Bible from underneath the low table. It had been bookmarked at a page that Azar now turned to, as if he had prepared it earlier to prove his point, as if he had known this point in the conversation would arise. 'Where did this false assumption that it's John arise from, but from John's very last mention of the beloved disciple!'

He read out a short passage from the opened Bible.

'"This is the disciple which testifieth of these things, and wrote these things: and we know that his testimony is true."'

'So he's saying that _he_ wrote the gospel; _John's_ gospel!'

'"And _we_ know that _his_ testimony is true"! The writer of John's gospel is using the testimony and writings of the beloved disciple as a _base_ , Captain. And so we don't know the name of the beloved disciple after all!'

'But I think we _can_ safely presume,' Lil said drily, 'that he _wasn't_ called _Harold_.'

*

# Chapter 13

My beloved is mine, and I am his: he feedeth among the lilies.

Song of Songs 2; 16

Why had Harry and Azar gone on so about _names_?

You would have thought, wouldn't you, that Harry would have avoided any conversation that might draw attention to his own name?

Harry Hilary.

Hilarious – it almost made you think of the word hilarious, when you thought about it, when you said it over and over again in your mind.

(Which, she had to admit, sadly, stupidly, she did now on a regular basis, as if saying his name somehow conjured him up into existence in front of her.)

What _were_ his parents thinking?

All right, so Harry's real name was _Harold_ Hilary, but that was hardly much better, was it? And didn't his parents realise it would be shortened to Harry, anyway?

Honestly! Why had Harry been so intent on being so boring yesterday?

Was he just under a lot of pressure, all this worry about today's procession and everything? Why did he think the sighting of a unicorn – a beautiful, graceful creature – was somehow a harbinger of doom equivalent to the Four Horsemen?

All she could see was a lot of excited people, running around preparing for the procession. But Harry, all he seemed to see was a massing of people intent on causing trouble.

'We have to be quick,' Harry declared for what seemed to Lil to be the hundredth time. 'I want you two back at the house as soon as possible.'

Mary, of course, appeared to be every bit as anxious about what she was seeing going on around her as Harry was. Like Harry, too, Mary had been shocked and angry (I mean! A _maid_ getting angry with her!) when Lil had accepted Azar's gracious invitation to Sunday breakfast.

'What were you doing saying we'd come into the city again, Lil?' Harry had stormed as soon as they'd left Azar's house yesterday afternoon. 'Sunday's the day of the procession; it's too dangerous for you to be there!'

In truth, Lil hadn't wanted to accept Azar's invitation; she would have preferred to see more of the city. But she had felt that Harry had been so rude throughout most of the meal that she'd had no alternative but to accept his invitation, as to refuse would have seemed like yet another insult to their hospitality.

'It seemed the only polite thing to do, Harry!' Lil had retorted, 'seeing as how you were so insistent that poor Azar had to explain to you why he and his sisters speak such perfect English! Why do you distrust him so much? What's he done that makes you so suspicious about everything he does and says?'

'There's something not right about it all. I can't quite put my finger on it, but–'

'But nothing, Harry! I'd say you were jealous if it wasn't for the fact that you don't seem to...oh, forget it!'

'Jealous. What would I be jealous about?'

'I said _forget_ it, Harry!'

Even now, as they quickly made their way to Azar's house once more, Harry continued to grumble every now and again that they shouldn't stay long, that he was an idiot for not flatly refusing to take her when he'd picked her and Mary up from her uncle's house earlier that morning.

As they rounded the corner that would lead them to the increasingly crowded marketplace, Lil abruptly caught the brightest flash of purest white smoothly moving through the milling bodies: the proudly held head rising high above and shining out amongst the sea of darker, covered heads; the tossing white mane like flecks of a wave's glistening foam.

'The unicorn, Harry! The unicorn!' Lil yelled out excitedly, pointing off towards where the crowds were swiftly parting to allow the elegantly prancing creature unobstructed access.

'And there's someone riding it!' she added in bewilderment as she took a second look.

'It's not a unicorn,' Harry pointed out. 'It's an Arab stallion; and that man riding it, if I'm not mistaken, is Al-Aref. We have to go back, Lil; I was a fool to bring you here!'

Lil gave him a look that said she'd need a little more explanation before she was prepared to head back home.

'Aref al-Aref,' Harry said. 'Editor of the "Southern Syria" newspaper. Going by what I've read in his paper, this _can't_ be a good sign.'

Mary jumped as someone suddenly appeared beside them, almost bumping into her, but immediately smiled with relief as soon as she realised it was Azar.

'Azar.' Harry nodded in greeting. 'We have to cancel–'

'Harry, we'll be in the Jewish quarter at Azar's.' Lil was furious that Harry was once again trying to bring her day-out to a swift end. 'We can pass through here quickly!'

Azar shook his head, yet still managed to retain his warm smile.

'No, Lil; Harry's right. It's too dangerous for you to stay. Al-Aref's here to stir up the crowd against the Jews. Our old friends Amin al-Husseini and the Sherifians are here too, giving speeches and spreading the rumour that King Faisal and even the British want them to attack the Jewish quarter.'

The crowd was already murmuring excitedly, Lil had to admit, the chattering and shouts growing as the mounted man began to address them. She couldn't tell what he was saying, of course, but Mary's increasing fear was plain for her to see,

'I need to get Lil and Mary to safety, Azar,' Harry announced urgently, taking them both by their hands and striding off towards a quieter side street leading them away from the marketplace. 'But I need to cut through the Jewish quarter to warn them what's happening. You need to warn Mary and Martha, tell them to leave–'

'They know and they're safe Captain. You'd be safe too if–'

'No, Azar; Lil and Mary will only be safe outside the city. There are only a few Jewish police and soldiers left patrolling the quarter; most were withdrawn, when it was thought their presence would only end up aggravating trouble.'

Lil was having to almost skip and hop to keep up with Harry's urgent pace. His hold on her wrist was tight, painful, but she was fully aware that his real concern was her and Mary's safety. After a few, sharp turns, they were heading through the Jewish quarter and Harry's head was a whirl as he glanced about him in search of a policeman or soldier. As soon as he sighted one, he would bark out a few brusque warnings, briefly letting go of either Mary or Lil's hand as he pointed back towards where they had just come from.

'I've told them I'll be back as soon as I can, Azar. As soon as we reach the gate, I want you to make sure Lil and Mary get back to the house safely.'

'We can get back safely ourselves,' Lil protested, angry that Harry seemed to think they were incapable of looking after themselves. 'Azar should go back to help Mary and–'

She stopped, realising that, like Harry, she was presuming that Azar's protection was required to keep Mary and Martha safe. In fact, of course, Mary and Martha were probably far more capable than she was of looking after themselves in and around the city.

Way behind them, a great cry went up from the crowd that could be heard even where they were.

'Adowlah ma'ana! Adowlah ma'ana!'

'"The government is with us!"' Harry translated forlornly. 'If they believe that, then nothing will stop them now, God help us!'

*

# Chapter 14

Thy lips, O my spouse, drop as the honeycomb: honey and milk are under thy tongue.

Song of Songs 4; 11

At the gate, Harry moved quickly, telling Azar he was depending on him, shouting out to the Arab policemen posted on guard there that they needed to get a warning back to headquarters that there was going to be a riot.

Lil looked back at him, her eyes wide with concern. She opened her mouth as if about to say something, but decided not to.

He reached for her, clasped her tightly to him. She wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him, as if she wasn't going to let him go.

Is that what she was about to say? he wondered. Was she going to tell him that he shouldn't go back, that he should stay with her, only to realise that he would have to ignore her? He had to go back; it was his duty.

Pulling her head slightly back away from his chest, she looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with what might be tears.

Instinctively, he bent his head towards hers, his eyes closing, his lips opening, their mouths meeting. They savoured the peace, the tranquillity, of togetherness, briefly feeling a world apart, separated from all these troubles.

When their lips parted, it was as if he had been thrown back into a noisy, tumultuous, uncontrollable world.

'Lil, I have to go...'

'I know, I know...'

'Earlier, I'm sorry – I know you're not a little girl anymore; I just wanted you to be safe.'

'I know,' she chuckled hoarsely through her tears. 'I want you to be safe too. I want you to come back.'

He smiled.

'I...I...care for you, Lil!'

Damn! What an idiot! He wanted to say it, but, for some ridiculous reason, he couldn't!

'Yes, yes; I...I...care for you too, Harry. Please please come back to me; don't do anything stupid!'

'I think I've done enough stupid things today!' He grinned sadly as he let her go, stepped back, quickly turned to Azar. 'Azar; get them home – safely!'

Azar gently curled an arm around Lil's waist, guiding her as she began to draw away from Harry, her pleading eyes still on his. Other people were moving between them now, the chaos at the gate's entrance increasing as more gathered there, clamouring to be allowed into the city but being stopped from going any farther by the police.

'Harry! Harry! Tell them to let me in!'

The voice, a man's, hard and aggressive, came from off to Harry's side.

Looking that way, he saw Sidney, standing beyond the policemen, his face almost covered by his headdress.

'You _know_ we're needed in there, Harry!'

With a slight nod of his head, Sidney indicated the sharp contours of a rifle hidden beneath his robes. The men next to him had equally hard faces, men who were undoubtedly with him, undoubtedly also armed.

Harry almost gave the order to the police to let Sidney and his men inside. Yes, they would offer protection to the Jews – but they would attack the Arabs, using their guns, perhaps making an incendiary situation even worse.

He was also in two minds about asking a number of the police to head back into the city with him. But if a riot broke out, whose side would they take?

Besides, they obviously had their orders to stop anyone entering the city if – as with Sidney and his men – they looked like they were there primarily to cause trouble.

He just had to hope that there would be enough men inside to contain the riot until reinforcements arrived.

He turned away from the scowling Sidney. And, breaking into a run, he headed back into the city.

*

# Chapter 15

When the jug has a hole,

stop it up my dear Liese

With what shall I stop it?

With straw my dear Liese

_Heinrich und Liese_ , _Bergliederbüchlein (c 1700)_

Lil stared apprehensively out of her opened window towards the walled city.

In the evening sun, the wall's pink stones glowed with deep hues of red.

Blood red, Lil thought.

What was happening to Harry in there?

Why oh why had she been so stupidly angry with him this morning?

He had only been trying to keep her safe. He had been right about the danger she had put them all in.

She had been flattering herself how that she was now a young woman when all the time she had been behaving like a spoilt little girl.

There was a knock on the door behind her.

'Come in.' Lil shouted back towards the door, knowing it would be one of the maids with the drink of water she had asked for after leaving the dinner table only a few minutes ago.

With a squeak of dried hinges, the door opened. Mary stepped into the room, holding before her a silver tray on which had been placed a jug and a glass.

'Your water, Miss,' Mary said demurely. 'Should I put the tray on the table?'

'No, no; bring it over here please,' Lil answered, pointing down towards the window's large wooden sill that she had been sitting on before Mary's entrance.

'Mary,' Lil said uncertainly as the maid bent alongside her to lay the tray on the sill. 'I'm sorry, Mary; I mean, about how I've been with you, over the last few days. I've behaved – abominably!'

'Miss?' As she straightened up once more, Mary gave Lil a puzzled look. 'I never noticed Miss; honestly I didn't.'

Lil smiled gratefully. She knew that Mary was lying, but she was lying to save Lil from being ashamed.

Being a maid, Mary was probably used to being treated rudely by more fortunate, more privileged people like herself. It didn't mean, however, that Lil's treatment of her was in any way more excusable.

'Before you came in, Mary, I was thinking how, well, I've been acting like a spoilt little girl, haven't I?'

'Not that I'd noticed, Miss.'

'I think you notice an awful lot more things than you're letting on, Mary,' Lil chuckled warmly. 'You seemed a lot more aware of what was going on in the city than I was, for a start.'

'But I had an unfair advantage on you there, Miss, as I've been into the city many times.'

'Still, I should have respected that experience, Mary; just as I should have respected Harry more.'

'I don't think the Captain thinks of it that way, Miss; if you don't mind me saying so.' Mary blushed, curtsied sharply and awkwardly, wondering if she had been too familiar, gone too far.

'There's no reason to feel you've spoken out of turn, Mary!' Lil laughed. She reached up and behind her neck, undoing the clasp of her necklace. 'Here, there's something I've decided you deserve more than I do.'

Slipping the chain from about her neck, she raised it so that the jewelled pendant came clear of where it had been nestled against her bosom.

It sparkled red in the light from the windows, as red as the walls of Jerusalem.

Mary gasped at its beauty.

'Miss! No, please. I can't accept something like that! It must have cost a fortune, Miss! It's more than my life's worth, to accept something like that!'

Even though Mary was insisting that she couldn't accept such a fabulously expensive gift, she couldn't take her eyes off the glowing, heart shaped ruby that twinkled like captured fire before her.

'You can accept it, and you will,' Lil insisted, stepping forward and, as part of the same graceful movement, slipping the necklace's chain about Mary's neck and clasping it shut, the ruby pendant falling softly against the maid's chest.

Mary cupped the glowing heart in her hand. Still warm with Lil's body heat, it seemed to beat as if alive, until, with a thrilled giggle, Mary realised it was just her own trembling excitement.

'Miss, I can't, I can't–'

'Mary, you can, and you will. I don't need it anymore; not if, as I hope, I'll soon be replacing it with a real heart – a heart I don't think I could now live without.'

She glanced apprehensively out of the window once more.

'I'm sure he'll be safe, Miss,' Mary said reassuringly, instantly recognising the cause of Lil's anxiety.

Turning back to face Mary, Lil smiled thankfully.

'What kind of danger do you think he'll be in, Mary?'

_'Honestly_ , Miss? You want an _honest_ answer?' Mary blinked nervously.

'I think you've already given me your answer, Mary.' Lil sighed miserably. 'That was more or less what I'd assumed anyway. And it's all my silly fault that he's caught up in it. If only we hadn't been there when it all started up then–'

'Please Miss, sorry to interrupt Miss; but that's not your fault, Miss. He would have been called back to duty, and ordered to go in there. You can't blame yourself.'

'But how could it get to this point, Mary? Where a whole city is rioting, with different groups of people who lived alongside each other now attacking each other? Why didn't anybody see this coming?'

'Oh, but they _did_ , Miss. That's what I picked up from the talks the master would have with his friends when I was serving them drinks; that they knew it would all explode in their faces one day – that's what the master said – but they were dammed if they knew how to prevent it – that's what one of his friends said, Miss. I used to walk away from those meetings humming an old children's tune, Miss; a German tune Miss, something about mending a hole in bucket – no, a jug. I think the German translates as jug, Miss.'

'A hole in a jug? Oh, yes, yes; _Heinrich and Liese_. When they try and mend the jug, they can't because they need the jug to fetch the water in. Is that the one?'

Mary nodded, grinned in embarrassment.

'I know it's silly, Miss; saying the problems we've got here are like a children's song. But at the time, Miss, I didn't realise it was going to end up so badly.

They both jumped as a shot rang out from the city.

'You weren't to know,' Lil said consolingly, anxiously staring out of the window yet again. 'I doubt even Harry suspected that it would end up like this.'

*

# Chapter 16

O my dove, that art in the clefts of the rock, in the secret places of the stairs, let me see thy countenance, let me hear thy voice; for sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance is comely.

Song of Songs 2; 14

Harry was covered in sweat streaked dust and splattered with blood, both his own and that of others.

He was exhausted, frustrated, furious, disheartened, dismayed. He was no longer fearful, as he had been at an earlier point in the riots, when he still possessed a sense that he had to somehow ensure he survived the mayhem erupting and growing around him. As the violence had increased, his fear had, ironically, diminished, as his aim changed to providing safety for the innocent people he saw around him being mercilessly clubbed, raped, knifed, killed.

It had all started off badly enough, with the stalls, shops and the houses of the Jewish quarter being overturned or looted. Next came the hurling of stones at people caught out in the streets, mainly old men, women and children. Stones were replaced with clubs, then knives. Then people who had locked their stores or taken shelter in their homes were dragged out onto the streets, were they could be beaten and kicked by furious groups of men.

When Harry's Jewish officers and soldiers tried to make arrests, they were frequently attacked too, until Harry fired his gun into the air, warning everyone that his men would shoot unless the baying crowd backed off. Only then would his men be allowed to drag their prisoners clear. The crowd would stand off, glaring furiously at Harry, the odd wrathful cry ringing out from them, curses that he didn't know what he was doing, that he was a traitor

Eventually, so many of his men had been either so badly injured or had had to return to the gate with their prisoners that Harry had been left with no choice but to enlist the aid of the Arab policemen, even though he constantly remained unsure as to where their loyalties truly lay. Worse, whenever they obeyed his orders to make an arrest, the surrounding men spat at them, accusing them of treachery. As such, they were kicked and clubbed even more savagely than his Jewish officers had been, and Harry feared that they wouldn't put up with it for much longer.

'Harry, Harry!'

While keeping an eye on the crowding men threatening his officers for dragging away two men caught attacking a Jewish family, Harry glanced about him, trying to find out who was calling him.

It was another British officer, Jim Knight, like him a man in his very early twenties, and like him commanding a handful of men who were struggling to contain a much larger group advancing through the narrow streets.

'Orders have come through Harry; we have to enforce a curfew,' Jim yelled out. 'Once we get things calmed down, of course,' he added with ironic joviality.

One of Jim's policemen fired a warning shot into the air, two of his comrades running backwards away from the crowd, trailing a captured man between them on the ground.

A responsive shot cracked out from the angry crowd. One of Harry's men spun wildly on his feet, clutching at his throat. He crumpled to the floor, blood bubbling from his mouth, spurting through a hole in his neck.

'Get him back to the gate, get him back to the gate!' Harry screamed urgently, kneeling down beside the injured man as he scanned the crowd in the vain hope of seeing who had fired the shot.

'Take the prisoners too!' Harry ordered, keeping his eyes on the crowd as he backed away from them, covering his men as they fell back carrying their injured friend, or dragging along their stubbornly reluctant captives.

It was a retreat, Harry had to admit to himself, but, he hoped, only a temporary one. He had no choice but to withdraw. He had officers holding prisoners, prisoners he could hardly let go. His men were also exhausted, their tempers frayed, their fear of being injured or killed increasing with every violent encounter.

What fear would the crowds have of the law, of later retribution, if the police either collapsed as a coherent force or ceased to exist through too many injuries and fatalities?

He glanced down at the injured officer being carried between a group of his urgently running men.

The man's face was white, pained, his eyes rolling back beneath his upper lids.

Was he going to die?

It seemed likely.

It might just be a coincidence, of course, but it was the man who had seen the unicorn.

Suddenly, his heart felt as if it had been brutally stabbed.

Lil.

Lil had also seen the unicorn.

*

# Chapter 17

As the hart panteth after the water brooks, so panteth my soul after thee, O God.

Psalm 42; 1

Feeling hot, Lil had cast off most of her bed sheets, leaving nothing but a single, white linen sheet that draped around her, clinging to her contours like a sheen of milk.

She rose from her bed, leaving the comforting sheet swathed around her, her body white in the moonlight streaming in through her still opened window. Her legs felt powerful, strong, giving her steps a grace she had never experienced before.

She ran towards the window, her eyes focused on the silver orb of the moon. She leapt, her elegantly muscled legs propelling her up and forward, her body instinctively slipping into an athletic diving pose that she knew would help her effortlessly clear the window frame without the slightest scrape. The linen sheet fell from her, creating soft waves across the carpet, yet her skin remained as white as freshly fallen snow.

Before her, she brought her arms together, tucking her head safely down into the valley between them. She sailed out into the silvery air, briefly feeling weightless before, gravity taking its hold, she began to fall towards the garden a floor below.

Her arms would have broken, rather than breaking the fall. Fortunately, by the time they touched the ground, they were lithe, muscular, and specifically created for absorbing the impact of such a magnificent leap.

Her even more powerful hind legs were the next to touch the ground and, as soon as they did, a simple flexing of Lil's flanks sent her off in another leap across the garden.

It was more flying than running. Her legs seemed tireless, invulnerable to pain or strain. Her body flowed with each powerful surge of her legs, the muscles hidden beneath rippling like scudding clouds.

The garden wall presented no problem to her. She passed over it as if it were nothing more than a row of pebbles. Then she was on a paved street, her hooves clacking on the stone rhythmically.

The road rose up towards the city gate, but Lil flew up it as if it were downhill all the way. The gate should have been closed, but one of the policemen on guard thought he heard something, decided it was important enough to pull it open a little and take a look, just in case, just to be safe. With the slightest of swerves, a ducking of her horned head, Lil flowed through the gap, breaking into a full gallop as she finally entered the old city.

Now the clatter of her hooves rang out through the walled streets, echoing, magnified, yet no one woke, no one – not even the policemen stalking the streets, maintaining a hard-fought for curfew – pointed her out or, it seemed, even noticed her. The clattering increased, the echoes clashing, disturbing the rhythm. Then the echoes, strangely, impossibly, became louder, harder than the clacking of her own striking hooves. This was a pounding, a thunderous roar of hammering hooves, beating against the ground like an army beats to war.

Instinctively, sensing danger, she spun around a corner. It was just in time. Coming the other way down an adjacent alley, and at full tilt, the unicorn was charging towards her. It snorted, it breathed, as if it were an oncoming storm. Its heavy, muscular flanks thrashed with an irresistible power, an irrevocable purpose, its very nature making it unnatural, unknown and frightening.

Now, at last, cries of warning went up from the odd policeman, shouts directing a chase, yells of confusion and frustration.

But still the thrashing beast pursued the fleeing Lil, the drumming of its hooves, the snorting of its hot breath, possessing a dangerous, enveloping physicality in their own right.

She couldn't run much farther. Now she was tiring, her legs were screaming in pain.

Why was it hunting her?

What had she done to deserve this?

Why couldn't she be left alone?

She whirled yet again around a sharp corner, vainly hoping to give the pursuing beast the slip. But it was like a pure white wraith, endlessly on her tail, unshakable, as if it would always foresee her every move, be conscious of her every thought, her every emotion.

She skipped across a stream of rubble strewn across the street, the remains of fallen wall. She curled her body around a corner, prepared to power herself forward once more with a push of her hind legs; but it was a dead end, a small garden.

She crashed through a curtain of low hanging braches, almost struck the olive tree's trunk.

She waited, her heart drumming uncontrollably, dangerously.

Behind her, she felt a wall of approaching heat, the heat of striving flesh and muscle, of a breath that demands recompense, a heart that can't be refused.

The flesh touched hers, melding in the shared heat. The breath caressed, flowed about her. The heart beat thunderously with hers.

She was no longer a hind.

She was a young woman once more.

An arm curled around her waist, another about her bosom.

They pulled her close, longingly, tightly, as if they would never, ever let her go.

She let herself go, fell back against him, sighed with relief, with love.

'Lil,' he breathed.

'My love.'

'My life.'

*

# Chapter 18

Awake, O north wind; and come, thou south; blow upon my garden, that the spices thereof may flow out. Let my beloved come into his garden, and eat his pleasant fruits.

Song of Songs 4; 16

When Lil woke up, the linen sheet she lay under felt cool, silky smooth.

She smiled happily, sensing a freedom, a sense of release, within herself that she had never felt before.

The end of her nose tickled. Instinctively, still half asleep, she dragged a hand out from beneath the sheet to swipe a finger across her nose tip.

The finger touched something, knocking it off her nose and onto her cheek, where its light touch continued to tickle her.

Drowsily, she picked it clear of her face, curiously held it closer to a half opened eye so that she could see what this strange thing was that had fallen onto her face.

It was a small, dark green leaf. An olive leaf.

She opened her eyes wider. Then wider still when she saw the weeping branches of an olive tree draping over her like a green awning.

She wasn't in her room.

She was outside.

She wasn't in her bed.

She wasn't lying on anything particularly soft, she realised.

She was in a garden. Azar's garden. She recognised it for sure when she turned her head to the left.

She turned to her right.

Harry; Harry was with her, sleeping beneath the linen sheet.

She gasped; No!

She glanced beneath the sheet, urgently looking down at herself.

NO!

*

# Chapter 19

Thou that dwellest in the gardens, the companions hearken to thy voice: cause me to hear it. Make haste, my beloved, and be thou like to a roe or to a young hart upon the mountains of spices.

Song of Songs 8; 13-14

Tucking the sheet more tightly about herself, Lil sat up, began to rise to her feet; then stopped in a half crouch, realising that if she continued to stand, she would end up dragging the other half of the sheet off Harry, revealing his nakedness.

'Harry!' she wailed desperately, trying to wake him while keeping her voice as low as possible, in case anybody heard her, in case anybody caught them together in such an embarrassing, _dishonourable_ situation.

'Lil?'

Lil anxiously spun around, looking towards where she had heard her name spoken. Azar was standing in the doorway leading into the house, beaming brightly.

'Azar!'

Lil shamefully pulled the sheet more tightly around her, finally waking Harry, who looked around in what could have been a bewildered, drunken stupor.

'You're awake,' Azar observed calmly, still smiling amusedly.

'What am I doing here?' Lil moaned miserably. 'What are _we_ doing here?'

Harry had now grabbed at what little of the sheet still covered him, almost pulling it off Lil, who tugged back on it irritably. He looked every bit as confused and ashamed as Lil.

'What, what's going on Azar, Lil?'

'Stop pulling the sheet Harry!'

'There are clothes for you there,' Azar said, pointing to a small, neat pile of traditional clothes just by where Harry's head had been while he was asleep. 'And for you Lil,' he added, indicating what looked like Martha or Mary's robes hanging from a branch of the olive tree.

'They're not _my_ clothes!' Lil protested ungratefully.

'True,' Azar agreed nonchalantly. 'But when Martha found you both asleep in our garden, you didn't have _any_ clothes.'

'Martha saw us?' both Harry and Lil wailed despondently together.

'We were under the sheet, yes?' Lil added hopefully.

Azar shook his head.

'She brought out the sheet; she thought you both needed covering up while you slept.'

'No!' Lil groaned.

'Why didn't you wake us up, Azar?' Harry irately demanded, struggling to slip on an undergarment while remaining beneath the sparse covering of the sheet.

'Hurry up Harry!' Lil complained. 'I can't stay like this!'

'You seemed so content, so peaceful,' Azar said in reply to Harry's question. 'It seemed a shame to wake you.'

As Harry at last threw his side of the sheet aside, now decently if not completely clothed, Azar offered a hand to Lil.

'You can change inside, Lil,' he said, reaching for and taking down the hanging robes with his other hand. Lil grateful accepted the clothes from him as, wrapping the sheet tightly about her, she tripped past him towards the house.

'How are Mary and Martha?' Quickly slipping on the rest of the clothes supplied by Martha, Harry now felt ashamed that he had not thought to ask earlier if Azar's sisters had suffered any injury or hurt in the previous night's riots. 'I checked your house as often as I could; but I never saw that happen.'

With a nod of his head, he indicated the collapsed wall at the end of the garden.

Azar grinned.

'The wall saved us, Harry! They tried to climb it, some men wanting to steal from our home, I suppose; but the wall's old and it collapsed under their weight. The falling stone's injured them all pretty badly, and they all went limping off!'

'I need to get back, report for duty–'

'They're not allowing anyone out of the city.'

'What? Why ever not?'

Azar shrugged.

'I don't suppose they want the trouble spreading. But, whatever the reason Harry, anyone who has tried to leave has been turned back.'

Harry glanced down at his traditional robes.

'They'll let me and Lil out, as soon as we get close enough to the guards for them to see we're English.' He looked up at Azar once more. 'You, Mary and Martha should come with us too; I'll insist they let you out.'

Azar smiled doubtfully.

'They might want to know why you didn't report for duty earlier, Harry. It's midday now.'

With an anxious, shocked grimace, Harry glanced up at the sun hanging high above them.

'How long have we been asleep?' he asked in dismay.

'All morning, of course. Though I'm not sure when you arrived here.'

'I...I must have been sleepwalking,' Lil said from the doorway, now dressed in Martha's robes.

'Sleepwalking?' Harry gasped incredulously.

'What _other_ explanation is there, Harry?' Lil retorted furiously.

'Love,' Azar said assuredly. 'I think the explanation is _love_.'

*

# Chapter 20

Behold, thou art fair, my beloved, yea, pleasant: also our bed is green.

Song of Songs 1; 16

'Love? Huh!'

Lil was still scornful of Azar's attempt at an explanation for their bewildering appearance in the garden.

She glared at Harry, as if holding him responsible for what could only be some horrendous trick.

Harry ignored her. As Azar had advised, he was keeping his head bowed, moving as inconspicuously and as humbly as possible through the jittery crowds. He was, of course, dressed like a Jew. If he walked around as confidently as he was used to, he might be attacked.

'So would _love_ really force me to leave a comfortable bed just to end up lying out naked in a garden with a man I hardly know?'

Harry glared back at Lil, worried that her constant complaining would draw attention to them. The policemen he spotted were understandably edgy, their tempers short, brutally shoving aside or pulling out of the way anybody who appeared to be causing even the slightest hold up or argument. He had thought of approaching them in the hope that he would be able to identify himself before they started clubbing him to the crowd, but had decided he would be better waiting until he came across another English officer, even if that meant waiting until they reached the gates. Of course, that was taking much longer than he had anticipated, blocked as they were by those still hopefully streaming towards the walls in the hope of exiting the city, as well as those dejectedly and angrily returning, having being turned back by the police guarding the gates.

Martha and Mary seemed unconcerned by either Lil's grumpiness or the jostling crowds, walking smoothly along as if, in their minds at least, they had been transported to some other, better world.

The nearer they got to the gates, the more the frayed tempers and the chaos of the closely packed people increased. They were tired, frightened, frustrated, furious. Some of them we're looking for any excuse or opportunity to take out their fury on anyone weaker than themselves. Others, dejected and exhausted, presented the perfect targets.

Harry couldn't force his way through such a crowd without bringing its wrath down on him and everyone with him. Besides, he reasoned, he couldn't leave Lil and the others unprotected in such a volatile situation.

He patiently edged his way towards the gates with everyone else, the movement slow, the crowd only moving forward when those at the front finally admitted to themselves that their protests for special treatment – their daughter was ill, they had already suffered attacks yesterday, their grandparents were frail, and couldn't _they_ at least be allowed out? – weren't going to sway the policemen sternly guarding the exit.

As they finally drew close enough to the yawning opening for Harry to risk standing on his toes, peering over the heads of everyone ahead of him in the hope of spotting an officer he could shout out to in English, the crowd began to sway and jostle even more uncomfortably. From the gateway itself, there came a wail of angry complaints, accompanied with a sudden movement backwards that grew as it moved back through the rest of the crowd. Everywhere, people violently barged into each other, or were even sent sprawling across the floor.

'What's happening?' Lil asked, unable to see past the jostling people surrounding her.

Harry stood up high once again. The people at the front of the desperate column had been partially pushed aside to allow the entrance of a group of arrogantly strutting yet traditionally dressed men.

'They're letting people in,' a mystified Harry explained to Lil. 'Why would they be doing that?'

The men being allowed in through the gate passed through the crowd without care of upsetting or injuring the people they forced their way past. They were like men with a purpose they believed overrode all normal considerations. They stared only directly ahead of them, as if this were a sign of their determination not to be distracted.

Yet one of them was distracted, however briefly, by Martha's beauty. He fleetingly glanced her way; and before he could turn away, quickly disappearing into the crowd, Harry caught his eye.

Sidney.

Sidney and the men of Ha-Shomer, the Jewish defence force, were being allowed to enter the city.

*

# Chapter 21

I opened to my beloved; but my beloved had withdrawn himself, and was gone: my soul failed when he spake: I sought him, but I could not find him; I called him, but he gave me no answer.

Song of Songs 5; 6

Harry looked about him at Lil, Azar, Mary and Martha.

It didn't appear that any of them had noticed Sidney.

He wondered, for a moment, if he should let them know what he had seen. He almost immediately decided against it; if Azar and his sisters heard that they might be defended from any future attacks, they might choose to stay, failing to realise that this new influx of armed men could well inflame the violence aimed at them rather than tempering it. It would be best for Azar and his sisters, he believed, to leave the city, as originally planned.

Why were the Ha-Shomer being allowed into the city when, the previous day, he had seen them being blocked from entering? Probably because, hearing of yesterday's violence – hearing, too, of how an inadequate police force had been overwhelmed – Ha-Shomer had protested that their people weren't being adequately protected from the attacks.

What option would the authorities have but to give Ha-Shomer the chance to protect people they had been incapable of defending themselves?

The stream of purposeful men working their way back through the crowd had lessened considerably now. Ironically, however, one of them drew Harry's attention because of his strange furtiveness, the way he was studiously attempting to keep separate from the other men. These attempts to keep his distance from the others drew him closer towards Harry, who watched him intently, wondering at his odd behaviour.

There was something about him, too, that Harry thought he recognised, though he couldn't think why–

A prisoner!

He had been one of the many men that Harry and his particular group of policemen had arrested yesterday during the riots.

Instinctively, Harry reached out for the man, grabbing at his arm.

'You!' he demanded in Arabic. 'Why have they let you go?'

The man irritably shrugged off Harry's hold.

'To attend morning prayer!' he answered brusquely, continuing on his way.

Harry reached out to grab him again.

'But I saw you beat–'

The man swung around, bringing up from beneath his robes some form of small club in his fiercely clenched fist. He struck Harry brutally across the temple.

Harry staggered briefly under the force of the unexpected blow.

Then he slipped, unconscious, to the floor.

*

# Chapter 22

But my horn shalt thou exalt like the horn of the unicorn: I shall be anointed with fresh oil.

Psalms 92; 10

Lil was amazed by Azar's strength.

Although the unconscious Harry was slung across his back, he moved swiftly and surefootedly thorough the crowds as they wound their way down the narrow alleyways, heading back towards the house.

'He'll be fine, Lil.' Noticing Lil's concern, Mary placed a reassuring hand on her arm.

Lil smiled gratefully yet doubtfully.

Thankfully, the blood that had initially poured from Harry's deep head wound had been stemmed by the scarf Martha had hurriedly tied around it just after the attack. It was all like some perverted form of Jesus's passion, Harry being both the cross that had to be carried, and yet also the wounded Christ.

Where these the actual streets that Jesus had stumbled down, mocked and whipped as he had made his way to Calvary?

Lil prayed to God, to Jesus, that Harry would be all right.

Why had she argued with him earlier?

Why had she blamed him and him alone for the embarrassment they had suffered on being caught naked together?

Were they being punished for that moment of wickedness?

Did he really deserve to die for something that she was as much to blame for?

Please help him in his suffering, Lord! Please don't desert him!

'I know what you're thinking, Lil,' Mary said, smiling knowingly.

Although she returned the smile, Lil shook her head slightly in reply; no, she thought, Mary won't realise how desperate I am to save Harry, how responsible I feel for his troubles. There was also a part of her too ashamed to admit how helpless she felt, how silly, how childish. And, perhaps most of all, she was shamed by her need to pray for help, when she had flattered herself that she had left behind such primitive beliefs long ago.

'You're thinking,' Mary continued regardless, 'how much Harry's suffering reminds you of Christ's passion.'

Lil's eyes widened in surprise.

'It's an obvious guess,' Mary admitted generously. 'When people visit Jerusalem, there will always be a part of them that senses at least the history if not the spirit of Jesus's presence. And here we have Harry being carried across Azar's back, with a wound to his head.'

Lil grasped Mary's hand, clenching it tightly, seeking to draw strength from her.

'Yes, I _was_ thinking that Mary, and...and unfortunately, yes, for _me_ , it's just the _history_ , not the spirit. I've...I've read books that's made me doubt – Frazer's book on myths. The things we read in the Bible, Mary; so much of Jesus's story has been told in other ways, in earlier...legends. I know we're told we must see these as prophesises – but I find that hard to believe, even now, when I _want_ to believe, if only for Harry's sake; but I'm full of doubts I can't shake.'

It was a gabbled, rushed speech, that Lil was sure must have at least confused poor Mary and perhaps even upset her.

Mary reassuringly clenched Lil's hand all the tighter.

'In terms of eternity, Lil, there is _no_ past, _no_ future; the crucifixion is eternity's pinion, around which everything else revolves. And so things that seem to come before are actually memories of something greater.'

There was a bustle of activity just ahead of them as, reaching the door to their house, Martha dashed forward to open it while Azar carefully crouched, preparing to pass through the low doorway. Mary now rushed forward too, helping Martha guide Azar into the house without knocking Harry against the doorframe.

As soon as they were inside, Mary hurried off to fetch clean cloth and ointments, leaving the others to tenderly lower Harry onto Azar's small, low bed, which lay on the ground floor. Mary returned almost immediately and, kneeling beside the bed, began to expertly remove the bloodied scarf, making sure the dried blood that came away with it didn't cause the wound to open up once more.

Then, patiently, she began to wipe the wound clean with her ointments.

Martha and Azar, having made Harry as comfortable as they could, moved away from the bed, Azar saying that he would go out to work in the garden, Martha that she would begin to prepare something to eat. As she moved away from the bed, Martha placed a consoling hand on Lil's shoulder.

'He'll be fine, Lil; he's in good hands, the best there is, believe me.'

Lil smiled wanly, trying to both hide and control her anxiety.

'Thank you Martha,' she said. 'Is there anything I can do, to help anyone?'

The sisters shook their heads.

'You just hold Harry's hand,' Mary said. 'I'm sure he knows you're there, and appreciates your presence.'

Lil took one of Harry's hands in hers, cupping them around his motionless fingers, his roughened palm. She could feel warmth, life, flowing through his hand, but she couldn't decide if it was weak or normal.

'May I try and guess what you're thinking again?' Mary asked gently.

Lil weakly nodded, even though she was more than a little angry that Mary sounded so light hearted when, for all they knew, Harry had been much more badly injured than they supposed. He could well require proper hospital treatment rather than this frankly biblical nursing Mary was administering. It reminded Lil, in fact, not of nursing but of Jesus's anointing by Mary Magdalene before he died.

(Was that right? Hadn't someone once told her they believed it was Mary who had performed the anointing?)

Mary the harlot.

Mary the sinner.

So lawless, so callous of others, before her conversion into a follower of Jesus.

And wasn't this Mary being as equally callous in believing and insisting her frankly primitive treatments would be more than adequate to cure poor Harry?

'You're thinking this is an anointing.' Mary said it calmly, without turning away from her delicately administered task of rubbing the ointments into Harry's wound. 'Like one of the three anointings performed on Jesus.'

Lil nodded once more.

'He'll survive this wound, Lil; it's not as bad as it looks. Harry's probably used to harder knocks than this.'

Lil immediately felt ashamed for thinking of Mary as Mary Magdalene. She was, after all, showing such remarkable kindness and care to Harry. Even if it was only the most basic of care, it was obviously the only type Mary was aware of.

'Yes, yes; thank you Mary,' Lil sighed with relief, wanting to believe that Mary was right. 'And...and I'm sorry, Mary?'

'Sorry?'

'I...I was thinking of this being like the anointing of Jesus, yes. And I was thinking of you as...as Mary Magdalene.'

Mary laughed.

'Why, thank you, Lil!'

'Thank you? But, I mean – Mary Magdalene was a...a...'

She couldn't say it; it was such a shameful word, particularly as she had thought of Mary in similar terms.

'Harmartolos,' Mary said helpfully, a word that Lil didn't recognise yet realised came close to sounding like 'harlot'.

'The Bible uses the Greek word harmartolos.' Mary continued. 'It's a term used in archery, meaning falling short if the mark; but not, as many have interpreted it, as meaning a sinner of the worst kind. Neither, as some often claim, does Magdalene mean she came from the town of Magdala. The Ethiopian's Great Mother Goddess was called "Mahram Magda", and the Ethiopian Queen of Sheba "Magda", meaning "Greatness".'

Gently grasping Lil's hands, Mary tenderly pulled them away from their hold on Harry's hand.

'Lil, Harry will be fine. You need to have a rest. Go out into the garden. Have a talk with Azar. _He's_ worried for _you_.'

*

# Chapter 23

Then he came into Jericho. And the sister of the young man whom Jesus loved was there with his mother and Salome, but Jesus would not receive them.

Secret Gospel of Mark. Mark 10; 46

When she stepped out into the garden, Lil had expected to find Azar tending the plants, or perhaps making an attempt at repairing the wall.

But no; when he had said he was going out to work in the garden, he had obviously meant he would continue his studying of the Bible. He was crouched over the large book he had produced earlier to discuss his idea that it referred to an unnamed, unknown disciple. The book was now full of thin, reedy markers, most of them with differently dyed ends as if they formed an undecipherable code in their own right.

'So; are you any further on discovering the name of this disciple?' Lil asked, crouching down beside him on the blanket cast across a small plot of grass.

Azar grinned in greeting.

'In the Bible, a person can have a number names; names given by Jesus, or both a Roman and a Hebrew name. Mark, for example, was the _Roman_ name of the gospel writer; but his _Hebrew_ name was John.'

'Then could _he_ be the one who wrote John's gospel?'

Azar rewarded Lil with an admiring, impressed grin.

'I think _one_ gospel would probably be enough. But at least, Lil, you are beginning to show that you are taking a more open-minded approach to what we have been _told_ we are reading in the Bible.'

He flicked open the Bible before him to a placing he had already marked, his fingers swiftly moving down the text to halt on John 18; 15.

'See this, Lil; "Simon Peter followed Jesus, and so did another disciple: that disciple was known unto the high priest, and went in with Jesus into the palace of the high priest." And here, John 20–'

He once again flicked the pages and highlighted a passage with his finger.

'"Then she runneth, and cometh to Simon Peter, and to the other disciple, whom Jesus loved." So, Lil, we see here, through his being with Simon Peter, not only that the unnamed disciple is the beloved disciple, but also that he is "known unto the high priest" – which would mean a man of considerable influence and, originally, before he gave it all up to become a disciple, wealth.'

Lil pulled a puzzled frown.

'I can't think of any disciple who we're told was rich before he became a disciple.'

'Which, of course, is my very point, Lil! Now, remember how we don't even hear of the beloved disciple until the Last Supper? Well, just a short while before, we hear how Jesus is approached by a rich young man wishing to become a disciple.'

With a flicking of the pages, Azar drew his finger across a passage in Mark 10.

'"Then Jesus beholding him _loved_ him, and said unto him, One thing thou lackest: go thy way, sell whatsoever thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven: and come, take up the cross, and follow me."'

Narrowing her eyes sceptically, Lil read out the following line.

'"And he was sad at that saying, and went away grieved: for he had great possessions." So, Azar, he's sent away; he _doesn't_ become a disciple.'

'He's sent away; it doesn't mean he won't repent and follow Jesus after all. In fact, he later sends his sister, his mother and Mary Salome to beseech Jesus once again; only for Jesus to ignore them, because their beseeching would mean nothing to him until the young man willingly gave up his riches and–'

Azar's voice was drowned out by a mix of angry and frightened cries coming from farther up the street lying beyond the end of the garden. Realising the danger they were in, both Azar and Lil quickly moved back towards the door.

'The trouble's either started again or it's coming this way,' Azar said, handing Lil his Bible and telling her to go back inside, bolting the door behind her.

'I'll go and see what's happening; see if anyone needs my help.'

'No, Azar! It's dangerous!'

'Would that stop Harry, if he knew someone might need his help?'

Lil shook her head. 'No, Azar; but he's a soldier. He's trained to help.'

Azar shrugged, grinned.

'You don't need training to help someone who's being attacked.'

He turned away before Lil could make any further protest, lithely skipping across the grass and then the strewn rubble that used to be the wall.

Lil pulled back into the house, shutting and bolting the door behind her. She turned around, looking over towards where Harry still lay unconscious on the bed,

She clutched the Bible tightly in her hand. And she found herself quietly praying once again.

'Please please let Harry be all right! Help Azar get back safely! And let us _all_ remain safe!'

*

# Chapter 24

By night on my bed I sought him whom my soul loveth: I sought him, but I found him not.

Song of Songs 3; 1

The early morning air was tinged with the smell of the still smouldering houses and shops that had been set on fire in the riots of the previous day.

It had been another day of looting, beatings, rape and murder, a disturbed, uneasy calm only returning to the city when martial law had been declared. At last, with the threat of being shot if he remained out on the street, Azar had finally returned to the house, dusty and covered in the blood of the people he had helped flee to the relative safety of their own homes.

He had slept on the floor alongside Harry, while Lil had been offered Mary's bed in the minute, upper room she shared with Martha. They all rose early, Azar and Lil tending the still unconscious Harry while Martha and Mary went out to buy something to eat.

There was an urgent knock at the heavily bolted door. Standing behind it, Azar cautiously demanded to know who was out there.

'It me, Azar; Sidney!'

*

# Chapter 25

Tell me, O thou whom my soul loveth, where thou feedest, where thou makest thy flock to rest at noon: for why should I be as one that turneth aside by the flocks of thy companions?

Song of Song 1; 7

'The last of the soldiers were pulled out of the city last night,' Sidney said immediately on stepping into the house. 'There were hardly any around before, but now there's no one!'

'Why? Why would they withdraw the soldiers?' Azar asked incredulously.

Sidney shrugged nonchalantly.

'Because if all the soldiers get themselves killed, what do the rioters have to fear? They'd go on a complete, murderous rampage, with no one to sto – Miss Pine! Well well well!'

Looking up and throwing back the covering of his headdress, he had at last seen Lil. He peered curiously beyond her, in an attempt to see who she was attending to on the bed.

'And...is that Harry?' He laughed. 'So it's not true that you two eloped, then?'

'Eloped? What do you mean, _eloped_?' Lil irately snapped, jumping to her feet.

Azar scowled admonishingly at Sidney, but Sidney ignored him.

'Well, that was the rumour going around explaining your disappearance; that dear old Harry here had been a bit of a cad and run off with his commander's niece! There's a warrant out for his arrest.'

'His _arrest_? But that's ridiculous! He didn't abduct me–'

'Yet here you are with him. And my dear cousin Harry failed to report for duty yesterday, meaning–'

'He's your _cousin_? So _that's_ why he's always letting you–'

'– get away with things, yes. I should have had him arrested ages ago.'

'Harry!' Hearing Harry's croaky voice behind her, Lil whirled around, falling to her knees alongside the bed and exuberantly throwing her arms about him. 'You're better! You're awake!'

Harry chuckled weakly.

'I'm alive, but–'

He tried to rise but, quickly stepping back towards the bed, Azar stopped him.

'But you're still weak,' he said. 'You still need to rest.'

Unable to push past even Azar's lightly restraining hand, Harry slumped back onto the bed with a dismayed, pained groan.

'There's no rush, Harry,' Sidney said with an amused grin. 'Turn up for duty now, while everyone's on their nerve's edge, and they'll probably line you up in front of a firing squad before you have chance to explain.'

'So, why did they finally let you and Ha-Shomer in?' Harry asked in his pained, croaky voice, looking over towards Sidney once more.

'What choice did they have? They stopped us on Sunday, even though they'd got two hundred of us to swear in as deputies; and look what happened.'

'Hah! Before they let you in, or after? Same result, I'm betting.'

Sidney nodded despondently.

'They _could_ stop it, Harry; the authorities, I mean. But they'd have to be totally brutal to do it. And they don't have the resolve to do it – _yet_. A great many sacrifices are going to have to be made, Harry, before they decide to act.'

He looked about the room curiously, as if he had only just remembered why he had originally come here

'Martha? Is Martha around?'

'Out,' Azar replied. 'While things are calm.'

With a disappointed pout, Sidney turned to leave. But, as he had done the last time he'd left the house, he turned back in the doorway to give Azar a final, parting salute

'El Azar!' he barked.

'El Sid!' Azar replied with his familiar amused smile.

As Sidney vanished out onto the street, Harry stared at Azar distrustfully.

'El Azar?' he said suspiciously.

*

# Chapter 26

Then Peter, turning about, seeth the disciple whom Jesus loved following; which also leaned on his breast at supper, and said, Lord, which is he that betrayeth thee?

Peter seeing him saith to Jesus, Lord, and what shall this man do?

Jesus saith unto him, If I will that he tarry till I come, what is that to thee? Follow thou me.

Then went this saying abroad among the brethren, that that disciple should not die.

John 21; 20-23

_'El_ Azar; Elhazar. Hebrew for Lazarus. And your sisters; Mary and Martha. Just like in the Bible.'

'So, Harry?' Lil was embarrassed by Harry's suspicious questioning of Azar. 'Lots of people call their children biblical names.'

'But why such an unusual name?' Harry persisted. 'One with strong connotations to death.'

'To _life_ , surely Captain?' Azar replied breezily, without even bothering to point out to Harry that the name only became Lazarus with the addition of the 'El'. 'He is _raised_ from death, after all.'

'Harry, please...' Lil mopped his brow with an ointment-soaked cloth, as if implying that his rudeness was all down to a fever.

'Lazarus...' Harry continued, almost as if he were still dazed, or attempting to work something out that continued to elude him.

'Lazarus!' Azar leapt up from the bedside, rushing over to where Lil had placed his Bible on the table. 'Of _course_ Captain. The answer was there all the time, in my own name! And no one realised it!'

'Azar? What do you mean?' Lil asked curiously.

'Not long before the appearance of the rich young man wishing to be a disciple, there is another wealthy young man whom we're told Jesus loved. John 11; "So the sisters sent word to Jesus, Lord, the one you love is sick."

Even as he finished reading the passage, Azar was excitedly turning to another, later page.

'Lazarus wasn't a disciple, Azar!' Harry wheezed, at last finding the strength or the will to sit up slightly in his bed.

'But Captain, if Lazarus _is_ the beloved disciple, it means a passage that follows after Jesus's Resurrection that has always puzzled me now makes perfect sense.'

He began to read.

'"Then Peter, turning about, seeth the disciple whom Jesus loved following...Peter seeing him saith to Jesus, Lord, and what shall this man do? Jesus saith unto him, If I will that he tarry till I come, what is that to thee? follow thou me."'

He grinned excitedly, only to be met by Lil and Harry's blank, uncomprehending stares.

'Don't you see? Peter is _scared_ of the beloved disciple! Scared because he was once dead. And now Peter is hoping Jesus will take the beloved disciple away with him. See, the next passage confirms that it is Lazarus!'

Once more, he excitedly read out the passage.

'"Then went this saying abroad among the brethren, that that disciple should not die."'

He slapped the Bible shut with satisfaction.

'Captain, Lil; _Lazarus_ is our beloved disciple!'

*

# Chapter 27

Immediately a great cry was heard from the tomb. And going up to it, Jesus rolled the stone away from the door of the tomb, and immediately went in where the young man was. Stretching out his hand, he lifted him up, taking hold his hand. And the youth, looking intently at him, loved him and started begging him to let him remain with him. And going out of the tomb, they went into the house of the youth, for he was rich. And after six days, Jesus gave him an order and, at evening, the young man came to him wearing nothing but a linen cloth. And he stayed with him for the night, because Jesus taught him the mystery of the Kingdom of God.

Secret Gospel of Mark. Mark 9; 53-57

'And so, because Jesus has brought him back to life, that's why he becomes a disciple?'

Lil was disappointed when Azar shook his head.

'No, that's why this rich young man had _flattered_ himself that he was worthy enough to become a disciple; because Jesus had initiated him into the mysteries of the coming kingdom. "Loose him, and let him go," Jesus had said when raising Lazarus; because the shedding of his white linen burial clothes would free him of worldly constraints, just as Jesus's own Resurrection is signified by his empty linen in the opened tomb. Even so, to become a disciple our rich young man has yet to shed himself of his riches.'

The door rocked under a heavy, desperate knocking from outside. They could also hear the yells and threats of an angry mob somewhere slightly higher up the street, yet rapidly drawing closer.

'Let us in, let us in Azar!' Mary pleaded.

Rushing to the door, Azar opened it. Both Mary and Martha almost tumbled into the room in their urgency to escape the oncoming raucous crowd.

'It's started again,' Martha breathed in a mix of anxiety and relief as Azar quickly closed and bolted the door behind them. 'They're killing each other!'

*

# Chapter 28

But I found him whom my soul loveth: I held him, and would not let him go.

Song of Songs 3; 4

The door buckled, shook, jolted on its massive hinges as people in the violently scuffling crowd outside fell against it again and again. Even the thick stone walls seemed to reverberate with the furious screams, the frenzied blows of people determined to punish each other, Muslim, Jew and Christian united in the urge to cause harm.

'I have to go out there, calm them down,' Harry insisted, swinging his legs off the bed and beginning to rise up from it.

'No, you'll be killed Captain,' Mary warned him. 'You're still weak. You're not fully recovered yet.'

'I'm strong enough to stand for at least a few minutes; they won't know how weak I am. Bluff is all part of authrority. A commanding presence, as we were informed at Sandhurst.'

'You don't have any authority, remember Captain?' Azar pointed out, indicating Harry's robes with a nod of his head.

'Azar's right, Harry!' Lil rushed towards him, held him close to her. ''You can't do anything out there!'

'I have to try, Lil,' He kissed the top of her head as, standing up straight, preparing himself, he briefly hugged her tightly before drawing away from her.

'If you go out, they'll come in,' Martha warned him.

'The back door to the garden; I'll use that,' Harry said, looking towards the door with a determined stare. 'I'll come around on them from there. If I tell them I'm a British officer, they might go away.'

'They _might_ kill you,' Azar said.

'And bring the wrath of the British administration down on them?'

'They think you're a deserter, Harry,' Lil reminded him.

'When – if – they hear of an officer being killed, it won't matter; they can't let something like that go unpunished without endangering every other officer. Deserter or not.'

He had already made his way to the door and unbolted it as he'd talked.

'I'll go with you Captain,' Azar offered, realising there was no longer any chance of preventing Harry from going ahead with his plan.

'Take a club or something...' Lil pleaded, looking about the room for anything they could take to defend themselves.

'There's been enough violence,' Harry said, opening the door.

*

# Chapter 29

His cheeks are as a bed of spices, as sweet flowers: his lips like lilies, dropping sweet smelling myrrh.

Song of Songs 5; 13

As Harry and Azar stepped out through the door, they realised too late that the surging crowd had already curled around the side of the house and its walled garden. Some of the warring couples were already stumbling into the gap created by the shattered wall.

'Quick, bolt the door behind us!' Azar warned, turning to slam the door shut behind him – but not before an apprehensively watching Lil had pushed her way through, rushing up and clinging protectively onto Harry.

'Stay inside!' Azar shouted through the door to his sisters. 'We'll be all right!'

As Azar spoke to his sisters, Harry cried out to the crowd, in Arabic, in Jewish.

He managed, somehow, despite his weakness, to project a powerful voice, a powerful presence.

Even so, equally powerful voices answered back at him from the aggressively fluctuating crowd. Only a few of them had stopped their fighting to stare at him.

Amongst them, Lil was sure she caught a glimpse of Sidney. But he ducked his head, swerved, then vanished once more into the flowing of the crowd.

A shot rang out.

And Harry fell to the floor.

*

# Chapter 30

And it had one horn in its forehead, and it providentially came to Moses' hand just for the occasion, and he made the covering of the Tabernacle, and then it was hidden.

Talmud, Shabbat 28b

'You've killed a British officer!'

For some strange reason, even though she knew he must be speaking in Hebrew and Arabic, Lil could understand Sidney's baying cries as he strode to the front of the briefly shocked and frozen crowd.

'I was in the army! I _know_ this man!'

Ignoring Lil and Azar, who had both dropped down beside the barely breathing Harry to comfort and protect him, Sidney bent down between them to brutally pull back the tangled headdress and robes, clearly revealing Harry's face.

'He's English. When the authorities hear of this, do you think they won't seek retribution?'

The crowd stared fearfully at Harry's face.

Even through her tears, Lil could see their shock, their growing horror at what they had done, what they had brought down upon themselves.

Yet she could see nothing frightening in Harry's face. She saw only agony. And yet, also, a strange sense of peace, of resignation.

Azar, crouching beside her, smiled.

'Azar! He's dying! What's wrong with you?'

'Look! Look at them,' Azar replied, strangely happy.

Lil whirled around to look at the crowd, even though it meant having to briefly let go of Harry.

The crowd moaned in shock and terror, their eyes fixed immovably on the ground just behind her, on Harry.

She spun back towards Harry.

But he was no longer here.

In his place, lying contentedly upon the floor, was a gloriously white unicorn.

*

# Chapter 31

But we are children of light, having been illuminated by the dayspring of the spirit of the Lord from on high, and Where the Spirit of the Lord is, it says, there is liberty, for All things are pure to the pure.

Clement of Alexandria

Lil fell back, amazed, terrified. She scrambled, crab-like, on her arms and legs, rapidly moving farther back from the unicorn.

Then she looked down at herself.

She was dressed in nothing but white linen.

*

# Chapter 32

Such inward torment of the mind,

Thee loving, dearest heart, I find,

Surmise alone can fully guess

And advertise my soul's distress.

Ibn Hazm, The Ring of the Dove

'Azar, what's happening?'

Lil rose to her feet, the unicorn rising with her, but keeping its distance.

Hearing the crowd behind her groan in fright, Lil briefly turned towards them.

Many had fled. Those that remained were horror-stricken, petrified, looking to her as if she were their only hope, their saviour.

'I don't understand.' Lil looked back towards Azar for an explanation.

Azar calmly nodded towards the unicorn.

'Call him,' he said coolly.

'I... I can't,' she said, fearing that the unicorn wouldn't heed her call.

'He will; he will come to anyone who needs him. As he came to me when my sisters called him.'

'Your sisters? Martha, Mary? They called the _unicorn_?'

'He lies within us all, Lil. "And whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die."'

'Never die? Like...like the beloved disciple? Like Lazarus?'

'He didn't say that I would never die. He said, "If I will that he tarry till I come, what is that to thee?" And so I and my sisters wait for him.'

'Then you're...'

Azar nodded, smiled.

'Lazarus. Meaning, "God has helped." And just as he came to help me, we are here to help you, Lil.'

'Help _me_?'

'Help _you_. Call him, Lil.'

'But...I can't...not now. Not now I'm no longer...'

'Call him.'

'Harry,' Lil said doubtfully, raising her arms up towards the unicorn, her linen garment falling away from her body.

The crowd gasped; and Lil, instantly feeling ashamed, instinctively glanced back at them.

But they weren't looking at her. They had all – even Sidney – fallen to the floor, all bowing low.

Looking down at them, Lil caught a glimpse of herself.

A glimpse of purest white skin.

She was the white hind once more.

Alongside her, she sensed the unicorn slowly draw close.

Flesh against flesh.

Soul against soul.

The backs of the bowing people rippled, flowed, swiftly becoming nothing but dust, souls rising like a rapidly dissipating heat haze – for now isn't their time, and they must be saved in their own way – their forms transforming and merging into rolling dips and hillocks of land. Rubble became rocks, walls crumbling and rounding into boulders, and houses into hills. The city fell, washed over, dropping away and flattening out like the waves of an ebbing sea, leaving only glorious mountains lying far beyond everything else. Grass grew, brightly coloured flowers spread, trees sprouted, stretched out, burgeoned into leafy cover, blossomed.

Coming up behind her, a naked Harry closed his arms around Lil's bared waist.

'Lil,' he breathed.

'My love.'

'My life.'

*

In an English churchyard

Lillianne Violet Pine

9 March 1903 – 1 April 1919

Cruelly taken away from us

before she could truly enjoy life

End

If you enjoyed reading this book, please remember to click that you liked it on the Kindle Rating icon.

You may also enjoy (or you may know someone else who might enjoy) these other books by Jon Jacks.

The Caught – The Rules – Chapter One – The Changes – Sleeping Ugly

The Barking Detective Agency – The Healing – The Lost Fairy Tale

A Horse for a Kingdom – Charity – The Most Beautiful Things – The Last Train

The Dream Swallowers – Nyx; Granddaughter of the Night – Jonah and the Alligator

Glastonbury Sirens – Dr Jekyll's Maid – The 500-Year Circus

P – The Endless Game – DoriaN A – Wyrd Girl – The Wicker Slippers

Heartache High (Vol I) – Heartache High: The Primer (Vol II) – Heartache High: The Wakening (Vol III)

Miss Terry Charm, Merry Kris Mouse & The Silver Egg – Seecrets – The Cull – Dragonsapien

