~Chapter 15~

"Alejandro, you look troubled, what is it?"

Elena stood outside the tent, braiding her hair. Alejandro approached, dabbing absently at his wet black curls with a small towel, peering over at Ahmed who sat against a tree trunk near the tent writing on a sheet of paper. Alejandro's face was still badly bruised but the swelling had gone down.

"Something is amiss with him," he said, lowering his voice.

"Amiss with him? How do you mean?"

"We were bathing, as you know, and I could not help but notice…" He didn't look directly at her.

"Yes?"

It was a moment before Alejandro answered. Then, lowering his voice still more, he said with another sidelong glance at the Arab, "He lacks...a foreskin. I am so outraged! Who could have done such a thing to him, and why? Perhaps it was those savages he fell in with when he--why are you smiling?"

RoZita emerged from the tent and crept up behind Ahmed as he wrote. He must have found the pen and paper in the cave, she thought. She tried to peek at what he was writing but it was in Arabic and she could read none of it. She smiled to herself, went off into the brush to answer the call of nature, and then went into the cave to wash and dress and primp a little. She put on some of the makeup in the bag, but only a tiny bit, then tried to think what to do with her hair. It didn't look very good, she fretted, looking into the hand mirror and thinking of Elena's splendid sable tresses -- this expression making her giggle a little at the same time, it sounded so Victorian. But she had no curling iron and no shampoo or hairspray, just a comb, and so she put her hair in braids. Then she thought of Ahmed once more, of the night they had passed, and smiled to herself, and as she did she caught a glimpse of her face in the mirror, softly radiant.

"You're beautiful," she gasped, and then kissed her reflection quickly, leaving a melon-colored smear on the glass. She then returned and peeked once more at what he was writing as though expecting him to have translated it into English. He had written a lot more.

"It is a poem for you," he explained to her with a very sweet smile. "Listen…" He cleared his throat and began to read almost shyly:

Captive of dawn, chained with links of fire
Lying spread on the forest floor,
your eyes full of moss and pearls
your voice full of water,
your hair in love with the sun...
You spoke and the sky did listen,
You sang and my soul burst free,
You danced and my heart was your partner
You fought and I was your prisoner;
I crave your colors, I long for your face,
I want to swim in your voice, be lost in your forest
Fetter me to your arms, O captive of dawn!

"I will try to make it better later on," he said, then caught his breath when he saw tears on her face. "What is it? Did I say something wrong?"

"No one ever wrote a poem for me before," she said, wiping her face with her forearm in a childish way.

"Goddammit," Carnal Love said. "Will you look at that!"

He rode ahead of everyone else, and so he was the first to see the tree barricading the road to the waterfall.

"Jesus," Hawk said, looking rather stupid. "Well. That sure complicates things, don't it?"

"So what the hell do we do now? Go around it?"

"We can't do that with the hosses. And we can't leave the hosses here. They could get stole. All kindsa riffraff could be lurkin' around. You know any other roads leadin' here, Carnal?"

"No...Jesus Christ. This is a piece of shit."

"They must be here," Hawk said suddenly. "Maybe that's what we heard last night. It was that goddamn tree fallin'. Carnal--I'm tellin' ya--they're here! I can smell wood burnin' and I can see smoke!"

Ahmed put his arms around RoZita. "You liked my poem?" he said.

"Don't ever change a word," she said in a muffled voice against his shoulder. "It's perfect the way it is."

He pressed his lips against hers. Her arms twined around his neck. He felt stiff and sore everywhere, but the feel of her arms and lips and body made him forget any discomfort.

Alejandro managed to gig up a big fish to cook for breakfast, and he was the one who cooked it. He felt even more stiff and sore than Ahmed, but he was in good spirits. He sang as he gutted the fish and Ahmed built the fire.

"Do you miss your family and friends?" Elena asked RoZita as they gathered sticks for the fire.

RoZita looked thoughtful. "They do not exist," she said after a moment. "That's so weird. They've never been born. Time has gone backwards for me and forward for Ahmed. He died long ago and I haven't been born yet. So, we're both totally alone. It boggles my mind. I still can't take it in yet. I'm living in the time of my ancestors, and he's living in the time of his descendants."

The truth of her aloneness came to her full force. The day before, she had scarcely had time to think about it. But now...she could hardly keep from it. She had no family. Ahmed had no family. All they had was each other.

"So I and Alejandro are totally alone," Elena said, picking up a large chunk of wood and studying it before laying it in her basket. "We have both lost our families, and all we have is each other. A strange coincidence."

RoZita was hardly listening to her. She stared all around her at the trees and meadows, the waterfall.

"I WAS born yesterday," she said in a small, stunned voice.

Elena felt her sadness and took her in her arms. The women held each other for a few moments, then Elena said, "You know, when we met first I thought you were a little bit crazy…

"I thought the same about you," RoZ said with a sad little smile. "I thought you were like, totally wacko or something. Actually, I thought maybe we were both nuts."

"Please forgive my indignant behavior. But I was so terribly worried about Alejandro." Elena sighed: "Thanks for your help to release him. You are a wonderful woman. I can never thank you enough."

"You too," RoZita said shyly. "And...so beautiful. I wish I looked anything like you."

"Ahmed seems to prefer you as you are." Elena smiled also.

Alejandro watched Ahmed stoke up the fire, bringing him a frying pan from the supply at the cave.

"Hermanito," he said, "I meant to ask when we were bathing, and I...became distracted. How many brothers have you?"

"Three," Ahmed said. "All of them older."

"None younger?"

"No, I am the youngest. There is a period of five years between me and my next brother."

"No," Alejandro said. "You had a twin. Did you not?"

Ahmed jerked his head up to look at him, and saw that Alejandro looked deadly serious. A strange feeling prickled in his insides.

"Yes," he said after a long moment. "He died at birth. I had almost forgotten. How could you have known that?"

"I had my dream of the white camel again," Alejandro said. "It was clearer this time. You were there, and I was with you. We were twins. I believe I am that twin, reborn. At first, I thought perhaps I was you, or a descendant of yours. But we are two different men. So we could not be the same. But yes, I could be that twin."

"But you -- my twin--died at birth. So how could you know of the camel?"

"They say twins have a special bond. Sometimes they can read each other's minds and souls. So, perhaps my soul was linked with yours through the ages, just as in our mother's womb. It boggles my mind, but I know not how else to account for the strangeness of these events. I believe that we were meant to be together, and through the magic, we found each other. I sometimes practice magic also. Of course, it is only silly tricks that I do, but still, it is another link between us."

Ahmed stood up a little shakily. He wore clean clothes now, white shirt and black pants, without the sash. Alejandro was likewise dressed in white shirt and black pants, and they both needed a shave.

"I believe you are right," Ahmed said, and they embraced each other.

"Now Carnal, we can't just go charging on in like Napoleon's army," Hawk reasoned. "They could be laying in ambush for us. We got to use our heads."

"You're right," Love said with a sigh. He wanted to go charging in. He kept picturing his son in their clutches, what they might be doing to the helpless boy. He wished he could at least sneak around and get a look, see if he could see Willy from here. He strained his ears trying to hear the boy's voice, but could hear nothing now. "I want to take a look," he told Hawk. "I just have to see if my boy's there. And what they might be doing to him. You'll wait for me, all right?"

"I'll go with you," Hawk said. "I want to get a peek at the ladies." He turned to his men, who looked a gloomy lot this morning, he thought. "You fellers will keep our hosses and wait. Got that?"

The two men slipped around the fallen tree. The underbrush obscured the waterfall from their view, but they could hear it, in the distance. They could smell the smoke but not see it. Brambles tore at their clothes and skin, but Love was determined.

"Careful," Hawk said. "They might can hear us. Let's get down on our bellies and crawl. Then if they fire at us they won't hit us."

Crawling wasn't easy. Love was glad he wasn't a snake. He thought to himself that he probably still wouldn't be able to see Willy, that they might have him tied up in the cave or something. IF he were still alive, that is. A gruesome scenario played in Love's mind. He was picturing them leaving the boy's head on his doorstep, the way they had left the pig's head. He felt slightly sick. He told himself the appearance of Nestrelda last night was making him crazy, giving him morbid fantasies. It wouldn't happen, he told himself. Even Murieta wouldn't do that. Then again...You never knew. There was no telling what Murieta could be capable of doing, after what had been done to him yesterday....

Hawk suddenly grabbed his arm, whispering, "Look!" Love looked, and could see two girls, walking arm in arm. They both wore men's clothes, which did little to disguise their obvious feminine charms.

Hawk gave a nearly inaudible whistle. One was one of those haughty sloe-eyed beauties men admired from afar but were deep down just the least bit afraid of, fearing them to be dangerous sirens or something. The shorter one, with her light brown hair in two braids making her look younger than she probably was, was one of those cuddly gal-next-door types you brought home to meet your mama...or at least, the kind your mama wished you'd bring home.

Hawk got a warm feeling thinking about his mama, who was running one of the finest whorehouses in San Francisco.

Carnal Love gave him a questioning look, then looked at the two young women. Elena was carrying a basket, and the two of them seemed engrossed in serious conversation. Serious, but not loud. Probably if the two men made a move, the girls would hear them. But no one else was in sight. However, if they captured the women now, what might happen to Willy?

Love was getting increasingly frustrated. He'd had no idea when he'd had Murieta captured yesterday that it would get so complicated. But as he watched the girls, a combination of lust and remembrance of Nestrelda's appearance last night began clouding his mind. He tried shaking his head to clear it. He didn't notice he was kneeling on poison ivy.

The two women moved out of his range of vision. Love swore under his breath.

"Now what?" he whispered. "I still can't see Willy. I don't want to let 'em out of my sight."

"There," Hawk whispered back. "I can see 'em now."

He pointed. Love could see them now, but only just, and from the back. They were headed toward the waterfall and the cave. The open meadow lay between them and the two men. There was no more brush to crawl through. They would be out in the open if they followed the women, and might make sitting ducks of themselves. Or walking ducks, or whatever.

"We can take the long way around the woods," Love said. "I know this place pretty well. Come on thisaway."

The women came back across the clearing, saw Ahmed and Alejandro embracing, smiled at each other and RoZita exclaimed in a whisper: "Look! I guess we four will be quite an unbeatable team?"

"The Four Musketeers," Elena laughed.

Ahmed wished he could clasp his twin more tightly but feared to hurt him. His estrangement from his older brothers had gone very hard with him. Now, being reunited with one of them was wonderful beyond imagining.

He told the others about his brothers, sitting on the log before the smoldering fire. Alejandro sat beside him and laid an arm around him gripping his shoulder tightly, partly because he sensed that Ahmed was sad about his brothers and partly in an unconscious attempt to prevent him from slipping away.

There was Kahlil, the oldest, who was brilliant, handsome, brave, and a natural leader. Once he had been Ahmed's hero, admired by all. Now he occupied a high position in the caliphate, and stopped at nothing to make others aware of his authority, even if innocent people died or became enslaved because of it, and he was not above using torture and beatings when it suited his purpose. Then there was Abdul, less handsome and less brave but quite intelligent, who had always been envious of Kahlil's charisma and strength, and used underhanded methods to undermine him. When they were together they would seem very cordial and convivial with each other, but you could sense the animosity between them in the sarcastic asides and subtle digs they took at each other, and Ahmed could hardly bear to be in the same room with them for long at a time.

Then there was Sayid, also very charming, and when he was alone with Ahmed he could be excellent company, witty, relaxed, voluble. But when he was around more powerful men he changed, almost unconsciously. He would make snide remarks and cruel jokes about his wife and children and servants in their presence as though they were not in the room and couldn't understand. When Ahmed took him to task about it, he would just laugh it off. "What would YOU know?" he would sneer. "You think because you have traveled all over the world that you are qualified to tell others how to live their lives? Is that what you think?" He said that often, in those patronizing tones: "Is that what you think?"

Olga used to tell Ahmed that his brothers were jealous of the esteem in which people held him, and above all they resented his goodness -- people tended to resent what they lacked themselves. She said the people hated and feared his brothers even while appearing to adulate them, but Ahmed they truly loved. They knew he was on their side, that he was their champion. And his brothers knew it, therefore they hated him, and she was often afraid for him. Even losing some of their children in the cholera epidemic did nothing to soften them. Rather, it made them all the harder and crueler. It had been nearly three years since Ahmed had had any dealings with any of them.

Now, being with Alejandro, so uncomplicated, open and immediately lovable, was like stepping out of a room full of poisonous fumes and breathing sweet mountain air. Ahmed wondered how it would have been if his twin had lived instead of dying in infancy.

This time Love and Hawk could walk upright. They moved as quietly as possible, however. It took them the better part of twenty minutes to get within seeing distance of the waterfall. And it was then that they were able to see two men sitting side by side on a fallen log.

They were the same size and were dressed similarly, but Love could only see them from the back. They, too, seemed to be talking very seriously. The women came toward them and sat down with them, the dark one on one side and the lighter one on the other. At one point one man put his arm around the other. It looked an awful lot like Murieta, what Love could see of him. But who was the other?

Then suddenly they both sprang up laughing. They drew their swords from their belts and took a fencing stance, still laughing, and now that they were facing each other Love could see them in profile. He gasped, completely forgetting where he was.

"Almighty J-Jesus Christ," he stammered, "they're BOTH Murieta!"