LITMIR.BIZ

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they had married, Paul’s father travelling back and forth between England and the Gulf as necessary. Over the years they had produced four children: Paul, the eldest, Michael, George and Kate.

      The children were intensely proud of both sides of their family. In deference to their illustrious Omani past, they all spoke fluent Arabic and were Bedu to the heart, but as Paul Rashid would say, their English half was just as important, and they fiercely guarded the Dauncey name and their heritage as one of England’s oldest families.

      The two traditions flowed together in their blood, the medieval British and the Bedouin, producing a general fierceness that was most remarked upon in Paul, and was perhaps best epitomized by an extraordinary incident that occurred when Paul was himself about to pass out of Sandhurst. He’d just gone home for a few days’ leave. Michael was eighteen at the time, George seventeen and Kate twelve.

      The Earl was away in London and Paul had gone down to Hampshire and found his mother in the library of Dauncey Place with a badly bruised face. She had reached to hug him and it was Kate who’d said, ‘He punched her, Paul. That awful man punched Mummy!’

      Paul turned to Michael and said carefully, ‘Explain.’

      ‘Travellers,’ his brother told him. ‘A bunch of them moved into Roundhay Spinney with four caravans and some horses. Their dogs killed our ducks and Mother went to speak to them.’

      ‘You let her go alone?’

      ‘No, we all went, even Kate. The men laughed at us, and then when Mother started shouting at them, their leader, a large man, very tall, very aggressive, punched her in the face.’

      Paul Rashid’s own face was very pale, the eyes dark, as he stared at Michael and George. ‘So, this animal laid hands on our mother and you let it happen?’ He slapped them both. ‘You have two hearts. A Rashid’s and a Dauncey’s. Now, I will show you how to be true to both.’

      His mother grabbed his sleeve. ‘Please, Paul, no more trouble, it’s not worth it.’

      ‘Not worth it?’ His smile was terrible. ‘There is a dog here who needs a lesson. I intend to give him one,’ and he turned and led the way out.

      They drove to Roundhay Spinney in a Land Rover, the three boys. Paul had forbidden Kate to come, but after they left, she saddled her favourite mare and followed anyway, galloping across country.

      They found the caravans parked in a circle, with a large wood fire in the centre, and a dozen or so men and women grouped around it, along with several children, four horses and dogs.

      The large man described by the two younger boys sat on a box by the fire drinking tea. He looked up as the three young men approached.

      ‘And who might you be?’

      ‘My family owns Dauncey Place.’

      ‘Oh, dear, Mr High-and-Mighty, is it?’ He laughed at the others. ‘Looks more like a prick to me.’

      ‘At least I don’t punch women in the face. I try to act like a man, which is more than anyone can say about you. You made a mistake, you piece of dung. That lady was my mother.’

      ‘Why, you little shite…’ the large man started, and never finished.

      Paul Rashid’s hand went into the deep pocket of his Barbour, and pulled out a jambiya, the curved knife of the Bedu. His brothers followed suit.

      As the other men moved in, Paul slashed with the jambiya down the left side of the large man’s skull, slicing off the ear. One of the other men pulled a knife from his pocket, and Michael Rashid, filled with energy he had never known, slashed sideways with his own jambiya, cutting open the man’s cheek, sending him howling with pain.

      One of the others picked up a branch and used it as a club to strike at George, but Kate Rashid ran from where she’d been hiding, picked up a rock and hurled it into his face with a shrill cry in Arabic.

      As quickly as it had begun, it was over. The rest of the group stood warily, in silence, not even the women and children crying out, and suddenly the skies opened and rain poured down. The leader held a soiled handkerchief to his ear, or what was left of it, and groaned, ‘I’ll get you for this.’

      ‘No, you won’t,’ Paul Rashid said. ‘Because if you ever come near this estate or my mother again, it won’t be your other ear you’ll lose. It will be your private parts.’

      He wiped his jambiya on the man’s coat, then produced a Walther pistol from his pocket and fired twice into the side of the kettle over the fire. Water poured out and the flames began to subside.

      ‘I’ll give you one hour to clear out. I believe the National Health Hospital in Maudsley covers even scum like you. But do take me seriously.’ He paused. ‘If you and your friends ever bother my mother again, I will kill you. Nothing is more certain.’

      The three young men drove away through the rain, Kate following on her horse. The rain was relentless as they entered the village of Dauncey and drove up to the pub named the Dauncey Arms. Paul braked outside, they got out and Kate slid off her mare and tied her to a small tree.

      She stood looking at them in the rain, her face troubled. ‘I’m sorry that I disobeyed you, brother.’

      But Paul kissed her on both cheeks and said, ‘You were wonderful, little sister.’ He held her for a moment as his brothers looked on, then released her. ‘And it’s high time you had your first glass of champagne.’

      Inside the pub were beamed ceilings, a marvellous old mahogany bar ranged with bottles and a huge log fire in the grate. Half a dozen local men at the bar turned, then took off their caps. The landlady, Betty Moody, who’d been polishing glasses, looked up and said, ‘Why, Paul.’ Her familiarity was expected. She had known all of them since childhood, had even been Paul’s nurse for a time. ‘I didn’t know you were home.’

      ‘An unexpected visit, Betty. There were some things I needed to take care of.’

      Her eyes were hard. ‘Like those bastards at Roundhay Spinney?’

      ‘How on earth do you know about them?’

      ‘Not much gets by me, not here at the Arms. They’ve been bothering people in the neighbourhood for weeks.’

      ‘Well, they won’t be a problem to anybody, Betty, not any more.’ He placed his jambiya on the bar.

      There was a sound of vehicles passing outside, and one of the men went to the window. He turned. ‘Well, I’ll be damned. All they shites be on their way out.’

      ‘Yes, well, they would be,’ Michael said.

      Betty put down a glass. ‘No one loves you more than I, Paul Rashid, no one except your blessed mother, but I do recall your temper. Have you been a naughty boy again?’

      Kate said, ‘The awful man attacked Mummy, he beat her.’

      The bar was silent and Betty Moody said, ‘He what?’

      ‘It’s all right. Paul cut his ear off, so they’ve gone away.’ Kate smiled. ‘He was wonderful.’

      The silence in the bar was intense. ‘She wasn’t too bad herself,’ Paul Rashid said. ‘As it turns out, our little Kate is very handy with a rock. So, Betty, love, let’s open a bottle of champagne. I think copious helpings of shepherd’s pie wouldn’t come amiss, either.’

      She reached over and touched his face. ‘Ah, Paul, I should have known. Anything else?’

      ‘Yes, I’m going back to Sandhurst tomorrow. Could you find time to see if Mother needs any help? Oh, and excuse the fact that the child here is too young to be in the bar?’

      ‘Of course on both counts.’ She opened the fridge and took out a bottle of Bollinger. She patted Kate on the head. ‘Get behind the bar with me, girl. That makes it legitimate.’ As she thumbed off the cork, she smiled at Paul. ‘All

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