Winter's Bite: A Clean Historical Mystery (The Isabella Rockwell Chronicles Book 1), page 24
“You are very kind, but I think we had better not. We are in the process of making an important medicine. If we don’t get it done now, we might never be allowed back here and miss our chance.”
Al Hassan nodded.
“Up to your old tricks, eh?” His golden eagle’s eyes smiled at Isabella and she smiled back, a real smile that reached her eyes and didn’t just stop at her mouth. How very nice it was to see him. It was only now she realised how much she had missed both him and Alix.
“Al Hassan saved my life,” she said to Livia.
Al Hassan salaamed to Livia, whose eyes suddenly seemed too big for her face.
“We took care of each other.”
The tall man with the patch was eyeing Isabella closely.
“You are the child from the prison. You gave me your petticoat and some herbs.”
Isabella squinted through the gloom.
“Of course! I thought I recognised you, but I couldn’t remember where from. You were in the next-door cell to Al Hassan.”
Joseph Mann nodded. “Your medicine took away the infection. Sadly” – he gestured to his face – “I lost the eye.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
“It’s all right. I am glad to still be alive, so thank you,” he rumbled from deep in his chest. “So you make more medicine for the ladies?”
“Yes, although I’m not doing it very well. I just broke a bottle.”
Al Hassan laughed. “Don’t be modest. Zachariah told me how you brought Lily back from the dead.”
Despite the compliment she was embarrassed.
“She wasn’t dead. I was just lucky to get the ingredients I needed to make her better.”
“Yes, but it’s the knowing what is needed that is the hardest thing. Anyone can mix a few herbs together.” Al Hassan’s face was serious and his eyes were distant, as if he were thinking of something far away.
Livia leaned over Isabella and took her elbow.
“If you will excuse us, we really must go. We will be in dreadful trouble if my mother finds out we’ve been here.”
“Goodbye, Al Hassan. It is wonderful to see you, even for such a short time. Will you visit our ship? Midge would love to see you.” Isabella’s eyes searched out Al Hassan’s, but he looked away and would not meet her gaze.
“Maybe.”
“Come.” Livia brushed down her skirts and returned to their table. But Isabella turned back to Al Hassan.
“What is the matter, my brother?” she asked in Pashto. Behind him Joseph and Arturo had settled themselves back on their bench.
“Isabella-bai.” His face was a mask of urgency and there were white patches on the stretched skin around his mouth.
“Al Hassan, what is it? You look dreadful.”
“I am not as well as I should be, dearest, and as such I have great need of a favour from you.”
“Of course. Anything.” She was very worried. She’d never seen him like this before. He took out a small package, wrapped in brown paper, the size and width of a pillbox.
“This package must get to Mother Muckerjee at Lucknow as soon as is physically possible. Ask anyone at the market there, they will show you where to find her.”
“But … but …” Isabella’s heart dropped, a lonely cold pebble into a deep well. The right words twisted themselves in her mouth so they couldn’t be said. “I was going to go north … I’d hoped … My father …” She bit her lip, horrified to find herself close to tears.
Al Hassan took both her hands in his rough black-haired ones. His eyes were fixed on her and yet they looked inward to a point within himself that he’d kept protected for a long time.
“I understand, dear heart. I would not ask you if I were not as unwell as I now find myself. I have an illness of Belait,” he explained, using the Pashto word for England, “a cold and devouring thing I cannot seem to get rid of. I could never make the ride between Masulipatam and Lucknow, even by bullock cart. It’s a three-week journey. Yet this package contains my life’s work and it must get to Mother Muckerjee immediately.”
Isabella looked down at the ground and a large, hot tear dropped from the end of her nose.
“Must I beg you?” Al Hassan’s voice was gentle.
Albert, the monkey, must have been let off his chain, for he poked his head around the stone archway from the shop and looked at her.
She took a deep breath.
“You do not have to beg. Of course I will take it for you. I will take it straight there. Pay no attention to me.”
Al Hassan hugged her fiercely.
“Oh Isabella-bai! A million thanks. There are few I can trust, but you are one. God is good indeed to send you here at such a time.”
Isabella took the packet and tucked it into the pocket of her petticoat.
“What is it?”
“It might be best if I didn’t tell you, dearest. Isn’t it enough to know it’s important?”
Isabella was embarrassed.
“Well, yes. Of course. Sorry. I was just being nosey.”
Al Hassan hugged her again.
“You are forgiven. Thank you.” He looked over her shoulder. “And now go. Your friends are restless.”
But Isabella caught his sleeve. “When will I see you again?”
Al Hassan smiled. “I will find you, if God allows me to live.”
He coughed hard into a handkerchief and it came away stained with blood.
“Al Hassan!” The exclamation was out of her mouth before she could stop herself.
He held up his hand.
“I will be well when I am home. My bones ache for it.” He looked at her sternly. “Now go.”
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Fever Quest
Book II of the Isabella Rockwell Trilogy
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Hannah Parry, Winter's Bite: A Clean Historical Mystery (The Isabella Rockwell Chronicles Book 1)
