This brave deed that Hakiem took on himself had been born of a mixture of
impatience, curiosity, and drink … mostly the latter. While the storyteller
had indeed been at his watchpost since midday, he had also been indulging all
the while, helping himself to the wines left untended in the wharfside saloons.
Thus it was that when the boat tied up at the wharf he was more sheets to the
wind than its mother vessel had been.
The party from the boat advanced down the pier to the shore; then, rather than
proceed into town, it had simply drawn up in a tight knot and waited. As
minutes stretched on and no additional boats were dispatched from the fleet, it
became apparent that this vanguard was expecting to be met by a delegation
from the town. If that were truly the case, it occurred to Hakiem that they
might well still be waiting at sunrise.
‘You’ll have to go to the palace!’ he had called without thinking.
At the sound of his voice, the party had turned their glassy-eyed stares on him.
‘Palace! Go Palace!’ he repeated, ignoring the prickling at the nape of his
neck.
‘Hakiem!’
A figure in the group had beckoned him forward.
Of all things he had anticipated or feared about the invaders, the last thing
Hakiem had expected was to be hailed by name.
Almost of their own volition, his legs propelled him shakily towards the group.
‘The first one I met was the one I least expected,’ Hakiem confided to his
audience. ‘None other than our own Hort, whom we all believed to be lost at sea,
along with his father. To say the least, I was astonished to find him not only