Monsters in the Sand by David Harris

goodwill, he has taken personal command of all soldiers and today he left Mosul to inspect our lands. Right now, he is at Mirkan to arrange a ceasefire.’
    The old woman looked towards a cave high in the cliff. Last time, the soldiers had lit fires of damp wood at the mouth of the cave and everyone hiding insidewas suffocated. They wheeled cannon to a low cave and fired grapeshot into it.
    As in other villages that day, Austen dismounted and untied the bag of flour hanging from his saddle. It was almost empty, so he gave it to Joseph, who kissed his cheeks.
    Hands patted Hormuzd and Austen when they mounted their horses to ride on.
    Outside the village, they came to a bridge across deep water. ‘We call this the
Bridge of Tears,’
Hormuzd said. ‘The soldiers were taking six girls away to sell into slavery and forced conversion. But the girls broke free on the bridge and, holding hands, leapt into the river and sank from sight.’
    They heard the horseman before they saw him. He raced through Joseph’s village and headed towards them at full speed. With a scattering of stones and dust, he reined his horse to a juddering halt. ‘There is shooting at Mirkan.’

Chapter 30
    Austen’s horse picked its way among soldiers lying on their stomach and firing at the houses of Mirkan. Puffs of smoke came from windows and bullets spattered just short of Austen as he dismounted.
    He walked over to a man who was sitting on a carpet and drinking coffee, while he watched the battle. His vest was ablaze with medals and his turban glittered with gold thread.
    ‘Tahyar, Your Excellency.’
    ‘Layard.’ The old man’s face lit up and he patted the carpet for Austen to sit down beside him. His eyes were sharp with intelligence and the ends of his white moustache were brushed into curls. ‘Coffee for my friend,’ he called to a servant, who hurried forward and poured Austen a cup.
    Dust spurted beside the carpet and one shot sprayed dirt over Austen’s left boot. The servant backed away to safety.
    ‘I’m too old for this nonsense.’ The old man pointed to dishes of yoghurt, strawberries, and peach sherbet with thin ice melting on top. ‘Help yourself, European style. It’s hard to keep the servants in their place.’
    Austen’s mouth watered and he heaped strawberries into a bowl and buried them in yoghurt.
    ‘Look.’ Tahyar pointed to villagers running from house to house with more guns. ‘What a futile waste of time and ammunition. But here we are, and it’s part of my new duties to make a show of courage, or my troops will become disobedient and my enemies impudent.’
    ‘So the people of Mirkan refused your offer of a ceasefire?’
    ‘The elders quoted their scriptures at me about forgiving their enemies, then went away to load their guns and die defending their hovels.’
    Tahyar dabbed a handkerchief at the drops of perspiration on his cheeks. ‘I’d much rather be with you in my cool library, drinking sherbets and arguing about Nineveh. By the way, I still say you are digging in the wrong place. Nineveh is under the mound of Kuyunjik, across the river from Mosul. I’ll be happyto give you the
firman
to dig there, just to prove you are wrong about excavating Nimrud.’
    ‘In return, let me speak to the people of Mirkan.’
    Tahyar chewed the end of his moustache. ‘That could be helpful. These unbelievers hold you in high regard and something must be done before I or my men lose our temper. I tell you, Layard, we Turks are the most generous and civilised of God’s people. But when provoked, we fight.’
    He gave orders to an officer and he ran back to gather horsemen who would guard Austen. While they readied their horses and checked their guns, Tahyar asked him, ‘But why risk yourself for a few infidel?’
    ‘Well, Excellency, as a scholar, you are aware that the history of Europe is soaked in the blood of religious wars. My ancestors, the Huguenots, were persecuted for being heretics. On the 25th of