Pieces of Gold

By: AliasCWN

Chapter 2

Breakfast was another meal of fresh fruit and some sort of baked rolls. Moffitt gave them a name but the others just enjoyed them. After breakfast Troy and Moffitt again disappeared into the tent with Daquil and Batala.

The wind had deposited quite a bit of sand in the jeeps so the privates spent their time cleaning them out. Then they went over them again to make sure that the sand wouldn't affect the performance of the vehicles. Tully found another bag of hard candy in his gear and was once again surrounded by small children hoping to sample the sweets.

"It's hot out here." Hitch complained. "I'm going back to the shade of the tent until it's time to leave. Tell Sarge where I am will you?"

"Sure." Tully nodded. "I'll join you as soon as I give out the rest of this candy."

Hitch ducked into the tent and paused to let his eyes adjust to the change in light. A sound behind him had him whirling to defend himself. One of the Arabs he had seen standing around watching them was standing just inside the door. Hitch froze, staring at the Arab. As Hitch watched the Arab extended his arm. In his hand a piece of paper fluttered in the wind that came through the open door.

The Arab held the paper and nodded as Hitch reached for it. Taking the note Hitch unfolded it and read it. The note instructed him to meet the sergeants in a blue and white tent immediately. It was signed Troy. Hitch tried to ask the Arab a question but the man only shrugged and answered in his own language.

"Okay, I'll head right over there." Hitch told him. He grabbed his kepi and started for the door. He wasn't sure which of the blue and white tents the sergeant meant but the Arab seemed to realize his dilemma and pointed to one. Hitch nodded his thanks and headed straight for the tent with the note folded in his hand.

The tent was empty when Hitch ducked through the door. There were pillows piled on the ground to make a comfortable looking bed. Hitch stared at it in confusion. Sheets of material separated the tent into different sections. Hitch looked around, trying to figure out where his sergeants were. "Sarge?"

What happened next took him completely by surprise. Armed men rushed into the tent screaming and waving their weapons. Hitch spun and raised his hands to try to calm them down. One of them stepped forward yelling in his own language and swung his rifle. Hitch tried to duck but the rifle barrel connected with his head and he collapsed to the ground. More Arabs rushed into the tent and gathered around as Hitch lay unconscious.

The commotion drew the attention of everyone in the camp. Soon the blue and white tent was surrounded by people, men and women alike. Batala and Daquil pushed their way to the front of the crowd. Men rushed from the tent to face the Arab leaders. There was a lot of shouting and hand waving as the situation was explained to the two leaders.

"What's going on Moffitt?" Troy asked as they stood at the rear of the crowd.

"An intruder has been caught in Mariana's tent."

"Mariana?"

"Batala's daughter." The Brit explained.

"Which one is she?" Troy asked.

Moffitt pointed to the young girl who had been serving Hitch fruit earlier.

"At least she wasn't in there. She's safe." Troy replied. "What will they do with the intruder?"

"Kill him, slowly and painfully." Moffitt answered. "This is an affront on her honor. If she had been caught in there with him she would have been dishonored and unfit for marriage."

"That sounds serious."

"It is." Moffitt replied as he held up his hand to tell Troy to hold any other questions. His face got grim as he listened to the narrative of what had transpired. "Troy."

"What is it Moffitt? What's wrong?" Troy noted the way Moffitt's face had gone white. A sudden sense of dread had him looking for his privates. "Tell me Moffitt."

"It's Hitch." The Brit answered numbly.

"Hitch? What about him?"

"The intruder is Hitch." The other sergeant answered in disbelief. As he said it two men emerged from the tent dragging their unconscious teammate. The men dragged him across the ground to drop him at Batala's feet.

"No!"

"Sarge, I can't find…." Tully stopped as he saw his friend lying on the ground in front of the tent. "What's going on Sarge?"

"Hitch is being accused of sneaking into the tent of one of the young girls of the camp. Batala's daughter to be precise. Several of these men say they caught him in there." The Brit explained in a shocked voice.

"What are they going to do with him?" Tully asked.

"They're going to kill him." Moffitt repeated for Tully's sake. "It's a matter of honor for them."

"He said he was going back to our tent to rest." Tully blurted out. "He wasn't talking about seeing any girl."

"He must have changed his mind." Troy answered, "Or he didn't want us to know. How many times have we warned him about the Arab women?"

"Troy."

"He's really done it now Doctor." Troy answered sadly.

"He wouldn't!" Tully argued. "He said all the girls were too young."

"Are you sure about that Tully?" Moffitt demanded with a spark in his eyes.

"Yeah, he said he smiled at them to be nice but they were all too young. He said they were all just kids. I didn't see him looking at any of them the whole time we were here." Tully explained.

"Then what was he doing in her tent?" Troy asked.

"I don't know." Tully shrugged. "He said it was hot and he was going to go back to the tent we used last night and wait for you there. I was supposed to tell you where he was if you came looking. I was going to join him there but he wasn't there when I got there. He was only out of my sight a few minutes Sarge."

"He didn't say anything about going anywhere else?" Moffitt asked.

"No, just to the tent."

"I'll talk to Batala, maybe I can make some sense of this."

"Do something Moffitt!" Troy urged.

"I'll try." Moffitt agreed. "But there may not be anything I can do."

Batala and Daquil both turned as Moffitt pushed his way closer. Batala turned and gave an order to his men. Hitch was picked up and dragged to a post set in the ground. His hands were bound and a stick was shoved through the crook of his elbows to secure him to the post. He still hadn't regained consciousness.

"Great Batala, a word please." Moffitt begged.

"There is nothing to say English." Daquil stated as he stepped between the two men.

Moffitt spoke in Arabic, begging the leader to let him hear Hitch's side of the story.

At first Batala dismissed him with an angry wave but as Moffitt dropped his head the Arab leader paused. Daquil whispered something in his friend's ear and the Arab nodded. "Speak Englishman." The leader commanded.

Troy watched anxiously as his driver was tied to the post. The faces of the men around him didn't bode well for the young man's future.

Daquil talked at length before Batala allowed Moffitt to plead his case. The leader still appeared angry but he nodded in agreement with something Moffitt said. Finally the Brit bowed to the two leaders and returned to Troy and Tully.

"Did you tell him Hitch didn't do anything? Are they going to let him go?"

"I'm afraid not." Moffitt answered in a low voice. "Hitch was discovered in his daughter's tent. Batala says it doesn't matter if she was there or not, her honor is at stake. He is going to kill Hitch to restore his daughter's honor."

"Can't you do anything?" Tully asked.

"He is going to allow us to talk to Hitch." Moffitt replied. "Perhaps once we talk to him there may be a way to convince Batala to listen to us."

"And if there isn't?"

"Then Hitch will die a slow, painful death at the hands of Batala's men."

Troy glanced at his driver and swallowed hard. He may have gotten on his driver about his girl chasing but he knew it had all been in fun There was no way that Hitch would ever hurt a girl or force himself on one. Moffitt had had a talk with him after the holy man incident and he was sure that the private understood the seriousness of messing with the Arab girls. He couldn't imagine him taking a chance like that in the middle of an Arab camp. There had to be an explanation, there just had to be!

Troy looked at the others and saw the same dread on their faces that he was certain was reflected on his own.