As he closely watched the young woman's face, the Englishman knew his tactic, of placing his stallion in the stall next to Mr. Hopkins mare, had worked. She had been startled seeing that equine relic of her past. So much so, he knew that instead of fearing him, she wanted him to explain the connection. Now her dark eyes gazed at him in astonishment as she asked,
"How. . .how do you know me?"
He stood directly in front of her and answered honestly, "I don't know you, not really. My name is Theodore Lawrence. I saw your name on the ship's passenger list, Jazira bin Riyadh. And then. . ." he reached out for her right hand and indicated the large ring on her thumb, "I recognized the ring, it's your father's." Mr. Lawrence gently shook Jazira's hand as he added, "I did know him, Sheik bin Riyadh."
He could see the questions in her eyes, but she simply asked with sadness fringing her voice, "How is it that you knew my father?"
Mr. Lawrence waited until she looked into his eyes, then answered with a question of his own, "Let me ask you, how did you recognize my Arabian?"
Jazira looked from Mr. Lawrence to the stallion, a copy of which she had seen drawn in detail in her family's breeding book. She replied, "He is the son of Al-Altair." She looked back at Mr. Lawrence who was waiting expectantly for what she might reveal, but she only added, "One of the sons of Al-Altair."
Mr. Lawrence said with pride, "Al-Altair, a stallion never defeated in the Great Race."
He tore his eyes away from Jazira and looked back at the stallion explaining, "He was a gift from your father." But he glanced at her once more saying, "I was sorry to hear of his death."
He saw the troubled expression in Jazira's downcast eyes and said, "You are not aware of it, for you have no reason to be aware of it, but I am Britain's Minister of Foreign Affairs. Your father is well known in my circle." He paused then continued, "But I met your father long ago, before I held any public office. In fact I was the youngest officer placed at an Arab outpost, along the Hadhramaut." He looked at Jazira who was peeping at him from the thick veil of her eyelashes, and asked, "Do you know the story?" However, before she could reply he related, "It was the dry season, the British, we, were protecting the wells and cisterns already in existence, and me and my men were digging a new well after finding evidence of an underground spring, I was overseeing the work. Your father was camping nearby. He was a most hospitable man, and even though his water supply was low for him and his family, his house, let alone his stock, he shared what he had with us. But it took longer than any of us expected before we tapped into the spring. One night, as often happens, there was a razzia, a sudden raid, on his camp. I had seen the raiders coming, they were not from any local tribe that I knew. I gathered my men and we went to fight alongside your father and brothers. I believe one of his sons was killed that night. Somehow his mother found out and she came outside her tent, right into the middle of the battle. I'll never forget that sight, she was pregnant. I was afraid she would be killed and I went to her, shielded her, protected her, until she was safely back inside the tent. The next day, when my men went back to digging the well, we found water. Your father was so grateful for our help, for protecting his unborn child, his son, and for the water, that he gave me a colt from Al-Altair."
The story concluded, Mr. Lawrence was disturbed to find tears shimmering in Jazira's eyes. But, she knew what Mr. Lawrence did not. She had been that unborn child, and she had just learned that her father had sacrificed what was sacred to him, for her, even before she was born.
