Relic Hunter: The Eye of 'Aisha Ch. 01

The usual warning applies to this kind of story. If you're under 18 don't read it!

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MF, Oral, Cons

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Nigel Bailey found the dust and heat in Marrakech unbearable. Particularly now as it was midday and he found himself trawling through the crowed streets of the Moroccan capital during market time. The energy sapping heat was causing him to perspire profusely, and this in turn ensured his clothes were plastered to his body. The dust was causing him great discomfort as the constant barrage of feet and bodies kicked up a constant cloud into the air. Nigel let out a strangled cough and waved his hand in the air shooing away the horse flies that buzzed around him. What was he doing here now? How did that famous cliché go? Ah Yes! Only Mad Dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun.

As he wandered the dusty winding streets the sounds and colours assaulted his senses. The shouts of market vendors as they haggled and argued with potential customers melded with the airy sounds of the musicians playing the Ghaytah and Guenbri. He could smell the rich aroma of baking bread emanating from the traditional bakeries and houses that littered the sides of the streets; all of which he found intoxicating. Despite the blistering heat of Marrakech in mid-Summer, Nigel loved the exotic culture of North Africa, and would easily place it as one of his personal favourite locations where he'd been relic hunting with his boss, Dr Sydney Fox, in the two years he'd been working as her teaching assistant.

The fact that he was a westerner drew more than just curious glances from the local merchants, and soon he found himself surrounded by a rag-tag assortment of Men and Children thrusting items in his face and pleading with him to buy them. As he pushed his way through the throng, one hand holding on to his shoulder bag, he was looking left and right and addressing the myriad faces;

"No thanks... no really... no thanks... No... thank you I'm fine... No... really... "

This continued as Nigel pressed on. He was finding it difficult to breathe now as the packed street trapped all the heat at street level. Sweat ran into his eyes, stinging them. He ran his forearm over his forehead and manfully carried on. Why did he always get the crap detail?

The answer was simple. Sydney Fox was a well-respected Professor and a relic hunter of some repute while he was her teaching assistant. Sydney had had a meeting with the head Professor of Ancient Antiquities at the University of Marrakech and so she'd asked Nigel to follow up a hopeful, very bloody hopeful, lead into their latest quest. So here he was doing her bidding again, not that he really minded that much. He'd do pretty much anything for Sydney.

So here he was wandering the streets of Marrakech looking for a guide called Omar who would lead him to a man named Al-Hussein who Syd hoped could help them in their latest quest, which was to find the legendary Sword of ibyn-Ziyad. He cast his mind back to their pre-Quest meeting at the University back home.

_______________________

He had been researching Ancient Mayan burial rites for her next class when Sydney had burst through the doors of the office, a beaming smile on her face.

"Nigel... there you are... pack your bags... we're going to Marrakech!"

Nigel put down his pen, adjusted his glasses and looked at Sydney quizzically.

"Marrakech?"

Exasperated Sydney answered;

"Yes Nigel. Marrakech. remember I had a meeting with the Dean today... about the Sword of ibyn-Ziyad?"

The shrill lisped voice of Claudia, Sydney's ditzy, but very cute, blonde secretary interrupted;

"What is the sword of... what was it?"

Nigel answered Claudia's query as he stood up from the desk;

"The Sword of ibyn-Ziyad. The mythical sword belonging to Tariq ibyn-Ziyad the General who led the Berber Muslim armies across the Straits of Gibraltar from North Africa into Spain in the 8th Century. Supposedly it was blessed by the prophet Mohammed himself and that the bearer of the sword would lead the armies of Allah to victory. After ibyn-Ziyad had died the sword was supposedly stolen from his crypt by an enemy of ibyn-Ziyad's family to pay for a blood debt that was owed. It has never been seen since, although it is rumoured to have surfaced in North Africa several times over the centuries."

Claudia wrinkled her nose;

"Ewww... they broke into a grave and stole it from a dead guy... "

Nigel ignored Claudia and turned to Sydney;

"So we got the grant for this. When do we leave?"

Even though she was dressed in a conservative grey trouser suit, Sydney looked incredible. Her exotic looks not hampered by the glasses she was wearing or the fact that she had her hair in a ponytail. A little moan escaped Nigel's lips when she let her hair down. She took off her jacket, revealing a dark grey short-sleeved blouse. As she strode past him and into her office she answered him;

"We leave first thing tomorrow morning for London, then on to Marrakech."

Claudia looked crestfallen;

"It's not fair. You guys get to go everywhere cool. London, Paris, Marra... wherever. While I'm stuck here answering the phones."

Nigel looked at Claudia, sullen scowl across her forehead, lips pouting and arms crossed in a huff. She tended to act like a spoiled child at times but he was very fond of her, even if she was a complete flake. He walked over to her and squeezed her arm, smiling reassuringly at her. Her low cut top revealed an ample cleavage which Nigel did his best not to stare at.

"Don't worry Claudia, I'll get you a nice present there ok?"

She shot him a sweet, sexy smile and rubbed his arm with the palm of her hand.

"Thanks Nige."

He watched her as she walked off, her short skirt highlighting just how great her legs were. As he stood there admiring the view her voice piped up.

"Just make sure it's not a cheap one this time Nigel. And no perfume from the airport, Kay?"

He shook his head and smiled thinking to himself;

"Same old Claudia."

It was then that Sydney had opened her office door and called out;

"Claudia? Hold all my calls. Nigel?"

With that she beckoned Nigel into her office, leaving Claudia to mimic Syd's voice

"Hold my calls Claudia... "

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Nigel could see the meeting place ahead. It was a small-dilapidated coffee house that was completely out of place on the colour festooned plaza around it. The aroma of mint assaulted his nostrils as he entered the noisy building. The room fell silent as Nigel entered it, every eye was observing him. As he picked his way through the room searching for Omar, he smiled nervously at the stony faces that stared at him;

"Hello... Hi... How are you... Nice to meet you."

A voice cut through the silence, a voice he recognised immediately;

"Nigel... there you are. I thought you were lost. It's good to see you again my friend"

It was Omar.

"Omar! How the hell are you!"

The two embraced each other in the Arabic tradition. They knew each other well as Omar was Syd's street contact in Marrakech and they'd met several times before. He was a good man. On seeing the two men embrace as friends the others in the room paid no more attention to them, and returned to their own affairs.

Having greeted each other, exchanged pleasantries and drunk a cup of mint tea, Nigel got down to business;

"So where is this Al-Hussein bloke then Omar. I thought we were meeting here."

"He could not meet us here. He is a very, very old man my friend. No for you to find out what you wish to know we must go to him"

Nigel sighed and shrugged his shoulders;

"Ok. But is it far? I mean I've walked a hell of a long way to get here to you."

Omar laughed and stroked his beard;

"You have walked from the Ambassador Hotel? She would not even pay for a taxi? Nigel you should complaint to her! How can you be expected to work under those conditions."

Nigel just smiled at Omar and shrugged his shoulders again.

With that Omar stood up and placing a hand on Nigel's shoulder said;

"Ok my Friend. It is not far. We will drive there together"

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They drove west through the winding streets of Marrakech. What had taken Nigel nearly forty-five minutes to walk took Omar less than ten to drive. They pulled up outside a crumbling one-storey building.

"We will have to walk now my friend. It is down that alley there."

Omar led the way, Nigel following close behind. It was halfway down the lane that Omar stopped at an open door and called out something in Arabic. He was answered by a decrepit sounding female voice. Omar turned to Nigel and smiled reassuringly, gesturing that they should proceed.

The coolness of the building was a welcome relief after the boiling heat of the streets outside. The house was quite small. It seemed that there was just room. Through the gloom, Nigel could make out an elderly woman standing behind a table. She greeted the two men in Arabic and cast a stern eye on Nigel. He looked at her and smiled;

"Hello"

She didn't return his smile and continued to gaze disapprovingly at him

As his eyes adjusted to the gloom in the shop he saw several tables around the room. And that is when he noticed that it wasn't in fact a house he was in, rather it was a shop. He noticed that there were several tables that seemed to be full of bric-a-brac. Most of it looked to be rubbish, just cheap trinkets to sell to the locals and the occasional tourist. Several rugs hung from the ceilings and these looked to be quite valuable, but certainly nothing of any historic significance.

Nigel felt Omar's hand squeeze his shoulder.

"Come my friend. Al-Hussein is this way."

Nigel followed Omar behind the table and passed the old woman, through a door behind her. Again Nigel saluted the old woman as he passed her, again she did not acknowledge him.

The first thing that Nigel noticed in the next room was that it was filled with tobacco smoke. The second thing he noticed was the frail figure that was sitting in a chair with a cup in front of him and a pipe to his lips. He looked to be as old as Methuselah. Omar greeted him in Arabic and introduced Nigel. He just looked at the two men and nodded.

With Omar as translator Nigel asked him about the Sword of ibyn-Ziyad. The old man listened intently and then addressed Nigel directly. For the next twenty minutes he told them what he knew of the sword and it's whereabouts. Apparently the last time it had been seen had been in the 1930's when German men had come to Marrakech and stolen any religious artefacts that they could find, including the Sword. Nigel was frustrated and turned to Omar;

"But how does he know this? How do does he know the sword was stolen by the Nazi's"

Omar turned to the old man and asked him this question. The old man stared sadly at Nigel and sighed as he spoke. Omar translated;

"He knows this because they stole the sword off him. He had spent twenty years trying to track it down and eventually he did. One-day however three foreign men came and asked him for the sword. When he refused they beat him and then stole it... and he never saw it again."

Nigel looked at the old man who continued looking at him sadly shaking his head. All Nigel could think to say was;

"I'm very sorry."

The old man seemed to understand what Nigel had said and nodded his head. He then slowly stood up and shuffled over to a box that was in the corner. He rummaged around in the box and began talking aloud in Arabic. Nigel nudged Omar and asked;

"What is he saying"

Omar listened to the old man and translated;

"He says that he is sorry he cannot help you any further. He is sorry that you have travelled all this way for nothing, but he knows no more about the whereabouts of the Sword of ibyn-Ziyad. He would like to give you a gift because he senses in you what he was when he was younger."

The old man had seemingly found what it was he was looking for. He stood up and shuffled his way towards Nigel with something in his hands. He took Nigel's hand in his and placed something in it, addressing Nigel in Arabic. Omar translated;

"He would like to give you this gift because he senses you are a learned man and a wise man. He hopes that it will bring you what you wish for most in your heart."

With that he removed his hand from Nigel's, leaving behind a pale sapphire that was tied with two pieces of leather. Nigel stared at it and looked at the old man;

"Thank you very much... but I can't take this... this belongs to you"

He attempted to hand it back to the old man but his hand was pushed back and the old man looked at him with a curious smile on his face. He began talking and Omar translated;

"The Eye of 'Aisha belongs to you know. I have no more use for it. But you are young. It will serve you well. It will give you what your heart desires most. What all men desire most in this world."

The old man began to cough then, a dreadful hacking cough that shook his frail frame. Both Omar and Nigel jumped to grab him as it looked like he would fall over. Before they could get to him though the room was filled with the angry shouts of the old woman whom had been in he shop front. She caught hold of the old man and looked reproachfully at Omar and Nigel cursing them in Arabic. Omar turned to Nigel;

"We had better leave, my friend."

Nigel nodded his head, and with the sapphire still clasped in his hand, followed Omar out of the building the old woman following behind them, continuing to curse them in Arabic.

It was only when they were in the car that Nigel realised that he still had the sapphire in his possession. He unclasped his hand and stared at it. The old man had called it The Eye of 'Aisha, and Nigel saw that it was cut into the shape of an eye. The sapphire sparkled as the sun hit it through the car windshield. Omar turned his head and glanced at it;

"Hmm... It is very pretty. I wonder is it worth much"

Nigel continued staring at the sapphire, examining it closely;

"He called it The Eye of 'Aisha. What is that Omar?"

Omar glanced at Nigel;

"I don't know what The Eye is but 'Aisha is 'Aisha Quandisha, the Goddess of Lust. She is considered a mischievous Goddess, one who promotes virility and promiscuity. It is a pretty sapphire, yes"

Nigel continued to study the sapphire intently and murmured

"Yes... Yes it is very pretty"

Sydney would no doubt be interested in it if he showed it to her, but something made him decide not to show or tell Sydney about The Eye. Why should he? It was a gift given to him. Besides it was probably just a plain old counterfeit sapphire with no historical value at all.

As they neared the university Nigel slipped the sapphire into his pocket.

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Sydney was extremely frustrated when Nigel told her what he had learned about the sword. While he had been chasing down Al-Hussein, she'd been stuck in lectures at the University, a quid-pro-quo for the University back home allowing her to come to Marrakech.

"Damn it! It could be anywhere now! He didn't know anything else? He couldn't tell you anything about it's whereabouts."

Nigel repeated himself;

"All he told me was that he found the sword and not three weeks later it was stolen from him by the Nazi's."

Sydney's frustration was palpable;

"Damn it!"

Nigel spoke;

"Well at least we know that the sword isn't in North Africa. How about using your contacts in Germany, Syd?"

Sydney was staring into the distance as the sun was setting on Marrakech;

"What's the point? It'll be like trying to find a needle in a haystack. The sword could be anywhere in the world Nigel. No-one has seen it for 70 years."

Nigel asked;

"What do we do next?"

Sydney turned and looked at him

"Catch a plane out of here. Tomorrow."

There was silence between the two as they walked through the university courtyard towards the Ambassador Hotel, which was situated near by. Nigel was looking at Sydney's face and thinking to himself;

"God she is beautiful"

Unconsciously he placed his hand in his pocket and cupped The Eye of 'Aisha running it around his pocket. He fought an almost irresistible temptation to slip The Eye around his neck. He remembered what the old man had said;

"It will give you what your heart desires most."

As he stared at Sydney Nigel thought to himself.

"If only that were possible."

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Claudia was not impressed with Nigel when he returned to the office sans present.

"Nigel... You promised to get me a present.", she whined

"Look Claudia... I'm very sorry... but we were very busy in Marrakech... I just didn't get the time to find anything... "

Placing her hand in front of his face she silenced him;

"Whatever... "

For several days she had given him the cold shoulder. Sydney was also distant, and had been since Marrakech. She had barely spoken to him since they'd returned home. She had either been in lectures or in her office on the phone. From what he could gather she was talking to someone in German, and even though he had very poor German he was able to make out the words ibyn-Ziyad, which seemed to suggest she hadn't given up on the sword yet. He had noticed however that every time she was in the same room as him, no matter how briefly, he was filled with the same strong impulse to slip The Eye around his neck. It was something that perplexed him.

Nigel had been busy himself, although his work had little to do with the Sword of ibyn-Ziyad. In fact that was the last thing on his mind. He had spent the time since his return learning what he could about The Eye. As he'd scoured text after text in the University library, he'd stumbled upon a book that had told him enough about the Eye to sate a least some of his curiosity.

The Eye of 'Aisha was a gift that had been given to a great Moroccan Prince named Calipe. He was, allegedly, of divine heritage. 'Aisha Quandisha had bestowed upon him The Eye as a gift for his deeds in her name.

Nigel smirked at this;

"And since she is the Goddess of Sexual Activity, it's pretty easy to guess what he had been doing in her name."

According to the legend Calipe had wanted possession of a beautiful young peasant woman called Shire. She had rebuffed his best advances and a lust-fuelled Calipe had beseeched 'Aisha to help him. So she bestowed on him The Eye. On seeing Calipe wearing The Eye, Shire had become overwhelmed with passion for Calipe and all her inhibitions were forgotten.

Nigel mumbled to himself;

"Lucky old Calipe"

Nigel read on. Seemingly there were two things that 'Aisha had told Calipe about the use of The Eye. Firstly, The Eye would only work if it was worn at all times by the bearer particularly during the act of copulation. Secondly, the object of the bearers' affections MUST possess feelings, no matter how slight, of love or lust for the bearer.

Nigel had turned over the page of the book and in front of him was a drawing of what The Eye looked like. His heart leapt. He reached into his pocket and fished out the sapphire that Al-Hussein had given him. He looked at the drawing and then at the sapphire, examining both thoroughly.

Nigel murmured to himself

"It is The Eye."

But could it really be the actual Eye of 'Aisha?

There would be only one way to find out. Would Sydney be in the office now? Nigel glanced at his watch and was surprised to find that it was 8 o'clock in the evening. Had he really been this long in the library? He gathered his books and headed out of the library and decided to take a detour to the office. Maybe Sydney was there now, perhaps working late. He remembered the story of Calipe and how it was necessary for the bearer of The Eye to wear it around their neck. With that he slipped it over his head and tied it so it was visible through the open neck of his shirt.