Dear Readers,
Edward wrote me that Lawrence ran into an assassin in the desert. He and Lawrence were out there blowing up railroad tracks. A train went past full of Turks. They did not shoot at Lawrence. But a sniper behind a rock did.
Edward ran to help Lawrence. He found him rolling on the ground laughing. The Colonel declared that no one could assassinate him. God had sent him to defend the Arabs. Edward argued with him that he was not immortal and would probably get killed. He would make his adjutant get killed, too, and his fiancee wouldn't like it.
Lawrence was finally persuaded to come back to the encampment where he found two Bedouin brothers arguing with each other over a piece of jewelry. One accused the other of having the Evil Eye. He sat on the ground and judged the case, pretending that he had powers to see into their souls and minds. They feared him greatly, especially his famous powers for fighting the Evil Eye.
An old crone, a lady who was visiting the encampment, by the name of Qabihah appeared to tell Sidi Lawrence that he had blue eyes like the sky peeking through the vacant eyes of a cow's skull lying in the desert. She thought he had special supernatural powers.
The two discussed how Lawrence had acquired such powers. Qabihah decided he had gotten them in Carchemish when he was excavating the Hittite ruin with Leonard Woolley before the Great War. One of the ancient Babylonian kings on a carved stela had looked at him and given him more than mortal insight into human affairs. Qabihah said that was the danger of associating with the ancient, hoary dead.
Just at that moment Edward saw the sniper raise his gun behind another plinth. Metal flashed. Edward fired.
Sincerely yours,
Dora Benley
P.S. You may read about my adventures in the first volume of my memoirs, King Abdullah's Tomb.
Edward wrote me that Lawrence ran into an assassin in the desert. He and Lawrence were out there blowing up railroad tracks. A train went past full of Turks. They did not shoot at Lawrence. But a sniper behind a rock did.
Edward ran to help Lawrence. He found him rolling on the ground laughing. The Colonel declared that no one could assassinate him. God had sent him to defend the Arabs. Edward argued with him that he was not immortal and would probably get killed. He would make his adjutant get killed, too, and his fiancee wouldn't like it.
Lawrence was finally persuaded to come back to the encampment where he found two Bedouin brothers arguing with each other over a piece of jewelry. One accused the other of having the Evil Eye. He sat on the ground and judged the case, pretending that he had powers to see into their souls and minds. They feared him greatly, especially his famous powers for fighting the Evil Eye.
An old crone, a lady who was visiting the encampment, by the name of Qabihah appeared to tell Sidi Lawrence that he had blue eyes like the sky peeking through the vacant eyes of a cow's skull lying in the desert. She thought he had special supernatural powers.
The two discussed how Lawrence had acquired such powers. Qabihah decided he had gotten them in Carchemish when he was excavating the Hittite ruin with Leonard Woolley before the Great War. One of the ancient Babylonian kings on a carved stela had looked at him and given him more than mortal insight into human affairs. Qabihah said that was the danger of associating with the ancient, hoary dead.
Just at that moment Edward saw the sniper raise his gun behind another plinth. Metal flashed. Edward fired.
Sincerely yours,
Dora Benley
P.S. You may read about my adventures in the first volume of my memoirs, King Abdullah's Tomb.
Dear Readers,
You may think of oleanders as just a bunch of plants, anonymous plants at that. You might imagine them to be like blades of grass that grow between the stones of the walkway as weeds. But no! Each of my precious plants has a name even though I own hundreds of them.
Athena is my favorite plant. It is also the oldest. She grows closest to my quarters inside the Cairo mansion where I reside. In fact when she blooms, her pink flowers brush against my windows. Athena is the most reliable plant. She always blooms earliest in the season. Her blooms fade after all the others. Her brew is also the most potent. I charge my clients the most hefty price to use her nectar in my magical brews. She never fails me, and she never fails my clients.
The Owl is the oleander growing right beside Athena. I think the name is suitable. Athena the Goddess of Wisdom, the Goddess of Athens, the one who helped the crafty Odysseus, is frequently pictured with an owl sitting on her shoulder. The Owl is her helper and her assistant. She adds her blooms to Athena's. Sometimes they are intertwined and hard to separate.
Together these plants and I rule Cairo and very nearly the whole Mediterranean world.
I will tell you about my other plants tomorrow and the next day and the next day after that.
Sincerely yours,
Qabihah, Witch of Cairo
P.S. You may read more about me in Dora, Lady Ware's, memoirs, Hitler's Daughter.
You may think of oleanders as just a bunch of plants, anonymous plants at that. You might imagine them to be like blades of grass that grow between the stones of the walkway as weeds. But no! Each of my precious plants has a name even though I own hundreds of them.
Athena is my favorite plant. It is also the oldest. She grows closest to my quarters inside the Cairo mansion where I reside. In fact when she blooms, her pink flowers brush against my windows. Athena is the most reliable plant. She always blooms earliest in the season. Her blooms fade after all the others. Her brew is also the most potent. I charge my clients the most hefty price to use her nectar in my magical brews. She never fails me, and she never fails my clients.
The Owl is the oleander growing right beside Athena. I think the name is suitable. Athena the Goddess of Wisdom, the Goddess of Athens, the one who helped the crafty Odysseus, is frequently pictured with an owl sitting on her shoulder. The Owl is her helper and her assistant. She adds her blooms to Athena's. Sometimes they are intertwined and hard to separate.
Together these plants and I rule Cairo and very nearly the whole Mediterranean world.
I will tell you about my other plants tomorrow and the next day and the next day after that.
Sincerely yours,
Qabihah, Witch of Cairo
P.S. You may read more about me in Dora, Lady Ware's, memoirs, Hitler's Daughter.
Dear Readers,
I just read Edward's latest letter about his escapade in Damascus with Lawrence of Arabia while I was eating lunch with Michael. We were sitting on the lawn in the front yard by the stump of an old tree where my mother had planted pansies. We were eating Viola's picnic foods.
I told Michael that Edward apparently preferred Lawrence to me. The Colonel must be fetching in his desert attire. And Edward left me to Michael. He mentioned that Mr. Byrne was loyal and dependable. He'd been around since the Lusitania.
Michael called my bluff. He said that if I was serious I would send the Crusader ring back to Edward and marry him. But I wouldn't, would I? And I had to admit that Michael knew me too well. I was stuck for the long haul just like Penelope waiting for Odysseus.
That night I wrote to Lawrence himself, pleading with him to release Edward. I said that Edward's mother and I needed him more than Lawrence needed an adjutant.
Sincerely yours,
Dora Benley
P.S. Read about my adventures in the first volume of my memoirs entitled King Abdullah's Tomb.
I just read Edward's latest letter about his escapade in Damascus with Lawrence of Arabia while I was eating lunch with Michael. We were sitting on the lawn in the front yard by the stump of an old tree where my mother had planted pansies. We were eating Viola's picnic foods.
I told Michael that Edward apparently preferred Lawrence to me. The Colonel must be fetching in his desert attire. And Edward left me to Michael. He mentioned that Mr. Byrne was loyal and dependable. He'd been around since the Lusitania.
Michael called my bluff. He said that if I was serious I would send the Crusader ring back to Edward and marry him. But I wouldn't, would I? And I had to admit that Michael knew me too well. I was stuck for the long haul just like Penelope waiting for Odysseus.
That night I wrote to Lawrence himself, pleading with him to release Edward. I said that Edward's mother and I needed him more than Lawrence needed an adjutant.
Sincerely yours,
Dora Benley
P.S. Read about my adventures in the first volume of my memoirs entitled King Abdullah's Tomb.
Dear Readers,
It has been many years since I ruled with the Sultan. During those years I have lived in retirement and seclusion. But I am still the Storm Center of Cairo. Nothing happens in this desert city that doesn't pass through me first. Even now that we have new British masters changes nothing. The men from northern climes have become equally embroiled with me.
They have heard of my reputation. They know to show up on my doorstep if they want something done. The British governor has contacted me through an intermediary when he wanted a rival eliminated. Merchants have told me that I am worth my weight in gold. One presented me with just that after I got rid of his chief competition. An English m'lady or two has not thought me beneath them. They have given me money to give them their freedom from their husbands.
The nerium has become very popular in the gardens of Cairo. People like to imitate me, but rarely do they gave the will to act as I act. In fact, I have been told that the oleander has been renamed the Qabihah bush along the Nile.
Sincerely yours,
Qabihah, Witch of Cairo
P.S. You may read of my adventures in Dora, Lady Ware's, memoir called Hitler's Daughter.
It has been many years since I ruled with the Sultan. During those years I have lived in retirement and seclusion. But I am still the Storm Center of Cairo. Nothing happens in this desert city that doesn't pass through me first. Even now that we have new British masters changes nothing. The men from northern climes have become equally embroiled with me.
They have heard of my reputation. They know to show up on my doorstep if they want something done. The British governor has contacted me through an intermediary when he wanted a rival eliminated. Merchants have told me that I am worth my weight in gold. One presented me with just that after I got rid of his chief competition. An English m'lady or two has not thought me beneath them. They have given me money to give them their freedom from their husbands.
The nerium has become very popular in the gardens of Cairo. People like to imitate me, but rarely do they gave the will to act as I act. In fact, I have been told that the oleander has been renamed the Qabihah bush along the Nile.
Sincerely yours,
Qabihah, Witch of Cairo
P.S. You may read of my adventures in Dora, Lady Ware's, memoir called Hitler's Daughter.
Dear Readers,
Edward wrote me a long letter about his escapade in Damascus. He and Lawrence dressed up as women in black abayas. They rode for a week to reach the capital city of Syria. Lawrence insisted on drinking hot coffee underneath a sign advertising lots of German marks for his capture dead or alive. That made Edward nervous. Lawrence called my fiance an old woman.
Then Lawrence strode into the city to look around. Edward had slops dumped on his head from an upper story window. Lawrence bought Syrian beer and washed him off with it. When they neared the River Barada, there was an explosion. The city walls in that area near the dock collapsed. A golden goo poured down the street after them.
Edward ran. Later he found Lawrence none the worse for the wear. The Colonel escaped by climbing into a barrel until the goo stopped flowing, for after all the goo turned out to be nothing more harmful than honey. Edward admired the Colonel for his cool and how he thought well under pressure.
Lawrence ran through a Syrian laundry and changed his clothes. They left to ride back to their encampment. Lawrence told lots of stories. One of the Bedouins said, "Sidi Lawrence is the greatest of the sheiks."
Then Edward thanked me for sending my little gift. Naturally he was referring to my silk stockings. So this is how Edward occupies himself instead of coming home to me!
Sincerely yours,
Dora Benley
P.S. Read more about my adventures in the first volume of my memoirs, King Abdullah's Tomb, that starts with the Lusitania and ends up with Lawrence in Arabia.
Edward wrote me a long letter about his escapade in Damascus. He and Lawrence dressed up as women in black abayas. They rode for a week to reach the capital city of Syria. Lawrence insisted on drinking hot coffee underneath a sign advertising lots of German marks for his capture dead or alive. That made Edward nervous. Lawrence called my fiance an old woman.
Then Lawrence strode into the city to look around. Edward had slops dumped on his head from an upper story window. Lawrence bought Syrian beer and washed him off with it. When they neared the River Barada, there was an explosion. The city walls in that area near the dock collapsed. A golden goo poured down the street after them.
Edward ran. Later he found Lawrence none the worse for the wear. The Colonel escaped by climbing into a barrel until the goo stopped flowing, for after all the goo turned out to be nothing more harmful than honey. Edward admired the Colonel for his cool and how he thought well under pressure.
Lawrence ran through a Syrian laundry and changed his clothes. They left to ride back to their encampment. Lawrence told lots of stories. One of the Bedouins said, "Sidi Lawrence is the greatest of the sheiks."
Then Edward thanked me for sending my little gift. Naturally he was referring to my silk stockings. So this is how Edward occupies himself instead of coming home to me!
Sincerely yours,
Dora Benley
P.S. Read more about my adventures in the first volume of my memoirs, King Abdullah's Tomb, that starts with the Lusitania and ends up with Lawrence in Arabia.
Dear Readers,
The Sultan that I served reigned for thirty years. For thirty years I ruled Cairo through him. But after that length of time he was overthrown and murdered by a new king who wanted to have nothing to do with me. By then I was no longer a nubile young thing, and I was told never to show my face at the Palace again.
Still the people held me in such superstitious awe that though I was proscribed, no one dared to lay a hand on me. I retired to my house in the Arab Quarter and continued to be an object of Fear and Dread as the Lady Of The Oleander.
My income was invested in foreign enterprises mostly tied up with the British. But in case I needed pocket change I hardly needed to do a thing. Almost every day someone knocked on my garden gate seeking the relief that the oleander promised. Some sought to rid themselves of their husbands or wives. Others wanted to free themselves from a business partner that they despised. Still others longed to be free of a hated government official who did nothing besides persecute them. I could afford to pick and choose, but in many cases I decided to oblige them.
I continued in this capacity for many years. I was still the Lady Of The Oleander when my story intersected with that of Dora, Lady Ware, during the Second World War.
Sincerely yours,
Qabihah, Witch of Cairo
P.S. You may read of my adventures in the memoir authored by Dora, Lady Ware, called Hitler's Daughter. And no, I am not she. I was born long before the great Dictator of World War II.
The Sultan that I served reigned for thirty years. For thirty years I ruled Cairo through him. But after that length of time he was overthrown and murdered by a new king who wanted to have nothing to do with me. By then I was no longer a nubile young thing, and I was told never to show my face at the Palace again.
Still the people held me in such superstitious awe that though I was proscribed, no one dared to lay a hand on me. I retired to my house in the Arab Quarter and continued to be an object of Fear and Dread as the Lady Of The Oleander.
My income was invested in foreign enterprises mostly tied up with the British. But in case I needed pocket change I hardly needed to do a thing. Almost every day someone knocked on my garden gate seeking the relief that the oleander promised. Some sought to rid themselves of their husbands or wives. Others wanted to free themselves from a business partner that they despised. Still others longed to be free of a hated government official who did nothing besides persecute them. I could afford to pick and choose, but in many cases I decided to oblige them.
I continued in this capacity for many years. I was still the Lady Of The Oleander when my story intersected with that of Dora, Lady Ware, during the Second World War.
Sincerely yours,
Qabihah, Witch of Cairo
P.S. You may read of my adventures in the memoir authored by Dora, Lady Ware, called Hitler's Daughter. And no, I am not she. I was born long before the great Dictator of World War II.
Dear Readers,
When Mr. Byrne and I got back from the trolley wreck we told my father what had happened. He immediately cabled Sir Adolphus Ware, Edward's father, complaining about Ali. He asked if Ali was still at Ware Hall or if he was gone. My father could not believe Ali was in England.
Sir Adolphus Ware wrote back a couple of days later saying that Ali was not at Ware Hall. He had left the property at the same time Edward shipped off to the Dardanelles and I left to go back to Pittsburgh with my parents. He cannot imagine why Ali would show up in Pittsburgh.
My father said that response showed that you could not trust Europeans, not even Englishmen, not even Edward's father!
Since the trolley wreck my father won't let me leave the house or grounds. I spend my days walking up the driveway to the mailbox by the road and back again, waiting for Edward's next letter. I cannot imagine what horrible thing will happen in the world beyond my house next. It all started with the Lusitania and it gets more explosive all the time.
Sincerely yours,
Dora Benley
P.S. My adventures during the Great War are detailed in the first volume of my memoirs, KIng Abdullah's Tomb.
When Mr. Byrne and I got back from the trolley wreck we told my father what had happened. He immediately cabled Sir Adolphus Ware, Edward's father, complaining about Ali. He asked if Ali was still at Ware Hall or if he was gone. My father could not believe Ali was in England.
Sir Adolphus Ware wrote back a couple of days later saying that Ali was not at Ware Hall. He had left the property at the same time Edward shipped off to the Dardanelles and I left to go back to Pittsburgh with my parents. He cannot imagine why Ali would show up in Pittsburgh.
My father said that response showed that you could not trust Europeans, not even Englishmen, not even Edward's father!
Since the trolley wreck my father won't let me leave the house or grounds. I spend my days walking up the driveway to the mailbox by the road and back again, waiting for Edward's next letter. I cannot imagine what horrible thing will happen in the world beyond my house next. It all started with the Lusitania and it gets more explosive all the time.
Sincerely yours,
Dora Benley
P.S. My adventures during the Great War are detailed in the first volume of my memoirs, KIng Abdullah's Tomb.
Dear Readers,
Once I left my father's house I took up residence in the Arab Quarter of Cairo in a mansion with an extensive garden. Immediately I ordered my servants to plant rows of oleander bushes and to spend their time cultivating them. They were the source of my power. I did not mean to neglect them.
Now that I had removed the threat of putting a master in charge of me in the guise of a husband, I was free to do as I pleased. I meant to hold court. I invited the prominent men of the city to my house to feast. When I was running low on money, I took one of them as a lover. (You must get the idea that I was rather attractive and well-endowed in those days to judge by how my suitors had acted). The chosen one showered me with gifts. I returned the favor by making his enemies my enemies.
One of my devices was to invite the enemy to dine. Then I poisoned him at dinner by mixing the sap of the oleander leaves in the dressing for the salad or in the sauce for dessert. Sometimes I mingled it with the gravy for the meat. At other times I sent the enemy a bouquet of flowers. One of them would be an oleander sprig well-concealed in the center of the arrangement. Or I would send it to his chief wife. My lover would know what I was doing and he would approve. Sometimes I met their children in the street and offered them honey treats produced by my poisonous hive.
Woe to the lover who fell afoul of me! He would soon perish, and he knew it. My lovers were eager to placate me, not to rule me. They jostled each other for position and sought my favor. But I would take on no more than one at once no matter what they offered me. The nectar of the oleander was so omnipotent it became like a love potion, or elixir.
Word about me got around. Soon the King of Cairo, the Sultan of Old Cairo, made me his lover and told me the arrangement was permanent. I rose to a position in the city superior to his wives. I, in effect, became the Sultan of Old Cairo myself.
And what did I owe it all to? The oleander bloom!
Sincerely yours,
Qabihah, Witch of Cairo
P.S. You may read about my further adventures in the fourth volume of Dora, Lady Ware's, memoirs entitled Hitler's Daughter.
Once I left my father's house I took up residence in the Arab Quarter of Cairo in a mansion with an extensive garden. Immediately I ordered my servants to plant rows of oleander bushes and to spend their time cultivating them. They were the source of my power. I did not mean to neglect them.
Now that I had removed the threat of putting a master in charge of me in the guise of a husband, I was free to do as I pleased. I meant to hold court. I invited the prominent men of the city to my house to feast. When I was running low on money, I took one of them as a lover. (You must get the idea that I was rather attractive and well-endowed in those days to judge by how my suitors had acted). The chosen one showered me with gifts. I returned the favor by making his enemies my enemies.
One of my devices was to invite the enemy to dine. Then I poisoned him at dinner by mixing the sap of the oleander leaves in the dressing for the salad or in the sauce for dessert. Sometimes I mingled it with the gravy for the meat. At other times I sent the enemy a bouquet of flowers. One of them would be an oleander sprig well-concealed in the center of the arrangement. Or I would send it to his chief wife. My lover would know what I was doing and he would approve. Sometimes I met their children in the street and offered them honey treats produced by my poisonous hive.
Woe to the lover who fell afoul of me! He would soon perish, and he knew it. My lovers were eager to placate me, not to rule me. They jostled each other for position and sought my favor. But I would take on no more than one at once no matter what they offered me. The nectar of the oleander was so omnipotent it became like a love potion, or elixir.
Word about me got around. Soon the King of Cairo, the Sultan of Old Cairo, made me his lover and told me the arrangement was permanent. I rose to a position in the city superior to his wives. I, in effect, became the Sultan of Old Cairo myself.
And what did I owe it all to? The oleander bloom!
Sincerely yours,
Qabihah, Witch of Cairo
P.S. You may read about my further adventures in the fourth volume of Dora, Lady Ware's, memoirs entitled Hitler's Daughter.
Dear Readers,
After we left the Tic Toc Restaurant, Michael and I boarded a Shannon Drake trolley headed for the South Hills and Bethel Borough in particular. After we got through the tunnel and were on our way through the woods, I saw Ali get off the trolley behind us. Not long after that our trolley went off the tracks and crashed perching itself precariously one hundred feet above the roadway.
Michael said if we could survive the Lusitania, we could survive the trolley wreck. We made it out of the front of the trolley just as a flaming tree crashed into it.
As we headed away from the wreck I saw Ali standing on the hillside above the track. I pointed at him and exclaimed, "He did it!" It was sabotage, just as he had set off the second explosion aboard the Lusitania.
Sincerely yours,
Dora Benley
P.S. You can read more about my adventures in my memoirs, King Abdullah's Tomb.
After we left the Tic Toc Restaurant, Michael and I boarded a Shannon Drake trolley headed for the South Hills and Bethel Borough in particular. After we got through the tunnel and were on our way through the woods, I saw Ali get off the trolley behind us. Not long after that our trolley went off the tracks and crashed perching itself precariously one hundred feet above the roadway.
Michael said if we could survive the Lusitania, we could survive the trolley wreck. We made it out of the front of the trolley just as a flaming tree crashed into it.
As we headed away from the wreck I saw Ali standing on the hillside above the track. I pointed at him and exclaimed, "He did it!" It was sabotage, just as he had set off the second explosion aboard the Lusitania.
Sincerely yours,
Dora Benley
P.S. You can read more about my adventures in my memoirs, King Abdullah's Tomb.
Dear Readers,
After my third suitor ied, hte gossip grew vicious. At night passersby threw melons and eggs at our house. They scrawled graffiti, and it was ugly. Some said:
MERCHANT, WHY DO YOU HARBOR THE LADY OF THE OLEANDER?
Others said:
PERHAPS MOHAMED WANTS TO TAKE OVER THE CITY HE WILL SEND THE LADY OF THE OLEANDER AFTER THE SULTAN NEXT
Several weeks passed in this fashion before my father summoned my weeping mother and me to the dining room table. He told me that if I refused to marry, he could not afford to keep me in his house anymore.
The next day I was given an hour or two to pack. Then my father summoned a litter bearer to take my away. Before I left he gave me a purse of money.
"This was to be your dowry," he said. "Use it well."
I smiled. The money was just what I needed. It would be enough to set me up in business. What business? Think of the bees buzzing around the oleander bush, and you know.
Sincerely yours,
Qabihah, Witch of Cairo
P.S. You can read all about my further adventures in Dora, Lady Ware's, memoirs entitled Hitler's Daughter.
After my third suitor ied, hte gossip grew vicious. At night passersby threw melons and eggs at our house. They scrawled graffiti, and it was ugly. Some said:
MERCHANT, WHY DO YOU HARBOR THE LADY OF THE OLEANDER?
Others said:
PERHAPS MOHAMED WANTS TO TAKE OVER THE CITY HE WILL SEND THE LADY OF THE OLEANDER AFTER THE SULTAN NEXT
Several weeks passed in this fashion before my father summoned my weeping mother and me to the dining room table. He told me that if I refused to marry, he could not afford to keep me in his house anymore.
The next day I was given an hour or two to pack. Then my father summoned a litter bearer to take my away. Before I left he gave me a purse of money.
"This was to be your dowry," he said. "Use it well."
I smiled. The money was just what I needed. It would be enough to set me up in business. What business? Think of the bees buzzing around the oleander bush, and you know.
Sincerely yours,
Qabihah, Witch of Cairo
P.S. You can read all about my further adventures in Dora, Lady Ware's, memoirs entitled Hitler's Daughter.
