It looked like the makings of a red-hot fight.
"No retainers allowed within the gate! Principals only!" roared the captain of the guard, in Arabic that sounded like explosions of boiling oil.
Anazeh, Mahommed ben Hamza and I were already within the courtyard.

Four of Anazeh's followers made their way, through after us before any one could prevent them.

At that moment there came a tremendous clattering of hoofs and the crowd outside the gate scattered this and that way in front of about a hundred of the other chiefs' dependents, who had dutifully stayed outside and had sought shade some little distance off.
Whether the sudden disturbance rattled him, or whether he supposed that all the other truculent ruffians were going to try to follow our example, at any rate the man on duty lost his head and shouted to his men to shut the gate again.

Before they could do it every one of Anazeh's gang had forced his way through.
There we all were on forbidden ground, with a great iron-studded gate slammed and bolted behind us.

To judge by the row outside the keepers of the gate had got their hands full.
In front of us was a short flight of stone steps, and another great wooden door set in stone posts under a Roman arch.