Chapter Thirty Eight.

Chapter Thirty Eight.Hadj Absalam’s Decree.The attack delivered during the moonlit hours was sharp, decisive, and, being unexpected, was at first little short of a massacre. Yelling with wild, fiendish delight, my companions, Zoraida at their head, swept onward through the gate of Agadez up to the great, gloomy portals of the Fáda, ruthlessly shooting down those who attempted to bar their passage, and engaging in desperate mortal combat with the armed guards, who offered stubborn resistance.Our success, however, was brief, for our reinforcements had unfortunately not reached us. Recovering quickly from the first shock, the alarm was at once sounded throughout the city. All those capable of bearing arms united to repel us, and as the janissaries in strong bodies poured forth from the Palace gate, the fray soon became fierce and bloody. The Ennitra struggled with desperate courage begotten by the knowledge that they were surrounded by hundreds of the defenders, who would slaughter them and torture those who fell into their hands as prisoners. Knowing not a man would survive if they were defeated, they fought on, madly reckless in their insatiable desire for blood, as with their keen knives they dealt deathblows at those who were defending the gateway, being in turn slashed and maimed by the keen scimitars of the janissaries, until the roads ran with blood, and our horses leaped and stumbled over piles of dead and wounded.The fight was desperate; the carnage horrible.On every side men yelled and struggled, while the ill-fated ones fell to earth and died with curses upon their lips. The scene was awful, almost demoniacal, for the shrieks of the vanquished, mingled with the shouts of the victors and the continuous rattle of rifles, drowned the clash of arms.Amid the desperate conflict I kept as close to Zoraida as possible, though the Ennitra pressed around her, fiercely repelling those who attempted to capture their banner. The Daughter of the Sun, sitting on her sable stallion, with face firm set, gripped in her bejewelled hand a small curved dagger, which from time to time she flourished over her head, urging her outlaw cavaliers to valiant deeds. Time after time her slim, supple figure showed in the very thickest of the mêlée, as with desperate rushes we dashed onward towards the great horse-shoe arch which gave entrance to the Fáda, being, alas! on each occasion met with such strenuous opposition that we were compelled to fall back again, leaving dozens of corpses strewn upon the roadway. Men and horses were hacked in a manner truly horrible by the scimitars of the Sultan’s guard, and once or twice Zoraida herself had a narrow escape of death. At moments of extremest peril she behaved in a manner that would have done credit to any trained soldier. Once, as I engaged a well-armed janissary hand to hand in mortal combat, I saw that the guards had broken the ring of fierce warriors who had formed themselves around our standard and dashed into the centre of the group, causing a frightful conflict. Fighting at such close quarters, the long-barrelled guns of the Ennitra were useless, therefore they were compelled to use their knives and swords. Just as, by a lucky cut, I had slashed the right arm of my adversary, I turned to witness a gigantic guard of the harem rush up to Zoraida, brandishing his heavy scimitar, a formidable weapon that I had often burnished and whetted.“Die, thou accursed son of Eblis!” he shrieked loudly, bringing down his broad, curved blade, that gleamed for a second in the moonbeams; but the fearless leader of the marauders had already become aware of her danger, and, lifting her left hand until it was only a foot from his great brutal countenance, fired her old-fashioned pistol full into his face. The sword fell from his paralysed fingers, and back he staggered next second with half his skull blown away.Her escape was almost miraculous, yet she betrayed not the slightest trace of fear, although the rust of dust had settled upon the mirror of her beauty. Without a second glance at the body of her slain enemy, she sat her black horse firmly and well, re-primed her pistol, and then fought on with calm courage, heedless of the fact that those whom she led were slowly but surely being swept into eternity by the well-organised opposition they were encountering. Again and again the soldiers of Abd-el-Kerim closed around us in a frantic endeavour to capture the green banner that swayed gloomy and ominous in the brilliant night; but with dogged persistency our men, better armed than their adversaries, fired their rifles with deadly effect, and stood together prepared to fight on desperately until the end. Many were the deeds of cool daring I witnessed during that midnight hour, while men in white burnouses, looking almost ghostly in the deep, enmassed shadows cast by the high walls of the Fáda, struggled with the gorgeously-attired retainers of the Sultan.Unfortunate wretches, mortally wounded, struggled on till they sank of sheer exhaustion and were trampled to death, and their fellows, some horribly mutilated, with dark, ugly stains upon their burnouses, fought again ere they died, killing their enemies in a frenzy of mad revenge. The encounter grew more desperate every moment. Our hands and faces were besmirched with blood, as larger and more impassable grew the barrier of the slain.Hadj Absalam had miscalculated the time which must be occupied by the march of our reinforcements, and we had made the assault too early!Again the heavy gate of the Fáda opened; again there emerged another body of troops. For a moment they halted, then there was a bright, blinding flash, as into our midst a volley was poured, by which a dozen men around me fell from their horses dead. Breathlessly I glanced towards Zoraida, half fearful lest a bullet should strike her, but breathed more freely when I saw her unharmed, still brandishing her knife aloft and shouting words of encouragement to the desperate group of horsemen pressing around her.“Courage! brothers, courage!” she shouted. “Keep thine enemies at bay, for ere long thou shalt seek revenge within yonder walls. Give no quarter. Let thy strong arms sweep to earth the gilded popinjays of the Sultan!”“Behold!” cried Amagay, commanding the janissaries, and speaking in a voice that sounded loud above the din of battle. “Lo! the horseman who commandeth the Ennitra seemeth frail, like a woman! What trickery is this? Falter not, fight on! Let not thy scimitars return unto their scabbards until all have fallen!”Responding to these words, the janissaries made an onward rush that almost overpowered us. With great difficulty, however, we managed to make a stand against it, firing our rifles and slashing at our adversaries in frantic desperation, just managing at length to repulse them sufficiently to prevent our banner from falling into their hands. A serious attack had been made upon Zoraida and Hadj Absalam, but both had struggled with redoubled energy, succeeding in warding off the repeated murderous blows levelled at them.Those moments were critical ones. Each of us felt that a second rush as powerful as the first would totally annihilate us.Our fate, indeed, seemed sealed.Just as our enemies fell back a little, I managed to draw so close to Zoraida that my hand brushed her silken robe. As I reined up, she shouted an order, a dozen rifles rang out, and in a moment the conflict became even more fiercely contested than before. One by one, however, our men dropped their arms and fell from their horses, never to mount again, and I could see that, with the exception of the couple of dozen old men whom we had left on the previous day in charge of the women, camels, and tents, nearly three-fourths of our body had been killed or wounded.Beside Zoraida I sat in the bright moonbeams, anxiously on the alert. When I saw how critical was our position, I became regardless of her injunctions, and cried—“It is useless! Let us fly and save ourselves!”With a strange fire in her beautiful eyes, she turned quickly upon me.“No,” she answered calmly. “Have courage, O Cecil! Dost thou not remember what stake thou hast in the result of this attack?”Again the rifles of the defenders belched forth their ominous red flashes, as amid the din and rattle a perfect hail of bullets whistled about us; yet she seemed to shed a charmed halo around her, for neither Hadj Absalam nor myself were struck. With teeth firmly set, we struggled on, cutting, slashing, striking death at every blow, amid a scene indescribably weird and ghastly, until each well-delivered volley of the defenders felled dozens of our band to earth, and I knew that the slaughter of my undaunted companions-in-arms would be complete.The fortune of the fight trembled in the balance. Zoraida’s cool, inspiring demeanour and encouraging words stirred the nomadic Ennitra to bold, fearless deeds, and many were the feats of prowess the brigands of the plains in that dark hour accomplished. My life was saved by one of the faithful followers who had assisted Halima and myself to escape. A gigantic, fierce-eyed negro slave of the Fáda had rushed towards me, brandishing his crookedjambiyah, and I had fired, missing him. Next moment he closed with me, gripping my throat with long, sinewy fingers, as with a demoniacal, exultant laugh he raised his knife to plunge it deep into my breast, when Halima’s slave, fortunately noticing my peril, raised his sword and clave my enemy’s skull so swiftly that the warm blood spurted forth over my hands. Without uttering a sound, the dark, evil-visaged brute who intended to kill me staggered and fell back stone dead, while I remained breathless but unharmed.I gasped a word of thanks to my deliverer, but, shrugging his shoulders, he merely answered, “The Ennitra assist those who fight with them side by side, be they Infidels or Allah’s chosen. Thou art our friend and the friend of the Lalla Halima, therefore we are loyal unto thee, and require no thanks for obeying that which is written.”“May Allah honour thee!” I said, fervently thankful, fully realising how narrowly I had once again escaped a violent end.“And may He be as a lamp shining upon thy path,” the man murmured in pious response.In the desperate onslaught made a few minutes later by the soldiers of the Sultan, now reinforced by a squadron of horsemen who had approached with all speed from the opposite side of the city, Zoraida and I found ourselves together in the thick of the fray. Grappling with their enemies, the Ennitra, with all their bellicose instincts now thoroughly aroused, closed with them in a terrible death-struggle. Each desert-wanderer, determined to sell his life dearly, bade defiance to the great body of janissaries, eunuchs, palace guards, and soldiers, and, armed to the teeth, cut, thrust, and charged, pressing the defenders hard, bearing the brunt of the fight, and showing a bold front in a manner truly astonishing.With their white drapery flowing in the wind, as they spurred on their horses in repeated efforts to successfully storm the gate of the Fáda, my companions fought like demons. But the defenders held together in solid phalanx, and repulsed us time after time, until many more of our bold, undaunted horsemen lay weltering in their blood.Again and again Zoraida, whose slim form still showed under the dark standard of the outlaws in the very midst of the desperate conflict, shouted words of encouragement, and each time we swept forward upon the stubborn ranks of the janissaries, only to be ignominiously driven back under a withering fusillade of bullets. Hadj Absalam’s gruff voice, raised in desperate imprecation, roared above the din of the fray, but he was unheeded. They obeyed only the commands of the Daughter of the Sun, whom they still implicitly believed would lead them to victory.In deadly embrace we fought with ferocious strength, grappling our adversaries, and using our knives with horrible fiendishness. Janissaries and eunuchs, slashed and mutilated by the dexterous blows of my dauntless fellow-horsemen, fell groaning to earth, staining the burnouses of the outlaws with their blood; but even then, when slight success aroused redoubled energy within us, any hope of the investment of the Fáda still seemed utterly forlorn.Suddenly above the noise and tumult there was a loud rumbling, which at first I thought was distant thunder.“Hearken!” eagerly shouted Zoraida, at that moment only a few feet from me. “Give ear unto me! Lo! it is the rolling of the Drum of Nâr! Fight on! Our brothers are advancing! For evil men Hell, the Worst life; for the righteous the Best Mind, Paradise!”With a shrill whoop, the Ennitra took up the last sentence as a war-cry, and, with courage strengthened by the knowledge that at last assistance was at hand, dashed forward wildly towards the great arched gateway, many of them being in their reckless onslaught impaled upon the defenders’ spears. Then, ere five minutes had passed, with loud, reassuring shouts, mingling with the monotonous thumping of the Drum of Victory, the three bodies of the Ennitra, who, it afterwards appeared, had effected a junction near Tanou-n-Toungaïden, made a vigorous demonstration, by which, in the course of a quarter of an hour, the defenders became hemmed in between two galling fires.Closely pressed, they were at last, after holding out with dogged resistance until the first flush of dawn, driven back against the gloomy walls of the palace, and there slaughtered without mercy.The tide of battle turned in favour of the brigands.There ensued a revolting massacre, from which Zoraida, breathless and panting, turned and shut out its sight by covering her eyes with her delicate hands. The soldiers of the Ahír, finding themselves overpowered by the dreaded band whose vengeance was feared throughout the Soudan, threw down their arms and craved for quarter. But the Ennitra had given rein to their savage bloodthirstiness, and no words from their beautiful leader could avert that fierce, horrible brutality which caused them to be held in dread. Upon their knees proud janissaries of the Sultan Abd-el-Kerim sank in the blood of their comrades, crying hoarsely for mercy, but none was shown them. Dismounted, the men whom Zoraida had rallied and incited to victory threw themselves upon their adversaries, butchering them in cold blood. Murder, mutilation, and torture were rife everywhere in the vicinity of the Fáda, and as the bright streaks of saffron spread in the east, heralding the sun’s coming, the massacre was awful.“Spare the Mesállaje!” cried Zoraida, pointing to the square minaret that loomed dark against the grey of dawn. “Defile not the Great Mosque! The curse of the One of Might rest upon any who dare to enter the holy place with blood upon their hands!”Quickly the order, shouted aloud, was passed from mouth to mouth, and a few moments later, Zoraida, as she rode swiftly past me, exclaimed—“With the Mosque free from attack, thou wilt of a surety find theimamthou seekest. When it is time I will tell thee;” and away she galloped to where a large force of our people, climbing over the great heap of slain, were battering in the heavy gate of the Fáda, that for centuries had withstood all attack.At last, by dint of supreme effort, the door was burst open, and with loud, victorious yells, there rushed into the first of the great courts a legion of ferocious brutes, who ruthlessly murdered those who stood in their path. Guards, servants, courtiers, and eunuchs were ferreted from their hiding-places and slaughtered with horrible ferocity, as, headed by Hadj Absalam under his green standard, the thieving hordes swept onward through the luxuriant palace to the Court of the Eunuchs, with which I was so familiar. Then, storming the three great doors of the Sultan’s harem, they at last gained that most luxuriant portion of the Fáda.Zoraida drew back, as if fearing to enter, and for a few seconds stood beside me in the gateway trembling. Summoning courage at last, she allowed herself to be carried on over the bloodstained floors of polished sardonyx and agate into the great arcaded courts, with their columns of marble, plashing fountains, and cool palms. Huddled together in little groups stood the beautiful prisoners of the Sultan, with fear depicted on their handsome faces, as if they had received forewarning of their untimely end. Uttering fiendish yells, the flint-hearted Ennitra, intoxicated by success, bounded towards them, and the awful scenes of loot and massacre that ensued I will not attempt to describe. Suffice it to say that no mercy was shown even to the women. Their jewels were torn from them, fingers on which were valuable rings being unceremoniously hacked off, and their slim white throats and bare breasts were cut and slashed with hellish fiendishness. A few of the more beautiful were chosen by Hadj Absalam to grace his own harem, but the remainder were simply butchered with merciless ruthlessness, the jewels filched from them being flung unceremoniously into a great heap in the centre of the gorgeous Courts of Love, and over it a dozen of the outlaws mounted guard.The massacre was sickening. Piercing screams of the women as they fell under the knives of their pitiless captors echoed along the great arcades, mingling with the jeers of the outlaws and the hoarse cries of the dying. Blood ran across the polished floors, and, trickling into the fountains, tinged their waters, the walls of marble were bespattered with it, and the once-beautiful Courts of Love were rendered hideous by their piles of mutilated corpses, and became a ghastly Inferno, to be remembered with a fearsome shudder until one’s dying day.Horrified by the terrible sights I had witnessed, I endeavoured to draw back, but with loud shouts the crowd, excited to madness by their work of murder and pillage, made a sudden rush to the Sultan’s pavilion, and involuntarily I was carried onward.“Seek Abd-el-Kerim!” they cried. “Kill him! kill him!” Through the harem-garden, along the edge of the great lake, and on into the Hall of the White Divan they pressed. On entering, we found under the great baldachin of silk and gold the young Sultan, with his Grand Vizier Mukhtar and Amagay, the chief of his eunuchs, on either side, standing erect, regarding our entrance with regal air and unflinching eye. He had drawn his scimitar and was prepared to defend himself.“What meaneth this intrusion?” he cried, the fierce fire of anger in his face. “Verily hast thou rushed into the Wrath, and the blow of destruction shall descend upon thee!”“Spare us!” cried Mukhtar, rushing forward, trembling, cringing coward that he was.“We are thy slaves,” added Amagay, throwing away his sword. “Have mercy upon us! Take what thou mayest, but slay us not!”The fierce, dishevelled band, heedless of all appeal, dashed onward, led by Hadj Absalam. A dozen men rushed forward to dispatch the Sultan, but the latter, wielding his jewelled scimitar, felled the first outlaw who approached, inflicting a mortal wound. Next moment, however, the youthful ruler of the Ahír, pulled unceremoniously off the divan, was struggling powerless in the hands of his ragged conquerors.For his curses they cared naught, but at a signal from Hadj Absalam, who had in the meantime mounted to the deposed monarch’s place, Labakan stepped forward, armed with the executioner’s heavydoka, which he had just found while searching for plunder.“Let him die!” exclaimed Hadj Absalam briefly.“Ah! spare me, O conqueror!” gasped the unhappy youth. “It is written—it is written that the blessings of Allah rest upon the merciful! Spare me!”But the Sultan, pale and haggard, was quickly forced to his knees upon the polished pavement before his own divan and held with his hands behind his back. Piteous were his appeals, but they softened not his captors’ murderous, sanguinolent hearts. The great diamond aigrette was ruthlessly torn from his turban and handed to the robber Sheikh, and then, as the men held him down firmly, Labakan stepped forward, and, swinging thedokawith both hands, smote off his head at a single blow.The body, quickly despoiled of its jewels, was kicked aside into a corner, while the head, mounted on a spear, was sent forth into the city in order to strike awe into the hearts of those citizens who refused to submit to the conquerors.Mukhtar and Amagay were also decapitated in like manner and without ceremony by the villainous Labakan, who, judging from the self-satisfied grin upon his sinister countenance, delighted in the gruesome duties of his self-assumed office. Once he glanced at me and smiled. Doubtless it would have afforded him considerable pleasure to strike off my head by the same means.In their frenzied thirst for blood, many of my companions, rushing onward, pillaged the Sultan’s private apartments and the Treasury. Thence they went to the Hall of Audience.Here a band of janissaries at first made a desperate stand, but they were eventually butchered, even to the last man.Through the city wildly yelling bands of the Ennitra were rushing with fire and sword. The hours were spent by them in murder and pillage, in mutilation, in every conceivable kind of nameless atrocity. Into the houses they rushed, penetrating to the apartments of the women, murdering the occupants, and carrying off all that was valuable. Deeds of violence and lawlessness were committed with cruel brutality and heartlessness; women and children were slaughtered before the eyes of husbands and fathers, who in their turn were also murdered in cold blood. Many went down on their knees, supplicating with heads bent to the ground, crying for quarter, and in that attitude were butchered mercilessly by their conquerors. In the open space called the Azarmádarangh between four and five hundred young men and women had by noon been collected to be sold as slaves, and as each hour passed, others were added to the number. Some attempted to escape, and were shot down in consequence, but the majority gave themselves up to their fate, and squatted on the ground silent and morose. The women wept and wailed, but the men made no complaint. They had fought, Fortune had deserted them, and their Sultan’s head was being carried around Agadez to the monotonous thumping of the ancient Drum of Nâr. Upon the pinnacles and minarets the great vultures of dirty-greyish plumage with naked necks were awaiting impatiently the feast that the marauders had provided for them, and the captives, noticing them, regarded their presence as an omen that the power of the Sultans of the Ahír had been broken for ever.In Abd-el-Kerim’s pavilion, where I remained, Hadj Absalam, with his banner planted over the great canopy, was seated upon the divan with Zoraida at his side. While the work of plunder was proceeding throughout the Fáda, the apartment was filled to overflowing by a crowd of the less excited of his bloodthirsty band. Labakan having taken his stand on the other side of the chieftain, resting upon his great bloodstained executioner’s sword, Hadj Absalam at length commenced an address to his people. But the latter, after he had uttered half a dozen sentences, mainly egotistical of his own prowess, refused him further hearing, crying—“Let our Daughter of the Sun speak, O Mirror of Virtue! We trusted her and were not afraid. Let her have speech with us!”“Speak then,” he said, annoyed, turning to Zoraida. “May the fear of thy Ruler lie upon thy lips.”Casting a quick inquiring glance at him, she smiled pleasantly upon those around her, saying—“Lo! thy Sheikh, thy Branch of Honour, hath led thee through these courts of the Fáda—wherefore dost thou not honour him?”“It was thy voice alone that rallied us when we were failing, and guided us at the critical moment unto a victory great and glorious!” cried one of the warriors, a statement that was hailed with extreme approbation.Gracefully she bowed in recognition of the compliment, saying, “What I have done hath been in accordance with the promise given unto me. Once again have I led thee to victory, though it be for the last time.”A murmur of dissent went round, and a voice inquired the reason.“Because,” she said,—“Because thou hast conquered the City of the Ahír, therefore thou hast no further need of my services—”“I have. Thou shalt now become Pearl of my Harem!” Hadj Absalam interrupted, with a scowl of displeasure upon his furrowed face.This declaration produced a sensation almost electrical, and it seemed that, even though the prospect might be distasteful to them, none dare challenge the autocrat. Zoraida, too, turned pale, clenched her tiny hands, and bit her lips to the blood.“Brothers,” she gasped, her voice faltering, “I, Daughter of the Sun, am thy sister. Oft-times have I risked my life to ensure success in thy forays. Art thou still loyal unto me?”“We are,” they answered, as with one voice.“Then I fear not mine enemies,” she exclaimed, drawing herself up and flinging back her blood—besmirched silken robe with a defiant air. “To-day thou hast broken the power of a great Sultan and beheaded him; thou hast invested the palace that all thought impregnable; thou hast captured many slaves, and thou hast secured plunder almost as valuable as the Treasure of Askiá, which lieth hidden. I led thee hither, but the tenure of my leadership is at an end. Bow now unto the authority of thy Sheikh, and treat me only as one who hath rendered thee a service.”“It is but fitting that, now we have conquered Agadez, thou shouldst become Malieah of the Ahír,” Hadj Absalam protested. “I appeal to thee, my people. Do I give voice unto thy wish?” The armed men looked at one another in hesitation. Then one, a big, hulking, half-witted fellow, stepped forward, and, turning back to his companions, exclaimed—“Is not the beauty of our Daughter of the Sun known throughout the Great Desert; is she not our Lady of Wondrous Beauty, with whom none can compare? Did not the great Sultan, Mulai Hassan, of Fez, offer one hundred bags of gold for her? Why should she not grace our people by becoming the chief wife of our wise and just ruler? She would still retain her power to bring victory unto us, and would at the same time reflect upon us perpetually the light of her beauteous countenance.”Labakan grinned. It was, I felt sure, one of his devilish schemes. “Are any of the houris whom thou hast spared in yonder harem half as beautiful as the Lalla Zoraida?” he asked. “Surely she with the loveliest face should become Queen?”“Hearken unto me, O my brothers!” Zoraida cried anxiously. “Until this moment thou hast granted me freedom. It is a privilege that as long as I live I will not forego; if thou forcest upon me this marriage, remember that my self-sought death will fall upon thee as a curse, swift and terrible.”“Thy beauty designateth thee as our Sultana!” they answered, influenced by the arguments of the wily Labakan and the others. “Thou must become Queen of the Courts of Love!”“And is this—is this how thou repayest one who hath acted as a lamp in thy darkness; thy Lode Star that hath led thee unto prosperity?” she cried, with bitterness. “Of a truth herein thou showest—”“Daughter, thou treatest the generous gift of thy Ruler with contempt,” Hadj Absalam roared in anger.“I utter no contemptuous words,” she answered, resolutely calm. “Thou hast conceived a plan to marry me against my will, because of what thou art pleased to call my fair face. Verily, I tell thee that if thou attemptest to force thine hateful favours upon me, my knife here shall score mine own cheeks and render them hideous unto thy sight! Failing that, I—I will kill myself!”“Bah!” cried the Sheikh, impatiently tugging at his beard. “Thou lovest the white-faced Roumi to whom we have given succour!”“If he were killed, her objection would be removed,” observed Labakan, gesticulating with hands that were smeared and sticky with blood. His cool suggestion was received with mingled approbation and dissent.“Wouldst thou murder one who hath proved himself thy firm friend?” Zoraida asked, her eye fixed upon the man who had already attempted to assassinate me. Shrugging his shoulders, he showed his even white teeth in a hideous grin, but made no reply.“Vengeance cometh—vengeance just upon the faithless and those who betray their friends. Their couch shall be in hell!” she continued. “If thou forcest me to sacrifice my life, of a verity wilt thou deliver the Lie unto Truth, and bring upon thee ruin and shame abiding.Cama tafakal kathâlik tolâ ki!” (“Such as you will do, so will you find.”)But the fierce, brutal murderers grouped around only laughed. Her strange power over them seemed to have suddenly vanished, for, with her uncovered face handsome in their eyes, there was, alas! a consensus of opinion that she should become the chief wife of their chieftain! What could I do to save her? Nothing. Glancing across at me with a look of mute appeal, she stood silent, her hand upon the hilt of her knife. She seemed deeply agitated, for though her lips moved, no sound escaped them.Again the half-witted brute who had urged the desirability of the hateful union turned to his companions, asking: “Is it thy desire that the Daughter of the Sun should be exalted and become our Queen of Delights and the Light of our Darkness?”“Thy words are truly words of wisdom!” his companions cried loudly, with only two or three dissentients. “Our Ruler must take her as his wife.”The cruel face of Hadj Absalam broadened into a benign smile, while Labakan’s eyes glittered with murderous craftiness, as, with hands tightly clasped and tears upon her beautiful cheeks, Zoraida made a final desperate appeal—“A moment ago didst thou vow loyalty unto me, my brothers. Yet even now wilt thou force me into a loveless union that is distasteful—that—that will cause me to seek death by mine own hand! If I have offended, cast me from thee, but wreck not my happiness by an odious marriage! Ever have I been unswervingly loyal unto thee, and He in whose hand is the Kingdom of all Things will assuredly be swift in punishing those who seek my self-destruction. Blessings are the lot of the pure and the merciful. Force this not upon me, O my brothers! Hear and grant this my most fervent supplication!”There was silence. Fierce words in her defence were upon the tip of my tongue, but—fortunately perhaps—I managed to suppress them.“It is to-day, peradventure, too early to carry out my generous proposal,” Hadj Absalam observed, utterly unmoved by her appeal. “In one moon shall I compel the Lalla Zoraida to become the Pearl of my Harem.”“Thy will be accomplished, O Ruler of exalted merit,” they answered. But the woman I loved, hearing his decision, clasped her hands to her temples, murmuring in dismay, “One moon! One moon!” and, taking two or three quick, uneven steps, tottered forward and fell heavily upon her face ere a hand could be outstretched to save her.A dozen men rushed forth, I among the number. Water was given her quickly, and in obedience to an order from the Sheikh she was carried away, helpless and unconscious, to one of the apartments in the great harem, which, alas! was now strewn with the corpses of its former luxury-loving inmates. I dared not follow, so remained, to hear my companions extolling the wisdom of Hadj Absalam’s brutal decision.Nauseated by the hideous sights of blood that everywhere met my gaze as I wandered through the spacious courts so familiar to me, the afternoon passed heavily. None of my companions, save the wounded, sought their siesta; all were too absorbed in their work of plunder, bringing the treasure they discovered before the Sheikh, who remained seated beneath the royal canopy, so that he might inspect all that was found. Every hole and corner of the spacious Fáda was ransacked, and the pile of gold and silver vessels, jewels, ornaments, and pearl-embroidered robes swelled larger and larger, until it formed a heap that reached almost to the painted ceiling of the pavilion. Backwards and forwards I passed unnoticed, for all were now totally absorbed in their diligent search for articles of value. My only thought was of Zoraida. The decree of the cruel, heartless Sultan of the Sahara had gone forth, endorsed by the decision of the people, and to rescue her from becoming an inmate of the old brigand’s harem seemed an impossibility.An hour after sundown, as I was wandering through the wrecked Court of the Eunuchs, revisiting the scene of those toilsome days of my slavery, a veiled woman approached. Drawing aside heradjar, the bright, smiling face of Halima was revealed. The women we had left outside the city prior to the attack had already arrived, for in a few brief words she told me that Zoraida had been placed under her care. Her mistress, who had recovered from her faint, had expressed a desire to see me immediately, therefore she had come in search of me.“Enter the harem,” she said. “Walk down the arcade on the right until thou comest unto the third door. Push it open, and therein wilt thou find our Daughter of the Sun.”I briefly thanked her, and, rearranging her veil, she strolled leisurely away to avoid arousing suspicion. Within ten minutes I was speeding along the arcade, gloomy in the darkening hour, and rendered ghastly by the presence of the mutilated dead. My heart beat as if it would burst its bonds. At the third door I halted, and, pushing it open, passed through a kind of vestibule into a small thickly-carpeted apartment, hung with rich silken hangings, and fragrant with sweet odours that rose from a gold perfuming-pan.From her soft, luxuriant divan, Zoraida, still in her masculine dress, rose to meet me. She was pale, and her hand trembled, as for a few moments we remained clasped in affectionate embrace, while I kissed her in rapture, with many affectionate declarations of love.“What must I do?” I asked breathless, at last. “How can I save thee?”“By performing the mission thou hast promised,” she answered, the pressure of her hand tightening upon mine as she gazed into my eyes.“That I will do most willingly,” I said.“Then lo! here is the Crescent of Glorious Wonders,” she said, producing that mysterious object from between the cushions of her divan, “and here also is a letter to Mohammed ben Ishak. Deliver it, and learn the Secret. Then canst thou extricate me from the danger that threateneth.”“But must I be absent from thee long?”“I know not. Thy mission may perchance occupy thee many days.”“And in the meantime thou mayest be forced to become the wife of that brute, Hadj Absalam!”“Never!” she cried, setting her teeth. “I will kill myself!”“Is it imperative that I should be absent from thy side in this the hour of thy peril?” I asked, placing my arm tenderly around her neck and drawing her closer towards me.A flash of love-light gleamed on her sweet face.“Yes. Seek theimamto-night, ere it be too late. Whatever he telleth thee, investigate at all cost. If thou art successful in obtaining a revelation of the Wondrous Mystery, assuredly thou wilt save me from a fate that I fear worse than the grave.”“Trust me, O Zoraida!” I answered, kissing her fervently, as I took the Crescent and the scrap of paper, concealing them in my clothing. “On leaving thee, I will not halt until I have found the holy man, and have gained from him that knowledge which he alone can give. But what of thee? While I am absent, thou wilt be friendless!”“Allah, the One Merciful, all things discerneth; to us shall it be as He willeth,” she said, slowly raising my hand and pressing my fingers to her lips.“If thou art, alas! forced to become Queen of this kingdom of murderers! If thou art—”“I am a follower of the Faith, and place my trust in the Uniter of the Lover and Beloved,” she interrupted softly, clasping me in her clinging arms. “By woman’s wit I may perchance escape the hateful doom that Hadj Absalam hath devised, under the advice of our enemy, Labakan; therefore let the burdens of my peril be uplifted from thine heart. Seek the director of those who tread the Path, and attend with faith and minuteness unto his instructions.”“The thought that we may be for ever parted must fill me until my return,” I said. “But canst thou not fly with me, even now?”“Alas! no,” she answered gloomily. “Escape ere thou hast fathomed the Great Mystery is impossible. I must abide in patience, overshadowed by deadly peril and the dread thought that we may never meet again. But”—and she hesitated—“tell me—answer me with thine own lips one question I would address unto thee.”“What wouldst thou know?”“Tell me,” she said, burying her head upon my breast—“Tell me if thou wilt forgive me for—for the awful massacre that hath to-day been committed?”“Forgive thee!” I cried, my kisses warming her waxen hands. “Of course I do. Forced to occupy a strange position, thou canst not struggle against thy fate, therefore the horrible butchery is due to neither plot nor strategy of thine, but to the fierce avarice and brutal bloodthirstiness of those who now prove themselves thine enemies.”“Ah! verily thou art generous!” she exclaimed, with tears in her luminous eyes, around which dark rings were showing. “The life of cities, as the life of men, is a vain and uncertain thing, and none knoweth the weal or ill thereof, and none knoweth the end or the way of the end, save only Allah. To thee I entrust my life. Go! seek the key to the Great Mystery, the knife by which my bonds can only be severed. I will fight to preserve mine honour until I die. I am thine until the heavens shall be cloven in sunder, and the stars shall be scattered. May Allah shadow thee in His shadow, and give unto thee strength to perform in faithfulness thy covenant! May He bless and preserve thee, and may He cause thee to drink from the cup of His Prophet, Mohammed, that pleasant draught, after which there is no thirst to all eternity! It is time, O Cecil! Go!”“Farewell, my one beloved,” I said, with a lingering kiss, as her fair head still rested upon my breast. “May the One who sweepeth away darkness guard thee and disappoint not thine hopes! Verily will I set out upon this mission at once, for as steadfastly true thou art unto me, so am I unto thee.”For a long time, as we stood in silence, I rained passionate kisses upon her lips, cold as marble. She trembled, fearing the worst, yet, gathering her strength in a supreme effort to preserve her self-control, she at last pushed me from her with gentle firmness, saying—“Hasten! Night draweth quickly on, and thou hast but little time to spare. Hourly shall I think of thee until thou returnest with the glad tidings.Slama! Allah knoweth the innermost parts of the breasts of men. May His mercy and His bounteous blessing be upon thee!”“Verily He is Praised and Mighty!” I responded. Then, with a long kiss of farewell, I breathed a few whispered words of passion into her ear, and, promising to return at the earliest moment, I released her supple form from my embrace, and, stumbling blindly out, left her standing, pale, friendless, and alone.Devoutly-murmured words of a fervent prayer fell upon my ears as I turned from her presence, but I halted not, striding onward—onward in search of the knowledge and elucidation of the Great Mystery, onward to an unknown, undreamed-of bourne.

The attack delivered during the moonlit hours was sharp, decisive, and, being unexpected, was at first little short of a massacre. Yelling with wild, fiendish delight, my companions, Zoraida at their head, swept onward through the gate of Agadez up to the great, gloomy portals of the Fáda, ruthlessly shooting down those who attempted to bar their passage, and engaging in desperate mortal combat with the armed guards, who offered stubborn resistance.

Our success, however, was brief, for our reinforcements had unfortunately not reached us. Recovering quickly from the first shock, the alarm was at once sounded throughout the city. All those capable of bearing arms united to repel us, and as the janissaries in strong bodies poured forth from the Palace gate, the fray soon became fierce and bloody. The Ennitra struggled with desperate courage begotten by the knowledge that they were surrounded by hundreds of the defenders, who would slaughter them and torture those who fell into their hands as prisoners. Knowing not a man would survive if they were defeated, they fought on, madly reckless in their insatiable desire for blood, as with their keen knives they dealt deathblows at those who were defending the gateway, being in turn slashed and maimed by the keen scimitars of the janissaries, until the roads ran with blood, and our horses leaped and stumbled over piles of dead and wounded.

The fight was desperate; the carnage horrible.

On every side men yelled and struggled, while the ill-fated ones fell to earth and died with curses upon their lips. The scene was awful, almost demoniacal, for the shrieks of the vanquished, mingled with the shouts of the victors and the continuous rattle of rifles, drowned the clash of arms.

Amid the desperate conflict I kept as close to Zoraida as possible, though the Ennitra pressed around her, fiercely repelling those who attempted to capture their banner. The Daughter of the Sun, sitting on her sable stallion, with face firm set, gripped in her bejewelled hand a small curved dagger, which from time to time she flourished over her head, urging her outlaw cavaliers to valiant deeds. Time after time her slim, supple figure showed in the very thickest of the mêlée, as with desperate rushes we dashed onward towards the great horse-shoe arch which gave entrance to the Fáda, being, alas! on each occasion met with such strenuous opposition that we were compelled to fall back again, leaving dozens of corpses strewn upon the roadway. Men and horses were hacked in a manner truly horrible by the scimitars of the Sultan’s guard, and once or twice Zoraida herself had a narrow escape of death. At moments of extremest peril she behaved in a manner that would have done credit to any trained soldier. Once, as I engaged a well-armed janissary hand to hand in mortal combat, I saw that the guards had broken the ring of fierce warriors who had formed themselves around our standard and dashed into the centre of the group, causing a frightful conflict. Fighting at such close quarters, the long-barrelled guns of the Ennitra were useless, therefore they were compelled to use their knives and swords. Just as, by a lucky cut, I had slashed the right arm of my adversary, I turned to witness a gigantic guard of the harem rush up to Zoraida, brandishing his heavy scimitar, a formidable weapon that I had often burnished and whetted.

“Die, thou accursed son of Eblis!” he shrieked loudly, bringing down his broad, curved blade, that gleamed for a second in the moonbeams; but the fearless leader of the marauders had already become aware of her danger, and, lifting her left hand until it was only a foot from his great brutal countenance, fired her old-fashioned pistol full into his face. The sword fell from his paralysed fingers, and back he staggered next second with half his skull blown away.

Her escape was almost miraculous, yet she betrayed not the slightest trace of fear, although the rust of dust had settled upon the mirror of her beauty. Without a second glance at the body of her slain enemy, she sat her black horse firmly and well, re-primed her pistol, and then fought on with calm courage, heedless of the fact that those whom she led were slowly but surely being swept into eternity by the well-organised opposition they were encountering. Again and again the soldiers of Abd-el-Kerim closed around us in a frantic endeavour to capture the green banner that swayed gloomy and ominous in the brilliant night; but with dogged persistency our men, better armed than their adversaries, fired their rifles with deadly effect, and stood together prepared to fight on desperately until the end. Many were the deeds of cool daring I witnessed during that midnight hour, while men in white burnouses, looking almost ghostly in the deep, enmassed shadows cast by the high walls of the Fáda, struggled with the gorgeously-attired retainers of the Sultan.

Unfortunate wretches, mortally wounded, struggled on till they sank of sheer exhaustion and were trampled to death, and their fellows, some horribly mutilated, with dark, ugly stains upon their burnouses, fought again ere they died, killing their enemies in a frenzy of mad revenge. The encounter grew more desperate every moment. Our hands and faces were besmirched with blood, as larger and more impassable grew the barrier of the slain.

Hadj Absalam had miscalculated the time which must be occupied by the march of our reinforcements, and we had made the assault too early!

Again the heavy gate of the Fáda opened; again there emerged another body of troops. For a moment they halted, then there was a bright, blinding flash, as into our midst a volley was poured, by which a dozen men around me fell from their horses dead. Breathlessly I glanced towards Zoraida, half fearful lest a bullet should strike her, but breathed more freely when I saw her unharmed, still brandishing her knife aloft and shouting words of encouragement to the desperate group of horsemen pressing around her.

“Courage! brothers, courage!” she shouted. “Keep thine enemies at bay, for ere long thou shalt seek revenge within yonder walls. Give no quarter. Let thy strong arms sweep to earth the gilded popinjays of the Sultan!”

“Behold!” cried Amagay, commanding the janissaries, and speaking in a voice that sounded loud above the din of battle. “Lo! the horseman who commandeth the Ennitra seemeth frail, like a woman! What trickery is this? Falter not, fight on! Let not thy scimitars return unto their scabbards until all have fallen!”

Responding to these words, the janissaries made an onward rush that almost overpowered us. With great difficulty, however, we managed to make a stand against it, firing our rifles and slashing at our adversaries in frantic desperation, just managing at length to repulse them sufficiently to prevent our banner from falling into their hands. A serious attack had been made upon Zoraida and Hadj Absalam, but both had struggled with redoubled energy, succeeding in warding off the repeated murderous blows levelled at them.

Those moments were critical ones. Each of us felt that a second rush as powerful as the first would totally annihilate us.

Our fate, indeed, seemed sealed.

Just as our enemies fell back a little, I managed to draw so close to Zoraida that my hand brushed her silken robe. As I reined up, she shouted an order, a dozen rifles rang out, and in a moment the conflict became even more fiercely contested than before. One by one, however, our men dropped their arms and fell from their horses, never to mount again, and I could see that, with the exception of the couple of dozen old men whom we had left on the previous day in charge of the women, camels, and tents, nearly three-fourths of our body had been killed or wounded.

Beside Zoraida I sat in the bright moonbeams, anxiously on the alert. When I saw how critical was our position, I became regardless of her injunctions, and cried—

“It is useless! Let us fly and save ourselves!”

With a strange fire in her beautiful eyes, she turned quickly upon me.

“No,” she answered calmly. “Have courage, O Cecil! Dost thou not remember what stake thou hast in the result of this attack?”

Again the rifles of the defenders belched forth their ominous red flashes, as amid the din and rattle a perfect hail of bullets whistled about us; yet she seemed to shed a charmed halo around her, for neither Hadj Absalam nor myself were struck. With teeth firmly set, we struggled on, cutting, slashing, striking death at every blow, amid a scene indescribably weird and ghastly, until each well-delivered volley of the defenders felled dozens of our band to earth, and I knew that the slaughter of my undaunted companions-in-arms would be complete.

The fortune of the fight trembled in the balance. Zoraida’s cool, inspiring demeanour and encouraging words stirred the nomadic Ennitra to bold, fearless deeds, and many were the feats of prowess the brigands of the plains in that dark hour accomplished. My life was saved by one of the faithful followers who had assisted Halima and myself to escape. A gigantic, fierce-eyed negro slave of the Fáda had rushed towards me, brandishing his crookedjambiyah, and I had fired, missing him. Next moment he closed with me, gripping my throat with long, sinewy fingers, as with a demoniacal, exultant laugh he raised his knife to plunge it deep into my breast, when Halima’s slave, fortunately noticing my peril, raised his sword and clave my enemy’s skull so swiftly that the warm blood spurted forth over my hands. Without uttering a sound, the dark, evil-visaged brute who intended to kill me staggered and fell back stone dead, while I remained breathless but unharmed.

I gasped a word of thanks to my deliverer, but, shrugging his shoulders, he merely answered, “The Ennitra assist those who fight with them side by side, be they Infidels or Allah’s chosen. Thou art our friend and the friend of the Lalla Halima, therefore we are loyal unto thee, and require no thanks for obeying that which is written.”

“May Allah honour thee!” I said, fervently thankful, fully realising how narrowly I had once again escaped a violent end.

“And may He be as a lamp shining upon thy path,” the man murmured in pious response.

In the desperate onslaught made a few minutes later by the soldiers of the Sultan, now reinforced by a squadron of horsemen who had approached with all speed from the opposite side of the city, Zoraida and I found ourselves together in the thick of the fray. Grappling with their enemies, the Ennitra, with all their bellicose instincts now thoroughly aroused, closed with them in a terrible death-struggle. Each desert-wanderer, determined to sell his life dearly, bade defiance to the great body of janissaries, eunuchs, palace guards, and soldiers, and, armed to the teeth, cut, thrust, and charged, pressing the defenders hard, bearing the brunt of the fight, and showing a bold front in a manner truly astonishing.

With their white drapery flowing in the wind, as they spurred on their horses in repeated efforts to successfully storm the gate of the Fáda, my companions fought like demons. But the defenders held together in solid phalanx, and repulsed us time after time, until many more of our bold, undaunted horsemen lay weltering in their blood.

Again and again Zoraida, whose slim form still showed under the dark standard of the outlaws in the very midst of the desperate conflict, shouted words of encouragement, and each time we swept forward upon the stubborn ranks of the janissaries, only to be ignominiously driven back under a withering fusillade of bullets. Hadj Absalam’s gruff voice, raised in desperate imprecation, roared above the din of the fray, but he was unheeded. They obeyed only the commands of the Daughter of the Sun, whom they still implicitly believed would lead them to victory.

In deadly embrace we fought with ferocious strength, grappling our adversaries, and using our knives with horrible fiendishness. Janissaries and eunuchs, slashed and mutilated by the dexterous blows of my dauntless fellow-horsemen, fell groaning to earth, staining the burnouses of the outlaws with their blood; but even then, when slight success aroused redoubled energy within us, any hope of the investment of the Fáda still seemed utterly forlorn.

Suddenly above the noise and tumult there was a loud rumbling, which at first I thought was distant thunder.

“Hearken!” eagerly shouted Zoraida, at that moment only a few feet from me. “Give ear unto me! Lo! it is the rolling of the Drum of Nâr! Fight on! Our brothers are advancing! For evil men Hell, the Worst life; for the righteous the Best Mind, Paradise!”

With a shrill whoop, the Ennitra took up the last sentence as a war-cry, and, with courage strengthened by the knowledge that at last assistance was at hand, dashed forward wildly towards the great arched gateway, many of them being in their reckless onslaught impaled upon the defenders’ spears. Then, ere five minutes had passed, with loud, reassuring shouts, mingling with the monotonous thumping of the Drum of Victory, the three bodies of the Ennitra, who, it afterwards appeared, had effected a junction near Tanou-n-Toungaïden, made a vigorous demonstration, by which, in the course of a quarter of an hour, the defenders became hemmed in between two galling fires.

Closely pressed, they were at last, after holding out with dogged resistance until the first flush of dawn, driven back against the gloomy walls of the palace, and there slaughtered without mercy.

The tide of battle turned in favour of the brigands.

There ensued a revolting massacre, from which Zoraida, breathless and panting, turned and shut out its sight by covering her eyes with her delicate hands. The soldiers of the Ahír, finding themselves overpowered by the dreaded band whose vengeance was feared throughout the Soudan, threw down their arms and craved for quarter. But the Ennitra had given rein to their savage bloodthirstiness, and no words from their beautiful leader could avert that fierce, horrible brutality which caused them to be held in dread. Upon their knees proud janissaries of the Sultan Abd-el-Kerim sank in the blood of their comrades, crying hoarsely for mercy, but none was shown them. Dismounted, the men whom Zoraida had rallied and incited to victory threw themselves upon their adversaries, butchering them in cold blood. Murder, mutilation, and torture were rife everywhere in the vicinity of the Fáda, and as the bright streaks of saffron spread in the east, heralding the sun’s coming, the massacre was awful.

“Spare the Mesállaje!” cried Zoraida, pointing to the square minaret that loomed dark against the grey of dawn. “Defile not the Great Mosque! The curse of the One of Might rest upon any who dare to enter the holy place with blood upon their hands!”

Quickly the order, shouted aloud, was passed from mouth to mouth, and a few moments later, Zoraida, as she rode swiftly past me, exclaimed—

“With the Mosque free from attack, thou wilt of a surety find theimamthou seekest. When it is time I will tell thee;” and away she galloped to where a large force of our people, climbing over the great heap of slain, were battering in the heavy gate of the Fáda, that for centuries had withstood all attack.

At last, by dint of supreme effort, the door was burst open, and with loud, victorious yells, there rushed into the first of the great courts a legion of ferocious brutes, who ruthlessly murdered those who stood in their path. Guards, servants, courtiers, and eunuchs were ferreted from their hiding-places and slaughtered with horrible ferocity, as, headed by Hadj Absalam under his green standard, the thieving hordes swept onward through the luxuriant palace to the Court of the Eunuchs, with which I was so familiar. Then, storming the three great doors of the Sultan’s harem, they at last gained that most luxuriant portion of the Fáda.

Zoraida drew back, as if fearing to enter, and for a few seconds stood beside me in the gateway trembling. Summoning courage at last, she allowed herself to be carried on over the bloodstained floors of polished sardonyx and agate into the great arcaded courts, with their columns of marble, plashing fountains, and cool palms. Huddled together in little groups stood the beautiful prisoners of the Sultan, with fear depicted on their handsome faces, as if they had received forewarning of their untimely end. Uttering fiendish yells, the flint-hearted Ennitra, intoxicated by success, bounded towards them, and the awful scenes of loot and massacre that ensued I will not attempt to describe. Suffice it to say that no mercy was shown even to the women. Their jewels were torn from them, fingers on which were valuable rings being unceremoniously hacked off, and their slim white throats and bare breasts were cut and slashed with hellish fiendishness. A few of the more beautiful were chosen by Hadj Absalam to grace his own harem, but the remainder were simply butchered with merciless ruthlessness, the jewels filched from them being flung unceremoniously into a great heap in the centre of the gorgeous Courts of Love, and over it a dozen of the outlaws mounted guard.

The massacre was sickening. Piercing screams of the women as they fell under the knives of their pitiless captors echoed along the great arcades, mingling with the jeers of the outlaws and the hoarse cries of the dying. Blood ran across the polished floors, and, trickling into the fountains, tinged their waters, the walls of marble were bespattered with it, and the once-beautiful Courts of Love were rendered hideous by their piles of mutilated corpses, and became a ghastly Inferno, to be remembered with a fearsome shudder until one’s dying day.

Horrified by the terrible sights I had witnessed, I endeavoured to draw back, but with loud shouts the crowd, excited to madness by their work of murder and pillage, made a sudden rush to the Sultan’s pavilion, and involuntarily I was carried onward.

“Seek Abd-el-Kerim!” they cried. “Kill him! kill him!” Through the harem-garden, along the edge of the great lake, and on into the Hall of the White Divan they pressed. On entering, we found under the great baldachin of silk and gold the young Sultan, with his Grand Vizier Mukhtar and Amagay, the chief of his eunuchs, on either side, standing erect, regarding our entrance with regal air and unflinching eye. He had drawn his scimitar and was prepared to defend himself.

“What meaneth this intrusion?” he cried, the fierce fire of anger in his face. “Verily hast thou rushed into the Wrath, and the blow of destruction shall descend upon thee!”

“Spare us!” cried Mukhtar, rushing forward, trembling, cringing coward that he was.

“We are thy slaves,” added Amagay, throwing away his sword. “Have mercy upon us! Take what thou mayest, but slay us not!”

The fierce, dishevelled band, heedless of all appeal, dashed onward, led by Hadj Absalam. A dozen men rushed forward to dispatch the Sultan, but the latter, wielding his jewelled scimitar, felled the first outlaw who approached, inflicting a mortal wound. Next moment, however, the youthful ruler of the Ahír, pulled unceremoniously off the divan, was struggling powerless in the hands of his ragged conquerors.

For his curses they cared naught, but at a signal from Hadj Absalam, who had in the meantime mounted to the deposed monarch’s place, Labakan stepped forward, armed with the executioner’s heavydoka, which he had just found while searching for plunder.

“Let him die!” exclaimed Hadj Absalam briefly.

“Ah! spare me, O conqueror!” gasped the unhappy youth. “It is written—it is written that the blessings of Allah rest upon the merciful! Spare me!”

But the Sultan, pale and haggard, was quickly forced to his knees upon the polished pavement before his own divan and held with his hands behind his back. Piteous were his appeals, but they softened not his captors’ murderous, sanguinolent hearts. The great diamond aigrette was ruthlessly torn from his turban and handed to the robber Sheikh, and then, as the men held him down firmly, Labakan stepped forward, and, swinging thedokawith both hands, smote off his head at a single blow.

The body, quickly despoiled of its jewels, was kicked aside into a corner, while the head, mounted on a spear, was sent forth into the city in order to strike awe into the hearts of those citizens who refused to submit to the conquerors.

Mukhtar and Amagay were also decapitated in like manner and without ceremony by the villainous Labakan, who, judging from the self-satisfied grin upon his sinister countenance, delighted in the gruesome duties of his self-assumed office. Once he glanced at me and smiled. Doubtless it would have afforded him considerable pleasure to strike off my head by the same means.

In their frenzied thirst for blood, many of my companions, rushing onward, pillaged the Sultan’s private apartments and the Treasury. Thence they went to the Hall of Audience.

Here a band of janissaries at first made a desperate stand, but they were eventually butchered, even to the last man.

Through the city wildly yelling bands of the Ennitra were rushing with fire and sword. The hours were spent by them in murder and pillage, in mutilation, in every conceivable kind of nameless atrocity. Into the houses they rushed, penetrating to the apartments of the women, murdering the occupants, and carrying off all that was valuable. Deeds of violence and lawlessness were committed with cruel brutality and heartlessness; women and children were slaughtered before the eyes of husbands and fathers, who in their turn were also murdered in cold blood. Many went down on their knees, supplicating with heads bent to the ground, crying for quarter, and in that attitude were butchered mercilessly by their conquerors. In the open space called the Azarmádarangh between four and five hundred young men and women had by noon been collected to be sold as slaves, and as each hour passed, others were added to the number. Some attempted to escape, and were shot down in consequence, but the majority gave themselves up to their fate, and squatted on the ground silent and morose. The women wept and wailed, but the men made no complaint. They had fought, Fortune had deserted them, and their Sultan’s head was being carried around Agadez to the monotonous thumping of the ancient Drum of Nâr. Upon the pinnacles and minarets the great vultures of dirty-greyish plumage with naked necks were awaiting impatiently the feast that the marauders had provided for them, and the captives, noticing them, regarded their presence as an omen that the power of the Sultans of the Ahír had been broken for ever.

In Abd-el-Kerim’s pavilion, where I remained, Hadj Absalam, with his banner planted over the great canopy, was seated upon the divan with Zoraida at his side. While the work of plunder was proceeding throughout the Fáda, the apartment was filled to overflowing by a crowd of the less excited of his bloodthirsty band. Labakan having taken his stand on the other side of the chieftain, resting upon his great bloodstained executioner’s sword, Hadj Absalam at length commenced an address to his people. But the latter, after he had uttered half a dozen sentences, mainly egotistical of his own prowess, refused him further hearing, crying—

“Let our Daughter of the Sun speak, O Mirror of Virtue! We trusted her and were not afraid. Let her have speech with us!”

“Speak then,” he said, annoyed, turning to Zoraida. “May the fear of thy Ruler lie upon thy lips.”

Casting a quick inquiring glance at him, she smiled pleasantly upon those around her, saying—

“Lo! thy Sheikh, thy Branch of Honour, hath led thee through these courts of the Fáda—wherefore dost thou not honour him?”

“It was thy voice alone that rallied us when we were failing, and guided us at the critical moment unto a victory great and glorious!” cried one of the warriors, a statement that was hailed with extreme approbation.

Gracefully she bowed in recognition of the compliment, saying, “What I have done hath been in accordance with the promise given unto me. Once again have I led thee to victory, though it be for the last time.”

A murmur of dissent went round, and a voice inquired the reason.

“Because,” she said,—“Because thou hast conquered the City of the Ahír, therefore thou hast no further need of my services—”

“I have. Thou shalt now become Pearl of my Harem!” Hadj Absalam interrupted, with a scowl of displeasure upon his furrowed face.

This declaration produced a sensation almost electrical, and it seemed that, even though the prospect might be distasteful to them, none dare challenge the autocrat. Zoraida, too, turned pale, clenched her tiny hands, and bit her lips to the blood.

“Brothers,” she gasped, her voice faltering, “I, Daughter of the Sun, am thy sister. Oft-times have I risked my life to ensure success in thy forays. Art thou still loyal unto me?”

“We are,” they answered, as with one voice.

“Then I fear not mine enemies,” she exclaimed, drawing herself up and flinging back her blood—besmirched silken robe with a defiant air. “To-day thou hast broken the power of a great Sultan and beheaded him; thou hast invested the palace that all thought impregnable; thou hast captured many slaves, and thou hast secured plunder almost as valuable as the Treasure of Askiá, which lieth hidden. I led thee hither, but the tenure of my leadership is at an end. Bow now unto the authority of thy Sheikh, and treat me only as one who hath rendered thee a service.”

“It is but fitting that, now we have conquered Agadez, thou shouldst become Malieah of the Ahír,” Hadj Absalam protested. “I appeal to thee, my people. Do I give voice unto thy wish?” The armed men looked at one another in hesitation. Then one, a big, hulking, half-witted fellow, stepped forward, and, turning back to his companions, exclaimed—

“Is not the beauty of our Daughter of the Sun known throughout the Great Desert; is she not our Lady of Wondrous Beauty, with whom none can compare? Did not the great Sultan, Mulai Hassan, of Fez, offer one hundred bags of gold for her? Why should she not grace our people by becoming the chief wife of our wise and just ruler? She would still retain her power to bring victory unto us, and would at the same time reflect upon us perpetually the light of her beauteous countenance.”

Labakan grinned. It was, I felt sure, one of his devilish schemes. “Are any of the houris whom thou hast spared in yonder harem half as beautiful as the Lalla Zoraida?” he asked. “Surely she with the loveliest face should become Queen?”

“Hearken unto me, O my brothers!” Zoraida cried anxiously. “Until this moment thou hast granted me freedom. It is a privilege that as long as I live I will not forego; if thou forcest upon me this marriage, remember that my self-sought death will fall upon thee as a curse, swift and terrible.”

“Thy beauty designateth thee as our Sultana!” they answered, influenced by the arguments of the wily Labakan and the others. “Thou must become Queen of the Courts of Love!”

“And is this—is this how thou repayest one who hath acted as a lamp in thy darkness; thy Lode Star that hath led thee unto prosperity?” she cried, with bitterness. “Of a truth herein thou showest—”

“Daughter, thou treatest the generous gift of thy Ruler with contempt,” Hadj Absalam roared in anger.

“I utter no contemptuous words,” she answered, resolutely calm. “Thou hast conceived a plan to marry me against my will, because of what thou art pleased to call my fair face. Verily, I tell thee that if thou attemptest to force thine hateful favours upon me, my knife here shall score mine own cheeks and render them hideous unto thy sight! Failing that, I—I will kill myself!”

“Bah!” cried the Sheikh, impatiently tugging at his beard. “Thou lovest the white-faced Roumi to whom we have given succour!”

“If he were killed, her objection would be removed,” observed Labakan, gesticulating with hands that were smeared and sticky with blood. His cool suggestion was received with mingled approbation and dissent.

“Wouldst thou murder one who hath proved himself thy firm friend?” Zoraida asked, her eye fixed upon the man who had already attempted to assassinate me. Shrugging his shoulders, he showed his even white teeth in a hideous grin, but made no reply.

“Vengeance cometh—vengeance just upon the faithless and those who betray their friends. Their couch shall be in hell!” she continued. “If thou forcest me to sacrifice my life, of a verity wilt thou deliver the Lie unto Truth, and bring upon thee ruin and shame abiding.Cama tafakal kathâlik tolâ ki!” (“Such as you will do, so will you find.”)

But the fierce, brutal murderers grouped around only laughed. Her strange power over them seemed to have suddenly vanished, for, with her uncovered face handsome in their eyes, there was, alas! a consensus of opinion that she should become the chief wife of their chieftain! What could I do to save her? Nothing. Glancing across at me with a look of mute appeal, she stood silent, her hand upon the hilt of her knife. She seemed deeply agitated, for though her lips moved, no sound escaped them.

Again the half-witted brute who had urged the desirability of the hateful union turned to his companions, asking: “Is it thy desire that the Daughter of the Sun should be exalted and become our Queen of Delights and the Light of our Darkness?”

“Thy words are truly words of wisdom!” his companions cried loudly, with only two or three dissentients. “Our Ruler must take her as his wife.”

The cruel face of Hadj Absalam broadened into a benign smile, while Labakan’s eyes glittered with murderous craftiness, as, with hands tightly clasped and tears upon her beautiful cheeks, Zoraida made a final desperate appeal—

“A moment ago didst thou vow loyalty unto me, my brothers. Yet even now wilt thou force me into a loveless union that is distasteful—that—that will cause me to seek death by mine own hand! If I have offended, cast me from thee, but wreck not my happiness by an odious marriage! Ever have I been unswervingly loyal unto thee, and He in whose hand is the Kingdom of all Things will assuredly be swift in punishing those who seek my self-destruction. Blessings are the lot of the pure and the merciful. Force this not upon me, O my brothers! Hear and grant this my most fervent supplication!”

There was silence. Fierce words in her defence were upon the tip of my tongue, but—fortunately perhaps—I managed to suppress them.

“It is to-day, peradventure, too early to carry out my generous proposal,” Hadj Absalam observed, utterly unmoved by her appeal. “In one moon shall I compel the Lalla Zoraida to become the Pearl of my Harem.”

“Thy will be accomplished, O Ruler of exalted merit,” they answered. But the woman I loved, hearing his decision, clasped her hands to her temples, murmuring in dismay, “One moon! One moon!” and, taking two or three quick, uneven steps, tottered forward and fell heavily upon her face ere a hand could be outstretched to save her.

A dozen men rushed forth, I among the number. Water was given her quickly, and in obedience to an order from the Sheikh she was carried away, helpless and unconscious, to one of the apartments in the great harem, which, alas! was now strewn with the corpses of its former luxury-loving inmates. I dared not follow, so remained, to hear my companions extolling the wisdom of Hadj Absalam’s brutal decision.

Nauseated by the hideous sights of blood that everywhere met my gaze as I wandered through the spacious courts so familiar to me, the afternoon passed heavily. None of my companions, save the wounded, sought their siesta; all were too absorbed in their work of plunder, bringing the treasure they discovered before the Sheikh, who remained seated beneath the royal canopy, so that he might inspect all that was found. Every hole and corner of the spacious Fáda was ransacked, and the pile of gold and silver vessels, jewels, ornaments, and pearl-embroidered robes swelled larger and larger, until it formed a heap that reached almost to the painted ceiling of the pavilion. Backwards and forwards I passed unnoticed, for all were now totally absorbed in their diligent search for articles of value. My only thought was of Zoraida. The decree of the cruel, heartless Sultan of the Sahara had gone forth, endorsed by the decision of the people, and to rescue her from becoming an inmate of the old brigand’s harem seemed an impossibility.

An hour after sundown, as I was wandering through the wrecked Court of the Eunuchs, revisiting the scene of those toilsome days of my slavery, a veiled woman approached. Drawing aside heradjar, the bright, smiling face of Halima was revealed. The women we had left outside the city prior to the attack had already arrived, for in a few brief words she told me that Zoraida had been placed under her care. Her mistress, who had recovered from her faint, had expressed a desire to see me immediately, therefore she had come in search of me.

“Enter the harem,” she said. “Walk down the arcade on the right until thou comest unto the third door. Push it open, and therein wilt thou find our Daughter of the Sun.”

I briefly thanked her, and, rearranging her veil, she strolled leisurely away to avoid arousing suspicion. Within ten minutes I was speeding along the arcade, gloomy in the darkening hour, and rendered ghastly by the presence of the mutilated dead. My heart beat as if it would burst its bonds. At the third door I halted, and, pushing it open, passed through a kind of vestibule into a small thickly-carpeted apartment, hung with rich silken hangings, and fragrant with sweet odours that rose from a gold perfuming-pan.

From her soft, luxuriant divan, Zoraida, still in her masculine dress, rose to meet me. She was pale, and her hand trembled, as for a few moments we remained clasped in affectionate embrace, while I kissed her in rapture, with many affectionate declarations of love.

“What must I do?” I asked breathless, at last. “How can I save thee?”

“By performing the mission thou hast promised,” she answered, the pressure of her hand tightening upon mine as she gazed into my eyes.

“That I will do most willingly,” I said.

“Then lo! here is the Crescent of Glorious Wonders,” she said, producing that mysterious object from between the cushions of her divan, “and here also is a letter to Mohammed ben Ishak. Deliver it, and learn the Secret. Then canst thou extricate me from the danger that threateneth.”

“But must I be absent from thee long?”

“I know not. Thy mission may perchance occupy thee many days.”

“And in the meantime thou mayest be forced to become the wife of that brute, Hadj Absalam!”

“Never!” she cried, setting her teeth. “I will kill myself!”

“Is it imperative that I should be absent from thy side in this the hour of thy peril?” I asked, placing my arm tenderly around her neck and drawing her closer towards me.

A flash of love-light gleamed on her sweet face.

“Yes. Seek theimamto-night, ere it be too late. Whatever he telleth thee, investigate at all cost. If thou art successful in obtaining a revelation of the Wondrous Mystery, assuredly thou wilt save me from a fate that I fear worse than the grave.”

“Trust me, O Zoraida!” I answered, kissing her fervently, as I took the Crescent and the scrap of paper, concealing them in my clothing. “On leaving thee, I will not halt until I have found the holy man, and have gained from him that knowledge which he alone can give. But what of thee? While I am absent, thou wilt be friendless!”

“Allah, the One Merciful, all things discerneth; to us shall it be as He willeth,” she said, slowly raising my hand and pressing my fingers to her lips.

“If thou art, alas! forced to become Queen of this kingdom of murderers! If thou art—”

“I am a follower of the Faith, and place my trust in the Uniter of the Lover and Beloved,” she interrupted softly, clasping me in her clinging arms. “By woman’s wit I may perchance escape the hateful doom that Hadj Absalam hath devised, under the advice of our enemy, Labakan; therefore let the burdens of my peril be uplifted from thine heart. Seek the director of those who tread the Path, and attend with faith and minuteness unto his instructions.”

“The thought that we may be for ever parted must fill me until my return,” I said. “But canst thou not fly with me, even now?”

“Alas! no,” she answered gloomily. “Escape ere thou hast fathomed the Great Mystery is impossible. I must abide in patience, overshadowed by deadly peril and the dread thought that we may never meet again. But”—and she hesitated—“tell me—answer me with thine own lips one question I would address unto thee.”

“What wouldst thou know?”

“Tell me,” she said, burying her head upon my breast—“Tell me if thou wilt forgive me for—for the awful massacre that hath to-day been committed?”

“Forgive thee!” I cried, my kisses warming her waxen hands. “Of course I do. Forced to occupy a strange position, thou canst not struggle against thy fate, therefore the horrible butchery is due to neither plot nor strategy of thine, but to the fierce avarice and brutal bloodthirstiness of those who now prove themselves thine enemies.”

“Ah! verily thou art generous!” she exclaimed, with tears in her luminous eyes, around which dark rings were showing. “The life of cities, as the life of men, is a vain and uncertain thing, and none knoweth the weal or ill thereof, and none knoweth the end or the way of the end, save only Allah. To thee I entrust my life. Go! seek the key to the Great Mystery, the knife by which my bonds can only be severed. I will fight to preserve mine honour until I die. I am thine until the heavens shall be cloven in sunder, and the stars shall be scattered. May Allah shadow thee in His shadow, and give unto thee strength to perform in faithfulness thy covenant! May He bless and preserve thee, and may He cause thee to drink from the cup of His Prophet, Mohammed, that pleasant draught, after which there is no thirst to all eternity! It is time, O Cecil! Go!”

“Farewell, my one beloved,” I said, with a lingering kiss, as her fair head still rested upon my breast. “May the One who sweepeth away darkness guard thee and disappoint not thine hopes! Verily will I set out upon this mission at once, for as steadfastly true thou art unto me, so am I unto thee.”

For a long time, as we stood in silence, I rained passionate kisses upon her lips, cold as marble. She trembled, fearing the worst, yet, gathering her strength in a supreme effort to preserve her self-control, she at last pushed me from her with gentle firmness, saying—

“Hasten! Night draweth quickly on, and thou hast but little time to spare. Hourly shall I think of thee until thou returnest with the glad tidings.Slama! Allah knoweth the innermost parts of the breasts of men. May His mercy and His bounteous blessing be upon thee!”

“Verily He is Praised and Mighty!” I responded. Then, with a long kiss of farewell, I breathed a few whispered words of passion into her ear, and, promising to return at the earliest moment, I released her supple form from my embrace, and, stumbling blindly out, left her standing, pale, friendless, and alone.

Devoutly-murmured words of a fervent prayer fell upon my ears as I turned from her presence, but I halted not, striding onward—onward in search of the knowledge and elucidation of the Great Mystery, onward to an unknown, undreamed-of bourne.

Chapter Thirty Nine.Mohammed Ben Ishak.That night, while the ferocious horde, half demented by delight, still continued their fell work of massacre and pillage, I slipped through the small arched gate into the courtyard of the Great Mosque.Outside, in the roadway, corpses thickly strewn showed how desperate had been the conflict. Bodies of men were lying about the streets in hundreds, perhaps thousands, for I could not count—some with not a limb unsevered, some with heads hacked and cross-cut and split lengthwise, some ripped up, not by chance, but with careful precision down and across, disembowelled and dismembered. Indeed, groups of prisoners, tied together with their hands behind their backs, had been riddled with bullets and then hewn in pieces. The sight was awful; but why repeat it in all its painful detail?The Ennitra had, however, faithfully obeyed Zoraida’s injunctions, and the sacred building remained deserted and untouched, although a guard was stationed at the gate to prevent any fugitive from seeking shelter there. In the lurid glare cast by the burning houses to which the firebrand had been applied, I saw how spacious was the open court. A great fountain of black marble, with ancient tiles of white and blue, plashed in the centre, inviting the Faithful to their Wodû; a vine, centuries old, spread its great branches overhead in a leafy canopy, shading worshippers from the sun’s scorching rays; while the stones, cracked and broken, the exquisitely dented horse-shoe arches, the battered walls of marble and onyx, all spoke mutely of the many generations who had performed their pious prostrations there. Like sentinels, fig and orange trees stood black against the fire-illumined sky, and as I halted for a moment, the tumult beyond the sacred precincts grew louder, as those whom I had been compelled to call “friends” spread destruction everywhere.The white façade of the majestic structure presented a most picturesque aspect, with its long arcade of many arches supported by magnificent pillars of marble, while above rose a handsome cupola, surmounted by its golden crescent and its high square minaret, bright with glazed tiles, whence themueddinhad for centuries charted his call to prayer.Kicking off my shoes at the great portal of porphyry, I was about to enter, when my eyes fell upon a stone above, whereon an Arabic inscription had been carved. Translated, it read as follows—“The virtues of this sanctuary spread themselves abroadLike the light of the morning, or the brilliancy of the stars.O ye who are afflicted with great evils, he who will cure them for youIs the son of science and profound nobility, ABDERRAHMAN.745 of Hedjira.” (A.D. 1353.)On entering, all seemed dark and desolate. At the far end of the spacious place a single lamp burned with dull, red glow, and as with bare feet I moved noiselessly over the priceless carpets, my eyes grew accustomed to the semi-obscurity, and I saw how magnificent was the architecture of the lofty interior. Three rows of horse-shoe arches, supported by curiously-hewn columns, divided it into three large halls, the roofs of which were of fine cedar, with wonderful designs and paintings still remaining. From the arches hung ostrich eggs in fringed nets of silk, the walls were covered with inscriptions and arabesques in wood and plaster, while marbles of divers colours formed a dado round the sanctuary, and the glare of fire outside sent bars of ruddy light, through the smallkamarîyas, or windows, placed high up and ornamented with little pieces of coloured glass. Lamps of enamelled glass, of jasper, of wrought silver and beaten gold hung everywhere, and the niche, ormirhâb, indicating the direction of Mecca, before which a solitary worshipper had prostrated himself, was adorned with beautiful mosaics of marble, porphyry, and mother-of-pearl, with sculptured miniature arcades in high relief, framed with a border of good words from the Korân.Astonished at the vast extent and imposing character of the building, I halted behind themimbar, or pulpit of theimam, and, gazing round upon the dimly-lit but magnificent interior, awaited in silence the termination of the single worshipper’s prayer. At last, as he rose, slowly lifting his hands aloft in final supplication, I saw he was one of thehezzabin. As he turned, I advanced, addressing him, saying—“May the peace of Allah, who taught the pen, rest upon thee, O Header of the Everlasting Will!”“And upon thee peace amid the tumult!” he answered.“I seek the Hadj Mohammed ben Ishak, director of the Faithful,” I said. “Canst thou direct me unto him?”But even as I spoke, the reader of the Korân had detected by my dress that I was one of the hated devastating band, and poured upon me a torrent of reproach and abuse for daring to defile the mosque by my presence. Assuring him that I had the best intentions, and showing him the scrap of paper Zoraida had given me, whereon theimam’sname was inscribed, I at length appeased him.“If thou desirest to convey unto the Hadj Mohammed the written message, I will take it,” he said reluctantly, at length convinced by the strenuous manner in which I urged the importance of my business with the head of the Mesállaje.“I am charged to deliver it only into the hands of theimamhimself,” I answered. “Wilt thou not lead me unto him, when I tell thee that the matter concerns the life of one who is his friend?”Still he hesitated; but further appeal moved him, and, ordering me to remain, he reluctantly passed through a small panelled door, inlaid with ivory and ebony, that led from thelîwân, or eastern recess, leaving me alone. Nearly ten anxious minutes went by ere he returned; then, without utterance, he motioned me to follow him. This I did with alacrity, passing through the door, so constructed as to be indistinguishable from the other panels which formed the dado in that portion of the sanctuary, and as it closed behind us noiselessly, I found myself in total darkness. There was a smell of mustiness and decay; but I was prepared for any adventure, for was I not seeking to obtain knowledge of a mysterious and extraordinary secret?“Let me guide thy footsteps,” muttered my companion, and, taking me by the arm, he led me along a narrow passage apparently running parallel with the sanctuary, and constructed in the width of its massive walls. Stumbling along for some distance, we at last turned sharply, where in a small niche there stood a lighted hand-lamp, so placed that its rays remained concealed. Taking it up, he held it before him, and by its yellow, uncertain glimmer we descended a long zig-zag flight of steep, broken steps, deep down into the earth. At the bottom he suddenly drew aside a heavy curtain that hung behind a low arch, and I found myself in a small subterranean chamber, dimly-lit by a brass hanging lamp.“Lo! the stranger entereth thy presence!” my guide exclaimed, withdrawing almost before my eyes could take in the details of my strange surroundings.“Mìn aine jûyi!” exclaimed a thin, weak voice, and I saw enshrined upon a divan on the opposite side of the apartment a venerable old man of stately presence, his long white beard and portly figure adding materially to the dignity of his bearing.Returning his greeting, I advanced, noting his thin face, parchment-like skin, and his wasted fingers grasping the black rosary that showed he had made the pilgrimage.“Know, O Director of those who follow the Right Way, that I bear unto thee a message from Zoraida, who is called the Daughter of the Sun!”“A message—at last!” he cried, removing his pipe in sudden surprise, as, struggling to his feet, he strode to the door, drew back the curtain, and looked up the stairs, to make certain that the reader of the Korân had actually departed. Quickly returning, with his wizened face full of agitation and his piercing coal-black eyes fixed upon me, he requested me to hand him the letter.Breaking the seal, he opened the crumpled but precious piece of paper and eagerly devoured the lines of Arabic. As he held it beneath the lamp, I caught a furtive glimpse of it. The scrawled lines had apparently been hastily penned, and beneath there was a dark oval blotch. Straining my eyes, I could just distinguish that it was the impression of a thumb that had been dipped in blood—a seal that could not be imitated!Without a word, the aged man crossed to an ancient cabinet, inlaid with ivory and silver forming texts from the Korân, and therefrom took a parchment. With trembling hands he unrolled it, and, bringing it to the light, compared it minutely with Zoraida’s letter. Upon the parchment was a similar impression, which apparently corresponded to his satisfaction with that on the paper I had brought.“So thou art the Roumi from beyond the sea upon whom our Lady of Beauty hath gazed with favour?” he exclaimed, turning and surveying me critically after he had carefully put away both documents.“I am, O Father,” I answered. “For many moons have I travelled to seek thee, but have been thwarted in all my efforts until this moment. I am bearer of a precious object, the secret of which thou alone knowest;” and from beneath my gandoura I drew forth the Crescent of Glorious Wonders.“Verily hast thou acted with faith and fearlessness,” he said, taking the piece of metal in his talon-like fingers and seeking the mystic inscription. “Undaunted, thou hast faced many perils in order to fulfil thine oath. Already the report of thy sufferings and thine hardships, and the attempts made upon thy life, hath been conveyed unto me. While thou wert a slave in the Fáda, I knew of thy bondage, and tried to reach and release thee, but without avail. To me the circumstances of the loss and extraordinary recovery of this strangely-shaped phylactery entrusted to thy keeping are no new thing, for while upon thy wanderings thou hast been watched by eyes unseen.”“Didst thou know that I was endeavouring to reach thee?” I asked, amazed. “How didst thou obtain thy knowledge?”“The Wearer of the Flower knoweth all things he desireth,” the agedimamanswered simply. But his words were full of meaning, for they implied that I had been watched by secret emissaries of the Senousya. Members of this secret brotherhood of Al-Islâm are initiated by the taking of a flower, of which there are fifteen, each being significant of a certain sect.When two Believers meet as strangers, one will say to the other, “What blossom wearest thou?” a question which is the “Who goes there?” of the affiliation. If the individual to whom the question is addressed has not been initiated into the Senousya, he will reply, “I am no Wearer of the Flower. I am simply the humble servant of Allah.”“The Wearers of the Flower are all-powerful,” I said.“Thou speakest the truth,” he answered; piously adding: “Of a surety will the Prophet send his liberator, who will drive the Infidel invaders into the sea. Then will True Believers rise in their millions, and the land of Al-Islâm will be delivered out of the hands of the oppressor. As the locusts devour all green things, so shall the Senousya smite and destroy the Infidels with a strength as irresistible as the falchion of Fate.”“I am one of thine oppressors,” I hazarded, smiling.“No. Thou, although a Roumi, art a respecter of our laws and a friend of our people. At what is written thou hast never scoffed, but hast sought to deliver the fairest woman of Al-Islâm from dangers that have beset her feet.”“Wherein lie those dangers?” I asked anxiously. “In vain have I tried to obtain explanation.”“Unto thee the truth will be revealed in due course. From her own lips wilt thou obtain knowledge,” he replied impressively. “Thou lovest her. Some day thou wilt tread the Right Path and believe in Allah, Lord of the Three Worlds. Then shalt thou marry her.”“She hath sent me unto thee because, in Algiers, the Secret of the Crescent was denied me,” I said.“Of that I am aware,” he exclaimed. “Already hast thou sought the Unknown and witnessed some of our marvels; but there are others more wondrous that must convince thee. Faith shutteth the seventy doors of evil, and giveth passage over Al-Sirât, the bridge, sharp as a sword and finer than a hair, that stretcheth between hell and Paradise.”“I have faith,” I said fervently, remembering the weird things Zoraida had shown me. “Thou knowest the Great Secret, and if thou art so inclined, canst impart unto me knowledge whereby I may rescue the woman I love.”The holy man asked me what peril appeared to surround Zoraida, and in reply I briefly described the scene that had been enacted in the Fáda that day, and told him of Hadj Absalam’s declaration of his intention to make her his wife. My words aroused within him the fiercest anger, and as he paced the apartment with feverish steps, he uttered terrible threats against the Sheikh of the despoilers.“Twice would the Sultan of the Sahara have taken my life, had not Zoraida saved me,” I pointed out.“Allah showeth mercy only to the merciful,” he observed, halting suddenly before me. “Cast thine eyes about thee here in Agadez, and gaze upon the frightful ruin wrought to-day by those hell-hounds. Verily are they the sons of Eblis, who walk in the darkness, and to whom all blessings are denied. May their vitals be burned with the fire unquenchable, and may their thirst be slaked with molten metal. Abuser of the salt, and unfaithful Wearer of the Flower, Hadj Absalam seeketh now to crown his many villainies by forcing the Lalla Zoraida, who is pure as the jasmine blossom, to become his wife!Hâsha! We shall see! We shall see!”“She telleth me that I can save her if I discover the Great Secret,” I said, with anxious impatience.“Thou hast not been initiated into the Senousya, neither art thou a True Believer; nevertheless, thou hast kept thy word even at risk of thine own life,” he exclaimed, reflectively twisting his rosary between his thin, nervous fingers. The thought of Zoraida’s peril seemed to have completely unnerved him.“Hither have I journeyed from Algiers on purpose to seek explanation of thee,” I urged. “Think! the liberty, nay, the life, of one who is as innocent as she is fair is at stake. If thou refusest, I can do nothing. She will become the wife of a man whose fiendish brutality is a by-word and a reproach to the Moslem world. Is it surprising that she hath decided to take her life rather than fall into his polluted hands? Consider, O Reciter of the Prayers—thou who teachest goodwill towards men—reveal unto me, I beseech thee, that which is hidden and the elucidation of which can alone secure the safety of my betrothed.”“But thou art not a True Believer,” he protested, shaking his head gravely. “How dare I invoke the Wrath by revealing unto thee the Great Secret, with which I alone of men have been entrusted?”“Wilt thou not—for Zoraida’s sake?” I urged again, growing alarmed at his increasing inclination to preserve the mystery.“Within this steel there lieth hidden a secret which none know,” he said, again examining the Crescent carefully. “Through ages hath it been passed from hand to hand, experiencing many vicissitudes, stranger even than the tales of the story-tellers, or the romances of the Thousand and One Nights, yet its true power hath remained hidden from its various owners, and its secret influence is to all undreamed of.”“How can its power avert Zoraida’s peril and give unto her peace?” I inquired anxiously.“I know not. Peradventure there are minor secrets connected with it of which even I am in ignorance. Yet assuredly must a man believe that there is no God but Allah ere he can rest beneath the tree called Tûba (the tree of happiness), or dwell within the Jannat al Naïm.” (The garden of pleasure.)“Though an Infidel, I respect thy belief profoundly,” I said, endeavouring to break down the barrier of his fanatical prejudice. “That I have never reproached a True Believer, impugned his devoutness, or ridiculed that which thou boldest sacred, thou hast already acknowledged. Indeed, I follow many of thy beliefs, and acknowledge the truth of the declaration of thy Khalîf Omar ebn Abd’alaziz, that prayer carrieth us half-way to Allah, fasting bringeth us to the door of His palace, and alms procureth us admission. But not as one who respecteth and honoureth thy people of Al-Islâm seek I the elucidation of the Great Mystery; it is in order that the life of the Lalla Zoraida may be spared, and that she and I may at last become united in wedlock.”The patriarchal head of the oldimamwas bent as he mumbled over his rosary. The words I uttered were intensely in earnest, for Zoraida’s final appeal still rang in my ears, and I knew that I had but one short month in which to rescue her from the clutches of the inhuman brute who would snatch her from me for ever.“Believe,” he urged at last. “Turn not to folly, but learn thou the truth, and live in piety; for verily I tell thee that the Holy War is near at hand. Then all of us,—with the exception of the Ennitra, who are the thrice-cursed sons of Eblis,—laying aside all fear and dread, will, guided by the Giver of Strength, strive with one accord against the enemies of the Faith; for Allah the Comforter knoweth that if any man die, he dieth for the truth of the Faith, for the salvation of his land, for the protection of the tombs and holy cities, and the defence of the Belief. Therefore shall he obtain of Him the bounteous reward in the Jannat al Ferdaws, peopled by the beautiful Hûr al oyûn, that He alone can give.”“I believe in the marvels I have already witnessed,” I answered. “I am convinced that thou canst reveal unto me means by which I can release the woman I love from the harem of villainy, ere it be too late. Has she not in her letter requested thee to afford me explanation, in order that I may gain the knowledge for our mutual advantage?”He hesitated. With his dark, gleaming eyes fixed steadfastly upon me, he remained motionless in deep reflection.“Darest thou leave this City of the Doomed to go forth in search of what may appear unto thee but the merest phantom?” he asked slowly.“Zoraida is in deadliest peril,” I urged. “Would my absence be of long duration?”“I cannot answer. Thou art young and reckless. With a stout heart thou mightest obtain knowledge of the truth within short space.”“But within one moon, Zoraida—with whom no woman of Al-Islâm can compare—will be imprisoned in the harem of the conqueror, and she will be irretrievably lost to me!” I urged.He shrugged his shoulders. “Art thou still undaunted?” he asked. “Art thou still prepared to continue thine efforts to effect her rescue?”“I am, O Father,” I answered fervently. “Tell me, I beseech thee, how to act.”“The medium through which thou canst alone seek to elucidate the Great Mystery hath been hidden from man through many ages,” he said in a strange, croaking voice, handling the Crescent of Glorious Wonders as tenderly as if it were a child. “This ancient talisman, which bringeth good fortune and victory to its possessor, containeth a property which is unknown to the wise men of our generation, though when Cleopatra reigned in Egypt the hidden force was well known and freely utilised. To the True Believer this Crescent giveth valour and power over his enemies, besides averting the evil eye, like the hand of Fathma; but profaned by the touch of the Roumi, it assuredly bringeth ruin, disaster, and death. Over our Lalla Zoraida there hangeth a fate that is worse than death, yet that can be averted, provided thou canst fathom that which the wise of successive ages have attempted and failed. She now chargeth me to impart to thee the key of the Wondrous Marvel, the Secret entrusted unto me alone. Verily I declare unto thee, only the deadly peril of the fair woman thou lovest causeth me to unloose my tongue’s strings—only the imminent likelihood of her abandonment to that fiend in man’s shape induceth me to withdraw the veil.”“Before thee I stand prepared to attempt any task that hath for its reward her escape from the power of the brigand,” I said.“Until now thine heart hath not failed thee. Despair not, for peradventure thou mayest crush those who, while calling themselves her friends, nevertheless seek her destruction,” he said encouragingly, stroking his white beard in thought.“Guide thou my footsteps, O director of men, and I will speed upon the path that leadeth unto truth,” I said.“So be it,” he answered, after a pause, waving his thin hand. “Be not sceptical of what strange things thou mayest witness; only believe, and the Way may be opened up unto thee.” His small jet-black eyes glittered with a brilliant fire unnatural to one so old, as, placing both his hands upon a portion of the dark wall, he pushed it, revealing a door constructed by a section of the wall itself being made to revolve upon a pivot. Then, pointing to the cavernous darkness beyond, he said in a commanding tone, “Come, follow me!”Excited at the prospect of ascertaining at last the Great Secret so long promised, I obeyed instantly, and when a few seconds later the piece of the wall slowly swung back into its place, closing with a clang which made it clear that it was of iron painted to resemble stone, I found myself in another passage. The brass lamp, which he had detached from its chain, revealed that the strange corridor was carpeted and hung with rich fabrics, and as we proceeded along, the close air seemed heavy with a sweet, fragrant perfume.“Fearest thou Azraïl?” he suddenly asked in a deep, mysterious voice, halting for a moment to gaze into my anxious eyes, as if to detect any sign of faltering.“All men who have dear ones upon earth live in terror of the eternal parting,” I said. “Azraïl, inexorable conqueror of the mighty, causeth even Sultans to crave mercy on bended knee. Truly he is the Terrible!”My aged companion grunted, apparently satisfied with my reply to his abrupt question, for he moved along noiselessly over the thick carpets, and I followed, wondering whither he was leading me, and puzzled over the sentences he continued to mumble to himself over and over again: “The gainsaying of the unbelievers ceaseth not. The two-edged sword is already whetted. Verily shall they writhe their mouths, for their iniquities shall eat away their tongues like a corrosive acid.” When we had walked along the curious subway for some distance, we came to a flight of spiral stairs so narrow as to admit of only one person at a time. My guide commenced to ascend, and I followed, filled with curiosity. Upward he went, without a pause, and with footsteps so agile that I was at length compelled to halt to regain breath. He smiled disdainfully at my fatigue, but waited a few moments; then on again he went, higher and still higher, until I felt convinced that we had ascended to the level of the earth. This suspicion was soon afterwards confirmed, for we came to a small door, the heavy latch of which he lifted, and on opening it, I was surprised to find myself in the open space before the palace, at a considerable distance from the courtyard by which I had entered. Gazing round upon the roaring flames that seemed to leap up in every direction, casting a lurid light that revealed the hideousness of the piles of dead about us, and cast long, grotesque shadows over the wide roadway, the oldimamdrew his haick closer to conceal his features, and in a hoarse voice said—“Come, let us quicken our footsteps, so that thou mayest bear witness, ere it be too late.”

That night, while the ferocious horde, half demented by delight, still continued their fell work of massacre and pillage, I slipped through the small arched gate into the courtyard of the Great Mosque.

Outside, in the roadway, corpses thickly strewn showed how desperate had been the conflict. Bodies of men were lying about the streets in hundreds, perhaps thousands, for I could not count—some with not a limb unsevered, some with heads hacked and cross-cut and split lengthwise, some ripped up, not by chance, but with careful precision down and across, disembowelled and dismembered. Indeed, groups of prisoners, tied together with their hands behind their backs, had been riddled with bullets and then hewn in pieces. The sight was awful; but why repeat it in all its painful detail?

The Ennitra had, however, faithfully obeyed Zoraida’s injunctions, and the sacred building remained deserted and untouched, although a guard was stationed at the gate to prevent any fugitive from seeking shelter there. In the lurid glare cast by the burning houses to which the firebrand had been applied, I saw how spacious was the open court. A great fountain of black marble, with ancient tiles of white and blue, plashed in the centre, inviting the Faithful to their Wodû; a vine, centuries old, spread its great branches overhead in a leafy canopy, shading worshippers from the sun’s scorching rays; while the stones, cracked and broken, the exquisitely dented horse-shoe arches, the battered walls of marble and onyx, all spoke mutely of the many generations who had performed their pious prostrations there. Like sentinels, fig and orange trees stood black against the fire-illumined sky, and as I halted for a moment, the tumult beyond the sacred precincts grew louder, as those whom I had been compelled to call “friends” spread destruction everywhere.

The white façade of the majestic structure presented a most picturesque aspect, with its long arcade of many arches supported by magnificent pillars of marble, while above rose a handsome cupola, surmounted by its golden crescent and its high square minaret, bright with glazed tiles, whence themueddinhad for centuries charted his call to prayer.

Kicking off my shoes at the great portal of porphyry, I was about to enter, when my eyes fell upon a stone above, whereon an Arabic inscription had been carved. Translated, it read as follows—

“The virtues of this sanctuary spread themselves abroadLike the light of the morning, or the brilliancy of the stars.O ye who are afflicted with great evils, he who will cure them for youIs the son of science and profound nobility, ABDERRAHMAN.745 of Hedjira.” (A.D. 1353.)

“The virtues of this sanctuary spread themselves abroadLike the light of the morning, or the brilliancy of the stars.O ye who are afflicted with great evils, he who will cure them for youIs the son of science and profound nobility, ABDERRAHMAN.745 of Hedjira.” (A.D. 1353.)

On entering, all seemed dark and desolate. At the far end of the spacious place a single lamp burned with dull, red glow, and as with bare feet I moved noiselessly over the priceless carpets, my eyes grew accustomed to the semi-obscurity, and I saw how magnificent was the architecture of the lofty interior. Three rows of horse-shoe arches, supported by curiously-hewn columns, divided it into three large halls, the roofs of which were of fine cedar, with wonderful designs and paintings still remaining. From the arches hung ostrich eggs in fringed nets of silk, the walls were covered with inscriptions and arabesques in wood and plaster, while marbles of divers colours formed a dado round the sanctuary, and the glare of fire outside sent bars of ruddy light, through the smallkamarîyas, or windows, placed high up and ornamented with little pieces of coloured glass. Lamps of enamelled glass, of jasper, of wrought silver and beaten gold hung everywhere, and the niche, ormirhâb, indicating the direction of Mecca, before which a solitary worshipper had prostrated himself, was adorned with beautiful mosaics of marble, porphyry, and mother-of-pearl, with sculptured miniature arcades in high relief, framed with a border of good words from the Korân.

Astonished at the vast extent and imposing character of the building, I halted behind themimbar, or pulpit of theimam, and, gazing round upon the dimly-lit but magnificent interior, awaited in silence the termination of the single worshipper’s prayer. At last, as he rose, slowly lifting his hands aloft in final supplication, I saw he was one of thehezzabin. As he turned, I advanced, addressing him, saying—

“May the peace of Allah, who taught the pen, rest upon thee, O Header of the Everlasting Will!”

“And upon thee peace amid the tumult!” he answered.

“I seek the Hadj Mohammed ben Ishak, director of the Faithful,” I said. “Canst thou direct me unto him?”

But even as I spoke, the reader of the Korân had detected by my dress that I was one of the hated devastating band, and poured upon me a torrent of reproach and abuse for daring to defile the mosque by my presence. Assuring him that I had the best intentions, and showing him the scrap of paper Zoraida had given me, whereon theimam’sname was inscribed, I at length appeased him.

“If thou desirest to convey unto the Hadj Mohammed the written message, I will take it,” he said reluctantly, at length convinced by the strenuous manner in which I urged the importance of my business with the head of the Mesállaje.

“I am charged to deliver it only into the hands of theimamhimself,” I answered. “Wilt thou not lead me unto him, when I tell thee that the matter concerns the life of one who is his friend?”

Still he hesitated; but further appeal moved him, and, ordering me to remain, he reluctantly passed through a small panelled door, inlaid with ivory and ebony, that led from thelîwân, or eastern recess, leaving me alone. Nearly ten anxious minutes went by ere he returned; then, without utterance, he motioned me to follow him. This I did with alacrity, passing through the door, so constructed as to be indistinguishable from the other panels which formed the dado in that portion of the sanctuary, and as it closed behind us noiselessly, I found myself in total darkness. There was a smell of mustiness and decay; but I was prepared for any adventure, for was I not seeking to obtain knowledge of a mysterious and extraordinary secret?

“Let me guide thy footsteps,” muttered my companion, and, taking me by the arm, he led me along a narrow passage apparently running parallel with the sanctuary, and constructed in the width of its massive walls. Stumbling along for some distance, we at last turned sharply, where in a small niche there stood a lighted hand-lamp, so placed that its rays remained concealed. Taking it up, he held it before him, and by its yellow, uncertain glimmer we descended a long zig-zag flight of steep, broken steps, deep down into the earth. At the bottom he suddenly drew aside a heavy curtain that hung behind a low arch, and I found myself in a small subterranean chamber, dimly-lit by a brass hanging lamp.

“Lo! the stranger entereth thy presence!” my guide exclaimed, withdrawing almost before my eyes could take in the details of my strange surroundings.

“Mìn aine jûyi!” exclaimed a thin, weak voice, and I saw enshrined upon a divan on the opposite side of the apartment a venerable old man of stately presence, his long white beard and portly figure adding materially to the dignity of his bearing.

Returning his greeting, I advanced, noting his thin face, parchment-like skin, and his wasted fingers grasping the black rosary that showed he had made the pilgrimage.

“Know, O Director of those who follow the Right Way, that I bear unto thee a message from Zoraida, who is called the Daughter of the Sun!”

“A message—at last!” he cried, removing his pipe in sudden surprise, as, struggling to his feet, he strode to the door, drew back the curtain, and looked up the stairs, to make certain that the reader of the Korân had actually departed. Quickly returning, with his wizened face full of agitation and his piercing coal-black eyes fixed upon me, he requested me to hand him the letter.

Breaking the seal, he opened the crumpled but precious piece of paper and eagerly devoured the lines of Arabic. As he held it beneath the lamp, I caught a furtive glimpse of it. The scrawled lines had apparently been hastily penned, and beneath there was a dark oval blotch. Straining my eyes, I could just distinguish that it was the impression of a thumb that had been dipped in blood—a seal that could not be imitated!

Without a word, the aged man crossed to an ancient cabinet, inlaid with ivory and silver forming texts from the Korân, and therefrom took a parchment. With trembling hands he unrolled it, and, bringing it to the light, compared it minutely with Zoraida’s letter. Upon the parchment was a similar impression, which apparently corresponded to his satisfaction with that on the paper I had brought.

“So thou art the Roumi from beyond the sea upon whom our Lady of Beauty hath gazed with favour?” he exclaimed, turning and surveying me critically after he had carefully put away both documents.

“I am, O Father,” I answered. “For many moons have I travelled to seek thee, but have been thwarted in all my efforts until this moment. I am bearer of a precious object, the secret of which thou alone knowest;” and from beneath my gandoura I drew forth the Crescent of Glorious Wonders.

“Verily hast thou acted with faith and fearlessness,” he said, taking the piece of metal in his talon-like fingers and seeking the mystic inscription. “Undaunted, thou hast faced many perils in order to fulfil thine oath. Already the report of thy sufferings and thine hardships, and the attempts made upon thy life, hath been conveyed unto me. While thou wert a slave in the Fáda, I knew of thy bondage, and tried to reach and release thee, but without avail. To me the circumstances of the loss and extraordinary recovery of this strangely-shaped phylactery entrusted to thy keeping are no new thing, for while upon thy wanderings thou hast been watched by eyes unseen.”

“Didst thou know that I was endeavouring to reach thee?” I asked, amazed. “How didst thou obtain thy knowledge?”

“The Wearer of the Flower knoweth all things he desireth,” the agedimamanswered simply. But his words were full of meaning, for they implied that I had been watched by secret emissaries of the Senousya. Members of this secret brotherhood of Al-Islâm are initiated by the taking of a flower, of which there are fifteen, each being significant of a certain sect.

When two Believers meet as strangers, one will say to the other, “What blossom wearest thou?” a question which is the “Who goes there?” of the affiliation. If the individual to whom the question is addressed has not been initiated into the Senousya, he will reply, “I am no Wearer of the Flower. I am simply the humble servant of Allah.”

“The Wearers of the Flower are all-powerful,” I said.

“Thou speakest the truth,” he answered; piously adding: “Of a surety will the Prophet send his liberator, who will drive the Infidel invaders into the sea. Then will True Believers rise in their millions, and the land of Al-Islâm will be delivered out of the hands of the oppressor. As the locusts devour all green things, so shall the Senousya smite and destroy the Infidels with a strength as irresistible as the falchion of Fate.”

“I am one of thine oppressors,” I hazarded, smiling.

“No. Thou, although a Roumi, art a respecter of our laws and a friend of our people. At what is written thou hast never scoffed, but hast sought to deliver the fairest woman of Al-Islâm from dangers that have beset her feet.”

“Wherein lie those dangers?” I asked anxiously. “In vain have I tried to obtain explanation.”

“Unto thee the truth will be revealed in due course. From her own lips wilt thou obtain knowledge,” he replied impressively. “Thou lovest her. Some day thou wilt tread the Right Path and believe in Allah, Lord of the Three Worlds. Then shalt thou marry her.”

“She hath sent me unto thee because, in Algiers, the Secret of the Crescent was denied me,” I said.

“Of that I am aware,” he exclaimed. “Already hast thou sought the Unknown and witnessed some of our marvels; but there are others more wondrous that must convince thee. Faith shutteth the seventy doors of evil, and giveth passage over Al-Sirât, the bridge, sharp as a sword and finer than a hair, that stretcheth between hell and Paradise.”

“I have faith,” I said fervently, remembering the weird things Zoraida had shown me. “Thou knowest the Great Secret, and if thou art so inclined, canst impart unto me knowledge whereby I may rescue the woman I love.”

The holy man asked me what peril appeared to surround Zoraida, and in reply I briefly described the scene that had been enacted in the Fáda that day, and told him of Hadj Absalam’s declaration of his intention to make her his wife. My words aroused within him the fiercest anger, and as he paced the apartment with feverish steps, he uttered terrible threats against the Sheikh of the despoilers.

“Twice would the Sultan of the Sahara have taken my life, had not Zoraida saved me,” I pointed out.

“Allah showeth mercy only to the merciful,” he observed, halting suddenly before me. “Cast thine eyes about thee here in Agadez, and gaze upon the frightful ruin wrought to-day by those hell-hounds. Verily are they the sons of Eblis, who walk in the darkness, and to whom all blessings are denied. May their vitals be burned with the fire unquenchable, and may their thirst be slaked with molten metal. Abuser of the salt, and unfaithful Wearer of the Flower, Hadj Absalam seeketh now to crown his many villainies by forcing the Lalla Zoraida, who is pure as the jasmine blossom, to become his wife!Hâsha! We shall see! We shall see!”

“She telleth me that I can save her if I discover the Great Secret,” I said, with anxious impatience.

“Thou hast not been initiated into the Senousya, neither art thou a True Believer; nevertheless, thou hast kept thy word even at risk of thine own life,” he exclaimed, reflectively twisting his rosary between his thin, nervous fingers. The thought of Zoraida’s peril seemed to have completely unnerved him.

“Hither have I journeyed from Algiers on purpose to seek explanation of thee,” I urged. “Think! the liberty, nay, the life, of one who is as innocent as she is fair is at stake. If thou refusest, I can do nothing. She will become the wife of a man whose fiendish brutality is a by-word and a reproach to the Moslem world. Is it surprising that she hath decided to take her life rather than fall into his polluted hands? Consider, O Reciter of the Prayers—thou who teachest goodwill towards men—reveal unto me, I beseech thee, that which is hidden and the elucidation of which can alone secure the safety of my betrothed.”

“But thou art not a True Believer,” he protested, shaking his head gravely. “How dare I invoke the Wrath by revealing unto thee the Great Secret, with which I alone of men have been entrusted?”

“Wilt thou not—for Zoraida’s sake?” I urged again, growing alarmed at his increasing inclination to preserve the mystery.

“Within this steel there lieth hidden a secret which none know,” he said, again examining the Crescent carefully. “Through ages hath it been passed from hand to hand, experiencing many vicissitudes, stranger even than the tales of the story-tellers, or the romances of the Thousand and One Nights, yet its true power hath remained hidden from its various owners, and its secret influence is to all undreamed of.”

“How can its power avert Zoraida’s peril and give unto her peace?” I inquired anxiously.

“I know not. Peradventure there are minor secrets connected with it of which even I am in ignorance. Yet assuredly must a man believe that there is no God but Allah ere he can rest beneath the tree called Tûba (the tree of happiness), or dwell within the Jannat al Naïm.” (The garden of pleasure.)

“Though an Infidel, I respect thy belief profoundly,” I said, endeavouring to break down the barrier of his fanatical prejudice. “That I have never reproached a True Believer, impugned his devoutness, or ridiculed that which thou boldest sacred, thou hast already acknowledged. Indeed, I follow many of thy beliefs, and acknowledge the truth of the declaration of thy Khalîf Omar ebn Abd’alaziz, that prayer carrieth us half-way to Allah, fasting bringeth us to the door of His palace, and alms procureth us admission. But not as one who respecteth and honoureth thy people of Al-Islâm seek I the elucidation of the Great Mystery; it is in order that the life of the Lalla Zoraida may be spared, and that she and I may at last become united in wedlock.”

The patriarchal head of the oldimamwas bent as he mumbled over his rosary. The words I uttered were intensely in earnest, for Zoraida’s final appeal still rang in my ears, and I knew that I had but one short month in which to rescue her from the clutches of the inhuman brute who would snatch her from me for ever.

“Believe,” he urged at last. “Turn not to folly, but learn thou the truth, and live in piety; for verily I tell thee that the Holy War is near at hand. Then all of us,—with the exception of the Ennitra, who are the thrice-cursed sons of Eblis,—laying aside all fear and dread, will, guided by the Giver of Strength, strive with one accord against the enemies of the Faith; for Allah the Comforter knoweth that if any man die, he dieth for the truth of the Faith, for the salvation of his land, for the protection of the tombs and holy cities, and the defence of the Belief. Therefore shall he obtain of Him the bounteous reward in the Jannat al Ferdaws, peopled by the beautiful Hûr al oyûn, that He alone can give.”

“I believe in the marvels I have already witnessed,” I answered. “I am convinced that thou canst reveal unto me means by which I can release the woman I love from the harem of villainy, ere it be too late. Has she not in her letter requested thee to afford me explanation, in order that I may gain the knowledge for our mutual advantage?”

He hesitated. With his dark, gleaming eyes fixed steadfastly upon me, he remained motionless in deep reflection.

“Darest thou leave this City of the Doomed to go forth in search of what may appear unto thee but the merest phantom?” he asked slowly.

“Zoraida is in deadliest peril,” I urged. “Would my absence be of long duration?”

“I cannot answer. Thou art young and reckless. With a stout heart thou mightest obtain knowledge of the truth within short space.”

“But within one moon, Zoraida—with whom no woman of Al-Islâm can compare—will be imprisoned in the harem of the conqueror, and she will be irretrievably lost to me!” I urged.

He shrugged his shoulders. “Art thou still undaunted?” he asked. “Art thou still prepared to continue thine efforts to effect her rescue?”

“I am, O Father,” I answered fervently. “Tell me, I beseech thee, how to act.”

“The medium through which thou canst alone seek to elucidate the Great Mystery hath been hidden from man through many ages,” he said in a strange, croaking voice, handling the Crescent of Glorious Wonders as tenderly as if it were a child. “This ancient talisman, which bringeth good fortune and victory to its possessor, containeth a property which is unknown to the wise men of our generation, though when Cleopatra reigned in Egypt the hidden force was well known and freely utilised. To the True Believer this Crescent giveth valour and power over his enemies, besides averting the evil eye, like the hand of Fathma; but profaned by the touch of the Roumi, it assuredly bringeth ruin, disaster, and death. Over our Lalla Zoraida there hangeth a fate that is worse than death, yet that can be averted, provided thou canst fathom that which the wise of successive ages have attempted and failed. She now chargeth me to impart to thee the key of the Wondrous Marvel, the Secret entrusted unto me alone. Verily I declare unto thee, only the deadly peril of the fair woman thou lovest causeth me to unloose my tongue’s strings—only the imminent likelihood of her abandonment to that fiend in man’s shape induceth me to withdraw the veil.”

“Before thee I stand prepared to attempt any task that hath for its reward her escape from the power of the brigand,” I said.

“Until now thine heart hath not failed thee. Despair not, for peradventure thou mayest crush those who, while calling themselves her friends, nevertheless seek her destruction,” he said encouragingly, stroking his white beard in thought.

“Guide thou my footsteps, O director of men, and I will speed upon the path that leadeth unto truth,” I said.

“So be it,” he answered, after a pause, waving his thin hand. “Be not sceptical of what strange things thou mayest witness; only believe, and the Way may be opened up unto thee.” His small jet-black eyes glittered with a brilliant fire unnatural to one so old, as, placing both his hands upon a portion of the dark wall, he pushed it, revealing a door constructed by a section of the wall itself being made to revolve upon a pivot. Then, pointing to the cavernous darkness beyond, he said in a commanding tone, “Come, follow me!”

Excited at the prospect of ascertaining at last the Great Secret so long promised, I obeyed instantly, and when a few seconds later the piece of the wall slowly swung back into its place, closing with a clang which made it clear that it was of iron painted to resemble stone, I found myself in another passage. The brass lamp, which he had detached from its chain, revealed that the strange corridor was carpeted and hung with rich fabrics, and as we proceeded along, the close air seemed heavy with a sweet, fragrant perfume.

“Fearest thou Azraïl?” he suddenly asked in a deep, mysterious voice, halting for a moment to gaze into my anxious eyes, as if to detect any sign of faltering.

“All men who have dear ones upon earth live in terror of the eternal parting,” I said. “Azraïl, inexorable conqueror of the mighty, causeth even Sultans to crave mercy on bended knee. Truly he is the Terrible!”

My aged companion grunted, apparently satisfied with my reply to his abrupt question, for he moved along noiselessly over the thick carpets, and I followed, wondering whither he was leading me, and puzzled over the sentences he continued to mumble to himself over and over again: “The gainsaying of the unbelievers ceaseth not. The two-edged sword is already whetted. Verily shall they writhe their mouths, for their iniquities shall eat away their tongues like a corrosive acid.” When we had walked along the curious subway for some distance, we came to a flight of spiral stairs so narrow as to admit of only one person at a time. My guide commenced to ascend, and I followed, filled with curiosity. Upward he went, without a pause, and with footsteps so agile that I was at length compelled to halt to regain breath. He smiled disdainfully at my fatigue, but waited a few moments; then on again he went, higher and still higher, until I felt convinced that we had ascended to the level of the earth. This suspicion was soon afterwards confirmed, for we came to a small door, the heavy latch of which he lifted, and on opening it, I was surprised to find myself in the open space before the palace, at a considerable distance from the courtyard by which I had entered. Gazing round upon the roaring flames that seemed to leap up in every direction, casting a lurid light that revealed the hideousness of the piles of dead about us, and cast long, grotesque shadows over the wide roadway, the oldimamdrew his haick closer to conceal his features, and in a hoarse voice said—

“Come, let us quicken our footsteps, so that thou mayest bear witness, ere it be too late.”

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