Chapter Twenty Three.The Treasure of Askiá.Brief were the moments allowed me for lamentation over my irreparable loss. Amid the wild scenes of carnage the thief had disappeared, and though I just caught a glimpse of his profile, his features had been partially hidden by the haick surrounding his face, and in the dark shadow it was impossible to distinguish his countenance sufficiently to again recognise him. Had my treasure consisted of gold or gems there would have been some ground for hoping for its eventual recovery, but a mere piece of rusted metal, apparently valueless, would doubtless be quickly cast aside. Even now—even while I stood helpless in the hands of my captors—it might have been already tossed away into the rank vegetation of the oasis; it might be lying hidden and unheeded within a few yards of me! Yet so tightly was I bound hand and foot, that the cords cut into my flesh each time I attempted to move. While three tall fierce men of the Fadê, armed to the teeth and as sinister-looking a trio as ever it had been my lot to meet, mounted guard over me, others were with scant mercy securing those of my companions who had survived the sudden ferocious attack, while the remainder of the band gleefully investigated the contents of our camels’ packs, replacing them upon the animals ready for transportation to their own region.Those of the captured caravan who struggled to get free were shown no quarter. One of my whilom friends, a fine, stalwart fellow, held fast by several of the hostile band quite close to me, fought desperately to rescue a woman of his tribe who was being brutally cuffed by two hulking fellows. For a few seconds he struck right and left, felling one of the men who held him, but ere he could rush forward to protect the defenceless female, a quick knife-thrust caused him to stagger and fall.“Cowards!” he gasped in his death-agony. “May Allah curse thee and thy sons’ sons! Thou canst not fight fairly! Thou canst only strike by stealth, and make war on women. May thy bodies moulder and drop limb from limb; may the flames of the Land of Torments devour thee; may thine accursed dust be scattered afar by the sirocco, and may thy souls descend into Hâwiyat.”“Silence! Wouldst thou, son of a dog! speak thus insolently unto thy masters?” cried the dark-faced brute who had dealt the cowardly blow. “Go thou to join the Companions of the Left Hand, and may torments ever rack thee in the fire unquenchable! Take that—and that!” and, bending, he raised his hand swiftly, burying his long dagger twice in the prostrate man’s breast.One agonised groan and the unfortunate Arab rolled over a corpse. The murderer’s companions laughed heartily.Scenes of relentless butchery such as these were occurring on every hand. Our fierce captors were merciless; their hatred deadly. A word was quickly followed by a cruel, unerring blow that either maimed or proved fatal. A wounded slave is only an encumbrance, therefore, in almost every instance, when an enemy’s knife struck, it entered a vital part. The horrors of that night were sickening, the bloodshed truly awful. Men, women, even children were slaughtered out of the mere fiendish delight felt by the victors in causing agony to their vanquished foe, and passive and appalled I stood in the grip of my enemies, wondering vaguely how soon I too should share the same fate as those whose horrible death I was being compelled to witness.The sun had already risen an hour when my captors lifted me upon a horse, securing my feet so that I could not dismount, and soon afterwards we moved away, an armed man riding on either side of each prisoner. From the first it occurred to me that only by affecting the religion of Islâm could I escape death, therefore from that moment I spoke only Arabic, declaring myself a native of Mequinez and a True Believer. My accent in speaking Arabic and the whiteness of my skin my captors attributed to my Moorish parentage, and, judging from the manner in which the sinister-faced Sheikh of the slave-raiders inspected me, I was considered a valuable prize.Leaving the palms, we struck due south through a great clump of batum trees into the barren, inhospitable region of the Admar, the desert that has never been explored by Europeans, and which is still a blank upon the maps. On setting out we travelled quickly, perhaps owing to the great dreariness of the country and the impulse of the camel-drivers and their beasts to get to their homes. Gradually, however, the day grew very hot and uncomfortable, a stifling west wind scattering the sand of the dunes into our faces and totally obscuring the way. Keeping along the valley, wild and desolate, sometimes nearly a mile wide, we had on our left a broad mount, rising first with gradual ascent, but in its upper part forming a steep and lofty wall which the two men guarding me called El Khaddamiyeh. Passing along a small defile and crossing another valley, which my captors called the Tanarh, we once more gained the great open desert of ever-shifting sand.“Once I crossed this plain alone in face of the sirocco,” observed one of the men guarding me to his companion. “I would not attempt it again for all the Treasure of Askiá.”The Arab addressed grunted, but made no reply, and there was a long silence.“What is the treasure of which thou hast spoken?” I asked, interested, after a pause. “I come from the north, and have never heard of it.”The dark-faced warrior of the Fadê, giving me a quick glance, asked—“Art thou ignorant of our great forefather Askiá?”“None knoweth his fame in Morocco,” I replied. “Was he a man of power?”“While he lived he was the Most Mighty of the Sahara. If thou hast never heard of the Great Sultan who was so wealthy that he preferred to wear a crown of iron to a diadem of gold, I will render thee explanation:— Hadj Mohammed Askiá, the most powerful of the Sónghay conquerors, lived in the year of the Hedjira 311, or a thousand years ago, and was a just but warlike ruler. His wrath was feared from Gógo even unto Mourzouk, and those who disobeyed him were put to the sword relentlessly. Having by constant battle extended his kingdom so as to include the regions now known as Kátsena and Kanó, he two years later led an expedition against the Sultan of Agadez. After a siege lasting nearly six moons, the Sultan of the Ahír was killed, and the City of the Sorcerers fell and was looted, together with the dead Sultan’s palace and the houses of many rich merchants who dwelt near. Soon afterwards, however, the vengeance of Allah, the Omniscient, descended upon the conquerors, for the city was smitten by a terrible plague of bloodsuckers the length of the little finger-joint, and Askiá’s people, panic-stricken, deserted their ruler and fled. Askiá, gathering together the whole of the plunder he had secured, amounting to an enormous quantity, packed it upon a number of camels, and with four faithful followers set out at night secretly for his own stronghold far away at Gógo.”“A caravan worth plundering,” I observed, smiling.“Yes,” he replied, with a broad grin. “But, strangely enough, no reliable facts ever came to light regarding the Great Sultan’s subsequent movements. With his camels, his followers, and his gold and gems, he set out into the desert and disappeared. Alas! woe succeedeth woe, as wave a wave. Some declare that he went to Egypt and again became a ruler among men, but we of the Fadê believe that the Great Treasure was buried. The story-tellers relate that Askiá, having travelled for one whole moon from Agadez, found himself still in the desert, with both food and water exhausted. He and his companions were lying on the sand dying, when there appeared in the heavens a mirage of green fields, in which a Christian in a white robe was standing. The visitant addressed the great chieftain, telling him that the only manner in which to save his life and those of his followers, was to abandon his treasure, upon which there lay a curse, and travel straight in the direction of the rising sun. Askiá promised, but instead of abandoning his wealth he buried it, and then started off, as directed, in search of the oasis. Still within sight of the spot where the treasure had been hidden the travellers were so jaded that they were compelled to halt for the night, and during the darkness, it occurred to the Sultan that his four men, knowing the spot, would in all probability return before him, seize the gold, and carry it off. Therefore, in order to preserve the secret, he rose, and with his scimitar slew those who had been true to him. Then a curse again fell swiftly upon the Mighty Potentate, for ere dawn appeared he too had succumbed, and the knowledge of the place where the treasure lieth buried thus became lost for ever.”“And has no one been able to discover its position?”“No,” he replied. “The gold and gems of fabulous worth remain still hidden.”As prisoner in the hands of the Kel-Fadê I was guarded carefully, together with my companions in adversity, during the four weeks we were journeying in the wild sandy regions of the Great Sahara. Our taskmasters took a brutal delight in keeping us without water as long as possible, and the awful agonies of thirst I endured in those blazing days while crossing the Admar will ever be vivid in my memory. Cuffed, beaten, and half-starved, we were dragged onward over the hot dusty plains towards the town of Assiou, situate on the direct caravan route from Mourzouk to Agadez. It was a source of some satisfaction to know that my captors were taking me towards my goal, yet my perilous position seemed utterly hopeless, for I had lost the Crescent of Glorious Wonders, and been robbed of everything I possessed, with the exception of Zoraida’s letter to theimam, which, for safety, I had concealed in the rope of camel’s hair I wore twisted around my head.Before we had been a week on our journey, two of Mákita’s men, exhausted by the barbarous treatment they had received at the hands of their conquerors, sank, and were left behind upon the sand to die. Treated like cattle, and compelled to bear the blows of our inhuman masters, we received only dates with a little kousskouss, just sufficient to keep us alive, and any who grumbled were secured by a rope to one of the camels and made to trudge over the stony wilderness until he or she sank from sheer exhaustion. On three occasions was this terrible punishment administered, and each time the unfortunate prisoner, when overcome by heat and fatigue, was left a prey to the huge grey vultures who, expecting carrion, followed us with ominous persistency.A fortnight after our annihilation, we passed through the great valley of the Anahet, a sorry band of smileless captives, each apprehensive of his doom, and after halting for two days under the palms of Azatteli, where there was a rich supply of herbage, principally of the kind calledbu rékkebah, and ofel hád, the camels’ dainty, we resumed our journey into a waterless region resembling a sea of bare rocks with patches of sand, until we reached the Marárraba, a great heap of stones which marks the boundary line between the countries of Rhât and Aïr, close to which we halted, apparently in order to await another caravan. This spot is held in religious awe by the Kel-Fadê, who each placed a stone upon the gigantic heap of granite blocks.For several days we remained there. One afternoon the male prisoners were assisting the women, who had been set by their captors to grind the corn. Our taskmasters guarded their tents, keeping them hard at work with lash or bastinado, and while the encampment was hushed in its siesta, I was roughly awakened from a doze by the villainous old Sheikh of the Kel-Fadê, who, finding me stretched upon the sand, in the shadow of one of the tents, after some fatiguing work I had just completed, administered a vigorous kick, the effects of which I felt for some days.“Rise! son of a dog! Hasten, or thy movements shall be quickened in a manner thou wilt not like.”As I scrambled to my feet, rubbing my eyes, he commanded me to follow him to his tent, and after he had settled himself upon his divan, together with two of his chief men, he subjected me to a severe cross-examination as to my past, and my capabilities.When I had related to him a long imaginary account of my career in Morocco, and entertained him with an exciting story, he suddenly asked—“What trade hast thou followed?”“I was ahodja(letter-writer) in Mequinez, and afterwards in Algiers,” I replied.“Then thou shalt write me a letter,” he said, and, ordering an ink-horn and writing materials to be brought, he dictated a message regarding some merchandise. When I had finished, he inspected it, while I stood by in trepidation, fearing lest he should detect the many mistakes I had made in tracing the Arabic characters. Evidently, however, he could not read, though he made a pretence of doing so, for he expressed complete satisfaction by a sharp grunt, and a deep pull at his pipe.“Art thou a musician?” he inquired presently.“I can play thekanoonand theguenibri” I answered, and in a few moments one of the strange-looking two-stringed Arab instruments, fashioned from the shell of a tortoise, covered with skin, was handed to me. As it happened, I had long ago learned to manipulate the strings of theguenibri, and at once gave the old Sheikh an illustration of my talent for native music.“Good,” he said at last. “Thou art a musician. I must consider what I shall do with thee. Leave now and return to thy slumbers, for thou wilt not always be enabled to take thine ease in the shadow.”The men squatting on either side of their chieftain grinned at their lord’s witticism, and as I turned wearily away, I wondered what fortune the next turn of the kaleidoscope of life would bring to me.Yet I cared little. I had, alas! lost my mystic talisman, and with it had disappeared all hope of securing the hand of my peerless Queen of the Desert.
Brief were the moments allowed me for lamentation over my irreparable loss. Amid the wild scenes of carnage the thief had disappeared, and though I just caught a glimpse of his profile, his features had been partially hidden by the haick surrounding his face, and in the dark shadow it was impossible to distinguish his countenance sufficiently to again recognise him. Had my treasure consisted of gold or gems there would have been some ground for hoping for its eventual recovery, but a mere piece of rusted metal, apparently valueless, would doubtless be quickly cast aside. Even now—even while I stood helpless in the hands of my captors—it might have been already tossed away into the rank vegetation of the oasis; it might be lying hidden and unheeded within a few yards of me! Yet so tightly was I bound hand and foot, that the cords cut into my flesh each time I attempted to move. While three tall fierce men of the Fadê, armed to the teeth and as sinister-looking a trio as ever it had been my lot to meet, mounted guard over me, others were with scant mercy securing those of my companions who had survived the sudden ferocious attack, while the remainder of the band gleefully investigated the contents of our camels’ packs, replacing them upon the animals ready for transportation to their own region.
Those of the captured caravan who struggled to get free were shown no quarter. One of my whilom friends, a fine, stalwart fellow, held fast by several of the hostile band quite close to me, fought desperately to rescue a woman of his tribe who was being brutally cuffed by two hulking fellows. For a few seconds he struck right and left, felling one of the men who held him, but ere he could rush forward to protect the defenceless female, a quick knife-thrust caused him to stagger and fall.
“Cowards!” he gasped in his death-agony. “May Allah curse thee and thy sons’ sons! Thou canst not fight fairly! Thou canst only strike by stealth, and make war on women. May thy bodies moulder and drop limb from limb; may the flames of the Land of Torments devour thee; may thine accursed dust be scattered afar by the sirocco, and may thy souls descend into Hâwiyat.”
“Silence! Wouldst thou, son of a dog! speak thus insolently unto thy masters?” cried the dark-faced brute who had dealt the cowardly blow. “Go thou to join the Companions of the Left Hand, and may torments ever rack thee in the fire unquenchable! Take that—and that!” and, bending, he raised his hand swiftly, burying his long dagger twice in the prostrate man’s breast.
One agonised groan and the unfortunate Arab rolled over a corpse. The murderer’s companions laughed heartily.
Scenes of relentless butchery such as these were occurring on every hand. Our fierce captors were merciless; their hatred deadly. A word was quickly followed by a cruel, unerring blow that either maimed or proved fatal. A wounded slave is only an encumbrance, therefore, in almost every instance, when an enemy’s knife struck, it entered a vital part. The horrors of that night were sickening, the bloodshed truly awful. Men, women, even children were slaughtered out of the mere fiendish delight felt by the victors in causing agony to their vanquished foe, and passive and appalled I stood in the grip of my enemies, wondering vaguely how soon I too should share the same fate as those whose horrible death I was being compelled to witness.
The sun had already risen an hour when my captors lifted me upon a horse, securing my feet so that I could not dismount, and soon afterwards we moved away, an armed man riding on either side of each prisoner. From the first it occurred to me that only by affecting the religion of Islâm could I escape death, therefore from that moment I spoke only Arabic, declaring myself a native of Mequinez and a True Believer. My accent in speaking Arabic and the whiteness of my skin my captors attributed to my Moorish parentage, and, judging from the manner in which the sinister-faced Sheikh of the slave-raiders inspected me, I was considered a valuable prize.
Leaving the palms, we struck due south through a great clump of batum trees into the barren, inhospitable region of the Admar, the desert that has never been explored by Europeans, and which is still a blank upon the maps. On setting out we travelled quickly, perhaps owing to the great dreariness of the country and the impulse of the camel-drivers and their beasts to get to their homes. Gradually, however, the day grew very hot and uncomfortable, a stifling west wind scattering the sand of the dunes into our faces and totally obscuring the way. Keeping along the valley, wild and desolate, sometimes nearly a mile wide, we had on our left a broad mount, rising first with gradual ascent, but in its upper part forming a steep and lofty wall which the two men guarding me called El Khaddamiyeh. Passing along a small defile and crossing another valley, which my captors called the Tanarh, we once more gained the great open desert of ever-shifting sand.
“Once I crossed this plain alone in face of the sirocco,” observed one of the men guarding me to his companion. “I would not attempt it again for all the Treasure of Askiá.”
The Arab addressed grunted, but made no reply, and there was a long silence.
“What is the treasure of which thou hast spoken?” I asked, interested, after a pause. “I come from the north, and have never heard of it.”
The dark-faced warrior of the Fadê, giving me a quick glance, asked—
“Art thou ignorant of our great forefather Askiá?”
“None knoweth his fame in Morocco,” I replied. “Was he a man of power?”
“While he lived he was the Most Mighty of the Sahara. If thou hast never heard of the Great Sultan who was so wealthy that he preferred to wear a crown of iron to a diadem of gold, I will render thee explanation:— Hadj Mohammed Askiá, the most powerful of the Sónghay conquerors, lived in the year of the Hedjira 311, or a thousand years ago, and was a just but warlike ruler. His wrath was feared from Gógo even unto Mourzouk, and those who disobeyed him were put to the sword relentlessly. Having by constant battle extended his kingdom so as to include the regions now known as Kátsena and Kanó, he two years later led an expedition against the Sultan of Agadez. After a siege lasting nearly six moons, the Sultan of the Ahír was killed, and the City of the Sorcerers fell and was looted, together with the dead Sultan’s palace and the houses of many rich merchants who dwelt near. Soon afterwards, however, the vengeance of Allah, the Omniscient, descended upon the conquerors, for the city was smitten by a terrible plague of bloodsuckers the length of the little finger-joint, and Askiá’s people, panic-stricken, deserted their ruler and fled. Askiá, gathering together the whole of the plunder he had secured, amounting to an enormous quantity, packed it upon a number of camels, and with four faithful followers set out at night secretly for his own stronghold far away at Gógo.”
“A caravan worth plundering,” I observed, smiling.
“Yes,” he replied, with a broad grin. “But, strangely enough, no reliable facts ever came to light regarding the Great Sultan’s subsequent movements. With his camels, his followers, and his gold and gems, he set out into the desert and disappeared. Alas! woe succeedeth woe, as wave a wave. Some declare that he went to Egypt and again became a ruler among men, but we of the Fadê believe that the Great Treasure was buried. The story-tellers relate that Askiá, having travelled for one whole moon from Agadez, found himself still in the desert, with both food and water exhausted. He and his companions were lying on the sand dying, when there appeared in the heavens a mirage of green fields, in which a Christian in a white robe was standing. The visitant addressed the great chieftain, telling him that the only manner in which to save his life and those of his followers, was to abandon his treasure, upon which there lay a curse, and travel straight in the direction of the rising sun. Askiá promised, but instead of abandoning his wealth he buried it, and then started off, as directed, in search of the oasis. Still within sight of the spot where the treasure had been hidden the travellers were so jaded that they were compelled to halt for the night, and during the darkness, it occurred to the Sultan that his four men, knowing the spot, would in all probability return before him, seize the gold, and carry it off. Therefore, in order to preserve the secret, he rose, and with his scimitar slew those who had been true to him. Then a curse again fell swiftly upon the Mighty Potentate, for ere dawn appeared he too had succumbed, and the knowledge of the place where the treasure lieth buried thus became lost for ever.”
“And has no one been able to discover its position?”
“No,” he replied. “The gold and gems of fabulous worth remain still hidden.”
As prisoner in the hands of the Kel-Fadê I was guarded carefully, together with my companions in adversity, during the four weeks we were journeying in the wild sandy regions of the Great Sahara. Our taskmasters took a brutal delight in keeping us without water as long as possible, and the awful agonies of thirst I endured in those blazing days while crossing the Admar will ever be vivid in my memory. Cuffed, beaten, and half-starved, we were dragged onward over the hot dusty plains towards the town of Assiou, situate on the direct caravan route from Mourzouk to Agadez. It was a source of some satisfaction to know that my captors were taking me towards my goal, yet my perilous position seemed utterly hopeless, for I had lost the Crescent of Glorious Wonders, and been robbed of everything I possessed, with the exception of Zoraida’s letter to theimam, which, for safety, I had concealed in the rope of camel’s hair I wore twisted around my head.
Before we had been a week on our journey, two of Mákita’s men, exhausted by the barbarous treatment they had received at the hands of their conquerors, sank, and were left behind upon the sand to die. Treated like cattle, and compelled to bear the blows of our inhuman masters, we received only dates with a little kousskouss, just sufficient to keep us alive, and any who grumbled were secured by a rope to one of the camels and made to trudge over the stony wilderness until he or she sank from sheer exhaustion. On three occasions was this terrible punishment administered, and each time the unfortunate prisoner, when overcome by heat and fatigue, was left a prey to the huge grey vultures who, expecting carrion, followed us with ominous persistency.
A fortnight after our annihilation, we passed through the great valley of the Anahet, a sorry band of smileless captives, each apprehensive of his doom, and after halting for two days under the palms of Azatteli, where there was a rich supply of herbage, principally of the kind calledbu rékkebah, and ofel hád, the camels’ dainty, we resumed our journey into a waterless region resembling a sea of bare rocks with patches of sand, until we reached the Marárraba, a great heap of stones which marks the boundary line between the countries of Rhât and Aïr, close to which we halted, apparently in order to await another caravan. This spot is held in religious awe by the Kel-Fadê, who each placed a stone upon the gigantic heap of granite blocks.
For several days we remained there. One afternoon the male prisoners were assisting the women, who had been set by their captors to grind the corn. Our taskmasters guarded their tents, keeping them hard at work with lash or bastinado, and while the encampment was hushed in its siesta, I was roughly awakened from a doze by the villainous old Sheikh of the Kel-Fadê, who, finding me stretched upon the sand, in the shadow of one of the tents, after some fatiguing work I had just completed, administered a vigorous kick, the effects of which I felt for some days.
“Rise! son of a dog! Hasten, or thy movements shall be quickened in a manner thou wilt not like.”
As I scrambled to my feet, rubbing my eyes, he commanded me to follow him to his tent, and after he had settled himself upon his divan, together with two of his chief men, he subjected me to a severe cross-examination as to my past, and my capabilities.
When I had related to him a long imaginary account of my career in Morocco, and entertained him with an exciting story, he suddenly asked—
“What trade hast thou followed?”
“I was ahodja(letter-writer) in Mequinez, and afterwards in Algiers,” I replied.
“Then thou shalt write me a letter,” he said, and, ordering an ink-horn and writing materials to be brought, he dictated a message regarding some merchandise. When I had finished, he inspected it, while I stood by in trepidation, fearing lest he should detect the many mistakes I had made in tracing the Arabic characters. Evidently, however, he could not read, though he made a pretence of doing so, for he expressed complete satisfaction by a sharp grunt, and a deep pull at his pipe.
“Art thou a musician?” he inquired presently.
“I can play thekanoonand theguenibri” I answered, and in a few moments one of the strange-looking two-stringed Arab instruments, fashioned from the shell of a tortoise, covered with skin, was handed to me. As it happened, I had long ago learned to manipulate the strings of theguenibri, and at once gave the old Sheikh an illustration of my talent for native music.
“Good,” he said at last. “Thou art a musician. I must consider what I shall do with thee. Leave now and return to thy slumbers, for thou wilt not always be enabled to take thine ease in the shadow.”
The men squatting on either side of their chieftain grinned at their lord’s witticism, and as I turned wearily away, I wondered what fortune the next turn of the kaleidoscope of life would bring to me.
Yet I cared little. I had, alas! lost my mystic talisman, and with it had disappeared all hope of securing the hand of my peerless Queen of the Desert.
Chapter Twenty Four.Slave of the Sultan.To describe our dreary journey through the barren unknown desert at greater detail would serve no purpose. The way lay mainly over a gigantic plain interspersed by small sand-hills and naked ledges of rock, speckled with ethel bushes half overwhelmed by sand. For days there seemed not a breath of air, and the desolate monotony was terribly exhausting. Now and then we came upon wells with herbage and a few sebót and talha trees, but the long stretches of sand within sight of Mount Azben were frightfully fatiguing for man and beast, the ground at all times being either gravelly, rocky, or strewn with loose pebbles.Arriving at length at Assiou, a small town in an oasis on that great arid plateau called the Tahassaza, the centre of an important caravan trade, my male companions and myself were very soon led into the market-place, a square open space, and under the arches of the low whitewashed colonnade we were allowed to lounge and wait. At last we knew the worst. We were to be sold into slavery!The place was agog with caravans arriving and departing, and on all hands men and women, mostly negroes and negresses from the Soudan, were being sold after long and loud haggling. Many, too, were the silent bargains effected by pairs of traders standing quiet and immovable in the middle of the noisy, bustling, pushing crowd, each with a hand under his neighbour’s burnouse, and grasping his arm as if engaged in feeling the other’s pulse. They were making use of the conventional signs, consisting of certain pressures of the finger and knuckle joints, each having a recognised value and significance, and by employing them they were effecting business without attracting the notice of the gaping onlookers, who would listen and offer their advice.Among the human wares for disposal were many young Arabs of the Kel-Tin-Alkoun, the Iguedhadh, and other tribes who were weaker than their neighbours, together with some comely women, the latter creating the keenest competition among the dealers. Those who were fat enough to fulfil the Arab standard of beauty were being sold for large sums, while the more slim were disposed of to the highest bidder.Buyers and sellers were squatting together in little groups, sipping coffee, eating melons, and smoking cigarettes while they gossiped, and as money passed from hand to hand, husbands were torn for ever from their wives, and children gazed for the last time upon their parents. This market of human flesh, which the strenuous efforts of the French and British Governments have failed to suppress, was indeed revolting, yet the scenes were not so heartrending as might have been imagined, for the majority of the women, when they were unveiled for inspection, evinced pleasure at the prospect of a new lord, while the men, finding themselves in the hands of their enemies, squatted in melancholy silence, utterly regardless of their fate.For me escape was hopeless. Fully a dozen well-to-do Arabs had viewed me, each being urged by the Sheikh of the Kel-Fadê, who acted as showman and extolled my virtues, to purchase me. He described me as a Moorish letter-writer, musician, and man of wisdom, but the price he required appeared quite prohibitive, until a splendidly-dressed Arab, evidently of the wealthier class, made a close examination of me. In compliance with his request, I played a tune on theguenibri, and after nearly half an hour’s bargaining, I at last saw the Sheikh accept a bag of gold; and then the man in aheláiburnouse and ornamented Ghadámsi shoes coolly informed me that I must in future consider myself the property of His Majesty the Sultan of Agadez.For the moment my delight was unbounded. I was going, after all, to Agadez! But courage failed me when I recollected that I was a slave, and that the Crescent of Glorious Wonders had been filched from me and was utterly lost.Three weeks after I had been purchased by the agent of the potentate, I found myself a prisoner in the great irregularly-built Fáda, or palace, of His Majesty Hámed e’ Rufäy, the mighty Sultan of the Ahír. I was one of the slaves of Amagay, His Majesty’s chief eunuch, my duties being to burnish the arms of the ever-vigilant guardians of the Sultan’s harem, and, when required, to discourse music for the delectation of the Grand Vizier Mukhtar, President of the Divan, and his suite. The great palace, situated on the outskirts of the town though within the walls, covered an enormous area, and was a kingdom within itself. Like a fortress enclosed by grim massive walls were beautiful gardens, spacious courtyards with fountains and cool arcades, and in these sumptuous buildings there dwelt the officers of state; while, in the inner court, to which none had access save the eunuchs and the Sultan himself, was situated the royal harem. Outside the one entrance to this, the most private portion of the luxurious Fáda, was a smaller court devoted to the eunuchs and their slaves, while the single passage communicating was closed by three iron doors, at which gigantic negroes fully armed stood on guard night and day. To obtain admission to the Court of the Eunuchs no fewer than five gates had to be passed, each with three doors, whereat stood janissaries—whose lawless and powerful prototypes beside the Bosphorus are historical—barring with gleaming scimitars the passage of the would-be adventurer. Each court, with its massive, frowning walls, was a colony in itself, preserving its own individuality, its inhabitants never mixing or passing into the forbidden domains of its neighbours. Thus the great gilded palace was a prison to its inmates, except the royal princes and the officials of His Majesty; and the janissaries had no dealings with the eunuchs, nor did the officials of the Sultan’s Great Court of Audience fraternise with those of His Majesty’s private apartments.This luxurious city within a city, housing nearly seventeen hundred persons, was magnificent in its proportions, for as one entered court after court towards the quarters of the women, the appointments grew richer and more costly, until, in the Hall of the Eunuchs, the ceilings were of sky-blue with stars of gold, the floors of polished marble, the walls adorned by delicate frescoes and arabesques, and the slender columns of rare marble supporting the horse-shoe arches were carved with exquisite taste and glistened with gold. Indeed, the great palace was a maze of buildings, courts, gardens, and spacious halls, in which, however, the autocratic ruler was rarely seen. He mostly spent his time in his own apartments adjoining the Hall of the Eunuchs, and was only seen to his scheming and intriguingentouragewhen seated on the Great White Divan. Before him every member of the household quaked with fear, for he was a man whose displeasure meant death, whose smile bestowed wealth and luxury, whose harsh word brought upon the hapless victim of his displeasure the bastinado and disgrace, or whose commendation made him chief among men. He was ruled by harem influence; indeed, the doves of the gilded prison held in their hands men’s lives and fortunes. A whispered word in the ear of their lord would cause a courtier’s head to fall under the executioner’s sword, or a soft caress secure his appointment to high official position, with fat emoluments. Through every court, from the fierce guardians of the outer gate to the innermost quadrangle where beautiful houris lolled among their silken cushions around a fountain of fragrant perfume, dark plots were constantly being hatched and carried out. Men and women almost daily fell victims of the jealousy, hatred, or avarice of their fellows, and life was indeed insecure in aménagewhere the unheeded handmaiden of to-day might be the all-powerful Sultana of to-morrow; where the Grand Vizier might be decapitated by the negro executioner within an hour, and the meanest slave of the Fáda appointed vizier of the Ahír in his stead; or where the Pearl of the Harem who had displeased her cruel, fickle master by some petty shortcoming, might have a silken cord slipped over her white neck by the brutal Chief of the Eunuchs, die of strangulation, and her body be given to the vultures without knowledge of her fault.A remnant of the autocratic sway of Turkey which still holds Tripoli under its rule, the Sultan was himself “the State.” His so-called ministers were simply the favourites of the hour. Justice was bought and sold. Every office was directly or indirectly purchased, small remuneration or none at all being paid, the holders recouping themselves by plunder and oppression, tempered by the fact that at any moment they might be forced to disgorge by the Sultan, left to rot in loathsome dungeons, or be beaten or tortured to death.Amid these strange surroundings I lived and toiled. By day, in the little niche in the massive wall of the Court of the Eunuchs that was assigned to me, I burnished the scimitars, scabbards, knives, and steel girdles of the custodians of the harem. At night, when the stars shone above the open court, and the breeze stirred the leaves of the trailing vines, I would take myguenibriand, in obedience to the order of my taskmasters, pass into the hall of the Grand Vizier, and while that high official lounged upon his divan surrounded by his officers, I, with three other musicians, would squat at the corners of the mat spread before him, and play accompaniments to the dancing of his female slaves. To the monotonous thumping of the tom-tom, the mournful note of theguenibri, and the clashing of cymbals, the women barefooted performed slow Eastern dances, scarcely moving their feet, yet gracefully swaying their bodies, and whirling scimitars above their heads in a manner that was marvellous, or with wild abandon they would trip a kind of Spanish dance with the tambourine.Week after week, surrounded by the dazzling splendour of the gorgeous palace, I led a weary life of abject slavery. Ill-treated and cuffed by the stern black taskmaster whose duty it was to see that I performed the work allotted to me, I felt many times inclined to regard escape as utterly hopeless. While on my way to the palace, I caught sight of the Mesállaje, the principal mosque with its great square minaret, and though I had still retained Zoraida’s letter to Hadj Mohammed ben Ishak, the chiefimam, I had no means of presenting it. Nevertheless, buoyed constantly by expectation, I worked on, seeking as far as possible to obtain the good graces of my fierce Soudanese slave-master, and never ceasing in my endeavours to devise some scheme by which I might obtain freedom.One evening, when I had been toiling throughout the day burnishing some accoutrements that were rusty until my arms pained me, my taskmaster brought information that His Excellency the Grand Vizier would require no music that night; therefore, remaining in my little den near the gate of the harem that served as workshop and living-room, I took my ease. I must have slept, for I was awakened by the stern voice of one of the eunuchs saying—“Quick! take this, clean it and return it to me. I will wait.”He handed me a long, keen scimitar, the blade of which was wet with blood!It was night. All was quiet. The courts, so full of colour and animation during the day, were hushed in silence, for the huge palace seemed asleep. Above, bright points of light shone, but there was no moon, and the Court of the Eunuchs was in darkness, save where over the gate of the harem a great swinging lamp of brass shed a yellow uncertain light upon the tall statuesque guards. Without questioning the man, I quickly washed his sword, cleaned it with cloths, and re-polished it with my stone. Then, with muttered thanks, he replaced it in its scabbard, and, stalking towards the harem, passed through the heavy iron doors and disappeared.A bloody drama had been enacted! Another secret tragedy had occurred within those grim, massive walls that concealed the gorgeous Courts of Love!Even as I gazed wonderingly at the great arched doorway through which so many hundreds of women had passed never to return alive, its iron portals again opened, and there appeared four black eunuchs, gaily attired in bright blue and gold, bearing upon a board some long object covered with a black cloth, from beneath which bright silks and filmy gauzes showed. Silently they marched onward close to where I stood, and as they passed, I saw a woman’s bare white arm hanging underneath the sable pall. It swung limp and helpless as the men strode through the court with their burden, and when they had gone, there remained on the still night air a subtle breath of attar of rose.The pretty head of one of the Pearls of the Harem had been struck off by order of Hámed e’ Rufäy—the iron will of the great Sultan, Ruler of the Ahír and Defender of the Faith, had been obeyed!
To describe our dreary journey through the barren unknown desert at greater detail would serve no purpose. The way lay mainly over a gigantic plain interspersed by small sand-hills and naked ledges of rock, speckled with ethel bushes half overwhelmed by sand. For days there seemed not a breath of air, and the desolate monotony was terribly exhausting. Now and then we came upon wells with herbage and a few sebót and talha trees, but the long stretches of sand within sight of Mount Azben were frightfully fatiguing for man and beast, the ground at all times being either gravelly, rocky, or strewn with loose pebbles.
Arriving at length at Assiou, a small town in an oasis on that great arid plateau called the Tahassaza, the centre of an important caravan trade, my male companions and myself were very soon led into the market-place, a square open space, and under the arches of the low whitewashed colonnade we were allowed to lounge and wait. At last we knew the worst. We were to be sold into slavery!
The place was agog with caravans arriving and departing, and on all hands men and women, mostly negroes and negresses from the Soudan, were being sold after long and loud haggling. Many, too, were the silent bargains effected by pairs of traders standing quiet and immovable in the middle of the noisy, bustling, pushing crowd, each with a hand under his neighbour’s burnouse, and grasping his arm as if engaged in feeling the other’s pulse. They were making use of the conventional signs, consisting of certain pressures of the finger and knuckle joints, each having a recognised value and significance, and by employing them they were effecting business without attracting the notice of the gaping onlookers, who would listen and offer their advice.
Among the human wares for disposal were many young Arabs of the Kel-Tin-Alkoun, the Iguedhadh, and other tribes who were weaker than their neighbours, together with some comely women, the latter creating the keenest competition among the dealers. Those who were fat enough to fulfil the Arab standard of beauty were being sold for large sums, while the more slim were disposed of to the highest bidder.
Buyers and sellers were squatting together in little groups, sipping coffee, eating melons, and smoking cigarettes while they gossiped, and as money passed from hand to hand, husbands were torn for ever from their wives, and children gazed for the last time upon their parents. This market of human flesh, which the strenuous efforts of the French and British Governments have failed to suppress, was indeed revolting, yet the scenes were not so heartrending as might have been imagined, for the majority of the women, when they were unveiled for inspection, evinced pleasure at the prospect of a new lord, while the men, finding themselves in the hands of their enemies, squatted in melancholy silence, utterly regardless of their fate.
For me escape was hopeless. Fully a dozen well-to-do Arabs had viewed me, each being urged by the Sheikh of the Kel-Fadê, who acted as showman and extolled my virtues, to purchase me. He described me as a Moorish letter-writer, musician, and man of wisdom, but the price he required appeared quite prohibitive, until a splendidly-dressed Arab, evidently of the wealthier class, made a close examination of me. In compliance with his request, I played a tune on theguenibri, and after nearly half an hour’s bargaining, I at last saw the Sheikh accept a bag of gold; and then the man in aheláiburnouse and ornamented Ghadámsi shoes coolly informed me that I must in future consider myself the property of His Majesty the Sultan of Agadez.
For the moment my delight was unbounded. I was going, after all, to Agadez! But courage failed me when I recollected that I was a slave, and that the Crescent of Glorious Wonders had been filched from me and was utterly lost.
Three weeks after I had been purchased by the agent of the potentate, I found myself a prisoner in the great irregularly-built Fáda, or palace, of His Majesty Hámed e’ Rufäy, the mighty Sultan of the Ahír. I was one of the slaves of Amagay, His Majesty’s chief eunuch, my duties being to burnish the arms of the ever-vigilant guardians of the Sultan’s harem, and, when required, to discourse music for the delectation of the Grand Vizier Mukhtar, President of the Divan, and his suite. The great palace, situated on the outskirts of the town though within the walls, covered an enormous area, and was a kingdom within itself. Like a fortress enclosed by grim massive walls were beautiful gardens, spacious courtyards with fountains and cool arcades, and in these sumptuous buildings there dwelt the officers of state; while, in the inner court, to which none had access save the eunuchs and the Sultan himself, was situated the royal harem. Outside the one entrance to this, the most private portion of the luxurious Fáda, was a smaller court devoted to the eunuchs and their slaves, while the single passage communicating was closed by three iron doors, at which gigantic negroes fully armed stood on guard night and day. To obtain admission to the Court of the Eunuchs no fewer than five gates had to be passed, each with three doors, whereat stood janissaries—whose lawless and powerful prototypes beside the Bosphorus are historical—barring with gleaming scimitars the passage of the would-be adventurer. Each court, with its massive, frowning walls, was a colony in itself, preserving its own individuality, its inhabitants never mixing or passing into the forbidden domains of its neighbours. Thus the great gilded palace was a prison to its inmates, except the royal princes and the officials of His Majesty; and the janissaries had no dealings with the eunuchs, nor did the officials of the Sultan’s Great Court of Audience fraternise with those of His Majesty’s private apartments.
This luxurious city within a city, housing nearly seventeen hundred persons, was magnificent in its proportions, for as one entered court after court towards the quarters of the women, the appointments grew richer and more costly, until, in the Hall of the Eunuchs, the ceilings were of sky-blue with stars of gold, the floors of polished marble, the walls adorned by delicate frescoes and arabesques, and the slender columns of rare marble supporting the horse-shoe arches were carved with exquisite taste and glistened with gold. Indeed, the great palace was a maze of buildings, courts, gardens, and spacious halls, in which, however, the autocratic ruler was rarely seen. He mostly spent his time in his own apartments adjoining the Hall of the Eunuchs, and was only seen to his scheming and intriguingentouragewhen seated on the Great White Divan. Before him every member of the household quaked with fear, for he was a man whose displeasure meant death, whose smile bestowed wealth and luxury, whose harsh word brought upon the hapless victim of his displeasure the bastinado and disgrace, or whose commendation made him chief among men. He was ruled by harem influence; indeed, the doves of the gilded prison held in their hands men’s lives and fortunes. A whispered word in the ear of their lord would cause a courtier’s head to fall under the executioner’s sword, or a soft caress secure his appointment to high official position, with fat emoluments. Through every court, from the fierce guardians of the outer gate to the innermost quadrangle where beautiful houris lolled among their silken cushions around a fountain of fragrant perfume, dark plots were constantly being hatched and carried out. Men and women almost daily fell victims of the jealousy, hatred, or avarice of their fellows, and life was indeed insecure in aménagewhere the unheeded handmaiden of to-day might be the all-powerful Sultana of to-morrow; where the Grand Vizier might be decapitated by the negro executioner within an hour, and the meanest slave of the Fáda appointed vizier of the Ahír in his stead; or where the Pearl of the Harem who had displeased her cruel, fickle master by some petty shortcoming, might have a silken cord slipped over her white neck by the brutal Chief of the Eunuchs, die of strangulation, and her body be given to the vultures without knowledge of her fault.
A remnant of the autocratic sway of Turkey which still holds Tripoli under its rule, the Sultan was himself “the State.” His so-called ministers were simply the favourites of the hour. Justice was bought and sold. Every office was directly or indirectly purchased, small remuneration or none at all being paid, the holders recouping themselves by plunder and oppression, tempered by the fact that at any moment they might be forced to disgorge by the Sultan, left to rot in loathsome dungeons, or be beaten or tortured to death.
Amid these strange surroundings I lived and toiled. By day, in the little niche in the massive wall of the Court of the Eunuchs that was assigned to me, I burnished the scimitars, scabbards, knives, and steel girdles of the custodians of the harem. At night, when the stars shone above the open court, and the breeze stirred the leaves of the trailing vines, I would take myguenibriand, in obedience to the order of my taskmasters, pass into the hall of the Grand Vizier, and while that high official lounged upon his divan surrounded by his officers, I, with three other musicians, would squat at the corners of the mat spread before him, and play accompaniments to the dancing of his female slaves. To the monotonous thumping of the tom-tom, the mournful note of theguenibri, and the clashing of cymbals, the women barefooted performed slow Eastern dances, scarcely moving their feet, yet gracefully swaying their bodies, and whirling scimitars above their heads in a manner that was marvellous, or with wild abandon they would trip a kind of Spanish dance with the tambourine.
Week after week, surrounded by the dazzling splendour of the gorgeous palace, I led a weary life of abject slavery. Ill-treated and cuffed by the stern black taskmaster whose duty it was to see that I performed the work allotted to me, I felt many times inclined to regard escape as utterly hopeless. While on my way to the palace, I caught sight of the Mesállaje, the principal mosque with its great square minaret, and though I had still retained Zoraida’s letter to Hadj Mohammed ben Ishak, the chiefimam, I had no means of presenting it. Nevertheless, buoyed constantly by expectation, I worked on, seeking as far as possible to obtain the good graces of my fierce Soudanese slave-master, and never ceasing in my endeavours to devise some scheme by which I might obtain freedom.
One evening, when I had been toiling throughout the day burnishing some accoutrements that were rusty until my arms pained me, my taskmaster brought information that His Excellency the Grand Vizier would require no music that night; therefore, remaining in my little den near the gate of the harem that served as workshop and living-room, I took my ease. I must have slept, for I was awakened by the stern voice of one of the eunuchs saying—
“Quick! take this, clean it and return it to me. I will wait.”
He handed me a long, keen scimitar, the blade of which was wet with blood!
It was night. All was quiet. The courts, so full of colour and animation during the day, were hushed in silence, for the huge palace seemed asleep. Above, bright points of light shone, but there was no moon, and the Court of the Eunuchs was in darkness, save where over the gate of the harem a great swinging lamp of brass shed a yellow uncertain light upon the tall statuesque guards. Without questioning the man, I quickly washed his sword, cleaned it with cloths, and re-polished it with my stone. Then, with muttered thanks, he replaced it in its scabbard, and, stalking towards the harem, passed through the heavy iron doors and disappeared.
A bloody drama had been enacted! Another secret tragedy had occurred within those grim, massive walls that concealed the gorgeous Courts of Love!
Even as I gazed wonderingly at the great arched doorway through which so many hundreds of women had passed never to return alive, its iron portals again opened, and there appeared four black eunuchs, gaily attired in bright blue and gold, bearing upon a board some long object covered with a black cloth, from beneath which bright silks and filmy gauzes showed. Silently they marched onward close to where I stood, and as they passed, I saw a woman’s bare white arm hanging underneath the sable pall. It swung limp and helpless as the men strode through the court with their burden, and when they had gone, there remained on the still night air a subtle breath of attar of rose.
The pretty head of one of the Pearls of the Harem had been struck off by order of Hámed e’ Rufäy—the iron will of the great Sultan, Ruler of the Ahír and Defender of the Faith, had been obeyed!
Chapter Twenty Five.The Eunuch’s Scimitar.What dire events had led to the summary execution of the beauty who had just been carried out a corpse? Probably she had held brief sway over His Majesty, ruling the land from her soft silken divan, until one of her jealous sisters had, by intrigue, succeeded in displacing her in her fickle lord’s affections, and immediately the new favourite’s influence was sufficiently strong, she had used it to cause the death of her discarded but troublesome rival.Sitting in my little den, with the shutter half closed, I was trying to picture to myself the scenes of brilliant festivity, of fierce hatred, and merciless revenge that were ever occurring within those zealously-guarded Courts of Love, when suddenly I heard Arabic spoken softly quite close to the entrance to my workshop. Without stirring, I listened with bated breath.“But apparently thou dost not fully realise that, now the Sultana Krenfla is dead, our power hath vanished,” exclaimed a voice, the tones of which I instantly recognised as those of the Grand Vizier.“Nakrifoh colloh,” replied his companion. “Thou art indeed right. Well do I remember that when we were but janissaries at yon gate, we conveyed messages for the pretty Krenfla to her lover, and sometimes would allow her to secretly meet him. But he was killed in the war against Awelimimiden, and then his mistress, having mourned for him many days, devoted herself wholly to our lord the Sultan, and became Sultana. In recognition of our services as Cupid’s messengers, she caused our advancement, you to be Grand Vizier of the Ahír, and I to be Chief of the Eunuchs. But, alas! her sway hath ended, and consequently our careers are abruptly cut short. To-morrow we too may lose our heads—who knoweth?”“True, O Amagay! unless Allah showeth us mercy, the death of Krenfla sealeth our doom. If it pleaseth our lord the Sultan to fall under the bewitching caresses of Khadidja, our degradation and dismissal will be inevitable; while if Zobeide should secure the favour of Hámed, her power will be immediately directed towards our decapitation. Long hast thou held in the harem the lives of the houris in thine hands, and in consequence thou art held in awe and hatred; while, to tell the truth, I, as Grand Vizier, have ruled with the sword and bastinado, and the people would rejoice could they see my head mounted on a spear in the Azarmádarangh (place of execution). But,” His Excellency added with a pause, “art thou convinced we shall not be overheard?”“Quite,” replied my master reassuringly, peering in at my half-open shutter, but failing to detect me in the deep shadow. “Fear not eavesdroppers here. In thine own pavilion the very walls have ears; here, in the Court of the Eunuchs, it is different.”“Then it is thine opinion that we must act quickly if we would save our heads?”“Ma akindana al-ân wákt lilliakb” (“We have no time to play at present”), acquiesced the Chief of the Eunuchs.“Taakâla challina náhn al-ithnine natáhaddath showy-yah,” the Grand Vizier said. Then, dropping his voice until I could scarcely catch his words, he continued, “Viewed from all sides, our position is one of extreme peril, therefore we must set ourselves to avert the disaster which threateneth. The choice of the Sultan remaineth between Khadidja and Zobeide, and even to-night one or other may secure His Majesty’s favour. In any case, our necks at this moment lie under the scimitar of the executioner, therefore must we act swiftly, firmly, and in a manner that showeth not mercy.”“But how? I can see no way of saving ourselves except by flight.”“Thy suggestion is impracticable. Such a course would condemn thee,” interrupted the Grand Vizier. “Unless we could first secure the contents of the treasury, flight would avail us nought, and even then we should be overtaken ere we could get away to the Tsâd. No; long have I foreseen the downfall of Krenfla, and have evolved a scheme by which men shall still abundantly utter the memory of our great goodness and sing of our greatness.”“Thou hast? How?”“Listen. My words are for thine ears alone,” whispered the Grand Vizier. “My opinion is that Hámed, our Sultan, hath ruled the Ahír for sufficient time. Dost thou agree?”“Yes,” replied the Chief of the Eunuchs eagerly. “Art—art thou thinking of his deposition?”“Hath it never occurred to thee that his son, ’Abd-el-Kerim, who is already in his twentieth year, is now fitted to rule?” he asked slowly.“Once or twice I have reflected that the youth hath been always under our tuition and influence, and that, trusting us as implicitly as he doth, we should be absolute masters were he to reign in his father’s stead.”“Truly, O Amagay, thou hast wisdom. If we placed ’Abd-el-Kerim upon the White Divan, I should most certainly remain Grand Vizier, while thou mightest even secure a post more lucrative than Chief of the Eunuchs. Instead of death, such an event meaneth for us increased wealth and the retention of our power.”“But how dost thou propose to effect this sweeping change?” asked Amagay, interested.“Render me thine assistance, and the means are simple. Our Sultan Hámed hath already ruled too long,” exclaimed Mukhtar, adding, in a low, intense voice, after a pause, the ominous words, “He must die—to-morrow!”“Dost thou then intend to assassinate him?” gasped the Chief Eunuch, amazed at the bold daring of the high official’s suggestion.“Certainly. If he were thrown into prison, those who now bask in his favours would raise a serious agitation for his release; whereas, once dead, his memory will immediately be forgotten, and we shall hold the fortunes of the Fáda entirely in our own hands. Think, O Amagay, will it not be better to act fearlessly, and by one sharp, decisive blow attain increased riches and honour, than to remain inactive and fall hapless victims to the hatred of those black-eyed doves in yonder cage who would deliver us unto the sword. We must decide upon our policy now—to-night.”“Hast thou the co-operation of any others in this thy daring scheme?” asked his companion.“Yes, the Chamberlain, and the Aga of the Janissaries have both promised to bear their part; but thine own trusty, unerring scimitar must deliver the death blow.”“No! no!” he cried in a low voice. “By the Prophet! I cannot strike. My nerve would fail!”“Bah! Didst thou not strike off the heads of rebellious houris by the score; didst thou not for two years act as executioner in the Place of Azarmádarangh, where heads fell under thy keendokaevery day? Surely thou, of all men, hast courage with thy sword and confidence in thine arm? A single blow, and the deed is done!”“But suppose I fail?”“Even then, our fate will be not one whit the worse than it is at this moment,” answered Mukhtar.There was a short pause. Then Amagay, who had apparently become convinced by the strength of his fellow-conspirator’s argument, answered—“I agree with thee, O Mukhtar. Thy mouth uttereth wisdom. Only the mighty Hámed’s death can save us; so, if Allah willeth, my keen steel shall strike the tyrant to the dust.”“Then we shall count upon thee,” exclaimed the Grand Vizier, apparently well pleased. “Hearken, and I will show thee how the removal of His Majesty can be best accomplished. He hath sent information to the Keeper of the Treasure that to-morrow, after the midday meal, it will please him to repair unto the Treasury, in order to choose jewels to present to his new favourite. The jewels of great price are to be laid out for his inspection. On his way from the court to the Treasure House he will be compelled to pass across the Great Hall of Audience and through the long, dark passage that divideth that chamber from the Court of the Treasury. In that passage are niches where one mayest remain concealed, and it is there that thy steel must strike.”“But may not others accompany him?”“Leave that unto me. After he hath eaten, I shall detain him in conversation about certain pressing matters of state, so that his guards will pass before him, and he will walk alone past the spot where thou art secreted with thy companions, the Chamberlain and the Aga of the Janissaries. Then wilt thou rush out, and in a second the Sultan Hámed will be no more.”“Will not the guards rush back and kill us?” the Chief Eunuch asked doubtfully.“No. The conspiracy hath already been well planned in every detail. When the tyrant falleth, the heads of Khadidja and Zobeide will be struck off by thy guardians of the harem, and thus will the three persons whose power threateneth us have disappeared, and so secretly that not twenty of those within the Fáda will be aware of the tragedy.”“Thou art indeed, O Mukhtar, a man of much foresight and one fitted to rule,” exclaimed Amagay, in admiration of the old villain’s cunning. “True, the Sultan Hámed is as a shadow betwixt us and the shining of the sun, and he must be removed. In thee, upon whom the One Merciful hath bestowed bounteous wisdom, I place my trust, and will assist thee in placing upon the Great Divan ’Abd-el-Kerim, the Son of the Doomed. Thy servant’s scimitar shall strike this daring blow for liberty. Peace.”“Hush! Listen!” whispered the Grand Vizier in a tone of alarm. “One of thy men approacheth from the harem. Let us part to allay suspicion. I will await thee in my pavilion two hours after the sun hath arisen. Until then,slama!”A slight jingling of keys and softly-receding footsteps; then all was quiet again.Alone I sat for a long time reflecting upon the secret of the great plot of which I had accidentally obtained knowledge. At noon the Sultan Hámed, dreaded throughout Fezzan, Tripoli, and the Sahara as the most powerful and tyrannical of rulers, would be struck down, and his son proclaimed monarch, while the assassination would, no doubt, bring death to many of the inmates of the harem. The palace was asleep, its lotus-eating inmates little dreaming of the greatcoup d’étatthat had been so cunningly planned, or of the startling sensation in store for them. The black guardians of the harem stood silent and statuesque on either side of its carved portals, and the dead silence of the Court of the Eunuchs remained unbroken.Enslaved as I was, my thoughts were always of liberty whereby I might deliver Zoraida’s message to theimam, and I now saw in this knowledge of the attempt on the Sultan’s life a means to regain my freedom. Though excited over the discovery, I resolved to remain calm and act judiciously, for I foresaw that any desire I might express to seek audience of His Majesty would arouse suspicion among the conspirators. Through that night I pondered deeply over the strange events of the past few months, endeavouring time after time to convince myself that Zoraida no longer lived. Yet my mind refused to accept any indistinct theory of which I had not absolute proof. She had entrusted to me a mission in which, alas! I had by sheer ill-luck failed, nevertheless I recollected her earnest words when she had given the Crescent of Glorious Wonders into my keeping, and it was more than possible, I argued, that theimamwas daily expecting my arrival and wondering what mishap had befallen me.From him alone I could obtain the Great Secret, yet what would that knowledge avail, now that I had lost the mysterious half-circle of steel? Where was Zoraida? If alive, she would, I reflected, probably be journeying with her people in the Great Desert, the all-powerful prophetess of the most desperate band of fleet horsemen that ever rode over the Sahara. She, the dazzling, mysterious Daughter of the Sun, held in awe by the Ennitra, was possibly directing their marauding expeditions, sharing the plunder with her own delicate fingers, and causing death and desolation among neighbouring caravans; yet, when I recollected how at heart she hated that life of rapine and murder, how she shrank from the position in which, by some unaccountable combination of circumstances, she was forcibly held, my blood rose within me. Had she not acknowledged that she loved me? Were we not actually betrothed? Truly, the Omen of the Camel’s Hoof which I had ridiculed had been a presage of impending evil that was gradually being fulfilled. Mystified by the strange, weird rites that Zoraida had practised, fascinated by her marvellous beauty, filled with admiration at the cool courage she had displayed when saving my life, I had travelled steadily onward, meeting misfortune with a smile and disregarding danger and fatigue, until my capture. Then I knew that to declare myself a Christian would mean certain death, so I had been compelled, much against my will, to conceal my nationality and act as a devout follower of the Prophet until an opportunity for escape should present itself. That opportunity, I felt, was now at hand, and though the flush of dawn appeared, sleep came not to my eyes, for I sat devising various schemes, one of which, however wild and hazardous, it was imperative should be carried out successfully before noon.As the sun rose, and the great courts of the Fáda grew animated, I resumed my work, burnishing swords, spears, and shields until they shone like mirrors, yet keeping an ever-vigilant eye upon the gate of the harem, in case His Majesty should emerge. Unfortunately, the Sultan seldom eared to pass outside his private apartments. Only once had I seen him, and then only at a distance. To all save his high officers and body-servants he was absolutely unapproachable. When he made a tour of the palace,—which I learned was of very rare occurrence,—he was surrounded by men-at-arms with drawn swords, and none dared address him for fear of incurring his displeasure, which meant unceremonious decapitation.As the hours sped on, and the shade in the sunlit court grew smaller, I began to consider all hope of averting the triple tragedy futile. Once or twice, Amagay, a giant in stature, had passed and repassed with heavy, thoughtful brow and arms folded under his burnouse, as if preoccupied with the details of the widespread conspiracy, and my astonishment was sudden when presently he entered my den, and, drawing his splendid scimitar, the hilt of which was encrusted with jewels, said—“This weapon hath no edge upon it. Sharpen it quickly. Whet it upon thy stone.”With hands trembling with excitement, I took the great sword, such as could only be wielded by one of enormous strength, and proceeded to sharpen it as he commanded.“Take thy time. Make the blade so keen that it will cut a single hair.”“Thy will be done, O lord Amagay,” I answered, not daring to look up lest my agitation should betray me, while the Chief of the Eunuchs lit a cigarette, and, lolling against the door, watched me until I had sharpened to a keen edge the scimitar that was to strike dead the Sultan Hámed. Then, replacing the weapon in its scabbard, he settled the hang of his burnouse and strode away.By the shadows I became aware that the noon was nigh. I had sharpened the assassin’s weapon, yet I dared speak to no one of the foul plot about to be carried out. For aught I knew, many of those around me were implicated, and my confession that I had acted as eavesdropper would certainly bring wrath upon me. If I could only see the Sultan, one word could save him. But how?Suddenly I conceived a most desperate plan. It seemed utter madness to attempt it, yet, knowing that my liberty, my whole future, depended upon frustrating the terriblecoup d’état, I was determined to risk everything. There was little time to lose, so I set about my preparations immediately. In my little den I had a canister half full of gunpowder and about a dozen cartridges. Boring a hole through the lid of the tin box, I placed the cartridges within, and, taking an old piece of flexible hoop iron, I bound it tightly round the sides and ends of the canister, taking care, however, to leave open the hole in the lid. Thus the bomb was quickly constructed, and, placing it under the bench at which I worked, I sprinkled a train of powder from it, and when all was ready, I lit a rudely-constructed slow match.Hurriedly ascertaining that the match was fairly alight, I left the place, and, with my copper pitcher, lounged leisurely across to the well close to the gate of the harem, as if to obtain water. Scarcely had I gained the impassable portals when there was a bright flash, followed by a terrific explosion that shook the palace to its very foundations, wrecked my workshop, and tore up the masonry like pasteboard.In an instant the most intense excitement and confusion prevailed. The two guards at the door of the harem, almost taken off their feet by the concussion, left their posts panic-stricken, and, with others who emerged from the seraglio, rushed over to the scene to ascertain the cause, while, in a few seconds, the court was filled by officials, eunuchs, soldiers, and slaves.The moment for which I had been waiting had arrived. The outer gate of the harem was ajar, and while everybody was hurrying in alarm to the spot where the explosion had occurred, I managed to slip inside unobserved. Dashing along into the unknown region of the Fáda, scarcely daring to breathe and unaware of what armed resistance I might encounter, I sped like lightning across a wide, tiled hall, where, to my delight, I saw the second iron door was also half open. Passing this, I crossed yet another similar hall, rather smaller than the first, and leaped towards the third and last door. It was closed.Grasping the great iron ring that served as handle, I tried to turn it, but though I exerted all my strength until the veins stood knotted on my forehead and the perspiration dropped from me, it would not yield. Fate was against me—I was doomed to failure. The door was locked!
What dire events had led to the summary execution of the beauty who had just been carried out a corpse? Probably she had held brief sway over His Majesty, ruling the land from her soft silken divan, until one of her jealous sisters had, by intrigue, succeeded in displacing her in her fickle lord’s affections, and immediately the new favourite’s influence was sufficiently strong, she had used it to cause the death of her discarded but troublesome rival.
Sitting in my little den, with the shutter half closed, I was trying to picture to myself the scenes of brilliant festivity, of fierce hatred, and merciless revenge that were ever occurring within those zealously-guarded Courts of Love, when suddenly I heard Arabic spoken softly quite close to the entrance to my workshop. Without stirring, I listened with bated breath.
“But apparently thou dost not fully realise that, now the Sultana Krenfla is dead, our power hath vanished,” exclaimed a voice, the tones of which I instantly recognised as those of the Grand Vizier.
“Nakrifoh colloh,” replied his companion. “Thou art indeed right. Well do I remember that when we were but janissaries at yon gate, we conveyed messages for the pretty Krenfla to her lover, and sometimes would allow her to secretly meet him. But he was killed in the war against Awelimimiden, and then his mistress, having mourned for him many days, devoted herself wholly to our lord the Sultan, and became Sultana. In recognition of our services as Cupid’s messengers, she caused our advancement, you to be Grand Vizier of the Ahír, and I to be Chief of the Eunuchs. But, alas! her sway hath ended, and consequently our careers are abruptly cut short. To-morrow we too may lose our heads—who knoweth?”
“True, O Amagay! unless Allah showeth us mercy, the death of Krenfla sealeth our doom. If it pleaseth our lord the Sultan to fall under the bewitching caresses of Khadidja, our degradation and dismissal will be inevitable; while if Zobeide should secure the favour of Hámed, her power will be immediately directed towards our decapitation. Long hast thou held in the harem the lives of the houris in thine hands, and in consequence thou art held in awe and hatred; while, to tell the truth, I, as Grand Vizier, have ruled with the sword and bastinado, and the people would rejoice could they see my head mounted on a spear in the Azarmádarangh (place of execution). But,” His Excellency added with a pause, “art thou convinced we shall not be overheard?”
“Quite,” replied my master reassuringly, peering in at my half-open shutter, but failing to detect me in the deep shadow. “Fear not eavesdroppers here. In thine own pavilion the very walls have ears; here, in the Court of the Eunuchs, it is different.”
“Then it is thine opinion that we must act quickly if we would save our heads?”
“Ma akindana al-ân wákt lilliakb” (“We have no time to play at present”), acquiesced the Chief of the Eunuchs.
“Taakâla challina náhn al-ithnine natáhaddath showy-yah,” the Grand Vizier said. Then, dropping his voice until I could scarcely catch his words, he continued, “Viewed from all sides, our position is one of extreme peril, therefore we must set ourselves to avert the disaster which threateneth. The choice of the Sultan remaineth between Khadidja and Zobeide, and even to-night one or other may secure His Majesty’s favour. In any case, our necks at this moment lie under the scimitar of the executioner, therefore must we act swiftly, firmly, and in a manner that showeth not mercy.”
“But how? I can see no way of saving ourselves except by flight.”
“Thy suggestion is impracticable. Such a course would condemn thee,” interrupted the Grand Vizier. “Unless we could first secure the contents of the treasury, flight would avail us nought, and even then we should be overtaken ere we could get away to the Tsâd. No; long have I foreseen the downfall of Krenfla, and have evolved a scheme by which men shall still abundantly utter the memory of our great goodness and sing of our greatness.”
“Thou hast? How?”
“Listen. My words are for thine ears alone,” whispered the Grand Vizier. “My opinion is that Hámed, our Sultan, hath ruled the Ahír for sufficient time. Dost thou agree?”
“Yes,” replied the Chief of the Eunuchs eagerly. “Art—art thou thinking of his deposition?”
“Hath it never occurred to thee that his son, ’Abd-el-Kerim, who is already in his twentieth year, is now fitted to rule?” he asked slowly.
“Once or twice I have reflected that the youth hath been always under our tuition and influence, and that, trusting us as implicitly as he doth, we should be absolute masters were he to reign in his father’s stead.”
“Truly, O Amagay, thou hast wisdom. If we placed ’Abd-el-Kerim upon the White Divan, I should most certainly remain Grand Vizier, while thou mightest even secure a post more lucrative than Chief of the Eunuchs. Instead of death, such an event meaneth for us increased wealth and the retention of our power.”
“But how dost thou propose to effect this sweeping change?” asked Amagay, interested.
“Render me thine assistance, and the means are simple. Our Sultan Hámed hath already ruled too long,” exclaimed Mukhtar, adding, in a low, intense voice, after a pause, the ominous words, “He must die—to-morrow!”
“Dost thou then intend to assassinate him?” gasped the Chief Eunuch, amazed at the bold daring of the high official’s suggestion.
“Certainly. If he were thrown into prison, those who now bask in his favours would raise a serious agitation for his release; whereas, once dead, his memory will immediately be forgotten, and we shall hold the fortunes of the Fáda entirely in our own hands. Think, O Amagay, will it not be better to act fearlessly, and by one sharp, decisive blow attain increased riches and honour, than to remain inactive and fall hapless victims to the hatred of those black-eyed doves in yonder cage who would deliver us unto the sword. We must decide upon our policy now—to-night.”
“Hast thou the co-operation of any others in this thy daring scheme?” asked his companion.
“Yes, the Chamberlain, and the Aga of the Janissaries have both promised to bear their part; but thine own trusty, unerring scimitar must deliver the death blow.”
“No! no!” he cried in a low voice. “By the Prophet! I cannot strike. My nerve would fail!”
“Bah! Didst thou not strike off the heads of rebellious houris by the score; didst thou not for two years act as executioner in the Place of Azarmádarangh, where heads fell under thy keendokaevery day? Surely thou, of all men, hast courage with thy sword and confidence in thine arm? A single blow, and the deed is done!”
“But suppose I fail?”
“Even then, our fate will be not one whit the worse than it is at this moment,” answered Mukhtar.
There was a short pause. Then Amagay, who had apparently become convinced by the strength of his fellow-conspirator’s argument, answered—
“I agree with thee, O Mukhtar. Thy mouth uttereth wisdom. Only the mighty Hámed’s death can save us; so, if Allah willeth, my keen steel shall strike the tyrant to the dust.”
“Then we shall count upon thee,” exclaimed the Grand Vizier, apparently well pleased. “Hearken, and I will show thee how the removal of His Majesty can be best accomplished. He hath sent information to the Keeper of the Treasure that to-morrow, after the midday meal, it will please him to repair unto the Treasury, in order to choose jewels to present to his new favourite. The jewels of great price are to be laid out for his inspection. On his way from the court to the Treasure House he will be compelled to pass across the Great Hall of Audience and through the long, dark passage that divideth that chamber from the Court of the Treasury. In that passage are niches where one mayest remain concealed, and it is there that thy steel must strike.”
“But may not others accompany him?”
“Leave that unto me. After he hath eaten, I shall detain him in conversation about certain pressing matters of state, so that his guards will pass before him, and he will walk alone past the spot where thou art secreted with thy companions, the Chamberlain and the Aga of the Janissaries. Then wilt thou rush out, and in a second the Sultan Hámed will be no more.”
“Will not the guards rush back and kill us?” the Chief Eunuch asked doubtfully.
“No. The conspiracy hath already been well planned in every detail. When the tyrant falleth, the heads of Khadidja and Zobeide will be struck off by thy guardians of the harem, and thus will the three persons whose power threateneth us have disappeared, and so secretly that not twenty of those within the Fáda will be aware of the tragedy.”
“Thou art indeed, O Mukhtar, a man of much foresight and one fitted to rule,” exclaimed Amagay, in admiration of the old villain’s cunning. “True, the Sultan Hámed is as a shadow betwixt us and the shining of the sun, and he must be removed. In thee, upon whom the One Merciful hath bestowed bounteous wisdom, I place my trust, and will assist thee in placing upon the Great Divan ’Abd-el-Kerim, the Son of the Doomed. Thy servant’s scimitar shall strike this daring blow for liberty. Peace.”
“Hush! Listen!” whispered the Grand Vizier in a tone of alarm. “One of thy men approacheth from the harem. Let us part to allay suspicion. I will await thee in my pavilion two hours after the sun hath arisen. Until then,slama!”
A slight jingling of keys and softly-receding footsteps; then all was quiet again.
Alone I sat for a long time reflecting upon the secret of the great plot of which I had accidentally obtained knowledge. At noon the Sultan Hámed, dreaded throughout Fezzan, Tripoli, and the Sahara as the most powerful and tyrannical of rulers, would be struck down, and his son proclaimed monarch, while the assassination would, no doubt, bring death to many of the inmates of the harem. The palace was asleep, its lotus-eating inmates little dreaming of the greatcoup d’étatthat had been so cunningly planned, or of the startling sensation in store for them. The black guardians of the harem stood silent and statuesque on either side of its carved portals, and the dead silence of the Court of the Eunuchs remained unbroken.
Enslaved as I was, my thoughts were always of liberty whereby I might deliver Zoraida’s message to theimam, and I now saw in this knowledge of the attempt on the Sultan’s life a means to regain my freedom. Though excited over the discovery, I resolved to remain calm and act judiciously, for I foresaw that any desire I might express to seek audience of His Majesty would arouse suspicion among the conspirators. Through that night I pondered deeply over the strange events of the past few months, endeavouring time after time to convince myself that Zoraida no longer lived. Yet my mind refused to accept any indistinct theory of which I had not absolute proof. She had entrusted to me a mission in which, alas! I had by sheer ill-luck failed, nevertheless I recollected her earnest words when she had given the Crescent of Glorious Wonders into my keeping, and it was more than possible, I argued, that theimamwas daily expecting my arrival and wondering what mishap had befallen me.
From him alone I could obtain the Great Secret, yet what would that knowledge avail, now that I had lost the mysterious half-circle of steel? Where was Zoraida? If alive, she would, I reflected, probably be journeying with her people in the Great Desert, the all-powerful prophetess of the most desperate band of fleet horsemen that ever rode over the Sahara. She, the dazzling, mysterious Daughter of the Sun, held in awe by the Ennitra, was possibly directing their marauding expeditions, sharing the plunder with her own delicate fingers, and causing death and desolation among neighbouring caravans; yet, when I recollected how at heart she hated that life of rapine and murder, how she shrank from the position in which, by some unaccountable combination of circumstances, she was forcibly held, my blood rose within me. Had she not acknowledged that she loved me? Were we not actually betrothed? Truly, the Omen of the Camel’s Hoof which I had ridiculed had been a presage of impending evil that was gradually being fulfilled. Mystified by the strange, weird rites that Zoraida had practised, fascinated by her marvellous beauty, filled with admiration at the cool courage she had displayed when saving my life, I had travelled steadily onward, meeting misfortune with a smile and disregarding danger and fatigue, until my capture. Then I knew that to declare myself a Christian would mean certain death, so I had been compelled, much against my will, to conceal my nationality and act as a devout follower of the Prophet until an opportunity for escape should present itself. That opportunity, I felt, was now at hand, and though the flush of dawn appeared, sleep came not to my eyes, for I sat devising various schemes, one of which, however wild and hazardous, it was imperative should be carried out successfully before noon.
As the sun rose, and the great courts of the Fáda grew animated, I resumed my work, burnishing swords, spears, and shields until they shone like mirrors, yet keeping an ever-vigilant eye upon the gate of the harem, in case His Majesty should emerge. Unfortunately, the Sultan seldom eared to pass outside his private apartments. Only once had I seen him, and then only at a distance. To all save his high officers and body-servants he was absolutely unapproachable. When he made a tour of the palace,—which I learned was of very rare occurrence,—he was surrounded by men-at-arms with drawn swords, and none dared address him for fear of incurring his displeasure, which meant unceremonious decapitation.
As the hours sped on, and the shade in the sunlit court grew smaller, I began to consider all hope of averting the triple tragedy futile. Once or twice, Amagay, a giant in stature, had passed and repassed with heavy, thoughtful brow and arms folded under his burnouse, as if preoccupied with the details of the widespread conspiracy, and my astonishment was sudden when presently he entered my den, and, drawing his splendid scimitar, the hilt of which was encrusted with jewels, said—“This weapon hath no edge upon it. Sharpen it quickly. Whet it upon thy stone.”
With hands trembling with excitement, I took the great sword, such as could only be wielded by one of enormous strength, and proceeded to sharpen it as he commanded.
“Take thy time. Make the blade so keen that it will cut a single hair.”
“Thy will be done, O lord Amagay,” I answered, not daring to look up lest my agitation should betray me, while the Chief of the Eunuchs lit a cigarette, and, lolling against the door, watched me until I had sharpened to a keen edge the scimitar that was to strike dead the Sultan Hámed. Then, replacing the weapon in its scabbard, he settled the hang of his burnouse and strode away.
By the shadows I became aware that the noon was nigh. I had sharpened the assassin’s weapon, yet I dared speak to no one of the foul plot about to be carried out. For aught I knew, many of those around me were implicated, and my confession that I had acted as eavesdropper would certainly bring wrath upon me. If I could only see the Sultan, one word could save him. But how?
Suddenly I conceived a most desperate plan. It seemed utter madness to attempt it, yet, knowing that my liberty, my whole future, depended upon frustrating the terriblecoup d’état, I was determined to risk everything. There was little time to lose, so I set about my preparations immediately. In my little den I had a canister half full of gunpowder and about a dozen cartridges. Boring a hole through the lid of the tin box, I placed the cartridges within, and, taking an old piece of flexible hoop iron, I bound it tightly round the sides and ends of the canister, taking care, however, to leave open the hole in the lid. Thus the bomb was quickly constructed, and, placing it under the bench at which I worked, I sprinkled a train of powder from it, and when all was ready, I lit a rudely-constructed slow match.
Hurriedly ascertaining that the match was fairly alight, I left the place, and, with my copper pitcher, lounged leisurely across to the well close to the gate of the harem, as if to obtain water. Scarcely had I gained the impassable portals when there was a bright flash, followed by a terrific explosion that shook the palace to its very foundations, wrecked my workshop, and tore up the masonry like pasteboard.
In an instant the most intense excitement and confusion prevailed. The two guards at the door of the harem, almost taken off their feet by the concussion, left their posts panic-stricken, and, with others who emerged from the seraglio, rushed over to the scene to ascertain the cause, while, in a few seconds, the court was filled by officials, eunuchs, soldiers, and slaves.
The moment for which I had been waiting had arrived. The outer gate of the harem was ajar, and while everybody was hurrying in alarm to the spot where the explosion had occurred, I managed to slip inside unobserved. Dashing along into the unknown region of the Fáda, scarcely daring to breathe and unaware of what armed resistance I might encounter, I sped like lightning across a wide, tiled hall, where, to my delight, I saw the second iron door was also half open. Passing this, I crossed yet another similar hall, rather smaller than the first, and leaped towards the third and last door. It was closed.
Grasping the great iron ring that served as handle, I tried to turn it, but though I exerted all my strength until the veins stood knotted on my forehead and the perspiration dropped from me, it would not yield. Fate was against me—I was doomed to failure. The door was locked!
Chapter Twenty Six.In the Courts of Love.Again and again I tried the handle, failing utterly to move it. Another moment’s delay might cost me my life!Shaking the great door in frantic desperation, and turning to see whether I had been detected, I suddenly noticed that on each side of this gate hung heavy curtains of bright yellow silken brocade. One appeared to have been disarranged, for it did not hang in such graceful folds as the other, and this attracted my attention. After a careful examination, I discovered a small square handle in the centre of the gate, painted black, so as to appear as one of the big nails with which the door was studded. In a moment the truth flashed upon me. Eagerly I tried the handle, and found I could turn it with ease, and that a small and cunningly-concealed door, just large enough to admit one person, was the means by which the private apartments of His Majesty could be entered.Stepping through without hesitation and closing the door silently after me, I found myself in a great wide court, with fine arched arcades on either side. In the centre a splendid fountain of perfume was playing, the sparkling, scented water falling into a huge basin of crystal. The spectacle was gorgeous and dazzling. The brilliant colours, the green palms, the rich brocades, the woven carpets, the glittering gold with which the arcades were decorated, and the glimpse of cool and beautiful gardens in the vista away through several open courts, seemed a veritable fairyland.From the great gilt perfuming-pans, columns of thin blue smoke diffused sensuous odours. Bright-eyed women with faces of flawless beauty were half-sitting, half reclining on their luxurious divans, lazily smoking cigarettes, or allowing themselves to be slowly fanned by their slaves. Resplendent in bright-hued silks, heavy gold ornaments and flashing gems, some were seated in little groups gossiping, others had stretched themselves on silken couches in languid indolence, while one or two, leaning against the columns of marvellously-carved marble, with their delicate hands clasped behind their heads, were indulging in day-dreams—dreams perhaps of joyous hours bygone before they were torn away from the ones they loved to adorn the Sultan’s harem. With brows covered by strings of pearls and sequins, white arms with massive bracelets, bare bosoms half hidden by necklaces and scintillating gems, bare feet encased in tiny slippers embroidered with gold and jewels, and neat ankles heavy with golden bangles, the beautiful prisoners of Hámed the Mighty were idling away the day with careless, dreamy indifference amid the sweetly-scented atmosphere of love.Entranced by the wondrous scene of beauty, I stood for a few seconds while my eyes travelled quickly around in search of His Majesty. He was, however, not present; therefore, summoning courage and dashing forward, I sped on through the three great Courts of the Sultanas towards the distant garden, beyond which I had heard lay His Majesty’s private pavilion. Without daring to notice the profound sensation my sudden appearance was causing throughout the harem, I ran quickly through court after court, until, just as I had gained the great arch which led into the garden, my passage was barred by a big black eunuch who had recognised me as a slave.To close with him would have been folly, for his muscles were like iron; therefore, redoubling my speed, I bent down quickly just as he was about to grasp me, and thus dodged under his hands. Pursued, I rushed across the beautiful garden, red with roses and green with many leaves, along the edge of a clear lake, through an open gate, and into a richly-furnished magnificent pavilion, the pavement of which was of polished sardonyx and agate.In the centre was a great baldachin of amaranth silk enriched with long fringes of silver, stretched on twelve pillars of twisted gold, and underneath there sat upon the Great White Divan, Hámed, son of Mohammed el Bákèri, the all-powerful Sultan of the Ahír. Upon his head was a turban of pale green silk, in front of which was a splendid diamond aigrette, while the robes he wore were of rich white silk brocade. Behind His Majesty stood two negro slaves cooling him with large fans of peacocks’ feathers. Around him were his gorgeously-attired body-servants, to whom he was giving some instructions, being just about to rise from his midday meal. As I burst upon them, with the gigantic eunuch in pursuit, the guards were in a moment on the alert, and those who were prostrate before their sovereign sprang to their feet and drew their swords.“Seize him!” cried the eunuch excitedly. “He is a slave who hath escaped!”“My gracious lord the Sultan!” I gasped breathlessly, prostrating myself before the royal divan as the slaves pounced upon me. “Hear me, I beseech thee! Let not thy servants remove me before I have spoken.”“The slave hath merely some paltry grievance,” exclaimed the eunuch, with ceremonious obeisance.“It is no grievance,” I cried wildly. “I come to give thee warning, O Sultan, Mighty of the Earth, that ere the shadows lengthen thou wilt die!”“Silence, slave! Heed what thou sayest!” the Sultan thundered, pale with anger as he rose stately and superb from his divan. He was tall and of majestic presence, though his dark, sinister features bore distinct impress of the vile and brutal passions which actuated him. “Silence!” he cried again, and his servants fell before him with genuflections inspired by awe. “Slave! thou, who hast passed the portals of the private courts of thy Sovereign to prophesy his discomforture, hast dared to address thy Ruler without leave! Knowest thou not that none are allowed in this our pavilion unless commanded, under pain of instant death?”“I come to forewarn thee, O August Ruler, of impending evil—”“Stop thy chatter, dog!” he shouted, his face livid with sudden passion. The storm burst, and the dark cloud, swollen with his accumulated exasperation, exploded in a tremolo full of threats. When the Sultan Hámed broke out, he was terrible. “I heed not the croakings of a common slave who—”“But men, jealous of thy position, have plotted to compass thy death ere to-day’s sun hath set!”“Liar! Thou art indeed demented,” he cried, in full combustion. Then, in the frightful rumbling of his phrases, in the incessant crackling of his words, he roared bitter corrosive invectives that caused his robust frame to vibrate as they issued forth. Suddenly, turning to his trembling body-servants, he added, “Seize him! Let his prophetic tongue be torn out as a punishment for daring to predict evil in our presence!”“Hear me, I pray thee, Just and Mighty one, slow to anger and of great mercy! It is to save thy Majesty’s life that—”“The Sultan of the Ahír desireth not the aid of a slave!” he answered proudly. “I would send thee to execution at Azarmádarangh at once, only I think thy mind is deranged, and if so, thy boldness is not of thine own fault. But the chatter of the idiot annoyeth the sane, therefore thy tongue shall be removed, so that, though mad, thou wilt in future be dumb.” Turning quickly to my captors, he added, “Let him be cast into prison and rendered speechless. Away with him!”For this rebuff I was totally unprepared, and my courage sank.“Wilt thou show no mercy towards thine humble slave, who hath risked his life to prostrate himself before thee and give thee warning?” I ventured to cry earnestly, in final appeal.“Take him from my sight,” commanded the Sultan, waving his hand angrily. “See that his glib tongue wags not after sundown.”“Merciful Allah!” I implored, struggling violently with those who held me. “Behold, I am thy slave, O lord the Sultan! Hear me, I beseech of thee!”But His Majesty, uttering a string of voluble curses upon my family through generations, turned his back towards me with a gesture of impatience, and I was unceremoniously hurried from his terrible presence.The Sultan had, however, stepped from his divan, therefore, at the entrance to the pavilion I was held back by the four stalwart guards in order to let him pass through to the spacious Hall of Audience. Surrounded by his body-servants, he strode along with regal gait and keen, observant eye; then, after he had gone, I was dragged onward at a distance behind not so great as to prevent me watching his progress.Gaining the Hall of Audience, one of the most gorgeous apartments of the Fáda, Mukhtar, the Grand Vizier, suddenly appeared, and, bowing low, craved a hasty and private word with his royal master. The plot was being carried out before my eyes! The Sultan, halting at the entrance to the long arched arcade that gave access to the Court of the Treasury, waved his hand, motioning those surrounding him to pass onward.The armed janissaries standing erect and mute as statues along the walls of the audience-chamber exchanged expectant glances full of meaning, and I knew that they were anxiously awaiting the commission of the dastardly crime. I would, even at that moment, have shouted a last warning, but, alas! the men in whose hands I stood powerless had gagged me in compliance with the desire of their irate master.Until the servants and guards had passed through the long dimly-lit arcade and crossed the paved court beyond, Mukhtar held his royal master in earnest conversation, then, prostrating himself humbly, he rose and took his leave, while His Majesty, hitching his robes of spotless silk about him, moved onward briskly and alone down the silent arcade.Upon Mukhtar’s lips a momentary smile of satisfaction played as he stalked away. It told me that the doom of the Sultan Hámed was at hand! Walking still in the grip of the guards, I watched the upright and truly regal figure of His Majesty receding until he had passed half-way along the great arched corridor. Then suddenly a second figure was sharply silhouetted against the brilliant sunlight at the end of the vista. A strong arm was raised, a gleaming scimitar whirled aloft, and a loud cry of surprise and dismay echoed until it reached the spot where we stood.Next second the headless body of Hámed, Sultan of the Ahír, lay at the Chief Eunuch’s feet, and upon the polished marble pavement a dark, ugly pool was rapidly forming.My four captors, paralysed and amazed, released me and dashed along towards the prostrate body of their master, but in an instant the scimitars of the guards of the Hall of Audience were hovering over their heads, and after a desperate but brief struggle they were secured and gagged.So swiftly indeed had the secret assassination been accomplished, that, ere I could realise that the plot had been carried out, the body had been thrust into a sack and removed, slaves who had actually held water in readiness had washed the stains from the marble, and almost before one could regain breath, every trace of the terrible crime had been erased.
Again and again I tried the handle, failing utterly to move it. Another moment’s delay might cost me my life!
Shaking the great door in frantic desperation, and turning to see whether I had been detected, I suddenly noticed that on each side of this gate hung heavy curtains of bright yellow silken brocade. One appeared to have been disarranged, for it did not hang in such graceful folds as the other, and this attracted my attention. After a careful examination, I discovered a small square handle in the centre of the gate, painted black, so as to appear as one of the big nails with which the door was studded. In a moment the truth flashed upon me. Eagerly I tried the handle, and found I could turn it with ease, and that a small and cunningly-concealed door, just large enough to admit one person, was the means by which the private apartments of His Majesty could be entered.
Stepping through without hesitation and closing the door silently after me, I found myself in a great wide court, with fine arched arcades on either side. In the centre a splendid fountain of perfume was playing, the sparkling, scented water falling into a huge basin of crystal. The spectacle was gorgeous and dazzling. The brilliant colours, the green palms, the rich brocades, the woven carpets, the glittering gold with which the arcades were decorated, and the glimpse of cool and beautiful gardens in the vista away through several open courts, seemed a veritable fairyland.
From the great gilt perfuming-pans, columns of thin blue smoke diffused sensuous odours. Bright-eyed women with faces of flawless beauty were half-sitting, half reclining on their luxurious divans, lazily smoking cigarettes, or allowing themselves to be slowly fanned by their slaves. Resplendent in bright-hued silks, heavy gold ornaments and flashing gems, some were seated in little groups gossiping, others had stretched themselves on silken couches in languid indolence, while one or two, leaning against the columns of marvellously-carved marble, with their delicate hands clasped behind their heads, were indulging in day-dreams—dreams perhaps of joyous hours bygone before they were torn away from the ones they loved to adorn the Sultan’s harem. With brows covered by strings of pearls and sequins, white arms with massive bracelets, bare bosoms half hidden by necklaces and scintillating gems, bare feet encased in tiny slippers embroidered with gold and jewels, and neat ankles heavy with golden bangles, the beautiful prisoners of Hámed the Mighty were idling away the day with careless, dreamy indifference amid the sweetly-scented atmosphere of love.
Entranced by the wondrous scene of beauty, I stood for a few seconds while my eyes travelled quickly around in search of His Majesty. He was, however, not present; therefore, summoning courage and dashing forward, I sped on through the three great Courts of the Sultanas towards the distant garden, beyond which I had heard lay His Majesty’s private pavilion. Without daring to notice the profound sensation my sudden appearance was causing throughout the harem, I ran quickly through court after court, until, just as I had gained the great arch which led into the garden, my passage was barred by a big black eunuch who had recognised me as a slave.
To close with him would have been folly, for his muscles were like iron; therefore, redoubling my speed, I bent down quickly just as he was about to grasp me, and thus dodged under his hands. Pursued, I rushed across the beautiful garden, red with roses and green with many leaves, along the edge of a clear lake, through an open gate, and into a richly-furnished magnificent pavilion, the pavement of which was of polished sardonyx and agate.
In the centre was a great baldachin of amaranth silk enriched with long fringes of silver, stretched on twelve pillars of twisted gold, and underneath there sat upon the Great White Divan, Hámed, son of Mohammed el Bákèri, the all-powerful Sultan of the Ahír. Upon his head was a turban of pale green silk, in front of which was a splendid diamond aigrette, while the robes he wore were of rich white silk brocade. Behind His Majesty stood two negro slaves cooling him with large fans of peacocks’ feathers. Around him were his gorgeously-attired body-servants, to whom he was giving some instructions, being just about to rise from his midday meal. As I burst upon them, with the gigantic eunuch in pursuit, the guards were in a moment on the alert, and those who were prostrate before their sovereign sprang to their feet and drew their swords.
“Seize him!” cried the eunuch excitedly. “He is a slave who hath escaped!”
“My gracious lord the Sultan!” I gasped breathlessly, prostrating myself before the royal divan as the slaves pounced upon me. “Hear me, I beseech thee! Let not thy servants remove me before I have spoken.”
“The slave hath merely some paltry grievance,” exclaimed the eunuch, with ceremonious obeisance.
“It is no grievance,” I cried wildly. “I come to give thee warning, O Sultan, Mighty of the Earth, that ere the shadows lengthen thou wilt die!”
“Silence, slave! Heed what thou sayest!” the Sultan thundered, pale with anger as he rose stately and superb from his divan. He was tall and of majestic presence, though his dark, sinister features bore distinct impress of the vile and brutal passions which actuated him. “Silence!” he cried again, and his servants fell before him with genuflections inspired by awe. “Slave! thou, who hast passed the portals of the private courts of thy Sovereign to prophesy his discomforture, hast dared to address thy Ruler without leave! Knowest thou not that none are allowed in this our pavilion unless commanded, under pain of instant death?”
“I come to forewarn thee, O August Ruler, of impending evil—”
“Stop thy chatter, dog!” he shouted, his face livid with sudden passion. The storm burst, and the dark cloud, swollen with his accumulated exasperation, exploded in a tremolo full of threats. When the Sultan Hámed broke out, he was terrible. “I heed not the croakings of a common slave who—”
“But men, jealous of thy position, have plotted to compass thy death ere to-day’s sun hath set!”
“Liar! Thou art indeed demented,” he cried, in full combustion. Then, in the frightful rumbling of his phrases, in the incessant crackling of his words, he roared bitter corrosive invectives that caused his robust frame to vibrate as they issued forth. Suddenly, turning to his trembling body-servants, he added, “Seize him! Let his prophetic tongue be torn out as a punishment for daring to predict evil in our presence!”
“Hear me, I pray thee, Just and Mighty one, slow to anger and of great mercy! It is to save thy Majesty’s life that—”
“The Sultan of the Ahír desireth not the aid of a slave!” he answered proudly. “I would send thee to execution at Azarmádarangh at once, only I think thy mind is deranged, and if so, thy boldness is not of thine own fault. But the chatter of the idiot annoyeth the sane, therefore thy tongue shall be removed, so that, though mad, thou wilt in future be dumb.” Turning quickly to my captors, he added, “Let him be cast into prison and rendered speechless. Away with him!”
For this rebuff I was totally unprepared, and my courage sank.
“Wilt thou show no mercy towards thine humble slave, who hath risked his life to prostrate himself before thee and give thee warning?” I ventured to cry earnestly, in final appeal.
“Take him from my sight,” commanded the Sultan, waving his hand angrily. “See that his glib tongue wags not after sundown.”
“Merciful Allah!” I implored, struggling violently with those who held me. “Behold, I am thy slave, O lord the Sultan! Hear me, I beseech of thee!”
But His Majesty, uttering a string of voluble curses upon my family through generations, turned his back towards me with a gesture of impatience, and I was unceremoniously hurried from his terrible presence.
The Sultan had, however, stepped from his divan, therefore, at the entrance to the pavilion I was held back by the four stalwart guards in order to let him pass through to the spacious Hall of Audience. Surrounded by his body-servants, he strode along with regal gait and keen, observant eye; then, after he had gone, I was dragged onward at a distance behind not so great as to prevent me watching his progress.
Gaining the Hall of Audience, one of the most gorgeous apartments of the Fáda, Mukhtar, the Grand Vizier, suddenly appeared, and, bowing low, craved a hasty and private word with his royal master. The plot was being carried out before my eyes! The Sultan, halting at the entrance to the long arched arcade that gave access to the Court of the Treasury, waved his hand, motioning those surrounding him to pass onward.
The armed janissaries standing erect and mute as statues along the walls of the audience-chamber exchanged expectant glances full of meaning, and I knew that they were anxiously awaiting the commission of the dastardly crime. I would, even at that moment, have shouted a last warning, but, alas! the men in whose hands I stood powerless had gagged me in compliance with the desire of their irate master.
Until the servants and guards had passed through the long dimly-lit arcade and crossed the paved court beyond, Mukhtar held his royal master in earnest conversation, then, prostrating himself humbly, he rose and took his leave, while His Majesty, hitching his robes of spotless silk about him, moved onward briskly and alone down the silent arcade.
Upon Mukhtar’s lips a momentary smile of satisfaction played as he stalked away. It told me that the doom of the Sultan Hámed was at hand! Walking still in the grip of the guards, I watched the upright and truly regal figure of His Majesty receding until he had passed half-way along the great arched corridor. Then suddenly a second figure was sharply silhouetted against the brilliant sunlight at the end of the vista. A strong arm was raised, a gleaming scimitar whirled aloft, and a loud cry of surprise and dismay echoed until it reached the spot where we stood.
Next second the headless body of Hámed, Sultan of the Ahír, lay at the Chief Eunuch’s feet, and upon the polished marble pavement a dark, ugly pool was rapidly forming.
My four captors, paralysed and amazed, released me and dashed along towards the prostrate body of their master, but in an instant the scimitars of the guards of the Hall of Audience were hovering over their heads, and after a desperate but brief struggle they were secured and gagged.
So swiftly indeed had the secret assassination been accomplished, that, ere I could realise that the plot had been carried out, the body had been thrust into a sack and removed, slaves who had actually held water in readiness had washed the stains from the marble, and almost before one could regain breath, every trace of the terrible crime had been erased.