Kitabı oku: «Daughters of Destiny», sayfa 8

CHAPTER XV
SALAMAN

A solitary camel came into Mekran by the north gate, driven by a lean Baluch in a soiled yellow burnous and bearing upon its back a palanquin with curtains of faded silk. It ambled through the streets and knelt at the portals of the khan’s palace, where the curtains were drawn and an aged priest cautiously descended.

Before the entrance was drawn up a company of warriors of the Tribe of Agot, who solemnly saluted the new arrival and pressed backward that he might pass within.

The priest paused to note their splendid dress and brightly polished weapons, eyeing them with the simplicity of a child viewing his first pageant. His countenance was strangely sweet and guileless, although not lacking in dignity, and his white garb was of spotless purity. But above his breast – the focus of every eye of the true believer – hung suspended a jewelled star that proclaimed him the Grand Mufti of the Sunnite faith. No wonder the awed warriors pressed backward before the great Salaman, who had come all the way from his retreat at Takkatu to visit their khan.

Passing through the courtyard and up the marble stairway the venerable priest stopped often to mark the luxurious furnishings of the palace. The building itself was scarcely equal to his own monastery, but the splendor of its fittings was in strong contrast with the simplicity to which he was accustomed. The slave Memendama preceded him, pausing at every turn to salam before his master’s guest.

The ante-rooms were filled with sirdars and captains of the tribes, all resplendent in attire, as befitted the courtiers of a great khan. Within one alcove sat Agahr the Vizier, in deep converse with a group of greybeards who were evidently officers of rank. These also rose to bow before the priest, and Salaman stopped to read the vizier’s countenance with curious intentness. When he had passed Agahr looked after him with a troubled face, and the others, exchanging significant glances, left him and walked away.

At last Memendama stopped beside a portiere which he drew aside to allow the priest to enter. It was the private apartment of the khan.

Salaman, stepping within the small room, gave a shrewd glance around and allowed the semblance of a smile to flit across his grave features. The place was well lighted with high windows, although the afternoon already waned, but the walls and floor were bare and the furniture almost severe in character. Beside a wooden bench knelt the Khan, his head resting upon his outstretched arms and his body without motion.

The priest’s glance was almost tender as he softly crossed the chamber and seated himself within the embrasure of a window. The silence remained unbroken.

After a time the Khan moved and raised his head, fixing his eyes upon the white-robed priest. There was no start of surprise in his gaze. Very gently he arose, knelt again before Salaman and kissed with humility the hem of the priestly robe.

“You are here, my father,” he said, “and I am grateful.”

The priest laid his hand upon the bowed head.

“All is well, my son,” he answered. “Allah and the Prophet have given you guidance, and your days are righteous.” He paused a moment and then added: “We are pleased with Ahmed Khan.”

Again there followed a period of prolonged silence.

Then the young man asked:

“You know of my troubles, father?”

“Yes, dear Hafiz. The American girl is here in Mekran.”

“Is it not strange that she has come from across the world to the one place where I have found refuge?”

“The ways of Allah are good ways,” responded the priest, “and He holds the strands of fate in relentless hands. Your life is just beginning, my Hafiz.”

An eager look sprang to the young man’s eyes. He searched the calm countenance of Salaman as if he feared it might belie the speaker’s words.

“Do you bid me hope, my master?” he asked, in trembling tones.

A change came over the priest’s face. His eyes seemed masked with a delicate film that gave them far-seeing power. The lines of the aged features grew tense and hard, as if deprived of all nervous volition. His head fell slowly forward until the white beard swept to his knees and lay upon them like a drift of snow.

Hafiz drew back, clasping his knees with his hands and looking up at the entranced mufti with expectant gaze.

“The deeds of men bear fruit,” said the voice of the priest, sounding cold and unreal in the intense stillness, “and the sun of Allah’s will ripens it all together and brings it from many parts to be heaped within one measure. The harvest is near, my son. Events will crowd one another like waves lapping the pool’s edge, and from the midst of strife and bloodshed I see you rising calm and serene, with the mark of our gracious Prophet upon your brow… The Voice of Allah whispers in my ears … and all is well!”

Silence followed, and neither moved. A shadow crept over the windows, slowly dimming the light. An hour passed, and another. The room was dark now, and scarcely could the Khan discern the form of the priest seated before him. Blackness fell, and the stillness of death remained. From a neighboring minaret the hours chimed sweetly but all unheeded.

Then came a gleam of silver, striking aslant the priest’s face and crossing the room like a solid bar, its end melting against the further wall. The bar grew and spread as the moon rose higher, and soon the entire room was flooded with a mellow light that rendered every object distinctly visible.

As if the radiance brought life in its dancing beams the aged mufti breathed again and moved slightly in his seat. Hafiz, alert to mark the change, softly arose and went to an alcove, returning with a tray upon which was arranged a simple repast. This he placed upon a tabaret beside Salaman and then brought a bowl of water and a towel, bathing the hands and face of his master with a touch as tender as that of a woman. The priest’s expression was normal now, but very thoughtful. He ate sparingly of the food, and afterward the Khan also tasted the dish.

Then Hafiz, having carried away the tray, lighted a small lamp, green shaded, and both men approached the table and sat beside it.

“May I ask of Ahmed, my father?”

“He is now of the Imaum, well favored of the Prophet, his comrade, and happy in pursuit of a divine solution of the mysteries.”

“Here his gentle soul would have been cankered with misery.”

The priest nodded. Hafiz, after a hesitating look into the other’s face continued:

“I have placed a woman in my harem, father.”

A smile reassured him.

“All is known to me, my son,” came the calm reply. “But I must speak with you concerning the Vision with which Allah has just favored me. Your vizier is not a true man, dear Hafiz.”

“I have feared as much, my father, though striving to win him to me by many favors.”

“He plots for your destruction, urged to treachery by a maiden very beautiful to mortal eyes, but equally repulsive to the all-wise Allah.”

“It is his daughter,” said the Khan, musingly.

“I have seen a man riding from Agahr the vizier to the camp of Kasam. Listen well, my son, for the Vision was given me that you might have knowledge.”

In low tones Salaman now described the scenes he had witnessed in his trance, and the Khan attended gravely to each word of the recital, frowning at times, then smiling, and at the last giving a shudder of horror as the catastrophy was unfolded.

Afterward he sat long in deep thought, exclaiming at last, with a sigh of regret:

“These are evil days, my father!”

But the priest’s face shone calm and bright.

“No man knows content,” he answered, “who has never faced despair. The blessed Allah gives us night that we may welcome the dawn.”

CHAPTER XVI
THE ABDUCTION

Janet and Bessie had continued their morning rides with Dirrag, notwithstanding the unpleasant meeting with Prince Kasam, which, although duly reported by the warrior to the Khan, had not been deemed of sufficient importance to interrupt their pleasure.

But since then Dirrag had led them through the valley to the south and east, where the country was more thickly settled, and avoided riding very far from the walls.

However, on the morning following the arrival of the Grand Mufti Salaman at Mekran, Bessie pleaded with Dirrag to again take them up the westward slope, that they might once more look upon the camp of the Prince. Dirrag hesitated at first, but finally consented and turned the horses’ heads in that direction. The steeds of Mehmet, he reflected, were the fleetest in the khan’s dominions, and his own trusted cimeter would be equal to any emergency. Moreover, when a woman pleaded Dirrag’s heart was water, and Bessie was his favorite.

It was a beautiful morning, and the sun had just risen to cast a golden glow over the distant plain, where the white dots appeared to their eyes in increased numbers.

“Kasam’s army is growing,” said Bessie. “Surely there are many more tents than there were before.”

“The air may be filled with vultures, yet they dare not attack a living lion,” remarked Dirrag, quietly.

“But why shouldn’t Kasam himself be the lion?” she retorted. “Is he so much inferior to the mysterious Ahmed Khan?”

“The future will decide that,” said Dirrag. “Those who know my master have no fear of Kasam of Raab.”

After remaining a short time to watch he picturesque scene spread out before them they turned their horses to descend the hill. All three were busy with their own reflections, and had nearly reached the foot of the incline, with the walls of Mekran less than two miles away, when three mounted men who had been concealed in a thicket dashed out and, without warning, fell savagely upon the band. Two with drawn swords engaged Dirrag in fierce combat, while the third, coming beside Janet, dragged the girl from her horse, swept her across to his own saddle, and then galloped away with his victim clasped tight in his arms.

Bessie, reining in her horse, sat as if turned to stone, for she recognized in the abductor of Janet their old friend Prince Kasam.

With dull eyes and set face she followed the flight of his horse as he bounded up the hill with his burden, nor could the growls of Dirrag, who was engaged in beating down the swords of his assailants with mighty strokes, distract her from the more astounding sight.

Janet, unable to elude the fierce embrace of the man who held her, did not waste her strength in useless struggles. But after the first surprise of her capture had passed away she managed to find her voice, crying out:

“Release me, Prince Kasam!”

“Never!” he answered, exultantly. “You are mine, now – mine forever! And no earthly power shall ever tear you from my arms.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“To my tent, beloved, there to become my bride. Don’t you know that I love you – love you – love you!”

He repeated the words at each bound of his great black horse, pressing her yet closer to his breast, as if a madness possessed him.

“Never will I wed you!” gasped the frightened girl, trembling in spite of her effort at control. “You are a coward to seize me thus, and you are mad!”

“Yes, mad with love,” he answered in a desperate voice. “I cannot live without you, my Janet. Willing or unwilling, it matters not. You shall be mine, and mine alone!”

She turned and whispered a word in his ear. He laughed.

“So much the better, dear one. We shall not have to wait for a ceremony. This is not England, nor America, but wild, free Baluchistan, and I am master of a host. You are mine – you are mine – you are mine!”

He did not see a great bay speeding across from a neighboring grove to intercept his path. He was kissing the girl’s hair, her neck, her shoulders; hugging her fast in his wild embrace and blind to everything else.

The man upon the bay sat motionless, his huge, muscular frame bent slightly forward to favor the flight of his steed and his eyes fastened upon the Baluch prince and his fair burden.

The minutes were few before the noble bay of Mehmet pressed upon the flank of Kasam’s gelding; the abductor felt a stinging blow upon the neck that lifted him full from his saddle and set him headlong upon the ground; but as he fell Janet was seized in an iron grasp and torn from his arms, being instantly transferred to a seat upon the other horse.

The bay never paused in its rapid flight, but swerved and circled until its head was turned toward Mekran.

Janet, bewildered and stunned by the excitement of her adventure, for a time lay inert within the strong arms of her rescuer. Then, slowly and shyly, she turned her face to his, and meeting the look in his grey eyes she smiled happily and nestled her head against the man’s broad breast.

And it so happened that Ahmed Khan leaned over and kissed the white brow of the American girl just as his bay bore them past the spot where Dirrag stood with gory blade looking down upon the two motionless forms he had slain. Bessie had tumbled from her horse and lay in a heap upon the ground, sobbing as if her heart was broken.

The warrior smiled significantly as he looked after the flying form of his master. Then he turned and, not unkindly, shook the weeping girl’s shoulder.

“Come,” he said, “we will ride back alone to Mekran.”

CHAPTER XVII
DAVID SELLS AN IMPORTANT SECRET

David brought the note, which he had received from the hands of the khan’s Arab slave, Memendama. It was in Janet’s clear script and read as follows:

“Do not worry about me in any way, for I am safe and happy. Of my own free will I have become an inmate of the harem of the Khan.”

Aunt Lucy gave a shriek and fell over backward upon the floor, where her heels beat a tattoo against the rug. No one paid the slightest attention to her. The Colonel stared straight ahead with stony eyes and a look of horror upon his face. The doctor stalked restlessly up and down the room with his hands thrust deep in his pockets, whistling softly to himself. Allison, stolid and unimpressed, lighted his pipe and puffed away with supreme nonchalance. Bessie had not yet recovered from the adventure of the morning. She lay face downward upon a divan and wept miserably.

Under these adverse circumstances Aunt Lucy’s fainting fit vanished. She sat up and glared wildly upon the perturbed group.

“This,” she announced, “is the result of travelling in heathenish and godless countries. We are ruined!”

Her brother waved his hand impatiently, but no one answered in words.

“And to think how that demure minx Janet has deceived me all these days and made me believe she was respectable! Oh, it is terrible.”

“Shut up!” said Allison, rudely.

“You’re a beast, that’s what you are!” retorted the old lady, white with fury, “and a fit brother for your designing sister. And to think that I’ve got myself mixed up with such a scandal. An American girl the inmate of a harem! What will be said when this news reaches New York? And Colonel Moore an officer of the great Metropolitan Construction Syndicate!”

“See here, Lucy,” warned her brother, “you keep mum until you know what you’re talking about. Janet is as good a girl as ever breathed.”

“Only de best gets into de khan’s harem,” remarked David, consolingly.

Aunt Lucy turned upon him like a tigress.

“It’s your doing, I’ll be bound,” she cried. “You’re a traitor!”

David winced a little, and studied the pattern in the rug.

“Now,” said the doctor, “it strikes me you’re getting nearer to the truth, except that David is too much of a fool to be a scoundrel, and so may escape suspicion. But I’m inclined to think there has been treachery in some quarter, and that Janet has been forcibly seized by the Khan. I wish there was an American or English consul in this forsaken town.”

“Her letter says she went willingly,” snapped Aunt Lucy, and the Colonel groaned at the suggestion.

“It was probably written under threat of death or torture,” replied the doctor, positively. “These Orientals are equal to any villainy. Knowing Janet as we do, and believing in her modesty and truth, it is absurd to interpret her letter in any other light. What do you think, Bessie?”

The girl shook her head, wiping the tears from her reddened eyelids.

“I don’t know, papa. There’s some dreadful mystery about it, I’m sure.”

“The thing to do,” said Aunt Lucy, “is to appeal to Prince Kasam. I never trusted that young man very much, but he’s been decently brought up in a civilized country, which is more than you can say for that awful khan. In the circumstances the Prince ought to be willing to help us rescue Janet.”

The Colonel stood up and brushed the gray locks from his forehead.

“I’ll find a way to get to Kasam at once,” he said, in a harsh and strained voice. “In which direction did you tell me, Bessie, his camp lies?”

She rose and walked steadily to the Colonel, putting her hands upon his shoulders and looking full into his eyes.

“I have not told you all the truth of what happened this morning,” she began, bravely. “It was Kasam and his men who first attacked us, and Kasam who bore Janet away while the others tried to kill Dirrag. Afterward the Khan appeared and rode after them, rescuing Janet just as they reached the top of the hill. Kasam must have been killed or dreadfully hurt, for we did not see him again. The rest happened as I told you. Dirrag cut down the two men and saluted the Khan as he rode by with Janet in his arms. I must have fainted just then, for I knew nothing of this; but Dirrag afterward assisted me to get home, and when I wept at the capture of Janet he told me to dry my eyes, for she had smiled when the Khan kissed her.”

“Impossible!” cried the Colonel.

“Dirrag is very honest,” returned Bessie, hesitatingly, “and he thinks the Khan carried her to his harem that she might be safe from Kasam. I will not say she did not object; but, Colonel, there has been something strange about Janet for some time – something I could not understand.”

“I thought she was happier,” said the Colonel, huskily; “that she was learning to forget.”

“She has laughed in her sleep,” continued Bessie; “she, who used to be so sad and melancholy. And only this morning she sang an old song as we galloped away from the town, and semed as light hearted as a child.”

The Colonel buried his face in his hands, and a sob rose to this throat.

“Oh, my girl – my dear little girl!” he murmured; “what can I do to save you!”

“Cheer up, Dad,” said Allison, brusquely. “There’s no use taking it so hard. What does it matter whether Janet’s in a harem or anywhere else, so long as she’s happy and content? My opinion is we’re wasting our pity on her. She isn’t the sort to write a letter under compulsion, and you know it as well as I do.”

“Really,” the doctor remarked, “I can’t understand the thing at all. If the girl had ever seen Ahmed Khan she might have fallen in love with him. It’s common report that he’s a fine looking fellow. But until today they were perfect strangers. H – m! Let me see. Wasn’t there some old romance in Janet’s life – some trouble or other?”

“Yes,” said the Colonel. “But that is past and gone – years ago. Yet she brooded upon it, doctor, and it may have driven her mad.”

“I’ve detected no signs of insanity in your daughter,” returned the doctor, rather nettled at the suggestion. “But Allison is right; there’s no use borrowing trouble over the matter until we know more. Perhaps we shall think of some way to communicate with her, or to force the Khan to give her up. We seem absurdly helpless in this tyrant-ridden town, although were we in any other country on earth we might easily assemble an army and rescue your daughter by force of arms, provided diplomacy failed. Kasam seems as impossible as the Khan, for Bessie’s story leads me to suspect he’s the greater scoundrel of the two.”

David had appeared ill at ease during this conversation. Now he rose from his seat and after a half frightened glance around announced in a timid voice:

“I haf a secret!”

“Has it anything to do with Janet Moore?” asked Aunt Lucy, in her sharpest tone.

“It iss a fine secret,” said David, fixing his little eyes upon the Colonel, “ant it is vort’ a t’ousand fillibees.”

The old lady gave a snort of contempt, but the Colonel seemed interested, and as he shrewdly examined the Jew’s face he noted great beads of perspiration standing upon his shiny forehead – a warrant that David, at least, was very much in earnest in his proposition. It was not impossible David had a secret, and that he considered it a dangerous one to disclose.

“Will you swear that your secret is worth a thousand fillibees to me?” he asked.

“Sure, most Excellency – if your daughter she is vort’ so much money,” earnestly answered the Jew.

“She is worth more,” declared the Colonel. “Tell me what you know, and you shall have the price you ask.”

But David only stood still and trembled, answering not a word.

“Bessie,” said the doctor, “take your Aunt Lucy into the next room, and keep out of earshot. We must have a business conference with David.”

When the women had gone the Colonel walked over to a desk and took from a drawer a long envelope filled with English bank-notes, which he carefully counted. They amounted to six hundred pounds. To these he added a roll of gold and brought all the money to David, placing it upon the table beside him.

“There, David, are a thousand fillibees, in good English and American money. It is yours if you can tell me how to rescue my child from the palace of the khan.”

David reached out his eager hands.

“Not yet,” cautioned the Colonel, sternly. “You must first prove that your knowledge is of value to us.”

The man drew back, discomfited.

“I vill nod risk mine head,” he said, doggedly, “unless I haf de moneys. Id iss more to you dan id iss to me. Gif me de t’ousant fillibees or I nod speak von vort!”

The Colonel returned to the desk and brought forth a revolver.

“You will tell me all you know,” he said, “or you will soon be a dead man, and then you won’t care for the money. And if you do not tell me the truth, if your secret is not worth to me this sum of money which you have demanded, you shall never leave this room alive. On the other hand, if you have not deceived me the money shall be yours. Take time to think it over, David, and be sure I will keep my word.”

David trembled anew, and cast a sly glance at the doctor, who looked as stern and determined as his terrible friend. Because of the excitement of the moment Allison had allowed his pipe to go out, and now sat regarding the Jew with a cruel smile upon his handsome features. Evidently these Americans were not to be trifled with. David looked longingly at the money, and gave a sigh. He was fairly trapped, and he knew it.

“Most Excellency,” he said, mopping his brow with a dirty red cloth, “tonight de vest gate of Mekran vill be open’t to Prince Kasam ant hiss army. De city vill be surprised.”

“Who will open the gate?” asked the Colonel.

David hesitated.

“Tell me!”

“De vizier,” whispered the Jew, with pallid lips.

“Well, and what then?”

“De Khan ant hiss people vill rush out of de palace to fight; but dey vill not be ready to fight, an’ Kasam vill cut dem down.”

“I see. And then?”

“Vhile de city iss in de uproar I leat you by a secret vay into de harem of de Khan. You vill take de girl ant carry her avay.”

“Very good. Are you sure you know this secret way, David?”

“Sure, most Excellency. I pait a high price to find it oudt. A t’ousant fillibees! Id iss too liddle, altogedder.”

The Colonel took a key from his pocket, unlocked the cabinet, and drew out David’s leathern pouch. Into this he stuffed the money – notes and gold together – and then replaced the pouch in the cabinet, locking it securely.

“You will be a rich man, David, when we return from the palace,” said he.

David clinched his hands and an angry look flashed in his beady eyes.

“Id iss nod right!” he protested. “You Americans do nod play de fair way, at all. You ged my secret ant you keep my moneys.”

“Only until we have proven you,” replied the Colonel. “If you are true, David, you will be rich. When are the gates to be opened?”

“Ad midnight.”

“All the gates?”

“Only de vest gade. De vizier, he vill trust no von bud himselfs.”

“Then how did you know of the plot?”

The Jew was silent.

“It will pay you to be honest, David.”

“De vizier musdt sent a man to de prince,” he said, reluctantly; “ant de man he owes me two golt fillibees. He tells me hiss message to de prince, ant I cancels de debt. Sullah ben cairno! id iss vell I did, for I safe mineself moneys. Ven de man comes back he hass a fit unt dies. De vizier he iss a cleffer excellency – bud nod so cleffer ass Davit.” He stopped to chuckle softly and rub his hands together; but suddenly he paused and cast a gloomy look at the cabinet.

The Colonel tossed him the key.

“Now you will know the money is surely yours,” he said. “Keep the key yourself, David, for you are going to stay here with us until after midnight. If you guide us safely to the harem you may go free. If we find you guilty of treachery I will put a bullet through your head. But in either event the key unlocks the cabinet and the money is now in your possession.”

David nodded and secreted the key in his bosom.

“I am true man,” he muttered. “Id iss impossible for me to deceive so great an excellency!”

“We three,” said the doctor, “will accompany David to the harem.”

Allison grew red and uncomfortable.

“One of us, sir, should remain here to guard the women. Let me stay. Surely my father and you will be able to look after David and bring Janet home in safety.”

“That is not a bad idea,” returned the doctor. “There will be wild times when Kasam’s army enters the city. It will be well for you to be on hand to protect Bessie and my sister from possible intruders.”

This being arranged to the young man’s satisfaction the elder gentlemen left the room to make preparations for their adventure, leaving Allison to smoke his pipe and keep an eye upon the slippery David.

When they were alone the Jew approached his companion and whispered:

“Tonighdt you vill be in de garden mit de vizier’s daughter.”

Allison’s face flushed with mingled fear and anger.

“What do you mean by that, you scoundrel?” he exclaimed.

“Davit knows!” chuckled the Jew, wagging his head. “Six time – sefen time – you meet mit Maie vhen no one knows bud Davit. Tonighdt you go again. She iss very lofely – very beaudiful! Ah, yes. Bud do nod fear. Davit vill say nodding – if he iss vell pait.”

“Well paid? So you intend to rob me, also, do you?”

“I am true man, Excellency. Your fadder should know; de vizier should know; bud Davit vill forget efferyt’ing if he hass a hundert fillibees.”

“A hundred fillibees! I haven’t so much.”

“Fifty, den. Fifty fillibees iss so small for so big a secret!”

“Very well; tomorrow you shall have them,” said Allison.

“Bud, most Excellency, suppose I shouldt remember tonighdt, ant your fadder ant de vizier shouldt know vot Davit knows? I cannod forget de secret unless I haf de fifty golden fillibees. I vouldt try, Excellency; I vouldt try hard; bud I could nod – could nod forget.”

Allison pulled at his pipe and thought it over, while the Jew stood cringing and smiling before him. Then he drew from his pocket all the gold and notes he could find and gave them into Davids hand.

“You’re making money fast, you dirty pig of a Jew,” he growled. “But watch out that you don’t lose it just as quickly. I’ll get even with you before I’m through.”

But David had other secrets, the thoughts of which made him accept the young man’s threat with a good grace. With evident delight he concealed the money in the bosom of his robe. It lay next to the hundred fillibees which Agahr the Vizier had given him that very morning. And the key to the cabinet was also in his possession.

David sighed from pure happiness, and sat down upon a chair to wait for the Colonel and the doctor.

“De easiest t’ing in de vorlt to sell,” he murmured, contentedly, “iss secrets!”