Hasan - A Novel Part 13

The captain looked at Hasan and blew out his mous- tache. "To hear is to obey," he said doubtfully.

"And Hasan," said the King. "Don't tell anyone aboard anything about yourself, in case someone sees you. If news of your mission preceded you to Wak-"

Hasan agreed wholeheartedly. He made his farewell to the King, who wished him the best and committed him to the care of the captain. The captain put him in a chest, loaded it into a dinghy, and hauled it aboard the ship while the crewmen were busy preparing for the voyage. No one doubted this was special merchandise.

Hasan had the run of the cabin. It hardly seemed larger than a casket. He peeped out to watch the sh.o.r.eline pa.s.s, and was reminded of the time so long ago when he had been a captive on his way to Serendip. Phenomenal adven- ture had waited for him there. Would it be the same this time-or worse?

The days went by; Hasan lost count at ten. At length the fleet of ships hove to in a natural harbor with a long white beach lined with a number of ornate benches, or wooden couches, all unoccupied. The crewmen conveyed the trad- ing goods ash.o.r.e and picked up, in return, certain other goods waiting on the beach, while the captain ferried Hasan quietly ash.o.r.e. The men returned to the ships; the vessels set sail, and Hasan was left once more to his own devices.

Hasan walked along the beach from chair to chair, noting the workmanship and splendor of each. He would have to hide under one of these-and upon his choice depended his life, not to mention the success of his mis- sion. There were hundreds of them; how could he locate the proper one? Was there a proper one?

Some settles were larger and finer than others. He had to a.s.sume that this was an accurate indication of impor- tance. The commanding general should have the most elaborate one of all. Should he select an insignificant chair on the theory that its owner might be young and sympa- thetic? Or a fancy one, knowing that its occupant would have more power?

A young woman might agree to help him more readily, but probably wouldn't have the authority to do much. The moment her superiors found out, he would be lost. And, possibly, she would be jealous once she learned his mis- sion. A veteran would be much harder to move, on the other hand. She would be capable of killing him outright. The leaders of armies were callous creatures.

Dusk was falling. He had to make his decision soon, before the women came, or he would be lost before he started. Already he heard a distant clamor. They were here!

He ran pell-mell for the mightiest chair, a veritable throne, and thrust himself under it.

The noise increased. Hasan peeked out from his hiding place and saw a mult.i.tude of warriors approaching, wear- ing strangely-wrapped garments and unusual helmets and swords. This was the fabulous army of women he had been told about!

They spied the merchandise on the beach and gathered about it with delighted exclamations. Warrior-women were still women, Hasan reflected; the strangeness was only in his own view.

After a while their lights ceased to move and bob, and the women came to their chairs to rest. One seated herself upon the settle under which he crouched, and he knew his moment had come. He offered a silent prayer to Allah and grasped the hem of her garment.

"What is this?" the woman exclaimed in the Wak language, and he was thankful for his recent practice in it.

He crawled out and threw himself to the ground before her. "O Amazon!" he cried. "Your protection! Your goodwill!"

"Who are you? Stand up and let me look at you."

Her voice was sharp with command, though he could not see her face. This was a leader, without a doubt.

Hasan stood up. "O my mistress! I throw myself under your protection."

She peered at him in the light of her torch. "Why- you're a man. Don't you know we kill any man who sets foot in our camp?"

"Have pity on one who is parted from his people and his wife and his children! I have traveled across the world to rejoin them, risking my life and my soul for their sake. I beg for your help-otherwise all is lost."

The merchant-warriors in the neighboring chairs turned to see him standing there. "Get out of sight before they learn you are a man," she whispered harshly. "They'll kill you if they find out. Hide where you were."

Hasan immediately crawled under the settle again. "Mind-" the woman said, to the air but loudly enough for him to hear, "I have not decided what to do with you yet. I want to hear your story first. Stay there until morn- ing; after that I'll transport you to my tent."

"O my mistress! Thank you, thank you!"

"Don't get effusive. I may have to kill you anyway."

She stood up and went down the beach, as did the other women. They lighted new torches-flambeaux of wax mixed with aloes-wood and perfume and crude ambergris- and pa.s.sed the night in celebration, while Hasan watched and slept fitfully and wondered what was to come.

At dawn his benefactress returned with an armful of clothing. "Put this on," she said. "Hurry."

Hasan stood up and donned a light jacket of mail, a helmet, a clasped girdle and footwear that was obviously intended for no man. The armor was certainly shaped to other specifications than his, and quite uncomfortable. He slung the sword over his shoulder so that it hung under his armpit, and took the spear in his hand.

"Cover your face," she directed. "Your shape is bad enough-but no amazon wears a beard on her chin."

Hasan had seen that the amazons also did not wear veils, but he was hardly in a position to argue the matter.

"Now follow me," she said. "Don't say a word-your barbarous accent would destroy you."

It was not light yet. Hasan both blessed the murk for the concealment it offered and cursed it for making it so difficult to distinguish his benefactress amidst the troops. He didn't even know her name, and hadn't seen enough of her face to make it recognizable.

The armed women crowded around him as they fol- lowed a narrow road from the beach; severe campaigners alternating with lovely young first-termers. They chatted and joked with considerable crudity, and b.u.mped into each other and himself, causing him much apprehension. Even if he had not been fearful of discovery, he would not have enjoyed the company of such masculinely attired women. The mail suits suppressed their charms considerably, both physical and intellectual.

They approached the amazon camp. Military tents were pitched amid the trees, each carefully pegged and ditched to keep out insects and water. The women dispersed, each to her own tent. Hasan looked around-and could not find his patron!

The aisle between the tents was almost deserted now. He wandered along, uncertain what to do. He couldn't just stand outside-the sentries would notice. But how could he risk entering the wrong tent?

He offered up another silent prayer and headed for the largest tent. This was his only chance. He entered.

The woman inside had thrown down her arms and was lifting off her mail. She paused as she saw Hasan, and he paused too, ready to bolt.

"Come in before someone sees you, young man," she snapped. It was the right tent!

She finished drawing off her armor, and Hasan did likewise, glad to get out of the pinchy and bulgy costume. They faced each other in the light of the interior lamp.

Hasan had not known what to expect in his companion, but he was nevertheless disappointed. She was a grizzled old woman with straggly hair, wrinkled eyes, bald eye- brows; gap-toothed, big-nosed and h.o.a.ry-headed. Her face was a pockmarked calamity, but her body rivaled it for ugliness, with limbs like dry sticks and b.r.e.a.s.t.s like empty pouches.

They conversed. She was commander-in-chief of the amazon army with a name and t.i.tle he found difficult to p.r.o.nounce or comprehend. He settled upon an adaptation he could remember: Shawahi the fascinator, Mother of Calamities. "The calamities are visited upon the foe, de- spite appearances," she rea.s.sured him. "Now tell me who you are and how you came to this country, for I can plainly see you are a stranger."

Hasan summarized his story for her. He had told it to so many people in the course of this journey that it was beginning to sound uninteresting. He refrained from add- ing embellishments, however; he wasn't trying to impress this woman, but to obtain her protection and help.

"A princess of Wak?" she repeated, and sniffed. "Ev- ery peasant girl is a princess when she meets a handsome stranger. I daresay we can run her down without involving the court."

It had not occurred to Hasan that Sana might be less than she had claimed-but of course she hadn't claimed to be a princess. Rose had read it in a book, and he had never questioned it. Sana had come accompanied by servants, and was so obviously highborn that- It didn't matter. He had married her for her beauty, not her royalty. "Whatever she is," he said, "I beg of you-help me find her. Otherwise I shall surely die."

"Don't worry, lad," the crone said. "I like you, and I have decided to help you to achieve your desire. You are fortunate you encountered me, because no one else would have helped you." And she questioned him closely on the details of his story.

Hasan answered with complete openness, but remained nervous. At last she was satisfied. "I will show you how I will help you, O my son," she said. Hasan's distress abated; by addressing him as "son" she had indicated that her own interest in him was compa.s.sionate rather than romantic. This was a necessary rea.s.surance, for he had heard tales. . . .

Shawahi clapped her hands. Young attendants appeared at the front of the tent. "Summon the captains of the army to my presence," she said.

The captains came and stood before her. "Go out and proclaim to all the troops that they shall a.s.semble tomor- row at daybreak. Let no one stay behind, for she who tarries shall be slain."

"We hear and obey," they replied.

All day Shawahi gave directions and organized the army for travel. The goods were packed and loaded on beasts of burden, and food for the journey was hunted, prepared and stored. Hasan ascertained this by the sounds about him, since he never left the tent.

At dusk Shawahi rejoined him. "I am not a practicing Buddhist," she said, "for the religion of peace is difficult for warriors and the royal-born. Yet I would solve your problem without violence if I could. It would not be easy for you to recover a girl from Wak itself."

Hasan had many questions, for he knew nothing of this religion to which she didn't belong, yet disliked thinking of her as an infidel. He wondered what her plan was. But he held back his queries and accepted the mat she laid out for him in the corner of the tent. She had agreed to help; that was enough, for now.

At dawn the troops a.s.sembled. Shawahi made Hasan dress in an all-enveloping shawl, with a kerchief over his face so that nothing showed but his eyes. "Now I want you to stand beside me and tell me if you recognize your wife among my girls, for it is possible that she is among them," she said.

"But how shall I know her, in armor?"

The old woman smiled. "Perhaps they will remove some of it," she said. "Come."

Hasan followed her to the beach, where she sat upon her settle and bade him stand beside it. The captains shouted orders and the troops moved, unit by unit, past them and down toward the water. There each woman removed her armor and the rest of her apparel and went into the water to bathe. Naked, buxom girls paraded before him in all their natural charm.

Hasan concealed his astonishment, knowing that the amazons never would have exposed themselves in his presence had they suspected his ident.i.ty. They washed their fair skins and frolicked in the water, no longer the tough warriors he had seen before. It was amazing how much of a woman's pretensions vanished with her cloth- ing! These damsels were beautiful; clean of limb and firm of breast, with long dark hair streaming down their backs.

Hasan studied them closely, trying to recognize the face and feature of his beloved ... but the sight of their nudity and the soft and rounded decorations between their prancing thighs gave him a tremendous erection.

Shawahi chuckled. She was watching him, not her amazons. "They have attractive . . . faces, don't they, Hasan?"

"They-yes," he agreed, embarra.s.sed. "But I don't see my wife among them."

Shawahi signaled, and the first company emerged from the water and marched, naked, directly in front of the settle, on their way back to their armor and camp. Hasan found it painful to stand still-but none of these was Sana.

All morning the amazons bathed and marched past him; but though each company seemed more remarkable than the last, and his gaze lingered increasingly on the flexing b.u.t.tocks retreating toward the tents, his disappointment grew as he despaired of finding his wife among them.

At last the officers bathed. Most of these were less attractive than the lower-ranking girls, but there was one among them who stood out like the moon among stars. She had many waiting-women, and entered the water in the company of slavegirls of surpa.s.sing beauty. She fell to splashing and ducking them, while they did not dare return the gesture, and Hasan felt hot tears of remembrance come to his eyes as he remembered his first vision of the bird-maiden and her sport in the pool.

"This girl is very like my wife," he murmured, admir- ing her high bosom and broad thighs as she came from the water to don precious ornaments and clothing threaded with gold.

"Ah-have you recognized her, then?" Shawahi inquired.

"No, O my lady-this is not my wife, nor have I ever seen this damsel before. For a moment her grace and symmetry suggested the appearance of my wife, but not one of these girls is her like."

The old woman frowned. "Describe her to me, then. I know every girl in the Isles of Wak, for all are required to serve under me before taking husbands. Perhaps I will know her from your description."

"My wife has the fairest face and form of grace," he said, plunging into the task with enthusiasm. "Her cheeks are smooth and her b.r.e.a.s.t.s are high; her calves and thighs are plump to the sight and her teeth snowy white, her speech a delight; her gifts are moral and her lips red coral-"

"Are you quoting something?"

Hasan flushed. "We of Arabia get poetic when emotion overcomes us," he admitted. "When I bring to mind the imagery of my love-anyway, on her right cheek is a mole, and there is a sign on her waist under her navel. Her waist is so small her hips seem to be a heavy weight. Her face is brighter than the moon and the touch of her lips is a draught from the fountains of paradise."

Shawahi's eyes narrowed speculatively. "Now give me a detailed account," she said.

Hasan obliged, while the damsel before the water dressed in leisurely fashion. When he finished, the old woman bowed her head.

"I would have been happier without this knowledge," she said. "I recognize this woman by her description."

"O Pilgrimess! You know her!"

"I know her-but this is no cause to rejoice. Of all the women it might have been, this is the worst. For you have described the eldest daughter of the Supreme King of Wak."

"Yes-I told you she was a princess!"

"If I had believed you, I would never have agreed to help," the old woman said bitterly. "I allowed for youth- ful exaggeration. That was a mistake." She faced Hasan, her knowledgeable eyes boring into his. "Now listen, young man. If you're asleep, wake up. If this woman is indeed your wife, it is impossible for you ever to obtain her. If you came to her somehow, you still could not possess her, because the distance between your station and hers is the distance between earth and heaven. If you even attempt to win her, your life and the lives of all who help you will be forfeit."

Hasan was plunged into despair. "O my lady-how shall I turn my back now, after coming this far? I never thought you would forsake me like this!"

"O my son-believe me, if you persist in this quest you can only sacrifice your life. Go home; you are too hand- some to die like this! You have seen all the girls of my army naked. Tell me which of them pleases you, and I will give her to you in lieu of your wife, and you can return to your country in safety and comfort. That damsel lingering on the beach-surely she is to your liking? She is of royal blood herself, and-"

But Hasan hung his head and would not be consoled. "I cannot live with any but my beloved," he said. "And my sons."

Shawahi sighed. "I don't know what I'm going to do. If I take you before the Queen you say is yours, I will lose my own life as well, because she will blame me for admitting you to her lands, and her wrath is terrible. I will give you a fortune in treasure and fair women, if you will only reconsider."

"I don't want anything but my wife and children," Hasan said.

Shawahi saw that it was no use. "This is death for both of us," she said, "but I will take you to the Queen."

Hasan started to thank her, but thought the better of it. She did not want thanks; she was only honoring the letter of her promise to a.s.sist him.

"This, then, is the journey lying before us," she told him. "From here to the chief city of Wak is a distance by foot of seven months. We fare first to the Land of the Ferals, where tigers and bears and crocodiles and all man- ner of fearsome creatures prowl. Then we travel on to the Land of the Birds, where the noise of their wings and screeching scarcely allows anyone to talk or sleep. After that we come to a third country, the Land of the Jinn, where our ears are deafened by their cries and our eyes blinded by the sparks and fire of their mouths. At last we approach the main section of Wak, the largest island, and cross a mighty river and pa.s.s an enormous mountain, Mount Wak, where a tree grows which bears fruits like the heads of the sons of Adam. When the sun rises on them the heads cry out 'Wak! Wak!' and at sundown they cry out again. And yet these things are nothing compared to the power and wrath of the Queen when she finds out-" she broke off, shuddering.

The empire of Wak extended far beyond the seven principle islands. Hasan had been landed at its farthest extremity, just south of the Khmer empire that lay between them and the Land of Camphor. Their route would skirt the Khmer demesnes and circle a great sea bordering the long northern peninsula that reached down toward Wak itself.

They marched. The soil underfoot abruptly changed to deep, bright red, as though a dragon had been slain and bled of its vengeful life directly into the earth. They kept mainly to the sh.o.r.e, following the white sandy beaches whenever possible.

Giant mangrove trees thrived here. At flood tide only the trunks and crowns showed in the water, but during the ebb the bizarre prop-root structures were exposed, three to five feet long and converging upward toward the stem. Individual sections stuck out of the mud, going nowhere.

The serpentine coastline wound in and out, fringed with forested islands and mangrove swamps. Hasan hardly knew which direction he was going, because their route seemed to bear in all directions. He knew he could never have negotiated this country by himself.

The land near the sh.o.r.e was fairly level, but he could see tall mountains rising inland. Rivers came from them to the sea, edged thickly by bamboo forests and more spa.r.s.ely by coconut palms, papayas and banana plants. Elsewhere the trees were bare; carpets of brown leaves many inches deep covered the forest floor.

"Why are all the trees dying?" Hasan wanted to know.

Shawahi laughed and explained that it was the dry sea- son, when the parched forests lost their foliage. "Things will change when the monsoon comes," she said. "And we'd better be across the plain before it does."

"But the rains bring no harm."

"Stranger, trust me to know my business. After the rains come the floods. All the plain is covered with dirty water, a sea of it, with nothing but sugar-palms rising out of it to show where the land was. You can't even tell where the salt ocean begins. The native houses are built on stilts to keep them dry-but we are on foot. It would not be very comfortable traveling."

Hasan shut up, chastened. Still, he maintained a certain skepticism, until such time as he saw such a wonder for himself. He had seen floods in Ba.s.sorah, but nothing on this order.

They entered the Land of Ferals. Hasan was disap- pointed; its appearance was much the same as what he had already seen. But of course he should have expected the animals to be in scant supply during the dry season, and should be thankful for it.

Yet why did reality always turn out to be so much less than antic.i.p.ation?

He kept his eyes open and did see animals-elephants, bears, boars, monkeys and a solitary tiger. Deer bounded away on sight, and a jackal skulked after the party, scav- enging for their remains. There were crocodiles and turtles in the rivers, and at night the sharp-pointed porcupines roved among the trees. Rats were common, and their prettier cousins, the squirrels. Several times he saw lithe black panthers, and of course there were many snakes of all sizes.

He suspected that the Land of Ferals would be much more dangerous for an individual traveler. As it was, in the midst of an armed party of many hundreds, the trip was dull. They crossed the plains. The outlines of the mountains faded far to the north and the land became level and monotonous. Drowsing buffaloes stood near the water, the helpful weaver-birds picking parasites out of their fur. There were villages here: the cl.u.s.ters of houses were indeed on stilts, and the little island-like collections of dwellings were surrounded by bunches of th.o.r.n.y bamboo and palms.

Shawahi took the party through one village, stopping for supplies, and Hasan got a closer look at the natives and their way of life. The huts were fashioned of bamboo and gra.s.s, with peaked roofs of matted hay, and stood three or four feet above the ground. The men wore the phanung: a long wide cloth wrapped around the body from waist to knees, with the two ends pa.s.sed between the legs and tucked into the waist in back to form serviceable panta- loons. The women wore tunic-like dresses, colorful tur- bans and silver rings around their necks. Little boats were in the water, with domes over their decks like barrels laid sidewise.

The market-place both fascinated and repelled Hasan. There was none of the vociferous bargaining he was accus- tomed to. The shopper either paid the price or he didn't; the shopkeeper didn't seem to care. How could anyone do business that way? Later he was to realize that much of what he took to be indifference was in reality the extreme politeness of the people here, and come to appreciate this quality very much; but this first experience left him cold.