Tales From Jokai Part 8

The next day he told the matter to Ali Hojia, to whom the enigmatical old man had referred him. The lawyer shook his head over it, as if he did not like the business at all, made objections, and tried to persuade Muhzin that he had dreamed it all, or imagined it with his eyes wide open, and finally appealed to his doubts by reminding him that the body of Eminha was now lying in the tomb where Muhzin had buried it--let him break open the tomb and see for himself, quoth Ali.

Muhzin hastened to perform the request of his friend, and behold--the dead body of Eminha was _not_ in the desecrated tomb.

And now no power in the world was capable of keeping Muhzin back from following the voice of the heavenly vision. He put in his pouch whatever of ready money he had by him, and confided his whole store of gems to Ali Hojia, who was his nearest friend, and a worthy, honourable man to boot, till he himself should return from Mecca. And Ali took the charge upon him for friendship's sake.

Muhzin, after many vicissitudes, reached Mecca. On the road robbers attacked him, and robbed him of all his money, but, fortunately, the little box with the magic unguent escaped; it was concealed within his turban, and therefore they did not discover it. A beggar he entered the holy city, and lived from hand to mouth on the alms of compa.s.sionate pilgrims.

Every day he could be seen at the gate of the cemetery near the well of Zemzem, watching the funeral processions which pa.s.sed before him day after day, for Mecca is a populous place.

A year had pa.s.sed, and he was still waiting in vain--a coffin such as that described by the nocturnal apparition had not yet pa.s.sed before him. Either the coffin was blue but the pall was not yellow, or the pall lacked the necessary blue letters, or if it had the blue letters the arabesques were not of silver, or if every requisite mark of identification was there, the corpse was not the corpse of a woman, but of a man, or a manchild of twelve years.

Muhzin was slowly approaching that state of mind which we call madness, when one day he heard from the other beggars that there was going to be a splendid funeral that day--the wife of the Kadilesker, the beautiful Eminha, had died.

Eminha!

That name put heart into Muhzin once more. All day long he did not depart from the gate of the cemetery, and the beating of his heart almost stifled him when he heard approaching him the funeral music which always heads the funeral procession.

Muhzin had no thought for the splendour of the funeral, no thought for the dancing dervishes, nor for the wailing women-mourners, nor for the _siligdars_ who scattered small silver coins among the mob of mendicants. All he could do was to gaze upon the bier.

Even from a distance he could see that the coffin was blue and the pall a bright yellow. When they came nearer he could even distinguish the blue letters on the pall, and when they came level with him he could see the silver embroidery of arabesques quite well.

Muhzin, wild with joy, violently pushed aside those standing in front of him, forced his way through the procession right up to the coffin, and cried--

"Stop! Stop! This is Eminha. This is my wife!"

The attendants, the great men, the Kadilesker himself--the dead woman's husband--looked with amazement upon this raving figure who had dared to disturb the order of the funeral; but Muhzin regarded them not, but stripped the pall from off the face of the dead woman.

The young woman who lay there really resembled his Eminha. Death is a great artist. With one cold breath she knows how to make all human faces singularly alike.

"She is not dead!" cried Muhzin to the dumfoundered crowd. "I can make her arise, and then you will see that she will call me her husband. I have been waiting for her here a whole year. Hence, all of you! for I would kill and slay and scatter curses around me! Ye shall not bury the living!"

The people were alarmed at the sight of mad Muhzin, and still more by his savage words. Moreover, the mourning Kadilesker dearly loved his dead wife, and when Muhzin said that he would raise her up again, he also was glad, and made place for him by the coffin that he might perform this miracle.

With the fervour of devotion, Muhzin drew from his girdle the little box and opened it; a yellow-coloured ointment was inside it, speckled with little green-gold points, of whose magical efficacy Muhzin himself was quickly convinced when he dipped into it the index finger of his right hand, for it burnt him as severely as if he had plunged it into boiling oil. But this extraordinary quality of the ointment was only a greater testimony to its marvellous origin, so that Muhzin did not hesitate to thoroughly rub the eyebrows and the lips of the corpse with his anointed finger-tip.

Everybody was intently watching to see whether the breath of life would return beneath the influence of the wondrous unguent, but n.o.body was so devout a believer in it as Muhzin himself.

But lo! instead of the eyes and lips of the dead woman opening, as was expected of them, the places which Muhzin had anointed turned black, the skin began to crackle and blister, and the face of the dead woman became quite hideous.

Horror seized upon Muhzin. This was not the effect he had antic.i.p.ated.

The people around him murmured aloud, the Kadilesker rushed furiously upon him, and, seizing him by the throat, cast him to the ground.

"Accursed magician!" he cried, "so shamelessly to distort the face of my dead wife, and make her, now that she is dead, just such an one as thou thyself art while still alive!"

"To the stake with him!" thundered the mob all around; they were furious with Muhzin. "To the fiery pit with him--reserved for the idol-worshippers and sorcerers--the wretch who would desecrate the bodies of the dead!"

And worthy Muhzin would have been burnt on the spot had not the Governor of Damascus happened to be there, who, perceiving that they had to do with a lunatic rather than an idolater, ordered his chiauses to seize Muhzin, tie him to a pillar, give him two hundred strokes with a camel-driver's whip, and then bring the man before him, that he might confess what mad idea it was that had induced him to deform the features of the dead wife of the Kadilesker.

Muhzin told the Governor about the marvellous apparition which had sent him thither.

"My poor Muhzin," said the Governor, when he understood the whole affair, "what a confounded fool thou art to allow thyself to be imposed upon by such a lot of rubbish! Some one has been making a b.u.t.t of thee.

Why, that Eminha who was the wife of the Kadilesker was born and lived here from her childhood until now; how, then, could she be thy wife a year ago? Moreover, that unguent of thine is a fraud. It is no magic thing, but a corrosive poison with which they are wont to blister the bodies of the poor in the times of pestilence. Every dervish knows of it. Come to thy senses, man! Make an end of thy pilgrimage, return home to Stambul, and follow thy trade. I hope that no greater trouble awaiteth thee when thou gettest home."

Muhzin kissed the hand of the humane Pasha, who gave him some dinars to help him on his way, and turned back towards Stambul forthwith, with ragged garments, a scarred body, a broken heart, and a half-crazy mind.

Poor, and tormented by grief, he reached Stambul after many weeks, picked up by one caravan in the place where a former one had dropped him, bringing home with him a wound on the temples from the lance of a Bedouin freebooter, the impression in his thigh of four teeth of a panther, from which he had contrived to escape half alive, and a terrible emptiness in his heart, in which all hope and faith had died.

When he got back to Stambul he thought within himself that, after having escaped from so many dangers, G.o.d would, at least, visit him with no more affliction, but, content with what had already befallen him, would suffer him to attend to his business in peace for the small remainder of his days.

Wherefore he at once sought out worthy Ali Hojia, his one faithful friend, to whom he had confided the keeping of his treasures.

Ali received him kindly. "Well, and so thou hast just come, Muhzin,"

said he; "of a truth, I had given thee up for lost. Every evening have I prayed that thou mightest return."

And then Muhzin told him how ill he had fared, and what a fool the vision had made of him, and said that henceforth, he would believe no more in visions, even if their beards were made of moonbeams.

"And that will be wise of thee, Muhzin," said Ali Hojia. "Did I not tell thee not to go? If thou hadst remained at home here thou wouldst not have been robbed and made a fool of. And now thou hast made of thyself a laughing-stock and a beggar. Yet grieve not. For a week a table shall be spread in my house for thee, and then other merciful Mussulmans will care for thee to the end of thy days."

"I thank thee for thy goodness, Ali," said Muhzin; "but I will not be a beggar. Produce my hidden treasures, and I will trade with them as before. I will live honourably."

"Then, where are these treasures of thine?" asked Ali, exceedingly amazed.

"Why, with thee, of course," replied Muhzin.

Ali Hojia shook his head. "Muhzin, my friend, thy misfortunes have robbed thee of thy wits, so that thou knowest not what thou sayest. Thou hast just told me that thou wert robbed on thy journey, and now thou sayest I have treasures of thine which I have never seen. I tell thee what--go now and have a little sleep and clear thy mind somewhat. After that I will gladly see thee again."

And with that worthy Hojia very gently pushed Muhzin from his door, and shut it in his face.

The unfortunate merchant now fell into absolute despair. He himself began to doubt whether he was in his senses, or whether he had indeed turned crazy, and the hidden treasure was a dream, a phantom, like the rest.

In his despair he flew to the Grand Vizier, cast himself at his feet, and told him the whole story.

"Hast thou a witness who saw thee give thy treasures to Hojia?" inquired the Grand Vizier.

"Allah alone, none other. Truly we were such good friends, one body and one soul."

"Then keep still till I have spoken to the Sultan."

When the Grand Vizier had spoken to the Sultan about the matter, Soliman commanded him to proclaim at every corner of every street, through the public criers, that a certain merchant, Muhzin by name, recently returned from a pilgrimage to Mecca, had drowned himself at night in the Bosphorus. His dead body had been found by the fishermen; if, therefore, the dead man had any friends or relations who wished to bury him with due respect, they were to come for him, otherwise the corpse would be buried in the common cemetery reserved for the poor.

Naturally Ali Hojia was the last person to come forward to bury Muhzin; on the contrary, he did not show himself at all, but several days afterwards he secretly visited the cemetery of the poor, and there discovered the flat tomb on which two rough stones had been rolled, and on one of these stones the name of Muhzin had been coa.r.s.ely smeared.

But Muhzin was cast by the Sultan into the prison of the Seven Towers, so that he might not be able to show himself, even if he had a mind to.

There, however, he was well treated and lacked nothing.

Soliman, moreover, got from the merchant an exact description of his deposited treasures, piece by piece, with all their distinguishing marks, and made an inventory of them. Then he commanded the Grand Vizier to make friends with Hojia under some pretext or other.

The Grand Vizier went very cautiously to work, and having frequently had occasion to observe the wisdom of the learned lawyer, promised to present him to the Sultan.