The Arab's Pledge Part 9

"We heard," said Mehedin, "that the town had been retaken, and the infidels driven into the sea,--a curse on their fathers!"

"May you ride three days on a thirsty camel! Why do you believe such lies? though I would it were true," said Ca.s.sim.

"Listen to me, O Moslemeen," said Omar, with an air of importance, "were not the infidels enticed into the mountains by the Emir Abd el Kader? and when they had pa.s.sed the defile, did he not cut off their retreat? Great was the slaughter of the infidels; a price had been fixed for every head brought in, but it had to be lowered and lowered or the Sultan's treasury would not have paid for all; eight thousand were slain!"

"To G.o.d the glory!" said Ca.s.sim; "but you, Mahmoud, what say you to that, you, that think the Nazarene dogs invincible?" Mahmoud was a young man about twenty, of rather unprepossessing appearance, with small restless grey eyes, and a gentle and rather feminine countenance.

"I did not say so," answered Mahmoud calmly; "but I know from letters which are true, received by the Wezeer, that the whole infidel army was but seven thousand, of which more than six thousand returned to Djezair.

May they be exterminated!"

"The curse of the Prophet on your house," said Ca.s.sim to Omar; "why do you invent such lies, and why are we such fathers of the ears to believe them?"

"Know you to whom you speak?" returned Omar, flushing with rage.

"Tenfold curses on your father, and may every dog's son of your tribe be destroyed!"

Ca.s.sim was of Arab family, and this was too much for him.

"That from _one_ dog," said he, and he hurled the pitcher, from which he was washing his hands, at Omar's head; but for his large turban, the blow would have been more serious: as it was, he was stunned; but recovering, sprung to his feet, dagger in hand, vowing vengeance; but now the others interfered to stop the quarrel, and Ca.s.sim, cooled by the effect of his missile, regretted his hastiness. Mahmoud was particularly zealous in pacifying the sufferer.

"Shall I not drink the coward's blood?" said Omar, struggling with Mahmoud, who was forcing him to sheath his dagger.

"What will you gain by that, or by eating him too? Curse the devil, and be friends; of all things I hate a revengeful temper; he is sorry for it."

"Who can stand such treatment?" said Omar, trying to swallow his rage.

Eventually, after several relapses, the quarrel was made up, and the two were kissing each other's heads, in token of forgiveness, when they were joined by Abd el Aziz.

"I have just been told," said he, "that the Cafila to Timbuctoo has been plundered in the Beled-el-Jerede by the Woled Abou Sebah, and some of the people killed. I hope, Mahmoud, that your brother Mohammed did not go with them; it was said that he did."

Mahmoud turned deadly pale.

"Where had you this news?" said he, rising, "for I must know the truth."

"The person who told me was the old Fez merchant in the Kaisaria; he was one of them, and has lost all his goods."

Mahmoud hastily departed.

"Poor youth! if his brother be killed, woe to him; his life will be darkened, for he loved him exceedingly."

The love which existed between these two brothers was known to them all; they had been together from childhood; the quiet, una.s.suming disposition of the younger accorded well with the somewhat wild and bragging character of his brother, and his retiring habits preventing him mixing much with others of his station, made him cleave with more affectionate dependence to his brother; he had endeavoured to dissuade him from this journey, but his love of enterprise had prevailed. And now, with a fearful dread that they were parted for ever, Mahmoud made his way with rapid steps towards the Kaisaria, through long streets of shops, shaded from the sun by date-boughs supported by poles thrown across the street from wall to wall, hustling his way through crowds of people, water-carriers, sweetmeat-sellers, Delals hawking their goods, camels, mules, and horses, until, overcome with heat and fatigue, he reached the bazaar, where shops, packed with shawls, scarfs, silk handkerchiefs, and European goods, invited the purchaser. Here he was informed that the object of his search had gone to the fondak. The story of the plunder of the caravan was in every one's mouth. Resting a minute to take a draught of water to moisten his parched lips, and which the water-carrier, with his usual "Allaw Kerim!" emitted from the neck of a goat-skin gathered in his hand, into a bra.s.s bowl: Mahmoud set off on another long round, and at length found the Fez merchant sitting in one of the empty part.i.tions of the colonnade, round the court-yard of the fondak. His face was woe-begone, and his fingers as usual combed his grey beard, as he ruminated over his losses, when he was addressed by Mahmoud,--

"Salamo Alikoom; Sidi Idries! were you with the Cafila that was plundered in the Desert?"

"Woe unto me!--who else?" said the little man with a groan, and then began, half to himself, enumerating his losses: "Were there not three bales of silk, worth six hundred dollars, five camel-loads of grocery and spice, four hundred and fifty dollars at least, not to count expenses and camel hire. Woe is me, to leave my own shop, to be ruined in my old age, besides this there were two--"

"Then you can inform me--" interposed Mahmoud, impatiently.

"Is it not I that can give you information of the whole affair? Have I not paid dearly for experience? As I was saying,--Two bales of cowries, upwards of 140,000, one hundred and forty dollars."

"But what I want to ask you--" said Mahmoud, beginning to lose all patience.

"Little by little, my friend," said Sidi Idries, "and I will tell you all; little by little the camel gets into the saucepan. To think of the slaves, and the gold-dust, and the ivory, I have lost. Our lives were saved--yes--G.o.d is merciful--but what is life without the means of living--the sum total--"

Mahmoud's patience here gave way--

"For G.o.d's sake, hear me!" thundered he, striking his clenched hand on the s...o...b..ard, and putting a sudden stop to the merchant's volubility.

"I wish to know if any of your company were killed by the Arabs? It is not from curiosity, but my brother went with them, and has not returned: I fear some evil has befallen him."

His earnest and excited manner had driven the old man's losses from his head for the present, and he told him that he had reason to believe that one of the soldiers of their party had lost his life; and his description of his appearance left no doubt on Mahmoud's mind that it was his brother. His head swam, and a faintness at his heart made him reach to the doorway for support, and he sank on the shop-sill, the sweat streaming down his face. The old merchant was moved nearly to tears at witnessing his suffering.

"It is the will of G.o.d, O my son!" he said; "have patience: was it not written?"

"There is more written, O my father," said he; "there is vengeance!" and he wiped the cold sweat from his brow; "but tell me everything--tell me all!"

The merchant then told him, that after they were plundered and stripped, an Arab, who had gone in pursuit of the soldiers, had returned with a soldier's horse instead of his own, and carrying his clothes and arms; and that when they started on their return they had pa.s.sed the body of a horse and man, lying on the plain in the moonlight, with a flock of vultures gorged and slumbering at a little distance, until daylight should enable them to renew their feast.

"Now I remember," he said, "the soldier's name was Mohammed."

Mahmoud's worst fears were confirmed.

"Is it known who the Arab was?" he inquired, with a quivering voice.

"Arabs are like dates," said the merchant, "one like another; but this one was not of the flock; he gave us his name himself; he was the famous Ali el Bezz!"

"I have heard it before," said Mahmoud, as he turned slowly away to dream of vengeance; "but now it is written here"--and he struck his brow--"in fire!"

He returned to his home, and though he wept in private the loss of his brother, he subdued his emotion, when he was obliged to repair to the Palace-guard, and appear among his comrades; but he sat abstracted and taciturn, torturing his brain with plans of vengeance. If Ali had been living in the town, he would have slain him by treachery, or hired a.s.sa.s.sins; any means seemed excusable to compa.s.s his revenge; but how reach him in the Desert; and who would aid him against so redoubtable a foe, who was supposed to possess a charmed life? He felt at last reduced to the painful necessity of waiting until his enemy should venture to the town, when he resolved to hunt him down at any risk. He little knew at the time that his revenge was brought to his own door, and he had only to arise and strike.

His comrades, knowing the cause of his melancholy, forbore to intrude on him. They had just finished their supper, and were preparing to set the watch for the night, when Abdslem joined them. He was in high spirits, and exhibited a handsome embroidered silk scarf, which he unwound from his head, for their admiration.

"Look at this," he said; "I received it this morning from the Sultan's own hands; may he be exalted; I told you I should not be long in disgrace."

"It is beautiful," said Mehedin, while it pa.s.sed round; "but what great thing have you done to merit it?"

"Not a small exploit. Did I not seize an Arab spy with my own hand; and who do you think he turned out to be? Why, no other than that dare-devil Sheik, Ali el Bezz!" and Abdslem twirled the scarf round his head in a handsome turban above his ugly face.

Mahmoud, who had at first paid little attention to the speaker, sprang forward at the electrical sound of that name.

"Who?" he said; "repeat that name," laying his hand on Abdslem's shoulder, while his features worked, his eyes glared, and his whole frame trembled.

Abdslem looked at him, half doubting his sanity.

"I tell you," he repeated, "I have seized the notorious robber Ali el Bezz; and he is now as safely lodged as walls and chains can keep him."

"Thanks be to G.o.d!" exclaimed Mahmoud, grinding his teeth, and raising his clenched hands, while a satanic smile overspread his countenance; "he is in my power; my revenge is sure!" and gathering up his cloak, he rushed out of the gate.

As he came into the street the moon threw her pale light on his haggard face, and reminded him that it was now too late to take further steps that night. He returned to his own house, and threw himself on his mattress, but sleep came not to the relief of his fevered frame; and his heated brain pictured to him his murdered brother, pale and bleeding, reproaching him for his delay.

The dogma of the Koran, which in practice is the Moorish law, is "eye for eye," "tooth for tooth," "life for life;" if the offence is proved, the Sultan himself hardly dares to refuse retaliation on the wrongdoer, and if the accuser perseveres in demanding justice, he must deliver up the accused to his vengeance.