The Days of Mohammed Part 2

Musa shook his head, and made a gesture of denial.

"Musa knows little of such things," he replied. "Yet the Caaba is a name sacred in Arabian tradition, and as such, it suits me ill to hear it on the tongue of a craven-hearted Jew. In sooth, the coward knave has left his trumpery bundle all open as it is. I warrant me he will come back for it in good time."

A dark-haired lad in a striped silk garment here pa.s.sed through the tent.

"Hither, Kedar!" called the Sheikh. "Recite for our visitor the story of Moses."

The lad at once began the story, reciting it in a sort of chant, and accompanying his words with many a gesture. The company listened breathlessly, now giving vent to deep groans as the persecution of the children of Israel was described, now bowing their heads in reverence at the revelation of the burning bush, now waving their arms in excitement and starting forward with flashing eyes as the lad pictured the pa.s.sage of the Red Sea.

Yusuf had heard some vague account of the story before, but, with the pa.s.sionate nature of the Oriental, he was strangely moved as he listened to the recital of how that great G.o.d whom he longed to feel and know had led the children of Israel through all their wanderings and sufferings to the promised land. He felt that he too was indeed a wanderer, seeking the promised land. He was but an infant in the true things of the Spirit. Like many another who longs vainly for a revelation of the working of the Holy Spirit, his soul seemed to reach out hopelessly.

But who can tell how tenderly the same All-wise Creator treasures up every outreaching of the struggling soul! Not one throb of the loving and longing heart is lost;--and Yusuf was yet, after trial, to rejoice in the serene fullness of such light as may fall upon this terrestrial side of death's dividing line.

Poor Yusuf, with all his Persian learning and wisdom, had, through all his life, known only a religion tinctured with idolatry. Almost alone he had broken from that idolatry, and realized the unity of G.o.d and his separation from all connected with such worship; but he was yet to understand the connection of G.o.d with man, and to taste the fullness of G.o.d's love through Christ. He had not realized that the finger of G.o.d is upon the life of every man who is willing to yield himself to Divine direction, and that there is thus an inseparable link between the Creator and the creature. He was not able to say, as said Carlyle in these later days, "A divine decree or eternal regulation of the universe there verily is, in regard to every conceivable procedure and affair of man; faithfully following this, said procedure or affair will prosper.... Not following this,... destruction and wreck are certain for every affair." And what could be better? Divine love, not divine wrath, over all! Yusuf had an idea of divine wrath, but he failed to see--because the presentation of the never-failing Fatherhood of G.o.d had not yet come--the infinite love that makes Jesus all in all to us, heaven wherever he is, and h.e.l.l wherever he is not.

Since leaving Persia, this was the first definite opportunity he had had of listening to Bible truth.

"Kedar knows more of this than his father," explained Musa. "'Tis his mother who teaches him. She was a Jewess, of the people of Jesus of Nazareth, but I fear this roving life has caused my poor Lois to forget much of the teaching of her people."

"You speak of Jesus of Nazareth. I have heard something of him. Tell me more."

Musa shook his head slowly. "I know nothing," he said. "But I shall call Lois. The men have all gone from the tent, and mayhap she can tell what you want."

So saying, he entered the women's apartment, and sent his wife to Yusuf.

"You wish to know of Jesus of Nazareth?" she said. "Alas, I am but a poor teacher. I am unworthy even to speak his name. I married when but a child, and since then I have wandered far from him, for there have been few to teach me. Yet I know that he was in very truth the Son of G.o.d. He was all-good. He healed the sick on this earth, and forgave sin. Then, woe, woe to me!--he was crucified,--crucified by my people! And he went up to heaven; his disciples saw him go up in the white clouds of a bright day."

"Where dwells he now? Is he one of the spirits of the stars?"

"I know not. He is in heaven."

"And does he stoop to take notice of us, the children of earth?"

"Alas, I know not! There was once a time when Jesus was more than a name to me. When I knelt, a child, beside my mother on the gra.s.sy hills of Hebron, it seemed that Jesus was, in some vague way, a reality to me; but long years of forgetfulness have pa.s.sed since then. Stranger, I wish you well. Your words have brought back to me the desire to know more of him. If you learn aught of him, and it ever lies in your way to do so, come and tell us,--my Musa and me,--that we too may learn of him."

Rising to her feet, the woman saluted the Persian and left him. Musa entered to conduct him to the rugs set apart for his couch, and soon all was silent about the encampment.

But ere he fell asleep, Yusuf went out into the moonlight. The night was filled with the peculiar lightness of an Oriental night. The moon blazed down like a globe of molten silver, and a few large stars glowed with scarcely secondary brilliance. In the silvery brightness he could easily read the ma.n.u.script given him by the Jew. It was the story of the man with the withered hand, whose infirmity was healed by Jesus in the synagogue. And there, in the starlight, the priest bowed his head, and a throng of pent-up emotions throbbed in his breast.

"Spirits of the stars, show me G.o.d. If this Jesus be indeed the Son of G.o.d, show me him. Give me faith, such faith as had he of the withered hand, that I too may stretch forth my hand and be made whole; that I may look, and in looking, see."

This was his prayer. Ah, yet, the "spirits of the stars" were as a bridge to the gulf which, he fancied, lay between him and Infinite Mercy.

CHAPTER III.

YUSUF MEETS AMZI, THE MECCAN.

"Mecca's pilgrims, confident of Fate, And resolute in heart."

--_Longfellow._

The next morning, Yusuf, against the remonstrances of Musa and his wife, prepared to proceed on his way. Like the Ancient Mariner, he felt forced to go on, "to pa.s.s like night from land to land," until he obtained that which he sought.

When he was almost ready to depart, a horseman came galloping down the valley, with the news that a caravan, en route for Mecca, was almost in sight, and would make a brief halt near the stream by which Musa's tents were pitched. Yusuf at once determined to avail himself of the timely protection on his journey.

Presently the caravan appeared, a long, irregular line--camels bearing "shugdufs," or covered litters; swift dromedaries, mounted by tawny Arabs whose long Indian shawls were twisted about their heads and fell in fringed ends upon their backs; fiery Arabian horses, ridden by Arabs swaying long spears or lances in their hands; heavily-laden pack-mules, whose leaders walked beside them, urging them on with sticks, and giving vent to shrill cries as they went; and lastly a line of pilgrims, some trudging along wearily, some riding miserable beasts, whose ribs shone through their roughened hides, while others rode, in the proud security of ease and affluence, in comfortable litters, or upon animals whose sleek and well-fed appearance comported with the self-satisfied air of their riders.

A halt was called, and immediately all was confusion. Tents were hurriedly thrown up; the pack-mules were unburdened for a moment; the horses, scenting the water, began to neigh and sniff the air; infants, who had been crammed into saddle-bags with their heads out, were hauled from their close quarters; the hors.e.m.e.n of Musa, still balancing their tufted spears, dashed in and out; while his herdsmen, anxious to keep the flocks from mixing with the caravan, shrieked and gesticulated, hurrying the flocks of sheep off in noisy confusion, and urging the herds of dromedaries on with their short, hooked sticks. It was indeed a babel, in which Yusuf had no part; and he once more seized the opportunity of looking at the precious parchment To his astonishment, he perceived that it was addressed to "Mohammed, son of Abdallah, son of Abdal Motalleb, Mecca," with the subscription, "From Sergius the Monk, Bosra."

Here then, Yusuf had, in perfect innocence, been entrapped into reading a communication addressed to some one else, and he smiled sarcastically as he thought of the inquisitiveness of the little Jew who had taken the liberty of "just peeping in."

It remained, now, for Yusuf to find the Jew and to put him again in possession of his charge. He searched for him through the motley crowd, but in vain; then, recollecting that the peddler's bundle had been left behind, he sought Musa, to see if he had heard anything of the little busybody.

Musa laughed heartily. "Remember you not that I said his trumpery would be gone in the morning? I was no false prophet. The man is like a weasel. When all sleep he finds his way in and helps himself to what he will: when all wake, no Jew is to be seen; trumpery and all have gone, no one knows whither."

So the priest found himself responsible for the delivery of the ma.n.u.script to this Mohammed, of whom he had never hitherto heard; and, knowing the contents, he was none the less ready to carry out the trust, hoping to find in Mohammed some one who could tell him more of the same wondrous story. He therefore placed the parchment very carefully within the folds of his garment, bade farewell to Musa and his household, and prepared to leave with the caravan, which had halted but a short time on account of the remarkable coolness of the day.

"Peace be with you!" said the Sheikh; "and if you ever need a friend, may it be Musa's lot to stand in good stead to you. I bid you good speed on your journey. We have no fears for your safety now, besides the safety of numbers, the holy month of Ramadhan[1] begins to-day, and even the wildest of the Bedouin robbers usually refrain from taking life in the holy months. Again, Peace be with you! And remember that the Bedouin can be a friend."

Yusuf embraced the chieftain with grat.i.tude, and took his place in the train, which was already moving slowly down the wady.

As it often happens that in the most numerous concourse of people one feels most lonely, so it was now with Yusuf. There seemed none with whom he cared to speak. Most of the people were self-satisfied traders busied with the care of the merchandise which they were taking down to dispose of at the great fair carried on during the Ramadhan. A few were Arabs of the Hejaz, short and well-knit, wearing loose garments of blue, drawn back at the arms enough to show the muscles standing out like whip-cords. Some were smoking short chibouques, with stems of wood and bowls of soft steat.i.te colored a yellowish red. As they rode they used no stirrups, but crossed their legs before and beneath the pommel of the saddle; while, as the sun shone more hotly, they bent their heads and drew their kufiyahs far over their brows. Many poor and somewhat fanatical pilgrims were interspersed among the crowd, and here and there a dervish, with his large, bag-sleeved robe of brown wool--the Zaabut, worn alike by dervish and peasant--held his way undisturbed.

Yusuf soon ceased to pay any attention to his surroundings, and sat, buried in his own thoughts, until a voice, pleasant and like the ripple of a brook, aroused him.

"What thoughts better than the thoughts of a Persian? None. Friend, think you not so?"

The words were spoken in the Persian dialect, and the priest looked up in surprise, to see a ruddy-faced man smiling down upon him from the back of a tall, white Syrian camel. He wore the jubbeh, or cloak, the badge of the learned in the Orient; his beard was turning slightly gray, and his eyes were keen and twinkling.

"One question mayhap demands another," returned Yusuf. "How knew you that I am a Persian? I no longer wear Persian garb."

"What! Ask an Arab such a question as that!" said the other, smiling.

"Know you not, Persian, that we of the desert lands are accustomed to trace by a mark in the sand, the breaking of a camel-thorn, things as difficult? The stamp of one's country cannot be thrown off with one's clothes. Nay, more; you have been noted as one learned among the Persians."

Yusuf bent his head in a.s.sent. "Truly, stranger, your penetration is incomprehensible," he said, with a touch of sarcasm.

"No, no!" returned the other, good-humoredly; "but, marking you out for what you are, I thought your company might, perchance, lessen the dreariness of the way. I am Amzi, the Meccan. Some call me Amzi the rich Meccan; others, Amzi the learned; others, Amzi the benevolent. For myself, I pretend nothing, aspire to nothing but to know all that may be known, to live a life of ease, at peace with all men, and to help the needy or unfortunate where I may. More than one stranger has not been sorry for meeting Amzi the benevolent, in Mecca. Have you friends there?"

"None," said Yusuf. "Yet there is a tradition among our people that the Guebres at one time had temples even in the land of Arabia. Have you heard aught of it?"

"It is said that at one time fire-temples were scattered throughout this land, each being dedicated to the worship of a planet; that at Medina[2]

itself was one dedicated to the worship of the moon and containing an image of it. It is also claimed that the fire-worshipers held Mecca, and there worshiped Saturn and the moon, from whence comes their name of the place--Mahgah, or moon's place. The Guebres also hold here that the Black Stone is an emblem of Saturn, left in the Caaba by the Persian Mahabad and his successors long ago. But, friend, Persian influence has long since ceased in El Hejaz. Methinks you will find but few traces of your country-people's glory there."

"It matters not," returned the priest. "The glory of the fire-worshipers has, so far as Yusuf is concerned, pa.s.sed away. Know you not that before his eyes the sacred fire,[3] kept alive for well-nigh one thousand years, went out in the supreme temple ere he left it? May the great Omniscient Spirit grant that Persia's idolatries will die out in its ashes!"