The Flying Legion Part 54

[Footnote 1: If any reader doubts the existence of El Barr, as a city of gold carved from a single block, on the ground that such a work would be impossible, I refer him to an account of Petra, in the _National Geographic Magazine_ for May, 1907. Petra, in all details, was carved from granite--a monolithic city.]

Blase as the Legionaries were and hardened to wonders, the sight of this corridor and of the vast banquet-hall opening out of it, at the far end, came near upsetting their aplomb. The major even muttered an oath or two, under his breath, till Leclair nudged him with a forceful elbow.

Not thus must Franks, from Feringistan, show astonishment or admiration.

"May the peace be upon thee," all at once exclaimed Bara Miyan, gesturing for the Master to enter the vast hall. "Peace, until the rising of the day!"

"And upon thee, the peace!" the Master answered, with the correct Arabic formula. They entered, and after them the other Legionaries and the sub-chiefs of Jannati Shahr.

The banquet-hall was enormous. The Master's glance estimated it as about two hundred and fifty feet long by one hundred and seventy-five wide, with a height from golden floor to flat-arched roof of some one hundred and twenty-five. Embroidered cloths of camel's-hair and silk covered the walls. Copper braziers, suspended from the pillars, sent dim spirals of perfumed smoke aloft into the blue air.

About sixty feet from the floor, a row of clerestory windows, unglazed, admitted arrows of sunlight through a golden fretwork; and these arrows, piercing the incense vapor, checkered intricate patterns on the enormous, deep-piled Persian rugs of rose, lilac, and misty blue.

Tables and chairs, of course, there were none. A _dakkah_, or platform, in horseshoe shape, at the far end, covered with rugs and cushions, and with water-jars, large copper fire-pans, coffee-pots of silver, and _shishahs_ (water-pipes) told where the feast was to be offered.

From a side door, as a silken curtain was drawn back, some fifteen slave-girls entered--whiter than their masters and in tight jackets and loose, silk trousers. These girls brought copper basins of rose-water for the Arabs' "lesser ablution" before a meal. Bara Miyan smiled slightly as he gestured the Legionaries also to wash hands and faces; but the Master, little relishing the idea of using this same water after the Arabs, shook his head.

Not thus slyly could the Olema inflict humiliation on unbelievers. A hard look crept into the Master's eyes. This covert insult, after the exchange of salt, boded very ill.

In silence the Legionaries watched the Arabs dry their hands and faces on towels given them by the slave-girls, who then noiselessly withdrew. All the Arabs prostrated themselves and prayed. The Master was the only one who noticed one significant fact: that now the _kiblah_, or direction of prayer, was not to the north-west, where lay Mecca, but--judging by the sun--was almost due west, toward the spot where lay the Black Stone. This rea.s.sured him once more.

"They recognize the Stone, right enough," thought he. "As long as nothing happens to that, we hold the whip-hand of them. Our only real danger is that something _might_ happen to it. But a few hours, now, will end all this. And in a few hours, what can happen?"

The Arabs ceased their droning supplications to Allah, which had been rising with hypnotically soothing murmurs through the incensed air, and now followed Bara Miyan toward the raised platform. The old Sheik beckoned his guests. All disposed themselves comfortably among the cushions. The Legionaries ignored what seemed a disposition on the part of the Arabs to separate them--to scatter them along the platform.

"Keep together, men," the Master commanded. "Group yourselves closely here, in the middle. Say nothing. Watch everything. Make no move without specific orders. If it comes to a fight, and I am killed, Leclair will command you. His knowledge of Arabic temporarily ranks him above Bohannan. Don't shoot unless it comes to hard necessity; but if you do shoot, make every bullet count--and save the last one for yourselves!"

Bara Miyan clapped his hands. Through two arched doorways, to right and left, entered a silent file of the huge, half-naked Maghrabi men. All were unarmed; but the muscles of their heavy shoulders, the gorilla-like dangle of their steel-fingered hands produced an effect more ominous even than the gleam of simitars in the dim cressets'

light would have been.

Along the walls these black barbarians disposed themselves, a full hundred or more, saying nothing, seeming to see nothing, mere human automata. Bohannan, seated cross-legged between Captain Alden and the Master, swore an oath.

"What are these infernal murderers here for?" growled he. "Ask the Sheik, will you? I thought you and he had eaten salt together! If this isn't a trap, it looks too d.a.m.ned much like it to be much of a picnic!

Faith, this is a h.e.l.l of a party!"

"Silence, sir!" commanded the Master; while Leclair, at his other side, cast a look of anger at the Celt. "Diplomacy requires that we consider these men as a guard of honor. Pay no attention to them, anybody! Any sign of hesitation now, or fear, may be suicide.

Remember, we are dealing with Orientals. The 'grand manner' is what counts with them. I advise every man who has tobacco, to light a cigarette and look indifferent. _Verb sap!_"

Most of the Legionaries produced tobacco; but the Olema, smiling, raised a hand of negation. For already the slave-girls were entering with trays of cigarettes and silver boxes of tobacco. These they pa.s.sed to the visitors, then to the Arabs. Such as preferred cigarettes, suffered the girls to light them at the copper fire-pans.

Others, choosing a _shishah_, let the girls fill it from the silver boxes; and soon the grateful vapors of tobacco were rising to blend with the spiced incense-smoke.

A more comfortable feeling now possessed the Legionaries. This sharing of tobacco seemed to establish almost an amicable Free Masonry between them and the Jannati Shahr men. All sat and smoked in what seemed a friendly silence.

The slave-girls silently departed. Others came with huge, silver trays graven with Koran verses. These trays contained meat-pilafs, swimming in melted b.u.t.ter; vine leaves filled with chopped mutton; _kababs_, or bits of roast meat spitted on wooden splinters; crisp cuc.u.mbers; a kind of tasteless bread; a dish that looked like vermicelli sweetened with honey; thin jelly, and sweetmeats that tasted strongly of rosewater. Dates, pomegranates, and areca nuts cut up and mixed with sugar-paste pinned with cloves into a betel leaf--these const.i.tuted the dessert.

The Arabs ate with strict decorum, according to their custom, beginning the banquet with a _Bismillah_ of thanks and ending with an _Al Hamd_ that signified repletion. Knives and forks there were none; each man dipped his hand into whatever dish pleased him, as the trays were pa.s.sed along. The Legionaries did the same.

"Rather messy, eh?" commented the major; but no one answered him. More serious thoughts than these possessed the others.

After ablution, once more--this time the white men shared it--tobacco, pomegranate syrup, sherbet, water perfumed with _mastich_-smoke, and thick, black coffee ended the meal.

The Master requested khat leaves, which were presently brought him--deliciously green and fresh--in a copper bowl. Then, while the slave-girls removed all traces of the feast, all relaxed for a few minutes' _kayf_, or utter peace.

Utter peace, indeed, it seemed. Nothing more soothing could have been imagined than the soft wooing of repletion and of silken cushions, the dim sunlight through the smoke of incense and tobacco, the gentle bubbling of the water-pipes, the half-heard courting of pigeons somewhere aloft in the embrasures of the clerestory windows.

All possibility of warfare seemed to have vanished. Under the magic spell of this enchanted, golden hall, even the grim Maghrabis, black and motionless along the tapestried walls, seemed to have sunk to the role of mere spectators.

The Arabs' glances, though subtly curious, appeared to hold little animosity. Now that they had broken bread together, cementing the Oath of the Salt, might not hospitality have become inviolable? True, some looks of veiled hostility were directed against "Captain Alden's"

strangely masked face, as the woman sat there cross-legged like the rest, indifferently smoking cigarettes. For what the Arab cannot understand is always antipathetic to him. But this hostility was not marked. The spirits of the Legion, including those of the Master himself, rose with a sense of greater security.

Even Bohannan, chronic complainer, forgot to cavil and began to bask in contentment.

"Faith, but this is a good imitation of Lotus-land, after all," he murmured to Janina, at his side. "I wouldn't mind boarding at this hotel for an indefinite period. Meals excellent; waitresses beat anything on Broadway; atmosphere very restful to wandering gentlemen.

Now if I could only get acquainted with one of these lovely Fatimas, and find out where the bar is--the bar of El Barr! Very good! Faith, very good indeed!"

He laughed at his own witticism and blew perfumed smoke toward the dim, golden roof. But now his attention was riveted by the silent entrance of six dancing-girls, that instantly brought him to keen observation.

Their dance, barefooted and with a minimum of veils, swayed into sinuous beauty to the monotonous music of kettle-drums, long red flutes and guitars of sand-tortoise sh.e.l.l with goat-skin heads--music furnished by a dozen Arabs squatting on their hunkers half-way down the hall. The gracious weaving of those lithe, white bodies of the girls as they swayed from sunlit filigree to dim shadow, stirred even the coldest heart among the Legionaries, that of the Master himself. As for Bohannan, his cup of joy was br.i.m.m.i.n.g.

The dance ended, one of the girls sang with a little foreign accent, very pleasing to the ears of the Master and Leclairs the famous chant of Kaab el Ahbar:

A black tent, swayed by the desert wind Is dearer to me, dearer to me Than any palace of the city walls.

Dearer to me!

[1]_And the earth met with rain!_

A handful of dates, a cup of camel's milk Is dearer to me, dearer to me Than any sweetmeat in the city walls.

Dearer to me!

_And the earth wet with rain!_

A slender Bedouin maid, freely unveiled Is dearer to me, dearer to me Than harem beauties with henna-stained fingers.

My Bedouin maid is slim as the _ishkil_ tree.

Dearer to me!

_And the earth wet with rain!_

Black tent, swift white mare, camel of Hejaz blood Are dear to me, are dear to me!

Dearest is my slim, unveiled one of the desert sands!

Dearest to me!

Ibla her name is; she blazes like the sun, Like the sun at dawn, with hair like midnight shades, Oh, dear to me!

Paradise is in her eyes; and in her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, enchantment.

Her body yields like the tamarisk, When the soft winds blow over the hills of Nedj!

Dearest to me!

_And the earth wet with rain!_

[Footnote 1: _W'al arz mablul bi matar._ A favorite refrain for songs among the Arabs, to whom rain represents all comforts and delights.]