The Valley of the Kings Part 12

"Canst thou not perceive, O my dear, that the desire of his Honour is for rough adventure, and not luxury? And verily, to travel in the style of thy proposal would simply be to invite every bravo of the wilds to come and rob us."

This Iskender uttered in a tone of high impatience, and he was pleased to observe, out of the corners of his eyes, that his patron approved of that tone being used towards one who had designed to overcharge him.

"Well, Allah reward thee; for thou canst make no profit on it, that is certain," said Elias with another shrug, and after that kept silence for some minutes, resigning all part in the discussion. But soon, as that discussion grew more animated, and the vision of the sea of gold came dazzlingly before his eyes, he forgot his dudgeon and chimed in once more, thus tacitly accepting the leadership of Iskender, who was satisfied.

"When shall we start?" asked the Emir at last.

"Wheneffer you blease, dear sir," replied Iskender.

But Elias thought profoundly, visibly, with finger laid to brow.

"I think you better wait a bit, Iskender," he said presently. "I tell you why. Just now there's no trafellers comin' to the country, so the dragomans just stand around and jolly well watch all what you do. We go now, it make a talk. Wait a month or two, in the name o' Moses, then there's lots o' trafellers; they think about makin' money, and go hang! I shan't want no trafellers this year. No jolly fear, by George! I stick to you. Like that they think you got a brober dragoman and all serene!"

This was sound advice, and, as it was proffered with the right humility, Iskender commended it to his beloved.

CHAPTER XV

On the day following that council on the sea-beach, something happened which pushed the Valley of the Kings into the background for a time.

This was the arrival from the land of the English of a fine new paint-box, which the Emir presented to his henchman with most gracious words. With this beside him and his sketch-book on his knees Iskender heard the talk around him with but half an ear, and, when referred to answered without thinking, thus a.s.senting to propositions and accepting responsibilities the onus of which dismayed him when he came to realise it. For instance Elias earnestly desired to know if Iskender could have included the services of a first-rate cook in his estimate for the expedition. The best of cooks, he vowed, was necessary for the honour and contentment of their dearest lord. How was it to be done?

Iskender with eyes intent upon a spot of colour newly laid, with brush in air, replied:

"Have no fear, O beloved. I shall find a man; and, if not, I myself will do the cooking."

"But canst thou?"

"By Allah, I am a known professor of the art." And again when Elias spoke of other services certain to be required upon the journey, Iskender undertook, in default of trained servants, himself to make the bed and wait upon the Frank at table.

The Emir was greatly pleased by this alacrity of the absorbed artist; seeing which, Elias cried:

"No, no, by G.o.d, you can't do all the work, I help you, 'Skender. Let me wait at table."

Iskender saw Elias waiting on their lord alone, breathing his pleasure in the great man's ear! Yet he a.s.sented gratefully. Elias was not to go with them at all, he had firmly resolved; but there was no need to tell him so just now, in this time of preparation when his experience was sure to be useful. In Iskender's mind the Valley of the Kings was little more than a romantic pretext for a ride alone with his Emir.

But Elias thought of nothing but the gold. His eyes seemed to have grown larger in these days, and were fixed wide open to contain the vision. He treated Iskender with a kind of worship as the repository of that precious secret, showed great care for his health, and was in all things his loyal helper. But the young man did not trust him. He kept the details of the expedition to himself as organiser; and, though Elias pestered him with questions concerning the whereabouts of that desirable valley, he would reveal nothing. By dint of thus withholding information, he himself acquired the firm conviction that there was really information to withhold.

It was not till more than a week after the coming of the famous paint-box that Iskender found time to go again to the house of Mitri.

Repairing thither in the glow of a fine evening, following a rainy day, he was surprised, as he drew near the place, to see his mother talking with Mitri in the doorway. She was wrapped from head to foot in a great shawl, and seemed in some trepidation, casting frequent glances up and down the road. In so doing she caught sight of Iskender, and raised hands to heaven. She ran to meet him.

"What is this?" she cried. "Day after day have I been here to seek thee, because the whole world says that thou hast joined the Orthodox, and my heart yearned towards thee; but I dared not go openly to the hotel where thou art known to lodge, having sworn to the missionaries that I would never see thee more. Here, too, I am in terror of my life, for if it were known that I held intercourse with Mitri, they would cast me off. Well, thou hast no more hope from them, thanks to thy rashness. Why couldst thou not shun the priest here, as I told thee to? Now, with all the Orthodox boasting of thy conversion, thou art more than ever accursed in their sight. Even at me they look askance, I fancy, as if I had a finger in the mess. Come indoors where we can talk privately. The worthy priest will let me enter with thee.

What made thee go and change thy faith just now?"

"I have not yet changed it, O my mother. I do but hear the reasoning of our father Mitri."

"Well, that is something. I will tell them that." She held her tongue suddenly, finding herself within the hearing of Mitri, who, however, took no notice of her, but welcomed Iskender fatherly and bade him enter. She entered with them unrebuked, and sat by while they argued, feasting her eyes upon her son's good looks. The girl Nesibeh came occasionally to the door of the inner room, and exchanged mischievous glances with Iskender, who was on the watch for her. His mother's eyes were quick to notice this, and, leaning to his ear, she whispered:

"Cunning devil! Thy plan is not amiss, for she is comely, and her father stands well with the highest in the land. Thou wilt mix with the Barudis and the rich Aziz."

Iskender shook her hand from off his arm, and brushed her words away as stinging insects, in terror lest the priest should overhear. The priest rebuked her for the interruption. But she continued unabashed, and sat on smiling to herself, and nodding at Iskender when she caught his eye.

After that Iskender went to the priest's house every evening, and his mother often stole so far to meet him, hurrying, chin on shoulder, in evident terror of pursuit by the missionaries. She endured all Mitri's reprobations with a shrug, content so long as he allowed her to embrace her boy.

"Poor people must eat bread. Our Blessed Lord knows that and will make allowance for me," was her reply to the accusation of hypocrisy. But she now seconded Mitri's designs upon Iskender, gratified by the notion of an alliance with the priest's family. "It is different with him,"

she admitted, "since they have cast him out. Let Iskender follow the guidance of the Spirit. Doubtless the congregation will take care of his future, for he has forfeited a great career for conscience' sake."

Iskender, however, still held back, from no conscientious reluctance, but merely to prolong a hesitation which he found delicious as giving him value in the eyes of the girl Nesibeh. Her delight when any of his objections went down before her father's reasoning and the triumphant private glance she shot at him made a joy not lightly to be forgone.

When all his veritable doubts had been demolished, he invented others to prolong this happiness. He cherished definite hopes, dream-like as was the nature of his mental process, of obtaining her for his own, when he returned full of treasure from Wady 'l Muluk. The big priest, it was clear, had conceived a liking for him, and had come to count on his visits of an evening, loving an argument; her mother always blessed him when he came and went, and baked choice sweetmeats for his delectation.

It was not long before Iskender received evidence that the question of his change of faith possessed a lively interest for others besides the priest Mitri and his lovely daughter. One day, returning from a walk with the Emir, he heard that the missionary had been inquiring for him in his absence; and the following evening, on the road to Mitri's house, he was overtaken by the Father of Ice in person, who got down off his horse and addressed him very kindly.

Why did Iskender never come to church nowadays? why had he not been to visit the ladies? why had he refused their offer of employment in the house, which would probably have led to better things, perhaps to his appointment as a.s.sistant master in one of the Mission schools? Even now it was not too late to reconsider; they, on their side, were quite willing to forget bygones. It had grieved them much to hear that Iskender was drifting into bad company, and entering on a vicious course of life; still more to learn that he showed an inclination to forget the enlightened religious teaching which he had received in childhood.

His words moved Iskender more than he desired to show, arousing in his mind a thousand happy memories, reproachful now. He replied in Arabic with the sullenness that masks emotion:

"I am a son of the Arabs, and I return to my own kind. Allah knows I am nothing to be considered."

"What do you mean?" asked the missionary in a colder tone.

"Your Honour and the ladies could not make of me an Englishman. It is for that you cast me off."

"We tried to make of you a Christian man." The missionary's face grew stern, and his ice-green eyes gave forth a sword-flash. "Well, go your way; G.o.d grant it lead not to perdition!" He nodded his head in the direction of the two palm-trees which marked in the dusk the whereabouts of Mitri's house.

Iskender, glancing in the same direction, discerned the tall black figure of the father of Nesibeh in the road, looking out for him. The idea of evil in connection with the jolly priest suddenly struck him as perverse and ludicrous. He laughed in the face of the missionary.

"My friends are no worse than your friends. And which of us will be lost, which saved, will not be known until the last judgment. May Our Lord forgive your Honour for such bad thoughts."

In a white rage, the Father of Ice remounted his horse and rode away, disregarding the ironical salute of Mitri, who stood out before his door, awaiting the arrival of his catechumen.

"What didst thou say to the hog to make him snort like that?" was the priest's first question of Iskender; and, when the youth informed him, "By Allah, it was a true word," he chuckled heartily. "They think all men should be on one pattern--the pattern of their wondrous selves, whom they esteem perfection. They suppose that what is good for their race must be good for all the others, thus ignoring the providence of Allah, Who made the peoples of the earth to differ in appearance, speech, and manners. They know nothing of our beliefs and ways of thought, so call them wicked, since they are not theirs. They condemn men freely, sitting in the seat of judgment, unaware that they themselves will be judged at the last day. By Allah, there is only one of all that breed whom one can talk to as a human being--I mean the little preacher Ward, who runs their errands. He has not been here for three months or more. From much travelling among the villages, he knows the customs of our people and respects them. Moreover, he is modest, while the rest are arrogant. . . . But, merciful Allah, what is this I see? What ails thee, madwoman?"

The mother of Iskender, stealing forth from the priest's house, had cast herself upon her son, with fearful moans:

"O Holy Virgin! O my terror! Please G.o.d, he did not see me where I stood in the doorway! Some one has informed him where I go--it must be Costantin, the spy and liar--and now he rides at dusk to try and catch me. I shall not come here again; it is too dangerous. Come thou to the house sometimes quite late at night. Farewell, O beloved, and may Allah keep thee!"

"Allah is greatest!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mitri, with a shrug and a gruff laugh, as he watched her flight along the twilight road. "Now let us enter and dispute together."

But the shock of his encounter with the missionary had left Iskender with no wits for argument. He took leave earlier than usual; and, as he walked back to the hotel in the dark, he realised that the last vestige of his Protestantism had that evening been demolished. His baptism would follow as a matter of course, in the mind of Mitri; and he was by no means prepared to receive it, since the priest, for the triumph of his congregation, was certain to demand a public ceremony, and Iskender feared the scorn of his Emir, whom he imagined to be something of a sceptic.

Moreover, it would entail a full confession of his inmost thoughts, which, with Wady 'l Muluk in mind, he could not face; and at least it ought to be postponed till after the great Fast, which the Orthodox observe with cruel rigour.

To stave off the ordeal he saw himself forced to invent a new set of doubts and objections. On his next visit to the house of Mitri, he owned himself convinced of the vanity of the Protestant faith, but hinted at an inclination towards the Catholic. The big priest stared at him with mouth agape.

"Curse thy father!" he exclaimed. "Wouldst thou turn from bad to worse, and rush straight to Jehennum. Thou hast studied history, so knowest that the Latins are our ancient enemies. They slew us with the Muslims when their armies took by storm the Holy Places, and enslaved the remnant of us in a cruel slavery. They have statues, rank idols, in their churches; and is it not the worst idolatry to concentrate the power which belongs of right to the whole Body of Christ, and adore it in the person of one living man? Their lips have corrupted the creed: they have no baptism, so can have no orders. Their Pope of Rome himself is nothing but an unbaptized layman. Speak of that again, and I will drive thee from my house with beatings!"

Iskender, greatly alarmed, made haste to explain that he had spoken in jest. He had caught an angry look from the girl Nesibeh.

"Jest not upon what concerns thy soul's salvation," said the priest, letting his wrath evaporate. "Thou knowest not what harm those Latins do us, tempting souls astray. They allow proselytes to retain our beliefs, our language, and our form of service, so only that they acknowledge the supremacy of the hound of Rome, which means perdition, truly, in the next world, but foreign protection in this. It is little wonder that they have seduced many. . . . What hinders thee from receiving at my hands the inestimable boon of baptism?"