The Valley of the Kings Part 22

CHAPTER x.x.xI

The bridal was attended with festivities. The little Christian village re-echoed with the ululation of the crowd of women forming the bride's procession, as they paraded their joy among the hovels before going to the church. And when, after the ceremony, the train came forth, carrying Nesibeh to a house not her father's, the zagharit broke out afresh, and guns and pistols were discharged. Much feasting of a solid kind ensued at the bridegroom's expense, in a house which had been ceded to him for the purpose. Elias was there in gorgeous raiment, telling all who would give ear a strange romance of how he had once been all but married to a royal princess. Khalil, the concertina-player, was a thought aggrieved that Mitri forbade him to make music in the church itself, but forgot his dudgeon when the crowd trooped out again. For hours he played on indefatigably, repeating his whole repertory of Frankish discords at least a score of times, and telling all who asked that he had acquired his skill in foreign music by instruction from the greatest living master of the art--a certain English mariner named William.

Of Iskender's family not one was present. His mother dared not adventure, for fear of the missionaries; and his uncle Abdullah lay at that time ill in his house as the result of a wound received in a drunken brawl.

It was not until two days later, when Iskender was beginning to overcome the shyness of his young bride, that his mother came to bless him.

"Ah, thou hast won for thyself a pearl of price, my son, a gem desired of many!" she whispered in his ear, when she had embraced Nesibeh. "Be careful of her goings, guard her closely; for it has reached my ears that she is ripe for naughtiness. May Allah, of his mercy, bless the pair of you, and grant you honoured increase."

Congratulation, however, was only part of her purpose in the visit, as soon appeared.

"My son," she cried excitedly, "the great lady, the mother of George, has come hither from the land of the English, for a few weeks only, having left the children. She had ever a fondness for thee, and has asked to see thee, as I hear from the servants at the Mission. Even when informed of all thy misdoings by the Father of Ice, her husband, she smiled in his face, they tell me, and still protested she would like to see thee. So I threw this shawl over my head, and came to fetch thee to the house. The mother of George loves thee, as I said before; and her husband denies her nothing, both because she comes of a good house, while he is the son of low people, and for the sake of the many children she has borne him. By the Gospel, I perceive a chance for thee to retrieve the past, if only thou wilt deign to be a little politic and respect their foibles. For Asad son of Costantin is in the land of the English, and the report of his doings displeases the Father of Ice. It is said that he shows a tendency towards the High Church in that country, which for the time is uppermost, and has found some favour with its dignitaries; which means he is accursed in the eyes of our friends here. . . . What art thou doing?

Come, make haste, I say!"

Iskender, on his knees upon the floor, was looking through a little pile of paintings, his own work.

"I would take in my hand a gift for the mother of George," he explained; "a specimen of my art, that she may see what proficiency I have attained in it. It was she who first encouraged me to draw and paint--she and, after her, the Sitt Hilda. I should like them both to see the beauty of my present paintings."

"Now Allah forbid!" exclaimed his mother in alarm. "Verily thou art mad to think of it. They view with horror all religious pictures, regarding them as idols, in their ignorance, like the Muslimin! Here is a chance to recover all their favour, to supplant Asad, to become a priest of their religion, a rich khawajah; and lo! thou wouldst spoil it all by showing them a holy image! When thou askest aught of the Devil, make not the sign of the Cross. Be wise, my son; and come at once!"

But Nesibeh, who had till now stood speechless by, here flung herself between them, threatening to tear the eyes out of the mother of Iskender.

She swore that she would never let her husband visit the home of unbelief in the company of one so wicked. If he went at all, let him take the holy picture to protect his spirit from pernicious influence.

"Tush! tush! thou silly babe," the elder woman chid her, "were it not better for thee to have for husband a rich khawajah than a wretched painter of religious pictures? Thou wouldst wear fine Frankish clothes of wondrous texture and hats, I tell thee, hats with waving feathers.

Thou wouldst sit at ease all day, with maids to wait on thee."

"I want none of it," screamed Nesibeh. "These are devil's wiles. May Allah blast thy life, unnatural woman, thus to tempt thy son to sell his soul, his part in everlasting life, for earthly gain."

Iskender took her in his arms and silenced her; then turned to pacify his mother, who was much incensed. Had she thought for herself at all? Was not all her endeavour to secure prosperity and a high position for Iskender, and, of course, his bride? What right had this chit of a girl, who knew nothing of the world, nor the shifts that folks are forced to who would live in it comfortably, to call her husband's mother an unnatural woman for displaying a little forethought? And Allah knew it was a grievous pity, for her adherence would have clinched the matter.

They would have given Iskender anything on earth to secure the conversion of the daughter of the Orthodox priest. Appeased at length, she asked to see the picture. It was a simple fancy of Iskender's, done in leisure moments, of angels fighting devils in mid-air, with clouds like solid cushions spread to fall on.

"Aye, that may pa.s.s," she admitted grudgingly, "the fiends at all events, for they believe in them."

In a dream, Iskender, at his mother's side, approached once more the Mission on the sandhills, traversed the garden and the clean cool hall, and entered the reception-room with its soft carpets, polished chairs and tables, which had presented to his childish mind the life of palaces.

There sat the ladies with their work-baskets, each in her special chair, exactly as of yore. There was the canary in its cage, and there was the dog in Hilda's lap as usual. The mother of George came forward and shook hands with him, then made him sit beside her and recount his doings.

Conscious of independent standing, he was fearless and behaved with dignity; he even asked for news of the Emir without confusion. The other ladies chatted kindly of his marriage, praising the beauty of the bride, whom they knew only by sight; even the Father of Ice shook hands with him, and hoped with a smile that he was well and thriving. It surprised him much to see his mother making frequent reverence, to hear her asking pardon in his name.

Having inquired for George and the rest of the children, each by name, and a.s.sured himself of their welfare, he conceived that he had said enough, and wished to go. It was then that he made his offering, producing the little picture and placing it in the lady's hand with conscious pride. The effect was quite other than he had expected. The ladies Carulin and Jane turned from it with a pitying smile; Hilda remarked, "I prefer your earlier work;" the missionary indulged in a curt laugh; while the mother of George herself, the blest recipient, was dumb, till, seeing trouble in Iskender's eyes, she forced a smile and exclaimed:

"A curious picture! I shall certainly preserve it among my treasures."

Outside the house again, his mother punched Iskender in the back and spat at him, calling him fool and marplot, cursing all his ancestry.

"Hast thou no sense, no perspicacity? When all went well, what need to show thy picture? Why bring a picture that had angels in it? I saw them shudder and go yellow at the sight of those white, holy ones. Couldst thou not paint a picture all of devils, or else of things without religious meaning? And what possessed thee to inquire concerning the health of that bad Emir, who spurned the love of the Sitt Hilda? Thou knewest nothing of the story? Say that again, unblushing liar!--when I myself informed thee on our way up thither. Merciful Allah! So thou heardest nothing; thy wits went wandering off, as always, to thy painting, or the pleasures of thy bride; and, for the lack of a little attention, mere politeness, the hopes of our house lie ruined. Naturally poor Hilda thought thy question was designed to taunt her. I saw how red she went, though thou didst not. But for that she would certainly have praised thy picture. Now she hates thee. Well, no doubt it is from Allah! But none the less it is hard for me to bear, with the wife of Costantin for ever dinning in my ear her son's achievements. And why, if thou must be a painter, dost thou not go to Beyrut, that great fashionable city, superior to any in Europe, where folks have taste, and thou couldst make a fortune by thy art? Thy bride could help thee in the world of fashion, for her father is well known and has rich friends among the Orthodox. But where is the use in talking to a man like thee? Thou hast no spirit, no ambition."

Iskender did not argue. His mother's note of angry lamentation, in strange accordance with his feelings at that moment, condoned the sharpness of her words, which hardly reached him. The failure of the missionaries to see the merit in his work showed ignorance, but was their own affair; the omission to say "thank you" for his gift was downright rudeness. Their open contempt of his little masterpiece rankled hot in his mind. He vowed before Allah never again to seek to please a Frank and risk such insult. Henceforth he would cleanse his mouth whenever he so much as pa.s.sed in the street near one of that accursed race.

With pride he called himself a Nazarene, a native Christian of the land, preferring the insolent domination of the Muslim, his blood-relative, to the arrogance of so-called Christian strangers.

Returning home, he told Nesibeh of his determination to start next morning early for the Holy City. His bride was glad, for she had feared much from his visit to the missionaries, and longed to remove him far from their h.e.l.lish wiles.

CHAPTER x.x.xII

Two years later, when Allah had given him a male child by Nesibeh, Iskender visited his wife's father in the spring-time. He arrived on foot leading the donkey, on which his wife sat with the baby in her arms. An excited group stood out beneath the ilex-tree. They shouted "Praise to Allah!" The mother of Iskender ran and seized the baby, and rocking it in her arms, poured forth her h.o.a.rd of tidings. Asad ebn Costantin was married--had Iskender heard?--to a great lady of the English, a virgin strictly guarded, the only child of rich and honoured parents. Ah, the cunning devil! The people there at the Mission were furious, he might believe; the more so that Asad was bringing his bride to visit them as an equal--he, the son of Costantin, who fetched the water! Ah, they were well repaid for their treatment of Iskender; and they knew it!

But Mitri broke in, crying:

"Hast thou brought the picture?"

"Be sure I have!" replied Iskender cheerfully. Opening one of the saddlebags he produced it, wrapped in a linen cloth, which he removed.

A howl of delight went up from all the company.

"Ma sh' Allah! It is Mar Jiryis himself!" "May we be helped through him!" "Now our church will wear a richer and more modish look!"

exclaimed one and another.

It was indeed the crowning triumph of his art, which Iskender brought as an offering to the little church of St. George beneath the oak-tree, which he regarded as the fountain of Heaven's favours towards him. For the form and posture of the saint he had gone to one of those grand English newspapers which the Emir had given to him years ago. He had taken thence the likeness of a mounted officer slashing downward with his sabre, while his charger, dragged back on its haunches, pawed the air convulsively. A uniform of gold embellished this equestrian figure, which was framed in coils of Dragon, green and black; while the Dragon, in its turn, was framed in a fine decorative gush of blood, pure scarlet, which swirled and eddied round the combatants, springing visibly from the monster's many wounds.

"It is a feast for the eyes!" cried Mitri, when he had gazed his fill.

There were tears on his cheeks as he turned and kissed Iskender. "The saint will be pleased, in sh' Allah! To-night it shall honour my house. To-morrow we will carry it in procession seven times round the church before we enter. It is all arranged. Khalil will be there with his music, which is lawful anywhere except in church. In sh' Allah, we will have a ceremony such as has not been seen in this place for many a year. I have spoken to the caimmacam and to the learned at the Mosque about it; and they say we may do what we like among ourselves, but must desist if any Muslim pa.s.sing by should make objection. To-morrow is high festival with us!"

Accordingly, next morning, there was concourse at the house of the Orthodox priest. Within, upon a kind of altar, the picture was displayed with tapers burning. Each new arrival paid respect to it.

Abdullah, who had strayed in aimless with the crowd, stood fixed before it as if petrified, in horror of the dragon's hideous face. Then, with a fervent "G.o.d protect us all!" the spell was broken and he hurried out.

"A miracle!" cried Mitri joyously. "Our picture has already scared a sinner."

Some one in the room inquired tremulously whether dragons such as that portrayed were still to be found in the world?

"No, praise be to Allah!" replied Mitri. All laughed at the simplicity of the questioner, except Elias, who solemnly averred that such existed, that he himself had seen one crunching a poor one-eyed black man in its cruel jaws.

"He has seen a crocodile, perhaps, in Masr," Yuhanna laughingly suggested, with a hand on the shoulder of the visionary. But Elias protested vehemently, swearing by Allah that he knew a crocodile when he saw one. The monster in dispute had been no crocodile, as witness its possession of two wings, like the wings of a bat, only fifty times larger, and a voice which could be heard for many miles. There was one blessing, however, about all such creatures; that they had power only over unbaptized people. This last touch pleased the majority of his audience, causing them to praise Allah, and inclining them to accept the truth of the whole story on religious grounds. Elias was preparing to support it with some cognate marvel, when Mitri announced that the procession was being formed. At the same moment, a few prelusory notes of the concertina were heard without. The house soon emptied.

Out in the heavy sunlight, hens fled clucking from the sudden tumult, pigeons circled overhead and cooed distractedly, children were driving dogs away with stones and curses. Khalil, the musician, stood to lead the way, making his concertina speak occasionally as a protest against further waiting. Iskender was to follow next to him as donor of the honoured picture; then the males of the congregation by twos and threes, many of them carrying lighted tapers; and, last of all, the priest fully robed, bearing the sacred picture at his breast. Groups of white-veiled women, mere spectators, waited in the shadow of the hovels, or beneath the oak-tree.

"Play that tune that thou didst play at our wedding, O Khalil," cried Nesibeh to the musician, who was chafing for the start.

"Which tune may that be of all tunes, O lady? I played you all I knew on that most blessed day!" Khalil was very grave and ceremonious, this being the greatest hour of all his life. "Is it this?" He broke into "G.o.d save the Queen."

"No, no; it goes like this!" Nesibeh strove to shadow forth the Frankish air. Do what she would, she could not keep from smiling, for pleasure in her husband's great success.

"Ah, yes, I know thy meaning now. That is a tune indeed--a tune of playful triumph without arrogance, well suited to the occasion. It was taught to me by an English mariner in Bur' Sad, and is ent.i.tled 'Bob gus the wissal.'"

"Play it, O Khalil! Play it all the time; for it is merry and it makes us laugh!" cried Nesibeh, clapping her hands.

"Ready!" cried Mitri from the house; and Khalil stepped out with triumph, flourishing his concertina, flinging its strains out far and wide; his head, his whole body carried this way and that with the violence of his exertions. Elias and other excitables cut strange capers or embraced each other. The more serious rendered praise to Allah; the women looking on gave forth their joy-cries; and Mitri, bringing up the rear of the procession, smiled a blessing on their enthusiasm over the picture held against his breast. They had compa.s.sed the church five times to the tune of "Pop goes the Weasel,"

and were coming round again when a carriage which they had not heard approaching drew up beneath the ilex-tree. Its occupants were a Frankish clergyman dressed in black, and a lady dressed in white with a white sunshade. They watched the procession curiously with pitying smiles. Iskender from a distance was struck by the clergyman's complexion, which seemed darker than is usual among Europeans; then when he pa.s.sed the front of the church and got close view of him, he saw that it was Asad son of Costantin. In a flash he remembered things he had forgotten, recalled a standpoint that had once seemed all desirable. He perceived how ludicrous this joyful marching round must seem to English eyes; and for a moment felt ashamed for himself and his friends. But the next minute, having turned the corner of the church, he met his young wife's smile, and grew once more exultant. The lady in the carriage beside Asad was very ugly, and no longer young.