A MOUNTAIN GARRISON
The long day's ride was uneventful, but not so the night. I spent it
in a village of the mountains at a very curious hostelry, kept by a
fat native Christian, named Elias, who laid claim, upon the signboard,
to furnish food and lodging 'alafranga'--that is, in the modern
European manner. There was one large guest-room, and an adjoining
bedroom of the same dimensions, for some thirty travellers. I had to
find a stable for my horse elsewhere. A dining-table was provided, and
we sat on chairs around it; but the food was no wise European, and the
cooking was degraded Greek. A knife, fork, and spoon were laid for
every guest but several cast these on the floor and used their
fingers. In the long bedroom were a dozen beds on bedsteads. By
offering a trifle extra I secured one to myself. In others there were
two, three, even four together. An elderly Armenian gentleman who had
a wife with him, stood guard with pistols over her all night. He was
so foolish as to threaten loudly anyone who dared approach her. After
he had done so several times a man arose from the bed next to mine and
strolling to him seized him by the throat.
'O man,' he chided. 'Art thou mad or what, thus to arouse our passions
by thy talk of women? Be silent, or we honest men here present will
wring thy neck and take thy woman from thee. Dost thou understand?' He
shook that jealous husband as a terrier would shake a rat. 'Be silent,
hearest thou? Men wish to sleep.'
'Said I not well, O brother?' said the monitor to me, as he got back
to bed.
'By Allah, well,' was my reply. The jealous one was silent after that.
But there were other noises. Some men still lingered in the guest-room
playing cards. The host, devoted to things European, had a
musical-box--it was happily before the day of gramophones--which the
card-players kept going all night long. I had a touch of fever. There
were insects. Sleep was hopeless. I rose while it was yet night, went
out without paying, since the host was nowhere to be seen, and, in
some danger from the fierce attacks of pariah dogs, found out the
vault in which my horse was stabled. Ten minutes later I was clear of
the village, riding along a mountain side but dimly visible beneath
the stars. The path descended to a deep ravine, and rose again, up,
up, interminably. At length, upon the summit of a ridge, I felt the
dawn. The mountain tops were whitened like the crests of waves, while
all the clefts and hollows remained full of night. Behind me, in the
east, there was a long white streak making the mountain outlines bleak
and keen. The stars looked strange; a fresh breeze fanned my cheek and
rustled in the grass and shrubs. Before me, on an isolated bluff,
appeared my destination, a large village, square-built like a
fortress. Its buildings presently took on a wild-rose blush, which
deepened to the red of fire--a splendid sight against a dark blue sky,
still full of stars. A window flashed up there. The sun had risen.
Some English people, when informed of my intention to buy a man out of
the Turkish Army had pronounced it madness. I did not know the people
of the land as they did. I should be pillaged, brought to destitution,
perhaps murdered. They, who had lived in the country twenty, thirty
years, were better qualified to judge than I was. For peace and quiet
I pretended acquiescence, and my purpose thus acquired a taste of
stealth. It was with the feelings of a kind of truant that I had set
out at length without a word to anyone, and with the same adventurous
feelings that I now drew near to Karameyn. Two soldiers, basking in
the sunshine on a dust-heap, sprang up at my approach. One was the man
I sought, the rogue Rashîd. They led me to their captain's house--a
modest dwelling, consisting of a single room, with hardly any
furniture. A score of soldiers followed after us.
The Captain--Hasan Agha--an old man, with face scarred and heavy white
moustache, was in full uniform, and, as I entered, was engaged in
putting on a pair of cotton gloves. He was one of the old 'alaïli,'
Turkish officers--those whose whole knowledge of their business was
derived from service in a regiment or 'alaï,' instead of from
instruction at a military school; and his manner towards the men had
nothing of the martinet. He addressed them as 'my children,' with
affection; and they, though quite respectful, conversed freely in his
presence. Hasan Agha paid me many compliments, and repeatedly inquired
after my health. He would not hear about my business till I had had
breakfast. Luncheon had been arranged for me, he said, but that could
not be ready for some hours. Would I be so kind as to excuse a
makeshift? Even as he spoke, a soldier entered with a tray on which
were slabs of Arab bread, a pitcher of sour milk, and heaps of grapes.
Another soldier began pounding coffee, while yet another blew upon the
charcoal in a brazier. I refused to eat unless my host ate with me,
which he did only after much polite resistance. After the meal, we sat
and talked, the soldiers joining in the conversation. They told me of
old wars and deeds of valour. Hasan Agha was, it seemed, a famous
fighter; and the men did all they could to make him tell me of his
battles. They brought an old man in out of the town to see me because
he had fought in the Crimean war, and knew the English. Before it grew
too hot, they took me out to see the barracks and a ramshackle old
fieldpiece which they seemed to idolise. Then followed luncheon with
its long array of Arab dishes, of which the soldiers had their share
eventually. Rashîd assured me afterwards that all the food on this
occasion had been 'borrowed.' That was in Abdul Hamid's golden days.
After luncheon, there was coffee with more compliments; and then at
last we got to business.
A public writer was brought in. He wrote out a receipt for me, and
also the discharge Rashîd required. Hasan Agha stamped both documents
with an official seal, and handed them to me, who gave him in exchange
the money.
'Bismillah!' he exclaimed. 'I call all here to witness that Rashîd,
the son of Ali, called the Fair, is free henceforth to go what way he
chooses.'
To me he said: 'Rashîd is a good lad, and you will find him useful.
The chief fault I have found in him is this: that, when obeying
orders, he is apt to think, and so invent a method of his own, not
always good. Also, he is too susceptible to female charms, a failing
which has placed him in some strange positions.'
The last remark evoked much laughter, relating, evidently to some
standing joke unknown to me. Rashîd looked rather sheepish. Hasan Agha
turned to him, and said:
'My son, praise Allah for thy great good fortune in finding favour in
the sight of one so noble and benevolent as our beloved guest, who is
henceforth thy master. Remember, he is not as I am--one who has been
what thou art, and so knows the tricks. Serve him freely with thy mind
and soul and conscience, not waiting for commands as in the Army. Come
hither, O my son, grasp hands with me. I say, may God be with thee now
and always! Forget not all the good instruction of thy soldier days.
Be sure that we shall pray for thy good master and for thee.'
The old man's eyes were wet, so were Rashîd's, so were the eyes of all
the soldiers squatting round.
Rashîd, dismissed, went off to change his uniform for an old suit of
mine which I had brought for him, while Hasan Agha, talking of him as
a father might, explained to me his character and little failings.
At last I took my leave. Rashîd was waiting in my cast-off clothes, a
new fez of civilian shape upon his head. He held my stirrup, and then
jumped on to a raw-boned beast which had been 'borrowed' for him by
his friends, so he informed me. It might be worth my while to buy it
for him, he suggested later--the price was only eight pounds Turk, the
merest trifle. The whole garrison escorted us to the last houses,
where they stood a long while, waving their farewells. Two hours
later, on the mountain-ridge, beyond the wady, we turned to look our
last on Karameyn. It stood amid the flames of sunset like a castle of
the clouds.
We returned, then, to the 'alafranga' hostelry; but Rashîd, having
heard the story of my sleepless night, would not allow me to put up
there. I paid my debt to the proprietor, and then he found for me an
empty house to which he brought a mattress and a coverlet, a lot of
cushions, a brazier, and the things required for making coffee, also a
tray of supper--all of them borrowed from the neighbouring houses. I
might be pillaged, brought to destitution, and eventually murdered by
him, as my friends had warned me. At least, the operation promised to
be comfortable.