THE KNIGHT ERRANT
We had left Damascus after noon the day before, and had spent the
night at a great fortress-khan--the first of many on the pilgrims'
road. We had been on our way an hour before Rashîd discovered that he
had left a pair of saddle-bags behind him at the khan; and as those
saddle-bags contained belongings of Suleymân, the latter went back
with him to retrieve them. I rode on slowly, looking for a patch of
shade. Except the khan, a square black object in the distance, there
was nothing in my range of vision to project a shadow larger than a
good-sized thistle. Between a faint blue wave of mountains on the one
hand and a more imposing but far distant range upon the other, the
vast plain rolled to the horizon in smooth waves.
I was ascending such an undulation at my horse's leisure when a
cavalier appeared upon its summit--a figure straight out of the pages
of some book of chivalry, with coloured mantle streaming to the
breeze, and lance held upright in the stirrup-socket. This knight was
riding at his ease till he caught sight of me, when, with a shout, he
laid his lance in rest, lowered his crest and charged. I was
exceedingly alarmed, having no skill in tournament, and yet I could
not bring myself to turn and flee. I rode on as before, though with a
beating heart, my purpose, if I had one, being, when the moment came,
to lean aside, and try to catch his spear, trusting in Allah that my
horse would stand the shock. But the prospect of success was small,
because I could see nothing clearly, till suddenly the thunder of the
hoof-beats ceased, and I beheld the knight within ten yards of me,
grinning and saluting me with lance erect, his horse flung back upon
its haunches.
'I frightened thee, O Faranji?' he asserted mockingly.
I replied that it would take more than such a wretched mountebank as
he could do to frighten me, and showed him my revolver, which, until
the fear was over, had escaped my memory. It pleased him, and he
asked for it immediately. I put it back.
'A pretty weapon,' he agreed, 'but still I frightened thee.'
I shrugged and sneered, disdaining further argument, and thought to
pass him; but he turned his horse and rode beside me, asking who I was
and where I came from, and what might be my earthly object in riding
thus towards the desert all alone. I answered all his questions very
coldly, which did not disconcert him in the least. Hearing that I had
attendants, one of whom had skill in warfare, he said that he would
wait with me till they came up. I tried to frighten him with tales of
all the men Rashîd had slain in single combat: he was all the more
determined to remain with me, saying that he would gain much honour
from destroying such a man.
'But I do suspect that thou are lying, O most noble Faranji, and that
this boasted champion is some wretched townsman whose only courage is
behind a wall,' he chuckled.
At that I was indignant, and I lied the more.
Thus talking, we came near a piece of ruined wall, which cast
sufficient shadow for a man to rest in. The knight dismounted and tied
up his horse. I was for riding on, but he made such an outcry that,
wishing to avoid a quarrel, I alighted also and tied up my horse. We
lay down near together in the strip of shade. He passed me a rough
leathern water-bottle, and I took a draught of warmish fluid, tasting
like the smell of goats. He took a longer draught, and then exclaimed:
'There are thy friends.'
Far off upon the plain two specks were moving. I could not have told
man from man at such a distance, but the knight was able to
distinguish and describe them accurately.
'The younger man who sits erect upon his horse--he is no doubt the
warrior of whom thou speakest. The other, plump and lolling, has the
air of greatness--a Pasha, maybe, or a man of law.'
I told him that Suleymân was a man of learning, and then let him talk
while I took stock of his appearance. The figure out of books of
chivalry was shabby on a close inspection. The coloured surcoat was
both weather-stained and torn, the coat of mail beneath so ancient
that many of the links had disappeared completely; the holes where
they had been were patched with hide, which also was beginning to give
way in places. His age was about three-and-twenty; he had bright brown
eyes, a black moustache and beard, and a malicious air. He looked a
perfect ragamuffin, yet he spoke with condescension, talking much
about his pedigree, which contained a host of names which I had never
heard before--a fact which, when he realised it, filled him first with
horror, then with pity of my ignorance. He expatiated also on his
horse's pedigree, which was as lengthy as his own.
When my friends came up, I quite expected them to rid me of the
tiresome knight. But they did nothing of the sort. They took the man
and his pretensions seriously, exchanging with him compliments in
striking contrast with the haughty tone I had till then adopted.
Rashîd refused his challenge with politeness, and, much to my dismay,
Suleymân, the older and more thoughtful man, accepted it upon
condition that the combat should stand over till some more convenient
time; and when the knight proclaimed his sovereign will to travel with
us, they seemed pleased.
'He will be useful to us,' said Rashîd, when I complained to him of
this deception, 'for his tribe controls a great part of this country.
But it will be best for me to carry our revolver while he rides with
us. Then I and not your Honour can deny him, which is more becoming.'
The knight had asked for my revolver thrice already.
That evening, near a lonely village of the plain, the battle with
Suleymân was fought with equal honours, each rider hitting his man
squarely with the long jerideh--the stripped palm-branch--which is
substituted for the spear in friendly combat. The heroes faced each
other at a regulated distance. Then one--it was Suleymân--clapped
spurs into his horse's flanks and fled, keeping within a certain space
which might be called the lists; the other flying after him, with
fearful yells, intent to fling the missile so that it should strike
the victim in a certain manner. This lasted till the throw was made,
and then the order was reversed, and the pursuer in his turn became
the hunted.
The knight applauded his opponent's skill reluctantly, and with
regret that he himself had not been in his usual form.
He journeyed with us after that for many days. It seemed that he was
out in search of exploits, so did not care a jot which way he rode. In
former days, he told me, there used to be a tournament in every town
each Friday, where any stranger knight might show his prowess, winning
honour and renown. But in these degenerate times it was necessary for
the would-be champion to cry his challenge in some public place, or
else arrange the fight beforehand meanly in some tavern. I should have
been delighted with him on the whole, if he had not been quarrelsome
and had not expected us, as his companions, to extricate him from the
strife in which his arrogance involved him. We dreaded the arrival at
a town or village. If he had possessed the prowess of his courage,
which was absolutely reckless, he would have been a more endurable, if
dread, companion. But in almost every quarrel which he brought upon
himself he got the worst of it, and was severely beaten, and then
would talk to us about the honour of the Arabs till we fell asleep.
One night in the small town of Mazarib we rescued him from two
Circassian bravoes whom he had insulted wantonly. They had nearly
stopped his mouth for ever when we intervened. I cannot say he was
ungrateful upon that occasion. On the contrary, he swore that he would
not forsake us until death--a vow which filled us with dismay, for
even Suleymân by that time saw that he was useless; and Rashîd, our
treasurer, resented his contempt of money. He had a way, too, of
demanding anything of ours which took his fancy, and, if not forcibly
prevented, taking it, peculiarly obnoxious to Rashîd, who idolised my
few belongings. We were his friends, his manner told us, and he, the
bravest of the brave, the noblest of the noble Arabs, was prepared to
give his life for us at any time. Any trifles therefore which we might
bestow on him were really nothing as compared with what he gave us
every hour of every day.
It grew unbearable. The people in the khan at Mazarib were laughing at
us because that wretched Bedawi, a chance adherent, ruled our party.
We plotted desperately to get rid of him.
At length Suleymân devised a scheme. It was that we should change the
whole direction of our journey, turning aside into the mountain of the
Druzes. The Druzes were at war with many of the Bedu--probably with
this man's tribe; at any rate, a Bedawi, unless disguised, would run
grave risk among them while the war was on.
Accordingly, when we at length set out from Mazarib, Suleymân, with
many compliments, informed the knight of a dilemma which distressed us
greatly. I had been summoned to the bedside of a friend of mine, a
great Druze sheykh, now lying very ill, whose one wish was to gaze on
me before he died. Rashîd chimed in to say how tenderly that Druze
chief loved me, and how depressed I was by sorrow for his grievous
illness. In short, it was imperative that we should go at once to the
Druze mountain. What were our feelings when we suddenly bethought us
that there was danger in that region for an Arab knight! Must we then
part from our beloved, from our souls' companion? Suleymân declared
that we had wept like babes at such a prospect. No, that must never
be; our grief would kill us. We had been obliged to think of some
contrivance by which our hearts' delight might bear us company without
much risk, and with the help of Allah we had hit upon a splendid plan,
yet simple: That he should lay aside his lance and armour, dress as a
Christian, and become our cook.
'Why need he seem a Christian?' asked Rashîd.
'Because all cooks who go with English travellers are Christians,' was
the earnest answer, 'and because no man would ever think to find a
Bedawi beneath a Christian's cloak.'
'A person of my master's standing ought to have a cook,' murmured
Rashîd, as one who thought aloud.
Never have I seen such horror in the face of man as then convulsed the
features of the desert knight. He, a cook! He, the descendant of I
know not whom, to wear the semblance of a heathen and degraded
townsman! Rather than that he would encounter twenty spear-points. If
we were going to the mountain of the Druzes, we might go alone!
We all were eager to express regret. He listened with a sneer, and
answered nothing. After a while he beckoned me to speak apart with
him, and, when we were beyond the hearing of the others, said:
'I leave thee now, O Faranji, and journey towards Nejd to seek
adventures. Thou lovest me I am aware, and so I grieve to part from
thee; but thy adherents are low people and devoured by envy. If ever
we should meet again I will destroy them. If thou shouldst travel
south and eastward through the Belka, remember me, I beg, and seek our
tents. There thou shalt find a welcome far more hospitable than the
Druze will give thee. I shall never cease to pray for thee. My grief
will be extreme until we meet again. I pray thee give me that revolver
as a souvenir.'