PRIDE AND A FALL
There was to be a grand fantasia at the castle of the greatest of
Druze sheykhs in honour of a visit from the English Consul-General in
Syria; and as an Englishman I was invited to be there. It was a
journey of a day and a half. Upon the second morning Rashîd and I had
not gone far ere we fell in with other horsemen wending in the same
direction as ourselves, well mounted and in holiday attire. All
greeted us politely, but we kept apart, because they nearly all rode
mares while we rode stallions--a fruitful source of trouble and a
cause of war.
At length a young man mounted on a stallion overtook us with most
cordial greetings. I had met him often. He was the son of a rich
landowner in a neighbouring valley, and, I think, the most beautiful
human creature I ever saw. That day he was particularly good to look
at, his complexion of clear olive slightly flushed, his violet eyes
beneath their long dark lashes dancing, his perfect white teeth
gleaming with excitement and delight. He wore a cloak, broad striped,
of white and crimson, a white frilled shirt of lawn showing above a
vest of crimson velvet, fawn-coloured baggy trousers, and soft
sheepskin boots. A snow-white turban crowned his whole appearance. His
horse was thoroughbred and young, and he controlled its ceaseless
dance to admiration. He told me that the stallion was his own, an
uncle's gift, and quite the best in all the mountains; although mine,
he added out of mere politeness, was undoubtedly a pearl of breeding
and high spirit. He hoped with such a steed to gain renown in that
day's horsemanship, and, if it might be, win the notice of the
Consul-General and his lady.
'My father wished me to take out another horse,' he said; 'but I love
this one, and am used to all his ways. I could not do myself full
justice on another, nor would Rustem do his best for any other rider.'
He proceeded to discuss the horses which we saw before us on the road,
pointing out in each of them some defect, and exclaiming: 'I shall
excel them all, in sh' Allah! Does not your Honour also think my horse
the best?'
I assured him that I did indeed, and all my wishes were for his
success, 'because,' said I, 'I know and like you, and I do not know
the others.'
'But some thou knowest for a certainty, for all the Mountain will be
there. Come, let me name them to thee one by one.' And some of those
he named were certainly well known to me.
'When thou seest Hasan, son of Ali, nicely mounted, wilt thou not
think he is the better man?'
'No, no, by Allah!' I disclaimed such fickleness. 'Be sure that if
good wishes can ensure success, all mine are with thee in to-day's
event.'
'Allah increase thy wealth!' he cried in joy, as if I had bestowed on
him a gift of price.
There was a crowd of many colours on the well-made road which wanders
up through orchards to the village and ends on the meydân before the
castle gate. There the crowd halted, making fast their horses to the
many rings and tie-holes which were in the walls. Rashîd took charge
of my horse and his own, while I went on up steps on to a higher
platform intersected by a stream of ice-cold water plunging down into
the valley in a fine cascade whose spray and murmur cooled the air.
That rush of water was the greatest luxury in such a land, and the
lord of the castle took much pride in its contrivance.
I went up to a door where soldiers and domestics lounged, but was
informed: 'Our lord is out of doors.' A soldier pointed to a bunch of
trees above the waterfall and overlooking the meydân, where many
notables in black frock coat and fez sat out on chairs. He ran on to
announce my coming. I was soon a member of the formal group, replying
to the usual compliments and kind inquiries.
Coffee was handed round. Then came a tray of different kinds of
sherbet, then a tray of eatables. The chiefs around me talked of
harvests and the price of land, but, most of all, of horses, since it
was a horsey day. The screaming of a stallion came persistently from
the meydân--a naughty screaming which foreboded mischief. I recognised
the voice. The culprit was my own Sheytân. The screams were so
disturbing, so indecent, that several of the great ones round me
frowned and asked: 'Whose horse is that?' in accents of displeasure.
I was ashamed to own him.
At length the lord of the castle called a servant to his side and
whispered, pointing with his hand in the direction whence the screams
proceeded. The servant hurried off, but presently returned and
whispered something in his master's ear. His master looked at me and
nodded gravely. He then addressed me in a deprecating tone, remarking:
'Your Honour's horse is too high-spirited; the crowd excites him. Will
you allow him to be tethered in some other place?'
From the excessive smoothness of his manner I could guess that, had I
been a native of the land, he would have told me to remove the vicious
brute and myself likewise. I rose at once to go and see to it.
'Pray do not give yourself the trouble!' he exclaimed, distressed.
The servant went along with me, and, when we got to the meydân, Rashîd
came running. Sheytân was then indeed a terrifying sight, with
streaming tail, mane bristling, and a wicked bloodshot eye, tearing at
his head-rope, one minute pawing at the wall as if to climb it, the
next kicking wildly with his head down. I know little of horses in
general, but I knew that particular horse, and he knew me. I went up
quietly and talked to him, then loosed the rope and led Sheytân away
without much difficulty, Rashîd meanwhile explaining to the servant of
the house that no one else could possibly have done it. We tied him at
the further end of the meydân.
Then I went back on to the terrace, where the notables had risen and
were looking at the youths who were to take part in the fantasia,
among them my companion of the road, the young Sheykh Abdul Hamid.
These were now on the parade-ground with their horses. My neighbour in
the group of great ones said, politely:
'Your Honour should go with them; it is only proper, since their going
is to compliment the representative of England. And you are, I see, a
very skilful cavalier. The way you quieted that horse of yours was
wonderful. We have all been talking of it. Ride with them!'
I begged to be excused. The essence of the fantasia is to show off
one's own prowess and one's horse's paces while careering madly in a
widish circle round some given object--an open carriage with some
great one in it, or a bridal pair--taking no note of obstacles,
dashing over rocks and gulleys and down breakneck slopes, loading and
firing off a gun at intervals, in full career. I had tried the feeling
of it once at a friend's wedding, and had been far from happy, though
my horse enjoyed the romp and often tried to start it afterwards when
there was no occasion. Remembering Abdul Hamid and his desire for
praise that day, I said:
'There is only one good horseman here--Abdul Hamid, the son of the
Sheykh Mustafa. All the rest of us, compared with him, are mere
pedestrians.'
I pointed out the youth in question to my neighbour, who was a man of
power in the mountains, and he praised the beauty of his form on
horseback.
'By Allah, right is with thee,' he assented. 'There is none but he.'
Away they went--Jinblâts, Talhûks, and Abdul Meliks--all in clean
white turbans, with coloured cloaks a-stream upon the breeze, on
horses gorgeously caparisoned. We waited half an hour--in silence, as
it seemed; and then we heard the noise of their return, the shouts,
the firing. I swear I saw a horse and man surmount a housetop in the
village and then leap down upon the other side. At last, with yells
and reckless gunshots and a whirl of dust, the crowd of horsemen came
full tilt on the meydân. Their leader--in appearance a mad angel--was
my friend, Abdul Hamid. Suddenly he drew his rein, flinging the steed
right back upon his haunches. In so doing, looking up at me with a
triumphant smile, he somehow missed his balance and pitched clear over
his horse's head, just at the very moment when a carriage and pair
containing the beaming Consul-General and his lady, with a glorious
Cawwâs upon the box, arrived upon the scene. I ran to help him, but
another person was before me. A tall old man, whose garb bespoke him
an initiated Druze, rushed out among the horses and the dust and beat
the wretched lad about the shoulders, heaping curses on that lovely
head for bringing shame upon an honoured house before such company. It
was the lad's own father, the Sheykh Mustafa. I helped to drag the old
man off, and would have gone on to console the son; but just then I
beheld Sheytân approaching with a broken head-rope. I contrived to
catch him and to mount without attending to the girths; and, once on
horseback, I was glad to be there; for quite fifty of the tethered
steeds had broken loose in the excitement, and were rushing here and
there and fighting in a most alarming way. I have always had a dread
of horse-fights, and this was not a single fight; it was a mêlée,
fresh horses every minute breaking loose to join it. Right in my way
two angry stallions rose up, boxing one another like the lion and the
unicorn, and a little boy of ten or thereabouts ran in between and,
jumping, caught their head-ropes.
I escaped at last and rode down through the village to the bottom of
the valley, where a grove of walnut trees cast pleasant shade beside a
stream. There Rashîd found me later in the day. He told me that my
disappearance had caused consternation and alarm, the Consul-General
and his lady having asked for me. Bidding him remain with the two
horses, I went back on foot to the castle, where I stayed only the
time necessary to pay my respects.
As I was returning towards the valley, a litter borne between two
mules was leaving the meydân. Beside it walked the stern Sheykh
Mustafa, and in it, I had little doubt, reclined the beautiful Abdul
Hamid.
I asked the serving-man who led the foremost mule if his young lord
was seriously hurt. He answered:
'Yes; for he has broken his elbow and his shoulder and his
collar-bone. But that is nothing, since he has disgraced our house.'
A bitter wail of 'Woe the day!' came from within the palanquin.