THE BATTLEFIELD
Our road, the merest bridle-path, which sometimes altogether
disappeared and had to be retrieved by guesswork, meandered on the
side of a ravine, down in the depths of which, in groves of oleander,
there flowed a stream of which we caught the murmur. The forest was
continuous on our side of the wadi. It consisted of dense olive groves
around the villages and a much thinner growth of ilex in the tracts
between. The shade was pleasant in the daytime, but as night came on
its gloom oppressed our spirits with extreme concern, for we were
still a long way off our destination, and uncertain of the way.
The gloom increased. From open places here and there we saw the stars,
but gloom filled the ravine, and there was little difference between
the darkness underneath the trees and that outside in open spaces of
the grove. We trusted to our horses to make out the path, which
sometimes ran along the verge of precipices.
I cannot say that I was happy in my mind. Rashîd made matters worse by
dwelling on the risks we ran not only from abandoned men but ghouls
and jinnis. The lugubrious call of a hyæna in the distance moved him
to remark that ghouls assume that shape at night to murder travellers.
They come up close and rub against them like a loving cat; which
contact robs the victims of their intellect, and causes them to follow
the hyæna to its den, where the ghoul kills them and inters their
bodies till the flesh is ripe.
He next expressed a fear lest we might come upon some ruin lighted up,
and be deceived into supposing it a haunt of men, as had happened to a
worthy cousin of his own when on a journey. This individual, whose
name was Ali, had been transported in the twinkling of an eye by
jinnis, from somewhere in the neighbourhood of Hamá to the wilds of
Jebel Câf (Mount Caucasus), and had escaped a hideous and painful
death only by recollection of the name of God. He told me, too, how
he himself, when stationed at Mersîn, had met a company of demons, one
fine evening in returning from an errand; and other tales which caused
my flesh to creep.
The groves receded. We were in an open place where only a low kind of
brushwood grew, when suddenly my horse shied, gave a fearful snort,
and sturdily refused to budge another inch. I let him stand until
Rashîd came up. He thought to pass me, but his horse refused as mine
had done.
'It is no doubt some jinni in the way,' he whispered in a frightened
tone; then, calling out: 'Dastûr, ya mubârak' (Permission, blessed
one!), he tried to urge his horse, which still demurred. So there we
were, arrested by some unseen hand; and this became the more
unpleasant because a pestilential smell was in the place.
'Better return!' muttered Rashîd, with chattering teeth.
'Give me a match!' I said distractedly. 'My box is empty.'
'Better return!' he pleaded.
'A match, do you hear?' I cried, made cross by terror.
He gave the match, and I believe I shouted as I struck it. For a brief
space it made a dazzle in my eyes, preventing me from seeing anything,
and then went out.
'There is something lying in the path!' Rashîd was gibbering.
I got down off my horse and lit a second match, which I took care to
shelter till the flame was strong. A human arm lay in the path before
us.
My horror was extreme, and grew uncanny when the match expired. But
the ghastly object had restored his courage to Rashîd, who even
laughed aloud as he exclaimed:
'The praise to Allah! It is nothing which can hurt us. No doubt some
murder has been here committed, all unknown. The Lord have mercy on
the owner of that arm! We will report the matter to some high official
at our journey's end.'
We turned our horses to the right and made a long detour, but scarcely
had they found the path again when mine (which led the way) demurred
once more.
'Another piece,' exclaimed Rashîd excitedly. He got down off his
horse to look. 'Nay, many pieces. This, by Allah, is no other than a
battlefield unknown to fame.'
'How can a battle take place without public knowledge?' I inquired,
incredulous.
'The thing may happen when two factions quarrel for unlawful cause--it
may be over stolen gains, or for some deadly wrong which cannot be
avowed without dishonour--and when each side exterminates the other.'
'How can that happen?' I exclaimed again.
Rashîd could not at once reply, because in our avoidance of those
human relics we found ourselves on broken ground and among trunks of
trees, which called for the address of all our wits. But when the
horses once more plodded steadily, he assured me that the thing could
happen, and had happened often in that country, where men's blood is
hot. He told me how a band of brigands once, in Anti-Lebanon, had
fought over their spoils till the majority on both sides had been
slain, and the survivors were so badly wounded that they could not
move, but lay and died upon the battlefield; and how the people of two
villages, both men and women, being mad with envy, had held a battle
with the same result. I interrupted him with questions. Both of us
were glad to talk in order to get rid of the remembrance of our former
fear. We gave the rein to our imaginations, speaking eagerly.
Reverting to the severed limbs which we had seen, Rashîd exclaimed:
'Now I will tell your Honour how it happened. A deadly insult had been
offered to a family in a young girl's dishonour. Her father and her
brothers killed her to wipe out the shame--as is the custom here among
the fellâhîn--and then with all their relatives waylaid the men of the
insulter's house when these were cutting wood here in the forest.
There was a furious battle, lasting many hours. The combatants fought
hand-to-hand with rustic weapons, and in some cases tore each other
limb from limb. When all was done, the victors were themselves so
sorely wounded that they were able to do nothing but lie down and
die.'
'How many do you think there were?' I asked, believing.
'To judge by scent alone, not one or two; but, Allah knows, perhaps a
hundred!' said Rashîd reflectively.
'It is strange they should have lain there undiscovered.'
'Not strange, when one remembers that the spot is far from any village
and probably as far from the right road,' was his reply.
This last conjecture was disquieting; but we were both too much
excited for anxiety.
'It is an event to be set down in histories,' Rashîd exclaimed. 'We
shall be famous people when we reach the village. Such news is heard
but once in every hundred years.'
'I wish that we could reach that village,' was my answer; and again we
fell to picturing the strange event.
At length we heard the barking of a dog in the far distance, and gave
praise to Allah. A half-hour later we saw lights ahead of us. But that
did not mean that the village was awake, Rashîd explained to me, for
among the people of that country 'to sleep without a light' is to be
destitute. A little later, Rashîd hammered at a door, while savage
dogs bayed round us, making rushes at his heels.
'Awake, O sons of honour!' was his cry. 'A great calamity!' And, when
the door was opened, he detailed the story of an awful fight, in which
both parties of belligerents had been exterminated. 'They are torn
limb from limb. We saw the relics,' he explained. 'If you have any
doubt, question my lord who is out here behind me--a great one of the
English, famed for his veracity.'
And I was ready to confirm each word he said.
In a very little while that village was astir.
It was the seat of a mudîr who had two soldiers at his beck and call.
The great man was aroused from sleep; he questioned us, and, as the
result of the inquiry, sent the soldiers with us to survey the
battlefield. A crowd of peasants, armed with quarter-staves and
carrying lanterns, came with the party out of curiosity. Our horses
having had enough of travel, we went back on foot amid the noisy
crowd, who questioned us incessantly about the strange event. The
murmur of our going filled the wood and echoed from the rocks above.
By the time we reached the place where we had seen the human limbs,
the dawn was up, to make our lanterns useless.
Rashîd and I were certain of the spot. We came upon it with a thrill
of apprehension.
But there was nothing there.
'I seek refuge in Allah!' gasped Rashîd in pious awe. 'I swear by my
salvation it was here we saw them. The name of God be round about us!
It is devilry.'
Our escort was divided in opinion, some thinking we had been indeed
the sport of devils, others that we lied. But someone sniffed and
said:
'There is a smell of death.'
There was no doubt about the smell at any rate. Then one of the
mudîr's two soldiers, searching in the brushwood, cried: 'I have the
remnant of an arm.'
And then an old man of the village smote his leg and cried:
'O my friends, I see it! Here is neither lies nor devilry.'
Laughing, he seized me by the arm and bade me come with him. We went a
little way into the wood, and there he showed me three Druze tombs
deep in the shade of ilex trees--small buildings made of stone and
mud, like little houses, each with an opening level with the ground,
and a much smaller opening, like a window, at the height of a man's
elbow.
'Thou seest?' cried my tutor. 'Those are graves. The openings on the
ground were made too large, and jackals have got in and pulled the
bodies out. The men who made those graves are foolish people, who have
wandered from the truth. They think the spirits of the dead have need
of food and light, and also of a hole for crawling in and out. I heard
thee ask thy servant for a match just now. Come, I will show thee
where to find one always.'
He led me to the nearest tomb, and thrust my hand into the little hole
which served as window. It touched a heap of matches which he bade me
take and put into my pocket, saying:
'It is not a theft, for the matches have been thrown away, as you
might say. Those foolish people will suppose the dead have struck
them. They used to put wax candles and tinder-boxes with them in the
niches, but when these sulphur matches came in fashion, they
preferred them for economy. When I am working in this wood I take no
fire with me, being quite sure to find the means of lighting one.
Praise be to Allah for some people's folly!'
I thanked him for the wrinkle, and went back to join Rashîd, who was
exclaiming with the others over our deception. But everyone agreed
that the mistake was natural for men bewildered in the darkness of the
night.