"Night is coming! The wildness of desolation will soon be upon us!
Oh, Allah, Allah, hear the cry of the faithful!"
The old man, in Arab dress, arose unsteadily from his knees, stuck
his feet into his heelless slippers, and stood with scraggy, gray
head bowed upon his hands.
"It is not the hour for prayer. Why do I thus involuntarily fall
upon my knees and call upon the sacred name of Allah? What nameless
fear is this which has clutched at my heart all this day and finally
brought me to my knees in the guest room of a stranger to whose home
I have come on a message for the Faith?
"I cannot explain it," he continued in a quavering voice as he
straightened himself up and began to walk back and forth in the
narrow guest room. "Something terrible will soon come to pass. I
know it! I feel it! But I am bound. If I could but leave this city
to-night and start back to my home, I feel that I would be safe. But
I am bound! By the law of the Prophet I am bound and I cannot go."
[Illustration: "Oh, Allah, Allah, hear the cry of the faithful!"]
"Night is coming! The wildness of desolation will soon be upon us!"
he repeated over and over again as he walked back and forth from the
edge of the court to the plastered wall, back and forth.
The old man's voice had sunk to a murmur but he was still repeating
the same words and walking restlessly to and fro when a noise beyond
the door across the narrow, stone-paved court attracted his
attention and he sank down upon the reception cushions on the floor
in the conventional attitude of the Arab guest. A sackcloth curtain
was lifted at the doorway across the court and a man entered, a
native of India, with the clear-cut features of the Aryan, but the
heavy black beard and rich robes of a prosperous Mohammedan. Every
step as he crossed the court betrayed the pride and dignity of this
follower of the Prophet. On his head was the green turban marking
the successful, faithful pilgrim to Mecca.
The old man arose to prostrate himself before his host, as with "The
peace of Allah be thine!" upon his lips the younger man stepped up
from the court into the open guest room and came towards him. But
although his lips murmured the conventional words of greeting, the
old man's eyes did not seem to be looking at his host but out
across the court as if he saw something startling there and his
figure seemed to be all a-tremble. It was only after the host had
politely urged him to resume his seat upon the cushions and had
himself sat down, that the old man seemed to recover himself.
Without accepting the proffered seat, however, he spoke.
"Ben Emeal, I come to thee as a messenger of the Prophet."
"And as a messenger of the Prophet thou art most welcome, oh,
brother, whose name has not been revealed to me," quickly responded
the other, rising as he saw that the guest would not be seated.
"My name does not matter, oh, faithful Believer, so long as I come
on the business of the Faith. Ben Emeal, I have something to tell
thee which I know will fill thee with amaze and thy heart with anger
and thy mind with plans of cunning." As the old man talked his fear
seemed to leave him and he became the proud, fearless messenger of
the Faith.
"Ben Emeal, I have come, I have come all the way from the land of
the Holy Prophet himself, to warn thee that the infidel is rife in
the land, that the infidel has entered the very strongholds of the
Deccan, that the infidel"--the old man stepped nearer and fairly
hissed into the face of the other, "approaches--thee!"
The old man drew himself erect and looked with the proud superiority
of wisdom upon the other who was gazing back in evident
bewilderment.
"Brother, what meanest thou?" the host asked. "I am faithful, as
thou must know. No man in this great city has been more faithful
than I and I hate the infidel with the hatred of the Prophet!" At
the word "hate," Ben Emeal's strong hand had dropped to the sword
hilt at his side.
The old man again brought his face close to the other's and the
words came whistling from his toothless mouth. "Yes, thou, oh, Ben
Emeal, art faithful, but watch thou thy household! Watch thou thy
household! Watch! I shall be at the crossing of the Sidar Ways; for
three days only I shall be there. Watch and come to me for help. I
have delivered my message; now I go!"
As the last words fell from his lips and he turned towards the
courtyard, all the proud fearlessness left his face; the expression
as of one doomed returned; and with his hands raised above his head,
the old man staggered from the court, crying, "Night is coming! The
wildness of desolation is upon us! Oh, Allah, Allah, hear the cry of
the faithful!"
The younger man, left alone, sank upon the cushions of the guest
room and seemed lost in thought. What meant this strange warning?
His women were faithful, Ben Emeal knew, for they had not the
brains nor the courage nor, indeed, the opportunity to listen to the
preaching of any faith but that of their master and lord. His
servants--they really mattered not to him--but he knew that they
were faithful, too, as he had but recently taken them to account on
the subject as a true follower of the Prophet should. His
children----? They were too young, all--but---- He did not even
repeat the name to himself, for from the first word of accusation
his mind had guessed the one involved, but his heart had sturdily
driven his mind to seek in every other direction before it should
turn to the one being in all the world whom Ben Emeal loved, but no
less the one being in all his household who, he knew, would dare to
question or oppose the established order of things. This was a
serious charge and no one realized the seriousness of it, coming
from one of the wise men of the Faith, more than did Ben Emeal; yet
his love for his only son and his confidence in his own ability to
deal with such a subject in connection with that son, led him to
have little anxiety, in spite of the warning.
It was not possible that Ahmed could have met the infidel! Where
could he even have heard of anything different from the doctrine of
his father's Faith? It was absurd! Of late Ben Emeal had noticed a
tendency in his son to question him upon subjects of life and
religion; and, too, he had seen the boy several times sitting quiet
as if in deep thought, an unusual attitude for a healthy, hearty
youth; but he had supposed these things only the passing freaks of
young manhood. For some time past Ahmed had sought to avoid marriage
and he had never seemed to care for the pleasures of the harem;
these things, too, were unusual, but Ben Emeal recognized in his
idolized son the beginnings of an unusual man and was proud of him
accordingly.
A merry voice just beyond the purdah suddenly interrupted the
father's thoughts and the curtain was lifted to admit a young man
about eighteen years of age, of striking build and comeliness. With
a gay and winning greeting the young fellow dropped upon the
cushions beside the older man and soon Ben Emeal had forgotten his
doubts in a lively discussion of the approaching durbar and the
ceremonies attendant upon that function.
But, after a pleasant hour together, just as they were about to
separate for a brief siesta, Ahmed turned to his father with a
slight frown and said:
"Just before I came in this afternoon I met out here in the street
before our house the strangest old man! He wore that dress that you
call Arabian, I think, and he had on the green of our Prophet's
kin, but he was staggering along the street muttering, 'The night is
coming! Desolation is coming upon us!' or something like that. I
went up to him to see if I could help him, and, also, to see if a
kin of our Prophet could really have been drinking of the accursed
cup; but I found no signs of intoxication about him, only signs of
intense fear as he cowered against the wall, repeating his cry of
desolation. Adjed, the silversmith, came up just then and took him
in charge or I should have found out more about him. Strange, wasn't
it? It really gave me an uncanny feeling as if it were a premonition
of some danger," and the young man shook himself as if to shake off
a lingering feeling of fear.
Ben Emeal's face, as his son spoke, resumed the troubled expression
which had been driven away by Ahmed's former lively conversation and
he said to the lad very solemnly as they both rose and he put a hand
on the youth's shoulder:
"My son, you never forget, do you, that first of all in this world
you are a follower of the true Prophet and that your first business
in life is to convert or destroy the infidel?"
The son did not reply except with another question. "Father, can I
not go to the university at Aligarh to learn more of our Faith?"
"I will see; I will see, my son," replied the father genially and
his face cleared as if the question had put his fears at rest.
"I will see, my son," he said again as he turned to the door leading
to his own apartment where he would take a few pulls at the hookah
before he should give himself up to his afternoon rest.
Ahmed went to his mother's chamber where with his head upon her
knee, her proud eyes gazing down upon the handsome face of her son,
the dearest possession of an Indian woman's life, and her loving
fingers smoothing his rich, dark hair back from his brow, he fell
very soon into the refreshing sleep of youth.
* * * * *
When Ahmed awoke from his restful sleep, he found his mother still
supporting his head and still gazing fondly down into his face. For
a few moments he lay, returning her smiles. Suddenly his face
clouded.
"Mother, why is it that you can never leave this house, this
walled-in courtyard; why is it that you cannot ride out with me in
the open and look upon the trees and the grass and the blue sky? It
does not seem right that I should be allowed to look upon all these
things and you not."
"Hush, my son!" answered his mother. "It is the law of the Prophet.
What he commands must be right. But, see, there is the blue sky, and
here are my green tree and my grass and sometimes I even may ride
out in an ekka and peep through the curtains, and once, my son, many
years ago, I rode on a railway train and saw through the shutters
miles and miles of green grass and flowers and so many, many
beautiful things that I shall always be happy because of that
sight."
Ahmed looked from the beautiful but sad face of his mother up at the
patch of sky bounded by the four gray, brick walls; he looked at the
lone, gray-green tree trying to grow in a foot or two of garden in
the middle of the paved courtyard, and at the grass, already giving
up its struggle for life, about its roots, and his heart ached for
this lonely woman. For he knew that although she was his father's
only wife at present, because she had borne him, Ahmed, to Ben
Emeal, he knew that she saw little of his father, for there were
many concubines in the home who not only usurped her place in her
husband's life but who, also, in many, many ways made her life far
from happy in the home. He knew that really he himself was her only
joy and comfort and he rebelled. Ahmed had been taught that a woman
has no soul. Did he doubt the words of his teachers as he gazed into
his mother's eyes?
"Mother, why are you called 'Ahmed's mother' instead of your own
name when the people of the household speak to you? Why are you so
'blest in' me as they say?"
"Because, my son--surely you must know by this time that a woman is
no better than a beast; 'a cow' the Prophet calls her; and that she
can only enjoy life through the son that she bears. Ah, how rich I
am in you! But suppose you had not come to me, Ahmed, my son!" and
her face became drawn with the thought. "Suppose I had been as my
sister who has no son!"
The youth could not bear to add to his mother's unhappiness by
having her dwell upon such thoughts and so he playfully pulled down
her face and kissed her and teased her to show him the wedding
garments which she was embroidering for him.
"When is it to be?" he asked.
"After the month of fasting, my son."
"Is she beautiful?"
"I know not, my son. But surely she must be for such a handsome man
as thou art."
"Dost thou want me to have a wife, mother?"
The mother's face was crossed with a spasm of pain at the question,
for when his wedding came, she felt that she would have lost her
son, her only joy in life. She knew that she had such a son as few
mothers in all India and she knew that their loving relationship and
companionship was very unusual. But he must marry and as a woman she
must not show grief; in fact, being a woman, she had no grief. So
she mastered her pain in a second and replied, but not so quickly
that it deceived Ahmed:
"Yes, my son, as every true follower of the Prophet must, so must
thou marry and beget sons. But thou canst still love thy mother a
little," she added shyly.
"That I will," affirmed the son blithely. "But," he went on crossly,
"I don't want to marry and be bothered with a wife. Mother, I'll
tell you what I really want to do. I want to go to our university at
Aligarh where I can learn all about our Faith and about everything
else, mother. I want to be a great man."
"Not a great man, my son, but a great follower of the Prophet! Why,
the sky has clouded and there comes some rain!"
"Oh, ho! I must get me up and away, for I promised a friend I would
come and read with him for a time."
"Is it The Book, my son?"
"No, mother, it is something new which some one gave him one time on
the train. We have been reading it together for months now. It is
very beautiful, all about Jesus who is coming at the end of the
world, you know."
"Yes, I know, my son, for I have read The Book----"
"It is strange, mother, that you can read, for Elid's mother cannot,
nor can any woman in Ajar's household, he says, nor can any other
woman in this," interrupted the son. "And besides, mother, the other
young men I know never seem to spend any time with their mothers at
all or talk to them or even love them, it seems to me."
"Yes, my son, it is strange, for ours is not the ordinary life, nor
has my lot been the ordinary lot of woman here. My father taught me
to read when I was a little child, for he became blind and then I
could read to him, for I was quicker and more willing to do it than
the boys. My father was a great scholar and I know The Book by
heart, but little joy has come to me since my marriage for my
knowledge," she sighed. "Your father respects me no more than he
does his latest concubine. I have respect here only because of you,
my son," and her eyes feasted upon his fair countenance. "Go now, my
son, to thy friend, but beware of new things, for what is new often
offends the Faith." With these words she left Ahmed as he lifted the
purdah, having followed him as far as her woman's feet were
permitted to go.
But Ahmed trod on through the narrow streets, although the rain was
pouring, for he did not want to miss the reading which was giving
him such a different outlook upon life. Why, really, it was a
"blasphemous thought," but this new book seemed to him to be greater
than the Koran. It had given him such a new vision. Never had he
thought much about his mother's life and position before reading
this book, but now his mind was quickened to understand her
condition. This book said, "Honour thy father and thy mother," and
it did not seem to exclude woman from any joys, even those of
Paradise. He was so eager to know more, especially since the
conversation with his mother that afternoon, that he wondered if his
friend would let him take the book home with him to study by
himself.
As Ahmed went on in the rain his thoughts turned from the new book
to a man whom he had met several times the past year outside the
walls of Hyderabad on the big bridge. The man's peculiar bearing of
kindness towards any one in trouble and his happy face had attracted
the youth. They had talked together once or twice and the man whom
Ahmed supposed to be a Hindu had told him that he was a Hindu no
longer, but a follower of the "Jesus Doctrine." The boy had
wondered what it could mean, for never had he been so drawn to a
stranger as he had to that man whose whole thought had seemed to be
how he could help some one else. One day Ahmed saw this man actually
help a woman place her water jar on her head and a moment later get
down in the dust of the road and help a coolie pile up again a mass
of fuel dung-cakes which had been knocked over by a passing cart;
and yet this man was a scholar, as Ahmed knew by his conversation,
and no outcast. The boy wondered as he thought it over now if the
new book which he had been reading could have any connection with
what this man had called the "Jesus Doctrine." The more he thought
about it the more it seemed to him that that man's actions had been
the carrying out of the precepts of the new book.
Ahmed had not paid much heed to his steps as he had splashed along
in the rain, trying as far as possible to keep under the protection
of the buildings from the rain which seemed to be coming in torrents
from the south. He was wrapped in his thoughts.
But suddenly his steps were stayed, for he heard a weird, awful cry,
and in a corner of the porch of the house that he was passing he saw
a figure on its knees in prayer. The attitude was conventional and
in no way terrifying, but the words and voice had startled him.
"Night is coming! The wildness of desolation will soon be upon us!
Oh, Allah, Allah, hear the cry of the faithful!"
The voice was that of one whose soul was in mortal agony, and as
Ahmed stooped to look more closely, he recognized the old man whose
voice he had heard a few hours before in front of his own door. He
recognized, too, that the place where he was standing was the
crossing of the Sidar Ways, a place a long distance from the road he
had thought he was taking.
He wondered what could have alarmed the old man, but, really
frightened at the repetition of the awful words and the tone of the
agonized voice, the young fellow did not go to the man's side, but
hastened to find a return way to his friend's, whose home he had
missed in the rain and the preoccupation of his thoughts. As he
turned, for the first time he noticed that another man was standing
close behind him. In the semi-darkness, he did not recognize him,
but gave him the greeting of the Faith and hurried on. As he reached
his friend's door, it gave the boy a queer, uncomfortable feeling to
perceive that this same man was still behind him.
An hour or so later Ahmed emerged from the house with the precious
book concealed in his clothing, for his friend had warned him that
he feared that a good Mohammedan would not read it and that he
believed that it was the book of another faith. As such his friend
had decided that he would read it no more. But Ahmed had said that
it mattered not to him what faith it was, he thought it beautiful
and he wanted to read it still more. So instead of permitting his
friend to burn it as he had wanted to do, Ahmed had insisted upon
taking it to his home for further study.
He did not notice as he left Elid's house that a man slipped out
from the shadows and followed him to his own door. Nor did he know
that this man turned as soon as he had entered the house and made
haste back to the crossing of the Sidar Ways where he aroused the
strange old man from his paroxysm of fear and talked earnestly with
him for some time.
Within his mother's room by the light of the oil lamp Ahmed read and
read, while his mother watched him and sewed on the wedding
garments. Too engrossed to read aloud or even talk about what he was
reading, he read on and on. Long after his mother had given up her
vain efforts to get him to go to rest and had rolled herself in her
blanket, he still bent over the book. He read until sleep finally
blurred his mind and closed his eyes and the lamp burned out at his
side.
But Ahmed had noticed before he slept a name on the first page of
the book, "Mission Press, Bangalore, India." It must be that those
people could explain to him what this book meant. If he could only
go to them! Never had words written or spoken stirred his heart as
it had been stirred by this book. It must be of Allah and yet in all
he had read he had found no mention of the Prophet. Since Elid's
warning Ahmed seemed to feel that perhaps in reading this book and
thinking these thoughts he was betraying the Faith, and yet, if all
this he had been reading were true, it was better than the Faith and
he could no longer believe as he had before.
Could he in any way get to that "Mission Press" in Bangalore? Ahmed
had never been but a few miles from Hyderabad; indeed, that was one
reason why he had wanted to go to the university at Aligarh and
another reason was that in the last few months he had begun to be
dissatisfied with the Faith and thought that there they could
certainly explain all to him. But now he preferred to go to
Bangalore. It seemed as if he must go there: but instinctively he
felt that he must conceal his reason for wishing to go. And so with
his mind confused by these thoughts and the new ideas which the new
book had brought him, ideas utterly foreign to all he had known
before, he fell into a restless sleep.
* * * * *
It seemed to Ahmed as if some unseen force were ordering events when
early on the next day he was called to his father's presence to find
him unexpectedly ill and so ill that it would be impossible for him
to leave the city and go to Bangalore on a very important matter of
business. Ben Emeal could trust the business to no assistant and yet
it had to be attended to on the next day. The only person whom he
could trust was his son and that son until then had been not only
ignorant of all business matters but also of travel, having never
made a journey alone on a railway train. But when Ben Emeal saw that
there was no other way to save to his name several thousands of
rupees, he decided to give his son a rather hurried and, indeed,
trying initiation into commercial life. The old Arab's warning
against the infidel had not been forgotten, but the father did not
think the risk too great to send his son away alone for the first
time, as he thought the novelty of the journey and of assisting in
business affairs for the first time would keep Ahmed's mind from
dangerous thoughts, and besides,--it was a matter of much money.
So Ahmed had been summoned to his father's presence and instructed
in all the matters needful to the transaction of the business. When
Ben Emeal saw the delight and eagerness with which the boy undertook
the journey and the task given him he did not consider it necessary
even to warn him against the possible meeting with the infidel in
Bangalore.
So Ahmed had started for the very place of all others that he wanted
to visit, sent by his father--such a strange answer to the longings
of the night before that he was filled with a feeling of awe. So
impressed with the religious importance of this journey and with a
divine ordering of it was he that he scarcely appreciated its
novelty. Because of his ignorance of travel, his father had directed
him to go first class; therefore, he had the compartment to himself
for the whole journey and, since this was so, instead of gazing from
the window and enjoying the new sights as he would have done a few
days before, now he pulled out the new book and read the whole
journey through.
Although Ahmed had but one desire when he reached Bangalore, that of
finding the "Mission Press," he went first, as he knew was right,
and transacted the business entrusted to him. When that was over,
then he began his search for the people who were responsible for
"The Book." No longer did that title in Ahmed's mind belong to the
Koran and for some reason or other he did not seek these people to
be told that what The Book said was true; for he seemed to know
himself that it was true, but he sought them for more knowledge and
for an explanation of many things that he could not understand, and
especially to find out the relation of the Prophet to it all, as
Mohammed was not mentioned in The Book.
Ahmed found the Mission Press to be a large brick building set back
in a grassy compound. When, with a desire for secrecy which he could
not exactly explain, he dismissed his gari at some distance from the
gate and made the approach on foot, he was surprised to see another
Mohammedan stop at the gate, but he did not recognize in him the man
who had followed him from the crossing of the Sidar Ways to his
friend's house the night before in Hyderabad.
So without anxiety other than that which possessed him to learn of
the new book, Ahmed entered the big building. Never having seen a
press and not exactly knowing what the word implied, he was amazed
at the whirring machinery and the offices of busy clerks. At a
window he told his errand in a simple, straightforward way, pointing
to the name of the press on the title page of The Book which he had
drawn from under his clothing. The converted Hindu at the window at
once led the boy to a small room within, where sat an American
gentleman literally buried in manuscripts, proof sheets, and
correspondence. But a quick resurrection took place at the clerk's
whispered words and the American, a missionary, arose to greet the
youth.
For several hours they talked and prayed, each moment separating
Ahmed farther from the faith of his father and drawing him closer to
the faith taught by a stranger. Since the boy was not to return to
Hyderabad until the next day, when the press closed for the night he
went home to the mission compound with the missionary. And so
engrossed was he in conversing with his new friend that he did not
see that a man followed them all the way from the press building,
indeed, the same man whom he had seen at the gate.
It was not late in the evening when in the midst of their
conversation, Ahmed turned abruptly to his missionary host and said,
"I believe. I want to be a Christian. What must I do?"
The missionary explained to him that the next step after belief was
testimony, a testimony usually given by baptism, but that Ahmed
could not think of being baptized until he had prayed long and
earnestly over the matter. Indeed, it might mean death to him, for
he himself must surely know the bitterness of the Prophet's
followers. It would probably mean at the very least disinheritance
and banishment from his father's home.
"But I believe," cried Ahmed, "and if testimony is necessary for
believers of this 'Jesus Doctrine,' then I must testify; I must be
baptized."
But the missionary was firm and although his heart glowed at the
courage of the young man, little more than a boy, he would not yield
but sent Ahmed to the guest-chamber with the counsel to pray about
it.
And for hours that night did Ahmed pray.
When, in the early morning, he met the missionary in the
drawing-room, his resolve was unchanged and his request of the
evening before was repeated. "Baptize me now. I must be baptized for
I must testify to the world that I believe," he said. His face shone
with such a happy light as he pleaded that the missionary felt that
no longer could he refuse to administer the sacrament asked for.
"But it may mean death," again he urged.
"Jesus died for me; you yourself have told me," replied Ahmed.
"You will certainly lose your inheritance and be an exile from your
family."
"He gave up His inheritance in the skies and took exile upon
Himself that He might bring life to me; can I not do as much in
testifying for Him?"
How the lad had learned so much of the Gospel and the very words of
the Bible in such a short time was a marvel to the American
preacher, but he did not know with what intensity the hungry heart
of the youth had been studying the sacred pages.
It seemed to the missionary, therefore, that it must be God's will
that the young Mohammedan should be baptized. But he wanted it to be
done in the presence of the congregation.
"When could that be?" asked Ahmed.
"Not for three days," replied the preacher.
"But I must go to my home to-day!" exclaimed the young man.
"Ahmed," the missionary's eyes were filled with perplexity and
suffering, "Ahmed, it will be sure death if you go back to
Hyderabad, I know. Will you not let me send you north where you can
probably escape from notice until you have studied and are ready to
preach the Gospel? Then you can come back and perhaps preach in
safety to your people," he urged. "Wait here in secret in my home
until the Sabbath. Then after the public service and public baptism
before the congregation, I will spirit you away and you will be
safe."
The young man drew himself to his full height and his eyes glowed.
"My father expects me to start for home to-night. I must obey. He
has given me his trust. But more than that, I must hasten to tell
them of what I have found--to tell my mother of a God who loves her
and that she is not lost, but can be saved by believing in Jesus. I
know that I shall die, but before then I shall have lived enough, if
I succeed in taking the message to them. Can I not be baptized now,
at once?"
It was not in the missionary's province to detain such a messenger.
With a tap of the bell he assembled the family for morning prayers,
the heathen as well as the Christian servants attending, and in
their presence he baptized Ahmed, the young Mohammedan, no longer a
follower of the Prophet but of the Christ.
As the missionary with his hand upon Ahmed's bowed head repeated the
words in Hindustani, "I baptize thee in the name of the Father and
of the Son and of the Holy Ghost," a Mohammedan glided from behind
the draperies of a side window, through the half-opened shutters,
and passed quickly and noiselessly down the driveway and through the
compound gate.
* * * * *
Just before the gates of the city closed for the night the train
from Bangalore deposited Ahmed at the station and he was safe
within the walls of Hyderabad. He hastened through the narrow, dark
streets to his own home, shunning the crowded bazaars and picking
out the winding byways that lead between the high walls of the
residence portion of the city near the river. A foreigner would not
have imagined that the walls confining the dirty lanes within their
narrow limits were the walls of the homes of some of the rich and
influential Mohammedans of the great city. But so it was, for the
barren, outward appearance of an oriental residence does not reveal
the luxury within; and, besides, many of these Eastern people seem
to prefer the luxury of costly jewels and raiment to that of
beautiful surroundings and live on in the plain ways of the poorer
natives with only the number of servants, the elegance of their
dress, their indolence, and their indulgence in pleasures showing
their wealth.
Such was the home of Ahmed, plain, satisfying only the requirements
of a simple native life. It covered much ground, for the number of
servants and concubines demanded considerable room even for plain
housing. But there was little display of wealth within except in the
wearing of gold-embroidered robes and precious jewels. Only a
succession of bare paved courtyards, with open and closed rooms at
the sides, made up the house all practically unadorned except one
in the centre of the house which was gorgeous in carving and inlaid
work and faced a tiny, open mosque, also richly ornamented. The
mosque was a most beautiful example of Indian skill in carving and
stone work and about the niche which pointed towards Mecca were many
passages from the Koran, inlaid in the marble with precious stones
in a most delicate and marvellous way. Before the niche upon the
marble floor were spread prayer rugs of great price. This was the
private mosque of Ben Emeal and his household and he had thought the
expenditure of thousands of rupees not too much for the adornment of
his place of prayer.
When Ahmed reached home, the servants told him that his father was
at prayer in the mosque and did not wish to be disturbed before
morning. Ahmed wondered what unusual happening could have called his
father to a whole night of prayer. When he asked the servant more
particularly about his father's health, he found that Ben Emeal had
seemed much better until in the afternoon a strange old Arab had
been admitted to his presence and since then he had been much worse,
depressed in mind as well as body, and at times greatly agitated.
Ahmed, feeling that he must not interrupt his father at such a time
and wondering if it could be possible that his father's agitated
condition could have come from a premonition of what he himself had
done, hastened to his mother's apartment. Finding her asleep, he
spent several hours in prayer for help and guidance for the coming
day, for he knew that he could not and would not put off the
revelation of his break with his father's faith longer than that,
unless Ben Emeal's illness should grow more alarming.
Meantime the rain had come again, even harder than upon the night
that Ahmed had been abroad. In floods it was pouring down upon the
city of Hyderabad and brimming the banks of the river. In a small
house near the great bridge that spanned the river at the crossing
of the Sidar Ways two men were sitting. One was the man who had been
following the doings of Ahmed; the other, the old man from Arabia,
whose face now reflected no terror, only the glow of a fanatic
Faith.
"He was baptized?" As he almost shouted the question, the old man
leaned forward in his excitement. "I warned the father again this
day in a manner that stirred him to the depths, but I did not really
expect this so soon. Are you sure? Have you told our brothers of the
council?"
The other replied, "Why, of course I am sure, for I saw the act
myself. Yes, I have reported to Ben Isah and he bade me tell you
that just before noon we are to assemble with Ben Emeal and support
his arm and his faith as followers of the Prophet. Of course the boy
will recant and repudiate all this nonsense, he says, but he must be
taught a severe lesson. 'There must be no trifling with the
infidel,' were his very words."
As the man ceased speaking a gust of wind bore the rain like sleet
against the door of the house and the old man looked up with a
hunted expression and his lips moved as if in prayer. The younger
man looked at him in contempt and without another word threw himself
upon a charpoy in the corner of the room and fell asleep, but the
old man sank on his knees and remained in that position until dawn.
* * * * *
Ahmed's first thought with the coming of the new day was to tell his
mother the good news and bring joy to her sad heart. Then he had
determined that he would face his father and leave the rest in God's
hands. His mother might lose her son, but she would gain far more in
what this Jesus Doctrine would bring. So he greeted her with a happy
heart.
He told her all: of his own experience, his growing dissatisfaction
with Mohammedanism, of his growing belief in the religion of the new
book which he had studied for so many months, of his occasional
meetings with the Christian man at the bridge, and, finally, of what
he had done at Bangalore. Words could not come fast enough as he
went on to explain the new faith to her and told her what it would
mean for her, if she should believe. But, although it sounded very
beautiful to her, she could not accept any doctrine in such a short
time and she was listening to his words as yet with only a glad
wonder in her heart, when a messenger suddenly summoned him to his
father.
Ahmed had almost forgotten his father in his eagerness to talk to
his mother and bring her the good news; so he was remorseful when
suddenly he realized that he had not even asked about his father's
health since the night before, nor gone to him to report on the
business matter which he had arranged in Bangalore. He went quickly
after the messenger, for the moment again forgetful of the unwelcome
news that he must bring to his father soon. He was surprised when he
learned from the servant that Ben Emeal was still in the mosque and
awaited him there. But his surprise became amazement when on
entering the mosque he perceived a circle of the most influential
Mohammedans of Hyderabad seated about his father on the floor. So
accustomed was Ahmed to the habits of the faithful that without
thought of its being a violation of his new faith, he slipped his
feet from his shoes as he entered the mosque.
As Ahmed approached the group he noticed at one side of his father
the old Arab whom he had seen in such terror upon the street and at
the other side the man whom he had met at the gate of the Mission
Press in Bangalore. In a flash, as his eyes met those of the man who
had spied upon him and saw the light of success in them, Ahmed
understood the reason for this assemblage and for his being summoned
thus as it were before a tribunal of the faithful. Instinctively his
eyes sought his father and the drawn, haggard look upon that face,
usually so strong and firm, rent his heart. Their eyes met and in a
second each had read the message that the other loved him, come what
might. Then the eyes of both fell and the lad awaited the charge.
"Ben Isah," the voice of the man who had dogged Ahmed's footsteps
demanded, "is it seemly that an infidel should stand within the
sacred precincts of a house of prayer?"
"Ben Idrahi," replied the most dignified and grave gentleman of the
company as if he were a judge in a court and repeating the formulas
of that august body;--and, indeed, he was a judge in a court that
controlled life and death; "Ben Idrahi, whom accuseth thou of being
an infidel? Are not all of us before you true followers of the
Prophet and upholders of the only true Faith? Whom accuseth thou
with such a terrible accusation?"
"Ben Isah," the man rose and said slowly, "I have proof; I have
proof, I say, that the youth, Ahmed, son of Ben Emeal, is no longer
a follower of the Prophet; that in the city of Bangalore yesterday
in the early morning he was baptized into the hell-filling creed,
the name of which I will not defile my lips with. And now, Brothers
of the Faith, he stands before you an avowed infidel."
As the man announced the fact of his baptism in Bangalore, although
Ahmed dared not look at his father, he felt that an involuntary
shudder passed over Ben Emeal's frame. But at those words his own
heart leaped and yearned towards these men. Then and there he longed
to tell them the wonderful story of the God revealed through Jesus
Christ, but he restrained himself.
Ben Isah had turned towards him and all eyes except his father's
were upon him, as the older man said:
"Ahmed, son of Ben Emeal, is this, that this man accuseth thee of,
is this true?"
Ahmed could restrain himself no longer. This was his opportunity to
testify and to men who probably would never hear the message from
other lips. He took the opportunity with a skill and wisdom beyond
his years.
The words poured from his lips, even as the rain was pouring from
the heavens into the courtyard of the mosque. His face glowed and
his eyes shone with a light brighter than that of the clouded sun.
Not a man moved. They listened, held by the fascination of the
youth, as with a tempestuousness that seemed born of the very storm
without and with a courage not born of man, he told them the truth
as they would never hear it again.
As he spoke his eyes were upon his father's face, who looked as if
he were beholding a miracle. When he had finished, his hands still
outstretched, his voice still ringing in their ears as he
said,--"All that this man says is true. I am an infidel, as you say,
for I have been baptized. I am a Christian,"--Ben Isah stumbled to
his feet and with shaking hand held out, cried in agitated voice:
"Stop! Stop him! This must cease! This must cease! Lay hands upon
him! Take him from the mosque!"
Confusion reigned as a couple of men seized Ahmed's arms and dragged
him from the mosque while the other men raved at him in rage and
hate because in spite of themselves they had listened to a
blasphemer and the teachings of the infidel. The lad was carried to
a side chamber where the two men stood over him, giving him no
chance to escape. But Ahmed was not seeking that; his head was bowed
in prayer.
As they watched and waited the two men talked of the storm without,
for the rain still fell in torrents and the wind blew; while above
the sound of the wind and rain could be heard continuously the voice
of the gorged and angry river.
"If this continues, there will be trouble," said one, "for this
morning the water was five feet higher than yesterday, they told
me."
"Yes," replied the other, "when I crossed the bridge a few hours ago
the river was up to the first buttress; but there can't be any real
danger, can there?"
"It must be a warning to the infidel," answered the first, looking
significantly at Ahmed, but he was unconscious of what they were
saying.
Soon the summons came and the lad was led into a large guest-chamber
where his father received visitors of state. The men sat as before
in the mosque, but their faces were dark and their eyes downcast.
Again Ben Isah spoke, "Young man, because of thy youth, and for thy
father's sake, we will give thee one chance, one only, to recant and
unsay all thou hast said. Wilt thou take back thy words, repudiate
this infidelity, and once more accept the true and only Faith?"
Before Ahmed could reply Ben Emeal was upon his feet. "My son," he
said in slow, restrained tones, "think well before thou speakest.
Remember thou art my only son; remember that all my fortune will be
thine. Thou canst go to the University at Aligarh; thou canst have
thy heart's desire in everything, if thou wilt only recant!" He
ended hurriedly.
"If thou dost not, Ahmed, son of Emeal," shrilled the old Arab,
rising to his feet, "thou shalt die. Choose thou and choose
quickly!"
The son looked at the father. Just then in the distance, through the
downfall of the rain, there sounded dimly:
"Allah is most great! Allah is most great! Allah is most great!
Allah is most great! I bear witness that there is no god but Allah!
I bear witness that there is no god but Allah! I bear witness that
Mohammed is the Apostle of Allah! I bear witness that Mohammed is
the Apostle of Allah! Come to prayer, come to prayer! Come to the
Refuge, come to the Refuge! Allah is most great! Allah is most
great! There is no god but Allah!"
It was the Moslem's call to prayer and every man in the room fell
upon his knees except Ahmed.
Ahmed remained standing with bowed head. He made no effort to escape
while the others were upon their knees. But as soon as they had
finished their devotions, he stepped forward and in a clear, full
voice said simply, "I choose death."
A silence as of death itself fell upon the company. No one spoke.
The boy remained standing with his hands out as he had spoken. At a
motion from Ben Isah a servant stole to Ben Emeal's side and
noiselessly placed a cup in his hands. The latter arose and stepped
towards his son.
With a stern, tense voice Ben Emeal broke the silence: "The infidel
must die! This is the cup of death. Drink!"
As he touched the cup to his son's lips a thunder as of mighty
waters rose.
"Night is coming! The wildness of desolation is upon us! Fly, fly!"
shrieked the voice of the old Arab. But even as he cried a wave of
water burst into the room through the open door.
* * * * *
The river rose sixty feet above the bridge they say and at least ten
thousand of the inhabitants of Hyderabad were drowned in that one
day.
In one room in the house that had been Ben Emeal's, when the water
subsided, they found as many as fifteen or twenty bodies and since
most of them wore the Mohammedan rosary, all were given decent
burial according to the customs of the followers of the Prophet.
Thus an infidel was interred in holy ground and allowed to sleep
beside his father.