The governor's palace, the pride and glory of Memphis, the magnificent
home of the oldest and noblest family of the land--the last house that
had given birth to a race of native Egyptians held worthy, even by the
Greeks, to represent the emperor and uphold the highest dignity in the
world--the very citadel of native life, lay in ashes; and just as a giant
of the woods crushes and destroys in its fall many plants of humbler
growth, so the burning of the great house destroyed hundreds of smaller
dwellings.
This night's work had torn the mast and rudder, and many a plank besides,
from that foundering vessel, the town of Memphis. It seemed indeed a
miracle that had saved the whole from being reduced to cinders; and for
this, next to God's providence, they might thank the black incendiary
himself and his Arabs. The crime was committed with cool and shrewd
foresight, and carried through to the end. During his visitation
throughout the rambling buildings Obada had looked out for spots that
might suit his purpose, and two hours after sunset he had lighted fire
after fire with his own hand, in secret and undetected. The troops he
intended to employ later were waiting under arms at Fostat, and when the
fire broke out, first in the treasury and afterwards in three other
places in the palace, they were immediately marched across and very
judiciously employed.
All that was precious in this ancient home of a wealthy race, was
conveyed to a place of safety, even the numerous fine horses in the
stables; and the title-deeds of the estate, slaves, and so forth were
already secured at Fostat; still, the flames consumed vast quantities of
treasures that could never be replaced. Beautiful works of art,
manuscripts and books such as were only preserved here, old and splendid
plants from every zone, vessels and woven stuffs that had been the
delight of connoisseurs--all perished in heaps. But the incendiary
regretted none of them, for all possibility of proving how much that was
precious had fallen into his hands was buried under their ashes.
The worst that could happen to him now was to be deposed from office for
his too audacious proceedings. Of all the towns he had seen in the
course of the triumphant incursions of Islam none had attracted him so
greatly as Damascus, and he now had the means of spending the latter half
of his life there in luxurious enjoyment.
At the same time it was desirable to rescue as much as possible from the
flames; for it would have given his enemies a fatal hold upon him, if the
famous old city of Memphis should perish by his neglect. And he was a
man to give battle to the awful element.
Not another building fell a prey to it on the Nile quay; but a light
southerly breeze carried burning fragments to the northwest, and several
houses in the poorer quarter on the edge of the desert caught fire.
Thither the larger portion of those who could combat the flames and
rescue the inhabitants were at once directed; and here, as at the palace,
he acted on the principle of sacrificing whatever could not be saved
entire. Thus a whole quarter of the town was destroyed, hundreds of
beggared families lost all they possessed; and yet he, whose ruthless
avarice had cast so many into misery, was admired and lauded; for he was
everywhere at once: now by the river and now by the desert, always where
the danger was greatest, and where the presence of the leader was most
needed. Here he was seen in the very midst of the fire, there he swung
the axe with his own hand; now, mounted on horseback, he rode down the
line where the dry grass was to be torn up by the roots and soaked with
water; now, on foot, he directed the scanty jet from the pipes or, with
Herculean strength, flung back into the flames a beam which had fallen
beyond the limits he had set. His shrill voice sounded, as his huge
height towered, above all others; every eye was fixed on his black face
and flashing eyes and teeth, while his example carried away all his
followers to imitate it. His shouts of command made the scene of the
fire like a battle-field; the Moslems, so ably led, regardless of life as
they were and ready to strain and exert their strength to the utmost,
wrought wonders in the name of their God and His Prophet.
The Egyptians, too, did their best; but they felt themselves impotent by
comparison with what these Arabs did, and they hardly felt anything but
the disgrace of being over-mastered by them.
The light shone far across the country; even he whose splendid
inheritance was feeding the flames perceived, between midnight and dawn,
a glow on the distant western horizon which he was unable to account for.
He had been riding towards it for about half an hour when the caravan
halted at the last station but one, on the high road between Kolzum and
Babylon.
[Suez, and the Greek citadel near which Amru founded Fostat and
Cairo subsequently grew up.]
A considerable troop of horse soldiers dismounted at the same time, but
Orion had not summoned these to protect him; on the contrary, he was in
their charge and they were taking him, a prisoner, to Fostat. He had
quitted the chariot in which he had set out and had been made to mount a
dromedary; two horsemen armed to the teeth rode constantly at his side.
His fellow-travellers were allowed to remain in their chariot.
At the inn which they had now reached Justinus got out and desired his
companion, a pale-faced man who sat sunk into a heap, to do the same; but
with a weary shake of the head he declined to move.
"Are you in pain, Narses?" asked Justinus affectionately, and Narses
briefly replied in a husky voice: "All over," and settled himself against
the cushion at the back of the chariot. He even refused the refreshments
brought out to him by the Senator's servant and interpreter. He seemed
sunk in apathy and to crave nothing but peace.
This was the senator's nephew.
With Orion's help, and armed with letters of protection and
recommendation from Amru, the senator had gained his purpose. He had
ransomed Narses, but not before the wretched man had toiled for some time
as a prisoner, first at the canal on the line of the old one constructed
by the Pharaohs, which was being restored under the Khaliff Omar, to
secure the speediest way of transporting grain from Egypt to Arabia and
afterwards in the rock-bound harbor of Aila. On the burning shores of
the Red Sea, under the fearful sun of those latitudes, Narses was
condemned to drag blocks of stone; many days had elapsed before his uncle
could trace him--and in what a state did Justinus find him at last!
A week before he could reach him, the ex-officer of cavalry had laid
himself down in the wretched sheds for the sick provided for the
laborers; his back still bore the scars of the blows by which the
overseer had spurred the waning strength of his exhausted and suffering
victim. The fine young soldier was a wreck, broken alike in heart and
body and sunk in melancholy. Justinus had hoped to take him home
jubilant to Martina, and he had only this ruin to show her, doomed to the
grave.
The senator was glad, nevertheless, to have saved this much at any rate.
The sight of the sufferer touched him deeply, and the less Narses would
take or give, the more thankful was Justinus when he gave the faintest
sign of reviving interest.
In the course of this journey by land and water--and latterly as sharing
the senator's care of his nephew--Orion had become very dear to his old
friend; and at the risk of incurring his displeasure he had even
confessed the reasons that had prompted him to leave Memphis.
He never could cease to feel that everything good or lofty in himself was
Paula's alone; that her love ennobled and strengthened him; that to
desert her was to abandon himself. His trifling with Heliodora could but
divert him from the high aim he had set before himself. This aim he kept
constantly in view; his spirit hungered for peaceful days in which he
might act on the resolution he had formed in church and fulfil the task
set before him by the Arab governor.
The knowledge that he had inherited an enormous fortune now afforded him
no joy, for he was forced to confess to himself that but for this
superabundant wealth he might have been a very different man; and more
than once a vehement wish came over him to fling away all his possessions
and wrestle for peace of mind and the esteem of the best men by his own
unaided powers.
The senator had taken his confession as it was meant: if Thomas' daughter
was indeed what Orion described her there could be but small hope for his
beautiful favorite. He and Martina must e'en make their way home again
with two adopted dear ones, and it must be the care of the old folks to
comfort the young ones instead of the young succoring the old as was
natural. And in spite of everything Orion had won on his affections,
for every day, every hour he was struck by some new quality, some greater
trait than he had looked for in the young man.
Torches were flaring in the inn-yard where, under a palm-thatched roof
supported on poles and covering a square space in the middle, benches
stood for the guests to rest. Here Justinus and Orion again met for a
few minutes' conversation.
His warders were also seated near them; they did not let Orion out of
their sight even while they ate their meal of mutton, bread, onions, and
dates. The senator's servants brought some food from the chariot, and
just as Justinus and Orion had begun their attack on it, a tall man came
into the yard and made his way to the benches. This was Philippus,
pausing on his road to Djidda. He had learnt, even before coming in,
whom he would find here, a prisoner; and the Arabs, to whom the leech was
known, allowed him to join the pair, though at the same time they came a
little nearer, and their leader understood Greek.
Philippus was anything rather than cordially disposed towards Orion;
still, he knew what peril hung over the youth, and how sad a loss he had
suffered. His conscience bid him do all he could to prove helpful in the
trial that awaited him in the matter of the expedition in which Rufinus
had perished. He was the bearer, too, of sad news which the Arabs must
necessarily hear. Orion was indeed furious when he heard of the seizure
and occupation of the governor's residence; still, he believed that Amru
would insist on restitution; but on hearing of his mother's death he
broke down completely. Even the Arabs, seeing the strong man shaken with
sobs and learning the cause of his grief, respectfully withdrew; for the
anguish of a son at the loss of his mother was sacred in their eyes.
They regard the man who mourns for one he loves as stricken by the hand
of the Almighty and hallowed by his touch and treat him with the
reverence of pious awe.
Orion had not observed their absence, but Philippus at once took
advantage of it to tell him, as briefly as possible, all that related to
the escape of the nuns. He himself knew not yet of the burning of the
palace, or of Paula's imprisonment; but he could tell the senator where
he would find his wife and niece. So by the time he was bidden to mount
and start once more Orion was informed of all that had happened.
It was with a drooping head, and sunk in melancholy thought that he rode
on his way.
As for the residence!--whether the Arabs gave it back to him or not, what
did he care?--but his mother, his mother! All she had been to him from
his earliest years rose before his mind; in the deep woe of this parting
he forgot the imminent danger and the dungeon that awaited him, and the
intolerable insult to his rights; nay, even the image of the woman he
loved paled by the side of that of the beloved dead. Perhaps he might
not even gain permission to bury her!
The way lay through a parched tract of rocky desert, and the further they
went the more intense was that wonderful flush in the west, till day
broke behind the travellers and the glory of the sunrise quenched the
vividness of its glow.
Another scorching day! The rocks by the wayside still threw long shadows
on the sandy desert-road, when a party of Arab horsemen came from Fostat
to meet the travellers, shouting the latest news to the prisoner's
escort. It was evidently important; but Orion did not understand a word
of what they said. Evil tidings fly fast, however; while the men were
talking together, the dragoman rode up to him and told him that his home
was burnt to the ground and half Memphis still in flames. Then came
other newsbearers, on horseback and on dromedaries; and they met chariots
and files of camels loaded with corn and Egyptian merchandise; and each
and all shouted to the Arab escort reports of what was going on in
Memphis, hoping to be the first to tell the homeward bound party.
How many times did Orion hear the story--and each time that a traveller
began with: "Have you heard?" pointing westward, the wounds the first
news had inflicted bled anew.
What lay beneath that mass of ashes? How much had the flames consumed
that never could be replaced! Much that he had silently wished were
possible had in fact been fulfilled--and so soon! Where now was the
burthen of great wealth which had hung about his heels and hindered his
running freely? And yet he did not, even now, feel free; the way was not
yet open before him; he secretly mourned over the ruined house of his
fathers and the wrecked home; a miserable sense of insecurity weighed him
down. No father--no mother-no parental roof! For years he had been, in
fact, perfectly independent, and yet he felt now like a pilot whose boat
had lost its rudder.
Before him lay a prison, and the closing act of the great tragedy of
which he himself had been the hero. Fate had fallen on his house, had
marked it for destruction as erewhile that of Tantalus. It lay in ashes,
and the victims were already many: two brothers, father, mother--and, far
away from home, Rufinus too.
But whose was the guilt?
It was not his ancestors who had sinned; it could only be his own that
had called down this ruin. But was there then such a power as the
Destiny of the ancients--inexorable, iron Fate? Had he not repented and
suffered, been reconciled to his Redeemer, and prepared himself to fight
the hard fight? Perhaps he was indeed to be the hero of a tragedy; then
he would show that it was not the blind Inevitable, but what a man can
make of himself, and what he can do by the aid of the God of might, which
determines his fate. If he must still succumb, it should only be after a
valiant struggle and defense. He would battle fearlessly against every
foe, would press onward in the path he had laid down for himself. His
heart beat high once more; he felt as though he could see his father's
example as a guiding star in the sky, so that he must be true to that
whether to live or to die. And when he turned his eye earthwards again,
still, even there, he had that which made it seem worth the cost of
enduring the pangs of living and the brunt of the hardest battle: Paula
and her love.
The nearer he approached Fostat, the more ardently his heart swelled with
longing. Heaven must grant him to see her once more, once more to clasp
her in his arms, before--the end!
It seemed to him that what he had gone through in these few hours must
have removed and set aside everything that could part them. Now, he
felt, he had strength to remain worthy of her; if Heliodora were to come
in his way again he would now certainly, positively, regard and treat her
only as a sister.
He was conducted at once to the house of the Kadi; but this official was
at the Divan--the council, which his arch-foe, that black monster Obada,
had called together.
After the labors of the past night the Negro had allowed himself only a
few hours rest, and then had met the council, where he had not been slow
to discover that he had as many enemies as there were members present.
His most determined opponents were the Kadi Othman, the head of the
Courts of justice and administration, and Khalid the governor of the
exchequer. Neither of them hesitated to express his opinion; and indeed,
no one present at this meeting would have suspected for a moment that
most of the members had, in their peaceful youth, guarded flocks as
shepherds on the mountains, led caravans across the desert, or managed
some small trade. In the contests of tribe against tribe they had found
opportunities for practice in the use of weapons, and for steeling their
courage; but where had they learnt to choose their words with so much
care, and emphasize them with gestures of such natural grace that any
Greek orator would have admired them? It was only when the indignant
orator "thundered and lightened" and was carried away by the heat of
passion that he forgot his dignified moderation, and then how grandly
voice, eye, and action helped each other! And never, even under the
highest excitement, was purity of language overlooked. These men, of
whom very few could read and write, had at their command all the most
effective verses of their poets having thousands of lines stored in their
minds.
The discussion to-day dealt with the social aspects of an ancient
civilization, unknown but a few years since to the warlike children of
the desert, and yet how ably had the four overseers of public buildings
the comptrollers of the markets, of the irrigation works, and of the
mills, achieved their ends. These bright and untarnished spirits were
equal to the hardest task and capable of carrying it through with energy,
acumen, and success.
And the sons of these men who had passed through no school were already
well-fitted and invited to give new splendor to cities in their decline,
and new life to the learning of the countries they had subdued.
Everything in this council revealed talent, vitality, and ardor; and
Obada, who had been a slave, found it by no means easy to uphold his
pre-eminence among these assertive scions of free and respectable
families.
The Kadi spoke frankly and fearlessly against his recent proceedings,
declaring in the name of every member of the Divan, that they disclaimed
all responsibility for what had been done, and that it rested on the
Vekeel alone. Obada was very ready to accept it; and he announced with
such fiery eloquence his determination to give shelter at Fostat to the
natives whom the conflagration had left roofless, he was so fair-spoken,
and he had shown his great qualities in so clear a light during the past
night, that they agreed to postpone their attainder and await the reply
from Medina to the complaints they had forwarded. Discipline, indeed,
required that they should submit; and many a man who would have flown to
meet death on the field as a bride, quailed before the terrible
adventurer who would not shrink from the most hideous deeds.
Obada had won by hard fighting. No one could prove a theft against him
of so much as a single drachma; but he nevertheless had to take many a
rough word, and with one consent the assembly refused him the deference
justly due to the governor's representative.
Bitterly indignant, he remained till the very last in the council-
chamber, no one staying with him, not even his own subalterns, to speak a
soothing word in praise of the power and eloquence of his address, while
the same cursed wretches would, under similar circumstances, have buzzed
round Amru like swarming bees, and have escorted him home like curs
wagging their tails. He ascribed the contumely and opposition he met
with to their prejudice, as haughty, free-born men against his birth, and
not to any fault of his own, and yet he looked down on them all, feeling
himself the superior of each by himself; if the blow in Medina were
successful, he would pick out his victims, and then....
His dreams of vengeance were abruptly broken by a messenger, covered with
dust from head to foot; he brought good news: Orion was taken and safely
bestowed in the Kadi's house.
"And why not in mine?" asked Obada in peremptory tones. "Who is the
governor's representative here. Othman or I? Take the prisoner to my
house."
And he forthwith went home. But instead of the prisoner there presently
appeared before him an official of the Kadi's household, who informed
him, from his master, that as the Khaliff had constituted Othman supreme
judge in Egypt this matter was in his hands; if Obada wished to see the
prisoner he might go to the Kadi's residence, or visit him later in the
town prison of Memphis, whither Orion would presently be transferred.
He rushed off, raging, to his enemy's house, but his stormy fury was met
by the placidity of a calm and judicial mind. Othman was a man between
forty and fifty years old, but his soft, black beard was already turning
grey; his noble dark face bore the stamp of a lofty, high-bred soul, and
a keen but temperate spirit shone in his eyes. There was something
serene and clear in his whole person; he was a man to bear the burthen of
life's vicissitudes with dignity, while he had set himself the task of
saving others from them so far as in him lay.
The patriarch's complaints had come also to the Kadi's knowledge, and he,
too, was minded to exact retribution for the massacre of the Moslem
soldiers; but the punishment should fall on none but the guilty. He
would have been sorry to believe that Orion was one of them, for he had
esteemed his father as a brave man and a just judge, and had taken many a
word of good advice from the experienced Egyptian.
The scene between him and the infuriated Vekeel was a painful one even
for the attendants who stood round; and Orion, who heard Obada's raging
from the adjoining room, could gather from it some idea of the relentless
hatred with which his negro enemy would persecute him.
However, as after the wildest storm the sea ebbs in ripples so even this
tempest came to a more peaceful conclusion. The Kadi represented to the
Vekeel what an unheard-of thing it would be, and in what a disgraceful
light it would set Moslem justice if one of the noblest families in the
country--to whose head, too, the cause of Islam owed so much--were robbed
of its possessions on mere suspicion. To this the Vekeel replied that
there were definite accusations brought by the head of the native Church,
and that nothing had been robbed, but merely confiscated and placed in
security. As to what Allah had thought fit to destroy by fire, no one
could be held answerable for that. There was no "mere suspicion" in the
case, for he himself had in his possession a document which amply proved
that Paula, Orion's beloved, had been the instigator of the crime which
had cost the lives of twelve of the true believers.--The girl herself had
been taken into custody yesterday. He would cross-examine her himself,
too, in spite of all the Kadis in the world; for though Othman might
choose to let any number of Moslems be murdered by these dogs of
Christians he, Obada, would not overlook it; and if he did, by tomorrow
morning the thousand Egyptians who were digging the canal would have
killed with their shovels the three Moslems who kept guard over them.
At this, Othman assured the Vekeel that he was no less anxious to punish
the miscreants, but that he must first make sure of their identity, and
that, in accordance with the law, justly and without fear of man or blind
hatred, with due caution and justice. He, as judge, was no less averse
to letting off the guilty than he was to punishing the innocent; so the
enquiry must be allowed to proceed quietly. If Obada wished to examine
Paula he, the Kadi, had no objection; to preside over the court and to
direct the trial was his business, and that he would not abdicate even
for the Khaliff himself so long as Omar thought him worthy to hold his
office.
To all this Obada had no choice but to agree, though with an ill-grace;
and as the Vekeel wished to see Orion, the young man was called in. The
huge negro looked at him from head to foot like a slave he proposed to
buy; and, when Othman went to the door and so could not see him, he could
not resist the malicious impulse: he glanced significantly at the
prisoner, and drew his forefinger sharply and quickly across his black
throat as though to divide the head from the trunk. Then he
contemptuously turned his back on the youth.