Khaled sat with his sword upon his feet, and when Zehowah was not in the
room he played with the hilt and thought of all that was happening.
'Truly,' he said to himself, 'Allah is great. Was I not, but a few days
since, one of the genii condemned to perish at the day of the
resurrection? And am I not now a man, married to the most beautiful
woman in the whole world, and the wisest and the best, needing only to
be loved by her in order to obtain an undying soul? And why should this
woman not love me? Truly, we shall see before long, when this mummery is
finished.'
So he sat on the couch while Zehowah was led before him again and again
each time in clothing more splendid than before, and each time with new
songs and new music. But at the last time the attendants left her
standing before him and went away, and only a very old woman remained at
the door, screaming out in a cracked voice the customary exhortations.
Then she, too, went away and the door was shut and Khaled and Zehowah
were alone.
It was now near the middle of the night. The chamber was large and high,
lighted by a number of hanging lamps such as are made in Bagdad, of
brass perforated with beautiful designs and filled with coloured
glasses, in each of which a little wick floats upon oil. Upon the walls
rich carpets were hung, both Arabian and Persian, some taken in war as
booty, and some brought by merchants in time of peace. A brass chafing
dish stood at some distance from the couch, and upon the coals the women
had thrown powdered myrrh and benzoin before they went away. But Khaled
cared little for these things, since he had seen all the treasures of
the earth in their most secret depositories.
Zehowah had watched him narrowly during the ceremony of the dresses and
had seen that he felt no surprise at anything which was brought before
him.
'His own country must be full of great wealth and magnificence,' she
thought, 'since so much treasure does not astonish him.' And she was
disappointed.
Now that they were alone, he still sat in silence, gazing at her as she
stood beside him, and not even thinking of any speech, for he was
overcome and struck dumb by her eyes.
'You are not pleased with what I have shown you,' Zehowah said at last
in a tone of displeasure and disappointment. 'And yet you have seen the
wealth of my father's palace.'
'I have seen neither wealth nor treasure, neither rich garments, nor
precious stones nor chains of gold nor embroideries of pearls,' Khaled
answered slowly.
But Zehowah frowned and tapped the carpet impatiently with her foot
where she stood, for she was annoyed, having expected him to praise the
beauty of her many dresses.
'They who have eyes can see,' she said. 'But if you are not pleased, my
father will give me a hundred dresses more beautiful than these, and
pearls and jewels without end.'
'I should not see them,' Khaled replied. 'I have seen two jewels which
have dazzled me so that I can see nothing else.'
Zehowah gazed at him with a look of inquiry.
'I have seen the eyes of Zehowah,' he continued, 'which are as the stars
Sirius and Aldebaran, when they are over the desert in the nights of
winter. What jewels can you show me like these?'
Then Zehowah laughed softly and sat down beside her husband on the edge
of the couch.
'Nevertheless,' she said, 'the dresses are very rich. You might admire
them also.'
'I will look at them when you are not near me, for then my sight will be
restored for other things.'
Khaled took her hand in his and held it.
'Tell me, Zehowah, will you love me?' he asked in a soft voice.
'You are my lord and my master,' she answered, looking modestly
downward, and her hand lay quite still.
She was so very beautiful that as Khaled sat beside her and looked at
her downcast face, and knew that she was his, he could not easily
believe that she was cold and indifferent to him.
'By Allah!' he thought, 'can it be so hard to get a woman's love? Truly,
I think she begins to love me already.'
Zehowah looked up and smiled carelessly as though answering his
question, but Khaled was obliged to admit in his heart that the answer
lacked clearness, for he found it no easier to interpret a woman's smile
than men had found it before him, and have found it since, even to this
day.
'You have had many suitors,' he said at last, 'and it is said that your
father has given you your own free choice, allowing you to see them and
hear them speak while he was receiving them. Tell me why you have chosen
me rather than the rest, unless it is because you love me? For I came
with empty hands, and without servants or slaves, or retinue of any
kind, riding alone out of the Red Desert. It was therefore for myself
that you took me.'
'You are right. It was for yourself that I took you.'
'Then it was for love of me, was it not?'
'There were and still are many and good reasons,' answered Zehowah
calmly, and at the same time withdrawing her hand from his and smoothing
back the black hair from her forehead. 'I told them all to my father,
and he was convinced.'
'Tell them to me also,' said Khaled.
So she explained all to him in detail, making him see everything as she
saw it herself. And the explanation was so very clear, that Khaled felt
a cold chill in his heart as he understood that she had chosen him
rather for politic reasons, than because she wished him for her husband.
'And yet,' she added at the end, 'it was the will of Allah, for
otherwise I would not have chosen you.'
'But surely,' he said, somewhat encouraged by these last words, 'there
was some love in the choice, too.'
'How can I tell!' she exclaimed, with a little laugh. 'What is love?'
Finding himself confronted by such an amazing question, Khaled was
silent, and took her hand again. For though many have asked what love
is, no one has ever been able to find an answer in words to satisfy the
questioner, seeing that the answer can have no more to do with words
than love itself, a matter sufficiently explained by a certain wise man,
who understood the heart of man. If, said he, a man who loves a woman,
or a woman who loves a man could give in words the precise reason why
he or she loves, then love itself could be defined in language; but as
no man or woman has ever succeeded in doing this, I infer that they who
love best do not themselves know in what love consists--still less
therefore can any one else know, wherefore the definition is impossible,
and no one need waste time in trying to find it.
A certain wit has also said that although it be impossible for any man
to explain the nature of love to many persons at the same time, he
generally finds it easy to make his explanations to one person only. But
this is a mere quibbling jest and not deserving of any attention.
Zehowah expected an answer to her question, and Khaled was silent, not
because he was as yet too little acquainted with the feelings of a man
to give them expression, but because he already felt so much that it was
hard for him to speak at all.
Zehowah laughed and shook her head, for she was not of a timid temper.
'How can you expect me to say that I love you, when you yourself are
unable to answer such a simple question?' she asked. 'And besides, are
you not my lord and my master? What is it then to you, whether I love
you or not?'
But again Khaled was silent, debating whether he should tell her the
truth, how the angel had promised in Allah's name that if she loved him
he should obtain an undying soul, and how the task of obtaining her love
had been laid upon him as a sort of atonement for having slain the
Indian prince. But as he reflected he understood that this would
probably estrange her all the more from him.
'Yet I can answer your question,' he said at last. 'What is love? It is
that which is in me for you only.'
'But how am I to know what that is?' asked Zehowah, drawing up the
smooth gold bracelets upon her arm and letting them fall down to her
wrist, so that they jangled like a camel's bell.
'If you love me you will know,' Khaled answered, 'for then, perhaps, you
will feel a tenth part of what I feel.'
'And why not all that you feel?' she asked, looking at him, but still
playing with the bracelets.
'Because it is impossible for any woman to love as much as I love you,
Zehowah.'
'You mean, perhaps, that a woman is too weak to love so well,' she
suggested. 'And you think, perhaps, that we are weak because we sit all
our lives upon the carpets in the harem eating sweetmeats, and listening
to singing girls and to old women who tell us tales of long ago. Yet
there have been strong women too--as strong as men. Kenda, who tore out
the heart of Kamsa--was she weak?'
'Women are stronger to hate than to love,' said Khaled.
'But a man can forget his hatred in the love of a woman, and his
strength also,' laughed Zehowah. 'I would rather that you should not
love me at all, than that you should forget to be strong in the day of
battle. For I have married you that you may lead my people to war and
bring home the spoil.'
'And if I destroy all your enemies and the enemies of your people, will
you love me then, Zehowah?'
'Why should I love you then, more than now? What has war to do with
love? Again, I ask, what is it to you whether I love you or not? Am I
not your wife, and are you not my master? What is this love of which you
talk? Is it a rich garment that you can wear? A precious stone that you
can fasten in your turban? A rich carpet to spread in your house? A
treasure of gold, a mountain of ambergris, a bushel of pearls from Oman?
Why do you covet it? Am I not beautiful enough? Then is love henna to
make my hair bright, or kohl to darken my eyes, or a boiled egg with
almonds to smooth my face? I have all these things, and ointments from
Egypt, and perfumes from Syria, and if I am not beautiful enough to
please you, it is the will of Allah, and love will not make me fairer.'
'Yet love is beauty,' Khaled answered. 'For Kadijah was lovely in the
eyes of the Prophet, upon whom be peace, because she loved him, though
she was a widow and old.'
'Am I a widow? Am I old?' asked Zehowah with some indignation. 'Do I
need the imaginary cosmetic you call love to smooth my wrinkles, to
lighten my eyes, or to make my teeth white?'
'No. You need nothing to make you beautiful.'
'And for the matter of that, I can say it of you. You tell me that you
love me. Is it love that makes your body tall and straight, your beard
black, your forehead smooth, your hand strong? Would not any woman see
what I see, whether you loved her or not? See! Is your hand whiter than
mine because you love and I do not?'
She laughed again as she held her hand beside his.
'Truly,' thought Khaled, 'it is less easy than I supposed. For the heart
of a woman who does not love is like the desert, when the wind blows
over it, and there are neither tracks nor landmarks. And I am wandering
in this desert like a man seeking lost camels.'
But he said nothing, for he was not yet skilled in the arguments of
love. Thereupon Zehowah smiled, and resting her cheek upon her hand,
looked into his face, as though saying scornfully, 'Is it not all vanity
and folly?'
Khaled sighed, for he was disappointed, as a thirsty man who, coming to
drink of a clear spring, finds the water bitter, while his thirst
increases and grows unbearable.
'Why do you sigh?' Zehowah asked, after a little silence. 'Are you
weary? Are you tired with the feasting? Are you full of bitterness,
because I do not love you? Command me and I will obey. Are you not my
lord to whom I am subject?'
He did not speak, but she drew him to her, so that his head rested upon
her bosom, and she began to sing to him in a low voice.
For a long time Khaled kept his eyes shut, listening to her voice. Then,
on a sudden, he looked up, and without speaking so much as a word, he
clasped her in his arms and kissed her.
Before it was day there was a great tumult in the streets of Riad, of
which the noise came up even to the chamber where Khaled and Zehowah
were sleeping. Zehowah awoke and listened, wondering what had happened
and trying to understand the cries of the distant multitude. Then she
laid her hand upon Khaled's forehead and waked him.
'What is it?' he asked.
'It is war,' she answered. 'The enemy have surprised the city in the
night of the feast. Arise and take arms and go out to the people.'
Khaled sprang up and in a moment he was clothed and had girt on his
sword. Then he took Zehowah in his arms.
'While I live, you are safe,' he said.
'Am I afraid? Go quickly,' she answered.
At that time the Sultan of Nejed was at war with the northern tribes of
Shammar, and the enemy had taken advantage of the month of Ramadhan, in
which few persons travel, to advance in great numbers to Riad. During
the three days' feast of Bairam they had moved on every night, slaying
the inhabitants of the villages so that not one had escaped to bring the
news, and in the daytime they had hidden themselves wherever they could
find shelter. But in the night in which Khaled and Zehowah were married
they reached the very walls of the city, and waiting until all the
people were asleep, a party of them had climbed up upon the ramparts and
had opened one of the gates to their companions after killing the
guards.
Khaled found his mare and mounted her without saddle or bridle in his
haste, then drawing his sabre he rode swiftly out of the palace into the
confusion. The enemy with their long spears were driving the
panicstricken guards and the shrieking people before them towards the
palace, slaughtering all whom they overtook, so that the gutters of the
streets were already flowing with blood, and the horses of the enemy
stumbled over the bodies of the defenders. The whole multitude of the
pursued and the pursuers were just breaking out of the principal street
into the open space before the palace when Khaled met them, a single man
facing ten thousand.
'I shall certainly perish in this fight,' he said to himself, 'and yet I
shall not receive the reward of the faithful, since Allah has not given
me a soul. Nevertheless certain of these dogs shall eat dirt before the
rest get into the palace.'
So he pressed his legs to the bare sides of his mare and lifted up his
sword and rode at the foe, having neither buckler, nor helmet, nor shirt
of mail to protect him, but only his clothes and his turban. But his arm
was strong, and it has been said by the wise that it is better to fall
upon an old lion with a reed than to stand armed in the way of a man who
seeks death.
'Yallah! The Sword of the Lord!' shouted Khaled, in such a terrible
voice that the assailants ceased to kill for a moment, and the terrified
guards turned to see whence so great a voice could proceed; and some who
had seen Khaled recognised him and ran to meet him, and the others
followed.
When the enemy saw a single man riding towards them across the great
square before the palace, they sent up a shout of derision, and turned
again to the slaughter of such of the inhabitants as could not extricate
themselves.
'Shall one man stop an army?' they said. 'Shall a fox turn back a herd
of hyaenas?'
But when Khaled was among them they found less matter for laughter. For
the sword was keen, the mare was swift to double and turn, and Khaled's
hand was strong. In the twinkling of an eye two of the enemy lay dead,
the one cloven to the chin, the other headless.
Then a strange fever seized Khaled, such as he had not heard of, and all
things turned to scarlet before his eyes, both the walls of the houses,
and the faces and the garments of his foes. Men who saw him say that his
face was white and shining in the dawn, and that the flashing of the
sword was like a storm of lightning about his head, and after each flash
there was a great rain of blood, and a crashing like thunder as the
horses and men of the enemy fell to the earth.
In the meantime, too, the soldiers of the city and the Bedouins of the
desert who were within the walls for the feast, took courage, and
turning fiercely began to drive the assailants back by the way they had
come, towards the market-place in the bazar. But those behind still kept
pressing forward, while those in front were driven back, and the press
became so great that the Shammars could no longer wield their weapons.
The enemy were crowded together like sheep in a fold, and Khaled, with
his men, began to cut a broad road through the very midst of them,
hewing them down in ranks and throwing them aside, as corn is harvested
in Egypt.
But after some time Khaled saw that he was alone, with a few followers,
surrounded by a great throng of the enemy, for some of his men had been
slain after slaying many of their foes, and some had not been able to
follow, being hindered at first by the heaps of dead and afterwards by
the multitude of their opponents who closed in again over the bloody way
through which Khaled had passed.
And now the Shammars saw that Khaled could not escape them, and they
pressed him on every side, but the archers dared not shoot at him for
fear of hitting their own friends, if their arrows chanced to go by the
mark. Otherwise he would undoubtedly have perished, since he had no
armour, and not even a buckler with which to ward off the darts. But
they thrust at him with spears and struck at him with their swords, and
wounded him more than once, though he was not conscious of pain or loss
of blood, being hot with the fever of the fight. He was hard pressed
therefore, and while he smote without ceasing he began to know that
unless a speedy rescue came to him, his hour was at hand. From the
borders of the market-place, the men of Riad could still see his sword
flashing and striking, and they still heard his fierce cry.
He looked about him as he fought, and he saw that he was now almost
alone. One after another, the few who had penetrated so far forward with
him into the press, were overwhelmed by numbers and fell bleeding from a
hundred wounds till only a score were left, and Khaled saw that unless
he could now cut his way free, he must inevitably perish. But the press
was stubborn and a man might as well hope to make his way through a herd
of camels crowded together in a narrow street. Then Khaled bethought him
of a stratagem. He alone was on horseback, for the enemy's riders had
ridden before, and he had met them in the street leading to the palace,
when he had himself slain many, and where the rest were even now falling
under the swords of the men of Riad. And the few men who were with him
were also all on foot. Therefore looking across the market-place he made
as though he saw a great force coming to his assistance, and he shouted
with all his breath, while his arm never rested.
'Smite, men of Nejed!' he cried. 'For I see the Sultan himself coming to
meet us with five hundred horsemen! Smite! Yallah! It is the Sword of
the Lord!'
Hearing these words, his men were encouraged, and of the enemy many
turned their heads to see the new danger. But being on foot they were
hindered from seeing by the throng. Yet so much the more Khaled shouted
that the Sultan was coming, and many of the heads that turned to look
were not turned back again, but rolled down to the feet of those to
whom they had belonged. The brave men who were with Khaled took heart
and hewed with all their might, taking up the cry of their leader when
they saw that it disconcerted their foes, so that the last took fright,
and the panic ran through the whole multitude.
'We shall be slain like sheep, and taken like locusts under a mantle,
for we cannot move!' they cried, and they began to press away out of the
market-place, forcing their comrades before them into the narrow
streets.
But here many perished. For while every man in Riad had taken his sword
and had gone out of his house to fight, the women had dragged up
cauldrons of boiling water, and also hand-mill stones, to the roofs, and
they scalded and crushed their retreating foes. Then too, as the
market-place was cleared, the soldiers came on from the side of the
palace, having slain all that stood in their way and taken most of their
horses alive, which alone was a great booty, for there are not many
horses in Nejed besides those of the Sultan, though these are the very
best and fleetest in all Arabia. But the Shammars of the north are great
horse-breeders. So the soldiers mounted and joined Khaled in the
pursuit, and a great slaughter followed in the streets, though some of
the enemy were able to escape to the gates, and warn those of their
fellows who were outside to flee to the hills for safety, leaving much
booty behind.
At the time of the second call to prayer Khaled dismounted from his mare
in the market-place, and there was not one of the enemy left alive
within the walls. Those who remember that day say that there were five
thousand dead in the streets in Riad.
Khaled made such ablution as he could, and having prayed and given
thanks to Allah, he went back on foot to the palace, his bay mare
following him, and thrusting her nose into his hand as he walked. For
she was little hurt, and the blood that covered her shoulders and her
flanks was not her own. But Khaled had many wounds on him, so that his
companions wondered how he was able to walk.
In the court of the palace the Sultan came to meet him, and fell upon
his neck and embraced him, for many messengers had come, from time to
time, telling how the fight went, and of the great slaughter. And Khaled
smiled, for he thought that he should now win the love of Zehowah.
'Said I not truly that he is as brave as the lion, and as strong as the
camel?' cried the Sultan, addressing those who stood in the court. 'Has
he not scattered our enemies as the wind scatters the sand? Surely he is
well called by the name Khaled.'
'Forget not your own men,' Khaled answered, 'for they have shared in the
danger and have slain more than I, and deserve the spoil. There was a
score of stout fellows with me at the last in the market-place, whose
faces I should know again on a cloudy night. They fought as well as I,
and it was the will of Allah that their enemies should broil
everlastingly and drink boiling water. Let them be rewarded.'
'They shall every one have a rich garment and a sum of money, besides
their share of the spoil. But as for you, my beloved son, go in and
rest, and bind up your wounds, and afterwards there shall be feasting
and merriment until the night.'
'The enemy is not destroyed yet,' answered Khaled. 'Command rather that
the army make ready for the pursuit, and when I have washed I will arm
myself and we will ride out and pursue the dogs until not one of them is
left alive, and by the help of Allah we will take all Shammar and lay it
under tribute and bring back the women captive. After that we shall
feast more safely, and sleep without fear of being waked by a herd of
hyaenas in our streets.'
'Nay, but you must rest before going upon this expedition,' objected the
Sultan.
'The true believer will find rest in the grave, and feasting in
paradise,' answered Khaled.
'This is true. But even the camel must eat and drink on the journey, or
both he and his master will perish.'
'Let us then eat and drink quickly, that we may the sooner go.'
'As you will, let it be,' said the Sultan, with a sigh, for he loved
feasting and music, being now too old to go out and fight himself as he
had formerly done.
Thereupon Khaled went into the harem and returned to Zehowah's
apartment. As he went the women gathered round him with cries of
gladness and songs of triumph, staunching the blood that flowed from his
wounds with their veils and garments as he walked. And others ran before
to prepare the bath and to tell Zehowah of his coming.
When she saw him she ran forward and took him by the hands and led him
in, and herself she bathed his wounds and bound them up with precious
balsams of great healing power, not suffering any of the women to help
her nor to touch him, but sending them away so that she might be alone
with Khaled.
'I have slain certain of your enemies, Zehowah,' he said, at last, 'and
I have driven out the rest from the city.' As yet neither of them had
spoken.
'Do you think that I have not heard what you have done?' Zehowah asked.
'You have saved us all from death and captivity. You are our father and
our mother. And now I will bring you food and drink and afterwards you
shall sleep.'
'So you are well pleased with the doings of the husband you have
married,' he said.
He was displeased, for he had supposed that she would love him for his
deeds and for his wounds and that she would speak differently. But
though she tended him and bound his wounds, and bathed his brow with
perfumed waters, and laid pillows under his head and fanned him, as a
slave might have done, he saw that there was no warmth in her cheek, and
that the depths of her eyes were empty, and that her hands were neither
hot nor cold. By all these signs he knew that she felt no love for him,
so he spoke coldly to her.
'Is it for me to be pleased or displeased with the deeds of my lord and
master?' she asked. 'Nevertheless, thousands are even now blessing your
name and returning thanks to Allah for having sent them a preserver in
the hour of danger. I am but one of them.'
'I would rather see a faint light in your eyes, as of a star rising in
the desert than hear the blessings of all the men of Nejed. I would
rather that your hand were cold when it touches mine, and your cheek hot
when I kiss it, than that your father should bestow upon me all the
treasures of Riad.'
'Is that love?' asked Zehowah with a laugh. 'A cold hand, a hot cheek, a
bright eye?'
Khaled was silent, for he saw that she understood his words but not his
meaning. It was now noon and it was very hot, even in the inner shade of
the harem, and Khaled was glad to rest after the hard fighting, for his
many slight wounds smarted with the healing balsam, and his heart was
heavy and discontented.
Then Zehowah called a slave woman to fan him with a palm leaf, and
presently she brought him meat and rice and dates to eat, and cool drink
in a golden cup, and she sat at his feet while he refreshed himself.
'How many did you slay with your own hand?' she asked at last, taking up
the good sword which lay beside him on the carpet.