"SONS OF LIONS" AND OTHER TRUE BELIEVERS
FALSTAFF--"Four rogues in buckram let drive at me."
_King Henry IV._, Act II. Scene 4.
By the time Salam had roused me from a dream in which I was being torn
limb from limb in a Roman amphitheatre, whose terraced seats held
countless Moors all hugely enjoying my dismemberment, I realised that a
night in that guest-house would be impossible. The place was already
over-populated.
A brief meal was taken in the open, and we sat with our feet thrust to the
edge of the nearest charcoal fire, for the night was cold. Our animals,
tethered and watered, stood anxiously waiting for the barley the chief
muleteer had gone to buy. Supper over, I sat on a chair in the open, and
disposed myself for sleep as well as the conditions permitted. Round me,
on the bare ground, the men and the boy from the Sus lay wrapped in their
haiks--the dead could not have slept more soundly than they. The two fires
were glimmering very faintly now, M'Barak was stretching a blanket for
himself, while Salam collected the tin plates and dishes, his last task
before retiring. Somewhere in the far outer darkness I heard the wail of
a hyæna, and a light cold breeze sighed over the plain. Half asleep and
half awake I saw the village headman approaching from out the darkness; a
big bag of barley was on his shoulder, and he was followed closely by the
muleteer. They came into the little circle of the fast falling light; I
was nodding drowsily toward unconsciousness, and wondering, with a vague
resentment that exhausted all my remaining capacity to think, why the
headman should be speaking so loudly. Suddenly, I saw the muleteer go to
earth as if he had been pole-axed, and in that instant I was wide awake
and on my feet. So was Salam.
The headman delivered himself of a few incisive rasping sentences. The
muleteer rose slowly and wiped a little blood from his face.
Salam explained: his capacity for fathoming a crisis was ever remarkable.
"Headman he charge three dollars for barley and he don't worth more than
one. Muleteer he speaks for that, and headman 'e knock him down."
"Ask him how he dares interfere with our people," I said. "Tell him his
kaid shall hear of it."
The headman replied haughtily to Salam's questions and strode away. "He
say," said Salam, beginning to get angry, "Pay first and talk
afterwards--to Allah, if you will. He say he wait long time for man like
muleteer an' cut 'im throat. What he's bin done that be nothing. What he's
goin' to do, that all Moors is goin' to see. He come back soon, sir."
Then Salam slipped noiselessly into the guest-house and fetched my
repeating shot gun, from which I had previously drawn all cartridges. He
sat down outside with the weapon across his knees, and the bruised
muleteer safely behind him. I coaxed the charcoal to a further effort and
returned to my chair, wondering whether trouble that had been so long in
coming had arrived at last. Some five minutes later we heard a sound of
approaching footsteps, and I could not help noting how Salam brightened.
He was spoiling for a fight. I watched dim figures coming into the area of
light, they took shape and showed Ain al Baidah's chief and two of his
men--tall, sturdy fellows, armed with thick sticks. Seeing Salam sitting
with gun levelled full on them they came to a sudden halt, and listened
while he told them, in a voice that shook and sometimes broke with rage,
their character, their characteristics, the moral standing of their
parents and grandparents, the probable fate of their sons, and the certain
and shameful destiny of their daughters. He invited them, with finger on
trigger, to advance one step and meet the death that should enable him to
give their ill-favoured bodies one by one to the pariahs and the hawks,
before he proceeded to sack Ain al Baidah and overcome single-handed the
whole of its fighting men. And, absurd though his rodomontade may sound to
Europeans, who read it in cold print, it was a vastly different matter
there in the dark of the Plain, when Salam stood, believing he held a
loaded gun in his hand, and allowed his fierce temper rein. The headman
and his two attendants slunk off like whipped curs, and we proceeded to
feed our animals, replenish both fires, and sleep with one eye open.
[Illustration: PREPARING SUPPER]
Morning came over the hills to Ain al Baidah in cold and cheerless guise.
The villagers crowded round to stare at us in the familiar fashion. But
there were grim looks and dark scowls among them, and, failing the
truculent and determined bearing of Salam and the presence of the kaid we
should have had a lively quarter of an hour. As it was, we were not ready
to leave before eight o'clock, and then Salam went, money in hand, to
where the thieving headman stood. The broken night's rest had not made my
companion more pleased with Ain al Baidah's chief. He threw the dollars
that had been demanded on to the ground before the rogue's feet, and then
his left hand flew up and outward. With one swift, irresistible movement
he had caught his foe by the beard, drawn down the shrinking, vicious face
to within a few inches of his own, and so holding him, spoke earnestly for
half a minute, of what the Prophet has said about hospitality to
travellers, and the shocking fate that awaits headmen who rob those who
come seeking shelter, and beat them when they complain. Ain al Baidah's
chief could not but listen, and listening, he could not but shudder. So it
fell out that, when Salam's harangue was finished, we left a speechless,
irresolute, disgraced headman, and rode away slowly, that none might say
we knew fear. If the village had any inclination to assist its chief, the
sight of the blessed one's weapon, in its fierce red cloth covering, must
have awed them. Some days later, in Mogador, I was told that the Ain al
Baidah man is a terror to travellers and a notorious robber, but I made no
complaint to our Consul. If the headman's overlord had been told to punish
him, the method chosen would assuredly have been to rob every man in the
douar, and if they resisted, burn their huts over their heads. It seemed
better to trust that the memory of Salam will lead Ain al Baidah's chief
to lessen his proud looks.
We made slow progress to Sheshoua, where the river that might have barred
our road to the coast was as friendly as the N'fiss had been on the
previous day. The track to its banks had been flat and uninteresting
enough; what good work the winter rains had done by way of weaving a
flower carpet on the plains, the summer sun had destroyed. There was a
considerable depression in the plain, though we could not notice it at the
slow pace forced upon us, and this accounted for the absence of water
between the rivers, and for the great extent of the calcareous gravel, in
which few plants could thrive. Only the _zizyphus lotus_, from whose
branches little white snails hung like flowers, seemed to find real
nourishment in the dry ground, though colocynth and wild lavender were to
be seen now and again. But by the Sheshoua River the change was very
sudden and grateful to the eye.
A considerable olive grove, whose grey-green leaves shone like silver in
the light breeze, offered shade and shelter to a large colony of doves.
There was a thriving village, with a saint's tomb for chief attraction,
and solid walls to suggest that the place does not enjoy perennial
tranquillity. But even though there are strangers who trouble these good
folk, their home could not have looked more charmingly a haunt of peace
than it did. All round the village one saw orchards of figs, apricots, and
pomegranate trees; the first with the leaves untouched by the summer heat,
the apricots just at the end of their blossoming, and the pomegranates
still in flower. In place of the dry, hard soil that was so trying to the
feet of man and beast, there were here meadows in plenty, from which the
irises had only lately died. I saw the common English dandelion growing
within stone's throw of a clump of feathery palms.
Tired after the vigil of the previous night and the long hours that had
led up to it, we reclined at our ease under the olives, determined to
spend the night at Sidi el Muktar, some fifteen or twenty miles away. From
there one can hunt the great bustard, and I had hoped to do so until I saw
the animals that were to take us to the coast. Neither the bustard nor the
gazelle, that sometimes roams Sidi el Muktar's plains, had anything to
fear from those noble creatures. The kaid alone might have pursued bird or
beast, but as his gun was innocent of powder and shot there would have
been nothing but exercise to seek.
After a two-hours' rest, given in one case more to sleep than lunch, we
moved on towards the village of Sidi el Muktar, passing some curious
flat-topped hills called by the natives Haunk Ijjimmal.[48] The oasis had
ceased as suddenly as it had begun, and the road became as uninteresting
as was our own crawling gait. I noticed that the Susi muleteers were
travelling very sadly, that they had not among them an echo of the songs
that had sounded so strangely on the previous day, and I bade Salam find
the cause of the depression, and ask whether the young lad whose features
had become pinched and drawn felt ill. Within a few moments the truth was
out. The six men had eaten nothing save a little of the mules' barley
since they left Marrakesh, and as they had been on short rations between
Tiensiert and the Southern capital, their strength was beginning to give
out. It was no part of my business to feed them; they had received
"something in the hand" before they left the city, and could well have
bought supplies for the road, but they had preferred to trust Providence,
and hoped to live on a small part of the mules' barley and the daily gift
of tea that had been promised. Under the circumstances, and though I had
found reason to believe that they were lazy, feckless rogues enough, who
really needed an iron-handed kaid to rule over them, I told Salam to pass
word round that their wants would be supplied at the day's end. Then they
picked up their old stride, and one by one resumed the love-songs of
yesterday as we moved slowly over the plains to where, in the far
distance, Sidi el Muktar stood between us and the fast setting sun, placed
near to the junction of three provinces--Oulad bou Sba, through which we
travelled, M'touga, famous for fleet horses, and Shiadma, where our road
lay.
But we were to find no rest in the shade of Sidi el Muktar's stately
zowia. The "Sons of Lions" had raided the place on the previous day,
hoping to terminate alike the rule and the existence of a kaid whose hand
had rested too heavily upon them. Some friend of the kaid having given him
due notice of the raiders' intentions--treachery is a painfully common
feature of these forays--he had been well prepared to meet these godless
men. Powder had spoken, and was to speak again, for the kaid, having
driven off the raiders, was going to carry war into the enemy's country,
and was busy preparing to start on the morrow at daybreak. At such a time
as this it had not been wise to pitch tent within sound or sight of men
with the killing lust upon them. Very reluctantly we rode on for another
two hours and then Ain Umast, a douar that is famous for its possession of
a well of pure water, received us with nightfall. There our troubles were
over, for though the place was more than commonly dirty, the inhabitants
were peaceable and disposed to be friendly. A few crops were raised on the
surrounding fields, and small herds of sheep and goats managed to pick up
some sort of a living on the surrounding lands, but poverty reigned there,
and Ain Umast is of small account by the side of Sidi el Muktar, which is
the burial-place of a saint, whose miracles are still acknowledged by all
the faithful who happen to have met with good luck of any sort.
[Illustration: A GOATHERD]
Bread, butter, and eggs were brought for the muleteers, and I was
greatly surprised by the cleanliness of the men. Before they broke an egg
for the omelette they washed it with greatest care. They themselves stood
far more in need of a washing than the eggs did, but perhaps they could
not be expected to think of everything. Barley was bought, at half the
price charged at Ain el Baidah, and I noticed that the cunning Susi hid
some of it in the long bag they kept at the bottom of one of the
_shwarris_. Clearly they intended to make the supply we paid for serve to
take them all the way to Tiensiert. This was annoying, since one of the
objects of ordering a good supply each night was to enable the
long-suffering beasts to compass a better speed on the following day.
That evening there was great excitement in the douar. The elders came
round our fire after supper and sought to know if it were true that the
"Sons of Lions" had blotted out Sidi el Muktar, and put all its
inhabitants to the sword. When we declared that the little town was still
where it had stood since they were born, they appeared distinctly
surprised, and gave the praise and credit to the patron saint. They said
the kaid's hand was a very heavy one, that his men went to the Wednesday
market and were the terror of the country folks who came to buy and sell.
The absence of the Court Elevated by Allah was to be deplored, for had my
Lord Abd-el-Aziz been in residence at Marrakesh some other kaid would have
made him a bid for the place of the ruler of Sidi el Muktar, basing his
offer upon the fact that the present governor could not keep order. A
change might have been for the better--it could hardly have been for the
worse. One or two of the men of Ain Umast spoke Shilha, and the Susi men,
hearing the cruelties of Sidi el Muktar's ruler discussed, claimed to have
a far better specimen of the genus kaid in Tiensiert. He was a man indeed,
ready with fire and sword at the shortest notice; his subjects called him
Father of Locusts, so thoroughly did he deal with all things that could be
eaten up.
It was a curious but instructive attitude. These miserable men were quite
proud to think that the tyranny of their kaid, the great El Arbi bel Hadj
ben Haida, was not to be rivalled by anything Shiadma could show. They
instanced his treatment of them and pointed to the young boy who was of
their company. His father had been kaid in years past, but the late Grand
Wazeer Ba Ahmad sold his office to El Arbi, who threw the man into prison
and kept him there until he died. To show his might, El Arbi had sent the
boy with them, that all men might know how the social scales of Tiensiert
held the kaid on one side and the rest of the people on the other. The
black slave who accompanied them had been brought up by the late kaid's
father, and was devoted to the boy. In his mercy El Arbi allowed him to
live with the lad and work a small farm, the harvest of which was strictly
tithed by Tiensiert's chief--who took a full nine-tenths. Before the
evening was over the elders of Ain Umast had acknowledged, rather
regretfully I thought, that the tyrant of Sidi el Muktar must hide a
diminished head before his brother of the Sus. The triumph of the grimy
men from Tiensiert was then complete.
They were a sorry set of fellows enough, to outward seeming, but how shall
a European judge them fairly? Stevenson says in one of his Essays,
"Justice is not done to the versatility and the unplumbed childishness of
man's imagination. His life from without may seem but a rude mound of mud;
there will be some golden chamber at the heart of it, in which he dwells
delighted; and for as dark as his pathway seems to the observer, he will
have some kind of bull's-eye at his belt." So, doubtless, had I had the
eyes that see below the surface, these hardy traders, the best of whose
hopes and actions were hidden from me, would have been no less interesting
than the Maalem or the young shareef.
In view of the disturbed state of the country I thought of having a few
extra guards, but finding the two already engaged sleeping peacefully
before our tent was closed, it seemed likely that a couple of sleeping men
would be as useful as four. I fear they had a troubled night, for though
the "Sons of Lions" did not trouble us, a short, sharp shower came with
the small hours and woke the poor fellows, who asked for extra money in
the morning by way of consolation for their broken rest. By five o'clock
we were astir, and soon after we were on the road again, bound for the
village of Hanchen, where a small Sok Thalata[49] is held. After a brief
mid-day rest we reached the outskirts of the Argan Forest.
This great forest is quite the distinctive feature of Southern Morocco.
The argan tree, that gives a name to it, is the indigenous olive of the
country, and is found only in the zone between the Tensift river and the
river Sus. Argan wood is exceedingly hard and slow growing, thus differing
materially from the olive, to which it seems so nearly related. The trunk
divides low down, sometimes within six feet of the roots, and the branches
grow horizontally. If the Moors are right, the age of the elders of the
forest is to be counted in centuries, and the wood can defy the attacks of
insects that make short-work of other trees. The leaves of the argan
recall those of the olive, but have even a lighter silvery aspect on the
underside; the fruit is like the olive, but considerably larger, and is
sought after by many animals. Goats climb among the branches in search of
the best nuts. Camels and cows will not pass an argan tree if given the
slightest chance to linger. The animals that eat the nuts reject their
kernels, and the Moors collect these in order to extract the oil, which is
used in cooking, for lighting purposes, and as medicine. After extraction
the pulp is eagerly accepted by cattle, so no part of the valued fruit is
wasted. One of the giants of the forest, said to be four hundred years
old, has before now given shade to a regiment of soldiers; I saw for
myself that the circumference of its branches was more than two hundred
feet.
[Illustration: COMING FROM THE MOSQUE, HANCHEN]
But it must not be thought that the Argan Forest is composed entirely of
these trees. The argan dominates the forest but does not account for
its beauty. The r'tam is almost as plentiful, and lends far more to the
wood's colour scheme, for its light branches are stirred by every breeze.
Dwarf-palm is to be found on all sides, together with the arar or citrus,
and the double-thorned lotus. The juniper, wild pear, and cork trees are
to be met with now and again, and the ground is for the most part a sea of
flowers almost unknown to me, though I could recognise wild thyme,
asphodel, and lavender amid the tamarisk and myrtle undergrowth. At
intervals the forest opens, showing some large douar that was built
probably on the site of a well, and there industrious village folks have
reclaimed the land, raised crops, and planted orchards. Olive, fig, and
pomegranate seem to be the most popular trees, and corn is grown in the
orchards too, possibly in order that it may have the benefit of the trees'
shade. The soil that can raise corn and fruit trees together must have
exceptional vitality and richness, particularly in view of the fact that
it is in no way fed, and is rather scraped or scratched than truly
ploughed.
The village of Hanchen, known for miles round as "Sok Thalata" by reason
of its weekly gathering, might well serve to justify a halt. It straggles
over a hill surrounded on all sides by the forest, it has a saint's shrine
of fair size and imposing aspect, a good supply of water, and very
peaceful inhabitants. At the base of the slope, some fifty yards from the
broad track leading to the coast, there was an orchard of more than common
beauty, even for Southern Morocco. The pomegranates, aflower above the
ripening corn, had finer blossoms than any I had seen before, the
fig-trees were Biblical in their glossy splendour. Mules were footsore,
the Susi men were tired, the weather was perfect, time was our own for a
day or two, and I was aching to take my gun down the long glades that
seemed to stretch to the horizon. So we off-saddled, and pitched our tent
in the shadow of a patriarchal fig-tree. Then the mules were eased of
their burdens and fed liberally, Salam standing between the poor beasts
and the muleteers, who would have impounded a portion of their hard-earned
meal.
The heat of the afternoon was passing; I loaded my gun and started out. At
first sight of the weapon some score of lads from the village--athletic,
vigorous boys, ready to go anywhere and do anything--made signs that they
would come and beat for me. With Salam's help I gave them proper
instructions; my idea was to shoot enough of fur and feather to give the
muleteers a good supper.
At the outset a sorry accident befell. A fat pigeon came sailing overhead,
so well fed that it was hard to believe he was a pigeon at all. This being
the sort of bird that suits hungry men, I fired and was well pleased to
note the swift direct fall, and to hear the thud that tells of a clean
kill. To my surprise the beaters remained where they were, none offering
to pick up the bird. There were glum and serious looks on every side. I
motioned one lad to go forward, and, to my amazement, he made the sign
that is intended to avert the evil eye, and declared that he took refuge
from me with Allah.
I sent for Salam, and, as he approached, a chorus of explanations came to
him from all sides. The pigeon came from the zowia of El Hanchen. It was
sacred--that is why it was so fat. This was a bad beginning, and a matter
that demanded careful handling. So I sent M'Barak, representing official
Morocco, to express to El Hanchen's headman my extreme sorrow and sincere
regret. The blessed one was instructed to assure the village that I had no
suspicion of the bird's holiness, and that it was my rule in life to
respect everything that other men respected. It seemed courteous to await
the kaid's return before resuming operations, and he came back in half an
hour with word that the headman, while deeply regretting the incident,
recognised the absence of bad intention. He asked that the sacred slain
might not be eaten. I sent back word thanking him for his courteous
acceptance of my explanations, and promising that the fat pigeon should
receive decent burial. A small hole was dug on the sunny side of the
fig-tree, and there the sacred bird was interred. I hope that the worms
proved as particular as we had been.
Duty done, we went off to the woods, the beaters, now quite reassured,
driving stock-doves over in quantities that left no reason to fear about
the muleteers' supper. While birds were the quarry the lads worked well,
but now and again a hare would start from her form, and every boy would
join in the headlong, hopeless chase that ensued. It was impossible to
check them, and equally impossible to shoot at the hare. While she was
within gunshot the lads were close on her heels, and by the time she had
distanced them or dashed into the long grasses and scrub she was out of
range or out of sight. In vain I waved them back and complained when they
returned panting; as soon as another hare got up they went after her in
the same way, until at last, taking advantage of a wild chase that had
carried them rather a longer distance than usual, I took a sharp turn and
strolled away quite by myself. I heard the excited cries die away in the
distance, and then for some few moments the forest silence was broken only
by the rustle of the breeze through the grass, and the sudden scream of a
startled jay. Doves went happily from tree to tree and I never put my gun
up. I had heard a very familiar sound, and wanted to be assured that my
ears were not deceived. No, I was right; I could hear the cuckoo, calling
through the depth of the forest, as though it were my favourite Essex
copse at home. It was pleasant, indeed, to hear the homely notes so far
from any other object, even remotely, connected with England.
I strolled for an hour or more, listening to the "wandering voice,"
heedless of what passed me by, at peace with all the world, and resolved
to shoot no more. Alas, for good intentions! Coming suddenly into a great
clearing girdled by argan trees, I flushed two large birds some forty
yards away. The first was missed, the second came down and proved to be a
Lesser Bustard or _boozerat_--quite a prize. Well content, I emptied the
gun to avoid temptation and walked back to the camp, where there was
quite a fair bag.
"Tell the muleteers, Salam," I said, "that they may have these birds for
their supper, and that I hope they will enjoy themselves."
Salam wore a rather troubled expression, I thought, as he went to the head
muleteer and pointed to the spoils. Then he came back and explained to me
that their dietary laws did not allow the Susi to eat anything that had
not been killed by bleeding in the orthodox fashion. Had they been with
me, to turn wounded birds to the East and cut their throats in the name of
Allah, all would have been well, but birds shot dead were an abomination
to the righteous Susi. They scorned to avail themselves of the excuse
afforded by their needs.[50] So my labour had been in vain, and I did not
know what to do with the spoil. But I left the slain in a little heap out
of the way of insects and flies, and when we rose in the morning the
unorthodox among Hanchen's inhabitants had apparently solved the problem.
FOOTNOTES:
[48] The Camel's Jaw.
[49] "Tuesday market."
[50] "I find not in that which hath been revealed to me anything forbidden
unto the eater ... except it be that which dieth of itself ... or that
which is profane, having been slain in the name of some other than God.
But whoso shall be compelled of necessity to eat these things, not lusting
nor wilfully transgressing, verily thy Lord will be gracious unto him and
merciful."--Al Koran, Sura, "Cattle."
IN THE ARGAN FOREST
[Illustration: EVENING AT HANCHEN]