ISRAEL'S GREAT RESOLVE
It was six-and-twenty days since the night of the meeting on the Sok,
and no rain had yet fallen. The eggs of the locust might be hatched
at any time. Then the wingless creatures would rise on the face of the
earth like snow, and the poor lean stalks of wheat and barley that were
coming green out of the ground would wither before them. The country
people were in despair. They were all but stripped of their cattle; they
had no milk; and they came afoot to the market. Death seemed to look
them in the face. Neither in the mosques nor in the synagogues did they
offer petitions to God for rain. They had long ceased their prayers.
Only in the Feddan at the mouths of their tents did they lift up their
heavy eyes to the hot haze of the pitiless sky and mutter, “It is
written!”
Israel was busy with other matters. During these six-and-twenty days he
had been asking himself what it was right and needful that he should do.
He had concluded at length that it was his duty to give up the office he
held under the Kaid. No longer could he serve two masters. Too long had
he held to the one, thinking that by recompense and restitution, by fair
dealing and even-handed justice, he might atone to the other. Recompense
was a mockery of the sufferings which had led to death; restitution was
no longer possible--his own purse being empty--without robbery of the
treasury of his master; fair dealing and even justice were a vain hope
in Barbary, where every man who held office, from the heartless Sultan
in his hareem to the pert Mut'hasseb in the market, must be only as a
human torture-jellab, made and designed to squeeze the life-blood out of
the man beneath him.
To endure any longer the taunts and laughter of Ben Aboo was impossible,
and to resist the covetous importunities of his Spanish woman, Katrina,
was a waste of shame and spirit. Besides, and above all, Israel
remembered that God had given him grace in the sacrifices which he had
made already. Twice had God rewarded him, in the mercy He had shown to
Naomi, for putting by the pomp and circumstance of the world. Would
His great hand be idle now--now when he most needed its mighty and
miraculous power when Naomi, being conscious of her blindness, was
mourning and crying for sweet sight of the world and he himself was
about to put under his feet the last of his possessions that separated
him from other men--his office that he wrought for in the early days
with sweat of brow and blood, and held on to in the later days through
evil report and hatred, that he might conquer the fate that had first
beaten him down!
Israel was in the way of bribing God again, forgetting, in the heat
of his desire, the shame of his journey to Shawan. He made his
preparations, and they were few. His money was gone already, and so were
his dead wife's jewels. He had determined that he would keep his house,
if only as a shelter to Naomi (for he owed something to her material
comfort as well as her spiritual welfare), but that its furniture and
belongings were more luxurious than their necessity would require or
altered state allow.
So he sold to a Jewish merchant in the Mellah the couches and great
chairs which he had bought out of England, as well as the carpets
from Rabat, the silken hangings from Fez, and the purple canopies from
Morocco city. When these were gone, and nothing remained but the simple
rugs and mattresses which are all that the house of a poor man needs in
that land where the skies are kind, he called his servants to him as he
sat in the patio--Ali as well as the two bondwomen--for he had decided
that he must part with them also, and they must go their ways.
“My good people,” he said, “you have been true and faithful servants to
me this many a year--you, Fatimah, and you also, Habeebah, since before
the days when my wife came to me--and you too, Ali, my lad, since you
grew to be big and helpful. Little I thought to part with you until my
good time should come; but my life in our poor Barbary is over already,
and to-morrow I shall be less than the least of all men in Tetuan. So
this is what I have concluded to do. You, Fatimah, and you, Habeebah,
being given to me as bondwomen by the Kaid in the old days when
my power, which now is little and of no moment, was great and
necessary--you belong to me. Well, I give you your liberty. Your papers
are in the name of Ben Aboo, and I have sealed them with his seal--that
is the last use but one that I shall put it to. Here they are, both of
them. Take them to the Kadi after prayers in the morning, and he will
ratify your title. Then you will be free women for ever after.”
The black women had more than once broken in upon Israel's words with
exclamations of surprise and consternation. “Allah!” “Bismillah!” “Holy
Saints!” “By the beard of the Prophet!” And when at length he put the
deeds of emancipation into their hands they fell into loud fits of
hysterical weeping.
“As for you, Ali, my son,” Israel continued, “I cannot give you your
freedom, for you are a freeman born. You have been a son to me these
fourteen years. I have another task for you--a perilous task, a solemn
duty--and when it is done I shall see you no more. My brave boy, you
will go far, but I do not fear for you. When you are gone I shall think
of you; and if you should sometimes think of your old master who could
not keep you, we may not always be apart.”
The lad had listened to these words in blank bewilderment. That strange
disasters had of late befallen their household was an idea that had
forced itself upon his unwilling mind. But that Israel, the greatest,
noblest, mightiest man in the world--let the dogs of rasping Jews and
the scurvy hounds of Moors yelp and bark as they would--should fall to
be less than the least in Tetuan, and, having fallen that he should
send him away--him, Ali, his boy whom he had brought up, Naomi's old
playfellow--Allah! Allah! in the name of the merciful God, what did his
master mean?
Ali's big eyes began to fill, and great beads rolled down his black
cheeks. Then, recovering his speech he blurted out that he would not go.
He would follow his father and serve him until the end of his life. What
did he want with wages? Who asked for any? No going his ways for him! A
pretty thing, wasn't it, that he should go off, and never see his father
again, no, nor Naomi--Naomi--that-that--but God would show! God would
show!
And, following Ali's lead, Fatimah stepped up to Israel and offered her
paper back. “Take it,” she said; “I don't want any liberty. I've got
liberty enough as I am. And here--here,” fumbling in her waistband and
bringing out a knitted purse; “I would have offered it before, only I
thought shame. My wages? Yes. You've paid us wages these nine years,
haven't you; and what right had we to any, being slaves? You will not
take it, my lord? Well, then, my dear master, if I must go, if I must
leave you, take my papers and sell me to some one. I shall not care,
and you have a right to do it. Perhaps I'll get another good master--who
knows?”
Her brows had been knitted, and she had tried to look stern and angry,
but suddenly her cheeks were a flood of tears.
“I'm a fool!” she cried. “I'll never get a good master again; but if I
get a bad one, and he beats me, I'll not mind, for I'll think of
you, and my precious jewel of gold and silver, my pretty gazelle,
Naomi--Allah preserve her!--that you took my money, and I'm bearing it
for both of you, as we might say--working for you--night and day--night
and day--”
Israel could endure no more. He rose up and fled out of the patio
into his own room, to bury his swimming face. But his soul was big
and triumphant. Let the world call him by what names it would--tyrant,
traitor, outcast pariah--there were simple hearts that loved and
honoured him--ay, honoured him--and they were the hearts that knew him
best.
The perilous task reserved for Ali was to go to Shawan and to liberate
the followers of Absalam, who, less happy than their leader, whose
strong soul was at rest, were still in prison without abatement of
the miseries they lay under. He was to do this by power of a warrant
addressed to the Kaid of Shawan and drawn under the seal of the Kaid of
Tetuan. Israel had drawn it, and sealed it also, without the knowledge
or sanction of Ben Aboo; for, knowing what manner of man Ben Aboo was,
and knowing Katrina also, and the sway she held over him, and thinking
it useless to attempt to move either to mercy, he had determined to make
this last use of his office, at all risks and hazards.
Ben Aboo might never hear that the people were at large, for Ali was to
forbid them to return to Tetuan, and Shawan was sixty weary miles away.
And if he ever did hear, Israel himself would be there to bear the brunt
of his displeasure, but Ali the instrument of his design, must be
far away. For when the gates of the prison had been opened, and the
prisoners had gone free, Ali was neither to come back to Tetuan nor to
remain in Morocco, but with the money that Israel gave him out of the
last wreck of his fortune he was to make haste to Gibraltar by way
of Ceuta, and not to consider his life safe until he had set foot in
England.
“England!” cried Ali. “But they are all white men there.”
“White-hearted men, my lad,” said Israel; “and a Jewish man may find
rest for the sole of his foot among them.”
That same day the black boy bade farewell to Israel and to Naomi. He was
leaving them for ever, and he was broken-hearted. Israel was his father,
Naomi was his sister, and never again should he set his eyes on either.
But in the pride of his perilous mission he bore himself bravely.
“Well, good-night,” he said, taking Naomi's hand, but not looking into
her blind face.
“Good-night,” she answered, and then, after a moment, she flung her arms
about his neck and kissed him. He laughed lightly, and turned to Israel.
“Good-night, father,” he said in a shrill voice.
“A safe journey to you, my son,” said Israel; “and may you do all my
errands.”
“God burn my great-grandfather if I do not!” said Ali stoutly.
But with that word of his country his brave bearing at length broke
down, and drawing Israel aside, that Naomi might not hear, he whispered,
sobbing and stammering, “When--when I am gone, don't, don't tell her
that I was black.”
Then in an instant he fled away.
“In peace!” cried Israel after him. “In peace! my brave boy, simple,
noble, loyal heart!”
Next morning Israel, leaving Naomi at home, set off for the Kasbah, that
he might carry out his great resolve to give up the office he held under
the Kaid. And as he passed through the streets his head was held up, and
he walked proudly. A great burden had fallen from him, and his spirit
was light. The people bent their heads before him as he passed, and
scowled at him when he was gone by. The beggars lying at the gate of the
Mosque spat over their fingers behind his back, and muttered “Bismillah!
In the name of God!” A negro farmer in the Feddan, who was bent double
over a hoof as he was shoeing a bony and scabby mule, lifted his ugly
face, bathed in sweat, and grinned at Israel as he went along. A
group of Reefians, dirty and lean and hollow-eyed, feeding their
gaunt donkeys, and glancing anxiously at the sky over the heads of the
mountains, snarled like dogs as he strode through their midst. The sky
was overcast, and the heads of the mountains were capped with mist.
“Balak!” sounded in Israel's ears from every side. “Arrah!” came
constantly at his heels. A sweet-seller with his wooden tray swung in
front of him, crying, “Sweets, all sweets, O my lord Edrees, sweets,
all sweets,” changed the name of the patron saint of candies, and cried,
“Sweets, all sweets, O my lord Israel, sweets, all sweets!” The girl
selling clay peered up impudently into Israel's eyes, and the oven-boy,
answering the loud knocking of the bodiless female arms thrust out at
doors standing ajar, made his wordless call articulate with a mocking
echo of Israel's name.
What matter? Israel could not be wroth with the poor people.
Six-and-twenty years he had gone in and out among them as a slave. This
morning he was a free man, and to-morrow he would be one of themselves.
When he reached the Kasbah, there was something in the air about it that
brought back recollections of the day--now nearly four years past--of
the children's gathering at Katrina's festival. The lusty-lunged Arabs
squatting at the gates among soldiers in white selhams and peaked
shasheeahs the women in blankets standing in the outer court, the dark
passages smelling of damp, the gusts of heavy odour coming from the
inner chambers, and the great patio with the fountain and fig-trees--the
same voluptuous air was over everything. And as on that day so on this,
in the alcove under the horseshoe arch sat Ben Aboo and his Spanish
wife.
Time had dealt with them after their kind, and the swarthy face of the
Kaid was grosser, the short curls under his turban were more grey and
his hazel eyes were now streaked and bleared, but otherwise he was the
same man as before, and Katrina also, save for the loss of some teeth
of the upper row, was the same woman. And if the children had risen up
before Israel's eyes as he stood on the threshold of the patio, he could
not have drawn his breath with more surprise than at the sight of the
man who stood that morning in their place.
It was Mohammed of Mequinez. He had come to ask for the release of
the followers of Absalam from their prison at Shawan. In defiance
of courtesy his slippers were on his feet. He was clad in a piece of
untanned camel-skin, which reached to his knees and was belted about his
waist. His head, which was bare to the sun and drooped by nature like a
flower, was held proudly up, and his wild eyes were flashing. He was not
supplicating for the deliverance of the people, but demanding it, and
taxing Ben Aboo as a tyrant to his throat.
“Give me them up, Ben Aboo,” he was saying as Israel came to the
threshold, “or, if they die in their prison, one thing I promise you.”
“And pray what is that?” said Ben Aboo.
“That there will be a bloody inquiry after their murderer.”
Ben Aboo's brows were knitted, but he only glanced at Katrina, and made
pretence to laugh, and then said, “And pray, my lord, who shall the
murderer be?”
Then Mohammed of Mequinez stretched out his hand and answered,
“Yourself.”
At that word there-was silence for a moment, while Ben Aboo shifted in
his seat, and Katrina quivered beside him.
Ben Aboo glanced up at Mohammed. He was Kaid, he was Basha, he was
master of all men within a circuit of thirty miles, but he was afraid of
this man whom the people called a prophet. And partly out of this fear,
and partly because he had more regard to Mohammed's courageous behaviour
in thus bearding him in his Kasbah and by the walls of his dungeons than
to the anger his hot word had caused him, Ben Aboo would have promised
him at that moment that the prisoners at Shawan should be released.
But suddenly Katrina remembered that she also had cause of indignation
against this man, for it had been rumoured of late that Mohammed had
openly denounced her marriage.
“Wait, Sidi,” she said. “Is not this the fellow that has gone up and
down your bashalic, crying out on our marriage that it was against the
law of Mohammed?”
At that Ben Aboo saw clearly that there was no escape for him, so he
made pretence to laugh again, and said, “Allah! so it is! Mohammed the
Third, eh? Son of Mequinez, God will repay you! Thanks! Thanks! You
could never think how long I've waited that I might look face to face
upon the prophet that has denounced a Kaid.”
He uttered these big words between bursts of derisive laughter, but
Mohammed struck the laughter from his lips in an instant. “Wait no
longer, O Ben Aboo,” he cried, “but look upon him now, and know that
what you have done is an unclean thing, and you shall be childless and
die!”
Then Ben Aboo's passion mastered him. He rose to his feet in his anger,
and cried, “Prophet, you have destroyed yourself. Listen to me! The
turbulent dogs you plead for shall lie in their prison until they perish
of hunger and rot of their sores. By the beard of my father, I swear
it!”
Mohammed did not flinch. Throwing back his head, he answered, “If I am
a prophet, O Ben Aboo hear me prophesy. Before that which you say shall
come to pass, both you and your father's house will be destroyed. Never
yet did a tyrant go happily out of the world, and you shall go out of it
like a dog.”
Then Katrina also rose to her feet, and, calling to a group of
barefooted Arab soldiers that stood near, she cried, “Take him! He will
escape!”
But the soldiers did not move, and Ben Aboo fell back on his seat, and
Mohammed, fearing nothing, spoke again.
“In a vision of last night I saw you, O Ben Aboo and for the contempt
you had cast upon our holy laws, and for the destruction you had wrought
on our poor people, the sword of vengeance had fallen upon you. And
within this very court, and on that very spot where your feet now rest,
your whole body did lie; and that woman beside you lay over you wailing
and your blood was on her face and on her hands, and only she was with
you, for all else had forsaken you--all save one, and that was your
enemy, and he had come to see you with his eyes, and to rejoice over you
with his heart, because you were fallen and dead.”
Then, in the creeping of his terror, Ben Aboo rose up again and reeled
backward and his eyes were fixed steadfastly downward at his feet where
the eyes of Mohammed had rested. It was almost as if he saw the awful
thing of which Mohammed had spoken, so strong was the power of the
vision upon him.
But recovering himself quickly, he cried, “Away! In the name of God,
away!”
“I will go,” said Mohammed; “and beware what you do while I am gone.”
“Do you threaten me?” cried Ben Aboo. “Will you go to the Sultan? Will
you appeal to Abd er-Rahman?”
“No, Ben Aboo; but to God.”
So saying, Mohammed of Mequinez strode out of the place, for no man
hindered him. Then Ben Aboo sank back on to his seat as one that was
speechless, and nothing had the crimson on his body availed him, or the
silver on his breast, against that simple man in camel-skin, who owned
nothing and asked nothing, and feared neither Kaid nor King.
When Ben Aboo had regained himself, he saw Israel standing at the
doorway, and he beckoned to him with the downward motion, which is the
Moorish manner. And rising on his quaking limbs he took him aside and
said, “I know this fellow. Ya Allah! Allah! For all his vaunts and
visions he has gone to Abd er-Rahman. God will show! God will show! I
dare not take him! Abd er-Rahman uses him to spy and pry on his Bashas!
Camel-skin coat? Allah! a fine disguise! Bismillah! Bismillah!”
Then, looking back at the place where Mohammed in the vision saw his
body lie outstretched, he dropped his voice to a whisper, and said,
“Listen! You have my seal?”
Israel without a word, put his hand into the pocket of his waistband,
and drew out the seal of Ben Aboo.
“Right! Now hear me, in the name of the merciful God. Do not liberate
these infidel dogs at Shawan and do not give them so much as bread to
eat or water to drink, but let such as own them feed them. And if ever
the thing of which that fellow has spoken should come to pass--do you
hear?--in the hour wherein it befalls--Allah preserve me!--in that hour
draw a warrant on the Kaid of Shawan and seal it with my seal--are you
listening?--a warrant to put every man, woman, and child to the sword.
Ya Allah! Allah! We will deal with these spies of Abd er-Rahman!
So shall there be mourning at my burial--Holy Saints! Holy
Saints!--mourning, I say, among them that look for joy at my death.”
Thus in a quaking voice, sometimes whispering, and again breaking into
loud exclamations, Ben Aboo in his terror poured his broken words into
Israel's ear.
Israel made no answer. His eyes had become dim--he scarcely saw the
walls of the place wherein they stood. His ears had become dense--he
scarcely heard the voice of Ben Aboo, though the Kaid's hot breath was
beating upon his cheek. But through the haze he saw the shadow of one
figure tramping furiously to and fro, and through the thick air the
voice of another figure came muffled and harsh. For Katrina, having
chased away with smiles the evil looks of Ben Aboo, had turned to Israel
and was saying--
“What is this I hear of your beautiful daughter--this Naomi of
yours--that she has recovered her speech and hearing! When did that
happen, pray? No answer? Ah, I see, you are tired of the deception. You
kept it up well between you. But is she still blind? So? Dear me! Blind,
poor child. Think of it!”
Israel neither answered nor looked up, but stood motionless on the
same place, holding the seal in his hand. And Ben Aboo, in his restless
tramping up and down, came to him again, and said, “Why are you a Jew,
Israel ben Oliel? The dogs of your people hate you. Witness to the
Prophet! Resign yourself! Turn Muslim, man--what's to hinder you?”
Still Israel made no reply. But Ben Aboo continued: “Listen! The people
about me are in the pay of the Sultan, and after all you are the best
servant I have ever had. Say the Kelmah, and I'll make you my Khaleefa.
Do you hear?--my Khaleefa, with power equal to my own. Man, why don't
you speak? Are you grown stupid of late as well as weak and womanish?”