In the hour of adversity be not without hope;
For crystal rain falls from black clouds.
NIZAMI.
As the day advanced, Suleiman learned from some peasants, who were
crossing the mountains on their way home from Karaman, that they had
met several groups of armed men proceeding towards the town, some
walking, some on horseback, some badly wounded, preceded by two persons
unarmed, who were mounted on Arabian steeds. It struck Suleiman, from
the description given of the two latter individuals, that they could be
no other than Baba Seirami and Kazim, as these were the only unarmed
persons present at the late battle. He concluded also, with his usual
sanguine hastiness of thought, that the stragglers must have been the
remains of his own party, intending to seek refuge in Karaman, and
perhaps to wait there until they should learn some tidings of their
commander. Although his wound still gave him some pain, yet he resolved
on directing his course towards the town, but not to enter it until he
satisfied himself as to the means of safety which it might afford him.
His sworn friends the more readily agreed to accompany him, as they
entertained the hope that the troops to whom the peasants alluded were
of their own party.
As soon as evening approached, Suleiman and his companions led their
horses down the mountain, to the road which the peasants pointed out;
and after journeying for four hours, they perceived by the twinkling
of lights in the distance, that they were within a short distance of
Karaman. Instead, however, of riding directly to the gate, Suleiman
expressed his determination to take up his residence for the night in
one of the retired gardens, by which the town is nearly surrounded.
There finding a hut, which seemed to have been used only during the
summer, and was now abandoned, they at once fixed upon it for their
temporary abode. While one of the men proceeded under cover of the
night to make enquiries in Karaman, another foraged about among the
cottages in the suburbs, and soon returned with a dish of pottage of
boiled millet flour, which Suleiman declared to be the most delicious
meal he had ever enjoyed. The purveyor picked up also on his expedition
an old cloak of coarse woven cloth, lined with lamb’s-skin, with the
wool on the inside, in which Suleiman wrapped himself, and went to
sleep, his two companions alternately watching during the night.
The Mogul, who had been dispatched to Karaman, returned to the hut
early in the morning, with intelligence, that Baba Seirami and Kazim
were in the town, together with about fifty of Suleiman’s troops, who
had escaped from the field of battle; but from the manner in which
he had heard the chieftain spoken of in the town, in consequence
of his flight from the combat, he expressed great apprehension for
Suleiman’s safety, should his defeated followers discover his abode.
He, therefore, advised the chieftain to remain in the hut, until an
opportunity should offer for learning the result of an inquiry, which
he had set on foot through one Kadi-Bardi, a bridle-maker in the town,
with a view to sound the feelings of the soldiers. Bardi had promised
to make all possible haste to the garden, as soon as he should have
obtained the requisite intelligence.
Suleiman, much afflicted by the information thus laid before him,
desired writing materials to be procured--an order which was executed
not without considerable difficulty and delay. Having written a
letter, fully describing his deplorable situation, he addressed it to
Baba Seirami, in whose fidelity he reposed unshaken confidence, and
he anxiously expected the appearance of the Karamanian, to whom he
intended to commit the epistle. But noon passed away, the shades of
evening were already beginning to rise, and still no messenger found
his way to the hut. One of the Moguls, he observed, was frequently
absent during the day, under pretext of seeking for provisions, which
it was not his good fortune to find. The conduct of this man looked
rather suspicious; it seemed as if he was in communication with some
party, who had designs of a sinister nature.
While Suleiman was anxiously gazing from the door of the hut, towards
the little path that led to the town, an apparently aged lame dervish
approached him, clothed in miserable attire, which bespoke the very
lowest degree of poverty. Reproaching Suleiman, in rude and boisterous
language, for taking possession of the hut, which, during that season
of the year, became usually his abode, he boldly demanded compensation
for the use of it, and the immediate departure of the illegitimate
tenant. The chieftain, fallen as he was, retained sufficient dignity
of mind to feel rather amazed than offended, by the coarse expressions
addressed to him, and, without further ceremony, directed his
companions to look about in the gardens for another deserted hut, which
they could hardly fail to find.
While they were searching about in different directions, the dervish
whispered into his ear that he was betrayed; that his foe, Mirtas,
informed of his arrival, was preparing to set out from Karaman,
attended by a large body of troops, who had entered the town the day
before with prisoners; and that in less than an hour he would be
delivered up, bound hand and foot, into the power of the Mogul, unless
he forthwith escaped from the hut.
Suleiman, astounded by this information, hesitated to give it credit;
when the dervish, pointing to the chieftain’s companions on the
outside, bade him observe the caution they exercised, by not going out
of sight of the hut in which he was, and suggested that his only course
of safety was to take flight, after exchanging his uniform for the
tattered garments which he, the dervish, now had on.
The appearance of two or three Mogul horsemen, entering a distant part
of the garden, dispersed the doubts that still lingered in the mind of
Suleiman. While acting on the advice of the dervish, he learned from
him that Baba Seirami, and Kazim Ayas, two of the principal prisoners,
were sentenced to be drawn asunder by wild horses on the following
morning; and that, if the other prisoners had not consented to follow
the standard of Mirtas, they also would have had to undergo a similar
fate.
The defection of his followers scarcely excited any emotion in the
breast of the once formidable chieftain. He had been in some measure
already inured to adversity; but the fate impending over his faithful
friend and adviser Seirami, and Kazim, in whose fortunes the dervish
took a lively interest, called forth expressions of his fiercest anger.
He resolved, be the consequences what they might, to go to Karaman in
his new disguise, to find out his two friends, and, if possible, to
rescue them from the ignominious and dreadful death, to which they had
been doomed by Mirtas.
Suleiman, arrayed in the garb of the dervish, with a staff in his
hand, a weather-worn pointed cap on his head, which came down to his
eyebrows, and an old shawl in shreds fastened round his neck, in which
his chin was deeply buried, had the satisfaction to find himself jeered
at as an impudent old fool, while he limped by one of his late Mogul
companions, who was returning to the hut. Being desirous of avoiding
the troops of Mirtas, on their way to the garden, where they expected
to find their prey, he hastened to Karaman, by a road that led to the
gate which was at the opposite side of the town.
After wandering for some time through the streets, already darkened by
the night, and quite deserted by the inhabitants, who had retired to
repose, he despaired of finding any roof beneath which he might expect
to obtain shelter; when, turning the corner of a filthy narrow lane,
he heard two or three persons conversing together near the gate of a
caravanserai, at which they were standing. From what he could collect
of their conversation, he thought at first that they were disputing
about the division of some booty which they had stolen. On drawing
nearer, however, he learned from their debate, that the plunder was not
yet acquired, but that they were concerting measures for a robbery,
which required a considerable degree of courage, and of cunning at
the same time. The point in discussion was, which of the three was to
ascend first to the floor where their destined victims lay.
“Of the three guards below,” said one of the robbers, “I have no
fear--these I have made drunk already;--and I have mixed with their
humiz a quantity of poppy, which will keep them asleep for some hours.
But those soldiers of Suleiman have, they say, a hundred lives--they
are demons; and although the girdle of Suleiman’s purse-bearer is a
tempting prize, yet I will not be the first to ascend; I have done my
part already, by ascertaining for you, that his girdle is well stored
with golden rupees.”
“It is too great a prize to lose,” observed another, “now that the way
is clear; besides you know that they are to be drawn asunder by wild
horses, in the market-place, by sunrise to-morrow,--then our chances
will be gone for ever.”
“Let me have another cup or two of humiz,” said the third, “and then,
perhaps, I may go first, provided you swear to follow me quietly,
until we are all together on the floor, lest they should awake and
offer resistance; for though they are tied hand and foot by chains of
iron, they might break loose, and pitch us down head foremost into the
stable.”
“Agreed,” exclaimed his confederates; and pulling the gate gently
to, they adjourned to a low hut hard by, where they were admitted
upon giving a peculiar tap, with which the inmates seemed to be well
acquainted.
Suleiman congratulated himself on his good fortune, in overhearing this
conversation. The robber was rightly informed that Seirami had about
him a considerable quantity of gold. This circumstance alone, even if
it had not been aided by the other facts to which the robbers alluded,
would have been sufficient to fix the identity of the unfortunate
prisoners, whom it was the determination of these villains to plunder.
Promptly availing himself of the opportunity thus presented to him so
unexpectedly, of contributing to the double deliverance of his friends,
he entered the stable, where, by the light of an iron lamp affixed to
the wall, he perceived several horses lying down, and near them three
of the Moguls, who belonged to Mirtas, snoring in profound sleep. The
head of one of these vigilant sentinels was resting on a notched pole,
which was the only means of ascent to the loft above. Suleiman gently
removed it, and lifting the pole, he mounted the loft, bringing with
him several pieces of long grass ropes which he found strewed about the
stable.
His first care was, by the assistance of one of these ropes, to let
the pole fall down as nearly as possible in the direction where it had
already lain. He then drew up the rope, and having made a running knot
at the end of it, slung it over one of the beams of the roof. Two other
ropes he adjusted in a similar manner. He had scarcely finished these
arrangements, when he heard the door open below, and the robbers, who
appeared to be all intoxicated, entered the stable. The foremost had in
his hand a small lamp, which he lighted. They then fumbled about until
they found the notched pole, which they raised up towards the edge of
the loft. The man who had promised to ascend first made the attempt
accordingly; but he slipped down three or four times before he could
raise himself by as many of the notches. At length, by the assistance
of his associates, he rose half-way, when he lifted himself slowly
until his head appeared above the floor. Here a large noose was waiting
his presence, which fell imperceptibly upon his shoulders; in a few
moments he ascended with peculiar celerity, much to the delight of his
friends below, who imputed it to the courage infused into him by the
humiz. They followed his example, and at the same point of elevation
they found the toil of climbing farther altogether unnecessary, for
they were raised in a moment by an unseen power to the beam, whence
they were launched into a world for which they were little prepared.
Suleiman having secured the lamp with which the first robber was
provided, now explored the loft in order to discover his friends, who
were, however, nowhere to be seen. Anxious for securing their escape
before the morning broke upon him, he held his breath and listened for
a while, hoping to hear them if they were really near. Presently a low
moan caught his ear; it was the dying gasp of one of the robbers; then
a tremendous crash. The rope by which another was suspended had broken;
he first fell upon the floor, and then to the stable below, with a
noise that made the horses start upon their feet.
“There they come!” exclaimed a voice, which Suleiman well knew to be
that of Seirami.
“Oh, Allah! what is to become of Mangeli!” exclaimed another, whom he
easily guessed to be Kazim.
Suleiman, however, waited with some degree of alarm, fearing that the
sentinels must have been awakened by the hubbub. One did get up, and
looking wildly about, drew his sabre, and cut off the head of the
robber who had fallen near him. The weapon then dropped from his hand,
and he lay prostrate once more, overcome by slumber.