TWO TURKISH TALES
The situation now offered the reader is worth a pause, if only to fix
it in mind.
Constantine and Mahommed, soon to be contestants in war, are coming
face to face, lovers both of the same woman. The romance is obvious;
yet it is heightened by another circumstance. One of them is in danger.
We of course know Aboo-Obeidah, the Singing Sheik, is Prince Mahommed
in disguise; we know the Prince also as heir of Amurath the Sultan, a
very old man liable to vacate place and life at any moment. Suppose now
the rash adventurer--the term fits the youth truly as if he were
without rank--should be discovered and denounced to the Emperor. The
consequences can only be treated conjecturally.
In the first place, to what extremities the Prince would be put in
explaining his presence there. He could plead the invitation of the
Princess Irene. But his rival would be his judge, and the judge might
find it convenient to laugh at the truth, and rest his decision on the
prisoner's disguise, in connection with his own presence--two facts
sufficiently important to serve the most extreme accusation.
Constantine, next, was a knightly monarch who knew to live nobly, and
dared die as he lived; yet, thinking of what he might do with Mahommed
fallen into his hands under circumstances so peculiar, there was never
a Caesar not the slave of policy. In the audience to Manuel the sailor,
we have seen how keenly sensitive he was to the contraction the empire
had suffered. Since that day, to be sure, he had managed to keep the
territory he came to; none the less, he felt the Turk to whom the
stolen provinces invariably fell was his enemy, and that truce or
treaty with him did not avail to loosen the compression steadily
growing around his capital. Over and over, daytime and night, the
unhappy Emperor pondered the story of the daughter of Tantalus; and
often, starting from dreams in which the Ottoman power was a serpent
slowly crawling to its victim, he would cry in real agony--"O
Constantinople--Niobe! Who can save thee but God? And if He will
not--alas, alas!" The feeling thus engendered was not of a kind to
yield readily to generosity. Mahommed once securely his, everything
might be let go--truth, honor, glory--everything but the terms of
advantage purchasable with such an hostage.
The invitation to the imaginary Sheik had been a last act of grace by
Irene, about to embark for the city. Mahommed, when he accepted, knew
Therapia by report a village very ancient historically, but decaying,
and now little more than a summer resort and depot of supplies for
fishermen. That its proverbial quietude would be disturbed, and the
sleepy blood of its inhabitants aroused, by a royal galley anchoring in
the bay to discharge the personnel of the empire itself, could have had
no place in his anticipations. So when he stepped into a boat, the
Aboo-Obeidah of his eulogy, and suffered himself, without an attendant,
to be ferried across to Roumeli-Hissar; when he there took an humble
wherry of two oars, and bade the unliveried Greeks who served them pull
for Therapia, it was to see again the woman who was taking his fancy
into possession, not Constantine and his court bizarre in splendor and
habitude. In other words, Mahommed on setting out had no idea of
danger. Love, or something very like it, was his sole inspiration.
The trireme, with the white cross on its red sail, its deck a martial
and courtly spectacle, had been reported to him as the hundred and
twenty flashing scarlet blades, in their operation a miracle of unity,
whisked it by the old Castle, and he had come forth to see it. Where
are they going? he asked those around him; and they, familiar with the
Bosphorus, its shipping and navigation, answered unanimously, To
exercise her crew up in the Black Sea; and thinking of the breadth of
the dark blue fields there, the reply commended itself, and he
dismissed the subject.
The course chosen by his boatmen when they put off from Roumeli-Hissar
kept him close to the European shore, which he had leisure to study.
Then, as now, it was more favored than its Asiatic opposite. The winds
from the sea, southward blowing, unloaded their mists to vivify its ivy
and myrtle. The sunlight, tarrying longest over its pine-clad summits,
coaxed habitations along the shore; here, a palace; there, under an
overhanging cliff, a hamlet; yonder, a long extended village
complaisantly adapting itself to the curvatures of the brief margin
left it for occupancy. Wherever along the front of the heights and on
the top there was room for a field the advantage had been seized. So
the Prince had offered him the sight of all others most significant of
peace among men--sight of farmers tilling the soil. With the lucid sky
above him summer-laden, the water under and about him a liquid
atmosphere, the broken mountain-face changing from lovely to lovelier,
and occasionally awakening him with a superlative splendor, the abodes
so near, and the orchards and strawberry and melon patches overhead,
symbolizing goodwill and fraternity and happiness amongst the poor and
humble--with these, and the rhythmic beating of the oars to soothe his
spirit, fierce and mandatory even in youth, he went, the time divided
between views fair enough for the most rapturous dreams, and the Greek,
of whom, with all their brightness, they were but dim suggestions. Past
the stream-riven gorge of Balta-Liman he went; past Emirghian; past the
haven of Stenia, and the long shore-town of Yenikeui; then, half
turning the Keuibachi bend, lo! Therapia, draggling down the stony
steep, like a heap of bangles on a brown-red cheek. And there, in the
soft embracement of the bay, a bird with folded wings asleep--the
_trireme_!
The sight startled the Prince. He spoke to the rowers, and they ceased
fighting the current, and with their chins over their shoulders, looked
whither he pointed. From ship to shore he looked; then, pursuing the
curve inland to the bridge at the upper end; thence down what may be
called the western side, he beheld people crowding between a quay and a
red kiosk over which pended a wooded promontory.
"There is a Princess living in this vicinity," said he to one of the
rowers, slightly lifting the handkerchief from his face. "Where is her
palace?"
"In the garden yonder. You see the gate over the heads of the men and
women."
"What is her name?"
"Princess Irene. She is known on this shore as the Good Princess."
"Irene--a sound pleasant to the ear"--Mahommed muttered. "Why is she
called good?"
"Because she is an angel of mercy to the poor."
"That is not usual with the great and rich," he said next, yielding to
a charm in the encomiums.
"Yes," the boatman responded, "she is great, being akin to the Emperor,
and rich, too, though"--
Here the man broke off to assist in bringing the boat back from its
recession with the current, at this point boisterously swift.
"You were saying the Princess is rich," Mahommed said, when the oars
were again at rest.
"Oh, yes! But I cannot tell you, my friend, how many are partners in
her wealth. Every widow and orphan who can get to her comes away with a
portion. Isn't it so?"
His companion grunted affirmatively, adding: "Down yonder a man with a
crooked back lives in an arched cell opening on the water. Perhaps the
stranger saw it as he came up."
"Yes," Mahommed answered.
"Well, in the back part of the cell he has an altar with a crucifix and
a picture of the Blessed Mother on it, and he keeps a candle burning
before them day and night--something he could not do if we did not help
him, for candles of wax are costly. He has named the altar after the
Princess, Sta. Irene. We often stop and go in there to pray; and I have
heard the blessings in the light of that candle are rich and many as
the Patriarch has for sale in Sta. Sophia."
These praises touched Mahommed; for, exalted as he was in station, he
was aware of the proneness of the poor to berate the rich and grumble
at the great, and that such had been a habit with them from the
commencement of the world. Again the boat slipped down the current;
when it was brought back, he asked: "When did the ship yonder come up?"
"This morning."
"Oh, yes! I saw it then, but thought the crew were being taken to the
sea for practice."
"No," the boatman replied, "it is the state galley of His Majesty the
Emperor. Did you not see him? He sat on the throne with all his
ministers and court around him."
Mahommed was startled.
"Where is the Emperor now?" he inquired.
"I should say, seeing the crowd yonder, that His Majesty is in the
palace with the Princess."
"Yes," said the second rower, "they are waiting to see him come out."
"Row out into the bay. I should like to have the view from that
quarter."
While making the detour, Mahommed reflected. Naturally he remembered
himself the son of Amurath; after which it was easy to marshal the
consequences of exposure, if he persisted in his venture. He saw
distinctly how his capture would be a basis of vast bargaining with his
father, or, if the sturdy old warrior preferred revenge to payment of a
ruinous ransom, how the succession and throne might slip to another,
leaving him a prisoner for life.
Yet another matter presented itself to him which the reader may decide
worthy a separate paragraph. Its mention has been waiting this
opportunity. The Prince from Magnesia, his seat of government, was on
the way to Adrianople, called thither by his father, who had chosen a
bride for him, daughter of a renowned Emir. Regularly he would have
crossed the Hellespont at Gallipoli; a whim, however, took him to the
White Castle--whim or destiny, one being about as satisfactory as the
other. Pondering silently whether it were not best to return, he
thought, apropos the Princess Irene, of the nuptials to be celebrated,
and of his bride expectant; and a Christian, pausing over the
suggestion, may be disposed to condemn him for inconstancy.
In countries where many wives are allowed the same husband he is not
required to love any of them. Indeed, his fourth spouse may be the
first to command him; hers the eyes for his enslavement; hers the voice
of the charmer charming both wisely and forever. Mahommed did now think
of the Emir's daughter, but not with compunction, nor even in
comparison. He had never seen her face, and would not until after the
wedding days. He thought of her but to put her aside; she could not be
as this Christian was, neither so accomplished nor courtly; besides
which, it was dawning upon him that there were graces of mind and soul
as well as of person, while perfection was a combination of all the
graces in equal degree. Gleams of the latter had visited him while
gazing into the radiant face of the Emperor's kinswoman; and how, at
such favoring times, his fancy had gone out to her and come back
warmed, enlivened, glorified! There is a passion of the mind and a
passion of the blood; and though one and one make two, two is still a
multiple of one.
Looking thus at the galley, Mahommed thought of the tales in the East
not less common than in the West, and believed in them faithfully, for
chivalry was merely on the wane--tales of beauteous damsels shut up in
caves or adamantine castles, with guardian lions couchant at the gates,
and of well-sworded heroes who marched boldly up to the brutes, and
slew them, and delivered the captives always with reward. Of course, in
making the application, the Princess was the prisoner, the ship the
lion, and himself--well, in want of a sword, he laid hand upon his
dagger, precisely as a liberating knight up to the ideal would do.
Nor was this all. The revelations of the Prince of India were still
fresh to him. He wished to see his competitor. How did he look? Was
there enough of him to make battle? He smiled thinking of the pleasure
there would be in slyly studying the Princess and the Emperor at the
same time. He drew the handkerchief down, looked at his brown-stained
hands, and adjusted the folds of his burnoose. The disguise was perfect.
"Take me to the landing--there before the gate of the Good Princess,"
he said, with the air of a traveller above suspicion.
His resolution was taken. Challenging all chances, he would respond to
the invitation of the Princess. And so completely were doubt and
hesitation dismissed with our adventurer, that it was not Mahommed who
stepped from the boat where the populace was in densest assemblage, but
Aboo-Obeidah, the Singing Sheik, and as such we will speak of him.
The guard at the gate, viewing him askance, detained him until he could
be reported.
A fair conception of the scene presented when the Sheik stood on the
floor of the portico is probably in the reader's mind; yet a glance at
it may be pardoned. It was at first like a sudden introduction to an
oriental garden. There were the vines, flowering shrubs, fruiting
trees, many-fronded palms, and the effect of outdoors derived from the
shadows of the pillars, and the sunshine streaming brilliantly through
the open intervals. The tables bore proofs of the collation served upon
them. Overhead was the soft creaminess of pure marble in protected
state mellowed by friendly touches of time. At the end of the vista,
the company was indistinctly visible through the verdure of obtruding
branches. Voices came to him from that part, and gleams of bright
garments; and to get to them it seemed he must pass through a
viridescent atmosphere flecked with blooms, and faintly sweet with
odors. For in losing the masculinity of their race the Greeks devoted
themselves more and more to refined effeminacies.
Moving slowly forward under the guidance of Lysander, whose javelin
beating the floor accentuated the rasping shuffle of his sandals, the
Sheik came presently to a full view of the concourse.
He stopped, partly in obedience to a fine instinct of propriety
teaching him he was now subject to the pleasure of his hostess, and
partly to single out the royal enemy against whom he believed he was
about to be pitted by destiny.
Constantine was sitting at ease, his left elbow resting on an arm of
the sedilium, his forefinger supporting his cheek, his cloak across his
lap. The attitude was reflective; the countenance exposed under the
lifted visor of the helmet, was calm and benignant; except there was no
suggestion of an evil revery holding the current of his thought, or
casting a shade of uncertainty over his soul, he looked not unlike the
famous Il Penseroso familiar to art-seekers in the Medici Chapel of
Florence. Then the eyes of the rivals met. The Greek was in no wise
moved. How it would have been with him could he have seen through the
disguise of the Sheik may never be said. On the other part, the Sheik
lifted his head, and seemed taking on increase of stature. A projecting
fold of the head-kerchief overhung his face, permitting nothing to be
seen but red-hued cheeks, a thin beard, and eyes black and glittering.
The review he felt himself undergoing did not daunt him; it only sent
his pride mounting, like a leap of flame. "By the Virgin!" said one of
the courtiers to another, in a louder tone than the occasion demanded.
"We may indeed congratulate ourselves upon having seen the king of
camel drivers." There was a disposition to laugh amongst the
lighter-minded of the guests, but the Princess checked it by rising.
"Bid the Sheik approach," she said, to the old domestic; and, at a sign
from her, the waiting-women drew closer about her chair. The figure of
the Princess clad all in white, a bracelet of plain gold upon her left
arm, fillets in her hair, one red, the other blue, a double strand of
pearls about her neck--this figure, with the small head, perfect in
turn, set matchlessly upon the sloping shoulders, the humid eyes full
of violet light, the cheeks flushed with feeling--this figure so bright
in its surroundings, admitted no rivalry in attention, none in
admiration; the courtiers, old and young, turned from the Sheik, and
the Sheik from the Emperor. In a word, every eye centred upon the
Princess, every tongue bade hush lest what she said might be lost.
Etiquette required the Sheik's presentation to the Emperor first, but
seeing her about to comply with the rule, he prostrated himself at her
feet. As he arose, she said: "When I invited you to come and give me
more of the cheer there is in your art, O Sheik, I did not know my
gracious kinsman, to whom every Greek is proud and happy to be
allegiant, designed visiting me to-day. I pray you will not suffer too
much from his presence, but regard him a royal auditor who delights in
a tale well told, and in verses when the theme and measure go lovingly
together. His Majesty, the Emperor!"
"Hist! Didst hear?" whispered the Professor of Philosophy to the
Professor of Rhetoric. "Thyself couldst not have spoken better."
"Ay, truly," the other answered. "Save a trifle of stiffness, the
speech might have served Longinus."
With her last word, the Princess stepped aside, leaving Mahommed and
Constantine front to front.
Had the Sheik been observant of the monarch's dues, he would have
promptly prostrated himself; but the moment for the salutation passed,
and he remained standing, answering the look he received calmly as it
was given. The reader and the writer know the reason governing him; the
suite, however, were not so well informed, and they began to murmur.
The Princess herself appeared embarrassed.
"Lord of Constantinople," the Sheik said, seeing speech was his, "were
I a Greek, or a Roman, or an Ottoman, I should make haste to kiss the
floor before you, happy of the privilege; for--be the concession well
noted"--he glanced deferentially around him as he spoke--"the report
which the world has of you is of a kind to make it your lover. After a
few days--Allah willing--I shall stand before Amurath the Sultan.
Though in reverencing him I yield not to any one simply his friend, he
will waive prostration from me, knowing what Your Majesty may not. In
my country we cleanse the ground with our beards before no one but God.
Not that we are unwilling to conform to the rules of the courts in
which we find ourselves; with us it is a law--To kiss a man's hand
maketh him the master; prostrate thyself to him, and without other act,
thou becomest his subject. I am an Arab!"
The Sheik was not in the least defiant; on the contrary, his manner was
straightforward, simple, sincere, as became one interposing conscience
against an observance in itself rightful enough. Only in the last
exclamation was there a perceptible emphasis, a little marked by a lift
of the head and a kindling of the eyes.
"I see Your Majesty comprehends me," he said, continuing; "yet to
further persuade your court, and especially the fair and high-born
lady, whose guest, with all my unworthiness, I am, from believing me
moved in this matter by disrespect for their sovereign, I say next, if
by prostration I made myself a Roman, the act would be binding on the
tribe whose Sheik I am by lawful election. And did I that, O thou whose
bounties serve thy people in lieu of rain! though my hand were white,
like the first Prophet's, when, to assure the Egyptian, he drew it from
his bosom, it would char blacker than dust of burned willow--then, O
thou, lovelier than the queen the lost lapwing reported to Solomon!
though my breath were as the odor of musk, it would poison, like an
exhalation from a leper's grave--then, O my lords! like Karoon in his
wickedness, I should hear Allah say of me, O Earth, swallow him! For as
there are crimes and crimes, verily the chief who betrays his brethren
born to the practice of freedom, shall wander between tents all his
days, crying, Oh, alas! oh, alas! Who now will defend me against God?"
When the Sheik paused, as if for judgment, he was not only acquitted of
intentional disrespect; the last grumbler was anxious to hear him
further.
"What astonishing figures!" the Philosopher whispered to the
Rhetorician. "I begin to think it true that the East hath a style of
its own."
"I commend thy sagacity, my brother," the other replied. "His
peroration was redolent of the Koran--A wonderful fellow nevertheless!"
Presently the whole concourse was looking at the Emperor, with whom it
rested whether the Sheik should be dismissed or called on for
entertainment.
"Daughter," said Constantine to the Princess, "I know not enough of the
tribal law of thy guest to have an opinion of the effect upon him and
his of the observance of our ancient ceremony; wherefore we are bound
to accept his statement. Moreover it does not become our dignity to
acquire subjects and dominion, were they ever so desirable, in a method
justly liable to impeachment for treachery and coercion. Besides
which--and quite as important, situated as we are--thy hospitality is
to be defended."
Here the Sheik, who had been listening to the Emperor, and closely
observing him, thrice lightly clapped his hands.
"It remains for us, therefore, to waive the salutation in this
instance."
A ripple of assent proceeded from the suite.
"And now, daughter," Constantine pursued, "thy guest being present to
give thee of his lore, it may be he will be pleased to have us of his
audience as well. Having heard much of such performances, and
remembering their popularity when we were in our childhood, we will
esteem ourselves fortunate if now favored by one highly commended as a
master in his guild."
The Sheik's eyes sparkled brighter as he answered, "It is written for
us in our Holiest, the very Word of the Compassionate,--'If ye are
greeted with a greeting, then greet ye with a better greeting, or at
least return it.' Verily my Lord dispenseth honor with so light a hand
as not to appear aware of the doing. When my brethren under the black
tents are told of my having won the willing ear of their Majesties of
Byzantium and Adrianople, they will think of me as one who has been
permitted to walk in the light of two suns simultaneous in shining."
So saying, he bowed very low.
"My only unhappiness now is in not knowing the direction in which my
Lord's preferences run; for as a stream goes here and there, but all
the time keeps one general course, seeking the sea, so with taste;
though it yield a nod now, and then a smile, it hath always a deeper
delight for the singer's finding. I have the gay and serious--history,
traditions--the heroics of men and nations, their heart-throbs in verse
and prose--all or any for the Lord of Constantinople and his kinswoman,
my hostess,--may her life never end until the song of the dove ceases
to be heard in the land!"
"What say you, my friends?" asked Constantine, glancing graciously at
those around him.
Then they looked from him to the Princess, and in thought of the
betrothal, replied, "Love--something of love!"
"No," he returned, unflinchingly. "We are youths no longer. There is
enlightenment in the traditions of nations. Our neighbors, the
Turks--what hast thou of them, Sheik?"
"Didst thou hear?" said Notaras to one at his elbow. "He hath recanted;
the Empress will not be a Greek."
There was no answer; for the Sheik, baring his head, hung the kerchief
and cord upon his arm, preliminaries which gave him perfectly to view.
A swarthy face; hair black, profuse, closely cut along the temples;
features delicate but manly--these the bystanders saw in a general way,
being more attracted by the repressed fire in the man's eyes, and his
air high and severely noble.
When the Princess caught sight of the countenance, she fell into a
confusion. She had seen it, but where and when? The instant he was
beginning he gazed at her, and in the exchange of glances she was
reminded of the Governor bidding her adieu on the shore of the Sweet
Waters. But he was youthful, while this one--could it be he was old?
The feeling was a repetition of that she had in the Castle when the
storyteller appeared the first time.
"I will tell how the Turks became a Nation."
Then, in Greek but a little broken, the Sheik began a recital.
ALAEDDIN AND ERTOGHRUL
I
A tale of Ertoghrul!--
How when the Chief
Lay one day nooning with his stolen herds,
A sound of drumming smote him from the East,
And while he stood to see what came of it,
The West with like notes fainter, echo-like,
Made answer; then two armies rode in view,
Horses and men in steel, the sheen of war
About them and above, and wheeling quick
From column into line, drew all their blades,
Shook all their flags, and charged and lost themselves
In depths of dusty clouds, which yet they tore
With blinding gleams of light, and yells of rage,
And cheers so high and hoarse they well might seem
The rolling thunder of a mountain storm.
Long time the hosts contended; but at last
The lesser one began to yield the ground,
Oppressed in front, and on its flanks o'erwhelmed:
And hasted then the end, a piteous sight,
Most piteous to the very brave who know
From lessons of their lives, how seldom 'tis
Despair can save where valor fails to win.
Then Ertoghrul aroused him, touched to heart.
"My children, mount, and out with cimeter!
I know not who these are, nor whence they come;
Nor need we care. 'Twas Allah led them here,
And we will honor Him--and this our law;
What though the weak may not be always right,
We'll make it always right to help the weak.
Deep take the stirrups now, and ride with me,
_Allah-il-Allah!"_
Thus spake Ertoghrul;
And at the words, with flying reins, and all
His eager tribe, four hundred sworded men,
Headlong he rode against the winning host.
II
Beneath the captured flags, the spoils in heaps
Around him laid, the rescued warrior stood,
A man of kingly mien, while to him strode
His unexpected friend.
"Now who art thou?"
The first was first to ask.
"Sheik Ertoghrul
Am I."
"The herds I see--who calls them his?"
Laughed Ertoghrul, and showed his cimeter.
"The sword obeys my hand, the hand my will,
And given will and hand and sword, I pray
Thee tell me, why should any man be poor?"
"And whose the plain?"
"Comes this way one a friend
Of mine, and leaves his slippers at my door,
Why then, 'tis his."
"And whose the hills that look
Upon the plain?"
"My flocks go there at morn,
And thence they come at night--I take my right
Of Allah."
"No," the stranger mildly said,
"'Twas Allah made them mine."
Frowned Ertoghrul,
While darkened all the air; but from his side
Full pleasantly the stranger took a sword,
Its carven hilt one royal emerald,
Its blade both sides with legends overwrought,
Some from the Koran, some from Solomon,
All by the cunning Eastern maker burned
Into the azure steel-his sword he took,
And held it, belt, and scabbard too, in sign
Of gift.
"The herds, the plain, the hills were mine;
But take thou them, and with them this in proof
Of title."
Lifted Ertoghrul his brows,
And opened wide his eyes.
"Now who art thou?"
He asked in turn.
"Oh, I am Alaeddin--
Sometimes they call me Alaeddin the Great."
"I take thy gifts--the herds, the plain, the hills,"
Said Ertoghrul; "and so I take the sword;
But none the less, if comes a need, 'tis thine.
Let others call thee Alaeddin the Great;
To me and mine thou'rt Alaeddin the Good
And Great."
With that, he kissed the good King's hand;
And making merry, to the Sheik's dowar
They rode. And thus from nothing came the small;
And now the lonely vale which erst ye knew,
And scorned, because it nursed the mountain's feet,
Doth cradle mornings on the mountain's top.
_Mishallah!_
The quiet which held the company through the recitation endured a space
afterwards, and--if the expression be allowed--was in itself a
commentary upon the performance.
"Where is our worthy Professor of Rhetoric?" asked Constantine.
"Here, Your Majesty," answered the man of learning, rising.
"Canst thou not give us a lecture upon the story with which thy Arabian
brother hath favored us?"
"Nay, sire, criticism, to deal justly, waiteth until the blood is cool.
If the Sheik will honor me with a copy of his lines, I will scan and
measure them by the rules descended to us from Homer, and his Attic
successors."
The eyes of the Emperor fell next upon the moody, discontented face of
Duke Notaras.
"My lord Admiral, what sayest thou of the tale?"
"Of the tale, nothing; of the story-teller--I think him an insolent,
and had I my way, Your Majesty, he should have a plunge in the
Bosphorus."
Presuming the Sheik unfamiliar with Latin, the Duke couched his reply
in that tongue; yet the former raised his head, and looked at the
speaker, his eyes glittering with intelligence--and the day came, and
soon, when the utterance was relentlessly punished.
"I do not agree with you, my Lord," Constantine said, in a melancholy
tone. "Our fathers, whether we look for them on the Roman or the Greek
side, might have played the part of Ertoghrul. His was the spirit of
conquest. Would we had enough of it left to get back our own!--Sheik,"
he added, "what else hast thou in the same strain? I have yet a little
time to spare--though it shall be as our hostess saith."
"Nay," she answered, with deference, "there is but one will here."
And taking assent from her, the Sheik began anew.
EL JANN AND HIS PARABLE
_Bismillah!_
Ertoghrul pursued a wolf,
And slew it on the range's tallest peak,
Above the plain so high there was nor grass
Nor even mosses more. And there he sat
Him down awhile to rest; when from the sky,
Or the blue ambiency cold and pure,
Or maybe from the caverns of the earth
Where Solomon the King is wont to keep
The monster Genii hearkening his call,
El Jann, vast as a cloud, and thrice as black,
Appeared and spoke--
"Art thou Sheik Ertoghrul?"
And he undaunted answered: "Even so."
"Well, I would like to come and sit with thee."
"Thou seest there is not room for both of us."
"Then rise, I say, and get thee part way down
The peak."
"'Twere easier," laughed Ertoghrul,
"Madest thou thyself like me as thin and small;
And I am tired."
A rushing sound ran round and up
And down the height, most like the whir of wings
Through tangled trees of forests old and dim.
A moment thus--the time a crisped leaf,
Held, armlength overhead, will take to fall--
And then a man was sitting face to face
With Ertoghrul.
"This is the realm of snow,"
He said, and smiled--"a place from men secure,
Where only eagles fearless come to nest,
And summer with their young."
The Sheik replied,
"It was a wolf--a gaunt gray wolf, which long
Had fattened on my flocks--that lured me here.
I killed it."
"On thy spear I see no blood;
And where, O Sheik, the carcass of the slain?
I see it not."
Around looked Ertoghrul--
There was no wolf; and at his spear--
Upon its blade no blood. Then rose his wrath,
A mighty pulse.
"The spear hath failed its trust--
I'll try the cimeter."
A gleam of light--
A flitting, wind-borne spark in murk of night--
Then fell the sword, the gift of Alaeddin;
Edge-first it smote the man upon his crown--
Between his eyes it shore, nor staying there,
It cut his smile in two--and not yet spent,
But rather gaining force, through chin and chine,
And to the very stone on which he sat
It clove, and finished with a bell-like clang
Of silvern steel 'gainst steel.
"Aha! Aha!"--
But brief the shout; for lo! there was no stain
Upon the blade withdrawn, nor moved the man,
Nor changed he look or smile.
"I was the wolf
That ran before thee up the mountain side;
'Twas I received thy spear as now thy sword;
And know thou further, Sheik, nor wolf nor man
Am I, nor mortal thing of any kind;
Only a thought of Allah's. Canst thou kill
A thought divine? Not Solomon himself
Could that, except with thought yet more divine.
Yield thee thy rage; and when thou think'st of me
Hereafter, be it as of one, a friend,
Who brought a parable, and made display
Before thee, saying--
"Lo! what Allah wills."
Therewith he dropped a seed scarce visible
Into a little heap of sand and loam
Between them drawn.
"Lo! Allah wills."
And straight
The dust began to stir as holding life.
Again El Jann--
"Behold what Allah wills!"
A tiny shoot appeared; a waxen point
Close shawled in many folds of wax as white,
It might have been a vine to humbly creep--
A lily soon to sunward flare its stars--
A shrub to briefly coquette with the winds.
Again the cabalism--
"Lo! Allah's will."
The apparition budded, leafed, and branched,
And with a flame of living green lit all
The barrenness about. And still it grew--
Until it touched the pillars of the earth,
And lapped its boundaries, the far and near,
And under it, as brethren in a tent,
The nations made their home, and dwelt in peace
Forever.
"Lo!"--
And Ertoghrul awoke.
_Mishallah!_
This recitation commanded closer attention than the first one. Each
listener had a feeling that the parable at the end, like all true
parables, was of continuous application, while its moral was in some
way aimed at him.
The looks the Sheik received were by no means loving. The spell was
becoming unpleasant. Then the Emperor arose, as did the Princess, to
whom, as hostess, the privilege of sitting had been alone conceded.
"Our playtime is up--indeed, I fear, it has been exceeded," he said,
glancing at the Dean, who was acting master of ceremonies.
The Dean responded with a bow low as his surroundings admitted;
whereupon the Emperor went to the Princess, and said, "We will take
leave now, daughter, and for myself and my lords of the court, I
acknowledge a most agreeable visit, and thank you for it."
She respectfully saluted the hand he extended to her.
"Our gate and doors at Blacherne are always open to you."
The adieu was specially observed by the courtiers, and they
subsequently pronounced it decorous for a sovereign, cordial as became
a relative, but most un-loverlike. Indeed, it was a strong point in the
decision subsequently of general acceptance, by which His Majesty was
relieved of the proposal of marriage to the Princess.
The latter took his offered arm, and accompanied him to the steps of
the portico, where, when he had descended, the lords one by one left a
kiss on her hand.
Nor should it be forgotten, that as Constantine was passing the Sheik,
he paused to say to him in his habitually kind and princely manner:
"The tree Sheik Ertoghrul saw in his dream has spread, and is yet
spreading, but its shadow has not compassed all the nations; and while
God keeps me, it will not. Had not I myself invited the parable, it
might have been offensive. For the instruction and entertainment given
me, accept thou this--and go in peace."
The Sheik took the ring offered him, and the gaze with which he
followed the imperial giver was suggestive of respect and pity.