“You are a brave youth, Hassan, and all shall be done as you desire. Go
in with the hakim to his room, prepare the letters, and despatch your
messenger. Allah be with you.”
Hassan retired, and in a short time Abou-Hamedi was despatched with the
letters and full verbal instructions. An hour later our hero was
arrested and sent into the Esbekiah Palace under a strong guard, and the
news was spread all over Cairo that Hassan Ebn-el-Heràm was to be tried
and judged on the following day.
Hassan had not left the Shoobra gardens more than an hour when Osman Bey
arrived and demanded an audience, which was immediately granted, the
Hakim-Bashi remaining in attendance on his chief.
After the usual preliminaries of respect and compliment, Osman Bey
proceeded to unfold the object of his coming, which proved to coincide
exactly with what had been stated by Hassan. The Viceroy listened in
silence, and although Osman Bey could not avoid noticing the fire that
gleamed in those deep grey eyes, he attributed it to the anger felt by
Mohammed Ali against those whose treacherous designs he had pretended to
expose.
“We thank you as you deserve for your communication,” said the Viceroy,
“and we will take all the requisite precautions. To-morrow, as you
recommend, we will go to the palace of Esbekiah.”
“May your Highness’s life be prolonged,” replied Osman Bey. “I rejoice
to find that you have seized that dangerous robber Hassan. I met him on
the road under the escort of your Highness’s guards.”
“Yes,” said the old chief. “Inshallah! to-morrow you shall see him
treated as he deserves—you shall see that Mohammed Ali knows how to
punish traitors.”
“Inshallah!” replied Osman Bey, taking his leave with a salutation of
profound respect.
Scarcely was he out of sight ere Mohammed Ali muttered between his
hard-set teeth, “Dog! hyena! serpent! Inshallah! to-morrow he shall see
and feel how traitors are punished! Hakim-Bashi, you are a learned man,
and read many books: I never read anything but men’s faces, and,
Mashallah! I rarely read them amiss. I have long had my eye
mistrustfully on this scoundrel: look from his false and malignant
countenance to the open face and clear bold eye of Hassan; why, man,
there is truth written there as plainly as in the Fat’hah.[113] I have
been somewhat slow in forgiving him because he has a daring spirit that
requires to be checked, and example requires that acts such as he has
committed should be punished; but if he survives and succeeds to-morrow,
by the head of my father, I will reward and promote him!”
“I am glad to hear your Highness say so,” said the good-natured hakim,
“for I liked him from the first day that I saw him; and his Bedouin
education, added to the insults received from that hypocritical traitor,
offer some excuse for the lawless life that he led for a while.”
“Wait till to-morrow. Bakkalum, we shall see,” said the Old Lion,
smiling grimly. “Now send me Abd-el-Kerim, who commands the regiment on
duty here. He, I know, is faithful, and I will give him orders for his
night march on the gardens to the rear of Ali Bey’s house, as Hassan
suggested. Mashallah!” he continued, “did you notice how clear and
complete were his plans to entrap and secure the scoundrels, after
saying that he was too young to offer an opinion. Wallah! if ever I am
obliged to send my troops there, that Hassan shall command a division.”
“Send your troops where, your Highness?” said the hakim inquiringly.
“Peace, man,” said Mohammed Ali, recovering from a momentary fit of
abstraction. “I was thinking of—of—of—perhaps of Darfour and Abyssinia.”
A scarcely perceptible smile lingered on the lips of the medical
interpreter, who had for some time suspected the ambitious views of his
chief on Syria and Asia Minor, but he made his salam in silence and
withdrew.
Meantime, while Abou-Hamedi was faithfully delivering the letters and
messages intrusted to him, Hassan was no less diligent in the execution
of the difficult task which he had undertaken. After being ushered into
the precincts allotted to the Bashi-Bazouk guard, which included all the
extensive area in front of the palace itself, Hassan remained for a
considerable time apart, as if undesirous of communicating with them.
His object was that they should come to him; nor was he long in
attaining it.
Struck by his commanding figure and features, some of the loiterers
about the door inquired his name of the guards who had brought him, and
when they learnt that it was Hassan Ebn-el-Heràm, of whom they had heard
so much, all flocked around him to scan more closely the appearance of
the celebrated outlaw. Neither had he much to fear from their hostility,
for being themselves engaged in a mutinous rising against the
Government, they looked upon him as a sure ally during the outbreak
expected on the morrow.
The intelligence of his capture and presence among them soon reached the
farthest part of the barracks, and it happened that seven or eight were
there who had formed a part of the band which, under Osman Aga’s
guidance, had made so unsuccessful an attack on Hassan near Siout, and
whom, it will be remembered, our hero had dismissed unhurt, after giving
them some dinner and some money, and telling them it was a pity to see
such fine fellows in so mean a service.
These men no sooner heard of his presence in their barracks than they
hastened to greet him, calling out as they approached—
“Welcome, Hassan eed-el-maftouha, do you not remember us? We were of the
party whom you treated so well when we were in your power, and when you
sent back Osman Bey to Siout on a donkey.”
“I believe, comrades,” he replied, “that on that day I maltreated none
excepting Osman Bey, and he had deserved it at my hands.”
“He was a brute,” said the first speaker, lowering his voice; “but Ali
Bey, our present chief, is better: he always takes our part against
those who rob and injure us.”
“Who are they who rob and injure you?” inquired Hassan.
“Why, Mohammed Ali, to be sure, and his rascally Paymaster-General.”
“I had always heard,” said Hassan, “that Mohammed Ali paid his brave
Bashi-Bazouks regularly.”
“He used to do so,” said the fellow sulkily; “but for eighteen months we
have not had a piastre of pay. See, our clothes are all in rags, and we
have nothing wherewith to buy a pound of tobacco or a little rice
water.[114] Ali Bey and Osman Bey have petitioned and laboured for us in
vain. But we will have our rights. Inshallah! we shall see something
to-morrow.”
“Yes, our rights and our pay, or else blood and plunder!” said
half-a-dozen rough voices around.
It is unnecessary to detail all that passed between Hassan and the
mutineers; suffice it to say that he completely gained their confidence,
and occupied himself during the remainder of the day in ascertaining the
character and views of those who seemed the more influential among them.
It was not his purpose to attempt putting in execution the plan that he
had formed until nightfall, when the gates would be shut and none could
go out to give notice of his proceedings to Ali Bey, whose house was
only separated from the palace by a walled garden. No sooner had that
hour arrived than Hassan desired those whose confidence he had gained,
including the men from Siout, to call together all the regiment in front
of the guard-house, as he had something of importance to communicate to
them, and guards on whom they could depend were placed at the front and
postern gates to prevent the ingress or egress of any one unchallenged.
As soon as they were all assembled he said in a clear and sonorous
voice, that was heard by the farthest of that rough and turbulent band—
“Comrades! some of you have known me personally, and most of you have
heard of Hassan Ebn-el-Heràm: did you ever hear of him that he aided the
tyrant to trample on the oppressed, or the rich to plunder the poor?”
“Never!” shouted a score of voices.
“Did you ever hear,” he continued, “that he was sparing of his blood or
his money, or that he ever betrayed a comrade?”
“Never!” shouted they again.
“Then, by Allah!” said Hassan, “he never will. He is here among you now
alone. You may take his life to-night, or the Government may take it
to-morrow; but so long as he has an arm to strike, it shall strike at
the false and the oppressor in defence of the oppressed!”
“Hassan for ever!” shouted they again; “he is the man for us! Let us see
the Government come to take his life to-morrow!”
“Then,” said he, raising his voice above the tumult, “if you believe me
and trust me as you say, let me tell you that you have been falsely
betrayed!”
“We know it!” they cried. “We have been betrayed; we have been robbed of
our pay, and we will have it now, and plunder to boot!”
“You have been robbed and betrayed,” said Hassan in a deep, stern voice;
“but you know not the robbers nor the traitors who have injured you. I
now denounce them to your just anger—they are Osman Bey, Ali Bey, and
your own officers! who have drawn your pay and have spent or locked it
up themselves, in order to lead you to mutiny and to destruction!”
It is impossible to describe the confusion that prevailed in that
lawless assemblage at the conclusion of this speech. Some shouted, “It
is false!” others cried, “Kill him; he is a spy of Mohammed Ali!”
Pistols were drawn, daggers gleamed in the fitful torchlight; many
cried, “Down with Ali Bey and the traitors!” but still the more numerous
and moderate party in the regiment called aloud, “Proof! proof! we must
have proof!”
“Proof you shall have, if you will be silent and patient like men, and
not scream like the _bakkal’s_ wives before the _câdi_.”[115]
Silence having been restored, Hassan called aloud, “Bring hither those
torches, and come to my side any of you who can read!” Half-a-dozen
approached in answer to this appeal.
“This is not enough,” said Hassan; “where is the _yuzbashi_[116] who
commands the guard? Let him also come forward.” That functionary had
hitherto remained a distant spectator of the scene; but he was now urged
forward by some of his own men to the spot where Hassan stood, who
shouted as they advanced, “Proof! proof! we want proof!”
“Are you one of those,” said Hassan, fixing a stern and penetrating look
on the _yuzbashi_, “who have taken a share of these brave men’s pay, and
withheld it in order to induce them to revolt?”
“I?” said the astonished _yuzbashi_. “No, Wallah! No pay have I seen
myself for a year. See the holes in my shoes, and these ragged clothes;
do these look like robbing the pay of my men? By the beard of my father,
it is the Government who have robbed me and them of our due! But who, in
the name of the Prophet, are you who are haranguing my men, and
questioning me as if you were a _miralai_ [general]?”
“I applaud your spirit,” replied Hassan frankly. “My name is Hassan
Ebn-el-Heràm, my voice has no authority excepting that of truth, and I
have no motive but to prove to these brave men who they are who have
wronged and betrayed them. Canst read, _yuzbashi_?”
“Ay, Wallah! that can I. For two years was I clerk in a divan before I
entered the army.”
“Well, then, read that aloud to your men,” said Hassan, placing a paper
before him.
As the _yuzbashi_ read the contents all the words in Turkish which
correspond to “cheat,” “rogue,” “traitor,” and “scoundrel” burst in
succession from his half-closed lips.
“What is it? what is it?” shouted a score of impatient voices at once.
“It is a receipt in full showing that the Paymaster has regularly placed
in the hands of Ali Bey the whole amount of pay due to you up to last
month. And here is Ali Bey’s seal at the bottom. I can swear to it, as I
have often to countersign papers bearing his seal.”
Curses on Ali Bey’s father, mother, and all his ancestors, now issued in
torrents from the lips of the indignant assemblage; and not the least
loud in venting maledictions was the _yuzbashi_ who had been unjustly
suspected of sharing in the peculation of his superiors.
Hassan watched in silence the progress of the storm which he had raised;
for he rightly judged that they would soon return to ask his advice as
to the course which they should now pursue. Nature had formed him to
lead either in the council or in the field such rough, bold spirits as
those by which he was surrounded, and they now came back to ask him what
was to be done as naturally as if he had been appointed their chief.
“My brave fellows,” said Hassan, “if your eyes are now open, and you are
satisfied that you have been deceived and betrayed by your officers,
there is but one course by which you can save yourselves and punish
them.”
“Name it,” shouted a score of rough voices.
“You know that I was brought here this morning from Shoobra; while there
I was neither blind nor deaf. I can swear to you by the head of my
father that the treachery of Ali Bey, Osman Bey, and the others is known
to Mohammed Ali. Even now troops from all quarters are surrounding this
palace and Ali Bey’s house in the darkness of night. At daybreak you
will see them with your own eyes—escape or resistance is no longer
possible.”
“Curses on Ali Bey’s head and on his father’s grave!” shouted the
_yuzbashi_; “what dirt has that vile dog caused us to eat! But you have
not told us yet, Hassan, what is to be done. Are we to stay here and be
butchered like sheep?”
“Allah forbid!” said Hassan. “I will answer with my head that if you
follow my counsel not a hair of your beards shall be touched. How many
men are there now in Ali Bey’s house?”
“If we count his and Osman Bey’s, and Nour-ed-din Binbashi’s Mamelukes
and followers, there may be two hundred of them in the house and
buildings round his courtyard,” replied the _yuzbashi_.
“A mere handful,” said Hassan scornfully; “you are enough to master them
in five minutes. My advice, then, is this. As the Beys do not know that
your eyes have been opened to their treachery, they will of course admit
you at any hour. Let the _yuzbashi_ knock at the gate and say that he
has something of importance to communicate to the Bey; he will be
admitted at once. As soon as the gate is opened for his admittance, a
party of us following close behind him will rush in and overpower the
_bowàbs_ or sentries that may be there. We will then let in the
remainder of our brave fellows, leaving only a small guard in this
palace, and we will go and make prisoners of the Beys and all their
followers. When Mohammed Ali’s troops appear in the morning I will go
out to their commanders and tell them that you had been deceived and
misled, but that you had now returned to your duty, in proof of which
you had seized and were ready to deliver up to them the conspirators. I
will answer for you receiving your full pardon and your full pay
besides.”
“Mashallah!” cried several voices, “the plan is good; let us follow it
at once.”
“It is not so easy as it seems,” said a cautious old fellow, who had a
habitual dread of his commander. “Ali Bey is a desperate and dangerous
man to take; he has always four pistols in his belt, and he fights like
a devil.”
“Give me a sword, my lads, and leave Ali Bey to me,” said Hassan, his
eyes lighting up as they always did at the approach of strife.
“Hassan’s the leader for us!” shouted one of those whom he had released
at Siout—“open hand in peace, and iron hand in the fight.”
As he spoke his own and half-a-dozen other swords were offered to
Hassan’s choice. Selecting with the eye of a connoisseur the trustiest
blade, he said, “Now, my lads, let us go; but remember, no bloodshed
excepting in self-defence. Our business is to take them alive; and,
Wallah! we will take them if you are firm and steady. Now assemble at
the gate in silence, and be ready.”
Whilst the men were collecting for the expedition, Hassan whispered to
the _yuzbashi_ the course that he was to pursue, adding, “I do not know
you, but I shall be close to you and observe you well. If you are
faithful, you will be rewarded; but if you attempt to betray us, your
head shall be the first to fall.”
“You shall see,” answered the _yuzbashi_ with a grim smile, “whether I
do not pay my debt to Ali Bey and those other scoundrels.”
The evening was now advanced, the Ezn-el-âshah[117] had long since been
chanted from the mosques, but there seemed to be no symptoms of retiring
to rest in Ali Bey’s house. He himself, surrounded by Osman Bey,
Nour-ed-din, and the other leaders of the conspiracy, were seated in his
large salamlik, or reception-room, arranging their plans for the morrow
and discussing eagerly the course they should adopt towards Ibrahim
Pasha after they had got rid of his father.
All of them felt confident that he would gladly profit by their crime;
but few felt sure that he would not punish its authors.
“He dare not punish us,” said Ali Bey boldly; “we are too many. See
here,” he continued, drawing a paper from his vest, “here are the seals
of twenty-five, none of whom are without power or friends. He may,
indeed, affect to be angry at first, but he will be obliged to pardon
and reward us.”
While he was yet speaking a servant came in and said that the
_yuzbashi_, Suleiman Aga, followed by a number of the Bashi-Bazouks, was
without, and wished to see the Bey.
“These fellows,” said the latter to his companions, “are ready for any
mischief. I have worked them up to such a pitch of discontent that I can
scarcely prevail on them to defer plundering the palace until to-morrow,
when we shall have Mohammed Ali in our power. Let him come in.”
As he spoke, the _yuzbashi_, followed by a number of his men, entered
the room, and the first words that he uttered were—
“Bey, I can no longer control these men: they demand justice and their
pay.”
“Justice and our pay!” said a number of rough voices, as they kept
pouring into the room.
“You shall have it, my lads, to-morrow—pay and plunder to your heart’s
content,” said Ali Bey. “Only be patient to-night, and you shall have
vengeance on those who have robbed you of your right.”
“They shall have it now!” cried Hassan, coming suddenly forward, sword
in hand.
“And who in the name of the Prophet may you be?” said Ali Bey.
“Wallah! Wallah! it is that traitor scoundrel Hassan Ebn-el-Heràm,”
cried Osman Bey, astonished at the sudden appearance of our hero, whom
he had seen some hours before under arrest.
“Present!” said Hassan in a deep, stern voice; and immediately the
Bashi-Bazouks, who now lined the side of the room, presented their
pistols at the knot of conspirators seated at its upper end.
“Ali Bey, Osman Bey, and you others who have deceived and betrayed these
brave men by withholding their pay, their hour of vengeance is come, not
against Mohammed Ali to-morrow, but against you to-night. Yield
yourselves prisoners, or I give the word to fire.”
“Never!” cried Ali Bey, springing with the others to his feet. “We have
adherents below enough to punish these mutinous scoundrels.”
“Ali Bey,” replied Hassan sternly, “your adherents are already
overpowered—your whole plot is known to Mohammed Ali—his troops surround
your house—you have no means of defence or escape; you can only now
trust to the Viceroy’s clemency.”
“You, at least, shall never live to boast of this treachery,” cried
Osman Bey, who was literally foaming with rage, as he drew his sword and
sprang upon Hassan.
The result was such as might have been expected where strength, skill,
and coolness were on one side and ungovernable fury on the other.
Scarcely a few seconds elapsed ere Osman Bey’s sword-arm, severed by one
cut, fell to the ground.
“Bind up his wound and secure him,” said Hassan coolly to one of the
Bashi-Bazouks who was near him; and without deigning another look at his
fallen adversary, he addressed himself to Ali Bey, saying—
“I would fain avoid useless bloodshed; will you yield yourselves
prisoners or not?”
Ali Bey, though a cruel and vicious man, was not deficient in courage;
but the hapless fate of his confederate, the determined language and
commanding appearance of Hassan, and the formidable row of
pistol-barrels that gleamed at his back, might well have intimidated a
bolder spirit. In the countenance of his companions he read nothing but
dismay, so he replied, “We yield ourselves,” and sullenly threw his
sword on the floor at Hassan’s feet.
His comrades followed his example, and in a few minutes they were all
disarmed and pinioned. Their persons were searched by Hassan’s order,
and he thus obtained possession of the paper to which the seals of the
conspirators had been affixed.
Hassan spent the remainder of the night in visiting all the quarters of
the house and seeing that the prisoners of all ranks were duly guarded.
The Bashi-Bazouks who had witnessed the summary chastisement that he had
inflicted on Osman Bey, and who seemed to feel an intuitive conviction
that he was armed with the authority which he assumed, obeyed him
without a murmur.
No sooner had the day dawned than he took the _yuzbashi_ and a few more
of the men to the roof of the house, whence he showed them two
field-pieces already in position in their front and the troops of
Mohammed Ali drawn up and surrounding them on every side.
“Did I speak the truth,” said Hassan, “when I told you that if you
continued in mutiny you would be cut off to a man?”
“Wallah! Hassan, you spoke the truth,” they replied. “Our only hope is
now in you, for you said that if we obeyed you we should have our pay
and our pardon.”
“Fear not, I will make my words good. I will go out now alone and speak
to the officer in command of these troops in front: I think I should
know him.”
Descending from the roof, he walked alone out of the gate and advanced
to the front of the column, the Bashi-Bazouks watching his movements
from the roof and from the windows with the deepest anxiety.
“Mashallah!” cried one, “what miracle is this? See, Hassan Ebn-el-Heràm
is embracing that old officer, who by his uniform must be a Bey or
Pasha. He is embracing also another younger officer: see, they are
coming this way.”
“I know them well,” cried a soldier beside the first speaker. “The old
officer is Dervish Bey the Swordsman, a brave old fellow; I served with
him in Arabia: the other is Reschid, _khaznadâr_ of the Kiahia Pasha.”
“Ajaib!” (Wonderful!) exclaimed several voices, “that Hassan the outlaw
should be so familiar with these Beys.”
As they slowly approached the front of the palace Hassan had time to
explain briefly to his father the events of the night, and the manner in
which he had effected the capture of the conspirators.
On hearing his report Dervish Bey desired Reschid to ride with all speed
to Shoobra to inform Mohammed Ali of what had passed, and to ask his
further orders. He also sent messengers to inform Delì Pasha and the
commanders of the other troops that had been drawn towards the palace
that the conspiracy was already crushed.
“What news?” said the Viceroy to Reschid as the latter entered his
salamlik breathless and dusty from his gallop.
“May your Highness’s life be prolonged; the conspirators are all
prisoners awaiting your sentence.”
“El-hamdu-lillah!” (Praise be to Allah!) said the Viceroy. “Had you much
fighting? did the scoundrels make a stout resistance?”
“We had no fighting at all,” said Reschid, smiling; “Hassan did it all
himself.”
“How was that?” said Mohammed Ali, surprised.
“In the course of the night he explained to the Bashi-Bazouk regiment
how they had been misled, robbed, and betrayed by their officers; he
showed them Ali Bey’s receipt, proving that your Highness had done them
no injustice. Having convinced and brought them back to their duty, he
led them into the adjoining house to arrest their own officers. Osman
Bey made a sudden spring at him, but Hassan cut his arm off, and the
rest surrendered without resistance.”
“Aferin! [bravo!] Hassan,” said Mohammed Ali; then turning to Reschid,
he added, “Let them await my coming at the palace; I will be there
within the hour.”
In less than the time specified the Viceroy appeared at the Esbekiah
Palace gates mounted on Nebleh, who had become his favourite charger,
and surrounded by a numerous guard. Having received the reports of his
Pashas and generals as to the events of the night, and the names of the
conspirators captured at Ali Bey’s house, he said in a loud and stern
voice—
“Let Ali Bey, Osman Bey, and Nour-ed-din, who have robbed the troops of
their pay, incited them to mutiny, and conspired against the Government,
suffer the doom of traitors—off with their heads; and their villages,
houses, and properties are confiscated. Let that villainous servant of
Osman Bey named Ferraj, whose crimes are known to me, and his brother,
Hadji Mohammed, who came into my service to poison me, receive one
thousand blows of the stick; let the other prisoners await further
inquiry and orders. Where is Hassan Ebn-el-Heràm? Let him stand forth.”
Our hero, thus called upon, came out and stood in front of that numerous
assemblage.
“Hassan,” said Mohammed Ali, “if the disgrace imposed upon you by that
dog Osman Bey led you for a time to forget your duty, your fidelity and
good service now and on former occasions deserve reward; you are a
worthy son of a worthy father. Hassan, son of Dervish Bey, I appoint you
in the place of the traitor Ali Bey to the command of the Bashi-Bazouk
regiment which he betrayed or misled. I grant them, for your sake, a
full pardon, and they shall have all their arrears of pay. I present you
also with the houses, lands, and property of Ali Bey, which have been
forfeited to the Government.”
“May your Highness’s honour and prosperity be boundless as your bounty,”
said Hassan, coming forward to kiss the Viceroy’s sleeve. He then
retired a few steps, awaiting further commands or the signal to
withdraw.
He thought not of the lands or the wealth he had acquired, but one of
the brightest dreams of his youth was realised: he had been publicly
recognised, by one whom he held to be the hero of the age, as a worthy
son of the gallant Dervish Bey. This was the feeling which filled his
breast with a bounding and tumultuous joy, and his eye sought and met
that of his father. But Hassan’s thoughts were speedily recalled to the
presence in which he stood by the voice of Mohammed Ali, who, once more
addressing him, said—
“I have rewarded your services only as you deserve; I wish now to add a
favour from myself. Have you any request to make? Speak it boldly.”
“If your Highness will pardon my freedom, I would ask you to give to my
friend Reschid the command of the regiment vacant by the punishment of
Nour-ed-din. These men, like the Bashi-Bazouks, have been misled by the
treachery of their commander; but when they learn how they have been
deceived, their hearts and swords will return to your Highness’s
service. I have seen the courage and fidelity of Reschid put to the
proof, and under him that regiment will be as true and efficient as any
in your army.”
“What say you, Kiahia?” said Mohammed Ali to his chief Pasha; “shall
Hassan’s request be granted?”
“Hassan has robbed me of a good _khaznadâr_,” said the old Kiahia,
smiling, “but he has given your Highness a good colonel, so I must
forgive him; neither will I deny that Reschid’s fingers, when employed
on the seal or the pen, are always itching for the lance and the sword.”
“Be it so, then,” said the Viceroy; “make out the order to our War
Office and we will seal it. And now, Hassan, as you would not ask
anything for yourself, I must select for you. Strength and youth, and,
Mashallah! good looks and a good name you have; it is a shame that you
remain unmarried,—I have chosen you a wife from a noble harem, and I
will give her a dower myself.”