THE WANDERING PLAYERS
The moon was up, and Rupert, in his Arab garb and mounted on a
dromedary, rode at the head of his caravan towards the district called
Sheb, in which the Sweet Wells were situated. A few miles from
Abu-Simbel, where the paths crossed, his head-man, a sergeant named
Abdullah, drew his attention to four figures on white camels who
appeared to be waiting for them, and asked if he should go forward to
learn their business. Rupert answered no, as they were only two women
and their servants to whom he had promised escort as far as Jebal Marru.
The man saluted and said nothing. Presently the four joined the caravan,
two veiled bundles, in whom indeed it would have been difficult to
recognise Bakhita and Mea, placing themselves beside him and the men
falling behind.
“So you have come,” said Rupert, saluting them.
“Bey, we have come,” answered Bakhita. “What else did you expect?” and
without more words they rode forward across the desert.
Presently, in the midst of the intense silence, far away as yet, they
heard a sound of wild music that grew clearer as they advanced. It was a
very thrilling music, shrill and piercing and accompanied by the roll of
drums.
“What is it?” asked Rupert of Bakhita.
“The Wandering Players,” she answered, “and I wish that we had not met
them.”
“Why not?”
“Because they bring ill fortune, Bey.”
“Nonsense!” he exclaimed. “You mean that they want baksheesh.”
“Then offer it to them and see,” she said.
Now they were passing a fold in the sand-hills, and on the crest of one
of these hills, that to the right, Rupert perceived the Wandering
Players. There were five of them, all seated upon the sand, and all so
wrapped up that nothing could be seen of them, at any rate, in that
light. The three who faced the caravan were playing upon bell-mouthed
pipes, and the two who squatted opposite to them kept time upon drums
which they beat with wonderful rapidity. As the caravan approached, this
savage music grew very weird and moving; indeed its quality was such
that once heard it could scarcely be forgotten. It seemed to cry and
wail, yet there were notes in it of surprising sweetness.
“Give those players ten piastres for their trouble,” said Rupert to his
sergeant, Abdullah; and muttering something, the man guided his camel up
the slope towards them, then offered them the money.
They took not the slightest notice of him, only played on more wildly
than before, till at length he threw the coins upon the ground and left
them.
“I think they are ghosts, not men,” he reported to Rupert, “since there
are no people in this country who will not take baksheesh.”
“Ripe fruit does not remain unplucked,” answered Rupert, in the words of
the Arab proverb, “and that which falls the children gather.”
Still, he wished that he had gone to look at the people himself, if only
to discover what tribe it was that produced such remarkable players.
Then they rode forward, and for some furlongs the penetrating sound of
those pipes and the gusty rolling of the drums seemed to keep time with
the swinging step of their camels, till at last the music grew fitful
and faint and died away in the distance.
When the moon was down, about three hours before the dawn, they halted
by a well and slept till daylight, Bakhita and Mea occupying a little
tent apart, which their servants pitched for them, and the camels
grazing upon the desert scrub. While the sky was still grey, Rupert
drank the coffee that had been made for him, and sent two pannikins of
it, with some biscuits, to the women’s tent. One was kept and one
returned untouched.
“Who does not drink?” he asked idly.
“Bakhita, Bey. She says she touches no white man’s liquor.”
“So you know her?” said Rupert.
“Oh, yes, Bey,” answered the man sulkily, “and we shall all of us know
her better before we part, for she is a gipsy from the far desert, and
has the evil eye. I felt cold all down my back when we met her last
night—colder even than when that music played which is made by ghosts
out of the tombs.”
“Those who remain silent cannot speak folly,” said Rupert, in another
proverb, and dismissed the man.
Then they marched on, camping again in the afternoon until the moon
should rise. That night, about one o’clock, they came to the Sweet
Wells, and stopped to give the camels drink and to fill their
water-bags. Rupert had arranged to arrive here at this hour when he
thought that the sheik Ibrahim would be asleep and not likely to oppose
their passage. For the same reason, he kept as far as possible from the
town, if it could be so called, but soon saw that his progress was being
watched, since men were sitting about on sand-heaps and in the shadow of
thorn trees. Indeed, one of these rose unexpectedly before them and
asked who they were and why they passed through the territory of his
chief without offering a present.
By Rupert’s direction the sergeant, Abdullah, answered that they were a
trading party who hoped to see Ibrahim on their return, when they would
make him a good present. He did not add, however, that it was Rupert’s
wish to avoid meeting this truculent and treacherous man until he had
bound over the powerful sheiks who lived beyond him to the interests of
the Government, when, as he knew, he would have nothing to fear from the
chief of the Sweet Wells and his handful of fighting men.
The sentry answered that it was well, especially as he could not now see
Ibrahim, who had gone away with a number of his tribe, having ridden
towards Wady-Halfa that very day. Then staring hard at the two veiled
women upon their camels, he asked whether the gipsy, Bakhita, and her
daughter were travelling with them. Abdullah hastily answered no, adding
that the two women were his relations whom he was taking to visit their
families. The man said no more, so with the usual salutations they
passed on.
“Why did you say that, Abdullah?” asked Rupert.
“Because, Bey, had he known who these female bringers of ill-luck are,
we should soon have had the whole tribe of them about us. It is said
everywhere that Ibrahim wishes to take the young one, who is a great
chieftainess, for a wife, and that he had sworn to do so.”
“Lies are stones that fall on the head of the thrower,” replied Rupert,
for he was troubled and uneasy, and now wished sincerely that he had
refused to escort Bakhita and her beautiful niece who made offerings to
Egyptian gods to secure a safe journey across the desert.
He sent for Bakhita and the girl, who guided their camels alongside of
his.
“Tell me,” he said, “what is this story about the lady here and the
sheik Ibrahim, who, it seems, is really looking out for her?”
“What I told you, Bey,” Bakhita answered. “In old days, when Ibrahim’s
tribe was the stronger, our people fought him and drove him back over
the Jebal Marru—that was more than a hundred years ago. In the summer
before last, when my lady of Tama and I, with a large escort, were
coming from our home to the Nile, we camped at the Sweet Wells and
accepted a present of food from the sheik Ibrahim. In the morning before
we marched he visited us, and by misfortune saw Mea unveiled and was set
on fire by her beauty, so that at once he asked her in marriage, the dog
of a Prophet-worshipper. Having many men with us, I answered him as he
deserved, whereon, growing angry, he replied that that which was refused
could still be taken, but since we had eaten his salt, it must be done
another time. So we parted, for we were too strong to be attacked. Now
through his spies at Luxor and along the Nile he has learned that Mea is
come back, which she did hurriedly when not expected, because he tried
to kidnap her in Luxor itself. So it came about that I had no escort
ready for her. Nor did I dare to stop at Abu-Simbel, for I heard that he
proposed to attack us there so soon as you were gone, and there was no
steamer by which she could descend the Nile again, whereof his people
watch the banks. Therefore we sought your merciful protection.”
“I think that before all is done you are likely to need it,” said
Rupert, “and were I what I seem that would not trouble me, but now I am
afraid.”
“Let us leave the Bey and take our chance,” said Mea, speaking across
him to her aunt in Arabic. “It is not right that we should bring him
into danger. I told you so from the first.”
“Yes,” answered Bakhita briefly, “if the Bey so wishes.”
Rupert glanced at Mea, who had drawn her veil aside, perhaps that she
might see him better. The moonlight shone upon her sweet face, and he
perceived that her eyes were full of fear. Evidently she dreaded the
sheik very much indeed, who knew that in this lawless land where might
was right, he could take her without question if he were able, and force
her into his harem.
“The Bey does not so wish,” he said. “You are with me; bide with me.
Often the thing we fear does not happen, my lady Tama.”
With a grateful glance and a sigh of relief, Mea let fall her veil
again, and both of them dropped back into their accustomed place in the
caravan. At their next halt Rupert noted that one of Bakhita’s two
attendants remounted his swift dromedary, after it had been watered and
allowed to feed a while, and started forward at a trot. Again he sent
for Bakhita and asked where the man had gone. She answered that he had
been despatched as a messenger to their tribe in the hope that he would
get through the mountains unmolested. His orders were that, could he
succeed in this, he was to collect a hundred men as soon as possible and
bring them to meet their lady.
As it appeared, however, that the oasis which was Mea’s home could not
be reached by the swiftest camel under several days’ journey, Rupert did
not concern himself further about the matter. Only Abdullah grumbled,
saying that he believed the man was a spy who had gone forward to make
trouble. For Abdullah, who had discovered that Bakhita and her three
companions were neither Christians nor Mahommedans, was full of
suspicion, especially as he and the rest of Rupert’s escort were
convinced that the old woman was a witch with the evil eye and probably
in the pay of the Khalifa. Such, indeed, had been her reputation at
Abu-Simbel, to which Bakhita’s curious knowledge of events and private
histories, together with her very remarkable powers of observation, gave
much colour.
On the night following that of these events, the party camped by some
water at the foot of the rugged and barren range of hills known as Jebal
Marru, in the very mouth of the pass, indeed, through which ran the only
practicable road, that was used, though rarely, by travellers journeying
from one desert to the other. At its entrance this path was very narrow,
a mere cleft in the rock, not more than fifty or sixty feet wide, and
flanked on either side by sheer cliffs. Here Rupert and Bakhita and her
companions were to part, for his road to the village of the first sheik
whom he was going to visit ran along the foot of the hills, whereas
theirs passed through them. At the earliest dawn they struck their camp,
which they could not do before, since the road was too rough to attempt
in the dark, and Rupert having seen that everything was in order for the
march, went to bid good-bye to Bakhita and her niece.
While they were thanking him very heartily for his escort in the fine
language common to Orientals, which on this occasion was meant earnestly
enough, Abdullah hurried up and announced, in an alarmed voice, that a
band of over a hundred men, mounted on camels and horses, was advancing
upon them. He added that he believed them to be the chief Ibrahim and
his followers. Instantly Rupert ordered that all the camels should be
driven into the mouth of the pass, and that the men, with their rifles
and a good supply of ammunition, should take refuge behind the boulders
that were strewn about, in case an attack was contemplated. Then turning
to Bakhita, he said quickly:
“Your camels are good and fresh. If you take my advice you will be gone.
Probably they will not get through us for some time.”
Bakhita said the counsel was wise, and ordered the camel, upon which she
was already seated, to rise; but the girl seemed to hesitate. Stepping
to Rupert as he turned away, she seized his hand and pressed it against
her forehead, murmuring in her peculiar English:
“This trouble not my fault, all old woman Bakhita’s fault, who think of
nobody but me, not of you at all. I—I think much of you, my heart sick,
I cry my eyes out. Good-bye! God bless you and damn Ibrahim.”
Even then Rupert could not help smiling at this peculiar valedictory
address. At that moment a man came and spoke to him, and when next he
looked, Bakhita, Mea, and their servant were already vanishing round the
bend of the pass. Now, as he wished to show no fear, he ordered his men
to sit about as though they were still camping, but to keep their rifles
ready, and accompanied by Abdullah and another soldier, went to a large
rock in front of them, sat down, lit his pipe and waited.
By this time the band was quite close and had halted. Presently two men
rode out from among them, in whom Rupert recognised his old acquaintance
the sheik Ibrahim, and the sentry with whom they had spoken near the
Sweet Wells. Ibrahim rode up, and from a distance asked if he had peace.
“Those who bring peace find it,” answered Rupert.
Then Ibrahim dismounted and walked forward alone, leaving his servant to
hold his horse. Rupert also walked forward until they met and exchanged
salutations.
“Bey,” said Ibrahim, surveying Rupert’s garb with his flashing eyes,
“you have changed your dress since last we spoke yonder on the hill
above Abu-Simbel. Tell me, have you changed your heart also and become a
servant of the Prophet whom I can greet as brother?”
“You had other names for me than brother at Abu-Simbel,” answered Rupert
evasively. “What is your business, Sheik Ibrahim, with the merchant
Mahommed, who, by the way, offers you his congratulations, having
learned that now you also are a servant of the Government.”
“My business, Bey,” he replied, “has nothing to with the Government, or
with you. Two women are travelling with you who are my property. Hand
them over to me.”
“Two free women were travelling with me, Sheik, but I cannot give them
to you as they are gone.”
“Whither?” asked Ibrahim.
“Really, I do not know, it is their own affair,” said Rupert calmly.
Now the sheik’s evil temper began to get the better of him.
“You lie,” he said. “I will search your camp, for they are hidden
there.”
“If you wish to find rifle bullets, search,” replied Rupert
significantly. “Listen, Ibrahim! I am camped here, and here I shall stay
until you go, since I do not trust you and will not expose myself to
attack upon the road. If you venture on violence, it is possible that
you may succeed, since my mission is peaceful and I have but few men.
But then the Khedive, your lord, will stamp you out, you and your tribe,
and so there will be an end of an evil and dangerous man. I have spoken,
go in peace.”
“By Allah! no,” shouted the Arab, “I come in war, for besides that of
these women there is an old account to settle between you and me, who
caused my town to be raided by the Government of Egypt, my women to be
insulted, and my herds to be taken. Choose now. Hand over to me your
camels, your merchandise and your arms, and of my mercy I will let you
go. Resist, and I will take them all and offer to you, infidel, the
choice between death and Islam.”
“Empty drums make a loud noise,” replied Rupert contemptuously, whereon
the Arab, lifting the spear which he carried, hurled it at him.
Rupert sprang to one side, so that the weapon missed him by a
hair’s-breadth.
“Now,” he said, “I can shoot you if I wish; but I will not forget my
honour because you forget yours. Dog! God will avenge your treachery on
you.”
“By my beard!” roared the Arab, “I will avenge Allah on you—yes, your
infidel lips shall kiss his holy name.”
Then Rupert walked towards his men, who were running out to his
assistance.
“Back,” he said, “and take cover. Ibrahim is about to attack us.”
So they went back and, since flight seemed utterly impracticable, having
hastily tethered the camels in a recess of the cliff out of reach of
rifle fire, lay down, every man behind a rock. Here Rupert addressed
them, telling them what had passed, and saying they must either fight or
be robbed and made prisoners, which would probably mean their death,
since Ibrahim would not dare to allow any of them to live and be
witnesses against him when he was brought to account for this great
crime. Therefore, though they were but few, as they, mounted on camels,
could not run from horsemen, it was wise that they should do their best.
The soldiers, who were all of them brave men, answered that it was so,
they were few, still they would fight and try to beat off these Arabs.
Only Abdullah looked downcast, and added that this trouble came upon
them through the women, and that it would have been good to give them to
Ibrahim.
“Would you think so if they were your wives or daughters?” asked Rupert
scornfully. “How could I surrender them who had eaten of my bread and
salt? Also they have gone. But if you are afraid, Abdullah, do you take
a camel and follow them. The rest of us will hold the pass and give you
time to get away.”
Now some of the servants began to mock Abdullah and to call him “woman”
and “coward.”
So the man grew ashamed and said that he would show them that he was as
brave as they.
Then a rifle bullet, evidently aimed at Rupert, who was standing up to
address the soldiers, whistled past his head and flattened on the rock
behind. The fight had begun.
Rupert saw the man who had fired the shot from the back of his camel
about two hundred yards away, for the smoke hung over him. Snatching up
the Winchester repeating rifle which he carried, he set the sight
rapidly, aimed and fired. He was an excellent game and target shot, nor
did his skill fail him now. Almost instantly they heard the clap of a
bullet and saw the Arab—it was that very sentry with whom they had
spoken at the Sweet Wells—throw up his arms and pitch heavily from the
saddle to the ground.
The soldiers shouted, thinking this a good omen, and at once opened
fire, killing or wounding several of their enemies, whereon the Arabs
hastened to take shelter, sending their horses and camels out of reach
of the bullets.
The mouth of the pass was strewn with large stones, and creeping from
one to another of them, the Arabs advanced slowly, pouring in a heavy
fire as they came. As it chanced, this did but little damage, for
Rupert’s cover was good, while as they moved forward his rifles found
out several of them. Thus things went on for a full hour, till at length
Rupert saw the head of a soldier near him, who had incautiously exposed
himself, drop forward on to the rock. He was shot through the brain, and
immediately afterwards one of his comrades, who rose to lift him,
thinking that he might be only wounded, received a bullet in the
shoulder.
So the fight stood for all that live-long day. No more men were hit, for
after this lesson they dared not show themselves, and unless they did
so, the enemy did not fire. There they lay, cramped up behind their
stones and baked in the burning sun. Of food they had plenty, but as it
happened the water, of which there was none here, was scarce, for they
had used nearly all of it on the previous night, expecting to be able to
refill their bags at a well a little further along the mountains.
Although it was husbanded, soon the last drop had been drunk, so that
towards evening they began to suffer from thirst.
At length the sun sank and the darkness came.