from my wounds, but was like to fall ill from the irksomeness of my
confinement and distress for my separation from Dolores, the keeper
of the prison began to question me upon the subject of my arrest, and
to ask me if I could suspect either the cause or my accuser? Having
heard my father, when he was alone with me, talking upon the wiles
of the Inquisitors, and bethinking me that the keeper would have far
greater cause to assist his masters than to take pity upon me, I
answered very guardedly, though with seeming ingenuousness, that I was
entirely ignorant of both the one and the other. Upon this he urged me
to confess anything that I could think of, and to petition the Holy
Fathers for a day of hearing, in order that my case might be disposed
of. But knowing somewhat of their tricks, and of how they ensnare the
unwary, I replied that I was at their disposal, for them to do with me
as they pleased. At this reply he could not conceal his displeasure,
and it was not until fourteen days afterwards that I was cited before
the Consistory. They then spoke to me as though I was merely before
them to discharge a _pro-forma_ accusation, and bade me tell them
all I knew, in order that they might send me back to my own house.
This they did, hoping that I might unawares confess to some fault, or
accuse some other, perhaps my father; and they earnestly charged me
therefore to disburden my conscience, as they called it, persuading
me that they went about nought else but to do me good for the very
love and mere compassion which they had for me. When I humbly replied
that I could think of no reasonable cause why anyone should denounce
me to them, they answered that they could mete out sharp justice to
the contumacious, and so sent me back to my cell. In the meanwhile
they sent an officer to me called the ‘tutor,’ whom they appoint, as
they pretend, to advise with the prisoner how he may best defend his
case, but who in reality is only a spy who betrays many, and even the
innocent, to his masters. I merely repeated to him what I had said
before, and although he urged me to put my trust in him for that he
was appointed to defend me, which he could not do unless I would deal
candidly with him, yet I knew better, even had I been guilty, than to
trust him. On the third day I was called before the Inquisitors again,
who demanded of me if I was now resolved to make a clean breast of the
affair, with an earnest request of me to do so for my own welfare,
after their accustomed manner. If I would not, they threatened to use
extremity towards me of what they could do by law, by which they mean
extreme tormenting and mangling of men, but finding that I had nothing
to confess, or, as they would have it, that I would confess nothing,
they remitted me again to prison, and upon some information of my
intended escape, which I discovered from the keepers’ inquiries, I was
now put into an underground dungeon, which was even worse than the one
in which I had been hitherto confined. As the Inquisitors could get no
confession out of me, and moreover had no witnesses against me save the
Count de Villegas, whom they knew to bear a grudge against me, for the
reasons known to you, and since they had heard of the duello between
us, and therefore suspected his testimony the more, they forbore to
put me to the question, as they call it, that is to the rack and other
tortures, though they rehearsed all the several torments to me as
terribly as they could; and, indeed, I had almost fainted at their
description, and the sight thereof. The place is a deep dungeon beneath
the earth, with many doors to pass through ere we came to it, in order
that those who are put to it should not be heard to shriek or cry. On
the one side are raised seats with a canopy, where the Inquisitors are
seated with their clerks, and the links being lighted in their sockets
on the walls, they take their seats, and the prisoners are brought
forth. Here he sees, as I did, in that dim and flickering light, the
Inquisitors sitting in their red robes on the one side, flanked by
their familiars in their gowns of white, with hoods which cover their
faces, making them to resemble so many spirits or devils come to enjoy
his tortures. The executioner, a brawny knave, stands hard by his
instrument, which is in the midst of the apartment, clad all over in
a close-fitting garment of black canvas, with a long black hood which
reaches over so as to cover his face. The chief Inquisitor then urges
him to speak the truth freely and voluntarily, otherwise it will be at
his own peril. For if his arm or leg be broken in the rack, or if he
receive other injuries so that he die thereof (for they mean not to
deal gently with him), let him blame no one but himself; and so they
think to salve their consciences. Then is he stripped to the skin, and
his hands bound with a cord which passes over a pulley, so that he may
be hoisted up. His feet likewise are weighted with heavy weights, and
in this plight is he again summoned to tell them all he knows, which
nevertheless does not satisfy them, but they sign to the executioner
to hoist the poor wretch, and while he thus hangs, they fall to their
persuasions once again, commanding the executioner to hoist him to the
very beam till his head touch the pulley. Then, if he will not accuse
both himself and all his acquaintance, they command to let him down
again, and twice the weight that was afore to be affixed to his feet,
when he is again hoisted, and suffered to hang a good while, which
seems every minute an age to him, such is his great and momentarily
increasing agony; every sinew in his body being strained, until, as
most often happens, he swoons for his intolerable pain. Then the leech
who stands by, not to cure, indeed, as is their office in less holy
places, but merely to prolong his capacity for suffering, the leech,
I say, gives orders to lower him down again, and after sousing him
with cold water, administers a cordial, and then is the wretch again
questioned. In his then state, though he be innocent, yet racked and
dazed as he is, if he be able to speak at all he will now say anything
that they wish, and one of the familiars leaning over him repeats aloud
after him the confession that he can scarce whisper. If he be rich and
they merely require an excuse to plunder him of all his possessions,
this will satisfy them; but if, as is more often the case, they hope
through him to get others within their net, they again give orders to
hoist him, and bid the executioners so to jog the ropes that every limb
is disjointed: arms, shoulders, back, and legs torn from their sockets,
and the afflicted parts then swelling, the weights tell with more
excruciating force. Then they begin to rail upon him, calling him dog
and heretic, that will stand so obstinately in concealing the truth;
and in this pitiful plight, half dead and more, if he pray them to let
him down, promising to tell them somewhat, after he has said what he
can, he is worse handled than before, because they think that now only
he begins to broach his matters. For as soon as his tale is at an end
they begin afresh to exhort, to threat, and to rack him, giving charge
to haul him up and let him down again as I have already described,
until the leech signifies by a private sign that if he suffer any
more now his spirit will presently depart, and so he will escape out
of their hands; when they leave him and let him down for that time,
demanding of the executioner (to fright him), whether his other
instruments be ready? To which the executioner answers that they be
ready, but that he has not brought them with him. ‘Then see,’ they say,
‘that they be ready by to-morrow, and look that nothing be wanting, for
we shall try one way or another to get the truth from this heretic.’
Thereupon they rise and go their way, while the leech restores the
sufferer’s limbs as best he may, putting his arms and legs in their
right joints again (if the swelling permit) and so he is carried back
into his cell.
After two or three days are past he is again put to the question, and
finds all ready as before; when, being bound to the rack, they again
straitly fall to persuade him to utter somewhat, wherein, if he answers
nothing, they carry him back to prison, but if he says ought, then in
the hopes of getting more from him they again put him to the rack,
and while he hangs bind his thighs and mid-leg together tightly with
small but very strong cord, and then drive in wedges betwixt until the
cords are hidden in the flesh; a very extreme and terrible torment. In
this plight the poor soul is left for some hours until his legs almost
mortify and the pain is beyond endurance. Nevertheless, they cease not
to persuade and to entreat him, but if he still prove obstinate they
employ another device the name of which is ‘_Buriorum Aselli_,’ and
the manner of it is this: he is laid upon his back upon a trough of
massy timber, across which just below his shoulders is a bar, so that
his back may not settle to the bottom and he may have the less ease.
When he is laid thereon, his arms, legs, and thighs are bound with very
stout small cords, which they afterwards strain with sticks so that
they pierce the flesh almost to the bone, insomuch that the cords can
no longer be seen. Then they take a piece of fine linen, large enough
to cover both his mouth and nose, and pour upon it water in a thin
stream which bears down the linen into his mouth and throat so as to
suffocate him, and yet he cannot move, so that when they pluck it out
from the bottom of his throat, as they do many times to see whether he
will answer their questions, the cloth is dyed with his blood and he
suffers death by this torment many times over. All this was shown and
explained to me, and I was led back to my cell almost dead with fear.
Lying thus in my new cell, which, as I have said, was changed, for
some suspicion of my jailors, from the attics to a deep underground
dungeon, trembling for the fear of what I had seen which I had too much
reason to dread might be my fate, with but the cold hard stone for my
pillow, I had nought to sustain me but the memory of the moments I had
passed with Dolores, tormenting myself with the doubt lest she might
give way to the wishes of her father and the importunities of the Count
de Villegas. I went over in my mind all her words, and still more her
looks and involuntary signs of love, torturing myself with the idea
that they were but signs of common politeness, and that, though she
might like me, yet did she not care for me to that degree that she
would sacrifice her peace for my sake. How long I lay thus I had lost
count, but it was certainly night, for my jailor had long since brought
me my evening meal of beans or chickpeas boiled in oil, and also my
pipkin of water; when presently I heard, as it were beneath me, a
sound as of a pick plied with regular blows. To be sure I had heard it
for some time, but it had not arrested my attention until now when I
began to wonder as it came nearer what it might portend. Then I heard
a mighty blow upon a stone at my feet; my heart leapt to my mouth,
for, indeed, the terrors I had gone through and my long imprisonment
had somewhat wasted my mettle, and I had almost shrieked aloud when
the stone without further warning disappeared, leaving merely a cavity
where it had been. I gazed intently, waiting to see what might happen,
but all was silent for a time, and then I thought that indeed my wits
had left me, for the sufferings I had gone through, for I seemed to
hear my father’s voice, and lo! his head appeared as if it were rising
through the pavement. I think that it was the indescribable look of
tender pity that his face bore which quieted me and drove away my
fear; I began to think that I had died and that my father had come
to deliver me from the persecutors of this earth and to bring me to
heavenly bliss, but my senses left me, and I knew no more until I found
myself in a little dark chamber hardly illumined by a solitary candle,
which only served to show my father’s face bending over me. I closed
my eyes again, and then I heard his voice bidding me to remain quiet,
and assuring me that I was now in safety and with him. Then he held
a cordial to my lips, which revived me so that I could sit up and
partake of food which he had prepared for me. When I had finished, I
begged him to tell me where I was, and he answered me as follows.
‘You know, my son, that I have long studied the secrets handed down to
us by the Moors, who once were all-powerful in this country; secrets
which, so learnedly and skilfully are the books of their philosophers
written, only those who have themselves studied much can hope to
decipher. The Sierras which we see so close to us are veined with gold
and silver; but I sought less to find the old mines which were formerly
worked there and which our unskilful forefathers left to be forgotten,
than the hiding-places which I felt sure the Moors had digged about
this town, and in which they must have left from time to time much
treasure in gold and jewels, and still more in those priceless works of
their philosophers, which they alone of all the nations of the world
in those barbarous days encouraged and honoured. From the works of one
Abucaçim, I was led to believe that our house together with the mint
had at one time been one of the defences of the town, the prison on
the opposite banks of the stream being another, and, if that were the
case, there should be a secret passage beneath the river communicating
between the two. By much study I fixed upon the point, found the
passage and chamber in which we now are, but alas! no sign of books
or treasure. However, as I began to suspect that a hiding-place in
time of need might be useful, I studied the whole of these underground
workings, and found that while on the one hand they communicate with
the mint and your prison-house, on the other a longer branch goes to a
cavern situated in the hill which, you know, lies to the south of our
city; a cavern only known to a few goatherds who have never dared to
penetrate its depths. In this place I stored a few necessaries, and
when you were arrested I made it my business to inquire as to the plan
of your prison; when, finding that the passage had formerly opened into
what is now an underground dungeon, and hearing that the cell you were
in was situated beneath the roof, I spread abroad rumours that there
was a plan of escape prepared for you, and so procured your removal to
the cell from which I rescued you. I then learned that it was resolved
also to arrest me, and therefore retired at once to my hiding-place to
which I have now happily brought you; it only remains for us to fly
the country, for I need not remind you that henceforth we shall never
be safe in Spain. Your cell shows no sign of having been entered, the
stone is replaced and is well filled in beneath so that it will not
yield a hollow sound. Probably your jailor will be suspected of having
assisted you, and will be tortured; such men must learn that there is
not always safety in evil-doing, and that he who serves the devil will
be rewarded with hell.’
We lay there perdue in our hiding-place for some three weeks until the
hue and cry after us was somewhat abated; and then stole forth in the
disguise of peasants, hiding by day in the vineyards, and only faring
on by night, and so made our way to Tortosa, where my father had a
friend, a merchant, who traded with Marseilles. To our joy, we found
that he had a vessel now in harbour upon the point of sailing, to which
he conveyed us in the guise of factors, and we got safely away without
being discovered by the familiars of the Inquisition. You may guess,
however, that I did not depart without leaving a letter for Dolores,
which I gave into the hands of a muleteer who was just starting for
Segovia. The letter was couched in the following words: ‘One who was
unjustly persecuted has now escaped, but in leaving thee, he leaves
all behind him that makes life valuable in his eyes. Oh, grant that he
may look forward to the time when in a secure asylum he may hope to
hear from thee!’ I have not much more to tell you. We were scarcely
out of sight of the coast of Spain, when we were attacked by a couple
of Sallee pirates, and though we fought desperately, we proved to be
no match for them and were overpowered. My father, alas! was among the
slain, and I was sold for the slave you see before you.
* * * * *
This story amused me: indeed, it always gave me pleasure to hear the
stories of the slaves who were my fellows in captivity, and this not
only for the tale, though all men love to hear stories of adventure,
but also they served to remind me how many Turks were daily sent out
of the world in their fights, which could not but be pleasing in the
sight of God and man. Also it served to show how few men there are in
this world equal to me in the virtues of manhood--skill, bravery, and
quickness of resource. Most of these tales, indeed, were nought; for
most of the slaves had been taken in the pursuit of their daily bread,
sordid churls, who had lived their mechanic lives like the cattle of
the fields. Nevertheless there was one story related to me by a Kurd
from Hakkarieh which was entertaining enough to remain fixed in my
memory, and which I shall call after its narrator, the ‘Story of Yousef
ibn Ali.’
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
_THE STORY OF YOUSEF IBN ALI._
No man can escape his destiny, he began, and doubtlessly it was written
upon my forehead that I should be cast down to the depths of misery
from a position in which I enjoyed the most exquisite of delights and
the choicest of the gifts of God. My father was the lieutenant of
the chief of the Kurds, Ogloo Beg, who usually dwelt in his mountain
fastness of Koursouf when not on one of his raiding expeditions. This
castle was situated in a large and fertile valley, entirely surrounded
by high and rugged mountains, well watered by several mountain streams,
and only to be approached by two passes, both difficult and easily to
be defended. Nominally he was subject to the Government of Bagdad, but
practically, so long as he sent a small yearly tribute, he did as he
pleased, and any complaints of the merchants concerning his robberies
were disregarded or easily met by a present to the Turkish governor.
Indeed the Turks would have thought twice before attacking him. His
valley was large enough to support all his men, and they were numerous
enough to keep any army out of so impregnable a place. None the less he
acted wisely in sending the small tribute demanded of him, since there
was always the possibility of treachery, even though his followers were
devoted to him, and moreover he had to take into consideration that,
were the Turks roused to energy, they might cut him off in one of his
expeditions.
As for me, I was born on the last Wednesday in the month of Safar, a
day which naturally gave my father much concern. A darweesh, a Persian,
who was a man of much learning and attached to the court of Ogloo
Beg, demanded an astrolabe and cast my horoscope, which he considered
attentively for some time, and then raising his head he said: ‘Oh, Aga,
the affairs of God are inscrutable, and what is fated is fated. When
thy son arriveth at man’s estate, he will be sore tried and will return
evil for good, attain the summit of happiness, and be cast down into
the depths of misery.’ At this my father struck hand upon hand, but
said nothing. Now he possessed a talisman, a jacinth, inscribed with
many cabalistic characters, which he had obtained in this way. While
commanding an expedition on the borders of Persia he had fallen upon a
large and sumptuously appointed caravan, and after slaying the guard
and plundering the merchants, the women were brought before him. One of
these proved to be a Persian princess journeying with her slaves to the
mountains for a summer residence; and since Ogloo Beg wisely sought to
keep on good terms with those in power on both sides of the border, in
case of need, instead of holding her and her handmaidens to ransom, my
father treated her with all honour, and, giving her a guard of his own
men, sent her on to her destination. In return she presented him with
that jewel which she was wearing at the time, and which makes him who
wears it prosperous and preserves from evil chance. This talisman my
father now hung about my neck; and, had I not parted with it, I should
have been preserved from the fate which overtook me.
My education was that usual for a boy in my position: I was taught
to ride almost before I could walk; to throw the jereed in the game
of war, and to handle arms as soon as I could bear them. Without
boasting, I may say that at a very early age I showed considerable
proficiency in all manly exercises, so much so that Ogloo Beg himself
was pleased to notice me, and would delight to see his son, who was
scarcely one year my elder, contend with me in mimic warfare. It is
needless to add that I always allowed him to overcome me, greatly to
the delight of his father, who would exclaim, ‘_Afferin_, well done!’
and so I not only retained the consideration of the father Ogloo Beg,
but also gained the affection of the son, Hussein, who was a youth of
great beauty and of a noble disposition, whom to see was to love. As
soon as I grew old enough to take part in the plundering expeditions, I
was attached to the person of Hussein, and more than once, had it not
been for me, his ardour and impetuosity in the fight would have cost
him dearly, so that he loved me all the more as the preserver of his
life, and we became inseparable companions.
Now it happened upon one occasion that Ogloo Beg had plundered a
particularly rich caravan of Indian merchants, which he had had notice
had left Bagdad under a guard of soldiers supplied by the Pasha of that
city. The guard had instantly fled upon our attack, we had slain the
merchants and taken their goods to our fastness; but since Ogloo Beg
had received a private message from the Pasha informing him of this
opportunity, and that the guard had instructions not to resist, it was
incumbent upon him to send in return half the value of the goods taken,
which he did, and appointed his son Hussein to accompany them and to
present his respects to the Pasha. I, of course, went with him, and we
were well received. Whether by policy, so as to have a valuable hostage
always in his power, or whether he was struck by the noble bearing
of the son of the mountain chieftain, I cannot tell; but certain it
was that Hussein grew daily in greater favour with the Pasha, and was
induced to put off his departure for many days, until at length, when
he grew more pressing in desiring permission to return to his father,
the Pasha announced that the governorship of Mosul was vacant, and
that, _Inshallah!_ God willing, he would appoint him to the vacant
place. My friend immediately prostrated himself, as in duty bound,
and thanked the Pasha, but desired permission to acquaint his father
with the honour that had been done him, in order that he might also
express his gratitude at the kindness that had been shown his son, and
the permission being accorded, I was deputed to return to Ogloo Beg
and acquaint him with the fact. Accordingly I set forth, but I found
that all that had happened was well known to my master, and although
he did not seem to be quite satisfied with the position in which his
son was placed, he was too old a diplomatist to do otherwise than send
me back with many protestations of thanks and professions of duty. He
argued, perhaps, that though his son might be to some extent a hostage,
yet that it was easier to escape from Mosul than from Bagdad; and,
moreover, as Governor of Mosul, he might procure many good things for
him in the way of business.
Having received his firman, Hussein took leave of the Pasha, and set
out for Mosul, taking me with him in the capacity of his vizier; and
he was no sooner settled in his government, than one day, calling
me aside, he said, ‘My brother, it is hard for the wild hawk to be
chained in the mews, even if he have all that his heart can desire save
freedom; and like the wild hawk, I often pine for our valley-home,
where we ever saw men around us, not slaves as here. But there is
one thing in our home that might reconcile me to my banishment, the
procuring whereof I would entrust to no one but thee, who art united
to me by every tie of affection. Say, wilt thou do this thing for
me?’ ‘On my head and my eyes, oh Aga,’ I replied, ‘nor is there
anything that I would not do for you, even were it to divorce my soul
from my body!’ Then he confided to me that he had long loved Zehneb,
the daughter of his uncle, and that he wished me to go and demand
her in marriage for him, for that he himself was unable to leave his
Government. Accordingly, I set forth with many rich presents, and, to
make a long story short, soon accomplished his purpose. The lady Zehneb
took leave of her parents with many tears, and set forth with a caravan
richly provided and many guards, for she carried a rich dowry with her.
Of this caravan I had the command.
It is perhaps necessary to tell you that we Kurds give our women more
freedom than is elsewhere common in the East, and as children, both my
lord and I had played with Zehneb, neither as she grew older had we
been altogether separated, nor had my heart escaped unscorched by the
fire of her eyes. Alas! the cold embers of my love, which had almost
burnt out in the all-absorbing practice of war, were again kindled into
flame with my mission. She did not veil herself before me, for she
regarded me as a brother almost, she said; and I could not look upon
her without longing that she should be mine. It was only by constantly
recalling to myself the loyalty that I owed to Hussein, and that Zehneb
was his betrothed wife, that I could prevent my lips from declaring to
her what my traitor eyes could no longer conceal.
As the caravan journeyed along day by day, I rode by the side of her
litter, and though I essayed to talk upon such indifferent subjects as
philosophy, and the history and heroes of our race, such as might both
interest her and be permitted to me, yet one glance of her eyes was
sufficient to render me mute, and my troubled looks and frequent sighs
could hardly escape the notice of one so acute, so sympathetic, and so
friendly as she. On one occasion, when I had been relating to her some
of the adventures of Rustem, a silence ensued for some time, and then
she said to me, ‘Oh, Yusef, thou hast related many stories to me of the
might and power of the old heroes, and it behoveth me also to relate
in my turn somewhat of the stories of yore, calculated to admonish the
understanding and make us extol the power and perfection of God.’ Upon
which she related to me the story of ‘El Melek en Assad, or Evil is
Rewarded by Evil.’
[Illustration]
_EL MELEK EN ASSAD, OR EVIL IS REWARDED BY EVIL._