Two years later, when Allah had given him a male child by Nesîbeh,
Iskender visited his wife's father in the spring-time. He arrived on
foot leading the donkey, on which his wife sat with the baby in her
arms. An excited group stood out beneath the ilex-tree. They shouted
"Praise to Allah!" The mother of Iskender ran and seized the baby, and
rocking it in her arms, poured forth her hoard of tidings. Asad ebn
Costantîn was married--had Iskender heard?--to a great lady of the
English, a virgin strictly guarded, the only child of rich and honoured
parents. Ah, the cunning devil! The people there at the Mission were
furious, he might believe; the more so that Asad was bringing his bride
to visit them as an equal--he, the son of Costantîn, who fetched the
water! Ah, they were well repaid for their treatment of Iskender; and
they knew it!
But Mîtri broke in, crying:
"Hast thou brought the picture?"
"Be sure I have!" replied Iskender cheerfully. Opening one of the
saddlebags he produced it, wrapped in a linen cloth, which he removed.
A howl of delight went up from all the company.
"Ma sh' Allah! It is Mar Jiryis himself!" "May we be helped through
him!" "Now our church will wear a richer and more modish look!"
exclaimed one and another.
It was indeed the crowning triumph of his art, which Iskender brought
as an offering to the little church of St. George beneath the oak-tree,
which he regarded as the fountain of Heaven's favours towards him. For
the form and posture of the saint he had gone to one of those grand
English newspapers which the Emîr had given to him years ago. He had
taken thence the likeness of a mounted officer slashing downward with
his sabre, while his charger, dragged back on its haunches, pawed the
air convulsively. A uniform of gold embellished this equestrian
figure, which was framed in coils of Dragon, green and black; while the
Dragon, in its turn, was framed in a fine decorative gush of blood,
pure scarlet, which swirled and eddied round the combatants, springing
visibly from the monster's many wounds.
"It is a feast for the eyes!" cried Mîtri, when he had gazed his fill.
There were tears on his cheeks as he turned and kissed Iskender. "The
saint will be pleased, in sh' Allah! To-night it shall honour my
house. To-morrow we will carry it in procession seven times round the
church before we enter. It is all arranged. Khalîl will be there with
his music, which is lawful anywhere except in church. In sh' Allah, we
will have a ceremony such as has not been seen in this place for many a
year. I have spoken to the caimmacâm and to the learned at the Mosque
about it; and they say we may do what we like among ourselves, but must
desist if any Muslim passing by should make objection. To-morrow is
high festival with us!"
Accordingly, next morning, there was concourse at the house of the
Orthodox priest. Within, upon a kind of altar, the picture was
displayed with tapers burning. Each new arrival paid respect to it.
Abdullah, who had strayed in aimless with the crowd, stood fixed before
it as if petrified, in horror of the dragon's hideous face. Then, with
a fervent "God protect us all!" the spell was broken and he hurried out.
"A miracle!" cried Mîtri joyously. "Our picture has already scared a
sinner."
Some one in the room inquired tremulously whether dragons such as that
portrayed were still to be found in the world?
"No, praise be to Allah!" replied Mîtri. All laughed at the simplicity
of the questioner, except Elias, who solemnly averred that such
existed, that he himself had seen one crunching a poor one-eyed black
man in its cruel jaws.
"He has seen a crocodile, perhaps, in Masr," Yuhanna laughingly
suggested, with a hand on the shoulder of the visionary. But Elias
protested vehemently, swearing by Allah that he knew a crocodile when
he saw one. The monster in dispute had been no crocodile, as witness
its possession of two wings, like the wings of a bat, only fifty times
larger, and a voice which could be heard for many miles. There was one
blessing, however, about all such creatures; that they had power only
over unbaptized people. This last touch pleased the majority of his
audience, causing them to praise Allah, and inclining them to accept
the truth of the whole story on religious grounds. Elias was preparing
to support it with some cognate marvel, when Mîtri announced that the
procession was being formed. At the same moment, a few prelusory notes
of the concertina were heard without. The house soon emptied.
Out in the heavy sunlight, hens fled clucking from the sudden tumult,
pigeons circled overhead and cooed distractedly, children were driving
dogs away with stones and curses. Khalîl, the musician, stood to lead
the way, making his concertina speak occasionally as a protest against
further waiting. Iskender was to follow next to him as donor of the
honoured picture; then the males of the congregation by twos and
threes, many of them carrying lighted tapers; and, last of all, the
priest fully robed, bearing the sacred picture at his breast. Groups
of white-veiled women, mere spectators, waited in the shadow of the
hovels, or beneath the oak-tree.
"Play that tune that thou didst play at our wedding, O Khalîl," cried
Nesîbeh to the musician, who was chafing for the start.
"Which tune may that be of all tunes, O lady? I played you all I knew
on that most blessed day!" Khalîl was very grave and ceremonious, this
being the greatest hour of all his life. "Is it this?" He broke into
"God save the Queen."
"No, no; it goes like this!" Nesîbeh strove to shadow forth the
Frankish air. Do what she would, she could not keep from smiling, for
pleasure in her husband's great success.
"Ah, yes, I know thy meaning now. That is a tune indeed--a tune of
playful triumph without arrogance, well suited to the occasion. It was
taught to me by an English mariner in Bûr' Saïd, and is entitled 'Bob
gûs the wîssal.'"
"Play it, O Khalîl! Play it all the time; for it is merry and it makes
us laugh!" cried Nesîbeh, clapping her hands.
"Ready!" cried Mîtri from the house; and Khalîl stepped out with
triumph, flourishing his concertina, flinging its strains out far and
wide; his head, his whole body carried this way and that with the
violence of his exertions. Elias and other excitables cut strange
capers or embraced each other. The more serious rendered praise to
Allah; the women looking on gave forth their joy-cries; and Mîtri,
bringing up the rear of the procession, smiled a blessing on their
enthusiasm over the picture held against his breast. They had
compassed the church five times to the tune of "Pop goes the Weasel,"
and were coming round again when a carriage which they had not heard
approaching drew up beneath the ilex-tree. Its occupants were a
Frankish clergyman dressed in black, and a lady dressed in white with a
white sunshade. They watched the procession curiously with pitying
smiles. Iskender from a distance was struck by the clergyman's
complexion, which seemed darker than is usual among Europeans; then
when he passed the front of the church and got close view of him, he
saw that it was Asad son of Costantîn. In a flash he remembered things
he had forgotten, recalled a standpoint that had once seemed all
desirable. He perceived how ludicrous this joyful marching round must
seem to English eyes; and for a moment felt ashamed for himself and his
friends. But the next minute, having turned the corner of the church,
he met his young wife's smile, and grew once more exultant. The lady
in the carriage beside Asad was very ugly, and no longer young.
Proudly he followed the musician round again, and, once more abreast of
the carriage, returned the contemptuous smile of the son of Costantîn.
And then the music ceased, as the procession passed into the darkness
of the little church.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Valley of the Kings, by Marmaduke Pickthall