"Now, come with me," he said, when at last I had buckled on a scimitar
and thrust my feet into slippers of crimson leather, and together we
went out into the open court.
A deep silence rested on the great palace, broken only by the cool
plashing of the fountains in their marble basins. The heavens, blue as
a sapphire, were profound and mysterious. Myriads of stars twinkled in
the clear depths of the skies, and all objects were defined with a
wonderful accuracy in the silver moonlight. The Fada was hushed in
sleep. On the marble steps of the Bab-Seadet, the gate of the Imperial
harem, the black guards stood on either side, mute, erect, motionless,
their naked swords gleaming in the moonbeams. How many scenes of
gorgeous festivity had been witnessed beyond that great door of iron!
how many terrible and bloody dramas had been enacted within those grim,
grey walls--dramas of love and hatred, of ambition, disappointment and
revenge, of all the fiercest passions of the human heart! By night and
day the bewitching pearls of the harem intrigued, schemed and plotted--
themselves, through their Imperial Master, ruling the world outside.
Too often, alas! in the history of the Empire of Sokoto it had occurred
that some dark eye, some bewitching face masking a beautiful slave's
ignorance and cunning, had mastered her irresponsible and irresistible
lord, and been the means of striking off the heads of not only her
rivals within the harem, but those of even the wisest councillors and
the bravest fighting-men outside.
As together we crossed the silent court our echoing footsteps broke the
quiet. In the gateway of the harem a single light glimmered yellow in
contrast with the white moonbeams; but turning our backs upon it we
passed through one court after another, receiving salutes from the
guards at each gateway. My disguise as eunuch was complete, and as we
strolled onward without apparent haste my confidence grew until, on
crossing the Court of the Armourers and entering the Court of the Pages,
we discerned a white-robed figure enveloped in a haick and wearing the
ugly baggy trousers which are the out-door garments of Moslem women.
"Behold!" I exclaimed, with bated breath. "The Lalla Azala awaiteth
us!"
"No," answered the strange, grotesque being. "It is her mute slave,
Ayesha. Place thyself in her hands. She will conduct thee unto her
mistress."
As we advanced, the woman, whose face I could not distinguish, raised
her hand with commanding gesture, and opening a small door beckoned me
to follow. This I did, Tiamo remaining behind. Across many courts and
through several doors, which the woman carefully bolted after us, we
sped until, skirting a pretty garden where pomegranates, almonds,
cypresses and myrtles alternated regularly, and roses in full bloom
embowered the long alley, we came to a door in a wall near the tower.
Having looked well around to see that nobody remarked us, she introduced
me into a passage so small that I was compelled to bend to enter it.
Taking up a lamp that had apparently been placed there in readiness, she
went on before, and I followed through some intricate wanderings; then,
instead of ascending, we began to go down a flight of broken stone
steps.
The air became hot and stifling, and foul odours rose from the place
into which we were descending. Suddenly a loud, piercing shriek of pain
sounded weirdly, followed by another and yet another. Then I recognised
the uneven steps as those leading to the foul dungeon with its maniac
prisoners.
The rough, exultant laugh of my enemy, Khazneh, reached my ears from
below, mingled with the imploring cry of some unfortunate wretch who was
undergoing torture. Next second a suspicion flashed across my mind that
I had been betrayed.