BROTHERS AND CONSPIRATORS.
Great was the excitement in the encampment when we were seen to be
approaching; some sixty or seventy horsemen, headed by Faris, galloped
out to meet us, and wheeling round in front of us, performed a
_fantasia_ for my benefit all the way into camp. Then everyone turned
out to greet me, and my reception was royal, Faris leading me by the
hand to his tent, and paying me the greatest honour. I could see at once
that his pleasure at my arrival was genuine; for, as he said, he and I
had been in peril together, and had seen stranger things than had any
two men of his acquaintance, and though we had met for a few hours
outside Hillah, he never had had the opportunity of welcoming me to his
tents, since the time of our adventures at the ruins of Katib. He would
have it that I had saved his life and that of Sedjur on two occasions,
first when I and Edwards gave ourselves up to the Governor of Adiba, and
allowed him and his son to escape; and secondly, when at the Birs
Nimroud, I had warned him of the Shammar lying in ambush. In vain I
tried to persuade him that I had done nothing out of the common; in his
eyes I was a hero; and, I think, still a little bit of a magician,
though he did not rally me on this point.
"Well, now, Sheik of Sheiks," I said, after we had settled down to our
pipes in private, "what news of the serpent belt?"
"Much," he answered, "and strange."
"Have you, then, secured it?" I asked.
"Nay!" he replied, "not yet. But it is yours to take when you will."
"How so?" said I.
"It is a long story," said the sheik, "but I will make it as short as
possible. After leaving you that night at Hillah, we returned to our
men, and immediately we scoured the whole country, in order to find
those two Jews who had carried away the belt, as the sick Ingleezee at
the Birs Nimroud had told us. We tracked them to Kerbela, and I sent a
message to them with a request that they would meet me at a certain time
outside the town, near the bridge, promising them gold for their
trouble, well knowing that without some reward they would never come.
They kept their appointment--the two of them--thinking that I had
intended to compensate them for having destroyed their dwelling at the
Birs Nimroud, of which event they had somehow heard. I paid them a
little money, and promised them more if they would permit me to see the
golden belt which the sick Ingleezee had bidden them carry away. They
vouchsafed that they knew nothing of such a thing; but, unwittingly, one
of them inquired how much I would give. I replied that if they would
sell me the belt I would pay them 2000 kerans. Then the two men
incontinently wept and tore their beards, saying that they would
willingly have accepted the price I offered, had it not been that they
had been robbed of it by a party of Shammar soon after they had left the
Birs Nimroud. They told me, when I had paid them a few more kerans, who
the Shammar were. It was the same band whose members had stolen the belt
from Raspul on that memorable night, and with whom you are well
acquainted. So those men are in possession of the twice-stolen treasure,
and we know where they have their tents, not five days' journey from
this."
"Then," said I, overjoyed at the news, "the Golden Girdle is indeed
mine. If you will show me the way to the Shammar camp, I shall purchase
the belt from them for the value which I know they attach to it. They
themselves told me that their reward was to be 5000 kerans."
"Why waste this money," said Faris, "when the golden serpents can be had
for nothing. Sedjur and I have laid our plans, and, ere half a moon, we
shall hand you that which you desire. Then shall the name of
Faris-ibn-Feyzul be made known to those who keep the big house wherein
lies Shahzadi's shoe. It is a small undertaking to surround and surprise
these few Shammar, and, _inshallah_--if God wills, it shall be
accomplished."
"To obtain it thus, by stratagem and bloodshed," I replied, "would be
for me to invoke the curses of all the evil spirits which haunt the
world. Know you not, sheik, that these very Shammar extended to me full
hospitality? How, then, is it possible for me to agree to your
proposals?"
"I had forgotten," said the sheik. "Those are difficulties. Can you
yourself think of any plan by which they may be removed?"
"I shall require time to consider," I replied. "Allow me until
to-night."
"So be it," said Faris, "and to-night I shall entertain you at a feast.
It is a great occasion."
Glad of quiet and repose, I lay on the rugs in my tent all the
afternoon, and gave myself up to deep thought. That I was bitterly
disappointed I need not say. I had fully made up my mind that Faris
actually had the Girdle ready to hand over to me. I now learned that it
was some two hundred miles away. Truly had Edwards described it as a
will-o'-the-wisp. Was I to start again on another interminable ride? It
seemed to be my only chance; and yet, when I reached the Shammar tents,
I might find that my Golden Girdle had again taken wings. I began to
hate the thing; but I had gone through so much in my attempts to obtain
it, that I was more than ever determined that it should be mine. So I
thought on, and frequently wished that Edwards had been with me, so that
I might have had the value of his advice, although I felt that he would
have counselled a masterly inactivity, in other words, a retreat to
Baghdad. At any rate, I should now have the satisfaction of playing the
game off my own bat.
At sundown came the supper party, and it certainly was a great affair,
all the principal men of the tribe being invited, and the dishes being
of the best. But I was quite unprepared for the honour that awaited me
at the conclusion of the feast. Faris rose and made a speech, in which
he told his guests that the time had come for him to prove to me, his
principal guest, in how high esteem he held me. He then spoke at some
length of the courage displayed by me on several occasions when in his
company, though I noticed that he was careful not to go into details
concerning our doings at Katib. He regretted that his friend the Hakim,
an equally brave man, was not also present; but he hoped some day to
welcome him to the desert. It was now, he went on, his earnest desire
that I, the bravest of the brave, should hold out to him,
Faris-ibn-Feyzul, a Sheik of the Jelas Aeniza, the hand of eternal
friendship. Throughout his long speech I had been hot and uncomfortable;
all eyes were riveted on me, and I felt that each pair of eyes could
read, in my crimson face, that I was a rank impostor. Yet they greeted
their chiefs appeal for eternal friendship with shouts of acclamation,
and not knowing exactly what was required of me, I stood up and spoke.
Thanking the sheik for the kind words which he had used regarding me,
but at the same time proclaiming that he had greatly exaggerated my
courage, I declared my willingness, and indeed my desire, that we should
ever be friends.
"Brothers!" exclaimed Faris.
"Brothers!" shouted everyone in chorus.
Then I knew what was intended. I and Faris were to swear
blood-brotherhood, the highest honour that one man can show to another,
and by which we should bind ourselves, so long as we lived, to remain
true to each other, to fight for each other if necessary, and never to
quarrel. There and then, on the spur of the moment, the ceremony was
performed, Sedjur, on my other side, prompting me how to act. All stood
up in silence, and to the onlookers the scene must have appeared a
solemn and impressive one; for my part, I was so nervous that I scarcely
knew what I was doing, though Sedjur instructed me that whatever his
father did or said, I was to repeat. Facing one another, the sheik
grasped my girdle with his left hand, and I grasped his with mine. Then,
with our right hands raised to heaven, we pledged ourselves, I repeating
the words which Faris spoke, one by one, and each one many times. We
called on God to bear witness; we swore by God, and through God, and we
declared ourselves to be brothers to-day, to-morrow, and hereafter. It
was no light undertaking, and those present regarded the ceremony with
much seriousness, remaining silent for some time after it had been
concluded.
"Now," said Faris, later on, when the guests had departed, and he, I,
and Sedjur were alone, "now, we are true brothers. Praise be to Allah!
From this time we have all things in common; should you desire camels,
horses, or sheep, take any that I have. Whatsoever is mine is yours, and
anything that you ask of me shall be granted."
"Great Sheik and Brother," I said, "I know not how to thank you for all
the kindness and generosity which you have shown to me. Would that I
could repay you but one half. I desire nothing but the one thing of
which you know, and with it to return to my own country. This afternoon
I spent in devising a plan for becoming possessed of that Golden Girdle,
which we two once saw lying before the altar of Sophana, whom Raspul
called Goddess Queen. To unfold my plan and ask you to agree to it will
be to put your oath of brotherhood to a severe test."
"Have I not sworn by Allah?" said the sheik. "Speak on, brother."
I then expounded my plan, which was that, in place of my going on what
might prove a long and useless journey, we should send to the party of
Shammar now in possession of the Girdle, and invite them, as guests, to
pay us a visit. As I explained, they were my friends, and they were,
therefore, now the friends of Sheik Faris. He saw the argument, and
though I am confident that my suggestion was most distasteful to him, he
acquiesced without so much as a question. I explained to him my reason
for wishing that the Shammar should come to me, rather than that I
should go to them: I did not altogether believe in the veracity of the
two Jews, who had said that they had been robbed, knowing, as I did,
that the Jews of Arabia have reduced lying to a fine art. By persuading
the Shammar to come to us, if we should find that the Jews had lied, we
should be able to get in touch at once with the latter; whereas if I
were to ride away a couple of hundred miles, I should have to come back
again before being able to do anything. I was quite certain that if the
Shammar had the Girdle, they would sell it to me; for I had been with
them long enough to know that they were poor men, and that their sole
desire was to obtain Kellner's 5000 kerans. Therefore I proposed that
the message which I should send to them should be to the effect that I
was anxious once again to see my old friends, and that I would purchase
from them the Golden Girdle at the price which Kellner had agreed to
give.
As Faris said, the negotiations would require fine handling, but Sedjur
stepped into the breach, and immediately suggested that he himself
should carry the message. He would go with one other, and he was quite
convinced that he would succeed in inducing the Shammar to come and see
me. The sheik consented, and, moreover, offered to lead the tribe
southwards in the direction of the winter pastures, by which Sedjur's
return journey would be considerably shortened, and we should be at no
greater distance from Kerbela and the two Jews than we now were. I went
to bed that night more contented in mind; I still had every chance of
obtaining my prize; I should have to pay for it, of course; but that I
had long decided would be necessary. If the Shammar had the Girdle, they
should have 5000 kerans for it; if the Jews still possessed it, they
would doubtless sell it for that sum, and be glad to get the money. The
only question that troubled me at all was the position of Kellner. I did
not wish to do anything mean or underhand, for he had fought valiantly
for the thing, and that he had failed to keep it was only due to his
loss of health at the last. So I made a vow that, when I had secured the
Girdle and had it safe in Baghdad, I would display the utmost generosity
to Kellner, and recompense him handsomely. I felt that then I should be
able to afford to be generous.
Next morning, Sedjur and his companion set out on their mission, and
after they had left, I almost regretted not having accompanied them. The
sheik, however, laid himself out to entertain me, and on the following
day, the whole tribe commenced its annual migration towards the south.
It was an interesting sight, which I thoroughly enjoyed, and I was glad
to find that the pace was slow and the day's march consequently short.
Thousands of camels and horses moved abreast across the plain, a few
horsemen scouting ahead, as an advanced guard, while Faris and I, with a
small escort, rode a little in front of the centre of the long line,
which extended across country for several miles. There was sport to be
had, also; for the sheik did not make these slow marches without his
hawks and greyhounds, and many a fast gallop they gave us. The camels
and horses were as good as a line of beaters; wolves, foxes, jackals,
gazelles, and bustards were frequently turned out of the scrub, and
pursued by hound or hawk. For a week or more we travelled in this easy
and delightful manner, pitching camp early each evening, and starting
again none too early in the morning.
At length we reached the spot at which Faris had agreed to wait for
Sedjur, and so satisfactorily did the arrangement work, that we had to
wait barely twenty-four hours before we had the joy of seeing four
horsemen coming into camp. Sedjur's mission had been successful, and
with him rode Daud and another of the Shammar. I was not a little
astonished at the politeness with which Faris received his old enemies,
and welcomed them as the guests of the tribe. They might have been his
dearest friends; and the Shammar themselves were evidently well-pleased
at their reception.
It had been my hope all along that Daud would be one of the guests, as I
knew him better than his chief, and I was aware that he was much
attached to me; but it grieved me to hear that, some weeks before, the
sheik had lost his life in a foray, and that three others had also
perished. Daud was now the head of this small family of the Shammar, and
he and the man accompanying him were the only survivors of the original
party who had been responsible for the death of the seer at Katib. I
mentioned this to Faris in private. His reply was typical of the man.
"The curse has indeed followed them," said he, softly, "as I was sure
that it would. For the murder of Raspul nine lives have been given. His
death has been avenged, and the crime expiated. I am sorry for them, for
they were daring and brave men."
"I have not told you, sheik," I said, "that this Daud and the other man
were both at Katib on that night, and were parties to the death of
Raspul the seer."
"That cannot be helped now," said Faris. "I cursed them, and swore, by
Allah, that I would not rest until I had slain them. Yet the laws of
hospitality are in the eyes of Allah inviolable, and of greater
importance than an oath of vengeance taken in hot blood. I wish my
guests no ill, and I trust that the curse of Sophana may not fall upon
these two men."
It was not long before I approached Daud in the matter of the Golden
Girdle, fully expecting that he would show it to me hanging from his
waist. But no sooner did I mention it than I realised that my hopes were
destined to be dashed to the ground once again. What the two Jews had
said was absolutely false. Never had Daud or any of his men set eyes on
them since the day that he rode with Edwards and myself to the Birs
Nimroud, and had then been forced to retire because of the sudden
arrival of Faris and his superior numbers. Certainly, as I had thought
probable, the Jews had lied, and undoubtedly with a purpose. I did not
altogether blame them, since if they were acting faithfully in Kellner's
interests, they were justified in throwing Faris and everyone else off
the scent. Faris, however, when I told him all, did not see things in
the same light, and declared that he would be even with the Jews who had
lied to him.
I was beginning to lose heart. I felt that I was no match for Kellner;
and when I remembered that the Baghdad merchant, Mersina, who was
evidently Kellner's trusty agent, had been tracked to Kerbela, whither
also the two Jews had fled with the Girdle, I saw clearly what had
happened. Mersina had received it on behalf of Kellner, and had conveyed
it to a place of safety, where it would remain until the German was
released from hospital, and able to take it away. My sole hope now lay
in the possibility of purchasing the Girdle from Kellner--a poor hope,
at the best; and I settled that my wisest course would be to return to
Baghdad as soon as possible, and endeavour to discuss matters with him.
He might still be in hospital at Hillah; if so, I would persuade Edwards
that it would be friendly to visit him there. But, a few hours later, my
new plan was wrecked.
We had assembled--we three, Faris, Daud, and I--for the purpose of
deciding if by any means we could discover reliable news of the Golden
Girdle. Each of us, though for a different reason, was anxious that it
should come into my possession. Faris, who had wealth enough and to
spare, had but one desire in the world--to become the owner of the shoe
of Shahzadi. Daud had dreams of placing himself on an equal footing with
the other sheiks of his tribe, as I had promised him that whenever the
Girdle should become mine, I would bestow on him the sum agreed upon by
Kellner. As to myself, fame spurred me on to exertion; but I argued with
myself that it was not a mere craving for notoriety, so much as an
ambition to accomplish that which I had undertaken, with perhaps a wish
to be able to prove to Edwards, the sceptic, that there was method in my
madness. I opened the debate, telling my friends what I had heard of the
merchant, Mersina; how I imagined that he was holding the Girdle until
Kellner should claim it, and that, if this were the case, there was
nothing to be done, since to dispossess the rightful owner was out of
the question.
"The words that you have spoken," said Daud, quickly, "are wise and
just. Yet no man can assert that the dead have a claim on the goods of
this world."
"I do not understand you," said I, "I was speaking of the living."
"Then," said Daud, "you know not that that Ingleezee is dead?"
"Dead!" I replied in astonishment, "why should you think that he has
died?"
"Because," answered the Bedouin, "I myself saw him lying dead in the
hospital at Hillah. I happened to have been in the town in disguise,
when my nephew, who sweeps out the hospital for the base-born Turks,
informed me of the death of a strange Ingleezee who had come from the
desert. He took me to see the dead man, and I saw that it was none other
than that same man who had brought ruin to my people. I had sworn to
kill him, but of that I have told you. No knife of mine was needed to
avenge the death of my many relations. It had pleased Allah to strike
him."
It seemed to me a dreadful thing that Kellner, of whom, as my
cabin-companion, I had the most pleasant recollections, should have thus
come to an untimely end, regarded probably by those about him in his
last moments as an outcast, if not also as a felon. But his death had
changed the whole situation; and though I did not immediately take it
all in, my more astute friends saw at once how matters lay.
"There is only one thing to be done," said Faris, breaking the silence,
"and I am sure that my guest here will agree with me. Come, Daud, do you
understand my meaning?"
"That, sheik, I cannot say," replied Daud, "but I have my own idea of
the only plan by which we can succeed. It is that we immediately seek
the Jews, and discover from them truly what they have done with the
Girdle."
"And after that?" said Faris.
"With spear and sword and with horse," answered Daud, his eyes flashing
fiercely, "pursuing to the limits of the earth, and sparing no one,
until we have accomplished our end."
"In this matter," said Faris, "we are one. If you agree, let us swear to
be loyal to one another so long as we are fighting for the serpent belt,
and until our friend the Beg proclaims that he has no further need of
our services."
"I agree," said Daud rising, and holding his right hand aloft "By Allah,
I swear it!"
"By Allah, I swear it!" repeated Faris.
Great plans were discussed by the two warriors, who apparently intended
to be stopped by nothing; and though I counselled moderation and as
little bloodshed as possible, I knew that it would be useless to argue
with two men of this description when their blood was up. I therefore
contented myself with listening to their projects, hoping that before
anything desperate occurred I should have an opportunity of interfering
and of preventing unnecessary slaughter.
The plan finally decided on, and forthwith set on foot, was, in its
initial stage, simple enough. Daud went alone to Kerbela, where, as a
mendicant pilgrim from the far interior, he was to display much
religious zeal, discover all he could about Mersina and the two other
Jews, and remain in the place until he had found out what had become of
the precious Girdle.
A week passed without any news, and my patience began to be sorely
tried. My hosts did all in their power to make the time pass pleasantly.
Among other things, Faris told me the story of Shahzadi's shoe, and how
Raspul the seer had prophesied: "_War and constant fighting there will
be, until the coming of the eight-nailed shoe. Wealth untold cometh to
the man whose mare shall carry the iron with which Shahzadi was shod._"
At length Daud returned from his reconnaissance. I saw at once that he
was a changed man, haggard, and his eyes as if on the look-out for
danger. He told us how he had heard of the Girdle from Shustri, a Hindu
astrologer of Kerbela. Shustri related that the Baghdad Jew, Mersina,
had stolen the Girdle from Kellner and sold it for a large sum to an
important sheik bound for Deyr, a long distance up the Euphrates.