his uneasiness, and, suspecting that he would make an endeavor to
escape, he had been searching for some occupation that should prevent
it by rendering him more content to remain. He felt that a time might
come when Kanana, with his sheepskin coat and shepherd's staff, might be
of greater value to him than many a veteran with costly _abbe_ and
gleaming sword.
The result was an order that, one hour after sunset, Kanana should
start, at the head of a hundred horsemen, with ten camels laden with
treasure for the purchase of grain, with twenty camels bearing
grain-sacks, and one with gifts from Kahled to the Terror of the Desert,
in acknowledgment of the service rendered by his son.
When he had purchased what grain the Beni Sads would sell, he was to
continue in advance of the army, securing supplies to the very border of
Syria.
Kanana was no prodigy of meekness that he should not appreciate this
distinction. A prouder boy has never lived, in Occident or Orient, than
the Bedouin shepherd who sat upon the black dromedary and publicly
received the general's blessing and command of the caravan.
In any other land there might have been rebellion among a hundred
veteran horsemen, when placed under command of a boy in a sheepskin
coat, armed only with a shepherd's staff, but there was no man of them
who had not heard wonderful tales of Kanana's courage; and the shepherd
who had left the harvest field six weeks before, known only as the
coward of the Beni Sads, set his face toward home that night, followed
by a hundred savage warriors who obeyed him as one of the bravest of all
the Bedouins.
As the caravan moved rapidly over the plain, bearing its costly burden,
it is hardly surprising that the beardless chief recalled his last
interview with his angry father, when that veteran sheik refused to
trust him with a single horse to start upon his mission; but he was none
the less anxious to reach his father's tent and receive his father's
blessing.
XI
THE SACRED GIRDLE
Shortly after midnight five horsemen who rode in advance returned to
report a large encampment, far away upon the left. Then Kanana took the
lead as a brave Bedouin chieftain should, and, followed by the caravan,
approached the smoldering fires which betrayed the location of the camp.
He rode directly toward the tent of the sheik, which always stands in
the outer line, farthest from a river or upon the side from which the
guests of the tribe will be most likely to approach.
As he approached, a shadow rose silently out of the shadows. It sniffed
the air. Then there was a faint grunt of satisfaction and the shadow
sank down into the shadows again.
Kanana slipped from the back of the dromedary without waiting for him
to lie down, and, running forward to the white camel, whispered, "I knew
that thou wouldst know me."
The Terror of the Desert appeared at the tent door with a hand raised in
blessing.
Kanana ran to his father with a cry of joy, and the white-haired sheik
threw his arms about the neck of his son and kissed him, saying:
"Forgive me, Kanana, my brave Kanana! I said that thou hadst come to
curse me with thy cowardice, and lo! thou hast done grander, braver
deeds than I in all my years! Verily, thou hast put me to shame, but it
is with courage, not with cowardice."
Kanana tried to speak, but tears choked him. All alone he could calmly
face a score of savage robbers, armed to the teeth, but suddenly he
discovered that he was only a boy, after all. He had almost forgotten
it. And in helpless silence he clung to his father's neck.
The old sheik roused himself.
"Kanana," he exclaimed, "why am I silent? The whole tribe waits to
welcome thee. Ho! every one who sleepeth!" he called aloud, "awake!
awake! Kanana is returned to us!"
Far and near the cry was repeated, and a moment later the people came
hurrying to greet the hero of the Beni Sads.
Not only had the brother returned with the white camel and a glowing
account of his rescue by the veiled messenger of the caliph, but a
special officer had come, by a passing caravan, bearing to the Terror of
the Desert a bag of gold and the congratulations of Omar the Great, that
he was the father of such a son.
Now the gifts from Kahled the Invincible arrived, and the hundred
horsemen obeying the voice of Kanana. The Beni Sads could scarcely
believe their eyes and ears.
Torches were lighted. Fires were rekindled and, before sunrise, the
grandest of all grand Bedouin feasts was in full glory.
Vainly, however, did the old sheik bring out the best robe to put it on
him; with a ring for his hand and shoes for his feet; in a custom for
celebrating a son's return which was old when the story of the Prodigal
was told.
Kanana only shook his head and answered, "My father, Allah knows me best
barefooted and in this sheepskin coat."
The Bedouin seldom tastes of meat except upon the occasion of some
feast.
When a common guest arrives, unleavened bread is baked and served with
_ayesh_, a paste of sour camel's milk and flour. But Kanana was not a
common guest.
For one of higher rank coffee and melted butter is prepared, but these
were not enough for a welcome to Kanana.
For one still higher a kid or lamb is boiled in camel's milk and placed
in a great wooden dish covered with melted fat and surrounded by a
paste of wheat that has been boiled and dried and ground and boiled
again with butter.
Twenty lambs and kids were thus prepared, but the people were not
satisfied. Nothing was left but the greatest and grandest dish which a
Bedouin tribe can add to a feast in an endeavor to do honor to its
noblest guest. Two she-camels were killed and the meat quickly
distributed to be boiled and roasted. All for the boy who had left them,
six weeks before, with no word of farewell but the parting taunt of a
rat-catcher.
While the men were eating the meat and drinking camel's milk and coffee,
the women sang patriotic songs, often substituting Kanana's name for
that of some great hero; and when the men had finished and the women
gathered in the maharems to feast upon what was left, the Terror of the
Desert, roused to the highest pitch of patriotism, declared his
intention to join the army of Kahled, and nearly two hundred of the
Beni Sads resolved to follow him.
It was nearly noon when Kanana and those who were with him went to sleep
in the goat's-hair tents, leaving the whole tribe at work, packing the
grain-sacks, loading the camels, and cleaning their weapons for war.
Kanana performed his mission faithfully, little dreaming that Kahled's
one design in placing it in his hands was to keep him with the army for
services of much greater importance.
The time which the general anticipated came when the hosts of Kahled,
joined by the Mohammedan armies of Syria and Arabia, were finally
encamped at Yermonk upon the borders of Palestine.
Kanana was summoned to the general's tent and, trembling like the
veriest coward in all the world, he fell upon his face before the man to
whom was entrusted the almost hopeless task of rescuing Arabia. To
Kahled alone all eyes were turned and Kanana trembled, not because he
was frightened, but because he was alone in the tent with one who seemed
to him but little less than God himself.
Kahled's words were always few and quickly spoken.
"Son of the Terror of the Desert," said he, "many conflicting rumors
reach me concerning the approaching enemy. I want the truth. I want it
quickly. What dost thou require to aid thee in performing this duty?"
Kanana's forehead still touched the ground. Overwhelmed by this sudden
order, an attempt to obey which meant death, without mercy, without one
chance in a hundred of escape, he altogether forgot to rise.
Kahled sat in silence, understanding human nature too well to disturb
the boy, and for five minutes neither moved. Then Kanana rose slowly and
his voice trembled a little as he replied, "My father, I would have thy
fleetest horse, thy blessing, and thy girdle."
Kahled the Invincible wore a girdle that was known to every soldier and
camp-follower of the army. It was of camel's-skin, soft-tanned and
colored with a brilliant Persian dye, which as far away as it could be
seen at all, no one could mistake.
It was part of a magnificent curtain which once hung in the royal palace
of Babylon. It pleased the fancy of the fierce warrior, and he wore it
as a girdle till it became his only insignia. There was not a color like
it within hundreds of miles at least, and when the people saw it they
knew that it was Kahled.
"Take what horse thou wilt," replied the general. "I give thee, now, my
blessing." Then he hesitated for a moment. Had Kanana asked a hundred
camels or a thousand horsemen he would have added, "Take them." As it
was, he said, a little doubtfully, "What wouldst thou with my girdle?"
In all the direct simplicity which clung to him in spite of everything,
Kanana replied: "I would hide it under my coat; I would that it be
proclaimed throughout the army that some one has fled to the enemy with
the sacred girdle, and that a great reward be offered to him who shall
return to Kahled any fragment of it he may find."
Without another word, the general unwound the sacred girdle, and Kanana,
reverently touching it to his forehead, bound it about him under his
sheepskin coat.
Kneeling, he received the blessing, and leaving the tent, he selected
the best of Kahled's horses and disappeared in the darkness, alone.
[Illustration: KNEELING, HE RECEIVED THE BLESSING.]
The next morning an oppressive sense of inaction hung about the
headquarters.
The only order issued accompanied an announcement of the loss of the
sacred girdle.
Every soldier was commanded to be on the watch for it, to seize and to
return at once to Kahled, even the smallest fragment which might be
found. For this the fortunate man was promised as many gold coins as,
lying flat, could be made to touch the piece which he returned.
XII
KANANA'S MESSENGERS
Far and wide the impatient soldiers asked, "Why is the army inactive?"
"Is not the motto of Kahled 'Waiting does not win'?"
"Has he not taught us that action is the soul and secret of success?"
"Does he not realize that the hosts of Heraclius are bearing down upon
us, that he leaves us sitting idly in our tents?"
"Is Kahled the Invincible afraid?"
Such were the questions which they put to their officers, but no one
dared carry them to the general, who sat in his tent without speaking,
from sunrise to sunset, the first day after the girdle disappeared.
"Is it the loss of his girdle?"
"Did he not conquer Babylonia without it?"
"Does he not fight in the name of Allah and the Prophet? Could a
bright-colored girdle give him strength?"
Thus the second day went by.
Kahled the Invincible was silent and sullen, and the impression grew and
grew that in some way the safety and success of the whole army depended
upon the recovery of that girdle.
So intense was this sentiment, that when at midnight, after the third
day, it was reported that a fragment of the girdle had been captured by
some scouts, and was then being taken to the general's tent, the whole
army roused itself and prepared for action.
Not an order had been issued, yet every soldier felt instinctively that
the coming morning would find him on the march.
It was midnight. For a day Kahled had not even tasted food. He sat alone
in his tent upon a Persian ottoman. A bronze vessel from Babylonia,
filled with oil, stood near the center of the tent. Fragments of
burning wick, floating in the oil, filled the tent with a mellow, amber
light.
There was excitement without, but Kahled did not heed it till a soldier
unceremoniously entered, bearing in his hand a part of the curtain from
the palace of Babylon.
With a sudden ejaculation Kahled caught it from the soldier's hand, but
ashamed of having betrayed an emotion, he threw it carelessly upon the
rug at his feet, handing the soldier a bag of gold, and bidding him see
how many pieces, lying flat, could touch it.
The soldier worked slowly, carefully planning the position as he laid
the pieces down, and Kahled watched him as indifferently as though he
were only moving men upon the Arab's favorite checker-board.
When every piece that could was touching the camel skin, the soldier
returned the bag, half-emptied, and began to gather up his share.
Kahled deliberately emptied the bag, bidding him take the whole and go.
He was leaving the tent when the general called him back. He had picked
up the skin, and was carelessly turning it over in his hand. It was
neatly cut from the girdle, in the shape of a shield, a little over a
foot in width.
"How did you come by it?" Kahled asked indifferently.
"We were searching the plain, a day's journey to the north," the soldier
answered. "We were looking for travelers who might bring tidings of the
enemy. We saw four strangers, Syrians, riding slowly, and a shepherd who
seemed to be their guide. Upon his horse's front, hung like a
breastplate, where every eye could see, was yonder piece of the sacred
girdle. We dashed upon them, and the cowards ran. The shepherd was the
last to turn. I was ahead, but not near enough to reach him, so I threw
my lance. He fell from his horse and--"
"You killed him?" shrieked the general, springing to his feet and
dropping the camel skin.
"No! no!" gasped the frightened soldier. "I only tried to. He wore a
coat of sheepskin. It was too thick for my lance. He sprang to his feet,
tore the lance from his coat, and ran after the rest, faster even than
they could ride, leaving his horse behind."
"'Tis well," muttered the general, and he devoutly added, "Allah be
praised for that sheepskin coat!"
The soldier left the tent, and going nearer to the light, Kahled
examined the fragment of the sacred girdle. It was double. Two pieces
had been cut and the edges joined together.
He carefully separated them, and upon the inner side found what he
evidently expected.
These words had been scratched upon the leather, and traced with blood:
"Sixty thousand, from Antioch and Aleppo, under Jababal the traitor,
encamp two days from Yermonk, north, waiting for Manuel with eighty
thousand Greeks and Syrians, now six days away. Still another army is
yet behind. Thy servant goes in search of Manuel when this is sent."
"Allah be praised for that sheepskin coat!" Kahled repeated, placing the
fragment in his belt, and walking slowly up and down the tent.
"Jababal is two days to the north," he added presently. "A day ago
Manuel was six days behind him. He will be still three days behind when
I reach Jababal, and while he is yet two days away, the sixty thousand
in advance will be destroyed."
An order was given for ten thousand horsemen and fifteen thousand camel
riders to start for the north at once. The soldiers expected it, and
were ready even before the general.
Four days and a night went by, and they were again encamped at Yermonk;
but Jababal's army of sixty thousand men, was a thing of the past.
Again a strip of the girdle was discovered. This time it hung upon the
neck of a camel leading into the camp a long caravan laden with grain
and fruit.
The camel-driver reported that one had met them while they were upon the
way to supply the army of Manuel. He had warned them that Manuel would
simply confiscate the whole and make them prisoners, and had promised
that if they turned southward instead, to the camp of Kahled, with the
talisman which he hung about the camel's neck, they should be well
received and fairly treated.
From this talisman Kahled learned that the army of Manuel was almost
destitute of provisions, and that a detachment with supplies was another
five or six days behind.
The general smiled as he thought how the Bedouin boy had shrewdly
deprived the hungry enemy of a hundred and fifty camel-loads of food,
while he secured for himself an excellent messenger to his friends.
During the night Manuel's magnificent army arrived, and encamped just
north of the Mohammedans. Manuel chose for his citadel a high cliff that
rose abruptly out of the plain between the two armies, and ended in a
precipitous ledge toward Arabia.
Standing upon the brow of this cliff, a little distance from the tent of
Manuel, one could look far down the valley, over the entire Mohammedan
encampment.
When morning dawned, the prince sent for the leading Mohammedan generals
to confer with him concerning terms of peace. He offered to allow the
entire army to retire unmolested, if hostages were given that the Arabs
should never again enter Syria.
The Mohammedan generals, who had been thoroughly dismayed at the sight
of the Grecian phalanx, thanked Allah for such a merciful deliverance,
and instantly voted to accept. The real authority, however, rested with
Kahled, who replied, "Remember Jababal!"
With so many in favor of peace, Manuel hoped for an acceptance of his
terms, and proposed that they consider the matter for a day.
Kahled, with his hand upon the camel-skin in his belt, replied again:
"Remember Jababal!"
He realized that his only hope of victory lay in striking a tired and
hungry enemy, and that each hour's delay was dangerous. Less than half
an hour later he was riding along the line of battle shouting the battle
cry:
"Paradise is before you! Fight for it!"
The soldiers were ready, and there began the most desperate struggle
that was ever waged upon the plains of Syria.
All day long the furious conflict raged. Three times the Bedouins were
driven back. Three times the cries and entreaties of their women and
children in the rear urged them to renew the fight, and again they
plunged furiously upon the solid Grecian phalanx.
Night came, and neither army had gained or lost, but among the Bedouin
captives taken by the Greeks were several who recognized Kanana. They
saw him moving freely about the enemy's camp. They learned that he was
supposed to be a servant who had fled, with other camp-followers, at the
time of the slaughter of Jababal's army. They could see in it nothing
but cowardly desertion. They said:
"He was afraid that we should be conquered, and instead of standing by
us to fight for Arabia, he ran to the enemy to hide himself;" and in
their anger they betrayed him. They reported to the Greeks that he was a
Bedouin, of the army of Kahled, not a Syrian servant of Jababal.
Kanana was quickly seized, bound and dragged into the presence of the
prince. Manuel had suspected that some one had betrayed both Jababal
and himself to Kahled, and chagrined at the result of the first day's
battle, he fiercely accused Kanana.
Calmly the Bedouin boy admitted that it was he who had given the
information, and he waited without flinching as Manuel drew his sword.
"Boy, dost thou not fear to die?" he exclaimed, as he brandished his
sword before Kanana.
"I fear nothing!" replied Kanana proudly.
"Take him away and guard him carefully," muttered the prince. "Dying is
too easy for such as he. He must be tortured first."
The second day and the third were like the first. The army of the
Prophet fought with a desperation that never has been equaled. The
Ishmaelite counted his life as nothing so that he saw a Greek fall with
him. It was the fate of Allah and Arabia for which they fought, and they
stood as though rooted to the ground, knowing of no retreat but death.
Again and again their general's voice rang loud above the clashing arms:
"Paradise is before you if you fight! Hell waits for him who runs!" And
they fought and fought and fought, and not a man dared turn his back.
Again and again the Grecian phalanx advanced, but they found a wall
before them as solid as the cliff behind them.
When a Bedouin lay dead he ceased to fight, but not before; and the
moment he fell, another sprang forward from behind to take his place.
XIII
THE LANCE OF KANANA
The army of the Prophet had not retreated one foot from its original
position, when night brought the third day's battle to a close.
Kahled sank upon the ground among his soldiers, while the women from the
rear brought what refreshment they could to the tired warriors.
All night he lay awake beside his gray battle-horse, looking at the
stars and thinking.
Flight or death would surely be the result of the coming day. Even
Kahled the Invincible, had given up all hope of victory.
He was too brave a man to fly, but he was also too brave to force others
to stand and be slaughtered for his pride.
It was a bitter night for him, but as the eastern sky was tinged with
gray, he at last resolved to make the sacrifice himself, and save such
of his people as he could.
The women and children, with the wounded who could be moved, must leave
at once, taking all that they could carry with them, and scatter
themselves in every direction.
When they were well away, he, with such as preferred to stand and die
with him, would hold the foe in check while the rest of the army
retreated, with orders to march at once to Mecca and Medina, and hold
those two sacred cities as long as a man remained alive.
He breathed a deep sigh when the plan was completed, and rising, mounted
his tired charger, to see that it was properly executed.
It was the first time in his career that Kahled the Invincible had
ordered a retreat, and his only consolation was that he was neither to
lead nor join in it.
In the camp of Manuel the same dread of the coming day clouded every
brow. Food was entirely exhausted. Horses and camels had been devoured.
They had neither the means with which to move away, nor the strength to
stand their ground.
Their solid phalanx was only what the enemy saw along the front. Rank
after rank had been supplied from the rear till there was nothing left
to call upon.
All that remained of the eighty thousand iron-hearted fighters--the
pride of the Emperor Heraclius--as they gathered about the low camp
fires, confessed that they were overmatched by the sharper steel of
Mohammedan zeal and Bedouin patriotism.
Manuel and his officers knew that for at least three days no relief
could reach them; they knew, too, that they could not endure another day
of fighting.
"If we could make them think that their men are deserting and joining
us, we might frighten them," suggested an officer.
"Send for the spy," said Manuel quickly, "and let it be proclaimed to
the other prisoners that all who will join us shall be set free, and
that those who refuse shall be slaughtered without mercy."
Haggard and worn Kanana stood before him. For fifty hours he had lain
bound, in a cave at the foot of the cliff, without a drop of water or a
morsel of food.
"I am about to torture thee," said the prince. "Thou hast wronged me
more than thy sufferings can atone, but I shall make them as bitter as I
can. Hast thou anything to say before the work begins?"
Kanana thought for a moment, then, hesitating as though still doubtful,
he replied:
"When the tempest rages on the desert, doth not the camel lay him down,
and the young camel say to the drifting sand, 'Cover me; kill me, I am
helpless'? But among the captives taken by the prince, I saw an old man
pass my cave. He is full of years, and for him I would part my lips. I
hear that the prince will have the prisoners slain, but it is not the
custom of my people to make the women, the old men, and the children
suffer with the rest. May it please the prince to double every torture
he has prepared for me, and in exchange to set that old man free?"
"Who is he?" asked the prince.
"The one with a long white beard. There are not two," replied Kanana.
"And what is he to you?"
Kanana hesitated.
"He shall die unless you tell me," said the prince, and Kanana's cold
lips trembled as he whispered:
"He is my father."
"'Tis well," said Manuel. "Let him be brought."
The old man entered, but paused at the opposite side of the tent,
looking reproachfully at his son. He had heard from the other captives
how they had discovered Kanana, a deserter in the hour of danger, living
in the tents of the enemy. Even he had believed the tale, and he was
enough of a patriot to be glad that they betrayed his son.
"Is this thy father?" asked the prince. "He does not look it in his
eyes."
Kanana simply bowed his head.
That look was piercing his heart far deeper than the threats of torture;
but Manuel continued: