KON AS DETECTIVE
The courtiers, clad in the robes of honor, were filling the audience
chamber with a buzz of conjecture. It was the morning after their
return to Yelwa, and the day appointed for the trial of the would-be
assassin. A change of plan had moved the place of trial from the door
of the mosque to the audience chamber where the attack had first taken
place. In chains the prisoner stood, pale and silent, clad still in the
garments of the red-robed guard.
The Waziri, sitting on the right of the Emir’s vacant throne, signed
to the officer in charge of the prisoner to approach. “The man has not
been tortured?” Some hidden fear was reflected in the cautious whisper.
The soldier looked hard at the Waziri as he replied:
“No.”
“He has said nothing more?” The questioner’s hands were clasping and
unclasping under his robe.
“Have no fear. Ibrahim is a soldier and no courtier.” Contempt was in
the voice.
“Why should I fear--I? Have a care thou! It is not meet to insult the
Grand Vizier of the land.” The Waziri’s voice held hidden menace, but
the soldier had turned on his heel and left.
Trumpets sounded from the inner chambers, announcing that the Emir was
on his way. Entering he received the acclamations of the Assembly and
made his formal acknowledgments. He took his seat upon the lion skin on
the dais and signed to the Waziri. A court crier announced the descent
of the Emir and the virtues of his ancestors, recited the boundaries of
the dominion to which he laid claim, then declared the court open.
The prisoner, moving as if in a daze, was brought to the front of the
dais. Another crier announced the name of the prisoner, his descent,
and the crime with which he stood charged.
“Son of my cousin,” the Emir’s voice came quietly to Ibrahim, “your
crime was seen by all men. But never have I knowingly wronged you or
your house. Why, then, did you attempt to kill me?”
No word came from the man awaiting death. The Waziri could be seen
leaning forward, whispering urgently in the Emir’s ear.
“O Ibrahim, torture would make you speak. But the Waziri counsels that
instead your tongue be torn out as punishment. In any event you must
die.”
One look the condemned man threw toward the Waziri and made as if
to speak, then clenched his jaws and was silent. But that look the
watchful Emir had intercepted. Blank astonishment, succeeded by pitiful
reproach of a false friend was there, as clear as if the prisoner had
spoken.
“But if you will tell all--your fellow plotters, your motive for the
crime”--oh, very persuasive was the Emir’s smooth voice--“then will
your death be swift and suited to your noble blood!”
“Lord of our race, and head of our noble house,” neither fear nor
hesitation were in the clear young voice, “I did not fear to attempt
your life. Why should I now fear how you take mine?”
Emir and prisoner confronted each other, each seemingly as hard and
fearless as the other, and power lay with the Emir. Dread tenseness
grew upon the Assembly. Just, but justly dreaded, had been all his
line. All expected some fiendish judgment of torture to be pronounced.
“Since you will not betray your friends, even though your friends
betray you....” Slow, catlike, the words stalked, seemingly ready
to pounce: “Guard! Strike off the fetters!” Tools rang on the heavy
rivets, and manacles and leg irons clanged to the floor.
Freed of his bonds, the prisoner straightened himself proudly before
the people. He turned a look almost of gratitude on the man he had
tried to kill. Whatever terrible form his death might take, he was to
be permitted to face it nobly, and not as a thief loaded with chains
lest he run or flinch from the executioner’s blade.
A murmur of approval of the Emir’s gesture rose from the Assembly, then
ceased in puzzled apprehension. Guards with gleaming spears were moving
to cover each exit from the hall.
“Fetters! Bring more fetters, for the prisoners will be many,” the
Emir’s command rang out, and guards hastened in search of manacles, leg
irons, chains, rope--anything that would serve the instant need.
“Permit, Lord, that I aid the search for fetters, many.” Trembling, the
Waziri sought pretext to leave the court.
“Nay, do not go!” The Emir laid a gentle restraining hand on his
sleeve. “We may need your loyal counsel.... Ha! Then since you will
not stay at my request, stay by my command! Guards, seize this false
Waziri!”
Heavily, his brown face ashen gray with fright, the Waziri resisted,
but was overpowered. Surprise upon surprise had been unfolded, and
people gaped their wonderment. Swiftly another surprise followed. The
Emir’s voice rang again in command: “Ho! Hunter of the Hills, here
is the source of the conspiracy. Bring thou thy dog and trace me its
course!”
Kon and Garram, who had been awaiting the signal, came to the foot
of the divan. The dog’s mouth almost dripped with eagerness as he
caught the scent of the Waziri’s robe of honor. Then, at a whispered
instruction from his master he quested among the Assembly. The first
man to be pointed out was a soldier of the guard. Before the blank
astonishment had faded from his face his comrades had pinioned him.
“Bind him--and him--and him!” ordered the Emir, as Kon, searching
among courtiers, guards, and onlookers alike, marked down man after
man. So certainly and so surely, missing none, Kon identified the
conspirators. Fear and guilt showed upon some even before the dog
approached them. One man was caught too late. The slight delay had
sufficed for him to swallow poison. Kon pointed to him even as he
writhed in death upon the ground.
Guilty terror was upon the conspirators. And upon all the Assembly
was a horror at the uncanny certainty of the procedure. The once
proud Waziri, now herded into line like a common prisoner, voiced the
feeling: “This thing is of Iblis, of Shaitan the Evil One himself!” the
terror-broken voice babbled. “The Devil alone can know all this!”
Kon, his work finished, had made one last tour of the people to make
sure he had missed no one. Now with Garram he returned to the side of
the divan.
Turning to the row of prisoners, the Emir glanced them over. The Waziri
twisted from the restraining hands of the guard and flung himself at
the Emir’s feet in supplication. “Have mercy, O Lord!” he cried. “It
is true, this crime with which you charge us. Even last night we met
together and sought afresh some means to kill you, since our first
attempt by the hand of Ibrahim had failed.” Flat upon the ground he
groveled, gray beard in the dust. “Death we do not fear. We will tell
you all. But, of your mercy, spare us only torture!”
And from the other prisoners came the broken murmur: “Death, for we are
guilty, Lord. But spare us only torture!”
At a sign the guard began to lead away the prisoners, readjusting
fetters and bonds as they went. Ibrahim, with a look of contempt at
the groveling Waziri, who had first persuaded him to attack the Emir
and had then left him to his fate, who had even suggested to the Emir
the tearing out of the prisoner’s tongue so that he should not reveal
his accomplices, turned to go. Death would be easy now! He looked with
gratitude on his royal kinsman.
“Guard, leave that prisoner.” The Emir pointed at Ibrahim. “O would-be
assassin, you were only the arrow shot from the bow of this evil Waziri
who coveted my kingdom. Though he abandoned you and then would have
betrayed you, counseling the loss of your tongue for fear you might
confess his evil schemes when under torture, still you kept silence.”
From the folds of his robe the Emir produced the same jeweled dagger
with which Ibrahim had attacked him. With his own hand he returned it
to Ibrahim.
Dazedly the prisoner took it. “Well would you have served the Waziri!
See that you serve me but half as well. You are free! Go in peace.”
Since the removal of the prisoners the gates had been left unguarded.
More and yet more people were crowding into the Council Hall, excitedly
whispering inquiries.
The Emir rose as if to depart, then turned back to address the dazed
and excited people.
“My people, the sons of my father’s people, here is the end of an
intrigue which has been a hidden wound, draining the strength of our
country. When the knife struck between my shoulders I knew that
the Waziri had been looking, watching that direction from which the
attacker came. He neither warned me nor sought to stop the knife, but I
could not therefore say, ‘You sent the man to kill!’ Again the Waziri,
thinking he spoke to me in secret, advised that the tongue of Ibrahim
should be torn out, this to avert the risk that Ibrahim might speak as
death approached and so incriminate the Waziri himself. And so”--the
Emir drew Garram in honor to the seat vacated by the Waziri--“plotted
against by those near me I sought the aid of a true man, though a
stranger. It was this hunter who thought of the plan. I gave to the
Waziri a robe of honor specially scented, with a scent whereby the dog
might recognize all those with whom the Waziri came in contact.
“It was late last evening when we returned from the hunt. In the fresh
air the scent of the robe would cling to no chance companions of the
robe. This morning the Waziri would be seated on the divan, apart from
the people. So those that the dog found with the taint of contact
would be those with whom the Waziri plotted overnight--as I knew he
would, making last minute plans before this day’s trial. Plans for
alibis, even for escape, should the confession of the prisoner Ibrahim
make this necessary.
“The conspirators have all confessed, as you have heard. But this I
have told you, lest in your folly you should believe the last foolish
words of the Waziri, that this strange hunter and his still stranger
dog are in league with Shaitan the Evil One. Whereas the only miracle
is an honest man who is wise, and a wise dog who has a nose.
“And Allah alone knows which is the scarcer, the more miraculous of
these two!”
GARRAM ACCUSED
[Illustration]