"SONS OF THE PROPHET, SLAY!"
The Olema shook an emphatic head of negation. "_Yafta Allah!_" he
exclaimed, using the absolute, decisive formula of refusal in Arab
bargaining. "This gold of ours is sacred. The angel Jibrail himself
struck the Iron Mountains with his wing, at the same hour when the
Black Stone fell from Paradise, and caused the gold to gush out. It is
not earthly gold, but the gold of angels.
"Not one grain can be taken from El Barr. The curses of Jehannun, of
Eblis, rest on Arab or _Ajam_ who dare attempt it. Surely, such a one
shall be put to the sword, and his soul in the bottom pits of Hell
shall be taken by the feet and forelock and cast into the hottest
flames! That soul shall eat of the fruit of the tree Al Zakkum, and be
branded forever with the treasure he did attempt to ravish from us!"
"Remember, great Olema, we did bring thee the Myzab and Kaukab el
Durri, and the holy Black Stone!"
"I remember, White Sheik, and will reward thee, but not with gold!"
The old man's face was stern, deep-lined, hard; his eyes had assumed a
dangerous glitter. "Thou hast a good tongue, but though it speak from
now till the angel Al Sijil roll up all the scrolls of life, it shall
not avail.
"Ask some other thing; and remember, if thou dost try by any magic
to remove even a sand-grain of this gold, the salt will be no longer
between thee and me. This must be added to the two things I have
already told thee of, that would take away the salt!"
Narrowly the Master eyed him, then nodded. Huge though this rebuff
had been, and great as the loss must be, the Master realized the utter
impossibility of coming to any terms with Bara Miyan on a gold basis.
All the fanaticism of these people would resist this, to the death.
Even to insist further might precipitate a massacre. Therefore, like
the philosopher he was, he turned to other possibilities, considering
what was best to be done.
The Olema spoke again, pausing now and then as he puffed reflectively
at his water-pipe. Said he:
"I will tell thee a great secret, O Frank. In this city lie the lost
books of the Arwam (Greek) wise men and poets. When the Alexandrian
library was burned by Amrou, at Omar's order, the four thousand baths
of the city were heated for six months by ancient scrolls. I have
heard that ye Feringi have greatly mourned the loss of the Arwam
learning and poetry. Not all this treasure was lost, White Sheik!"
The Master started, peered at Bara Miyan and forgot to chew his
soothing khat leaves.
"And then--?" asked he.
"Some twenty thousand of the most precious parchments were privately
carried by our _Sufis_ to Medina, and thence, after many years, to
Jannati Shahr. Here they still lie, in perfect form, clearly to be
read. This is a treasure that would set the world of the Feringi
ablaze and make thee as a god among thy people. Ask this gift,
O Frank, and it shall be granted thee! For the mere asking, this
treasure shall be thine!"
The Master shook his head. Deeply as he understood the incalculable
value of the lost books of antiquity, he well knew that to offer his
Legion such a booty would be all in vain. Men who have suffered and
bled, risked all, seen their comrades die, and even now stand in
the shadow of death--hoping some vast, tangible loot--are not proper
material for discussion of literary values.
"_Yafta Allah!_" the Master exclaimed, with emphasis equal to the
Olema's. "No, Bara Miyan, this cannot be."
"Our dancing and singing maidens are like a flame of Paradise. Their
enchantments make the heart of man glad with perpetual springtime.
Choose, O Frank, two handmaids for thyself and for each of thy men,
and let them be yours to go with you to your own country and to be
your chattels and your sweet delights!"
The eyes of "Captain Alden" narrowed with sudden, painful emotion as
she peered at the Master. With some smattering of Arabic, she may have
caught something of the sense of this offer. But the Master, unmoved
by this second offer of Olema's, merely shook his head again, saying:
"No, Bara Miyan. Though thy women be fair as the dawn over the Sea of
Oman, and soft-eyed as the gazelles in the oasis of the _Wady el
Ward_ (Vale of Flowers), not for us are they. We seek other rewards.
Therefore will I ask thee still another question."
"Thy question shall be answered, O Frank!"
"Is it true that the Caliph el Walid, in Hegira 88, sent forty
camel-loads of cut jewels to Mecca?"
"That is true."
"And that, later, all those jewels were brought hither?"
"Even so! It is also true that two Franks in Hegira 550, digged a
tunnel into the Meccan treasury from a house they had hired in the
guise of Egyptian _Hujjaj_. They were both beheaded, White Sheik, and
their bodies were burned to ashes."
"No doubt," the Master answered, nonchalantly. "But they had brought
no rich gifts to the Meccans. Therefore, now speaking of these forty
camel-loads of cut jewels, O Bara Miyan--"
"It is in thy mind to ask for those, White Sheik?"
"Allah giveth thee two hearts, Bara Miyan, as well as the riches of
Karun. Surely, 'the generous man is Allah's friend,' and thy hand is
not tied up."[1]
[Footnote 1: "To have two hearts" (_dhu'kulbein_) signifies to be
prudent, wise. Karun is the Arabic Croesus. "Thy hand is tied up" is
equivalent to calling a man niggardly.]
The Olema, a quick decision gleaming in his eyes--though what that
decision might be, who could tell?--put down the amber mouthpiece and
with an eloquent, lean hand gestured toward a silk-curtained doorway
at the right of the vast hall.
"Come with me, then, White Sheik!" said he, arising and beckoning his
white-robed sub-chiefs. He raised a finger in signal to the Maghrabis,
though what the signal might mean, the Legionaries could not know.
"Come, with all thy men. And, by Allah! I will show thee the things
whereof thou dost speak to me. I will show thee all these things--and
others!
"_Come_!"
In silence the Legionaries followed old Bara Miyan through the
curtained doorway; and after them came the sub-chiefs. The Maghrabi
stranglers, noiseless and bare-footed, fell in behind; a long ominous
line of black human brutes, seeming hardly above the intellectual
level of so many gorillas.
Stout-hearted as the Legionaries were, a kind of numbing oppression
was closing in upon them. City battlements and double walls of inner
citadel, then massive gates and now again more doors that closed
behind them, intervened between them and even the perilous liberty of
the plain of El Barr. And, in addition to all this, some hundreds of
thousands of Arabs, waiting without, effectually surrounded them, and
the Maghrabi men cast their black shadow, threatening and ominous,
over the already somber enough canvas.
A web, they all felt, was closing about them that only chance and
boldness could unravel. Everything now hung on the word of an aged
fanatic, who for any fancied breach of the Oath of Salt might deliver
them to slavery, torture, death.
"Remember, men," the Master warned his men as they penetrated the
dim, golden-walled passage also lighted with sandal-oil
_mash'als_--"remember the mercy-bullets. If it comes to war, none of
us must be taken prisoner!"
To the Olema he exclaimed, in suave tones:
"_Dakhilak, Ya Shayk!_ (Under thy protection, O Sheik!) Let not the
laws of hospitality or the Oath of Salt be forgotten!"
The Olema only smiled oddly, in the dim and perfumed obscurity of the
passageway, along which the slither of the many sandaled feet on
the gold pavement made a soft, creeping sound. Nothing more was
said--except for some grumbled mouthings of Bohannan--during the next
few minutes.
The passage seemed enormously long to the Master as, flanked by
Leclair, "Captain Alden," and the major, he peered curiously at its
smooth, dull-yellow walls all chased with geometrical patterns picked
out in silver and copper, between the dull-hued tapestries, and
banded with long extracts from the Koran inlaid in Tumar characters of
mother-of-pearl.
Several turnings, and three flights of steps descending through the
solid gold "dyke" that ran down into the bowels of the earth no
one could even guess how far, served still more to confuse the
Legionaries' sense of direction and to increase their conviction that,
in case of any outbreak of hostilities, they would find themselves
trapped more helplessly than rats in a cage.
It is no aspersion on their bravery to say that more than one among
them had already begun inwardly to curse this wild-goose chase
into Jannati Shahr. It all had now begun to assume absolutely the
appearance of a well-formulated plan of treachery. Even the Master
gave recognition to this appearance, by saying again: "Be ready for
a quick draw. But whatever you do, don't be the aggressor. Watch your
step!"
The passage suddenly reached its end. Another heavy door of the yellow
metal swung back, and all issued into a hall even more vast than the
one they had quitted.
No windows here admitted light. The air, though pure enough as from
some hidden source of ventilation, hung dead and heavy. Not even the
censers, depending from the dim roof, far above, could freshen it;
nor could the cressets' light make more than a kind of ghostly aura
through the gloom.
By this dim half-illumination the Master beheld, there before him in
the middle of the tremendous golden pavement, a strange,
pyramidal object rising four-square in the shape of an equilateral
triangle--just such a triangle as was formed by the locations of
Mecca, Bab el Mandeb, and El Barr.
This pyramid, polished and elaborately engraved, towered some ninety
feet above the floor. It was pierced by numbers of openings, like the
entrances to galleries; and up the smooth face nearest the entrance to
the hall, a stairway about ten feet wide mounted toward the apex.
Completely finished all save the upper part, which still remained
truncated, the golden pyramid gleamed dully in the vague light, a
thing of awe and wonder, grimly beautiful, fearsome to gaze up at. For
some unknown reason, as the Legionaries grouped themselves about their
Master, an uncanny influence seemed to emanate from this singular
object. All remained silent, as the Olema, an enigmatic smile on his
thin, bearded lips, raised a hand toward the pyramid.
"This thing, O Frank, thou shouldst see," he remarked dryly. "Above
all, the inner chambers. Wilt thou go with me?"
"I will go," the Master answered. "Lead the way!"
The Olema beckoned one of the Maghrabis, who delivered a torch of some
clear-burning, resinous, and perfumed material into his hand.
"Come," bade the old man, and gestured toward the steps of gold.
Together, in silence, they mounted toward the dim, high-arched
roof. From near the top, the Master, glancing down, could see the
white-robed mass of the Arabs, the small, compact group of his own
men; and, behind them all, the dim, black lines of the stranglers. But
already the Olema was gesturing for him to enter the highest of the
galleries.
Into this, carved in the virgin metal, both made their way. The
torchlight flung strange, wavering gleams on smooth walls niched with
dark embrasures. At the further end of the passage, the Olema stopped.
"Here is a new trophy, just added to all that Allah hath placed in our
hands," said he, gravely. "There are some three-and-twenty places yet
left, to fill. Wilt thou see the new trophy?"
The Master nodded silently. Raising the torch, the Olema thrust it
into one of the embrasures. There the Master beheld a human skull.
The empty eye-sockets, peering out at him, seemed to hold a malevolent
malice. That the skull had been but freshly cleaned, was obvious.
"Abd el Rahman?" asked the Master.
"Yea, the Apostate," answered Bara Miyan. "At last, Allah hath
delivered him to us of El Barr."
"Thou hast used a heavy hand on the Apostate, O Sheik."
"We of Jannati Shahr do not anoint rats' heads with jasmine oil. Tell
me, Frank, how many men hast thou?"
"Three-and-twenty, is it not so?"
"Yea, it is so. Tell me, Bara Miyan, this whole pyramid--"
"Skulls, yea."
"This is the Pyramid of Ayeshah that I have heard strange tales of?"
the Master demanded, feeling even his hard nerves quiver.
"The Pyramid of Ayeshah."
"No myth, then, but reality," the Master commented, fascinated in
spite of himself. "Even as the famous Tower of Skulls at Jerba, in
Tunis!"
"Thou hast said it, O Frank. Here be more than ten-score thousand
skulls of the enemies of Islam, of blasphemers against the Prophet, of
those who have penetrated the Empty Abodes, of those who have sought
to carry gold from El Barr. It is nearly done, this pyramid. But there
still remain three-and-twenty vacant places to be filled."
For a long minute, the eyes of the Master and of Bara Miyan met, in
silence, with the torch-flare glinting strange lights from them. Then
the Olema spoke.
"Hast thou seen enough?" demanded he.
"Mine eyes are filled."
"And dost thou still ask rewards of gold?"
"Nay, it is as I have already told thee; let the cut jewels of the
Caliph el Walid suffice!"
"It is well spoken. Let us descend."
In silence, again, they left the gruesome gallery and went down the
stairway with the Olema's torch leaving vague, fantastic wreaths of
odorous smoke curling up along the polished, dull-yellow slant of the
pyramid. Back on the floor again, the Master said to his men:
"This pyramid is filled with skulls of men who have tried to carry
gold from El Barr. For the present, we must dismiss gold from our
minds. Common prudence dictates that we abandon all idea of gold, take
whatever reward we can get, and leave this city at once.
"The gold is of no importance, whatever. On the way back over the
outer foothills of the Iron Mountains, many outcrops of gold exist.
_Nissr_ can poise above some of these; and a few hours' labor will
load her with all the gold we can carry. There can be no sense in
trying to get any here. It would simply add to our peril.
"Everything is therefore quite satisfactory. But watch every move. If
nothing breaks, in two hours from now we should be on our way. Again
I caution you all, keep silent and make no move without my orders. The
prize is at our very finger-tips. So long as we shed no blood and as
nothing happens to the Myzab and the Black Stone, we are safe. But
remember--_be careful!_"
The Olema touched him on the elbow.
"Now," the old man asked, "now, O Frank, wouldst thou see the cut
jewels of the Caliph el Walid?"
"Even so!"
"Come, then!" And Bara Miyan gestured toward another door that led, at
the left, out of the Chamber of the Pyramid.
Again the strange procession formed itself, as before, with the
gorilla-like Maghrabi stranglers a rear guard. A few minutes through
still another passage in the gold brought them to a door of ebony,
banded with silver. No door of gold, it seemed, sufficed for this
chamber they were about to enter. Stronger materials were needed here.
This door, like the others, swung silently on its massive hinges.
"Come, O Master of the fighting-men of Feringistan!" exclaimed the
Olema. "In Allah's name, take of the gifts that I have already offered
thee, and then in peace depart!"
Before the Master could reply, a shuddering concussion shivered
through the solid gold all about them. The tremor of this shock, like
that of an earthquake, trembled the cressets on the walls and made the
huge ebony door, ajar into a dim-lighted hall, groan on its hinges.
Stupefied, Legionaries and Arabs alike, stared silently under the
vague gleam of the torches.
Then, far and faint, as though coming along tortuous passages from
distances above, a muffled concussion smote their ears. The shock of
the air-wave was distinctly felt, eloquent of the catastrophe that in
a second of time had shattered every plan and hope.
As if an echo of that thunderous, far explosion, a faint wailing of
voices--echoing from very far above--drifted eerily along the passage;
voices in blended rage and fear, in hate, agony, despair.
"God above--!" the major gulped. "Captain Alden" whipped her pistol
from its holster, not a fraction of a second before the Master's
leaped into his hand. The torchlight flickered on Leclair's
service-revolver, and was reflected on the guns of every Legionary.
"If that's the explosive," Bohannan cried, "faith, we're in for it!
_Is_ it the explosive that's blown Hell out o' the Black Stone?"
A wild cry echoed down the passage. The Olema, his face suddenly
distorted with a passion of hate, snatched a pistol from beneath his
burnous.
"The dogs of Feringistan have spat on all Islam!" he screamed, in a
shrill, horrible voice. "The Black Stone is no more! Vengeance on the
unbelieving dogs! _Allah il Allah!_ Kill, kill, and let no dog escape!
"Sons of the Prophet! Slay me these dogs! Kill!"