Sanaa, the capital of Yemen, is one of the noblest cities of Arabia
Felix, and is said to rival beautiful Damascus in many of her
exquisite features. The Imam of Yemen who ruled in the beginning of
this century could claim rank among the most whimsical princes who
ever sat on a throne. He was a man of weak intellect, strong passion,
boundless vanity, and a religious enthusiasm entirely foreign to his
subjects, who are indifferent followers of Mohammed. That eccentric
Commander of the Faithful conceived the singular fancy that he was
animated by the soul of the last Prophet, and he suited his conduct to
his conceit, there being no one to dispute his ludicrous presumption.
He dressed in green, sermonized his people in the style of the Koran,
read _surahs_ of his own creation, raved of his nocturnal visits to
heaven, descanted on visions and revelations vouchsafed to him, and
scrupulously arranged his household in imitation of Mohammed's, not
forgetting the seventeen wives of the founder of Islam, including an
Ayesha, who was the power behind the Imam's throne, being the flower
of his harem.
The most important person who stood next to the Imam in power, and
above him in wisdom, was the great Kadi, or judge, Omar, who presided
over the supreme court of Sanaa, and was in fact the walking code and
cyclopædia of Yemen. What he did not know only Allah and His Prophet
could reveal. The wise Kadi had no doubt at all that the Imam was a
spiritual duplicate of the true Prophet, and he received in
recognition the proud title of the "Lion of God," reminiscent of
Mohammed's most devoted champion who fought his battles, and died
sword in hand.
Omar plied his legal profession so well, had so many questions of
justice and equity referred to him from every quarter of the land,
that he rose to be the wealthiest Moslem of Sanaa, exceeded in his
opulence by one man only, and that was the renowned Ben Abir, surnamed
"The Croesus of Yemen." Ben Abir was no Moslem, but a Hebrew, and one
who feared nothing so much as the remote likelihood of slighting his
faith.
The Imam's ruling passion for prophetic honors was equalled by his
unprophetic mania for building monumental structures with an
extravagance which drained his treasure. Lacking the vast resources of
the Caliph of Estamboul, the prince of Yemen nevertheless aspired to
rival the head of the faithful in the monumental magnificence of his
great capital; and immense sums were lavished on the embellishments of
a city which was meant to dazzle even the strangers who had wondered
at the imperial palaces of the mighty Sultan himself. The drawback was
the limited revenues of the Imam's domains, and the shrewd Kadi,
forestalling the danger of a royal recourse to his riches, was
instrumental in causing his master to draw on Ben Abir for large sums,
in return for titles and privileges which enabled the misused
Israelite to indemnify himself in a measure for advances he never
expected to see returned. Unlimited in the extent of his commercial
enterprises, and furnished with as many military escorts as he chose
to ask for, Ben Abir's caravans carried loads of silk, cotton,
hardware, weapons and trinkets as far as Hadramaut, Hejaz and Nejd,
fearless of the dangers of the Tehamah and the deathful simoons of the
arid desert; and they returned to the seashore with tons of coffee,
packs of gum, ostrich feathers, dyes and pearls, which foreign vessels
carried to distant lands. To all this Ben Abir added the breeding of
the finest Arabian horses, such as are only found in Nejd, and it
became a current saying that whatever the Croesus of Yemen touched
turned into gold.
Now, it happened that, previous to the closing celebration of the
Ramadhan Fast, Ben Abir presented his sovereign with one of his
choicest Nejdi stallions, of spotless white and a most fiery temper,
caparisoned in the most approved fashion. Delighted with the gift, the
Imam showed his appreciation by mounting the spirited animal on the
solemn occasion brought about by the sacrificial ceremony which marks
the close of the Fast. As ill-luck would have it, a distracted saint,
who had just issued from his cave looking more like a chimpanzee than
a human being, threw himself in the way of the stallion with a yell
that frightened both horse and rider. Snorting and balking in recoil
from the object of terror, the high-spirited creature reared and fell
backward injuring the Kadi, who was behind, and landing the second
edition of the Prophet on a rock, with a broken leg and a dislocated
jaw as mementos of the inauspicious incident. Somebody had to be
burdened with the blame, and the Kadi realized his opportunity. As
soon as sufficiently recovered from his own hurts to sit in judgment,
Omar declared Ben Abir guilty of high treason for having tempted the
Imam to mount a mad horse, and condemned him to perish by
decapitation, unless he should ransom his life for a fabulous sum,
which was named, with the additional condition that it be paid in
solid gold. Within twenty-four hours the gold was in the hands of the
Imam's treasurer, and Ben Abir was a poor man.
When Ayesha, the flower of the royal harem, who was of Hebraic origin,
heard of the Kadi's sentence, she appealed to her prophetic lord's
conscience against the flagrant injustice. The Imam was moved to the
extent of offering to return a small portion of the robbery, provided
the Hebrew would enter the mosque. Ben Abir would not listen to the
thought of such treason to the God of his fathers, and had a brave
wife to sustain him in his trial, with two children, one an ineffably
charming maiden, to comfort him. Nor was he entirely destitute, his
commercial credit remaining good.
In one of the mountain ranges of Yemen one Friday afternoon, as the
sun began to approach the rim of the horizon, a small caravan made a
halt. The dromedaries were freed from their burdens and allowed to
browse, and a dark tent was stretched for the use of the master of the
caravan. On a matting on the ground a rug was spread and a few pillows
were put thereon for the ease of a middle-aged person who,
dismounting from his horse, took possession of the transient
resting-place. As soon as he found himself within the tent he washed
himself with water drawn from the nearest spring, changed his
garments, brought forth a silver lamp, which he filled with oil, a
silver flask full of wine, and a goblet of the same metal. With
nightfall the lamp illumined the tent, and the inmate stood lost in
prayer, with his face turned to the east. A blessing uttered over the
wine was followed by a frugal meal, and the rest of the evening was
spent in study of sacred lore. At the entrance to the tent, near a
spear struck into the soil, stood a black sentry, while at a distance
the camel drivers made themselves comfortable for the night. The lord
of the caravan was Ben Abir, his sentinel was Ibraeem, a freed slave,
who, having been treated kindly by his master in his happier days,
would not desert him now that fortune declined to smile on him.
The night was very dark, and would have been voiceless but for the
sighs and moans of the dromedaries, who seemed audibly to commiserate
one with another upon the hardships of life. About midnight the
silence was unbroken, the discontented animals having buried their
sense of trouble in dreamless sleep. At this hour Ben Abir was roused
by his faithful attendant, who informed him of a great marvel that was
to be seen before the tent. A heap of gold cropped up from the ground,
each coin scintillating like a star. "Rise, O, master! Allah sends
thee a treasure," cried the devoted slave.
"What is it thou art raving of, O, Ibraeem!--art thou dreaming?" said
Ben Abir.
"Indeed I am wide awake, O, master!--step forth and trust to thine own
senses if thou doubtest mine; here is the hoard Allah would have thee
take," insisted Ibraeem.
As Ben Abir peered out of his tent to convince himself of Ibraeem's
illusion, he saw with amazement a golden pile of coin, the pieces
glowing like lupine eyes in the dark. This is a temptation of the evil
one, thought the scrupulous Israelite, who would not have touched pelf
on his Sabbath for the wealth of the Indies.
"Touch not a piece of this hoard, Oh, Ibraeem!--if thou fearest
Allah, and wouldst not disobey Ben Abir. If the treasure is to be
mine, it will remain where it is till after my Sabbath; if it be not
mine, the breaking of my holy day will not save it for me. What is to
be, will be. Go to sleep," closed the pious Yemenite, and retired to
his couch, Ibraeem, after a little natural hesitation, doing likewise.
What right, after all, had he to question the deep wisdom and deeper
faith of his generous master?
But sleep would not return to Ben Abir. Through the coarse goat hair
texture that made up the covering of his tent the glittering mass
stared at him like so many living eyes, and he felt a chill run
through the marrow of his bones. While he was at a loss to explain how
the glare of the hoard penetrated the opaque material of his tent, a
new wonder diverted his attention. An inclined plane, broad as a
valley and smooth as glass, stretched down from the deep heavens with
both ends lost, one among the starry configurations, the other in the
unfathomed abysses of the nether world. The only irregularity in the
sweep of the prodigious highway was a terrace which made a connecting
link between the upper and the lower part of the plane. In the heart
of the terrace shone the hoard which a while before had been seen
before the tent.
Ben Abir doubted not that there was an evil design back of this
marvelous display, but he felt safe in the consciousness of his firm
loyalty. His feeling of safety, however, was somewhat shaken by a
terrific detonation, like the eruption of a volcano. It was the signal
for a numberless host to ascend towards the terrace, who, dividing and
subdividing, started to march up in frowning armies to the sound of
wailing notes,--clarions and clashing cymbals mixing with a chaos of
noise produced by all the instruments of music known. The vanguard was
made up of a serried division of vicious gholes whose march resembled
more the dance of droll harlequins than the pace of warriors. At their
heels came a vast herd of monstrous bipeds, with head, tail and hoofs
of the boar, making the air shudder with their hideous grunts, and
piercing the sable of night with their grim eyes. Next followed a
division of bipedal beasts, rolling fiery eyeballs, striking their
sides with tails like those of lions, and rending the atmosphere with
roars of fury. Back of these came bounding an enormous pack of
bellowing hell-hounds, each one a Cerberus, armed with the deadly
teeth and claws of the tiger. Close behind tramped an appalling herd
of deformities, hunch-backed elephants, with raised trunks that were
hissing serpents, and tusks which reached down to the ground tearing
up fragments of rock and hurling them against the terrace with
diabolic fury. The rear was taken up by a grisly multitude of animated
skeletons, who yelled, grinned, laughed, danced,--drawing up and
thrusting out their bony limbs with wriggling motion, and varying the
infernal performance by a series of somersaults. Back of all burst a
deluge of red fire which shot with raging impetuosity among the
hellish monsters, who instead of being deterred appeared to derive
strength from the consuming element. But fierce as was the rush
against the terrace, beyond its outer limits the demons could not
pass.
Meanwhile, on the upper extension of the celestial highway there was
a quick mustering of radiant squadrons, and an array of embattled
lines which extended beyond the remotest galaxies. The summons had
gone forth to be ready for the infernal invader, and the denizens of
the stars responded in unnumbered myriads. Signals flashed from height
to height, and save the warning note of a trumpet faintly heard now
and then, the pregnant silence of the ethereal combatants contrasted
strangely with the fiendish defiance of the howling goblins.
The moments of suspense were intensified by the swelling of the hoard
to amazing dimensions; not that the coins multiplied, but they grew in
size and in lustre, until each one resembled the solar disk. It was no
more a pile, but a pyramid, of gold set in a frame of thickening
darkness.
A peal of thunder from on high was the sign for the encounter. Like a
sea of lightning, the radiant vanguard swept adown the terrace with a
mien so dreadful and weapons so deterring that the black divisions
fled in horror before the blasting might that shook the deeps to the
foundation.
With all his attention concentrated on the engagement, Ben Abir had
not seen that a cherub stood before him one of those precious disks in
his hand, until the apparition spoke. "So much is thine, O, righteous
Ben Abir! the rest will come," were the mystic words of the benign
power.
Ben Abir could not accept the gift without stretching his arms to
their full length, and found it impossible to hold it the moment his
hands closed round the edge of the fiery wheel. Finding the priceless
treasure was slipping from his grasp he called for Ibraeem to help.
"What is it thou wouldst have me do for thee, master?" asked the
attendant when roused from his sound sleep.
"Have I called thee, Ibraeem? Yes, I did call thee; but it was all a
dream, a dream as awful as the vision of Jacob in the wilderness.--How
far advanced is the night? Is there anything left of the golden
hoard?" inquired Ben Abir.
"The camels are astir, and the east is gray, but the gold is all
gone, master,--all gone. Had we taken it, thou wouldst again be the
Croesus of Yemen," said the simple-minded Ibraeem, regretfully. "We
ought to have taken it, ought we not?"
"It is well that we kept our hands from it; it was a temptation held
out by the evil one, Ibraeem, who lures man into error. What is to be
will be.--Let me be alone for a little space; I am somewhat
perturbed," concluded Ben Abir, who wished to think over his unearthly
vision.
With eyes closed, the Hebrew endeavored to recall the dark and bright
phantoms of the night, pondering what it all might mean. And that
hoard, which his humble servant had witnessed and referred to, had
been too tangible a reality to be transferred to the domain of the
spectral.
The radiant flood-gates of heaven's light-oceans opened wide. The
Orient was ablaze with the glories of an early sunrise, which had been
initiated by waves of gilded crimson; and Arabia Felix rose from a
transcendental dream to bathe in dew as brilliant as the pearls of
Halool and Katar. The air vibrated with the joyous notes of the
feathered freebooters; there were the finch, the lark and the thrush
to lead in the matin concert, and the beautifully-crested hoopoe, on
whom Solomon bestowed a golden crown for services rendered him in the
desert and for messages carried between His Majesty and Belkeys, the
Queen of Sheba. Sweet was the scent of the air, and the sparkling dew
was as yet unabsorbed by the glowing heat of the rising day.
Ben Abir issued from his tent to feel that nature donned her festal
robes in honor of the Sabbath blessed of the Lord. Was it not his
over-soul that made him realize the holiness of God's creation? How
different the world looked to him on week-days. But think of whatever
he might, before his mental gaze still soared his vision undispelled
by the cheer of sunshine and life. His heart throbbed with prophetic
apprehension. Who was wise enough to enlighten him?
However, the day was passed in worship and study; and at the sight of
the first three stars in the firmament, the scrupulous Ben Abir bade
his farewell to the Sabbath by the blessing uttered over a cup of
wine; and, lantern in hand, proceeded to search the spot whereon the
golden hoard had been seen on the previous night. One gold piece only
he found on turning up the sand with the tip of his sandal, but it was
enough to make his heart flutter, conscious that the coin in his hand
was not of human make. Returning to his tent, the precious piece was
deposited on a pillow with a trembling hand, when lo! the thing began
to dilate and grow in brilliance, until it reached the size and shape
of the golden disk he had in his vision received from an angel's hand.
Ben Abir bit his thumb to assure himself that he was awake. Was it not
another illusion? To the touch it was an ordinary coin; to the eye it
had the form of a mighty targe of burnished gold. "It is mine, and I
shall keep it as the secret and talisman of my life, a gift of the
Most High, blessed be He!" whispered the loyal Israelite, and the
mysterious coin was carefully wrapped up and put away.
The early dawn of the first day of the week found Ben Abir's caravan
winding its way amidst a wilderness of tropic vegetation and scattered
rocks; but the tide of fortune still turned against him. Torrents of
rain impeded the march of his camels and damaged the goods he depended
on for the success of his journey. While the dromedaries were in the
act of crossing a bridge the span gave way and three of the poor
brutes went down never to rise again; and to complete his ruin, fire
broke out at the caravansary where he had hoped to find refuge from
the weather's inclemencies, and he had good cause to be grateful even
for escape from death in the flames that consumed the remnant of his
merchandise, largely secured on credit. The Croesus of Yemen found
himself on the brink of poverty, a ruined man with a crowd of
creditors to lodge him in one of Sanaa's abominable prisons. He knew
the Kadi who would speak the sentence, and he prepared to face the
inevitable, trusting that something would happen to render his painful
situation bearable.
There lived at this time another person in Sanaa who actually
rejoiced at the disgrace and impoverishment of Ben Abir; and this
contrary both to his own temper, and to the popular sympathies with a
man who in his better days alleviated human misery to the best of his
ability. That exception was Hayem Cordosa. The cause of the ill
feeling in Cordosa's breast was an unhappy, one-sided romance, which
had driven his son, Menahem, to desperation. Until a certain morning
that youth had but one dream, and that was knowledge. It was the
fateful moment when he chanced to meet in the street an exquisitely
lovely boy mounted on a pony in charge of a black man. The child's
silken locks were darker than the jet black face of his attendant, his
complexion was like milk and blood, his lips reminded one of the red
coral, his teeth of the purest pearl, while his eyes suggested the
dreams of angels in realms of ineffable felicity. A few questions put
to the slave brought the information that infinitely fairer than the
child was his elder sister Estrelia. In the glow of his loyal
admiration Ibraeem, who had the child in charge, portrayed to the
interested youth a maiden who was more beautiful than the Peri of
Yemen. So great was her beauty that her pellucid witchery shone
through her veil, while her perfect form would have been envied by the
graces of antiquity. Ibraeem did not think that he exaggerated matters
by assuring Menahem that Estrelia's loveliness illumined the
apartments of her privacy, and that her eyes would enchant the deadly
_rukta_. If the youth had any doubt about it, the cherub-like
sweetness of her little brother dispelled the doubt.
Menahem was not a youth to be despised. His fidelity to principle was
as great as his learning in sacred literature was deep. He felt
justified in offering his heart to Ben Abir's daughter, but met with a
rebuff, and became desperate. The erstwhile cheerful youth grew
gloomy, courted seclusion, brooded on vengeance; and finally resorted
to the extremity of deserting his faith, to the great sorrow of his
scrupulously religious parents. It was a mad step, but there was
method in the madness. The apostate put himself under the protection
of Omar, and the learned Kadi presented him to his royal master as a
convert to Islam; the Imam received him with favor, assured him of a
seat in Paradise, and made him his cup-bearer. Menahem was where he
wished to be, but Cordosa hated the house of Ben Abir.
It was during the last trip of the fallen Croesus of Yemen that the
convert took an opportunity to speak to the Imam of the maiden who had
driven him mad, and he spoke of her as the "luminous Peri of Yemen,
whose radiant beauty enlightens Ben Abir's home."
Under ordinary circumstances there was not a thing within the
boundaries of his dominion the Imam would hesitate to lay hand on if
he deemed its possession desirable. In this especial case the
remembrance of a broken leg and dislocated jaw seemed to justify any
step calculated to afford some recompense for those injuries which
gave the aspirant to prophetic veneration a hideous aspect. When
consulted in the matter, the Kadi failed to see it in any other
light--"Thou art the blessed re-birth of the last prophet, the prince
of this great land, and there is no power in the heavens to interfere
with thy right, O, commander of the faithful! when thou seest fit to
save a soul from perdition. As to the increase in thy harem beyond the
number consecrated by the will of Mohammed, thy servant will be
grateful for any of thy Houris, if thou deignest to transfer her to
the humbler home of thy devoted Kadi," was Omar's suggestion.
Had the secret remained among its originators and been carried out
promptly, the fate of Estrelia would have been sealed; but the removal
of one from the Imam's harem put Ayesha on her mettle. She suspected a
new arrival, and, having fathomed the mind of Yemen's lord, she was
alarmed at the prospect of being eclipsed by superior charms, thus
forfeiting her hitherto undisputed rule; and she lost no time in
apprising the right persons of Estrelia's imminent danger. Thus did it
come to pass that when, led by the apostate, the minions of the prince
descended on Ben Abir's unprotected home, they had to report that
their nocturnal invasion had been a failure. The "luminous peri of
Yemen" had been warned in time.
For a man already under the pressure of great trials to return from a
ruinous trip, and be greeted by the news of his child's disappearance,
is an experience more readily imagined than described. The last
visitation was too whelming even for the Job-like resignation of Ben
Abir. His only comfort was his wife's assurance that Estrelia was not
in the seraglio of the Imam. She had been carried away by two men in
disguise through a back door, barely escaping the grasp of the vandals
who knocked for admission in the front. The mother was so
panic-stricken that she failed to remember the names of the persons
who had come to the rescue of her child, and she had not heard from
them since; but she felt sure that everything would turn out right.
In his brighter days Ben Abir would have invoked the power of his
sovereign to effect the restitution of his daughter, but matters had
changed, and circumstances dictated prudence on his part. Imam and
Kadi were alike interested in his ruin. To search quietly, wait
patiently, hope and pray, were the only ways and means compatible with
his safety. Besides, there were impatient creditors to be appeased and
starvation at the door. The princely home had to be disposed of, but
this afforded small relief. Whatever he touched, success was his
adversary. "If I made it my business to bury the dead, not a death
would for years occur in the city of Sanaa," remarked the disappointed
man to his wife. The last trinket had been sold to keep the wolf away
from the door, and now hunger stared his wife and child in the face.
The devoted Ibraeem did his utmost to relieve the want of his master's
family, but his fidelity was more of a comfort than a support. With
the pride of a man who would rather die than appeal for help, Ben Abir
yet had finally to yield to the entreaties of a starving wife. There
remained but one thing for him to do, a bitter pill for him to
swallow, and he acted like a man. Twice a year it was Cordosa's
business to lead a caravan to one of Yemen's ports to exchange Arabian
products for merchandise imported for the markets of the peninsula.
What he did not do on his own account he did on commission for others.
The leading merchants of Sanaa charged him with the purchase of their
wares, and their commissions were all entered in a book to be referred
to in due time.
The resources of Ben Abir having been exhausted, he bethought himself
of the precious coin he had sewed up in the hem of his coarse mantle,
and he resolved to ask Cordosa to invest it for him in whatever way he
should deem profitable. Curbing his pride he sought an interview with
his enemy, made a frank statement of his pinching indigence, and
requested Cordosa to buy for the only piece of gold he had in the
world anything that could be sold in Sanaa. Ben Abir's sad plight and
frankness moved Cordosa's heart, who not alone promised to do his best
in the matter of business, but insisted on relieving the distress of
the fallen man's family. The reconciliation was complete, and the
generous commissioner set out on his journey, accompanied by the best
wishes of Ben Abir, and those who expected his return with more than
usual interest.
The six long lines of dromedaries of Cordosa's caravan, each file
held together by a hair rope, were preceded by a snow-white donkey of
the best breed in Hasa, good luck being insured by that philosophic
animal who gave Balaam a lesson. To the left of the sagacious
quadruped rode the regular guide, a Bedouin who felt at home in the
trackless waste; to the right, astride of a fine steed, was the
_Karawan-Bashi_,--the caravan commander,--a gorgeous display of gaudy
trimmings, trappings, jingling bells and tassels, in which, however,
he was greatly eclipsed by the leading ass. At the _Bashi's_ left side
dangled a sword of Damascus, sheathed in a scabbard; and his warlike
temper was formidably impressed on all whom it concerned by a spear of
unusual length. Behind these three leaders, varying in their capacity,
on his horse came Cordosa, the master of the caravan. Between the
guide and the _Karawan-Bashi_ there was a tacit understanding to while
away the monotony of the trip by tales of adventure in the desert,
which they told with startling vividness, each one managing to pose as
the hero of some thrilling episode.
After the usual number of days, and the accidents incidental to a
journey through inhospitable regions, Cordosa reached the point of his
destination. Here the unexpected happened to the experienced
commissioner. Following his memoranda, he left no detail of business
unattended to, except the order of Ben Abir, which he had omitted to
enter on his book. As the caravan was on the point of proceeding
homeward, Cordosa remembered Ben Abir's request, and felt guilty of
neglect. Full of self-reproach, he turned to the _Karawan-Bashi_ and
required him to hurry to the bazaar and buy for the gold piece he gave
him anything he thought profitable or useful. The order was carried
out to the letter, to the great mortification of Cordosa. The
_Karawan-Bashi_ happened to meet a sailor, who had a cage full of
Angola cats for sale, and proposing to strike a bargain, offered the
gold piece in exchange for the feline colony, was taken at his word,
and thus possessed himself of the freaky live-stock. The sailor's tale
was brief. The animals had kept a large vessel free of mice, the ship
had foundered, the seaman saved the cats. He had nothing to live on.
It was a straight story. The vendor had the gold and Cordosa the cats.
The only thing to be done was to take the feline company along.
Again the unexpected happened to Cordosa. For many days everything
went on without a hitch, when the _Karawan-Bashi_ and the guide
informed him that the high-land they were traversing was entirely
unknown to them, and that they did not know how they had come into it.
"What I see around me I have never before seen, and I have led a
hundred caravans athwart the width and breadth of Yemen," asserted the
most experienced guide, and the _Bashi_ shook his head significantly.
"And have you perceived the singular fact, that though the country
hereabout resembles the garden of Eden, we have this long day not seen
a single sign of life," said Cordosa, not undisturbed in his mind.
"Allah achbar! what sea is it there we are drawing nearer to?" asked
the _Bashi_ in alarm.--"A big water in the mountain!"
"By the beard of the Prophet, how can a big water climb up a
mountain?" ejaculated the astonished guide.
"What you see is no water, but a heavy fog, which looks like water,"
corrected Cordosa, much surprised however at the phenomenal denseness
of the cloud.
"True, it is a fog; but I have never seen one that looked so much like
a rolling tide threatening to engulf us. Everything that is alive
seems to have fled before we entered this region," observed the guide,
apprehensively.
And a strange fog it was, which rolled forward like a tidal wave, and
ere long buried the caravan in a cloud so dense that one could not see
his own feet, and the men became alarmed lest they go down unwarned
over the brink of some precipice. The camels were allowed to grope
their way, the guide having given up the idea of guiding; and the long
string of animals progressed slowly amidst a flood of vapor with
nothing to vary the nerve-trying suspense for fully an hour.
Everything and everybody was soaked by the moisture; the air did not
stir, and the stillness was oppressive. At last there was a rift in
the hitherto impenetrable mass; and when a breeze lifted the fog,
Cordosa rubbed his eyes to assure himself of being awake.
"Dost thou see what I see?" asked he of the _Karawan-Bashi_.
"And what dost thou see, O, man, who hast traversed the Red Desert?"
asked in turn the _Bashi_ of the guide.
"I see, high up, a city of marble palaces with roofs of silver and
balconies of gold, as glorious as Balbec and Chilminar," cried the
guide, enthusiastically.
"That is what I see; we have been lured into the domain of the genii,
and harm will betide us if we fail to evade their crafty wiles,"
answered the _Bashi_, nervously.
"If we do not flee the malicious _Div_ will hurl us into one of those
bottomless chasms which swarm with venomous serpents," warned the
guide.
"Try we to retrace our course, or the bird of prey and the hyena will
pick the flesh from our bones," said the _Bashi_, in a mood of dark
prophecy.
"Is it not God who rules this world and the stars? How can you be
sure that evil will befall us if we enter that place? We are men of
faith and stout hearts, and I propose that we proceed toward that
dazzling city, no matter who they be who inhabit it," was Cordosa's
fearless proposition.
"Thou shalt not find me craven if there be danger to face. The point
of this spear has been buried in the body of the lion, and this heel
has bruised the head of the _rukta_; if there be the evil one, I will
face him," exclaimed the _Karawan-Bashi_.
"Neither is thy guide of the stuff that shrinks before spectres,
however monstrous. Let us know them who have built that marvelous
city," cried the guide heroically, and toward the city the caravan
advanced.
It was that hour of the day when the lengthened shadows indicate the
descent of the glowing orb, but the striking absence of bird or insect
in a quarter where every inducement for their presence was to be seen
in abundance gave the surroundings an air of desolation, and produced
the sensation experienced by him who suddenly lights on a corpse. A
broad avenue shaded by treble lines of orange trees in blossom,
diffusing delicious odors, led up to a high portal giving admission to
a vast enclosure walled by gray stones perfectly fitted by masterful
hands, a fortress looking as new as though the masons had just given
it the finishing touch. The wall was not high enough to hide the
gorgeous edifices within; but the wayfarers pricked their ears in vain
to catch a sound of life, the quiet being that of the graveyard. "This
is a dead city," observed the guide, in the hope of shaking the
courage of Cordosa; "peradventure the desolate city built by the son
of Ad."
"They are not dead at night who are dead during the day," added the
_Karawan-Bashi_, with a similar object in view.
"God is strong enough to afford us protection against all evil powers.
Here may be a mystery we are destined to solve. Knock at the gate for
admission," ordered Cordosa peremptorily.
"_Allah illaha il Allah!_" cried the _Bashi_, seized with a fit of
unflinching heroism; "I will knock at the gate with my scabbard, be
the place under the rule of grim Monkir; the faithful need not be
afraid of the creatures of Eblis."
The rap on the gate gave forth a hollow sound in response, yet the
gateway opened with a jar, revealing a scene at which the intruders
gazed with amazement. Sheddad's garden of Irem could hardly equal the
vernal luxuriance which hid the foundations of the wonderful
buildings. Scattered here and there, among delightful flower-beds and
thick clusters of the luscious vine, stood groups of fairies
motionless, so handsome that their cheeks rivaled the rose in
sweetness. They were all barefooted, their little feet resembling
those of children. For headgear they wore crowns of golden hair; their
garb was a transparent gauze, shining like moonlight, and bespangled
with gold, and they were all armed with spears of that precious metal.
Awful was their silence, their expression yet showing an intense
anxiety to utter speech. The gate slammed to with its jarring note as
soon as the last camel was within the precincts, and the Yemenites
shuddered at the realization of their being locked in a dead city.
Overcome by the awe of the surroundings, Cordosa exclaimed: "Great
Lord, protect us!" Hereupon the whole mountain experienced a tremor,
shared by the life-like fairies, who appeared to shiver at the mention
of the Supreme.
It being sunset, Cordosa directed the _Bashi_ and the guide to take
the caravan to the nearest khan, and the next moment the travellers
entered a caravansary, compared to which the Asaad Pasha of Damascus
is but an insignificant hostelry. They found the gate ajar, and within
there was plenty of provender, and a playing fountain to quench the
thirst of man and brute. A sumptuous divan furnished with the most
costly rugs of silk, and such seats as are only reserved for caliphs,
tempted the Arabs to rest their weary limbs, while the odors of savory
viands betrayed the neighborhood of a culinary institution of the
highest order. Following the scent they entered a prodigious banquet
hall of imperial splendor. On low tables a royal feast was set in
glittering crystal under covers of gold. On the right side of each
service lay a golden rod not unlike the sceptre of a king. Scores of
fairies stood around in the attitude of attendants eager to serve, but
stiff and lifeless as mummies, dead beauty radiating from their faces
of immaculate purity.
Hunger yielded to temptation, and the _Bashi's_ example was followed
by the others, except Cordosa who, lost in wonder, would not avail
himself of the magnificent hospitality impliedly offered by beings who
to all appearances were dead; if not dead then strangely enchanted for
some unaccountable purpose.
Neither had the others time to appease the cravings of their
appetites; for no sooner was the first dish uncovered than a
multitudinous rustling, tripping and squeaking caused the astonished
guests to turn their eyes toward the door, when lo, and behold!--thick
swarms of silvery mice came rushing and tumbling one over the other,
and, flying up the limbs of the horrified men, as squirrels are often
seen to run up trees, they devoured in the twinkling of an eye
whatever had been laid bare to their voracity. The sumptuous banquet
was turned into a scene of horror and disgust, the more so since the
pests seemed heedless of those who were present, and callous to the
blows which were dealt them with the golden rods that were apparently
there for that purpose. "Bring the cats hither," commanded Cordosa.
And as the cage was brought forth and opened the cats leapt forth like
tigers wild for prey. But nimble as pussy is, the agility of her game
left her without a chance to do mischief. Quick as the vermin had
appeared, they much more quickly disappeared, as though the swarms had
been nothing but flitting shadows.
Before it was possible to restore the animals to their cage, Cordosa
and his subordinates were not only startled by the sudden animation of
the fairies in the banquet hall, but a muffled roar, as of a
victorious army without, made them feel instinctively that a great
change had come over the dwellers of the magic city. It was a tumult
that stirred the air far and wide, was echoed and re-echoed, until
the hills were vocal with the ringing vibrations of countless voices,
and before a question could be asked, in marched a legion of those
admirable creatures, who but a little before had been seen in a state
of inanimation. Arraying themselves in military form, they presented
arms and made a profound salaam in evident honor of Cordosa, thus
acknowledging his title to their respect. With that unfailing
politeness, which is the exquisite quality of the refined Oriental,
the Hebrew begged to be informed why he was made the object of this
distinguished attention. "Because thou hast broken the spell which for
many hundred years held the denizens of this city enthralled by
enchantment," was the answer.
There was a genial affability in the demeanor of the child-like
representatives of the city's population, so that the fear of their
being malicious genii vanished, and a confiding intercourse took the
place of shrinking suspicion. The story they told of their origin and
subsequent enchantment is one of romance, necromancy, and dire
vengeance. It is briefly as follows:
Lilithiana, the Peri-Queen of the mountains of Yemen, had, in ages
gone by, been wooed by the then two mighty magicians of Africa, known
as El Akbor and Metemhagi. El Akbor was dreaded as the master of all
the rodent species, which he had often sent on expeditions of
destruction to avenge wrongs or to satisfy malice. There was no escape
from the instruments of his ire. Persons and property were bitten,
torn, and destroyed according to his order. The only power he feared
was Metemhagi, who ruled all the feline tribes, and could be appealed
to against the plague his rival was in a position to inflict. Long and
assiduous was the courtship of the twain necromancers, and the
love-contest closed with Lilithiana's declared preference for
Metemhagi.
The Peri-Queen controlled the untold wealth hidden in the mountains of
her domain, was mistress of all the genii within the bounds of her
empire, and concluded to build an enchanted city accessible to none
but her progeny. A host of her aerial subjects received orders to
carry out their Queen's behest, and the city of marble, silver and
gold was the result of one hour's workmanship. Hither the queenly Peri
retired with her mortal adorer, and an impenetrable zone of cloud was
thrown around the region that had the weird city as its centre.
Lilithiana was not long to enjoy her marital felicity. Her intimacy
with a mortal deprived her of the power over Yemen's genii; and the
angel, who centuries before had expelled her from Paradise for a
slight trespass, descended to inform her that her sin would be visited
on her guiltless offspring, her own punishment being exile and
separation from her dear ones. Aware of the Peri's fall and disgrace,
El Akbor assumed the deterring form of a monstrous rat and, embracing
his opportunity, threw himself among the genii of Lilithiana's realm
during a dance in the moonlight. The shock transformed them into a
swarm of silvery mice, and the magician having thus gained power over
them, uttered another incantation, causing the whilom airy beings to
raven with an insatiate hunger. This gluttony made them the terror of
Lilithiana's descendants, who were doomed hereafter to live only from
sunset to sunrise, held by witch-craft the rest of the time in a
death-like trance.
Metemhagi's devotion to his fairest of consorts made it impossible for
him to part with her whose tender passion for him had caused her fall
and banishment, and his absence enabled the diabolical Akbor to
accomplish his purpose. Informed of the outrage, Metemhagi hurried to
the spot as fast as the fleetest tiger could carry him, but found that
the spell was to last until, prompted by a higher power, the intrusion
of man with that feline species of whom the rodents are in terror
should break the magic thrall, and restore matters to their original
condition. This having happened, the disenchantment of the enthralled
inhabitants of the superb city was followed by that of the genii who
had been changed to mice. Lilithiana's return to majesty came next.
Widowed and humiliated, she had hovered for centuries on the borders
of her beloved empire till Cordosa's arrival in her city changed the
aspect of things, and she was the Peri-Queen once more.
Hitherto the nocturnal revelers could not indulge their feast without
beating off the pestilent vermin with one hand while eating with the
other; it was the first time that the banquet was being enjoyed in
daylight, and without the use of the erstwhile indispensable weapon.
The viands served appeared as inexhaustible as the multitudes who
entered the dining hall to pay their respects to Cordosa, regale
themselves, and file off again. Nor was music wanting to enliven
conviviality. The charming attendants ravished the souls of the throng
with song so sweet that the strangers had difficulty to prevent their
eyelids from closing, lulled into obliviousness by the dulcet melody.
At last Cordosa alone remained awake; the rest had succumbed to the
irresistible charm of the bewitching voices. The honors showered on
Cordosa were worthy of a great deliverer. In a palanquin of the most
precious metal, studded with brilliant jewels, seated on cushions
softer than air, he was carried through the festively decked
boulevards and paradisial gardens, among dazzling palaces and amid the
joyous ovations of jubilant crowds.
And as soon as the sun had withdrawn his last mellow beam from the
crests of the mountains, unearthly splendors burst over the magic
city. The spectacle was one of ghostly awe and august magnificence. A
splendid illumination shed a flood of light on towering edifices and
their resplendent decorations. In a second, grand triumphal arches
spanned every highway, woven of the Orient's most exuberant foliage,
flowers and blossoms, each one strewed thickly with the delicate
petals of all the roses in creation, and the delighted denizens were
transfigured in the reflex of the weird effulgence. Expectation sat
visible on every face, and the reason became manifest when the faint
vibration of a dreamy music came floating on the balmy breeze from the
lower end of the main boulevard. The disenchanted genii celebrated
their deliverance, and prepared to welcome their Peri-Queen, whose
time had come to return from her banishment to rule, surrounded by
those whose image kept her lover's memory green. The event was to be
commemorated by a transcendent jubilee.
The Queen's cavalry opened the triumphal entry with a division of
diminutive and luminous horsemen, armed with golden spears, mounted on
tiny zebras not larger than kittens, and blowing trumpets not unlike
the calyx of the white lily. In an instant their files flew up the
first triumphal arch, with no more effort than a bird makes when he
hops from one twig to another. From their lofty position they watched
the advance of the Queen's artillery, a glittering train of golden
cannon, mortars and howitzers, on silver carriages, pulled by little
white elephants whose drivers in lustrous uniform swelled the chorus
by bugles which varied the harmony with great effect. An inclined span
thrown by the vanguard to the top of an arch served as a road to an
elevated platform, where the ordnance was put in position, loaded and
pointed in every direction of the compass. Beneath came the body of
the great army, battalion on battalion, ascending and occupying in
succession arch after arch, until the vernal displays bristled and
blazed with the gorgeousness of the shining host. A translucent haze
like a veil of atomized jewels floated in the atmosphere, reflecting
the hues of the rainbow; and a thousand bands accompanied a chorus as
numerous as the voices of the entire army and population.
Cordosa's tears flowed freely; the symphony proved too much for his
heart. The pageant around him looked like a dream of blessed
childhood. He had neither time to feel nor to think. The chorus sang
the prelude to the entrance of the Peri-Queen. Wrapped in a cloud as
intensely bright, as though the moon's light had been concentrated
within a radius of a few leagues, Lilithiana entered the gate of her
own city. Jubilant hurrahs greeted her and reverberated a thousandfold
throughout the hills. As the queenly train drew nearer, Cordosa
discerned in the heart of the mass of light a gliding chariot drawn by
twelve fiery steeds as white as the blaze around them. In reclining
ease Lilithiana rested on pillows of gossamer apparently filled out
with light. Her golden hair hung like a beam of mild sunshine, leaving
a countenance free, which with its star-like eyes left no hope for
mortal beauty to equal it. Of lesser witchery yet unmatched by flesh
however fair were her nine attending nymphs, who in another equipage
rode behind their mistress, each one holding a bag full of precious
coin. The glorious pageant closed with a division of brilliantly
mounted guards on stags with golden hoofs and antlers.
What was the sensation of Cordosa on perceiving that the Peri-Queen
had her eyes riveted upon him. Before the spot he occupied her chariot
stopped. Without alighting from her royal seat, Lilithiana spoke thus
to the astonished man:
"Not so much to thee, O, Cordosa, do we owe our restoration, and our
children their disenchantment, as to the righteous Ben Abir whose
faith and reverence frustrated the designs of the evil one. Temptation
lured him in vain, and trials failed to weaken his trust in Eternal
Justice. Yet hast thou done thy share to deepen his misery. Why knows
he not where his daughter hides? Art thou not afraid of retribution?
Lead his child to his heart. And behold!--these nine bags of gold are
destined for him. Take them hence and deliver them untouched as his
meed for virtues rare among men. His cause is in higher hands; they
who injured him will suffer."
The air was rent with cries of applause, and the triumphal chariot
proceeded onward. Filing down from the arches, the army stood in
marching order, and followed in grand parade. The discharge of
artillery shook the air; the musicians played, and the pageant moved
on and out of sight, except the column of moonlight, which faded
slowly in the hazy distance. The palatial buildings burst out with
radiance from within, and the happy crowds abandoned themselves to
feasting and dancing.
Cordosa's first business now was to load the dromedaries with the
treasure intended for Ben Abir. At the khan he found it almost
impossible to awaken his men. When the _Karawan-Bashi_ finally opened
his eyes, he looked stupid as an ox and talked as if he had lost his
senses. The guide was similarly affected. The Arabs seemed deaf and
dumb, and Cordosa felt alarmed at their state of torpitude. When all
his efforts to raise them failed, he bethought himself of the fountain
and grasped a vessel with the intention of throwing cold water on the
dull company. But the fountain was gone. Cordosa turned toward the
door of the superb Divan, where they had spent hours on the previous
day; there was neither a hall nor a door to be seen, and a sudden
dimness had made all things uncertain. Still more disturbed by the
startling situation, Cordosa tried to grope his way into the room of
whose nearness he was sure, but, instead of striking one of the
cushioned seats, he struck his head against the bark of a tree.
Awaiting once more some unexpected change he strained his eyes to
discern some object; and failing in the effort, knelt down to
ascertain the nature of the ground he was on. Cold sand, gravel, and
wet grass apprised him of surroundings other than those he had
supposed to be about him. While fear was gaining on him, a passing
wind raised the fog, and his astonished eye was sweeping in vain in
search for the enchanted--or disenchanted--city.
The sun was just throwing out his multicolored couriers to inform
continents of his coming. A further effort to awaken his men proved
successful, and Cordosa's next care was to discover whether the cats
were in their cage, and whether the gold bags made a part of what he
doubted not was a dream's phantom. His consternation was great when he
found the cage empty, and counted nine bags full to overflowing of the
precious metal. Calling on the _Karawan-Bashi_ and the guide, he
thought it was time to proceed homeward. "We have dreamed long
enough," said he for a purpose.
"Yes, master, there must be some tricksy _Div_ hereabout; I have a
jumble in my head. I could swear by Allah that we have been in a grand
city and have witnessed queer things," said the _Bashi_, with a yawn.
"By the beard of the Prophet, _Bashi_, the demon has blown something
of that sort into my own brain," asserted the guide. The others said
nothing. The caravan pursued its way, and Cordosa had his eyes on the
camels that bore the enormous treasure. Sanaa was reached in safety.
None of the men noticed the disappearance of the cats.
Immediately after his arrival Cordosa dispatched two trusty persons
to his country retreat, and they returned with a third in a disguise
which rendered identification impossible. He then sent for Ben Abir
and insisted on being informed as to how he had come into possession
of the mysterious coin that he had given him to invest. Filled with
unutterable wonder at what he heard, Cordosa emptied one bag of gold
after the other, asking each time whether the pile he had refrained
from touching on the specified Friday eve had been as large as the one
before him. Not before the contents of the ninth bag had been added to
the heap, did Ben Abir exclaim, "So large, and not larger."
"Then take all this, and be once more the Croesus of Yemen, O,
righteous Ben Abir!" cried Cordosa, and supplemented his words by the
tale of the phantom city. It was Ben Abir's turn to be overwhelmed by
astonishment. "And now has thy time come to be perfectly happy," added
Cordosa, knowing the contrary to be the case.
"Alas, Ben Abir's happiness will never, never return!--My
daughter,--my daughter!" lamented the disconsolate father.
"Even thy daughter returns with thy fortune," said Cordosa, and
disappeared through the door, which led to his private apartments.
Another minute and the lost Estrelia lay sobbing in her father's arms.
Ben Abir was a happy man, but the other felt that he owed his friend
an explanation, which was substantially as follows.
When the jealous Ayesha had learned of the Imam's intention to glorify
his harem by the incomparable loveliness of Ben Abir's daughter, she
lost no time in warning Cordosa of the maiden's danger. Knowing that
his recreant son was at the bottom of the infamous scheme, he felt
himself called upon to frustrate it. But once in possession of the
girl, whose charms had lost him his son, Cordosa hoped against hope to
effect a change in her feelings toward the desperate Menahem. The plan
did not work. Estrelia detested the youth who had worshipped her, but
was told that her safety required her removal to a hiding place.
Cordosa was maturing a new plan when the supernatural incidents of his
last journey left him no choice. The Peri-Queen must be obeyed, lest
misfortune betide his house.
Cordosa asked Abir's forgiveness, pointing to the great anguish of
heart the love affair had caused him. The Croesus of Yemen,
recognizing the higher hand that fashioned his destiny, would not have
his friend refer to it hereafter. "I would to God I could heal thy
wound, O, kind-hearted Cordosa. My gratitude and sympathy are thine,
and if a part of this hoard will give thee ease, be it thine also,"
replied Ben Abir.
But Cordosa would not entertain the thought of being rewarded for
services he had rendered accidentally, while Lilithiana's warning not
to touch the gold was fresh in his memory.
As the two much tried men were considering the best way of conveying
the treasure quietly to the house of its owner, Ibraeem knocked at the
door. When admitted, the man could scarcely speak for excitement. "The
Imam is dead!" cried the liberated slave out of breath.
"The Imam dead!--Who killed him?" asked Cordosa, sure that death had
not come peacefully,--else why that commotion?
"He killed both the Imam and the Kadi," supplemented Ibraeem, "He ran
amuck."
"Who is he?" asked Ben Abir with pardonable impatience.
"Menahem Cordosa," breathed the slave, betraying a delicacy of feeling
slaves are not credited with. Cordosa grew faint, and was caught in
the arms of Ben Abir.
"Menahem Cordosa an assassin!" mourned the stricken parent. "It is
well that it ended as it did," added Cordosa, having recovered his
composure. "Take your hoard, friend, and may thy house prosper."
"Dost thou remember to have ever seen this heap of coin?" asked Ben
Abir, seeing Ibraeem's eyes fascinated by the shining pile.
"That is the gold we saw that Friday eve before thy tent," replied
Ibraeem.
"Yes, Ibraeem, and then I told thee that what is to be will be. This
all goes to our house, thine not less than mine, faithful Ibraeem, who
shall live to the end of thy days with the Croesus of Yemen," said the
grateful Ben Abir.