Praise be to Allah, whom the weight of a pearl upon the earth does not
escape. May prayer and salvation be with the master of the first and
last, our Lord Mahommed. Of a verity have I been blessed with blessings
abundant, and enveloped by the cloak of his protection.
We had left the shore of Lake Tsad after pillaging a great caravan from
the north, and were moving westward across the stern, sterile desert in
the direction of Gao, or Kou-kou, as it is popularly known among us,
where we could dispose of our stolen merchandise. For months we had
travelled across that immensity of sands where the very birds lose
themselves, our camels often stumbling upon some skull, tibia, or even
an entire skeleton, the remains of bygone generations of travellers who
had perished on those lonely wastes. The sun blazed fiercely in the
flaming sky, the skin cracked, the lips were parched. All the water we
had was warm and impure, and even that was insufficient to quench our
thirst. A scaly viper occasionally crossed our route, and at long
intervals the swift flight of an antelope was seen. For days, months,
nothing had rejoiced our eyes save the deceitful vision of the mirage,
and one evening I decided upon a three days' halt for rest.
On the previous day our eyes had been gladdened by the sight of a small
well, where we filled our water-skins, therefore we were enabled to take
our case; although being in an entirely unfamiliar country, the
watchfulness of our sentries was never for a single instant
relinquished. We were travelling with the sun only as our guide,
therefore knew not into what territory we had entered, save that it was
as barren and inhospitable a region as it had ever been our lot to
encounter,--a shadowless land of solitude, abandonment, and misery.
In our raid upon the caravan near Lake Tsad a bundle of papers had come
into our possession, and these had been handed to me; but travelling
constantly, I had not had time or inclination to examine them. That
night, however, alone in my tent, I untied them and spread them out.
Most of them, including a kind of diary, were written in the language of
the Roumis, and as some bore the image of the Liberty of the Franks, I
concluded that they must have belonged to some French officer in the
northern region of the Desert, who had probably perished in an attempt
to penetrate south.
One paper, however, the last I took up, was written in my own tongue,
and I read it eagerly. It was an official letter, dated from Paris,
urging its recipient to secure, if possible, during his explorations,
the _Fatassi_ of Koti, as the French Government were extremely anxious
to obtain possession of it, and by that letter offered to pay any sheikh
or tribesman almost any sum in exchange for it.
I put the letter down, smiled, and resumed my pipe. The hapless
explorer, whoever he was, had probably died, and certainly his hopes
would never be realised, for the _Fatassi_ of the learned Koti was the
phantom book of the Soudan. There was not a clansman in the whole of
the Great Desert who did not know all about that priceless volume, yet
no one had ever seen it. It had been lost to the world for ages.
Mohaman Koti, or Koutou, the great marabout, lived in Timbuktu in the
year 850 of the Hegira, and was the most esteemed and even tyrannical
councillor of our ancestor, its powerful king. His authority is said to
have originated in the following manner. The king one day distributed
some dried dates to his court, and Koti, who had recently arrived, was
overlooked. Shortly afterwards the learned councillor assembled a
number of people and dispensed fresh dates among them. This miracle--
for we have no dates in that region of the far south--having reached the
king's ears, he discerned that upon Koti was set the divine seal, and
from that moment gave him all his confidence. A few years later,
according to Tarik e Sudan, Koti edited a history of the Kingdoms of
Ganata, Songhoi, and Timbuktu, the only history written of those once
all-powerful centres of civilisation, and in addition he dealt with the
concerns of many peoples and many men. Families, since grown rich and
powerful, and the chiefs of various countries, were shown to be with
very humble origins, sometimes being the offspring of slaves. But while
the book was being written, news was conveyed to the King of Timbuktu
that the Songhois had revolted, and had combined with the great nation
of Mossi to attack and capture his capital; therefore, in order to save
his great store of treasure, he at once had it made up into single
camel-loads, taken out of the city, and secreted in various distant
spots on the confines of his empire. It was necessary, of course, to
keep a strict and minute description of each spot where the wealth of
the capital was concealed, in order that it might be recovered after the
war; therefore Koti was ordered to inscribe in his book instructions how
to unearth the great store of gold and gems, the spoils of war during
four centuries. This, according to a legend completely borne out by our
Tarik, he did, and the precious manuscript was given into the king's own
keeping. Ere one moon, however, the learned historian died suddenly at
Tindirma, where a little white mosquelike house marks his grave till
this day. The war was fought, proving, alas! disastrous to the king,
who was compelled to fly, but, strangely enough the Tarik maintains
silence regarding his subsequent adventures, or of what became of the
precious _Fatassi_. Legend has it that the king was treacherously
poisoned by a slave, as rulers were apt to be in those turbulent days;
but by whatever means the once-powerful monarch met with his death, the
fact remains that the priceless volume and guide to the enormous
treasure of ancient Timbuktu was lost to all. For more than four
centuries the recovery of the _Fatassi_ has been the dream of poor and
rich alike. The scholar coveted it because it would shed so much light
upon the obscure past of these vast regions; the camel-driver, the
merchant, and the prince alike desired to possess it for the information
it was known to contain regarding the long-lost wealth.
It was because of the latter that the government of the Franks desired
to obtain it. But theirs, like my own, was but a vain desire.
A whole moon passed, and still we pressed forward towards Gao, ever in
the crimson track of the setting sun. One night, however, when the camp
was asleep, the guards raised the alarm, but so suddenly were we
attacked that we scarce had time to defend ourselves from a column of
French Spahis who had swept down upon us. It was a mad, terrible rush.
Although our tribesmen fought valiantly and well, it was impossible to
withstand the frightful hail of bullets poured forth upon us by a gun
they carried which spat forth lead in deadly hail. Our men, seeing the
havoc wrought by this new weapon, turned and fled. Fortunately the
poison-wind had sprung up, and its clouds of sand cannot be faced by the
men of the north; therefore we were enabled to escape, although
unfortunately compelled to leave the greater part of the stolen camels
and merchandise in their possession.
As, in the confusion, I sprang upon a horse and rode through the
blinding sandstorm for my life, I heard the thud of the horses' hoofs of
my pursuers. From the noise there must have been a score of men,
anxious, no doubt, to secure the marauding chief feared by all the
caravans. But swift as the wind itself, I rode on alone the greater
part of that hot, stifling night, until, pulling up, dismounting, and
placing my ear to the ground, I could, detect no sound of pursuit. In
the glimmering twilight, as night gave place to day, I saw before me a
huge, dark rock, shaped like a camel's hump, rising from the sand, and,
riding onward, I there tethered my horse beneath it, and flung myself
down to snatch an hour's sleep ere the sun rose, intending then to go
forth again and rejoin my scattered people.
How long mine eyes were closed Allah alone knoweth; but when I opened
them I found myself lying on a panther's skin in a darkened chamber,
filled with the music of running water. The place was cooled by the
stream, and in the dim recesses of the room I could distinguish rich
divans. Suspended from the roof was a fine Moorish lamp of chased gold,
which shed a soft, yellow light, and from a perfuming-pan was diffused
the sweet odour of attar of rose. The light was soft and restful, and
in wonder I rubbed my eyes and gazed about me.
"Allah give thee peace, O stranger!" a thin squeaking voice exclaimed.
And glancing quickly behind me, I beheld a wizen-faced man, small of
stature, dressed in a robe of bright blue silk, and so bent by age that
his white beard almost swept the ground. Notwithstanding his venerable
appearance, however, his face was dark and forbidding, and his small,
black piercing eyes, that time had not dimmed, had a glint of evil in
them. Instinctively, ere we had spoken a dozen words, I mistrusted him.
"To whose hospitality do I owe the rest and repose I have enjoyed?" I
inquired, slowly rising to my feet and stretching my cramped limbs.
"My name," the old man croaked, "is Ibn Batouba. I discovered thee
sleeping in the sun outside this my dwelling-place, and brought thee in,
for the rays had smitten thee with a grievous sickness, and thou wert on
the point of death. Thou hast remained here twelve days."
"Twelve days!" I cried, with incredulity, at the same moment feeling my
head reeling. "Then to thee I owe my life?"
The hideous old man in blue grinned with satisfaction, regarding me with
a strange, covert glance.
By this time my eyes had grown accustomed to the semi-darkness, and I
saw that the chamber was a natural one--a kind of arched cavern, the
floor of which had been levelled, and a channel formed for the cool
spring that bubbled forth and rippled away into gloomy depths.
"This thy dwelling is beneath the surface of the earth," I observed,
glancing around me. "Why dwellest thou here in secret?"
"The true Arab answereth not the question of Ahamadou, Sheikh of the
Azjar Touaregs," he replied, with a sneering accentuation on the final
word. "Allah hath sent thee as my guest; partake of all that I have,
but seek no explanation of who or of what I am."
He evidently recognised me, and his strange words puzzled me. First, I
had no idea that such a luxurious abode could exist in the centre of
that inhospitable region; secondly, the very fact pointed to the
conclusion that in my flight I had approached near to a town; but
thirdly, I had already proof positive that my strange host, the man who
declared he had saved my life, lied to me. At the well where we had
halted on the day before the fight, I had plucked a sprig of jasmine,
and placed a tiny piece behind my ear, beneath the black nicab around my
head. This I recollected, and, taking it in my hand, found it still
limp and undried. By that alone I knew I had not been there many hours,
and that his story was untrue.
I suggested that I should be reluctantly compelled to leave; but he at
once became profuse in his hospitality.
"No, not yet," he urged. "I am alone, save for my slaves, and thy
companionship is pleasant. Remain, and I will show thee over this my
hidden dwelling-place. It may interest thee." And taking down a torch,
he lit it and led the way across a tiny bridge that spanned the running
water, and opening a door in the rock, conducted me through several
intricate passages, narrow and dark, until we came to a series of
caverns of various sizes, each hung with rich silken hangings, and the
floors covered by the most beautiful carpets from the East. Over each a
great golden lamp of filigree shed a soft light, showing how rich and
costly were the antique tables of inlaid pearl and silver, and how wide
and soft were the divans. In each the thin blue smoke, curling upward
from the golden perfuming-pan, gave forth an intoxicating fragrance, and
in one I noticed lying discarded a pair of tiny green slippers,
embroidered with seed-pearls, and a ginkra, one of those little
two-stringed guitars fashioned from a tortoise-shell, both betraying the
presence of a woman.
When we had passed through half a dozen similar chambers in the solid
rock, the old man, croaking as he went, stopped suddenly at the further
end of the last and most gorgeous of all his subterranean domain, and
with a grim expression on his evil countenance, said--
"And this is the Bab-el-Hawiyat--the dreaded Gate of Evil, whence none
return." I started, and drew back. Throughout the Desert there has
been for all ages a legend that somewhere there exists the entrance to
the dreaded kingdom of darkness where Eblis reigneth. He opened wide
the small door; but there was only darkness impenetrable, and an odour
of damp earth. Holding his torch aloft, he crossed the threshold, and
bade me peer in. Then I distinguished, a few spans from where he stood,
a great yawning chasm opening to the very bowels of the earth.
"Hearken!" he cried in his squeaking, uncanny voice, at the same time
returning into the room and snatching up from one of the coffee-stools a
large metal dish, which an instant later he hurled into the dark abyss.
I listened to ascertain its depth. But no sound came back. I
shuddered, for I knew it was unfathomable.
As he faced me in closing the door I detected in his keen eyes a strange
exultant look, and was seized by a sudden desire to ascend once again to
the light of day. True, I could have crushed the life out of him as
easily as I could crush a spider in my fingers, while in my belt was my
jambiyah that had a score of times tasted the life-blood of mine
enemies, yet he had not harmed me, and to kill one's host is forbidden
by Al-Koran. Therefore I stayed my hand.
As we retraced our steps he poured upon me nauseating adulations,
declaring me to be the most valiant sheikh in the Great Desert, and
using the most extravagant simile of which the Arabic tongue is capable,
a fact which in itself filled me with increasing suspicion. Suddenly,
however, as we reached the chamber where flowed the cooling spring, the
truth was made plain. As he opened the door two officers of the French,
in linen garments and white helmets, who had apparently been lying in
wait, pounced upon me, uttering loud cries of triumph.
The old white-bearded recluse--may Allah burn his vitals--had betrayed
me. He had held me, and sent word to the Franks to come and capture
their prize--Ahamadou, the chieftain of the Azjar. But in an instant I,
upon whose head a price was set, drew my blade and defended myself,
slashing vigorously right and left, succeeding at last in escaping down
the dark winding passage through which we had just passed. Forward I
dashed through room after room, upsetting some of the tables in my mad
rush, while behind me were the white-faced officers with drawn swords,
determined to take me alive or dead. Well I knew how desperate they
were, and in that instant believed myself lost. Yet, determined to sell
my life dearly, it flashed across my mind that rather than suffer the
ignominy of being taken in chains to Algiers, the infidel city, and
there tried by the tribunal as others had been, I would cast myself into
the fathomless pit.
I sprang towards the small, low door, but at first could not open it.
In a few moments the crafty Ibn Batouba, with the Franks, gained the
spot; but I had already unlocked the door and flung it open. Then, just
as they put out their hands to seize me, I swung aside, lifted my knife,
and struck my evil-faced betrayer full to the heart.
With a piercing shriek he fell forward over the door lintel, and his
lifeless body rolled into the awful chasm, while at the same instant I
gave a bound, and with a cry of defiance, leaped down into the darkness
after him.
I felt myself rushing through air, the wind whistling in my ears as deep
down I went like a stone in the impenetrable gloom. Those moments
seemed hours, until of a sudden a blow on the back knocked me
half-insensible, and I found myself a second later wallowing in a bed of
thick, soft dust. Instantly it occurred to me that because this carpet
of dust deadened the sound of things pitched into the chasm, the belief
had naturally arisen that it was unfathomable. I rose, but sank up to
the knees in the soft sand, which, stirred by my fall, half-choked me.
Far above, looking distant like a star, I saw the light of a torch. My
infidel pursuers were peering into the fearsome place in chagrin that I
had evaded them. The air, however, was hot and foul, and I knew that to
save my life I must be moving; therefore, with both hands outstretched,
I groped about, amazed to discover the great extent of this natural
cleft in the earth, formed undoubtedly by some earthquake in a remote
age.
Once I stumbled, and bending, felt at my feet the still warm body of my
betrayer--may Eblis rend him. I drew my jambiyah from his breast, and
replaced it in its sheath. Then, tearing from his body the silken gauze
which formed his girdle, I fashioned a torch, igniting it after some
difficulty with my steel. Around me was only an appalling darkness, and
I feared to test the extent of the place by shouting, lest my pursuers
above should hear. So forward I toiled in a straight line, floundering
at every step in the dust of ages, until the cleft narrowed and became
tunnel-like with a hard floor. I stooped to feel it, and was astounded
to discover that the rock had been worn smooth and hollow by the tramp
of many feet.
Besides, the air had become distinctly fresher, and this fact renewed
courage within me. At first I felt myself doomed to die like a fox in a
trap; but with hope reawakened there might, after all, I thought, be
some outlet.
Of a sudden, however, there arose before me a colossal female figure
seated on a kind of stool, with features so hideous and repulsive that I
drew back with an involuntary cry. It was a score times as high as
myself, and as I hold my torch above my head to examine it, I saw it was
of some white, semi-transparent stone of a kind I had never before
beheld. The robes were coloured scarlet and bright blue, and the face
and hands were tinted to resemble life. One hand was outstretched. On
the brow was a chaplet of wonderful pearls, and on the colossal fingers,
each as thick as my own wrist, were massive golden rings which sparkled
with gems. But the sinister grinning countenance was indeed that of a
high-priestess of Eblis.
In amazement I held my breath and gazed about me. Around the sides of
the cavern were ranged many other smaller female figures, seated like
the central one, and the face of each bore a hideous, repulsive grin, as
if in mockery of my misfortunes. Before the great central colossus was
a small triangular stone altar, upon which was some object. I crossed,
and glancing at it found to my dismay that it was a beautiful and very
ancient illuminated manuscript of our holy Koran. But through it had
been thrust a poignard, now red with rust, and it had been torn,
slashed, and otherwise defiled.
The truth then dawned upon me that this noisome place into which I had
plunged was actually the abode of the ancient and accursed sect who
worshipped Eblis as their god.
As I gazed wonderingly about me, I saw everywhere evidence that for ages
no foot of man had entered that dark silent chamber. The dust of
centuries lay smooth and untrodden.
Again I passed beneath the ponderous feet of the gigantic statue, when
suddenly my eyes were attracted by an inscription in Kufic, the ancient
language of the marabouts, traced in geometrical design upon the hem of
the idol's garment. My torch had burned dim, so I lit another, and by
its flickering rays succeeded in deciphering the following words:--
"Lo! I am Azour, wife of Eblis, and Queen of all Things Beneath the
Earth. To me, all bow, for I hold its riches in the hollow of my hand."
I glanced up quickly, and there, far above, I distinguished that in the
idol's open palm there lay some object which the fickle flame of my
torch could not reveal. But consumed by curiosity, I at once resolved
to clamber up and ascertain what riches lay there. With extreme
difficulty, and holding my flambeau in my left hand, I managed at length
to reach the platform formed by the knees of the figure, and then
scrambled up the breast and along the outstretched arm. But on mounting
the latter, I was dismayed to discover that the object for which I had
toiled was neither gold, silver, nor gems, but merely a brown and mouldy
parchment scroll. Standing at last upon the open hand, I bent and
picked it up; but in an instant I recognised that my find was of
priceless value. Ere I had read three lines of the beautifully formed
but sadly faded Arabic characters, I knew that it was none other than
the long-sought manuscript of the _Fatassi_, the mysterious phantom book
of the Soudan.
I placed my treasure beneath my dissa, and at once proceeded to descend,
eager to discover some means of escape from that gloomy cavern, peopled
by its hideous ghosts of a pagan past. In frantic haste I sought means
of exit; but not until several hours had elapsed did I succeed in
entering a burrow which, leading out into a barren ravine in the desert,
had once, no doubt, been used as entrance to the secret temple of those
who believed not in the One Merciful, but in Eblis and Azour.
After travelling many days, I succeeded in rejoining my people at a spot
four marches from Gao, bearing concealed in my dissa the priceless
history of my ancestors, with the minute plans for the recovery of their
hidden treasure. At this moment the _Fatassi_, traced by the hand of
Koti, so long coveted by the Franks, is in my possession; though only to
two of my headmen have I imparted the secret that I have recovered it.
To seek to unearth the ancient treasure at present would be worse than
useless, for our conquerors would at once despoil us. But when the
great Jehad is at last fought, and more peaceful days dawn in the
Soudan, then will the secret treasure-houses be opened and the Azjar
become a power in the land, because of the inexhaustible riches left to
them by their valiant ancestors for the re-establishment of their lost
kingdom. Until then, they possess themselves in patience, and trust in
the One.
To thee, O Reader of this my Tarik of toil and tumult, peace.