THE LORD OF THE SOUTH-LAND.
Abu Ben Hesed was a mighty man of war, he was also rich. Ten score of
camels, swift dromedaries not a few, and horses, such that men paid
great sums of gold to possess them; flocks of sheep and of goats; wives
also and children in plenty; all of these things, together with the
unquestioning obedience and devotion of his tribe, did this dweller in
the desert call his own.
He was a tall man, and his beard descended upon his breast in waves of
silvery whiteness. Yet were his eyes as keen as the eyes of a mountain
eagle, and there was no one of all his tribe who could endure hunger and
thirst as could Ben Hesed. Not that it was necessary for him to so
endure, for was not he lord of all the land that lay betwixt the
mountains on the south of the great wilderness of Shur, even unto the
sea?
"To satisfy the appetite is not always good," he was wont to say to his
sons. "This will the beasts do whenever they find provender. Man alone
can say to himself, thou shalt fast because I have willed it. Hunger
thus endured maketh man king over the beasts; thus is he set apart from
them, and so do his thoughts soar above the earth even unto the region
of the heavens, where dwelleth Ja, the maker of the stars and also of
man."
On this day Ben Hesed sat alone in the door of his tent; the sun was
sinking, a ball of scarlet behind the purple rim of the horizon; a group
of camels, browsing on the scanty desert growths, showed black against
its fiery glow, their shadows stretching long and gaunt across the sand.
About the margin of a meagre pool close at hand a cluster of palm trees
also meagre reared their heads, clasping their dusty fronds across the
water as if to hide this sacred treasure of the desert from the fierce
wooing of the sun.
The voices of the women, coming and going with their water-jars, and the
laughter and cooing of half a score of naked brown babies, who lay
contentedly kicking up their heels in the warm sand, came pleasantly to
the ear of Abu Ben Hesed. He cared not that the pool was meagre and the
palm trees stunted, this only made them the more precious and wonderful,
more truly the works of Jehovah, who had set them thus in the midst of
this great and terrible wilderness, like jewels of price. He had looked
upon fruitful lands and great rivers, upon cities also, where men dwelt
by hundreds and by thousands, and his soul had grown sick within him at
the sight.
"It was not because of their disobedience only," he said, "that Jehovah
led the children of Israel for forty years in the desert, but also,
because far from the lustful fat earth and teeming rivers and the
abominations of stone and wood that men call cities, he might reveal to
them himself."
In palm-shaded fountains, in the beauty of night and morning, and in the
flowers which flourished in the arid soil of the desert, he beheld the
love of God. In the deep valleys and solemn mountain crests where the
seething primal rock in some remote and terrible time had gathered
itself into mighty waves and fantastic pinnacles, only to stand still
forever at the word of the Lord, he perceived his power, and in the
blinding, scorching whirlwind of sand, before whose withering breath
nothing mortal could stand, and in whose fiery garments the sun itself
seemed smothered, he saw the wrath of Jehovah.
As Abu Ben Hesed mused thus within himself, he became aware after a time
that a man was coming swiftly towards him out of the desert, his
garments girt about him. He slackened not his pace till he came to the
spot where Ben Hesed sat in the door of his tent, then he cast himself
down before him and rent his garments with a loud cry of grief.
"Woe is me, my lord," he cried, when he could find his breath, "I am the
bearer of evil tidings."
"Speak, my son," said Ben Hesed, who had recognized in the man one of
his herdsmen. "What hath befallen?"
"Thine enemy who dwells in the south-land hath fallen upon the flocks
this day and hath carried away of the herds a goodly number, of
she-camels also and their foals, three, and of the horses, the stallion
Dekar."
"And thou livest to tell me this," said Ben Hesed, his eyes burning with
anger. "Why didst thou not defend the flocks?"
"Woe is me!" repeated the man, casting the dust upon his head. "I have
not yet told the worst; we fought valiantly, and thy son Eri is slain,
together with Kish, the herdsman. When this befell, we fled before the
face of the enemy; the flocks also and the herds are scattered as the
sand of the desert before the wind, and there is nought to hinder them
from falling into the hand of the oppressor."
Then Abu Ben Hesed arose and rent his clothes and cast dust upon his
head. "Jehovah hath caused me to be smitten," he said. "Nevertheless
all his ways are right ways. I should have watched for mine enemy, for
he hath grown lusty and flourishing of late. I will get me after him
and smite him till he shall cry aloud for succor. Jehovah grant me my
desire upon mine enemy! Alas for my son Eri! He hath been murderously
cut down in the flower of his youth! From the bright morning of his
days he hath been plunged suddenly into the night of death. But behold,
his blood crieth to me for vengeance out of the desert. Let us make
haste!"
The terrible news spread throughout the encampment, withering the
peaceful evening joy, like the hot breath of a Sirocco. The women
ceased their gay incessant chatter and broke into loud wailing, and the
frightened children wept with fear at the sound.
"Alas! Alas!" cried the mother of the dead man. "Alas for my son! He
was straight and comely as a palm tree, beautiful also, and pleasant in
his speech. Woe! Woe! He will no more open his mouth with kindness,
nor will his lips break forth with singing."
"Woe! Woe!" shrilled the other women, rocking to and fro, and casting
the ashes from the dying fire upon their dishevelled heads.
"Morning and evening hath he led forth the flocks!" moaned the mother.
"He will lead them forth no more!" wailed her companions.
"Alas for the betrothed maiden! She is desolate, even as a widow
without little ones hath she become!"
"Woe! Woe!"
Through all the clamor of the wailing sounded the clashing of weapons
and the neighing of horses, as the men with set teeth and lowering brows
made ready for the pursuit of their enemy. Within the hour they
departed, a hundred strong, the swift hoofs of their horses casting up
the dust of the desert behind them, as they vanished, a war-cloud big
with storm, into the night.
Before dawn Abu Ben Hesed had seen his desire upon his enemy. They had
discovered the marauders as they were making merry with their spoil, and
had fallen upon them suddenly, so that they had no time to escape.
The eyes of Ben Hesed were terrible to look upon as he cut down the
flying wretches.
"Let no one of them escape!" he cried aloud. "Slay and spare not!"
Afterward they gathered the spoil of the dead, together with their own
stolen possessions and turned their faces once more toward the north.
The heart of Ben Hesed was as lead within his bosom.
"After all," he thought, "what doth it profit to revenge oneself on an
enemy? My son is not restored, nor is my herdsman. Yet it is the law,
blood for blood, and the law is good." He raised his eyes wearily, and
looked away toward the east, where the dawn was beginning with solemn
pomp and splendor. Long rays of tremulous light flickered athwart the
cold, clear blue of the heavens, the morning star burned pallid amidst
the growing radiance, till at last it was swallowed up and lost in the
oncoming flood of day. Abu Ben Hesed looked down at his clothing and at
his hands which were red with the blood of his enemies. He loathed
himself at that moment.
"I see something yonder which resembles a man," said his eldest son, who
rode beside him. "Also a beast, lying down. What can it be, think you,
my lord? Another of our enemies who hath perchance escaped us in the
darkness?"
Abu Ben Hesed turned his eyes in the direction to which the man pointed.
"It is death," he said quietly. "The vultures are already gathering to
the feast."
"Nay, I have seen the figure move. Shall I go and see what the thing
may be?"
"Go, my son; if the man be alive, slay him not, but bring him to me
unhurt."
The son of Abu obeyed, drawing near the object and circling about it
cautiously that he might view it from every side. Presently he
dismounted and walked quite up to the thing, his horse following at his
heels, and snuffing at the air suspiciously. Two or three great birds
with bare flabby necks and red eyes, rose slowly from the ground at his
approach and flapped heavily away, croaking dismally. They had been
busy on the carcass of a mule, which lay dead upon the sand, its gay
saddle of crimson velvet hung with silver bells, befouled and draggled.
At a little distance, and quite motionless, was a heap of parti-colored
drapery, from which protruded a slender brown foot.
"A child!" said Ben Abu. "Two of them," he added as he pulled aside the
striped covering of cotton cloth which concealed their faces. "Dead
from thirst," was his verdict after he had turned them over and had
noted with a certain dimness of his keen vision, their swollen tongues
and the goat-skin water-bottle which lay beside the lad quite empty.
Then he stood up and blew a long blast on the ram's horn which he
carried at his girdle.