Zoraida: A Romance of the Harem and the Great Sahara

“Release me, brute!” she cried, springing to her feet, with her beautiful eyes flashing angrily. “Thinkest thou that I will endure thy tortures longer? No! I hate thee! I will depart. Another may rule thine harem, and may she find her position happier than mine hath been!”

“But remember thou art my prisoner. Dost thou admit or deny what I have said?” he demanded, pale with passion.

“If thou accusest me of infidelity, I can deny it upon the Book of the Everlasting Will,” she replied, drawing herself up haughtily. “Other allegations I deign not to answer, even though thou art my captor, and I am in thy power.”

“Then know, O woman of evil, who hast been defiled by the eyes of a stranger, the man thou hast aided now holdeth the secret of the Ghuzzat, and – ”

“He – he hath learned of the plot against our Oppressors?” she gasped. “Tell me, how did it occur?”

“At the council of the Brotherhood he was discovered behind a curtain in the secret Chamber of Assembly, and no doubt can exist but that he watched and obtained knowledge of our rites and intentions. Upon me, therefore, will fall the fierce and fatal wrath of the Brotherhood, for within my walls hath their secret been betrayed!”

“But – how did he gain the Chamber of the Assembly?” she stammered.

“Thou canst best answer that question,” the old Arab replied sternly.

“I am in ignorance, truly,” she declared, a deadly pallor overspreading her fair countenance. “I have done naught of which I am ashamed.”

“But canst thou not, perfidious wench, see that our secret is out?” he continued angrily. “The stranger, though pursued, disappeared mysteriously, and though every search hath been made, he hath not been found. By this time he is most probably on his way into Algeria, where he will spread the warning, and thus the armed hordes of the Roumis will be on the alert, and our aims utterly defeated.”

“And thou hast attributed the misfortune of thy fellow-conspirators to me?” she exclaimed, in a tone of reproach.

“I tell thee thou alone art the author of the evil that hath befallen us,” he cried, with flashing eyes. “For women of Eblis who betray True Believers, the fire of hell is already prepared. There, the flame and smoke shall surround thee like a pavilion, and if thou beggest relief, thou shalt be relieved with water like molten brass that shall scald thy face. The mischief is worked, the secret is divulged, and already the Brotherhood are leaving, never to return. Thee, devilish daughter of Waila, have we to thank for introducing secretly a spy into our midst!”

“I have acted as I thought fit. Leave my presence!” she commanded, with imperious gesture. “I will no longer suffer the brutal insults of a man I hate. Ere the sun hath set I shall have freed myself of thine hateful bonds and left thine accursed roof.”

“Thou shalt never go from here alive!” he hissed in her ear, holding her slim white wrist and dragging her roughly towards him. “Already thou, the cause of our downfall, hast defiled thine hands with the blood of a stranger, and allowed him to obtain knowledge whereby our secret designs will be thwarted. For such offences there is but one penalty. It is death!”

“Thou, who art tired of me, bring these accusations in order to justify my murder!” she gasped in indignation and alarm. “My people have not forgotten, and assuredly will they seek blood revenge.”

“Enough!” he growled between his teeth, as in a second he drew a knife from his waist, and, clutching her by the throat, forced her upon her knees. “Thou art the handmaiden of Al-Dajjâl, and the mark of the Câfer is set upon thy brow. Thou shalt die!”

She shrieked as his powerful arm poised in mid air.

“Spare me! Spare me!” she implored piteously. “Be thou merciful!”

But he jeered at her appeal, and, forcing her backward in his iron clutches, gripped the gleaming, murderous weapon.

“Thy people, thou Misriyah! will never know thy fate, for ere sundown thou wilt be as offal, and vultures will strip thy bones,” he said, with a fiendish grin. “See! this my knife seeketh thy polluted heart.”

Unhesitatingly I dashed forward, springing upon him from behind and wrenching the weapon from his grasp. I was not a moment too soon, for in another instant the keen steel would have been plunged into the heaving white breast of the fair, fragile jewel of the harem.

“Who, pray, art thou, who darest obstruct me?” he demanded angrily, turning upon me in amazement.

“Thy wife hath saved my life, and it is my duty to save hers,” I answered boldly.

“See!” she panted, suddenly recognising me. “See! it is the stranger who was wounded!”

“The stranger who hath learned at his peril the secret of the Ghuzzat,” he added, with grim sarcasm. “As he is thy protector, he is most probably thy lover also!”

“That I deny,” I answered quickly. “I have known nothing of this lady until to-day.”

“Liar!” he shrieked in rage. “Thou boldest our secret. Only thy death will expiate thine eavesdropping!” and ere I could realise his intention, he had drawn a second knife from his waist and made a desperate lunge at me. With difficulty I managed to parry the blow, and for a few moments we engaged in deadly combat. His young wife, alarmed, rushed to a door which led into a beautiful courtyard, and shouted for help. Her cries were answered immediately by two black slaves of gigantic stature, who, in obedience to her commands, flung themselves upon their master, twisted the knife from his fingers, and in a trice had bound his hands behind his back with a cord they seemed to have brought for the purpose.

“Slaves! Suffer not thine hands to thus defile me!” he cried, with a look of murder in his flashing eyes, but they gagged him immediately.

His wife, addressing the two negroes, exclaimed —

“It is as I expected. He hath attempted to strike me to earth, and had it not been for this stranger, I should have been murdered. Three days ago I gave thee certain instructions – carry them out.”

“We will, O Lady of Great Beauty,” they both replied.

“Then remove him.”

The two black giants opened the small door by which I had entered, and almost before the old Arab could mumble a protest, they had hurried him out and down into the dark subterranean passage that led away into the unknown maze below.

“That course is my only chance of escape,” she said, turning to me in explanation, when the door had closed. “Had I fallen, thou too must have perished, for thy food in the secret chamber could not have lasted long,” she panted, holding her hand to her breast as if in pain.

“I have to thank thee for rescuing me from death,” I said. “I had no idea who was my deliverer until I overheard thy conversation.”

“But thou didst not obey the instructions I left thee in my letter,” she said in a tone of reproach. “Searching for a means of exit, it seemeth, brought thee unto the Chamber of Assembly; hence my disgrace and thine own peril.”

“But thine husband – whither have they taken him?”

“To the chamber in which thou hast remained hidden these few days. Before he is placed there, he will be rendered unconscious, so that he may not know of the secret entrance. There will he remain while I reach a place of safety.”

“Merely detained?” I asked dubiously.

“Yes. Though in his wrath he tried to kill me, I bear him no malice, for when I get back to mine own people, I shall be safe. If he discovers how to get out of his prison, then he will live. If not” – and she shrugged her shoulders.

“Though thou art his wife, thou dost not appear to regret thy departure.”

“Why should I, when I have been detained here over a year against my will? If thou only knewest the dreary life a woman leadeth in the hands of a brute she hates and despises – ah!” and she shuddered.

“Then thou wilt now regain freedom?” I said, surprised.

“Yes. For many moons have I waited in patience for this moment, and at last I have accomplished what I sought. Already the preparations are being made. My two trusty slaves will return when their work hath been accomplished, and in an hour camels will be packed in readiness for our journey.”

“Our journey? Dost thou intend that I should accompany thee?” I asked.

“Certainly. To disguise thyself as a female slave, veiled and enshrouded by a haick, is thine only chance of escape. La bodd annak taroóh maaki!” (“You must go with me”) and she sank back again upon her divan, as if the exertion had utterly exhausted her.

“Thou art stronger than when I found thee lying as one dead in the ruins of the great Palace of the White Sultan,” she exclaimed, as she lay stretched among her cushions, with her bright, beautiful eyes looking up to mine. “Dost thou feel well enough to withstand the fatigue of travel?”

“Yes, quite,” I answered. “But ought we not to prepare for flight immediately?”

“There is no need for haste,” she answered. “This is mine own private apartment where none dare enter, so take thine ease, for we must journey far before el maghrib.”

All trace of her agitation had now disappeared, and as we chatted calmly, I asked, “Why didst thou take compassion upon me – a stranger?”

“I had accompanied two of the wives of the man who hath held me in hateful bondage on a portion of their journey towards Assiou, and in returning we halted to rest under the shadow of the Hall of the Great Death. There I discovered thee, and, in order to give thee succour, was compelled to resort to the expedient of placing thee within the secret chamber. Some time previously I had heard that thou wert journeying south.”

“Who told thee? What didst thou know of me?”

“I knew that thou, a Roumi, hadst undertaken to reach Agadez in order to perform a secret mission, and that thou hadst proved loyal and true to the woman who loved thee. For her sake as well as for thine I snatched thee from certain death, and if Allah giveth us His mercy and blessing, we both shall now regain our freedom.”

“Art thou aware of the name of the woman to whom I am betrothed?” I inquired, in amazement.

“She is – or was – called Zoraida, and was known to our people as the Daughter of the Sun.”

“Thy people? Then thou art of the tribe of the Ennitra?” I exclaimed.

“True,” she answered, with a smile. “I am the daughter of those who have so long and eagerly sought thy destruction.”

“But what of Zoraida? Tell me; is she still alive?” I asked anxiously.

“Alas! I am uncertain. Here in this my prison only strange and vague rumours have reached me. Once I heard that she had been murdered in Algiers, but soon afterwards that report brought by the caravans was denied, and since then much curious gossip regarding her hath been circulated. The last I heard was, that, disguised as a camel-driver, she had followed thee to Agadez.”

“To Agadez?” I cried. “How long ago did that astounding news reach thee?”

“Early last moon. One of my slaves heard it while travelling with some of the women to Assiou. I am inclined to regard it, however, like so many other rumours, as mere idle talk of the bazaars, for only a few days before that, I heard of her holding sway at the palace of our lord Hadj Absalam.”

“Canst thou tell me nothing authentic?” I asked, disappointedly.

“Alas! nothing,” she answered, with a sigh. “Our Lalla Zoraida is mighty and of wondrous beauty, but the mystery that surroundeth her hath never been penetrated.”

Chapter Thirty Four.

Under the Green Banner

Through a vast, barren wilderness, peopled only by echoes, we journeyed over drifted sand-heaps, upon which every breath of the hot poison-wind left its trace in solid waves. It was a haggard land of drear silence, of solitude, and of fantastic desolation. In the Desert a vivid sense of danger is never absent; indeed, even more so than upon the sea, for the mere lameness of a camel or the bursting of a water-skin is a disaster that must inevitably prove fatal to the traveller.

Our caravan consisted of ten persons only, six trusted and well-armed male slaves, two females, my pretty companion, and myself. Our departure from the great ancient stronghold in which the handsome girl had been held captive had not been accomplished without much exciting incident; but luckily my disguise as a female slave, in ugly white trousers and a haick that hid my features, proved complete, and, the imperious pearl of the Sheikh’s harem having announced her intention of journeying to Assiou to join his two other wives, we were at last allowed to depart without any opposition on the part of her husband’s armed retainers. The whole thing had been most carefully arranged, and the details of the escape were cleverly carried out without a hitch.

On setting out, Lalla Halima – for such she told me was her name – and myself, as her attendant, travelled together in one jakfi placed upon a swift camel, gaily caparisoned with crimson velvet; but as soon as we had got fairly away, I slipped off my white shroud, and, resuming a fez and burnouse, mounted one of the animals whereon our food was loaded. In camping during those blinding days under a dead, milk-white sky, I spent many pleasant, idle hours with Halima, and when travelling – which we usually did at night – we generally rode side by side. Notwithstanding the terrific heat, life in the Desert seemed to suit her far better than the seclusion of her sweet-perfumed harem, for, true child of the plains as she was, she felt her heart dilate and her pulse beat stronger; declaring to me that she experienced a keen enjoyment in “roughing it” in that trackless wilderness. Indeed, the spirits of all of us became exuberant, the air and exercise seemed to stir us to exertion, and, altogether, we constituted a really pleasant party.

Lolling lazily at her ease among the silken cushions in her jakfi, she would chat with charming frankness through the night, as in the moonlight we plodded steadily onward guided by one of the slaves to whom the route was familiar. She told me all about herself, of her childhood, spent in the barren desert of the Ahaggar, of a visit she paid to Algiers one Ramadân, and of the attack by the Kel-Fadê upon the little village of Afara Aouhan, her capture, and her subsequent life in the harem of the Sheikh. From her I gleaned many details regarding her people, of their wanderings, their power in the Desert, and their raids upon neighbouring nomad tribes. Many were the horrible stories she told me of the fierce brutality of Hadj Absalam, who was feared by his people as a wicked, unjust, and tyrannical ruler, and who, despising the French military authorities, delighted in the torture of Christian captives, and endeavoured to entice the Zouaves and Spahis into his mountain fastnesses where he could slaughter them without mercy. The Great Pirate’s impregnable palace, the fame of which had long ago spread from Timbuktu to Cairo, she described in detail, and if what she said proved correct, the place must be of magnificent proportions, and a very remarkable structure. The harem, she said, contained over four hundred inmates, the majority of whom had fallen prisoners in various raids, but so fickle was the pirate Sultan of the Sahara, that assassination was horribly frequent, and poison, the silken cord, or the scimitar, removed, almost weekly, those who failed to find favour in the eyes of their cruel captor.

Yet, regarding Zoraida, I could gather scarcely anything beyond the fact that the subjects of Hadj Absalam knew her by repute as the most beautiful of women, and that few, even of the female inmates of the palace, had ever looked upon her unveiled face. One evening, as we rode beside each other in the brilliant afterglow, I admitted how utterly mystified I was regarding the woman I loved; to which Halima replied softly —

“Who she is no one can tell. Her name is synonymous for all that is pure and good, her benevolence among our poorer families is proverbial, and she possesseth a strange power, the secret of which none hath ever been able to discover.”

“Thou didst tell me that thy people sought my destruction,” I said. “Dost thou know the reason for their secret hatred?”

“I have heard that thou holdest the mysterious power of defeating thine enemies once possessed by the Lalla Zoraida, and that until thy death it cannot return to her,” she answered. “But thou dost not seem so terrible as report describeth thee,” she added, with a coquettish smile.

I laughed. It was nevertheless strange that my would-be assassin Labakan had made a similar allegation. Remembering that I was accompanying my fair companion upon an adventurous journey to an unknown destination, I said —

“Though we have travelled together these six days, thou hast not yet told me whither our camels’ heads are set.”

Puffing thoughtfully at the cigarette between her dainty lips, she replied, “Already have I explained that I am returning to my people. The route we are traversing is known only to the trusty slave who guideth us and to mine own people, for there are no wells, and no adventurous traveller hath ever dared to penetrate into this deserted, silent land of the Samun.”

“Is it not known to thine enemies, the Kel-Fadê?” I asked, recollecting with bitterness that to the marauders of the tribe that had held her in bondage I also owed my captivity in the Court of the Eunuchs.

“The Kel-Fadê have never penetrated hither,” she answered, gazing away to where the purple flush was dying away on the misty horizon. “In three days – if Allah showeth us favour – we shall reach the rocky valley wherein my people are encamped. Ana fíkalák hatta athab ila honâk.” (“I am very anxious to get there.”)

“But for what reason are thy people so many weeks’ journey from their own country?” I asked.

Moving uneasily among her cushions, she contemplated the end of her cigarette. Apparently it was a question which she did not care to answer, for she disregarded it, exclaiming grimly, “I wonder if the occupant of the secret chamber will discover the means of exit?”

“Suppose he faileth? What then?”

“He will share the fate that hath befallen others immured there,” she answered, raising her arched brows slightly.

“Immured there by thee?” I hazarded, smiling.

“No,” she replied, with a musical laugh. “Thou must not judge me with such harshness, even though my life hath become embittered by captivity in the harem of a monster I hated.”

Suddenly I recollected the strange recovery of my mysterious talisman, the Crescent of Glorious Wonders, which was now reposing safely in its case within one of the bags beneath me. Evidently it had been hidden with other booty taken from the caravan with which I had travelled by some one who had regarded it with curiosity.

“Is the existence of that hidden prison known to anyone besides thyself?” I inquired.

“Why askest thou that question? Art thou afraid my lord will escape ere we reach a place of safety?” she exclaimed, with a low, rippling laugh.

“No,” I replied. “I have a serious object in seeking information.”

“What, wert thou troubled by unwelcome visitors?” she asked, smiling mischievously.

“No; on the contrary, the silence was appalling and the companionship of the dead horrible.”

“Ah, forgive me!” she exclaimed apologetically. “It was not my fault that I could not have the place cleared of the bones. There was no time. But in my written message I told thee to fear not.”

“But whoever placed me there knew of the secret entrance,” I urged.

“True,” she answered. “Two of my slaves – he who guideth us towards the encampment of the Ennitra and the man leading yonder camel – carried thee to thine underground tomb, and placed food there for thee.”

Her words gave me instant explanation. From the first the countenance of our guide had seemed familiar, and I now remembered where I had seen it. He was one of those who had held me when the Mysterious Crescent had been wrenched so suddenly from my grasp! No doubt it had come into his possession with other loot, which, in order to secure to himself, he had hidden in that place where none could obtain entrance. As he rode on top of his camel quite close to me, I peered into his dark, aquiline face and found its features unmistakable. It was he who had secured me, who had subjected me to slavery, and who had mounted guard over me until I had been purchased by the agent of the Sultan Hámed. Apparently he had not recognised me, and as I again held my treasure safely in my own keeping, I had no desire to claim acquaintance with this slave, who was himself a slave-raider. They were all brave, sturdy fellows, loyal to their mistress, a quality that I admired, for both she and I had interests in common in putting a respectable distance between ourselves and the irate Sheikh of the Kel-Fadê.

“If thy people seek my death, am I not unwise in accompanying thee into their midst?” I queried, after a pause.

“By thine aid I, one of their daughters, have escaped from the bonds of their enemies, therefore fear not, for though the Ennitra rule the Desert harshly with rifle and bastinado, they harm not those who lend them assistance.”

I told her of my first experience of Hadj Absalam, and how I had been tortured with the snake, concealing the fact that Zoraida had set me at liberty.

“Tabakoh câsi. (His disposition is cruel.) He is hated even by our own people,” she exclaimed, when I had concluded. “His brutality is fiendish to us and to strangers alike; but when Infidels are brought into his presence, his rage is absolutely ungovernable. Thy torture was not so horrible as some I myself have witnessed. Once, near Téhe-n-Aïeren, at the foot of Mount El Aghil, a young Zouave soldier strayed into our camp, and, being captured, was brought before him. Because the Infidel’s eyes had rested upon one of his women, he ordered them both to be gouged out and sent to the French commandant at Ideles. Then the man’s ears followed, then his nose, then his hands, and after keeping him alive in fearful torture for nearly three weeks, the body of the wretched prisoner was covered with date juice and placed upon an ant-hill, where he was literally devoured by the insects.”

“Horrible!” I said, shuddering. “Are such tortures common among thy tribe?”

“Alas!” she answered, rearranging her pillow; “cruelties such as these are frequently practised, even upon us. Neither men, women, nor children are safe. Those who give our mighty lord offence always pay the penalty with their lives, but never before they have been tortured.”

“Yet thou art anxious to return among them?”

“Yes,” she replied, with an earnest look. As she lay curled up in her cage-like litter, she had the air of a little savage with the grace of a child. “I do not wish to be loved as I have been, like a slave,” she added in a confidential tone.

“But thou hast ruled the harem of the Sheikh, and hast been chief of his great household,” I observed.

“True,” she answered. “But there are circumstances in our lives we cannot forget; there are people who dwell always in the house of our memory.”

I nodded. The truth was easily guessed.

“Two days before being torn from my people,” she continued bitterly, “I met, by mere chance, a man of mine own people whom I have never ceased to remember. It was a chance meeting, and by no fault of mine own was my veil drawn aside. Neither of us spoke, but I knew we loved each other. My father told me he was one of the most daring of the men-at-arms Hadj Absalam sends against the homards, a notorious thief and cut-throat, to secure whose capture the Roumis away at Algiers have offered two bags of gold.” She sighed, then added simply, “Though he may be a murderer, I shall love him, even until Allah bringeth me to Certainty.” (The hour of death.)

She spoke with the passionate ardour of her race. The love of the Arab woman knows neither the shame nor the duplicity of vice. Proud of her submission as a slave, she can love even a murderer without losing any of her self-respect. In her eyes, her tenderness is legitimate; her glory is to conquer the heart. The man she loves is her master, she abandons herself to him without failing in any duty. A daughter of Al-Islâm, she fulfils her destiny according to the moral traditions and beliefs of her country, and she remains faithful to them by loving the man she chooses; her religion has no other rule, her virtue no other law.

“And you have escaped in order to seek this man?” I observed, smoking calmly.