Zoraida: A Romance of the Harem and the Great Sahara

“Yes. I seek him because I love him. His eyes gave me a sign of affection, the remembrance of which time hath not effaced. I shall find him, even though I am compelled to journey from Ghat to Mequinez, or from the Tsâd to Algiers.” The eventuality did not occur to her that, being a warrior of an outlaw band, his bones might long ago have been bleaching in the Desert like those of so many of his fellow marauders. Such a thought, I reflected, would cause her acute anxiety, therefore I did not suggest it. She was hopeful, confident, content; tender and passionate in her love, fierce and relentless in her revenge. Night had fallen, and as under the myriad stars we travelled over rising ground towards the camp of the Desert pirates, she formed a delightful study. Her ingenuous ignorance and intuition of coquetry, the Eastern fascination striving with modest reserve, charmed and amused me, and although the wind commenced to blow up choking clouds of fine sand, compelling her to adjust her veil, yet she would not draw the curtains of her jakfi, but continued chatting until we halted an hour after dawn.

The slave guiding us predicted a sandstorm, therefore, before encamping, we turned our faces towards the Holy City, and, as pious travellers, recited the Hizb al-Bahr, the prayer which is supposed to make all safe on either land or sea. Halima with her slaves prostrated themselves upon the sand, and in impressive tones repeated aloud the prayer that commences —

“O Allah, O Exalted, O Almighty, O All-pitiful, O All-powerful, Thou art my God, and sufficeth to me the knowledge of it!” and which has the following strange conclusion: – “Thou didst subject the Moon and Al-Burak to Mohammed, upon whom be Allah’s mercy and His blessing! And subject unto us all the Seas in Earth and Heaven, in Thy visible and in Thine invisible Worlds, the Sea of this Life, and the Sea of Futurity. O Thou who reignest over everything, and unto whom all Things return. Khyas! Khyas! Khyas!” (Mystic words that cannot be translated.)

Halima told me afterwards that in this great waterless region of shifting sand, so fraught with perils, a storm was always brewing and the dreaded poison-wind always blowing, therefore men raised their hands to pray as they crossed it.

At sunrise three days later my pretty companion was lying unveiled in her jakfi, smoking and chatting to me, her two women riding a little distance behind, when our guide suddenly raised a loud shout of warning which in a moment alarmed the whole caravan. Halima instinctively twisted her veil across her face as she inquired the cause.

The slave drew up his camel near her, replying, while he glanced to make certain that his gun was loaded, “Know, O beauteous Lalla, that we are discovered! Six mysterious, armed horsemen are spurring towards us!” and with his finger he indicated the direction in which his keen, hawk-like eyes had detected them. We all gazed away into the dusky grey where he pointed, and there I saw several mounted Bedouins tearing headlong across the desert in our direction, their long guns held high above their heads, and their white draperies flowing in the wind.

Each of us grasped our rifles, prepared to fight for the protection of our fair charge, while Halima herself, pale and determined, drew a long and serviceable-looking poignard from her girdle and felt its edge. It was evident that the strangers had from afar espied Halima’s jakfi, and were resolved to possess themselves of its occupant. In this country of lawless slave-raiders those who show fight are treated with scant mercy, therefore we could expect no quarter, and dismounted ready for the combat. On came the horsemen, fleet as the wind, until they got within a short distance of us, when suddenly, without slackening, and still holding their weapons high above them, they poured out a sharp, decisive volley upon us. It was a warning that they intended attack, and that we might surrender if we were so disposed. The bullets sang over our heads unpleasantly, but no one was hit, and without hesitation our seven rifles rang out almost simultaneously. Again and again we fired, but without result, for the six fierce Sons of the Desert galloped onward, shouting a weird war-cry, and dashed in upon us, calling upon us to lay down our arms. One of them, evidently the leader, swinging himself from his grey stallion, seized Halima by the wrist before we could prevent him, but in a second, with a sudden movement, the harem beauty had slashed him with her dagger, inflicting an ugly wound across his hairy arm.

Raising his rifle, he would have shot her dead, had not one of her slaves flung himself between them, crying —

“Pause, O strangers! Tell us of what tribe thou art. If thou leviest tax upon us in this thy country, our Lalla is prepared to accede to thy just demands. If a hand is raised against her, the wrath of the Kel-Fadê will assuredly fall upon thee!”

“Naught care we for the Kel-Fadê, who are accursed by Allah, for they pray not, neither go they upon pilgrimages!” the man answered, with a harsh laugh. “From the waters of the Tsâd, even unto the green slopes of the Atlas, we hold power supreme, and none dare withstand us, for we are feared alike by the Roumis of Algeria and the True Believers of the Desert.” Then, brandishing his jambiyah (a very keen crooked dagger) above his head, he added, “We are of the Ennitra, and our lord is the mighty Hadj Absalam, Sultan of the Sahara!”

“Then hear me, O brothers!” Halima exclaimed in a loud, firm voice. “I am thy sister!”

“Our sister? But thou art of the Kel-Fadê, our enemies!” the horsemen cried with one accord.

“True. Hear thou mine explanation. Dost thou not remember that the Kel-Fadê – whom may Allah confound! – attacked and burned our village of Afara Aouhan?”

“The sons of dogs killed my father in the massacre,” declared one of the men, a brawny giant, who stood leaning on his gun.

“Mine shared the same fate. He was the oukil,” cried the beautiful girl, whose veil had in the struggle been torn away.

“His name – quick!” exclaimed the leader of the marauders in surprise.

“Hámed ben Abderrahman.”

“Then thou art – ”

“His daughter Halima.”

The black-bearded scoundrel immediately released her, and, bowing, expressed sorrow at having caused her undue alarm, after which, in a few quick sentences, she told him of her captivity and her escape, afterwards presenting me as one by whose aid she was enabled to return to her own people. She did not, however, declare me to be a Christian, therefore they thanked me and gave me peace. They told us that we were distant three hours from the encampment, which they, as scouts, were guarding, but advised us to rest till sundown, as the poison-wind was unusually virulent. Acting upon their suggestion, our tents were pitched, and the six outlaws ate with us, afterwards wrapping themselves in their burnouses and sleeping through the long, blazing day. From them I could gather but little regarding the movements of their people, and though I mentioned that I had heard many reports of the wondrous powers possessed by their Daughter of the Sun, they nevertheless preserved a studied silence. They did not even descant upon her beauty, as I expected they would do. They only grunted approbation. Towards four o’clock, Halima, wrapped in her haick, came from her tent, and very shortly afterwards we were on our way to the camp, guided by the six cut-throats of Hadj Absalam, who rode along with careless ease, carrying their weapons across their saddles, smoking cigarettes, and talking gaily. Strange indeed was this latest freak of Fate. Long had I regarded these people as the most deadly of my enemies, yet I was now entering their camp as their friend!

Our way wound among bare rocks and hills of granite and over broken ground, weird in its desolation, flanked by high blocks and boulders. Several parties of horsemen, evidently scouts, appeared, but, on recognising our escort, allowed us to pass unmolested, until at length, about the hour of el maghrib, we came to a vast cleft in the hideous face of earth, and, passing through, found ourselves in a valley in the midst of a great encampment. The ravine seemed covered with tents; indeed, it appeared as if a whole army had encamped there, and I was not surprised when one of the outlaws told me that the fighting force numbered over three thousand.

On descending the rocky defile, I saw in an open space in the centre of the camping-ground three tents close together and more handsome than the rest, while against the clear, rose-tinted evening sky there waved over the centre pavilion the dreaded green silken banner of Hadj Absalam.

“Then thy lord is present with thee?” I exclaimed in surprise, addressing the marauder who rode beside me.

“Yes. When he leadeth us we fear no evil, for he is the Great Sultan of the Sahara, who cannot be overthrown.”

Wending our way slowly onward among the tents, our arrival caused a good deal of excitement and speculation among the robbers, who doubtless believed us to be captives. One incident impressed me as especially remarkable. Just as we had entered the camp, three women, enshrouded in silken haicks and wearing their ugly, out-door trousers, were strolling together slowly, as if enjoying the cool zephyr after the breathless day.

No word escaped either of them, but one reeled and clutched her companion’s arm, excited and trembling, as if her eyes had met an apparition. I smiled at her intense agitation, wondering whether she had recognised in Halima a hated rival; but until we had turned to wend our way among the tents, she stood motionless, staring at us fixedly through the small aperture of her veil, apparently much to the consternation of her two companions.

The tragic little scene, though unusual, was apparently not noticed by my companions.

Was it Halima’s presence that caused the closely-veiled woman such sudden and profound consternation – or was it mine?

Chapter Thirty Five.

Betrayed!

That night, as I lay without undressing in the little tent the outlaws of the Desert had assigned to me, I was kept awake for a long time by the sound of voices and the clang of arms. While half the camp slept, the remainder were apparently cleaning their rifles, and sharpening their jambiyahs, preparatory, I presumed, to some wild foray. For a long time I lay wondering whether Halima would find her undeclared lover in the camp, or whether he was lying in the sand, sleeping until the blast of Israfîl’s golden trumpet. Under my pillow reposed the time-worn case containing the Crescent of Glorious Wonders, but my letter of introduction had, alas! been filched from me by Labakan. Was it not possible, I thought, that this evil-faced scoundrel was in the camp. If so, what more probable than that, finding he had not killed me as he intended, he would denounce me to Hadj Absalam as the Roumi who had escaped them after being condemned to death? Such reflections were not calculated to induce sleep; nevertheless, weakened as I was by my wound, the journey had greatly fatigued me, and at last I grew drowsy and unconscious, and became haunted by strange dreams.

I must have been asleep for some hours when a light pressure upon my shoulder awakened me.

“Utter not a word,” whispered a soft female voice in my ear. “Danger besetteth thee, but thou, O stranger, art with friends solicitous of thy welfare.”

Turning, I glanced upward, and the streak of moonlight that entered revealed a woman enshrouded so completely by her garments that I could not tell whether she were old or young.

“Who art thou?” I whispered, now wide awake and on the alert at her warning of danger. About her there clung an odour of attar of rose.

“I am but a messenger. Rise and follow me in silence,” she answered.

“Whither dost thou desire to conduct me?” I inquired, rather dubiously, for I had a vague, apprehensive feeling now that I was among these murderous outlaws.

“To the presence of one who must speak with thee immediately. Ask no further question, for in a few moments thine eyes shall behold, and thine ears shall hear.”

Silent and motionless she stood awaiting me, looking like a ghost in the bright moon’s rays. Wondering who desired an interview with me at that hour, and half suspecting that Halima had something secret to communicate, I rose, replaced my haick, rearranged the hang of my burnouse, and then announced my readiness to accompany my mysterious visitant.

“There is no Ilah but Allah,” the woman whispered piously. “May the Ruler of Death grant unto thee perfect peace!”

“And upon thee peace,” I answered, as in obedience to her silent injunction indicated by her raised finger, I followed her stealthily out.

“Let thy lips be sealed,” she whispered, conducting me past many tents the occupants of which were soundly sleeping. Silently we sped onward, until we came to the open space, in the centre of which were erected the three pavilions of the pirate chieftain. The entrance to the centre one was guarded by four superbly-dressed negroes with drawn scimitars, who stood motionless as statues. On seeing me, they raised their glittering blades, and made a sudden movement as if to bar my progress, but on a sign from my veiled guide they immediately fell back, allowing us to pass unmolested. Next second, however, a man’s voice sounded, and the armed outlaws closed around me. I glanced back, and saw in the white moonbeams the crafty, villainous face of Labakan!

He laughed exultantly, as I saw to my chagrin how cleverly I had been tricked.

Helpless in the hands of these five armed warriors of the plains, I was hurried unceremoniously into the large and luxurious pavilion. On the ground rich rugs were spread, and divans had been improvised out of saddles and boxes. Above, from a lamp of curiously-worked brass, a subdued light fell upon the occupants, three men who, stretched at their ease, were smoking. The central figure, attired in a large white turban and a rich robe of bright amaranth silk, was that of an old man of patriarchal appearance, and as he lifted his head at our entrance, our eyes met.

It was Hadj Absalam!

Betrayed into the hands of my enemy, I stood helpless and dismayed. I had hoped he would not recognise me, and that I should pass as the rescuer of Halima until an opportunity of escape presented itself; but, alas! some one had detected me, and, without doubt, the person responsible for my discovery was the adroit assassin Labakan, the self-styled Grand Vizier of the Sahara, who now stood grinning with pleasure at my discomfiture.

Removing his chibouk, the Pirate of the Desert glared at me fiercely for several moments without uttering a word, slowly raising himself into a sitting posture, an example followed by his two brutal-looking companions. The air was heavy with tobacco smoke that seemed to hang like a pall over the three occupants of the divan.

Labakan, raising his brown, sinewy hand towards me, was the first to break the painful silence.

“Behold! O gracious Master!” he cried. “Report hath not lied. Thine enemy liveth!”

The great Sheikh of the Ennitra rose, his countenance livid with rage.

“Lo! it is verily the accursed son of Eblis, thief of our secrets!” he burst forth in fiery passion. “At length thou art revealed unto us! Thou – who hast brought upon us despair, defeat, and death, who hast defiled the land that we inhabit – art now within our power, and, upon the Book of Everlasting Will, I swear thou shalt not escape. For many moons hast thou evaded us, and though our horsemen have scoured the plains of Ahaggar, the Areg, and the Ahír, even unto the waterless Desert of Tibbou, in search of thee, thou disappearest like the shadow of a cloud. Neither the terrors of the wilderness, nor the knife of our servant Labakan, have daunted thee, but at last thy career hath ended – at last thy doom is nigh!” he cried, thundering forth the final sentence, and shaking his clenched and sinewy fist.

“True, O Ruler of the Desert,” I answered, as he paused to take breath, “I have again fallen into thine hands, yet the judgments of the Bedouins are tempered with – ”

“Again?” he ejaculated, his black eyes full of angry fire. “All yes! I remember. Thou wert put to the torture which we reserve for dogs of thine accursed race, and thy strength burst the bonds that held thee.”

“The influence of this son of an unbeliever, who hath stolen our power, was the cause of our defeat when our brave sons attacked the homards on the Oasis of Meskam,” added Labakan, apparently determined that the Great Sheikh should forget none of the allegations against me.

“The Ruler of the Desert hath no need of the promptings of a secret assassin,” I exclaimed, fiercely turning upon him.

“Silence, dog!” roared the Bedouin chieftain. “Add not to thy crimes by thus rebuking Allah’s chosen. By thy clever machinations hast thou learned our secrets and divested us of our power. Thrice have the armed men of thy brethren, the Infidels, attacked and defeated us; thrice have we been compelled to flee from those who have plotted to conquer the True Believers, and all owing to thy crafty theft of the unseen power that once was ours. While thou livest, thou bearest upon thee influence to work our destruction wheresoever we go, but when thou hast been consigned to the darkness of Hâwiyat, then will power and success return unto our people. Ere to-morrow’s sun hath set, thou shalt be a corpse, for Allah is swift in punishing.”

“He, the One to be praised, is also gracious and merciful,” I added. “Dost thou, who hast performed thy sujdah within the Harem of Al-Medinah, forget thy Korân?” I asked reproachfully.

“Mention not our Faith with thy polluted lips!” he cried, adding, ”‘The Infidels are smitten with vileness wheresoever they are found.’”

These words of the Prophet, with which he endeavoured to crush my argument, gave the utmost satisfaction to the men about me, who murmured approbation in an undertone, and nodded their heads expressive of admiration at the wisdom of their sinister-faced, tyrannical chief.

“For many moons have I dwelt within thy land, O mighty Sultan of the Sahara,” I said. “Though I have ever acted with honour towards thy people of Al-Islâm, yet I am far spent with travel, and clothed with calamity as with a garment. Why seekest thou my death?”

“Have I not already told thee? Thou hast filched from us the wondrous secret power by which we vanquished our enemies; the unseen force that hath enabled us to rule the Desert. While thou remainest alive, of a surety ruin and extinction threaten us.”

“But I am, alas! ignorant of thy strange allegation,” I said, earnestly endeavouring to get the angry Arab to speak more calmly. “By what means have I taken from thee this extraordinary influence that once was thine? Tell me, for a slave may not be condemned for an unknown crime.”

“Thou knowest well,” he answered distinctly, with loud emphasis and glittering eye, placing one hand upon the hilt of his jewelled jambiyah, and standing erect with regal air. “It is useless for thee to deny deeds which have worked our defeat, and actions that must ere long be the cause of our downfall.”

“I deny nothing, O mighty Sheikh of the Ennitra,” I protested. “Years ago, thy valiant race filled me with admiration, and because of that, I learned to speak thy tongue, and read the commands of the Prophet. Times without number have I been the willing servant of thy people of Al-Islâm; nay, even to-day have I brought hither under my protection a fair woman of thy tribe, whom I assisted to escape from a harem in the land of thine enemies.”

“A woman?” he exclaimed, with an expression of surprise, and, turning to his attendants, asked, “Who is she?”

“She is named Halima, O Master,” answered Labakan. “To me hath she explained that the Infidel intended to convey her to his own land, and only by a ruse did she succeed in getting to our camp. He carried her off from the harem of the Sheikh of the Kel-Fadê, in order to possess her himself.”

“Miserable parasites!” ejaculated Hadj Absalam angrily, on hearing the mention of the hostile tribe, “May their vitals be devoured by insects, and may their bodies be given unto the wild beasts! Did the chief of these locusts of the sands hold our kinswoman in bondage?”

“Yes,” I answered. “We escaped from the palace of the Sheikh together.”

“Behold, O Master!” said the bandit who had attempted to kill me. “He admits that they journeyed in company. He tried by force to cause her to fly with him across the Atlas and beyond the sea, unto the land of the Infidels.”

“It’s a lie!” I shouted warmly. “Bring her hither, and let her, O Sheikh, relate unto thee her story.”

“Already she hath told it,” the old chieftain replied. “Already thou art proved to be no respecter of our women, for thine eyes have defiled their unveiled faces, and by thy speeches hast thou caused them to forget the commands of the Prophet, and look upon thee, a white-faced son of offal, with favour.”

“My acquaintance with any woman of thy race will not preclude her from drinking of the fountain of Salsabil,” (a spring in Paradise), I answered defiantly.

“Thou wilt deny next that thou hast ever spoken with our beauteous Daughter of the Sun!” exclaimed the irate Despot of the Desert, who, as he uttered Zoraida’s name, bowed low in reverence, an example imitated by all his followers.

“I deny not my actions, neither shall I attempt to refute the allegations made against me by a murderer,” I answered.

My captors laughed jeeringly. I knew by their manner that they were determined that I should die, and I expected no mercy. Yet, despite an inward feeling of despair, I determined to show a bold front. I had been betrayed; but they should not see that I feared them.

“Secretly hast thou entered her private apartment, and remained there alone with her. To thee, son of Malec (the principal angel who has charge of hell), she hath disclosed our secrets – secrets which thou now holdest; hence, thou art the one Infidel in the world who possessest power to work evil upon us.”

“Whatever secrets I may have learned I have not used,” I protested firmly. “With me a secret remaineth always a secret.”

One of the men who had been reclining on a divan smoking, rose, whispering a word into the ear of his angry master. For a moment Hadj Absalam reflected, then asked: “What was the nature of this secret revealed unto thee?”

“To the Lalla Zoraida I promised not to disclose.”

“But if, peradventure, I chose to regard thy crimes leniently, – if I even spared thy life, – wouldst thou not explain the nature of the secret wonders thine eyes have beholden?”

“No,” I answered firmly. “Not all the Treasure of Askiá, added to my liberty, would unlock my lips.”

“The Treasure of Askiá!” gasped the Hadj, glancing quickly round to his attendants with an expression of amazement and alarm that reflected itself upon their countenances. “What knowest thou of it?”

“In the Desert I learned the story of the great king’s hidden wealth,” I replied innocently.

“Ah!” cried the Sheikh, with sudden ferocity. “I had expected as much. Truly thou art a son of Eblis whose actions are accursed; truly hast thou tasted of the bitter fruit of Al-Zakkum, which hath its roots in hell!”

“Peace be upon thee, O Ruler!” I said. “Thy servant knoweth naught of any such thing as this whereof thou speakest, for never hath he committed any deed to warrant this thy wrath.” But he flew into a fit of uncontrollable rage, and hurled upon me every curse that his voluble tongue could utter. To argue was useless. I tried to induce him to explain how I had stolen from his people the secret of their victories, declaring that I held no power which could detract from the success of their raids. But he would vouchsafe no answer to my questions, and only shouted his intention of submitting me to a most horrible series of tortures, before my body should be given to the vultures. The old despot’s anger was fearful to behold. He stamped, he raved, he tore into shreds his silken garments, and actually foamed at the mouth.

Voiceless, I stood before him. Amid these fierce marauders, who regarded not the lives of enemies or friends and were awaiting impatiently the order to hurry me off to my death, I was a doomed man. The frowns of Fortune had never been so ominous as at that moment.