Zoraida: A Romance of the Harem and the Great Sahara

“I – I wish we could meet daily,” she declared wistfully; “but for thee to tread the enchanted ground of my pavilion is impossible. At the peril of our lives, and by the connivance of those placed as janitors over me, am I enabled to-night to speak with thee for one brief hour, to hear thee tell me of thy love.” Then, grasping my hand tightly, and gazing with a fervent love-look into my face, she added, “For days, for weeks have I been longing to see thee, hoping against hope. In the dim, silent seclusion of mine own apartment strange rumours and distorted reports have reached me regarding thy fate. Although those I employed lied unto me, I felt confidence in thee. I knew thou wouldst strain every nerve to obtain knowledge of the Great Secret that is essential to our happiness. We meet now only to part again; to part perhaps for a few days, perhaps for many moons. Let me dwell within thy memory, so that thou wilt ever remember that she who loveth thee followeth thee unseen, and that all her trust is in thine own brave heart.”

She spoke with the fierce passion of love, and in her fine brilliant eyes tears were welling. I was silent in the devout worship of my entrancing idol – this woman whose face was perfect in its beauty, whose supple figure and exquisite grace charmed me, and whose soft, tuneful Arabic sounded as sweetest music. With her slight form in my embrace, her cheek, fresh as an English girl’s, lying upon my breast, her long dark unplaited hair straying over my white burnouse, she filled me with a restful, dreamy languor, a feeling of perfect enchantment and bliss, enhanced by the heavy perfumes and the sensuousness of her luxuriant surroundings.

“While wandering afar, the thought of thine affection hath given me heart; thou art always my Pole Star, my light, my guide,” I said, enraptured. “Though I have failed to obtain the knowledge which I sought, it was purely owing to the fickleness of fortune.”

“Yes,” she answered gravely. “I know thou hast done thy best. Yet there are still means by which thou canst ascertain the truth, and elucidate the Great Mystery.”

“How?”

“By becoming one of us; by bearing arms under the green banner of Hadj Absalam, and accompanying us to Agadez.”

“Art thou actually on thy way thither?” I asked, amazed. “Surely it is dangerous?”

“Dangerous only for the Sultan of the Ahír,” she laughed.

“I cannot understand,” I said. “What is the object of thy journey?”

“The same as the object of all our expeditions,” she answered, the smile dying from her lips. “The trade of the Ennitra is marked always by rapine and murder, plunder and bloodshed;” and she shuddered.

“Do thy people intend fighting?” I asked.

“Hearken, and I will give thee explanation,” she said excitedly. “For many moons hath Hadj Absalam contemplated an attack upon the Sultan of the Ahír, and the looting of the great Fáda wherein thou wert held a slave. At last the expedition hath been arranged, and is now being carried out. Divided into four sections, our people, mustering all their strength for the supreme effort, have stealthily moved hither, and are now encamped at various points on the border of the Sultan’s territory, ready to advance upon Agadez like swarms of locusts at the moment the drum of victory is conveyed unto them. Armed to the teeth, and eager for a struggle that must be brief though deadly, they are awaiting the completion of our plans. Two days hence all will be ready, the drum that beateth us to arms will be carried forth, our tents will be packed, and, acting in conjunction with the three other forces of our fighting men, we shall advance, dealing blows swift and terrible among a people who little dream of the approach of an enemy, and are entirely unprepared.”

“Hast thou actually a sufficient force to attack the almost impregnable kasbah of Agadez?” I asked incredulously.

“Yes. In two days the green standard will be raised, the drum will be sent round to the three other camps, and with one accord shall we sweep onward to the great stronghold of the Ahír.”

“And thou desirest that I should become a Bedouin of the Ennitra – an outlaw of the Sahara?” I said.

“Thou must!” she answered, with enthusiasm, her slim lingers closing tightly upon my hand. “Dost thou not see that I have obtained a respite for thee, only on condition that thou throwest in thy lot with us?”

“What is this mysterious influence which Hadj Absalam declareth hath been transferred unto me?” I inquired, eager to ascertain the meaning of the strange words she had so boldly addressed to the robber Sheikh.

But she laughed, and, evading my question, answered with light coquetry —

“The power that draweth us together; the influence that causeth us to love each other.”

“But why didst thou urge thy Ruler to compel me to become a freebooter?”

“It was my last extremity,” she said. “I pleaded for thee, and – almost failed. To fight beside us is thine only chance of reaching Agadez, and of finding he whom thou seekest.”

“To be near unto thee I am prepared to join thy people, even though they are mine enemies,” I said, as she looked into my eyes with trusting gaze.

“Although thou wilt be near me, thou must never seek to have speech with me,” she exclaimed quickly. “We meet here at imminent risk, but we must not again invite the wrath of those who desire thy death. To thee I must be as a stranger, for remember that thou art a Roumi, and thy very glance defileth mine unveiled face!” and she laughed lightly.

“Ah! the religious prejudices of thy people are indeed curious,” I said. “How long must we affect this estrangement?”

“Until Agadez hath fallen, and thine errand be accomplished.”

“But if thou hast the Crescent in thy possession, canst thou not snap thy bonds and escape with me?” I suggested. “Surely thy place is not upon the field of battle, amid the carnage that must inevitably ensue from such a combat?”

“Impossible!” she answered, moving uneasily, and wafting to me the sweet perfume that clung to her draperies. She was agitated, for her hand holding mine trembled violently, and her lips were tightly compressed. “The Bond of Blood bindeth me more firmly than fetters of steel, and if I attempted to desert the camp, the death of both of us would be inevitable. No! To Agadez must we advance. From to-day thou art an outlaw of the plains, and I am thy leader! Obey me, but speak not; for upon thy silence and obedience dependeth thy life. Hidden in my possession the Crescent will remain until such time as thou wilt require it; then, once inside the Great Mosque, the secret knowledge will be imparted unto thee, and will peradventure be of profit.”

“It grieveth me sorely to think that thou, the woman I adore, art the head of this fierce band of murderous marauders, and wilt lead them to commit merciless massacre and pillage, to – ”

“Ah, no!” she cried, raising both her hands as if to arrest my words. “Reproach me not, O Ce-cil! I cannot bear it from thee! Thinkest thou that were I not compelled, I would be the cause of this widespread death and desolation; thinkest thou that I would urge onward these wild hordes to deeds horrible and revolting? Thou believest I have a heart of stone, that I have no woman’s tenderness, that – that I, a woman of the Desert, am” – and, unable to complete her sentence, she burst into a passionate torrent of tears.

“No, Zoraida, I blame thee not,” I tenderly hastened to reassure her. “I know there are circumstances connected with thine hidden past of which I have no knowledge, therefore I love thee fondly, awaiting the time when thou art enabled to renounce thy people and become my wife.”

“What canst thou think of a woman such as I?” she sobbed bitterly. “Even to thee, so faithful as thou hast been, I am compelled to still preserve my secret, appearing in thine eyes as one to whom the clash of arms is sweeter than the music of the derbouka, and the wail of the vanquished the pleasantest sound upon mine ear!”

“But thy position is not of thine own choosing,” I said, quietly endeavouring to soothe her.

“No!” she cried wildly, starting up. “I hate it all! Though each raid enricheth me with gold and jewels of great price, yet there is a curse upon the treasure, obtained, as it is, by the relentless slaughter of the weak. Ah, Ce-cil! if thou couldst only know how acutely I suffer, how these jewels upon me glitter with the fire of deadly hatred as each one telleth its mute but horrible story, a story of rapine and murder for which I – the woman thou lovest, the woman who would willingly give her life for thee – am responsible! Is not my existence one of hollow shams, of feigned daring and wretched duplicity? I loathe myself; and were it not that I look forward to happiness with thee, I would – I would end it all with this!” and she drew from her breast a small keen dagger, with hilt encrusted with turquoises, that she always kept concealed there.

“Speak not of that,” I said firmly. “Place thy knife in its sheath. I love thee, Zoraida, I trust in thee, and none shall ever come between us.”

“Dost thou place thy faith in me implicitly, notwithstanding that I appear in thine eyes debased, and am unable to give thee explanation?” she asked, half credulously, through her blinding tears.

The jewels upon her flashed with a brilliancy that was dazzling, and the sweet odours of her apartment seemed intoxicating.

“I do,” I answered, fervently kissing her with a mad, fierce passion. “Indeed, had it not been for thine exertions, my bones would long ago have been stripped by the vultures.”

“Ah! my Amîn, thou too art performing for me a mission, the result of which will effect stranger things than thou hast ever dreamed,” she exclaimed earnestly; adding, “Our story-tellers relate wondrous things, but none have described such marvels as thou shalt behold. I told thee in Algiers that I was in peril of death, and that thou couldst avert the danger that threatened. These words I now repeat, and trust in thee to save me.”

“To save thee I will again face our enemies fearlessly, and strive to reach the imam who holdeth the Secret, even though I have been told that the Omen of the Camel’s Hoof hath been revealed unto me,” I said, entranced by her beauty, and smiling in an endeavour to chase away the gloomy shadow that seemed to have settled upon her.

“Yes,” she answered, slowly winding both arms about my neck, and looking up to me with big, tear-stained eyes. “The mark, to thee invisible, is upon thy brow, yet hath not that presage of evil already been fulfilled in thy failure to elucidate the Mystery of the Crescent? Is it not possible that henceforward good fortune and success may attend thine efforts?”

“Truly, O my beloved One of Wondrous Beauty!” I said, “thy words renew hope within me, and restore confidence. I will seek the imam of the Mesállaje, and at any risk learn the hidden wonders.”

In silence she gazed at me with a look of unutterable sadness. The pallor of her countenance enhanced her delicate beauty, and the trembling of her hands showed me how intensely agitated she had become. She loved me with all the fiery passion of her race, yet it seemed as though she kept from me, with tantalising persistency, just those facts I desired explained. She seemed half incredulous, too, that I should be prepared to make another strenuous effort to reach Mohammed ben Ishak merely upon the expression of her desire, for after a short silence, during which her peach-like cheek, fragrant with perfume, lay against mine, she suddenly exclaimed —

“Dost thou, O Ce-cil! believe me blindly, even though I admit to thee that I – I am unworthy thy generous love? To me, alas! debased and degraded as I am, the fruit of the great lote tree is forbidden, and the water of Salsabil may never cool my lips.” Then, sinking upon her knees before me, she suddenly burst again into tears, covering her face with her hands.

“Come,” I said, “let not thoughts of thy past cause thee unhappiness. There is danger; and we must arm ourselves, and both bear our burdens bravely.”

“Ah!” she cried in accents of poignant bitterness, “it is impossible that thou canst ever love me sufficiently to make me thy wife, even when thou, at last, knowest my story. See!” and, throwing out her arms wildly, she stretched forth her open palms towards me. “See! I am held to this horde of cut-throats by gyves invisible yet unbreakable! I kneel before thee, my Amîn! a despicable, vile-hearted woman, whose whole life hath been one of ignominy and deceit, whose very name is a by-word of reproach! Forsaken by Allah, defamed by man, I confess myself unworthy thy thoughts. I cannot – nay, I will not bring upon thee disgrace and shame, for my hands! – they are stained by heinous crimes!” she added hoarsely, bowing low and hiding her face.

Taking her by the wrist, I was about to assist her to rise, when she snatched away her arm as if she had been stung.

“No, no!” she cried in heart-thrilling tones. “Place not thine hand upon me! My touch polluteth thee! It will perhaps be best – best for both of us if we part to-night to never meet again!”

“Tell me,” I demanded quickly, “have not thy crimes been committed under compulsion?”

“Yes, they have! I swear – they – have!” she answered brokenly.

“And thou art the wife of Hadj Absalam?” I said fiercely, half convinced that I spoke the truth.

“Ah! no, no!” she protested, with feverish anxiety, raising her pale, haggard face imploringly to mine. “Judge me not too harshly,” she cried. “Though the awful stigma of sin lieth upon me, and my life is accursed, yet here at thy feet I tell thee I am neither wife nor slave. I have suffered no man to hold me in fond embrace, nor to kiss my lips, save thee. I take oath upon the Book of Everlasting Will.”

“Canst thou not tell me why thou, a pure and innocent woman, art here among these barbaric Sons of the Desert?” I asked, now convinced by her terrible earnestness that my suspicions were groundless.

“I am not innocent, I confess to thee. How can I be, when to my vile cunning is due that inhuman butchery which causeth the Ennitra to be held in terror throughout the Desert? Until thine eyes met mine, I knew neither mercy nor remorse, but now – Faugh! I see my crimes in all their revolting hideousness, and I – I hate – I loathe myself – for I am the Slave of the Destroyer!”

“Let us bury the past,” I said, slowly and with sincerity, assisting her to rise, and, holding her again in my arms, I rained passionate kisses upon her sequin-covered brow. “Though much that is incomprehensible remaineth like a curtain obscuring thee, yet I am satisfied that I bestow not my affection in vain – ”

“Ah, my Amîn! thou knowest not how dearly I love thee,” she interrupted, raising her lips slowly until they met mine.

“I can gauge thy feelings by mine own,” I answered. “Thou must leave this life of outlawry; but ere thou canst escape from thy people, I am compelled to gain certain knowledge. This will I strive once again to accomplish; but in the meantime I desire not to gaze down the uninviting vista of thy past, or tear the veil from unpleasant facts that thou wouldst hide from me. I am confident in the knowledge that thou art neither a wife nor an inmate of thy Sheikh’s harem, and that, though morally guilty of the massacres that have sent a thrill through two continents, yet thy position hath, in some way unexplained, been thrust upon thee. I consider this in considerable measure palliates thy crimes, and – ”

“I vow I have acted always against my will – always! It was horrible!” she interrupted.

“Yes, I know,” I said, tenderly stroking her long silky hair. “Thou hast my love, sympathy, and forgiveness. Some day, when we are wedded, peradventure thou wilt tell me how thou earnest to rule this piratical band.”

“It was to save mine honour,” she declared, with fervour.

“Then I will demand no further explanation,” I said. “It sufficeth that we are confident in each other’s love.”

“Yes, we are, we are!” she cried, with a wild outburst of passionate affection, kissing me again and again. “I have spoken the truth as clearly as circumstances will allow, nevertheless, thou hast faith in me. Thou art still my Amîn, generous and true. For thee will I live in the hope of eventual freedom, and should misfortune overtake us, by thy side will I die!”

“Let us anticipate success,” I said.

“Yes,” she answered, smiling, as she dashed away her tears.

“If thou gainest the Great Secret, thou wilt obtain strange knowledge, which will prove to thee amazing, and reveal an unheard-of marvel. Therefore strive on. Though thou mayest see me sometimes, seek not to hold converse with me. Remember always while thou art with us that we are watched closely by those only too eager for a pretext for killing thee. Indeed, if thou wort discovered here, thine head would quickly be smitten off and mounted upon thy tent-pole, so likewise any attempt to speak with me would inevitably cause a dozen knives to pierce thine heart. Henceforth we are strangers until I restore to thee the Crescent, and thy mission is safely accomplished.”

“I will preserve silence, and seek thee not.”

“Make me one other promise,” she exclaimed in grave earnestness. “Whatsoever thou mayest witness during our advance upon Agadez, never wilt thou think ill of me. Remember always that I am forced to act as I do in order to preserve mine own honour.”

“I promise,” I replied, sealing the compact with a lingering, ecstatic kiss.

Next second her slave entered excitedly, with the news that prayers were over, and that the people were flocking back to their tents.

“Thou must, alas! leave me, my Amîn,” Zoraida cried, on hearing the negress’s unwelcome announcement. “Would that we could spend some hours longer together! but we must not run too great a risk. May Allah, the Merciful Protector of the weak, watch over and guide thee, and may thy footsteps fall in paths of peace. Slama. Allah iselemeck!”

Our leave-taking was tender and affectionate, for I saw how fervid and passionate was her love, nevertheless she compelled me, firmly yet kindly, to tear myself from her, and a few minutes later I was seated in dreamy thoughtfulness outside the little tent which my enemies had given me.

A few brief days, I reflected, and my fate would be decided. Would the mystery of the Crescent of Glorious Wonders, with its undreamed-of marvels that she had promised, ever be revealed?

Chapter Thirty Seven.

By the Drum of Nâr

The bid for fortune was desperate and perilous.

I had become an outlaw, a member of one of the most daring bands of freebooters that ever robbed a caravan or tortured a wanderer of the plains. To the civilising influence of French authority Hadj Absalam was as defiant and his identity as mysterious as the Mahdi himself; while his followers were for the most part an ill-dressed, well-armed horde, whose torn and dirty burnouses and general negligence of attire showed plainly that they were Desert rovers, whose ramshackle tents were their only homes, and whose existence depended on the result of their depredations.

The knowledge that I was an Infidel, combined with the secret inflammatory utterances of Labakan, created bitter prejudices against me, causing them to jeer and make matters exceedingly unpleasant generally. Among that legion of marauders I had not a single friend, with the exception of Zoraida and Halima, neither of whom were ever visible. Fierce guttural oaths and exclamations of disgust that a dog of a Christian should be permitted to live among them were muttered by dark-skinned, evil-faced ruffians, who squatted idly before their tents cleaning guns, burnishing knives, and filling powder-flasks. Sometimes, after I had passed, they would spit upon the ground to emphasise their contempt, or openly declare that I was a harbinger of evil, a precursor of defeat.

Affecting to take no notice of the variety of insults flung into my face, I suppressed any rebuke that rose to my lips, remembering Zoraida’s words, and determined that when the time came, I would show them that a Christian could handle a rifle with as deadly effect as a True Believer.

The long hot day following my interview with the woman I loved I spent in lonely unhappiness, and my sense of insecurity was very considerably increased by receiving a secret visit, at the mild and balmy dawn of the following day, from one of the men who, after assisting Halima and myself to escape from the Sheikh’s house, had accompanied us on our journey. On recognising him, I extended to him a warm greeting, much gratified that at last I had found a friend; but I paused when, raising his hand quickly, he exclaimed in a deep whisper —

“Hush! Let not thy voice be heard! I come to thee, unseen by thine enemies, to give warning unto thee!”

“Is there danger?” I gasped.

“Know, O Roumi,” he answered, “thine enemy Labakan – on whom may Allah not have mercy! – hath formed a dastardly plot to kill thee! Our Lady of Beauty, Halima, hath heard of it, and sendeth thee word. Be careful of thyself, or of a surety thou wilt yet fall beneath the knife of the assassin.”

“Tell the Lalla Halima I send her greeting. Thank her for placing me upon my guard, and from me give unto her perfect peace,” I said; adding, “Is it possible that I might see her?”

“Alas! no,” the man replied in consternation. “Seek not to converse with the women of the Faith of our Lord Mohammed. The eye of the Infidel defileth them.”

“Why?” I asked, laughing at the Moslem prejudice which even his friendship could not stifle.

“It is written,” he answered piously.

Without attempting to argue the point, I learnt from him, in reply to my questions, that in travelling to the camp we had journeyed due south, and that the valley where we were in hiding was called Akoukou, distant seven days from Agadez, and almost inaccessible from that city. Other hordes of the Ennitra had migrated in small parties, so as not to attract the attention of those they intended to attack, and were now congregated to the number of about four thousand, one body being at the Efigaguen Oasis to the north-east of the City of the Sorcerers, another at the well of Enouaggued, and a third lying in ambush to the north-west, in a secluded valley in the waterless wilderness known to the Arabs as the Kahir d’ Ibn Batouta.

With that cunning of which the Ennitra were past masters, they had gradually moved from their own region across the Great Desert, many of them under the guise of traders, to the points indicated, and now, having collected their forces, had practically surrounded the country of the young Sultan Abd-el-Kerim, and for several days had been awaiting the order from Hadj Absalam to make a concentric movement upon Agadez.

He told me that in our camp we had over three thousand fighting men, but that, even with such forces at their command, we should experience some hard fighting, for the men-at-arms of the Sultan of the Ahír were more than double our number. Then he questioned me as to my future movements, and I told him briefly that I intended to fight side by side with the warriors of Hadj Absalam. To this he answered —

“Verily, O Roumi, thou art a friend of the Faith. May Allah honour thy face and perfect thy light! May the One Giver of Life abandon thee not to the consequences of thy sins without pardoning them, or to thy griefs without consoling them, or to thy fears without removing them!”

“I salute thee with salutation, O friend,” I answered. “To our Lalla Halima, and unto thee likewise, I hope to be enabled to show my thankfulness, for I was a stranger, and thou didst give me succour.”

“Some day thou wilt turn from thy paths of infidelity,” he murmured in an impressive tone, his dark, deep-set eyes riveted upon mine. “If Almighty Allah, the Omniscient, pleaseth, thou wilt at last know the great Truth and drink of the fountain of joy and gladness. Verily, none but He can remit a sin; of a truth He veileth our offences, broadeneth our breasts, and causeth our last words in the supreme hour of life to be the words, ‘There is no Ilah but Allah.’”

Assuring him that I was no “abuser of the salt,” that I entertained nothing but profound respect for the people of Al-Islâm, and thanking him for conveying Halima’s message, we wished each other a cordial farewell, and he crept away from my tent without apparently having attracted any attention.

My wound was still rather painful, yet the fever had entirely left me, and I felt much better, although far from strong. Throughout the greater part of the blazing day I remained alone in my tent, drowsily smoking some cigarettes Zoraida had given me, and making a meal of some dates and lentils brought by a negro who was one of Hadj Absalam’s slaves. An hour before el maghrib, however, a great consternation seemed to be produced throughout the camp, for armed men hurried past my tent, and the few women who had accompanied them into the land of their enemies waddled along after them, closely veiled. Evidently something unusual was taking place, therefore I donned my burnouse, tarboosh, and haick, and, strolling out, followed the crowd to the open space before the three pavilions of the self-styled Sultan of the Sahara.