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The following letter from Amzi will describe the outbreak.
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From Amzi the Meccan, at Medina, To Yusuf the priest, Mecca.
My Dear Yusuf:--
I can scarcely describe the emotions with which I write you again after a six months' interval. Affairs here in Medina have taken such an unlooked-for turn that I scarcely know what to think or what to do.
Of Mohammed's wonderful progress, you have, of course, heard. You should see him now, my dear Yusuf,--Mohammed, the peaceful trader, the devout hermit, now little less than monarch, with all the sway a.s.sumed by the most powerful despot; and yet those over whom he wields his despotism are but too willing servants, ready to say as he says, and to give their dearest heart's blood in his cause.
Indeed I know not what the outcome of it all will be. What astonishes me most is that Mohammed has suddenly a.s.sumed an aggressive att.i.tude. Fire and the sword seem to be the watchword of him whom we knew as the gentle husband of Cadijah, the mild preacher who bowed his head and reviled not even when a.s.sailed with mud and filth in the Caaba.
Needless to say, Yusuf, I am disappointed in him. You will be only too glad to hear that. I hear that you have been exhorting the people in Mecca to pay no heed to him; that you have been seeking to promulgate your Hebrew faith, or rather the faith of your Hebrew friend, of whose innocence and release I was glad to hear.
My brother, I pride in your courage, and in the strength of your principles; yet, Yusuf, I beseech of you, be careful what you do or say, lest you draw down upon your head a storm of fury which you little expect. You have no idea of the revolution of feeling here in Mohammed's favor, and of the fanatic zeal of many of his followers.
Be not too bold. You cannot cope single-handed with such an overwhelming tide.
The past month, as you know, was the holy month Radjab, in which, as in the month of Ramadhan, throughout all El Hejaz, life should be held sacred, and no act of violence committed. Can you believe it when I tell you that the prophet's men have attacked more than one caravan of quiet traders and pilgrims upon their way to or from Mecca? Such a sacrilege seems unpardonable in Arab eyes, but, forsooth, the prophet has been favored with another revelation justifying him in what he has done.
This, more than aught else, makes me wonder. You, Yusuf, know what a lover of peace I have been; how it has ever grieved me to see even a b.u.t.terfly fluttering along the ground with a crushed wing. Judge, then, of my horror, when I went out to the scene of the pillage and saw men lying, some dead, with ghastly faces glaring up at the hot sun, others with gaping wounds, and others moaning pitifully on the road-way, with sand on their faces and in their hair. Yusuf, it made me sick to see it. Had they been slain in fair battle I could have borne it better. Yet I was enabled to give the poor wounded creatures some water, all warm as it was from being carried so long a distance; and some of them I had conveyed to my house, so that every bed-chamber has been turned into a sick-room, and your friend Amzi has been suddenly metamorphosed into a sick-nurse. Does that astonish you?
Yet, Yusuf, though I get little sleep any night, and have to be on my feet much during the day, I can a.s.sure you that I was never so happy in my life before. The constant occupation, and the sense of being able to render the poor creatures a little ease, is just what I need at present to keep me from growing moody.
The other day I saw some one who knows of you--Uzza, the Oman Arab.
How or why he has come here I know not; but he is one of Mohammed's most devoted followers. For your sake, I hope you may not meet him in Medina.
I knew him, years ago, at Oman, and had letters from him for a time after he went to Persia. Perhaps that will read you the riddle as to how I knew so much of your past history, my priest. Recognizing your name, and noting your priestly bearing, it was an easy matter to connect you with the Guebre Yusuf, of whom I had heard.
I am convinced that you are looking after my Meccan affairs as closely as possible, yet remember that Amzi has a house in Medina, too, which has ever a door open for you.
Dumah sends his love. The poor lad is greatly excited over the stirring events which are the talk of the town here.
Commend me to your friend Nathan and his family. Trusting to see or to hear from you soon,
And the peace, Amzi.
To this letter Yusuf returned the following answer:
Yusuf, at Mecca, To Amzi the Benevolent, Medina.
My Heart's Brother:--
Your most welcome letter lies before me, and it is quite unnecessary to say with what mingled feelings of pleasure and pain I read it,--pleasure, because, whether you will it or not, your confidence in this false prophet is tottering; pain, because of the marvelous power which this Mohammed seems to be wielding over your excitable Arab populace. Strange, indeed, is his new att.i.tude; we had not deemed him possessed of a martial spirit; yet may we hope that this procedure will be but as the stone which shall crush his ends, falling upon his own head.
It is possible that I may be in Medina ere long. I am impatient to see you and our poor Dumah again.
And so Uzza is there, too, to bring up afresh the darkest page of my history; for Amzi, it was I, in my fanatic zeal, who induced the Persian grandmother to give up his child for sacrifice. Scarcely was it over when, even in my heathen darkness, my whole soul revolted against what I had done, and against the faith which had sanctioned such deeds of blood. It was then that I began to think and strive against the mists of darkness, until at last I fought away from the creed of my country.
I fear not to meet Uzza, although I know that he bears me no good-will, and would not refrain from the a.s.sa.s.sin's knife did it satisfy his wish for blood-revenge.
Our friend, Nathan, and his family are well. Did I tell you that they have gone to live near Tayf?
I spent a pleasant day with them not long ago. They have a little cabin in the mountains, and Nathan has a few flocks which he herds out on the green hill-sides. They are all so happy, and so contented with their pastoral mode of living that they think of moving back into Palestina, as the pasturage is better there. It will be a long journey, but, with the consciousness of the Father's care over them, and the bond of love to shorten the way, they will not mind it.
Nathan's wife, in particular, is anxious to return to her childhood's home, and never wearies of telling her children stories of her girlhood days, when she and her sister, whom she still loves pa.s.sionately, watched their sheep on the hills of Hebron.
Mary and Mana.s.seh have grown quite tall. Mana.s.seh is almost a man, fiery and impetuous as ever, yet wise beyond his years, and a devout Christian.
Nathan is very happy. After all his trials he has perfect rest. His face almost beamed when he said to me in the words of the Psalmist, "Unless the Lord had been my help, my soul had almost dwelt in silence. When I said, My foot slippeth, thy mercy, O Lord, held me up. For the Lord is my defence, and my G.o.d is the rock of my refuge."
He is very anxious about the hostile att.i.tude which Mohammed has taken. "G.o.d grant," he said, "that there may not be another season of persecution. If there be, and the Lord will, I shall stay at Medina to comfort, if I may, my poor brethren there. 'Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.' G.o.d grant that we may all be imbued with the spirit of him who said, 'Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them that despitefully use you.' Yet, Yusuf, it may be that we shall be forced to defend our lives, and those of our wives and children,--G.o.d knoweth. He will direct us, if we permit him, so that, living or dying, it shall be well with us."
Is not such love, such comfort in the help and presence and sympathy of G.o.d, worth more, infinitely more, than power or wealth or worldly pleasure? Nothing that happens can overwhelm this happy family, for they have the consciousness of G.o.d's love and care in all. They have Jesus for a personal friend. Amzi, what would I not give to know that you felt as they do, and as I learn to feel, more and more, every day.
My friend, I could keep on in this strain for the whole night; but I am weary, for to-day I talked for many hours with some of those who are half-apostatizing to Mohammed.
So, Mizpah; and may the blessing of G.o.d be upon you.
Yusuf.
CHAPTER XII.
WHEREIN THE BEDOUIN YOUTH KEDAR BECOMES A MOSLEM.
"Mine honor is my life: both grow in one; Take honor from me, and my life is done."
--_Shakespeare._
The scene again opens far to the north of the Nejd, El Shark, or the East. Into one of its most favored spots, a green and secluded valley, surrounded by gra.s.sy slopes, the sun shone with the fresh brightness of early morning, sending floods of green-gold light through the leaves Of the acacias, now covered with yellowish blossoms heavy with perfume.
By the side of a little torrent, rose the black tents of a Bedouin encampment. Flocks were on the hill-side, and the tinkling of the camel-bells and soft bleat of the lambs sounded faintly from the distance.
At the head of the valley, upon a rounded boulder of granite sat a woman; and before her stood a young man to whom she was earnestly talking, at times stretching out her hands as though she were beseeching him for some favor.
The woman was tall and well-built, her eyes were large and dark, and their brilliancy increased, according to Bedouin custom, by the application of kohl to the lids. Her face was keen and intelligent, and her hair, braided in innumerable small plaits, and surmounted by a much bespangled head-dress, was slightly streaked with gray.
The youth was slight and agile, his every movement full of grace. His face was oval, regular in its contour, and full of expression, although the Jewish cast of his features had traces of Arab blood. He seemed to be in some excitement, for, with a trait peculiar to Bedouins, his restless and deep-set eyes were now half-closed until but a narrow, glittering line appeared, and now suddenly opened to their fullest extent and turned directly upon the woman to whom he talked.
"Would you have me branded among the whole tribe as a coward, mother?"
he was saying. "Are not the Bedouin lads from all over the Nejd flocking to the field, even as the sparrows flock before the storm clouds of the north? And will the son of Musa be the craven, crouching at home in his mother's nest?"
"A flock of vultures are they, rather!" she cried pa.s.sionately--"Vultures flocking to a feast of blood, to gloat over the carrion of brothers, sons, and husbands, left dead on the reeking plain, while in their solitary homes the women moan, even as moans the bird of the tamarisk, robbed of its young."
"'Tis your Jewish heart speaks now, mother. Ah, but your Jewish women are too soft-hearted! Know you not that Bedouin mothers have not only sent their sons to battle, but have gone themselves and fought in the thickest of the fray?"