Under the Rebel's Reign Part 23

Glancing furtively at his fellow-guard outside, he advanced to the centre of the room, and with a smile that displayed a row of brilliant teeth, said----

"You remember, eh, de dahabieh?"

Helmar glanced up with a smile.

"Yes, you helped us to beat off the rebels, I remember. I saw you this morning. But how came you here?"

For reply, the man put his finger to his lips and glanced towards the door; then, as if expecting a spy, stepped over to the window and looked out. Satisfied with his inspection, he came back, and, squatting himself down on the floor, looked for a moment at his prisoner.

"I come because I cannot stay," he replied in fairly good French.

"They come to de dahabieh--Arabi's men--and they say I must go with them, so I am here, but I not like."

"Ah, I see, you were pressed into the service," said Helmar, "and you are here against your will."

The man nodded, then again glancing suspiciously round, said--

"But you, they kill you--Arabi shoot you when you get to Damanhour."

"I'm afraid that is their idea," replied George, with a rueful face, "unless I can escape, and that doesn't seem very likely."

"Naoum is at Damanhour," said the man thoughtfully. "If he know you here, he no let them kill you. You go from here at sunrise to-morrow, I am to be one of your guard."

George was on the alert in an instant. He could see that this man wanted to help him if he could only find a way. Apparently the fellow was not very resourceful, so he determined that he must suggest something himself.

"You say that Naoum is at Damanhour, and you are to be one of my escort--well, look here. Do you think you could manage to give him a note from me when we arrive? He will pay you well."

"Me want no pay. Naoum is a good master, and I am his servant. I do all you want. Naoum knows his servant. I come again at dark, and you have your letter written, and I take it."

Without waiting for anything further, the man sprang to his feet and joined his companion outside. There was such an air of sincerity about the fellow that Helmar at once felt he could trust him, so without hesitation he set about writing the note. He found a pencil in his pocket, and using the inside of an envelope, gave a brief outline of what had befallen him, addressed it to Naoum, and then set himself to await the coming of his guard. Just as it was getting dark, the fellow again entered the prison, and without a word, took the note and departed. As soon as he had gone, George stretched himself out on the rough, sandy floor, and prepared to take as good a night's rest as possible. He felt convinced in his own mind that the means of escape had been found, and was now content to wait the outcome without apprehension. It was indeed a relief to him that he had found a friend in this hornet's nest of cut-throats, and he hoped sincerely that the man's honest intentions might not miscarry.

With his mind still dwelling on thoughts such as these he fell asleep, and, rough and hard as was his couch, his sleep was calm and peaceful; as the other guard looked in and listened to his regular breathing, his conscience was at rest when, later on, he followed his prisoner's example.

CHAPTER XVII

HAKESH THE PRIEST

As the guard had said, at sunrise the next morning the order was given for George to be conducted to Arabi's head-quarters. After the prisoner had been served with his rough breakfast, his horse was brought to him. His guard a.s.sembled, no less than six men, to form his escort, and he was ordered to mount. Just as they were about to start, Mark Arden made his appearance.

"So you are off on your long journey, Helmar?" he said, in tones that plainly implied his meaning. "Sorry I shall not be able to travel with you, but I have no doubt Arabi will know how to treat you _properly_. I have pointed out to him many salient points in your character, that I know will appeal to him--don't you wish you were back at Konigsberg?" And he broke off with a taunting laugh.

"There's a good old adage that it would be as well for you to remember, Arden," replied George; "'There's many a slip,' etc. It's a favourite one of mine. And just by way of a piece of advice, don't forget the British advance, they'll give you but short shrift."

"You needn't worry about me, I know all their doings, and by the time their slow movements bring them near enough to do me any harm, my plans will all be complete, and I shall be miles away." He paused for a moment, and a shadow pa.s.sed over his face; then he suddenly burst out, "Helmar, you are a great fool. Why don't you join me? I have power, you are a German, the British are our enemies--there is yet time. Say the word, and I will free you--we will blot out old scores, and work together."

George gave the man one look of withering scorn.

"You think to coerce me!" he cried with flas.h.i.+ng eyes. "You think that I am made of the same currish clay as yourself, and because I am in your power, and you intend to have me wantonly murdered, that I will accept any means of saving my life! But you are wrong! The British are not my enemies, if they are yours. They have stood my friends ever since I came to this country, and, in return, I cannot do less than be faithful to their interests. Rather than a.s.sociate myself with you, I would be blown from a cannon's mouth--that will show my opinion of you; and now let us get on with the journey--the very sight of you makes me sick."

"So be it! Go! Go to your doom, you fool!"

Arden gave the order to march, and the little party moved off. As they made their way out of the camp, Helmar could not help feeling pleased that he had had another opportunity of letting Mark know what he thought of him, it added to his sense of elation at the prospect which had been opened up to him, of a possible means of escape; he had that feeling which comes to all men after having performed an action that redounds credit to their moral character.

So that when the little French-speaking soldier, who had first conducted him to Arden's presence, approached and bullyingly told him that any attempt to escape on his part would bring about immediate death to himself, he only smiled, and replied very cheerfully----

"All right, my friend, if I attempt to do so, I am quite willing to stand the consequences. But if I may be allowed to know--where am I being taken to?"

"The great Pasha is now at Damanhour, whither we go. If when we come there he is gone, we shall follow. My orders are to deliver you to him and no one else."

"Good!" replied Helmar. "I would sooner be sentenced by this great rebel than by any subordinate. I am more likely to be treated fairly decently."

Helmar was not in any way bound; he was given free use of his hands, but the bridle of his horse was secured to that of one of his guard's horses, and even if he had wished to do so, there was but little chance of getting away. However, he had not the least intention of attempting any such mad enterprise, infinitely preferring to trust to the man who carried his note to Naoum.

They were to reach Damanhour that night, the distance was about twenty miles, and they intended to travel only in the cool of the day. After about an hour's journey, the guard halted at a clump of bush, the horses were off-saddled, and the little party prepared to rest until evening. The heat was intense, and the welcome shade of the trees was like water to the thirsty rider in the desert. To Helmar, unaccustomed to this mode of travelling, it was an indescribable relief to sit down on the sandy soil, with his back propped against his saddle, and watch the s.h.i.+mmering haze of heat across the sun-scorched plains. It made him think of the stories he had heard of the weary traveller lost in the desert, no water with which to moisten his parching throat, his tongue swollen, black, and immovable in his mouth, with already the first signs of delirium and insanity showing in his erratic and aimless actions. He shuddered as the picture presented itself, and thanked his stars that he was seated, though a prisoner, beneath such a deliciously refres.h.i.+ng shade.

His escort distributed themselves under the various low bushes around, one man only, his little guide of the day before, sitting by his side to guard him. In a few minutes, with this one exception, they were all asleep. It seemed to George that these men could sleep at all hours of the day or night; in fact, as far as he could see, it was their one pastime. Work and watchfulness, except when compulsory, seemed to be quite out of the native ken.

Hours pa.s.sed, and at last one by one the men awoke, a fire was kindled, and food, in a careless, lazy sort of way, was prepared.

After the meal was finished, they again slept, and Helmar was once more left to his own reflections. The sun was already past the meridian, and getting well down towards the horizon, but the heat was still too great for travelling. The little Egyptian again sat silently beside his charge.

Suddenly, George caught sight of the figure of an Arab approaching.

He was some distance off, and as yet the one wakeful guard had not seen him. Helmar eyed the stranger keenly as he approached, wondering who he could be travelling in that intense heat, on foot, in a country infested with lawless soldiery. The stranger came steadily on, and as he drew near, Helmar noticed that, although dressed in flowing Eastern garb, he was a white man, and of patriarchal age. He had a snow-white beard, that reached to his waist, and his figure was tall, lean, attenuated, and tottering.

Altogether his appearance was so fascinating that George drew his guard's attention to it.

"Who can that old man be, coming along there on foot?" he asked, in French. "And what on earth is a tottering old fellow like him doing about by himself in such a place?"

The guard looked in the direction indicated, and a peculiar expression pa.s.sed over his face as his eyes rested on the stranger.

Without a word of reply the man jumped up and roused his comrades, and a conversation in Arabic ensued. Helmar listened intently.

"See, see," cried the little man. "It is that madman, Hakesh, the Christian, the priest who goes about calling down the wrath of Allah on our beloved leader. See, he comes from the direction of Mis.h.i.+sh, where he has been stirring up the people against Arabi, calling on them to a.s.sist the dogs of Christians."

A whispered conversation followed, the purport of which George could not catch, but evidently there appeared to be a divided opinion in the discussion. The friendly mate from the dahabieh seemed to be strongly opposed to some plan the little man was laying before them, and his eyes were flas.h.i.+ng ominously. Suddenly the Arab who had first spoken raised his voice.

"You are no good believer, Belbeis," he cried, in angry tones. "This dog of a priest is harmful. If our master knew what you say, you would rot in prison. No, he must die--n.o.body will be the wiser, and we shall get reward. Think, the great Pasha will make us all rich, and Allah will be pleased."

The Egyptian's words struck on Helmar's heart with a cold chill. The old man, Hakesh, was approaching feebly yet fearlessly, perhaps not even knowing the danger that awaited him, and that these fiends in human form were about to murder him in cold blood. The thought was too awful, and George looked about helplessly for a means to thwart them. He might call out and warn the approaching patriarch, but this, he knew, would be useless, for then the five men would fire a volley of bullets into his poor withered old body. No, that would not do. Just then George caught the sound of Belbeis's voice protesting loudly.

"You are a fool, Abdu, you are like all the rest. Does Hakesh not look to all the sick? does he not help the poor?--besides, no Egyptian takes notice of his words, no true believer will follow his guidance, for he is mad. See, if anything is to be done, take him in as a prisoner to the Pasha, but do not kill him or evil will overtake you. He is insane!"

The old man had now sighted the occupants of the bush, and increased his pace. He was only a few steps off, and George could see the benevolent expression of the kind face, and the determined light in the dark, steel-blue eyes, which not even the man's great age could dim.

The discussion amongst the guard had now ceased, and they stood looking on as the old man came up. The little Abdu stood out ahead of his companions, aggressively eyeing the stranger as he came up.

"Peace be with you, my children!" said Hakesh, in a thin, quavering voice, as he stood in front of the party. "You are resting on your weary journey, I see. I will rest with you, for the sun is hot; I have walked far, and am weary too."

The old man made as though to walk over to a bush and sit down, but Abdu intercepted him.