God Wills It! Part 47

"Beast, who are you that I should answer? Do as I bid you, or it will be to your hurt!"

"Truly, O Yezid," began a second Syrian, "it may be as she says. Let us ride to Aleppo."

But Yezid, who seemed the leader of the band, gave a deep curse.

"To Aleppo? We are too little loved by Redouan to risk our heads within bowshot of his executioner. Look upon the maid; she is one of the Franks, whoever she be. She will fetch a hundred purses in the market. Yet I am minded myself to possess her!"

Mary looked at the Syrian; noted his coa.r.s.e, carnal eye, and the impure pa.s.sion in it, and felt her heart turning to stone.

"Dear G.o.d," ran her prayer, "give me strength to bear all; for I am in the clutch of demons."

But the other five had raised a great outcry.

"Verily, O Yezid," shouted one, "you are a river of generosity. Six of us capture the maid, and you protest that she is yours alone. May Allah cut me off from Paradise if I part with my claim to her."

"And who are you, O Zubair," raged back Yezid, his teeth more catlike than ever, "to dispute my right? Am I not the chief? When we held the rich Jew without water four days since, did I not share the ransom equally? And now that we possess this maid, whose form and face fit my eye as my sword its sheath--" and as he spoke he laid his hand on Mary's bare neck, making the white flesh creep under his foul touch, and lifting the soft ma.s.s of her telltale hair. The five cut him short with one yell. "Never, insatiate one!" And Zubair added: "Let the maid be sold, and the money divided. If we may not take her to Aleppo, let us swing her across a saddle and spur away to Hamath, where there is a good market! As you have said,--a hundred purses for such an houri of the Franks. Better profit twenty fold than watching these roads, when the Christians have swept the country clean!"

Yezid grinned more savagely than ever; and Mary closed her eyes that she might not see his leer.

"I have sworn it," cried he. "This once must you sons of Eblees give way. I like the girl well. Not for an hundred purses would I part with her. Is she not my captive? shall I not bear her away to the mountains where is our camp, and the other women?"

Mary closed her eyes tighter. She knew _then_, if not before, that it had been a mad boast indeed when she said to Morgiana, "Naught can befall me worse than I suffer here at El Halebah." The evening before she had been hailed princess, sovereign of thousands--and now! Her eyes she could close; not her ears, and the foul speech of the angry Syrians smote them, though her sense grew numb by sheer agony. Louder and louder the quarrel. Presently she heard a great shout from Yezid.

"By the Beard of Mohammed! either you shall give the girl up to me, to work my will, or my cimeter is in her breast." His clutch tightened, and Mary saw through her eyelashes a bright blade held before her.

"Death at last, the Blessed Mother be praised!" and she closed her eyes, and tried to murmur the words of "Our Father." But the voice of Zubair grew conciliatory. "Valiant captain, not so angry. You have the chief claim, but not the only one. Let us not broil, good comrades that we are. True the Prophet--on whom be peace--forbids dice; but Allah will be compa.s.sionate, and I have some about me. Let us cast for the maid. You win and possess her. We,--she goes to Hamath, and the sale's money is divided amongst us five!"

Yezid began to growl in his beard, but the shout of the rest silenced him. "Let it be as you said!" he muttered. And Mary, opening her eyes, now saw Zubair and the chief standing by the rock, and shaking the dice in the hollows of their hands. How strange it all looked! On the cast of four bits of ivory her own weal or woe was hanging! The fortune of her--a Grecian princess, a baroness of France, a Sultana of the Ismaelians! Was it not a dream? One cast,--a curse from Zubair. A second,--Yezid smiled and smirked toward her. Again Zubair cast,--again he cursed; and when Yezid lifted his hand he gave a loud, beastly laugh.

"Praises be to Allah! You have all lost. This houri, comes she here from the clouds or from Aleppo, is mine. _Ya!_ I can wait no more to kiss her!" But just as Mary felt sight and sound reeling when he seized her, there was a great howl from the Syrians.

"Flight! To horse! O Allah, save!" And down the eastern road Mary saw, not six, but sixty, cavalrymen in headlong gallop; all with white robes and turbans, and at the head a rider whose armor was bright as the sun.

"Away, my peac.o.c.k!" shouted Yezid, who, even in that moment, tried to swing Mary into his saddle before him. But as the words sped from his sinful throat, a shaft of Iftikhar went through his horse's flank, and the wounded beast was plunging.

"_Allah akhbar!_" the yell of the Ismaelians as they swept around Mary's captors, almost ere the luckless bandits could strike spur; and it was Iftikhar's own hand that plucked Mary from the clutch of Yezid.

"Bind fast!" his command. "_Bismillah!_ what were they about to do?"

"This beast had won me at dice. He was to carry me to his den in the mountains, he boasted," Mary said, with twitching lips.

"Mercy, O Sea of Compa.s.sion!" Yezid was whining; "how should I know that I offended my lord?"

"_Ya_," hissed Iftikhar; "strike off the heads of these five here; let the jackals eat them. But their chief shall go to Aleppo, where we will plunge his head in a sack of quicklime."

Then, with not a word to Mary, he had his men devise a horse-litter, placed her in it, and the whole troop headed again for Aleppo.

CHAPTER x.x.xII

HOW MORGIANA PROFFERED TWO CUPS

It was the next morning at El Halebah that Mary found Morgiana in her aviary. Here, in a broad chamber at the top of the palace, too high for any vulgar eye that chanced across the Kuweik to light on the dwellers of this wind-loved spot, the Arabian had her eyry. The high openings in the walls were overhung with fine, nigh invisible nettings, the floor strewn with white sand; and, despite the height, means had been found to keep a little fountain playing in a silver basin; and just now two finches were gayly splas.h.i.+ng in its tiny pool.

All around in deep tubs were growing oleanders, myrtle, laurel, although the birds made difficult the lives of the blossoms; there were hairy ferns, and the scent of sweet thyme was in the air; around the arabesqued columns roved dark, cool ivy; in and out through the meshes of the netting buzzed the adventurous honey-bee, flying thus high in hopes of spoil. Everywhere were the birds--finch, thrush, sparrow, ring-dove, and even a nightingale that, despite the drooping for his vanished freedom, Morgiana had by some magic art persuaded to sing evening after evening, and make the whole room one garden of music. As the young Arabian stood, upon her shoulder perched a consequential blackcap c.o.c.king his saucy head; and a wood-pigeon was hovering over her lips trying to carry away the grain there in his bill. Morgiana had named all the birds, and they learned to answer to their calls. As for fearing her, they would sooner have fluttered at their own shadows. Mary pushed back the door, stepped inside, and as she did so a whir of wings went through all the plants, for she was not so well known to the birds as was their mistress. But after the first flash and chirp there was silence once more, save as the doves in one corner kept up their coo, coo, around a cherished nest.

Morgiana opened her lips; the pigeon swept away the grain, and lit upon a laurel spray, proud of his booty. Then the Arabian turned to her visitor. The Greek was very pale; under her eyes dark circles and red, as if she had slept little and cried much. For a moment she did not speak. Then Morgiana brushed the blackcap from her shoulder, and ran and put her arms about Mary.

"Ah! sweet sister,--so I have you back again! It was as I said, folly, impossible madness."

"Yes, madness!" answered the Greek, very bitterly. "I was indeed mad to forget that I am naught but a weak woman, made to be admired and toyed with, for strong men's holiday. But oh, it was pa.s.sing sweet at first to think, 'I am free--I am going to Richard!'" And at the name of the Norman, her eyes again were bright with tears.

"O dearest and best!" cried Morgiana, clasping her closer, "what can I say to you, how comfort you? I heard the eunuchs tell of the plight in which Iftikhar found you. My blood runs chill as I speak. Allah! There are worse things than to be a captive of Iftikhar Eddauleh!"

"You say well, my sister; but how came Iftikhar to follow me? You did not betray? You told the tale I gave you?"

"Yes," protested the Arab, with half a laugh. "But in the morning, while Iftikhar foamed and the eunuchs dragged the pond, there came on me the desire to breathe the hemp smoke, and when the craving comes, not all the jinns of the abyss may stop me. And as I reeled over the smoke, I saw you in direful peril, clutched by wanton hands, facing a fate worse than death! Then I fought with myself. You were gone at last! And my evil nature said to me, 'Leave the Greek to her living death. Iftikhar is yours alone, you may win back his heart again, and be happy--happy!' But, O dearest, when I thought of your agony, I could not be silent. I told Iftikhar whither you had fled, and he spurred after and saved you."

"Yes," echoed Mary, "he has 'saved' me, as you well say. Not a word did he speak to me on the homeward journey. Last night I fell asleep the moment my head touched the pillow. Oh, bliss, how sweet that long sleep was! And in it I saw Richard Longsword, and he was holding my hand, and I could look up into his face. Then I awoke--Hakem, near me, saying that by the command of the emir hereafter he was to have my ordering! It was pa.s.sing from heaven to nethermost h.e.l.l. And here I am again! Helpless, pa.s.sive, for others to work their will upon! while twenty leagues away lies Antioch and Richard and perfect joy. Yet I thank you, sister,--there is something worse than to be in the hands of Iftikhar, but G.o.d alone knows if there be anything I may pay you for the debt I owe."

"Do you believe in a good G.o.d?" said Morgiana, stepping backward and looking into the Greek's eyes.

"Do not Christians and Moslems alike believe in Him?" was the wondering answer.

"Then," persisted Morgiana, a fierce ring coming into her tone; "why does He suffer you to endure such sorrow?"

"He alone knows," was the reply. "It is as I said,--some fearful sin that I have committed and forgotten; or else"--and there was a new brightness in the eye of the Greek--"I am permitted to endure some pain that my husband had otherwise been made to bear."

"O foolish one!" came the retort of the Arabian. "You sin? The soul of Allah is not whiter than yours; no, not as white! Richard Longsword is strong enough to endure his own pains; yes, and has endured them if you are to him as he to you! I will curse G.o.d--you may not stay me.

Unkind, cruel, He is! All-powerful indeed, yet using His power to plunge His creatures into misery!"

The Greek shuddered. "Beware! He will strike you dead!" her warning.

"Dead?" echoed Morgiana, lifting her dark bare arms high, as if calling down heavenly wrath, and bidding it welcome; "almost I think His power ends there! If He had mercy on me, I were dead long ago. But no--I go on, living, breathing, talking, laughing,"--and here she did indeed laugh, in a terrible manner that made Mary quake.

"Pity me. G.o.d is angry enough with us already. Anger Him no more!"

cried the Greek.

Morgiana laughed again. "_Hei!_" she continued, "let us look at our case with both eyes. You are back again at El Halebah. By your flight Iftikhar a.s.suredly considers his pledge to you at an end. What do you expect?"

"To be treated like any other captive of his 'bow and spear,' as you people say. To be at his will, sometimes to be caressed as these birds are by you, sometimes neglected; when I grow old or out of favor to see new women thrust before me, as, St. Theodore pity me, I have supplanted you. I shall in time grow sleepy, fat, and in a poor way contented; for such is the manner of the harem. Within four walls and a garden I shall live out my life. If G.o.d is still angry, I shall become very old. At last I shall die--when I shall have been among you Moslems so long that I can scarce remember 'Our Father.' Where my soul then will go, I know not; it will be worth little; sodden and dried by this cageling's life till an ox's were n.o.bler."

"O dearest," cried the Arabian, laughing, but half in tears now, "your words are arrows to my soul. You must be free, free--either you or I.

What would you give to be truly free? Give for rest, peace, joy, an end of sorrow, struggle, longing?"

"That waits only beyond the stars," answered the Greek. But she started when she saw the wandering glitter in Morgiana's eyes, and there was a wild half-rhythm in the Arabian's words when she replied: "Why not the stars and beyond? Why not seek out the pathways of the moon, the gates of the sun, the enchanted islands of the sweet West, and rest, rest, sleep, sleep--pangless, painless, pa.s.sionless!"

"Morgiana!" exclaimed Mary. The other answered still in half-chant.

"Yes, there is a way--a way. I will go, will return, and to one of us the door is opened,--opened wide!"