God Wills It! Part 42

CHAPTER XXIX

HOW IFTIKHAR BORE HOME HIS PRIZE

Iftikhar Eddauleh rode over the dusty road from Turmanin to Aleppo with only thirty about him of the hundred riders that had followed him to Dorylaeum. But Zeyneb was at hand, and Eybek, who had gone on the secret mission months before; and beside the grand prior moved a horse-litter containing a treasure Iftikhar would not have parted with had the heads of all his men and his own been at stake. Mary Kurkuas was his. The scene when he took her in the Christian camp had been terrible; how beautiful she had been, standing at bay, dagger in hand--no lioness more dreadful! He had disarmed her without marring one spot on a skin that was soft as the rose-petals. How she had cried and pleaded! He had been cruel? Yes; the poets all sang love was either cruel or sweet; and Iftikhar would be all sweetness now.

As the troops rode past the khan which stands on the Aleppo road, about twelve furlongs' journey beyond the gates, Iftikhar drew up his horse beside the litter, which Zeyneb was carefully guarding. The curtains were closed, but he spoke in his soft, melodious Arabic: "Star of the Greeks, if you will,--look forth! For we are approaching Aleppo, and now you may set eyes on the palace El Halebah, which, by the blessing of Allah, is mine, and therefore yours!"

Mary thrust back the curtains. Her face was very pale now; the red spots on either cheek seemed to glow with hidden fire. But her eyes were dry and bright--the hour of outward agony had been long since pa.s.sed.

"A beautiful country!" were her words. And it was even so; for, bowered in gardens and framed by a sky of purest azure, lay Aleppo, whose white walls, white houses, gilded minarets seemed stencilled in silhouette against the blue. Crowning the city rose the citadel, high above the proudest domes with its sheer brown rock. On it, too, shone the gold work of its battlements, and its gaudy banners streaming.

Iftikhar pointed out the lofty dome of the great mosque Jami-Zakarya, whose minaret seemed to climb to the very bow of the heavens; the stately Jewish synagogue, the domes of the Christian churches, the tall houses of the merchants cl.u.s.tered round the bazaar.

"Beautiful, truly!" said Iftikhar, his eyes not on the stately city, but on the face of the Greek; "fair as the two gardens by the river of milk prepared for the beloved of Allah! Yet you see but the outward husk, O Soul of my Soul! For yours is the palace which Sef Eddauleh, one-time lord of Aleppo, prepared for a maiden like yourself of the blood of the Greeks; and what was her joy shall be yours as well.

See--we are at the gates of El Halebah!"

Mary thrust back the curtains farther, leaned on the cus.h.i.+ons of brocade of Tostar, and saw the troop swing down a stately avenue of poplars. Soon the glittering city and dusty highway were hid from view. Between green thickets and leafy arbors she could see the silver stream of the Kuweik creeping silently in its flower-banked bed. Soon the trees were so dense that the sunlight only filtered down a soft haze, and the ground under the horse-hoofs was cool, where the moist leaves had fallen. A strange hush seemed to pervade the wood, and Iftikhar himself, as if awed, rode on in silence. Several minutes thus; and Mary felt a strange thrill, as if a voice had spoken, "You enter now into a magic world!" The horses had fallen to a slow walk.

They could hear bird calling bird far within, among the myrtles and laurel hedges. The soft rush of a hidden waterfall crept upon them; one could almost feel the fine spray, yet only heard the plas.h.i.+ng music. Presently, as if by enchantment, four men in bright armor, with naked sabres, stood across their way, and a voice rang out, trebly loud in the hush of the wood: "Stand! Who dares set foot within the precincts of El Halebah?" But Iftikhar had ridden in advance of the troops. "By the dirk and the cord!" were his words, when he held up a finger where a gem-stone glittered.

"The grand prior! Hail, master!" And the white turbans of the four almost touched the turf while they saluted. An instant more, and they were gone.

"See!" said Iftikhar, when the seeming apparition had vanished among the trees. "Though El Halebah seem unguarded, save by the owls and bats, I say to you not a snake could wind under the dead leaves, but the eyes of my Ismaelians, keeping watch and ward, would find him.

Fear nothing, O Rose of the Christians! About you this hour are three thousand blades, and over them all must a foe ride ere he lay hand on you! You are safe, as though in the bosom of Allah!"

Mary made no reply. The iron had long since entered her soul. Iftikhar was to have his day; the Holy Mother knew it was like to prove a long one. Yet even in her plight the magic wood had a strange charm for the Greek. And at last she asked, "How far about extends the grove of the palace?"

"How far?" answered Iftikhar. "One might wander a league and more to the north, and find naught save glen and fern-dell and fountains. Sef built it for his fair ones and poets to roam, and think themselves in Allah's paradise. The singer Motenabbi found his words too faint to sing its praise. Now by the will of the Dispenser of All Things it has become the possession of the Ismaelians. Not Redouan, lord of Aleppo, himself dare set foot within the groves, save at nod of mine. Here we may dream we are upon the Fortunate Islands, a thousand leagues away in the Western Sea; and watch the stars go round the pole; and listen to the bulbuls and the brooks singing,--singing ever of revel, and laughter, and love, so long as mortal life may be."

Mary held her peace; Iftikhar, too, fell to day-dreaming. Of a sudden they pa.s.sed from the wood, and saw before them a wide prairie of emerald gra.s.s. Beyond this rose a palace--one wide stretch of domes and pinnacles, and fantastic colonnades, and beyond the palace spread a blue lake, close girded by the forest. In the midst floated a green island covered with gay kiosks. A light skiff, blue as the waters, was shooting across the gla.s.sy surface under a steady oar. As Iftikhar's eyes lit upon the rowers in the skiff, he gave a cry:--

"Morgiana!"

"Did you speak to me?" asked Mary.

"No, Soul of my Soul," was the answer. "Yet see the boat; in it glides one whom, Allah granting, you shall love right well! At least"--and now he muttered under his breath--"either you shall love each other, or, as the Most High lives, I know whom I can part with best, and it will not be the Greek!"

And now they were at the portal. The bra.s.s-cased doors swung open without warning; a hundred gaudy flags tossed out upon pinnacles and domes; a great crash of music greeted them--trumpet, timbrel, hautboy, and cymbal,--and a line of twenty negro eunuchs, naked save for skirts of red silk whereon gold lace was flas.h.i.+ng, each holding a ponderous cimeter. At sight of Iftikhar they knelt and bowed their heads to the mosaic pavement. Then a single eunuch stepped forward, tall, spare, gorgeously dressed in Susangird damask, the jewels gleaming from ears, hands, and shoes; upon his beardless, ebony face a perpetual smile. He also knelt at his lord's feet. And Iftikhar questioned:--

"The messenger I sent ahead from Afrin came promptly?"

"He did, O Fountain of our Being; and all is prepared to receive and make joyous the Star of the Greeks!"

"You have done well, O Hakem!" replied the emir. Then when two of the negroes had lifted Mary from her litter, Iftikhar led her forward.

"This, mine own, is my good slave, and yours too, by name Hakem, the chief of my eunuchs and ruler of my harem." Hakem had risen when his lord addressed him, but now at sight of Mary his smile became more blooming than ever, and his violet cap swept her feet as he bowed.

"Hakem," continued his master, "except I command otherwise, the tiniest word of the Star of the Greeks is your law. Deny her, and the stake is ready for your impaling!"

"I hear and obey!" replied Hakem, still smiling, and touching his head, to proclaim his willingness to lose it.

"Go before us to the harem!" Iftikhar went on, and with only the eunuch and Mary Kurkuas, the emir advanced within the palace. Mary saw, as they pa.s.sed, court after court, fountains, domes, a wealth of jewel-mosaic on floor and wall, gla.s.s sconces of rainbow-tints hanging from golden chains. Then in a cool inner apartment where the sun stole dimly through marble tracery in the high ceiling, Iftikhar halted; and as he entered three women, dark-eyed, bronze-skinned, but beautiful as houris, stood--then knelt before Mary.

"Your slaves," said Iftikhar, pointing to them. "Command them; if they fail to please, a word to Hakem, and their lives are snuffed out."

"I thank your kindness, master," said Mary, very softly.

"Master?" exclaimed Iftikhar.

"a.s.suredly; am I not your slave as much as these women here? Is it not your pleasure, rather than my right, that keeps me from their servile tasks? Does not my very breath tremble on your nod?" And Mary stood before Iftikhar with folded hands, her eyes cast upon the silken rug of Kerman.

The emir broke forth with the heat of glowing fire.

"O Flower, whose beauty shames the rose of Khuzistan! Star, whose light I have followed these years, seeking, hoping, praying, striving!

Who the slave, you or I? For your sake have I not sent to the ends of the earth? For you have I not prepared this palace, than which is not a fairer from Andalus to Turan? What is my life without you? What my power among the Ismaelians? My hopes of sovereignty, such as Zubaida, beloved of Harun, might have joy to share! For you,--it is all for you! Without you the palace is dungeon; the earth, wilderness; the fairest of Arabian maidens, jinns of black night."

And in the delirium of the moment he caught her, held her in his arms, kissed her once, twice. But her lips were icy. The touch of her form chilled him. He shrank away as from a statue of marble.

"Master," said Mary, never resisting, "I am your slave. You have the power. I cannot resist; I fear I cannot flee away. You may do with my poor body as you list; but me,--Mary the wife of Richard de St.

Julien, the soul throbbing behind this flesh and blood,--_me_ you can never hold in power. No! not, were your three thousand sword-hands myriads. For my true self is as far beyond your unholy touch as though I sat above the stars! Do with me as you will,--I laugh at you; I mock your impure wiles; for till you hold me, soul as well as body, I am free--free in the sight of G.o.d, though you pour all your pa.s.sions on me! I love you not, and never shall, till the day breaks in the west, and the seasons cease to wheel."

As she spoke, her eyes glowed with a fire that lit another fire of mingled desire and rage in the eyes of Iftikhar.

"Hearken, Star of the Greeks!" and he again stepped toward her. Mary stood calm as a statue; only her eyes shone yet brighter.

"I have heard you often, master; but I will listen."

"I command you, style me no more 'master,'" raged Iftikhar, feeling he had conjured up a demon that greater power than his must chain.

"I can style you no otherwise," was the reply; "for so you are. Punish my disobedience. I can bear much."

There was a little table at hand; on it stood a rock-crystal goblet and a silver cooler filled with snow-water and rose sherbet.

"Mary Kurkuas," said Iftikhar, controlling himself by a great effort, and holding up the goblet, "think not I seek the deeds of mad pa.s.sion and violence. My power? The might that flashes in your eyes were a myriad times more! Love? Yes, truly; I would have your lips seek mine, as two doves flit to the same nest. See! A pledge!--by the great angel Israfil, at whose trumpet the dead shall spring for judgment, I swear: I will do you no hurt! nothing! I will teach you to love me, until Constantinople, and Sicily, and France shall be as a forgotten dream, and of your own free will you shall be mine own, till Allah cut us asunder."

He held high the goblet.

"To Mary Kurkuas, fairest of women!" he cried, drank, bowed low, and was gone, leaving Mary with Hakem the eunuch.

The heavy tapestries in the doorway closed noiselessly. Mary stood gazing half stupidly at Hakem and the maids. Then at last the eunuch spoke, his imperturbable smile swelling to a fulsome grin.

"O my little birdling, what friends shall we not become! How sweetly shall we pa.s.s the days together!"

Had his words been hot irons, he could not have affected Mary more. In a trice she had sprung toward him, her eyes flas.h.i.+ng flame. She was in poise and voice the great princess of the house of Kurkuas, born to rule. "Toad!" came across her teeth, "did I bid you speak? Out of my sight, you and these wenches, or as I live--"

"Mercy, gracious _Citt_, gracious mistress!" began Hakem, throwing up his hands and rolling his eyes, for he knew that he faced his match.

"You are travel-worn; your dress--"

Mary took a step toward him, s.n.a.t.c.hed him by the shoulder, whirled his face toward the door in an instant.