Khaled, A Tale of Arabia Part 12

'And I have heard,' she answered. 'Let there be an end. But give me this woman to divert me with her broken speech.'

'I fear she will do you an injury of which you may not live,' said Khaled.

'What injury can she do me?' asked Zehowah in astonishment, not understanding him.

'She asked of your father the head of the Sultan of Hal, whom she hated. And your father gave it to her.'

'Peace be upon him!' exclaimed Zehowah piously.

'Upon him peace. And when he would have married her, he died suddenly at the feasting. And now this Abdul Kerim, who was to have been her husband, is dead also, without sign, in the night, as a man stung by a serpent in his sleep. These are strange doings.'

'If you think she has done evil, let her be put to death,' said Zehowah.

'But the physician found no mark upon Abdul Kerim. By the hand of Allah he was taken.'

'Doubtless his fate was about his neck. But it is strange.'

Zehowah looked at Khaled in silence, but presently she smiled and laid her hand upon his.

'This woman loves you with her whole soul,' she said. 'You think that she has slain Abdul Kerim by secret arts, in the hope that she may marry you.'

'And your father also.'

Then they were both silent, and Zehowah covered her face, since she could not prevent tears from falling when she thought of her father, whom she had loved.

'If this be so,' she said after a long time, 'let the woman die immediately.'

'It is necessary to be just,' Khaled answered. 'I will put no one to death without witnesses, not even a captive woman, who is certainly an unbeliever at heart. Has any one seen her do these deeds, or does any one know by what means a man may be slain in his sleep, or at a feast, so that no mark is left upon his body? At Dereyiyah your father was alone with her in the inner part of the tent, and she was singing to him that he might sleep. For I have made inquiry. And when Abdul Kerim died he was also alone with her. I cannot understand these things. But you are a woman and subtle. It may be that you can see what is too dark for me.'

'It may be. Therefore give her back to me, and I will lay a trap for her, so that she will betray herself if she has really done evil. And when we have convicted her by her own words she shall die.'

'Are you not afraid, Zehowah?'

'Can I change my destiny? If my hour is come, I shall die of a fever, or of a cold, whether she be with me or not. But if my years are not full, she cannot hurt me.'

'This is undoubtedly true,' answered Khaled, who could find nothing to say. 'But I will first question the woman myself.'

So he sent slaves with a litter to bring Almasta from the house of mourning to the palace, and when she was come he sent out all the other women and remained alone with her and Zehowah, making her sit down before him so that he could see her face. Her cheeks were pale, for she had not slept, having been occupied in weeping and lamentation during the whole night, and her eyes moved restlessly as those of a person distracted with grief.

Khaled then drew his sword and laid it across his feet as he sat and looked fixedly at Almasta.

'If you do not speak the truth,' he said, 'I will cut off your head with my own hand. Allah is witness.'

When Almasta saw the drawn sword, her face grew whiter than before, and for some moments she seemed not able to breathe. But suddenly she began to beat her breast, and broke out into loud wailings, rocking herself to and fro as she sat on the carpet.

'My husband is dead!' she cried. 'He was young; he was beautiful! He is dead! Wah! Wah! my husband is dead! Kill me too!'

Khaled looked at Zehowah, but she said nothing, though she watched Almasta attentively. Then Khaled spoke to the woman again.

'Make an end of lamenting for the present,' he said. 'It has pleased Allah to take your husband to the fellows.h.i.+p of the faithful. Peace be upon him. Tell us in what manner he died, and what words he spoke when he felt his end approaching, for he was my good friend and I wish to know all.'

Almasta either did not understand or made a pretence of not understanding, but when she heard Khaled's words she ceased from wailing and sobbed silently, beating her breast from time to time.

'How did he die?' Khaled asked in a stern voice.

'He was asleep. He died,' replied Almasta in broken tones.

'You will get no other answer,' said Zehowah. 'She cannot speak our tongue.'

'Is there no woman among them all who can talk this woman's language?'

asked Khaled with impatience, for he saw how useless it was to question her.

'There is no one. I have inquired. Leave her with me, and if there is anything to be known, I will try to find it out.'

So Khaled went away and Zehowah endeavoured to soothe Almasta and make her talk in her broken words. But the woman made as though she would not be comforted, and went and sat apart upon the stone floor where there was no carpet, rocking to and fro, and wailing in a low voice. Zehowah understood that whatever the truth might be Almasta was determined to express her sorrow in the customary way, and that it would be better to leave her alone.

For seven days she sat thus apart, covering her head and mourning, and refusing to speak with any one, so that all the women supposed her to be indeed distracted with grief at the death of Abdul Kerim. And each day Khaled inquired of his wife whether she had yet learned anything, and received the same answer. But in the meantime he was occupied with his own thoughts, as well as with the affairs of the kingdom, though the latter were as nothing in his mind compared with the workings of his heart when he thought of Zehowah.

It chanced one evening that Khaled was riding among the gardens without the city, attended only by a few hors.e.m.e.n, for he was simple in all his ways and liked little to have a great throng of attendants about him. So he rode alone, while the hors.e.m.e.n followed at a distance.

'Was ever a man, or an angel, so placed in the world as I am placed?' he thought. 'How much better would it have been had I never seen Zehowah, and if I had never slain the Indian prince. For I should still have been with my fellows, the genii, from whom I am now cut off, and at least I should have lived until the day of the resurrection. But now my horse may stumble and fall, and my neck may be broken, and there is no hereafter. Or I may die in my sleep, or be killed in my sleep, and there will be no resurrection for me, nor any more life, anywhere in earth or heaven. For Zehowah will never love me. Was ever a man so placed? And I am ashamed to complain to her any more, for she is a good wife, obedient and careful of my wants, and beautiful as the moon at the full, rising amidst palm trees, besides being very wise and subtle. How can I complain? Has she not given me herself, whom I desired, and a great kingdom which, indeed, I did not desire, but which no man can despise as a gift? Yet I am burned up within, and my heart is melting as a piece of frankincense laid upon coals in an empty chamber, when no man cares for its sweet savour. Surely, I am the most wretched of mankind. Oh, that the angel who made garments for me of a ghada bush, and a bay mare of a locust, would come down and lay his hand upon Zehowah's breast and make a living heart of the stone which Allah has set in its place!'

So he rode slowly on, reasoning as he had often reasoned before, and reaching the same conclusion in all his argument, which availed him nothing. But suddenly, as the sun went down, a new thought entered his mind and gave him a little hope.

'The sun is gone down,' he said to himself. 'But Allah has not destroyed the sun. It will rise in the east to-morrow when the white c.o.c.k crows in the first heaven. Many things have being, which the sight of man cannot see. It may be that although I see no signs of love in the heaven of Zehowah's eyes, yet love is already there and will before long rise as the sun and illuminate my darkness. For I am not subtle as the evil genii are, but I must see very clearly before I am able to distinguish.'

He rode back into the city, planning how he might surprise Zehowah and obtain from her unawares some proof that she indeed loved him. To this end he entered the palace by a secret gate, covering his garments with his aba, and his head with the kefiyeh he wore, in order to disguise himself from the slaves and the soldiers whom he met on his way to the harem. He pa.s.sed on towards Zehowah's apartment by an unlighted pa.s.sage not generally used, and hid himself in a niche of the wall close to the open door, from which he could see all that happened, and hear what was said.

Zehowah was seated in her accustomed place and Almasta was beside her.

Khaled could watch their faces by the light of the hanging lamps, as the two women talked together.

'You must put aside all mourning now,' Zehowah was saying. 'For I will find another husband for you.'

'Another husband?' Almasta smiled and shook her head.

'Yes, there are other goodly men in Riad, though Abdul Kerim was of the goodliest, as all say who knew him. He was the Sultan's friend, but he was more soldier than courtier. He deserved a better death.'

'Abdul Kerim died in peace. He was asleep.' Almasta smiled still, but more sadly, and her eyes were cast down.

'He died in peace,' Zehowah repeated, watching her narrowly. 'But it is better to die in battle by the enemy's hand. Such a man, falling in the front of the fight for the true faith, enters immediately into paradise, to dwell for ever under the perpetual shade of the tree Sedrat, and neither blackness nor shame shall cover his face. There the rivers flow with milk and with clarified honey, and he shall rest on a couch covered with thick silk embroidered with gold, and shall possess seventy beautiful virgins whose eyes are blacker than mine and their skin whiter than yours, having colour like rubies and pearls, and their voices like the song of nightingales in Ajjem, of which travellers tell. These are the rewards of the true believer as set forth in Al Koran by our prophet, upon whom peace. A man slain in battle for the faith enters directly into the possession of all this, but unbelievers shall be taken by the forelock and the heels and cast into h.e.l.l, to drink boiling molten bra.s.s, as a thirsty camel drinks clear water.'

Almasta understood very little of what Zehowah said, but she smiled, nevertheless, catching the meaning of some of the words.

'The Sultan Khaled loves black eyes,' she said. 'He will go to paradise.'

'Doubtless, he will quench his thirst in the incorruptible milk of heavenly rivers,' Zehowah replied. 'He is the chief of the brave, the light of the faith and the burning torch of righteousness. Otherwise Allah would not have chosen him to rule. But I spoke of Abdul Kerim.'

'He died in peace,' said Almasta the second time, and again looking down.