Читать книгу The Treasure of the Tigris: A Tale of Mesopotamia - A. F. Mockler-Ferryman - Страница 12

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The sheik welcomed us cordially, and thanked Edwards for all the kindness that he had shown to his son in Baghdad. Unfortunately, he said, he could not now ask us to partake of his hospitality, as it was absolutely necessary that he and his people should get away at once, to avoid capture at the hands of the Turkish authorities. Sedjur then related to us what had occurred. His father had, the night before, had a brush with a strong party of Shammar, some of whom had been left either dead or wounded on the field, and the fight only ended when it did because of the sudden appearance of a Turkish patrol.

"We must get away immediately," concluded Sedjur, "but my father and I hope that some day, when things are quieter, we shall be able to show you and your friend true desert hospitality. You will easily find your way back to Hillah, and so to Baghdad, by keeping straight for the high mound yonder, from which you will see the river and the roof-tops of Hillah at no great distance."

"But," replied I, not at all wishing to lose Faris just as we had found him, "my friend the Hakim does not desire to return until he has seen more of the desert. Besides, we might ourselves be captured by the Turkish soldiers, and be forced to betray your whereabouts."

"That would be difficult," laughed Sedjur, "for, look, our women and children are already out of sight, and safe; and, ere the sun has crept up another spear-head in the heavens, our horses will have carried us out of harm's way."

I looked round. The camp had vanished, the tent in which we had slept included. Our horses, with their saddles on, stood hobbled close by. The sheik, standing by his horse, was shading his eyes with one hand, and scanning the horizon.

Suddenly there arose a cry of "Tourki," and with one accord the sheik and his men swung into the saddle, and commenced to move off. Sedjur quickly mounted his mare, and calling to us that he regretted having to leave us thus discourteously, soon caught up the rest of the party, now settling down to a fast canter.

"Well," exclaimed Edwards, turning to me, "they are in a desperate hurry to clear out. I cannot even see the soldiers, can you?"

I looked for some time, and at last, when my eyes had become accustomed to the glare, I thought I could detect some small black objects, like flies, in the far, far distance.

"I think I have spotted them," I answered. "There, miles away to the north-east. Look along my finger."

"Oh, I see them," said Edwards.

"Well," said I, "I suppose we had better wait here till they come up, tell them that it is useless for them to try and catch the wily Arabs, and ride back with them to Hillah, or wherever they come from."

"Not a bit of it," said Edwards excitedly. "We must not meet them. I know the gentlemen; and if they find us here and their quarry gone, they are quite capable of shooting us off-hand as conspirators, and quietly putting us into a hole in the sand. Come on; there's plenty of time."

"Where to?" I asked, as we ran to our horses and mounted.

"After our Arab friends," was the reply. "They are not going any pace as yet."

So we dug our spurs into the flanks of our little beasts, and made them gallop over the baked desert. But gallop as we would, we did not appear to be gaining on our friends, and it seemed to us, on glancing back, that the Turkish troopers were overhauling us. Then, as we looked ahead, we saw the Arab horsemen suddenly disappear.

"Where on earth have they gone?" asked Edwards, turning to me.

"Heaven only knows," I replied, "unless they have got into a watercourse. We shall probably see them come out again in a minute."

We kept our eyes fixed ahead of us as we rode on, but no sign did we see of the reappearance of the party, and before long we discovered the cause. The track brought us to a deep dry watercourse, running almost at right angles to the route that we were following, and there, in the loose sand which formed the bed, we could see the footprints of the horses. We drew rein, and looked at each other, for the horsemen seemed to have gone both ways—up the watercourse and down it.

"Which way?" I asked Edwards.

"Haven't a ghost of an idea," said he.

"Well, it cannot matter very much," said I; "whichever way we go, we shall find some of them. We must trust to luck to take our Turkish pursuers the other way."

So we rode westward in the trough of the nullah, which in places was sunk almost twenty feet below the surrounding country, and which turned and twisted at every fifty yards. For half an hour or more we pressed on, ever looking behind, to see if we were being pursued, until at last we reached a point where a smaller nullah joined the main one, and here again the horsemen had divided, as many going one way as the other.

"This is worse than a paper-chase," said Edwards, drily. "Suppose we give it up, wait for the Turks, and hail them as our friends and deliverers."

As we stood at the junction of the watercourses, debating which one to follow, we suddenly became aware of the presence of a horseman, standing motionless at the bend of the smaller nullah. He beckoned to us, and, on riding up, we found, to our joy, that it was Sedjur himself.

"You were fortunate, Hakim," said he smiling, "in taking the right way. We could not wait for you, for fear of the Turkis. We are all safe enough now, for they never follow the windings of the watercourse, knowing that at any turn they might be ambuscaded. Come along to our tents, and we will make you truly welcome."

The mention of tents was a great relief to both of us, for I at any rate had had visions of travelling day and night for ever so long, and enduring endless privations. Still, the encampment was not as near as I at first imagined, for, although Sedjur described it, with a wave of his hand, as "yonder," it proved to be distant several hours' ride. For a mile or more we followed the bed of the nullah, until it grew too narrow to ride in, when our guide suddenly turned his horse's head up the steep bank. Thence we crossed a wide strip of desolate desert leading gradually up to a sandy ridge, from the summit of which Sedjur pointed out, several miles away, a green patch of vegetation, around which there appeared to be a goodly collection of tents.

"What are all these tents?" I inquired of Sedjur, as we drew near the encampment.

"This is our large camp," he replied, "with all our people and flocks. Where you spent last night was only a ghazu camp, from which my father was making a foray."

We were duly impressed by what we saw before us, and we began to understand that the sheik was a man of some importance. A considerable number of horses, camels, and sheep were grazing on the outskirts of the encampment, and quite two hundred tents lay scattered among the tamarisk and other bushes. On the extreme flank was pitched the somewhat imposing-looking tent of the sheik—large enough, as we afterwards found, to accommodate not only himself and his family, but also two of his mares. In front of the tent, fixed upright in the ground, was his long, gleaming spear, adorned with tufts of black ostrich plumes. As we approached, men came to take our horses, and we were ushered into the audience-room of Faris's tent, where we were received with much ceremony, being reintroduced by Sedjur, as if the sheik had never met us before. This procedure puzzled me at first, but later on I discovered that it was a matter of Bedouin etiquette, as at our previous meeting the sheik had had nothing to offer us. Now we were made welcome to all he possessed, and a special tent was handed over to us.

The conversation was most formal; spiced coffee was handed round, and long pipes were brought in. Then, after a short while, Sedjur relieved our minds by suggesting that we might like to go to our tent and rest, after our long ride. We jumped at the idea, and being warned that we were expected to have supper with the sheik a little before sundown, we sought the seclusion of the goat's-hair dwelling that had been reserved for us.

"Thank goodness," said Edwards, sitting on his saddle-bags, which had been brought into the tent, "that they have given us a place to ourselves. Now let us hold a mass meeting of two, and discuss the whole situation."

"What situation?" I asked.

"Why, yours and mine," said he.

"Right you are," said I. "So far I think we have done pretty well. We have discovered old Faris, and have become his honoured guests. We have only got to persuade him to tell us about the Golden Girdle, and then we shall be as right as rain."

"All very nice," said Edwards. "But suppose it does not come off, what is going to happen? We are miles and miles from anywhere."

"Oh, we will get along. Don't you fret," I replied. "Besides, we are seeing desert life, living with real Bedouins, and all that sort of thing. Do be a bit romantic. But, to be serious, I will take on our host to-night, if we can make him at all communicative; and if we fail to get anything out of him, we will take an affectionate farewell in the morning, and ride back to Hillah. I daresay we are not more than fifty miles away."

"How shall you start the subject?" asked my companion.

"That is the difficulty," said I. "I expect the best way will be to mention Shahzadi and her shoe, and see how the old man takes it."

So we continued to talk and puff at our pipes, until at last Sedjur came and told us that supper was ready. We found that one or two of the headmen of the tribe had been invited to meet us, and after going through the usual ceremonial introductions, we settled down to our meal, Edwards being placed on the right hand of the sheik, I on the left, and Sedjur on the other side of Edwards. It was our first Bedouin feast, and the novelty of everything interested us considerably. A huge copper bowl was brought in and placed in front of us, its steaming contents consisting of a kind of porridge in which lumps of meat and vegetables, some hard-boiled eggs, and dates were concealed. Into this each member of the party plunged his hand, and after the manner of dipping in a bran-pie, brought out a prize in the shape of something to eat. Hunger and the desire to appear au fait in the customs of the desert enabled Edwards and myself to do fair justice to the meal, even without spoons, knives, or forks. Little conversation was indulged in while the eating was in progress, but at length the dish, replenished again and again, had satisfied everyone, and at a signal from Faris we rose, washed our hands, and went and sat outside, to smoke our pipes and chat in the cool evening air.

While at supper I had made a study of our host, and although apparently a reserved and silent man, his quiet dignity and courteous manner made a great impression on me. In appearance he was tall—far above the average Arab height, spare in form, but with broad, square shoulders, which made his flowing robes hang loosely from his body. He was a fair man, and his brown beard as yet showed few white hairs, though his handsome face was weather-beaten, and bore more than one tell-tale scar. His eyes were remarkable, and their actual colour impossible to describe; at times they were the eyes of an eagle—almost golden red, wide open and piercing; then, while he was speaking, they would suddenly change to the soft liquid eyes of a deer, full of tenderness and compassion. As I learned later, the sheik's whole character was discoverable from a study of his eyes.

Puffing at my pipe, I began to think that the time had come when I ought to give our host some idea of our future movements, for I knew that he himself would consider that he would be outraging all the laws of hospitality if he even displayed any curiosity as to our wanderings in the desert. How I was to turn the conversation round to the Golden Girdle I could not see, but I made a beginning by discussing the day's ride, and the relative merits of our horses and the sheik's horses, their paces and staying powers. To my delight I found that the great man gradually unbent, and in a few minutes became voluble. Thinking that I was deeply interested in the subject, he insisted on taking me into his tent to see his two favourite mares, one of whom he fondled, and addressed in the most loving terms.

"She is your favourite, sheik," I said.

"Yes," he replied, "even so. She has carried me in many a bloody fight with the accursed Shammar, and has borne many good colts. Moreover, her grand-dam was my father's much-prized mare, a true Kuhailan, so he always affirmed. He captured her from the Shammar—a fact which I cast in their teeth when I prevail over them by reason of the handiness and swiftness of the mare. She is indeed a bird without wings."

I now had my opening, for of course I remembered what was written in the document wherein mention had been made of the Golden Girdle.

"I have heard of the Kuhailan mare," I remarked quietly.

"Of what mare?" inquired Faris, looking at me intently.

"Shahzadi," I replied, "the daughter of a Kuhailan Haifi, out of the dam Labadah. Was it not so?"

"That indeed was what my father always told me, and the Shammar themselves told him how the mare was bred. How do you, an Ingleezee, know of such matters as these? It may be that you have learned them from the Shammar."

"Not so, Sheik of Sheiks," I replied. "What I know of the mare I have read in my own country."

"Wonder of wonders!" exclaimed Faris. "They speak truly when they say that you Englishmen know everything. Tell me more of what you know."

"I will tell you all I know," I said, "and if you will allow me to go to my tent, I will fetch you a translation of what I believe to be a true document relating to the famous mare, which your father captured from the Shammar."

"You astonish me beyond measure," said the sheik; "be pleased to go and bring the paper."

At that moment the thud of horses' hoofs broke the stillness of the night air, and, thinking that it meant a night attack, I turned to the sheik, who stepped out in front of his tent, and shouted a few words in a deep voice. An answer came back out of the darkness, and then Faris explained to me that the horsemen were those of his party whose duty it had been to lay a false scent for the Turkish police to follow, and who had ridden into camp by a circuitous route.

"For years," said he, "we have done the same thing. On reaching the nullah, some of us go one way and some another. The Turkis fear to follow either party, knowing that if once they enter the nullah, they are liable not only to be ambuscaded by one party but to be taken in rear by the other party. But they are simple folk these town-bred Turkis, and in driving us as far as the nullah, they consider that they have done their duty. So they return to their coffee-houses to drink their coffee and tell their companions how they encountered the Bedouins, and defeated them. Yet, to-morrow, if we wished, we could ride in and pillage half the villages on the outskirts of Hillah. However, the ways of these Turki dogs are of no interest to either you or me, for I know, from my many friends in Baghdad, what you Englishmen think of them. Let us talk again of our horses, and let me hear what you know of Kushki's ancestors."

I went off to my tent, and returned with my note-book, when the sheik took me into his private apartment, and motioned me to a seat on a pile of soft cushions. I showed him the sketch of Shahzadi's shoe, and he at once commented on the eight nail holes. Then I turned to my copy of the document, which, re-translating into Arabic, I read out to my host. He was deeply moved, and drank in every word that I uttered, nodding his head as I concluded each sentence, and vouchsafing that what I said was true. When I came to the last line I hesitated for a second—from excitement, I suppose—but, recovering, I translated leisurely, "The man bore away the serpent belt of pure gold coveted by the desert tribes."

"Quite true," said the sheik. "Everything that you have read is true. But now tell me, was it indeed an accident that brought you and your friend the Hakim to our tents?"

The question came so suddenly, that I confess it quite staggered me. But I felt that the man with whom I was dealing was upright and honest, and I decided that I would meet him on his own ground, and risk the consequences. I stood up and met his gaze.

"Faris-ibn-Feyzul, Sheik of the Jelas Aeniza," I said, "I am an Englishman, and, I trust, a man of honour. Believe me, that in accepting your hospitality, I had no intention of deceiving you. I waited only for an opportunity to speak to you, and that opportunity has now come. It was no accident that brought us to your tents."

I then explained fully the nature of my mission, and how I hoped to be able to obtain from him some information about the Golden Girdle. He listened attentively, and without showing any sign of displeasure. At last he took my hand in his, and spoke solemnly and quietly.

"Friend and honoured guest," he said, "you have spoken to me straightforwardly, and straightforwardly shall I always deal with you. Stay with us as long as you will, and you shall be welcome, but take my advice, and abandon all idea of possessing that accursed belt of gold. Did you but know the havoc that it wrought among the tribes ere it disappeared, you would let it lie for ever in its resting-place. If you would hear more of it, then to-morrow will I tell you what I know, and willingly. To-night we have already talked late."

"What a time you have been," grunted Edwards, as I entered the tent after saying good-night to the sheik. "You have lost all your beauty sleep. I have been in bed for hours."

"Business, my boy," I replied. "I have been having a most interesting talk with Faris."

Edwards sat up wide awake, while I related, as shortly as possible, what our host had told me.

"Do you think I did right," I asked, when I had finished, "in making a clean breast of everything?"

"You could not well have done anything else," he replied. "Both the father and the son are thorough gentlemen. Besides, one cannot humbug these Bedouins; they would see through you at once. I wonder if they really know where your golden treasure is buried. I did not say a word about it to Sedjur, as I was afraid of making a mess of things. By the way, he and his father are going off in the morning to an oasis somewhere or other miles away in the desert, where they have got some brood mares and camels, and he thought we might like the ride with them. So I accepted for both of us. Are you on for it?"

"Of course I am," said I. "I don't let old Faris out of my sight until I have heard what he has to tell about that blessed belt."