Part 13

Hassan patted the head of his young _protégé_ and inquired what he had been doing during the last few days. The little boy had much to tell, and it required all Hassan’s attention to follow and understand the language of those fingers, whose rapidity of motion almost confused his sight. Murad had taken many messages, and got into high favour with old Mansour, who knew that he was himself the unintentional cause of the hurt which the dumb boy had received. Finding him very faithful and intelligent in the execution of commissions, Mansour had sent him frequently to the city to bring trifles and samples for the ladies of the harem, and had even conducted him to the ladies themselves, his age not rendering that step objectionable.[75] He had taken some silks to Zeinab Khanum, and some otto of roses[76] to Ayesha Khanum (probably the two wives of the Pasha); also some beads and turquoises to the lovely Amina Khanum.

“To whom?” cried Hassan, grasping the little boy’s arm with a grip which almost paralysed it.

“To the lovely Amina Khanum,” repeated Murad, astonished at Hassan’s outbreak. “And is she not beautiful as a houri?”

“And did you speak with her?” said Hassan, releasing the boy’s arm and striving to master his emotion.

“In truth I did,” he replied, “and she spoke to me kindly, and pitied my want of speech, and said she could almost weep for me.”

“Allah! Allah! would that I were twelve years old and dumb,” ejaculated Hassan.

“What said you?” inquired Murad, looking up into his face with astonishment.

“Nothing—nothing, boy; go on and tell me what passed with Am——, with the lady you were speaking of.”

“She patted me on the cheek, and made me tell her what happened on the day that you saved Mansour from the soldiers. She asked me whether you had been kind to me, and what could I say of my protector but that you had been to me more than a father or a brother? She wished to know where you were gone, and whether there would be bloodshed, and when you were coming back. I wrote all my answers on slips of paper (for I have taught my finger-talk to none but you), and while she was reading them her breath was quick, and her colour changed, and she was so agitated—by Allah! just as you are now, Hassan. What has happened?” added Murad timidly; “have I said anything to offend you?”

Much of what had fallen from Murad was music to Hassan’s ear and balm to his heart; yet a sort of dread came over him when he reflected how he had betrayed his feelings, and she hers, to a child, and one whose vocation it was to go from house to house with messages and commissions! Looking steadily into Murad’s eyes, he said, “Were you alone with the lady when this passed?”

“I was,” he replied, “for some time: two of the slave-girls were occupied at the other end of the room, but they were too far to hear what the lady said to me, and you know, Hassan, they could not hear what I said to her.”

This reply somewhat reassured Hassan, while its closing words moved his compassion. Fixing his eyes earnestly, yet kindly, on the boy’s countenance, he said to him, “Murad, do you love me?”

“Better than my life,” replied Murad, eagerly seizing his protector’s hand and pressing it to his lips. “Whom should I love, if I love not you? I have none on earth to care for, none to love, if it be not Hassan.”

“Then I charge you by that love,” said Hassan solemnly, “never to communicate what you have told me to any human being—not even to Mansour. Were you to do so,” he added, with a stern expression, “much as I pity and love you, Murad, I would rend your limbs asunder and give them to the vultures.”

Although hurt and surprised by the unwonted tone of his protectors language, Murad looked up in his face with a calm, untroubled countenance, and using his little fingers with slowness and precision, he said, “Kill me now if you doubt me! I am not noble nor honourable in birth, but I have a heart. Has Hassan forgotten our proverb, ‘The good man’s breast is the secret’s tomb’?”[77]

“Enough,” replied Hassan, in the usual tone of kindness in which he addressed his young _protégé_. “I will trust you, and did wrong to doubt your truth. If you are again called to the Lady Amina, serve her and obey her faithfully in all things, but never communicate to any living creature what she may say or ask about me. You are too young to understand the dangers, the intrigues, and calumnies of a harem—only remember that one unguarded expression from you might be the cause of misery and shame worse than death to her.”

Hassan, having received a message from Delì Pasha, dismissed his little _protégé_ and presented himself before his chief, who began talking to him on the subject of his expedition against the Sammalous, and in the course of conversation asked him what he proposed doing with the eight horses taken from them, to which Hassan replied that it was his wish to send them as a present to his foster-father among the Oulâd-Ali.

“That is well,” said the Pasha, smiling; “youth should repay the bread of infancy. But what mean you to do with the beautiful mare Nebleh?”

Hassan thought for a moment, and then replied, “She is, indeed, beautiful and swift beyond any horse that I have seen; but she is small and light—too much so to bear me either after an enemy or an antelope, too much so even to bear your Excellency with freedom.” Here Hassan cast his eyes on the large and vigorous, though somewhat corpulent, proportions of his chief. “I was thinking that it would be well if your Excellency were to make her a present from yourself to Mohammed Ali, for it does not become one in my rank to make him such an offering. His Highness is small and light in person; nor do I believe that he has a mare like Nebleh in his stable.”

“Wallàhi! you say well,” replied Delì Pasha. “Nebleh would fly under him; it shall be as you wish. But as she is your property, if I present her from myself I must buy her from you. How many purses shall I give you for her?”

“Under your Excellency’s favour I have no need of money,” replied Hassan, with an abstracted, melancholy air that struck the Pasha. “Some day I may have a favour to ask of you; then, if you choose, you may pay me for Nebleh.”

“As you will,” answered Delì Pasha. “I will write a letter to his Highness, which you shall deliver yourself with the mare; he is coming to Shubrah[78] in a day or two. Now,” continued the Pasha, “you must go to your office, for the _nazir_ [steward] of my village in Karioonbiah has been here with the year’s account—you know how I hate accounts—so I told him to wait your return. Look through his accounts, receive his money, and send him back.”

Hassan had scarcely taken his seat in his office, and was beginning to look among his papers for the last year’s accounts of the above-mentioned village, when a servant announced to him the expected _nazir_. On entering he made a profound and ceremonious salam to Hassan, and remained standing until the latter desired him to be seated; and when he obeyed this order, it was with a feigned reluctance that he placed himself in the attitude of most respectful humility by sitting on his heels, carefully covering them with the edge of his robe and his hands with its sleeve. Hassan, rather surprised at this overstrained humility, bestowed upon the _nazir_ a scrutinising glance, the result of which did not predispose our hero in favour of his visitor.

While the usual pipe and coffee were being offered and discussed a few indifferent and customary phrases were exchanged, and Hassan had more opportunity for studying the countenance of the _nazir_. It offered one difficulty to his scrutiny, as the eyes squinted so remarkably that he could not tell when they were looking at him or when directed elsewhere. Though not superstitious, Hassan was not free from the strong prejudice entertained by all his countrymen against this unpleasant peculiarity;[79] and he noted that in the _nazir_ it was accompanied by a pinched nose, a narrow forehead, and a mouth round which a false, sneering smile perpetually played. The servants having retired, the new-comer began, after his own fashion, to take (as a sailor might say) the soundings of Hassan’s character.

“A very pleasant office this, O Aga, upon which you have lately entered.”

“Pleasant enough for those who prefer the pen and the carpet to the lance and the desert,” replied Hassan.

“There is a time for all,” answered the _nazir_. “Your respected predecessor found it so; he was fond of both; he and I were great friends.” He laid much stress upon the last two words, which did not raise him much in the estimation of Hassan, who had already discovered among his papers not a few proofs of his predecessor’s dishonesty. While assuming a careless air, he resolved to watch the man more narrowly.

“Doubtless,” he said, “those who serve the same chief should be friends together.”

This observation, which was merely general, misled the _nazir_ into a belief that he was understood and met half-way.

“What a good chief he is to serve,” said the _nazir_, with his sneering smile. “Open hands and eyes closed, never looks into an account, that is the kind of master I like.”

“Yes,” replied Hassan; “I believe he trusts a great deal to his agents without looking after his own affairs.”

“Wallàhi! that he does,” said the _nazir_; “and as he has plenty, why should not others also eat bread? Do you know,” he added, lowering his voice, while his eyes, apparently directed towards the door, were fixed upon Hassan—“do you know how much your predecessor had for his share out of our village last year?”

“No, I know not,” replied our hero; “I have not looked through the accounts.”

The _nazir_ smiled at his companion’s simplicity as he said, “Accounts, indeed! Oh, they are all right and signed by me, while mine are signed by the Sheik-el-Beled.[80] We must all three be friends, you understand. The village is rated to pay Delì Pasha two hundred purses a-year [£1000], but we easily raise a great deal more, and that we divide amongst us for our trouble. Last year we got each of us fifty purses, and, Inshallah! by your good fortune, we have as much this year.”

“You must explain more to me,” said Hassan, dissembling his indignation under a semblance of simplicity. “I do not understand all the details of your village affairs. I had understood that in the new measurement of the lands which the Viceroy ordered to be made throughout Egypt a few years ago, far heavier demands were made on the fellah than under the old measurement: how comes it, then, that your village produces so much more than is written against it in the books of the Defterdar?”[81]

“The land was then only half cultivated,” replied the _nazir_, “and was rated at only three _ardebs_[82] the _feddan_ [acre]. Since then Delì Pasha has spent much money on it in irrigation, and he is quite satisfied that it produces, as you see in our books, five _ardebs_; but we generally get seven out of it, and besides this there are many methods which we employ for getting an honest penny here and there out of the village. The recruiting time is our best harvest, for then all those who do not wish a son or a brother to be taken must pay the sheik well, and I have my eye always steadily fixed upon him to see that he shares fairly with us.”

“Then,” replied Hassan, “it is clear that the signature or seal of the sheik is necessary for all these papers, in case they should be suddenly called for and examined. How do you propose to arrange them with me in his absence?”

“He is on his way,” said the _nazir_, “and will be here to-night. To-morrow morning we will come to you together, sign the papers, pay you the money, take your receipt, and divide the little perquisite that we take for our trouble.”

He accompanied these last words with what he meant to be a knowing wink, but what was in fact a grimace so odious that Hassan could scarcely resist the impulse, which had been gradually growing, to kick him out of the room. But his resolution to seize and convict his accomplice the sheik enabled him to master the impulse, so he contented himself with saying—

“Well, bring him to-morrow morning and we will make it all right.”

“I will be here,” replied the _nazir_, who then rose and took his leave.

No sooner was he gone than Hassan’s indignation found vent in words which, although not uncommon among the Arabs, are scarcely fit to be translated for ears or eyes polite. As he was not aware what spies or partisans the _nazir_ might have among the servants in the house, he took no immediate step in reference to the late interview, but strolled down to the stable and spent some time in directing the exertions of his groom towards the rubbing and polishing the satin coats of Shèitan and Nebleh, and beautiful they both were in their several styles—the one above the ordinary size, fleet, proud, strong, and fierce in his bearing to all but one; the other gentle, sagacious, unequalled in her speed as in the fine and delicate proportions of her limbs. Still when any stranger approached, she turned to look at him, as if expecting again to see the form, again to hear the voice, of her Arab lord.

Hassan understood the gesture, and went up to caress her, saying, “Faithful creature, thou shalt see him no more; his destined hour was come, and you are separated. But you shall at least go where you will be sheltered in all seasons, nurtured with all care, fed with all fresh grasses and grains; thy sleek sides will be covered with velvet and jewels, a gold-adorned bit in thy mouth, and on thy back will be a rider like thyself—slight, indeed, and small in size, but unwearied in energy, and of a spirit unquenched by danger and fatigue: wilt thou be happy, Nebleh?”

While thus speaking, or rather half audibly murmuring, he stood with one arm thrown over Nebleh’s neck and the other hand shading his own eyes, as his thoughts unconsciously wandered to Amina, and might have been embodied thus in words: “Were I lying on those sands where the Sammalous chief’s bones now rest, would she start and turn at every approaching step; and if afterwards they wedded her to wealth and splendour, and her robes were studded with jewels, and gold and pearls were upon her neck, would she be happy?”

Hassan was roused from his wayward and dreamy thoughts by the cheerful voice of his friend Ahmed Aga, who had come to inspect the far-famed Nebleh, and was surprised to find Hassan apparently asleep, though standing on his feet and his arm over her neck. “Why, how is this, my Antar?” he cried; “asleep, and with your arm on Nebleh’s mane.”

The sudden effort made by Hassan to recover his composure was not entirely successful; besides, he was too natural to feign with his friend a gaiety that he did not feel, so he replied—

“In truth, Ahmed, I was thinking of this poor animal’s former master, the Sammalous: she looks in vain for his return, and pricks her ears at every approaching footstep. Who knows what other loving hearts in the tents are also waiting in vain for that returning footstep?”

“Wallàhi!” said Ahmed; “if thou hadst only one-half thy size, and one-quarter of thy strength and courage, thou wouldst be a charming girl, and methinks I could court thee myself, for thy heart is as tender as that of Leilah herself. The Sammalous chief died like a brave robber, as he was, and far happier was it for him than to be captured and taken to Alexandria, and drag timber about the arsenal with two heavy chains round his ankles. Come, be pleased to remove thy giantship from the side of thy pet, that I may see her fair proportions.”

Hassan, relieved and restored to his wonted good-humour by the bantering tone of his friend, complied with his request, and after they had stood for some time commenting on the beauty and symmetry of the Arab, they returned together towards the house. On the way Hassan, having first ascertained that Ahmed was but slightly acquainted with the _nazir_, told him all that had passed, and at the same time communicated to him the plan that he had formed for the morrow.

“You may remember,” he said, “that in my office is a recess, covered over with a curtain, behind which, unobserved by any of the servants, I wish you to place yourself. There you will hear the rascality of these two confessed by themselves, even if they have not signed or sealed enough to convict them. At a signal from me you will come out; we will then seize them and deliver them over to the Pasha, to be punished as he sees fit.”

“With all my heart,” said Ahmed. “On my head be it; and, Inshallah! that squinting rogue’s feet will get a lesson that will mend his morals.”

On the following morning Hassan’s plan was carried out with complete success, and scarcely had Ahmed Aga ensconced himself in the curtained recess of Hassan’s office than the _nazir_ entered, accompanied by the Sheik-el-Beled. The latter was what would be usually termed in Egypt a respectable-looking man, for one of his class; his turban and his dark serge robe well became the gravity of his countenance, and it required a close observation to detect the cunning that lurked in his small dark eyes. The servants who brought the pipes and coffee having retired, the _nazir_ entered into the business which had been discussed at the interview of the preceding evening. He had not proceeded very far in his discourse when Hassan, interrupting him, said—

“This is a serious affair; it will not do to have servants coming in with messages until we have terminated it. I will lock the door.” While he was doing so the _nazir_ said to the sheik in an undertone—

“The young greyhound takes well to the game; after he has tasted blood” (here he rattled the money in his bag) “he will be keener yet.” A grim smile, accompanied by “Inshallah!” was the sheik’s reply.

In order that the unseen auditor might hear the whole scheme of fraud developed, Hassan now caused the _nazir_ to repeat what he had stated on the preceding day, under pretext that he had not thoroughly understood its details. Our hero also put from time to time a question to the sheik, whose replies, brief though they were, proved him to be a thorough participator in the villainy of his colleague, and rather led Hassan to think him the deeper rogue of the two.

The discussion being closed, they now, as the _nazir_ said, “proceeded to business”—_i.e._, to the signature of the falsified accounts—which ceremony was accompanied by the delivery to Hassan of a bag containing fifty purses (£250), which the _nazir_ drew from an inner pocket of his ample vest. Hassan weighed the bag in his hand without untying it, then placed it in a niche of the wall above his head.[83] The _nazir_ and the sheik having attached their seals to duplicate copies of the accounts, the latter were handed to Hassan to be certified by him in a similar manner.

“Before doing so,” said he, “I will call another witness to my sealing. Ahmed Aga, come forth.”

No sooner did the two accomplices see the _mirakhor_ emerge from the curtain than they knew they were detected and lost. The falsified accounts were in Hassan’s hand, and it flashed across the _nazir’s_ mind that if he could recover and destroy them, proof might be difficult where two would have to swear against two; and, quick as thought, he threw himself on Hassan as the latter was rising from his sitting posture to his feet. But Hassan had his right hand free, and the unfortunate _nazir_ never knew what a right hand it was until he found himself lying prostrate and bruised at the farthest end of the room. Ahmed Aga burst into a fit of laughter.

“Mashallah!” he said, “a cheating, squinting, cut-purse dog like you to lay your dirty hands on our Antar. Ha! ha! ha! Come,” he continued, addressing the discomfited _nazir_, “give me up that sword, which you are unworthy to wear, or we shall have you trying to stab some one in the dark.”

Having received the fallen _nazir’s_ sword, he opened the door, and calling aloud, ordered two servants to bring cords to tie the hands of the two miscreants and conduct them to the presence of Delì Pasha, whither they themselves at once proceeded, Hassan bearing with him the bag of money and the falsified accounts.

Whilst Hassan was narrating to his chief the manner in which he had been cheated by these scoundrels for years past, the Pasha’s brow was clouded. The written proofs of their guilt having been laid before him, and Ahmed Aga having testified to having heard from their own lips a confirmation of Hassan’s statement, Delì Pasha called aloud to his attendants to take the culprits into the court below and to give them each 250 blows on the feet,—“and mind that they are well laid on,” he added sternly. Then turning to the prisoners, he said, “You have owned to having continued this robbery for some years: after your punishment you will be shut up for a week, during which time you will find means to refund each 100 purses, the avowed spoil of the last two years. If you fail to do so, I hand you over to the Mehkemeh [the public tribunal], where, as you know, the galleys will be your fate. Begone!”

In a few minutes the shrieks and cries of “Aman!” [Mercy!] that arose from the court satisfied the Pasha that his orders were faithfully executed, and he turned with a cleared brow to Hassan, whom he warmly praised for his fidelity and intelligence, adding, “You have well deserved that bag of fifty purses, and I would willingly give it you, but I know, my brave lad, that the offer would offend you; if, however, it would give you pleasure to wear an old soldier’s sword, that has drunk no little Wahabee blood in its day, you are welcome to it. I know it could not be in better or in braver hands.” As he said this he unbuckled his sword and gave it to Hassan, who pressed the holy legend on the blade[84] to his lips and forehead, saying, “May your honours increase with your life, and may I never be unworthy of your favours.”

We must now transport the reader to the interior of a house, or rather a palace, which stood, and indeed still stands, on the banks of the Nile, about a quarter of a mile from the site of that which we have before described as being occupied by Delì Pasha. This palace was larger and better built than others in the neighbourhood; its foundations of solid stone formed a kind of pier, capable of resisting and controlling the waters of the Nile in their wildest mood, so that a person at one of the windows facing the river might drop a stone into the flood below. At the back of the palace was a large garden filled with orange, lemon, citron, and pomegranate trees, and protected by a high wall; while the lateral front of the building, on which side the windows were all closely latticed, commanded a view of the streets and of the passengers coming to and going from the port of Boulak.

In a private apartment of this palace, adjoining the _ka’ah_ or large central saloon, sat a lady, apparently between thirty and thirty-five years of age, the character of whose remarkable countenance was hard to read and define. The features were not regular in detail, yet they were not wanting in a certain beauty of harmony, and though they betrayed strong passions, they denoted a still stronger will to command them. The eye small, but full of fire; and though the stature was below the average height, yet the form seemed imbued with command, and the gestures, though imperious, were not devoid of grace.