Part 24

The man, influenced by Hassan’s commanding figure and the use of the Turkish language, immediately led the way to a small pavilion occupied by the hakim, and adjoining the private apartments of the Viceroy.

When Hassan entered he found the Doctor sitting in a comfortable dressing-gown drinking his cup of coffee and looking over the last Italian journal. When he saw our hero, and received his salutation, he seemed sorely perplexed, for a year and a half of hardship and exposure had changed the youth into a powerful man; yet the frank, open countenance, not easily forgotten, was there unchanged, and it was not necessary for him to name himself, for the hakim broke out suddenly, “_Cospetto di Bacco!_ it is Hassan himself. Why, man, I am glad to see you—no, I am not; I am sorry to see you, for you must be mad. You know that you are under arrest and forbidden to leave your father’s house—the Viceroy will never forgive disobedience to his orders.”

“Excellency,” said Hassan gravely, “I have come upon a matter of life and death, and I must see the Viceroy immediately and alone. It is not my life or death that is at stake, but one of greater value to me, to you, and to Egypt.”

“Per Bacco!” said the hakim, “your forehead looks like a thunder-cloud, and you speak like a man who is in earnest. You wish to see the Viceroy immediately and alone, you say?”

“Immediately,” repeated Hassan impatiently; “and alone.”

“But,” replied the cautious physician, “Mohammed Ali is a fearless man—the world knows it; but would it be usual, would it be right, that he should be left alone with——” Here the worthy physician hesitated as he cast his eyes upon the powerful figure before him.

“With a freebooter and outlaw, you would say,” interposed Hassan, with one of his frank smiles. “But I am not an assassin. I only said alone because I know not who of all his Highness’s attendants are trustworthy! However, I suppose you are, and therefore if the Viceroy pleases, you may be present, and you may hold a loaded pistol at my ear all the time that I am in his Highness’s presence.”

“I ask your pardon,” said the Italian hakim, offering his hand. “I did not mean to offend or to hint at your being an assassin; but you know what mischievous tongues wag in these Turkish _serais_, and how I should be blamed were I not cautious in all that regarded the safety of my chief. Now help yourself to a cup of coffee, and I will do your commission at once.” So saying, the hakim disappeared through a side-door that communicated directly with the Viceroy’s apartment. In five minutes he reappeared, and making a sign to Hassan to follow, led him to a small room where Mohammed Ali was seated in the corner on a divan covered with rich crimson damask.

“You have broken your arrest,” said Mohammed Ali, fixing his piercing eyes on Hassan as he entered; “I trust you have sufficient reason for your disobedience.”

“Your Highness shall judge,” replied Hassan, “when you have heard what I have to tell. I knew that I had already given you such serious ground of offence that I would not for a light cause have added another to the list.”

“Wallah! it is true that you have committed enough already in pillaging my villages and my people,” said Mohammed Ali sternly; “let that pass for the present, and say what you have to say before the Hakim-Bashi.”

Hassan proceeded to give a clear and distinct account of the conspiracy as communicated to him by Murad. The expressive features of Mohammed Ali underwent various changes during the narration, and his fingers more than once clutched the handle of the sword that lay across his knee when Hassan mentioned the names of the conspirators.

As soon as Hassan had concluded his narrative, Mohammed Ali, bending his shaggy brows on the speaker, said, “By the head of my father, if this tale be true, I will defile the graves of the fathers and mothers of these ungrateful dogs. But how can I feel assured that the whole is not an invention of this crazy, mutilated child?”

“I believe it is all true,” said Hassan with simple earnestness, “for the boy, though dumb, is faithful and intelligent. I am sure he would not deceive me, neither has he knowledge sufficient to refer to all these names and plots if he had not heard them as he states. Moreover, it is easy for your Highness to ascertain some points which may satisfy you as to the truth of the whole.”

“Which points?” said the Viceroy hastily.

“First,” replied Hassan, “is it true that a man called Hadji Mohammed, the brother of Osman Bey’s servant, Ferraj, has lately entered your Highness’s service?”

“That is true,” interrupted the hakim; “for I have seen the fellow, and an ill-looking dog he is.”

“Secondly,” continued Hassan, “if the boy’s story be correct, Osman Bey will visit your Highness within an hour or two, and recommend you to leave Shoobra and go into your palace of the Esbekiah, where Ali Bey’s Bashi-Bazouks are on guard.”

“That is true,” replied the Viceroy; “a few hours will remove all doubt. Hakim-Bashi, you remember that only a day or two ago the Kiahia wrote a note to say that some strange rumours were afloat as to these Bashi-Bazouks and another regiment being almost in mutiny from not having received their pay.”

“It is so,” replied the hakim, “and I went to the pay-office, by your Highness’s order, and got Ali Bey’s receipt for the whole amount due to them duly sealed and certified. I have it here,” and he produced the paper in question.

“These hornets must be crushed, and there is no time to be lost,” said the Viceroy in a musing tone; then suddenly bending his shaggy eyebrows on Hassan, he added, “Young man, you have done your duty in bringing us this news, bad though it be. What is the course which it is now best to pursue?—speak your mind.”

“Nay, your Highness,” said Hassan modestly; “if my arm or my life can be of use, they are at your service, but I am too young and inexperienced to offer an opinion in the presence of the best soldier in Islam.”

“Nevertheless,” replied the Viceroy, a certain malicious fun twinkling in the corner of his keen grey eye, “I would have your opinion, even though I should not choose to follow it. If all be true that I have heard, you have shown more skill in eluding or defeating my troops with your lawless band of vagabonds than could have been expected from so young a beard. I would see whether your wit be as sharp, now that you profess a desire to serve me. Speak, therefore, and without fear or reserve.”

After a few moments of reflection Hassan replied, “Were I to speak as my own impulse would prompt, I should say to your Highness, Summon to your side the Pashas, Beys, and regiments in whom you can trust, place me in the foremost rank, and let us straightway attack, bind, or destroy these conspirators.”

Mohammed Ali read in his bright, eager glance and bold, open front the sincerity which dictated these words. Hassan continued, “But I know that your Highness would gladly avoid, if possible, the bloodshed of your subjects, and the punishing the ignorant and the misled in the same degree as the scoundrels who have misled them. I therefore suggest that we meet stratagem with stratagem, and when Osman Bey comes, let your Highness pretend to be persuaded by his arguments, and agree to go into the Esbekiah Palace to-morrow. This will throw them off their guard, and all the conspirators will be gathered at Ali Bey’s house. Meanwhile I have a trusty follower here, little known in Cairo, for whose fidelity I will answer with my life: let him go forthwith to the Kiahia with a few lines, written by your Highness’s order, instructing him to send a regiment that he can trust, and two or three hundred horsemen silently and secretly to the Esbekiah before dawn to-morrow; let two or three guns be placed there, pointed at Ali Bey’s house and your Highness’s palace; let Delì Pasha take five hundred men from this regiment at Shoobra and march it at the same hour and in silence to occupy the gardens behind Ali Pasha’s house and the road to Boulak; let the guards in the citadel be doubled at night, and the regiment of Dervish Bey, now encamped outside of the town, be brought in to keep in check that of Nour-ed-din, which is supposed to be in a state of mutiny. My follower shall then pass the night among them, and when they know that they have been cheated of their pay by their own officers, they will not raise a musket against your Highness. The most difficult task is to manage these Bashi-Bazouks, but I am not without hopes of reclaiming them without bloodshed. Let your Highness give me that receipt of Ali Bey’s for their money, and let me hide it under my belt; order me now to be seized and taken by your soldiers into the guard-house of the Esbekiah Palace, where you intend to have me tried and judged to-morrow. As soon as it is known that Hassan the outlaw is confined there, they will flock in numbers to see me; I will talk with them; I will show them the receipt, and explain to them how they have been cheated and duped by Ali Bey. Inshallah! at dawn to-morrow, when the troops close in on all sides to surround the Bey’s house and take prisoner himself and his confederates, I will have these Bashi-Bazouks’ minds so changed that instead of fighting against your troops they will cry ‘Long life to Mohammed Ali!’”

While Hassan was speaking the Viceroy never took his piercing eyes off the young man’s countenance, and when he had concluded he said—

“Hassan, you have not disappointed me: your plan is good, and I will have it followed out. But I do not like to send you in among those mutinous Bashi-Bazouks; they are bloodthirsty fellows, and if they find from your speech that you are exhorting them in my behalf to return to their duty, they will tear you to pieces.”

“Fear not for me, your Highness,” replied Hassan calmly. “In dealing with and leading turbulent spirits like these I have had much, too much, experience; let me try it once more in a good cause, and if my life is sacrificed, why, Allah is merciful, and your Highness will perhaps tell Delì Pasha and Dervish Bey that Hassan was not unworthy of your trust.”

A bright gleam shot from the eyes of Mohammed Ali as he replied—

“You are a brave youth, Hassan, and all shall be done as you desire. Go in with the hakim to his room, prepare the letters, and despatch your messenger. Allah be with you.”

Hassan retired, and in a short time Abou-Hamedi was despatched with the letters and full verbal instructions. An hour later our hero was arrested and sent into the Esbekiah Palace under a strong guard, and the news was spread all over Cairo that Hassan Ebn-el-Heràm was to be tried and judged on the following day.

Hassan had not left the Shoobra gardens more than an hour when Osman Bey arrived and demanded an audience, which was immediately granted, the Hakim-Bashi remaining in attendance on his chief.

After the usual preliminaries of respect and compliment, Osman Bey proceeded to unfold the object of his coming, which proved to coincide exactly with what had been stated by Hassan. The Viceroy listened in silence, and although Osman Bey could not avoid noticing the fire that gleamed in those deep grey eyes, he attributed it to the anger felt by Mohammed Ali against those whose treacherous designs he had pretended to expose.

“We thank you as you deserve for your communication,” said the Viceroy, “and we will take all the requisite precautions. To-morrow, as you recommend, we will go to the palace of Esbekiah.”

“May your Highness’s life be prolonged,” replied Osman Bey. “I rejoice to find that you have seized that dangerous robber Hassan. I met him on the road under the escort of your Highness’s guards.”

“Yes,” said the old chief. “Inshallah! to-morrow you shall see him treated as he deserves—you shall see that Mohammed Ali knows how to punish traitors.”

“Inshallah!” replied Osman Bey, taking his leave with a salutation of profound respect.

Scarcely was he out of sight ere Mohammed Ali muttered between his hard-set teeth, “Dog! hyena! serpent! Inshallah! to-morrow he shall see and feel how traitors are punished! Hakim-Bashi, you are a learned man, and read many books: I never read anything but men’s faces, and, Mashallah! I rarely read them amiss. I have long had my eye mistrustfully on this scoundrel: look from his false and malignant countenance to the open face and clear bold eye of Hassan; why, man, there is truth written there as plainly as in the Fat’hah.[113] I have been somewhat slow in forgiving him because he has a daring spirit that requires to be checked, and example requires that acts such as he has committed should be punished; but if he survives and succeeds to-morrow, by the head of my father, I will reward and promote him!”

“I am glad to hear your Highness say so,” said the good-natured hakim, “for I liked him from the first day that I saw him; and his Bedouin education, added to the insults received from that hypocritical traitor, offer some excuse for the lawless life that he led for a while.”

“Wait till to-morrow. Bakkalum, we shall see,” said the Old Lion, smiling grimly. “Now send me Abd-el-Kerim, who commands the regiment on duty here. He, I know, is faithful, and I will give him orders for his night march on the gardens to the rear of Ali Bey’s house, as Hassan suggested. Mashallah!” he continued, “did you notice how clear and complete were his plans to entrap and secure the scoundrels, after saying that he was too young to offer an opinion. Wallah! if ever I am obliged to send my troops there, that Hassan shall command a division.”

“Send your troops where, your Highness?” said the hakim inquiringly.

“Peace, man,” said Mohammed Ali, recovering from a momentary fit of abstraction. “I was thinking of—of—of—perhaps of Darfour and Abyssinia.” A scarcely perceptible smile lingered on the lips of the medical interpreter, who had for some time suspected the ambitious views of his chief on Syria and Asia Minor, but he made his salam in silence and withdrew.

Meantime, while Abou-Hamedi was faithfully delivering the letters and messages intrusted to him, Hassan was no less diligent in the execution of the difficult task which he had undertaken. After being ushered into the precincts allotted to the Bashi-Bazouk guard, which included all the extensive area in front of the palace itself, Hassan remained for a considerable time apart, as if undesirous of communicating with them. His object was that they should come to him; nor was he long in attaining it.

Struck by his commanding figure and features, some of the loiterers about the door inquired his name of the guards who had brought him, and when they learnt that it was Hassan Ebn-el-Heràm, of whom they had heard so much, all flocked around him to scan more closely the appearance of the celebrated outlaw. Neither had he much to fear from their hostility, for being themselves engaged in a mutinous rising against the Government, they looked upon him as a sure ally during the outbreak expected on the morrow.

The intelligence of his capture and presence among them soon reached the farthest part of the barracks, and it happened that seven or eight were there who had formed a part of the band which, under Osman Aga’s guidance, had made so unsuccessful an attack on Hassan near Siout, and whom, it will be remembered, our hero had dismissed unhurt, after giving them some dinner and some money, and telling them it was a pity to see such fine fellows in so mean a service.

These men no sooner heard of his presence in their barracks than they hastened to greet him, calling out as they approached—

“Welcome, Hassan eed-el-maftouha, do you not remember us? We were of the party whom you treated so well when we were in your power, and when you sent back Osman Bey to Siout on a donkey.”

“I believe, comrades,” he replied, “that on that day I maltreated none excepting Osman Bey, and he had deserved it at my hands.”

“He was a brute,” said the first speaker, lowering his voice; “but Ali Bey, our present chief, is better: he always takes our part against those who rob and injure us.”

“Who are they who rob and injure you?” inquired Hassan.

“Why, Mohammed Ali, to be sure, and his rascally Paymaster-General.”

“I had always heard,” said Hassan, “that Mohammed Ali paid his brave Bashi-Bazouks regularly.”

“He used to do so,” said the fellow sulkily; “but for eighteen months we have not had a piastre of pay. See, our clothes are all in rags, and we have nothing wherewith to buy a pound of tobacco or a little rice water.[114] Ali Bey and Osman Bey have petitioned and laboured for us in vain. But we will have our rights. Inshallah! we shall see something to-morrow.”

“Yes, our rights and our pay, or else blood and plunder!” said half-a-dozen rough voices around.

It is unnecessary to detail all that passed between Hassan and the mutineers; suffice it to say that he completely gained their confidence, and occupied himself during the remainder of the day in ascertaining the character and views of those who seemed the more influential among them.

It was not his purpose to attempt putting in execution the plan that he had formed until nightfall, when the gates would be shut and none could go out to give notice of his proceedings to Ali Bey, whose house was only separated from the palace by a walled garden. No sooner had that hour arrived than Hassan desired those whose confidence he had gained, including the men from Siout, to call together all the regiment in front of the guard-house, as he had something of importance to communicate to them, and guards on whom they could depend were placed at the front and postern gates to prevent the ingress or egress of any one unchallenged.

As soon as they were all assembled he said in a clear and sonorous voice, that was heard by the farthest of that rough and turbulent band—

“Comrades! some of you have known me personally, and most of you have heard of Hassan Ebn-el-Heràm: did you ever hear of him that he aided the tyrant to trample on the oppressed, or the rich to plunder the poor?”

“Never!” shouted a score of voices.

“Did you ever hear,” he continued, “that he was sparing of his blood or his money, or that he ever betrayed a comrade?”

“Never!” shouted they again.

“Then, by Allah!” said Hassan, “he never will. He is here among you now alone. You may take his life to-night, or the Government may take it to-morrow; but so long as he has an arm to strike, it shall strike at the false and the oppressor in defence of the oppressed!”

“Hassan for ever!” shouted they again; “he is the man for us! Let us see the Government come to take his life to-morrow!”

“Then,” said he, raising his voice above the tumult, “if you believe me and trust me as you say, let me tell you that you have been falsely betrayed!”

“We know it!” they cried. “We have been betrayed; we have been robbed of our pay, and we will have it now, and plunder to boot!”

“You have been robbed and betrayed,” said Hassan in a deep, stern voice; “but you know not the robbers nor the traitors who have injured you. I now denounce them to your just anger—they are Osman Bey, Ali Bey, and your own officers! who have drawn your pay and have spent or locked it up themselves, in order to lead you to mutiny and to destruction!”

It is impossible to describe the confusion that prevailed in that lawless assemblage at the conclusion of this speech. Some shouted, “It is false!” others cried, “Kill him; he is a spy of Mohammed Ali!”

Pistols were drawn, daggers gleamed in the fitful torchlight; many cried, “Down with Ali Bey and the traitors!” but still the more numerous and moderate party in the regiment called aloud, “Proof! proof! we must have proof!”

“Proof you shall have, if you will be silent and patient like men, and not scream like the _bakkal’s_ wives before the _câdi_.”[115]

Silence having been restored, Hassan called aloud, “Bring hither those torches, and come to my side any of you who can read!” Half-a-dozen approached in answer to this appeal.

“This is not enough,” said Hassan; “where is the _yuzbashi_[116] who commands the guard? Let him also come forward.” That functionary had hitherto remained a distant spectator of the scene; but he was now urged forward by some of his own men to the spot where Hassan stood, who shouted as they advanced, “Proof! proof! we want proof!”

“Are you one of those,” said Hassan, fixing a stern and penetrating look on the _yuzbashi_, “who have taken a share of these brave men’s pay, and withheld it in order to induce them to revolt?”

“I?” said the astonished _yuzbashi_. “No, Wallah! No pay have I seen myself for a year. See the holes in my shoes, and these ragged clothes; do these look like robbing the pay of my men? By the beard of my father, it is the Government who have robbed me and them of our due! But who, in the name of the Prophet, are you who are haranguing my men, and questioning me as if you were a _miralai_ [general]?”

“I applaud your spirit,” replied Hassan frankly. “My name is Hassan Ebn-el-Heràm, my voice has no authority excepting that of truth, and I have no motive but to prove to these brave men who they are who have wronged and betrayed them. Canst read, _yuzbashi_?”

“Ay, Wallah! that can I. For two years was I clerk in a divan before I entered the army.”

“Well, then, read that aloud to your men,” said Hassan, placing a paper before him.

As the _yuzbashi_ read the contents all the words in Turkish which correspond to “cheat,” “rogue,” “traitor,” and “scoundrel” burst in succession from his half-closed lips.

“What is it? what is it?” shouted a score of impatient voices at once.

“It is a receipt in full showing that the Paymaster has regularly placed in the hands of Ali Bey the whole amount of pay due to you up to last month. And here is Ali Bey’s seal at the bottom. I can swear to it, as I have often to countersign papers bearing his seal.”

Curses on Ali Bey’s father, mother, and all his ancestors, now issued in torrents from the lips of the indignant assemblage; and not the least loud in venting maledictions was the _yuzbashi_ who had been unjustly suspected of sharing in the peculation of his superiors.

Hassan watched in silence the progress of the storm which he had raised; for he rightly judged that they would soon return to ask his advice as to the course which they should now pursue. Nature had formed him to lead either in the council or in the field such rough, bold spirits as those by which he was surrounded, and they now came back to ask him what was to be done as naturally as if he had been appointed their chief.

“My brave fellows,” said Hassan, “if your eyes are now open, and you are satisfied that you have been deceived and betrayed by your officers, there is but one course by which you can save yourselves and punish them.”

“Name it,” shouted a score of rough voices.

“You know that I was brought here this morning from Shoobra; while there I was neither blind nor deaf. I can swear to you by the head of my father that the treachery of Ali Bey, Osman Bey, and the others is known to Mohammed Ali. Even now troops from all quarters are surrounding this palace and Ali Bey’s house in the darkness of night. At daybreak you will see them with your own eyes—escape or resistance is no longer possible.”

“Curses on Ali Bey’s head and on his father’s grave!” shouted the _yuzbashi_; “what dirt has that vile dog caused us to eat! But you have not told us yet, Hassan, what is to be done. Are we to stay here and be butchered like sheep?”

“Allah forbid!” said Hassan. “I will answer with my head that if you follow my counsel not a hair of your beards shall be touched. How many men are there now in Ali Bey’s house?”

“If we count his and Osman Bey’s, and Nour-ed-din Binbashi’s Mamelukes and followers, there may be two hundred of them in the house and buildings round his courtyard,” replied the _yuzbashi_.