Part 10

"Just before I came in this afternoon I met out here in the street before our house the strangest old man! He wore that dress that you call Arabian, I think, and he had on the green of our Prophet's kin, but he was staggering along the street muttering, 'The night is coming! Desolation is coming upon us!' or something like that. I went up to him to see if I could help him, and, also, to see if a kin of our Prophet could really have been drinking of the accursed cup; but I found no signs of intoxication about him, only signs of intense fear as he cowered against the wall, repeating his cry of desolation. Adjed, the silversmith, came up just then and took him in charge or I should have found out more about him. Strange, wasn't it? It really gave me an uncanny feeling as if it were a premonition of some danger," and the young man shook himself as if to shake off a lingering feeling of fear.

Ben Emeal's face, as his son spoke, resumed the troubled expression which had been driven away by Ahmed's former lively conversation and he said to the lad very solemnly as they both rose and he put a hand on the youth's shoulder:

"My son, you never forget, do you, that first of all in this world you are a follower of the true Prophet and that your first business in life is to convert or destroy the infidel?"

The son did not reply except with another question. "Father, can I not go to the university at Aligarh to learn more of our Faith?"

"I will see; I will see, my son," replied the father genially and his face cleared as if the question had put his fears at rest.

"I will see, my son," he said again as he turned to the door leading to his own apartment where he would take a few pulls at the hookah before he should give himself up to his afternoon rest.

Ahmed went to his mother's chamber where with his head upon her knee, her proud eyes gazing down upon the handsome face of her son, the dearest possession of an Indian woman's life, and her loving fingers smoothing his rich, dark hair back from his brow, he fell very soon into the refreshing sleep of youth.

* * * * *

When Ahmed awoke from his restful sleep, he found his mother still supporting his head and still gazing fondly down into his face. For a few moments he lay, returning her smiles. Suddenly his face clouded.

"Mother, why is it that you can never leave this house, this walled-in courtyard; why is it that you cannot ride out with me in the open and look upon the trees and the grass and the blue sky? It does not seem right that I should be allowed to look upon all these things and you not."

"Hush, my son!" answered his mother. "It is the law of the Prophet. What he commands must be right. But, see, there is the blue sky, and here are my green tree and my grass and sometimes I even may ride out in an ekka and peep through the curtains, and once, my son, many years ago, I rode on a railway train and saw through the shutters miles and miles of green grass and flowers and so many, many beautiful things that I shall always be happy because of that sight."

Ahmed looked from the beautiful but sad face of his mother up at the patch of sky bounded by the four gray, brick walls; he looked at the lone, gray-green tree trying to grow in a foot or two of garden in the middle of the paved courtyard, and at the grass, already giving up its struggle for life, about its roots, and his heart ached for this lonely woman. For he knew that although she was his father's only wife at present, because she had borne him, Ahmed, to Ben Emeal, he knew that she saw little of his father, for there were many concubines in the home who not only usurped her place in her husband's life but who, also, in many, many ways made her life far from happy in the home. He knew that really he himself was her only joy and comfort and he rebelled. Ahmed had been taught that a woman has no soul. Did he doubt the words of his teachers as he gazed into his mother's eyes?

"Mother, why are you called 'Ahmed's mother' instead of your own name when the people of the household speak to you? Why are you so 'blest in' me as they say?"

"Because, my son--surely you must know by this time that a woman is no better than a beast; 'a cow' the Prophet calls her; and that she can only enjoy life through the son that she bears. Ah, how rich I am in you! But suppose you had not come to me, Ahmed, my son!" and her face became drawn with the thought. "Suppose I had been as my sister who has no son!"

The youth could not bear to add to his mother's unhappiness by having her dwell upon such thoughts and so he playfully pulled down her face and kissed her and teased her to show him the wedding garments which she was embroidering for him.

"When is it to be?" he asked.

"After the month of fasting, my son."

"Is she beautiful?"

"I know not, my son. But surely she must be for such a handsome man as thou art."

"Dost thou want me to have a wife, mother?"

The mother's face was crossed with a spasm of pain at the question, for when his wedding came, she felt that she would have lost her son, her only joy in life. She knew that she had such a son as few mothers in all India and she knew that their loving relationship and companionship was very unusual. But he must marry and as a woman she must not show grief; in fact, being a woman, she had no grief. So she mastered her pain in a second and replied, but not so quickly that it deceived Ahmed:

"Yes, my son, as every true follower of the Prophet must, so must thou marry and beget sons. But thou canst still love thy mother a little," she added shyly.

"That I will," affirmed the son blithely. "But," he went on crossly, "I don't want to marry and be bothered with a wife. Mother, I'll tell you what I really want to do. I want to go to our university at Aligarh where I can learn all about our Faith and about everything else, mother. I want to be a great man."

"Not a great man, my son, but a great follower of the Prophet! Why, the sky has clouded and there comes some rain!"

"Oh, ho! I must get me up and away, for I promised a friend I would come and read with him for a time."

"Is it The Book, my son?"

"No, mother, it is something new which some one gave him one time on the train. We have been reading it together for months now. It is very beautiful, all about Jesus who is coming at the end of the world, you know."

"Yes, I know, my son, for I have read The Book----"

"It is strange, mother, that you can read, for Elid's mother cannot, nor can any woman in Ajar's household, he says, nor can any other woman in this," interrupted the son. "And besides, mother, the other young men I know never seem to spend any time with their mothers at all or talk to them or even love them, it seems to me."

"Yes, my son, it is strange, for ours is not the ordinary life, nor has my lot been the ordinary lot of woman here. My father taught me to read when I was a little child, for he became blind and then I could read to him, for I was quicker and more willing to do it than the boys. My father was a great scholar and I know The Book by heart, but little joy has come to me since my marriage for my knowledge," she sighed. "Your father respects me no more than he does his latest concubine. I have respect here only because of you, my son," and her eyes feasted upon his fair countenance. "Go now, my son, to thy friend, but beware of new things, for what is new often offends the Faith." With these words she left Ahmed as he lifted the purdah, having followed him as far as her woman's feet were permitted to go.

But Ahmed trod on through the narrow streets, although the rain was pouring, for he did not want to miss the reading which was giving him such a different outlook upon life. Why, really, it was a "blasphemous thought," but this new book seemed to him to be greater than the Koran. It had given him such a new vision. Never had he thought much about his mother's life and position before reading this book, but now his mind was quickened to understand her condition. This book said, "Honour thy father and thy mother," and it did not seem to exclude woman from any joys, even those of Paradise. He was so eager to know more, especially since the conversation with his mother that afternoon, that he wondered if his friend would let him take the book home with him to study by himself.

As Ahmed went on in the rain his thoughts turned from the new book to a man whom he had met several times the past year outside the walls of Hyderabad on the big bridge. The man's peculiar bearing of kindness towards any one in trouble and his happy face had attracted the youth. They had talked together once or twice and the man whom Ahmed supposed to be a Hindu had told him that he was a Hindu no longer, but a follower of the "Jesus Doctrine." The boy had wondered what it could mean, for never had he been so drawn to a stranger as he had to that man whose whole thought had seemed to be how he could help some one else. One day Ahmed saw this man actually help a woman place her water jar on her head and a moment later get down in the dust of the road and help a coolie pile up again a mass of fuel dung-cakes which had been knocked over by a passing cart; and yet this man was a scholar, as Ahmed knew by his conversation, and no outcast. The boy wondered as he thought it over now if the new book which he had been reading could have any connection with what this man had called the "Jesus Doctrine." The more he thought about it the more it seemed to him that that man's actions had been the carrying out of the precepts of the new book.

Ahmed had not paid much heed to his steps as he had splashed along in the rain, trying as far as possible to keep under the protection of the buildings from the rain which seemed to be coming in torrents from the south. He was wrapped in his thoughts.

But suddenly his steps were stayed, for he heard a weird, awful cry, and in a corner of the porch of the house that he was passing he saw a figure on its knees in prayer. The attitude was conventional and in no way terrifying, but the words and voice had startled him.

"Night is coming! The wildness of desolation will soon be upon us! Oh, Allah, Allah, hear the cry of the faithful!"

The voice was that of one whose soul was in mortal agony, and as Ahmed stooped to look more closely, he recognized the old man whose voice he had heard a few hours before in front of his own door. He recognized, too, that the place where he was standing was the crossing of the Sidar Ways, a place a long distance from the road he had thought he was taking.

He wondered what could have alarmed the old man, but, really frightened at the repetition of the awful words and the tone of the agonized voice, the young fellow did not go to the man's side, but hastened to find a return way to his friend's, whose home he had missed in the rain and the preoccupation of his thoughts. As he turned, for the first time he noticed that another man was standing close behind him. In the semi-darkness, he did not recognize him, but gave him the greeting of the Faith and hurried on. As he reached his friend's door, it gave the boy a queer, uncomfortable feeling to perceive that this same man was still behind him.

An hour or so later Ahmed emerged from the house with the precious book concealed in his clothing, for his friend had warned him that he feared that a good Mohammedan would not read it and that he believed that it was the book of another faith. As such his friend had decided that he would read it no more. But Ahmed had said that it mattered not to him what faith it was, he thought it beautiful and he wanted to read it still more. So instead of permitting his friend to burn it as he had wanted to do, Ahmed had insisted upon taking it to his home for further study.

He did not notice as he left Elid's house that a man slipped out from the shadows and followed him to his own door. Nor did he know that this man turned as soon as he had entered the house and made haste back to the crossing of the Sidar Ways where he aroused the strange old man from his paroxysm of fear and talked earnestly with him for some time.

Within his mother's room by the light of the oil lamp Ahmed read and read, while his mother watched him and sewed on the wedding garments. Too engrossed to read aloud or even talk about what he was reading, he read on and on. Long after his mother had given up her vain efforts to get him to go to rest and had rolled herself in her blanket, he still bent over the book. He read until sleep finally blurred his mind and closed his eyes and the lamp burned out at his side.

But Ahmed had noticed before he slept a name on the first page of the book, "Mission Press, Bangalore, India." It must be that those people could explain to him what this book meant. If he could only go to them! Never had words written or spoken stirred his heart as it had been stirred by this book. It must be of Allah and yet in all he had read he had found no mention of the Prophet. Since Elid's warning Ahmed seemed to feel that perhaps in reading this book and thinking these thoughts he was betraying the Faith, and yet, if all this he had been reading were true, it was better than the Faith and he could no longer believe as he had before.

Could he in any way get to that "Mission Press" in Bangalore? Ahmed had never been but a few miles from Hyderabad; indeed, that was one reason why he had wanted to go to the university at Aligarh and another reason was that in the last few months he had begun to be dissatisfied with the Faith and thought that there they could certainly explain all to him. But now he preferred to go to Bangalore. It seemed as if he must go there: but instinctively he felt that he must conceal his reason for wishing to go. And so with his mind confused by these thoughts and the new ideas which the new book had brought him, ideas utterly foreign to all he had known before, he fell into a restless sleep.

* * * * *

It seemed to Ahmed as if some unseen force were ordering events when early on the next day he was called to his father's presence to find him unexpectedly ill and so ill that it would be impossible for him to leave the city and go to Bangalore on a very important matter of business. Ben Emeal could trust the business to no assistant and yet it had to be attended to on the next day. The only person whom he could trust was his son and that son until then had been not only ignorant of all business matters but also of travel, having never made a journey alone on a railway train. But when Ben Emeal saw that there was no other way to save to his name several thousands of rupees, he decided to give his son a rather hurried and, indeed, trying initiation into commercial life. The old Arab's warning against the infidel had not been forgotten, but the father did not think the risk too great to send his son away alone for the first time, as he thought the novelty of the journey and of assisting in business affairs for the first time would keep Ahmed's mind from dangerous thoughts, and besides,--it was a matter of much money.

So Ahmed had been summoned to his father's presence and instructed in all the matters needful to the transaction of the business. When Ben Emeal saw the delight and eagerness with which the boy undertook the journey and the task given him he did not consider it necessary even to warn him against the possible meeting with the infidel in Bangalore.

So Ahmed had started for the very place of all others that he wanted to visit, sent by his father--such a strange answer to the longings of the night before that he was filled with a feeling of awe. So impressed with the religious importance of this journey and with a divine ordering of it was he that he scarcely appreciated its novelty. Because of his ignorance of travel, his father had directed him to go first class; therefore, he had the compartment to himself for the whole journey and, since this was so, instead of gazing from the window and enjoying the new sights as he would have done a few days before, now he pulled out the new book and read the whole journey through.

Although Ahmed had but one desire when he reached Bangalore, that of finding the "Mission Press," he went first, as he knew was right, and transacted the business entrusted to him. When that was over, then he began his search for the people who were responsible for "The Book." No longer did that title in Ahmed's mind belong to the Koran and for some reason or other he did not seek these people to be told that what The Book said was true; for he seemed to know himself that it was true, but he sought them for more knowledge and for an explanation of many things that he could not understand, and especially to find out the relation of the Prophet to it all, as Mohammed was not mentioned in The Book.

Ahmed found the Mission Press to be a large brick building set back in a grassy compound. When, with a desire for secrecy which he could not exactly explain, he dismissed his gari at some distance from the gate and made the approach on foot, he was surprised to see another Mohammedan stop at the gate, but he did not recognize in him the man who had followed him from the crossing of the Sidar Ways to his friend's house the night before in Hyderabad.

So without anxiety other than that which possessed him to learn of the new book, Ahmed entered the big building. Never having seen a press and not exactly knowing what the word implied, he was amazed at the whirring machinery and the offices of busy clerks. At a window he told his errand in a simple, straightforward way, pointing to the name of the press on the title page of The Book which he had drawn from under his clothing. The converted Hindu at the window at once led the boy to a small room within, where sat an American gentleman literally buried in manuscripts, proof sheets, and correspondence. But a quick resurrection took place at the clerk's whispered words and the American, a missionary, arose to greet the youth.

For several hours they talked and prayed, each moment separating Ahmed farther from the faith of his father and drawing him closer to the faith taught by a stranger. Since the boy was not to return to Hyderabad until the next day, when the press closed for the night he went home to the mission compound with the missionary. And so engrossed was he in conversing with his new friend that he did not see that a man followed them all the way from the press building, indeed, the same man whom he had seen at the gate.

It was not late in the evening when in the midst of their conversation, Ahmed turned abruptly to his missionary host and said, "I believe. I want to be a Christian. What must I do?"

The missionary explained to him that the next step after belief was testimony, a testimony usually given by baptism, but that Ahmed could not think of being baptized until he had prayed long and earnestly over the matter. Indeed, it might mean death to him, for he himself must surely know the bitterness of the Prophet's followers. It would probably mean at the very least disinheritance and banishment from his father's home.

"But I believe," cried Ahmed, "and if testimony is necessary for believers of this 'Jesus Doctrine,' then I must testify; I must be baptized."

But the missionary was firm and although his heart glowed at the courage of the young man, little more than a boy, he would not yield but sent Ahmed to the guest-chamber with the counsel to pray about it.

And for hours that night did Ahmed pray.

When, in the early morning, he met the missionary in the drawing-room, his resolve was unchanged and his request of the evening before was repeated. "Baptize me now. I must be baptized for I must testify to the world that I believe," he said. His face shone with such a happy light as he pleaded that the missionary felt that no longer could he refuse to administer the sacrament asked for.

"But it may mean death," again he urged.

"Jesus died for me; you yourself have told me," replied Ahmed.

"You will certainly lose your inheritance and be an exile from your family."

"He gave up His inheritance in the skies and took exile upon Himself that He might bring life to me; can I not do as much in testifying for Him?"

How the lad had learned so much of the Gospel and the very words of the Bible in such a short time was a marvel to the American preacher, but he did not know with what intensity the hungry heart of the youth had been studying the sacred pages.

It seemed to the missionary, therefore, that it must be God's will that the young Mohammedan should be baptized. But he wanted it to be done in the presence of the congregation.

"When could that be?" asked Ahmed.

"Not for three days," replied the preacher.

"But I must go to my home to-day!" exclaimed the young man.

"Ahmed," the missionary's eyes were filled with perplexity and suffering, "Ahmed, it will be sure death if you go back to Hyderabad, I know. Will you not let me send you north where you can probably escape from notice until you have studied and are ready to preach the Gospel? Then you can come back and perhaps preach in safety to your people," he urged. "Wait here in secret in my home until the Sabbath. Then after the public service and public baptism before the congregation, I will spirit you away and you will be safe."

The young man drew himself to his full height and his eyes glowed. "My father expects me to start for home to-night. I must obey. He has given me his trust. But more than that, I must hasten to tell them of what I have found--to tell my mother of a God who loves her and that she is not lost, but can be saved by believing in Jesus. I know that I shall die, but before then I shall have lived enough, if I succeed in taking the message to them. Can I not be baptized now, at once?"

It was not in the missionary's province to detain such a messenger. With a tap of the bell he assembled the family for morning prayers, the heathen as well as the Christian servants attending, and in their presence he baptized Ahmed, the young Mohammedan, no longer a follower of the Prophet but of the Christ.

As the missionary with his hand upon Ahmed's bowed head repeated the words in Hindustani, "I baptize thee in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost," a Mohammedan glided from behind the draperies of a side window, through the half-opened shutters, and passed quickly and noiselessly down the driveway and through the compound gate.

* * * * *

Just before the gates of the city closed for the night the train from Bangalore deposited Ahmed at the station and he was safe within the walls of Hyderabad. He hastened through the narrow, dark streets to his own home, shunning the crowded bazaars and picking out the winding byways that lead between the high walls of the residence portion of the city near the river. A foreigner would not have imagined that the walls confining the dirty lanes within their narrow limits were the walls of the homes of some of the rich and influential Mohammedans of the great city. But so it was, for the barren, outward appearance of an oriental residence does not reveal the luxury within; and, besides, many of these Eastern people seem to prefer the luxury of costly jewels and raiment to that of beautiful surroundings and live on in the plain ways of the poorer natives with only the number of servants, the elegance of their dress, their indolence, and their indulgence in pleasures showing their wealth.