Part 7

The tendency of such splendid voluptuousness, extravagance, and luxury has been the same in all civilized countries; the results similarly lamentable: national enervation, indolence, loss of patriotism and warrior-daring, loss of moral principle, death of ethical sentiment. Pleasure ruined the Caliphate as it ruined Rome. Abou Nouwas, Haroun's court poet, wrote two poems, of which two fragments reveal the whole history of the moral decadence of Islam. The first fragment is not without beauty:--

Ruby the wine and pearl the cup in the hands of the beautiful slave with waist so slender and voluptuous.

Ravishing the beauty who giveth thee to drink at once of her gaze and of her hand! Thus art thou ever seized with two intoxications.

But the second fragment gives us the dismal sequel:--

Multiply thy sins to the utmost; for thou art to meet an indulgent God.

When thou comest before Him thou wilt gnaw thy hands with regret for those pleasures thou didst avoid through fear of hell.

RABYAH'S LAST RIDE

A TRADITION OF PRE-ISLAMIC ARABIA

This is the relation of the death of Rabyah, son of Mokaddem, of the Beni-Firaz, according to the legend transmitted from generation unto generation by the _rawis_, or reciters of poems and of great deeds.

And it is written down in the commentary which Abou Zakariyah Yahyah-al-Tibrizi made upon those mighty poems chanted before Islam which are called _Hamasah_,--a word signifying all that is stalwart and noble in a man,--and in the _Hamasah_ the place of the legend of Rabyah is in the second book, which is the 'Book of Dirges.' But the tale hath also been told by Al-Maidani, and by Abou Riyash; and it is likewise preserved in the great _Kitab-al-Aghanij_ or 'Book of Songs,' collected and written down by Abou I Faraj Al' Ispahani, who devoted fifty years alone to the study of the poems and the legends of the Desert Arabs of old.

Rabyah, son of Mokaddem, of the Beni-Firaz, was famed as the bravest and the strongest and the most generous of his tribe what time he lived, and he was celebrated as an escort. For from the day that he had, single-handed, as a very young man, successfully defended his bride, Raytah, against the horsemen of the Beni-Djoucham on a foray, the women deemed it no little honor to have Rabyah as their escort. And no woman ever intrusted herself to the protection of Rabyah for a journey to whom any mishap befell while he remained with her.

Now on the day of his death Rabyah was escorting a caravan of women through the country of the Beni-Sulaim, and he was the only horseman with them. For though there had been blood between the Beni-Firaz and the Beni-Sulaim, the price of blood had been paid, and it was thought peace had been brought about. And the mother and sister of Rabyah were with the caravan.

And all that land was yellow and dry as long-dead bone; and it was strewn with great stones that seemed to have been rained down from heaven with fire, so seared and so blackened they were. And the pass leading to their own country--the Pass of Ghazal--was still far off when Rabyah, looking back, saw a distant rising of dust, like the smoke of a fire newly kindled. Now Rabyah rode upon his favorite gray mare, Ghezala, whom no desert steed might ever overtake, but he rode slowly for the sake of the women, who were mounted upon camels.

So he drew rein, and gazed at the dust cloud, and perceived a gleam break through it, and another, and another, and many glimmerings--a lightning of lances. And looking a little while longer, he could discern a company of men in helms of iron and shirts of mail, riding upon lean black horses; and as they sped swiftly he knew the helm of the horsemen that led them--Nubaishah, of whom it was said that Death, the Mother of Vultures, ever rode with him.

Then Rabyah spurred in haste after the women, and urged on faster the toiling camels, and said unto his mother: 'There is treachery, O mother! Lo! Nubaishah, the son of Habib, pursueth us with the wild men of Sulaim.' And even as he spoke, the far-off drum-roll of galloping hoofs brake heavily upon their ears through the hot and thirsty air.

And turning his mare round, Rabyah added: 'Haste ye toward the Pass, while I strive to hold them back; and I shall meet ye all at the Pass, to hold it so that ye can reach our tents and arouse the horsemen.'

And he rode to meet the wild men of Sulaim, while the women urged their beasts faster over the dusty path.

Then Rabyah's sister, Oumm 'Amr, cried out in fear, and those with her lamented, as they saw Rabyah ride back all alone. But his mother, Oumm Saiyar, chided them, saying:--

While there remaineth so much as one drop of blood in his veins, no son of mine will ever fail to do the deeds of a man and the duty of a man. Have no fear, ye foolish ones! when did Rabyah ever fail to protect a woman? How many such robbers as those hath he not harassed ere this, even as lizards in their desert holes are harassed with a stick? How many an enemy's corpse hath he not left to be devoured by the lions of the woods, by the ancient eagles of the hills? In how many encounters hath he not been hard pressed before--ay, even tightly pressed as the sandal strap between the toes of the wearer? Know ye not that my son is unto men as a beacon-light--ay, as the signal-fires that be lighted upon mountain-tops?'

Yet Rabyah's sister only would not be comforted, and she wept and said: Purely my brother hath never before been placed in any peril like unto this peril, for the men of Sulaim are many, and it hath ever been said of Nubaishah that Death, the Mother of Vultures, rides with him.'

But Oumm Saiyar answered her sharply: 1 He that feareth death, verily death shall End him, though he have a ladder long enough to climb to heaven upon. Better is death than shame! Fear rather for thine own honor, girl--urge on thy beast while Rabyah holds them back!'

Then Rabyah, alone, strove against all the swarm of Sulaim.

Now in Arabia there was no archer more skilful than Rabyah, and he bent his bow against the pursuers; and with his first shaft he pierced the throat of a son of Sulaim, so that the horseman died upon his horse, and with his second he nailed the thigh of another to the ribs of his animal, and with a third he shattered the sword-arm of the strongest Sulaimite; and seeing that it was Rabyah, the men of Sulaim fled from his archery; and he drove them back yet farther, sending his arrows humming like Djinns behind them. And when he had thus kept them back a good while, he turned and rode after the women again.

Then the men of Sulaim rode furiously in pursuit of him, and shot arrows after him in vain. For though all the black horses strove until they were sweating like well-filled water-skins in the great heat, only Nubaishah's stallion could follow after Rabyah's gray mare; and the gray mare's skin remained dry.

And so soon as Rabyah--after having urged on the toiling camels of the women still faster--turned once more and laid an arrow across his bow, the drum-beat of pursuing hoofs broke up into a sound of scraping and of stumbling, while the men of Sulaim scattered and drew back in dismay. And many times Rabyah thus checked them. Only Nubaishah, the son of Habib, ever sat firm upon his black stallion and faced the humming shaft, and dexterously avoided it or turned it from him with marvelous surety of eye and trueness of hand.

So, fleeing and turning, halting and proceeding, pursuers and pursued ever drew nearer to the jagged teeth of the western hills; and in the black-toothed line of them appeared the bright gap of the Pass of Ghazal, ever widening and brightening as they rode. And now the great stones upon the way made long black shadows over the plain; for the sun was setting before them. So they rode into the edge of the shadow of the hills, and Rabyah turned to make a last stand, and the pounding of the pursuing hoofs became a shuffling once again as the band of Sulaim drew rein in a cloud of dust. But now in Rabyah's quiver there were no more shafts.

Then Oumm Saiyar cried out to him from afar off: 'Sword and spear, son! Sword and spear for the women of the Beni-Firaz! Give them sword and spear for thy mother's sake, for thine own Raytah, who waiteth in the tent.'

And again and again did Rabyah charge them with spear and sword, scattering them even as a hawk scattereth quails. Only Nubaishah, the son of Habib, fled not, but yielded way cunningly to let him pass, and always thereafter circled menacing about him, like a vulture sweeping close to the sand.

And it happened at last that as Rabyah bore down upon a man of Sulaim, Nubaishah suddenly circled by him rapidly as a whirling wind, and thrust with his lance as he whirled, and the lance-blade burst its way through Rabyah's shirt of Persian mail and into his entrails.

And Nubaishah laughed, and drew back the blade of his wet spear between his stallion's ears, and smelled the odor of the blood upon it, and shouted, 'Thou hast thy death-wound, O Rabyah!' For never had swarthy Nubaishah lifted his spear against a man to slay him and failed in his purpose--so keen his eye, so subtle his hand.

But Rabyah, seeking to deceive him for the women's sake, shouted back with all the deep power of his voice, 'Thou liest in thy throat, Nubaishah!'

And Nubaishah laughed again, and shook his head in scorn, and circled away among his men.

Then Rabyah rode after the women swiftly, sitting firm as a tower despite his pain; and even at the Pass of Ghazal he came up with his mother, as he had promised, and he said to her, 'O mother, give me to drink! I have received my death-wound.'

And Oumm Saiyar looked upon the wound--a ghastly wound, that gaped even as the mouth of a camel with divided lip.

But she was of the race of eagles, and she answered him, tearlessly, 'Nay, my son, for if I give thee to drink now thou diest, and we would then be taken and put to shame, and while even one drop of blood lives in thy veins, O son of mine, thy duty remains to stand in defence of the weakness of woman and the honor of thy people. Turn back, son of Mokaddem! Turn and smite them while thy strength lasts, and bear the thirst for thy mother's sake; yet suffer me first to bind up thy wound.'

And while she strove to bind it with her veil--for that was all she had to bind it with--Rabyah murmured to her, 'O mother, the sons of Firaz have indeed lost him they were wont to call their battle-hawk--their deep-diving hawk of battle--him they held precious unto them as fire-shining gold. They have lost their darling horseman, O mother!'

But Oumm Saiyar said to him, as she knotted tightly the long veil about his wound: 'Son, are we not of mighty Thalabah's stock, and Malik's breed, whose daily lot is bereavement? Well hath it been said that among us no man dieth in his tent! What is the record of our race but an outpouring of ghosts from the clash of battle, even as the spark-flood's perpetual gush from the grinding of swords? Yet thou knowest that blood of ours is never shed without vengeance; and when one of us falleth, straightway another riseth up to do the deeds of a man--to help the weak, to strive with them that are mighty for evil. Bear thou the thirst for thy people's sake; turn now, O son, and smite them stoutly while thy strength endures.'

And Rabyah turned back again, while the women fled; and once more he scattered the band of Sulaim, and drove them before him, and held all the Pass. And he sat guarding the narrow way, upon his gray mare.

Then fell and died the day, in awful passion of fire, behind the Pass, and against the mighty glow, as in a flame, the horseman towered like a Djinn.

And the sons of Sulaim drew afar off, and watched Rabyah--as vultures wait and watch, pluming themselves, about the place where a lion lieth down to die. And because they would not again attack Rabyah, Nubaishah mocked them with rhymes piercing as the iron of lances. But they could not be moved to approach him; and Nubaishah foamed at the mouth like a camel that hath eaten bitter herbs.... And the night came.

But Rabyah, remaining in the shadow of the Pass, felt that his ghost was about to depart from him. And bending to the ear of his slim gray mare, he whispered unto her, softly, 'Stand thou still, darling; stand still as a stone for the love of me!' Then he pressed the foot of his long spear into the ground, even as he sat upon her, and leaned upon it.

And in the darkness his ghost went out from him.

But ever, as a king sitteth upon his throne, so Rabyah sat upon his mare; and ever the gray mare stood still as a stone for the love of him.

Over the black desert of the sky slowly moved the long white caravan of the stars; and the night waned. But dead Rabyah still sat upon his mare; and the beautiful mare stood as a graven image standeth, for the love of him.

Until the cheek of the morning reddened, as for shame; and Nubaishah saw that Rabyah's head drooped, as though he slept upon his mare.

Then Nubaishah called unto him an archer of Khuzaah, a mighty man to bend the bow; and he asked the archer, 'Hast thou an arrow left, my son?'

And the man looked to where Rabyah was, and replied, fearfully, 'One only--and it is for my life.'

But Nubaishah said: 'Thy life is safe now. Shoot the arrow, my son; shoot at the gray mare.'

And the mare saw the arrow coming, and leaped aside; and Rabyah fell upon his face. Then, for the first time, all the men of Sulaim knew that he was dead; and they sent up a great shout.

And they went up to where he lay, and looked upon him, and wondered, and they spoiled him of his helm and his broken shirt of mail, and his lance and sword, and his sandals. But the mare had fled toward the tents of the Beni-Firaz, and none might overtake her.

And swart Nubaishah muttered: 'There was no other like him among the men of Firaz. I almost repent me to have slain him.'

And a wild man of Sulaim, marveling, smote the foot of his spear into the dead man's eye, and cried aloud, in the uncouthness of his admiration, 'God curse thee!-a man who defendeth his women even after he is dead!'

But Oumm Saiyar and the women had reached the tents of the Beni-Firaz, and aroused the tribe. And the best men of the camp sprung to horse in haste, and rode fiercely to the Pass of Ghazal; but they only found Rabyah lying there, naked and dead, and the vultures circling above him. And leaving him there, they pursued so furiously after the sons of Sulaim that the long way smoked beneath them; yet they could not overtake them.

So they rode back to where Rabyah lay, and they buried him there, with great mourning, in the place of his last and greatest deed. And they built above him a hill of black stones to mark the spot, and in the midst thereof, at the summit, they set up a great white stone, shaped like the back of a camel.

And never thereafter--until the days of the Prophet--did any Arab of any tribe pass that way who did not sacrifice a camel in honor of the valiant one who had defended his women even after he was dead. (Except, indeed, Hafs, son of Al-Ahnaf, who, having but one camel, could not make the sacrifice; but he composed an immortal poem in honor of Rabyah, and his verses are still in the mouths of the Arabian people.)

And never a son of Firaz passed that way to war who did not cry out unto Rabyah: '_La tab'adan!_ Abide with us! Be with us this day, O Rabyah!'

And after Islam, not less than in the Days of Ignorance, the wives of the desert horsemen prayed they might become mothers of brave tall boys worthy to bear Rabyah's name.

And whenever, in time of foray, or in days of ill fortune of war, or amid the ghastly perils of desert travel, women found themselves face to face with the fear of shame, they would cry out the name of him upon whom no woman had ever called vainly in those wild, dark days before Islam.

And Islam itself, spreading like a holy fire east and west, two hundred days' journey from India to the Sea of Darkness, bore abroad his name, and flashed it far into the black South, making it known unto the blue-eyed Touareg, whose camels dance to the sound of music--making it known even to those swart sultans whose domains do border upon the unknown lakes of Afrikia.

And these are some of the verses that were composed in that long rolling measure which is called _Kamil_, before the sepulchre of Rabyah, by the poet Hafs, the son of Al-Ahnaf:--

Bide with us still, Rabyah, son of Mokaddem, near!

May the clouds of dawn keep green thy grave with unfailing showers....

My camel fled when she spied the cairn on the stony waste,

Built over one who was free of hand, most quick to give.

Start not, O camel! for sure no shape to be shunned was he--

A carouser mirthful, a mighty stirrer of battle-flame.

Long is my way, and the thirsty desert before me lies,

Else here for thee she had fallen, butchered to feast thy friends.[1]

[Footnote 1: C. J. Lyall's version, as given in his admirable _Translations of Ancient Arabian Poetry_ (London: 1885).]