CHAPTER XVIII.

MEHER AND MŪSHTERI—CONTINUED.

THE EXILES—THE DESERT—A SHIPWRECK—THE RESCUE—THE CAPTURE.

Mūshteri and his solitary companion passed out of the city by the light of the morning sun on the day after their release, for except a few faithful friends there were none who cared whither the victims of the Shāh’s displeasure might go, as long as they obeyed the royal edict.

The sorrowful exiles rode slowly onward, all unmindful of the beauty of the morning, which was gilding with glory the crowns of the palm-trees. They were leaving behind them all that they held most dear, and going forth into the world with no provision for the future, save the little sum that the generous Behzād had been able to provide.

Merely to gratify the unreasonable whim of a royal autocrat, they were thus banished from home and friends, and with hearts full of bitterness they scarcely cared whither they went.

They had taken the road to Isfahān, but before they reached the city they saw in the distance an old gray castle which looked as if it had withstood the storms of centuries, and with half a mind to test the hospitality of the occupants, they reined their horses toward it. The castle gates were opened as if some kindly eye had noted their coming, but a little band of horsemen issued therefrom, and, fearing some unfriendly act, the travelers turned away. Their caution came too late, for in a moment more they were attacked and overpowered by the banditti, and being bound they were carried captive to the castle where they had hoped for a kindly reception.

Here they were robbed of every article of value upon their persons, and an order was issued for their execution; but behind the Persian hangings of the castle hall there were white hands moving nervously amidst the rich colors of silken embroidery, and a woman’s heart listened breathlessly to the cruel death sentence.

Then the beautiful wife of the chief went to her room, and sent a messenger into the council of the banditti with an urgent summons for the presence of her lord.

“How canst thou be so cruel?” she demanded with flashing eyes, “hast thou not robbed these illfated youths of every jewel upon their persons— nay hast thou not even taken the most costly articles from their wardrobes? Why shouldst thou add to thy guilt the crime of murder?” Half ashamed of his cruel decree, and wholly afraid of forfeiting the respect of his wife, the chieftain promised to commute their punishment, and hastily returning to the castle hall he demanded that the captives be taken to the desert and abandoned without food amidst its pitiless sands.

THE DESERT.

And thus it happened that Mūshteri and his faithful Bader found themselves alone and destitute in a desert where no caravans might pass for many months—where no palm-tree lifted its plumes in the distance, to tell of the spring in the oasis beneath its feet. The evening was cool and restful, even in the desert, and the exiles slept, for their lives were spared, and though their chance was small, it was surely better than certain death.

But the sun arose as if in anger, and as it climbed higher and higher the air became hot as that crimson haze, by which the prostrate caravan is often buried in the red desert, when the simoon is abroad on its mission of death. They wandered hopelessly, looking in vain for some sign of an oasis, until overpowered by the intense heat, Mūshteri, still weak from recent illness, fell upon the burning sand. Then Bader bent above him, trying to shield him from the pitiless sun as far as possible, by the shelter of his own body, and thus they remained until night came down again with its cooling shadows. They passed day after day in terrible suffering, until all hope of relief had fled, and they awaited the coming of death with hope rather than fear.

The faithful Bader was no longer able to shield his master with his own body, but lay helpless by his side, when the sun again came forth from the chambers of the east and began to beat upon them with apparently redoubled fury; but the boy raised his head to search once more the fiery horizon, and in the distance he seemed to see the figure of a camel. He wondered if the delirium of death was cheating him with a hope of deliverance, and he gazed until another seemed to appear behind the first; then he aroused Mūshteri by telling him of his great hope, and together they watched what seemed to be the slow coming of a caravan. After a time a long line of camels could be seen moving patiently and wearily over the heated sands, but they were not coming directly toward the exiles, and unless they could change their position considerably, the caravan must pass them far to the southward. With an effort they struggled to their feet, and Bader, who was still the stronger, partially supported Mūshteri, while they slowly and painfully traveled toward the line of the caravan’s march. They could now see that the camels were laden, apparently with goods, and it was probably some merchant’s expedition returning from a long journey.

They tried to call attention by waving their hands, but their efforts remained unnoticed, and Mūshteri sank once more with exhaustion. Bader could now see no hope of deliverance, but the master insisted that his attendant should push onward, leaving him to be rescued when the caravan had been reached; reluctantly he did so, and Mūshteri anxiously watched his friend as he slowly approached the line of march, trying with frantic gesture to attract their attention. Would he succeed, or must they die within the very sight of aid? At last the foremost camel turned his head, and courage revived the efforts of the man who was struggling toward him, while hope lighted the heart of the faint watcher upon the desert sands; but the camel turned away again and with long swinging step resumed his way to the southward—nay, he seemed to lengthen and quicken his pace, while his head pointed straight towards the horizon as if the wide nostrils were drinking in the welcome smell of water. A cloud had been gathering in the west, and when it floated over the blazing sun the soft shades of gray brought relief to the strained eye and a passing shelter from the fierceness of the heat. It seemed to give new life to Bader, and he struggled on with renewed hope, passing slowly over the long reaches of sand which were sometimes smooth as the beaten beach, and again were heaped together in long ridges like the drifted snow of a northern clime.

At last a driver turned his head, and fancied that he saw a dark object upon the pathless tract; he looked again, thinking there were signs of life, then he called to his companion, and the two drivers gazed until they were sure it was a man upon the desert waste; a halt was called, and then the course of the caravan was slightly changed, and the line bore down toward Bader. He was sure it was coming, and the reaction was so strong upon his exhausted frame that he fainted before it reached him, but onward came the great camels careening like ships on the sea of sand, swinging forward with long elastic tread; noiselessly they came, keeping the line so exactly that they all seemed to step in the very tracks of the leader. The exhausted man was taken up and a gurglet of skin containing water was brought from their stores, when the kindly leader sponged the face and hands of the exile; a little of the precious water was forced down his throat and then nature caught eagerly at the great restorative and he drank of the life-giving fluid.

The owner of the caravan was Mohiār, a Persian merchant, and he quickly ordered food for the sufferer; out of the strange baskets, closely woven from the fibers of the palm, they took dates and Syrian pomegranates, wine in gurglets of skin, and meats which were dried and smoked, but Bader, being unable to eat or to speak, was placed in a cot suspended by the side of a camel, and the caravan made ready to depart.

They had traveled a little way before the agonized man was enabled to tell them that his friend lay dying on the desert sands; then the line was turned again, and soon Mūshteri heard the tinkling bells fastened to the brazen chains of the camels; soon he saw their long slender necks and the scarlet fringe upon the bridle across their foreheads; he saw them, but in a dazed, indifferent way, as if it mattered little to him whence they came or whither they went. But in a moment more he was raised in strong arms, and water, life-giving water, passed over his face and was poured down his swollen throat. They were soon able to taste of refreshing fruits, and then the caravan moved on its course, carrying the exiles upon restful cushions, while above them was stretched a kindly shade. That night they rested beside a cool spring and beneath the trees of an oasis; the generous Mohiār ordered a stay of a few days at the feet of the cooling palms that his own men, and especially the weakened exiles, might become refreshed. They were then taken beyond the desert boundaries and generously entertained at the city of their host.

A SHIPWRECK.

Although in the care of hospitable friends they were still in the dominions of the Shāh, and liable at any moment to be apprehended and punished; therefore as soon as they were strong enough their host provided them with a little money, and with his own horses carried them down to the shores of the Caspian Sea, where a ship was standing in port, ready to start on a trading voyage to other lands.

Fearful of losing this opportunity they had traveled all the latter part of the night, and they stepped upon the deck of the merchant-ship in the early morning. After they had bidden their friends farewell, Mūshteri turned thoughtfully toward the soft green waves beyond him and said to his friend: “Surely here is a welcome change from the desert waste; the cooling breath of the water has a caressing touch, and the morning light is strewing the sea with opals.”

“Ah, yes!” replied Bader, “the sea hath no perils like the desert heat,— better the cooling wave, even though it wraps our dying limbs than the hot breath of the simoon, and a terrible death amidst the bleaching bones of perished caravans.”

Soon the order was given to raise the anchor, and with a merry shout the sailors sprang to their task; the ship drifted outward, slowly at first, and then as her sails caught the welcome breeze she sped over the waves like a thing of life.

The exiles felt that they were at last beyond the reach of the unreasonable monarch, beyond the reach of the Persian banditti, and far from the torrents of burning sand rolling before the desert winds, and they looked into each other’s eyes with renewed hope and gratitude. Day after day passed by in restful calm, but the water itself was an ever- changing picture to the loving eye of Mūshteri; the early morning found him always on the deck watching the waves and listening to the changing voices of the sea.

One night he sat alone at his favorite post, even the faithful Bader had grown weary and gone to his nightly rest, but Mūshteri was watching the evening star, that seemed to lie cool and dim in the moving water; the young moon was swinging high in the heavens, while her faint light touched the waves with silver and gleamed on the white wings of the night-birds. But a quick wind caught the sail and a cloud swept over the face of the moon, the sailors sprang to their posts and orders were hastily given. A storm was gathering in the eastern sky and soon the sails were reefed and the good ship was placed in readiness to ride out as best she could the coming peril.

The Persian youth had no thought now of leaving his post; if the sea had been beautiful in her peaceful sleep, how much grander was the picture when the storm-spirit swept her waves into a fury,—when the wind smote the rigging like the edge of a hissing spear and the breakers dashed angrily against the hull. As the danger grew more imminent he went below and aroused Bader, but even while they were coming on the deck he perceived that the storm was increasing in fury and the gale was driving the helpless ship before it.

They were at the mercy of the blast, and soon a fearful shock told the story of the good ship’s doom: she had struck a rocky coast and rapidly her timbers parted. The two exiles were thrown together into the water, but after a few minutes of struggling and swimming, Mūshteri caught a floating beam and at last succeeded in getting himself and Bader to this position of temporary safety. The storm still raged, but they clung to this their only hope of life, while the greater part of the passengers and crew were drowned around them.

At last the tempest had exhausted its fury; the winds moaned over the angry billows and the sorrowing sea-birds wept; the morning star gleamed behind the passing clouds, but it looked upon a scene of desolation. After striking the coast the ship had floated back in fragments, while here and there a human being clung to a portion of the wreck, but they were now too far from the shore to be able to reach it, and there was little hope that they would be seen and rescued. All day they tossed upon the waves—all day they looked anxiously for aid, but night came down without hope, and another morning found them still at the mercy of the waters. A beautiful land covered with stately trees lay like a mirage in the distance, but no friendly wave carried them to the shore.

THE RESCUE.

The king of Derbend was hunting on the coast, and the wild gor that he was pursuing ran close to the water’s edge, where he received the fatal arrow before the king’s suite had overtaken the royal rider. While the monarch waited the coming of his attendants he rested beneath a tree and looked out upon the waste of waters; there he saw fragments of the wreck, and looking more closely he fancied there were human beings beyond. When his suite came up he ordered a boat to be manned, and soon the victims of the storm were gathered upon his hospitable shore; they were chilled, exhausted, and some of them died even there beneath the friendly hands that strove to bring the life-tide back.

Mūshteri and his friend were among the survivors and they became the guests of the generous king, who soon learned their story and took them to his palace home not far from the shore.

Their way lay through the low lands, where the tall bamboos bristled like spears in the battle ranks, but afterward the road was shaded with green-plumed dates and bel-trees, gorgeous with their crimson blossoms. The palace itself was placed in gardens where the blossoms hung in silvery sprays on the mango-trees, and the many colored fountains played like broken rainbows in marble basins. Within those royal courts it was a maze of light and loveliness; music from pipe and lute was borne through the cool casement, and beautiful dancing girls seemed to float through the soft measures. In the whirl of these graceful motions one could see rings and pearls and emeralds shining everywhere, while round the white necks of the dancers hung necklaces of diamonds that glowed like fire in the light of many lamps.

Such was the scene that greeted the eyes of the exiles when, after being provided with food and raiment, they were ushered into the home of their newly-found friend, and the air of rest and luxury was most grateful to the exhausted travelers.

Long they tarried as the guests of their royal host, but the heart of Mūshteri was never at rest; he grieved for his lost friend, and not even the luxuries of a court could in any way atone for his absence. Grateful for the kindness of the king, he was still wasting away in very grief for the companion of his childhood; Bader sought in vain to cheer him, to divert his thoughts with the luxury everywhere around him, but Mūshteri was ever haunted by a conviction that somewhere, at sometime, the happy companionship would be renewed, and he seemed to live only in this great hope.

Persian traders were sometimes found even in the dominions of the king of Derbend, and when the news came to the court that the heir of the Persian throne had deserted his inheritance, Mūshteri determined to either find his friend or lose his life in the attempt.

No offer of the kindly king could tempt him to remain longer in idle luxury, and, still accompanied by the faithful Bader, he set out to cross the great mountain range that seemed to separate him from the rest of the world. Day after day they toiled over the rugged heights, and night after night they slept beside the sheltering rock; at last they had passed the summit, but the descent on the other side was scarcely less difficult and dangerous.

After a time however, they reached the beautiful valley lying at the foot of the range, and then it seemed that their toil was abundantly rewarded, for here were trees laden with fruit, and vines, which were burdened with clusters of gold and purple. Here were mango-trees and orange blossoms, while the river that flowed beside them seemed fragrant with the breath of her newly blown lilies.

Wearied with their long and tiresome journey, they made their simple couch in the shade of a great tree, and lay down to find refreshing slumber.

THE CAPTURE.

When the cool and malicious Behrām left the dominions of the Persian king, not only supplied with money but also in possession of a rich caravan, he cared very little whether or not he ever found the fugitive prince; but he determined to find a safe retreat for himself, where he could enjoy his ill-gotten gains, far from the hope of successful pursuit by the agents of the Shāh. He therefore pursued his way by a safe route and easy stages to a distant province.

His caravan encamped for the night a few miles out of the city of Khārizm; the heavy loads of merchandise were removed from the backs of the camels, and food was taken from the baskets of palm leaves, but finding the water of the river near them was somewhat foul, Behrām sent two slaves nearer to the fountain head of the stream for a supply. They walked slowly toward the foot of the mountain, where the stream gushed in a silvery torrent from the rocks, and soon they were in the beautiful valley of fruits and flowers, where Mūshteri and his faithful attendant had found repose. They gazed for a few moments upon the lovely scene, and quickly decided that if their master would consent to remove the camp, this would be a more desirable locality, as there was not only an abundance of pure water but also a bountiful supply of fruits. As they were turning however to go back, after having filled their leathern gurglets with water, one of them saw two men under a tree apparently asleep; fearing that they might be in the vicinity of a powerful foe, they approached cautiously to learn at least the nationality of their new neighbors. The wearied sleepers remained unconscious of their careful approach and after a time they came nearer; they had already discovered the men were Persians, and a closer scrutiny convinced them that the faces which they looked upon were none other than those of Mūshteri and Bader.

Hastening back to their master with this information, their message was received with incredulity, but nevertheless, Behrām made haste to go into the valley with eight of his strongest slaves, while the others remained with the camels and merchandise. When he saw that Mūshteri and Bader were really lying before him, his malignant eyes flashed with triumphant malice, and quickly giving a whispered order, the young exiles were partially bound, even before they wakened.

Being aroused by the handling of their captors, they found themselves utterly helpless in the power of their most dreaded foe, but even in this condition they scorned to ask for mercy which they knew would be denied them. Behrām ordered a slave to go back to the old encampment with the message that the camels and goods should be brought to the newly chosen ground, and when the campfires were lighted, the camels fed, and the wants of both master and slaves provided for, the beautiful valley witnessed a cruel scene.