CHAPTER XXXIX
ON, TO THE GOLDEN CITY!
The Spartan simplicity of the proceedings impressed the Master farmore than any Oriental ceremony could have done. Here was the Olema,or high priest and chief, of a huge city carved of virgin gold, comingto meet him on horseback and speaking to him face to face, like a man.
It was archaic, patriarchal, dramatic in the extreme. No incensedcourts, massed audiences, tapestried walls, trumpeting heralds,genuflexions, could have conveyed half the sense of free, virile powerthat this old Bara Miyan gave as he stood there on the close turf,under the ardent sun, and with a wave of his slim hand gave the order:
"The magic! To the testing of the magic!"
Thoroughly well pleased with progress thus far, the Master turned backto give final instructions to his men and to examine the apparatus.This was in perfect condition, all grouped with controls centered inone switchboard and focussing-apparatus so that Brodeur, in charge,could instantly execute any command.
Bara Miyan, clapping his hands again, summoned three horsemen whodismounted and came to him. By the emerald color of their head-filletsand jackets, as well as by their tonsure, the Master recognized themas mystics of the class known as _Sufis._
That he was about to face a redoubtable test could not be doubted.Long experience with Orientals had taught him the profundity of theirlegerdemain, practically none of which ever has been fathomed by whitemen. The Master realized that all his powers might be tried to theutmost to match and overcome the demonstration of the Jannati Shahrfolk.
While Bara Miyan stood talking to the three _Sufis_, the Master was ina low voice instructing his own men.
"Everything now depends on the outcome of the approaching contest,"said he. "These people, irrespective of what we show them, willprobably evince no surprise. If we allow any sign or word ofastonishment to escape us, no matter what they do, they will considerus beaten and we shall lose all. There must be no indication ofsurprise, among you. Remain impassive, at all costs!" He turned toBrodeur, and in French warned him:
"Remember the signals, now. One mistake on your part may cost mylife--more than that, the lives of all the Legion. Remember!"
"Count on me, my Captain!" affirmed Brodeur. The masked woman, comingto the Master's side, said also in French:
"I have one favor to ask of you!"
"Well, what?"
"Your life is worth everything, now. Mine, nothing. Let me subjectmyself--"
He waved her away, and making no answer, turned to the Olema.
"Hast thou, O Bara Miyan," he asked in a steady voice, "a swordsmanwho can with one blow split a man from crown to jaw?"
"Thou speakest to such a one, White Sheik!"
"Take, then, a simitar of the keenest, and cut me down!"
The old man turned, took from the hand of a horseman a long, curvedblade of razor-keenness and with a heavy back. The Master glancedsignificantly at Brodeur, who knelt by the switchboard with onesteady hand on a brass lever, the other on the control of a complexray-focussing device.
Toward Bara Miyan the Master advanced across the turf. He came close.For a moment the two men eyed each other silently.
"Strike, son of the Prophet!" cried the Master.
Up whirled the Olema's blade, flickering in the sun. The metallic_click_ of the brass switch synchronized with that sweep; Brodeurshifted the reflector by the fraction of a degree.
Bara Miyan's arm grew rigid, quivered a second, then dropped inert.From his paralyzed hand the simitar fell to the grass. Brodeur threwoff the ray; and the Master, unsmiling, stooped, picked up the bladeand with a salaam handed it back, hilt-first, to the old man.
Only with his left hand could Bara Miyan accept it. He spoke no word,neither did any murmur run through the massed horsemen. But the shadowof a deep astonishment could not quite veil itself in the profoundcaverns of the old man's eyes.
"Strike again, Bara Miyan," invited the Master. "The other arm,perhaps, may not have lost its cunning!"
The Olema shook his head.
"No, by Allah!" he replied. "I know thy magic can numb the flesh, andit is a good magic. It is strong. But by the rising of the stars--andthat is a great oath--the bullets of our long rifles can pierce thineunbelieving body!"
"Then bring six of thy best riflemen and station them a dozenpaces from me," the Master challenged. "Let them look well to theircartridges. It is not I who load the guns with bullets made ofsoft black-lead, as the _Effendi_ Robert-Houdin did long ago to theconfusion of the Marabouts in Algeria. No, let thy men load theirown rifles. But," and his voice grew mocking, "let their aim be good.Death is nothing, O Bara Miyan, but clumsy shooting means much pain."
His tone galled the aged Sheik, despite that impassive exterior. BaraMiyan beckoned, and with a command brought six riflemen from theirhorses.
"Load well, and shoot me this Frank!" exclaimed the Olema. A fire wasburning in his eyes.
"_Aywa_!" (Even so!) replied one of the riflemen. "Allah will make iteasy for us!"
"Have no fear, Bara Miyan," another said. "Not so easily shall El Kisa(the People of the Garment) be overcome by the Feringi!"
Tension held Arabs and Legionaries, alike. All remained calm, thoughhad you watched "Captain Alden," you would have seen her fingerstwisting together till the blood almost started through the skin.
The Master walked a few paces, turned and faced the squad.
"Ready, men of Jannati Shahr?" asked he, with a smile.
"We are ready, Unbeliever!"
"Then fire!"
Up came the rifles. Brodeur turned a knurled disk, and from one of theboxes on the grass a sudden, whining hum arose, like millions of angryhornets.
"_Fire_!" repeated the Master.
Six rifle-hammers fell with dull clicks. Nothing more.
The Master smiled in mockery.
"O Bara Miyan," said he, "let thy men reload and fire again! Perhapsthe sweat of a great anxiety hath wet their powder!"
"Thou must indeed be _Khalil Allah_" (a friend of Allah), he admitted."No doubt thou art a great _caid_ in thy own country. It is strongmagic, Frank. But now behold what mine _imams_ can do!"
The riflemen, disgruntled but still, Arab-like, holding theirimpassivity, returned to their horses and mounted again. At anothercall of Bara Miyan, three _imams_ came from among the horsemen. Theywere dressed alike, in brilliant saffron _gandouras_, with embroideredmuslin turbans from under which hung _daliks_, or sacred plaits ofhair; and each carried a plain white cloth in his hand.
In complete silence they showed the Legionaries both sides of thesecloths, then spread them on the grass. In not more than two minutes,a slight fluttering became visible. This increased and grew moreagitated. One by one, the _imams_ gathered up the cloths, opened themand exhibited three bluish-black birds with vivid scarlet crests.
The Master nodded.
"It is an old trick," said he, indifferently. "I have seen hawks,much larger, come from under smaller cloths even in the great _suk_(market-place) at Cairo."
Bara Miyan made no answer. The _imams_ drew knives from their belts ofplaited goat-hide, and without more ado severed the birds' heads.
This the Legionaries saw with perfect distinctness. The blood onthe feathers was entirely visible. The bodies quivered. Calmly the_imams_, with reddened hands, now cut wings and legs from the bodies.They laid these dead fragments on the blood-stained cloths in front ofthem.
"Let every Frank behold!" exclaimed the Olema. The Legionaries drewnear. The _imams_ gathered up the fragments in the cloths.
"Now," said the Master, "thine _imams_ will toss these cloths in theair, and three whole birds will fly away. The cloths will fall toearth, white as snow. Is that not thy magic?"
Bara Miyan glowered at him with evil eyes. Not yet had hisself-control been lost; but this mocking of the unbeliever had kindledwrath. The Master, however, wise in the psychology of the Arab, onlylaughed.
"This is very old magic," said he. "It is told of in the secondc
hapter of Al Koran, entitled 'The Cow;' only when Ibrahim did thismagic he used four birds. Well, Bara Miyan, command thine _imams_ todo this ancient magic!"
The sharp click of a switch on the control-board sounded as the imamspicked up the little, red-dripping bundles. Silently they threw theseinto the air and--all three dropped back to earth again, just as theyhad risen.
A growl burst, involuntarily, from the Olema's corded throat. Thegrowl echoed through the massed horsemen. Bara Miyan's hand went tothe butt of his pistol, half glimpsed under his jacket. That handfell, numb.
"Look, O Sheik!" exclaimed the Master, pointing. The Olema turned;and there on the highest minaret of gold, the green flag had begunsmoldering. As Brodeur adjusted his ray-focusser, the banner of theProphet burst into bright flame, and went up in a puff of fire.
Only by setting teeth into his lip could the Sheik repress a cry. Darkof face, he turned to the Master. Smiling, the Master asked:
"Perhaps now, O Bara Miyan, thou wouldst ask thine _imams_ to planta date-stone, and make it in a few minutes bear fruit, even as theProphet himself did? Try, if thou hast better fortune than with thebirds! But have care not to be led into committing sin, as with thesebirds--for remember, thou hast shed blood and life hath not returnedagain, and El Barr is sacred from the shedding of blood!"
His tone was well calculated to make the lesson sink well to theOlema's heart--a valuable lesson for the Legion's welfare. But theOlema only replied:
"The blood of believers is meant. Not of animals--or Franks!"
"And wilt thou make further trial with me?" demanded the Master.
"No, by the Prophet! It is enough!" The Master's soul warmed towardthe honesty of this bluff old Arab. "Thy magic is good magic. Give methy salt, Frank, and take mine!"
The Master signaled to Brodeur as he drew forth his bag of salt. Hestretched it out in his open palm; and all at once, bag, hand, and armup to the elbow enveloped themselves in a whirling mist and vanishedfrom sight, even as the Master's whole body had vanished in the cabinwhen Leclair had tried to arrest him.
The Sheik's eyes grew white-rimmed with astonishment. Vaguely hegroped for the Frank's hand, then let his own fall limp.
"_Allahu akbar!_" he gasped.
The Master nodded at Brodeur. The droning of the apparatus ceased, andagain the hand became visible.
"Faith!" the major's voice was heard. "We've landed half a dozen homeruns, and they've never even got to second!"
"Come, O Bara Miyan!" the Master smiled. "Now we will put away thethings of magic, and talk the words of men. Here is my salt!"
The Sheik gingerly accepted a pinch, and with much misgiving put itinto his mouth. He produced salt of his own, which the Master tasted.
"It is done," said the Master. "Now thou and I are _akhawat. Nahnumalihin._" (We have eaten salt.)
"But only from this mid-day till noon of the morrow," the Olemaqualified the bond.
"Even so! Remember, though, that the salt is now in the stomachs ofall thy people, both here and in the city, as it is in the stomachs ofall my men!"
"I will remember."
"And now, O Bara Miyan, I will show thee the very great gifts that Ihave brought thee!"
The Olema nodded, in silence. A great dejection held him and his men.The Master dispatched half a dozen men for the Myzab and the BlackStone, also for three sticks of a new explosive he had developed onthe run from the Sahara. This explosive, he calculated, was 2.75 timesmore powerful than TNT.
"Men," said he to the remaining Legionaries, "be ready now foranything. If they show fight, when they realize we have touched thesacred things of Islam, let them have it to the limit. If the saltholds them, observe the strictest propriety.
"Some of us may go into the city. Let no man have any traffic withwine or women. If we commit no blunder, in less than twenty-four hourswe shall be far away, each of us many times a millionaire. Watch yourstep!"
The six men returned, carrying the blanket that contained the sacredthings. At the Master's command, they laid the heavy bundle on thegrass before the Olema and his beaten men.
"Behold!" cried the Master. "Gifts without price or calculation! Holygifts rescued from unworthy hands, to be delivered into the hands ofTrue Believers!"
And with swift gestures he flung back the enveloping folds of theblanket, as if only he, the Master, could do this thing. Then, as theMyzab and the Stone appeared, he drew from his pocket the Great PearlStar, and laid that also on the cloth, crying in a loud voice:
"O, Bara Miyan, and people of Jannati Shahr, behold!"
An hour from that time, the Master and seventeen of the Legionarieswere on their way to the City of Gold.
The stupefaction of the Arabs, their prostrations, cries, prayerswould delay us far too long, in the telling. But the Oath of the Salthad held; and now reward seemed very near.
There could be no doubt, the Master reflected as he and his mengalloped on the horses that had been assigned to them, with thewhite-robed and now silent horde, that the reward--in the form ofexchange gifts--would be practically anything the Legionaries mightask and be able to carry away.
Treachery was now not greatly to be feared. Even had the salt notheld, fear of the explosive would restrain any hostile move. One stickof the new compound, exploded at a safe distance by wireless spark,had utterly demolished the stone which had been brought from thewatercourse.
The plain statement given Bara Miyan that the Myzab and the BlackStone must be left on the grass until the Feringi had again flown awaytoward their own country, had duly impressed the Arabs. They had seentwo sticks of the explosive laid on the holy objects, and well hadunderstood that any treachery would result in the annihilation of themost sacred objects of their faith.
The Master felt, as well he might, that he absolutely held the whiphand of the Jannati Shahr people. Elation shone in his face and in thefaces of all. The problem now had simplified itself to just this:What weight of jewels and of gold could _Nissr_, by jettisoning everydispensable thing, whatsoever, carry out of El Barr, over the IronMountains and the Arabian Desert, back to the civilization that wouldsurely make peace with the Legion which would bring such incalculablewealth?
Even the Master's level head swam a little, and his cool nervestingled, as he sat on his galloping white horse, riding beside theOlema, with the thunder of the rushing squadrons--Arabs and his ownmen--like music of vast power in his ears.
He did not, however, lose the coldly analytic faculty that weighedall contingencies. The adventure still was critical; but the scalesof success seemed lowering in favor of the Legion. The feel, in hisbreast pocket, of the leather sack containing Kaukab el Durri, whichhe had again taken possession of after the magic tests, gave addedencouragement. This, the third gift, was to be delivered only at thelast moment, just before _Nissr_ should roar aloft.
"I think," reflected the Master, "the Pearl Star is an importantfactor. It certainly will put the final seal of success on thisextraordinary bargain."
While his thoughts were busy with the pros and cons of thesoul-shaking adventure now coming to its climax, his eyes were busywith the city wall and towers every moment closer, closer still.
The Master's knowledge of geology gave him the key to the otherwiseinexplicable character of Jannati Shahr. This gold, in incrediblemasses, had not been mined and brought hither to be fashioned into agreat city.
Quite the contrary, it formed part of the cliffs and black mountainsthemselves. Some stupendous volcanic upheaval of the remote past hadcleft the mountain wall, and had extruded through the "fault" a huge"dyke" of virgin metal--to use technical terms. This golden dyke, twoand a half to three miles wide and of undeterminable length anddepth, had merely been formed by strong, cunning hands into walls,battlements, houses, mosques, and minarets.
It had been carved out _in situ_, the soft metal being fashioned withelaborate skill and long patience. Jannati Shahr seemed, on a largerscale and a vastly more magnificent plan, something like the hiddenrock-city of Pet
ra in the mountains of Edom--a city wholly carved bythe Edomites out of the solid granite, without a single stone havingbeen laid in mortar.
Wonderful beyond all words as the early afternoon sun gleamed fromits broad-flung golden terraces and mighty walls--whereon uncountedthousands of white figures had massed themselves--the "Very HeavenlyCity" widened to the Legionaries' gaze.
On, up the last slope of the grassy plain the rushing horsemen bore.Into a broad, paved way they thundered, and so up, on, toward thegreat gate of virgin gold now waiting to receive them.
Flying Legion Page 39