by Ruskin Bond
There was only a dim light in the hall, so that Blue Beard could not see her trembling condition; and if, when she greeted him, he felt that her body was quaking, he was fond enough to put it down to joy at his unexpected return. And Fatima, taking cover in this, behaved in an excited manner, like one so delighted to see her husband back again that she did not know what she was doing. She ran hither and thither, ordering this and that to be done, and then countermanding the orders, doing this or that herself, and then immediately undoing it again—behaving, in short, like one demented with excitement, until Blue Beard smiled and stroked his beard, and thought she was a wonderful little bundle of delight.
And so, through such artfulness long sustained, it transpired that the question of the keys did not arise all that night, nor, indeed, until late the following day, when, as ominous as a thunderclap, came a summons from Blue Beard that Fatima should attend him immediately on the terrace. With a wildly beating heart she hastened to answer the summons.
'I want my keys,' he said in the usual manner of a man. 'Where are they?'
'The keys?—Oh yes, the keys. I—I will go and fetch them immediately.'
Fatima ran off, and you can imagine her thoughts and feelings as she went. Blue Beard remained—he was always a grim figure—standing as she had left him—just waiting: his thoughts and feelings were in his beard.
Presently Fatima returned, purposely out of breath in order to hide whatever confusion she might feel, and handed the bunch of keys to her husband. He took them without a word, looked at them carefully, and then slowly turned his eyes upon her.
'The key of the room at the end of the corridor,' he said grimly, 'it is not here: where is it?'
'The key of the—Oh, you mean the key of the—'
'I mean the key of the—; yes, that's what I mean. Where is it?'
'Oh! I remember now. You said I was not to use it; so, to make sure, I took it off the bunch and put it away in a drawer of my dressing-table. I will run and fetch it.'
'Do,' said Blue Beard, and, while she ran off, he stood there looking for all the world like a blue thundercloud before the lightning comes.
Once out of sight Fatima paused to collect her wits. Then, having made up her mind, she ran twice up and down stairs, and finally rejoined her husband, panting heavily.
'It is not there,' she cried in dismay. 'I put it in my jewel case,—of that I'm sure—but now it's gone. Who can have taken it?'
'Go look again,' replied Blue Beard, dangerously calm.
She ran away again, and again came running back. 'No,' she said, 'it is not there. Who can have—?'
'Silence, madam!' broke in Blue Beard. 'That was no ordinary key; and something tells me it is in your bosom now.' And, with this, he gathered her shrinking form in his rough arm, and with a rougher hand searched for, and found—the key!
'So!' he said. 'You lied to me. And—what is this? How came this blood upon the key?'
Fatima was very pale, and trembling like an aspen leaf. 'I do not know,' she replied. 'Perhaps—'
'Perhaps nothing!' roared Blue Beard in a terrible voice. 'Madam! Your face tells me you are guilty. You have presumed to disobey me; to enter that room at the end of the corridor. Yes, madam; and, since you would sooner indulge your fancy for that room than obey my commands, you shall go there and stay as long as you like. Seven and one are eight, madam!'
'Mercy! Mercy!' cried Fatima, flinging herself at Blue Beard's feet. 'Do what you will with me, but do not put me in that room.'
She looked up sobbing, imploring his forgiveness; and, if a woman's beauty in despair could have melted a heart of stone, the sight of her would have melted his. But it will not astonish you to know that his heart was as flinty as his beard was blue, and Fatima realised this as she looked again at his terrible face.
'I have said it, madam,' he replied to her pleadings. 'None can disobey me and live. Prepare, then, for death.'
'Then,' said she, her imploring eyes brimming with tears, 'you will give me a little time to prepare? If I must die, I must say my prayers.'
Ten minutes will suffice for that. Not a second more.'
Fatima hurried away towards her own room, but on the way she met her sister Anne, who was looking for her.
'Oh! Dear Anne,' sobbed Fatima, as she embraced her sister, 'ask me no questions; there is no time. My husband has returned, and, because I disobeyed him, he has threatened to kill me. Oh! where are my brothers? If they were only here!'
'They are on the way hither,' said Anne quickly. 'They were delayed, but promised to follow me very soon.'
'Then run, dear sister, if you love me; run to the top of the tower, and, if you can see them coming, make a sign to them to hasten; for in ten minutes I must die.'
Quickly Anne ran up and up until she reached the roof of the tower; and Fatima, standing at the foot, called up to her, 'Sister Anne! Dear sister Anne! Do you see any one coming?'
And Anne answered her: 'I see naught but dust a-blowing, naught but the green grass growing.'
Presently Fatima called up again: 'Sister Anne, can you see no one coming?'
'Nay, I see naught but dust a-blowing, naught but the green grass growing.'
Fatima, in despair, continued to call again and again, but always the same answer came down from the roof of the tower. And so the ten minutes ran out, and Fatima wrung her hands and groaned.
Meanwhile, Blue Beard, having sharpened his sword, was trying its edge on the greensward of the terrace below. Fully satisfied with it, he strode into the house, and, standing at the foot of the stairs, shouted, 'Madam, your time is up. Come down at once!'
'One moment—just one moment,' she replied, then called softly to her sister: 'Anne, sister Anne, do you see any one coming?'
'Nay, naught but dust a-blowing, naught but the green grass growing.'
'Madam,' roared Blue Beard, 'if you do not come down quickly, I will come up and drag you down.'
'I am coming,' she replied; and again she called softly to Anne: 'Sister Anne, do you see any one coming?'
'Sister, I see a great cloud of dust.'
'Raised by galloping horses?'
'Alas! Nay, it is but a flock of sheep.'
'Will you come down?' bellowed Blue Beard, 'Or by—'
'I am coming in another moment.' Then to Anne: 'Sister Anne, can you see anybody coming?'
'Yonder I see—God be praised—I see two knights in armour, riding fast. … Yes, they are my brothers. … I am waving my kerchief to them. … They see me. … They spur and hasten. … Sister, they will soon be here.'
Then Blue Beard stamped his foot and roared out so terribly that he made the whole house tremble. At this his poor wife, wholly fascinated by terror, crept down to her doom. Her face was stained with tears, her long hair was dishevelled; she flung herself at his feet and besought him to take pity on her.
'Pity!' he thundered, 'I have no pity. You must die!' He seized her by the hair and twisted her head back to expose her beautiful throat; then, flourishing his sword, he went on: This is my last word on the abominable crime of curiosity as practised by women. By that detestable vice misfortune and grief came into the world, and we owe our present state of evil to the first woman, whose daughters greatly resemble her in that peculiar gift of prying into matters forbidden. …' And so he continued to harangue his poor wife, grasping her hair with one hand while he flourished his great sword with the other.
When at length he paused for want of words to describe the horrible crime he was about to meet with punishment, Fatima wailed, 'O sir! wilt thou punish me before I have recommended myself to Heaven? One moment, I implore thee, while I turn my soul to God.'
'Nay, thy prayers are said.' And he raised his sword to strike. But the sword remained in air, as Blue Beard, startled by a loud battering at the gate, turned his head. Then, as the gate was burst in, and two knights came running with drawn swords, he loosed his hold upon Fatima, who sank in a huddled heap like one already dead. Turning quickly
, Blue Beard fled, but the two brothers were hot upon his heels; and, after a rapid chase through the house and garden, they came up with him just as he reached the steps of the main porch. There they ran their swords through and through his body, and left him dead in a pool of blood.
When Fatima opened her eyes and saw her two brothers and her sister Anne bending over her, she thanked Heaven for her deliverance. With a sword all dripping red, one brother pointed towards the porch, and Fatima gave a deep sigh of relief. She knew, and was satisfied to know, she was a widow.
Now, as Blue Beard had no children by any of his wives, his sole surviving wife became mistress of all that had been his. All his vast estates and treasures came into her possession, and she was young and beautiful into the bargain. The first thing she did was to purchase commissions for her two brothers in the army; next, she bestowed a splendid estate and a large sum of money upon her sister Anne as a wedding present on the occasion of her marrying the young man of her choice. Then Fatima fell in love with, and married, a worthy gentleman who adored her, and these two lived out their lives in one continuous hour of happiness.
His beard was black, and, when at length it grew grey, and then silvery white, she only loved him all the more. Even in the first year of her marriage she had quite forgotten the dark cloud cast upon her early life by that terrible man, Blue Beard; and ever afterwards she never had the slightest cause or reason to remember him.
THE GREEN MAN OF SINAI
A Tale from Ancient Egypt
The desert of Sinai is haunted by a little old man, who may often be seen wandering among the sand-hills and across the bare limestone ridges. He is usually met with in the grey twilight, when camels are tethered and tents are set up, and fires are lit to cook the evening meal. Nobody ever speaks to him, and he never speaks to anyone, but when he comes near a camp he may gaze wistfully at it as he passes by. If a child should ask, 'Who is that little old man?' an Arab will answer, 'It is only El Kedir, the Wanderer, a poor old man who will never do anyone harm.'
And if a child should then say: 'Why is he walking past the camp when night is coming on? Why does he not come and ask for food and a bed?' the Arab will answer: 'He never eats and he never sleeps. He is always searching for what he will never find, and he takes no rest by day or by night.'
'Is he a spirit?' a child may ask.
'No, he is not a spirit; he is only a very old man.'
When the evening meal is eaten, and before children are put to bed in the little Arab tents, the story of El Kedir is sure to be told to those who have seen the strange old man for the first time.
'Now, hear the story of the Wanderer,' an Arab will say when the children gather round him in the light of the camp fire. 'I heard it long ago from my father, as my father heard it from his father. El Kedir has been wandering about in the desert for hundreds of years. No one knows rightly how old he is. Once upon a time he was a merchant in Mecca. He was a dealer in precious stones, and became very rich. It worried him very much to think that some day he must die and leave all his riches behind him. He read old books which tell of magic charms, and of herbs that help to prolong life and cure diseases, and he came to know that somewhere in the world there is a fountain called the Well of Life. He spoke to the priests and magicians about this wonderful well, and they told him that anyone who drank of its water would never die.
Said El Kedir: "Where is this Well of Life? I would fain drink of the water, because I fear death."
A wise old priest made answer, saying: "The Well of Life is in a far distant land. To reach it one must cross wide deserts and climb high mountains, which are infested with wild beasts. Beyond the mountains is a river full of crocodiles, and beyond the river is a deep forest, and beyond the forest is a high cliff which no man can climb. In the face of the cliff there is a cave, and the cave leads to the country of the Well of Life. The passage through the cliff is very long and very dark. It is also dangerous, because serpents and other reptiles swarm among the rocks, waiting to devour any man who dares to seek for the Well of Life. The reptiles can see in the darkness, and they fear light, because light blinds them."
Said El Kedir: "Can a man not carry a torch to guide himself through the dark passage?'
The wise old priest shook his head. "The passage is very long. If a man walks very quickly he cannot get through it in less time than a day and a night. No torch will keep burning for that length of time. Besides, blasts of wind sweep through the passage now and again, and these will blow out a torch, and before one can relight it the reptiles will attack the man who has dared to enter their dwelling-place."
El Kedir's heart was sad when he heard of the perils of the dark passage, and he returned home to think out a plan which would enable him to get a draught of water from the Well of Life.
Next day he spoke to several men, and offered them much money if they would set out in search of the well, but no one dared to do so.
A year went past, and then a stranger came to El Kedir's house. He spoke to the merchant, saying: "I have a jewel to sell. Will you buy it from me?"
Said El Kedir: "No. I have more jewels than I know what to do with."
"But this jewel," the stranger said, "is unlike any other jewel in the world."
Said the merchant: "Show it to me."
The stranger opened his right hand, in which lay a small bright stone.
Said El Kedir: "Your jewel is not worth very much. I have many precious stones which are more costly and more beautiful."
The stranger closed his hand. "Darken the window," he said, "and then you will know something about this wonderful jewel."
El Kedir drew a thick curtain across the window, and the room was then as dark as if it were midnight.
"Now, show me the jewel again," he said.
The stranger opened his hand and revealed the jewel, which shone so brightly that the room was lit up as if the sun were still shining through the window.
El Kedir cried out with surprise. "I have never before seen so bright a gem," he said. "Where did you find it?"
'I cannot tell you," answered the stranger, "but I did not steal it. This bright stone is called Light in Darkness, and also Adam's Jewel, because it was found by our first father, Adam, in the Garden of Eden. Will you buy it from me?"
El Kedir was thinking of the Well of Life, and said: "Will this jewel shine in the darkest cave, and lead me through the passage to the land of the Well of Life?"
The stranger answered, saying: "Yes. The jewel will light up the darkest of places, and its light will never go out. It will also protect the man who owns it against all perils. No wild beast will attack him and no reptile will sting him, and when he is in need the jewel will cause the jinn to serve him when he needs their help."
Said El Kedir: "What price do you ask for this jewel?"
The stranger drew aside the dark window curtain, so that the sunshine might stream into the room. Then he sat down and laid the jewel on a little table. "It is priceless," he said. "If a king asked me what I wanted for it, I would ask for his kingdom."
"Alas!" El Kedir said, "I am not as rich as a king."
Said the stranger: "Although you have not a kingdom to offer me in exchange for the jewel, yet you have great wealth. I shall give you Light in Darkness on condition that you give me in return all that you now possess—your house, your land, your slaves, your jewels, your gold, your silver, your ivory ornaments, and your ornaments of ebony."
El Kedir heaved a deep sigh. "If I give you all I possess," he said, "I shall be a beggar."
Said the stranger: "Ah, no! You will not be a beggar. You will be the richest man in the world, because you will possess Adam's Jewel."
El Kedir said: "I will give you half of my possessions for this precious stone."
The stranger rose to his feet as if to leave.
"You are not going away, surely," the merchant said.
"If you will not agree to my terms, I must certainly go at once," replied the other very
firmly. "Listen to me. I will give you this jewel now on condition that you walk out of the house and leave me as master and owner of it. Not only must you leave the house, you must leave Mecca, and set out on your journey to find the Well of Life. What is your answer? Will you go now, or must I go away?"
"Give me a night to think it over," El Kedir pleaded.
"No," said the stranger; "I have not time to spare. You must say yea or nay now. What is your answer?"
As he spoke he opened his hand and displayed the gleaming jewel.
"It is priceless," said El Kedir.
The stranger nodded.
El Kedir seized the jewel, and said: "I agree to the bargain. I shall set out on my journey now. But tell me in what direction I must go."
"The jewel will lead you," the stranger said. "Now go away. I am master and owner of this house." He frowned and stamped his foot.
El Kedir was startled. He realized all at once that he had parted with everything he possessed, and he fled from the house and made his way towards the western gate of the city. As he passed through the streets many people saluted him, but he took no notice of their salutations.
"Has El Kedir gone mad?" men asked one another.
El Kedir himself wondered if he was in his right mind as he passed through the western gate and set out to cross the desert. He wandered on and on, not knowing whither he was going, until he became very weary. The afternoon went past, and still he trudged on his aimless way. Not until the sun began to set over the bleak desert hills did he pause to look around. He was hungry and thirsty, and he feared that he would faint and perish. "Alas!" he cried, "I have been a fool. I have given away all my possessions for this useless jewel."
He sat down on the sand and began to examine the jewel. Tears sprang to his eyes. "Alas!" he sighed. "The stranger bewitched me, and now I must perish for my folly. Would I had food to eat and water to drink! Would I had a tent to sleep in and servants to attend to me!"
He had no sooner spoken than a man appeared beside him and laid a hand on his shoulder.