Zehowah was silent for a while, and twisted a string of musk-beads round her fingers.
‘The others are all Arabian women,’ Khaled said at last.
‘Why did you not keep the beautiful one for yourself?’ asked Zehowah, suddenly throwing aside her beads and looking at him curiously. ‘Surely you, who have borne the brunt of the war, might have chosen for yourself what pleased you best.’
Khaled looked at her in great astonishment.
‘Have I not married Zehowah? Would you have me take another wife?’
‘Why not? Is it not lawful for a man to take four wives at one time? And this woman might have loved you, as you desire to be loved.’
‘Would it be nothing to you, if I took her?’
‘Nothing. I am the King’s daughter. I shall always be first in the house. I say, she might love you. Then you would be satisfied.’
‘Zehowah, Zehowah!’ cried Khaled. ‘Is love a piece of gold, that it matters not whence it be, so long as a man has it in his own possession? Or is it wood of the ‘Ood tree that one may buy it and bring it home and make the whole house fragrant with it? Is a man’s heart like his belly, which is alike satisfied with different kinds of food?’
‘He who eats, knows by the taste whether he eats Persian mutton, or barley bread, or only broiled locusts. But a man who believes that he is loved, knows that he is loved, so far as knowing is possible, and must be satisfied, if to be loved is what he desires.’
‘That may be true. But he who desires bread is not satisfied with locusts. It is your love which I would have. Not the love of another.’
‘You are like a man who hopes to get by argument a sum of money from one who has nothing,’ said Zehowah, smiling at him. ‘Can you make gold grow in the purse of a beggar? Or can you cause a ghada bush to bear dates by reasoning with it? Your heart is a palm tree, but mine is a ghada bush.’
‘Yet an angel may touch the ghada and it will bear fruit,’ answered Khaled, for he remembered how the angel had turned dry leaves into rich garments for him to wear.
‘Doubtless, Allah can do all things. But where is the angel? Hear me, Khaled, for I speak very reasonably, as a wife should speak to her husband, who is her lord and master. My lord is not satisfied with me and desires something of me which is not mine to give. Let him take another wife beside me. I have given my lord a kingdom and great riches and power. Let him take another wife now, who will give him this fancy of his thoughts for which he yearns, though she have no other possessions. In this way my lord will be satisfied.’
Khaled listened sadly to what Zehowah said, and he began to despair, for he was not subtle in argument nor eloquent in speech. The reason of this was plain. In the days when he had been one of the genii he had wandered over the whole earth and had heard the eloquence of all nations and the arguments of all philosophers, learning therefrom that deeds are no part of words, and that they who would be believed must speak little and do much. But the genii possess no insight into the hearts of women.
Khaled reflected also that the length of life granted him was uncertain, and that he had already spent two months and a half at a distance from Zehowah in accomplishing the conquest whereby he had hoped to win her love. But since this had utterly failed, he cast about in his mind for some new deed to do, which could be done without leaving her even for a short time. But he was troubled by her indifference, and most of all by her proposing that he should take another wife. As he thought of this, he was filled with horror, and he understood that he loved Zehowah more than he had supposed, since he could not bear to think of setting another woman beside her.
Then his face became very dark and his eyes were like camp fires far off in the desert, and he took Zehowah’s wrist in his hand, holding it tightly as though he would not let it go. As his heart grew hot in his breast, words came to his lips unawares like the speech of a man in a dream, and he heard his own voice as it were from a distance.
‘I will not take another,’ he said. ‘What is the love of any other woman to me? It is as dust in the throat of a man thirsting for water. Show me a woman who loves me. Her face shall be but a cold mirror in which the image of a fire is reflected without warmth, her soft words shall be to me as the screaming of a parrot, her touch a thorn and her lips ashes. What is it to me if all the women of the world love me? Kindle a fire and burn them before me, for I care not. Let them perish all together, for I shall not know that they are gone. I love you and not another. Shall it profit a man to fill his mouth with dust, though it be the dust of gold mingled with precious stones, when he desires water? Or shall he be warmed in winter by the reflection of a fire in a mirror? By Allah! I want neither the wealth of Haïl, nor a wife with red hair. Let them take gold who do not ask for love. I want but one thing, and Zehowah alone can give it to me. Wallah! My heart burns. But I would give it to be burned for ever in hell if I might get your love now. This I ask. This only I desire. For this I will suffer and for this I am ready to die before my time.’
Zehowah was silent, looking at him with wonder, and yet not altogether pleased. She saw that she could not understand him, though she did as well as she could.
‘Has he not all that the heart of man can desire?’ she thought. ‘Am I not young and beautiful, and possessed of many jewels and treasures? Have I not given him wealth and power, and has he not with his own hand got the victory over his enemies and mine? And yet he is not satisfied. Surely, he is too hard to please.’
But he, reading her thoughts from her face, continued in his speech.
‘What is all the happiness of the world without love?’ he asked. ‘It is like a banquet in which many rich viands are served, but the guests cannot eat them because there is no salt in any of them. And what is a beautiful woman without love? She is like a garden in which there are all kinds of rare flowers, and much grass, and deep shade, but in which a man cannot live, because nothing grows there which he can eat when he is hungry.’
‘Truly,’ said Zehowah, ‘that is what you will make of your life. For there is a garden called Irem, planted in a secret place of the deserts about Aden, by Sheddad the son of Ad, who desired to outdo the gardens of paradise, and was destroyed for his impiety with all his people, by the hand of Allah. But a certain man named Abdullah ibn Kelabah was searching in the desert for a lost camel, and came unawares upon this place. There were fruits and water there and all that a man could wish for, and Abdullah dwelt in peace and plenty, praising Allah. Then on a certain day he desired to eat an onion, and finding none anywhere, he went out, intending to obtain one, and having eaten it, to return immediately. But though he searched the desert many months he was never able to find the garden again. Wherefore it is said that Abdullah ibn Kelabah lost the earthly paradise of Irem for a mouthful of onion.’
‘How can you understand me if you do not love me?’ asked Khaled. ‘Love has its own language, and when two love they understand each the other’s words. But when the one loves and the other loves not, they are strangers, though they be man and wife; or they are like Persians and Arabians not understanding either the other’s speech, or that if the wife cries “father,” her husband will bring her a cup of water supposing her to be thirsty. For those who would speak one language must be of one heart, and they who would be of one heart must love each other.’
Then Zehowah sighed and leaned against the cushions by the wall and drew her hand away from Khaled.
‘What is it?’ she asked in a low voice. ‘What is it you would have?’ But though she had already asked the question many times she found no answer, and none that he was able to give could enlighten her darkness.
‘It is the spark that kindles the flame,’ Khaled said, and he pointed to the lights that hung in the room. ‘Your beauty is like that of a cunningly designed lamp, inlaid with gold and silver and covered with rich ornament, which is seen by day. But there is no light within, and it is cold, though it be full of oil and the wick be ready.’
Zehowah turned towards him somewh
at impatiently.
‘And you are as one who would kindle the flame with words, having no torch,’ she answered.
‘Have I not done deeds also?’ asked Khaled. ‘Or have I spoken much, that you should reproach me? Surely I have slain more of your enemies than I have spoken words to you to-night.’
‘But have I asked for an offering of blood, or a marriage dower of dead bodies?’
Khaled was silent, for he was bitterly disappointed, and as his eyes fell upon the sword which hung on the wall, he felt that he could almost have taken it and made an end of Zehowah for very anger that she would not love him. Had he not gone out for her into the raging heat of summer, and borne the burden of a great war, and destroyed a nation and taken a city? Moreover, if neither words nor deeds could gain her love, what means remained to him to try?
All through the night Khaled pondered, calling up all that he had seen in the world in former times, until he fell asleep at last, wearied in heart.
Very early in the morning one of Zehowah’s women came and stood by his bed and waked him. He could see that her face was pale in the dawn, her limbs trembled and her voice was uncertain.
‘Arise, my lord!’ she said. ‘A messenger has come from the army with evil news, and stands waiting in the court.’
Khaled sprang up, and Zehowah awoke also.
‘What is this message?’ he asked hastily.
But the woman threw herself upon the floor and covered her face, as though begging forgiveness because she brought evil tidings.
‘Speak!’ said Zehowah. ‘What is it?’
‘Our lord the Sultan is dead!’ cried the woman, and she broke out into weeping and crying and would say nothing more.
But when Zehowah heard that her father was dead, she sat down upon the floor and beat her breast and tore her hair, and wailed and wept, while all the women of the harem came and gathered round her and joined in her mourning, so that the whole palace was filled with the noise of their lamentations.
Khaled went out into the court and questioned the messenger, who told him that the Sultan had held a great feast in the evening in the gardens of Dereyiyah, having with him the woman Almasta and the other captive women, and being served by black slaves. But, suddenly, in the night, when most of the soldiers were already asleep, there had been a great cry, and the slaves and women had come running from the tent, crying that the Sultan was dead. This was true, and the Jewish physician who had gone out with his master declared that he had died from an access of humours to the head, brought on by a surfeit of sweetmeats, there being at the time an evil conjunction of Zoharah and Al Marech in square aspect to the moon and in the house of death.
Khaled therefore mounted his bay mare and rode quickly out to Dereyiyah, where he found that the news was true, and the women were already preparing the Sultan’s body for burial. Having ordered the mourning, and commanded the army to prepare for the return to the city, Khaled set out with the funeral procession; and when he reached the walls of Riad he turned to the left and passed round to the north-east side of the city where the burial-ground is situated. Here he laid the body of his father-in-law in the tomb which the latter had prepared for himself during his lifetime, and afterwards, dismissing the mourners, he went back into the city to the palace.
After the days of mourning were accomplished, the will of the Sultan was made known, though indeed the people were well acquainted with it already. By his will Khaled succeeded to the sovereignty of the kingdom of Nejed and to all the riches and treasures which the Sultan had accumulated during his lifetime. But the people received the announcement with acclamations and much joy, followed by a great feasting, for which innumerable camels were slain. Khaled also called all the chief officers and courtiers to a banquet and addressed them in a few words, according to his manner.
‘Men of Nejed,’ he said, ‘it has pleased Allah to remove to the companionship of the faithful our master the Sultan, my revered father-in-law, upon whom be peace, and to set me up among you as King in his stead, being the husband of his only daughter, which you all know. As for the past, you know me; but if I have wronged any man let him declare it and I will make reparation. And if not, let none complain hereafter. But as for the future I will be a just ruler so long as I live, and will lead the men of Nejed to war, when there is war, and will divide the spoil fairly; and in peace I will not oppress the people with taxes nor change the just and good laws of the kingdom. And now the feast is prepared. Sit down cheerfully, and may Allah give us both the appetite to enjoy and the strength to digest all the good things which shall be set before us.’
But Khaled himself ate sparingly, for his heart was heavy, and when they had feasted and drunk treng juice and heard music, he retired to the harem, where he found Zehowah sitting with Almasta, the Georgian woman, there being no other women present in the room. He was surprised when he saw Almasta, though he knew that the captive women had been lodged in the palace, the distribution of the spoil from the war having been put off by the mourning for the Sultan.
When Almasta heard him enter, she looked up quickly and a bright colour rose in her face, as when the juice of a pomegranate is poured into milk, and disappeared again as the false dawn before morning, leaving no trace. Khaled sat down.
‘Is not this the woman of whom you spoke?’ Zehowah asked. ‘I knew her from the rest by her red hair.’
‘This is the woman. Your father would have taken her for his wife. But Allah has disposed otherwise.’
‘She is beautiful. She is worthy to be a king’s wife,’ said Zehowah.
‘The Sultan?’ asked Almasta, for she hardly understood. Her face turned as white as bone bleached by the sun, and her fingers trembled, while her eyes were cast down.
Zehowah looked at Khaled and laughed.
‘See how she trembles and turns pale before you,’ she said. ‘And a little while ago her face was red. You have found a torch wherewith to kindle this lamp, and a breath that can extinguish it.’
‘I do not know,’ Khaled answered. But he looked attentively at Almasta and remained silent for some time. ‘It is now necessary to divide the spoils of the war,’ he said at last, ‘and to bestow such of these women as you do not wish to keep upon the most deserving of the officers.’
‘My lord will surely take the fairest for himself, since she loves him,’ said Zehowah, again laughing, but somewhat bitterly.
‘May my tongue be cloven and my eyes be put out, may my hands wither at the wrists and my feet fall from my ankles, if I ever take any wife but you,’ said Khaled. ‘Yallah! So be it.’
When Zehowah heard him say this, even while Almasta’s face was unveiled before him, she understood that he was greatly in earnest.
‘Let me keep her for my handmaid,’ she said at last.
‘Is she mine that you need ask me? But it will be wiser to give her to Abdul Kerim, the sheikh of the horsemen. I have promised that the spoil should be fairly divided, and though few have seen this woman many have heard of her beauty. And besides, she would weary you, for she cannot talk in Arabian, nor does she seem quick to learn. Abdul Kerim has the first right, since Allah has removed your father, upon whom be peace.’
‘Your words are my laws,’ answered Zehowah obediently. ‘And, indeed, it may be that you are right, for I believe she can neither dance nor sing, nor play upon any musical instrument. She would certainly weary me after a time, as you say. Give her therefore to Abdul Kerim for his share.’
They then made Almasta understand that she was to be given to the sheikh of the horsemen; but when she had understood she shook her head and smiled, though at first she said nothing, so that Khaled and Zehowah wondered whether she had comprehended what they had told her.
‘Do you understand what we have told you?’ asked Zehowah, who was diverted by her ignorance of the Arabic language.
‘I understand.’
‘And are you not pleased that you are to be the wife of Abdul Kerim, who is a rich man and still young?’
‘The Sultan is dead,’ Khaled answered.
‘Who is the Sultan now?’ she asked.
‘Khaled is the Sultan,’ said Zehowah.
‘You said that I should be the Sultan’s wife,’ Almasta repeated.
‘Doubtless, I said so,’ Khaled replied. ‘But Allah has ordered it otherwise.’
Almasta again smiled and shook her head.
CHAPTER VI
ON THE FOLLOWING day Khaled made a division of the spoils, and gave Almasta to Abdul Kerim, enjoining upon him to marry her, since he had but two wives and could do so lawfully. The sheikh of the horsemen was glad, for he had heard much of Almasta’s beauty, and he loved fair women, being of a fierce temper and not more than forty years old. So he called his friends to the marriage feast that same day, and Zehowah sent Almasta in a litter to his harem, giving her also numerous rich garments by way of a dower, but which in fact were due to Abdul Kerim as his share of the booty. So the men feasted, with music, until the evening, when the bridegroom retired to the harem and the Kadi came and read the contract; after which Abdul Kerim sat down while Almasta was brought before him in various dresses, one after the other, as is customary.
When the women were all gone away, Abdul Kerim began to talk to his wife, but she only laughed and said the few words she knew, not knowing what he said, and presently she began to sing to him in a low voice, in her own language. Her voice was very clear and quite different from that of the Arabian women whom Abdul had heard, and the tones vibrated with great passion and sweetness, so that he was enchanted and listened, as in a dream, while his head rested against Almasta’s knee. She continued to sing in such a manner that his soul was transported with delight; and at last, as the sound soothed him, he fell into a gentle sleep.
Almasta, still singing softly, loosened his vest, touching him so gently that he did not wake. She then drew out of one of the three tresses of her hair a fine steel needle, extremely long and sharp, having at one end a small wooden ball for a handle, and while she sang, she thrust it very quickly into his breast to its full length, so that it pierced his heart and he died instantly. But she continued to sing, lest any of the women should be listening from a distance. Presently she withdrew the needle so slowly that not a drop of blood followed it, and having made it pass thrice through the carpet she restored it to her hair, after which she fastened the dead man’s vest again, so that nothing was disarranged. She sang on, after this for some time, and then after a short silence she sprang up from the couch, uttering loud screams and lamentations and beating her breast violently.
Complete Works of F Marion Crawford Page 439