Swords From the Desert

by Harold Lamb

  "Bethink thee, my lord," went on the knight, "whether it is not better to play the part of an honest foe, who has yielded to greater power, than to make public thy compact with the constable of Montserrat who is dead?"

  Still Menas kept silence, outwardly amiable.

  "If I had not withdrawn my men from the wall, the Venetians would never have carried a tower," he said at last.

  Richard looked at him steadily.

  "As to that, I know not. The Sieur de Brienne often spoke to the commanders of our host, describing the great treasures in this city. He had a thirst for gold, and authority, and more than that I will not say, save this-" he paused in his long stride in front of the Greek, and waited until Menas met his eyes. "The Sieur de Brienne lived as he lived, and no man may call despite upon his name, now that his spirit has passed."

  For an instant his fingers touched the mail gauntlet in his belt, and Menas bowed assent. At a sign from the knight, the shield bearer escorted the Greek from the chamber.

  Verily, Menas had spoken truly. These men of the Cross were gallant fools. A handful of them had stormed Constantinople and hoped to launch a new crusade in this city of old intrigues and age-old treachery.

  "Khalil!" cried young Richard. "How did the Lord of Brienne die?"

  "He was slain by a captive that he abused."

  He brushed his hand across his forehead.

  "It was like him. There was no faith in him. But I shall say to the damosel Irene that he fell in the street fighting."

  "Aye, be it so."

  Foolish youth, who loved the barbarian maid from the instant he had first seen her-who knew that she awaited the coming of the Sieur de Brienne. And who would suffer no evil word to be said of the man who was his enemy.

  How can two youths seek the same maiden to wife and not draw the sword of hatred?

  "Why hast thou come back, Khalil? Alone!"

  "I am thy captive, Ricard."

  He held out his hand to me, laughing.

  "Nay, and again nay. I have heard from the darosel Irene how thou hast shielded her. No prisoner, thou! Go, or abide as my guest, as thou wilt."

  Now, I had seen what I had seen. The eyes of a maiden hold few secrets from the glance of wisdom. The thought had come to me that the barbarian girl would love this youth. He, too, was a barbarian, yet there was in him the bright steel of honor.

  And he had overcome me with the sword. I longed to stand against him again and strive with the steel blades, for he was worthy, even of the girl who had warmed my heart-aye, she had stirred the heart of Khalil.

  "May thy way be open to thee!" I made the salaam of leave-taking, and he took my hand in his. "Thou art a bold youth-even a brother to Khalil. I go."

  And in the second watch of that night, with the flames at our heels, we rode through the portal of Constantinople the Great-Khutb and I. Nay, I lifted the gray horse out of the line under the eyes of all the Franks.

  Once-no more than once-have I seen a man dig his own grave. Though his eyes were keen, in that hour he was blind. Though he was favored and fortunate and a conqueror, it availed him not at all in that hour.

  Concerning this man, some say-

  "It was written, and what is written may not be altered."

  Others-and they are the mountain Kurds-say he was led to his fate by the hand of Sidri Singh. What my eyes have seen, I have seen, and I say that he dug his own grave, unknowing.

  W'allahi, how many men have I seen in the hour of their death? I am Daril of the land of Athir. My clan is the Nejd and we are desert Arabs. In my youth I rode with the raiding bands-yea, and the banners of the clans. In those times the sword of Daril ibn Athir was not without honor.

  When my years numbered fifty and eight I sheathed the sword, being weary of the war of clan against clan. It was the moment when the soul within cries, "Peace! Make thy peace." I lingered at the sitting-place of the expounders of the Law, and the burden of their words was not otherwise.

  "Make thy peace, that thy years be not troubled."

  But how-in what way?

  I cannot read the written word of the Law. And where are the two who will agree as to the meaning of the words written? I listened, hearing much dispute, and learning little, for we of the sahra understand only a few words. It was said to me, "Give alms." I gave then my tents and carpets, the silver jars and the silk of Cathay, the red leather and blue, clear glass-all that my hand had plundered.

  They then said to me:

  "Go thou upon the pilgrimage."

  And this also I did, taking leave of my followers and the keepers of my herds. For my sheep were numbered by the hundred, my saddle-horses by the score.

  When I returned from Mecca and Bait al-Mukkudas to my district, I found there only a few of my men, who said that the herds had been carried off by raiders. They besought me to summon clansmen and companions-in-arms and ride and recover the herds. But I made answer that I had no wish to lift the standard of strife.

  Nay, the blood was thin in my veins; the mail-shirt irked my stiff bones. I could no longer run beside a galloping horse and leap to the saddle; nor could I lean down from the saddle and slit in halves with my sword's edge a carpet laid in the sand.

  "In poverty," I said, remembering some words of the expounders of the Law, "there is rest."

  But who can sit in one place and eat out of another's bowl? Many men of the Nejd, remembering other days, came to me to have their wounds dressed and other ills healed, for they called me physician, praising my skill at letting blood from a vein, in judging the heat of fever. Thus the thought came to me to rise up and go upon a journey, naming myself a physician.

  I would sheathe the sword forever, bearing only the unadorned blade of Damascus forging that I had carried as a youth. Daril, chieftain of Athir, would be Daril al Hakim-the physician. I meant to see new lands and visit the throne rooms of far kings-yea, the conquerors.

  With this thought I set forth in the Year of the Flight, one thousand and twenty and nine.* I crossed the gulf to the coast of Iran. It is only a little way from the shore of the Nejd to the great island that lies in the throat of the gulf and to the land of the Iranis. Nevertheless, the rais of the vessel was afraid of pirates and more afraid of landing on this coast, though we had come to a walled town. He made me go down into a fisherman's craft, and the vessel turned its sail and went away.

  I thought that I would buy a camel from these Iranis and go overland to the empire of Ind.

  0, ye who listen, there is one thing true beyond doubt. He who sets forth upon a road may not know what the end of the road will be.

  It was the season of the first rains, though no grass showed in the sand, and the cattle had not been led out into the valleys. I sat within the seagate of Bandar Abbasi, the walled town where the rail of the vessel had left me.

  It is a good sitting place, the shadow of a brick arch of a gate. Here may be seen those who enter with their followers and animals. I listened to the talk of the shepherds and sellers of water who entered Bandar Abbasi.

  I learned that this was a new port of the great Shah Abbas, the lord of Iran. Verily, it reeked of foulness and unclean dirt-the water was bad, and the horses, for lack of grain, fed on dried fish and camel flesh. Even the goat's milk that I drank tasted of fish. Many officers of the shah came and went through the gate, the lesser men hastening from their path and greeting them with low salaams, crying: "May God increase your honor! "

  A hadji in a white turban spread his carpet opposite me and prayed in a loud voice at the hour of late morning prayer, and gathered listeners about him when he began to expound the Law. These disciples blocked the gate, and presently I heard curses.

  Standing in the sun without, a Turkoman blind in one eye bade them clear his path. He puffed at a clay pipe that he held in his left hand, and he smelled of mutton grease and leather and dung. Indeed, the disciples of the hadji made way for him when they saw the long tulwar and the five or six knives in his girdle. The fingers of his right
hand went from hilt to hilt and his one eye glared.

  Seeing me, he took the pipe from his stained lips, and spat.

  "By the beard and the teeth of Ali-what is this?"

  He blinked at my striped headcloth and heavy, brown mantel, stared at my sandals and spat again.

  "A dark, thin face. Ho, here is an Arab from Arabistan. Who art thou?"

  "One who seeks the road to Ind," I made response.

  "I know it well." The Turkoman came and squatted by me, on the side of his good eye. "It runs north along the river, then through the dry lands where the wells are a ride apart. Now it is a hard road; but after the first rains there will be water in the mountain gullies."

  He pulled at his thin beard, eyeing me shrewdly.

  "Ho, thou wilt need a companion to show the way, or horses-good mountain-bred beasts that will not give out-or weapons."

  "Nay."

  "Never say that." He wagged his head, his breath reeking of sour wine. "My brother, I know the track to Ind. I know the Kurds who will raid and rob thee, and the seven-times-accursed road guards of the Iranis who will lift thy wallet from thee as a price of their protection."

  "Of thy wisdom," I made response, "canst tell me the hour of buying and selling in the souk-the marketplace?"

  "In Bandar Abbasi there is no souk." He laughed. "The best of the animals were taken by the shah's sipahis in the marketplace-aye, and the girl-slaves. Now, the owners hide them. By the head of Ali, I can fetch thee a camel that is beyond price. A Bikanir racer worth a hundred silver sequins-aye, saddled as if for a prince and fit now for the road. Come and see!"

  "Nay." I had seventy silver pieces in my girdle, and no mind for an affray.

  "A white camel, swift-paced as the south wind."

  "And are thy words as wind?"

  This Turkoinan was a fellow of resource.

  "Abide here, 0, shaikh," he cried, "and by the teeth of Ali, I wager thou'lt loose thy purse strings within the hour."

  Rising, he departed, thrusting aside the beggars who thronged the gateway with their cries. Thrusting his pipe in his girdle-sack, he made off as one with a purpose formed.

  True to his word, within the hour he came striding back, followed by a Baluchi with greasy ringlets who tugged at the nose-cord of a camel. And this, indeed, was a Bikanir fit to mount the courier of a king. Small in the head, smooth in gait, with belled trappings and a carpet saddle in place. Truly, a good beast, worth fifty silver pieces in the Nejd. The Baluchi made the white camel kneel near the brick arch of the gate and, when I had considered him, I offered thirty sequins.

  "Now by all the companions and the ninety and nine names," swore the Turkoman, "this Arab would pluck the gall out of thee, little brother. I will attend to the matter, on thy behalf."

  The Baluchi only smiled, twisting the cord in his fingers. He said the camel would bear a man forty leagues between sun and sun.

  "At eighty pieces, this man makes no profit," put in the warrior.

  I thought that the Baluchi might make little profit, indeed, for the tribesman meant to extort something from him.

  "For the saddle also," I said, "I will give thirty and eight."

  "Even an Armenian would pay more. With such a beast thou canst fly from all pursuit."

  No doubt he thought me one of the Arabs who escape across the water from their foes. He knew much of the world, this Turkoman.

  "From thy brother thieves?" I asked.

  "Ho-from the ghosts of the dry lands, or the ghils that ride the winds. Nay, thou art bold of speech, 0 Shaikh, and like unto a piece of my liver." He whispered hoarsely in my ear. "I will cheat the Baluchi who hath no more wit than a blind dog. I will persuade him to yield thee the racing camel for sixty and five sequins of full weight."

  Thus we disputed the price, the Turkoman haggling loudly, now calling me his foster-brother, now cursing me for more than a grandfather of all usurers. In the end his haggling brought him no good. About midday came kettledrums down the street, and a thudding of hoofs in the dirt.

  Crowding against the stalls on either hand, through rising dust, came a cavalcade of horses toward the gate. The leading riders cantered past, and I knew them for Kizil-bashis-Red Hats-the cavalry of Iran. They carried leather shields and tufted lances. They wore good mail shirts and the wide, red, cloth turbans that gave them their name.

  The men around me pushed to get out of their way, and the white Bikanir rose to his feet, lurching hither and yon, so that the horsemen cursed, and one drove his stirrup into the belly of the Turkoman, who was unsteady on his feet and not inclined to move.

  Before the warrior could get his breath, the Kizil-bashis were gone and a cavalcade of officers trotted through the dust. I saw the cloth-of-gold turban of a Sipahi Agha, a captain of cavalry. The best of the horses was a dun-colored mare.

  This mare swerved and halted beside me. Its rider held a tight rein and sat in short stirrups. Upon him he had no mark of honor save a heron feather for turban crest. But the long, curved dagger in his girdle was goldsheathed, with an emerald of great size upon the tip of the sheath.

  "I will buy thy beast," he said to the Baluchi.

  Those around me knelt and beat their foreheads in the dust -all but the Turkoman, who had drunk too much wine, and was angered, besides.

  "Forty and five sequins were bid," he grumbled. "By the breath of Ali, my lord, thy price should be not less than that."

  "Who bid the sequins?"

  "He!" The thick-headed tribesman beckoned at me.

  "And who art thou, 0 Arab?"

  "Daril ibn Athir, of the Nejd."

  "A warlike clan. Thy mission?"

  "A hakim, journeying to Ind by the northern track."

  The rider of the mare turned slowly and looked down at me. His full brown eyes were clear and alert. His body was thick and strong, his broad face sallow, his beard dark and close-clipped upon a wide chin. A man, I thought, sure of his strength-quick to anger, and accustomed to obedience.

  This bearded Irani was leader of the Red Hats and, beyond doubt, an officer of the shah. From me he turned his attention to the camel, impatiently, and spoke to the servant who rode behind him. At once this follower counted out some silver pieces from a purse and cast them on the ground before the Baluchi.

  "I bear witness," shouted the Turkoman, bending over to count the pieces, "that the sum sufficeth not. Here are no more than twenty sequins."

  The rider of the dun mare seemed to smile, and spoke again. A foot follower hastened forward and caught the nosecord of the camel from the silent Baluchi. I looked for a tumult and outcry, since the bearded Irani had acted against the custom of open sale. Indeed, the Turkoman began to bellow like a wounded buffalo.

  "Hai-hai! I bear witness, 0 hadji, the payment sufficeth not. Give heed, 0 hadji, and judgment-for this man hath been wronged and his property taken from him. Hearken to the complaint, 0 thou of the pilgrimage performed."

  Then the throng turned to look at the expounder of the Law who sat across the street with his pupils. Indeed, he wore the white turban of wisdom and authority. His fingers trembled upon his beard, and his eyes went this way and that. But he spoke no word of blame to the rider of the dun mare.

  In my land, across the gulf, the chieftains obey the customs of the clan, but here in Iran it was otherwise. In a moment I saw the proof of it.

  Three of the Red Hats dismounted, at a sign from their leader; they ran suddenly at the Turkoman, who was too bewildered with wine to take heed. One caught his arms behind his back, another seized his girdle and beard, while the third drew a small and thin knife.

  The Turkoman fought like a buffalo, twisting and bellowing and butting. Eh, the moment had gone by when he could have drawn his weapons-and what avail to struggle without steel in the hand?

  He went down, and the dust rose as they rolled about. Before long the three soldiers held him beneath them, and one of them lay across his chest, gripping his head. The thin knife was given the one who lay thus,
and while the Turkoman screamed, the wielder of the knife thrust suddenly, once and again. Then the soldiers rose off the man and went to their horses, the one with the dagger wiping it clean on my cloak as he passed.

  "Say, 0 physician," cried the rider of the dun mare to me, "was it well done? Did the knife do its work?"

  Wallahi -I saw then the face of the shaggy Turkoman, with blood running freely from under his brow. His lips drew back from his teeth-long, yellow teeth. No longer did he scream, but he panted with long gasps. His pallid blind eye rolled hither and yon, seeing naught. Indeed, he would never see again, for the knife had been thrust twice through his good eye.

  "Truly, 0 my lord," I made response. "He is blind, but I bear witness that the deed was not well done."

  And when the men of the Irani had withdrawn from the tormented one, taking his weapons with them, I stooped and began to staunch the flow of blood with a cloth from my girdle. The bearded rider reined his mare over against me, and I feared that punishment would be my lot, for I had spoken in anger.

  "By the Ka'aba," he laughed, "physicians are like to the readers of the Law, being jealous of another's work and clamorous for reward. So, take this, and mend if thou canst what my man hath clumsily done."

  A heavy gold coin fell beside me in the blood-spattered dust. The Irani noble wheeled away; his men mounted and fell in behind him, thudding through the gate. The Baluchi hastened to gather up his coins and come and squat by me. But the Turkoman, when I would have bound his head, thrust out his arms and rose up, staggering. He cursed the rider of the mare, and I knew then that the name of the Irani who had blinded him was Mirakhon Pasha.

  "This was to come upon my head," said the Baluchi as we went from the gate. He spoke sadly, thinking of the little price that had been paid him for the camel, and I also thought with regret of the white Bikanir, because my desire to leave Bandar Abbasi increased within me.

  "Still," muttered the Baluchi, "it was worse for him. He spoke in the teeth of Mirakhon Pasha. And he tasted his reward."

  "Justly?" I asked, thinking of the hadji and his saying that men should taste of their deeds.