by Lew Wallace
CHAPTER VIII
THE ARRIVAL IN CONSTANTINOPLE
Uel, the son of Jahdai, was in the habit of carrying the letterreceived from the mysterious stranger about with him in a breastpocket. How many times a day he took it out for reexamination would bedifficult to say. Observing the appearance of signs of usage, he atlength wrapped it in an envelope of yellow silk. If he had thought lessof it, he would have resorted to plain linen.
There were certain points in the missive which seemed of greaterinterest to him than others. For example, the place whence it had beenaddressed was an ever recurring puzzle; he also dwelt long upon thesentence which referred so delicately to a paternal relationship. Themost exigent passages, however, were those relative to the time hemight look for the man's coming. As specially directed, he had takennote of the day of the delivery of the letter, and was greatlysurprised to find the messenger had arrived the last day of the yearpermitted him. The punctuality of the servant might be in imitation ofa like virtue of the master. If so, at the uttermost, the latter mightbe expected six months after receipt of the letter. Or he might appearwithin the six months. The journeys laid out were of vast distances,and through wild and dangerous countries, and by sea as well. Only agood traveller could survive them at all; to execute them in such briefspace seemed something superhuman.
So it befell that the son of Jahdai was at first but little concerned.The months--three, four, five--rolled away, and the sixth was close athand; then every day brought him an increase of interest. In fact, hefound himself looking for the arrival each morning, and at noonpromising it an event of the evening.
November was the sixth and last month of the time fixed. The first ofthat month passed without the stranger. Uel became anxious. Thefifteenth he turned the keeping of his shop over to a friend; andknowing the passage from Alexandria must be by sea, he betook himself,with Syama, to the port on the Golden Horn known as the Gate of St.Peter, at the time most frequented by Egyptian sailing masters. Inwaiting there, he saw the sun rise over the heights of Scutari, and itwas the morning of the very last day. Syama, meantime, occupied himselfin final preparation of the house for the reception. He was notexcited, like Uel, because he had no doubt of the arrival within theperiod set. He was also positively certain of finding his master, whenat length he did appear, exactly as when he separated from him inCipango. He was used to seeing Time waste itself upon the changelessman; he had even caught from him a kind of contempt for what other menshrank from as dangers and difficulties.
The site of the house has been described; it remains to give the readeran idea of its interior. There were four rooms on the ground floorfurnished comfortably for servants, of whom the arrangement indicatedthree besides Syama. The first floor was of three apartmentscommunicable by doorways with portieres of camel's hair. The furniturewas Roman, Greek, and Egyptian mixed. Of the three the middle chamberwas largest, and as its fittings were in a style of luxury supposed tobe peculiar to princes, the conclusion was fair that it was designedfor the proprietor's occupancy during his waking hours. A dark blue rugclothed the floor. In the centre, upon a shield of clear copper, arosea silver brazier. The arms and legs of the stools here and there on therug were carven in grotesque imitation of reptiles and animals of theultra dragonish mode. The divans against the walls were of stripedsilk. In each corner stood a tall post of silvered bronze, holding atthe end of a graceful crook several lamps of Pompeiian model. A widewindow in the east end, filled with plants in bloom, admitted amplelight, which, glancing through the flowers, fell on a table dressed inelegant cloth, and bearing a lacquered waiter garnished with cups ofmetal and glass, and one hand-painted porcelain decanter for drinkingwater. An enormous tiger-skin, the head intact and finished withextraordinary realism, was spread on the floor in front of the table.The walls were brilliant with fresh Byzantine frescoing. The air of theroom was faintly pervaded with a sweet incense of intoxicating effectupon one just admitted to it. Indeed the whole interior partook of thissweetness.
The care of the faithful servant had not been confined to the rooms; hehad constructed a summer house upon the roof, knowing that when theweather permitted his master would pass the nights there in preferenceto the chambers below. This structure looked not unlike a modernbelfry, except that the pillars and shallow dome of the top were ofMoorish lightness. Thence, to a familiar, the heavens in the absence ofthe sun would be an unrolled map.
When the last touch of the preparation had been given, and Syama saidto himself, "He may come now," one point was especiallynoticeable--nowhere in the house was there provision for a woman.
The morning of the last day Syama accompanied Uel to the portreluctantly. Feeling sure his master had not arrived in the night, heleft his friend on the watch, and returned home early.
The noise and stir of business at the ancient landing were engaging.With a great outcry, a vessel would be drawn up, and made fast, and theunloading begun. A drove of donkeys, or a string of camels, or a mob ofporters would issue from the gate, receive the cargo and disappear withit. Now and then a ship rounded the classic Point, its square sail bentand all the oars at work: sweeping past Galata on the north side of theHorn, then past the Fish Market Gate on the south, up it would comegracefully as a flying bird; if there was place for it at the quay,well; if not, after hovering around awhile, it would push out to aberth in the open water. Such incidents were crises to Uel. To this oneand to that he would run with the question:
"Where is she from?"
If from the upper sea, he subsided; but if from the Marmora, he kepteager lookout upon her, hoping to recognize in every disembarkee theman he was expecting.
That he had never seen the person was of little consequence. He hadthought of him so much awake, and seen him so repeatedly in dreams, hewas confident of knowing him at sight. Imagining a stranger'sappearance is for the most part a gentle tribute of respect; themistakes we make are for the most part ludicrous.
No one answering the preconception came. Noon, and still no one; then,cast down and disappointed, Uel went home, ate something, held theusual childish dialogue with his little girl, and about mid afternooncrossed the street to the new residence. Great was his astonishment atfinding a pyramid of coals glowing in the silver brazier, and the chillalready driven from the sitting-room. Here--there--upstairs,downstairs--the signs were of present occupancy. For a moment hethought the master had slipped by him or landed at some other port ofthe city.
"Is he here? Has he come?" he asked, excitedly, and Syama answered witha shake of the head.
"Then why the fire?"
Syama, briefly waving his hand as if following the great Marmoreanlake, turned the finger ends into the other palm, saying plainly andemphatically:
"He is coming--he will be here directly."
Uel smiled--faith could not be better illustrated--and it was so incontrast with his own incredulity!
He lingered awhile. Restlessness getting the mastery, he returned home,reflecting on the folly of counting so implicitly upon the conclusionto a day of a tour so vast. More likely, he thought, the traveller'sbones were somewhere whitening the desert, or the savages of Kash-Cushhad eaten him. He had heard of their cannibalism.
Want of faith, however, did not prevent the shopkeeper from going tohis friend's house after supper. It was night, and dark, and thechilling moisture of a winter wind blowing steadily from the Black Seacharged the world outside with discomfort. The brazier with its heap ofliving coals had astonished him before; now the house was all alight!He hastened upstairs. In the sitting-room the lamps were burning, andthe illumination was brilliant. Syama was there, calm and smiling asusual.
"What--he is here?" Uel said, looking from door to door.
The servant shook his head, and waved his hand negatively, as to say:
"Not yet--be patient--observe me."
To indulge his wonder, Uel took seat. Later on he tried to get fromSyama an explanation of his amazing confidence, but the latter'ssubstitute for speech was too limi
ted and uncertain to be satisfactory.
About ten o'clock Syama went below, and presently returned with foodand drink on a large waiter.
"Ah, good Lord!" Uel thought. "He is making a meal ready. What a man!What a master!"
Then he gave attention to the fare, which was of wheaten wafers, coldfowl, preserved fruits, and wine in a stoneware bottle. These Syama seton a circular table not higher than the divan in front of which it wasdrawn. A white napkin and a bowl for laving the fingers completed thepreparation, as Uel supposed. But no. Syama went below again, andreappeared with a metal pot and a small wooden box. The pot he placedon the coals in the brazier, and soon a delicate volume of steam waspouring from the spout; after handling the box daintily as if thecontents were vastly precious, he deposited it unopened by the napkinand bowl. Then, with an expression of content upon his face, he tootook seat, and surrendered himself to expectancy. The lisping of thesteam escaping from the pot on the fire was the only sound in the room.
The assurance of the servant was contagious. Uel began to believe themaster would come. He was congratulating himself upon the precaution hehad taken in leaving a man at the port to conduct him rightly when heheard a shuffling of feet below stairs. He listened startled. Therewere several men in the company. Steps shook the floor. Uel and Syamaarose.
The latter's countenance flushed with pleasure; giving one triumphalglance at his friend, much as to say, There--did I not tell you so? hewalked forward quickly, and reached the head of the steps just as astranger finished their ascent. In a moment Syama was on his knees,kissing the hand held out to him. Uel needed no prompter--it was themaster!
If only on account of the mutuality of affection shown between the two,the meeting was a pleasant sight. That feature, however, was lost tothe shopkeeper, who had no thought except of the master's appearance.He had imagined him modelled after the popular conceptions of kings andwarriors--tall, majestic, awe-inspiring. He saw instead a figure ratherundersized, slightly stoop-shouldered, thin; at least it seemed sothen, hid as it was under a dark brown burnoose of the amplitudeaffected by Arab sheiks. The head was covered by a woollen handkerchiefof reddish tint, held by a scarlet cord. The edge of the handkerchiefprojected over the forehead enough to cast the entire face in shade,leaving to view only a mass of white beard overflowing the breast.
The master ended the reception at the head of the stairs by gentlyraising Syama to his feet. Then he subjected the room to a swiftinspection, and, in proof of satisfaction, he patted the happy retaineron the shoulder. Invited by the fire, and the assurance of comfort inits glow, he advanced to the brazier, and while extending his handsover it, observed Uel. Without surprise or hesitation he walked to him.
"Son of Jahdai!" he said, offering his hand.
The voice was of exceeding kindness. As an overture to peace andgoodwill, it was reenforced by very large eyes, the intense blacknessof which was softened by a perceptible glow of pleasure. Uel was won onthe instant. A recollection of the one supreme singularity of the newacquaintance--his immunity from death--recurred to him, and he couldnot have escaped its effect had he wished. He was conscious also thatthe eyes were impressing him. Without distinct thought, certainlywithout the slightest courtierly design, he obeyed the impulse of themoment, and stooped and touched the extended hand with his lips. Andbefore rising he heard the beginning of further speech:
"I see the truth of my judgment. The family of my ancient friends hastrodden the ways of righteousness under the commandments of the Lorduntil it has become a kind unto itself. I see too my trust has beenverified. O Son of Jahdai, you did assist my servant, as I requested,and to your kindness, doubtless, I am indebted for this home full ofcomforts after a long absence among strangers. I hold you my creditor."
The tendency of the speech was to relieve Uel of embarrassment.
"Do not thank me," he answered. "The business was ordinary, andstrictly within Syama's capacity. Indeed, the good man could havefinished it without my help."
The master, rich in experience, noticed the deferential manner of thereply, and was agreeably assured on his side.
"Very well. There will be no harm in reserving an opinion," he said."The good man, as you call him, is making ready a drink with which hehas preceded me from his country, and which you must stay and share, asit is something unknown in the West."
"Let me first welcome you here," Uel returned.
"Oh, I saw the welcome in your face. But let us get nearer the fire.The night is chilling. If I were owner of a garden under whatever hillalong the Bosphorus, verily I should tremble for my roses."
Thus briefly, and in such simple manner, the wise Mystic put theshopkeeper perfectly at ease.
At the brazier they watched Syama in the operation since become ofuniversal knowledge under title of "drawing tea." The fragrance of thedecoction presently filled the room to the suppression of the incense,and they drank, ate, and were sociable. The host outlined his travels.Uel, in return, gave him information of the city. When the latterdeparted, it was with a light heart, and an elastic step; the whitebeard and patriarchal manner of the man had laid his fears, and thefuture was to him like a cloudless sky.
Afterwhile the master signified a wish to retire; whereupon hishousehold came, as was their wont, to bid him good-night. Of thesethere were two white men. At sight of Syama, they rushed to embrace himas became brethren of old acquaintance long in the same service. Athird one remained at the door. Syama looked at him, and then at themaster; for the man was a stranger. Then the Jew, with quick intuitionof the requirement of the time, went, and took him by the hand, and ledhim to the others. Addressing Syama, he said gravely:
"This is Nilo, son of the Nilo whom you knew. As you held the father inlove, so you shall hold the son."
The man was young, very black, and gigantic in stature. Syama embracedhim as he had the others.
In the great city there was not a more united household under roof thanthat of the shopkeeper's friend.