Part 5 (1/2)

Though many had died, his pilgrimage had been almost luxurious. He had nothing at all to do except watch over Ben Akbar, which was simplicity itself because the powerful young _dalul_ wanted nothing except to be where Ali was. Though Ali was forbidden to ride, the Pasha of Damascus, the only human worthy of riding Ben Akbar, had allowed himself to be carried all the way to Mecca in a sedan chair. Seeing the Pasha once, and from a distance, Ali decided, to his own satisfaction, at least, that he had not asked to ride Ben Akbar for the simple reason that he couldn't. Judging by the Pasha's looks, he'd have trouble riding an age-broken baggage camel.

Always together, Ali and Ben Akbar had walked all the way. It had still been the easiest of walks since, as long as he took care of Ben Akbar and kept himself in the background, Ali was a.s.sured ample food and water. With the finest of care and nothing to do, Ben Akbar was at the very peak of perfection.

With appropriate ceremony, Ali donned the _ihram_ and ran a mental tally of the things he must not do until the _Hadj_ came to an end. He must wear neither head nor foot covering. He must not shave, trim his nails--But there was nothing in the entire list that forbade taking Ben Akbar with him. Ali remained troubled, nevertheless because, try as he would, he was unable to achieve what he considered a necessary level of piety.

Rather than feeling spiritually uplifted by what had been and what was to be, he could think only that, very shortly, he would have the right to call himself Hadji Ali.

5. The Unpardonable Sin

Mecca, Holy City of the Moslems, spoke in a strangely subdued whisper when this particular night finally enfolded it. The great _Hadj_ was ended--the official termination announced when the wealthier pilgrims sought barbers to shave them and those without money shaved each other.

The unofficial, but more realistic, termination came about in a different manner.

Whatever their motives, or degree of zeal, an inspired army had gone to Mecca. With the _Hadj_ ended, suddenly weary human beings thought with wistful longing of the homes they'd left and the beloved faces that became doubly precious because they were absent. Thus the sudden silence in Mecca, where--every night until this one--lone pilgrims and bands of pilgrims had gone noisily about various errands. However, not all pilgrims had chosen to spend this night in their beds.

Ali, now Hadji Ali, stood very quietly in the darkest niche he'd been able to find of The Masa, The Sacred Course between Mounts Safa and Marwa. Ben Akbar, never far from Ali's side, stood just as quietly beside him and Ali wanted no other companion. Hoping to ease a troubled conscience, he had sought this lonely and deserted spot to try to find the true significance, which he was sure must exist but had so far escaped him, of the ceremonies in which he had just partic.i.p.ated.

Perhaps, he thought seriously, he was now confused because he had had no real understanding of any part of anything from the very beginning.

n.o.body had told him why the _ihram_ must be donned and adjusted in a certain way, with certain prescribed motions, and in no other fas.h.i.+on.

With Ben Akbar, who followed like a faithful dog but aroused little comment in this city where camels were the commonest means of transportation, Ali had entered Mecca in the prescribed fas.h.i.+on, though he hadn't the faintest idea as to who had prescribed it or why. At intervals, and solely because all his companions were doing likewise, he had shouted ”_Labbaika_,” a word whose meaning he had not known and still did not know.

At this point, Ali became so hopelessly entangled in matters he did not understand that it was necessary to start all over again. However, he decided not to begin with the _ihram_ this time. The Sacred Course was also a part of the ceremony, and, being near at hand, it might yield clues that could not be discerned in that which was far away.

The Sacred Course, connecting the eminences of Safa and Marwa and locale of the liveliest and most unmanageable bazaar in Mecca, was four hundred and ninety three paces in length. It was the Trail of Torment imposed on Hagar, who ran it seven times in a desperate effort to find water for her infant son. Pilgrims arriving in Mecca accepted as part of their own ceremony a seven times running of The Sacred Course. This, as Ali had seen with his own eyes, was subject to various interpretations. Some pilgrims ran the prescribed seven times but some would have difficulty walking it once, for despite the hards.h.i.+ps of the journey, some of the afflicted, aged and the simply lazy arrived with every _Hadj_. Then there were always the eccentrics. Ali himself had been an astounded witness when one fat Amir reclined in a cus.h.i.+oned sedan chair which six sweating slaves carried over The Sacred Course the requisite number of times.

Ali tilted his head and stared miserably into the darkness as the utter hopelessness of his quest for understanding became increasingly apparent. It had been important that he earn the right to call himself Hadji Ali, but, in his heart of hearts, he knew that he'd wanted far more than that from his holy pilgrimage and he had not received it.

Since millions of Moslems who found all they hoped for in Mecca could not be wrong, it followed that the fault was personal. So--

Ali's meditations were interrupted by that which he understood perfectly.

Ben Akbar, swinging his head in the darkness as he turned to look toward something that had attracted him, gave the first sign that they were no longer alone. Ali had not seen the move, but he knew Ben Akbar had moved because he always knew everything the _dalul_ did.

Presently, he knew that a man, or men, were approaching because Ben Akbar always breathed in a certain cadence whenever men came near. Ali held very still, hoping the strangers would pa.s.s without noticing him.

He knew by their footsteps that there were two of them.

Ali sighed in disappointment when the pair halted only a few feet away.

He was about to call out and make his presence known, for those who have reason for silence in the darkness also have reason to expect violence, when someone spoke.

”All know of the plan then, Ahmet?” It was the voice of The Jackal!

”All know,” a second man replied.

Ali stood very still, holding his breath. The fact that The Jackal, whose intentions were anything except holy, was with the _Hadj_, had caused Ali some uneasy moments. But, he reminded himself once more, if it was the obvious duty of a good Moslem to reveal a Druse or anyone else traveling with the _Hadj_ and pretending to be a Moslem, it was equally true that The Jackal was in an excellent position to do some revealing of his own. Ali had decided he would not be the first to speak. Evidently The Jackal was not talking either.

”When is the exact appointed time?” the man named Ahmet asked.

”In another hour, when the followers of Mohammed and the wors.h.i.+pers of Allah will be enjoying their deepest dreams.”