Part 8 (2/2)
”She is striving toward that end,” the dwarf answered briefly, adding, ”May thine Allah, who hath created seven heavens, and as many different stories of the earth, keep thee in peace and safety.”
Gradually I overcame the distrust with which I at first regarded the hideous little pagan. From words he let drop in our subsequent conversation it was evident he was Azala's trusted servant, and was no doubt admitted to her apartments because of his personal deformity and ugliness of countenance. Until near midnight we squatted together in his little den in the Court of the Eunuchs, smoked, drank marissa and chatted; but he was discreet, silent as the Sphinx upon the affairs of his mistress, and to all my questions made the stereotyped reply, ”Wait; a message will be conveyed unto thee.”
Day by day, amid the round of bountiful entertainment, I waited in patience, glancing ever and anon up at the dwelling-place of the woman who besought my aid. Still no message came. Sometimes after the _isha_ had been prayed I met Tiamo, but to all inquiry he remained practically dumb. ”The Lalla is still unable to see thee,” he always replied, if I expressed surprise that the promised message had not reached me. But he would invariably add a word of hope, expressing regret that circ.u.mstances had conspired against us.
One night, after superintending the duties of the _mulazimin_, I was crossing the Court of the Grand Vizier when Tiamo hurriedly approached me. By his face I could see that something had occurred, and as he brushed past me in full view of others about him he whispered, ”Come to me one hour after midnight.” Then he walked on without waiting for me to reply.
Punctually at the hour appointed I entered his little den with beating heart. The shutter was closed, therefore we were un.o.bserved.
”Hasten. There is but brief s.p.a.ce,” he exclaimed quickly, and pulling from beneath his divan a blue silk robe and yellow turban similar to those worn by the eunuchs, he added, ”Attire thyself in these. The Lalla biddeth thee repair unto her chamber.”
I obeyed him without doubt or hesitation.
”Now, come with me,” he said, when at last I had buckled on a scimitar and thrust my feet into slippers of crimson leather, and together we went out into the open court.
A deep silence rested on the great palace, broken only by the cool plas.h.i.+ng of the fountains in their marble basins. The heavens, blue as a sapphire, were profound and mysterious. Myriads of stars twinkled in the clear depths of the skies, and all objects were defined with a wonderful accuracy in the silver moonlight. The Fada was hushed in sleep. On the marble steps of the Bab-Seadet, the gate of the Imperial harem, the black guards stood on either side, mute, erect, motionless, their naked swords gleaming in the moonbeams. How many scenes of gorgeous festivity had been witnessed beyond that great door of iron!
how many terrible and b.l.o.o.d.y dramas had been enacted within those grim, grey walls--dramas of love and hatred, of ambition, disappointment and revenge, of all the fiercest pa.s.sions of the human heart! By night and day the bewitching pearls of the harem intrigued, schemed and plotted-- themselves, through their Imperial Master, ruling the world outside.
Too often, alas! in the history of the Empire of Sokoto it had occurred that some dark eye, some bewitching face masking a beautiful slave's ignorance and cunning, had mastered her irresponsible and irresistible lord, and been the means of striking off the heads of not only her rivals within the harem, but those of even the wisest councillors and the bravest fighting-men outside.
As together we crossed the silent court our echoing footsteps broke the quiet. In the gateway of the harem a single light glimmered yellow in contrast with the white moonbeams; but turning our backs upon it we pa.s.sed through one court after another, receiving salutes from the guards at each gateway. My disguise as eunuch was complete, and as we strolled onward without apparent haste my confidence grew until, on crossing the Court of the Armourers and entering the Court of the Pages, we discerned a white-robed figure enveloped in a haick and wearing the ugly baggy trousers which are the out-door garments of Moslem women.
”Behold!” I exclaimed, with bated breath. ”The Lalla Azala awaiteth us!”
”No,” answered the strange, grotesque being. ”It is her mute slave, Ayesha. Place thyself in her hands. She will conduct thee unto her mistress.”
As we advanced, the woman, whose face I could not distinguish, raised her hand with commanding gesture, and opening a small door beckoned me to follow. This I did, Tiamo remaining behind. Across many courts and through several doors, which the woman carefully bolted after us, we sped until, skirting a pretty garden where pomegranates, almonds, cypresses and myrtles alternated regularly, and roses in full bloom embowered the long alley, we came to a door in a wall near the tower.
Having looked well around to see that n.o.body remarked us, she introduced me into a pa.s.sage so small that I was compelled to bend to enter it.
Taking up a lamp that had apparently been placed there in readiness, she went on before, and I followed through some intricate wanderings; then, instead of ascending, we began to go down a flight of broken stone steps.
The air became hot and stifling, and foul odours rose from the place into which we were descending. Suddenly a loud, piercing shriek of pain sounded weirdly, followed by another and yet another. Then I recognised the uneven steps as those leading to the foul dungeon with its maniac prisoners.
The rough, exultant laugh of my enemy, Khazneh, reached my ears from below, mingled with the imploring cry of some unfortunate wretch who was undergoing torture. Next second a suspicion flashed across my mind that I had been betrayed.
CHAPTER TWELVE.
MYSTERIES OF EBLIS.
My mute conductress halted, listened intently, then placed her finger significantly on her lips. As she turned her half-veiled face towards me I saw in the flickering lamplight that her tattooed forehead was brown and wizened, that her dark, gleaming eyes were deeply sunken, and that her hand holding the lamp was thin, brown and bony.
The sounds that alarmed us ceased, and, after waiting a few moments, scarce daring to breathe, she descended several more stairs to a turn in the flight, and I found myself before a small, black door, which she quickly opened and closed again after we had pa.s.sed through. Raising her finger to command silence, she moved along a narrow pa.s.sage and then there commenced a toilsome ascent over great, roughly-hewn steps that I well remembered descending when, in the clutches of my captors, I had been roughly dragged from the apartment of my enchantress. With a nimbleness that showed a familiarity with their unevenness, she mounted, while I stumbled on behind, nearly coming to grief once or twice, and being compelled to save myself with my hands. In my eagerness to meet the woman who had entranced me, upward I toiled, until my breath came and went in short, quick gasps, and I was forced to rest a moment, while she also halted, smiling and turning the lamp towards me. The intricacies of these secret pa.s.sages were puzzling and fatiguing, and I was anxious to pa.s.s into the well-remembered room wherein the Sultan's daughter had, during so many weary moons, awaited me.
At last we stood before a door secured by a large iron bar, so heavy that old Ayesha could not draw it from its socket, but quickly I removed the barrier. The slave who had acted as my guide opened the door, drew aside the heavy curtain, and then stepping forward I found myself once again before the bright-eyed girl who desired my aid.
The place was dimly illumined by great hanging lamps of gold, which shed a soft and dubious light through cut crystals of green and crimson, and the air was sweetly scented by the odours of musk and cinnamon rising from the perfuming-pans. Azala, pale and beautiful, in her gorgeous harem dress, with arms, ankles and neck laden with jewels, was reclining with languorous grace upon her divan of light blue satin fringed with gold, that was placed in the alcove at the end of the apartment, her wealth of dark hair straying in profusion over the great, ta.s.selled cus.h.i.+on of yellow silk. Her feet, tiny and well-formed, were bare, her pearl-embroidered slippers having been kicked aside, her pipe stood near, and upon a coffee-stool of ebony and gold stood a large silver dish of rare fruit, while kneeling beside her was a black female slave cooling her slowly with a fan of peac.o.c.k's feathers. Unnoticed by her, I stood for a few seconds, bewitched by her loveliness as she lay there in graceful abandon, her body saturated with perfumes, her soul filled with prayers.
”Welcome, O Zafar! Allah favoureth us!” she cried excitedly, springing to her feet the instant she recognised me, and, rus.h.i.+ng across, grasping both my hands. ”Thou hast brought happiness with thee.”
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