the contrary you’ll be performing a most meritorious action in cutting off Selim’s head. If the knife is sharp, and doesn’t jam between the vertebrae, you will have no difficulty.”
To avoid their gaze I withdrew against the wall, but Abu el-Kasim, noting my fear, cursed me and said, “Have you no confidence in me? Patiently, sparing neither time nor trouble, I have woven my net to make all easy for you. In the palace you have your brother Antar, whom you can trust. The chief eunuch I have bribed. Delilah will go with you to the palace, to gaze into the sand, and I’ve already prepared a Cretan potion to be given to Selim instead of opium to send him into a deep sleep.”
Mustafa ben-Nakir touched my shoulder with his shapely hand and said, “Ah, Michael el-Hakim, you please me and my heart urges me to go with you to the kasbah, to encourage you with my advice; above all to see that you carry out your task and at the proper time. Have no fear, for a stone can fall and crush your head as well here as in the Courtyard of Bliss.”
But the whole thing had come upon me as too much of a surprise, and I cried in a fury, “In the Courtyard of Bliss it’ll be a sword and nothing else that will fall on me. Truly I was born under an evil planet. But I’m a slave and have no choice. May the
Just then Abu el-Kasim raised his head, listening attentively, and said, “Allah! What can that mean?”
I too heard it. It was the rumble of distant gunfire. We ran all three into the street, and so did the neighbors, their hands uplifted in astonishment. There was no doubt that the noise came from Selim ben- Hafs’s kasbah on the hillside; the wind brought us the sound of shrieks and clashing weapons, and then a cannon roared, echoed by another from the Spanish fortress at the harbor mouth.
“Allah is great,” said Abu el-Kasim, and now it was his turn to weep. “All is lost, but I take refuge in Allah and not in the devil whom he stoned.”
Uproar broke loose in the city; many people dashed along the streets and up the hill; merchants closed their shops and locked their doors. But Mustafa ben-Nakir surveyed his painted nails and said, “Allah is great, and nothing happens contrary to his will. Let us go and see what has happened.”
We hastened up the steep street to the kasbah. An uneasy crowd had already gathered at the place of execution, but nothing else was to be seen save a couple of irate soldiers, who with muskets at the present stood blowing their smoldering matches and angrily ordering the crowd to keep its distance.
Within the kasbah the clash of weapons died away and only the yelling of the soldiers was to be heard; we could not tell if they yelled with delight or wrath. It was rumored among the crowd that some wood carriers and cooks had climbed the walls of the palace and fled; they dashed down the slopes crying out that Selim ben-Hafs was running about the Courtyard of Bliss, stark naked and with sword in hand, slaying everyone he saw. But no one could say whether this was true.
Presently we saw over fifty Spaniards armed with harquebuses marching up from the harbor toward the kasbah. The Spanish consul walked at their head, gesticulating violently. The party came to a halt before the shut gates; their commander inquired loudly of the guard as to the meaning of the shots they had heard, and ordered the gates to be opened.
In the loopholes of the wall there now appeared a number of Spanish and Italian renegades, who jeered at the troops and bade them return to their fortress, as they had no business here. The bystanders, egged on by this defiance, began throwing stones and camel dung at the Spaniards, who threatened to open fire upon them regardless of their agitated consul. The commanding officer ordered his men to train their light fieldpiece on the gate, and threatened to discharge it unless Selim ben-Hafs showed himself without delay.
The gate swung open on grating hinges and the Spaniards started to march in; but their cries of triumph died away at the sight of two cannon trained upon them in the archway, and beyond them a troop of horsemen who had the greatest difficulty in controlling their mounts. The Spanish commander at once ordered his men to retire, and in much milder tones asked to speak to someone in authority who could tell him what had happened in the kasbah. And now in boundless astonishment I beheld Andy standing between the two guns, linstock in hand. He turned to speak to the horsemen with so careless a movement that one of his pieces went off and hurled its ball into the closed Spanish ranks, felling many men to the ground. At this the troopers could no longer rein back their horses, and they charged through the gateway with drawn swords.
Abu el-Kasim seized his head in both hands and cried, “Am I awake or dreaming?”
Nevertheless he played his part by tugging a holy Marabout by the sleeve and bidding him proclaim the
He smelled strongly of wine, and may well have been kicked on the head by one of the horses. At any rate he picked me up and slung me far out of the archway and there was nothing for me to do but seek cover, for the Spaniards were shooting and slashing, the crowds were proclaiming the holy war, and the sheds which Abu el- Kasim had set alight were now blazing to the sky.
I ran this way and that like a distracted hen until Abu el-Kasim and Mustafa ben-Nakir seized my arms, shook me and asked why Selim ben-Hafs’s mamelukes had attacked the Spaniards. I answered frankly that I had not the remotest idea, but besought them to rescue Andy as the Spaniards were certain to hang him.
For the moment, however, the Spaniards seemed indisposed to hang anyone, having trouble enough in regaining the harbor. Many of them lay in their own blood, while down in the city the fleeing remainder were met by an armed mob. From the roofs showered stones, boiling water, and balks of timber. Selim’s mamelukes, however, imbued by now with a healthy respect for the murderous Spanish harquebuses, withdrew again into the kasbah, leaving pursuit to the townsfolk.
Dervishes and other holy men proclaimed through foaming lips that the gates of Paradise stood open to all who fell at the hands of Spaniards.
Abu el-Kasim was not greatly tempted, and Mustafa declared that we had more important things to think of than the houris of Paradise. When the uproar had somewhat subsided we summoned up courage to address the guards at the gate of the kasbah, blessing them in the name of Allah. I begged them to call my brother Andy, and when Abu had thrown some silver among them they did as we asked.
Shortly afterward Andy appeared in the gateway, his hands thrust into his sash with a swaggering air. He surveyed us in surprise, and said, “In the name of Allah! What are you standing out there for? Come and share in our joy!”
He had quite forgotten having seen me just a few moments before. We dared not accept his cordial invitation, and I said, “Andy, you can’t be drunk? Come out to us and we’ll hide you from Selim’s wrath.”
He looked at me blankly.
“Are you raving, Michael? Selim ben-Hafs is dead and I serve his son Mohammed ben-Hafs, blessed be the dear boy’s name.”
Abu el-Kasim uttered a loud cry, and demanded, “How is this possible?”
Andy avoided our eyes, and rubbing the palms of his hands together in embarrassment he replied, “Most people believe that he slipped in the bath and broke his neck. But the sad truth is that it was I who broke it for him. It was quite a mistake, and in self-defense-and perhaps I was a trifle fuddled.”
“Good God in heaven!” I gasped. “Have you slain Selim ben-Hafs, and so ruined all my excellent plans? I begin to wonder why the Creator gave you a head at all, unless it was just to keep your ears apart.”
Andy flared up, being still fiery with wine.
“Why bewail Selim’s fate? Mourn rather for the two other sultans who have reigned here this day, for if the truth must be told, Mohammed is Selim’s third successor.”
Just then four or five soldiers in felt caps ran up to tell Andy that the Aga was calling for him. Andy followed them unsteadily across the courtyard, leaving us under the protection of the sentries. Abu el- Kasim and I sat down in the shade with heavy hearts, but Mustafa ben-Nakir took out his Persian book and began to read poems, glancing complacently from time to time at his painted nails.
Presently we sprang to our feet, for from the Aga’s house came the sudden sound of screams and shots. I thought never to see Andy again, but I should have knov/n him better. He came staggering across the courtyard toward us with a troop of yelling soldiers at his heels. On his head was the Aga’s turban, adorned by a plume held
