In the court of the palace the Sultan came to meet him, and fell upon his neck and embraced him, for many messengers had come, from time to time, telling how the fight went, and of the great slaughter. And Khaled smiled, for he thought that he should now win the love of Zehowah.
“Said I not truly that he is as brave as the lion, and as strong as the camel?” cried the Sultan, addressing those who stood in the court. “Has he not scattered our enemies as the wind scatters the sand? Surely he is well called by the name Khaled.”
“Forget not your own men,” Khaled answered, “for they have shared in the danger and have slain more than I, and deserve the spoil. There was a score of stout fellows with me at the last in the marketplace, whose faces I should know again on a cloudy night. They fought as well as I, and it was the will of Allah that their enemies should broil everlastingly and drink boiling water. Let them be rewarded.”
“They shall every one have a rich garment and a sum of money, besides their share of the spoil. But as for you, my beloved son, go in and rest, and bind up your wounds, and afterwards there shall be feasting and merriment until the night.”
“The enemy is not destroyed yet,” answered Khaled. “Command rather that the army make ready for the pursuit, and when I have washed I will arm myself and we will ride out and pursue the dogs until not one of them is left alive, and by the help of Allah we will take all Shammar and lay it under tribute and bring back the women captive. After that we shall feast more safely, and sleep without fear of being waked by a herd of hyenas in our streets.”
“Nay, but you must rest before going upon this expedition,” objected the Sultan.
“The true believer will find rest in the grave, and feasting in paradise,” answered Khaled.
“This is true. But even the camel must eat and drink on the journey, or both he and his master will perish.”
“Let us then eat and drink quickly, that we may the sooner go.”
“As you will, let it be,” said the Sultan, with a sigh, for he loved feasting and music, being now too old to go out and fight himself as he had formerly done.
Thereupon Khaled went into the harem and returned to Zehowah’s apartment. As he went the women gathered round him with cries of gladness and songs of triumph, staunching the blood that flowed from his wounds with their veils and garments as he walked. And others ran before to prepare the bath and to tell Zehowah of his coming.
When she saw him she ran forward and took him by the hands and led him in, and herself she bathed his wounds and bound them up with precious balsams of great healing power, not suffering any of the women to help her nor to touch him, but sending them away so that she might be alone with Khaled.
“I have slain certain of your enemies, Zehowah,” he said, at last, “and I have driven out the rest from the city.” As yet neither of them had spoken.
“Do you think that I have not heard what you have done?” Zehowah asked. “You have saved us all from death and captivity. You are our father and our mother. And now I will bring you food and drink and afterwards you shall sleep.”
“So you are well pleased with the doings of the husband you have married,” he said.
He was displeased, for he had supposed that she would love him for his deeds and for his wounds and that she would speak differently. But though she tended him and bound his wounds, and bathed his brow with perfumed waters, and laid pillows under his head and fanned him, as a slave might have done, he saw that there was no warmth in her cheek, and that the depths of her eyes were empty, and that her hands were neither hot nor cold. By all these signs he knew that she felt no love for him, so he spoke coldly to her.
“Is it for me to be pleased or displeased with the deeds of my lord and master?” she asked. “Nevertheless, thousands are even now blessing your name and returning thanks to Allah for having sent them a preserver in the hour of danger. I am but one of them.”
“I would rather see a faint light in your eyes, as of a star rising in the desert than hear the blessings of all the men of Nejed. I would rather that your hand were cold when it touches mine, and your cheek hot when I kiss it, than that your father should bestow upon me all the treasures of Riad.”
“Is that love?” asked Zehowah with a laugh. “A cold hand, a hot cheek, a bright eye?”
Khaled was silent, for he saw that she understood his words but not his meaning. It was now noon and it was very hot, even in the inner shade of the harem, and Khaled was glad to rest after the hard fighting, for his many slight wounds smarted with the healing balsam, and his heart was heavy and discontented.
Then Zehowah called a slave woman to fan him with a palm leaf, and presently she brought him meat and rice and dates to eat, and cool drink in a golden cup, and she sat at his feet while he refreshed himself.
“How many did you slay with your own hand?” she asked at last, taking up the good sword which lay beside him on the carpet.
