“I warrant he is only tired. If Allah will I shall find means to rouse him. He is as my father, and this place is dangerous for him.”
He strode to the place where Mustafa sat cross-legged, mumbling fragments of sentences, and staring at the basin of rice and meat. He grasped the old man’s shoulder and bent over him, raising his voice as if to overtake the wandering mind and call it back.
“Fie upon thee, O my father!” he cried, “thou who hast this day slain the enemy with thy own hand, and hast done battle so bravely for the Faith, to sicken and faint like a vaporous girl. Allah witness I am ashamed for thee! Awake, O Mustafa! This place is not safe for us. The soldiers—Allah blast them!—may be seeking us even now. If we stay here we shall be taken and put in prison, and must forego all the glory of tomorrow’s slaughter. The wrath of Islâm burns like a great fire to consume the infidels. From the hour of sunrise the slaying will begin. Men will look for thee, O my father, in the front of the battle. They will marvel greatly and say one to another, ‘Where now is that old lion which devoured Yuhanna, the pig?’ They will look for thee to lead them on; it were a sin to disappoint them. Up, O Mustafa! The danger grows with every minute. Awake!—y’Allah!—for the faith of Muhammed!”
The last words were of magic virtue. The dying embers of the old man’s wit leapt up at them in lurid flame. With a cry he sprang to his feet, staring wild-eyed at Saïd.
“Dìn Muhammed!—I slew him! O glorious left hand! Allah is bountiful! Yes, I hear thee, my son, and I understand. I was asleep, not so? I was weary and so I fell asleep, and methought the angel of death was with me. But it was a dream surely. I will go with thee, O my eyes, whither thou wilt, so that there be men to kill—fat men like him, who lie on beds of down—Ha, ha!—while I who slew him am used to lie on the hard-trodden ground. I must be strong, sayest thou? Now, by my beard, that is a foolish word; for who is stronger than Mustafa? ’Hanna was weaker for I slew him easily, witness Allah and the bloodstains on my left hand. O glorious hand! But it is true what thou sayest, that a man’s strength must be nourished with meat. Of course, I will eat; and tomorrow I will do great slaughter—thou and I together, O my soul. O blessed left hand! Allah is bountiful!”
He swallowed the food hastily by great mouthfuls, with no signs of relish. When the bowl was empty Nûr brought him a cup of hot coffee, which he gulped down in like manner. He grew reasonable, taking counsel with Saïd as to the best place for them to lie till morning. The old woman, seeing him fairly in the way of health, wished them both a happy night, and returned to the upper chamber to look after the girl Ferideh, whose moans and lamentations, though unheeded in the greater anxiety attending the beggar’s plight, had long been audible.
“Take care that she do herself no mischief: she is a very tigress!” Saïd called after her as he and his adopted father stepped out into the night. They went stealthily, by narrow ways the moonbeams seldom fathomed, to a small tavern kept by a Muslim, which was towards the Christian quarter. Others of the insurgents had likewise chosen that place for their night’s shelter. There were blithe greetings. A discussion was going on, in which Mustafa, having no care to rest, joined eagerly. But Saïd, being very drowsy, yawned cavernously at all that was said. He soon stretched his length on the floor and fell fast asleep.
XXV
“Dìn! Dìn! Dìn Muhammed!” … “Allah! Allah!” … “Death to the unbelievers!” … “Perish the Nazarenes!”
Saïd awoke to the consciousness of a frightful uproar streaming in with a sunbeam through the open door. The whole city was filled with it—wrapt in it as in a mist. Frenzied shouts for Allah and the Prophet, devilish yells and cries of exultation mingled with the run of a great multitude in the street without, the distant beat of a drum and a sound of desultory firing.
The tavern, in deep shadow, was empty save for the old beggar, who stood over him brandishing a curved knife like a sickle in his sound hand, while with the withered he pointed to the piece of an iron bar which lay on the ground close to Saïd. A fierce devil looked out at his eyes.
“Arise, O sluggard!” he cried with a mad laugh. “Is this a time to sleep and be lazy? Come, let us out! There will be blood!—blood—blood of unbelievers to flush the streets like water! Aha, the dogs of the city shall drink rare wine tonight!”
Saïd’s eyes caught fire from the speaker’s. Grasping the iron, he sprang to his feet. “Ready!” he cried; and with a bound like a wild beast’s they cleared the threshold together.
A live stream filled the alley—a torrent of men and boys; all with the murder-light in their eyes, all flourishing weapons, all racing in one direction. The current caught them and swept them along.
“In case we be sundered in the tumult,” breathed Mustafa, “meet me in the place thou knowest—in the secret place of our treasure among the gardens—at the hour of sunset. Forget not!”
Saïd turned his head to answer; but the old man was torn away from him in a sudden eddy of the human tide to avoid the frantic kicking of a donkey which held the middle of the causeway. He found himself roughly shouldered between two Drûz
