4 African Mysteries: Zoraida, The Great White Queen, The Eye of Istar & The Veiled Man (Illustrated Edition). William Le Queux

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СКАЧАТЬ the vile and brutal passions which actuated him. “Silence!” he cried again, and his servants fell before him with genuflections inspired by awe. “Slave! thou, who hast passed the portals of the private courts of thy Sovereign to prophesy his discomforture, hast dared to address thy Ruler without leave! Knowest thou not that none are allowed in this our pavilion unless commanded, under pain of instant death?”

      “I come to forewarn thee, O August Ruler, of impending evil — ”

      “Stop thy chatter, dog!” he shouted, his face livid with sudden passion. The storm burst, and the dark cloud, swollen with his accumulated exasperation, exploded in a tremolo full of threats. When the Sultan Hámed broke out, he was terrible. “I heed not the croakings of a common slave who — ”

      “But men, jealous of thy position, have plotted to compass thy death ere to-day’s sun hath set!”

      “Liar! Thou art indeed demented,” he cried, in full combustion. Then, in the frightful rumbling of his phrases, in the incessant crackling of his words, he roared bitter corrosive invectives that caused his robust frame to vibrate as they issued forth. Suddenly, turning to his trembling body-servants, he added, “Seize him! Let his prophetic tongue be torn out as a punishment for daring to predict evil in our presence!”

      “Hear me, I pray thee, Just and Mighty one, slow to anger and of great mercy! It is to save thy Majesty’s life that — ”

      “The Sultan of the Ahír desireth not the aid of a slave!” he answered proudly. “I would send thee to execution at Azarmádarangh at once, only I think thy mind is deranged, and if so, thy boldness is not of thine own fault. But the chatter of the idiot annoyeth the sane, therefore thy tongue shall be removed, so that, though mad, thou wilt in future be dumb.” Turning quickly to my captors, he added, “Let him be cast into prison and rendered speechless. Away with him!”

      For this rebuff I was totally unprepared, and my courage sank.

      “Wilt thou show no mercy towards thine humble slave, who hath risked his life to prostrate himself before thee and give thee warning?” I ventured to cry earnestly, in final appeal.

      “Take him from my sight,” commanded the Sultan, waving his hand angrily. “See that his glib tongue wags not after sundown.”

      “Merciful Allah!” I implored, struggling violently with those who held me. “Behold, I am thy slave, O lord the Sultan! Hear me, I beseech of thee!”

      But His Majesty, uttering a string of voluble curses upon my family through generations, turned his back towards me with a gesture of impatience, and I was unceremoniously hurried from his terrible presence.

      The Sultan had, however, stepped from his divan, therefore, at the entrance to the pavilion I was held back by the four stalwart guards in order to let him pass through to the spacious Hall of Audience. Surrounded by his body-servants, he strode along with regal gait and keen, observant eye; then, after he had gone, I was dragged onward at a distance behind not so great as to prevent me watching his progress.

      Gaining the Hall of Audience, one of the most gorgeous apartments of the Fáda, Mukhtar, the Grand Vizier, suddenly appeared, and, bowing low, craved a hasty and private word with his royal master. The plot was being carried out before my eyes! The Sultan, halting at the entrance to the long arched arcade that gave access to the Court of the Treasury, waved his hand, motioning those surrounding him to pass onward.

      The armed janissaries standing erect and mute as statues along the walls of the audience-chamber exchanged expectant glances full of meaning, and I knew that they were anxiously awaiting the commission of the dastardly crime. I would, even at that moment, have shouted a last warning, but, alas! the men in whose hands I stood powerless had gagged me in compliance with the desire of their irate master.

      Until the servants and guards had passed through the long dimly-lit arcade and crossed the paved court beyond, Mukhtar held his royal master in earnest conversation, then, prostrating himself humbly, he rose and took his leave, while His Majesty, hitching his robes of spotless silk about him, moved onward briskly and alone down the silent arcade.

      Upon Mukhtar’s lips a momentary smile of satisfaction played as he stalked away. It told me that the doom of the Sultan Hámed was at hand! Walking still in the grip of the guards, I watched the upright and truly regal figure of His Majesty receding until he had passed half-way along the great arched corridor. Then suddenly a second figure was sharply silhouetted against the brilliant sunlight at the end of the vista. A strong arm was raised, a gleaming scimitar whirled aloft, and a loud cry of surprise and dismay echoed until it reached the spot where we stood.

      Next second the headless body of Hámed, Sultan of the Ahír, lay at the Chief Eunuch’s feet, and upon the polished marble pavement a dark, ugly pool was rapidly forming.

      My four captors, paralysed and amazed, released me and dashed along towards the prostrate body of their master, but in an instant the scimitars of the guards of the Hall of Audience were hovering over their heads, and after a desperate but brief struggle they were secured and gagged.

      So swiftly indeed had the secret assassination been accomplished, that, ere I could realise that the plot had been carried out, the body had been thrust into a sack and removed, slaves who had actually held water in readiness had washed the stains from the marble, and almost before one could regain breath, every trace of the terrible crime had been erased.

      Chapter Twenty Seven

       The False Cadi

       Table of Contents

      The gulf of accident lies between what is and what might have been. Strangely enough, the very tragedy which I had endeavoured to avert saved me from the torture and imprisonment to which the brutal autocrat had condemned me, for when my guards were hurried away to the prison cells, and I explained to my master, the murderer Amagay, the fate to which the dead Sultan had condemned me without telling him the cause, he bade me return immediately to the Court of the Eunuchs, sending two of the guardians of the harem to escort me thither.

      Thus once again I became a slave and prisoner. Escape seemed hopeless, and the delivery of Zoraida’s letter impossible. Though so near the one person who held the Secret of the Crescent, I was yet held in bondage, unable to seek him, unable to fulfil my promise. The beautiful face of Zoraida with its dark, wistful eyes was ever before me, and my thoughts were constantly of the mysterious one of enchanting loveliness who had placed her faith in me. Time does not change a heart, and love memories are not written in sand — they last while life lasts.

      The explosion in my workshop had, I ascertained, been attributed to accident, therefore, as soon as I returned, I found another corner, and, removing those of my polishing stones and cloths that had escaped injury, I resumed my work, resolved to hope on and wait. So swiftly and silently had the coup d’état been carried out, that only the conspirators themselves knew of it, those of the dead monarch’s bodyguard who had witnessed the brutal assassination being all safely in prison pending the Grand Vizier’s decision as to their fate. True, the sudden disappearance of the Sultan caused some anxiety in the harem and among the Fadáwa-n-serki, or royal courtiers, but this was at once allayed by a report that was spread that His Majesty had unexpectedly set out upon a journey.

      It was only at night, when Khadidja and Zobeide, the Sultan’s two favourites, were, without warning, decapitated by the eunuchs in the centre of one of the Courts of Love, that the doves of the gilded cage vaguely guessed the truth. Trembling, they huddled СКАЧАТЬ