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 flowing white robe looking ghostly in the darkness, my heart sank, for I was thoroughly exhausted and no longer hoped for freedom.

      Judge my amazement, however, when, pulling up suddenly close to me, he exclaimed —

      “Peace! Mount yonder steed quickly, and let us away! Dáchchân!”

      The word gave me courage. It had been uttered by the mysterious man who at the cost of his own life had accomplished my deliverance! The fierce, brutal guards, accompanied by a number of Arabs who considered it sport to hunt a slave, were still in full cry after me. Already they had gained the Katánga, therefore, without losing a moment, I rushed towards the horse, swung myself into the saddle, and sped away like the wind, my rescuer leading.

      Shots sounded in rapid succession, but we remained unharmed, and with loud, angry curses sounding in the distance, we rode speedily forward, to where there was a breach in the city walls, and then away through the fertile oasis. As in silence we pressed onward at a wild, mad gallop, I was filled with admiration at the magnificent manner in which my companion sat his horse. He seemed merely a youth, for he was not tall, and his haick, well drawn over his face, half concealed his features, yet he rode at a pace that was killing, regardless of obstacles or the uneven nature of the ground.

      “For me this day hath indeed been one full of events,” I managed to gasp at length, when, in ascending the rising ground, our horses slackened.

      “And for me also,” he replied, without glancing towards me. “How sad it is that the daring Hámma, hero of a hundred fights, should have fallen in his valiant attempt to rescue thee!”

      “Yes,” I answered. “He fought bravely, indeed. But how didst thou know of his death?”

      “I was awaiting thee outside the mosque opposite the Fáda gate, with a horse for Hámma and thyself,” he answered. “I saw him fall, and then I witnessed thy flight. I could not reach thee in time, but by the shouts of the janissaries I knew the direction thou hadst taken, and posted myself in readiness. Praise be unto Allah that thou hast escaped those fiendish brutes!”

      “But it is all a mystery,” I said. “Tell me who plotted my deliverance; why should it be attempted by an outlaw?”

      “I know nothing,” he replied, “save that it was imperative that thy life should be saved.”

      “Why?”

      “Because thou art the Amîn, and the Well-Beloved.”

      “What dost thou know of me?” I asked, in surprise. “Nothing, beyond the fact that thou, who hast undertaken a secret mission, fell into the hands of the slave-raiders and became a prisoner in the inner court of the Fáda.”

      “Then thou art aware of my mission?”

      “I am aware that thou art a Roumi from across the sea.”

      “Knowest thou Hadj Mohammed ben Ishak, the imam of the Mesállaje?” I asked.

      “Yes, I knew him. He was a man pious and full of learning.”

      “What! hath the Avenger claimed him?”

      “No. He hath gone on a journey.”

      “On a journey?” I cried in dismay. “When will he return?”

      “I know not.”

      We had reached the brow of the hill, and our horses started off again at the same terrific pace as before. Noticing our saddle-bags were packed as if for travel, I inquired where we were going, but the only answer vouchsafed was —

      “Trust thyself unto me.”

      For another hour we rode onward through a great grove of date palms, until at last we plunged into a dense tropical forest, along what appeared to be a secret, unfrequented path. Presently, however, my guide suggested that we should rest until sunrise, and, dismounting, we unsaddled our horses, and, throwing ourselves down with our heads upon our saddle-bags, slept soundly.

      It was bright daylight when, on opening my eyes, I made an amazing discovery. The sex of my companion had changed! My guide to whom I owed my freedom was not a youth, as I had believed, but a young and pretty Arab woman, whose bright-hued silk garments had been concealed by a man’s burnouse, while on her head she had worn the fez and haick instead of the dainty embroidered cap and sequins which she had now resumed.

      “Thou art astonished at my transformation,” she laughed roguishly, standing before me with her pretty face unveiled. “Man’s attire doth not suit me in the light of day.”

      “Why hast thou practised such deception upon me?” I asked, amazed.

      “Because it was necessary. It was arranged that I should merely hold the horses in readiness, but when thou alone escaped, it became imperative that I should act as thy servant and guide.”

      “I owe thee a great debt indeed,” I said. “Tell me thy name.”

      “My name and tribe are of no consequence,” she answered. “An explanation will be given thee some day; at present I am bound to secrecy.”

      “Even though thou art of the sect of the Aïssáwà and of the tribe of the Ennitra — eh?” I asked.

      “How didst thou know?” she asked, startled. But I refused to satisfy her curiosity, although, truth to tell, I had noticed neatly tattooed upon her forehead a serpent, the symbol of the more fanatical of the followers of Sidi ben Aïssa, and upon her wrist was a curiously-wrought Kabyle bracelet of white metal, similar in form to one Zoraida had worn. The presence of this woman so far south puzzled me greatly, and I sat silent and thoughtful while she produced from her saddle-bag some dates, with a little skinful of water in which úzak seeds had been dipped, and which I found a cooling and refreshing drink.

      When we had eaten, she twisted her haick around her head, leaving just a slit for her eyes, then she sprang lightly into her saddle and we moved on again. Our way lay through a great thicket, where the mimosas and abísga attained such an exuberance as I had never before seen in the Sahara, and being closely interwoven by “gráffeni,” or climbing plants, were almost impenetrable.

      As we rode along the secret path, I endeavoured to persuade her to tell me of Zoraida, but her lips were closely sealed. She admitted that she had heard of the Daughter of the Sun, but with artful ingenuousness declared that she had never seen her.

      “I have heard that she died in Algiers somewhat mysteriously,” I said, watching her dark eyes narrowly.

      “Yes,” she exclaimed, quite calmly. “I have heard a similar report, and it is a curious circumstance that none have seen her since she went to El Djezaïr.”

      “She could foretell coming events and divine the thoughts of those with whom she came into contact,” I observed.

      “True, O Roumi. Whenever she accompanied our people into battle, they returned with much spoil and many slaves. Her love was a fierce, unbridled passion, and her hatred bitter and lifelong.”

      “And the Sheikh, Hadj Absalam, what of him?”

      “I know not. I am merely thy servant and thy guide. Ask me not things of which I have no knowledge;” and with this rebuff she commenced chattering and СКАЧАТЬ