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Zarah the Cruel

<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> <div class="blockquote"> “This is not the bishop’s square.”—Arabic Proverb. </div> Abdul removed the locust from his bowl, laid it on one side with three of its brethren for future consumption, and looked at Ralph Trenchard, who sat, eating his evening meal, some yards away. Then he wet his finger and held it up, frowned, looked across the red sand ridges and over to the scene of the disastrous battle, and shook his head. “Bad!” he said, removing yet another locust from his shoulder. “Bad locust, bad wind from the east, bad omen of death.” He spread his fingers against the power of dead bones and, a victim of superstition, twisted himself round from north to south as he sat. “All bad for the beginning of a second journey into this bad desert.” He placed an iron plate, spread with camel fat, to heat upon the top of the up-to-date brazier, which was the joy of his life, spread a thin layer of dough made of durra upon it, and whilst waiting for it to brown, prepared the five large, dark locusts for frying, praying inwardly that his master would reject the succulent savoury. “Five!” he commented, as he salted the insects and rolled them up in the thin, buttered cake. “Praise be to Allah that we have one good omen. Aï! Six, nay, seven.” He plucked two more from his skirts, and, fearful of finding the eighth, which would bring the ill-luck of an even number, ran swiftly across to his master with his offering. For two reasons Ralph Trenchard turned the savoury over with his fork. He had just finished an excellently[151] cooked meal of a highly spiced variety of the ubiquitous samh broth, and as highly spiced and as excellently cooked partridge, and a handful of dates; also had he become extremely suspicious of any fresh addition to the larder and of any new culinary effort on the part of his servant. He refused the crisp, well-browned roll at first, then, thinking it only kind to reward the man for his devotion, bit off an end and finished the lot. “Topping, Abdul! I’ll have one every day. What’s it made of?” Abdul hid his hands in his sleeves as he lied with the ease which comes from long practice. “Little bits of meat and fat and vegetables fried in butter, Excellency. The servant is rewarded by the light of pleasure in his master’s eye.” Ralph Trenchard rose and shook himself. “We’d better be starting, Abdul,” he said, flicking a locust from his sleeve. “The journey of a day and the journey of a night, that means the journey of two nights as we cannot travel in the sun, and then—and then I shall know, I shall be certain. And look here, my friend, don’t you go cooking any of these disgusting beasts and serving them up as fried dates or something.” He plucked one of the disgusting beasts from his shirt sleeve and flung it away, then looked at his servant, who stood motionless, a cloud of despondency dimming the habitually merry countenance. “Well? And what’s the matter now? Have the camels stampeded or the water-skins burst?” Abdul suddenly knelt and touched the ground with his forehead. “Give ear unto thy servant, O master! Hasten not the journey, linger yet one more night and yet one more day. The omens are not propitious for the starting. We are surrounded by death, by the bones of our brethren. The east blows the wind from her mouth and from the[152] north comes a puff of breath, so that the wind will blow slantwise towards the west and the south.” “Well? Why not? As long as it doesn’t blow straight from the south like a furnace, I should say that we ought to be jolly well pleased.” Abdul gathered three locusts from the ground, stored them surreptitiously in his voluminous sleeve, and rose to his feet, then walked close up to Ralph Trenchard, salaamed, and clasped his hands in fervent beseeching. “These few disgusting beasts, O Excellency, are the forerunners, maybe, of a great storm of many disgusting beasts, which in time of stress or famine are thankfully eaten by the Arab and the camel. If the wind were otherwise set, Excellency, if it were but the locust wind from the east unto the west, then would I cry haste, haste, so that we should pass on and leave the storm behind. But, Excellency, the puff of breath from the north will cause the disgusting beasts to follow us even southwards, so that we are like to drown in a sea of crawling, disgusting beasts, or to flee before them into the heart of the bad desert, there to be fallen upon by the evil spirits which dwell therein. Excellency, the omens are bad. The locust is bad, the wind is bad, likewise the bones, and”—he paused to allow the dread of the last and worst omen to sink thoroughly into the white man’s mind—“and the servant’s camel has pulled the amulet of good luck from about the neck of the master’s camel and”—followed another pause for the same good purpose—“has eaten it!” Ralph Trenchard laughed heartily, being one of the thrice blessed few who are absolutely free from the faintest trace of superstition, the greatest curse of modern days. “Look here, Abdul.” He put his hand on the faithful man’s shoulder and turned him in the direction of the south. “Not so very far ahead, in an almost straight line from here, is the range of mountains in which the woman Zarah dwells....” Abdul spat with vindictive vigour in a southward direction. “That woman has[153] knowledge of her Excellency, who is to be my wife....” Abdul, remembering the holy man’s statement about her Excellency’s health, spread his fingers westward in the direction of the bones glistening on the battlefield. “And if you think locusts or bones or amulet-eating camels can prevent me from starting when I said we would start, and that is in an hour’s time, then are you thrice mistaken....” Abdul pushed one of the disgusting beasts, afflicted with an inclination to stray, back into his sleeve. “And I should advise you, my son, to heave those thoughts out of your mind or you’ll have us wading up to our necks in locusts, or the bones getting up and following us, or the camels bursting from an overdose of good luck. Besides, remember your prophecy about the holy man, who, you said, was a bad holy man. He hasn’t brought us bad luck so far. You were mistaken, and you were, and you are, afraid and....” There was a limit to Abdul’s capacity for holding his tongue. He made finger gestures towards the four quarters of the globe, then shook his fist in the direction where lay the Bedouin camp which they had left behind many days ago. “Mistaken! O master! Mistaken! Why did the holy man run, run like the ostrich, so that the marks of his holy feet showed hardly upon the soft sand? Why did I, thy servant, find the footmarks of a camel far out in the desert just where the feet of the holy man made no more marks upon the sand?” “I expect someone was waiting to give him a lift, Abdul.” “Then why not lift him to the gate of the Bedouin camp, O my master?” Ralph Trenchard took his servant by the shoulder and turned him in the direction where lay the camels. “I expect he didn’t want the others to know that he was living in the lap of luxury, my son. Go and eat, because I am coming to overhaul everything and see that[154] all is shipshape before we start on the last bit of the journey, at the end of which this uncertainty will be lifted from me.” In spite of its pleasantry, Abdul recognized the one tone in his master’s voice which always caused him to obey with alacrity. He salaamed and departed to do his master’s bidding, gathering a good sleeveful of locusts as he went, and sat, making finger gestures towards the east and returning thanks to Allah for the tasty addition to the meal, while the disgusting beasts browned nicely upon the iron plate spread with camel fat. But a few hours later he turned in his saddle, then raised his hands to the heavens, which showed black as with thunder towards the east. “May Allah burn them with the fire of His wrath! May His right hand crush the life from them! May He speak words of anger so that they are swept from the white man’s path.” From his seat upon the first of seven camels he looked at Ralph Trenchard, who rode at his side, and back along the six beasts which, fastened muzzle to scrimpy tail by rope, had leisurely followed each other up and down the great ridges, whilst the menacing cloud spread rapidly across the sky. Ralph Trenchard turned and looked back. “I am sorry I have been the cause of your getting into this frightful danger, Abdul,” he said quietly. “Still, I have been in tighter corners than this and won out, so we won’t despair. You see, the swarm may pass well over our heads as there is nothing green for it to settle on within miles. Besides, if we had stayed where we were it would have been the same thing. We haven’t got so very far from the camp. Still, I’m sorry, and I....” The rest of the sentence was jerked from him as his camel stumbled to its knees, half rose, fell, and with an[155] infuriated scream got to its feet with the curious back jump exclusive to a fallen camel. They proceeded in silence for almost a quarter of a mile, when there came a shout from Abdul which was lost in a chorus of shrieks and groans and lamentations from the string, as the middle camel crashed, pulling its brother behind to its knees by the rope attached to its halter, and its sister in front to a sitting position by the rope attached to her skimpy tail, until at last the seven beasts sprawled upon the ground. Ralph Trenchard followed Abdul’s pointing finger. Lost in his thoughts and without looking at the ground over which he travelled, he had passed up and down the ridges which were soon to end in a great flat space. He looked down now, and shuddered at the sight. A thin layer of brown and crawling locusts lay upon the sands as far as eye could see—a terrible, living sheet of slipperiness upon which no biped or quadruped could hope to remain upright for long. He did not hesitate. He shook out the feet-long leather thong of the camel-whip and flicked the sides of the nearest fallen camel, against which was already forming a drift of locusts. And as the camel tried to rise he flicked the others, whilst Abdul alternately shouted encouragement and prayed to Allah. And when at last the beasts had been forced to their feet, to stand indifferent and contemptuous, he took his camel slowly across to where Abdul sat upon the leader and looked him in the face, whilst locusts, hurled by the ever-increasing wind, rattled like hailstones upon his topee, and caught and clung and crawled over his shirt and breeches and over his servant’s robes. “You must decide, Abdul,” he said quietly. “You belong to the desert. You have seen a locust storm many times. Do we go forward or back, or do we stay here and wait, praying that it will pass before we die of suffocation?” Abdul did not hesitate. Already the insects had covered[156] the camels’ feet and were clinging in bunches to their sides; already the camels were moaning like children in pain, a sure sign that fear utterly possessed them and that panic pressed them close. “We will move forward. And will his Excellency fasten his shirt lest the disgusting beasts crawl about his person. We are in the hands of Allah, O my master, and we must follow the path marked out for us, even if it be spread with a carpet of locusts. The heart of the storm has not yet reached us. Kismet! it is the will of Allah. Forward, my master, for that way the future always lies.” Inch by inch, with the leather-thonged whip curling backwards and forwards over the string, and Abdul alternately shouting encouragement, praying to Allah, and calling upon the aid of the great Prophet, the camels climbed the next ridge, which rose high above its fellows owing to a mass of volcanic rock beneath it, whilst the locust cloud spread across the heavens. With its forefeet just over the edge on the downward steep descent, Ralph Trenchard’s camel slipped, threw him clear over its head down to the bottom of the dip, then followed in a series of terrible somersaults, to collapse at the bottom with a broken neck. “Don’t get down, Abdul! For God’s sake, don’t get down!” shouted Ralph Trenchard as he scrambled to his feet just as the seven in a string, well back on their haunches, slid down safely to the bottom, the ridge meanwhile growing higher and higher as the locusts piled upon it. “I’ll cut you loose and take the second camel; it’s got two water-skins. You’ve got to take one—we’ll fix it on somehow.” He hacked at the rope which fastened Abdul’s camel to the second, then cut through the rope connecting the second and third; unfastened the water-skins, pulled the pack off the second camel, wrenched the saddle from the dead beast, and handed it up to Abdul, who threw it across the other camel’s back. [157] “Jam the brute against the side, Abdul, I’m going underneath. Tight, that’s it, don’t let it move. That’s it. Fling the off-strap further over. My God! That’s it! I’ve done it. Keep him jammed, I’m getting the water-skins on. Oh! my God! one’s burst; one of those fiends has driven its teeth into it. Fasten this one to your saddle—d’you hear what I say? fasten it—I’ve got my water-bottle and—you’ll get the whip across your back if you don’t—I’m going to tighten the strap—jam him still, I’m coming out—you can give me a leg up—I—my....” Abdul bent and hauled him up as he crept from under the camel’s belly and almost threw him into the saddle. “Come! Master, come! hasten! The camels fight, they are mad with fear; they kill all they see when mad. Nay, master, be not so mad thyself. What matter if they be bound together? They are but camels, and thou, O master, art a son of God! Turn thy camel, Excellency.” But the camels would not turn. True, they backed in their fear of the other five, which, fastened together, shrieked and fought, tore and snarled, as they vainly tried to climb out of the dip in which the stream of locusts was rising inch by inch; but get them round they could not, however hard they pulled at their cast-iron mouths and struck them on the off shoulder. Then Abdul yelled and tore off his outer cloak, sitting breathless, in voluminous drawers and vest, ready for the onslaught. The five camels, hopelessly fastened together, had straightened themselves out. The first, clean mad with fear, had seen two of its own kind standing quietly a little way ahead. For a second it stood quite still, excepting for its head, which swung from side to side, with great eyes rolling and long tongue hanging from the foam-flecked mouth, then it shrieked, shrieked as only a camel can, and charged, dragging the others, which rocked from side to side. They slipped and fell, and scrambled to their feet under the spur of the terrible[158] teeth which met in the hindquarters and the agony of the ropes which lashed muzzle and tail together. The foremost saw the open space on the waiting camel’s off-side and made for it, blindly, drew level with Abdul and swung its head viciously sideways, to find itself enveloped in the man’s coat. Followed a frightful scene, in which it stood quite still, lost in the darkness which had suddenly overtaken it, whilst the other four rushed backwards and forwards and swung themselves round until they jammed in a fighting circle. “Quick, master! Now! Follow! Allah protect thee in this corner of Jahamman! Fear at last moves my Satan-possessed beast; may Allah cause it to burn in the nethermost pit!” The faithful man leant over and gripped the halter and wrenched Ralph Trenchard’s camel round as his own turned. “We will go apace! We will....” His words were lost in the screaming of the five camels, as the foremost, freed of the cloak, suddenly charged up the side of the ridge. Up, up, almost to the top, pulling its companions after it, up to the edge where the locusts lay thick, then down, over and over, with its fellow prisoners fighting, struggling, screaming, back to the bottom of the dip, where ’tis wise to leave them to the mercy of Allah. The two men urged their camels swiftly from the terrible sight, whilst with a soft phit-phit-phit the locusts fell upon each other with the sound of raindrops upon glass. The sky was black with them; they swept above their heads with the whistling sound of a tropical hail storm. “We will stay here, master, if it be the will of Allah! We will throw the disgusting beasts out as they fill in the space about us. Thou art white and I am black, yet are we brothers in distress and in the sight of Allah.” Ralph Trenchard held out his hand, which Abdul just touched as he salaamed. But it was not the will of Allah that they should remain[159] to die, perhaps of suffocation, in the dip filled with locusts; it was His will, perchance, that they should make a last fight for life, which is good when filled with love, love of the woman, love of the master, love of the brother and friend. Abdul turned for one moment to secure the water-skins more firmly upon his saddle, when his camel stampeded, rushing blindly ahead for no good reason, as is the custom of the brutes. Followed by Ralph Trenchard’s, it turned sharply and scrambled to the top of the ridge, where the men bent double to save their faces from the driving locust rain. “Master!” Ralph Trenchard heard his servant’s voice as his camel turned and fled along the top of the ridge until it was swallowed up in the locust storm. “Abdul!” he called, covering his face with his arm. “God keep....” He beat the insects off his shoulders, beat them off as they piled thickly behind him on the saddle, paused for a moment in the ghastly work as a faint “Allah!” came to him from somewhere out of the dark, then beat at the horrible things which crawled all over him with a sickening scratching of their scaly bodies. The camel, crazed with the things which covered it as with a coat of mail, slid, shrieking, down the side of the ridge and scrambled up the farther side, and down and up the next, and yet the next. Ralph Trenchard, with his feet crossed round the pommel of his saddle, bent his head to his knees and rode for mile after mile, clutching the tufts of coarse hair upon the camel’s shoulder, whilst the locusts piled up on his back and neck. Why should he try to stop the camel? Why should he get down? Why should he not go on and on for ever riding, riding through an endless desert of swarming, crawling, creeping locusts, which stretched across the heavens and the earth from north to south, from east to wrest? Was it not the will of Allah? Was not ...? Up[160] he went and down, hanging on to the coarse hair just above the camel’s shoulders, up and down, and then on and on, evenly, smoothly, whilst the locusts whistled like a tropical hailstorm and the sky lighted way down in the east as the great curtain of insects swept towards and away to the west. And he went on and on, shuddering under the feeling of the locusts crawling over him when they had long since taken flight, leaving him and his camel free; on and on through the journey of the scorching day which followed the journey of the night, and still onward in the way which was to lead him to certain knowledge of the girl he loved; on and on, with his head bent to his knees and his hands clutching the coarse hair, mercifully unconscious at last. On and on, until a range of mountains showed faintly in the far distance and the sun went down behind it, just as, many miles away, two Arabs, journeying towards the Oasis of Hareek, drew Abdul out from under his dead camel and, finding that he breathed, straightened the broken leg between improvised splints, and placed him gently upon the third camel, which carried all their worldly belongings. <hr class="chap" /> [161] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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