The Arab's Pledge: A Tale of Marocco in 1830. Edward Ledwich Mitford
in their tents, and peradventure I and my child may escape to the wilderness, even as wandering birds cast out of the nest. Oh, let not to-morrow's sun see thee within ten hours' journey of this accursed city."
Yusuf had listened to this narrative with the deepest interest, but his mind did not jump so readily at the conclusion of the sanguine Rachel.
"This is sudden," he said, "and should I find the Sheik, he may deny his pledge after so long a time."
"Impossible!" interrupted Rachel; "an Arab will not refuse aid to an ordinary claimant, who seeks hospitality in his tent. How can a Chief deny his pledge? If it were possible, he would be shamed and outcast from his tribe! But he will not!"
"I hope your confidence is well founded, but if anything happened to Azora before my return? O mother, I must see her first."
"No, my son," said Rachel, solemnly, "no!—not as you value her life. But delay not, every hour—nay, every minute is precious."
"Well, mother, I obey you; but you must see Azora, and tell her of my ceaseless devotion; and oh, entreat her not to be rash, but to gain time as long as possible. Pray for me on this perilous journey, and bless me, O my mother."
"God bless thee, my son, even the God of Israel bless thee, and prosper thee in the way, and bring thee back again in safety."
They embraced each other affectionately; and Yusuf, putting away the pouch safely in his bosom, returned to his own house, with a sad heart, to make a few necessary preparations for his sudden journey. These completed, he left word that he should be absent for some days on a trading expedition, and, mounting his mule, in less than an hour was wending his way through the suburbs of the town, absorbed in grief, but urged on by dread lest the fate of his betrothed should be decided before his return.
It was the day appointed for a grand hunt, and the Sultan was passing the time in an octagonal pavilion in the garden of the palace, until everything was ready to set out. Mulai Abd Er Rahman was about forty years of age, of a swarthy complexion, with regular features, and a handsome black beard and moustache; his eye was of that mild expression which can blaze out with terrific energy when excited by passion; his forehead was broad, and surmounted by a turban of fine muslin. The rest of his dress was not distinguishable from that of other Moors of rank, and over all he wore the fine Filelly hayk, which fell in graceful drapery to his feet.
He was now reclining on a Persian carpet, one arm leaning on a pile of cushions, fringed and tasselled, while the other hand held a small china tea-cup and saucer; drinking green tea being the one occupation with which the Moors fill up all their spare time, no milk is used with this tea, but the loaf-sugar is always put into the tea-pot. On the carpet was a polished brass tea-tray, with an English service of green and gold, and some plates of preserves.
The dome of the pavilion, supported on pointed arches, was brilliantly painted in every variety of arabesque, and the arches and cornices worked with stuccoed mouldings, the floor was of lozenge-shaped glazed tiles of various colours, and these lined the walls to the height of several feet from the ground. The doorway was shaded with grape-vines and jessamine on trellises.
One of the Sultan's attendants now entered, and with a deep obeisance announced that the Cadi El Faki Al Maimon had something of importance to communicate, if he might be allowed admission; and the Sultan, although vexed at the unseasonable intrusion, gave his permission, with the usual "Bismillah," and the Cadi appeared. He was motioned to a seat at the lower end of the carpet; he then proceeded to lay the case of the Jewess before the Sultan, with sundry invocations of God's favour on the Khalifa of the Prophet and protector of the faith; and added that the infidel had denied the facts, and appealed to his exalted footstool; and that such being the case, she was now removed from his jurisdiction.
The Sultan was not naturally blood-thirsty, but could be cruel when governed by revenge or cupidity; and after hearing the Cadi's statement it occurred to him, that it would save him trouble if he allowed the Jewess, whom he plainly saw had been falsely accused, to return to her own persuasion if it could be done without contravening the law.
"God is great! You say the woman denies the charge; (enlighten thy servant, O Mohammed!) Is it not written of the infidel, that he shall voluntarily repeat his confession before the Cadi and the Ameers to make the ceremony legal?"
"Wonderful! Our lord the prince can teach the law to us his slaves; but is it right to allow indulgence to the infidels, to the injury of the faith?"
"I will take care of the interests of religion, the cause is now before me, you are no longer responsible. Where is the infidel?"
"She must be arrived by this time," said the Cadi; "but if I might presume to advise—"
"Enough, priest," said the Sultan, with a movement of impatience, and a look that Al Maimon did not think it safe to brave. "You are dismissed from attendance."
"May blessings be increased on our Lord the Sultan," he answered, and left the presence, as Azora was introduced between two soldiers.
When a Jew, of whatever rank, is introduced to the Sultan, though it be to bring him presents, he is always brought in by two guards grasping his collar, and thrown down on his face, then dragged up again and held, as though he were a criminal. But guided by a natural feeling of respect for a woman, Azora was merely left standing on the carpet, and the attendants retired. She could not forbear trembling before one whose word was fate, and on an occasion of less importance would hardly have been able to bear up against her emotions; but she felt she was a champion of her faith, and collected all her courage for the emergency. The Sultan had taken up a letter, which he was listlessly reading, and by a sign gave her permission to speak.
"May the king live for ever!" she said. "I have been falsely accused by perjured men of forsaking the faith of my fathers. I have appealed to your exalted tribunal, and I now ask for justice in the name of God!"
At the first sweet sounds of that soft voice, the Sultan had raised his eyes, and remained gazing at the beautiful vision that stood before him. The flowing veil which had concealed her person had fallen, hanging in loose folds from her left shoulder; and as she proceeded, her large dark eyes were fixed on the arbiter of her cause, her finely modelled hand and arm were raised in invocation of the Deity, and then dropped slowly to her side. It was enough, her fate was irrevocably sealed. And a slight hint from his own evil nature had gone further in proving the soundness of the Cadi's advice, than if he had supported it by all the texts in the Koran. Invested with the most arbitrary power, and unaccustomed to any opposition in such cases, he stood on little ceremony, when his only feeling was, that he was conferring a favour. Rising, he approached her, with an air of gracious familiarity.
"Think you," said he, taking her hand, "that I can be such a traitor to our Prophet's cause as to allow such beauty to shine on infidels. Still I have the power to send you back free—and make your accusers' heads roll at your feet. It depends on you," he continued, drawing her towards him. "Give the command, which shall seal the death of your enemies—your own triumph—and my happiness!"
"Mock me not, my lord," said Azora, extricating herself from his hold, as she perceived his meaning. "I am unworthy of my lord's notice. I ask not the death of mine enemies. I ask not my life at the price of degraded innocence. I ask but justice! And oh! for the sake of that just God, whom you profess to adore, and who will bless the protector of the oppressed, oh, restore me to my poor mother! Save me! oh, save me!" and she buried her face in her veil, and burst into tears.
The Sultan's first impression was astonishment at meeting with such a rebuff, and then his dignity was offended by the boldness of her speech, but his anger was checked by her grief, which even he could not behold unmoved; he attributed it, however, to a womanish fear of death; but was quite incredulous as to her resolution holding out so far as to brave it. He thought it better to give her time for reflection, and throwing himself on the cushions, said mildly, "Your fate is in your own hands. Think on your danger, for I alone can save you." And summoning his attendants, he directed them to conduct her to the hareem in the palace. Azora, her eyes streaming with tears, hopelessly followed her guide to the women's apartments, where we must leave her