Part 15
By these stories and the like, our labours were somewhat beguiled, but it was a fearful life; and though owing to our numbers, our work was not so heavy as it would have been had we been the slaves of any one but the Dey, yet, so terrible were his moods that no one who came near him, not even the greatest of his subjects, was ever safe from the most horrible of deaths. To work too fast or too slow, to salute him or not to salute him, were equal offences in his eyes. When he stirred abroad it was always on horseback, and any horse he had once bestridden it was death for any meaner person to back. Before him went the greatest of his officers, then came a cavalcade of soldiers galloping hither and thither, and executing marvellous feats of horsemanship while they fired their small arms into the air or into the ground. He himself was surrounded by black slaves, some running before and some behind, while it was the office of one to carry an umbrella over him, and woe betide him if he let one ray of sunshine touch his countenance. In his hand he always carried a dart with which he would transfix any one that angered him, and beside him ran another slave, whose only office it was, when his master darted his weapon into the air, which he would do when it irked him to carry it any longer, to catch it before it fell; in which, if he failed, as like as not the Dey would order him to be tossed, which is a punishment peculiar to the Turks, and done in this manner. Four or five strong blacks seize upon him on either side, and stooping a little, suddenly straighten their backs at the same time throwing him up with all their strength, with his feet upward, so that he pitches down with his head foremost. In this by much practice they are so dexterous that they can make him fall how they please, and according as the Dey signs to them they either break his neck at the first toss or let him fall on his shoulder, when at another sign they will toss him again until he be dead, or the Dey signify that it is enough. Others of the Dey’s slaves are scarred all over by his dart, and in particular that one which bears his umbrella, for at the least offence he will make use of it. Indeed, to show what sort of a temper he hath, and how terrible he is, I cannot do better than relate a story that was credibly told me of his youth, when he was newly come into his kingdom.
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_THE STORY OF HELIODORA._
At the time the Dey was newly come into his kingdom, he was warring not only with the Christians by sea, but also against his brothers that contested the kingdom against him at his father’s death; when he not only showed his people that he was a lion in the fight, but also showed them that he was a better general, young as he was, than any emir his brothers could bring against him. Now it happened, after that he had won several great victories, and driven his brothers to take refuge in the mountains with such few of their followers as remained to them, he retired to Algiers, where he sought to consolidate his kingdom and rest for a while from the fatigues of war. Nor had he been there long, when his fleet arrived in port, having on board much riches plundered from the Christians, and also many slaves, among whom was a most beautiful Greek girl whom the captain had brought as a present for his sovereign. This slave indeed was a miracle of beauty, a very jewel, barely seventeen years of age, and such as one might scarcely conceive to exist in the flesh or in any other way than in the conception of the great sculptors of ancient times. I need not say that no sooner had the Dey seen her than he fell deeply in love, insomuch that he could take no delight out of her company, and his love increased little by little until he utterly neglected the affairs of his kingdom, leaving his emirs to do as they pleased, and oppress and plunder the people, while the enemy that was before utterly routed and obliged to skulk in caverns and difficult places, began again to take heart of grace in the general disorder, and so to harass the kingdom that there was no security or peace from end to end. In these circumstances the Janissaries, or soldiers, began with open voice to murmur, complaining that their lord consumed his life effeminately and that they were left without employment while the kingdom went to ruin; while the poor commonalty were oppressed on the one side by their rulers, and on the other by the enemy, so that they too began to broach open sedition, saying that their lord was no lord for them, since he conferred no profit on the kingdom but allowed them to be eaten up from without and within. Yet there was none that durst declare any of these things to the Dey, for they all knew his terrible humour: and, moreover, he was so deeply steeped in love for the beautiful Greek that it was no light thing to draw him away from her. Thus it was that his people began to despair of a remedy, and began to be of one mind to yield no more obedience to him, but to choose some other prince to be Dey, more martial and more warlike, that would rid the kingdom of its enemies and make the emirs give some account of their government. Now, among the counsellors of the Dey, there was one that was called Hamed, the greatest favourite that he ever had, who had come almost a boy into his army, and had distinguished himself in several actions. Having thus come under the young Dey’s notice, and being, moreover, a youth of great parts, frank and noble, and of a merry humour, the Dey grew into great familiarity with him, insomuch that he allowed him to enter his presence whenever he would. This Hamed was heartily grieved at the infatuation of his master and the danger into which he had fallen of being bereft of his kingdom, and resolved that, come what might, he would seek to draw him away from the Greek. When, therefore, he perceived a convenient time, such as he desired to have, he repaired to the Dey who was walking alone in his garden, and after he had made great reverence according to the custom, he said: ‘My sovereign lord, if thou wilt permit me to speak freely without fear, I have that to tell thee which greatly concerns thy State, and what is still more important to all thy loving people, the safety of thy own person.’ To which the Dey answered merrily: ‘Cast aside all fear and speak freely what is on thy mind, for who shall speak to me if thou mayest not?’ Then Hamed continued: ‘I doubt that what I say may be displeasing to thee, but believe me that nothing but the love and reverence I have for thee compels my tongue to wound thy ears; and indeed, I fear that I have kept silence too long.’ He then proceeded to tell him as gently as he could, what was the state of his kingdom, how the enemy were pressing upon him, how the emirs governed and oppressed the people, and how the people murmured; so that the kingdom was ripe for rebellion, and there was already talk of deposing him and appointing a new Dey. Then he exhorted him to attend to the government and leave off his slothful life. ‘Be now,’ he continued, ‘a conqueror of thyself, and separate thee from thy slave; or, if so be the Greek delight thee so much, who shall prevent thee from carrying her with thee on all thy expeditions, and why canst thou not both enjoy her company and use the practice of arms? And if I have spoken anything disagreeable to thy mind, pardon the same according to thy wonted clemency, and impute the fault rather to my sense of duty, and the care that I have of thy honour and safety.’ The Dey, when he had listened to the discourse of his friend, stood as though he had been struck by a thunderbolt: his eyes were fixed upon the ground, his chest heaved, his breath came fast and thick, his colour changed, the veins in his forehead swelled, and, in short, he discovered every sign of agitation and unquietness of mind, insomuch that Hamed, seeing him in these alterations, was in doubt of his life. A furious battle raged in the mind of the Dey, for he knew that Hamed had spoken the truth, while on the other side the beautiful eyes of Heliodora seemed to plead with him to continue in his perfect love and happiness, and the idea of abandoning her was as though he contemplated tearing his own heart from his bosom. With great rage he turned upon Hamed and said: ‘Before the sun shall once again turn in the heavens, I will let thee and others know what power I have over myself, and whether I am able to bridle my passion or no. Bid the emirs and bashas and grandees, and the captains and principal men assemble to-morrow in the great hall of the divan, where I will meet them, and now, if you value your life, be gone!’ The next day, all the emirs and bashas and grandees, and all the principal men, together with Hamed, were assembled in the great hall of the divan, wondering what the Dey’s words had portended, when, to the sounds of drums and cymbals, the Dey entered, leading Heliodora by the hand. When he had come to the throne, he stood still, and cried with a loud voice: ‘Ho, emirs and grandees, it has been brought to my understanding that ye complain I devote too much time to this fair being, to the neglect of the affairs of my kingdom, and that I am weak and unable to overcome my passion and am unworthy any longer to command you.’ Then he drew the veil from the face of Heliodora, and all present were amazed at her beauty, insomuch that they could only murmur Allah! Allah! extolled be the perfection of Him who hath fashioned thee! And they placed the finger of admiration in the mouth of wonder, and stood there dumb as fish newly taken from the seas. Then the Dey said to them: ‘Which among you that possessed this miracle would have done otherwise than I have, or would have endured any moment apart from her?’ To which the assembled great men of the kingdom cried with one voice: ‘None of us, O Dey; may we be your sacrifice, had it been vouchsafed to us, we should have done even the same!’ ‘And which among you,’ cried he, ‘would have done as I do?’ And so saying, he drew the glittering falchion from his side, seized the fair Heliodora by her yellow hair, and drawing her head back, cut her ivory throat with one stroke from ear to ear, so that she fell on the ground, and her life’s blood welled out over his feet. With a terrible frown he commanded them straightway to assemble their men-at-arms, and to meet him the next day to march against the enemy, when he fought as even he had never fought before; for he raged among them as a lion that has lost its whelps, until they were utterly defeated, and those of his officers who had oppressed the people, he caused to die by the most horrible of deaths, nor did he pass over any dereliction of duty in any one, so that people hardly dared to move for fear of him, and they regretted that they had aroused him from his sloth. For many years he was never seen to smile, but waged incessant war with all the tribes round about until old age grew upon him; but even at the present day it is whispered that he starts and weeps and groans in his sleep, and agonised cries still ring through the palace in the dead of night of ‘Heliodora!’
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Such is his character, yet, when it pleases him, he cares for none of the state and appanage of his magnificence, and will go a-hunting like any other man, enduring heat, and thirst, and fatigue. On these occasions, a body of slaves go before, bearing with them the camp equipage, and such of his women as it pleases him to have with him, on a train of camels, which are marvellous tall beasts, having a neck twice as long as a horse, and a great hunch growing out of the midst of their back, as big as a peck. They are covered with wool something like a sheep, and are cloven-footed like them, yet their feet are round, something about the size of a trencher, and soft, so that they can walk equally well on the hard rock or yielding sand. Their strength is very great, for they will carry as much on their backs as four horses, and continue marching at a slow pace for two score hours without meat or rest. Now, it so befell that the Dey bethought him of setting out on a hunting expedition in the mountains, and I among the other slaves set out the day before in the manner that I have described. When we had got into the wild and rugged parts, we made our way to a delightful valley, into which there was only one entry, through a long and narrow gorge, by the side of a mountain torrent. This valley was wholly surrounded by mountain cliffs, whose scarped, inaccessible faces added beauty to the scene, by the veins of colour, blue, green, and red, that ran through them in wavy lines. The valley itself was a verdant garden, watered by the torrent of which I have already spoken, through which it rushed in a series of miniature cascades, sprinkling its mossy and fern-covered banks with sparkling diamonds as it pursued its impetuous course, and ever and anon spreading into broad, quiet pools, that lay smiling in the sunshine. Here we pitched the tents, amidst groves of oleander and palms, on a carpet of flowering plants of every sort and kind, that gladdened both the eye by their rich colours, and the senses by their subtle perfumes; that is, we pitched the pavilion of the Dey, and the tents for his women and their slaves, and raised huts of branches for his immediate servitors; but all the hunters and the guard were posted outside the valley, which could not be entered or departed from, save by the gorge through which we had come. On one side of the stream were the servants and on the other, hidden by the groves, the tents and ground devoted to the women, where no man excepting the Dey might intrude, save at those times when they were confined to the inclosure walled by camelcloth, and guarded without and within. Then we, that is I and the other slaves appointed thereto, worked in the garden, and made art look more natural than nature.
On one of these occasions, overcome by the heat of the sun, I had stolen aside to an inviting thicket of tamarisk, and lay down in the shade to sleep. How long I slept I know not, but I was awakened by women’s voices, and, looking forth, saw that I had slept too long, and the women were disporting themselves in the garden. My position, I need not say, was one of great danger, and brought fear even to my spirit; for I well knew that, were I discovered, I were as good as dead. One shriek from a woman, and I should be instantly cut down by the swords of the guardians of the seraglio, and even if my life were preserved for a few hours, it would only be to die a worse death by the orders of the Dey. Although this fear was ever before me, yet could I not restrain my curiosity to look forth, and creeping forward with the utmost caution, perceived two women walking toward me, one of which that walked before, seemed to be sorrowful, while the other, a slave, seemed to be trying to divert her with cheerful talk. It was clear that the first was a favourite of the Dey’s, for she was dressed in the richest garments of heavy silk, embroidered with pearls, the sash round her waist was shot with gold, gold ornaments hung from her neck and arms, and her hair, plaited into a thousand strings, was one mass of glittering little coins. Dazzling as was the beauty of her dress, no eye that once reached her face could again leave the enchanting view; for her countenance combined all that was most beautiful in feature with a nobility of expression that revealed the rare dignity of her soul. To say that I forgot the danger of my position, that my senses deserted me in the entrancing contemplation of so divine a being, would but poorly express the sentiments I felt. I was like a sparrow feebly fluttering down from his secure perch into the jaws of a jewelled serpent; only the comparison would be unjust, inasmuch as she was as innocent as the dove, nor was she aware of my presence. Just as I was weakly staggering forth from the friendly concealment of my bower to throw myself at her feet, and so consummate my ruin, my good star willed that she should pause, and turning to her companion she said: ‘Zuleika, the sun waxes warm, and my heart is oppressed; leave me for a time to repose in solitude, and perchance I may sleep.’ Her words arrested me for the moment, for they were like the voice of the nightingale complaining for the loss of its beloved; yet hardly had she ceased, and again I was about to go forward before even the back of her slave was turned upon her, when again I was arrested, for she began to recite the following verses, which I made no doubt applied to her own case:
What is there can ever ease me, Or my gnawing sorrows let? Would the joys of heaven e’en please me, If I might not there forget?
Out, cruel Memory, cruel and partial! Shall peace ne’er be mine again? Though past joys thou dost remarshal, In oblivion rests the pain.
Base Enchanter! Sorrows lightened By half-memories sweet appear: Happinesses past are brightened, From all earthly dross made clear.
Art, O Memory, scarce was needed Glamour o’er the past to shed; Daily joys, almost unheeded, Thou recall’st, now they are fled.
Thou recall’st each gentle sorrow-- Salt, that to my jaded taste Savoured pleasures, when the morrow Brought new joys and grief displaced.
Ah, sweet Memory! grant, I pray thee This request: if I may not Forget past happinesses, may the Present at least then be forgot.
Hardly had she ceased this lamentation when I threw myself at her feet. She was too amazed at my sudden appearance to cry out, and before she could recover, I had told her in incoherent sentences of my devotion and readiness to risk everything for her sake. She hastily drew her veil over her face, but I could perceive that she was much agitated, for she trembled violently, but at last commanding herself sufficiently, she managed to ask me who I was. I told her that I was a gentleman enslaved by the Dey, a slave like her; and renewed my offers of assistance, forgetting for the moment my sad and powerless state. Whereupon she wept, and warned me of my danger, and, indeed, the danger to both of us if we were discovered. ‘Go,’ she said, ‘my servant may return at any moment; we are at least companions in sorrow, and I will contrive a meeting to-morrow, when we can talk more securely.’ I saw the wisdom of her words, and withdrew to my seclusion. Shortly afterwards the slave girl returned, and they went away together, though not without a parting glance from my mistress in my direction, that was at once a warning to be careful and a reminder that I should meet her again. Then, taking advantage of the overhanging bushes, I slipped into the stream, and diving under water, regained the opposite bank unseen.
On the next day, after our morning work in the garden had been performed, I did not linger behind, as I had done unwittingly before, fearing lest I might be missed, but at midday, when everyone, from the Dey to the meanest of his slaves, was wrapped in slumber, excepting perhaps the guards, I slipped under a bush by the waterside, and gathering some weeds, bound them about my head. Then I floated slowly across, nothing showing above the surface of the water save the weeds, until I arrived at the spot I had left the day before, when I lay down and awaited my mistress. She came, I think, earlier than usual, for the sun was still high though to my eager fancy I had awaited an endless time. Then telling her slave that she felt sleepy, she bade her keep watch within call that no one disturbed her, and hardly had the girl left than I was beside her. She asked me many more questions as to my condition, how long I had been a slave, and how I hoped to escape? And partly in order that I might the better contrive how this might be brought about, as well as to satisfy my curiosity, I begged her to tell me her story, which she obligingly did as follows.
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_THE STORY OF UMEIMEH._
I am a native of Maloola, a village situated in some respects similarly to this present spot, for it lies among the mountains which cover the country to the north of Damascus at the mouth of a ravine as narrow, but more terrible, than the gorge through which we came here. Ah! stranger, how the memories of my childhood welled up before me on that occasion. How I pictured to myself my father’s house clinging to the side of the cliff, and again fancied that I saw the figures carved upon the rocks, of men in strange costumes, which I was told represented the sons of our first father Adam. Days past, that, alas! can never come again. How much happiness have I known since, followed by how much sorrow! It is perhaps well that I knew not what was written upon my forehead, or I should have anticipated the dart of Azrael before the appointed time.