 12. At the time when the beggars were carrying away Abdullah and his wife, Kaled was sitting in his custom place, silent and heavy at heart, and Zahawa played softly to him upon a barbat and sang a sad song in a low voice. For she saw the gloominess had overcome him, and she feared to disturb his mood, though she would gladly have made him smile if she had been able. A black slave of Kaled whom he had treated with great kindness had secretly told him that there was a plan to enter the palace with evil during the night, for the fellow had spied upon those who knew and had overheard what he had now told his master. He had also asked whether she not worn the guards of the palace in order that a strict watch should be kept, but Kaled had bidden him beside him. Either the guards are conspiring with the rest at Kaled and will be the first to attack me, or they are ignorant of the plan, and if so how can they withstand so great a multitude? I will abide by my own fate, and no man shall lose his life for my sake unless he desires to do so. But he privately put on a coat of mail under his abba, and when he sat down in the harem to awake the end he would not let Zahawa take his sword, but lay it upon his feet and set upright against the wall looking toward the door. Since I have no soul he said to himself, this is probably the end of all things, but there is no reason why I should not kill as many of these murderers as possible. He was gloomy and desponding, however, since he saw that this hour was at hand, and as Zahawa was no nearer to loving him than before. He watched her fingers as she played upon the instrument and it listened to the soft notes of her voice. It is a strange thing he thought, and I believe that she is not able to love any more than my sword upon my feet, which is good and true and beautiful and ever ready to my hand, but is itself cold, having no feelings in it. Still Zahawa sang, and Kled heard her song, listening watchfully, for a man's tread upon the threshold, and looking to see a man's face and a light of steel in the shadows behind a lamp. The night is long, he said at last, aloud. It is not yet midnight, Zahawa answered, but you are tired. Will you not go to rest? I shall rest tomorrow, said Kled. Tonight I will sit here and look at you if you will sing to me. Zahawa gazed into his eyes, wondering a little of his exceeding sadness. Then she bowed her head and struck the strings of the instrument to a new measure, more melancholy than a last, and sang an old song of many verses with a weeping refrain. Are you also heavy at heart tonight? Kled asked when he had listened to the end. It is not easy to kindle a lamp when the rain is falling heavily, Zahawa said. Your sadness has taken hold of me with a chill of a fever. I cannot laugh tonight. And yet you have a good cause, for they said that tonight the earth is to be delivered of a great malifactor, a certain Persian whose name is perhaps Hassan, a notorious robber. Kled turned away his head, smiling bitterly, for a desire not to see the satisfaction which would come into her face. This is a poor jest, she answered in a low voice, and the barbat rolled from her knees to the carpet beside her. I mean no jesting, for I did not desire to disappoint you, since you will naturally be glad to be freed from me. But I am glad if you are willing to sing to me, for this night is very long. Do you think that I believe this of you? asked Zahawa after some time. You believe it yesterday, you believe it today, and you will believe it tomorrow when you are free to make choice of some other man whom you will doubtless love. Yet I know that it is not true, she said suddenly. It is too late, Kled answered. The more I love you, the more I see how little faith you have in me, and the less faith can I put in you. Will you sing to me again? This is very cruel and bitter as Zahawa sighed and looked at him. Will you sing to me again, Zahawa he repeated? I like your sad music. Then she took up the barbat from the carpet, and though she struck a chord, she could not go on, and her hand laid idle upon the strings, and her voice was still. You are perhaps tired, said Kled after some time. Then let aside the instrument and sleep. He composed himself in his seat, his sword being ready, and his eyes toward the door. But Zahawa shook her head as though awaking from a dream. Her fingers ran swiftly over the strings, and the gentle tones came from her lips. Kled listened thoughtfully to the song, and the words soothed him. But before she had reached the end, she stopped suddenly. Why do you not finish it, he asked. If you have told me the truth, she answered, this is no time for singing in music. But if not, why should I labor to amuse you, as though we were a slave? I will call one of the women who has a sweet voice and a good memory. She will sing you a casseed which will last till morning. You were wrong, said Kled. There is no reason in what you say. But she reflected upon her nature while he spoke. Surely he thought there is nothing in the world so contradictory as a woman. I ask of her a song, and she is silent. I bid her rest, supposing her to be weary, and she sings to me. If I tell her that I hate her, she will probably answer that she loves me. Men ala, let us see. You inspire hatred in me, said aloud after a few minutes. At this, Zahawa was very much astonished, and she again let the barbat fall from her knees. You wish me to believe that you love me, and this not long since, she answered. It may be so. I didn't know you then. He looked toward the door as though he would say nothing further. Zahawa sighed, not understanding him yet being wounded in that sensitive tissue of the heart which divides the outer desert of pride with the inner garden of love, belonging to neither, but separating the two as a veil. And when there is a rent in that veil, pride looks on love and scoffs bitterly, and love looks on pride and weeps tears of fire. I am sorry you hate me, she said, but the words were bitter in her mouth, as a draught from a spring in which the enemy have cast wormwood that none may drink of it. Allah is great though, Khaled. This is already an advantage. The Zahawa took up the barbat and began to sing a careless song, not like any which Khaled had ever heard. This is the song. The fisherman of Oman tied the halter under his arms. The sky was as blue as the sea in winter. The fisherman dived into the deep waters as a ray of light shoots through a sapphire of price. The sea was as blue as the sky, for it was winter. Among the rocks below the water, it was dark and cold, though the sky above was as blue as a fine sapphire. The fisherman saw a rough shell lying there in the dark between two crabs. In that shell there must be a large pearl, he said. But when he would have taken it, the crabs ran together and fastened upon his hand. His heart was bursting in his ribs for lack of breath, and he thought of the sky above as blue as the sea in winter. So he pulled the halter and was taken half fainting into the boat. The crabs held his hand, but he struck them off. And his heart beat merrily as he breathed the wind, blowing over the sea as blue as the sky in winter. There are no pearls in this ocean, he said to his companions, but there are crabs if anyone cares to dive. One of them saw the shell caught between the legs of the crabs. He opened it and found a pearl of the value of a kingdom. The pearl is mine, you may eat the crabs, he said to the fisherman. Since you say there are no pearls in this ocean, which is as blue as the sky in winter. Then the fisherman smote him and tried to take the pearl, but as he strove it fell into the deep water and sank, where the sea was as blue as the sky in winter. I will drown you with a heavy weight, said the fisherman, for you have robbed me of my fortune. I have not robbed you, O brother, for the pearl is again where you found it, in the sea which is as blue as the sky in winter. Then the fisherman dived again many times in vain, till the drums of his ear were broken, and his heart was dissolved for lack of breath. But the pearl is still there at the bottom of the sea, and the sea is as blue as the sky in winter. This is the cassette of the fisherman of Oman, which Sahawa bin al-Muhammad al-Hadmid has made and sunk for her lord, Khalid the Sultan. May Allah send him long life and many such hearts, as the one which fell into the ocean, when the sky was as blue as the sea in winter. This is a new song, said Khalid, when she had finished. Is it? I made it many months ago, Sahawa answered. Does it please you? It is not very melodious, do I think there is much truth in the matter of it, but I thank you for the serve to pass the time. Sahawa laughed a little scornfully. I dare say you would prefer the song of a Persian nightingale, she said. Nevertheless, my song is full of truth, though you cannot see it. There are many who seek for things of great value, and do not know when they have found them, because a crab has bitten their hands. Verily thought Khalid, this is indeed the spirit of contradiction. But he was silent for a time, not wishing that she would think him easily moved. In the meantime, Sahawa played softly upon a little instrument, and Khalid watched her, wondering whether she would not play upon the strings of his heart, for her own pleasure, as skillfully as her fingers ran upon the cords of the barbat. Many words rose to his lips then, and he wished that he had also had the science of music that he might sing sweetly to her. Then he laughed aloud his own imagination, which was indeed that of a foolish youth. The lion roaring for a sweet meet he thought, and the sword hand aching to scratch little tunes upon a loop. Sahawa turned suddenly when he laughed, and seized from playing. I am glad you were married, she said. I like laughter better than reproaches, and prefer to gloom before boatings of evil when none is at hand. Blood's face grew dark, and he looked again toward the door. If you will stay with me, you shall see the evil is not far off, he answered, for she had reminded him what he was expecting, and he knew that it was no jesting matter. But you shall please yourself with this as in all other matters, though it were better for you to go now and shut yourself up in a room and wait for the end. The night is advancing, and all will soon be over. Hear me, Khalid, says Sahawa, speaking earnestly. If you bid me go, I will go. Or if you desire me to stay, I will remain with you. But if you were indeed in danger, as you say, let us call up the guards and the watchmen who sleep in the palace, that they may stand by you with their swords, and help you to fight if there is to be strife. I will have no treacherous fellows about me, Khalid answered, and there are none here whom I can trust. My hour is coming, and I'll fight this fight alone. But if he were such as I once hoped, I would stay. Remain with me, so long as you are safe. Now, since Allah has willed thus, I say to you, go and seek safety where you can find it. Go, therefore, Sahawa, and leave me alone, for any no one beside me, and you, least of all. He turned away his head, lest Jesus see his face, and with his hand made a gesture bidding her to leave him. She rose from her seat softly and hung the barbat upon the wall with the other musical instruments, looking over her shoulder to see whether he would call her back. But he neither moved nor spoke, being resolved to venture all upon this trial, for he knew that if she loved him even but a little, she would not leave him alone in the extremity of danger. Then she went toward the door of the room, turning her head to look at him as she passed near him. Farewell, she said, but he did not answer nor show that he heard her voice. As she lifted the curtain to go, she lingered and gazed at him. He sat motionless upon the carpet, upright against the wall, his sword lying across his feet, his hands hidden under his sleeves, looking toward her indeed, but not seeming to see her. There could be no real danger, she thought. Could any man sit thus, expecting death, and refusing to let anyone stand by him to fight with him? Surely he is playing with me, and setting a trap for me, but he shall not catch me. She turned to go when the curtain was falling behind her, where the night wind from the open passage brought a sound to her ears from a far distance. She started and listened, as candles do when they hear the first moving of the hot wind. There were no voices in the noise, which was low and dull, the breathing of a great multitude, and the soft moving of feet. And altogether it was as a slow rising and falling back of the sea upon the shores of Haman, when the great summer storm was coming from the southwest. Hawa stood still a moment and drank in every murmur that reached her from without. Then her face grew white, and her lips trembled when she thought a collet sitting alone on the other side of the curtain, with his sword upon his feet, waiting for the end. Then she lifted the hang a little, and looked at him again. He saw her, but made no sign. Even as she looked, the distant murmur grew louder, and she fancied that he moved his head as though he heard it. Then she entered the room, and Kane stood before him. There was a great multitude in the square before the palace, she said. I know what he answered, calmly looking up to her face. It needed not that you should tell me. Will you not let me stay with you now, asked Hawa? Why should you stay here, he asked with a pretense of indifference, of what use are you to me? Take this sword, can you strike with it? Your wrist is feeble, or take a bow from the weapons in the wall. Can you draw the string? Your strength is sufficient for the loot, and your skill for scratching the strings of the barbed. Go and save yourself. I am alone, and every man's hand is against me. The Hawa stood still in the room, and hesitated, looking into his eyes with something which she all at once desired with a hot first. At last she spoke in an uncertain voice. Yet you said not long since, that if I were such as you once hoped, you would bid me remain. I did not care, he answered, yet for your own sake, I advised you to go away. For my own sake, she repeated, trying to speak scornfully, and turning to go a second time. But she did not reach the door. She stood still before the weapons which hung upon the wall, and paused a moment, and took a sword from its place. Kaled watched her. She grasped the hilt as well as she could, and swung the weapon in the air once with all her might. Then she uttered a little cry of pain, for she had twisted her wrist. The sword fell to the floor. He is right, she said, in a low tone, speaking aloud to herself. I am weak, and could be of no use to him. She went once more toward the door, slowly, her head bent down. Then stopped, and then looked back again. She feared that she might see a smile on his face, but his eyes were grave and calm. Then he saw her turn and lean against the wall as though she was suddenly weak. She hid her face, and there was silence for a moment, and after that a low sound of weeping filled the still room. Why do you shed tears, Kaled, as presently? There is no danger for you, I think. If you will go and shut yourself up in the inner rooms, you will be safe. She turned fiercely, and their eyes met. What do I care for myself, she cried. Among so many deaths, there is surely one more for me. He that she spoke, Kaled felt a cool breath upon his forehead, stirring the stillness. He knew that it came from the beating of an angel's wings. All his body trembled. His head fell forward a little, and his eyes closed. This is death, he thought, when my fate has come, a little longer, and she would have loved me. But he did not speak aloud. Again saw how his face was turned against the wall, and still the sound of her weeping filled the air, not subsiding and dying away, but rather increasing with every moment. Life is not yet gone, said Kaled in his heart. There is yet hope, for he no longer felt the cold breath in his forehead, and the trembling had ceased for a moment. He tried to speak aloud, but his lips could not form the words nor his throat but her sounds, and he was amazed at his weakness. A great despair came upon him, and his eyes were darkened so that he could not see the lights. If only I could speak to her now, she might yet love me. She might love me yet, he thought. The distant murmur from without was louder now, and reached the room, and he heard it. He tried with all his might to raise his hand, to lift his head, to speak a single word. It may be that this is the nature of death he thought again, and I am already dead. The noise from the multitude came louder and louder, so how I heard it, and her breath was caught in her throat. She looked up and saw that the high window of the chamber was no longer quite dark, the day was dawning. Then pressing her bosom with her hands, she looked again at Kaled. His head was bent upon his breast, and it was so still that she thought he might have fallen asleep. A cry broke from her lips. He cares not, she exclaimed. What is it to him whether I go or stay? Again, Kaled felt the cool breeze in the room, fanning his forehead, and once more his limbs trembled. Then he felt that his strength was returning and that he could move. He raised his head and looked at Zahawa, and just then there was a distant crashing roar, as the bedwinds began to strike upon the gates. At his time, he said, and taking his sword in his hand, he rose from his seat. Zahawa came toward him with outstretched hands, wet cheeks, and burning eyes. She stood before him as though to bar the way and hinder him from going out. What is it to you whether I go or stay? He asked, repeating her own words. What is it? By Allah, it is all my life. I will not let you go. And she took hold of his wrist with her weak woman's hands and tried to thrust him back. Go, Zahawa, he answered, gently pressing her from him. Go now and let me meet them alone, knowing that you are safe. For those to be pity, which you feel, I know it is nothing more. He would have passed by her, but she still held him and kept before him. You shall not go, she cried. I will prevent you with my body. Pity, you say? O Khaled, is pity fierce? Is pity strong? Does pity burn like fire? You shall not go, I say. Then her hands grew cold upon his wrists, her cheeks burned, and her eyes there was a deep and gleaming light. All this Khaled felt and saw, while he heard the raging of the multitude without. His sight grew again uncertain. A third time the cool breath blew in his face. Yet it cannot be love, he said, and certainly, yet she heard him. Not love. Khaled, Khaled, my life, my breath, my soul, breath of my life, life of my spirit. O Khaled, you have never loved as I love you now. Her hands let go of his wrists and clasped about his neck, and her face was hidden upon his shoulder, while her breath came and went like the gusts of the burning storm in summer. But as he held her, Khaled looked up and saw the angel of Allah was before him, having a smile on countenance, and bearing in his hand a bright flame like a crescent moon. It is well done, O Khaled, said the angel, and this is thy reward. Allah sends thee this to be thy own, and to live after thy body, saying that thou hast well earned it. For love such as thou hast got now is a rare thing, not common with women and least of all with wives of kings. And now Allah alone knows what thy fate is to be, but thou shalt be judged at the end like other men, according to thy deeds, be they good or evil. And so receive thy soul and do with it as thou wilt. The angel then held up the flame which was like the crescent moon, and it immediately took shape and became the brighter image of Khaled himself, endowed with immortality and the knowledge of its own good and evil. And when Khaled had looked at it fixedly for a moment, being overcome with joy, the vision of himself disappeared, and it was where they had entered his own body and taken up his life within him. Return thy thanks to Allah and go thy way to the end, said the angel, who then unfolded its wings and departed to paradise once he had come. But Khaled clasped Zahawa tightly in his arms and looking upwards repeated the first chapter of the Quran and also the 110th chapter which is entitled Assistance. When he had performed his inward devotions, he turned his gaze upon Zahawa and kissed her. Praise be to Allah, he said, for this and all blessings. But now let us defend ourselves if we can, my beloved, for I think my enemies were at hand. And so he would have stopped to take up his sword which had fallen upon the floor. But still Zahawa held him and would not let him go. Not yet Khaled, she cried. Not yet, soul of my soul. The gates are very strong, and we will stay in this battering for some time. Would you have him when you love sit still in the net until the hunters came to catch him, he asked in a tender voice. You said you would wait here, she pleaded. If we must die, let us die here. Our life will be a little longer, so. Did I say so? I thought you did not love me then, and I would have slain a few only for my own sake, that my blood might not be unevented. But now I will slay them all for your sake, and the bodies of the dead shall be a rampart for you. Oh, do not go, she cried again. I know a secret passage from the palace that leads out by the wall of the city. Come quickly, there is yet time, and we shall escape, for Allah will protect us. Surely when I was fainting in your arms I heard an angel's voice, and surely the angel is yet with us, and will lighten the way as we go. The angel was indeed here, for he brought me the soul that was promised, if you loved me. And now all is changed, for if we live we get the victory, and if we die we shall inherit paradise. This is how it looked into his eyes, and saw the living soul flaming with him, and she believed him. If you had always been as you are now, I should have always loved you, she said softly, and stooping down, she took up his sword, and drew it out, and put it in his hand. I tried to wield one when you were not looking, she said, but it hurt my wrist. Come, Kaled, let us go together. Then he kissed her once more, and she kissed him, and putting one arm about her, he let her swiftly out by the passage toward the grape gate. It was now broad dawn, and the light was coming in by the narrow windows. Sahaba clung to Kaled closely, for the noise that thundering blows was terrible and deafening, and the multitude without were shouting to each other, and calling upon Abdullah to come out, for they supposed him to be in the palace. But the guards and soldiers within had all hidden themselves, though they were awake, for there was no one to command them, nor to lead them, and they dared not open the gate, lest they themselves should be slain when the first rush of the crowd. Then Kaled and Sahaba paused for a moment near the gate. It is better that you should go back, my beloved, said Kaled. Here, what a multitude of angry men are waiting outside. I will not leave you, neither in life nor in death, she answered. Let it be so then, said Kaled, and I will do my best. For a hundred men cannot stop the way before me now, and I think that of five hundred I could slay many. So he went up to the gate, and Sahaba stood a little behind him, so as to be free of the first sweep of his sword. Abdullah cried some of the crowd without, while battering at the ironbound doors. Abdullah, the son of Muhammad and father of lies, come out to us, or we will go to thee. Abdullah, thou thief, thou Persian, thou cheat, come out and may boiling water be thy portion. Stand back from the gate, and I will open it to you, cried Kaled in a voice that might have been heard across the red desert, as far as the shores of the great ocean. I, Kaled, will open, he cried again. Then it was a great silence, and the people fell back a little. Kaled drew the bolts in a fasten the locks, and opened the gates inward, and stood forth alone in the morning light, his sword in his hand, and his soul burning in his eyes. Kaled cried the first who saw him, and the cry was taken up. The shout was great, and full of joy, and shook the earth. For the multitude had grown hot in anger against Abdullah, while they battered at the gates, supposing that he had slain Kaled, but he himself could not at first distinguish whether they were angry or glad. If any wishes to take my life, he cried, let him come and take it. And the sword they all knew in battle began to make a storm of lightning upon his head in the morning sun. Then a strong man who had wrestled and thrown the other before dawn, stood out alone and spoke in a loud voice. We will have no Sultan but Kaled, he cried. Give us Abdullah that we will make trappings for our camels from his skin. Then Kaled sheathed his sword and came forward from under the gate, and Zaha'ah stood veiled beside him. Where is Abdullah, he asked. Find him if you can, for I would like to speak with him. Then there was silence for a space, but by this time Abdullah's men had fled, for they had already been forced back in the crowding, and so soon as they saw Kaled standing unhurt under the palace gate, they turned quickly and ran for their lives to escape from the city, seeing all was lost. Where is Abdullah, Kaled asked again. Then a voice from afar off answered, as though heralding the coming of a great personage. Behold Abdullah, the Sultan of the Zed, it cried. Then the multitude turned angrily, grasping swords and spears and breathing curses, but the murmur broke suddenly into a shout of laughter, louder even than the cry for Kaled had been, for a great possession had entered the square and the people made way for it as it advanced toward the palace. First came a score of lepers, singing in hideous voices and dancing in early sun, filthy and loathsome to behold. And then came all manner of cripples, laughing and chattering, with colored rags fastened to their staffs, and army of distorted apes. Then walking alone and feeling his way with his staff came the sheik of the beggars, and in one hand he held the end of a halter which was fastened about Abdullah's head and neck between his teeth, so that he could not cry out. And the blind man chanted at Kassid, which he had composed in the night, in honor of Abdullah ibn Muhammad el-Harrar, the victorious Sultan of the Zed, upon whom may Allah send much-boiling water, sang the sheik of the beggars after each stave. And Abdullah, his head and face shaven as bald as an ostrich's egg, was bent by the weight he carried, for upon his shoulders wrote the cripple whom they called the ass of Ejik, clapping the wooden shoes he used on his hands, like cymbals to accompany the song with a blind man. And last of all came a veiled woman, walking sadly, for she could not escape being surrounded and driven on by many scores of beggars, all dancing and shouting and crying out mock praises of the Sultan Abdullah and his wife. But as the procession moved on, the laughter increased a hundredfold, until all men's eyes were blind with mirth, and their breasts were bursting and aching with so much merriment. At last the sheik of the beggars stood before Kaled holding the halter, and here he made a deep obeisance, pulling the halter so that Abdullah nearly fell to the ground. In the name of the beggars he said, I present to your high majesty the Sultan of the Zed, Abdullah ibn Muhammad, and his chief minister of the ass of Egypt, and moreover the Sultan's wife. May it please your high majesty to reward the beggars with a few small coins and a little barley, for having brought his high majesty, the new Sultan, safely to the gates of the palace and to the steps of the throne. Thereupon all the beggars, the lepers, the cripples, the blind men, and those with weak understanding fell down together at Kaled's feet. This is the story of Kaled the believing genius, which he caused to be written down in letters of gold by the most accomplished scribe in the Zed, that all men might remember it. But what if afterwards occurred there is nothing told in the scribe's manuscript? It is recounted, however, in the commentaries of Ibn Ul Latif, that Kaled did not cause Abdullah to be beheaded, nor in any way hurt, save that he was driven out of the city with his wife, where certain Bedouins affirm that he lived for many years with her in great destitution. But as well to know that after this, Zaha'u'llah bore Kaled many strong sons, whose children and children's children reigned gloriously for many generations in the Zed. And Kaled and Zaha'u'llah died full of years on the same day, and lie buried together in a garden without the Hasid gate, and the pilgrims from Ajman and the East visit their tombs even to the present time. End of Chapter 12. The end of Kaled, a tale of Arabia by Francis Marion Crawford, recorded by Joe De Noia, Somerset, New Jersey.