Swords From the Desert (15 page)

A heavy gold coin fell beside me in the blood-spattered dust. The Irani noble wheeled away; his men mounted and fell in behind him, thudding through the gate. The Baluchi hastened to gather up his coins and come and squat by me. But the Turkoman, when I would have bound his head, thrust out his arms and rose up, staggering. He cursed the rider of the mare, and I knew then that the name of the Irani who had blinded him was Mirakhon Pasha.

"This was to come upon my head," said the Baluchi as we went from the gate. He spoke sadly, thinking of the little price that had been paid him for the camel, and I also thought with regret of the white Bikanir, because my desire to leave Bandar Abbasi increased within me.

"Still," muttered the Baluchi, "it was worse for him. He spoke in the teeth of Mirakhon Pasha. And he tasted his reward."

"Justly?" I asked, thinking of the hadji and his saying that men should taste of their deeds.

"Vai!" The Baluchi shook his ringlets and smiled. "Mirakhon Pasha is the master of the horse. If he did not use torment at times, men would not fear him."

"But he wronged thee in the matter of the price."

The man from the desert looked quite troubled, but presently his eyes brightened.

"Perhaps he had need of a camel. He goes upon a journey, it is said." And he looked at me eagerly. "Come, my lord, I can show thee other beasts that will please thee."

And before the evening prayer I bought a camel of him, with cloth and ropes for the saddle and a water skin, paying thirty and two silver pieces for all. Then I weighed the gold coin in my hand, the tuman that Mirakhon Pasha had tossed me.

"Canst find the Turkoman again?" I asked the man from the desert.

He nodded, saying that a wounded buffalo is easily tracked.

"Then bear him this," I said, "as a gift to the afflicted. Watch, then, that others do not see and take it from him."

This the Baluchi promised to do, but he explained that the Turkoman would not live long because the warrior had many enemies in Bandar Abbasi who would take his life in requital of old wrongs, now that he was helpless.

"0 hakim," he said at parting, "thou art an old man, treading the way of justice. Take care upon the road. It would be well to wait for the great caravan of Mirakhon Pasha, who also takes the northern road tomorrow, through the mountains to the salt lake on the way to Ind."

But I thought of the Red Hat riders and the scarred face of the drunken warrior and of the trembling fingers of the hadji who had been afraid to speak. And when the Baluchi had gone upon his mission, I listened to the talk in the alleys and coffee stalls. Men spoke often of this caravan, and I learned the reason of its setting forth.

Mirakhon Pasha was the favorite of Shah Abbas, lord of Iran. Having the ear of the shah, he could gratify any whim without harm. No one dared complain of his deeds, and many stories were told of his strange entertain ments. He himself did not drink wine, but it pleased him to make others drunk when they were sitting at supper or coffee. He would give his guests first the wine of Shiraz, and then the full white wine of the mountain vineyards, then spirits, both hot and cold. It angered him if a visitor refused the cup. More than one worthy person who angered Mirakhon Pasha was beaten from his threshold by the cudgels of his slaves-yea, beaten through the streets with great outcry.

The favorite of the shah was best pleased when his guests became maudlin. When they quarreled or rolled upon the carpet among the dishes, he clapped his hands. And perhaps his ears caught many inklings of secrets at these drinking bouts. Once in the fort of Bandar Abbasi, he sent for the daughters of the chief men and made them drink wine in his presence.

Indeed, then some of the hadjis murmured publicly, and-hearing of this through his spies-Mirakhon Pasha summoned them and said, smiling:

"Is it true that the people of Bandar Abbasi did not enjoy my entertainment? That is hard to believe, because I summoned jugglers and wrestlers and the best of my boy dancers and gypsies to perform before the hanims."

He had brought in a throng of ignoble creatures that he carried about with him for amusement to perform their antics before these women, thus adding mockery to shame. And he had enjoyed himself very much.

"Eh," he said again, "if the entertainment was not sufficient I will call in the officers of the Red Hats the next time."

Thereupon the people of Bandar Abbasi grumbled in secret and praised Mirakhon Pasha loudly when he rode forth. Was he not the milk-brother of the shah? They had been nursed by the same woman, and the great shah always remembered this tie between them. Besides, Mirakhon Pasha pleased him.

For the favorite of the shah liked to wrestle with the heaviest of the wrestlers; he was a daring rider, and so great was his love of hunting that he seldom was without a leopard on his crupper to loose at antelope, or a falcon on his wrist.

He could put a swift horse to utmost speed and throw three javelins, one after the other, into a mark as he passed. Because of his great strength and sureness of eye he was dangerous with the sword in either hand. And when he drew a weapon, he seldom sheathed it without slaying a man or a woman.

Perhaps because he trusted Mirakhon Pasha more than others, perhaps because he feared him a little, the shah had given command for him to go as ambassador to the court of the Emperor of Ind, to carry some valuable presents. And because pirates infested the Gulf at this season, Mirakhon Pasha had given up the idea of going from Bandar Abbasi on a ship, and was preparing to go over the desert road to the north and west.

Thus said the people in the marketplace of Bandar Abbasi, concerning Mirakhon Pasha, the lord or master of the horse. And when I had heard all the tale, I meditated and decided to set out alone upon the road. In setting forth, no man knows whether good fortune or calamity awaits hiin, but if he rides alone, at least, he will not suffer from evil companions.

And I had little in my bags. No more than sufficient millet and salt and rice and dates. What more is needed? I had, too, the copper pot and a slender knife and bow with forked arrows for striking down quail and sand grouse.

Except for my sword, with the damask work upon its blade and the ivory-and-horn hilt, and the silver in my girdle, no thief would covet aught of mine. Indeed, I have found that thieves come oftener to seek the goods of merchants and to hold them to ransom than they come to trouble an old physician who would fetch a small price as a slave.

So, as I had done in the Nejd, I placed my saddle-felt in a sandy hollow that first night. Here the road ran by a river of salt water, but I made my fire near a stream where the water was sweet and good. And, as in my land, I gathered roots and brush and tamarisk boughs sufficient to keep the embers of the fire aglow until dawn. This we do, so that a stranger may not miss our camp and our hospitality.

It is an old custom. Sometimes it brings strange guests. God knows best. That night the camel was already grunting in its sleep, and I had thrown more brush on the fire. I wrapped my mantle closer to my shoulders and loosened my girdle. The first quarter of the night had passed, but already the ground was chill. I was ready for sleep, because old blood courses slowly through the veins, and the blazing brush gave out a good warmth. My head was pressed against the sand when I heard the waterfowl flap up from the rushes, suddenly.

Eh, it was a sign. I listened, and in time heard horses moving along the hard earth of the trail. They moved slowly, often stumbling, and their rid ers did not speak. Drawing tight my girdle and taking my sword sheathe in hand, I sat up. There were two horses and they came forward as if their masters were fearful or wary.

And they halted in the outer blackness while one called-

"What man art thou?"

I rose and beckoned toward them. The voice had spoken in the Iranian tongue, yet not as one accustomed.

"Come," I bade them. "The night is cold, and here is warmth. A hakim, I, from over the Gulf."

Then cried out a woman's voice, young and ringing with excitement:

"God hath led us aright. Here in the thur we have found a physician. Come!"

Through the brush that had screened them came two men and a woman. The leader was mounted on a foam-streaked Kabuli stallion, ungroomed and lean. Lean, and haggard, too, the rider, who wore a cloak that had once been part of a dress of honor. His turban was small, of a kind strange to me, and rings gleamed in his ears. His cheeks were fallen in, his eyes sunken, and he swayed in the saddle, supported by a wild-looking servant, armed with sword and shield. I thought at first the man on the stallion had been wounded.

"Are these the lands of Awa Khan?" he called to me hoarsely. "Can his tower be seen from here?"

I took his rein and greeted him, bidding him dismount and sit. The servant half lifted him down, though he looked like a man well accustomed to stirrup and saddle seat. When he stood on his feet he staggered, and again the follower steadied him. I saw then that the armed servant bore upon his shoulder a heavy bundle, cloth-wrapped.

"My lord," I made response, "I have seen no tower, nor have I heard the name of Awa Khan."

"That is a lie," he muttered, glaring. "All these mountains know my cousin's name, and he bath in his herds over a hundred sheep and a score of horses. His tower overlooks the dry lake, and he-and his sire before him-have had a hand in the making of wars."

"0 hakim," the woman's voice whispered at my side. "Heed him not. He has talked thus since the sun was overhead. His strength fails. Attend him, and thou wilt not fail of reward."

She touched her arm, upon which was no more than a single silver armlet. And her long, loose hair was bound at the brow by no more than a coral circlet of little worth. Though she was veiled, one shoulder was bare-yea, and shapely, and her slight body under its thin brown mantle stood straight and unbending. Verily, I thought these travelers had in their company a fourth, invisible, whose name was Poverty. And they lacked not pride. For the servant had carried the bundle, lest it appear that his master and mistress bestrode pack animals.

While the servant spread cloths by the fire, I supported the master, and felt within his veins the heat of devouring fever. In spite of this he wore upon his body a shirt of heavy mail. Without cessation he muttered to himself, calling out the name of this man and that, as if he were attended by many followers. Later it became clear to me that he was naming warriors who had once been his companions. Indeed, he was himself a leader of warriors, but now when his wits wandered under the scourge of fever, he imagined himself still in the midst of an armed host.

"Ho," he grimaced. "Align the spears! Is thy shield to be carried thus, Rai Singh? Where went the standard? I see it not. Nay, was it in my keeping?" He peered around him, his blood-streaked eyes moving slowly under knitted brows. "The tower of my cousin should be here. We rode far this day-far."

Thus did his mind wander from an imaginary host to his quest for the tower of Awa Khan.

"After dawn," I said to the sick man, "thou wilt look for the abode of thy cousin. But now it is dark, and nothing can be seen."

Indeed, in this bare plain the starlight was dim, and the chill of the ground made a little mist-very different from the clear nights of my sahra. I helped the servant to lay him upon the bed. I loosened the turban cloth, but he would not suffer me to draw off the mail shirt. The long hair around his forehead was damp, and he breathed with swift gasps. I counted his heartbeats, and signed to the woman to come near.

"How long has he been thus?"

"Since three days. We wandered from the road, and now I think we are near a city of the Irani. Is it far to Bandar Abbasi, upon the sea? I will take my father there and he shall rest until he is well!"

"If God wills." I thought of the wearied horses and wondered if the sick man would live to reach Bandar Abbasi. "First he must be bled-a very little."

The woman then came close to me, looking into my eyes. She clasped her hands upon her breast and I thought that she was still a child in years.

"To draw much blood-twelve ounces-from thy father," I said, "would exhaust his strength. But to take a little from him will lessen the fever."

Her brown eyes clung to my face, and when the servant had thrown more brush upon the fire, I saw the beauty in the high forehead and the small lips and slender throat under the thin veil.

"Hast thou, 0 hakim, the skill to lay hand upon Sidri Singh, Rawul of Kukri?"

To this I assented, knowing not at all who Sidri Singh might be, but suspecting that his servant would set upon me with the sword, if harm came to the sick man from the bleeding. Indeed, the wild fellow hung about my elbow when I bared the arm of his master and drew the lancet from my girdle.

The flesh of the sick man had shrunk almost upon the bone, and the veins were clearly to be seen. I did not need to press and rub the skin, but pushed the lancet point into a vein. I had neither cup nor scales to measure or weigh the blood, but when it seemed to me that four ounces had been drawn I closed the vein with my finger and bound it. Then I bade the servant give him boiled millet, and to keep the fire high. When this was done Sidri Singh seemed to rest more easily, and ceased his muttering.

Though it was then an hour of the early morning, the maiden and the follower would not sleep. They sat beside Sidri Singh, talking in a tongue I knew not.

Indeed I had never seen such men upon the road. They had the pride of Arabs-yea, and more. Poverty-ridden, they did not hold out an empty hand, but spoke of payment to be given me.

Sidri Singh, bewildered by fever, might have lost his way, still I thought that the maiden and the follower knew the road.

In the morning the daughter of Sidri Singh came to me and spoke of her own will, saying joyfully that her father slept still. I rose and began to build a shelter for him, against the rising of the sun, cutting tamarisk branches and weaving their tips together, when the bearded servant came up from the stream and thrust me aside.