Swords From the Desert (24 page)

"Thou hast water in this place?"

"Indeed, enough for all thy beasts."

Blind the Bedouin chieftain was, but he had learned to judge of what happened near him by sound, and he guessed there were twenty to thirty animals with the travelers. I, using my eyes, judged that there were three nobles and six servants and twenty warriors in the escort, with two or three mule drivers. By the number of soldiers and the few servitors, I thought the strangers were officers. Indeed, that was the case, because the rider of the black stallion turned his head, speaking a brief order, and the followers began to off-load the mules and set up small pavilion tents in the meadow across the road, while the armed retainers dismounted and looked to their horses. The boys of our tents ran to bring water.

"0 my lord," cried the blind man, "thou who speakest our speech should take food and sleep within this tent. Verily, I am honored this night with two guests. By what name may I greet thee?"

Before anyone could answer, a slender noble came to the fire-a man whose crimson cloak was lined with down, whose girdle gleamed with gold thread, who swaggered with head high, his loosely knotted silk turban clasped with a single great emerald.

"Know ye not, 0 men of the tents," he cried in broken Arabic, "that I am Kushal, the songmaker? As to this lord, my companion, bring me wine and I shall tell you who he is."

Kushal's fine voice was that of the minstrel who had been singing up the road. The Bedouins stared, because his white tunic under the cloak was spotted with fresh blood. His young face seemed pallid, though his clear eyes sparkled with mischief. Someone brought him a jar of wine, muttering that it had been taken from a Persian kafila and not tasted until now. Kushal laughed and poured himself out a goblet, emptying it down his throat with a toss of his wrist.

"My companion-" he nodded toward the rider of the stallion who was talking in the road with the warriors - "is an officer of the padishah, the emperor, the Mogul."

"May God grant him fortune in his service," responded the old Bedouin courteously.

"Stay," cried the songmaker, "thou hast not heard his name. He is Mahabat, lord of ten thousand horse."

While Kushal poured himself another gobletful and drank, the blind chieftain frowned, responding briefly-

"May his honor be increased."

"There is more to hear," grinned Kushal. "He is Mahabat Khan, the most trusted general of the emperor." And he filled his third goblet.

"Mahabat Khan, the sword of the Mogul!" cried the Bedouin, suddenly angry. "Nay--" he caught my arm-"take the wine from this loud talker, or after another drink he will swear that his companion is the prophet of God!"

Verily, the Bedouin thought the minstrel mocked his blindness. Kushal laughed a ringing laugh, heedless of the restlessness of the men in the tent. I rose from Iny place, but the rider of the stallion strode out of the darkness among us. In dress he was somber beside the gleaming songmaker; his dark cloak and silver-inlaid mail bore no mark of distinction; his gray pugri had neither heron feather nor jewel, yet his sword had a rare hilt of gold-worked ivory.

All this I saw in the first glance and knew that this man needed no ornament to mark him a chieftain. The thin, wide lips; the lean, dark head, with its hawk's beak, revealed at once passion and the iron will that controlled it; his straight back and supple limbs spoke of strength restrained. He came almost silently among us in his riding boots of soft leather. His dark eyes, brilliant under rugged brows, had the fire of untamed daring. W'allahi, this was a man to listen to and to follow!

Without impatience or annoyance he looked at Kushal, who stilled his laughter, and at the Bedouins who had grasped their weapons and risen from their places. For an instant his glance weighed me and passed on.

"Since when," he reproved the minstrel, "has it been thy wont to mock affliction? "

Now Kushal's mirth held no guile. He had been amused when the Bedouins took the goblet from him. Yet he had not understood that the shaikh was blind, that the old man had intended no jest. As for the anger of the others, he seemed more than ready to welcome a quarrel. Yet he bandied no words with his companion.

"Thy pardon, 0 shaikh," he said quickly to the old man. "Verily, by God, a stranger beholding thee and hearing thy speech doth not deem thee afflicted!"

A little mollified by the compliment, the blind man muttered-

"Eh, thou wert not born in the tents, songmaker." He turned his head toward the man in the gray turban. "And thou, who art thou in truth?"

"The son of Ghayur of the northern hills."

"Then thou art Mahabat Khan." Hastily the blind chieftain rose, calling at his followers impatiently. "0 fools! 0 sons of dogs, ye have blackened my face with dishonor. Ye have eyes and saw not that this lord should be greeted as a guest. Go and kill a sheep and prepare the dish again. Leave the tent!"

Startled and protesting, the Bedouins laid aside their weapons and went forth to cook another feast. Most of them were children and grandchildren of the gray chieftain, and endured insults from him that would have been cause for a blood feud from the lips of another. The chieftain groped about until he caught the hand of Mahabat Khan, then led him to a seat on the carpet beside him, feeling to make sure that a saddle properly covered with a rug lay ready for the arm of his distinguished guest.

"I am Abu Ashtar the Blind," he said, "and verily this is a joyful night that brings to me the leader of a hundred thousand swords."

For Mahabat Khan to have declined his hospitality would have been a great disappointment to Abu Ashtar, who anticipated hours of pleasant talk with a distinguished guest who could speak Arabic fluently. Although he must have been road weary and, as we learned presently, had been involved in a skirmish that afternoon, Mahabat Khan sat by the old chieftain, drinking the tea and coffee brought by the Bedouin youths and sending away his own attendants who came after awhile to seek him.

Listening to their talk, I came to know that he was a Pathan born, who had sought service with the Mogul as a youth. Abu Ashtar had heard of his deeds, reciting battles unknown to me, and conquests of strange lands. Now in this winter Mahabat Khan desired to see his own people again. He had started off at once, taking only a small following and Kushal.

And when Abu Ashtar asked it, the minstrel sang to us, low voiced. He also was a Pathan, no more than a youth. The blood on his tunic had not yet turned dark, and his left arm seemed to be injured, for he would not touch the guitar slung upon his shoulder, yet the magic of his voice was such that we listened greedily while he sang of his deeds in one battle and another, and always of the glory of the Pathans.

He was a youth of fierce pride and heedlessness-a spirit that could no more keep out of trouble than an unleashed hawk out of the air. He boasted often of his skill with the bow and the sword, and yet was master of neither weapon. In battle his recklessness made him dangerous to his foes and himself, for he seldom escaped without a wound. It was a miracle that he still lived-a miracle, indeed, that he liked to sing about. A loyal friend, and an enemy greatly to be feared.

Hearing from Abu Ashtar that I was a physician, Mahabat Khan requested me to treat a sword cut on the minstrel's arm. Kushal drew back his cloak and showed me a slash running from his elbow joint through the muscles of his forearm-the wound that had soiled his garments.

After I had drawn off the hastily knotted bandage, I washed it and heated in the embers a broken spearhead that lay in the tent. With this I seared the cut, Kushal smiling at me and praising my skill to show that he heeded not the pain, even while his face blanched. Then I dressed it with oil and bound it up again. With his good hand Kushal slipped a silver chain from his wrist and offered it to me.

"Nay," I said at once, "we are guests of Abu Ashtar, and shall I take payment for easing thy hurt?"

"Why not?" he smiled, and added, "perhaps the gift should be gold instead of silver."

He meant that I might have been offended because he offered too little. When I assured him I would take no reward, he laughed.

"By my head, Daril, thou'lt never go far at the Mogul's court. There the greatest physicians ask the biggest prices."

He told me how he had the wound. That afternoon Mahabat Khan's cavalcade had been stopped by a band of Hazaras who demanded a road toll.

"I told him that the roads were God's," the minstrel cried, "and they responded that we should taste of woe if we paid not the toll. Then swords were drawn and many were slashed on our part and theirs, and the man who gave me this was carried off without his arm."

"Then ye have beaten off one of al-Khimar's bands," I cried, glad that men had been found bold enough to stand against these robbers.

Mahabat Khan glanced at me questioningly, and I told him what had befallen me in the Valley of Thieves, adding much that I had since heard in Abu Ashtar's tent. The Pathan lord listened intently and said gravely that he had heard of a veiled prophet in the hills.

"But not a tax-gathering prophet," laughed Kushal.

Mahabat Khan asked the old Bedouin if the governor of Kandahar had not armed strength enough to put an end to such exactions.

"His strength is like a camel's," responded Abu Ashtar with a grunt, "good for work in the alleys and the plain, but no good for climbing mountains. Bism'allah! When the governor sends horsemen after the raiders they catch no one; when he sends search parties into the upper gorges they find no one. When he patrols the roads, the men of al-Khimar wait until the merchants go forth or come a second time and then take thrice the toll, so that travelers take pains to pay the price to the Veiled One without delay."

"And if they pay not?"

Abu Ashtar shook his head.

"At first some merchants who did not pay were put to death in their houses in Kandahar. The men of the Veiled One come and go unseen. Since then no one has refused, until thy coming. As to thee, who knows? Thy great name may safeguard thee, and perhaps al-Khimar will content himself with slaying one of thy men."

"If he does that," swore Kushal, "he will have made a blood enemy of Mahabat Khan and ye will see the Veiled One torn out of his rocks. Mahabat Khan does not suffer a man of his to be slain, unavenged."

Eh, it was a little matter, the talk of that evening in the tent of the Bedouins-the compassion of the Pathan general upon the blind man who made two feasts in one night for unexpected guests. Yet I had reason to remember the talk.

In Kushal I gained a friend. When Mahabat Khan withdrew to sleep, the minstrel insisted I should come to his own tent, a comfortable place well strewn with carpets and robes. Thither the next day while Kushal still slept, after the midday meal had been brought us, came one who cried my name loudly.

"Lord Daril! Fortune awaits thee."

This was Sher Jan, my camel driver, and I cursed him for making a tumult in the camp of the strangers.

"Nay, thou'lt bless me when I have told thee the reason for my coming, 0 my lord. The most splendid of reasons. I swear to thee by all the holy names that I have not ceased to labor for thee in the last night. I proclaimed thy skill in the streets and taverns, and this morning a servant sought me with a message. There is no other physician worth his price in Kandahar."

This was not strange, because Persians skilled in medicine were more apt to attach themselves to some powerful noble or prince of a reigning family than to shut themselves up in a frontier town. And Arab physicians are much sought after.

"The message is written," continued Sher fan with broad satisfaction, "and I have it in my girdle. The servant wore clean linen and gave me-" he swallowed hard and twisted his words-"directions how to reach the house where there is need of thee. And that is not all."

He grinned and stooped down to my head.

"By God, the summons is from a hanim!"

He meant either a wife of a noble or a daughter, and this pleased me little. For the hardest work of a physician is in visiting the women behind the curtain. In my land, where my name was known, the Arabs let me look upon the faces and, at need, the bodies of their sick daughters. But in Persia I had been forced to judge the health of an ailing woman by feeling the pulse in the arm she thrust through a curtain, and by a few questions.

I looked at the missive Sher Jan drew forth-a tiny square of scented paper bearing a few words written in a skilled hand.

Greetings to the Arab hakim. An afflicted woman hath need of thee and reward for thee.

"Why was not the summons from the lord of the house?" I asked, wondering.

"By the Ka'aba! " observed Kushal, sitting up on his rug. "Thou art the first man, Daril, to ask that when a fair hanim summons thee."

Our talk had roused him, and he stretched his good arm out for the paper. When he had read it he laughed.

"Allah, what more canst thou wish?"

"Lord Daril," put in Sher fan, gazing at the minstrel approvingly, "the servant said that his mistress was alone, without the men of her family."

Then, surely, she was a singing girl or public dancer, for otherwise she would be guarded. Still, the servant or Sher Jan or both might be lying.

"What is the matter with her?" I asked.

The camel driver lifted his hands and shook his head.

"0 my lord, what does that matter? Anyway, she is very beautiful and it is certain thou wilt receive many times the ten pieces of silver. Remember-"

"Be still, brother of a dog!"

But it was not easy to silence Sher Jan's tongue. The witless man had determined to see me earn the silver that he thought I owed him and had cried my skill through all Kandahar. Probably he had been given some money to find me.

"Remember, my lord," he whispered loudly, "to reward thy follower. Take care to make the affliction seem to be a great one requiring many visits and bloodletting, and stiffen the price thereby."

"Wait, I will not delay thee long, Daril," cried Kushal, calling for his servant. "I must change these soiled things for better ones before approaching a hanim."