by A. D. Crake
Chapter 20: The Old Man Of The Mountain.
Ah, where was our Hubert?
No magic mirror have we, wherein you may see him; yet we may liftthe veil, after the fashion of storytellers.
It is a scorching day in summer, the heat is all but unbearable toEuropeans as the rays fall upon that Eastern garden, on the slopesof Lebanon, where a score of Christian slaves toil in fetters,beneath the watchful eyes of their taskmasters, who, clothed inloose white robes and folded turbans, are oblivious of the power ofthe sun to scorch. There is a young man who toils amidst thosevines and melons--yet already he bears the scars of desperatecombats, and trouble and adversity have wrought wrinkles on hisbrow, and added lines of care to a comely face.
A slave toiling in an Eastern garden--taskmasters set over him withloaded whips--alas! can this be our Hubert?
Indeed it is.
The story told by the pilgrim was partly true. The Fleur de Lys hadbeen wrecked on the coast of Sicily, but Hubert and two or threeothers escaped in an open boat. They were a night and day on thedeep, when a vessel bound for Antioch hove in sight, and made outtheir signals of distress. They were taken on board, and arrived atAntioch duly, whence Hubert despatched a letter to his friends atWalderne (which never arrived); and then in the exquisite beauty ofthe Eastern summer--"when the flowers appear on the earth, the timeof the singing of birds has come, and the voice of the turtle isheard in the land; when the fig tree putteth forth her green figs,and the vines with the tender grapes give a good smell"--in allthis beauty Hubert de Walderne and the three surviving members ofhis party set out to traverse the mountainous districts of Lebanonon their way to Jerusalem.
They engaged a guide, who feigned himself a Christian, and, incompany with other pilgrims, all of course armed, travelled throughthe wondrous country beneath "The hill of Hermon" on their roadsouthward. Near the sources of the Jordan, while yet amongst thecedars of Lebanon, their guide led them into an ambush; and after adesperate but unavailing resistance, they were all either slain ortaken prisoners. Hubert, his sword broken in the struggle, was madecaptive, after doing all that valour could do, and bound. He sawhis faithful squire lying dead on the field, and the other twosurvivors of the party which had set out in such high hope fromWalderne, captives like himself.
Resistance was impossible. Their captors would have released themfor ransom; but who was near to redeem them? So they were taken toDamascus, and, in the absence of such ransom, were exposed in theslave market. Oh, what degradation for the young knight! Hubertprayed for death, but it never came. Death flies the miserable, andseeks the happy who cling to life.
An old man with a flowing beard, and of great austerity of manner,had come to inspect the slaves. He selected only the young andcomely, and Hubert had the misfortune to be one so distinguished.All men bowed before the potentate, whoever he was, and Hubert sawthat he had become the property of "a prince among his people."
Hubert was taken away, leaving his two fellow countrymen behindhim--taken away, joined to a gang of slaves like himself: and ateventide, under the care of drivers, they formed a caravan, and setout westward, making for the distant heights of Lebanon. He was theonly Englishman in the party, but close by was a young Poitevin,whose downcast manner and frequent tears aroused the pityingcontempt of our Hubert, who thus at last was moved to address him:
"Cheer up, brother. While there is life there is hope."
"Not for those who become the slaves of the Old Man of theMountain."
Hubert started: the "Old Man of the Mountain"--he had often heardof him, but had thought him only a "bogy," invented by thecredulous amongst the crusaders and pilgrims. He was said to be aMohammedan prince of intense bigotry, who collected together allthe promising boys he could find, whom from early years he trainedin habits of self devotion, and, alas! of cruelty; eradicating inthem all respect for human life, or sympathy for human suffering.His palace was on the slopes of Lebanon, and was well supplied withChristian slaves from the various markets; and it was said thatthose who continued obstinate in their faith were, sooner or later,put cruelly to death for the sport of the amiable pupils, tofamiliarise them with such scenes, and render them callous tosuffering.
And when his education was finished, the "Old Man" presented eachpupil with a dagger, telling him that it was for the heart of suchor such a Christian warrior or statesman, and sent him forth. Thedeeds of his pupils are but too well recorded in the pages ofhistory {28}.
Into the hands of this worthy man our Hubert had fallen, and evenhis hopeful temperament--always buoyant under misfortune--could notprevent him from sharing the despondency he had so pitied, and alittle despised.
In the evening, they arrived at a caravansary, and there the slaveswere told to rest, chained two and two together, and, furthermore,huge bloodhounds stalked about the courtyard, within and without,and if a slave but moved, their watchful growl showed what littlechance there was of escape.
Little? Rather, none.
In the morning, up again, and away for the west, until the slopesof the mountains were attained on the third day, and the palace ofthe "Old Man" soon appeared in sight.
A grand Eastern palace--cupolas, minarets gleaming in the settingsun--terraces, fountains, cloistered arcades, cool and refreshing--gardenswherein grew the vine, the fig, the pomegranate, the melon, the orange,the lemon, and all the fruits of the East--wherein toiled wretched slavesunder the watchful eyes of cruel overseers and savage dogs.
When they arrived they were all put to sleep in cells opening upona courtyard with a tank in the centre. They were supplied with matsfor beds, and chained, each one by the ankle, to a staple in thewall. And without the dogs prowled and growled all night.
Poor Hubert!
In the morning the "Old Man" appeared, and the slaves were allassembled to hear his words:
"Come, ye Christians, and hearken unto me, for ye shall hear mywords--sweet to the wise, but as goads to the foolish. Ye are myproperty, bought with my money, and is it not lawful for me to dowhat I will with mine own? But there is one God, and Mohammed isHis prophet; and to please them is more to me than diamonds ofGolconda or rubies of Shiraz.
"Therefore, I make proclamation, that every slave who will embracethe true faith of Islam shall be free, only tarrying here until webe assured of his knowledge of the Koran and steadfastness ofpurpose, when he shall go forth to the world, his own master, theslave of none but God and His prophet.
"But if there be senseless Jews, or unbelieving Nazarenes, who willnot accept the blessing offered them, for six months shall theygroan beneath the taskmaster, toiling in the sun; and then, if yetobstinate, they shall die, for the edification and warning ofothers, and the manner of their death shall be in fit proportion totheir deserts.
"Hasty judgment beseemeth not a man. Ere the morrow's sun arise,let your decision be made."
The day was given to work in the burning sun, doubtless as aforetaste of what awaited the obstinate Christian. During the daytroops of lithe, active boys of all ages from ten to twenty, hadpranced about the garden--bright in face, lively and versatile indisposition; but with a certain cruel look about their black eyesand swarthy features which was the result of their system ofeducation.
And they had not been sparing of their remarks about the slaves:
"Fresh food for the stake--fresh work for the torturers."
"Pooh! They will give way and become good Mussulmen. Bah! Bah! Mostof them do, and deprive us of the fun."
That night Hubert and the young Alphonse of Poitou lay chained sideby side.
"What shall you do in the morning, Sir Englishman?" said youngAlphonse, after many a sigh.
"God helping us, our course is clear enough--we may not deny ourfaith."
"Perhaps you have one to deny," said the other, with another sigh."For me, I have never been religious."
"Nor have I," said Hubert. "I always laughed at a dear companionwho chose the religious life, even while I admired him in my heart.But when it comes to de
nying one's faith, and accepting thereligion of Mohammed, it seems to me there is no more to be said. Ihave got at least as much religion as may keep me from that,although I am not a saint."
"I wish I had; but it is fearful: the toil in the sun, the chains,the silence, the starvation, and then the impalement, the scourgingto death, the stake--or whatever else awaits us--at the end of thesix months; while all these scoffing youngsters, whose savage mirthwe have heard ringing about the place, are taught to exult in one'ssufferings--the bloodthirsty tyrant. But might we not in so hard acase pretend to become Mussulmen, and, as soon as we can escape,seek absolution and reconciliation to the Church?"
"He has said, 'Whosoever shall deny me before men, him will Ideny.' I never read much Scripture, but I remember that thechaplain at Kenilworth, where I once lived as a page, impressed somuch as this upon my mind. No; I shall stand firm, and take mychance, God helping me."
So they awaited the morning. And when it came, they were allmarshalled into the presence of the "Old Man of the Mountain."
"Yesterday you heard the terms, today the choice remains--libertyand the faith of the prophet; slavery and death if you remainobstinate. Those who choose the former, file off to my right hand;those who select the latter, to my left."
There were some thirty slaves. A moment's hesitation. Then, at thesignal from the guards, about twenty, amongst whom was Alphonse,stalked off to the right. Ten, amongst whom was Hubert, passed tothe left.
"Your selection is made. Every moon the same choice will berepeated, until the end of the sixth, when no further grace will begranted; and the death he has chosen awaits the unbeliever."
From this time the situation of the few who remained faithfulbecame unbearable. They slept in the cells we have described, asbest they could, rose at the dawn, and laboured under theguardianship of ferocious dogs and crueler men till the sun set,and darkness put an end to their unremitting toil. Only thebriefest intervals were allowed for meals, and the food was barelysufficient to maintain life. Conversation was utterly forbidden,and at night, if the slaves were heard talking, they were visitedwith stripes.
The cells in which they now slept were single ones. Once only inmany days Hubert was able to ask a fellow sufferer:
"What happens in the end?"
"We are impaled on a stake, I believe, after the fashion of theTurcomans; or perhaps burnt alive; or the two may be combined. Godhelp us. Although He slay me, yet will I trust in Him."
"God bless you for those words," replied Hubert.
The merry laughter of boys filled the place at times, between theirhours of instruction, for the youngsters had all the Europeanlanguages to study amongst them, for the ends the founder of this"orphan asylum" had in view. But nothing was done to make themtired of their work, or unfaithful in their attachment to theprinciples they were to maintain with cup and dagger.
Once or twice slaves disappeared, generally weak and worn-out men.
"Their time is come," said the others in a terrified whisper.
And on such occasions a few shrieks would sometimes break thesilence of a summer day, followed by the derisive laughter ofyouthful voices. Yet these martyrs might have saved themselves byapostasy at any moment--save, perhaps, at the last, when theappetite of the cruel Mussulmen had been whetted for blood, andmust be satiated--yet they would not deny their Lord. Theirbehaviour was very unlike the conduct of an English officer in theIndian Mutiny, who saved his life readily by becoming a Mussulman,with the intention, of course, of throwing his new creed aside assoon as he was restored to society, and laughed at the folly ofthose who accepted his profession thereof.
But Hubert, careless of his religious duties as he had been, andalmost afraid of appearing religious, could not do this, no morethan Martin would have done.
Oh, how he thought of Martin. And oh, how earnestly he prayed inthose days.
And here we grieve to be forced to leave our Hubert awhile.
