by Talbot Mundy
Chapter Three"Sahib, there is always--work for real soldiers!"
WHERE TWO OR THREE
Oh, all the world is sick with hate,And who shall heal it, friend o' mine?And who is friend? And who shall standSince hireling tongue and alien handKill nobleness in all this land?Judas and Pharisee combineTo plunder and proclaim it Fate.
Days when the upright dared be fewAre they departed, friend o' mine?Are bribery and rich largesseFair props for fat forgetfulness,Or anodynous of distress?Oh, would the world were drunk with wineAnd not this last besotting brew!
Oh, for the wonderful again--The greatly daring, friend o' mine!The simply gallant blade unbought,The soul compassionate, unsought,With no price but the priceless thoughtNor purpose than the brave designOf giving that the world may gain!
So we took two rooms at the Yeni Khan instead of one, not being mindedto sleep as closely as the gentry of Asia Minor like to. Will hurriedus down there for a look at the gipsy girl. But the tent was goneand the gipsies with it, and when we asked questions about them peoplespat.
Your good Moslem--and a Moslem is good in those parts who makes amountain of observances, regarding mole-hills of mere morals notat all--affects to despise all giaours; but a giaour, like a gipsy,who has no obvious religion of any kind, he ranks below the pig inorder of reverence. It did not redound to our credit that we showedinterest in the movements of such people.
Monty brought an enormous can of bug-powder with him, and restoredour popularity by lending generously after he had treated our quarterssufficiently for three days' stay. Fred did nothing to ourquarters--stirred no finger, claiming convalescence with his tongue inhis cheek, and strolling about until he fell utterly in love with thekhan and its crowd, and the khan with him.
That very first night he brought out his concertina on the balcony,and yowled songs to its clamor; and whether or not the various crowdagreed on naming the noise music, all were delighted with the friendliness.
Fred talks more languages fluently than he can count on the fingersof both hands. He began to tell tales in a sing-song eastern snarl--atale in Persian, then in Turkish, and the night grew breathless,full of listening, until pent-up interest at intervals burst bondsand there were "Ahs" and "Ohs" all amid the dark, like little breathsof night wind among trees.
He found small time for sleep, and when dawn came, and four Zeitoonliservants according to Kagig's promise, they still swarmed aroundhim begging for more. He went off to eat breakfast with a khan fromBokhara, sitting on a bale of nearly priceless carpets to drink overlandtea made in a thing like a samovar.
All the rest of that day, and the next, sleeping only at intervals,while Monty and Will and I helped the Zeitoonli servants get ourloads in shape, Fred sharpened his wonder-gift of tongues on thefascinated men of many nations, giving them London ditties and talesfrom the Thousand Nights and a Night in exchange for their news ofcaravan routes. He left them well pleased with their bargain.
Monty went off alone the second day to see about mules. The Turkwith a trade to make believes that of several partners one is always"easier" than the rest; consequently, one man can bring him to seeswifter reason than a number can. He came back that evening withtwelve good mules and four attendants.
"One apiece to ride, and two apiece to carry everything. Not anothermule to be had. Unpack the loads again and make them smaller!"
Fred came and sat with us that night before the charcoal brazierin his and Monty's room.
"They all talk of robbers on the road," he said. "Northward, throughthe Circassian Gates, or eastward it's all the same. There's a manin a room across the way who was stripped stark naked and beatenbecause they thought he might have money in his clothes. When hereached this place without a stitch on him he still had all his moneyin his clenched fists! Quite a sportsman--what? Imagine his jugglingwith it while they whipped him with knotted cords!"
"What have you heard about Kagig?"
"Nothing. But a lot about vukuart.* It's vague, but there's somethingin the air. You'll notice the Turkish muleteers are having nothingwhatever to say to our Zeitoonli, although they've accepted the sameservice. Moslems are keeping together, and Armenians are gettingthe silence cure. Armenians are even shy of speaking to one another.I've tried listening, and I've tried asking questions, although thatwas risky. I can't get a word of explanation. I've noticed, though,that the ugly mood is broadening. They've been polite to me, butI've heard the word shapkali applied more than once to you fellows.Means hatted man, you know. Not a serious insult, but implies contempt."
--------------* Turkish word: happenings, a euphemism for massacre.--------------
Nothing but comfort and respectability ever seemed able to make Fredgloomy. He discussed our present prospects with the air of an epicureordering dinner. And Monty listened with his dark, delightfulsmile--the kindliest smile in all the world. I have seen unthoughtfulmen mistake it for a sign of weakness.
I have never known him to argue. Nor did he then, but strode straightdown into the khan yard, we sitting on the balcony to watch. Hevisited our string of mules first for an excuse, and invited a Kurdishchieftain (all Kurds are chieftains away from home) to inspect aswollen fetlock. With that subtle flattery he unlocked the man'sreserve, passed on from chance remark to frank, good-humored questions,and within an hour had talked with twenty men. At last he calledto one of the Zeitoonli to come and scrape the yard dung from hisboots, climbed the stairs leisurely, and sat beside us.
"You're quite right, Fred," he said quietly.
Then there came suddenly from out the darkness a yell for help inEnglish that brought three of us to our feet. Fred brushed his fiercemustaches upward with an air of satisfaction, and sat still.
"There's somebody down there quite wrong, and in line at last tofind out why!" he said. "I've been waiting for this. Sit down."
We obeyed him, though the yells continued. There came blows suggestiveof a woman on the housetops beating carpets.
"D'you recollect the man I mentioned at the consulate--the bipedPeter Measel, missionary on his own account, who keeps a diary andlibels ladies in it? Well, he's foul of a thalukdar* from Rajputana,and of a Prussian contractor, recruiting men for work on the Baghdadrailway. I wasn't allowed to murder him. I see why now--fingerof justice--I'd have been too quick. Sit down, you idiots! You'veno idea what he wrote about Miss Vanderman. Let him scream, I like it!"
---------------* Punjabi Word--landholder.---------------
"Come along," said Monty. "If he were a bad-house keeper he hashad enough!"
But Will had gone before us, headlong down the stairs with the speedoff the mark that they taught him on the playing field at Bowdoin.When we caught up he was standing astride a prostrate being who sobbedlike a cow with its throat cut, and a Rajput and a German, eitherof them six feet tall, were considering whether or not to resentthe violence of his interference. The German was disposed to yieldto numbers. The Rajput not so.
"Why are you beating him?" asked Monty.
"Gott in Hinimel, who would not! He wrote of me in his diary--derLiminel!--that I shanghai laborers."
"Do you, or don't you?" asked Monty sweetly.
"Kreutz-blitzen! What is that to do with you--or with him? Whatright had he to write that people in France should pray for me in church?"
The Rajput all this while was standing simmering, as ready as a boarat bay to fight the lot of us, yet I thought with an air about him,too, of half-conscious surprise. Several times he took a half-paceforward to assert his right of chastisement, looked hard at Monty,and checked mid-stride.
"You've done enough," said Monty.
"Who are you that says so?" the German retorted.
"He--who--will--attend--to--it--that--you--do--no--more!" Monty'ssmooth voce had become without inflection.
"Bah! That is easy, isn't it? You are four to one!"
"Five to one!"
The Rajput's gruff throat thrilled with a new emotion.
He sprangsuddenly past me, and thrust himself between Monty and the German,who took advantage of the opportunity to walk away.
"Lord Montdidier, colonel sahib bahadur, burra salaam!"
He made no obeisance, but stood facing Monty eye to eye. The words,as be roiled them out, were like an order given to a thousand men.One almost heard the swish of sabers as the squadrons came to thegeneral salute.
"I knew you, Rustum Khan, the minute I set eyes on you. Why wereyou beating this man?"
"Sahib bahadur, because he wrote in his book that people in Franceshould pray for me in church, naming my honorable name, because,says he--but I will not repeat what he says. It is not seemly."
"How do you know what is in his diary?" Monty asked.
"That German read it out to me. We were sitting, he and I, discussinghow the Turks intend to butcher the Armenians, as all the world knowsis written. They say it shall happen soon. Said he to me--the Germansaid to me--'I know another,' said he, 'who if I had my way shouldsuffer first in that event.' Saying which he showed the writtenbook that he had found, and read me parts of it. The German wasfor denouncing the fellow as a friend of Armenians, but I was forbeating him at once, and I had my way."
"Where is the book?" demanded Monty.
"The German has it."
"The German has no right to it."
"I will bring it."
Rustum Khan strode off into the night, and Monty bent over the sobbingform of the self-appointed missionary. We were all alone in the midstof the courtyard, not even watched from behind the wheels of arabas,for a fight or a thrashing in the khans of Asia Minor is strictlythe affair of him who gets the worst of it.
"Will you burn that book of yours, Measel, if we protect you fromfurther assault?"
The man sobbed that he would do anything, but Monty held him to thepoint, and at last procured a specific affirmative. Then RustumKhan came back with the offending tome. It was bulky enough to containan account of the sins of Asia Minor.
Fred and I picked the poor fellow up and led him to where the cookingplaces stood in one long row. Will carried the book, and RustumKhan stole wood from other folks' piles, and fanned a fire. We watchedthe unhappy Peter Measel put the book on the flames with his own hands.
"You're old enough to have known better than keep such a diary!"said Monty, stirring the charred pages.
"I am at any rate a martyr!" Measel answered.
The man could walk by that time--he was presumably abstemious andrecovered from shock quickly. Monty sent me to see him to his room,which turned out to be next the German's, and until Will came overfrom our quarters with first-aid stuff from our chest I spent theminutes telling the German what should happen to him in case he shouldso far forget discretion as to resume the offensive. He said nothingin reply, but sat in his doorway looking up at me with an expressionintended to make me feel nervous of reprisals without committing himto deeds.
Later, when we had done our best for "the martyred biped Measel,"as Fred described him, Will and I found Rustum Khan with Fred andMonty seated around the charcoal brazier in Monty's room, deep inthe valley of reminiscences. Our entry rather broke the spell, butRustum Khan was not to be denied.
"You used to tell in those days, Colonel sahib bahadur," he said,addressing Monty with that full-measured compliment that the chivalrous,old East still cherishes, "of a castle of your ancestors in theseparts. Do you remember, when I showed you the ruins of my familyplace in Rajputana, how you stood beside me on the heights, sahib,and vowed some day to hunt for that Crusaders' nest, as you called it?"
"That is the immediate purpose of this trip of ours," said Monty.
"Ah!" said the Rajput, and was silent for about a minute. Fred Oakesbegan to hum through his nose. He has a ridiculous belief that doingthat throws keen inquirers off a scent.
"Colonel sahib, since I was a little butcha not as high as your kneeI have spoken English and sat at the feet of British officers. Littleenough I know, but by the beard of God's prophet I know this: whena British colonel sahib speaks of 'immediate purposes,' there arehidden purposes of greater importance!"
"That well may be," said Monty gravely. "I remember you always werea student of significant details, Rustum Khan."
"There was a time when I was in your honor's confidence."
Monty smiled.
"That was years ago. What are you doing here, Rustum Khan?"
"A fair enough question! I hang my head. As you know, sahib, Iam a rangar. My people were all Sikhs for several generations back.We converts to Islam are usually more thorough-going than born Moslemsare. I started to make the pilgrimage to Mecca, riding overlandalone by way of Persia. As I came, missing few opportunities totalk with men, who should have been the lights of my religion, Ihave felt enthusiasm waning. These weeks past I have contemplatedreturn without visiting Mecca at all. I have wandered to and fro,hoping for the fervor back again, yet finding none. And now, sahib,I find you--I, Rustum Khan, at a loose end for lack of inspiration.I have prayed. Colonel sahib bahadur, I believe thou art the giftof God!"'
Monty sought our eyes in turn in the lantern-lit darkness. We madeno sign. None of us but he knew the Rajput, so it was plainly his affair.
"Suit yourself," said Will, and the rest of us nodded.
"We are traveling into the interior," said Monty, "in the ratherdoubtful hope that our absence from a coast city may in some wayhelp Armenians, Rustum Khan."
The Rajput jumped to his feet that instant, and came to the salute.
"I might have known as much. Colonel Lord Montdidier sahib, I offerfealty! My blood be thine to spill in thy cause! Thy life on myhead--thine honor on my life--thy way my way, and God be my witness!"
"Don't be rash, Rustum Khan. Our likeliest fate is to be taken prisonerby men of your religion, who will call you a renegade if you defendArmenians. And what are Armenians to you?"
"Ah, sahib! You drive a sharp spur into an open sore! I have seentoo much of ill-faith--cruelty--robbery--torture--rapine--butchery,all in the name of God! It is this last threat to the Armeniansthat is the final straw! I took the pilgrimage in search of grace.The nearer I came to the place they tell me is on earth the homeof grace, the more unfaith I see! Three nights ago in another placeI was led aside and offered the third of the wealth of a fat Armenianif I would lend my sword to slit helpless throats--in the name ofGod, the compassionate, be merciful! My temper was about spoiltforever when that young idiot over the way described me in his bookas--never mind how he described me--he paid the price! Sahib bahadur,I take my stand with the defenseless, where I know thou and thy friendswill surely be! I am thy man!"
"It is not included in our plans to fight," said Monty.
"Sahib, there is always work for real soldiers!"
"What do you fellows say? Shall we let him come with us?"
"I travel at my own charges, sahib. I am well mounted and well armed."
"Sure, let him come with us!" said Will. "I like the man."
"He has my leave to come along to England afterward," said Fred,"if he'll guarantee to address me as the 'gift of God' in public!"
I left them talking and returned to see whether the "martyred bipedMeasel" needed further help. He was asleep, and as I listened tohis breathing I heard voices in the next room. The German was talkingin English, that being often the only tongue that ten men have incommon. Through the partly opened door I could see that his roomwas crammed with men.
"They are spies, every one of them!" I heard him say. "The man Ithrashed is of their party. You yourselves saw how they came tohis rescue, and seduced the Indian by means of threats. This isthe way of the English. ("Curse them!" said a voice.) They writenotes in a book, and when that offense is detected they burn thebook in a corner, as ye saw them do. I saw the book before theyburned it. I thrashed the spy who wrote in the book because he hadwritten in it reports on what it is proposed to do to infidels atthe time ye know about. I tell you those men are
all spies--oneis as bad as the other. They work on behalf of Armenians, to bringabout interference from abroad."
That he had already produced an atmosphere of danger to us I hadimmediate proof, for as I crossed the yard again I dodged behindan araba in the nick of time to avoid a blow aimed at me with a swordby a man I could not see.
"All your charming is undone!" I told Fred, bursting in on our partyby the charcoal brazier. Almost breathless I reeled off what I hadoverheard. "They'll be here to murder us by dawn!" I said.
"Will they?" said Monty.
We were up and away two hours before dawn, to the huge delight ofour Turkish muleteers, who consider a dawn start late, yet not tooearly for the servants of the khan, who knew enough European mannersto stand about the gate and beg for tips. Nor were we quite tooearly for the enemy, who came out into the open and pelted us withclods of dung, the German encouraging from the roof. Fred caughthim unaware full in the face with a well-aimed piece of offal. Thenthe khan keeper slammed the gate behind us and we rode into the unknown.
