by Talbot Mundy
CHAPTER VIII. “Have you heard of Jimgrim?”
Grim had left no more to chance than was necessary. He had even wrapped his neck with bandages to heighten his resemblance to the Lion; and the lower half of his face being covered for protection against the wind, it was easy enough to mistake his identity.
Another point in his favour was the real Ali Higg’s notorious aloofness. It was in keeping with the part that he should halt a hundred yards beyond the limit of the bivouac and wait in solitary grandeur while his men came on to do his bidding.
Nor was it anything remarkable that those accompanying him should be strangers to Ibrahim’s command, for unless such a robber chief as Ali Higg can keep on adding fresh parties of marauders to his string he is pretty surely doomed to collapse.
Evidently Grim had left no detail of his plan unexplained this time, and he had the advantage of Ali Baba’s familiarity with the lay of things. Our seventeen rascals with Ayisha in their midst came on at top speed, straight for the tent, where it might be expected that Narayan Singh and I would be, since we were nowhere else in evidence.
Midway, Ayisha whirled aside to confront and harangue the lined up camel- men; and she showed the same sort of form that she did at El-Maan railway station when we first saw her in action. Under the very eyes of Ali Higg himself they could hardly do other than hear her respectfully; but you don’t have to be savage to get all worked up when a pretty young woman with a rifle in her hand screams warlike exhortations at you from a blooded camel. She thrilled me; and I had something else to think about. [ See “The Lion of Petra”]
It didn’t look good to me to leave old Ibrahim ben Ah to stew in his resentment, and perhaps to spoil Ayisha’s game at a critical moment. Having no notion what the game might be, still it was hardly a stroke of genius to suppose that she would play it easier without that handicap.
On the other hand, it looked no better to submit him to indignity before his men. If they once got the notion in their heads that Ibrahim ben Ah was in disgrace, they would be all the more likely to try to take advantage of Ayisha, because, as the Turks are so fond of saying, “a fish begins stinking from the head.” The suggestion that a commander can be deposed in the field spreads insubordination in the rank and file.
I had made up my mind what to do, whether Grim should approve, or not, before Ali Baba and his sixteen reached the tent and halted in a cloud of dust. Our two camels were kneeling twenty feet away; and Ibrahim ben Ah’s magnificent beast, all hung with worsted ornaments and blue beads, was standing at a picket close by.
“It is time for you two to come!” called Ali Baba with a note of almost desperate excitement in his raven voice.
“Nay, three of us!” I shouted back. “Send two men in here swiftly. Let a third bring the commander’s camel.” There was one thing about those thieves of ours; they were used to team work, and in any kind of crisis they were as swift as lightning. Nobody stopped to argue. I tapped the muzzle of my pistol on Ibrahim’s shoulder.
“Now,” said I, “alive or dead, you’re coming with us to Ali Higg yonder! If you want to save your face before your men, act dignified! We’re either a guard of honors or a prisoner’s escort, whichever you prefer. You may keep your weapons for the present, but I’ll take them all away from you in front of your men and make you walk to Ali Higg if you try to start any kind of trouble! Get up!”
He didn’t try anything. The old man liked his dignity too well. He rose to his feet without a word. Mujrim and Mahommed closed in on either side of him, and led him to his camel. The gang reformed platoon. Our old fox Ali Baba brought his camel alongside Ibrahim’s, and led off, followed by Narayan Singh and me with our pistols ready but not too openly displayed. Behind us rode the sixteen, eight abreast. Not even Xerxes, King of Persia, ever rode from his tent with greater apparent honors, and I gravely doubt whether even Ayisha, all eyes though she was for everything and all alert for information, suspected until we were gone that Ibrahim ben Ah had been made prisoner.
We rode out of the bivouac at a walk, as any general with his staff might go to attend a conference. And when we came within a hundred yards of Grim he wheeled and rode away ahead of us, answering the roars of the Bedouins with a curt wave of the hand. A minute later he swung at a gallop around the corner of the hill, and we were hard put to it to overtake him.
But he wouldn’t let me draw abreast to compare notes yet. Grim is one of those fellows who, if he had the part of Othello to act, would blacken his skin all over. We were still visible to the lookout on the spur, and perhaps to others on the hilltop. He signed to me to keep my distance, for it seemed that Ali Higg had a reputation for preferring to ride all by himself in advance of his men.
So I had to bide my time until we reached that same deep wady in which Narayan Singh and I had talked with Ali Baba, and I didn’t spend it envying Ayisha, with the job on her hands of maneuvering a hundred and forty cutthroats in accordance with some secret plan; though I dare say she asked nothing better, if only because she was usurping Jael’s prerogative.
Our baggage beasts were kneeling in a fine hiding-place between boulders, not far from where we had come on Ali Baba, and there Grim halted at last for a talk, and we all gathered around him in the shadow of an overhanging rock. Ibrahim ben Ah opened on him without preliminary, and with no more courtesy than the Prophet Elijah, for instance, used to show toward sinful Israelitish kings.
“Who are you, who pose as the Lion of Petra?” he demanded angrily.
“Does it matter?” Grim answered smiling.
“Malaish!” he retorted. “No, no matter. A dog comes to a dog’s end! Death and a dung-hill — khallas!” [ Finish]
“Isn’t it a little soon to talk of dogs and dung-hills?” Grim answered pleasantly. “One friend is better than a hundred enemies.”
At that there came into Ibrahim ben Ah’s eyes a look of calculating, cold cupidity. When men of the desert kidnap important people, they kill them or hold them to ransom; that is the accepted procedure. They certainly don’t offer to make friends with them unless their own position is too desperate for ordinary measures. And desperate folk must accept exacting terms. The very bristles of the old man’s beard seemed to move as his temper changed, and he eyed Grim with a rising insolence.
“What does such a man as you imagine he can offer me?” he demanded.
Grim laughed good-temperedly.
“Perhaps only a choice of evils. But a choice is something. I might send you back to Petra for Jael to laugh at.”
The savage old commander’s mood changed rapidly once more.
“By Allah,” he snarled, “I will make no bargains with a tent-sneak-thief! Do your worst, son of a dog!”
“You’re going to have no chance to make a bargain,” Grim answered. “There’s an offer going to be made to you. You may accept it and smile, or reject it and take the consequences. None of us is going to be inconvenienced in either case.”
Ibrahim ben Ah became bewildered. He sat down cross-legged on the sand, with a gesture implying that the future lay in Allah’s lap. If he had been deprived of his weapons and jewels, perhaps he might have thought he understood; but there gleamed the diamonds on his fingers; there were his rifles-pistols-knives; and instead of scowling, talking about ransom, or threatening torture his captor smiled at him good-humoredly and talked conundrums.
“Inshallah, we shall see,” he said simply.
So Grim sat down, too, and folded his arms, with his back to the sunlight, in position to read the old man’s face. You can glean more information from a man’s passing expressions than from anything he says, in most instances, provided you own the proper eyes for the business.
“Have you heard of Jimgrim?” Grim asked him; and Ibrahim’s eyes opened wider by a fraction of an inch.
“I have ears. Surely I have heard of him. An infidel, who went to Mecca in defiance of the Moslem law. An unbelieving dog, who should be shown no quarter.”
“I am Jimgrim
,” Grim assured him pleasantly.
“I knew it!” answered our venerable captive; and his eyes closed again, ever so slightly, so that I don’t think he had even guessed the fact until that minute.
“I dare say you know all about me?”
Ibrahim screwed up his face, something after the fashion of a Christian missionary who is asked to give his opinion of the active agent of a rival denomination.
“Most men in this land have heard of you. You have a name for being clever.”
“And a liar?”
“No, I have not heard that said of you.”
“Do you remember what I was doing in the Great War?”
“Surely. I heard of you. You worked for Feisul.”
“Didn’t you work for him, too?” demanded Grim.
“By Allah, that I did! So did we all. Feisul is the rightful king of all this land. A true descendant of the Prophet. A son of the King of Mecca. A God-fearing man, on whom be peace! Would I might lead a squadron behind Feisul again!”
“Then in that we are agreed,” said Grim. “Feisul is the rightful king of all this land.”
“Yes — if it is my last word on earth!”
“I worked for Feisul in the War. I’m working for him now,” said Grim.
“Then why do you make a prisoner of me, a friend of his?”
“My old friend Ali Baba told me that you contemplated going over to Saoud the Avenger with most of Ali Higg’s men,” Grim replied evasively.
“I never told him that!”
“Possibly. But a fox can guess which way a rooster means to run.”
“Well, he guessed shrewdly,” Ibrahim answered after a moment’s pause. He seemed to be making up his mind that nothing could be gained by not humoring his interrogator. “I am sick of Ali Higg, the Lion of Petra. The Avenger has eight hundred men already; a hundred and forty more would make him a power in the land.”
“And a general of you, eh? But Saoud the Avenger is out for himself, not for Feisul.”
“So is Ali Higg out for himself and not for Feisul. And Feisul is a puppet ruler in Damascus, waiting to be turned out by the French and sent begging.”
“But you are for Feisul,” said Grim.
“Surely. But what can I do?”
“You could have done a lot of harm to Feisul’s cause by strengthening Saoud the Avenger,” Grim answered. “It is true that the French will turn Feisul out of Damascus; they are determined, he already suspects it, and I know it.”
“Mashallah! What a wise one! How do you know it?”
“It is my business to know things,” Grim answered. “Some men know about religion, others about the sea and tides; some study machinery; others know when camels will have young, and whether the price of wheat will rise or fall. I know about the intrigues of certain Governments. And as a trader looks for safety in a falling market, anticipating the day when it will rise again, so I foresee the outcome of intrigue and look beyond it and make ready. It is true that Feisul will be turned out of Damascus.”
“Then why work any more for him? The hide of a dying camel isn’t worth much. Why not look elsewhere — for instance, toward Saoud the Avenger?”
“Because Feisul has a host of friends, of whom I am one, and a loyal one,” Grim answered. “Feisul will return, and the wise ones will make ready for him. There is all Mesopotamia and most of Arabia waiting to be welded into one. Who can do that except Feisul?”
“But the Avenger —
“If he were strong enough, would set himself up against Feisul when the time comes. And of the two, which is the better man?”
“Wallahi, Feisul!”
“Then why strengthen the Avenger? If, when Feisul comes, there should be two chiefs in these parts, neither of them strong enough to defeat the other, Feisul may make peace between them and secure the loyalty of both.”
Ibrahim ben Ah’s glittering, calculating eyes opened wider again, and his lips showed traces of a smile.
“And those,” Grim went on slowly, “who have worked for Feisul will be reckoned Feisul’s friends when his star rises. Which would you rather be reckoned — a friend of the Avenger, or of Feisul?”
“Wallahi, of Feisul!”
“I also. So we are agreed again. Now which is a man’s friend: he who forgets and deserts him for the stronger side when foreign Governments break promises and betray him; or he who remembers, and watches, biding the time when the star that sets in the West shall rise in the East again?”
“But you have separated me from my men? Mashallah! What use am I now to Feisul or anyone?”
“Well,” Grim answered, “I’ll be frank with you. I didn’t separate you from your men. My intention was to let Ayisha make good her boast that she can lead you by the nose.”
Ibrahim ben Ah laughed scornfully at that.
“The woman Ayisha lied!” he retorted. “Now and then she has brought me messages from Ali Higg, and I have obeyed the messages, but not the woman. If she were Jael, that might be different. But Jael sent me word saying that the Lion had divorced Ayisha. If she had tried to lead me by the nose, I would have made a present of her to the first man who cared to feed the bint!” [ Girl; a rather disrespectful term]
“Yet, you see,” said Grim, smiling pleasantly, “how Allah makes all things easy! I had in mind, as well, to rescue my two friends from your possibly dangerous society. They had no instructions from me to bring you away with them; yet Allah is all-knowing, and it seems it was not written that you should tell your men about the woman Ayisha’s divorce. But it was written that my friends should so admire you as to crave your further company and cause you to be my guest for a while. I didn’t expect it, but who am I that I should refuse hospitality to a friend of Feisul’s?”
“Shu hashsharaf!” Ibrahim ben Ah exclaimed sarcastically. “You are possibly a worthy host, but I have called you hard names. Do you mean to swallow them?” [ What an honors!]
“I shall give you a chance to withdraw them before I speak of swallowing. What a man says in anger, being ignorant of all the facts, should form no part of the reckoning between host and guest, or between two friends of Feisul.”
“And if I will not withdraw them?”
“We shall see.”
Ibrahim ben Ah looked slowly around at the faces of our Arabs, who were listening as breathlessly as children at a play. Unseen by Grim, old Ali Baba tapped the bolt of his rifle with a threatening forefinger. Ibrahim ben Ah decided to consider matters further before definitely turning down Grim’s offer of friendship; he judged the alternative might be swift, and far from sweet.
“But if you are Jimgrim,” he said, “where is Ali Higg? And who can the Jimgrim be who sent me a warning at dawn? There must be two of you, for you came from the north, whereas the other disappeared toward the south.”
“That other,” Grim answered, “is Ali Higg himself pretending to be me.”
“Mashallah! Why?”
“Presumably to draw off some of the Avenger’s men.”
Ibrahim ben Ah nodded. The virtue of that piece of intrigue appealed to him at once.
“A shrewd plan!” he commented. “I see how that could be done. There was a day when Jimgrim, having government remounts in charge, disobeyed an order and sent five hundred camels to Saoud the Avenger. So if Jimgrim, pretending to be in distress, sends to the Avenger now for a loan of five hundred men for a few days — yes — I see the merit of that plan. With only three or four hundred left to him, the Avenger might be taken unaware and defeated easily. I see.”
Grim smiled broadly.
“Let us hope he does succeed in decoying five hundred men,” he answered. “I hardly think the Avenger will prove quite so generous as that. But even so, do you think one hundred and forty or so could defeat the number the Avenger would still have?”
“Inshallah, if Jimgrim had a hand in it.”
“I’m afraid you’re a flatterer,” said Grim, “or else you think better of Ali Higg’s ruffians than I do. No, t
here’s going to be no battle with the Avenger.”
“You will be a clever one if you can prevent it,” Ibrahim ben Ah retorted. “The Avenger is already on the move.”
“So is Ayisha!” answered Grim. “And so shall we be in twenty minutes.”
Once more Ibrahim ben Ah’s gesture and attitude betokened resignation to inevitable fate.
“Who am I that I should understand such craziness!” he exclaimed. “Let the Avenger come then, and eat up the land like the locust. It is Allah’s will.”
“I know the heart of Feisul, and I understand a little of the heart of Ali Higg,” Grim answered. “I can guess the course of Saoud the Avenger. But the will of Allah is something I cannot divine. I am no prophet. Perhaps you are?”
“Nay, nay! I never said it.”
“Then we neither of us know the will of Allah, and we are agreed again. That makes three points of agreement. Let us see if we can find a fourth.”
“Taib. Let us see.”
“Feisul will be turned out of Damascus by the French, and will go to Europe. Later, he will return and be made ruler of all this country, or at least of the greater part of it. When that day comes, would you like to be on the side of the Avenger, and so obliged to oppose Feisul?”
“No.”
“Would you eat the Avenger’s salt now, and betray him afterwards when Feisul comes?”
“Nay, why should I! But will Feisul come? I hear you say he will, but is that proof of it? Wallahi! A man might say with equal ease that the sky will fall on us.”
“Nevertheless, you are a man of judgement, used to weighing words. Wild sayings in the mouth of one man are stark truth on the lips of another. Do I look like a fool to you? Look at these friends of mine. Do they look like fools? Would such men follow a mere babbler of vanities? And would I, think you, risk my life and the lives of my friends in this desert, paving the way for a man who is not positively sure to come?”
“Well, what is your bargain?” Ibrahim ben Ah asked dryly after a moment’s pause, during which he examined Grim’s face like a jeweler studying the works of a watch.
