V
LED BY A WHITE CAMEL
In the world-famous city of Mecca, two men stood by the arch that leadsto the immortal Caaba.
They were engaged in an earnest conversation, heedless of everythingabout them, when the distant cry of a camel driver sounded on the stillair.
Both of the men started and looked at each other in surprise. One ofthem said:
"A caravan at the gate at this time of day!" for it was several hourspast midday and a caravan, in the ordinary course of things, reaches acity gate during the night or very early in the morning.
Arabia was seeing troubled times, and every one was on the alert foranything out of the accepted rule.
The camel-driver's cry was repeated. The first speaker remarked:
"They have left the burdened camels at the Moabede gate and are enteringthe city."
With an anxious look upon his face the elder of the two replied, "Eitherthey have been hard pressed by an enemy or it is important news whichbrings them over the desert in such haste, in this insufferable heat."
The two men were evidently of great importance in the holy city. Theywere surrounded by powerful black slaves, who had all that they could doto keep the passers-by from pressing too close upon the elder man, in adesire to touch the hem of his garment. Many, in passing, knelt andtouched their foreheads to the ground. Thus they waited the comingcaravan.
The first camel of an important caravan is led by a man who walks beforeit, through the narrow streets of a city, and his cry is to warn thecrowd to clear the way; there being no sidewalks, and, indeed, but verylittle street.
"There it comes," said the younger of the two, as the long line ofdrowsy camels appeared, swinging, swinging, swinging along the narrowstreet.
"Led by a white camel," added the elder, and they both looked down thestreet.
The lead-camel was larger than the rest--much larger, and very muchlighter colored; a sort of dingy white, like a sheep before shearing.The chief of the caravan sat upon his back, as unmindful of everythingas though he were still upon the trackless sand.
It is not impossible that the sheik was really sleeping, andunconsciously grasping his ugly lance, while his Damascus blade hungready by his side.
He roused in a moment, however, for with many a grunt and groan thegreat, ungainly, and yet very stately, ships of the desert came slowlyand drowsily to anchor in the court before the Caaba.
"_Haji_," a naked little urchin muttered, looking up from his play; buthe should have known better. _Haji_ means pilgrims, and these were nopilgrims.
There are seasons when this city is one mass of humanity. Haji byhundreds and thousands throng the narrow streets, but these are Bedouinsof the desert, bound upon some other mission than worshiping before theCaaba, kissing the Black Stone, or drinking the holy water of Zemzem.
The leader of the white camel gave a peculiar pull to the rope hangingover his shoulder, attached to the animal's bridle, and uttered a short,sharp word of command.
Slowly, very slowly, the dignified, dingy creature, towering high abovehim, acknowledged the receipt of the order, but he gave no evidence thathe was making any arrangements to obey.
His response was simply a deliberate grunt and a weird and melancholywail that came gurgling out of his long, twisting throat. He would nothave hurried himself one atom, even for the sheik upon his back.
A white camel is to the Arab what a white buffalo is to the Indian and awhite elephant to the Ceylonese, and he fully appreciates hisimportance.
He deliberately turned his woolly head quite about till his great browneyes, with the drooping lids almost closed over them, could mostconveniently look back along the line of lank, inferior camels, andgaunt and weather-beaten dromedaries, which had patiently followed him,day after day, to the temple court of immortal Mecca.
He was so long about it that the leader repeated the command and veryslowly the camel brought his head back again, till his languid eyeslooked drowsily down, in a sort of scornful charity, upon theinsignificant mortal at the other end of his halter.
He had stood in the court of Mecca long before that man was born andwould doubtless guide caravans to the same spot long after he wasburied and forgotten.
"You may be in haste, but I am not," he seemed to say, and dreamilyturned his eyes toward the black-curtained Caaba, as if to see how ithad fared since his last visit.
That Caaba, the Holy of Holies of the Mussulman, is the most revered andpossibly the most venerable of all the sacred buildings on the earth;but the gentle, wistful eyes of the white camel were more practicallydrawn toward two or three date-palm-trees then growing beside it. Whenhe had satisfied himself that the only green thing in sight was quitebeyond his reach, he deliberately lowered his head, changed his positiona little, and with another grunt and another melancholy wail sank uponhis knees, then upon his haunches. With a deep sigh he lifted his headagain still high above the head of his driver, and his drowsy eyesseemed saying to him:
"Poor man! I kept you waiting, didn't I?"
Then he quickly turned his head to the opposite side, deliberatelypoking his nose into the passing throng, till, with a grunt ofrecognition, it touched the garment of one who was hurrying on among thecrowd.
It was evidently a Bedouin, but the wings of his turban were drawntogether in front, so that no one could see his face. He responded tothe greeting of the white camel, however, by laying his hand upon thecreature's nose as he passed. It was a motion which no one noticed, anda moment later he was out of sight.
He was following a boy who had led him directly to the arch, where theboy paused, pointed to the elder of the two men standing there, brieflyobserving:
"It is he."
The Bedouin paused for a moment, as if struggling to collect histhoughts, then hurrying forward was the next to prostrate himself beforethe venerable man. As he rose he handed him a package, simplyobserving:
"A message to the Caliph Omar."
The great caliph quickly broke the seal and read; then, turning to thebearer, asked sharply, "And who art thou?"
"I am Kanana, son of the sheik of the Beni Sads," replied the Bedouinboy, letting the wings of his turban fall apart that Omar might see hisface.
"A beardless youth!" exclaimed the caliph. "And dost thou know aught ofthe import of this letter?"
Kanana repeated the dying words of the Arab soldier, which had so oftenescaped his lips as he urged his weary feet toward Mecca.
"'Tis even so," replied the caliph. "And how came living man to trust aboy like you to come alone, through the streets of Mecca, with such anerrand?"
"I came alone with the letter from the oasis at Mount Hor," repliedKanana, straightening himself up, with very pardonable pride, before theastonished eyes of the great caliph.
Then he related, briefly, how the letter came into his keeping, and thedangers and escapes of the three long weeks during which he carried itin his bosom; each rising and setting sun finding it a little nearer toits destination.
"Thou art a brave youth," said the caliph, "a worthy son of the Terrorof the Desert. Would to Allah that every Arab had thy heart, andHeraclius himself, with all the world behind him, could not move theFaithful from their desert sands. And they shall not be moved! No! Bythe beard of the Prophet, they shall not be moved. Hear me, my son; Iwill see more of thee. This is no place for conversation, where the windbloweth into what ears it listeth. One of my slaves shall conduct you tomy house. There I will meet you presently. Go, and Allah go with you."
Indicating the slave who should take Kanana in charge, the Caliph Omarturned abruptly away and showed the letter to the man with whom he hadbeen conversing.
The Lance of Kanana: A Story of Arabia Page 6
