Chapter 13
New Love
Grace was filled with chagrin, wounded to the quick in her self-respect. All through this Abyssinian campaign she had been dragged along in the wake of the troops, amongst the baggage, and had hardly ever set eyes on Abu-Anga. Once or twice he had come to see her, and they had exchanged a few words. On these occasions he had spoken to her gently, his eternal smile on his lips, and then away again to his fighting,-and his debauchery. She was profoundly vexed, and she began to feel certain pangs of jealousy. All the old ideas she owed to her English education came back to her clearly,-mutual honor and the rights of woman in matters of love. Fain would she have recovered her hold over Abu-Anga, and have had him all her own, as in the old days of his infatuation, when she held him panting with agitation under her gaze, and he would lie at her feet frantically appealing to her pity, while she forced him to have other women as her caprice dictated. But those times were over, departed forever under the lashes of the Eunuch's kourbash. The Malidi's astute intervention had reversed the parts, and her eyes had lost their power over Abu-Anga. Besides, ever since the first time she had quivered in his embrace, she had found himself incapable of throwing any severity into her looks. The moment she tried, she felt timid and hesitating; her eyelids fluttered, and it was she who turned her eyes away, no longer able to meet the other's gaze.
The girl's emotion attracted small attention from Abu-Anga, who had little leisure to think about such trifles! For the present he was taking his fill of the pleasures afforded him by his Abyssinian captives. A fifth part of all the plunder; the "Khums," as it was called, belonged to the Khalif, and Abdullahi had appropriated one female to every five. The prettiest were kept for his harem, the remainder going to increase the stock in the Beit-el-Maal, whence he would draw them when he thought good to make presents, or when in order to raise money he supplied the slave-market. Abu-Anga for his part had kept material enough for many and varied pleasures; his Emirs-likewise had each received a good share, and still women were left over for every man of the host that had taken part in the capture of Gondar. Even then there were a good few remaining, whom the soldiers put up for auction, and as they were nearly all good-looking, they sold well. In this way the men got money with which to support the concubines they had one and all supplied themselves with.
But apart from pleasure altogether, Abu-Anga had many serious matters to occupy his attention. Every day he visited the miniature Palace the Khalif had built himself near the bank of the Nile. After entering the outer door, which was decorated with hippopotamus heads he would be met by a little slave lad and ushered into the Khalif's presence. Then ensued endless confabulations, at the end of which Abdullahi's face looked as gay and smiling as it had been overclouded before. Soon a fresh piece of success yet further confirmed his good humor; the Abyssinian populations on the frontier, who were Makadas, Christians, now embraced Islamism and declared themselves subjects of the Khalif. Moreover Todros Kasa, the son of the Emperor Theodore, who had been killed by the English at the battle of Magdala, arrived at Omdurman, hoping with Abu-Anga's help to reconquer the throne of his fathers.
However before thinking of the conquest of Abyssinia, there was rebellion nearer home to be suppressed. The Khalif favored his own tribe, the Bagaras, breeders of stocks, unduly, and had induced them to settle en masse at Omdurman. They affected to despise all the world but themselves, and the other tribes had been so deeply hurt, their sheiks had fled from Omdurman to go and raise their men in revolt against the authority of Abdullahi. This was the case with the Kababish. Between Dongola and the country of Kordofan extends the open desert, with oasis scattered here and there. Here was the home of the Kababish, a tribe rich in sheep and camels. The men were one and all cameldrivers, and used to travel with their beasts transporting merchandise between the two districts. When first the Malidi had seized El-Obayd, Saleh Bey, Sheik of the Kababish, had gone thither to make submission, afterwards returning to the desert and his oasis. But finding he could realize a good thing, he had gladly enough given aid to the Egyptians, carrying the baggage attached to their expeditions on the backs of his camels. These rebels the Khalif had long had it in mind to punish.
Saleh Bey, learning from his spies that he was going to be attacked, dispatched fifty slaves on a mission to Wadi-Halfa, the frontier town of Egypt and the terminus of the railway the Khedive had hoped to push forward as far as Khartoum. The Egyptians provided the little band with a supply of arms and money. Moreover a German trader, a man of a bold and adventurous disposition, Charles Neu-feld by name, chanced at that moment to be at Wadi-Hal-fa, waiting to see how things would turn out, and volunteered to join the expedition. His idea was to get into relations with the Arab Sheiks of the Kordofan Country, and buy up their stocks of gum arabic and ostrich feathers. He had been assured that with Saleh Bey's help, he could easily get the merchandise removed. Nejumi, one of the principal of the Khalifs Emirs was then at Dongola, and his emissaries warned him of Saleh Bey's proceedings. He started without a moment's delay, and pitched his camp by the fountains of Selima. Men were detached to draw water, and had just filled their water-skins at the fountains, when a volley of musketry opened upon them, while like a thunderbolt the soldiers of Nejumi fell upon the remainder of the Kababish, who were waiting on the track for the return of their comrades.
At the first shot Neufeld had seized his rifle, and posting himself on a hillock of sand, awaited the attack, resolved to sell his life dearly. But the Dervishes left him where he was, and contented themselves with killing all the Kababish. They were delighted to discover the money and the two hundred Remingtons supplied by the Egyptians, and only when they had secured these, did they turn their attention to Neufeld. They offered him his life, on which he surrendered and was sent to Omdurman. What explained the Khalif's good humor was that simultaneously with Neufeld's arrival, he received the further news that his troops had defeated and slain Saleh,-as well as that the soldiers of Nejumi had not only captured the arms and ammunition sent by the Egyptians but had also taken prisoner an English officer, for such they supposed Neufeld to be. The Khalif saw no reason to conceal the good news, and had the information published abroad. Soon all the city was in an uproar, retailing and commenting upon the facts. The tidings even penetrated to the harems and set the women talking; so that Grace, whose curiosity was excited, took care to be by the wayside when the prisoner made his entry.
He arrived, perched on a camel, and surrounded by a howling mob. His head was superb, with its gentle look and melancholy Christ-like features. Hair and beard were a sunny blonde,-exactly the same shade as Grace's. The crowd shouted and gesticulated all about him, some jeering, some shaking their fists at him and screaming insulting remarks; but the prisoner passed on, perched high above their heads, sitting straight in the saddle with dreamy eyes that seemed to see nothing. As he went by, Grace, at the risk of getting herself beaten, lifted her feridjeh. Their eyes met, and the man trembled and grew pale, while a flame, a sudden flash of passion, lighted up his gaze. Grace, blushing hotly and drooping her head slightly, was adorable as she stood there in a singularly charming attitude, her arm bent and one hand holding back her veil. But already a virago in the crowd, the wife of a mukku-dum, was shouting at her; so she let her feridjeh fall back in place again and disappeared in the press.
Neufeld was confined in the "rekuba," the barracks of the Muzalemin, on the great Square of the Palace. Here he spent the night in the courtyard, behind the fence of brambles, fettered and watched by a guard. Next morning he was taken before the Khalif, whom he found seated on a sheepskin thrown over an angareb. His elbow rested on a piece of muslin rolled up to form a pillow, while above his head was a canopy of palm mats. The Emirs were still standing, with eyes dropped and hands crossed on the breast, awaiting his permission to be seated. This was presently accorded and they took their places on mats spread on the floor. Then the interrogatory began. Neufeld could speak Arab perfectly, and had an answer always ready; but he was too garrulous, and above all too outspoken, though the letters found among his baggage confirmed all he said. In spite of all evidence to the contrary Abdullahi believed him to be a spy sent by the English. The Emirs voted for death. Siatin, the Austrian Officer, member of the Khalif's bodyguard, did all her could to save him, pleading his cause with much diplomacy, without displaying too great eagerness.
Neufeld was led under the gallows, in the market square, and told to get on to an angareb. At this moment he caught sight of Grace amid the throng that pressed round the scaffold. She had not withdrawn her feridjeh, but in spite of the veil he knew her face. Great tears were dropping from her eyes, and trickling down behind the muslin. With a smile he offered his neck to the running noose the executioner had just tied. But still the angareb remained in place. A quarter of an hour passed, the crowd standing in speechless wonder, unable to understand what was toward. At last a herald appeared to proclaim that the Khalif granted a pardon, commuting the punishment of death into imprisonment. So Neufeld was handed back to Saier, the gaoler, a huge negro from the Kordofan country, a brutal fellow possessed of only one idea: how to make prisoners' lives as hard as possible. Formerly the gaol had been nothing more than a vast zariba, an enclosure of brambles and thorny shrubs, but Saier had had a wall built, both high and thick. In this work his workmen were his boarders, the prisoners, their pay being the lash. Finding building to his taste, he had-likewise had a strange sort of house erected, a very low, but long and spacious construction. For building materials he had found plenty of the debris of mud walls, straw and broken stones. There was only one storey, and a man of medium height, standing upright touched the roof with his head. This house was denominated "Abu-Haggar," that is The house of stone. In it neither bed nor mattress of any kind; these were forbidden by Saier, though by special favor allowed some of the prisoners to sleep on mats. The place was never swept out, and vermin swarmed. Flies attracted by the sour-smelling exhalations of so many human bodies fouled the food and drowned themselves by hundreds in the water jugs, while centipedes crawled everywhere and scorpions, with tail aloft ready to sting, roamed about among the sleepers. All the prisoners wore the "makia," the chain, though its length and weight varied according to the severity of the punishment to be inflicted. There were some that coiled several times round the body and weighed thirty pounds. They were riveted to the ankles, and sometimes attached to the wrists as well. Some men were in receipt from the Beit-el-Maal of scanty rations or even a few small coins, but the great majority had to provide for their own subsistence. It was well for such as had a wife or friends in the city; at fixed hours anyone who wished could enter the prison, and relations would bring in meals all ready cooked. But many had nothing to hope from anybody, and lived on scanty mouthfuls given them now and again by their companions.
They spent their day wandering up and down with staggering, uncertain tread, the feverish eye ceaselessly on the look out, the cheek-bones prominent and the whole body emaciated to the last degree,-poking into every corner, turning over every heap of refuse, devouring putrid scraps of indescribably filthy offal! At last one day they would sink down in some corner, their back against the wall, at first talking wildly, loudly describing copious feasts, good things they had eaten in former days, naming the dishes one by one and repeating recipes for cooking them. Presently under the blazing sun they would huddled lower and lower, the head falling forward on the bent knees, dropping little by little into a dull motionless condition of torpor. If the gaoler passed that way on his rounds, he would give them a shove with his foot that sent diem tumbling over sideways, the body still preserving in the stiffness of death the same contracted attitude. They were buried in a winding-sheet the Beit-el-Maal was always ready to provide, and carried to the cemetery which was close to the prison, where they were buried under a think layer of sand so carelessly spread that at the faintest breath of wind a foot or a hand would protrude above the surface. Then came the hyenas and worried the corpse, tearing away scraps to devour at their leisure, and finally the ants, which cleared off the smallest atom of flesh left and polished the bones.
Grace was in despair, not knowing how to help Neufeld. She still had the same freedom of coming and going, but Saier would never have allowed her to enter the prison enclosure. But unless the Beit-el-Maal supplied Neufeld with food, the Khalif's clemency was a mere snare; the unhappy man was condemned to a more dreadful death than ever, death by slow starvation. The girl shuddered at the thought that perhaps this was the tyrants' intention; for he had forbidded Slatin to hold any communication with Neufeld. She invented a long story, which she related to Abu-Anga-about a brother she had in England, but whom she had never mentioned, though professing to have told her lover all about her earlier life. When she saw Neufeld on his camel, he had seemed to recognize her and in spite of all that had been stated since, she still doubted it might be her brother, who naturally was afraid to avow himself an Englishman. Abu-Anga was profoundly interested and listened without making a single interruption. The tale ended, he spoke of informing the Khalif, but Grace Josing her head in her terror begged and prayed him to wait. He agreed to do so, but insisted on going with her to the prison.
There they found Neufeld, half naked and his arms and shoulders furrowed with blue weals. Every evening, as soon as the sun had disappeared below the horizon, Saier, lantern in one hand and kourbash in the other, made his rounds, chasing his prisoners into the stone hovel. There were no windows and the only door was kept shut, and very soon under the low roof the air grew foul and thick to suffocating. For want of sufficient room the prisoners were squeezed together, almost piled atop of each other. Oaths and wrangling soon ended in blows, and a pitched battle would ensue, a dreadful hand-to-hand struggle, in which men fought and bit and used their heavy chains to strike one another to the earth. Neufeld had passed one night in this inferno. Next morning he remonstrated with Saier, saying he would rather sleep in the open air, on which the gaoler ordered his men to give him a hundred lashes. They pulled down his djibbeh,-the Dervishes's frock in which he was dressed up,-and baring his body to the waist, began the flagellation. In measured time, as butchers hack meat, two soldiers lashed shoulders, back and loins. Neufeld stood firm and upright and never uttered a cry, till even his tormentors, astonished at his unflinching endurance, asked him:
"Why! how is it you do not cry out under the whip?"
" Tis not worth the while," was the answer. "You may kill me, but you will not make me cry out ... "
One of the fellows went on whipping, but with weakened blows; the other, throwing down his kourbash, declared he had been at work all day long, and had no feeling left in his arms. Even Saier appeared surprised; and went off without saying a word, leaving Neufeld in the open, as he wished.
The prisoner smiled tenderly, when he noticed Grace approaching. She handed him a basket of food, but turned pale when she perceived Aisha, the negress, who brandishing a naked sword and halting before Neufeld exclaimed:
"Allahu Akbar alal Kufar,-The hand of God be heavy on the miscreant!"
Grace said hurriedly in English:
"Be careful! This man beside me is my husband,-or rather my master. I have told him I think I recognize you for my brother. But it would be dangerous for you to pass as an Englishman. What can I do for you?"
"Everything, if only I may see you again! Nothing, if you do not return!"
"Talk sense! ... Perhaps we might contrive your escape."
"I will never go without you ... Just think!. . . I entered the town a captive, perched aloft on a ridiculous camel, exposed to the mockery and insults of the mob. I beheld only a confused huddle of bodies and grinning heads, when suddenly I caught sight of you ... You drew aside your veil and bestowed the benison of your smile on me. Ah! ... that smile! How it went to my heart ... All I saw now was you ... The celestial vision of your beauty ... I care for nothing now; I assure, you with the thought of you in my heart, the knowledge I am near you, the hope of seeing you once more, I defy them to make me miserable!"
Delightedly she listened to those words of romantic tenderness, so much moved that nervous shaking of her head disturbed the folds of her veil. At last she was able to articulate:
"Tell me, tell me, I beseech you ... What must be done?"
"See Slatin."
But Abu-Anga now drew nearer, asking Grace:
"What is he saying about Slatin? He is speaking of
Abd-el-Kadei, the Khalif's muzalemin; he was formerly called Slatin,-before he embraced the true Faith . . .
Well! is the man your brother?"
By means of a strong effort she steadied her voice:
"No! And he confirms all he said to Slatin before the
Khalif. He is a German, a merchant, and came to the
Sudan to trade."
"Well and good! In that case we have nothing more to do here."
But he stopped for a moment in front of a tall, corpulent prisoner, who had lost his right hand and left foot. This was Zogheir, the most famous thief in all the Sudan. Abu-Anga a connoisseur in courage admired the man's intrepidity, of which astounding tales were told. So many times had he escaped he was believed to be untakable. Nevertheless on one occasion he was brought before the judge, the "Sheik es suk." But the magistrate in question was in want of money,-as he always was!and Zoghier offered him fifty dollars for his liberty. Unfortunately he had not the money with him; but asked for an hour to get it. Off he marches to the Market, where he observes a "dammur," a draper, who had just sold his supply of cloth and was weighing the purse containing the proceeds in his hand. It was the work of a moment for Zogheir to get hold of this, and going back to the Judge, he gave him the purse just as it was,-sixty-six dollars instead of the stipulated fifty, but begging him at the same time to send him to prison for a day. So the Judge had him conveyed there, Zogheir further demanding to be put in chains. Presently arrived the merchant to lodge complaint, accusing Zoghier of the robbery, whom all the town knew to be a thief. The Judge declared it was a false accusation, and ordered him to be taken to the gaol, where he beheld Zogheir safely chained and in no condition to do anybody any harm.
One day in the Market he noticed some Arabs who had just disposed of a quantity of "dourrha," or grain, and were counting the money they had been paid, seven hundred dollars, before popping it in their bag. Zogheir went up and addressed them civilly, asking them if they had any more grain at home, as he was a purchaser. While talking to them, he sent off an accomplice to get some dates, which he no sooner had in his hands than he began to throw them about right and left, shouting, "Karama! Karama!"-An alms an alms The markets of Omdurman always swarmed with poor wretches on the lookout for something to eat, and the starving creatures dashed for the fruit. In the confusion that followed, Zogheir had little difficulty in securing the bag with the dollars, and passing it on to an accomplice; and when the Arabs perceived their loss and raised a cry of lamentation, he was the first to sympathize with them and pretend to hunt everywhere for the missing article.
But complaints grew more and more frequent; and though no one could positively prove he had ever committed a single theft, Zogheir was condemned to have the right foot and left leg cut off. He underwent the punishment without a groan, and as he would never submit to the humiliation of carrying a crutch, he now came forward hy means of series of hops. Abu-Anga passed some jests with the man, and finally took his departure.
Grace followed him in silence, her thoughts in such wild confusion she could not make sure of any single one; she only knew her heart was bursting with bitter grief and blissful happiness at one and the same time. She was under the dominion of a new and resistless attraction, replete with an exquisite tenderness and charm, and still further heightened by a feeling of hatred,-hatred for the vile, brutal negro at her side, her master! She spoke to him, and he answered as if he had scarcely heard her; and this indifference still further increased her aversion,-to which was added a bitter sense of lost opportunity. For why might she not have tried to escape with Neufeld? She could have put on a djibbeh, a Dervishes' frock, such as every man in the Sudan wore, and by draping her "farda" or cloak, in such a way as to hide her face she could easily have deceived those they met as to her sex. For the actual flight, horse or camel, all was one to her. She stretched her muscles, and found them far from being altogether flabby after her four years of harem life. They still kept the elasticity and powers of endurance imparted to them by her English training in athletics. They might have made their way out of the city along with Slatin, and by little frequented roads eventually reached Egypt. Once there, they were safe ... Then she would take Neufeld with her to England. Her people could hardly refuse their consent to her marriage ... With her saviour! For she reversed the roles; indeed had he not already saved her from the moral degradation into which she had fallen? She felt a renewal of her self-respect, a return of proper personal dignity; and the more this was so, the more she experienced a poignant, bitter loathing of all the brutal animality around her.
Then she pondered who to see Neufeld again, what pretext too she could invent to secure another visit to the prison. The best thing seemed to be to communicate first with Slatin and find out whether he had discovered any chances of escape, and if they might take advantage of them with him.
Abu-Anga now left her, saluting her with his good-humored smile, a flame of concupiscence flashing in his dark eyes. Grace felt her heart sink within her ... No! no! anything but that now! But all the same the Eunuch came to the women's sleeping room for her, and carried her to the chambei where Abu-Anga was waiting for her. She gave herself to him with a feeling of disgust, although she could not help quivering amorously in the actual embrace. But the horrible sour savor of his kisses twisted her mouth with loathing, and the smell of negro, the odious, greasy stench, turned her stomach.
Next morning Abu-Anga started for Galabat, the frontier town, the Khalif having entrusted him with a confidential mission.