Chapter 17
Joy in Submission
Thus Ali-Ouad Hamed, wealthy merchant and man of weight and influence as he was, a patriarch with a white beard to boot, knelt covering Grace's hand with frantic kisses. Crouched at her feet, he besought her love with broken voice, and tender, stammering words, at once poetical and obscene, while she looked down at him with her vague, indeterminate smile, where pride and scorn were equally represented.
But of a sudden a knocking sounded through the house, a loud, violent knocking at the outer door. The merchant sprang to his feet, and stood, his head inclined in an attitude of anxious listening. Then came shouts, the footsteps of a troop of men, a repetition of the knocking, but louder still. The soldiers were using the butts of their guns to break down the house door, in the same way as that of the harem enclosure had been burst open a little before. The old man laid his finger on his lip to impose silence on Grace, while his eyes searched anxiously in every corner to discover a hiding-place. Then the tumult approached yet nearer, and the voice of Fadl-el-Maula could be distinguished. Hearing it, Grace began to shout, "This way! Help! help!"
In an instant the door was shivered to atoms, and Ali-Ouad-Hamed seized and tied up like a package, while Fardji the Eunuch carried off Grace. She could hear the merchant groaning, as she was dragged away, and praying for mercy under the soldiers' rough hands, and Fadl-el-Maula's chuckles of triumph. She did not know herself why she had cried out; she almost regretted she had done so. At this very moment she was asking herself the question whether she was sorry or whether she ought to be glad, at having fallen again into her master's power. Then as she recollected the old merchant's scared face, and his cries and supplications when the soldiers were hustling him, she burst out into a fit of laughter.
All the same she shuddered when she considered that in this adventure Fadl-el-Maula would certainly find another pretext for flogging her; and as a matter-of-fact he did make her bend beneath the lash, chiding her for her coquetry. After all it was what she most wished, for blows had now grown a necessity of her existence; the mere apprehension of the kourbash set her quivering delightfully, and her terror was transformed promptly into wanton desire. She felt an imperious need of humiliating herself before her master, of falling into attitudes of utter submission and fond caress. When she was screaming madly, sobbing and supplicating under the lash, then it was desire bit fiercest, and all her body quivered with pain,-and concupiscence. Fadl-el-Maula had guessed this, and knew that flogging time was the true psychological moment. It invariably ended up with a crisis of the nerves, a tempest of feverish kisses, interspersed with sobs and moans. He never said a word, but would look at her with a curious expression, in which satisfaction and pride were both present. His excitement was hardly less than hers, but he invariably preserved his attitude of dignified mastery through it all. Gradually he grew more and more attached to Grace, and remained as nearly as may be strictly faithful to her.
Still the demands of duty forced him sometimes to leave her,-for instance when he had to spend the night under arms, ready at a moment's notice to lead out his Djede-diah, his legion of black troops, to battle. The fact is, that never since the accession of the Khalif, had Omdurman been in such a disturbed condition. As long ago as the days of the late Malidi, at the time Hicks Pacha's army had just been annihilated, every Dervish knew perfectly well that the most formidable enemy of Malidism was England. Patiently and doggedly the English were reorganizing the Khedive's forces, her army instructors showing such ability they positively succeeded in instilling some spirit into the chicken-hearted fellahin. Meantime the Khalif, in his inordinate conceit, had decreed the conquest of Egypt. Ouad-Nejumi, one of his high Emirs, had come near losing his command and being thrown into chains, because he had delayed his forward march. Starting from Berber with an imposing force, he was greatly hampered by the multitude of women and children the Dervishes carried with them in their train. But the Khalif had wished it so, in order that the men might have more spirit in battle. The desert was choked with the bodies of those who had died of thirst. Mad with its pangs, the women would bite and scratch and fight round the water-skins, often upset'ing the camels that carried them. To defend the precious liquid, the soldiers would gallop up with their long lances, and spear mother and child with one thrust. When at lust on the borders of the desert, on the frontier line, the Egyptian soldiers came out to meet the invaders, they found nothing but an army of phantoms, and had no difficulty in massacring the poor emaciated wretches. Ouad-Nejumi himself was killed, and only a handful of Dervishes made good their escape to Omdurman to bring the fatal news.
The Khalif quite realized that if the Egyptians had beaten his troops, it was to their English officers they owed their success. Henceforward in every misfortune to his arms he saw the effect of English activity,-which was indeed energetic and unceasing. Kitchener, a British officer who had entered the Egyptian service, had compelled Osman-Digna, one of the Dervish Emirs, to raise the siege of Saukim. Subsequently he was appointed Sirdar, and was now in supreme command. He pushed on the reorganization of the army with greater zeal than ever, accustomed the Egyptian soldiers to endure hardships, and taught them to look boldly in the face of those terrible Dervishes before whom they had been used to tremble. Nor was this all; he was also a diplomatist, and understood how to turn discontent to his own advantage. He succeeded in detaching several Sudanese tribes from the cause of Malidism. By this means he still further increased the army he was preparing, and incorporated in it a nucleus of men as brave as the enemies it had to fight, seeing they came from their ranks.
Fadl-el-Maula was busily occupied. The Khalif had sent him in pursuit of Father Ohrwalder, who had at last found a camel-driver after his own heart, and had made good his escape, taking with him the two sisters of the Mission,two such plain women not a soldier had wished to have anything to do with them. Fadl-el-Maula was already galloping after the fugitives, when an estafet recalled him to Omdurman. Rebellion, which had long been hatching underground, was giving ominous signs,-a regular plot, skillfully combined, that would have burst on the government like a thunder-clap, had it not been betrayed and so brought to an abortive termination. The Malidi had left two sons who were now grown up to manhood. Indignant at finding themselves treated by Abdullahi as mere noblemen of little importance, they had been urging the two other Khalifs to dispossess the Chief, their powerful rival. The moment was well chosen. The famine had ruined a number of persons who saw in revolution the only means of mending their fortunes, while the Dongolawi and Djaalin, declared enemies of the Bagaras, had joyfully accepted the overtures made them by conspirators.
But an Emir of the Djaalin betrayed the plot. This man had sworn he would not say a word to anybody, except his kinsmen and his best friends. He wrote a letter to the
Khalif, in which he gave full particulars, and supplied all names, down to that of the most insignificant participator, ending up his letter by boasting of not having broken his oath. For he considered the Khalif, his master, as his best friend, and thought it a sacred duty to warn him of the danger that menaced him. Abdullahi resolved to feign ignorance, though at the same time he increased his guard, and ordered the Muzalemin to be on duty day and night. The Conspirators assembled in the immediate vicinity of the Palace, near the Mausoleum of the Malidi, a vast building with an immense dome.
There were women in the plot too. All the harem of the deceased Malidi had been left as it was. The Beit-el-Maal provided for the needs of his widows and concubines,with not a little sordid parcimony, while their captivity was as strict as ever. They were overjoyed to hear a rising was to be attempted against the oppressor. The favorite wife, she the people had sumamed "Um el Muminin," Mother of Ture Believers, girded on a sword. Of the Malidi's four lawful wives she was the chief and best beloved, for had she not been the one to share his days of adversity? The Ashraf, and indeed all the Ansar, held her in deep veneration, and when she appeared before the assembly, drawing her blade, which flashed in the sun, and exhorting all true defenders of the Faith to rise against the unrighteous usurper, the enthusiasm knew no bounds. Arms unfortunately were conspicuous by their absence; if the conspirators had a hundred muskets at their disposal, this was the outside. But numbers and resolution were to supply the lack of arms, and they reckoned moreover on the defection of many of the Khalif's troops.
It was on the Monday, after evening prayers, that the Khalif, massing his troops about the Great Mosque, ordered them to surround the people of the Ashraf. Meantime, before joining battle, he dispatched messengers to the Khalif Sherif and the Malidi's sons. He had the proclamation read in which the deceased potentate had invested him, Abdullahi, with the supreme power; and commanded them to submit and so avoid needless bloodshed. For all reply, they declared themselves ready to fight it out. The struggle was conducted with dignity. Soon the Ashraf, who were badly led, showed signs of being beaten; and instantly the Khalif sent flags to treat of peace, who were better received than the former had been. The rebels were not so averse now to open negotiations, but were informed the first condition was that they must lay down their arms. On the other hand, Abdullahi promised to accord more importance to the Khalif Mohammed Sherif and the two sons of the Malidi. Pourparlers continued to be exchanged for several days; but they finally resulted in an agreement, and the Khalif undertook to grant a general amnesty.
By degrees the Ashraf all brought in their rifles to the "Beit-el-Amana," or Arsenal. As soon as he was convinced they had no more in their possession, Abdullahi invited the two Khalifs, the Cadis and Emirs of the Dongilawi, as well as the Chiefs of the Ashraf, to appear before him. After making them renew the oath of allegiance, he proceeded to speak to them of everything except their late mutiny, reproaching them with lukewarmness in religion and neglect of the orthodox prayers, declaring that even on Friday he did not invariably see them at the Mosque. He had the proclamation of the Malidi announcing him as his Successor read out again; and assuming the air of one inspired, assured them that the prophet had appeared to him in a dream and commanded the punishment of the guilty. Mahomet had told him the names; which he, Abdullahi, as a humble servant of the Prophet, would not repeat.
Slowly he repeated them one by one, and the instant any of those present was designated, the soldiers of the bodyguard, according to the instructions they had received, came forward, tied his hands behind him and drove him out of the assembly with heavy blows of the butt in his back. Thirteen of the rebels were thus apprehended, and sent under strong escort to Fashoda, along with secret instructions addressed to Zeki Tummal, the former Emir of Galabat, who had changed his tactics and could now be thoroughly relied on. On their arrival they were put in chains, and shut up in a confined Zariba. Here for eight days they were fed on a handful of corn and a small cup of water, purposely chosen brackish and foul. Tied up to stakes, they roasted by day under the blazing sun, while the night chills set them shivering. The soldiery pestered them with insults, and the women and children threw out sand in their eyes. Even at night, if the sentinels saw them drooping exhausted from their stakes and asleep, they would come and prick them up with their lances.
Finally they were led out to punishment. The troops were drawn up in line, and they were taken in front of the battalion. Each soldier was armed with a switch of green wood, freshly cut, pliant as a rush and bristling with strong thorns curving back like a cat's claws. Each of the condemned men was surrounded by four men, who stripped off his clothes and fastened a rope round his middle. By this the prisoners were dragged along the front, each man in the line holding his switch ready and striking as they passed. The cruel thorns tore the victim's flesh, who went by,-thirteen dancing, leaping forms that left a long stream of blood behind them. Almost at the first blows, first one, then another, sank helpless to the ground, and very soon all were incapable of advancing; but their conductors hauled them on, till the last man of the line had struck his blow at the bleeding mass presented to him,-a mere lump by this time of mud, and blood, and mangled flesh. At Omdurman, Abdullahi put to death the Malidi's uncles, ordering their skulls to be split open with hatchets, and deemed himself strong enough to decree the arrest of his colleague, the Khalif Sherif. In spite of the latter's protests and appeals to the oath taken, he was led off to the gaol, where ankles and wrists were secured with six iron rings riveted round them and attached to a heavy chain of many coils that was fastened about his middle. Throughout the Sudan, the Ashraf were dispossessed of their porperty, the men flogged, and the women and children sold into slavery. Thus by sheer terror did the Khalif Abdullahi confirm his supremacy.
Grace, closely confined within the harem, remained indifferent to outside events. Years went by, Fadl-el-Maula now having her, now neglecting her, as the imagine took him. For months together she would never see him; then one evening he would send the eunuch to summon her. On these occasions her heart would still beat loudly, as she hurried to join him in the little room. She dreaded being flogged,-and she hoped she would be! But he very seldom now resorted to the kourbash. His ironical look and cruel smile, cold and domineering as ever, were quite enough; and Grace, shuddering with fear and lust, was ready to lavish on him the most humiliating and odious of caresses.
She hardly gave a thought to the possibility of her becoming a mother, and felt no surprise at remaining barren. No doubt her transports were too extravagant, the fire of the flesh must surely scorch up the germ. Still her flesh was firm, her figure full and blooming in the ripe maturity of her thirty years, while her ample hips seemed made for times of pregnancy. It was a month since she had seen Fadl-el-Maula, when she discovered she was with child. She tried not to be sure, hardly knowing whether to be glad or sorry. When she found herself forced to allow the evidence, she hoped it would be a boy. The very idea it might turn out a girl, made her ill; rather would she have contrived abortion than give life to a slave-girl! She endured all the malaise and nervousness incident to the first months of pregnancy; and when Fadl-el-Maula required her presence, she was so agitated she could not immediately follow the Eunuch. But Fardji reassured her, telling her the master knew of her condition. The emotion she experienced was still mingled with lustful ideas,-the terror and hope of the kourbash; but this was at once corrected by maternal instinct,-the dread of compromising the little life hidden within her. As a matter-of-fact, Fad-el-Maula was very gentle with her and attempted no wantonness whatever. In speaking to her, he kept his eyes fixed on the exaggerated curve of her belly, and affected a contrite and regretful air.
She was delivered of a boy, who was named Yossouf. It was twelve years since the Dervishes took Khartoum, and eight since she had become the concubine of Fadl-el-Maula.