The Eye of Istar: A Romance of the Land of No Return

The patter of bare feet upon the polished pavement broke the silence as intently we listened. A black slave was approaching.

“Come, give me thine answer quickly, and before sundown our written undertakings under seal shall be secretly exchanged.”

Khazneh hesitated. Apparently he was distrustful of the Khalifa’s true intentions, although the generous reward promised for his services in securing the entry of the Dervishes without opposition was a tempting bait. His fingers toyed nervously with the jewelled hilt of his sword – the keen, curved weapon that had struck off so many fair heads within the brilliant Courts of Enchantment – and again he bit his uneven finger-nails.

“Think! Thou hast much to gain, with naught to lose,” urged the Khalifa. “Under me thou wilt occupy the same position as thine Imperial Master. Come, speak; and let us part ere we are remarked.”

“I – I will assist thee,” the Aga stammered at last, in a low, half-frightened whisper. “At sundown let our secret compact be concluded.”

My astute master well knew that the temptation to secure wealth and power would induce the scheming Aga of the Women to become his catspaw. He had not approached his accomplice without thoroughly fathoming his character, and noting his weaknesses. I could detect from his face that from the first he had been confident of success.

“Then upon thee be perfect peace, even until the day of Al-Jassasa,” answered the Khalifa, with a sinister smile of satisfaction, and without further speech the two men parted, walking in different directions, and leaving me, excited and apprehensive, to my own reflections.

Chapter Seventeen

Flight

Allah took me into his keeping. I made a solitude and called it peace. Half-an-hour later I succeeded in escaping unrecognised from the Fada, and passing out by the great gate, hurried breathlessly through the slave market, already alive with Arabs, negroes and herds of half-starved slaves, through the Yaalewa quarter, past the Palace of Ghaladima, and down many quaint and narrow streets of square, flat-roofed houses, their walls intensely white against the bright, unclouded blue, with passages from the Korân inscribed over the doors. The great market presented a most animated scene, for business is transacted in Kano before the sun becomes powerful. All the idioms of the Sahara, Soudan and Northern Africa, from the blue Mediterranean and grey Atlantic to Lake Tsad, were to be heard there, and beneath the white turban or red fez were all the different types of negro races – Berber, Songhoi, Bambara, Toucoulem, Malinka, among the blacks; and Foulbes, Moors, Tuaregs, and Tripolitans among the whites. Rows of shops bordered three sides of the market, and the fourth opened upon the Mosque, as if in reminder that honesty and good faith should preside over all its transactions. Sitting surrounded by calabashes and potteries, the women, with neatly-plaited black hair, sold vegetables, milk, manioc, incense, baobab flour, karita, spices, soap and fagots of wood. In the centre of the market were three shops in which were sold the choicer goods – native and European textiles principally, Manchester calicoes and Lyons silks, with salt, kola nuts, slippers, mirrors, pearls, knives, etc. The money-changer was also stationed there, with his black face showing out from between his little mountain of cowries. For native gold (in rings like the money of the Pharaohs) he gave and took hundreds and thousands of the little shells, grinning broadly the while. Further on, amid a perfect babel of tongues, magic roots, gold dust, emeralds, pearls and amber, provisions dried in the sun, hair torn from the heads of dead negresses, old Korâns, gongs, poniards, ancient jewellery, ginkris, flint guns, and amulets, were bought and sold, while everywhere beggars, ragged and dirty, and lepers, rendered hideous by their horrible white ulcers, held forth lean, talon-like hands, crying aloud in the name of the One Allah for alms.

The people who crowded the narrow thoroughfares beyond the market were of every variety of national form – the olive-coloured Arab, the dark Kanouri with his wide nostrils, the tall, stately, black-veiled Tuareg, the small-featured, light and slender ba-Fellenchi, the broad-faced ba-Wangara, the stout, masculine-looking Nupe female, and the comely ba-Haushe woman. But I sped onward, thinking only of the dastardly plot by which the Sultan was to be overthrown, and the woman I loved spirited away to the great harem in far-off Omdurman. Assuredly the register of the actions of the wicked is in Sejjin, the book distinctly written, which cannot be denied as a falsehood.

At first I had felt impelled to seek an audience of the Sultan, but on reflection I saw that such a course would achieve no purpose. Already he had forbidden me to set foot within his Empire, and it was not likely that he would believe my statement if flatly contradicted by both the Khalifa and the villainous Khazneh, as undoubtedly it would be.

I strove to invent some means of acquainting the Sultan ’Othman of his impending doom, but could devise none. As I crossed the Zat Nakhl (Place of Palm Trees), I reflected that my secret assassination would probably be the only result of my exposure of the plot. Four months must elapse ere the Dervishes could reach Kano, therefore I resolved to preserve silence, and go forth to fulfil my promise to Azala to try and elucidate the mystery.

At a little distance outside the Kofa-n-Kura, I found, as she had stated, two camels kneeling, with their bags ready packed, in charge of the dwarf Tiamo, who, when he saw me, ran forward, greeting me effusively, and urging me to hasten, so that we might leave the city ere our absence from the Fada was discovered. This advice I followed, and a few minutes later we were seated on the animals, speeding quickly away over the loose sand, leaving the gigantic white walls of Kano behind.

Once I turned to gaze upon the tower of the Fada that stood out clear and white, knowing that from behind one of those small lattices Azala was watching our departure with anxious, tearful eyes. Raising my hand I waved her a last farewell, then, with face set doggedly towards the west, I rode forward with my queer companion, in quest of the undiscovered spot that had so many times been reflected with such clearness of detail upon the sky.

On over the arid sands we journeyed, pausing not even during the blazing heat of noon, but pursuing our way with rapidity in order to put as great a distance as possible between ourselves and the city by sundown. Instead of taking the caravan route to Kaoura we had turned off in a south-westerly direction over a confused agglomeration of aghrud, or high sand-hills, almost impassable, in order to baffle our pursuers in case we were followed.

Just before sundown we paused at a spot where the light shadows of the palms, tamarisk, alfa and mimosa rested on the dry, parched thirst-land, and decided to halt for the night. Unloading and tethering our camels, I knelt to my two-bow prayer and repeated my dua, after which the dwarf became communicative. He was a pagan and believed not in Allah, or the Prophet. During the day he had apparently been too much concerned regarding my personal safety to speak much, but now we ate and took our Cayf in the blue and purple haze, sitting silent and still, listening to the monotonous melody of the oasis, the soft evening breeze wandering through the brilliant sky and tufted trees with a voice of melancholy meaning, lounging in pleasant languor and dreamy tranquillity. Briefly my impish companion told me how his mistress had entrusted him with the arrangements for our journey, and had given him instructions to accompany me as servant.

I smoked my shisha (travelling pipe), listening to the croaking voice of this strange being with his large, ugly head and small body, in whom Azala reposed such confidence; then I questioned him regarding his past. It always pleased him if I addressed him by the soubriquet El-Sadic that Azala had bestowed upon him. His eyes grew brighter, his grin more hideous, and he fingered his numberless heathen amulets as he related to me the exciting story of how he had been captured by Arab slave-raiders at his home in the forest of Kar, beside the Serbeouel river in Baguirmi, and taken to Kano, where he was purchased by the Grand Vizier, and afterwards given to the Lalla Azala. As he spoke the mouth of this human monstrosity widened, displaying a hideous row of teeth, and this, combined with his croaking voice, rendered him a weird and altogether extraordinary companion. Yet his strength seemed almost double mine, for he had unloaded the camels without an effort, carrying with perfect ease packages that would have made me pant.

Sitting together on the mat we had spread, watching the sun sinking on the misty horizon, and the bright crescent moon slowly rising, I asked him whether he was aware of the nature of my quest.

“The Lalla Azala hath explained to me, O master, that thou seekest the Rock of the Great Sin,” he answered.

“What knowest thou of the rock?” I inquired.

“Only that which hath been related by the story-tellers,” he answered. “As in Kano, so we away on the Serbeouel river believe in its existence, though none has discovered its whereabouts. By my people, the negroes of Baguirmi, it is believed to be the entrance to the sacred land to which those who die valiantly in battle are transported, while those who betray cowardice are thrown into the Lake of the Accursed, wherein dwell crocodiles of great size, water-snakes who live on human flesh, and all kinds of venomous reptiles. The story-tellers of our tribe say that the reason none has found it is because there is emitted, from the Lake of the Accursed, vapours so deadly as to prevent any one from approaching the rock sufficiently near to distinguish its outline. It is the abode of the Death-god.”

“Art thou not afraid to accompany me in this search?” I asked, knowing how superstitious are the negroes.

“It is the Lalla’s will,” he answered, simply. “Thou, an Arab from the North and my lady’s friend, art seeking to deliver her from bondage, therefore where thou goest, there also will I bear thee company.”

“Bravely spoken,” I said, and after a pause told him of the conspiracy that had been formed against the Sultan. With breathless interest he listened while I related how I had discovered its existence; then, when I had finished, he half rose, saying, —

“But the Lalla shall never grace the harem of the cruel, brutal Khalifa. I myself will save her.”

“I cannot give her warning, for I dare not again approach her,” I pointed out, with sorrow.

“Shall I go back and tell her, while thou remainest here until my return?” he suggested.

“No,” I answered, on reflection. “Silence is best at present. For four months, at least, Kano is safe. If the Sultan is warned within that time, his enemies may be overthrown.”

“The dastardly plot of the abuser of the salt, the vile offspring of Shimr, shall be thwarted,” he cried, fiercely. “The heads of its originators shall rot upon the city gate, and none shall enter the presence of the Lalla, with whose beauty none can compare.”

“Act not rashly,” I said. “We know the secret of the conspirators, therefore we may be able to thwart them so neatly that they fall victims to their own plot. Let us act with care and discretion, that the Empire may be saved from falling into the hands of the wild-haired fanatics of Omdurman, who, although my comrades-in-arms, are not my tribesmen.”

“Be it even as thou commandest,” he answered. “My life is equally at thy service to secure the undoing of the traitor, as for the diligent search we are about to make for the Rock of the Great Sin,” and the claw-like fingers of the dwarf slowly grasped his pipe-stem, as he smoked on thoughtfully.

In the deep silence of the desert, under the pale light of the moon, that rose from the direction of the city from which we were fleeing, I sat, plunged in reverie, wondering whether my search would prove successful. My head ached, my lips were parched, and I felt spent with long travel, therefore, scooping a hole in the sand, I threw myself down to snatch a few hours’ repose, as we had decided to be moving again before sunrise.

Sleep must have come to my eyes quickly, for I was suddenly awakened by the dwarf shaking me, and saying in a low whisper, as he placed his quick ear to the sand, —

“Hearken! Canst thou not hear the thud of horses’ hoofs? Thine absence hath been detected, and we are pursued!”

And, as I strained my ears, I could distinctly detect the regular, monotonous thud of a horse urged across the desert at terrific pace; and, as I knelt upon the sand, I grasped the rifle that I had found packed on the camel, and held it loaded in readiness – prepared to defend myself, an example which Tiamo immediately followed. In the desert no law is recognised but that of the strong arm and the keen blade.

Chapter Eighteen

The Alarm

Rapidly the solitary horseman drew near, galloping as if for life. Being alone, it seemed probable that he had been sent forward by our pursuers to endeavour to obtain traces of us, and as the fleet Arab steed approached, Tiamo, stretched upon the ground, took careful and deliberate aim, ready to fire as soon as he approached within range.

Our camels lazily raised their heads to survey the new-comer, stirred uneasily as if they had presage of danger, and as on the alert we awaited the approach of the mysterious rider, we discerned to our dismay that he wore a white burnouse.

“Behold!” whispered the dwarf, “it is one of our Zamfara, who always act as scouts! He must die if we intend to escape.”

It seemed that he had not discovered us, but was on his way to the well to water his horse, therefore I answered, —

“Take not his life unless the circumstances demand extreme measures. At least let him approach and have speech with us ere thou firest.”

“Conquest lieth with those who strike the first blow,” he replied, a sinister grin upon his ugly visage as again he covered the approaching figure with his rifle and carefully took aim. At that moment, however, the galloping ngirma emerged into the moonlight, revealing a strange awkwardness in its white-robed rider’s manner that struck me as remarkable, and as it dashed forward and became more distinct, the truth flashed upon me.

“By my beard!” I cried aloud, knocking, with sudden impulse, the rifle from Tiamo’s hand. “By my beard! It’s a woman!”

The rifle exploded, but the bullet went wide. The rider, startled at the shot, and thinking she had been fired at, pulled her horse instantly upon its haunches, and sat peering in our direction, motionless, in fear.

“Advance, and fear not, O friend!” I shouted to her, rising to my feet, but my peaceful declarations had to be thrice-repeated ere she summoned courage to move forward to us, the bridle trembling in her hands. On approaching, however, she slipped quickly from the saddle of the foam-flecked animal, and tearing her haick from her face, bounded over the sand towards us.

Her appearance struck us speechless with amazement.

The mysterious rider whom we had feared, and who had so very narrowly escaped death by our hand, was Ayesha, the dumb slave of Azala.

With one accord we both eagerly inquired the object of her wild ride in the lonely desert so far from Kano at that hour, but she merely shook her head indicative of her inability to reply, and pressed her brown hand to her side, being compelled to halt for a moment to recover breath. In the moonlight we could see the look of fear and excitement in her dark eyes, with their kohl-marked brows, but although she gesticulated wildly, we failed to catch her meaning.

“Her mouth refuseth to utter sound,” observed the dwarf. “Yet she seemeth to have followed us with some important object. No halt hath she made since leaving Kano, judging by the dust about her and the spent condition of her horse, which, by the way, belongeth to the Aga of the Janissaries, and one of the fleetest that the Sultan possesseth.”

He spoke rapidly in Arabic, and the slave, unacquainted with any but her native Hausa tongue, gazed in embarrassment from Tiamo’s face to mine.

“Cannot she write?” I asked.

“Alas! no,” answered my hideous little companion. “So carefully hath she studied the Lalla that she anticipated her wishes by the looks in her eyes.”

While thus in conversation, wondering how we could obtain the truth from her, she rushed towards her horse, and seizing its bridle, brought it towards us. Then, with a smile of triumph upon her brown, wrinkled face, she inserted her thin hand beneath the leather of the saddle, and produced therefrom a letter folded small, and addressed in Arabic to myself.

The sprawly characters I recognised instantly as Azala’s, and on tearing it open I found it bore the seal of her ancient signet-ring, shaped like an Egyptian scarab. Tiamo El-Sadic, anticipating my requirements, quickly kindled a piece of paper, and by its uncertain light I was enabled to decipher the hasty message from the woman I loved, which read as follows: —

“Fly instantly to the city of Sokoto, O Zafar, my Beloved. Thine enemies seek thy life, and are already in search of thee. Three hours after I had watched thy departure from my lattice my father came unto me, and although I denied thy visit in order to shield thee, it was apparent that thou hast been betrayed, for he is aware of thy return. As thou hast truly said, he feareth thee because thou bearest the Mark of the Asps, for he compelled me to uncover the mark I bear, so that he might gaze upon it and compare it with thine. Before me upon the Korân he hath sworn that thou shalt die. Already two troops of one hundred horsemen each have left the Kofa-n-Kura and have scattered over the desert in search of thee. Fly! Halt not, for my sake, so that thou reachest the city of Sokoto ere news of the Sultan’s wrath can be conveyed thither. When thou reachest the city, seek at once the dyer Mohammed el-Arewa, who liveth in the Gazubi quarter, and deliver unto him the message Ayesha beareth thee. He will conduct thee into the Mountains of Kambari, where thou canst escape the vigilance of spies and continue thy journey unmolested. Halt not, but speed on, for thine enemies are closely following thy camels tracks. My haste causeth my hand to tremble, but Ayesha hath confidence in overtaking thee. Fly, and may Allah favour thee, and protect thee with the invulnerable shield of his blessing. Peace.”

Looking into the face of the dark-eyed slave who had so devotedly served her mistress, and undertaken a journey that few women could have accomplished, I stretched forth my hand for the second letter, which she gave me. It bore Azala’s seal, and was addressed to Mohammed el-Arewa.

“Lift, O master, from thy servant’s heart, the anxiety oppressing it, by telling him what news the mute hath brought,” Tiamo said.

“We must travel at once to Sokoto,” I answered, briefly. “Let us replace the camels’ packs, for sleep must not come again to our eyes ere we enter the city.”

“Do our enemies pursue us?” he inquired, eagerly.

“Yes. To reach Sokoto, and gain the assistance of one Mohammed el-Arewa, is our only chance of escape.”

“Let us set forth,” he said promptly, walking towards where the camels were kneeling. Then turning, he added, “Hast thou forgotten thou still wearest the silk robe of a eunuch? Assuredly it will attract the eyes of all men. Remove it and attire thyself in these,” and rummaging in one of the camels’ packs, he produced the white haick and burnouse of an Arab, together with the rope of brown twisted camel’s hair to wind around the head, so as to keep the haick in place.

While he loaded our camels I carried out his suggestion, quickly transforming myself from a eunuch of the Sultan of Sokoto to a plain wanderer of the desert. With Ayesha we could only converse by gesticulation, rendering her thanks for conveying the message unto us.

Having no writing materials, I cut from my camel’s trappings a piece of soft goatskin, and with the point of a knife traced roughly in Arabic the words, —

“Verily a plot is on foot to encompass the overthrow of thy dynasty. Warn thy father, the Sultan, of the conspiracy between the Khalifa Abdullah and his Grand Eunuch Khazneh. This message Ayesha beareth from thy friend, Zafar.”

On giving it to the slave to convey to her mistress, she concealed it next her tattooed breast. From our little store we gave her some dates, and as she motioned her intention of remaining to rest, and returning to Kano at dawn, we tethered her horse for her. Then, mounting our camels, we gave her “peace,” and rode out again upon the silent, boundless plain.

The moon no longer shed her light; an intense darkness had fallen – that darkness which is invariably precursory of the sandstorm. Without even a star by which to guide ourselves we trusted that by good fortune we were travelling in the right direction. The dwarf, who had once before been over the ground, was searching for a landmark, and, to our mutual satisfaction, half-an-hour after dawn he discovered it.

“Lo!” he cried excitedly, shouting back to me and pointing to where, far away on the grey, misty horizon, a large hill appeared. “We are not mistaken, for we have struck the caravan route. Yonder is the Rock of Mikia, and behind it, the village of Dsafe. Before noon we shall enter the valley through which windeth a river, and continuing along its bank, we shall be within the gate of Sokoto ere it closeth at sunset.”

Chapter Nineteen

Mohammed El-Arewa

After halting to refresh ourselves, during which time I snatched a few moments to perform my sujdah, we remounted, and through the whole day, regardless of the sun’s fiery rays, which struck down upon us like tongues of fire, we pushed forward over a rough, stony wilderness, devoid of herbage or any living thing except the great, grey vultures circling above with ominous persistency.

Throughout the day, my ugly little negro companion continually fingered his strange amulets, uttering curious pagan incantations in his own tongue, while to myself I repeated the “Kul-ya-ayyuha ’l-Kafiruna,” and the “Kul-Huw’ Allah,” more than once inclined to upbraid my friend as an infidel. But, on reflection, I saw that any words of reproach would pain him to no purpose, therefore I held my peace. His face, black as polished ebony, seemed to grow increasingly ugly as he became more wearied; when he smiled his mouth stretched from ear to ear, and the craning of his neck, as he swayed with the undulating motion of his camel, gave him a weird, grotesque appearance, even in the brilliant glare of noon. The beads, trinkets, pieces of lizard skin, and mysterious scraps of wood and stone strung around his neck, he constantly caressed, while twice he suddenly dismounted, and holding his hands aloft, frisked like an ape, yelling at the sun as if he had taken leave of his senses.

Notwithstanding his extreme ugliness and his strange actions, I nevertheless grew to like him, for he seemed genuinely devoted to me, as a slave should be to his master.

Two hours after high noon, when the sun was beginning to veer round and shine directly into our faces, we entered the Wady al-Ward (the Vale of Flowers) the dwarf had mentioned. Beside the small river – scarcely more than a brook – we journeyed over ground thickly covered with herbage and flowers. For a few minutes we allowed our camels to browse, then urged them on, remembering it was imperative that we should arrive at Sokoto before the gate closed for the night. The shadow cast by the rocks, the cool rippling of the water, and the fertility of the country we appreciated after the arid, sun-baked wilderness. But as we journeyed on we found grim relics of an attack which had evidently been made some months before upon a caravan, for fresh, green garlands of ropeweed and creepers had festooned decayed skulls, and entwined about the bleaching bones of arms and legs, now and then blossoming into brilliant clusters of scarlet or blue flowers.

Through the valleys we wound for many hours, while the sky changed from blue to gold, and from gold to crimson, until at last the sun slowly sank before us with that gorgeous flood of colour only to be witnessed in Central Africa, and the low hills, bristling with mimosa and doum palms, assumed singular forms and uncouth dimensions in the twilight mirage.