The Hawk of Egypt
conveyed in a few moments by means of something wireless, for so much
cash down in advance, which will include the tip to the Bedouin waiter.
One can see empires and deserts disappearing, but the tipping
system--never!
And as Wellington would not let go of the book his mistress had left
him as guarantee of her return, so as to grip the back of the seat in
his powerful jaw, he came nigh to being strangled as he lurched and
swung and bumped as the camel got to its knees, which seemed to be
legion as it tucked its legs under and untucked them, and did it all
over again with vociferous lamentations until it had got them all
neatly folded up; and once standing four-square upon the sand, he
wrinkled his nose in disgust and removed himself some yards from the
odour of this unpleasant complaining brute which hailed undoubtedly
from the bazaar, and gave disgusting and crude imitations in its throat
of water being poured out of a small-necked bottle.
He wanted his mistress, and her only, so, having no use for or interest
in this woman who had brought him, for no apparent reason, upon such an
uncomfortable journey, he simply took matters into his own big head and
without a with or by your leave waddled off, book in slobbering mouth,
to look for his beloved, whom--his olfactory powers not being of the
keenest--he felt to be somewhere in the neighbourhood, perhaps playing
at hide-and-seek behind the tents, as she did on wet mornings at home
behind the Chesterfield.
Jill dismounted and stood facing the desert, which seemed to stretch as
one vast purple pall; and as she stood she wrestled with a mighty fear
which held her so that she could not turn and go towards the tent
through which shone the orange light.
She did not say to herself that her son had gone out with his horses
and his dogs; she did not try to trick herself with the thought that
perhaps he slept in his purple tent, and for that reason had not rushed
out hot-foot across the desert to meet and lift her from the camel.
She knew that she had only to turn and walk the few yards to the tent
to have all her questions answered, but she also knew that all she
wanted to do was to stand on and on and on, just as she was, with her
face towards the night, and her back to the dawn of another day, and
definite knowledge.
She loved her other sons deeply and dearly; she loved her little
daughter; but her first-born held equal place in her heart with the
Arab his father, and her love for him was beyond words and almost too
great and too holy a thing to be written about here.
Tears and laughter, the moon and the stars, the mystery of the Sphinx
and the desert at dawn, at noon, at night, bound them both to her heart
with golden chains of a surpassing love.
She had said no word of what she had suffered in all these years he had
been gone from her; she could not have told you, an' she would, of her
joy at the thought of his home-coming at last.
And she lifted up her hands and cried aloud:
"He is my son! He is my son!"
Then turned and walked slowly to the tent.
She made no sound, she gave no cry, she just stretched wide her arms in
stricken motherhood, as the great dogs sat immovable at their master's
head, like images of grief carved out of stone.
The cloak slid from her shoulders and fell about her feet, as she
crossed to the foot of the couch with out-stretched arms, where she
stood, such a slender and beautiful mother, looking down; and her
silken veils filled the air with a gentle whispering as she moved to
his head--such a desolate mother,--looking down at the little crimson
mark which showed like a rose above the heart.
"Hugh!" She whispered, as she touched the long lashes which hid the
eyes which had always been so full of tender love for her. "My son!"
she whispered as she stroked his cheek and, with slender fingers and a
little smile, tucked back the stray lock of brown hair which never
would stay under the turban.
She patted his chest and arranged the full skirt of his satin coat into
folds, and stroked his hand as mothers do; and she knelt at his knees
and laid her cheek against his boots, and smiled a little, nodding her
head, just to let him know how wonderful she thought him.
She did not know she was doing it; she did not fully understand--how
could she?--she was just holding back the door which was closing.
She lifted the amulet in the form of a scarab, of which the base was in
the shape of a heart, and which just touched the mark that looked like
a crimson rose.
She was not very good at reading inscriptions, but she always tried her
best, because it pleased him and made him laugh--so lovingly--at her
funny little accent. And to please him now she tried; she did not know
she was doing it, but there was not much more than a crack left open
through which she could see.
"_My Heart, my mother; my heart, my mother; my heart whereby I came
into being_."
And if great tears dropped upon his heart as she slowly read "the words
of power," they surely made a very fitting insignia with which to enter
into the presence of Allah, who is God.
She kissed his hands, and kissed the closed eyes, and tender mouth
which smiled as he slept.
She moved round the tent, pulling the curtains straight, having
promised faithfully to carry out his wishes--ah! how she had smiled
when she had given that promise; love of his wife and his children, she
had thought, would soon oust the idea of death from his mind--and
looked up at the lamp, to see if it was well filled with oil, and
gently took down the spear from the wall, whilst the great dogs sat
immovable as images of grief carved out of stone.
And she laid her hand upon their heads and, taking the corner of her
veil, wiped the sand from their jaws; but they growled softly--not
angrily--just to let her know that no hand but that of their master
must touch them.
She went to the entrance and called them, but they growled, just to let
her know that they would answer no voice but that of their master, and
that for the sound of that beloved voice they would wait for eternity.
Of course she did not quite understand them--how could she--not knowing
that the love of a dog surpasses that of a friend, and equals that of a
mother?--so she lifted the chequered curtains at the back just to let
them know that there was a way out, and looked down at the footprints
of small feet and of heavy feet, and across to the lifted flap through
which she could see the day dawning.
And if her whole being shook with anguish as part of her question was
answered; and if her heart was stabbed with sudden pain at the thought
that strangers had plucked her crown of glory from her and trampled
upon it; and if she suddenly threw out her arms and questioned the
Almighty upon the wisdom of His ways, can we blame her?
She passed through the lifted flap of the Room of Prayer, and mounted
her camel, and rode out to the west; and at the sight of the woman with
the light throwing-spear in her hand the servants, who had been
watching the tents, rushed out to meet her and, at the sign she made,
bowed their heads to the sands.
And their dirge swept across the desert as they answered as she called:
"Thy Master, O my people, has started upon a long journey. Allah
receive him at his journey's end into His safe keeping!"
"Our Master," they answered, "is absent upon a long journey. Allah
guide his feet into eternal joy."
They brought her two camels and watched her depart, then turned to make
all things ready to lead their Master's horses, and dogs, and birds
down to the river.
She rode her camel some distance from the Tents of Purple and of Gold
and of Death, and hobbled them, and returned on foot across the sands,
which were gold with the beams of the risen sun.
She lifted the lamp in the Tent of Purple and spilled the oil upon the
floor, and let drop the wick upon the oil; and she crossed to the Tent
of Gold and did likewise, and as the flames shot up on each side, she
crossed to the Tent of Death, and entered.
She bent down over her son and kissed him, on the forehead and laid her
cheek just for the last time against his, and stood for one moment at
the foot of the couch, with arms outstretched in stricken motherhood,
looking down.
Then she turned and went out, and called softly to the dogs, who
growled, not angrily, but just to let her know that they could not come.
And she looked at her son Hugh Carden Ali, with his two friends like
images of grief carved out of stone to guard him, then, dropping the
curtain, went out as the door closed.
And just as the _shahin_ flew straight to the sun in answer, perhaps,
to his master's voice, she raised the spear and drove it through the
corner of the tent into the sand, so as to let those who passed know
that the owner was absent upon a long journey.
CHAPTER XXXV
"_But in the night of Death Hope sees a star
and listening Love can hear the rustling of a
wing_."
ROBERT G. INGERSOLL.
The south wind shouted with joy at the glory of the new day; the sky
hung like a canopy of radiant colours, with little clouds of pink
dropping like rose-leaves towards the sands which stretched, as a
golden carpet, from east to west and north to south.
The south wind shouted far above Ben Kelham's head, it chuckled like a
laughing child at his elbow, and buffeted his sad face gently until it
saw a ray of light spring up in the steady eyes; then it ran laughing
away--you could hear it distinctly on all sides of you--like water
singing in a barren place.
The sun is the lamp of the world, and night is its cloak; but the wind
is the voice of its heart and you have only to listen to catch its
message, and to watch even in the beat and burden of the day, to see
the leaves move as its sweet breath touches them.
Take your burdens to the rock in the storm; take them to the depths of
the pine forest, and open your heart to the wind.
You will learn many things before you reach home, and amongst them how
to loosen the straps which gall your shoulders.
Big Ben Kelham walked slowly, with his eyes upon the faint track of
little feet which had moved in a circle, and not once did he look
behind, else would he have seen the smoke of the burning tents. He
moved slowly, not because he feared or because he did not want to run,
but because he knew, and wanted time in which to reason with himself,
to decide if he had the right to take the joy which was waiting for him.
He stood for a moment with his hands in his pockets, the strong,
silent, lovable man that he was, and shook himself just as a spaniel
does when it comes out of the water. He had been nigh to drowning in
the depths, and out of his pocket, to be lost for ever, had fallen the
jewel of youth; but somehow he had managed to scramble to the bank and
to pull himself out, and he made a step forward and swept the horizon
to see if his journey was at an end; then hesitated--remembering.
He stood quite still and looked at a slender figure wrapt about in a
mantle of gold which stood some distance off, with hands outstretched
toward him and with beckoning finger. And the wind, with a laugh,
lifted the veil from her face, and dropped it, and lifted it again, and
swept the mantle so that it clung to the slender, supple figure, then
spread it out behind like gleaming wings.
She put one finger to her mouth, and opened wide her eyes of knowledge
shaded with the fringe of tears, which come from pain, and just as much
from joy.
"Follow me," she whispered, and the south wind seized upon the golden
tones, and flung them to the west wind, and to the east, and to the
north wind, so that the message was carried right across the world:
"Follow me--I am Hope."