Chapter IV

In the hour of adversity be not without hope;
For crystal rain falls from black clouds.

NIZAMI.

As the day advanced, Suleiman learned from some peasants, who were crossing the mountains on their way home from Karaman, that they had met several groups of armed men proceeding towards the town, some walking, some on horseback, some badly wounded, preceded by two persons unarmed, who were mounted on Arabian steeds. It struck Suleiman, from the description given of the two latter individuals, that they could be no other than Baba Seirami and Kazim, as these were the only unarmed persons present at the late battle. He concluded also, with his usual sanguine hastiness of thought, that the stragglers must have been the remains of his own party, intending to seek refuge in Karaman, and perhaps to wait there until they should learn some tidings of their commander. Although his wound still gave him some pain, yet he resolved on directing his course towards the town, but not to enter it until he satisfied himself as to the means of safety which it might afford him. His sworn friends the more readily agreed to accompany him, as they entertained the hope that the troops to whom the peasants alluded were of their own party.

As soon as evening approached, Suleiman and his companions led their horses down the mountain, to the road which the peasants pointed out; and after journeying for four hours, they perceived by the twinkling of lights in the distance, that they were within a short distance of Karaman. Instead, however, of riding directly to the gate, Suleiman expressed his determination to take up his residence for the night in one of the retired gardens, by which the town is nearly surrounded. There finding a hut, which seemed to have been used only during the summer, and was now abandoned, they at once fixed upon it for their temporary abode. While one of the men proceeded under cover of the night to make enquiries in Karaman, another foraged about among the cottages in the suburbs, and soon returned with a dish of pottage of boiled millet flour, which Suleiman declared to be the most delicious meal he had ever enjoyed. The purveyor picked up also on his expedition an old cloak of coarse woven cloth, lined with lamb’s-skin, with the wool on the inside, in which Suleiman wrapped himself, and went to sleep, his two companions alternately watching during the night.

The Mogul, who had been dispatched to Karaman, returned to the hut early in the morning, with intelligence, that Baba Seirami and Kazim were in the town, together with about fifty of Suleiman’s troops, who had escaped from the field of battle; but from the manner in which he had heard the chieftain spoken of in the town, in consequence of his flight from the combat, he expressed great apprehension for Suleiman’s safety, should his defeated followers discover his abode. He, therefore, advised the chieftain to remain in the hut, until an opportunity should offer for learning the result of an inquiry, which he had set on foot through one Kadi-Bardi, a bridle-maker in the town, with a view to sound the feelings of the soldiers. Bardi had promised to make all possible haste to the garden, as soon as he should have obtained the requisite intelligence.

Suleiman, much afflicted by the information thus laid before him, desired writing materials to be procured--an order which was executed not without considerable difficulty and delay. Having written a letter, fully describing his deplorable situation, he addressed it to Baba Seirami, in whose fidelity he reposed unshaken confidence, and he anxiously expected the appearance of the Karamanian, to whom he intended to commit the epistle. But noon passed away, the shades of evening were already beginning to rise, and still no messenger found his way to the hut. One of the Moguls, he observed, was frequently absent during the day, under pretext of seeking for provisions, which it was not his good fortune to find. The conduct of this man looked rather suspicious; it seemed as if he was in communication with some party, who had designs of a sinister nature.

While Suleiman was anxiously gazing from the door of the hut, towards the little path that led to the town, an apparently aged lame dervish approached him, clothed in miserable attire, which bespoke the very lowest degree of poverty. Reproaching Suleiman, in rude and boisterous language, for taking possession of the hut, which, during that season of the year, became usually his abode, he boldly demanded compensation for the use of it, and the immediate departure of the illegitimate tenant. The chieftain, fallen as he was, retained sufficient dignity of mind to feel rather amazed than offended, by the coarse expressions addressed to him, and, without further ceremony, directed his companions to look about in the gardens for another deserted hut, which they could hardly fail to find.

While they were searching about in different directions, the dervish whispered into his ear that he was betrayed; that his foe, Mirtas, informed of his arrival, was preparing to set out from Karaman, attended by a large body of troops, who had entered the town the day before with prisoners; and that in less than an hour he would be delivered up, bound hand and foot, into the power of the Mogul, unless he forthwith escaped from the hut.

Suleiman, astounded by this information, hesitated to give it credit; when the dervish, pointing to the chieftain’s companions on the outside, bade him observe the caution they exercised, by not going out of sight of the hut in which he was, and suggested that his only course of safety was to take flight, after exchanging his uniform for the tattered garments which he, the dervish, now had on.

The appearance of two or three Mogul horsemen, entering a distant part of the garden, dispersed the doubts that still lingered in the mind of Suleiman. While acting on the advice of the dervish, he learned from him that Baba Seirami, and Kazim Ayas, two of the principal prisoners, were sentenced to be drawn asunder by wild horses on the following morning; and that, if the other prisoners had not consented to follow the standard of Mirtas, they also would have had to undergo a similar fate.

The defection of his followers scarcely excited any emotion in the breast of the once formidable chieftain. He had been in some measure already inured to adversity; but the fate impending over his faithful friend and adviser Seirami, and Kazim, in whose fortunes the dervish took a lively interest, called forth expressions of his fiercest anger. He resolved, be the consequences what they might, to go to Karaman in his new disguise, to find out his two friends, and, if possible, to rescue them from the ignominious and dreadful death, to which they had been doomed by Mirtas.

Suleiman, arrayed in the garb of the dervish, with a staff in his hand, a weather-worn pointed cap on his head, which came down to his eyebrows, and an old shawl in shreds fastened round his neck, in which his chin was deeply buried, had the satisfaction to find himself jeered at as an impudent old fool, while he limped by one of his late Mogul companions, who was returning to the hut. Being desirous of avoiding the troops of Mirtas, on their way to the garden, where they expected to find their prey, he hastened to Karaman, by a road that led to the gate which was at the opposite side of the town.

After wandering for some time through the streets, already darkened by the night, and quite deserted by the inhabitants, who had retired to repose, he despaired of finding any roof beneath which he might expect to obtain shelter; when, turning the corner of a filthy narrow lane, he heard two or three persons conversing together near the gate of a caravanserai, at which they were standing. From what he could collect of their conversation, he thought at first that they were disputing about the division of some booty which they had stolen. On drawing nearer, however, he learned from their debate, that the plunder was not yet acquired, but that they were concerting measures for a robbery, which required a considerable degree of courage, and of cunning at the same time. The point in discussion was, which of the three was to ascend first to the floor where their destined victims lay.

“Of the three guards below,” said one of the robbers, “I have no fear--these I have made drunk already;--and I have mixed with their humiz a quantity of poppy, which will keep them asleep for some hours. But those soldiers of Suleiman have, they say, a hundred lives--they are demons; and although the girdle of Suleiman’s purse-bearer is a tempting prize, yet I will not be the first to ascend; I have done my part already, by ascertaining for you, that his girdle is well stored with golden rupees.”

“It is too great a prize to lose,” observed another, “now that the way is clear; besides you know that they are to be drawn asunder by wild horses, in the market-place, by sunrise to-morrow,--then our chances will be gone for ever.”

“Let me have another cup or two of humiz,” said the third, “and then, perhaps, I may go first, provided you swear to follow me quietly, until we are all together on the floor, lest they should awake and offer resistance; for though they are tied hand and foot by chains of iron, they might break loose, and pitch us down head foremost into the stable.”

“Agreed,” exclaimed his confederates; and pulling the gate gently to, they adjourned to a low hut hard by, where they were admitted upon giving a peculiar tap, with which the inmates seemed to be well acquainted.

Suleiman congratulated himself on his good fortune, in overhearing this conversation. The robber was rightly informed that Seirami had about him a considerable quantity of gold. This circumstance alone, even if it had not been aided by the other facts to which the robbers alluded, would have been sufficient to fix the identity of the unfortunate prisoners, whom it was the determination of these villains to plunder. Promptly availing himself of the opportunity thus presented to him so unexpectedly, of contributing to the double deliverance of his friends, he entered the stable, where, by the light of an iron lamp affixed to the wall, he perceived several horses lying down, and near them three of the Moguls, who belonged to Mirtas, snoring in profound sleep. The head of one of these vigilant sentinels was resting on a notched pole, which was the only means of ascent to the loft above. Suleiman gently removed it, and lifting the pole, he mounted the loft, bringing with him several pieces of long grass ropes which he found strewed about the stable.

His first care was, by the assistance of one of these ropes, to let the pole fall down as nearly as possible in the direction where it had already lain. He then drew up the rope, and having made a running knot at the end of it, slung it over one of the beams of the roof. Two other ropes he adjusted in a similar manner. He had scarcely finished these arrangements, when he heard the door open below, and the robbers, who appeared to be all intoxicated, entered the stable. The foremost had in his hand a small lamp, which he lighted. They then fumbled about until they found the notched pole, which they raised up towards the edge of the loft. The man who had promised to ascend first made the attempt accordingly; but he slipped down three or four times before he could raise himself by as many of the notches. At length, by the assistance of his associates, he rose half-way, when he lifted himself slowly until his head appeared above the floor. Here a large noose was waiting his presence, which fell imperceptibly upon his shoulders; in a few moments he ascended with peculiar celerity, much to the delight of his friends below, who imputed it to the courage infused into him by the humiz. They followed his example, and at the same point of elevation they found the toil of climbing farther altogether unnecessary, for they were raised in a moment by an unseen power to the beam, whence they were launched into a world for which they were little prepared.

Suleiman having secured the lamp with which the first robber was provided, now explored the loft in order to discover his friends, who were, however, nowhere to be seen. Anxious for securing their escape before the morning broke upon him, he held his breath and listened for a while, hoping to hear them if they were really near. Presently a low moan caught his ear; it was the dying gasp of one of the robbers; then a tremendous crash. The rope by which another was suspended had broken; he first fell upon the floor, and then to the stable below, with a noise that made the horses start upon their feet.

“There they come!” exclaimed a voice, which Suleiman well knew to be that of Seirami.

“Oh, Allah! what is to become of Mangeli!” exclaimed another, whom he easily guessed to be Kazim.

Suleiman, however, waited with some degree of alarm, fearing that the sentinels must have been awakened by the hubbub. One did get up, and looking wildly about, drew his sabre, and cut off the head of the robber who had fallen near him. The weapon then dropped from his hand, and he lay prostrate once more, overcome by slumber.