The Croesus Of Yemen - Part 2

For a man already under the pressure of great trials to return from a ruinous trip, and be greeted by the news of his child's disappearance, is an experience more readily imagined than described. The last visitation was too whelming even for the Job-like resignation of Ben Abir. His only comfort was his wife's assurance that Estrelia was not in the seraglio of the Imam. She had been carried away by two men in disguise through a back door, barely escaping the grasp of the vandals who knocked for admission in the front. The mother was so panic-stricken that she failed to remember the names of the persons who had come to the rescue of her child, and she had not heard from them since; but she felt sure that everything would turn out right.

In his brighter days Ben Abir would have invoked the power of his sovereign to effect the restitution of his daughter, but matters had changed, and circumstances dictated prudence on his part. Imam and Kadi were alike interested in his ruin. To search quietly, wait patiently, hope and pray, were the only ways and means compatible with his safety. Besides, there were impatient creditors to be appeased and starvation at the door. The princely home had to be disposed of, but this afforded small relief. Whatever he touched, success was his adversary. "If I made it my business to bury the dead, not a death would for years occur in the city of Sanaa," remarked the disappointed man to his wife. The last trinket had been sold to keep the wolf away from the door, and now hunger stared his wife and child in the face. The devoted Ibraeem did his utmost to relieve the want of his master's family, but his fidelity was more of a comfort than a support. With the pride of a man who would rather die than appeal for help, Ben Abir yet had finally to yield to the entreaties of a starving wife. There remained but one thing for him to do, a bitter pill for him to swallow, and he acted like a man. Twice a year it was Cordosa's business to lead a caravan to one of Yemen's ports to exchange Arabian products for merchandise imported for the markets of the peninsula. What he did not do on his own account he did on commission for others. The leading merchants of Sanaa charged him with the purchase of their wares, and their commissions were all entered in a book to be referred to in due time.

The resources of Ben Abir having been exhausted, he bethought himself of the precious coin he had sewed up in the hem of his coarse mantle, and he resolved to ask Cordosa to invest it for him in whatever way he should deem profitable. Curbing his pride he sought an interview with his enemy, made a frank statement of his pinching indigence, and requested Cordosa to buy for the only piece of gold he had in the world anything that could be sold in Sanaa. Ben Abir's sad plight and frankness moved Cordosa's heart, who not alone promised to do his best in the matter of business, but insisted on relieving the distress of the fallen man's family. The reconciliation was complete, and the generous commissioner set out on his journey, accompanied by the best wishes of Ben Abir, and those who expected his return with more than usual interest.

The six long lines of dromedaries of Cordosa's caravan, each file held together by a hair rope, were preceded by a snow-white donkey of the best breed in Hasa, good luck being insured by that philosophic animal who gave Balaam a lesson. To the left of the sagacious quadruped rode the regular guide, a Bedouin who felt at home in the trackless waste; to the right, astride of a fine steed, was the _Karawan-Bashi_,--the caravan commander,--a gorgeous display of gaudy trimmings, trappings, jingling bells and tassels, in which, however, he was greatly eclipsed by the leading ass. At the _Bashi's_ left side dangled a sword of Damascus, sheathed in a scabbard; and his warlike temper was formidably impressed on all whom it concerned by a spear of unusual length. Behind these three leaders, varying in their capacity, on his horse came Cordosa, the master of the caravan. Between the guide and the _Karawan-Bashi_ there was a tacit understanding to while away the monotony of the trip by tales of adventure in the desert, which they told with startling vividness, each one managing to pose as the hero of some thrilling episode.

After the usual number of days, and the accidents incidental to a journey through inhospitable regions, Cordosa reached the point of his destination. Here the unexpected happened to the experienced commissioner. Following his memoranda, he left no detail of business unattended to, except the order of Ben Abir, which he had omitted to enter on his book. As the caravan was on the point of proceeding homeward, Cordosa remembered Ben Abir's request, and felt guilty of neglect. Full of self-reproach, he turned to the _Karawan-Bashi_ and required him to hurry to the bazaar and buy for the gold piece he gave him anything he thought profitable or useful. The order was carried out to the letter, to the great mortification of Cordosa. The _Karawan-Bashi_ happened to meet a sailor, who had a cage full of Angola cats for sale, and proposing to strike a bargain, offered the gold piece in exchange for the feline colony, was taken at his word, and thus possessed himself of the freaky live-stock. The sailor's tale was brief. The animals had kept a large vessel free of mice, the ship had foundered, the seaman saved the cats. He had nothing to live on. It was a straight story. The vendor had the gold and Cordosa the cats. The only thing to be done was to take the feline company along.

Again the unexpected happened to Cordosa. For many days everything went on without a hitch, when the _Karawan-Bashi_ and the guide informed him that the high-land they were traversing was entirely unknown to them, and that they did not know how they had come into it. "What I see around me I have never before seen, and I have led a hundred caravans athwart the width and breadth of Yemen," asserted the most experienced guide, and the _Bashi_ shook his head significantly.

"And have you perceived the singular fact, that though the country hereabout resembles the garden of Eden, we have this long day not seen a single sign of life," said Cordosa, not undisturbed in his mind.

"Allah achbar! what sea is it there we are drawing nearer to?" asked the _Bashi_ in alarm.--"A big water in the mountain!"

"By the beard of the Prophet, how can a big water climb up a mountain?" ejaculated the astonished guide.

"What you see is no water, but a heavy fog, which looks like water," corrected Cordosa, much surprised however at the phenomenal denseness of the cloud.

"True, it is a fog; but I have never seen one that looked so much like a rolling tide threatening to engulf us. Everything that is alive seems to have fled before we entered this region," observed the guide, apprehensively.

And a strange fog it was, which rolled forward like a tidal wave, and ere long buried the caravan in a cloud so dense that one could not see his own feet, and the men became alarmed lest they go down unwarned over the brink of some precipice. The camels were allowed to grope their way, the guide having given up the idea of guiding; and the long string of animals progressed slowly amidst a flood of vapor with nothing to vary the nerve-trying suspense for fully an hour. Everything and everybody was soaked by the moisture; the air did not stir, and the stillness was oppressive. At last there was a rift in the hitherto impenetrable mass; and when a breeze lifted the fog, Cordosa rubbed his eyes to assure himself of being awake.

"Dost thou see what I see?" asked he of the _Karawan-Bashi_.

"And what dost thou see, O, man, who hast traversed the Red Desert?" asked in turn the _Bashi_ of the guide.

"I see, high up, a city of marble palaces with roofs of silver and balconies of gold, as glorious as Balbec and Chilminar," cried the guide, enthusiastically.

"That is what I see; we have been lured into the domain of the genii, and harm will betide us if we fail to evade their crafty wiles," answered the _Bashi_, nervously.

"If we do not flee the malicious _Div_ will hurl us into one of those bottomless chasms which swarm with venomous serpents," warned the guide.

"Try we to retrace our course, or the bird of prey and the hyena will pick the flesh from our bones," said the _Bashi_, in a mood of dark prophecy.

"Is it not God who rules this world and the stars? How can you be sure that evil will befall us if we enter that place? We are men of faith and stout hearts, and I propose that we proceed toward that dazzling city, no matter who they be who inhabit it," was Cordosa's fearless proposition.

"Thou shalt not find me craven if there be danger to face. The point of this spear has been buried in the body of the lion, and this heel has bruised the head of the _rukta_; if there be the evil one, I will face him," exclaimed the _Karawan-Bashi_.

"Neither is thy guide of the stuff that shrinks before spectres, however monstrous. Let us know them who have built that marvelous city," cried the guide heroically, and toward the city the caravan advanced.

It was that hour of the day when the lengthened shadows indicate the descent of the glowing orb, but the striking absence of bird or insect in a quarter where every inducement for their presence was to be seen in abundance gave the surroundings an air of desolation, and produced the sensation experienced by him who suddenly lights on a corpse. A broad avenue shaded by treble lines of orange trees in blossom, diffusing delicious odors, led up to a high portal giving admission to a vast enclosure walled by gray stones perfectly fitted by masterful hands, a fortress looking as new as though the masons had just given it the finishing touch. The wall was not high enough to hide the gorgeous edifices within; but the wayfarers pricked their ears in vain to catch a sound of life, the quiet being that of the graveyard. "This is a dead city," observed the guide, in the hope of shaking the courage of Cordosa; "peradventure the desolate city built by the son of Ad."

"They are not dead at night who are dead during the day," added the _Karawan-Bashi_, with a similar object in view.

"God is strong enough to afford us protection against all evil powers. Here may be a mystery we are destined to solve. Knock at the gate for admission," ordered Cordosa peremptorily.

"_Allah illaha il Allah!_" cried the _Bashi_, seized with a fit of unflinching heroism; "I will knock at the gate with my scabbard, be the place under the rule of grim Monkir; the faithful need not be afraid of the creatures of Eblis."

The rap on the gate gave forth a hollow sound in response, yet the gateway opened with a jar, revealing a scene at which the intruders gazed with amazement. Sheddad's garden of Irem could hardly equal the vernal luxuriance which hid the foundations of the wonderful buildings. Scattered here and there, among delightful flower-beds and thick clusters of the luscious vine, stood groups of fairies motionless, so handsome that their cheeks rivaled the rose in sweetness. They were all barefooted, their little feet resembling those of children. For headgear they wore crowns of golden hair; their garb was a transparent gauze, shining like moonlight, and bespangled with gold, and they were all armed with spears of that precious metal. Awful was their silence, their expression yet showing an intense anxiety to utter speech. The gate slammed to with its jarring note as soon as the last camel was within the precincts, and the Yemenites shuddered at the realization of their being locked in a dead city. Overcome by the awe of the surroundings, Cordosa exclaimed: "Great Lord, protect us!" Hereupon the whole mountain experienced a tremor, shared by the life-like fairies, who appeared to shiver at the mention of the Supreme.