when again I found speech. “An identical mark is upon my own breast also.”
But ere she could answer my inquiry a stealthy movement behind startled us, and as I turned, two gigantic black eunuchs sprang upon me, while two others appeared from behind the rose silk hangings.
“Behold!” cried a man, whom I knew by his gorgeous dress to be the Aga of the Eunuchs. “It is a man, not a woman! The slave hath not lied. Seize him!”
“May Allah show thee mercy!” gasped Azala, pale and trembling, with clasped hands. “We are betrayed!”
I struggled and fought with all the strength I possessed, but my brutal captors bore me down, and in their sinewy hands I was in a moment helpless as a babe. Then I knew that Azala was, alas! lost to me. Romance, hope, passion, one by one, dropped, emberlike, into the ashes.
Chapter Five
The Black Eunuch
Azala, with blanched face and clasped hands uplifted in supplication, sank upon her knees before the gigantic Chief of the Black Eunuchs, whom she addressed as Khazneh, beseeching him with arguments, persuasive, forcible and passionate, to spare my life.
“All blame be upon my head!” she cried, in earnest appeal. “He fell wounded at the fight of Sabo-n-Gari, and I tended him and brought him hither. Spare him! Let not the keen arrow of sorrow enter the soul of the daughter of thy Master, the Sultan.”
“Thy servant hath already received his orders,” the high and potent official replied with imperturbable coolness, resting his hand on the bejewelled hilt of his great scimitar, looking down at her upturned and agitated countenance.
“From whom?”
“From my Imperial Master, thine august father.”
“May the curse of Eblis rest upon our betrayer!” she cried, with a quick setting of her mouth. “The stranger hath done no harm, but by me, it seemeth, he hath been brought unto his doom.”
“He is thy lover. Thou wert suspected two days ago,” the eunuch answered gruffly, standing statuesque and immovable while my captors held me, apparently reluctant to move, because they desired to overhear the argument between the beautiful Azala and their master.
“I deny thine accusation,” she replied, rising to her feet quite calmly. “Thou, Khazneh, who art powerful here in the harem, shall learn a lesson in politeness thou wilt not easily forget. Lies and insults may fall from thy lips, but they neither injure nor distress the daughter of thy Master, ’Othman.”
“Silence, woman!” he cried fiercely, shaking his fat fist in the face of the trembling, indignant girl, and showing his white teeth. “Thinkest thou that thou canst save a man whom thou bringest unto thine apartment in secrecy, dressed in woman’s garments?”
“If thou darest remove him hence I will appeal in person unto my father.”
“Already his Majesty hath full knowledge of this affair,” the great negro eunuch answered, treating her threat with calm indifference. “By his order a watch hath been placed upon thee. We saw the accursed son of offal caress and kiss thee.”
“May Allah cut out thy heart! Am I a slave, that spies should be set to report upon my doings?” she asked, her eyes flashing with indignation. Then, turning to the negroes who held me in iron grip, she said, “I, Azala Fathma, Princess of Sokoto, order ye to release him.”
“And I, Khazneh, Aga of the Eunuchs, order ye to remove him hence. He is a Dervish from Omdurman, a traitor, and an enemy of thy Sultan. Away with him!” cried the black-faced man with big, blood-shot eyes. His gaze was ever on Azala, unless it were fixed on me with a sullen gleam of hate.
But she rushed across to the heavy silken curtain that hid the secret door, and, standing boldly before it, uplifted her long, white arm, and pointing to the towering eunuch, cried, —
“Zafar-Ben-A’Ziz, whom I have long known by report, is not an enemy, but a firm friend of his Majesty, whose despicable slave thou art. Therefore I forbid thee to lay hands upon him. Even though thou findest him here in the place forbidden; nevertheless, I, as Princess of Sokoto, claim for him the protection of the Sultan.”
In silence, unable to extricate myself, I stood while my fate was thus discussed. A spasm wrenched my soul – one of those agonies which leave their trace, mental or physical, forever.
“Knowest thou not the punishment meted out to those who dare to pass the Janissaries and tread the sacred courts of the harem?” asked the Aga, impatiently.
“The punishment is death,” she answered. Her thin nostrils palpitated. She crushed her finger-nails against the jewels on her bosom. “But if Zafar, my friend, suffereth the penalty, I warn thee that thine head shall be struck off and thy body be given to the dogs as offal before the going down of the sun.”
“Be it so,” laughed the hulking brute, insolently, his fingers playing with the long, keen jambiyah in his belt. Then, turning to my captors, he said, “Come, away with him quickly.”
Next second the hangings were raised, disclosing an open door, through which I was unceremoniously hurried, and as I was dragged out into the dark, inter-mural passage, I heard the Aga of the Eunuchs exclaim tauntingly, —
“Seek his Majesty if thou wilt, but I may tell thee that he set out for Katsena at sunrise, and ere his return thy lover’s bones will lie bleaching in the sun.”
“Farewell, Azala,” I shouted. “Be thou of good cheer. Remember that in my heart the tree of affection hath struck root. I am thy friend always – always – even though our enemies may thus part us.”
“We will never part,” she cried, rushing across to me; but the Aga, catching her roughly by the arm, dragged her away by sheer brute force.
“Whither he goeth there also will I go,” she gasped, struggling to elude his grasp, overturning one of the little mother-of-pearl coffee-stools in her frantic efforts to reach and embrace me.
“Tarry no longer,” cried Khazneh, in anger, addressing my captors. “Let the Sultan’s will be obeyed.”
“Farewell, Azala! Farewell,” I cried, paralysed with fury as I saw her bow her head upon her arms and weep.
But she answered not, for, as I was dragged fiercely from her sight, I saw her struggling with the chief eunuch, endeavouring to follow us. With brutal disregard of her sex, the big, gaudily-attired brute had seized her by the throat. Her dress was torn, her hair dishevelled, and her jewels lay scattered and trodden under foot. Suddenly a scream sounded, dull and muffled, and, just as I was dragged away into the dark passage, I witnessed the woman who had entranced me hurled backward. I saw her reel, stagger, and fall senseless upon her divan.
The grinning negroes who held me laughed aloud, and hurried me along the short, close passage, and down flight after flight of broken, time-worn steps, while Khazneh, closing the small, heavy door, barred and bolted it securely. Then he followed us, biting his finger-nails in deep thought. Whither they were conducting me I knew not, neither did I care. Azala and I had, by the treachery of some unknown slave, been torn asunder, perhaps never again to meet. Only death would, I knew, expiate the crime of being found in disguise in the Sultan’s harem, and towards the bourne whence none return was I being conveyed.
My anticipations of immediate death were not, however, realised. Deep down into the foundations of the ancient palace the eunuchs
