As the sun rose, and the great courts of the Fáda grew animated, I resumed my work, burnishing swords, spears, and shields until they shone like mirrors, yet keeping an ever-vigilant eye upon the gate of the harem, in case His Majesty should emerge. Unfortunately, the Sultan seldom eared to pass outside his private apartments. Only once had I seen him, and then only at a distance. To all save his high officers and body-servants he was absolutely unapproachable. When he made a tour of the palace, — which I learned was of very rare occurrence, — he was surrounded by men-at-arms with drawn swords, and none dared address him for fear of incurring his displeasure, which meant unceremonious decapitation.
As the hours sped on, and the shade in the sunlit court grew smaller, I began to consider all hope of averting the triple tragedy futile. Once or twice, Amagay, a giant in stature, had passed and repassed with heavy, thoughtful brow and arms folded under his burnouse, as if preoccupied with the details of the widespread conspiracy, and my astonishment was sudden when presently he entered my den, and, drawing his splendid scimitar, the hilt of which was encrusted with jewels, said — “This weapon hath no edge upon it. Sharpen it quickly. Whet it upon thy stone.”
With hands trembling with excitement, I took the great sword, such as could only be wielded by one of enormous strength, and proceeded to sharpen it as he commanded.
“Take thy time. Make the blade so keen that it will cut a single hair.”
“Thy will be done, O lord Amagay,” I answered, not daring to look up lest my agitation should betray me, while the Chief of the Eunuchs lit a cigarette, and, lolling against the door, watched me until I had sharpened to a keen edge the scimitar that was to strike dead the Sultan Hámed. Then, replacing the weapon in its scabbard, he settled the hang of his burnouse and strode away.
By the shadows I became aware that the noon was nigh. I had sharpened the assassin’s weapon, yet I dared speak to no one of the foul plot about to be carried out. For aught I knew, many of those around me were implicated, and my confession that I had acted as eavesdropper would certainly bring wrath upon me. If I could only see the Sultan, one word could save him. But how?
Suddenly I conceived a most desperate plan. It seemed utter madness to attempt it, yet, knowing that my liberty, my whole future, depended upon frustrating the terrible coup d’état, I was determined to risk everything. There was little time to lose, so I set about my preparations immediately. In my little den I had a canister half full of gunpowder and about a dozen cartridges. Boring a hole through the lid of the tin box, I placed the cartridges within, and, taking an old piece of flexible hoop iron, I bound it tightly round the sides and ends of the canister, taking care, however, to leave open the hole in the lid. Thus the bomb was quickly constructed, and, placing it under the bench at which I worked, I sprinkled a train of powder from it, and when all was ready, I lit a rudely-constructed slow match.
Hurriedly ascertaining that the match was fairly alight, I left the place, and, with my copper pitcher, lounged leisurely across to the well close to the gate of the harem, as if to obtain water. Scarcely had I gained the impassable portals when there was a bright flash, followed by a terrific explosion that shook the palace to its very foundations, wrecked my workshop, and tore up the masonry like pasteboard.
In an instant the most intense excitement and confusion prevailed. The two guards at the door of the harem, almost taken off their feet by the concussion, left their posts panic-stricken, and, with others who emerged from the seraglio, rushed over to the scene to ascertain the cause, while, in a few seconds, the court was filled by officials, eunuchs, soldiers, and slaves.
The moment for which I had been waiting had arrived. The outer gate of the harem was ajar, and while everybody was hurrying in alarm to the spot where the explosion had occurred, I managed to slip inside unobserved. Dashing along into the unknown region of the Fáda, scarcely daring to breathe and unaware of what armed resistance I might encounter, I sped like lightning across a wide, tiled hall, where, to my delight, I saw the second iron door was also half open. Passing this, I crossed yet another similar hall, rather smaller than the first, and leaped towards the third and last door. It was closed.
Grasping the great iron ring that served as handle, I tried to turn it, but though I exerted all my strength until the veins stood knotted on my forehead and the perspiration dropped from me, it would not yield. Fate was against me — I was doomed to failure. The door was locked!
Chapter Twenty Six
In the Courts of Love
Again and again I tried the handle, failing utterly to move it. Another moment’s delay might cost me my life!
Shaking the great door in frantic desperation, and turning to see whether I had been detected, I suddenly noticed that on each side of this gate hung heavy curtains of bright yellow silken brocade. One appeared to have been disarranged, for it did not hang in such graceful folds as the other, and this attracted my attention. After a careful examination, I discovered a small square handle in the centre of the gate, painted black, so as to appear as one of the big nails with which the door was studded. In a moment the truth flashed upon me. Eagerly I tried the handle, and found I could turn it with ease, and that a small and cunningly-concealed door, just large enough to admit one person, was the means by which the private apartments of His Majesty could be entered.
Stepping through without hesitation and closing the door silently after me, I found myself in a great wide court, with fine arched arcades on either side. In the centre a splendid fountain of perfume was playing, the sparkling, scented water falling into a huge basin of crystal. The spectacle was gorgeous and dazzling. The brilliant colours, the green palms, the rich brocades, the woven carpets, the glittering gold with which the arcades were decorated, and the glimpse of cool and beautiful gardens in the vista away through several open courts, seemed a veritable fairyland.
From the great gilt perfuming-pans, columns of thin blue smoke diffused sensuous odours. Bright-eyed women with faces of flawless beauty were half-sitting, half reclining on their luxurious divans, lazily smoking cigarettes, or allowing themselves to be slowly fanned by their slaves. Resplendent in bright-hued silks, heavy gold ornaments and flashing gems, some were seated in little groups gossiping, others had stretched themselves on silken couches in languid indolence, while one or two, leaning against the columns of marvellously-carved marble, with their delicate hands clasped behind their heads, were indulging in day-dreams — dreams perhaps of joyous hours bygone before they were torn away from the ones they loved to adorn the Sultan’s harem. With brows covered by strings of pearls and sequins, white arms with massive bracelets, bare bosoms half hidden by necklaces and scintillating gems, bare feet encased in tiny slippers embroidered with gold and jewels, and neat ankles heavy with golden bangles, the beautiful prisoners of Hámed the Mighty were idling away the day with careless, dreamy indifference amid the sweetly-scented atmosphere of love.
Entranced by the wondrous scene of beauty, I stood for a few seconds while my eyes travelled quickly around in search of His Majesty. He was, however, not present; therefore, summoning courage and dashing forward, I sped on through the three great Courts of the Sultanas towards the distant garden, beyond which I had heard lay His Majesty’s private pavilion. Without daring to notice the profound sensation my sudden appearance was causing throughout the harem, I ran quickly through court after court, until, just as I had gained the great arch which led into the garden, my passage was barred by a big black eunuch who had