Lolling lazily at her ease among the silken cushions in her jakfi, she would chat with charming frankness through the night, as in the moonlight we plodded steadily onward guided by one of the slaves to whom the route was familiar. She told me all about herself, of her childhood, spent in the barren desert of the Ahaggar, of a visit she paid to Algiers one Ramadân, and of the attack by the Kel-Fadê upon the little village of Afara Aouhan, her capture, and her subsequent life in the harem of the Sheikh. From her I gleaned many details regarding her people, of their wanderings, their power in the Desert, and their raids upon neighbouring nomad tribes. Many were the horrible stories she told me of the fierce brutality of Hadj Absalam, who was feared by his people as a wicked, unjust, and tyrannical ruler, and who, despising the French military authorities, delighted in the torture of Christian captives, and endeavoured to entice the Zouaves and Spahis into his mountain fastnesses where he could slaughter them without mercy. The Great Pirate’s impregnable palace, the fame of which had long ago spread from Timbuktu to Cairo, she described in detail, and if what she said proved correct, the place must be of magnificent proportions, and a very remarkable structure. The harem, she said, contained over four hundred inmates, the majority of whom had fallen prisoners in various raids, but so fickle was the pirate Sultan of the Sahara, that assassination was horribly frequent, and poison, the silken cord, or the scimitar, removed, almost weekly, those who failed to find favour in the eyes of their cruel captor.
Yet, regarding Zoraida, I could gather scarcely anything beyond the fact that the subjects of Hadj Absalam knew her by repute as the most beautiful of women, and that few, even of the female inmates of the palace, had ever looked upon her unveiled face. One evening, as we rode beside each other in the brilliant afterglow, I admitted how utterly mystified I was regarding the woman I loved; to which Halima replied softly —
“Who she is no one can tell. Her name is synonymous for all that is pure and good, her benevolence among our poorer families is proverbial, and she possesseth a strange power, the secret of which none hath ever been able to discover.”
“Thou didst tell me that thy people sought my destruction,” I said. “Dost thou know the reason for their secret hatred?”
“I have heard that thou holdest the mysterious power of defeating thine enemies once possessed by the Lalla Zoraida, and that until thy death it cannot return to her,” she answered. “But thou dost not seem so terrible as report describeth thee,” she added, with a coquettish smile.
I laughed. It was nevertheless strange that my would-be assassin Labakan had made a similar allegation. Remembering that I was accompanying my fair companion upon an adventurous journey to an unknown destination, I said —
“Though we have travelled together these six days, thou hast not yet told me whither our camels’ heads are set.”
Puffing thoughtfully at the cigarette between her dainty lips, she replied, “Already have I explained that I am returning to my people. The route we are traversing is known only to the trusty slave who guideth us and to mine own people, for there are no wells, and no adventurous traveller hath ever dared to penetrate into this deserted, silent land of the Samun.”
“Is it not known to thine enemies, the Kel-Fadê?” I asked, recollecting with bitterness that to the marauders of the tribe that had held her in bondage I also owed my captivity in the Court of the Eunuchs.
“The Kel-Fadê have never penetrated hither,” she answered, gazing away to where the purple flush was dying away on the misty horizon. “In three days — if Allah showeth us favour — we shall reach the rocky valley wherein my people are encamped. Ana fíkalák hatta athab ila honâk.” (“I am very anxious to get there.”)
“But for what reason are thy people so many weeks’ journey from their own country?” I asked.
Moving uneasily among her cushions, she contemplated the end of her cigarette. Apparently it was a question which she did not care to answer, for she disregarded it, exclaiming grimly, “I wonder if the occupant of the secret chamber will discover the means of exit?”
“Suppose he faileth? What then?”
“He will share the fate that hath befallen others immured there,” she answered, raising her arched brows slightly.
“Immured there by thee?” I hazarded, smiling.
“No,” she replied, with a musical laugh. “Thou must not judge me with such harshness, even though my life hath become embittered by captivity in the harem of a monster I hated.”
Suddenly I recollected the strange recovery of my mysterious talisman, the Crescent of Glorious Wonders, which was now reposing safely in its case within one of the bags beneath me. Evidently it had been hidden with other booty taken from the caravan with which I had travelled by some one who had regarded it with curiosity.
“Is the existence of that hidden prison known to anyone besides thyself?” I inquired.
“Why askest thou that question? Art thou afraid my lord will escape ere we reach a place of safety?” she exclaimed, with a low, rippling laugh.
“No,” I replied. “I have a serious object in seeking information.”
“What, wert thou troubled by unwelcome visitors?” she asked, smiling mischievously.
“No; on the contrary, the silence was appalling and the companionship of the dead horrible.”
“Ah, forgive me!” she exclaimed apologetically. “It was not my fault that I could not have the place cleared of the bones. There was no time. But in my written message I told thee to fear not.”
“But whoever placed me there knew of the secret entrance,” I urged.
“True,” she answered. “Two of my slaves — he who guideth us towards the encampment of the Ennitra and the man leading yonder camel — carried thee to thine underground tomb, and placed food there for thee.”
Her words gave me instant explanation. From the first the countenance of our guide had seemed familiar, and I now remembered where I had seen it. He was one of those who had held me when the Mysterious Crescent had been wrenched so suddenly from my grasp! No doubt it had come into his possession with other loot, which, in order to secure to himself, he had hidden in that place where none could obtain entrance. As he rode on top of his camel quite close to me, I peered into his dark, aquiline face and found its features unmistakable. It was he who had secured me, who had subjected me to slavery, and who had mounted guard over me until I had been purchased by the agent of the Sultan Hámed. Apparently he had not recognised me, and as I again held my treasure safely in my own keeping, I had no desire to claim acquaintance with this slave, who was himself a slave-raider. They were all brave, sturdy fellows, loyal to their mistress, a quality that I admired, for both she and I had interests in common in putting a respectable distance between ourselves and the irate Sheikh of the Kel-Fadê.
“If thy people seek my death, am I not unwise in accompanying thee into their midst?” I queried, after a pause.
“By thine aid I, one of their daughters, have escaped from the bonds of their enemies, therefore fear not, for though the Ennitra rule the Desert harshly with rifle and bastinado, they harm not those who lend them assistance.”
I told her of my first experience of Hadj Absalam, and how I had been tortured with the snake, concealing the fact that Zoraida had set me at liberty.
“Tabakoh câsi. (His disposition is cruel.) He is hated even by our own people,” she exclaimed, when I had concluded. “His brutality is fiendish to us and to strangers alike; but when Infidels are brought into his presence, his rage is absolutely ungovernable. Thy torture was not so horrible as some I myself have witnessed. Once, near Téhe-n-Aïeren, at the foot of Mount El Aghil, a young Zouave soldier