CHAPTER II.
A lie grows so fast that its own parents may not recognize it.—Deucalion.
Three days after the occurrence of the events narrated in the preceding chapter a venerable man, clad in the robes of a physician, was ushered into the presence of the Pasha. He salaamed low, and said,—
“Great and mighty Pasha, I bring thee good news.”
“Speak,” said the Pasha: “what is thy news?”
“Great and good tidings,” answered the leech. “Mother and child are doing well.”
“Allah be blessed!” said Muley Mustapha. “And the boy? My own little Muley! Is he a healthy, comely lad,—such an one, think you, as will hold his own among the gallants of the land, and not prove a puny milksop, clutching his mother’s apronstring?”
“Truly, O potent Pasha,” was the answer, “it is a fair and well-formed child, but”—
“But me no buts, knave,” roared the Pasha. “Darest thou say the boy is deformed,—blind,—deaf,—lame? Speak, or by the beard of the Prophet”—
“Mercy, O gracious lord! I meant nothing,” cried the sage, falling on his knees, “only this—the child”—
“Well, go on, and quickly. The child”—
“Is a girl, O great and mighty”—
But Muley Mustapha had leaped to his feet, spurning the old man from his way, and was shouting to his chief eunuch:—
“Ho, there, slave! Send me straightway the Vizier and the Soothsayer and—hark ye, slave, send me the Headsman. By Allah! there is work here for all three.”
The Pasha had a rich command of language, and he made free use of it while awaiting the summoned functionaries. Soon they were ushered into his presence, the swart Nubian, Al Choppah, bringing up the rear of the procession. The Soothsayer prostrated himself at the feet of the Pasha, who thus addressed him:—
Al Choppah, the Headsman
“O triple-tongued liar and silverhaired son of Gehenna, what hast thou to say for thyself? Dost remember that but six months ago thou didst issue a prophecy, standing before us as proud and confident as Bhilibidam, the haughty prince of Eblis, and didst say that I was to be the father of a son, and didst warrant the prediction with thy head? What should be done, O Shacabac, with such a defaulter on his sacred pledge?”
“So please your Highness,” replied the Vizier, promptly, “I should foreclose on the security.”
“It is well said,” quoth the Pasha, and, signing to the Nubian, bade him advance and do his duty.
Al Choppah ran his thumb along the edge of his scimitar, swung it slowly aloft, and was about to bring it down, when the Soothsayer, in a trembling voice, cried out: “The will of Allah be done! But hath not thine own trusted adviser counselled mercy to all creatures, even to the least merciful? And, even though I die, I tell thee that the child born to thee this day shall reign over Kopaul!”
Astounded and secretly a little impressed by this remarkable speech, Muley Mustapha signed to the Nubian to withdraw to the ante-chamber. Then, bidding the Soothsayer stand up, he said sternly: “Do not dare hope to escape thy doom by laughing at our beard. Explain thy riddle; but, first, Shacabac, what means the slave by saying that thou hast counselled mercy even to the least merciful of creatures?”
Shacabac, who did not disdain the music of his own voice, replied:—
“Truly, this Soothsayer hath deeply offended; but he showeth a proper taste in literature, and, perchance, seeth more of the future than ordinary mortals. It is true, I have counselled mercy to all creatures; for mercy may sometimes be wisdom. I have said:—
“‘Kick not the sleeping tiger in thy path; and, if thou meetest a shark in the river, go thy way,—the sea is wide enough for him and for thee.
“‘Utter no evil, not even of the dumb beasts. If thy horse offend thee, put him away from thee; and when thou sellest him, speak only of his good parts.’
“I have also written: ‘Dispute not with thy neighbor if his hens permeate thy garden, but bid them welcome and give them shelter. So shalt thou have fresh-laid eggs for thy breakfast.’
“As to this wretched Soothsayer, I fear me much his character as a prophet is sorely damaged. Nevertheless, as I have written elsewhere:—
“‘A bad character is better than none at all. Rather behave ill than have men say of thee, “Lo, he knoweth not how to behave.”’”
Just then appeared a slave with the startling tidings that a messenger from the great Sultan of Kopaul had arrived and besought an interview.
If Shacabac was annoyed at being interrupted in the pleasant pastime of quoting from his own works, which is said to be not a displeasing diversion with other great writers, the Pasha quickly recalled him to more pressing matters, by saying: “Now, Shacabac, great is thy written wisdom. Mayhap thou hast wit enough to tell us how we may break the news to the great Sultan, my father-in-law, that his ‘grandson’—dog of a Star-gazer, that was thy precious work!—is a granddaughter.”
But even the wisdom of Shacabac was unequal to such a contingency; and this true story would never have been written, had not the Soothsayer averted an irreparable loss to literature by humbly asking permission to speak.
“Speak,” replied the Pasha, “and see that thy words be precious; for on them hangs thy life.”
Thus encouraged, the Soothsayer first asked, how many people knew of the child’s sex. He was informed that, besides themselves there present, only the mother and the attendant physician as yet possessed that knowledge; but the whole country would know of it, to their grief, when the wrathful Sultan learned how his hopes had been blighted. “And upon my head, O wretched juggler,” cried the Pasha, “shall fall the chief weight of his anger. Accursed be the hour in which I was not born a girl!” The last two words he uttered with infinite grief and scorn.
“Then, O Pasha, the country is safe, if the Physician be silenced, and we, keeping the secret to ourselves, inform the Sultan that his daughter and grandson are doing well. The Sultan is very old (may his years be many!), and he will have gone to his fathers long ere he discover the deception; and thou and thy noble spouse shall reign in Kopaul ere anybody know, if they ever know, that thy son is not thy son.”
Audacious as was this proposition, yet the Pasha grasped at it as a drowning man at a straw, especially as it met the approval of Shacabac. He generally accepted the advice of that wise and good philosopher.
The Soothsayer and the Physician were enjoined to strict silence; and, the better to insure it, they were commended to the care of Al Choppah, the Nubian, who, being a mute, could tell no tales. His two guests do not appear again in this history.