We passed the next day in walking about the village, which contains about two hundred houses and five churches. The inhabitants, Syrian Christians, fabricate machlas and black abas, and pay little attention to agriculture, from want of water, which is sensibly felt. There is only one little spring in the village, the distribution of the water being regulated by an hour-glass. It scarcely suffices to water the gardens, which, in a climate where it seldom rains, are unproductive without watering. Some years there does not fall a drop of rain. The produce of the soil is hardly enough for six months’ consumption; and, for the remainder of the year, the inhabitants are obliged to have recourse to Homs. In the middle of the village there arises an ancient tower of prodigious height. It dates from the foundation of a colony whose history the sheik told us. The founders were natives of Tripoli in Syria, where their church still exists. At the most flourishing period of the Eastern empire, the Greeks, full of pride and rapacity, tyrannised over the conquered people. The governor of Tripoli overwhelmed the inhabitants with exactions and cruelty; these, too few to resist, and unable to bear the yoke, concerted together to the number of three hundred families; and having secretly collected together all the valuables they could carry away, they departed without noise in the middle of the night, went to Homs, and from thence moved towards the desert of Bagdad, where they were overtaken by the Greek troops sent in pursuit of them by the governor of Tripoli. They made an obstinate and sanguinary resistance; but too inferior in numbers to conquer, and resolved on no account to submit any longer to the tyranny of the Greeks, they entered into negotiation, and obtained permission to build a village on the spot of the battle, agreeing to remain tributary to the governor of Tripoli. They established themselves at this place, at the entrance of the desert, and called their village Saddad (obstacle.) This is all that the Syrian chronicle contains worthy of remark.
The inhabitants of Saddad are brave, but gentle. We unpacked our goods, and spent some days with them, to prove that we were really merchants. The women bought much of our red cotton cloth, to make chemises. The sale did not detain us long, but we were obliged to await the arrival of the Bedouins in the environs. One day, having been told that there was four hours from the village a considerable ruin, and very ancient, in which was a natural vapour bath, the wonder excited our curiosity; and M. Lascaris, desirous of seeing it, begged the sheik to give us an escort. After marching four hours to the southeast, we arrived in the midst of an extensive ruin, in which there remains only one habitable room. The architecture is simple; but the stones are of prodigious size. On entering the room, we perceived an opening two feet square, from which issued a thick vapour; we threw into it a handkerchief, and in a minute and a half, by the watch, it was thrown out and fell at our feet. We repeated the experiment with a shirt, which, at the end of ten minutes, returned like the handkerchief. Our guides assured us that a machlas, which weighs ten pounds, would be thrown up in the same manner.
Having undressed, and placed ourselves around the opening, we were in a short time covered with perspiration, which trickled down our bodies; but the smell of the vapour was so detestable, that we could not remain a long time exposed to it. After half an hour we put on our clothes, and experienced a most delightful sensation. We were told that the vapour was really very sanative, and cured numbers of sick. Returning to the village, we supped with an excellent appetite; and never, perhaps, did I enjoy a more delicious sleep.
Having nothing more to see at Saddad, or the neighbourhood, we determined to set out for the village of Corietain. When we spoke of this to Naufal, he advised us to change our names, as our own would create suspicion in the Bedouins and the Turks. From that time M. Lascaris took the name of Sheik Ibrahim el Cabressi (the Cyprian,) and gave me that of Abdallah el Katib.
Sheik Hassaf having given us a letter of recommendation to a Syrian curate named Moussi, we took leave of him and our friends at Saddad, and set off early. After four hours, we came between the two villages of Mahim and Haourin, ten minutes apart: each contains about twenty houses, mostly ruined by the Bedouins, who come from time to time to plunder them. In the midst of these villages is a lofty tower of ancient construction. The inhabitants, all Mussulmans, speak the language of the Bedouins, and dress like them. After having breakfasted and filled our water-bottles, we continued our journey for six hours, and about nightfall arrived at Corietain, at the curate Mouss’s, who afforded us hospitality. The next day he conducted us to the Sheik Selim el Dahasse, a distinguished person, who received us very kindly. Having learned the motive of our journey, he made the same observation as the Sheik of Saddad. We answered him, “that, aware of the difficulties of the enterprise, we had given up the idea of penetrating into the desert, and should be satisfied with going to Palmyra, to dispose of our merchandise.”—“That will be still too difficult,” added he, “for the Bedouins may still meet you and pillage you.” He then began, in his turn, to repeat a thousand alarming things about the Bedouins. The curate confirming all he said, contributed to damp our spirits; when breakfast was served, which changed the conversation, and gave us time to recover.
Sheik Selim is one of those who are bound to supply the wants of the great caravan to Mecca, in conjunction with the Sheik of Palmyra: and his office gives him some influence over the Arabs: his contingent consists of two hundred camels and provisions. On our return home, Sheik Ibrahim, addressing me, said, “Well, my son, what do you think of all we have heard from Sheik Selim?”—“We must not,” said I, “pay too much regard to all that the inhabitants of these villages tell us, who are always at war with the Bedouins; there cannot exist much harmony between them. Our position is very different; we are merchants,—we go to sell them our goods, and not to make war: by acting honourably towards them, I do not apprehend the least danger.” These words reassured Sheik Ibrahim.
Some days after our arrival, in order to support our character of merchants, we opened our bales in the middle of the village, before the doors of the sheik: I sold to the women some articles, which were paid for in money. The idle people were standing around us to talk; one of them, very young, named Hessaisoun el Katib, helped me to take the money, and settle the accounts with the women and children: he showed great zeal for my interests. One day, finding me alone, he asked me if I was able to keep a secret. “Be careful,” said he; “it is a great secret that you must trust to nobody, not even to your companion.” Having given him my word, he told me that one hour from the village was a grotto, in which was a large jar filled with sequins; he gave me one, assuring me that he could not employ the money, which was not current at Palmyra. “But you,” continued he, “are going from city to city, and can change it easily; you have a thousand ways of profiting by the treasure that I have not: however, I will not give you the whole, but I shall leave the division to your generosity: you shall come with me to reconnoitre the spot; we can remove the gold by degrees and in secret, and you shall give me my share in the current coin.” Having seen and handled the sequin, I believed in the truth of the story, and gave him a meeting early the following morning outside the village.
The next morning by daylight I arose, and went from the house as if to walk. At some paces from the village I found Hessaisoun, who was waiting for me: he was armed with a gun, a sabre, and pistols; I had no other arms than a long pipe. We proceeded onwards for an hour. With what impatience did I look out for the grotto!—at last I perceived it. We soon entered: I looked on all sides to discover the jar; and not seeing any, I turned towards Hessaisoun—“Where is the jar?” said I,—I saw him grow pale—“Since we are here,” exclaimed he, “learn that thy last hour is come. Thou shouldst have been dead already, were I not afraid of soiling thy clothes with blood. Before I kill thee, I will despoil thee; so give me thy bag of money: I know thou hast it about thee: it must contain more than twelve hundred piastres, which I counted myself, the price of the goods sold. Thou shalt see no more the light of day.”
“Give me my life,” said I, in a supplicating tone, “and I will give thee a much larger sum than that in the sack, and will tell no one of what has passed—I swear to thee.”—“That cannot be,” said he; “this grotto shall be thy grave. I cannot give thee thy life without exposing my own.”
I swore to him a thousand times that I would be silent: I offered to give him a bill for whatever sum he should fix;—nothing could move him from his fearful project. At length, tired by my resistance, he placed his arms against the wall and darted upon me like an enraged lion, to undress me before killing me. I entreated him again—“What harm have I done you?” said I,—“what enmity is there between us? You do not know, then, that the day of judgment is at hand—that God will demand the blood of the innocent?”—But his hardened heart listened to nothing. I thought of my brother, my parents, my friends; all that was dear to me came to my mind;—desperate, I no longer prayed for protection but from my Creator. “O God! protector of the innocent! help me! give me strength to resist!” My assassin, impatient, snatched my clothes: although he was much bigger than I, God gave me strength to struggle with him for more than half an hour: the blood flowed abundantly from my face—my clothes were torn to rags. The villain, seeing me in this state, endeavoured to strangle me, and raised his arm to grasp my neck. I took advantage of the liberty this movement allowed me, to give him with both fists a violent blow in the stomach: I knocked him backwards, and seizing his arms, I darted out of the grotto, running with all my might. I could scarcely believe the happiness of being saved. Some moments afterwards I heard a running after me: it was the assassin. He called to me, begging me to wait in the most conciliating tone. Having all his arms, I no longer feared to stop, and turning towards him, “Wretch,” said I, “what is it you ask?—you would have assassinated me in secret; but it is you who will be strangled in public.” He answered me by affirming with an oath, that it had all been a jest on his part; that he had wanted to try my courage, and see how I would defend myself. “But I see,” added he, “that you are but a child, since you take it so.”—I answered, raising the gun, that if he came a step nearer I would shoot him. Seeing that I was determined to do it, he fled across the desert, and I returned to the village.