The small town of Khatouniyah was, until recently, inhabited by a tribe of Arabs. A feud, arising out of the rival pretensions of two chiefs, sprang up amongst them. The factions fought, many persons were killed, and the place was consequently deserted, one party joining the Tai Arabs near Nisibin, the other the Yezidis of Keraniyah. We traced the remains of cultivation, and the dry water-courses, which once irrigated plots of rice and melon beds. The lake may be about six miles in circumference. The water, although brackish, like nearly all the springs in this part of the Desert, is not only drinkable, but, according to the Bedouins, exceedingly wholesome for man and beast. It abounds in fish, some of which are said to be of very considerable size, and waterfowl and waders, of various kinds, congregate on the shores.
We had scarcely resumed our march in the morning when we spied Suttum and Khoraif coming towards us, and urging their fleet mares to the top of their speed. A Jebour, leaving our encampment at Umjerjeh, when Hormuzd was dangerously ill, had spread a report[135] in the Desert, that he was actually dead. To give additional authenticity to his tale he had minutely described the process by which my companion’s body had been first salted, and then sent to Frankistan in a box, on a camel. Suttum, as we met, showed the most lively signs of grief; but when he saw the dead man himself restored to life, his joy and his embraces knew no bounds.
We rode over a low undulating country, at the foot of the Sinjar hills, every dell and ravine being a bed of flowers. About five miles from Khatouniyah we passed a small reedy stream, called Suffeyra, on which the Boraij (Suttum’s tribe) had been encamped on the previous day. They had now moved further into the plain, and we stopped at their watering-place, a brackish rivulet called Sayhel, their tents being about three miles distant from us in the Desert. Their mares, camels, and sheep came to Sayhel for water, and during the whole day there was one endless line of animals passing to and fro before our encampment. I sat watching them from my tent. As each mare and horse stopped to drink at the troubled stream, Suttum named its owner and its breed, and described its exploits. The mares were generally followed by two or three colts, who are suffered, even in their third year, to run loose after their dams, and to gambol unrestrained over the plain. It is to their perfect freedom whilst young that the horses of the Desert owe their speed and the suppleness of their limbs.
It may not be out of place to add a few remarks on the subject of Arab horses. The Bedouins, as it is well known, divide their thorough-breds into five races, descended, as some declare, from the five favourite mares of the Prophet. The names, however, of these breeds vary amongst different tribes. According to Suttum, who was better acquainted with the history and traditions of the Bedouins than almost any Arab I ever met, they are all derived from one original stock, the Koheyleh, which, in course of time, was divided, after the names of celebrated mares, into the following five branches:—Obeyan Sherakh, Hedba Zayhi, Manekia Hedrehji, Shouaymah Sablah, and Margoub. These form the Kamse, or the five breeds, from which alone entire horses are chosen to propagate the race. From the Kamse have sprung a number of families no less noble, perhaps, than the original five; but the Shammar receive their stallions with suspicion, or reject them altogether. Among the best known are the Wathna Khersan, so called from the mares being said to be worth their weight in gold; (noble horses of this breed are found amongst the Arab tribes inhabiting the districts to the east of the Euphrates, the Beni Lam, Al Kamees, and Al Kithere;) Khalawi, thus named from a wonderful feat of speed performed by a celebrated mare in Southern Mesopotamia; Jaiaythani, and Julfa. The only esteemed race in the Desert which, according to Suttum, cannot be traced to the Kamse, is the Saklawi, although considered by the Shammar and by the Bedouins of the Gebel Shammar, as one of the noblest, if not the noblest, of all. It is divided into three branches, the most valued being the Saklawi Jedran, which is said to be now almost extinct.
To understand how a man, who has perhaps not even bread to feed himself and his children, can withstand the temptation of such large sums, it must be remembered that, besides the affection proverbially felt by the Bedouin for his mare, which might, perhaps, not be proof against such a test, he is entirely dependent upon her for his happiness, his glory, and, indeed, his very existence. An Arab possessing a horse unrivalled in speed and endurance, and it would only be for such that enormous prices would be offered, is entirely his own master, and can defy the world. Once on its back, no one can catch him. He may rob, plunder, fight, and go to and fro as he lists. No man has a keener sense of the joys of liberty, and a heartier hatred of restraint, than the true Bedouin. Give him the Desert, his mare, and his spear, and he will not envy the wealth and power of the greatest of the earth. He plunders and robs for the mere pleasure and excitement which danger and glory afford.
A mare is generally the property of two or more persons, who have a share in her progeny, regulated by custom, and differing according to the tribe.
The largest number of horses, as well as those of the most esteemed breeds, are still to be found, as in the time of Burckhardt, amongst the tribes who inhabit Mesopotamia and the great plains watered by the Euphrates and Tigris. These rich pastures, nourished by the rains of winter and spring, the climate, and—according to the Arabs—the brackish water of the springs rising in the gypsum, seem especially favorable to the rearing of horses. The best probably belong to the Shammar and Aneyza tribes.
The present Sheikh of the Gebel Shammar, Ibn Reshid, has, I am informed, a very choice stud of mares of the finest breeds, and their reputation has spread far and wide over the Desert. The Nawab of Oude, the Ekbal-ed-Doulah, a good judge of horses, who had visited many of the tribes, and had made the pilgrimage to the holy cities by the little frequented route through the interior of Nedjd, assured me that the finest horses he had ever seen were in the possession of the Shereef of Mecca.
The Arab horse is more remarkable for its exquisite symmetry and beautiful proportions, united with wonderful powers of endurance, than for extraordinary speed. I doubt whether any Arab of the best blood has ever been brought to England. The difficulty of obtaining them is so great, that they are scarcely ever seen beyond the limits of the Desert.
Their color is generally white, light or dark grey, light chestnut, and bay, with white or black feet. Black is exceedingly rare, and I never remember to have seen dun, sorrel, or dapple. I refer, of course, to the true-bred Arab, and not to the Turcoman or to Kurdish and Turkish races, which are a cross between the Arab and Persian.