After the “fantasia” the bride was conducted into the town, through narrow lanes where the palanquin scraped between the walls of the houses, and down into a yard. Here the camel was made to kneel, and the girl, still closely veiled, was led into the dwelling of the man, who perhaps saw her that evening for the first time in his life.
Passing by the entrance of a small mosque I peeped in. It was cool and shady in the little room, the roof of which was supported on pillared arches. On the floor were rush mats, and in a corner were raised a few steps, whence the “Imam” speaks to the faithful. This stair was simply made of unpainted wood, not even ornamented with carving, as is generally the case.
Towards evening we visited another village, rather more to the north. It was surrounded by palms, amidst which stood a little minaret attached to a mosque close to the market-place.
Between this and the village first mentioned there is an open piece of land, formerly occupied by a town, but now only encumbered with building materials.
In the vicinity, near some hot springs, are also the ruins of an old Turkish fort, now so insecure that no one ventures to live beneath its crumbling walls. It is said that the inhabitants had, as a matter of course, plundered the building of all its timbers and woodwork, and that consequently the walls hardly held together. Rusting amongst the fallen masonry lay a couple of cannon of antediluvian construction. The fort was evidently built to protect the springs, the water of which is warm, the highest temperature being about 113° Fahrenheit. The natives fetch the warm water in pitchers from the basin of the springs, and set it to cool for drinking purposes.
From the days of the Romans these springs have been known and esteemed as having great healing powers, and as such have been resorted to from most ancient times.
When we arrived in the neighbourhood of the village, we were greeted by the same cries of lamentation that we had heard the previous day in the cemetery, and were told that the women were mourning over a bride, married only four weeks ago, who had just died of the fever. It seemed as though sorrow had overwhelmed the oasis, for wails rose on every side amidst the palm groves.
It was evening, and nearly dark, as we strolled back to the Khalifa’s abode, where we found the meal ready. When I began to eat I could not find my knife, which I remembered having used at breakfast. I searched everywhere, but in vain; Hamed examined the saddle-bags, and then discovered that some pomegranates he had gathered in his garden and given to me were missing, and besides these, from a parcel of cigarettes two packets were gone. Thieves had evidently been at work.
We held a consultation as to what was to be done, and I decided to mention the theft to Ali, one of the sons. At the same time I wished to avoid telling the Khalifa of it, as I thought it might distress him to learn that his guest had been robbed. But I could not be entirely silent on the subject; amongst the Arabs a man must uphold his rights if he wishes to be respected.
As soon as Ali heard of the theft, he went straight to the guard at the gate, and asked him who had been up to the guest-room.