“Because,” answered Sidi-Abd-Allah, contracting his black brows, “my own house is not secure.”
Is that all? thought we. Only two miles away too! What an agreeable existence must be that of a governor of Beni-Hassan!
The ambassador consented; the chief took his hand, and pressed it to his breast with an energetic expression of gratitude. This done, he turned his horse, and in a few minutes the many-colored, ragged, and terrible crew was nothing but a cloud of dust upon the horizon.
CHAPTER VIII.
SIDI-HASSEM.
The province we were about to enter was a kind of colony divided into farms among a large number of soldiers’ families, in each of which military service is obligatory for all the sons; thus, every boy is born a soldier, serves, as he can, from his very infancy, and receives a fixed pay before he is able to handle a musket. These military families are also exempt from taxes, and their property is inalienable as long as male descendants exist. They thus constitute a regular militia, disciplined and faithful, by means of which the government can devour, according to the popular expression, any rebellious province, without fear that the tool will fly off the handle. They may be called a militia of collectors of revenue, paying the government more than they cost, for in Morocco the army is a servant of the finances, and the principal tool of the administrative machine is the sword.
We had scarcely passed the boundaries of Beni-Hassan when we saw in the distance a troop of horsemen galloping toward us, preceded by a great banner. Contrary to custom, they were spread out in two long lines, one behind the other, with their officers in front.
At about twenty paces off they stopped abruptly. Their commandant, a big old man with a white beard, a benevolent aspect, and a lofty turban, came forward and took the Ambassadors hand, saying, “You are welcome! you are welcome!” And then to us, “Welcome! welcome! welcome!”
We resumed our march. The new horsemen, were very different from the Beni-Hassan. They had clean garments and shining arms; almost all wore yellow boots embroidered with red; their sabres had handles of rhinoceros hide, their mantles were blue, their caftans white, with green girdles. Many of them were old—those petrified old men for whom eternity seems to have begun; some were very young—two in particular not more than ten years old, handsome and full of life, looking at us with a smiling air, as though they were thinking, “Come, you are not such scarecrows as we had expected to see.” There was one black old man of such tall stature that if he had taken his feet out of the stirrups they would have touched the ground. One of the officers wore stockings.
In about half an hour we met another company with a red banner, commanded by an old caid, who joined themselves to the first; and from time to time other groups of four, eight, fifteen horsemen, each with its banner, who came to swell our escort. When all had arrived, the usual firing and charging went on.
It was evident that they were regular soldiers; they manœuvred with more regularity and order than any we had seen. They had a new play. One would dart forward at full speed, another behind him, ventre à terre. Suddenly the first would rise in his stirrups, turn and fire right into the chest of his pursuer, who at the same instant discharged his musket into the first one’s side; so that had they been firing with ball both would have fallen dead at the same moment. The horse of one who was flying in full career fell, and threw his rider to such a distance that we thought he must be killed. But in a moment he was up and in the saddle, and rushing about with more fury than ever. Each one had his cry. “Take care!—take care! Bear witness all! It is I! Here comes death! Place for the barber!” (he was the soldiers’ barber). And one shouted, to the manifest amusement of his companions, “Alla mia depinta!” The interpreters explained that he meant, “To my lady, who is as beautiful as a picture,” odd enough for one of a people who have portraiture in horror, and who cannot even have a clear idea of it. The two little lads fired and shouted together, “Place for the brothers!” pointing their muskets downward, and bending to the saddle-bow.