In the Mahdi's Grasp

by George Manville Fenn

As the last head fell, the last body lay giving out the remnants of its life, Frank drew a hoarse breath of thankfulness and relief that all was over.

It was too soon, for his companion touched him again, to point to the right, where a fresh horror was about to begin, and after watching once more the riding forward of the officer, and hearing him shout his order, the young Englishman closed his eyes, with the sickening sensation coming back, as he asked himself whether it was not some frightful dream; and with this thought he opened his eyes again that he might be sure.

But it was too true, for there was another score of prisoners who were mercifully spared from death, but were to suffer the new Mahdi’s judgment against them for revolt against the officers appointed by him to be his vice-gerents in the city while he was away.

The mercy meted out was that of the tiger, not of the man. For swords were busy, keen and trenchant blades hewing and hacking at the unfortunate wretches, till all was over, and those who might recover would pass to the end of their miserable days crippled and helpless, each with his right hand and left foot shorn from the limbs.

Frank sat there motionless, for the power of action was completely gone, and like one absolutely stunned and dead to mental and bodily feeling, he looked and looked till there arose a wild, wailing outburst which thrilled him to the core. It was as if the sound were two-edged, Frank feeling that it was not uttered by the prostrate, partially butchered prisoners, who lay as they had been thrown, giving forth no moan, not so much as watching, with agonised eyes, their life-blood trickling into the sand; the cry came from the trembling crowd of women and friends of the victims, who had been waiting till they might dare to run forward in a body to bear away husband or brother, and see if his life could be saved.

It was now that a spasm of energy and excitement shot through Frank, as he gazed for a few moments, and then thought of the Hakim and the need for his ministrations there.

He turned quickly to his companion, who seemed to be reading his thoughts, for he nodded, and together they touched the flanks of their horses and cantered and then galloped off the field of blood, eager to leave the quivering bodies and headless corpses far behind.

The young Emir was perfectly silent now, and Frank had ceased to suffer from the repugnance he felt, for he could only think of what he had seen, so that it seemed but a matter of minutes before they had reached the gateway of the Emir’s palace, though a good half hour had passed away.

A minute later he had given the young Emir a quick nod, leaped from his horse, thrown the rein to one of the guards who followed him in, and run to their quarters at the garden end, where the camels were browsing contentedly and their keepers looking on, when, finding the rooms empty, the young man looked out.

Frank felt that the Hakim must be with the Emir’s friend, and hurrying through the passages and intervening rooms, he found Morris with the professor, Sam, and the Sheikh near to an angareb, or bedstead, on to which the wounded man had been carefully lifted a few minutes before.