“Art thou the wife of Sheddad, or of Sheddid? Let woman be timid, but no man be craven. The signet on my finger scorns infernal traps. Thou hast seen me on the awful throne destined to be the worship of nations, and thou art to share in the divine sovereignty of thy Sheddad.—But, O, Almena, why is thy voice so unlike the one I have ever heard since the days of our youthful love? It sounds as though thou art speaking to me from the hollow of a cave,” spoke the son of Ad uneasily.
“Thou hast taken this question from my lips, my lord; for thy speech is so unfamiliar to my ear that, were I not near thee, I should mistake it for an echo heard in the mountains of Yemen,” confessed the daughter of the desert.
There was no time for another remark. The air swarmed with thousands of lurid Cupids, each one holding a tiny harp under his left arm. Flocking together, they interlocked in such a fashion as to form a stupendous arch, perfect in shape and burning like a crescent cut from the effulgent sun. On the top of the curve alighted one larger than his compeers, his outstretched arms pointing a glittering tiara in the direction of Sheddad, whose advance was greeted with voluptuous strains:
“Hail, our chief, thy sceptre sway!
Rule Irem, Sheddad, we obey!
Thy seal bade spirits be thy thralls,
Hail, god of Irem’s magic halls!”
With the dying of the choral apostrophe, the treacherous vision conjured by Eblis to dispel Almena’s intuitive fear of something dreadful to come faded away. The sure-footed dromedaries picked their way among the bleak rocks and the sand ridges, with not a glimmer to break the darkness nor a syllable to spur them on. Sheddad and Almena continued silent under the overpowering spell of the sight, which soared before their mental vision long after it had vanished to the eye.
Daybreak found them near a solitary cliff known for the brackish water, oozing from one of its cracks, and the scanty browsing nearby fit for camels. Turning to his fresh water supply to appease his thirst, Sheddad found the water-skin not only empty, but as dry as an old hide, while the figs he held in reserve were mouldy and hard as stone. Almena had the same experience. Unaccountable as appeared this discovery, it was less of a surprise than the cadaverous aspect of husband and wife, as they looked into each other’s faces in full daylight. “Thou dost not look like thyself, my lord; there is neither blood in thy veins nor a beam of life in thine eye,” cried the startled mate of the aspiring god.
“And thou hast described thy own looks, O, Almena.—It is but the withering of our mortal substance before our beings are impregnated with immortal virtue,” assumed Sheddad with an air of supreme indifference, in which, however, his heart failed to share. Almena’s ghastly countenance, once the seat of radiant beauty, struck a chord of unexpressed pain in the heart of her besotted consort.
The consternation of the tribe of Ad, on learning that a dead pair mounted on two bulky delools[5] was on the point of entering their encampment, may be imagined. The news was brought by some Arabs, who, perceiving the approach of the strangers, made a sally, but hurried back with the horrifying alarm, “The dead are coming!” Whoever could run took to his heels, leaving the infirm old and the helpless young to face the ghosts, who entered the settlement and took possession of the largest tent, the one just vacated by Sheddid, who was among the first to deny himself the enjoyment of the uninvited visitors.
[5] A delool is a dromedary trained and used as a saddle animal, and not as a burden carrier. [Back]
“If we have undergone a change, so has this place and all things hereabout in but a few days; our young camels have grown large and fat,—and who is this sleeping child?” asked Sheddad, pointing to a half-naked maiden stretched on a mat upon the ground.—“Can this be our Chaviva?”