A splendid retinue attended the virtuous Kayenna, the highborn Prince Muley, and the Sage Shacabac, as they set out at sunrise of the next day, from the gates of Ubikwi, on the long and toilsome journey to Nhulpar. Muley Mustapha watched them with tearful eyes, not knowing when, if ever, they might return, nor what might be the event of their enterprise; still less—and this concerned him most sorely—what would become of him in their absence. Nor were his forebodings lightened when he beheld the astrologer Badeg grinning malevolently at the departing caravan. He would have been even more disturbed in mind, had he seen the latter, as the cavalcade was setting forth, pluck the sleeve of Shacabac, and heard him whisper the fateful words: “You asked me what omen was more malign than any of those you named. I will tell you. It is to cheat a mighty Sultan and try to cheat a mightier King by palming off a Princess for a Prince!”
Ben Zoin
Pale with mingled anger and astonishment, Shacabac rode his camel beside that of Kayenna, and, begging a private interview, hastily confided to her the malignant words of the astrologer. The brow of the fair lady darkened as much as a brow so fair could lose its alabaster hue. Then, summoning her chief of staff, she said to him, “Hark ye, Ben Zoin, trusty servant of my royal father, take at once twenty of your best lances, and, when we shall have reached the well of Al-kohol, and the caravan is in bivouac, steal forth with them, letting no man know it but yourselves, and ride as for your lives to the capital of Kopaul. Demand immediate audience of the Sultan,—this signet ring will admit you at any hour,—tell him that there is treason in Ubikwi. Bid him summon his forces, and march at once to the relief of my husband. Should he find the rebels contumacious and able to withstand him, let him say to them that Kayenna of Ubikwi, with her son, the Heir Apparent of Nhulpar, and an hundred thousand spears, will be at the gates ere the waning of another moon. Go, and be silent; for traitors may be in this caravan also.”
The bearded, black-browed Ben Zoin bowed as he took the sacred signet, and promised to be at the capital of Kopaul as speedily as camel might carry him.
“Thou didst well to tell me of that caitiff’s words, good Shacabac,” said Kayenna, graciously; “and, though thou art not over-clever in all things, yet I believe thee honest in most. For this act thou mayst find thyself one day Grand Vizier of three realms, an thou diest not of thy weight of wisdom in the mean time.”
Laughing gayly as the caravan presently came in sight of the oasis of Al-kohol, she gave the order to camp for the night. But ere the second hour of encampment had passed, Ben Zoin and a score of the best lances in the cavalcade had stolen noiselessly out of the enclosure; and none were missed until the morning’s muster.
“Where is my trusty Ben Zoin?” asked Kayenna, when the caravan was forming in order of march. Shacabac was so surprised at the question, knowing what he knew, that he was on the point of explaining to her, when a look from her keen eyes closed his lips.
“God is great,” he muttered to himself. “Of a verity, I am becoming an imbecile; or, mayhap, I have been one all my life without knowing it. If so, Allah be praised! there is yet some hope for me; for he who beginneth to understand himself hath at least reached the outer portals of Knowledge. But what an actress she is!”