The Adventures of Hajji Baba of Ispahan

by James Justinian Morier

'After a short pause: "The business of our coming, Okous Aga," said the mirakhor, "is this:—The Wahabi (curses be on their beards!) have sent a deputation to our chief, requiring from him the mare upon which the son of their sheikh was mounted at the time that he was killed. Although they say that his blood is on our heads, and that nothing but the pasha's life, or that of his son, can ever redeem it; yet that subject they will for the present waive, in order to regain possession of her. They say, she has the most perfect pedigree of any in Arabia; that from generation to generation her descent is to be traced to the mare which the Prophet rode on his flight from Medina; and, in order to regain her, they offer to throw money on the board until the pasha shall say stop. Now all the world knows that you are the brave he, who overcame and slew the sheikh's son, and that yours is the spoil of the mare. My master, after consulting with the nobles and the chief men of Bagdad, has determined to take the offer of the Wahabi into consideration; and since it is become a business of government, has sent me to request you to deliver her up into my hands. This is my errand, and I have said it."

'"Wallah! billah! By the pasha's salt which I have eat, by your soul, by the mother who bore you, by the stars and the heavens, I swear that all the Wahabi say is false. Where is the mare they pretend to have lost, and where the miserable jade that fell to my lot? I got a mare, 'tis true, but so lean, so wretched, that I sold her to an Arab the day after the battle. You may have the bridle and saddle, if you please; but as for the beast, I have her not."

'"Allah, Allah!" exclaimed the mirakhor, "this is a business of much consequence. Okous Aga, you are an upright man, and so am I. Do not laugh at our beards, and send us away without caps on our heads. If we do not bring back the mare, our faces will be black to all eternity, and the doors of friendship between you and the pasha will be shut. By my soul, tell me; where is the beast?"

'"Friend," answered my father, "what shall I say? what can I do? The mare is not here—the Wahabi are liars—and I speak the truth." Then with a softened tone, he approached the mirakhor, and spoke to him for a long time in a whisper, with much animation and apparent persuasion; for, at the end of their conversation, they appeared to be well agreed.

'The mirakhor then said aloud, "Well, if such is the case, and the beast is not in your possession, Allah kerim, God is merciful, and there is no combating against fate. We must return to Bagdad."

'My father then rose from his seat, and came into the women's tent, leaving his guests to smoke their pipes and drink coffee, preparatory to the meal which was making ready for them. He ordered his wife, who was the depository of his money, to bring him a bag of gold, that was carefully wrapped in many a piece of old cloth, and deposited in a trunk, which, with his rich horse furniture, the parade pack-saddle, and other things of value, were placed in a corner of the tent. He took out twenty Bajoglis (ducats), which he tied into the corner of a handkerchief, and thrust them into his bosom; and then giving his orders that the victuals should forthwith be served up, he returned to his guests. Little was said until the hour of eating came, and the few words that were uttered turned on horses, dogs, and arms. The mirakhor drew from his girdle a long pistol, mounted in silver, which was shown around to all the company as a real English pistol. Another man exhibited his scimitar, which was assured to be a black Khorassani blade of the first water; and my father produced a long straight sword, sharp on both edges, which he had taken from the son of the Arab Sheikh whom he had slain.

'The dinner being ready, the round leathern cloth was placed before the mirakhor, upon which many flaps of bread, just baked, were thrown, and water was handed about for washing the right hand. A mess of chorba, or soup, was served up in a large wooden dish, and placed in the centre of the cloth. My father then said aloud, "Bismillah," in the name of God; and all the party, consisting of the mirakhor, his ten followers, my father and three of his attendants, settling themselves round the dish, with their right shoulders advanced forwards, partook of the soup with wooden spoons. A lamb roasted whole succeeded the mess, which was pulled to pieces in a short time, each man getting as large a portion of it for himself as he could. The feast was closed by an immense dish of rice, which was dived into by the hands and fingers of all present. As fast as they were satisfied, each man got up and washed, saying Shukur Allah, thanks to God; and Allah bereket versin, may God restore you plenty. The remains were then rolled up in the leathern cloth, and taken outside the tents, where my father's shepherds soon made an end of them.

'The mirakhor being anxious to sleep at a village in the plain, expressed a wish to depart, and his suite went to prepare their horses, leaving him and my father in the tent. I, who had narrowly watched the whole of the proceedings, was determined to see what should take place between them, and lent an ear to what they said.

'My father said, "Indeed ten ducats is all I can give—we are poor—where shall I find more?" To which the mirakhor replied, "It is impossible: you know perfectly what will happen if I do not receive double that sum: the Pasha, when he finds that we have not brought the mare, will order me back again to seize you, and will take possession of all your property. I am indeed ordered to do that now, in case you refuse his request, but shall not touch you, if you come to my terms, which are twenty gold pieces. So, my friend, decide." Upon which, my father took the handkerchief from his bosom, and taking out the money from it, counted twenty ducats into the mirakhor's hand, who, when satisfied that they were all good, untied the white muslin that was wound round his turban, and placing them in the folds of it, twisted it round his head again. "Now," said he to my father, "we have ate salt together; we are friends; and should the Pasha attempt anything, I will interfere. But you must send him a present, or otherwise it will be impossible to prevent him from molesting you."

'"Bashem ustun, upon my head be it!" answered my father. "I possess a famous greyhound, celebrated throughout the whole of the Cûrdistan, which can seize an antelope at full speed; a creature the like of which the Shah of Persia's father never even saw in a dream. Will that do?"