“Death!” she cried, as she stood, a magnificent figure of youth, with the spear raised and poised for throwing. “Nay, revenge upon those who try to humiliate me. I will gather my men together and will promise gold, horses, women, what they will, to those who overtake and bring back to me, alive or dead, the prisoners who have escaped. Love! I in love with any man, be he white or black or of mixed blood! Nay, by the beard of the Prophet I love naught but power. Let them flee into the desert, even until the sun is risen, so that Helen R-raynor-r’s countenance be blistered and as roundly swelled as yon knob of wood, the which, to see if my hand hath not lost its cunning, I will pierce with the spear.”
She ran back a space, caught her foot in a rug, staggered, and, in an effort to recover her balance, involuntarily flung the spear.
She stood for a moment petrified with horror, then screamed and screamed until the place rang.
Thrown off her balance, she had flung the spear straight at the mirror. As she stood it transfixed her reflection through the heart.
Hundreds of torches flared below, where her men stood looking up, watching the women as, with exclamations of fear, they ran to answer the dreaded summons of the gong.
“By the beard,” said Bowlegs to Yussuf’s Eyes, “something is amiss.”
A shout went up as Zarah appeared, wrapped in her great riding cloak, spear in hand. “She leads us to battle, little brother who cannot speak.” Bowlegs turned, laughing as he spoke, and stared in amazement. The dumb youth was not there, but in his place towered the gigantic Nubian.
“Verily to battle or the hunt, brother,” said Al-Asad. “Battle methinks, for of a truth the woman I love seems in no patient mood. Ha! canst hear? She calleth for Namlah! Ha! she smites the Abyssinian across the mouth. The tiger-cat! Yet do I love her the more for her cruelty. Her small hand is like a flower petal blown against the rock when, in her childlike wrath, she smites me. I could pinch the breath from her throat, which is like unto the jewelled column in yon hall, ’twixt thumb and finger, yet love I to anger her so that her little hand shall smite me. Ha! Harken! She calleth for the blind one, for Yussuf. Look, brother! Is she not as the wind from the south in her wrath?”
Zarah faced her terrified women slaves, amongst whom Namlah was not to be found.
“Search for the white woman, you black dogs!” She smote the Abyssinian across the face as she spoke. “Find her and bring her to me. Namlah will you find with her. Search, all of you, and hasten, lest I drive you down to the sands of death.” The women turned and fled down the steps, touching their amulets, praying to Allah, whispering the one to the other.