Our former enemies now came round us like a swarm of gnats, begging and praying us to let them be of some use. They wanted to tack themselves on to our party, and so go to Dizful in safety, under cover of our companionship; for it appears that they dare not go further than this without protection. The Persian authorities here are apt to imprison any of the Beni Laam who enter their district, and these people therefore seldom venture beyond the Kerkha, or just this side of it. Even so, they are sometimes caught: we saw a Beni Laam last night who had just arrived at the Seguand camp on his way home after three or four months’ imprisonment at Dizful, besides having to pay a fine of one hundred and fifty krans. He was accused, no doubt justly, of sheep stealing, and he told us that several others of Mizban’s people are at this moment in jail at Dizful.
The elder Ghafil finding that nothing could be got from us by persuasion, tried a little of his old blustering and threats, but several of Kerim Khan’s people were standing by, and he was powerless here, so we had the pleasure of giving him a piece of our mind before he retired. His younger namesake, the man in green, could not contain his rage at our escape, and openly expressed his regret that we had not been killed in the wilderness as had been intended. After this little scene we saw no more of either of them, for though we afterwards heard of them in Kerim Khan’s camp, they never dared come back into our presence.
There now came forward to welcome us a funny little boy with half-shut eyes, riding a good-looking chestnut mare. He dismounted, introduced himself as the Khan’s son, and invited us to his father’s tents. These he said lay close by, but we were not yet at the end of this day’s difficulties. A network of irrigation, and a deep muddy canal had to be passed, and the camels which had so successfully escaped the dangers of the river, were again nearly perishing, and more ignobly, in the mud. The Kurds on this side the river were useless to assist us, as in their ignorance of camels they only made matters worse, and but for the sudden reappearance of the one-eyed giant, who had been once our greatest enemy, I think we should have all stuck fast. But now he made amends for part of his misdeeds and ill-designs by lending a powerful hand. He and Wilfrid between them unloaded the camels, and carried the luggage over on their heads up to their waists in holding mud, and then dragged through the camels. The boy, meanwhile, had gone to fetch help from his father; and we were hardly across, when he reappeared, still on his chestnut mare, a Kehîleh Harkan, he told us, from the Beni Laam, for all the tribes here get their horses from the Arabs. And then we saw a cavalcade approaching, and in the midst a portly figure on an old grey mare, whom the boy introduced to us as the Khan.
Kerim Khan is, after Huseyn Koli Khan of the Bactiari, the most powerful chief of Luristan. His tribe occupies most of the district formerly known as Susiana, and from his camp on the Kerkha the ruins of Susa, now merely mounds, were visible. The land east of the river is very fertile, and being moreover well irrigated, is mostly under cultivation. Though living in tents, these Lurs can hardly be called nomadic, for their camps are permanent ones, at least for many months together. The one where we now found ourselves was in appearance quite as much a village as it was a camp, the tents being pitched close together in rows, and from their pent house shape looking exceedingly like houses. In the centre of the camp is a large open space, within which the sheep and cattle of this section of the tribe are driven at night. These, however, are not numerous, for Kerim Khan’s people are cultivators of the soil, rather than shepherds. We noticed many good-looking horses about, procured, they told us, mostly from the Beni Laam.
The tent in which we were lodged was a most elaborate construction. Its roof was of the same material as that used by the Arabs, goat’s hair cloth, but the side walls were of carpet stuff, with intervals of open grass matting, through which the air circulated pleasantly. It had, besides, a regular door, while inside were some handsome Persian carpets spread near a lighted fire, which we soon made use of to dry our clothes, for we were wet through, with the rivers and canals we had crossed. The Lurs themselves differ even more from the Arabs, than their habitations from Bedouin tents. They have none of the Bedouin dignity of manner, and their dress is a mean one, a square coat of felt, and a little felt skull-cap, from under which their black hair curls up in a single greasy wave. Their voices, too, to one coming from among the Arabs, sounded exceedingly absurd, as they have a sort of sing-song intonation, and are pitched so high as to be almost in falsetto. This with the drawl, which we had noticed before in Ali Koli Khan, made us at first inclined to laugh. Kerim Khan keeps his people in excellent order, and no crowding round us or importunate questioning was permitted. The great man himself, though far from dignified in appearance, was well-mannered, and when he came, after having first sent us breakfast, to see us in our new tent, conversed politely, first a few words of Arabic, and afterwards in Kurdish, which Hajji Mohammed interpreted. We told him of our adventures, and of our intended visit to the Bactiari chieftain, with whom he was well acquainted, and of our journey from Haïl with Ali Koli Khan, his son. I am not sure that he altogether believed us, when Hajji Mohammed added, that we were persons of distinction travelling for amusement. In Persia, it is the custom to judge strangers entirely by the appearance they make, and we, travelling in our poor Arab clothes, and accompanied by a single servant, gained less credit in his eyes than we should have found with Arabs, who care nothing for externals. He promised, however, to send us on with two horsemen on the following day to Dizful, and thence, if we would, to the Bactiari. In a private conference, however, later with the cavass, he imposed his conditions. We were to pay him ten tomams (four pounds sterling), as “tea-money,” an exorbitant demand, which we were nevertheless obliged to accede to. Hospitality here is never given gratis, nor has anyone much shame of begging, for even our little friend and first acquaintance here, the boy on the chestnut mare, though his father is evidently a very rich man, spares no occasion of asking money, “for his bride,” he says. Gold is what he likes best.
April 3.—The Khan and his son rode with us for half a mile this morning, to see us started on our way to Dizful. He has given us two horsemen as he promised, so at least we have something for our money, and they seem respectable people. We had hardly ten miles to go, and the road, for there was a road, was in tolerable order, and the men helped us drive our camels according to such lights in camel driving as they possessed. At first, we made a circuit, so as to cross the canal at a place where there was an old stone bridge, and in so doing we passed not two miles from Shush, the ancient Susa. Wilfrid would have liked to visit the mound, but I was impatient to get on, and in fact there is nothing above-ground by all accounts to see. Then we travelled through a beautiful plain, bounded by the splendid line of the Bactiari mountains, still covered almost to their base with snow, a refreshing sight, for the sun was now very hot. At their foot, we could make out the town of Dizful, indistinctly at first, and then clearly, while all around us lay well-cultivated fields of waving corn just turning yellow. Here and there grew shady canora trees, and there were many rills of water. Now and then, too, a village shaped like a fortress, with a surrounding wall of sun-dried bricks, on the roofs of which storks had built their nests, and were clattering with their bills. In the fields, we heard francolins calling and quails; and the roadside was gay with flowers, red, blue, and yellow. Several times we stopped in the shade of a tree, and let the horses and camels graze on the crops, for so our horsemen insisted we should do, and there was no hurry. Travellers here are probably too scarce for grazing rules to be enforced against them. Nor did the peasants we met seem to mind. We were in Persia at last, and the country seemed very delightful.
At eleven o’clock, we came to a large village by the side of a broad shallow stream of transparent water, flowing over a bed of pebbles, and overhung by shady trees. A group of women were washing their clothes, and the road was full of country people on foot and donkey-back, crossing the ford. A pretty picture, such as we had hardly seen since we left Syria. This, and a second river which we passed presently, are called the Bellarú, and cover with their various branches nearly a mile of country. The water in them was cold enough to make a pleasant coolness in the air, coming like the Kerkha water from the snows. Then at two o’clock, we found ourselves close to Dizful, set picturesquely on the great river Diz, which is spanned by a fine old bridge of squared masonry, the work of ancient times. The town itself occupies some high ground beyond the river, that is to say on its left bank, but on this side, there is not a single house. The bridge is the main feature. It has twenty-one arches, some pointed, some round, with buttresses to break the stream. It is very much out of repair, there being one hole in it big enough for a camel to fall through. It would seem to belong in part to the age of the Persian monarchy, in part to that of the Caliphs, but I have not sufficient knowledge of architecture to feel sure about this.
In any case, here we are at Dizful, and once more under a settled government, with police and soldiers, and all the other blessings of civilisation at our call. We may be thankful that it is so.
CHAPTER IV.
“In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-house decree,
Where Alph the sacred river ran,
Through caverns measureless by man,
Down to a sunless sea.”