Previous to this accident, whilst a prey to secret jealousy, his suspicions had fallen on the Mamelukes, and he had resolved within himself that he would make such an example of some of those who had been left behind, as should deter any one in future from similar attempts on his honour. His scheme was deep-laid, and not the gust of sudden passion. One day he told Selim Pasha, his seraskier, that he was resolved on an incursion into the province of the Drûzes, against the Emir Yusef. Disputes between El Gezzàr and his neighbours were too common to cause this order to excite any great surprise. Letters were accordingly written to the neighbouring governors secretly to hold themselves and their troops in readiness, and the place of meeting was to be at Khan Hasbéyah.
Selim Pasha assembled the Hawáry, the Arnaûts, and the Dellati troops; whilst El Gezzàr was employed in mustering his Mamelukes, giving some leave to go, ordering some to stay behind, according to the selection he had made in his own mind of the guilty from the innocent: and the khasnadár was among those who remained at Acre. Selim marched with his men, and arrived at Hasbéyah, where he encamped, as was agreed, to give time to the other chiefs to join him. Thus El Gezzàr had contrived, under pretext of a war, to get rid of all such as he thought likely to be troublesome to him in the execution of his bloody plan. For his Mamelukes, if together, formed a body of 400 youths, and were also much connected, by ties of intimacy and friendship, with most of the officers of the pasha’s troops: so that to attempt a signal revenge, when thus united, he considered too hazardous, and accordingly separated them by the above stratagem.
It was close upon the march of Selim that the accident of Zulyka’s nosegay occurred, and gave him a clue to begin his inquiries. No sooner had she, as above related, confessed to him her partiality for the khasnadár than, pretending to be satisfied, he rose from his seat, took his balta[60] with him, and walked into his garden. When there, he ordered Zulyka to be sent to him. She came; and the Pasha, no longer concealing his rage, furiously seized her by the hair and threw her on the ground: then placing his foot on her neck, and holding his balta as if he would strike her: “Wretch! tell me the truth,” he cried: “thou hast already confessed thyself guilty, and nothing but the denunciation of thy accomplices can save thee.” In vain she protested that she had no accomplices, was conscious of no guilt: he drew his sabre, and, with his own hand, severed her head from that bosom which in happier moments she had made the tyrant’s pillow! He commanded the corpse to be thrown into a well. It is related that three others, whose fidelity he most doubted, met with a similar fate at his hands: when fatigued, and aware how much more yet remained to be done, he sent for four Hawára soldiers, men naturally of a ferocious character, and, ordering fresh victims into his presence, bade them continue the work of death.
Quite unusual as it is for men even of a grave character, more especially soldiers, to enter the harým of a pasha, their summons caused much wonder among the Mamelukes in attendance in the seraglio. The cries of the women who had perished had already been heard: but the frequent use of the bastinado within made them at first pay little attention to such sounds. As they were busied in conjectures on what this proceeding could mean, a repetition of the cries was heard. These, uttered with all the vehemence of distress, suddenly ceased. They remained mute and listening:—again the piercing scream was heard, and again as suddenly was hushed: but the voice was different from the former.
Assembling round the harým door, they contrived to speak to one of the harým agasis. They induced him to come out, and then asked him what those cries meant. He pretended that there was nothing unusual going forward; but they were not to be deceived; and, by threats and promises, at last extracted the truth from him that the pasha was murdering his women. The Mamelukes heard no more. Conscious of a participation in their guilt, they looked at each other with appalled countenances, and the stoutest heart trembled for a moment. At last they took courage; and some of the most resolute, and perhaps the most culpable, spoke. They asked, “What is to be expected for us from a cruel and jealous disposition like El Gezzàr’s? we shall be the next victims; let us be true to each other, and either die together or save ourselves.” They immediately flew to their apartments, armed themselves, and prepared for resistance. We have seen that the khasnadár was one most implicated in this affair. As master of the treasury, he had his apartment in a tower, which formed part of the palace. This tower, for the sake of security, was more than commonly strong, with an iron door and iron grated windows, and it looked on the harým. To this building they betook themselves: they barred and blockaded the doors, and waited the event.
In the mean time, El Gezzàr, with his four executioners, was carrying on the horrid massacre, and fifteen young and beautiful creatures were murdered that night. When the slaughter was over, and the terror that prevailed within a little abated, some of his harým-agasis[61] took courage to tell him of the defection of his Mamelukes. He was furious: he sent to them immediately, and commanded them to quit the tower. Their reply was firm—“It is true we are your property; but you have imbrued your hands so deeply in human blood, and are so thirsty for ours, that our measures are irrevocably taken.” It so happened that the powder-magazine adjoined the treasury, and was a part of the tower. They added—“If you attempt to dislodge us from this place, we will fight as long as we can defend ourselves, and then will set fire to the powder-magazine, and signalize our end with the fall of El Gezzàr and the destruction of Acre; but if you will suffer us to depart unmolested, we will bid adieu to you and Acre for ever.” Frantic with rage, he fired on them with his own hand from the windows of his apartment; but was compelled to shelter himself, as they fired on him in return.
The news soon spread through the city: the extraordinary event of slaves in rebellion to their master, and the noise of musketry heard from within, with the various reports of a general extermination of the women in the harým: all was so full of horror, that the inhabitants retired trembling to their homes, and, shutting their doors, looked forward to the end with a mixture of curiosity and consternation. The segmàn bashi, or commander of the infantry, was the only military officer in the place: he thought it prudent to remain quiet, and the pasha did not call on him to act.
In the mean time, no one dared approach the pasha; he foamed and raged, and, in his fury, would listen to no reasoning. At length, the mufti and some others of the principal inhabitants resolved to enter his presence, cost what it might. “We will bring him to reason if we can, and if we cannot,” they said, “he must kill us.” They approached him, and began to intercede for the lives of the Mamelukes: they then spoke a little plainer, and told him he only endangered his own life and that of all the citizens by persisting in confining the Mamelukes to a place where one desperate act might blow them all to atoms. Finally, they begged him, for the honour of a pasha’s name and the odium it would bring upon him, to give the culprits a free passage. El Gezzàr seemed to yield: he said “He would not hinder their departure, provided they would only appear in his presence that he might reproach them with their ingratitude.” But the Mamelukes declined this dangerous proposition, and adhered to their resolution: so that the good counsel of the elders profited nothing, and probably left a rancour against themselves in the heart of the tyrant.
For three days, matters remained in this uncertain state. On the fourth, it was known that the Mamelukes, to the number of fifteen, had found means to escape, being those arrived at manhood, whilst the boys were left behind to their fate. Those who had got away bent their steps towards Khan Hasbéya, and, on the fifth day, in the morning, arrived at Selim Pasha’s tent. Great was the surprise that their appearance excited: the Mamelukes of the pasha, with their horses fatigued, with no corn, no customary pomp—all announced that something was not right. When the khasnadár reached his brother’s tent, he related to him what had happened; and, when he had brought his story to the period of their taking refuge in the tower, he continued—“Thus shut up, and seeing no movement among the soldiers or inhabitants in our favour, we thought it better to contrive some plan of escape. You know that window of the tower which opens on the ditch: you are aware, likewise, that the money chests deposited in the treasury are all bound with large cords: having, therefore, with our baltas and battleaxes worked out some of the iron bars, we made use of the ropes to let ourselves down. But first we ransacked the chests, and each loaded his pockets and girdle with as much money as he could take; then, one by one, we descended through the window: by the care of some well-wishers in the city, horses were waiting for us, and we found ourselves to be fifteen in number and outside of the walls. Here we sent defiance to the pasha, and told him he might now take us if he could.
Selim Pasha did not deliberate long on which side he should range himself. He was a Mameluke, and his brother was a leader of the fugitives: he therefore assembled all the principal officers of the camp, and addressed them thus—“You see here a body of men whom the jealousy of a cruel pasha would have sacrificed; but who is that pasha? A rebel to the Porte, driven out of Damascus, and a usurper of the government he holds. For myself,” said he, “you know the sultan some time since made me waly[62] of Sayda and its dependencies: to him I owe allegiance, and not to one who is denounced by him as a rebel. Let us then, in avenging the wrongs of these injured men, be faithful to our sovereign: let us—instead of wantonly attacking a prince, against whom we were not sent on the grounds of real aggression, but to remove us out of the way, in order that a tyrant might with more facility execute his bloody ends against our brethren—let us unite ourselves with this prince, and, marching against the monster, offer his head as a just tribute to the Porte.” His advice was received with acclamations. A horseman was despatched to Emir Yusef, who, when acquainted with the defection of the Mamelukes, immediately joined the league and aided it with money and troops. After some days, the allied forces marched to Sayda, and there they remained for a time to mature their plans.