“What is their peculiar wickedness?” asked Cyril.
Mahmud Fadil shrugged his shoulders. “They are simply an Arab tribe who inhabit a tract of desert of which almost nothing is known, and who make themselves rather more disagreeable than the rest. Of course they have never paid any tribute—though our treasury officials devised a pleasing fiction that the arrears had been accumulating for centuries. It was practically a case of our paying tribute to them. When the usual presents were not forthcoming, it was not long before we heard that the Beni Ismail had robbed a caravan or two. It was no use sending soldiers after them, for they knew the desert and we did not, so we lay low and said nothing.” He glanced smilingly at Mr Hicks, as he made the quotation in English. “Two years ago there was a famine, and I suppose caravans became scarce. At any rate, the Beni Ismail were foolish enough to wander close to the city in search of food, and the Vali saw his opportunity. He drew a cordon of troops round their encampment, and arrested them for non-payment of their taxes. We had very nearly the whole tribe in our hands, and it was intended to deport them to some other part of the country, where they would be absolutely at the mercy of the Government. But, somehow or other, they managed to pay up, though I will do the Vali the justice to say that he did not diminish the sum he had named by a single piastre. This tardy virtue was all very well; but he had no intention of leaving the tribe at liberty to begin their old game again, and the preparations for removing them were going forward, when—of all people—the Pannonian Ambassador at Czarigrad took up the affair. It was said that the Empress of Pannonia was interesting herself in the creatures, though why she should I don’t know, but we were obliged to let them go, on the understanding that the taxes should be paid in future, and the attacks on caravans cease. Wonderful to relate, they have kept their promise, thanks, I suppose, to their Queen, whom no one had ever heard of before they got into trouble. It seems that she holds her Court at some spot in the desert that the Arabs call Sitt Zeynab. She had been wise enough to keep out of our reach, and we restored her subjects to her.”
“Do you mean that the lady’s existence had been absolutely unsuspected?” asked Cyril.
“Absolutely. It was supposed that the tribe were ashamed to confess they were ruled by a woman, or perhaps afraid that we should make a bold dash and secure her as a hostage. I believe the idea of appealing to the Empress was hers, though it is a mystery why she should hit upon Pannonia as the friend in need.”
“But has no one from Damascus ever seen her?”
“No one. Moreover, I have questioned different members of the tribe, when they came to bring their tribute, since that time, and I think very few of them have seen her either. I have been assured by one man that she is ineffably old and practises magic, and by the next that she is a perfect houri in youth and beauty. The most credible thing I have heard is that she is always wrapped in a white sheet, like the Druse ladies, that she is attended only by women, and that no one has ever seen her face. The tribe speak of her as the Great Princess, and her word is law. She is a splendid horse-woman, and she lives in a haunted palace, and both these things impress them very much.”
“Is that so, sir?” said Mr Hicks. “And why do you expect this interesting female to come to blows with his Excellency, if I may ask?”
Mahmud Fadil laughed. “I am afraid we are to blame for that. When the last tribute came in, the Vali told the messengers that they might think themselves independent if they liked, but let them wait until the Prince of the Jews came, and see what all the Emperors in Europe could do for them then! They asked innumerable questions, and got all the information of the same kind we could give them, and retired to tell their Princess, saying that she would know what to do.”
“I think this will involve a visit to her Highness as soon as we have had two or three days’ rest and a look at Lebanon,” said Cyril.
“I hardly think you will get as far as Sitt Zeynab,” laughed the aide-de-camp. “No one has ever yet reached it from Damascus, though many have tried, some out of curiosity, and some for other reasons. The Beni Ismail alone among the Arabs know the way, and they will never take any one there. Once or twice we have caught one of the tribe off his guard, and forced him to take charge of an exploring party, but the explorers have always returned unsuccessful and without their guide, after wandering very uncomfortably in the desert for a few days. It is difficult to see how the place can be reached. We have offered a reward to the Beni Ayub, a rival tribe, if they will find out the way to it, but whenever the Beni Ismail discover trespassers in their country, they cut their trespassing severely short. The town does not seem to have been visited by any traveller, and the other Arabs cannot even say how long the Queen has reigned.”