“I see. Did you find your way here from Sitt Zeynab alone?”
“Certain of the tribe brought my lord’s servant on his way for a part of the distance. After that he knew the road.”
“Good. Will you guide me to the spot where they left you?”
“God forbid! Would my lord have his servant betray his brethren?”
“But I don’t want to do your brethren any harm,” said Cyril impatiently. “I am not a Roumi. I am only anxious to make a treaty with them.”
“Nay, my lord, thy servant cannot reveal their secret. They have trusted him, and if he failed them they would blaspheme the religion of the Lord Jesus.”
“I can hand you over to the Roumis, and have you thrown into prison, if you refuse to answer me. Do you know this?”
“My lord must do as he will with his servant,” said the blind man.
“Oh, Count, he’s too plucky to be threatened,” said Mansfield indignantly. “Why not see if he will take a message back to his sheikh?”
“I have no intention of eating him,” returned Cyril. “Well, Yeshua ibn Ishak, will you find out your sheikh and tell him that I wish for a friendly meeting with the Princess? These two khawajas shall come with me, and we will bring one servant each, but no soldiers. I desire peace with the Beni Ismail, not war, and if he will bring me to Sitt Zeynab it will be for the good of all his tribe for ever.”