The Mira is virtually the Khalif of his millet; absolute both temporally and spiritually—a sort of combination of emperor and pope. No one dreams of questioning any order of his, or of breathing any complaint of him to the Government. The Mira can do no wrong. All his followers’ goods are at his disposal. If he claims a woman, she is yielded to him; if he kills a man, nobody objects. Nay, the very fact of the Mira having killed him confers on the victim such holiness that he becomes automatically secure of immediate admission to paradise; and under such desirable conditions who has any cause to object? The office of Mira is hereditary, as such offices are in this country; for the idea of sanctity running in families is common both among Christians and Kurds. Mar Shimun among the former, and the Sheikhs of Barzan and Neri among the latter, may be quoted as parallel cases; and the practice has at least a respectable precedent in the house of Aaron among the Jews.[59]
Ali Beg is dead since our visit. Dead, by what (for a Mira of the Yezidis) may be fairly described as “natural death;” for he was just “murdered by his successor” like any old Irish king. That the succession should be allowed to go out of the family would be a thing blasphemous to hint at; but that the rightful heir should seek to accelerate his accession is only a part of the game. It is a sporting game too; for if the adventurer fails, he dies himself by torture for sacrilege the most monstrous. But if he succeeds he is Mira, with all the Mira’s immunities. His predecessor is promoted to paradise, and he reigns absolute in his room.
Wherefore, as might well be expected, the Mira is wont[{109}] to take precautions; and keeps his potential successors rather studiously at arm’s length. But the heir (in this case his nephew)[60] had this time taken precautions also; and had escaped across the Russian frontier, there to watch and bide his time. In the summer which followed our visit he stole back again from his exile; and fortune favoured his enterprise, for the Mira fell by his hand. So now there is another Mira, the legitimate ruler of all the Yezidis; and no one will question his authority—until the end of his reign.
All unsuspicious of the coming tragedy we bade farewell to Ali Beg at the door of his diwan khana; having duly tasted of his hospitality, and assured each other of our mutual good will. One of his Leichtach escorted us to a point about a mile from the castle, and thence we soon gained the pathway by which we were to return to Mosul.
We finished this nefarious excursion by lodging in a Yezidi village; for the whole stage was rather too far to be accomplished in a single day. And the normal state of relations between “True Believers” and “Devil Worshippers” was disclosed to us rather instructively when we began inquiring for bread. Our host denied categorically that there was so much as a crumb in the village—until (with a good deal of trouble) we convinced him that we proposed to pay! Apparently it is quite unusual for anyone to pay anything to a Yezidi. It is a “work of supererogation” and consequently of the nature of sin. The sight of our money produced lots of things; but our sulky host was quite spoiled by it. He proceeded to take offence with us because we did not invite him to dine![61] Thus Yezidis would seem by nature to be as wicked as workhouse orphans, and no doubt a little barbarity is essential to keep them in hand.
The fruit of our three days’ transgression was revealed to us a little later, when we found that two of our followers (Moslems too, to make the crime more heinous) had been[{110}] obviously indulging in raki[62] to celebrate their return to Mosul. “It is all your fault Effendim” they pleaded when we began to scold them. “It was you who betrayed our innocence into the abode of Sheitan. And lo, this thing has befallen us. We have touched pitch and are defiled.[{111}]”
CHAPTER VI
THE SKIRTS OF THE MOUNTAINS (RABBAN HORMIZD, BAVIAN, AND AKRA)
ONE may go to Aleppo by train, and by carriage one may get on to Mosul; but he who would penetrate further must adopt more primitive means. Nothing that runs upon wheels can enter the Kurdistan highlands. And the “heir of all the ages,” travelling there in A.D. 1900, finds himself no better off than his forerunners of B.C. 1100, whose Great King recorded amazedly on slabs of imperishable granite the fact that “I, Tiglath-Pileser, was obliged to go on foot!”
Accordingly our Dramatis Personae had to be radically recast at Mosul. We were escorted by two fresh zaptiehs; our baggage was corded on pack mules; and for our own riding we had saddle horses—or perhaps more accurately ponies, for they stood about fourteen hands high.
Our attendants deserve a paragraph to themselves; for they are representatives of a nation which we have hitherto scarcely mentioned, but of whom in the remaining chapters we shall have a great deal to tell. Aziz and Yukhanan were Syrians who had come down from their mountain villages to await our arrival at Mosul. They were about twenty-five years of age, attired in the costume of the highlands, and imbued with true highland contempt for the dwellers in cities and plains. Outwardly there is little to distinguish them from the Kurds among whom they are domiciled; but the fact of their speaking a different language proves that they must ultimately be derived from a totally different stock; for Kurdish is akin to Persian, and is consequently an Aryan language; but Syriac is Semitic, and is the nearest[{112}] modern equivalent of that Aramaic which was spoken in Palestine during the lifetime of our Lord. Their own traditions aver (and in many cases their physiognomy affords strong support to the contention)[63] that they are the lineal descendants of the ancient Assyrians. Some will quite glibly assert that their family ancestor was Nebuchadnezzar; and if it be true (as the Welsh maintain) that blood feuds are a most valuable factor in ensuring the preservation of genealogies, then certainly these fellows have had every reason for keeping their pedigrees up to date.