“There is your gift.” (P. [280].)
“‘Perhaps she was the witch who made the weather fine and left behind her this scent of roses and carnations?’ I asked jokingly. ‘She might have given him something better than a silver whistle, a purse of gold or a fine horse would have been more acceptable.’ Your mother begged me not to make fun, as fairies are easily offended and their blessings then turn to curses.
“So to please her I said no more; but six years later she mentioned it to me again, for in spite of her youth she felt that she was at the point of death. She gave me the whistle and told me to give it to you when you were twenty years of age, and on no account to let you out of my sight before you were that age. There is your gift,” proceeded Benezar, taking a silver whistle attached to a long gold chain from a casket, “I give it to you in your eighteenth year, instead of your twentieth, as you are starting on your travels, and before you return I may be gathered to my fathers.”
“I do not see any reason for your remaining another two years with me as your mother wished, for you are a good, sensible young fellow, and understand how to handle weapons as well as though you were four-and-twenty years old at least, and therefore there is no reason why you should not be declared of age to-day as though you really were twenty. And now depart in peace, and in happiness or misfortune, from which Heaven defend you, remember your father.”
Said took an affectionate and touching farewell of his father, hung the chain around his neck, stuck the whistle in his girdle, swung himself upon his horse, and rode to the place from which the caravan for Mecca started. In a short time eighty camels and a large number of riders had assembled; the caravan was in motion, and Said rode out of the gates of Balsora, his native town, which he was not to see again for a long time.
The novelty of the journey and the different circumstances in which he found himself distracted his thoughts at first, but when they approached the desert and the surroundings became more desolate and barren, he had time to think of many things, especially his father’s last words to him.
He took out his whistle, looked at it and placed it between his lips, to judge if it had a good tone. But it gave forth no tones at all, although he blew until he nearly cracked his cheeks. Annoyed at the useless gift he had received, he tucked the whistle carelessly away again. But presently his thoughts turned to his mother’s mysterious words. He had often heard of fairies, but he had never been able to ascertain that any of their neighbours in Balsora had any connection whatever with supernatural beings; the stories he had heard had always had their foundation in foreign lands and in olden times, and so he thought that fairies and such-like apparitions had ceased to visit mankind or to take an interest in their destinies. But in spite of this he could not help thinking that something very strange had happened to his mother and he racked his brains to think what it could all mean, and thus it happened that he was so wrapped in his own thoughts that he rode all day long without taking notice of the other travellers, who sang and laughed as they journeyed on.
Said was a handsome young man with bright, fearless eyes, a sweet, good-natured mouth, and, although so young, he had a very dignified bearing. The stately manner in which he rode his horse, fully equipped as he was in warlike attire, drew the attention of many of the travellers upon him. One old man who rode beside him was so well pleased with him that he endeavoured by drawing him into conversation to find out if his character fitted his appearance, and Said, who had been brought up to reverence age, answered politely and modestly, but withal so cleverly and prudently, that the old man was delighted with him. But as Said’s whole mind was concentrated on one subject it was not long before he led up to it in conversation, and he asked the old man if he believed in fairies and such-like spirits and whether he considered they were able to have any influence over the lives of men.
The old man stroked his beard and shook his head slowly. “I have frequently heard of such visions,” he said, “but I cannot say that I have personally encountered any supernatural creature whatever; at the same time I have heard of numberless cases of fairies and genii appearing to others.” He then began to recount to Said a number of such extraordinary stories that at last the young man’s head was in a whirl, and he could not but believe that the strange circumstances that were supposed to have taken place at his birth were actually true, and that he was under the protection of some powerful fairy who would assist him if ever, finding himself in danger, he blew the little silver whistle. He dreamt that night of fairies, genii, castles in the air, and magic horses.