“How thinkest thou that a Roumi can understand our symbols of the serpents? Even if he were the mysterious eavesdropper, what could he have gathered with regard to our brotherhood?” she asked, adding, “It seemeth thou art determined to take his life, so thou formulatest unfounded charges against him!”
“Bah! he is thy lover,” the sinister-faced old brigand observed, with a sneer. “In thine eyes he is no doubt innocent.”
“I acknowledge that upon mine own head should be the punishment for the evils that have befallen our people. Yet, nevertheless, I declare unto thee—”
“If thou lovest a dog of an Infidel,” cried Hadj Absalam, interrupting, “thou art no longer worthy our confidence.” Then, turning to those about him, he asked, “Do I give utterance to thy thoughts?”
“Yes. Thy words are words of wisdom, O Ruler,” they answered with one voice.
Releasing my hand, she raised her alabaster-like arm towards the chief of the outlaws, exclaiming in a loud voice, “If the Ennitra have no longer confidence in me, I will to-night sever the bond that bindeth me to them. Into battle have I led thy people many times, against Infidel and the enemy of our own race alike, and thou hast vanquished thy foes, and compelled them to bite the dust. Against thee have the legions of France been arrayed, yet powerless, and at this moment, thou, Hadj Absalam, art the mighty Sultan of the Sahara, the ruler whose power causeth all men to tremble, from Ghat even unto far Timbuktu. To-day thou hast advanced to this spot hopeful and confident, prepared to wage a war that must be bloody and deadly; but as thou hast lost faith in thy Daughter of the Sun, I shall leave thee to thine own devices. If thou killest the man I love, I shall depart. We twain are in thine hands.”
“Canst thou not, O Ruler, kill the false Prophetess too?” suggested a voice from behind. I recognised the tones as those of Labakan!
“If thou takest my life, thou too wilt fall within one moon under the fiery scimitar of Azraïl, even though each man hath the strength of Jalût and the courage of Al-Jassâsa,” she exclaimed, with the calm dignity of a queen.
The men jeered at her prophetic utterances, but she looked at them with withering scorn, and heeded them not. For my life she was striving, and cared for naught else. Her beauty intoxicated me, and I stood, even in those critical moments, entranced, as I had before been, by her extraordinary loveliness.
“Al-Sijil hath registered thy deeds,” she continued, casting calm, imperious looks at the brigandish band about her. “If thou committest the crime of shedding the blood of those who possess the power by which thou existest as the most powerful people of the Desert, thou wilt assuredly never lave in the stream Zenjebil.”