Kicking off my shoes at the great portal of porphyry, I was about to enter, when my eyes fell upon a stone above, whereon an Arabic inscription had been carved. Translated, it read as follows—
“The virtues of this sanctuary spread themselves abroad
Like the light of the morning, or the brilliancy of the stars.
O ye who are afflicted with great evils, he who will cure them for you
Is the son of science and profound nobility, ABDERRAHMAN.
745 of Hedjira.” (A.D. 1353.)
On entering, all seemed dark and desolate. At the far end of the spacious place a single lamp burned with dull, red glow, and as with bare feet I moved noiselessly over the priceless carpets, my eyes grew accustomed to the semi-obscurity, and I saw how magnificent was the architecture of the lofty interior. Three rows of horse-shoe arches, supported by curiously-hewn columns, divided it into three large halls, the roofs of which were of fine cedar, with wonderful designs and paintings still remaining. From the arches hung ostrich eggs in fringed nets of silk, the walls were covered with inscriptions and arabesques in wood and plaster, while marbles of divers colours formed a dado round the sanctuary, and the glare of fire outside sent bars of ruddy light, through the small kamarîyas, or windows, placed high up and ornamented with little pieces of coloured glass. Lamps of enamelled glass, of jasper, of wrought silver and beaten gold hung everywhere, and the niche, or mirhâb, indicating the direction of Mecca, before which a solitary worshipper had prostrated himself, was adorned with beautiful mosaics of marble, porphyry, and mother-of-pearl, with sculptured miniature arcades in high relief, framed with a border of good words from the Korân.
Astonished at the vast extent and imposing character of the building, I halted behind the mimbar, or pulpit of the imam, and, gazing round upon the dimly-lit but magnificent interior, awaited in silence the termination of the single worshipper’s prayer. At last, as he rose, slowly lifting his hands aloft in final supplication, I saw he was one of the hezzabin. As he turned, I advanced, addressing him, saying—
“May the peace of Allah, who taught the pen, rest upon thee, O Header of the Everlasting Will!”
“And upon thee peace amid the tumult!” he answered.
“I seek the Hadj Mohammed ben Ishak, director of the Faithful,” I said. “Canst thou direct me unto him?”
But even as I spoke, the reader of the Korân had detected by my dress that I was one of the hated devastating band, and poured upon me a torrent of reproach and abuse for daring to defile the mosque by my presence. Assuring him that I had the best intentions, and showing him the scrap of paper Zoraida had given me, whereon the imam’s name was inscribed, I at length appeased him.
“If thou desirest to convey unto the Hadj Mohammed the written message, I will take it,” he said reluctantly, at length convinced by the strenuous manner in which I urged the importance of my business with the head of the Mesállaje.
“I am charged to deliver it only into the hands of the imam himself,” I answered. “Wilt thou not lead me unto him, when I tell thee that the matter concerns the life of one who is his friend?”