Early on the morrow — so early that scarce had the Shehad been recited — came Biskaine-el-Borak to the Basha. He had just landed from a galley which had come upon a Spanish fishing boat, aboard of which there was a young Morisco who was being conducted over seas to Algiers. The news of which the fellow was the bearer was of such urgency that for twenty hours without intermission the slaves had toiled at the oars of Biskaine’s vessel — the capitana of his fleet — to bring her swiftly home.
The Morisco had a cousin — a New–Christian like himself, and like himself, it would appear, still a Muslim at heart — who was employed in the Spanish treasury at Malaga. This man had knowledge that a galley was fitting out for sea to convey to Naples the gold destined for the pay of the Spanish troops in garrison there. Through parsimony this treasure-galley was to be afforded no escort, but was under orders to hug the coast of Europe, where she should be safe from all piratical surprise. It was judged that she would be ready to put to sea in a week, and the Morisco had set out at once to bring word of it to his Algerine brethren that they might intercept and capture her.
Asad thanked the young Morisco for his news, bade him be housed and cared for, and promised him a handsome share of the plunder should the treasure-galley be captured. That done he sent for Sakr-el-Bahr, whilst Marzak, who had been present at the interview, went with the tale of it to his mother, and beheld her fling into a passion when he added that it was Sakr-el-Bahr had been summoned that he might be entrusted with this fresh expedition, thus proving that all her crafty innuendoes and insistent warnings had been so much wasted labour.
With Marzak following at her heels, she swept like a fury into the darkened room where Asad took his ease.
“What is this I hear, O my lord?” she cried, in tone and manner more the European shrew than the submissive Eastern slave. “Is Sakr-el-Bahr to go upon this expedition against the treasure-galley of Spain?”
Reclining on his divan he looked her up and down with a languid eye. “Dost know of any better fitted to succeed?” quoth he.
“I know of one whom it is my lord’s duty to prefer to that foreign adventurer. One who is entirely faithful and entirely to be trusted. One who does not attempt to retain for himself a portion of the booty garnered in the name of Islam.”
“Bah!” said Asad. “Wilt thou talk forever of those two slaves? And who may be this paragon of thine?”
“Marzak,” she answered fiercely, flinging out an arm to drag forward her son. “Is he to waste his youth here in softness and idleness? But yesternight that ribald mocked him with his lack of scars. Shall he take scars in the orchard of the Kasbah here? Is he to be content with those that come from the scratch of a bramble, or is he to learn to be a fighter and leader of the Children of the Faith that himself he may follow in the path his father trod?”
“Whether he so follows,” said Asad, “is as the Sultan of Istambul, the Sublime Portal, shall decree. We are but his vicegerents here.”
“But shall the Grand Sultan appoint him to succeed thee if thou hast not equipped him so to do? I cry shame on thee, O father of Marzakl, for that thou art lacking in due pride in thine own son.”
“May Allah give me patience with thee! Have I not said that he is still over young.”
“At his age thyself thou wert upon the seas, serving with the great Ochiali.”
“At his age I was, by the favour of Allah, taller and stronger than is he. I cherish him too dearly to let him go forth and perchance be lost to me before his strength is full grown.”
“Look at him,” she commanded. “He is a man, Asad, and such a son as another might take pride in. Is it not time he girt a scimitar about his waist and trod the poop of one of thy galleys?”
“Indeed, indeed, O my father!” begged Marzak himself.
“What?” barked the old Moor. “And is it so? And wouldst thou go forth then against the Spaniard? What knowledge hast thou that shall equip thee for such a task?”
“What can his knowledge be since his father has never been concerned to school him?” returned Fenzileh. “Dost thou sneer at shortcomings that are the natural fruits of thine own omissions?”
“I will be patient with thee,” said Asad, showing every sign of losing patience. “I will ask thee only if in thy judgment he is in case to win a victory for Islam? Answer me straightly now.”
“Straightly I answer thee that he is not. And, as straightly, I tell thee that it is full time he were. Thy duty is to let him go upon this expedition that he may learn the trade that lies before him.”
Asad considered a moment. Then: “Be it so,” he answered slowly. “Shalt set forth, then, with Sakr-el-Bahr, my son.”
“With Sakr-el-Bahr?” cried Fenzilch aghast.
“I could find him no better preceptor.”
“Shall thy son go forth as the servant of another?”
“As the pupil,” Asad amended. “What else?”
“Were I a man, O fountain of my soul,” said she, “and had I a son, none but myself should be his preceptor. I should so mould and fashion him that he should be another me. That, O my dear lord, is thy duty to Marzak. Entrust not his training to another and to one whom despite thy love for him I cannot trust. Go forth thyself upon this expedition with Marzak here for thy kayia.”
Asad frowned. “I grow too old,” he said. “I have not been upon the seas these two years past. Who can say that I may not have lost the art of victory. No, no.” He shook his head, and his face grew overcast and softened by wistfulness. “Sakr-el-Bahr commands this time, and if Marzak goes, he goes with him.”
“My lord. . . . ” she began, then checked. A Nubian had entered to announce that Sakr-el-Bahr was come and was awaiting the orders of his lord in the courtyard. Asad rose instantly and for all that Fenzileh, greatly daring as ever, would still have detained him, he shook her off impatiently, and went out.
She watched his departure with anger in those dark lovely eyes of hers, an anger that went near to filming them in tears, and after he had passed out into the glaring sunshine beyond the door, a silence dwelt in the cool darkened chamber — a silence disturbed only by distant trills of silvery laughter from the lesser women of the Basha’s house. The sound jarred her taut nerves. She moved with an oath and beat her hands together. To answer her came a negress, lithe and muscular as a wrestler and naked to the waist; the slave ring in her ear was of massive gold.
“Bid them make an end of that screeching,” she snapped to vent some of her fierce petulance. “Tell them I will have the rods to them if they again disturb me.”
The negress went out, and silence followed, for those other lesser ladies of the Basha’s hareem were more obedient to the commands of Fenzileh than to those of the Basha himself.
Then she drew her son to the fretted lattice commanding the courtyard, a screen from behind which they could see and hear all that passed out yonder. Asad was speaking, informing Sakr-el-Bahr of what he had learnt, and what there was to do.
“How soon canst thou put to sea again?” he ended
“As soon as the service of Allah and thyself require,” was the prompt answer.
“It is well, my son.” Asad laid a hand, affectionately upon the corsair’s shoulder, entirely conquered by this readiness. “Best set out at sunrise to-morrow. Thou’lt need so long to make thee ready for the sea.”
“Then by thy leave I go forthwith to give orders to prepare,” replied Sakr-el-Bahr, for all that he was a little troubled in his mind by this need to depart again so soon.
“What galleys shalt thou take?”
“To capture one galley of Spain? My own galeasse, no more; she will be full equal to such an enterprise, and I shall be the better able, then, to lurk and take cover — a thing which might well prove impossible with a fleet.”
“Ay — thou art wise in thy daring,” Asad approved him. “May Allah prosper thee upon the voyage.”
“Have I thy leave to go?”
“A moment yet. There is my son Marzak. He is approaching manhood, and it is time he entered the service of Allah and the State. It is my desire that he sail as thy lieutenant on this voyage, and that thou be his preceptor even as I was thine of old.”
Now here was something that pleased Sakr-el-Bahr as little as it pleased Marzak. Knowing the bitter enmity borne him by the son of Fenzileh he had every cause to fear trouble if this project of Asad’s were realized.
“As I was thine of old!” he answered with crafty wistfulness. “Wilt thou not put to sea with us to-morrow, O Asad? There is none like thee in all Islam, and what a joy were it not to stand beside thee on the prow as of old when we grapple with the Spaniard.”
Asad considered him. “Dost thou, too, urge this?” quoth he.
“Have others urged it?” The man’s sharp wits, rendered still sharper by his sufferings, were cutting deeply and swiftly into this matter. “They did well, but none could have urged it more fervently than I, for none knows so well as I the joy of battle against the infidel under thy command and the glory of prevailing in thy sight. Come, then, my lord, upon this enterprise, and be thyself thine own son’s preceptor since ’tis the highest honour thou canst bestow upon him.”
Thoughtfully Asad stroked his long white beard, his eagle eyes growing narrow. “Thou temptest me, by Allah!”
“Let me do more. . . . ”
“Nay, more thou canst not. I am old and worn, and I am needed here. Shall an old lion hunt a young gazelle? Peace, peace! The sun has set upon my fighting day. Let the brood of fighters I have raised up keep that which my arm conquered and maintain my name and the glory of the Faith upon the seas.” He leaned upon Sakr-el-Bahr’s shoulder and sighed, his eyes wistfully dreamy. “It were a fond adventure in good truth. But no . . . I am resol............