They had been riding all afternoon through a beautiful and fertile valley, rich with fields of waving grain, tracts1 of vegetables, vineyards and orchards2, all tended by the Kendars, Brahoes and Melinos, for the warlike Baluchi were too dignified3 to till the soil. It was from this valley that the city of Mekran derived4 its main sustenance5 and support, and now, as they mounted a little eminence6, the city itself came into view—a huge, whitewashed7 stone wall above which peeped the roofs of many dwellings9, mosques11 and palaces.
“The palace of the khan,” said Kasam, “is near the center, beside the famous bubbling pools of Mekran. You may tell it by the high towers and minarets12. It is all built of marble and its gardens are more beautiful than any in Europe.”
“You may well be proud of this great city, which you are so soon to rule,” observed Bessie, instantly connecting the prince with the place of his nativity. “It is one of the prettiest sights I have ever seen.”
“We must make this an important depot13 for the new railway,” said the Colonel, with something like enthusiasm. “The whole world will come to see Mekran when the journey can be made in Pullmans.”
But as they drew nearer and the sun sank toward the horizon Mekran lost much of its beauty. The whitewash8 of the great wall was seen to be grimy and stained in many places, and the roofs above it showed considerable discoloration by the weather. It was an old city, and had long since lost the freshness of youth. Indeed, Allison took occasion to denounce, with some contempt, a place which seemed “nearly as filthy14 as the people of this beastly country themselves,” and Kasam flushed slightly with a realization15 that neither Mekran nor his people could be counted quite immaculate.
Beneath the setting sun, however, the spires16 and domes17 glowed golden red, and even the young engineer ceased reviling18 the place they had come so far from civilization to visit.
At dusk the caravan19 entered at the North Gate, and Kasam called attention to the thickness of the wall as they rode through, and to the picturesque20 watch-tower perched above the gate. Then, coming into the light of the inner city he gave a start of surprise, for lining21 the sides of the narrow street were solid ranks of Baluchi warriors22, both mounted and on foot, who stood so silently in their places that their presence was all unsuspected until the Prince came full upon them. Hesitating, he reigned24 in his horse, and at that moment the iron gates fell with a clang behind the last of his cavalcade25.
“You are going to have a reception, Prince,” remarked Dr. Warner, who rode near the guide.
Kasam muttered a curse and urged forward his horse. The Baluchi instantly closed their ranks, surrounding him with a solid phalanx.
“Welcome to Mekran, my lord,” said a voice, and Kasam turned to find the warrior23 he had rescued in the desert riding at his stirrup. There was no mistaking Dirrag. The fresh scratch upon his brow marked his seared face with a streak26 of livid red.
“His Highness the Khan has requested your presence at the palace,” continued the warrior, in respectful tones.
“Me?” asked the young man, startled.
“You are Prince Kasam, I believe.”
“Ah, I begin to understand. You have betrayed me as a fitting return for having saved your life. It was to be expected in a man of Ugg. But why does old Burah demand my presence? Am I a prisoner?”
“Burah Khan is in Paradise,” said Dirrag, gravely.
“Dead!... And his son?”
“Now rules as Ahmed Khan.”
Kasam’s bronzed features drew tense. He became silent.
As they turned a corner he noticed they had become detached from the others of his party and were now alone.
“Where are my companions?” he enquired27, with anxiety. “I am guiding a party of foreigners, who are strange to Mekran.”
“They will be safely cared for,” answered Dirrag, reassuringly28.
“And my Afghans?”
“They also. The Khan has provided for all.”
The answers were far from satisfactory, but Kasam had perils29 of his own to confront, and dismissed his American friends from his thoughts with the belief that the new khan would not care to interfere30 with their liberties.
His own case was far more embarrassing: for the moment, at least. The tidings of Burah’s death and his son’s succession to the sovereign office of Khan had struck him like a blow. It was only the evening of the sixth day, he reflected, and Agahr had not expected anything important to happen until the seventh day, at least. How in the world had Ahmed managed to reach Mekran from Takkatu so soon?
Then the truth flashed upon him, and he groaned31 aloud. The tall Baluch he had rescued from the men of Raab and escorted safely to the plains of Melin was none other than Prince Ahmed himself, and Kasam’s folly32 in interfering33 with his uncle Agahr’s plans had resulted in his own undoing34!
They were at the palace now.
Dirrag held Kasam’s horse while he dismounted and then escorted the young man into the courtyard and through several winding35 passages. Soon they came to a small chamber36, the entrance to which was guarded by the Arab slave Memendama, who allowed them to pass at a word from Dirrag. Here were more attendants and slaves, richly dressed in the crimson37, white and purple of the House of Ugg. Kasam looked uneasily upon the expressionless faces, and cast himself upon a divan38 to await the summons to the Khan’s presence. It came in a few brief moments, and Dirrag led the Prince through still another passage to a marble balcony, where two men were seated at a small table and a third stood at the carved rail looking into the gardens below.
Kasam glanced at the two who were seated and failed to recognize them. One was Merad, the Persian physician; the other the sirdar of the tribe of Ugg.
The man at the rail turned about, and Kasam knew him at once. He had been Dirrag’s companion in the desert.
“I am glad to welcome you, Prince Kasam,” said the khan, courteously39. “Pray be seated.”
He motioned toward a chair, but Kasam stood erect40.
“Tell me first,” said he, “whether I am to consider myself a guest or a prisoner.”
“Surely not a prisoner, my cousin. I may use that title, may I not, since we are related?”
“The relation is distant,” said the other, proudly. “I am of the Tribe of Raab, and for seven generations my ancestors ruled all Baluchistan.”
“So I understand,” returned the Khan, dryly. “They were also my ancestors, for the same royal blood flowed in the veins41 of Keedar Khan. But why should we speak of the past? Today, by the grace of Allah, I am myself ruler of Baluchistan.”
“By treachery and cunning, rather than Allah’s grace,” retorted the Prince, defiantly42. “Should right and justice prevail I would myself be sitting upon the throne of my forefathers43.”
“It is a matter of common knowledge,” answered Ahmed, quietly facing the other and looking calmly down from his superior height into the passionate44 face of the younger man, “that neither right nor justice entitled your forefathers to rule this land. It may comfort you, cousin, to look into the history of the Tribes, concerning which you seem to be somewhat misinformed. But it is not worth arguing at present. What interests us more keenly is the condition that confronts us. Through the sad ending of Burah Khan, whose body now lies in state in the Mosque10 of the Angels, I am suddenly called to the throne. Because of my inexperience in affairs of state I shall need, as councillors and advisors45, the assistance of all those to whom the welfare of Baluchistan is dear. Doubtless you love your country, Prince Kasam, and your European education will have given you broad and{138} intelligent ideas of modern government. Therefore I value your friendship. Will you become my vizier, and assist me to rule my people to their greatest good?”
Kasam was astounded46. The proposition, coming from one whom he had reason to consider his greatest foe47, was as unexpected as it was impossible. Moreover, it indicated a weakness of character and lack of sound judgment48 in the new ruler that both pleased and encouraged him. Ahmed was a big and burly fellow, it was true, but he seemed as gentle as a woman. Evidently a monastery49 training did not stimulate50 virility51 of mind.
Kasam thought rapidly during the few moments that he stood with downcast eyes before Ahmed Khan, and his conclusions
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CHAPTER IX THE SIXTH DAY
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CHAPTER XI CAPTURE OF DAVID THE JEW
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