Muslims -- Turkey -- Fiction; Turkey -- History -- Abdul Mejid, 1839-1861 -- Fiction
At that there arose some whispered debate among the accused, as though to
adjust the preëminence. But soon a clear voice uttered:
“O Excellency, what can be said? I am an old man, and my life is of
small account. If one here must die, be mine the lot, and let all these
go free. It is the will of Allah, unto Allah praise! Is it not better
for a man to die being innocent than being guilty? For Allah is just
and compassionate; He will correct the balance. But thou, O my son,
consider, I beseech thee, how heinous thy sin is! Thy mind is bent,
not to minister justice, but to slay. Thou hast not even recited the
charge against me. The hand of the infidel is well seen in thy behavior.
A tempter grins at thy right ear. Beware, O judge, how thou pervert
judgment; for thyself shalt be judged and shalt wander blind at the Last
Day!”
Yûsuf did not look up nor cease from telling his beads. He said irritably:
“Shall the caitiff rebuke his judge? Smite his mouth some of you!... Let
a second now speak, and see that he be not insolent.”
This time a rougher voice, using the speech of the common soldiers with
an accent like the Turkish, declaimed:
“O most Excellent, I am a Circassian, chief of those who migrated to this
land years ago from the yoke of the Muscovite. The Sultàn Abdul Mejìd
named me Guardian of the Frontier by express firmàn. Great honor had we
in those days, I and my companions, both at Istanbûl the mighty and on
arrival in this land. Then men vied one with another in kindness toward
us. Power stood by us like a sworn brother. But to-day all is changed. No
man regards us any more. I have served the Sultàn faithfully at my post
these many years. I have swept back the Bedû from the borders of this
province, as one strikes the dust off a friend’s robe. I have furthered
every effort of the government. And for what reward? To be denied a few
rifles, a sufficiency of ammunition, by your garrison. To be treated
worse than you treat the beggar in your gates. To be haled before your
Grace this day upon a charge I comprehend not!
“Truly the faith of those in authority is but for a day, and their
obligation but as shifting sand. Let none deceive himself to think it
lasting, lest he stand as I stand now, ashamed in his old age.”
Overcome with emotion, the speaker paused; to resume shortly:
“What would be said of a man who thus used his servant? Now I care not
though we die, I and my companions, for death is not more bitter than
has been our undeceiving. We have sinned oft and grievously, and it
may be we deserve to die. But put to death the upright and illustrious
Shems-ud-dìn, that friend of all the learned, dear to Allah, and may all
thy bones rot painfully joint by joint! May all men spew at sight of
thee! May thy children——”
A mighty uproar drowned the curse. The whole court rose as one man. The
Câdi bounced to his feet, mouthing, gesticulating, a-tremble with rage
and terror.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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