Muslims -- Turkey -- Fiction; Turkey -- History -- Abdul Mejid, 1839-1861 -- Fiction
It was a gray dawn threatening rain. In silence they repaired to the
house which Milhem had occupied since the approach of winter. The great
man sat upon his bed to receive them.
“O Shems-ud-dìn, what is this?” he cried reproachfully. “Is it true thou
wilt abide in this wilderness worse than Jehennûm? Surely thou art mad.
There, at Istanbûl, thou art in the road to great honor. By Allah, I look
to see thee Sheykh-ul-Islâm. Whereas here—what awaits thee?... And canst
thou contemplate a lasting union with the daughter of a base fellâh—thou
who couldst make a grand alliance to enhance thy honor and mine? I
beseech thee, think not of it! If thou doest this through disgust of what
befell here yesterday, know that those men are rebels against the Sultàn.
They owe more than the worth of their horses to the government. And how
light their punishment! They are but asked to serve three years in the
army, like every faithful subject of his Majesty. By Allah, there is no
wrong done to them!... Say, was that the reason of thy mad resolve?...
The term of my appointment draws nigh, and it makes me sad to think of
leaving thee here in this lair of wild beasts.”
“I am content to be here,” said Shems-ud-dìn firmly. “Once have I sinned
in forsaking the path God showed me. I will not sin that sin a second
time.”
“But Allah pity! What can a man of thy wealth and attainments do in a
place like this? It is not a place one could beautify for a wonder and a
byword. I myself have had that dream: to change a desert to a paradise.
But what can a man like thee do here?”
“He can live in peace; he can teach the people; he can ply his trade in
the bazaar. As for my wealth, I have no need for all of it. When thou
regainest Istanbûl, sell all I possess, and take the half of the proceeds
to thyself, sending me the other half. I shall give thee letters to my
steward and also to the heads of the learned. Thy need is greater than
mine.”
“Allah, look! It is a child—a foolish child!” cried Milhem loudly; but
he was somewhat moved from opposition to his brother’s scheme. “Thou
talkest of peace. Remember yesterday. That is nothing—a trifle—a mere
beginning.... Peace forsooth! Nay, my soul fears grave danger for thee.”
“Fear not, O my lord!” said Hassan, who had all this while stood silent
by. “On my head be the danger. This, my good lord, thy brother, is not
one who can guard himself. He is not like thee, a devil! Thou hast said
it: he is a child—a little child, whose hand is in the hand of Allah.
The friendship of such an one is counted to a man for righteousness. By
Allah, I am glad he stays with us. His presence calls a blessing on us
all. But would to Allah he had chosen the daughter of my uncle. It would
not have been half so serious. As it is, we must swear peace with those
fellahìn forever and ever.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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