Home
Fictions/Novels
Short Stories
Poems
Essays
Plays
Nonfictions
 
Authors
All Titles
 






In Association with Amazon.com

Home > Authors Index > George Manville Fenn > In the Mahdi's Grasp > This page

In the Mahdi's Grasp, a fiction by George Manville Fenn

Chapter 30. Wild Warriors

< Previous
Table of content
Next >
________________________________________________
_ CHAPTER THIRTY. WILD WARRIORS

Frank was puzzled for a few minutes; then he was convinced that the men he saw were prisoners taken in the previous night's encounter, for there was no doubt about their being members of a similar tribe. The manner, too, of his companion endorsed the idea, as he spoke to him eagerly and pointed at first one and then another with a scowl of hatred and contempt, one of the nearest, to whom a few angry words were spoken, turning upon him with a haughty look full of proud disdain and contempt, which made the young Emir clap his hand to his sword and draw it from its sheath, as he urged his horse forward as if to cut down the prisoner, whose hands were securely tied behind him.

The dervish, whose garments were stained with blood, did not so much as wince, but stood smiling at him with the same look of contempt, as if quite ready to meet his fate at the hands of his cowardly enemy, and in another minute the blow would have fallen, had not one of the mounted spectators shouted something which Frank, whose blood felt chilled, could not understand, and making his horse give a bound, interposed and laughingly warned the young chief back.

It was quite enough; the young man nodded, lowered his sword, and thrusting it into its sheath, rode back to Frank.

"And this is my new friend," thought the latter, as he strove hard to conceal the repugnance he felt by gazing straight before him; so that the change in his countenance passed unnoticed, the young Emir saying something merrily and laughing in a peculiar manner, as he gave his head a sidewise jerk in the direction of the prisoners.

"Why am I brought here?" said Frank to himself, "and what are they going to do to these unfortunate wretches?"

But he already knew, and a terrible feeling of dread made his heart contract as if it stood still; there was a strangling sensation at his throat which checked his breathing, and the crowd in the open space swam slowly round him, making him feel that in his giddiness he would the next minute fall off his horse.

Then his heart began to throb violently, and an intense desire attacked him to press the beautiful creature he rode with his heels and gallop right away so as to hide the scene from his eyes. But directly after the knowledge that he had so much at stake came in reaction, and he felt that happen what might he must sit there, not showing the slightest emotion, bearing everything, for no effort upon his part could alter the fate of prisoners taken in what was no doubt a revolt against superior authority, that authority being one of the most cruel and bloodthirsty rulers of a cruel and bloodthirsty race.

"It is inevitable," he thought, and the words he had said rose to his mind, as he felt and knew from all he had heard about the new Mahdi's followers that if the fight had gone otherwise on the previous night the Emir's people who were prisoners would have met with a similar fate.

"'All they that take the sword shall perish with the sword,'" he muttered, and then the power to stir seemed to have left him, as he sat cold and stony in his saddle to witness whatever might come.

He was not long left in doubt.

The prisoners were in three bodies, strongly guarded, each group by a couple of score or so of fierce-looking, well-armed men, some bearing round shields in one hand, three spears of different lengths in the other, while others wore swords only, hanging from a broad baldric, and looking with their cross hilts and long, straight blades very similar to those seen in illuminations and on effigies of the old crusaders, saving that the blade widened out a little towards the point, and narrowed again.

The prisoners were all fine-looking young men, fierce and savage of aspect, and doubtless accustomed to deal out slaughter, torture, and horrible cruelties amongst the conquered people of the Soudan; but to Frank as he sat there the idea of their being slain before his eyes in cold blood half maddened him, filling him with an intense desire to be one of a retributive army whose task it would be to sweep their conquerors from the land and back into the wild districts from which they had flocked in response to the hoisting of the Mahdi's standard of war with its promise of blood, treasure, and slaves.

"They are savages--savages," he muttered. "Why do such wretches cumber the earth?"

At that moment he felt the young Emir's hand upon his arm, and he started as if from some horrible nightmare to see the young man's smiling face before him, and followed the direction of his pointing hand.

For the horrible scene which he had been brought to see as a pleasant sight, was the execution of some of the men who had risen against the Emir and his friend.

It was a scene that, but for its truth and that it was but one of the many horrors of its kind which stained the domination of the Khalifa and his people, were better left unpenned--one of those which show the need for retributive justice and the strong hand of a power whose strength should at once crush down the vile rule of cruelty and crime against modern civilisation and peace.

For as Frank's eyes followed the pointing hand it was to see that the wholesale murder of the prisoners had begun, and that the preparations he had supposed to be scaffolding for some fresh buildings were but part of the horror he was to witness. Already ropes had been fastened round the necks of three of the miserable prisoners, who were drawn up hanging from a crossbeam; and as the crowds shouted in their triumph more and more were drawn up, till quite twenty were suspended, quivering for a brief time and then swinging slowly, becoming motionless and dead.

Fascinated and helpless, Frank gazed, till a loud shouting drew his eyes to another group nearer to him, and there, bound and kneeling, with a spear-armed man in front and a dozen more behind, were some thirty of those who were never to look again upon the glory of the fast-sinking sun.

But there was no struggling--no sign of resistance. The prisoners knelt bare-headed, their faces proud and calm, and for the most part silent, save where here and there one turned smiling to his companion to right or left, as if to say a few words of encouragement, though for the most part they gazed straight before them at their guards, and in imagination it seemed to the young Englishman that they were bidding their enemies see how brave men dared to die.

It was the hideous rule of the Mahdi and the sword, for as Frank looked, one who seemed to be an officer, in flowing white garments, rode forward from the young man's left, and, checking his horse close by the kneeling line, shouted an order.

In an instant the swords of the men behind the prisoners gleamed in the afternoon sunshine, they drew back the white sleeves from their dark arms, and one by one, and in nearly every case at a single blow, following what seemed like a lightning flash, head after head dropped upon the sand, and the quivering bodies fell forward amidst the triumphant shouts of the crowds around.

As the last head fell, the last body lay giving out the remnants of its life, Frank drew a hoarse breath of thankfulness and relief that all was over.

It was too soon, for his companion touched him again, to point to the right, where a fresh horror was about to begin, and after watching once more the riding forward of the officer, and hearing him shout his order, the young Englishman closed his eyes, with the sickening sensation coming back, as he asked himself whether it was not some frightful dream; and with this thought he opened his eyes again that he might be sure.

But it was too true, for there was another score of prisoners who were mercifully spared from death, but were to suffer the new Mahdi's judgment against them for revolt against the officers appointed by him to be his vice-gerents in the city while he was away.

The mercy meted out was that of the tiger, not of the man. For swords were busy, keen and trenchant blades hewing and hacking at the unfortunate wretches, till all was over, and those who might recover would pass to the end of their miserable days crippled and helpless, each with his right hand and left foot shorn from the limbs.

Frank sat there motionless, for the power of action was completely gone, and like one absolutely stunned and dead to mental and bodily feeling, he looked and looked till there arose a wild, wailing outburst which thrilled him to the core. It was as if the sound were two-edged, Frank feeling that it was not uttered by the prostrate, partially butchered prisoners, who lay as they had been thrown, giving forth no moan, not so much as watching, with agonised eyes, their life-blood trickling into the sand; the cry came from the trembling crowd of women and friends of the victims, who had been waiting till they might dare to run forward in a body to bear away husband or brother, and see if his life could be saved.

It was now that a spasm of energy and excitement shot through Frank, as he gazed for a few moments, and then thought of the Hakim and the need for his ministrations there.

He turned quickly to his companion, who seemed to be reading his thoughts, for he nodded, and together they touched the flanks of their horses and cantered and then galloped off the field of blood, eager to leave the quivering bodies and headless corpses far behind.

The young Emir was perfectly silent now, and Frank had ceased to suffer from the repugnance he felt, for he could only think of what he had seen, so that it seemed but a matter of minutes before they had reached the gateway of the Emir's palace, though a good half hour had passed away.

A minute later he had given the young Emir a quick nod, leaped from his horse, thrown the rein to one of the guards who followed him in, and run to their quarters at the garden end, where the camels were browsing contentedly and their keepers looking on, when, finding the rooms empty, the young man looked out.

Frank felt that the Hakim must be with the Emir's friend, and hurrying through the passages and intervening rooms, he found Morris with the professor, Sam, and the Sheikh near to an angareb, or bedstead, on to which the wounded man had been carefully lifted a few minutes before.

Better still for the young man's mission, the Emir himself was standing there as if he had been looking on, and he raised his head at the young Englishman's entrance and gave him a friendly smile.

It was very near. Frank almost betrayed himself by bursting out passionately with his news; but he recalled his position just in time, signed to the Hakim for his tablets, and in a few brief words wrote of the mutilated prisoners, and urged that the Hakim should ask for leave to try and save the sufferers' lives.

Seeing that something terrible was wrong, Morris leaned over his young companion's shoulder and read off the words he hastily wrote upon the china tablets he carried in a folding book.

Then, nodding gravely, he glanced at the Emir, who was gazing at him intently, and told the Sheikh to ask for permission to attend the prisoners.

The Emir's countenance became very stern and hard as he listened to the Sheikh's interpretation, and then replied--

"Tell the great Hakim that his mission is to heal the sick and wounded, and that I know his heart and that of his young black slave are as tender and compassionate as those of the angels of light. But I cannot do this thing. These men rose against the great Mahdi as well as against me and my friend whom you have saved. News of the revolt was sent to Khartoum in the night; the Mahdi's chief officer rode over here this day and gave the orders himself that these prisoners should die. He was there to order each punishment himself. The great Hakim asks me to let him save these men. If I send him there the Mahdi's officer will take back the news, and my head will fall. Does the great Hakim wish this, and can he give me back my life?"

The stern-looking chief smiled sadly as he spoke, and his eyes seemed to speak as the words were interpreted to the end.

"You hear, Ben Eddin?" said the Hakim gravely, and turning to the Emir he gravely bent his head in acceptance of his words, and the next minute those two had grasped hands. _

Read next: Chapter 31. A Ride For Life

Read previous: Chapter 29. Frank's Friend

Table of content of In the Mahdi's Grasp


GO TO TOP OF SCREEN

Post your review
Your review will be placed after the table of content of this book