Mohammed Ali and His House [159]
passes between the Mameluke bey, Osman Bardissi, and the Bedouin sheik, Arnhyn.
They speak in whispers; no one sees Arnhyn display his white teeth in his delight, nor sees the glad smile that suddenly lights up his countenance.
"A splendid scheme, master. By Allah! I would do it though you had not promised so rich a reward. I give you my word it shall be done as you direct. We will make Sarechsme Mohammed Ali harmless."
"You will start out at once?" said Bardissi.
"Immediately, master, for I must soon return," replied Arnhyn. "By sunrise you will come up with Youssouf, and I must be there with my ravens to gather the spoils. I will now fly to my tent; there near the Pyramids I shall meet my daughter Butheita, and she will arrange the rest.
You will find me at your tent by morning. If I am not there, Osman Bey Bardissi, you will know that the Bedouin sheik, Arnhyn, is no longer among the living, and that the sarechsme, Mohammed Ali, has been too shrewd for him."
BOOK. IV
THE VICEROY.
CHAPTER I
BUTHEITA.
On the green fields of Gheezeh, near the verge of the yellow desert, lies Mohammed Ali encamped with his forces. Five thousand brave soldiers, among them the Albanian corps, the best troops of the Turkish army, are under the command of the young sarechsme. In advance of him, Youssouf Bey is marching upon the Mamelukes with a corps of almost equal strength. According to the viceroy's instructions, Mohammed Ali is to wait and see if Youssouf Bey does not prove strong enough to vanquish the Mamelukes unaided; if this should prove to be the case, it would not be advisable to lead a splendid army corps into battle unnecessarily.
Mohammed Ali, however, well understood the secret meaning of the viceroy's instructions. Youssouf Bey is his lieutenant, his favorite, and his master is desirous that he alone shall reap the golden fruit of victory. If he is defeated, Mohammed is to march to Youssouf's assistance with all possible speed. The latter is a day's march in advance, and when his messengers reach Mohammed it will already be too late; the battle will have been lost and a new one will have to be fought with the elated victors. All this passes through Mohammed's mind as he sits there in the silence and solitude of the night. All are sleeping. The warriors lie scattered over the wide plain beside their horses, their hands on their swords. No tents have been pitched: what need of them, the night is warm; and on the morrow they are to be on the march again toward Damanhour?
For the sarechsme alone a tent had been pitched, which could be seen from far out on the desert on whose verge it stood. Any one bringing him a message would have found the white tent, surmounted by a dark- red flag, without any difficulty. As was customary, two sentinels stood in front of the general's tent. When all had gone to rest, Mohammed stepped out of his tent, and told the sentinels to lie down and go to sleep. What need of guards here in the midst of his faithful warriors? Let them all rest, for the morrow may be a day of great toil and fatigue. The sentinels thanked the sarechsme, and then lay down to sleep, their muskets at their side.
Mohammed returned to his tent, lay down on his mat, and, supporting his head on his hand was soon absorbed in thought. He lay there gazing out into the night, considering the viceroy's plans, and also considering whether it would be advisable to obey his instructions.
Youssouf Bey is to have all the glory of victory, but Mohammed is to share defeat with him. If Youssouf Bey is victorious, Mohammed must return to Cairo with his troops, and the former will have reaped all the honors of the campaign. But if Youssouf Bey is defeated, Mohammed will have to march to his assistance with all possible speed, and will, nevertheless, arrive too late, when the battle is already lost. Then a new battle will have to be fought, and the Mamelukes, elated with their success, will hurl themselves upon his forces, and probably rout them. Victory would then be merely possible at best, and
They speak in whispers; no one sees Arnhyn display his white teeth in his delight, nor sees the glad smile that suddenly lights up his countenance.
"A splendid scheme, master. By Allah! I would do it though you had not promised so rich a reward. I give you my word it shall be done as you direct. We will make Sarechsme Mohammed Ali harmless."
"You will start out at once?" said Bardissi.
"Immediately, master, for I must soon return," replied Arnhyn. "By sunrise you will come up with Youssouf, and I must be there with my ravens to gather the spoils. I will now fly to my tent; there near the Pyramids I shall meet my daughter Butheita, and she will arrange the rest.
You will find me at your tent by morning. If I am not there, Osman Bey Bardissi, you will know that the Bedouin sheik, Arnhyn, is no longer among the living, and that the sarechsme, Mohammed Ali, has been too shrewd for him."
BOOK. IV
THE VICEROY.
CHAPTER I
BUTHEITA.
On the green fields of Gheezeh, near the verge of the yellow desert, lies Mohammed Ali encamped with his forces. Five thousand brave soldiers, among them the Albanian corps, the best troops of the Turkish army, are under the command of the young sarechsme. In advance of him, Youssouf Bey is marching upon the Mamelukes with a corps of almost equal strength. According to the viceroy's instructions, Mohammed Ali is to wait and see if Youssouf Bey does not prove strong enough to vanquish the Mamelukes unaided; if this should prove to be the case, it would not be advisable to lead a splendid army corps into battle unnecessarily.
Mohammed Ali, however, well understood the secret meaning of the viceroy's instructions. Youssouf Bey is his lieutenant, his favorite, and his master is desirous that he alone shall reap the golden fruit of victory. If he is defeated, Mohammed is to march to Youssouf's assistance with all possible speed. The latter is a day's march in advance, and when his messengers reach Mohammed it will already be too late; the battle will have been lost and a new one will have to be fought with the elated victors. All this passes through Mohammed's mind as he sits there in the silence and solitude of the night. All are sleeping. The warriors lie scattered over the wide plain beside their horses, their hands on their swords. No tents have been pitched: what need of them, the night is warm; and on the morrow they are to be on the march again toward Damanhour?
For the sarechsme alone a tent had been pitched, which could be seen from far out on the desert on whose verge it stood. Any one bringing him a message would have found the white tent, surmounted by a dark- red flag, without any difficulty. As was customary, two sentinels stood in front of the general's tent. When all had gone to rest, Mohammed stepped out of his tent, and told the sentinels to lie down and go to sleep. What need of guards here in the midst of his faithful warriors? Let them all rest, for the morrow may be a day of great toil and fatigue. The sentinels thanked the sarechsme, and then lay down to sleep, their muskets at their side.
Mohammed returned to his tent, lay down on his mat, and, supporting his head on his hand was soon absorbed in thought. He lay there gazing out into the night, considering the viceroy's plans, and also considering whether it would be advisable to obey his instructions.
Youssouf Bey is to have all the glory of victory, but Mohammed is to share defeat with him. If Youssouf Bey is victorious, Mohammed must return to Cairo with his troops, and the former will have reaped all the honors of the campaign. But if Youssouf Bey is defeated, Mohammed will have to march to his assistance with all possible speed, and will, nevertheless, arrive too late, when the battle is already lost. Then a new battle will have to be fought, and the Mamelukes, elated with their success, will hurl themselves upon his forces, and probably rout them. Victory would then be merely possible at best, and