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  4. The Hadj

  As soon as possible, which was as soon as their own riding camelscould be brought from wherever they had been hidden, the Moslem soldiersmounted and prepared to set out. On the point of mounting Ben Akbar, Aliwas knocked to the ground by the flat of the fierce officer's sword andinformed in terms that left no room for doubt that he was Ben Akbar'sattendant. Nobody except the Pasha of Damascus was to be his rider.

  Despite clear grounds for argument, Ali smothered his anger andcomforted himself with logic. There are times to fight, but on thisspecific occasion logic indicated clearly that one man armed with adagger can hope for nothing except a very certain demise by defyingtwenty men who are armed with everything. Ali walked beside the _dalul_,a rather simple process, since the speed of all must necessarily beregulated by the pace of the slow baggage camels, and Ben Akbar refusedto leave his friend's side, anyhow.

  With nightfall, they made camp at a water hole too small to be dignifiedby the title of oasis. After he had finished eating, the officercontemptuously tossed Ali the remains of his meal and a silken cord. Hesaid nothing, apparently he had no desire to degrade himself by speakingunnecessarily to anyone who was so clearly and so greatly his inferior,but the implication was obvious. Ben Akbar must not stray.

  Knowing the cord was unnecessary, Ali chose the diplomatic course. Hetied one end of the cord to his wrist and the other around the young_dalul's_ neck. While Ben Akbar grazed, Ali sat quietly and devoted afew fleeting thoughts to the various possibilities of a social positionthat is approximately on a level with the fleas that torment camels--andsometimes riders of camels.

  While it was true that the soldiers, grouped about their evening fire,ignored him as completely as though he didn't even exist, Ali saw nogood reason why he should ignore them in a similar fashion. He breatheda silent thanks to Allah for blessing him with sharp ears. What thoseears heard as Ali sat pretending to doze, but alert as a desert fox,might have a powerful influence on his plans for the future.

  There were diverse possibilities. One that had already been consideredmost thoroughly and at great length was rooted in the pleasing thoughtthat Ben Akbar was no longer a tired, hungry and thirsty _dalul_. Givenas much as a five-second start, there wasn't another camel on the desertthat could even hope to catch him.

  If this was to be Ali's choice, tonight was the time for action. Butbefore committing himself to anything, he wanted to consider everything.

  The patrol, as Ali had learned from the conversation at the campfire,was one of several dispatched from the great _Hadj_ six days ago. Theironly purpose was to find Ben Akbar; their orders were not to returnwithout him.

  Ben Akbar had been lost, so Ali learned, through the laxity of aseven-times-cursed camel driver from Smyrna. His only duty, a task towhich he'd been assigned because he was one of the very few men BenAkbar would obey, was to watch over the Pasha's most-prized _dalul_.Somehow or other--a soldier voiced the opinion that he'd been incollusion with the very Druse from whom Ali had taken him--he'd managedto lose his charge. All the soldiers gave fervent thanks to Allahbecause their mission was successfully completed. Hunting lost camelswas not their idea of interesting diversion.

  Ali digested the food for thought thus provided and decided, to his ownsatisfaction, that his previous deduction had been entirely correct. Hehad not been spared because the Moslem soldiers were compassionate, butbecause not one among them knew how to handle Ben Akbar without resortingto force. Furthermore, if Ben Akbar were not greatly esteemed, severalpatrols of soldiers who might at any time be needed for other dutiesnever would have been charged with the exclusive task of recovering him.

  While Ben Akbar moved so carefully that the silken cord was never eventaut, Ali lay back to gaze at the sky and consider the most profitableuse of the information at his disposal.

  If he rode into the desert on Ben Akbar, a possibility that retainedmuch appeal, he need have no fear of successful pursuit. However, thePasha's soldiers would certainly continue their search. As long as BenAkbar was with him--and Ali had already decided that that would be aslong as he lived--he must inevitably be a marked man. Unless he rodeinto a country ruled by some sultan or Pasha who was hostile to thePasha of Damascus--in which event there was a fine chance of having histhroat cut by someone who wanted to steal Ben Akbar--he would lead aharassed and harried life.

  On the other hand, if he stayed with the soldiers and went into camp, he'dbe doing exactly what he'd set out to do in the first place--he'd join thegreat _Hadj_. As there seemed to be few camel drivers who knew how tohandle Ben Akbar, there was more than a good chance that Ali would makethe pilgrimage as his attendant. Since he'd already determined that BenAkbar would be a part of his future, regardless of what that was or whereit led him, this prospect was entrancing. In addition, once his holypilgrimage was properly completed, he would be entitled to call himselfHadji Ali and to take advantage of the expanded horizon derived therefrom.

  Only one small cloud of doubt prevented Ali from choosing this lattercourse without further hesitation or thought. The Moslem officer's voicehad been laden with more than casual respect when he referred to Al Misri,or The Egyptian. The casual pronouncement that The Egyptian was to havethe pleasure of executing Ali might be, and probably was, just anotherattempt to intimidate him. But this was the Syrian _Hadj_. As such, itdiffered distinctly from the Moslem pilgrimage that originated in anddeparted from Cairo, Egypt. Every Syrian knew that Egyptians are inferior.The very fact that a responsible and high-ranking officer of the Syrian_Hadj_ possessed the sheer brazen effrontery to call himself The Egyptian,plus the strength and authority to command respect for such a title, wasmore than enough to mark him as a man apart. Doubtless he was a man offirm convictions that were translated into action without loss of time. Ifhe had, or if he should develop, a firm conviction that Ali dead was morepleasing than Ali alive--

  Ali finally decided to go in with the soldiers and trust Allah. Hisdecision made, he lay down, arranged his burnous to suit him and wentpeacefully to sleep.

  In the thin, cold light of very early morning, he came awake and, asusual, lay quietly before moving. The silken cord that was tied to hiswrist and Ben Akbar's neck was both slack and motionless; the _dalul_must be resting. The dagger and pilgrim's robe were safe. Reassuredconcerning the state of his personal world and possessions of themoment, Ali sat up and looked toward Ben Akbar.

  No more than a dozen feet away, the young _dalul_ was standing quietlywhere he had finished grazing. An ecstatic glow lighted Ali's eyes. BenAkbar's recuperative powers must be as marvelous as his speed andendurance. He scarcely seemed to be the same spent and reeling beastthat Ali had led into ambush yesterday morning. After only one night'srest and grazing, even his hump was noticeably bigger.

  Ali joined the other Moslems at morning prayer, stood humbly aside asthey saddled and mounted and started the baggage camels moving and fellin behind with Ben Akbar. Nobody paid the least attention to him; if heplanned to escape, he would not be fool enough to make the attempt byday.

  Four hours later, the travelers looked from a hillock upon the great_Hadj_.

  A sea of tents, like rippling waves, overflowed and seemed about tooverwhelm a broad valley. There were no palms or any other indication ofwater. Obviously, this was a dry camp--one of many on the long, dangerousroute--and dry camps were the primary reason why so many baggage camelswere needed. But even with thousands of baggage camels burdened with foodand water, often there was not enough. Falling in that order to thirst,bandits, disease or hunger--or succumbing to the desert itself--a fullthird of the pilgrims with any _Hadj_ might die before reaching the HolyCity.

  Save for a few tethered camels and some horses, there were no animals insight. Ali knew that the majority had been given over to herders andwere in various pastures. The picketed camels and horses were for theconvenience of those who might find it necessary to ride.

  For the most part, the camp would rest all day. Only when late afternoonshadows tempered the g
laring sun would it come awake. Then, guided byblazing torches on either flank, at the mile-or mile-and-a-half-an-hourwhich was the swiftest pace so many baggage animals could maintain, itwould march toward Mecca all night long.

  Impressive as the camp appeared, Ali knew also that it was just a smallpart--though one of the wealthier parts or there would not have been somany tents--of the great _Hadj_. There was not a single valley in theentire desert spacious enough to accommodate the five thousand humans,and the more than twenty thousand beasts, whose destination was the HolyCity of Mecca.

  After a brief halt, the officer led his men down into the camp. Therewere few humans stirring, and those who were regarded the returningpatrol with complete indifference.

  In the very center of the camp, before a huge and luxurious tent that,together with its furnishings, must require a whole herd of baggagecamels just to transport it, the officer dismounted, handed the reins ofhis riding camel to a soldier and entered the tent. The remainder of thepatrol formed an armed circle around Ali and Ben Akbar.

  Wishing he could feel as unconcerned as he hoped he appeared, Ali soughtto ease the tension by observing and speculating. This tent, hepresently decided, was not headquarters for the Pasha himself. Thoughthe Pasha's tent couldn't possibly be much more luxurious, it would besurrounded by the camps of other dignitaries, and the whole would be sowell-guarded by soldiers that nobody could have come even near. Aliguessed that this was the headquarters of Al Misri, and that they werein a camp of officers and lesser notables.

  Twenty minutes after he entered the tent--Ali guessed shrewdly that hehad been allowed to cool his heels for a decorous interval--the officerbacked out. He bowed, a curious and somehow a ludicrous gesture for anyoneso fiery, and held the tent flaps open. When a second man emerged, theofficer stepped humbly to one side and waited whatever action the othermight consider.

  Short and squat, at first glance Al Misri seemed a shapeless lump ofhuman flesh that has somehow been given the breath of life. His silkenrobe hung loosely open. Uncovered, his massive head seemed to besupported directly on his shoulders, without benefit of or need for aneck. It was bald as an egg. He plopped a date into his mouth and chewedit as the soldiers moved respectfully back to give him room.

  Yet Ali needed only one glance to tell him that Al Misri was far morethan just a funny little fat man who chewed dates in a rather disgustingmanner. His grotesque body was enveloped in an aura not unlike thatwhich enfolded Ben Akbar. Al Misri commanded because it was his destinyto command.

  He came near, spat the date pit into Ali's face and spoke to theofficer. The latter conveyed the message to Ali.

  "Even though Al Misri prefers to kill vermin, you are granted your life.You win this favor, not through compassion, but because you are able toride a _dalul_ that kills other men."

  Ali remained silent, as was expected of him. Al Misri gave the officeranother message for the captive camel driver.

  "The other keeper of the _dalul_ let it stray," the officer announced."The keeper died in a fire, a very slow fire that was kindled at dawn,but the keeper still nodded his head at high noon. You are now keeper ofthe _dalul_. Take care that it strays not."

  Without another word or a backward glance, Al Misri turned and waddledback to his tent. The officer disbanded his men.

  Ali led Ben Akbar to pasture at the edge of camp.

  * * * * *

  The travelers came to Tanim, far enough outside Holy Territory so thatthere was no possibility of desecrating it, but near enough to furnish aconvenient stopping place for donning the _ihram_, in the cool of earlymorning. Not all who had been with the _Hadj_ when Ali finally joinedit--and not all who had since come from one place or another--were stillpresent. Many good Moslems who would never see the Holy City had diedtrying to reach it.

  Ali reflected curiously that some of the more devout were dead, whilesome who seemed to regard this holy journey in anything except a piouslight were very much alive. A merchant who had come all the way fromDamascus, and who was about to don the _ihram_, deferred the ceremony sothat he might bargain about something or other with another merchantfrom Smyrna. Though they were all Moslems--except for The Jackal, Alithought quickly--obviously the true light burned brightly for some anddimly for others.

  Ali wondered uneasily about the category in which he belonged. Heworried about the fact that he did not feel greatly different from theway he had felt while out on the caravan routes or in the bazaar of TheStreet Called Straight. He thought he should feel something else.

  Though many had died, his pilgrimage had been almost luxurious. He hadnothing at all to do except watch over Ben Akbar, which was simplicityitself because the powerful young _dalul_ wanted nothing except to bewhere Ali was. Though Ali was forbidden to ride, the Pasha of Damascus,the only human worthy of riding Ben Akbar, had allowed himself to becarried all the way to Mecca in a sedan chair. Seeing the Pasha once,and from a distance, Ali decided, to his own satisfaction, at least,that he had not asked to ride Ben Akbar for the simple reason that hecouldn't. Judging by the Pasha's looks, he'd have trouble riding anage-broken baggage camel.

  Always together, Ali and Ben Akbar had walked all the way. It had stillbeen the easiest of walks since, as long as he took care of Ben Akbarand kept himself in the background, Ali was assured ample food andwater. With the finest of care and nothing to do, Ben Akbar was at thevery peak of perfection.

  With appropriate ceremony, Ali donned the _ihram_ and ran a mental tallyof the things he must not do until the _Hadj_ came to an end. He must wearneither head nor foot covering. He must not shave, trim his nails--Butthere was nothing in the entire list that forbade taking Ben Akbar withhim. Ali remained troubled, nevertheless because, try as he would, he wasunable to achieve what he considered a necessary level of piety.

  Rather than feeling spiritually uplifted by what had been and what wasto be, he could think only that, very shortly, he would have the rightto call himself Hadji Ali.