The Basha, having washed, turned his face towards
Mecca, and testified to the unity of Allah, the Compassionate, the
Merciful, King of the Day of judgment, whilst the cry of the Mueddin
went echoing over the city from minaret to minaret.
As he rose from his devotions, there came a quick sound of steps
without, and a sharp summons. Turkish janissaries of the Basha's guard,
invisible almost in their flowing black garments, moved to answer that
summons and challenge those who came.
From the dark vaulted entrance of the courtyard leapt a gleam of
lanterns containing tiny clay lamps in which burned a wick that was
nourished by mutton fat. Asad, waiting to learn who came, halted at the
foot of the white glistening steps, whilst from doors and lattices of
the palace flooded light to suffuse the courtyard and set the marbles
shimmering.
A dozen Nubian javelin-men advanced, then ranged themselves aside whilst
into the light stepped the imposing, gorgeously robed figure of Asad's
wazeer, Tsamanni. After him came another figure in mail that clanked
faintly and glimmered as he moved.
"Peace and the Prophet's blessings upon thee, 0 mighty Asad!" was the
wazeer's greeting.
"And peace upon thee, Tsamanni," was the answer. "Art the bearer of
news?"
"Of great and glorious tidings, 0 exalted one! Sakr-el-Bahr is
returned."
"The praise to Him!" exclaimed the Basha, with uplifted hands; and there
was no mistaking the thrill of his voice.
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