The Eye of Zeitoon, Talbot Mundy [fantasy books to read txt] 📗
- Author: Talbot Mundy
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"You are without shame!" said the consul.
"Truly! Of what should I be ashamed!"
"What brought you here?"
"Two feet and a great good will! You know me."
The consul shook his head.
"Who sold the horse to the German from Bitlis?"
"Are you that man?"
"Who clipped the wings of a kite, and sold it for ten pounds to a fool for an eagle from Ararat?"
The consul laughed.
"Are you the rascal who did that?"
"Who threw Olim Pasha into the river, and pushed him in and in again for more than an hour with a fishing pole—and then threw in the gendarmes who ran to arrest him—and only ran when the Eenglis consul came?"
"I remember," said the consul.
"Yet you don't look quite like that man."
"I told you you knew me."
"Neither does to-day's wind blow like yesterday's!"
"What is your name?"
"Then it was Ali."
"What is it now?"
"The name God gave me?"
"Yes."
"God knows!"
"What do you want here?"
He spread out his arms toward us four, and grinned.
"Look—see! Four Eenglis sportman! Could a man want more?"
"Your face is hauntingly familiar," said the consul, searching old memories.
"No doubt. Who carried your honor's letter to Adrianople in time of war, and received a bullet, but brought the answer back?"
"What—are you that man—Kagig?"
Instead of replying the man opened his smock, and pulled aside an undershirt until his hairy left breast lay bare down to where the nipple should have been. Why a bullet that drilled that nipple so neatly had not pierced the heart was simply mystery.
"Kagig, by jove! Kagig with a beard! Nobody would know you but for that scar."
"But now you know me surely? Tell these Eenglis sportman, then, that I am good man—good guide! Tell them they come with me to Zeitoon!"
The consul's face darkened swiftly, clouded by some notion that he seemed to try to dismiss, but that refused to leave him.
"How much would you ask for your services?" he demanded.
"Whatever the effendim please."
"Have you a horse?"
He nodded.
"You and your horse, then, two piasters a day, and you feed yourself and the beast."
The man agreed, very bright-eyed. Often it takes a day or two to come to terms with natives of that country, yet the terms the consul offered him were those for a man of very ordinary attainments.
"Come back in an hour," said the consul.
Without a word of answer Kagig vaulted back across the rail and disappeared around the corner of the house, walking without hurry but not looking back.
"Kagig, by jove! It would take too long now to tell that story of the letter to Adrianople. I've no proof, but a private notion that Kagig is descended from the old Armenian kings. In a certain sort of tight place there's not a better man in Asia. Now, Lord Montdidier, if you're in earnest about searching for that castle of your Crusader ancestors, you're in luck!"
"You know it's what I came here for," said Monty. "These friends of mine are curious, and I'm determined. Now that Fred's well—"
"I'm puzzled," said the consul, leaning back and looking at us all with half-closed eyes. "Why should Kagig choose just this time to guide a hunting party? If any man knows trouble's brewing, I suspect be surely does. Anything can happen in the interior. I recall, for instance, a couple of Danes, who went with a guide not long ago, and simply disappeared. There are outlaws everywhere, and it's more than a theory that the public officials are in league with them."
"What a joke if we find the old family castle is a nest of robbers," smiled Monty.
"Still!" corrected Fred.
I was watching the consul's eyes. He was troubled, but the prospect of massacre did not account for all of his expression. There was debate, inspiration against conviction, being fought out under cover of forced calm. Inspiration won the day.
"I was wondering," he said, and lit a fresh cigar while we waited for him to go on.
"I vouch for my friends," said Monty.
"It wasn't that. I've no right to make the proposal—no official right whatever—I'm speaking strictly unofficially—in fact, it's not a proposal at all—merely a notion."
He paused to give himself a last chance, but indiscretion was too strong.
"I was wondering how far you four men would go to save twenty or thirty thousand lives."
"You've no call to wonder about that," said Will.
"Suppose you tell us what you've got in mind," suggested Monty, putting his long legs on a chair and producing a cigarette.
The consul knocked out his pipe and sat forward, beginning to talk a little faster, as a man who throws discretion to the winds.
"I've no legal right to interfere. None at all. In case of a massacre of Armenians—men, women, little children—I could do nothing. Make a fuss, of course. Throw open the consulate to refugees. Threaten a lot of things that I know perfectly well my government won't do. The Turks will be polite to my face and laugh behind my back, knowing I'm helpless. But if you four men—"
"Yes—go on—what?"
"Spill it!" urged Will.
"—should be up-country, and I knew it for a fact, but did not know your precise whereabouts, I'd have a grown excuse for raising most particular old Harry! You get my meaning?"
"Sure!" said Will. "Monty's an earl. Fred's related to half the peerages in Burke. Me and him"—I was balancing my chair on one leg and he pushed me over backward by way of identification—"just pose as distinguished members of society for the occasion. I get you."
"It might even be possible, Mr. Yerkes, to get the United States
Congress to take action on your account."
"Don't you believe it!" laughed Will. "The members for the Parish Pump, and the senators from Ireland would howl about the Monroe Doctrine and Washington's advice at the merest hint of a Yankee in trouble in foreign parts."
"What about the United States papers?"
"They'd think it was an English scheme to entangle the United States, and they'd be afraid to support action for fear of the Irish. No, England's your only chance!"
"Well," said the consul, "I've told you the whole idea. If I should happen to know of four important individuals somewhere up-country, and massacres should break out after you had started, I could supply our ambassador with something good to work on. The Turkish government might have to stop the massacre in the district in which you should happen to be. That would save lives."
"But could they stop it, once started?" I asked.
"They could try. That 'ud be more than they ever did yet."
"You mean," said Monty, "that you'd like us to engage Kagig and make the trip, and to remain out in case of—ah—vukuart until we're rescued?"
"Can't say I like it, but that's what I mean. And as for rescue, the longer the process takes the better, I imagine!"
"Hide, and have them hunt for us, eh?"
"Would it help," I suggested, "if we were to be taken prisoner by outlaws and held for ransom?"
"It might," said the consul darkly. "I'd take to the hills myself and send back a wail for help, only my plain duty is here at the mission. What I have suggested to you is mad quixotism at the best, and at the worst—well, do you recall what happened to poor Vyner, who was held for ransom by Greek brigands? They sent a rescue party instead of money, and—"
"Charles Vyner was a friend of mine," said Monty quietly.
Fred began to look extremely cheerful and Will nudged me and nodded.
"Remember," said the consul, "in the present state of European politics there's no knowing what can or can't be done, but if you four men are absent in the hills I believe I can give the Turkish government so much to think about that there'll be no massacres in that one district."
"Whistle up Kagig!" Monty answered, and that was the end of the argument as far as yea or nay had anything to do with it. Prospect of danger was the last thing likely to divide the party.
"How about permits to travel?" asked Will. "The United States consul told me none is to be had at present."
The consul rubbed his thumb and forefinger together.
"It may cost a little more, that's all," he said. "You might go without, but you'd better submit to extortion."
He called the kavass, the uniformed consular attendant, and sent him in search of Kagig. Within two minutes the Eye of Zeitoon was grinning at us through a small square window in the wall at one end of the veranda. Then he came round and once more vaulted the veranda rail, for he seemed to hold ordinary means of entry in contempt. His eye looked very possessive for that of one seeking employment as a guide, but he stood at respectful attention until spoken to.
"These gentlemen have decided to employ you," the consul announced.
"Mashallah!" (God be praised!) For a Christian he used unusual expletives.
"They want to find a castle in the mountains, to hunt bear and boar, and to see Zeitoon."
"I shall lead them to ten castles never seen before by Eenglismen! They shall kill all the bears and pigs! Never was such sport as they shall see!"
He exploded the word pigs as if he had the Osmanli prejudice against that animal. Yet he wore a pig-skin cartridge belt about his middle.
"They will need enormous lots of ammunition!" he announced.
"What else would the roadside robbers like them to bring?"
"No Turkish servants! They throw Turks over a bridge-side in Zeitoon!
I myself will provide servants, who shall bring them back safely!"
It seemed to me that he breathed inward as he said that. A Turk would have added "Inshallah!"—if God wills!
"Make ready for a journey of two months," he said.
"When and where shall the start be?"
It would obviously be unwise to start from the consulate.
"From the Yeni Khan in Tarsus," said Will.
"That is very good—that is excellent! I will send Zeitoonli servants
to the Yeni Khan at once. Pay them the right price. Have you horses?
Camels are of no use, nor yet are wheels—you shall know why later!
Mules are best."
"I know where you can hire mules," said the consul, "with a Turkish muleteer to each pair."
"Oh, well!" laughed Kagig, leaning back against the rail and moving his hands palms upward as if he weighed one thought against another. "What is the difference? If a few Turks move or less come to an end over Zeitoon bridge—"
It was only for moments at a time that he seemed able to force himself to speak as our inferior. A Turk of the guide class would likely have knelt and placed a foot of each of us on his neck in turn as soon as he knew we had engaged him. This Armenian seemed made of other stuff.
"Then be on hand to-morrow morning," ordered Monty.
But the Eye of Zeitoon had another surprise for us.
"I shall meet you on the road," he announced with an air of a social equal. "Servants shall attend you at the Yeni Khan. They will say nothing at all, and work splendidly! Start when you like; you will find me waiting for you at a good place on the road. Bring not plenty, but too much ammunition! Good day, then, gentlemen!"
He nodded to us—bowed to the consul—vaulted the rail. A second later he grinned at us again through the tiny window.
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