The sultan of the mountains

“I said to him, ‘Salaam aleikum, O Sheikh, but it is not right that one of your honour should oppose the will of Allah. I had meant to ask 3,000 douros for your entertainment, but perhaps your spirit will be less rebellious if I double the sum.’ He said, ‘The Sherif is joking. I have not so much money, not even if I sell all my possessions.’ Upon which I answered, ‘The money is of little account. Pay it as you like, but show not so much avarice in your speech.’ At first he was evasive, and would tell me nothing, but the food at Tazrut was poor at the time and, when his face began to shrink, there was more room for his tongue. I learned from him that the disagreement between Silvestre and Marina was at its height, and that it was whispered the Colonel would disobey orders and occupy Zinat. ‘If he does that,’ said el Bulifa, ‘the Anjera tribe will join him—for a long time they have wanted to see your house in flames—and the whole army will advance to Ain Yerida. It will then be too late for Marina to interfere.’

“I thought a great deal over this news, and I sent a message hastily to Zugasti, saying, ‘My mind was inclined to make peace with you, but now I hear that Silvestre is preparing such and such things. If this is the case, how can I control the tribes and persuade them to treat with you?’ I ordered the messengers not to pause even to drink water at a stream, and to deliver the letter into Zugasti’s own hands. Then I sent for Ali Alkali, who was still in Tangier, saying to him, ‘Come quickly, for I have decided to sign the peace, and you must go to Tetuan on my behalf.’

“I spoke to you of treachery. Listen now how it happened. Sidi Ali was known everywhere as my agent, and he had a pass, signed by Marina, permitting him to go to and fro through the lines as he would. He was not a fighter and carried arms only to protect himself against robbers. It was the same thing with Zugasti and Cerdeira. They had papers, bearing my signature, and they could go through the country as they chose. I sent escorts with them when they desired it, and no man raised his rifle against them. As soon as Alkali received my letter, he started from Tangier with his servant Hamed.[68] He arrived at Questa Colorada towards evening and was well received by the commandant, who exchanged news with him and begged him not to go till morning, as it was the hour when the Spanish police were withdrawn from the roads, and it was no longer safe for travellers. Sidi Ali insisted that he must be in Tazrut before morning, so the commandant rode a little way with him, as he himself was going to Larache, but, at the next post, the officer was less amiable.

“In spite of the passport, which he declared to be a forgery, the captain detained the travellers, and for two days they were in prison, unable to communicate with me. When the commandant of Questa Colorada heard this, he was very angry and ordered the immediate release of my agent. More than this, he went to meet Sidi Ali on the road, apologised for the mistake and offered him an escort. Alkali replied that much time had been wasted, and that he must ride faster than the horses of the escort would permit. It was then nearly sunset;[69] and the next thing that was heard of the travellers was that their horses had been seen in Zerska, but that Alkali had returned to Tangier. This I did not believe, and I sent my own men to enquire secretly what had happened. Zellal also sent men from Beni Mesauer, but, for three days, there was no news. Then a fisherman on the banks of Sidi Hakhes announced that he had seen the body of a man floating near the estuary. The commandant of Questa Colorada sent his people to search in the river, but my spies were also there, and everything was reported to me.

“At first only a mutilated trunk was found, which nobody could recognise, for all but the drawers had been stripped from it. Then, when they dragged the bottom of the wadi, they brought up a sack made of a haik and filled with stones. In it was a body, headless and wearing a shirt which was supposed to be that of the servant Hamed. The corpses, which had been cut and disfigured to prevent recognition, were taken to Sidi Hamed and handed over to the family of Alkali, but the heads were not found. I sent privately, offering many douros for the head of my friend, for this would have brought comfort to his house, but it was useless.

“Many stories were told about the death of Sidi Ali—may Allah give him peace, which is his right, since he was murdered by Christians. They said that men of Beni Mesauer and Wadi Ras had lain in wait for him, believing that he carried letters from the Spanish Government which would force peace upon them. It was also said that a woman had caused him to be killed, because he had taken her husband and sent him as a prisoner to Tazrut; but these were empty words. Zellal held Beni Mesauer in his hands, and, as for the woman, it was a lie invented by the police to save themselves. Other rumours came to me that the assassination was arranged by the French, who had no wish for peace between Spain and el Raisuli.

“At last men whispered that Silvestre had investigated the murder, in order to make a breach which even Zugasti could not span. This story was generally believed, for it was known that the Colonel would do anything to prevent an agreement being signed at the moment when his success seemed to be assured. For a while I, too, wondered if this were possible, but I have known Silvestre, and he was brave. When his blood was hot, he might have attacked with his sword or with his bare hands, but he was incapable of planning a murder for others to commit.

“It was not long before the truth was revealed . . . Sidi Ali and his servant had ridden swiftly till they came within sight of a Spanish post. Then, the place being suitable, for there was no fear of robbers, they dismounted for the evening prayers. The officer of the post, who was called Sota, saw them and sent messengers asking them to come in and drink tea with him, for he had been warned of their coming by Rueda. Allah alone knows why my friend accepted!—perhaps to rest his horse, perhaps to get information about the country. In any case, he entered the house and drank with his host, who begged him to stay the night, saying the country was not safe. Alkali refused, but Sota would not let him go without an escort. He said that he was responsible for the safety of travellers, and he kept his guest talking till it was very late. Then he came to the door and saw him mount. A dozen policemen were waiting, and they ranged their horses round Sidi Ali and his servant. ‘You will doubtless go quickly,’ said Sota, ‘but I myself will follow you for a little way, as I am anxious about your security. Do not wait for me.’ And he wished him ‘Ma salaama’ (With safety)!

“My friend had ridden only a little way when he noticed the demeanour of the police, who kept looking back as if they expected some signal. Alkali asked what was the matter, but the answers were evasive. At last, when the road was deserted, a shot was heard from a distance, and the police flung themselves off their horses and seized the bridles of the men they were supposed to protect. ‘We are going to be attacked! We must hide!’ they cried, and pulled Sidi Ali and Hamed from their saddles, in spite of their protests. Two stayed to hold the horses. The others dropped all pretence and, hitting their prisoners on the heads and shoulders to stop their cries, they dragged them a little way from the road and strangled them.

“By this time the Lieutenant Sota had come up and ordered the heads to be cut off and the bodies mutilated, for fear of recognition. This was done, and the remnants tied up in native garments, which had been brought specially so that the blame would fall on Arabs. When the police rode back, they carried with them strange bundles tied to their saddles, and these were taken to the river and sunk in it with stones. One man was sent on with the horses, and he loosed them far away, leaving their saddles and bridles, which was a mistake, for by these they were recognised. So the story was told to me by one who had known the truth for some time, and I believe it is exact.”

The official version of the tragedy was sent by wire from Commandant Orgaz of Questa Colorada to General Marina, who had been telegraphing daily to insist on a thorough investigation. The message ran thus: “The death of Ali Alkali was effected by the Moors, Benbihas, El Metagui and Koroan, in the presence of Lieutenant Sota y Morales, ordered by Capt. Rueda, and the assassination was inspired by the Pasha of Azeila.”

General Marina lost no time in ordering the arrest of the accused Spanish officers and the suspension of Dris er Riffi, but he saw in this murder the ruin of all his hopes for a peaceful settlement. Though he made no secret of his intention of punishing his fellow-countrymen with the utmost severity of the law, he felt that Raisuli would neither forgive the outrage nor place any further confidence in the word of Spain. He set out immediately for Questa Colorada, and requested Silvestre to join him there. The meeting must have been dramatic. “We have failed!” exclaimed the High Commissioner, ignoring the other’s greeting. “I do not consider I have failed,” retorted Silvestre. “I have always stuck to the same policy.” But General Marina would not be comforted. Overwhelmed by the treachery for which he held himself responsible, since he represented Spain, he insisted on his colleague’s resignation, and sent in his own at the same time.

Dris er Riffi and the two Spanish officers were imprisoned, the Moors were executed, and, as Raisuli said, “There was but one lion left in the forest.”

CHAPTER XIX

“Jordana[70] was appointed High Commissioner. Villalba[71] took the place of Silvestre, but there was no further war. Since my enemy had left the country, the armies on the West were harmless, and there was traffic between their camps and ours. I waited for Jordana to move first; I made no sign that I knew of his arrival, and, when he sent to me Zugasti, Barera and Cerdeira, I received them gravely and asked what had been done to avenge Sidi Ali, though already I knew of the steps taken. They apologised many times for that betrayal, but they insisted that it was no more to be attributed to Spain than the most foolish attempts of Dris er Riffi with his bombs.

“I asked if er Riffi still lived, and they were embarrassed. ‘It is certain that he suggested the crime,’ said one, ‘but there is no evidence against him.’ ‘Cannot all your scribes and your men learned in law invent some?’ I asked, for I wanted to disturb them. Certainly I would have defended the life of Sidi Ali with my own, but, since he was dead, he had put a new weapon in my hand. The Spaniards argued most eloquently in favour of peace, and I believed that, with the departure of Silvestre, I might realise the aims which he had frustrated.

“I took Zugasti aside and I said to him, ‘Do you remember the day we said the Fatha together at Azeila? Much blood lies between us now, and the country has suffered greatly, and you have not achieved the good that you promised. The land is divided into many parties, and where the tribesmen once kept the money which he received for his produce he now hoards bullets that he may add to his troubles.’ Zugasti said, ‘The fault is with you, for you have not always worked loyally with us,’ and I answered, ‘Do you nourish the snake which has crept into your house?’ He said, ‘There have been many mistakes between us, but there is a new policy now. With your help, there may still be peace in the country,’ and he repeated to me that the desire of Spain was to cooperate with the Arabs for the development of the country and the improvement of the people.

“At last I said to him, ‘I will not ever again say the Fatha with a Christian, but swear to me in your own way that the new policy is good.’ He said, ‘I am your friend, and so is Jordana. All that is promised will be fulfilled.’ I answered, ‘Return then in a few weeks, when I have consulted the tribes,’ for I knew my greatest difficulty would be, not with Spain, but with my own people.

“When I spoke of peace to the Kaids, they said, ‘You are selling us to the Christians.’ I replied, ‘If it were not for me, the Christians would be in these mountains,’ but they were stubborn. This was in early summer,[72] before the great heat, and I sent messengers to every village in the mountains to make known my intentions to the tribesmen. Sometimes these messengers were ill-treated, but more often men listened in silence, for they remembered they had chosen me as Sultan.

“When Zugasti came to see me again I had gathered a great army of those who were loyal to me, and I was strong enough to enforce my orders. Also I had sent much grain to the hill villages, and the women blessed the name of the Sherif. So peace was signed in the autumn (September, 1915, the Peace of Khotot), and, by it, I regained all that had been taken from me. My properties were restored, and it was agreed that those of my houses which had been damaged should be rebuilt. The mountains were closed, and no one might enter my zone without my permission, but, with my help, the Spaniards were to occupy all the lowlands.

“For this purpose they supplied me with eight hundred rifles and much ammunition, charging themselves with the pay of one of my forces, which numbered a thousand. It was arranged that I should be Governor of all the tribes who submitted to the Maghsen, and that a large sum of money should be paid me, so that I could at once relieve the hunger of the Jebala. This treaty was not without its difficulties, for, when it was announced by criers among the villages that there was friendship between Raisuli and the Spaniards, the people were divided. Some said, ‘The Sherif is clever and strong, for he has forced the foreigners to make peace, and now he is the only ruler in the land,’ but others protested, ‘He has betrayed us. He has taken money from the Christians.’

“I saw that the best policy was to impress them with my power, so I kept a great force always with me, and I fed a thousand men daily in my camp. I had a great tent made, as large as a house, and I put sentinels round it, and would see no one but my family and a few of the great Sheikhs who had always been my allies. When the Kaids came to see me, they were entertained lavishly, but kept waiting for several days, and then, perhaps, they only spoke with my secretary. I had musicians in the camp, who played the reveille at dawn and the buglers sounded every call to prayer. Afterwards, in Ramadan, I asked the Spaniards for a battery, and guns were fired daily for the beginning and the end of the fast. In those days I lived like a Sultan, and the people were much impressed and, from all sides, men came to join me. I imprisoned Tazi, the Sheikh of Jebel Habib, who had tried to serve both parties during the war, and the people said, ‘The Sherif has certainly conquered, for the foreigners cannot even protect those who served them.’

“There were still many who were against me, but, while I was with my mehalla, they could do nothing. When I went back to Tazrut, travelling with only a few men, they thought that their opportunity had come. A force from Beni Hassan, Beni Aros, Beni Leit, Beni Sif, Sumata and Beni Mesauer gathered quickly among the mountains and hastened to Tazrut. They killed all my people whom they met on the way, and they carried pickaxes to destroy my house, intending to leave no two stones together. News of their coming was brought to me, and my servants wished to take refuge in the mountains, but I said to them, ‘How many times have you asked me to fly, and has any evil yet happened to me? Put your faith in Allah, who is strong.’ Then I posted my riflemen in the best places, from where they could command the approach of the enemy, and, when movement was seen among the hills, I ordered them to fire. There were less than a hundred men with me, but even the women took up rifles and boys carried guns which were bigger than themselves. The fight was not long, for Allah strengthened us. Before night the enemy retired, but they left many dead behind them. In this way the victory was given to a hundred men over nearly a thousand, but that is my ‘baraka.’”

Other accounts of this curious encounter differed very little from the version of Raisuli. Again and again, disaffected tribesmen would decide to attack him, but their courage always failed at the last moment. Firmly believing that he was under divine protection and that his life was miraculously preserved, their rebellions were invariably half-hearted and, when they saw him at the head of defence or attack, they fled, after exchanging a few shots.

“My cousin, Wuld Sid Lahsen, who led the force against me, had been proclaimed by his followers as Sultan in my place. He had been chief of my harka at Ben Karrish, but had deserted me when I made peace with Spain. As soon as the rebels had scattered before our bullets, I sent a summons to Jebel Bu Hashim, where I always keep a small force as an outpost. They came in to Tazrut by night, and I mounted them on my fastest horses and led them myself against Tagzat, the residence of my cousin. We came down upon them like a thunderbolt from the hills, and were through their defences before they knew what had happened. The first ranks carried rifles with which they shot any who opposed them, but the others bore blazing torches and, as they galloped through the village, they tossed them onto the the thatched roofs, and fire leaped up behind us. Our pace carried up on into the darkness, and we looked back upon a sheet of flame, against which every man was a mark. We sat down comfortably, not even trying to hide ourselves, and shot everyone who came out of the village. Lahsen escaped only because of the swiftness of the horse upon which he fled, leaning far down from the saddle, so that it appeared to have no rider.

“When the dawn came there were no men in Tagzat, but women crouched weeping beside the still smoking ruins. I sent to find the family of my cousin, but they had hidden themselves under a pile of half-burned timber, so that it was some time before my men discovered them. When they were brought to me, the daughter flung herself on her knees and kissed the hem of my mantle, praying that I would have mercy on her mother. ‘You do not ask for yourself?’ I said, but she answered, ‘My life is under your feet, Sidi, but my mother is old and weak.’ I took them to Tazrut, and perhaps I wished that there was no feud between our houses, for the girl was pretty when she knelt to me, and her eyes were like those dark flowers beside the well. I gave them in charge of my family and said, ‘Give them of your clothing and your ornaments,’ for part of their garments had been burned and there was hardly enough left to cover them. My daughter came to me later and said, ‘The girl is like a sister already, but we cannot calm her fears!’ and I said to her, ‘Tell your guest that her father is safe as long as she remains in my house,’ for already I had decided what I would do. Not long after, when peace had been arranged with my cousin, the girl was given to me as a wife, and so the dark flowers bloomed in my garden! . . .

“When I returned to my mehalla, I found that there were many difficulties between the Spaniards and my people, but Jordana acted loyally towards me, and, when some Sheikhs of Beni Ider went to Tetuan, asking to be protected against me, he sent them to my camp with a letter, and I made peace with them. Affairs in the West were less easy, for it had been arranged that I should not interfere with the zone occupied by the Spaniards and that they should not enter the territory which I ruled. Consequently there was intrigue along our borders, and thieves who wished to escape the justice of Spain sought refuge in my country, while those who feared my vengeance fled to the plains for security. It was said that I harboured deserters from the irregulars in the service of Villalba, but it was not true, for, if such men found shelter in my country, it was under the roofs of their friends, and their hiding-places were unknown to me. The police were always ready to make trouble, and at last I forbade them again to cross my borders or to have any dealings with my people.

“Still there were incidents which annoyed Jordana, for most of the tribesmen thought ‘The Sherif is more powerful than the Spaniards. He rules them and they do as he directs.’ It happened that in Jebel Habib an officer with a few soldiers rode from his frontier post to the Suq el Madi, but the Arabs murmured as he passed and drew away from his horse, turning their backs. The women were more violent in their actions, for they cried out that they wanted no Christians, and threw stones and mud at the foreigners. Before the officer could either explain or retire, there appeared some of the band of el Mudden, who would have hustled the Spaniards away, shouting that, without a pass signed by Raisuli, no stranger could enter the town. Many words were exchanged, so many, fortunately, that the bullets cooled in the barrels, for when a Moor employs his tongue he has no use for his trigger finger. Nobody was killed, though the tribesmen fired a few shots after the retiring Spaniards in order to show their good-will.

“I wrote at once to the Kaid of the village, but the Arab does not understand two masters and, because Jebel Habib was always hoping to profit from the foreigners and there were many who worked secretly to undermine my influence, there was often trouble on that border. Nevertheless, there was a great sowing that year, and men grew fat in anticipation of the harvest. I had agreed with Jordana to help Spain to occupy the road between Tangier and Tetuan, but I did not wish them to hold it too strongly, lest, in case of another war, I should be unable to communicate with the coast. I kept my promise and, by my aid, many places were occupied without firing a shot. Amersam, El Barch, Sid Tellia, Melusa, Ain Guenen all became Spanish posts. At the repeated request of Jordana, I agreed to effect a junction between the armies of East and West, but I stipulated that Ain Yerida should be held by my troops in the name of Spain, for Fondak is the key to the whole country, and the wise Arab does not give the key of his house to any but a Moslem.

“The Spanish army was encamped at Rogaia, so between them and Tetuan lay the rebels of Wadi Ras, who would not come to terms with an infidel, and whose Sheikh proclaimed that he would rather lose his life than join Raisuli under a Christian flag. The men of Wadi Ras were strong, so it was arranged to attack them on two sides. I pitched my camp in Beni Mesauer, and there, among the great rocks, I had eight thousand men of my regular mehallas, with a small force of cavalry and some irregular levies drawn from tribes recently submitted. The Spaniards were to advance along the road to the Fondak and occupy the heights of the Amersam which overlooked the wadi. I sent them guides who knew the country, and suggested that they should move in several small columns, in order that there should be no suspicion of a great attack. It would be rumoured only that some small place was to be occupied. I posted spies by the way who were to give me warning of the Spanish advance and, when I saw the smoke curling up from the appointed hill-top, I came down from Beni Mesauer with the whole of my army.

“I had expected to hear shots as Villalba occupied Amersam, but this was achieved in the early morning with no sound to arouse Wadi Ras. I pushed my cavalry to the top of a hill on the other side of the valley and, from there, I could see the Spaniards fortifying the position of their guns, but when the rebels woke, it was to find the sun glinting on steel behind them and in front. There was instant alarm in the wadi—shouting and waving of flags. Men rode swiftly towards the West, where the land opens into a plain. Here the millet was so high that it covered their saddles and, when they dismounted, they disappeared altogether amongst it. The brother of Haj el Arbi gathered a few hundred of the fighting men and, ignorant of the hidden guns, charged the bayonets of Spain. They rode in a long line, each man a few yards from his neighbour, crying on the name of the Prophet and shouting their war-cry. Long before they saw the enemy they had emptied their rifles and the warrior who led them made his horse dance, and waved his gun above his head as if it had been a game. The Spaniards waited till they were quite near, and then the guns spoke and the army toiling behind me through the ridges of Beni Mesauer must have heard their voice. The long rank broke, hung for a moment, then dispersed, each man seeking cover from the sons of the cannon.[73]

The river was very low, and its overhanging banks provided shelter, so that, when the Spanish cavalry charged, expecting to ride through a beaten enemy, they found every crevice held a rifle. With several wounded they were forced to retire.

“By this time the signal fires blazed on every hill. The women seized great bundles of straw, and, indifferent to the bullets, carried them to the nearest eminence and set fire to them. One girl was shot as she reached her goal, but she had just strength enough to light her burden, and was scorched by the flames as she fell beside it. Her body was scarcely recognisable, but she had been promised marriage to one of my men, so I heard of the deed. You see, our women, also, are brave!

“I saw the plight of the enemy, so I gathered a few hundred riders, with the great Kaids who were with me, and some of my own slaves who ran, holding our stirrups. We came down the mountain at a gallop, the red flag flying before us and the green standard of Islam in the rear. I stood up in my stirrups and shouted, and my mantle flew out like a sail. Rank upon rank took up the cry—‘God is great,’—and each rider drove home his spurs. Like ships in full sail, the Kaids swept down the hill, and the music of the drums and cymbals went with us. Each man had a different cry, but the ‘Saleh en Nebbi’[74] pealed highest. No one could have withstood us that day, for all the great of Jebel Alan were with me, and the flag was the flag of our ancestors who had fought for it, died for it, but never lowered it. Allah, it was good!”

Raisuli had been almost chanting the last words, but, with a long sigh, his voice dropped to its usual level. “We rode straight across Wadi Ras and, after our passage, there was no man left on the banks. El Arbi was wounded, for he held his fire till we were almost upon him, and he only saved himself by creeping between the cane, where he lay hid till the night. Still from the millet-fields and the lower ridges came a galling fire, so I turned my horse in the bed of the stream and answered it, with a few of my men. My slaves stood round me, holding my rifles and field-glasses, the stool with which I mounted, a gourd of water, for always I had a great thirst, and my prayer-carpet, which was of silk and came from Egypt.

“My horse was impatient, and his movements interfered with my aim, so I dismounted and stood, firing first a Spanish rifle and then a German, as Ghabah and Mubarak loaded for me. It was better than hunting, but a slave said to me, ‘Sidi, the men among the millet are watching you. In the name of Allah, take shelter.’ I replied, ‘You are right. I did not see them,’ and I turned round and altered the sights of my rifle, so that I might fire at them more easily. Then the slave touched my sleeve and said, ‘Sidi, it is the hour of prayer,’ and I knew that he said it in order to lead me away from the battle, so I answered, ‘Spread my carpet here.’

“They were afraid, but, putting my rifle in front of me for a kibla,[75] I turned towards the East and began the prescribed Raqua-at. One man was killed beside me, and his blood stained shoes, which I had placed at the edge of the carpet. I did not move nor interrupt prayers, for I wished to give them a lesson, but, hardly had I finished the last words, when Cerdeira ran towards me, crying, ‘You must take cover. Your life is too valuable to risk!’ And I answered, ‘What is going to happen today was written before you or I were born, and we cannot escape. Also I have noticed that, when men aim at me, it is my friends who die. The man on my right and the man on my left may fall, but I remain unhurt.’ I fired several more shots at the enemy, but there were few in the whole of Wadi Ras. Then I called to a slave to bring my horse. My foot was in the stirrup when I turned to say something to Cerdeira, who stood beside me, and, at that moment, he was shot. ‘I told you the one on my left would fall,’ I reminded him, but, Hamdulillah, it was not a great wound.

“I pitched my camp opposite the heights occupied by the Spaniards, and the drums summoned the Kaids to pray with me. This was performed in the space outside my tent, and I acted as Imam for the rest. Then all the heads were collected that we might know how many had been slain, but the Spaniards protested against this custom and requested me urgently to bury them. The same thing happened whenever I fought with my Allies, and much time was wasted on burial.”

The point of view was so amusing that I could not help asking if it would not have been simpler to have ordered his men to refrain from cutting off the heads at all. “My people would not have understood,” said Raisuli, “for it is a custom. I have told you often that we are savages, but it is not very long since you were worse than we. I have read your history, and I know how long men took to die under your tortures. Your executioners were well paid for the inventiveness of their cruelty, and you did not spare women and children.[76] Now you have forgotten the crimes you committed a hundred years ago, and you call us barbarians. In another century or two, perhaps we shall say the same of you.”

In connection with the Sherif’s remarks, it may be apposite to quote a remarkable document now in the possession of the Capitania General del Deposito Maritimo of Cadiz. It is dated Ceuta, March 11th, 1799, and is a list of the charges to which the executioner is entitled.

“Plaza de Ceuta.

“To hang one 150 reals.

“To cut a hand 75 reals.

“To dismember and cut one in quarters 375 reals.

“To cut the head 75 reals.

“To hang up the head, the members and the four quarters, 210 reals.

“To fry the hand 75 reals.

“To hang the head in public 30 reals.

“To flay a man with whips 32 reals.

“To any other form of justice 22 reals.

“In addition to this, the price of acid, coal and a stove. The executioner of this place is a government employé. He shall receive daily from the King 8 pennies and a bread; two reals from the city; and four from the military, every day; as well as a flail and a pair of tongs, with the obligation of keeping the scaffold clean and tidy.

ANTONIO MONDRAGAN,

Colonel of Infantry.”

“There had been peace between us for many months before I saw Jordana,” said Raisuli. “I could not visit him, for I have never recognised the Kaliphate of Mulai el Mehdi, but he is a good man, and I would not insult him by going to Tetuan and passing his door without entering. Therefore I never go to the city, though my ancestors are buried there. Jordana would not come to visit me, for he thought it was not consistent with his dignity.

“At last a meeting-place was arranged between his country and mine, and tents were sent out from Laucien to the hill of Guad Agraz. The conference was to be at midday, which is certainly a bad hour for talking, for a man, having just prayed, is thinking of food. We say, ‘Lunch and rest. Dine and walk.’ I started with my mehalla before there was any light to discover the colour of our jellabas and, at every village on the way, a party waited by the roadside, with their mantles muffled across their faces. The Kaid came forward to kiss my shoulder and ride beside me. His men ranged themselves behind him. When each wadi and each hill had contributed its party of armed men, we were a great host, and the dust of our hoofs was like a cloud around us and behind. The standards of Islam and the Sultanate were borne in front of us, and each Kaid had his own flag. Beside me rode el Arbi, great in years and in beard, and each man knew his place, so there was no disorder in the ranks, as ever new bayonets joined us, with the sun glinting on them like snow in the mountains. The pipes played on either side and the drums were beaten loudly, so that the horses became excited and, when we saw in front of us, but a long way off, the tents of Jordana, they could no longer be restrained. Three hundred riders gave rein to their stallions, and, for a moment, the dust blinded us. High above it swirled the green flag and the red. Then fire pierced the cloud and, with shouting and songs, shooting over their heads, the tribesmen raced for the tents.

“I wonder if it was the first ‘Jerid’ the General had seen. To do it well, a man must be able to stop his horse at full gallop in the length of a gun. Riding now ahead (in orange waistcoat and dark-brown mantle, with the rolled turban of the Jebala), I watched them in full charge, and then, scarce five men’s lengths from the Spaniards, saw them pull up in a swirl of dust. The lines were unbroken. Each horse fell back on to its haunches, with its rider bent flat over the pommel. Cerdeira and others came out to meet me, and I dismounted in front of the great tent which had been spread with carpet and mattresses, as is our custom, but there were also chairs, and, Ullah, I looked anxiously to find one big enough. Jordana came forward to meet me and would have shaken my hand, but I saluted him as I should have done the Sultan, yet even after that, he insisted on taking my hand.

“We sat down and looked at each other, for both wondered what would be written between us. He was a good man but perhaps not a great one, and he was always my friend. He loved Spain and for her sake he kept peace with me even when he believed I was wrong. He had a strong will and would not let others dictate to him. Like Silvestre, he was impatient, but he restrained all emotion, and only his eyes told his feelings. Had Jordana come to Azeila at the beginning, there would have been no war and no distrust, but, however much we two wished to walk together, there were many difficulties on either side.

“A few years ago the Arab and the Spaniard would have met, both (‘aqil’) wise and desirous of using their wisdom for Morocco. Now it was a conference between a Christian and a Moslem, and between them was the memory of treachery and death. Yet I liked Jordana and I respected him as I have done few Christians. Like Zugasti, he did not even see money when it lay before him, and, though he was not young, he had that hope which is in the heart of a boy when he stalks his first partridge and shoots it tremulously before it rises. Men say that I killed Jordana. He tried to change that which is unchangeable. It was not I who killed him, but the country and the burning of his own heart.”

CHAPTER XX