The dahabiahs arrived safely at Boulak after an uneventful voyage. Hassan, having taken leave of his hospitable friends, and promised to pay them an early visit, proceeded to discover the house of Delì Pasha, in order to enter upon his new duties.
He learnt that the Pasha did not live in the city, but in one of the large houses recently built on the banks of the Nile, above the Port of Boulak, and below the palaces constructed by Mohammed Ali and Ibrahim Pasha for the harems of the viceregal family.
On reaching the door of the house Hassan was informed by the Berber porter that the Pasha was within, so he passed into the entrance-hall, at the end of which he observed one or two slaves lounging about, from whom he learnt that their master had lately come down from the upper apartments, and was now in the courtyard at the back of the palace. Availing himself of the guidance of one of the slaves, he soon reached the courtyard, a large space covering two or three acres of ground, and surrounded by a high wall. Here he found a motley crowd assembled, consisting apparently of Mamelukes, grooms, and servants of all descriptions, and the shouts, and cries, and turmoil proceeding from them baffled all description.
In the centre of the group he saw a horse, held by two or three grooms by long ropes, rearing, kicking, and plunging like a wild beast, and near him a middle-aged, strong-built man, with a turban on his head and his sleeves tucked up above his elbows, striking at the horse with a long courbatch,[49] and cursing the animal, together with its sire, dam, and all its ancestry, in the most approved terms of Turkish abuse. As Hassan came forward, looking around in vain for any figure which he could conceive likely to be the Pasha, the person above-mentioned stopped a moment from his flogging and malediction to take breath, so Hassan took the opportunity of inquiring whether he could inform him where Delì Pasha was to be found.
“And what may be your business with him, young man?” said he, turning towards Hassan a face in which heat, anger, and good-humour were strangely blended.
“I have a letter for him from Hadji Ismael, the merchant,” replied Hassan.
“Where is the letter?” said the speaker.
“It is here,” said our hero, producing it from his girdle; “and I wish to deliver it to the Pasha in person, if you will tell me where I can find him.”
“Let me see the address,” said the strange man with the bare arms. Hassan handed it to him, and as he cast his eye on the outer seal, he said—
“Why, this is not the seal of Hadji Ismael, it is that of the Viceroy;” and he was proceeding leisurely to open it when Hassan snatched it from him, saying—
“How dare you open it! I must deliver it unopened into the Pasha’s own hands.”
“Why, you young hot-blood,” said the other, holding out his two large muscular hands, “whose hands are these if they are not Delì Pasha’s?”
“Is it so, indeed?” said Hassan, in some confusion. “I was not aware that I was speaking to his Excellency.”
“There is no harm done, boy,” said the Pasha, smiling good-humouredly. “You did not expect to see his Excellency with his arms bare and a courbatch in his hand. Now that you know me, give me the letter.”
Taking it from the youth’s hand, he read it carefully, stopping every now and then to give a scrutinising glance at the bearer; and when he came to the postscript added by the Viceroy’s order, he laughed till the tears stood in his eyes.
“By my father’s beard!” he said, “all will soon be mad in this house. Mohammed Ali sends you to me, saying that you are as mad as myself; and it is only yesterday that Ibrahim Pasha sent me that cursed horse, telling me that it was as mad as myself. If the father’s statement prove as true as the son’s, you must be mad indeed, for such a devil I never beheld.”
“Devil,” said Hassan, looking at the furious and struggling animal with unrepressed admiration; “he seems to me beautiful as an angel.”
“You say true,” replied Delì Pasha, “his form is perfect; and Ibrahim brought him away as a colt from the Wahabees. He is of pure Kohèil blood; but Shèitan[50] is his name, and Shèitan is his nature; nothing can tame him. He has nearly killed two of Ibrahim Pasha’s grooms, and he sends the animal to me as a present, telling me that it is just like myself.”
“If he be a Kohèil,” said Hassan, “he will never be tamed by such means as I saw your Excellency using when I came into the courtyard.”
“You speak boldly, youngster,” said the choleric Pasha with a frown. “Do you think that, with my beard beginning to turn grey, I do not know how to tame an unruly horse?”
“I speak boldly, Excellency, because I speak truly; not from any wish to offend. Does Ibrahim Pasha know your Excellency well?”
“Wallàhi! [by Allah!] I believe you he does; we have marched together, bivouacked together, fought together for many years.”
“Then,” said Hassan, “as his Highness has likened your Excellency to that horse, permit your servant to ask you, if you were in an angry and fretful mood, and any one were to attempt to haul at you with ropes, and strike you with a courbatch, in order to tame you, how would he succeed?”
“Wallàhi! I would cut his head off,” exclaimed the Pasha, feeling mechanically for the sword which he had left behind him in the palace. “Do you think that you could mount him?”
“It is better not now,” said Hassan quietly.
“Mount him!” said a voice from behind; “he is afraid to go near the horse.”
Hassan turned to look at the speaker, and saw a large, powerful man of about thirty-five years of age, to whose harsh features a deep scar on the cheek gave a still more forbidding appearance.
“Silence, Osman Bey,” said the Pasha; “because the young man speaks his mind freely, you have no right to insinuate that he is afraid. What say you, Hassan? What do you propose about the horse?”
“If your Excellency desires it,” said Hassan, drawing himself up and casting a look of contempt on Osman Bey, “I will mount the horse immediately, and he shall kill me or I will kill him; but if you ask me what I would advise, I would say leave him alone now: his flank is panting, his eye bloodshot, no good can come from gentle usage now. Let him be taken back to the stable; give orders that no one may tend or feed him but myself, and let me show him to your Excellency after two days are past.”
The Pasha was just about giving his consent, when Shèitan thought fit to settle the matter otherwise for himself. With an unexpected bound he broke the halter held by one groom, and rushing upon the other, threw him to the ground, and grasping the unfortunate man by the middle, with his teeth shook him as a terrier does a rat.
None seemed desirous of approaching the infuriated animal; but Hassan, snatching a nabout (a long thick staff) from the hand of one of the bystanding servants, rushed to the spot, and striking the horse a severe blow on the nose, obliged him to drop the sàis (groom), who crawled away on all-fours and placed himself behind his protector.
Shèitan seemed resolved to be worthy of his name, for no sooner did he see Hassan standing before him than he ran furiously at him with open mouth, with the intention of worrying him as he had done the sàis; but Hassan had watched him with too steady an eye to be taken unawares, and no sooner did the animal in furious career come within reach than he dealt him a blow on the top of the head between the ears with such force that the staff was broken in half, and the horse stood still a moment completely stunned and bewildered. That moment was not unimproved by Hassan, who vaulted lightly on his back, and sat waiting until the animal’s senses fully returned, during which time he gathered up the halters hanging from the horse’s head and made therewith a sort of extempore bridle.
No sooner did Shèitan recover his senses and become aware of the audacious rider on his back, than he began to rear, plunge, and perform the wildest gambols in order to dislodge him. Hassan sat like a centaur, and the savage animal, determined to get rid of him, reared bolt upright and fell backwards; but Hassan was prepared for this manœuvre, and sliding off on one side, alighted on his feet, while the horse fell alone.
Hassan’s blood was now up, and he determined to subdue his enemy by force. Giving the horse several severe blows with the broken staff which he held in his hand, he forced the animal to rise, and just as it was gaining its feet jumped once more on its back.
“Aferin! aferin!” (bravo! bravo!) shouted the old Pasha at the top of his voice, as the infuriated horse once more commenced its wild career, bearing its immovable and relentless rider. The large arena in which this scene took place was shut in by the house in front, by high walls on the two sides, one of which divided the outer house from the interior or harem, and at the farther end was a lower wall, between five and six feet high, which separated it from another large court beyond, in which were the Pasha’s stables. Shèitan, goaded to madness by his vain efforts to get rid of his merciless rider, now rushed with full speed towards the stable-court. To stop him with that halter bridle was impossible, so, instead of attempting it, Hassan gave him his head, shouted aloud his wild Arab cry, and, to the surprise of the bystanders, horse and man cleared the wall and alighted in safety on the other side. Whether it were owing to the tremendous exertion that he had made, or to the concussion on alighting on hard ground after so unwonted a leap, Shèitan was no sooner over the wall than he stopped, trembling and panting.
Hassan allowed the affrighted animal a few moments to recover its breath, and then began to canter it round the stable-yard. “Now, friend Shèitan,” he said, “thou hast come over this wall once to please thyself; thou must go over it again to please me.” So saying, he again urged the horse to full speed with heel and stick, and charging the wall with the same success as before, galloped him to the spot where Delì Pasha and his followers stood. There, without difficulty, he pulled up, and the foaming, panting sides of the exhausted steed sufficiently proved that he was subdued.
“That will do for the first lesson,” said Hassan good-humouredly, patting the neck of Shèitan. “To-morrow we shall know each other better.”
Delì Pasha was so delighted with Hassan’s performance that he could scarcely find words to express himself.
“See your horse safe in the stable,” he said; “give your own orders about him, and then come up to me in the salamlik;[51] I have much to say to you.” Turning to the mirakhor, or head of the stable, he added, “Give him a good sàis, and see that his orders about Shèitan are punctually obeyed.”
On inquiry Hassan found that the sàis who had been seized by the horse had not been injured, as the teeth had only caught his outer clothes and his broad girdle. This sàis was the one who habitually fed Shèitan in the stable, and Hassan accompanied him thither, telling him to walk the horse about for an hour, but to give it neither water nor barley till his return; to ensure his fidelity Hassan slipped a few piastres into the man’s hand, and returned towards the house to present himself to his new patron.