By Far Euphrates A Tale 19

By Far Euphrates A Tale 19

Jack set his teeth for an instant: then he said firmly, "So help me

God."

 

Another pistol shot--not near enough to harm them. But the Kourds were

upon them now. Jack saw the face of the man who had given them his

hut--an evil face. He took aim, fired, and the Kourd fell in a heap, and

rolled down the sloping ground to his very feet.

 

But there were twenty following him, and most of them had guns, while

Jack had no other shot--_for them_. He stood at bay between his wife and

the robbers, keeping his hand on the revolver as if just about to fire.

 

The Kourds desire close quarters with a dead shot as little as other

men. They wavered,--hesitated. Presently one fellow, braver than the

rest, discharged his gun, the shot passing close to Jack's head, then

sprang down the slope and flung himself upon him. They closed in mortal

conflict, hand to hand, foot to foot, eye to eye. At last Jack turned

suddenly, dragged his foe to the edge of the abyss, tore himself loose

with one tremendous effort, and with another, flung him over.

Down--down--down, still down, he rolled and fell, fell and rolled, till

he lay a mangled heap amongst the boulders at the bottom of the gorge.

Jack would assuredly have followed him, had he not fallen, or rather

thrown himself, backwards at full length on the path. As he lay there

two or three bullets whizzed over him.

 

They were the last salute of the departing foe. The Kourds by this time

had had enough of it, and beat a retreat more rapid than their advance.

When they found out their guests were not what they appeared to be,

brethren from a distant tribe, they had supposed they might be Armenians

carrying communications from the revolted Zeitounlis[3] to Urfa, and

that therefore they would be worth intercepting. But now they came to

the conclusion they were too well armed to be molested any further.

 

It was long before Jack and Shushan dared to breathe again. "Park

Derocha!" said Shushan at last. "Thank God!" Jack responded. He had

risen to his feet, and was looking anxiously around to see that all was

safe.

 

"Shack," said Shushan presently, "my foot hurts dreadfully now--praised

be the Lord!"

 

Jack had no linen, but he tore his sash, poured on it all the water

remaining in his flask, and wrapped it round the ankle, which was

beginning to swell. "I meant that word," Shushan added smiling, "for

pain is not felt until danger is past, and danger is--oh, so much worse

than pain! But, Shack, the horses!"

 

"True, we must get them; I daresay they have not gone far. Dare I leave

you here while I go to look for them?"

 

"You _must_. Our lives hang on it. God will take care of me."

 

Jack drew her gently into a sheltered place under the rock. Then he set

off at a brisk run, not letting himself think there was danger for her,

since he _had_ to go, and yet intensely, cruelly anxious about her.

 

He had a much longer chase than he anticipated, for the horses had quite

disappeared from view. Still he went on, keeping the path, and uttering

now and then the calls they were sure to recognise.

 

On account of the intervening gorge, the path descended almost to the

very bottom of the valley, through which there ran a little mountain

stream with a narrow fringe of green, stunted herbage on each side.

Instinct had led the horses to this desirable spot, where having

quenched their thirst, they stood contented, cropping the few mouthfuls

of short grass. Happily, in this position, the Kourds could not see

them.

 

Jack lost not a moment in leading their reluctant steps from the haunts

of pleasure to the very dry and very stony path of duty. Joyfully he

brought them back to where Shushan was, and met her joyful welcome.

 

"Is the pain _very_ bad now, my Shushan?" he asked.

 

"No," she answered, smiling. "It is only _a little very bad_, as you

say in English. Is not that right? Now you shall lift me on my horse

again, and we will go."

 

In a few minutes more they were on their way. When they came near the

little stream, they halted for a while, that Jack might bring water for

Shushan to drink, and bathe her ankle with it. She was very weary, and

suffering considerable pain, but she kept on bravely, making no

complaint. "It would be very ungrateful," she thought, "when God has

been so good to us."

 

"Shushan," said Jack, as they rode along, "do you know what they call

this gorge we are coming out of? They call it 'Bloody Gorge,' from the

robberies and murders there have been in it. Kevork told me when we rode

back together, but I did not want to tell you until we had passed it."

 

"Yesterday the Kourds told me the same," said Shushan, "but _I_ did not

want to tell _you_."

 

At length the mountain gorges were left behind, and a Roman road was

reached, leading to the plain, which now began to assume an appearance

of cultivation. There were wheatfields, and many fine vineyards laden

with grapes. But if the prospect was pleasing, the road was vile. The

great cobble stones the Romans loved had fallen apart, and the mud and

gravel between them had caked into a hard cement. Not the surest-footed

of steeds could avoid constant slips and stumbles, which filled up the

measure of poor Shushan's suffering. She could scarcely hold herself

upon her horse.

 

A little comfort came when the sun shot up in splendour. About the same

time they got upon a smoother piece of road, and presently Jack said:

"My Shushan, art thou too weary to look up, and see old Edessa in the

morning light?"

 

Shushan looked up. "It is a sight to take weariness away," she said,

faintly, but joyfully.

 

Before them rose a hill, crowned with a magnificent ruined castle, and

the slopes beneath it covered with buildings, interspersed with fair

green patches, telling of shady trees and pleasant gardens. But still

the eye turned back to the noble ruin, with its two very tall pillars,

the use whereof no man knows, rising upwards towards the sky. Fragments

of a great wall remained, enclosing not the castle alone, but all the

hill on which the large town is built, with its dense mass of flat

roofs, varied by minarets and mosques. Everywhere white was the

prevailing colour; so that, in the fair morning light, the old city of

King Agbar seemed to have donned a mantle of spotless snow.

 

A very high, very long roof of white attracted the eye. It belonged to

the great Gregorian Cathedral, a noble structure, of enormous size,

capable, it is said, of holding eight thousand persons. Jack turned to

point it out to Shushan, but a glance at her face made him say instead:

"My Shushan, you are ready to faint. You shall rest a little here. I

will lift you from your horse."

 

"No, Shack, no. We are just at home now. I will keep up till I see Miss

Celandine's face."

 

Through the city gate they rode, unchallenged and unhindered. Then they

passed a little market place, rode on through narrow streets, and round

the Protestant Church and churchyard, till they reached the gates of the

Mission premises. Eyes that loved must have been looking from the window

above the front door, for Jack had scarcely time to knock with a

trembling hand, and to lift Shushan from the saddle, when the door

opened, and a tall, spare figure stood within. The face was the face of

one who had thought much, done much, suffered much, and above all, loved

much. Jack gave Shushan into the motherly arms that opened wide to

receive her; she laid her weary head upon that strong, kind shoulder,

and fainted entirely away.

 

"Do not be afraid for her, Mr. Grayson," Miss Celandine said. "Peace and

safety are good physicians."

 

FOOTNOTE:

 

[3] See the Appendix.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XIII

 

WHAT PASTOR STEPANIAN THOUGHT

 

"But he was holy, calm, and high,

As one who saw an ecstasy

Beyond a foreknown agony."

 

--_E. B. Browning._

 

 

John Grayson left his young bride, for the present, in the care of Miss

Celandine. "She is safe; she is absolutely safe!" he kept saying to

himself, that one thought swallowing up all the rest. He went constantly

to see her, and was relieved to find that she very soon recovered from

the effects of her sprain, which indeed was not serious. Meanwhile he

stayed with the Vartonians, and watched anxiously for the coming of the

Meneshians to Urfa. Until he saw them settled there, and in some measure

safe, he did not think he ought to apply for a passport for himself and

Shushan, or, as she would then be called, Lily Grayson.

 

It was October now. The gloom of a great terror seemed gathering over

the town. So accustomed had Jack grown to fears and apprehensions that

he did not notice it as anything unusual. But he could not fail to

notice a most astonishing and unexpected outburst of rejoicing and

festivity that came suddenly in the very midst of the gloom. As

sometimes in a day of storm, when the great thunderclouds sweep across

the sky, the sun looks out for a moment, flashing a shaft of light

through the darkness,--so here, when all seemed blackest, a sudden

rumour passed from heart to heart, from lip to lip, "_The Sultan has

granted the Reforms._" Not only did the Armenians of Urfa whisper it

within closed doors--as they were wont to do with anything bearing,

however remotely, upon politics; men said it aloud to each other in the

streets and in the shops; and women talked of it as they baked their

bread, or drew their water from the fountains. What did these Reforms

mean? Did they mean--men said they did--no more plundering Kourds, no

more tyrannous zaptiehs, no more dungeons and tortures for innocent men,

and, best of all, no more of that wordless, nameless terror that made

the life of the Armenian woman one long misery? If indeed they meant

_this_, ought not the whole community to go mad with joy?

 

The t