The Manuscript Found in Saragossa (90 page)

BOOK: The Manuscript Found in Saragossa
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The next day I went back down the mine and practised the trade of miner for a few hours. In the evening I went to the sheikh and asked him to continue his story, which he did as follows:

THE GREAT SHEIKH OF THE GOMELEZ'S STORY
   CONTINUED   

I told you that I had received a letter from my father, who informed me that my fairy was a woman. I was then at Ghadames. Sid Ahmed then took me to Fezzan, a bigger but less fertile region than Ghadames, all of whose inhabitants were black. From there we went to the oasis of Amnon, where we had to wait for news from Egypt. A fortnight later our messenger came back with eight dromedaries. The way these animals walked made riding unbearable, but we had to bear it eight hours without a break. Then we stopped. Each dromedary was given a ball made up of rice, gum Arabic and coffee. We rested for four hours and then set off again.

On the third day we stopped at Bahr Bila maa, that is, the sea without water. It is a large sandy valley covered in shells. We did not see any trace of plants or animals there. Towards evening we reached a lake rich in soda, which is a kind of salt. We dismissed our escort with his dromedaries and I spent the night alone with Sid Ahmed. At dawn eight strong men came to carry us across the lake on stretchers. Where the way across seemed narrow they went ahead in single file; the soda crackled under their feet, which they had wrapped in animal skins to protect them. We were transported in this way for more than two hours. The lake opened out into a valley, which was flanked on both sides at its entrance by two white granite rocks. It then stretched out into the distance and passed into a cave which was of natural origin although human hands had helped to fashion it.

Here the guides lit a fire and carried us another hundred paces to a sort of jetty, where a boat was waiting for us. They gave us a light meal. They themselves recovered their strength by drinking and by smoking hashish, a drug derived from hemp seed. Then they lit a resin torch, which threw light for a good distance all around, and fixed it to the rudder. We climbed into the boat, our porters turned themselves into oarsmen and all day we advanced along the underground waterway. Towards evening we reached a bay where the waterway divided into several branches. Sid Ahmed said that it was the beginning of the labyrinth of Ozymandias, which was famous in the ancient world. Nowadays only the underground part which is connected to the caves of Luxor and the underground areas of Thebes has been preserved.

They brought the boat to a halt at the entrance to one of the inhabited caves. The helmsman went to fetch food. Then we wrapped ourselves up in our
haiks
1
and slept in the boat.

The next day they rowed on. Our boat advanced along long tunnels lined with slabs of dressed stone of extraordinary dimensions. Some were completely covered with hieroglyphs. At last we reached a port, where we declared ourselves to the local garrison. The officer in charge took us to his superior, who presented us to the Sheikh of the Druze.

The sheikh extended his hand to me in a friendly manner and said, ‘Young Andalusian, our brothers in Cassar Gomelez have written good things about you to me. May the prophet send down his blessing on you.'

The sheikh seemed to know Sid Ahmed of old. Dinner was served, but at that moment strangely dressed men rushed into the room and spoke to the sheikh in an incomprehensible language. They spoke with vehemence and pointed to me as though accusing me of a crime. I looked towards my travelling companion to find out what was happening, but he had disappeared. The sheikh became violently angry with me; I was seized, my hands and feet were put in chains and I was thrown in a dungeon.

This was a cave, hollowed out of the rock, which was linked to other tunnels by several corridors. A lamp lit the entry to my prison. Here I saw two horrible eyes and, just below, a terrifying mouth armed with monstrous teeth. A crocodile walked half-way into my cave and threatened to swallow me up. I was bound and couldn't move, so I prayed and waited for death.

The crocodile, however, was attached to a chain. This was a test of courage. The Druze then formed a great sect in the East. Their origins went back to a fanatic called Darasi, who in reality was nothing but a tool in the service of Al Hakim bi-Amr-Allah, the third caliph of the Egyptian Fatimids.

This monarch, famous for his impiety, tried by every means at his disposal to reintroduce the ancient cult of Isis. He commanded that he be considered an incarnation of the deity and indulged in the most abominable debauchery, which he tolerated also in his followers. At that time the ancient mysteries had not been altogether abolished. They were celebrated in a subterranean labyrinth. The caliph had himself initiated but was later defeated in his wild enterprises. His followers were persecuted and sought refuge in the labyrinth.

Nowadays they profess the purest of Muslim faiths, like that practised by the sect of Ali, which had formerly been adopted by the Fatimids. They took the name of Druze to avoid the universally hated name of Hashemites. Of all their ancient mysteries, all that the Druze have kept is their test of courage.

I have been present at some of these tests and have seen physical means employed which would give the best European scientist cause to ponder. Moreover, it seems to me that the Druze had several degrees of initiation which do not all relate to the Muslim faith but to things I know nothing about. I was then too young anyway to understand them. I spent a whole year in the caves of the labyrinth and often went to Cairo, where I stayed with people who kept secret links with us.

At bottom we only undertook these journeys to get to know the secret enemies of the Sunni faith, which was then dominant. We set out for Mascate, whose imam declared himself firmly against the Sunnis. This eminent priest received us with exquisite courtesy, showed us the list of Arab tribes who believed in him and claimed
that he could drive the Sunnis out of Arabia. But as his faith was opposed to that of Ali we couldn't expect anything from him.

From Mascate a sailing boat took us to Bassora and, passing through Chiras, we reached the Seferid kingdom. It is true that there we saw the disciples of Ali to be in the majority. But the Persians indulged in sensual pleasures, tore themselves apart in internal quarrels and took little care to propagate Islam in their own country. We were recommended to go to see the Isids who inhabit the hills of Lebanon. Several sectarian groups were called Isids; those of the Lebanon were really known by the name Mutawali. From Baghdad we crossed the desert and reached Tadmora, which you call Palmyra. From there we wrote to the Sheikh of the Isids. He sent us horses, camels and an armed escort.

The whole population gathered in a valley near Baalbec; there we experienced real satisfaction. A hundred thousand fanatics uttered curses against Omar and screamed the praises of Ali. A funeral ceremony was celebrated in honour of Hussain, son of Ali. The Isids slashed their arms with knives, some cut their veins in the grip of madness and died, wallowing in their own blood.

We stayed with the Isids longer than planned. Eventually we received news from Spain. My parents had died and the sheikh intended to adopt me.

After four years of travel I was glad at last to return to Spain. The sheikh adopted me with all the usual ceremonies. Soon I was told of plans which even the six chiefs of tribes did not know about. It was hoped to make me a mahdi. I was first to have myself recognized in the Lebanon; the Egyptian Druze would declare themselves in my favour; Kairouan would also rally to me and when I had brought to this the wealth of Cassar Gomelez, I would be the most powerful monarch on earth.

All that wasn't badly thought out, but first, I was far too young, and second, I had no idea about military matters. So it was decided that I should immediately join the Ottoman army that was then fighting the Germans. Being of a gentle nature, I wanted to oppose these plans but I had to obey. Suitably equipped as a noble warrior, I went to Istanbul and joined the vizir's household. A general called Eugene defeated us and forced the vizir to fall back behind the Tana,
that is to say, the Danube. We tried then to return to the attack and invaded Transylvania. We followed the course of the Pruth but the Hungarians attacked us from behind, cut us off from the Turkish frontier and slaughtered us. I was shot twice in the chest and was left for dead on the battlefield.

Nomad Tatars retrieved me, dressed my wounds and fed me exclusively on soured mare's milk. I am able to say that this drink saved my life. But I remained so weak for a year that I couldn't ride a horse and when the nomads moved camp, I was laid out on a cart with some old women, who looked after me.

My mind was as enfeebled as my body. I was incapable of learning a single word of Tatar. After two years I met a mullah who knew Arabic. I told him that I was a Moor from Andalusia, and begged to be allowed to return to my own country. The mullah interceded on my behalf with the khan, who gave me money for the journey.

At last I reached the caves where I had long been thought dead. My return gave rise to general rejoicing. Only the sheikh was sad, for he could see to what degree I was weakened and diminished. I was less able than ever to become the mahdi, but in spite of that a messenger was sent to Kairouan to test opinion because it was decided to act as soon as possible.

The messenger came back six weeks later. Everyone was extremely curious and crowded round him, but in the middle of his report the man collapsed and seemed to lose consciousness. He was given aid, came to, tried to speak but was unable to collect his thoughts. All that could be understood was that the plague was rife at Kairouan. It was decided to isolate him but it was already too late. People had touched him and carried his baggage. So all the inhabitants of the caves succumbed to a terrible epidemic.

That happened on the Saturday. When, on the next Friday, the Moors from the valleys came to pray and to bring us food, they found only corpses, among which I was crawling about with a great bubo on my left breast. But I escaped death.

As I no longer risked contagion, I set about burying the dead. In undressing the six chiefs of tribes, I discovered the six strips of parchment. I put them together and thus discovered the secret of the inexhaustible gold-mine.

The sheikh had opened the sluices before dying. I drained off the water and for some time stared in wonderment at my wealth without daring to touch it. My life had been so tumultuous that I needed peace, and I wasn't in the slightest bit tempted by the dignity of mahdi. I did not know the secret means of communication with Africa. The Muslims in the valley had decided to pray at home from then on, so I was left alone in my underground domains. I flooded the gold-mine again, collected together all the jewels I had found in the caves, washed them carefully in vinegar and went to Madrid, passing myself off as a Moorish jeweller from Tunis.

There, for the first time, I saw a Christian city. The freedom of the women amazed me, and I was enraged by the inconstancy of the men. I thought nostalgically about settling in a Muslim city. I wanted to go to Istanbul and live very comfortably in obscurity and return from time to time to the caves to replenish my wealth.

Those were my plans. I thought that no one knew who I was but I was mistaken. To appear more credible as a merchant I went to busy avenues and set out my jewels there. I had settled on fixed prices and refused to bargain. This procedure earned me general respect and assured me a profit that I wasn't at all concerned about.

However, I was being followed. Wherever I went – to the Prado, to the Buen Retiro, everywhere – a man was watching me whose stern, sharp eyes seemed able to read my soul. This man's persistent stare plunged me into the greatest anxiety.

The sheikh fell into a reverie, as if succumbing to his memories. Just then we were told that dinner was served and so he put off to the next day the sequel of his story.

The Sixty-fifth Day

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