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The Rescue Of Fatima
by
“If you mean the Pasha of Sulieika,” answered the prisoner, in a proud tone, “I am he.”
Orbasan gazed at him some time with a stern, hard expression, and then silently beckoned the men to lead him away. When they had done so, Orbasan went up to my brother, cut his bonds with his dagger, and motioned to him to sit down with him on the cushions. “I am sorry, young stranger,” said he, “that I mistook you for that monster. It was, indeed, a singular dispensation of fate which led you into the hands of my comrades at the same hour that was destined to see the fall of that traitor.” My brother begged of him but one favor: that he might be allowed to continue on his journey at once, as the least delay would prove fatal to his purpose. Orbasan inquired what the nature of the affair was that required such haste, and when Mustapha had told him every thing, Orbasan persuaded him to remain in his tent over night, as he and his horse were in need of rest, and promised that in the morning he would show him a way by which he could reach Balsora in a day and a half.
My brother remained, was hospitably entertained, and slept soundly until morning in the tent of the robber chief. When he awakened he found himself all alone, but before the curtain of the tent he heard several voices, one of which belonged to Orbasan and another to Hassan. He listened, and heard, to his horror, that the little old man was urging upon Orbasan the necessity of killing him, lest he should betray them when he had regained his liberty. Mustapha felt sure that Hassan hated him, because he had been the cause of the little fellow’s being handled so roughly the night before. Orbasan remained silent for some moments, and then replied: “No, he is my guest, and the laws of hospitality are sacred with me; neither does he look like an informer.”
Thus saying, Orbasan flung aside the curtain and entered. “Peace be with you, Mustapha,” said he. “Let us take our morning draught, and then prepare yourself to start.” He handed my brother a glass of sherbet, and when they had drunk, they saddled their horses, and with a lighter heart than he had entered the camp, Mustapha swung himself into his seat.
They had soon left the tents far behind, and followed a broad path that led into the forest. Orbasan told my brother that the Pasha who had been captured had promised that he would permit them to remain undisturbed in his territory; yet but a few weeks after he took one of their bravest men prisoner, and hanged him with the most horrible torture. Orbasan had had spies on his track for a long time, and now he must die. Mustapha did not venture to oppose his purpose, as he was thankful to get away with a whole skin himself.
At the end of the forest Orbasan stopped his horse, described the way to my brother, offered him his hand at parting, and said: “Mustapha, you became the guest of the robber Orbasan under singular circumstances. I will not require you to promise that you will not betray what you have seen and heard. You were unjustly forced to suffer the fear of death, and I am, therefore, in your debt. Take this dagger as a keepsake, and if you are ever in need of help, send it to me, and I will hasten to your assistance. This purse you may be able to use on your journey.”
My brother thanked him for his generosity, and took the dagger, but refused the purse. Orbasan pressed his hand once more, letting the purse fall to the ground, and sprang with the speed of the wind into the forest. When Mustapha saw that Orbasan did not intend to return for the purse, he dismounted and picked it up, starting at the generosity of his host, as he found it contained a large sum of gold. He thanked Allah for his rescue, recommended the generous robber to His mercy, and continued on his way to Balsora with a lighter heart.