CHAPTER I

"_For in the days we know not of

Did fate begin

Weaving the web of days that wove

Your doom_."

SWINBURNE.

". . . allahu akbar--la ilaha--illa 'llah!"

Across the golden glory of the sky floated the insistent call of the

_muezzin_ just as Damaris, followed closely by Wellington, her bulldog,

turned out of the narrow street into the Khan el-Khalili. Shrill and

sweet, from far and near it came, calling the faithful to prayer,

impelling merchants to leave their wares, buyers their purchases,

gossips their chatter, and to turn in the direction of Mecca and offer

their praise to Allah, who is God.

As the entire male population of the native quarter knelt, the girl

drew back beneath an awning of many colours which shaded silken goods

from the rays of the sun, whilst curious eyes peeped down upon her from

behind the shelter of the _masharabeyeh_, the harem lattice of

finely-carved wood. Yards of silk of every hue lay tumbled inside and

outside the _dukkan_ or shop in the silk-market; silken scarves, plain

and embroidered, hung from strings; silk shawls were spread upon

Persian carpets; a veritable riot of colour against the yellow-white

plaster of the shop walls, above which flamed the sky, a cloak of blue,

embroidered in rose and gold and amethyst.

The native women behind the shelter of the wood lattice or the

_yashmak_ or the all-enveloping _barku_, talked softly together as they

watched the beautiful girl who serenely and quite unveiled walked

amongst men with an animal of surpassing hideousness at her heels.

She stood with her head uncovered--it is permissible at sunset--and

with her face lifted, as she listened to the call to prayer, so that a

sun-ray silting in through the silks blazed down upon the positively

red curls which rioted all over her head and were of a tone sharper

than henna, yet many times removed from the shades of red known as

carrots or ginger.

Her skin was _matte_, her mouth crimson, and curved, the teeth perfect,

and her heavily-lashed eyes of so deep a purple as to appear black.

She was slim and supple, unencumbered by anything more confining than a

suspender-belt, a fortnight off her eighteenth birthday and entirely

lovable in looks, ways and temperament in the eyes of all mankind,

which includes women.

The prayer over, and the men again about the business of the hour, she

enquired her way of the vendor of silks who, having quickly replaced

his shoes, had as hastily returned to his shop, his heart rejoicing at

the prospect of perhaps one or two hours' more bargaining--for where is

to be found the Oriental who knows the value of time?

Loving animals, Damaris wanted to find that corner near the silk-market

where can be purchased anything from a camel to a hunting cheetah, a

greyhound to a falcon.

It is not wise for European women to saunter about the old Arabian

quarter unaccompanied, especially if they have been blessed by the gods

in the ways of looks. Damaris Hethencourt most certainly ought not to

have been there, but you must perforce follow the path Fate has marked

out for you, whether it leads through country lanes, or Piccadilly, or

the Arab quarter of Cairo.

The vendor of silks salaamed deeply before her beauty and the

graciousness of her manner, for she smiled when she talked and spoke

the prettiest broken Arabic in the world.

So, putting the huge two-year-old bulldog, which one day was to claim

the proud title of champion, on the leash, she wended her way through

the narrow streets in which two camels may scarce squeeze past each

other and where the _masharabeyeh_ of the harems almost meet overhead.

Water-carriers, camels, sweetmeat-sellers; lowly women in black gown

and _yashmak_; coffee-sellers; donkeys which continually bray and dogs

which unceasingly bark; cracking of whips; shrill cries of "_Dahrik ya

sitt_ or _musyu_," ("Thy back, lady, or sir"); shouts of _U'a u'a_;

clashing of bronze ware; snarls of anger; laughter; song; dust and

colour, all the ingredients which go to the entrancement of the bazaar.

And the odours?

Scent and perfume, aroma and odour; cedars of Lebanon and _harem_ musk;

tang of the sandy sea, fume of the street; the trail of smoke and

onions; the milk of goats; the reek of humanity; the breath of kine.

Make a bundle of that, and tie it with the silken lashes of women's

eyes; secure it with the steel of a needle-pointed knife--and leave it

at that.

There is _no_ describing the smell of the East.

The sale of really good animals--the other kind you can buy by lifting

a finger in the streets--takes place twice a month in a small square

near the Suk-en Nahlesin; but as the way to it leads through many dirty

and twisting lanes, few Europeans ever get so far.

The stock is tethered to iron rings in the ground, the vendors squat

near by, but at a safe distance from teeth, claws or hoofs; the

purchasers stand still farther off; there sometimes occurs a free

fight, when the length of the chain that tethers the jaguar next the

hunting cheetah is too long by a foot or so; and the noise is always

deafening.

Abdul, falconer of Shammar--which district is to be found on the holy

road to Mecca--being of that locality specialises in the _shahin_,

which is a species of hawk; visits the market by appointment only, and,

being independent and a specialist, does not always keep that

appointment.

Damaris turned suddenly into the market and hurriedly looked round for

shelter, which she found in an arched doorway leading to the usual

court of the native house.

Zulannah the courtesan peered down upon her from between the silken

curtains of her balcony, and clapped her hands twice so that her

woman-slaves ran quickly to watch and whisper about this white woman

who stood unattended in the open market. They giggled in the

insufferable Eastern way, and pointed across the Square, where the

whole of the male population surged about two men. But Zulannah, the

recognised beauty of the North of Egypt, shrugged her dimpled shoulders

as she stuffed over-large portions of sweetmeats between her dazzling

teeth and stretched herself upon a divan to watch the scene over the

way.

Abdul, falconer of Shammar, bearded and middle-aged, stood with a

_shahin_ of Jaraza upon his fist and a hooded eyess--which means a

young hawk or nestling taken from the nest--of the same species upon a

padded and spiked perch beside him, whilst hooded or with seeled eyes,

upon perch or bough, were other yellow or dark-eyed birds of prey;

short-winged hawks, a bearded vulture, a hobby, a passage Saker.

But it was not upon Abdul or his stock that the girl's eyes rested,

nor, peradventure, the eyes behind the silken curtains.

The central figure of the glowing picture was that of Hugh Carden Ali,

the eldest and best-beloved son of Hahmed the Sheikh el-Umbar and Jill,

his beautiful, English and one and only wife; the son conceived in a

surpassing love and born upon the desert sands.

"An Englishman," said Damaris softly as she withdrew yet further into

the sheltering doorway and unleashed the dog; and still further back,

when the man suddenly turned and looked across the Square as though in

search of someone. "No! a native," she added, as she noticed the

crimson _tarbusch_. "And yet . . ."

She was by no means the first to wonder as to the nationality of the

man.

In riding-kit, with boots from Peter Yapp, he looked, except for the

headcovering, exactly like an Englishman.

Certainly the shape of the face was slightly more oval than is common

to the sons of a northern race, but nothing really out of the ordinary,

just as the eyes were an ordinary kind of brown, with a disconcerting

way of looking suddenly into your face, sweeping it in an

all-comprehensive lightning glance and looking indifferently away.

The nose was good and quite straight; the hair thick, brown and

controllable; the mouth covering the perfect teeth was deceptive, or

maybe it was the strength of the jaw which belied the gentleness, just

as the slimness of the six-foot of body, trained to a hair from

babyhood, gave no clue to the steel muscles underlying a skin as white

as and a good deal whiter than that of some Europeans.

He moved with the quickness and quietness of those accustomed to the

far horizon as a background; he was slow in speech; and dead-slow in

anger until aroused by opposition.

For the physically weak-born, he had the gentle sympathy of the very

strong; for the physically undeveloped and the morally weak he had no

use whatever--_none_. In the West, his reserve with men had been

labelled taciturnity or swollen-headeduess, which did not fit the case

at all; whilst, in spite of his perfect manner towards them, his

indifference to woman _en masse_ or in the individual was supreme and

sincere.

He was the direct descendant of the founder of Nineveh where horses

were concerned, and his stables in the Oasis of Khargegh would have

been one of the sights of Egypt, had he permitted sightseers.

Educated at Harrow, where he had excelled in sport and captained the

Eleven at Lord's for two succeeding years; respected by the upper Forms

and worshipped by the lower, he had developed the English side of his

dual nationality until masters and schoolfellows had come to look upon

him as one of themselves.

From Harrow he had gone to Brazenose; then had quite suddenly thrown up

the 'Varsity and returned to Egypt.

Love?

Not at all, for was not his indifference to woman supreme and sincere?

Just the inevitable ending of a very commonplace, sordid little story

which had taught the youth one of life's bitterest lessons.

One of a multitude of guests at Hurdley Castle, he had met a woman,

beautiful but predatory, whose looks were taking on an autumnal tint,

and whose banking account had shrivelled under the frost of

extravagance.

His utter indifference to her wiles and her beauty had culminated in a

degrading scene of anger on her part, when, forgetting her breeding,

her birth and her nationality, she had first of all twitted him and

then openly laughed at his mixed parentage.

He had stood without uttering a word, white to the lips during her

tirade.

"Do you think that any white woman would marry you--a _half-caste_?"

had cried the woman, whose bills were coming in in shoals.

"Yes, many," he had quietly answered as he bent to pick up her torn,

handkerchief. "Am I not a rich man?"

He had returned to Egypt upon a visit to the Flat Oasis where dwelt his

parents, who, though noting the indescribable hurt in the eyes of their

firstborn, yet asked no question, for in Egypt a youth is his own

master and ofttimes married at the age of fourteen; how much more,

therefore, is he a man at over twenty years?

He had visited his own house in the Oasis of Khargegh, with the purpose

of putting his stables in order and his falconers through a stiff

catechism, and had finally set out to see something of the world.

Not in a desire to cover his hurt, for he was as stoical as any

high-bred Arab; and, Mohammedan from belief as well as early training,

did not kick against what he looked upon as the commands of Allah.

As for women--well! The sweet, docile woman of his father's race

interested him not at all, so that he refused to listen to any hint

anent the desirability of his taking a wife and establishing the

succession of the House 'an Mahabbha, which is the eldest branch of the

House el-Umbar; and racial distinction barred him from the virile,

lovely women of his mother's race.

He had his horses, his hawks, his hunting cheetahs, his dogs; one great

treasure which he prized and one little conceit.

The treasure had been found in the ruins of the Temple Deir-el-Bahari.

An ornament of gold set with precious stones. Its shape was that of

the Hawk, which had stood as the symbol of the North in the glorious

days of Ancient Egypt. The wings were of emeralds tipped with rubies;

gold were the claws and gold the Symbol of Life they held; the body and

tail were a mass of precious stones; and the eye of some jet-black

stone, unknown to the present century.

As an ornament it was of great value; as an antiquity found in the

Shrine of Anubis, the God of Death, its value could not even be guessed

at; and how it had come into the possession of Hugh Garden Ali will

never be known, though of a truth, unlimited wealth works wonders.

And upon his horses' saddle-cloths, his falcons' hoods, his hounds'

coats, and the fine linen and satins of his Eastern raiment he had the

emblem worked in thread or silk or jewels, or painted in soft colours.

It was just a pretty conceit, but in conjunction with one-half of his

lineage and his love for his birds, it had earned him the title of "The

Hawk of Egypt."

And such was the man as he stood in the market-place, having followed

the path which Fate had marked out for him through the twisting lanes

of the bazaar.