Khaled

Khaled stood in the third heaven, which is the heaven of precious stones, and of Asrael, the angel of Death. In the midst of the light shed by the fruit of the trees Asrael himself is sitting, and will sit until the day of the resurrection from the dead, writing in his book the names of those who are to be born, and blotting out the names of those who have lived their years and must die. Each of the trees has seventy thousand branches, each branch bears seventy thousand fruits, each fruit is composed of seventy thousand diamonds, rubies, emeralds, carbuncles, jacinths, and other precious stones. The stature and proportions of Asrael are so great that his eyes are seventy thousand days’ journey apart, the one from the other.

Khaled stood motionless during ten months and thirteen days, waiting until Asrael should rest from his writing and look towards him. Then came the holy night called Al Kadr, the night of peace in which the Koran came down from heaven. Asrael paused, and raising his eyes from the scroll saw Khaled standing before him.

Asrael knew Khaled, who was one of the genii converted to the faith on hearing Mohammed read the Koran by night in the valley Al Nakhlah. He wondered, however, when he saw him standing in his presence; for the genii are not allowed to pass even the gate of the first heaven,

Now that they were alone, he still sat in silence, gazing at her as she stood beside him, and not even thinking of any speech, for he was overcome and struck dumb by her eyes.

“You are not pleased with what I have shown you,” Zehowah said at last in a tone of displeasure and disappointment. “And yet you have seen the wealth of my father’s palace.”

“I have seen neither wealth nor treasure, neither rich garments, nor precious stones nor chains of gold nor embroideries of pearls,” Khaled answered slowly.

But Zehowah frowned and tapped the carpet impatiently with her foot where she stood, for she was annoyed, having expected him to praise the beauty of her many dresses.

“They who have eyes can see,” she said. “But if you are not pleased, my father will give me a hundred dresses more beautiful than these, and pearls and jewels without end.”

“I should not see them,” Khaled replied. “I have seen two jewels which have dazzled me so that I can see nothing else.”

Zehowah gazed at him with a look of inquiry.

“I have seen the eyes of Zehowah,” he continued, “which are as the stars Sirius and Aldebaran, when they are over the desert in the nights of winter. What jewels can you show me like these?”

Then Zehowah laughed softly and sat down beside her husband on the edge of the couch.

“Nevertheless,” she said, “the dresses are very rich. You might admire them also.”

Khaled found his mare and mounted her without saddle or bridle in his haste, then drawing his sabre he rode swiftly out of the palace into the confusion. The enemy with their long spears were driving the panic-stricken guards and the shrieking people before them towards the palace, slaughtering all whom they overtook, so that the gutters of the streets were already flowing with blood, and the horses of the enemy stumbled over the bodies of the defenders. The whole multitude of the pursued and the pursuers were just breaking out of the principal street into the open space before the palace when Khaled met them, a single man facing ten thousand.

“I shall certainly perish in this fight,” he said to himself, “and yet I shall not receive the reward of the faithful, since Allah has not given me a soul. Nevertheless certain of these dogs shall eat dirt before the rest get into the palace.”

So he pressed his legs to the bare sides of his mare and lifted up his sword and rode at the foe, having neither buckler, nor helmet, nor shirt of mail to protect him, but only his clothes and his turban. But his arm was strong, and it has been said by the wise that it is better to fall upon an old lion with a reed than to stand armed in the way of a man who seeks death.

“Yallah! The Sword of the Lord!” shouted Khaled, in such a terrible voice that the assailants ceased to kill for a moment, and the terrified guards turned

“Though it is summertime, I have pursued the enemy,” said Khaled. “And though the sun was hot, I have got the victory and brought home the spoil.”

He said this remembering how she had tried to hinder him from going. Then he gave her his sword and he sat down with her, while the women brought food and drink, for he was weary, and hungry and thirsty. The women also brought their musical instruments and began to sing songs in praise of Khaled’s deeds; but after a time he sent them all away and remained alone with Zehowah.

“O Zehowah,” he said, “you are my law and my rule. You are my speech and my occupation. You are my Kebla to which I turn in prayer. For the love of you I have got the victory over many foes. And yet I see that your cheek is cold and the light of your eyes is undisturbed. Have you no other enemies for me to destroy, or have you no secret foe whose head would be a pleasant gift?”

Zehowah laughed, as she fanned him with a palm leaf.

“Do you still thirst for war, Khaled?” she asked. “Truly you have swallowed up all our enemies as the dry sand swallows up water. Where shall I find enemies enough for you to slay? You went out in pride and you have returned in glory. Are you not yet satisfied? And as for any secret foe, if I have any I do not know him. Rest, therefore; eat and drink and spend your days in peace.”

“I care little for either food or drink,” Khaled answered, “and I need little rest.”

“Will nothing but war please you? Must you overcome Egypt and make Syria pay tribute as far as Damascus before you will rest?”