The women suffer little in labor, which often takes place during a march, or when they are far from the encampment watering the flocks or collecting fuel. They allow their children to remain at the breast until they are nearly two and even three years old, and, consequently, have rarely many offspring.
Soon after our arrival at the Khabour I bought a deloul, or dromedary, as more convenient than a horse for making excursions in the Desert. Her name was Sahaima, and she belonged to Moghamis, the uncle of Suttum, having been taken by him from the Aneyza; she was well trained, and swift and easy in her paces. The best delouls come from Nedjd and the Gebel Shammar.
They are small and lightly made, the difference between them and a common camel being as great as that between a high-bred Arab mare and an English cart-horse. Their powers of endurance are very great.
The deloul is much prized, and the race is carefully preserved. The Arabs breed from them once in two years, and are very particular in the choice of the male. An ordinary animal can work for twenty years. Suttum a.s.sured me that they could travel in the spring as many as six days without water.
Their color is generally light brown and white, darker colors and black are more uncommon. Their pace is a light trot kept up for many hours together without fatigue; they can increase it to an unwieldy gallop, a speed they cannot long maintain. A good deloul is worth at the most 10_l._, the common price is about 5_l._
After the day"s work at Arban I generally rode with Suttum into the Desert on our delouls, with the hawks and greyhounds. During these rides over the flowered greensward, the Arab Sheikh would entertain me with stories of his tribe, of their wars and intrigues, their successful plundering expeditions, and their occasional defeats. In the evening Mohammed Emin would join our party in the tent, remaining until the night was far spent.
The gra.s.s around Arban having been eaten by the flocks, the Jebours struck their tents at dawn on the 4th of April, and wandered down the Khabour in search of fresh pastures. The Boraij, too, moved further inland from the river. During the whole morning the Desert around the ruins was a busy scene; sheep, cattle, beasts of burden, men, women, and children being scattered far and wide over the plain. By mid-day the crowd had disappeared, and the meadows, which a few hours before had been teeming with living things, were now again left lonely and bare. Mohammed Emin alone, with a few Sherabeen Arabs, remained to protect us.
Soon after our arrival at the Khabour, Adla, Suttum"s first wife, came to us with her child. After the Sheikh"s marriage with Rathaiyah, she had been driven from her husband"s tent by the imperious temper of his new bride, and had returned to Moghamis, her father. Her eldest sister was the wife of Suttum"s eldest brother Sahiman, and her youngest, Maizi, was betrothed to Suttum"s youngest brother Midjwell. The three were remarkable for their beauty; their dark eyes had the true Bedouin fire, and their long black hair fell in cl.u.s.ters on their shoulders. Their cousins, the three brothers, had claimed them as their brides, according to Bedouin law. Adla now sought to be reconciled through me to her husband. After much difficulty, all the outward forms of perfect reconciliation between the two wives were satisfactorily gone through, although Suttum evidently saw that there was a different reception in store for himself when there were no European eye-witnesses. Such are the trials of married life in the Desert![126]
On the sixth of April we witnessed a remarkable electrical phenomenon.
During the day heavy clouds had been hanging on the horizon, foreboding one of those furious storms which at this time of the year occasionally visit the Desert. Late in the afternoon these clouds had gathered into one vast circle, which moved slowly round, like an enormous wheel, presenting one of the most extraordinary and awful appearances I ever saw. From its sides leaped, without ceasing, forked flames of lightning. Clouds springing up from all sides of the heavens, were dragged hurriedly into the vortex, which advanced gradually towards us, and threatened soon to break over our encampment. Fortunately, however, we only felt the very edge of the storm,--a deluge of rain and of hail of the size of pigeons"
eggs. The great rolling cloud, attracted by the Sinjar hill, soon pa.s.sed away, leaving in undiminished splendor the setting sun.
_Monday, 8th of April._ The Mogdessi, one of my servants, caught a turtle in the river measuring three feet in length. The Arabs have many stories of the voracity of these animals, which attain, I am a.s.sured, to even a larger size, and Suttum declared that a man had been pulled under water and devoured by one, probably an Arab exaggeration.
A Bedouin, who had been attacked by a lion whilst resting, about five hours lower down on the banks of the river, came to our encampment. He had escaped with the loss of his mare. The lion is not uncommon in the jungles of the Khabour, and the Bedouins and Jebours frequently find their cubs in the spring season.
_April 9th._ A Bedouin youth, thin and sickly, though of a daring and resolute countenance, sat in my guest tent. His singular appearance at once drew my attention. His only clothing was a kerchief, very dirty and torn, falling over his head, and a ragged cloak, which he drew tightly round him, allowing the end of a knotted club to appear above its folds.
His story, which he was at length induced to tell, was characteristic of Bedouin education. He was of the Boraij tribe, and related to Suttum. His father was too poor to equip him with mare and spear, and he was ashamed to be seen by the Arabs on foot and unarmed. He had now become a man, for he was about fourteen years old, and he resolved to trust to his own skill for his outfit as a warrior. Leaving in his father"s tent all his clothes, except his dirty keffieh and his tattered aba, and, without communicating his plans to his friends, he bent his way to the Euphrates. For three months his family hearing nothing of him, believed him to be dead. During that time, however, he had lived in the river jungle, feeding on roots and herbs, hiding himself during the day in the thickets, and prowling at night round the tents of the Aneyza in search of a mare that might have strayed, or might be less carefully guarded than usual. At length the object of his ambition was found, and such a mare had never been seen before; but, alas! her legs were bound with iron shackles, and he had brought no file with him. He succeeded in leading her to some distance from the encampment, where, as morning dawned, to avoid detection, he was obliged to leave his prize and return to his hiding-place. He was now on his way back to his tents, intending to set forth again, after recruiting his strength, on new adventures in search of a mare and spear, promising to be wiser in future, and to carry a file under his cloak. Suttum seemed very proud of his relative, and introduced him to me as a promising, if not distinguished, character.[127] It is thought no disgrace thus to steal a mare as long as the thief has not eaten bread in the tent of her owner.
_April 11th._ The waters of this river had been rising rapidly since the recent storm, and had now spread over the meadows. We moved our tents, and the Arabs took refuge on the mound, which stood like an island in the midst of the flood. The Jebours killed four beavers, and brought three of their young to us alive. They had been driven from their holes by the swollen stream. Mohammed Emin eagerly accepted the musk bags, which are much valued as _majouns_ by the Turks, and, consequently, fetch a large price in the towns. Beavers were formerly found in large numbers on the Khabour, but in consequence of the value attached to the musk bag, they have been hunted almost to extermination by the Arabs. Mohammed Emin a.s.sured me that for several years not more than one or two had been seen.
Sof.u.k, the great Shammar Sheikh, used to consider the musk bag of a beaver the most acceptable present he could send to a Turkish Pasha, whose friendship he wished to secure.
_April 12th._ We rode this morning to the tents of the Jebours, which had now been moved some miles down the river. Rathaiyah remained behind. The large tents and the workmen were left under the care of the Bairakdar.
About three miles from Arban we pa.s.sed a small artificial mound called Tel Hamer (the red); and similar ruins abound on the banks of the river. Three hours from Arban we reached a remarkable artificial mound called Shedadi, washed by the Khabour. It consists of a lofty platform, nearly square, from the centre of which springs a cone. On the top are the tombs of several Jebour chiefs, marked by the raised earth, and by small trees now dry, fixed upright in the graves. I found fragments of pottery and bricks, but no trace of inscriptions.
We did not reach the encampment of Mohammed Emin, spreading three or four miles along the Khabour, until after sunset. The chief"s tents were pitched near a mound called Ledjmiyat, on a bend of the river, and opposite to a very thick _zor_ or jungle, known to the Arabs as El Bostan "the garden," a kind of stronghold of the tribe, which the Sheikh declared could resist the attack of any number of _nizam_ (regular troops), if only defended by Jebours. Suttum looked upon the grove rather as a delicious retreat from the rays of the summer"s sun, to which the Boraij occasionally resorted, than as a place for war.
During the evening, the different Sheikhs a.s.sembled in my tent to plan a _ghazou_, or plundering expedition, for the following day, against the Agaydat, encamped at Abou Psera (Carchemish). On the following morning, Mohammed Emin, with two of his sons, the hors.e.m.e.n of the tribe, and the Sheikhs who were his guests, started on their _ghazou_. The plain, like all the country watered by the Khabour, was one vast meadow teeming with flowers. Game abounded, and the falcon soon flew towards a bustard, which his piercing eye had seen lurking in the long gra.s.s. The sun was high in the heavens, already soaring in the sky, was the enemy of the trained hawk, the "agab," a kind of kite or eagle, whose name, signifying "butcher," denotes his b.l.o.o.d.y propensities.[128] Although far beyond our ken, he soon saw Hattab, and darted upon him in one swoop. The affrighted falcon immediately turned from his quarry, and with shrill cries of distress flew towards us. After circling round, unable from fear to alight, he turned towards the Desert, still followed by his relentless enemy. In vain his master, following as long as his mare could carry him, waved the lure, and called the hawk by his name; he saw him no more.
Whether the n.o.ble bird escaped, or fell a victim to the "butcher," we never knew.
Suttum was inconsolable at his loss. He wept when he returned without his falcon on his wrist, and for days he would suddenly exclaim, "O Bej!
Billah! Hattab was not a bird, he was my brother." He was one of the best trained hawks I ever saw amongst the Bedouins, and was of some substantial value to his owner, as he would daily catch six or seven bustards, except during the hottest part of summer, when the falcon is unable to hunt.
About a mile and a half below Ledjmiyat, but on the opposite bank of the river, was another large mound called Fedghami. We reached Shemshani in an hour and three quarters. It is a considerable ruin on the Khabour, and consists of one lofty mound, surrounded on the Desert side by smaller mounds and heaps of rubbish. It abounds in fragments of glazed and plain pottery, bricks, and black basaltic stone, but I could find no traces of sculpture or inscription.
Leaving Mohammed Emin to continue his journey we returned to our tents. On our road we met Moghamis, and a large party of Bedouins on their way to join the Jebour hors.e.m.e.n, for they also had been invited to take part in the attack on the Agaydat, and to share in the spoil. They rode their swift dromedaries, two men on each, the _rediff_ leading the mare of his companion; that of the Sheikh was of the Obeyan race, and far famed in the Desert. She was without saddle or clothes, and we could admire the exquisite symmetry and beauty of her form.
We dismounted, embraced, and exchanged a few words. The Bedouins then continued their rapid course over the Desert. We pa.s.sed other riders on delouls and mares, hastening to join the main body, or to meet their friends at the rendezvous for the night near Abou Psera. The attack on the tents was to be made at dawn on the following morning, the true Bedouin never taking an unfair advantage of his enemy in the dark.
On the 16th of April, Mohammed Emin and his sons returned from their expedition, driving before them their spoil of cows, oxen, and mares. The Agaydat were taken by surprise, and made but a feeble defence; there was, consequently, little bloodshed, as is usually the case when Arabs go on these forays. The fine horse of the Jays chief had received a bad gunshot wound, and this was the only casualty amongst my friends. Mohammed Emin brought me one or two of the captured mares as an offering. They were, of course, returned, but they involved the present of silk dresses to the Sheikh and his sons.
_April 18th._ To-day we visited the tents of Moghamis and his tribe; they were pitched about five miles from the river. The face of the desert was as burnished gold. Its last change was to flowers of the brightest yellow hue, and the whole plain was dressed with them. Suttum rioted in the luxuriant herbage and scented air. I never saw him so exhilarated. "What Kef (delight)," he continually exclaimed, as his mare waded through the flowers, "has G.o.d given us equal to this? It is the only thing worth living for. Ya Bej! what do the dwellers in cities know of true happiness, they have never seen gra.s.s or flowers? May G.o.d have pity on them!"
Moghamis clad himself in a coat of chain mail, of ordinary materials and rude workmanship, but still strong enough to resist the coa.r.s.e iron spear-heads of the Arab lance, though certainly no protection against a well-tempered blade. The Arabs wear their armour beneath the shirt, because an enemy would otherwise strike at the mare and not at her rider.[129]
After we had enjoyed all the luxuries of an Arab feast, visited the women"s compartments, where most of the ladies of the tribe had a.s.sembled to greet us, examined the "chetab," or camel saddle, used by the wives of the chiefs, and enquired into various details of the harem, we returned as we came, through the flowers and long gra.s.s to our tents at Arban.
CHAPTER XIV.
LEAVE ARBAN.--THE BANKS OF THE KHABOUR.--ARTIFICIAL MOUNDS.--MIJWELL.--THE CADI OF THE BEDOUINS.--THE THAR, OR BLOOD REVENGE.--CAUTION OF ARABS.--A NATURAL CAVERN.--AN EXTINCT VOLCANO.--THE CONFLUENTS OF THE KHABOUR.--BEDOUIN MARKS.--SULEIMAN AGHA.--ENCAMPMENT AT UM-JERJEH.--THE TURKISH IRREGULAR CAVALRY.--MOUND OF MIJDEL.--RUINS OF THE KHABOUR.--MOHAMMED EMIN LEAVES US.--VISIT TO KURDISH TENTS AND HAREM.--THE MILLI KURDS.--THE FAMILY OF RISHWAN.--ARAB LOVE-MAKING.--THE DAKHEEL.--BEDOUIN POETS AND POETRY.--TURKISH CAVALRY HORSES.
The hot weather was rapidly drawing near. Enough had not been discovered in the mound of Arban, nor were there ruins of sufficient importance near the river, to induce me to remain much longer on the Khabour. I wished, however, to explore the stream, as far as I was able, towards its princ.i.p.al source, and to visit Suleiman Agha, the Turkish commander, who was now encamped on its banks. In answer to a letter, he urged me to come to his tents, and to bring the Sheikh of the Jebours with me, pledging himself to place no restraint whatever on the perfect liberty of the chief. With such a guarantee, I ventured to invite Mohammed Emin to accompany me. After much hesitation, arising from a very natural fear of treachery, he consented to do so.
On the 19th of April we crossed the Khabour, and on the following morning we commenced our journey to the eastward. Mohammed Emin was still in doubt as to whether he should go with me or not; but at last, after more than once turning back, he took a desperate resolution, and pushed his mare boldly forward. His children commended him, with tears, to my protection, and then left our caravan for their tents.
We rode from bend to bend of the river, without following its tortuous course. Its banks are belted with poplars, tamarisks, and brushwood, the retreat of wild boars, francolins, and other game, and studded with artificial mounds, the remains of ancient settlements. This deserted though rich and fertile district must, at one time, have been the seat of a dense population. It is only under such a government as that of Turkey that it could remain a wilderness. The first large ruin above Arban, and some miles from it on the left bank of the river, is called Mishnak. About one mile and a half beyond is another ruin called Abou Shalah, and three miles further up the stream a third, called Taaban, upon which are the remains of a modern fort. After a short day"s journey of four hours and a half, we encamped near a large mound named Mehlaibiyah.
Next morning Suttum returned to his tents with Rathaiyah, leaving us under the care of his younger brother Mijwell. After I had visited the Turkish commander, whom he did not appear over anxious to meet, he was to join us in the Desert, and accompany me to Mosul. Mijwell was even of a more amiable disposition than his brother; and although he could neither read nor write, he was one of the cadis or judges of the Shammar, an office hereditary in the family of the Saadi, at the head of which is Rishwan.
The old man had delegated the dignity to his younger son, who, by the consent of his brothers, will enjoy it after their father"s death.
Disputes of all kinds are referred to these recognised judges. Their decrees are obeyed with readiness, and the other members of the tribe are rarely called upon to enforce them. They administer rude justice; and, although pretending to follow the words of the Prophet, are rather guided by ancient custom than by the law of the Koran, which binds the rest of the Mohammedan world. The most common source of litigation is, of course, stolen property. They receive for their decrees, payment in money or in kind; and he who gains the suit has to pay the fee. Amongst the Shammar, if the dispute relates to a deloul, the cadi gets two gazees, about eight shillings; if to a mare, a deloul; if to a man, a mare. Various ordeals, such as licking a red-iron, are in use, to prove a man"s innocence. If the accused"s tongue is burnt, no doubt exists as to his guilt.
One of the most remarkable laws in force amongst the wandering Arabs, and one probably of the highest antiquity, is the law of blood, called the Thar, prescribing the degrees of consanguinity within which it is lawful to revenge a homicide. Although a law, rendering a man responsible for blood shed by any one related to him within the fifth degree, may appear to members of a civilised community one of extraordinary rigour, and involving almost manifest injustice, it must nevertheless be admitted, that no power vested in any one individual, and no punishment, however severe, could tend more to the maintenance of order and the prevention of bloodshed amongst the wild tribes of the Desert. As Burckhardt has justly remarked, "this salutary inst.i.tution has contributed in a greater degree than any other circ.u.mstance, to prevent the warlike tribes of Arabia from exterminating one another."
If a man commit a homicide, the cadi endeavours to prevail upon the family of the victim to accept a compensation for the blood in money or in kind, the amount being regulated according to custom in different tribes.
Should the offer of "blood-money" be refused, the "Thar" comes into operation, and any person within the "khomse," or the fifth degree of blood of the homicide, may be legally killed by any one within the same degree of consanguinity to the victim.[130]
Mijwell now took Suttum"s place in the caravan, and directed the order of our march. Leaving the caravan to pursue the direct road, I struck across the country to the hill of Koukab, accompanied by Mohammed Emin and Mijwell. This remarkable cone, rising in the midst of the plain, had been visible from our furthest point on the Khabour. Some of the Arabs declared it to be an artificial mound; others said, that it was a mountain of stones. Mohammed Emin would tell me of a subterranean lake beneath it, in a cavern large enough to afford refuge to any number of men.
After descending some fifty feet into the cave, we found ourselves on the margin of a lake of fresh water. The pitchy darkness prevented our ascertaining its size, which could not have been very great, although the Arabs declared that no one could reach the opposite side. The cave is frequently a place of refuge for the wandering Arabs, and the Bedouins encamp near it in summer to drink the cool water of this natural reservoir.
Leaving the cavern and issuing from the ravine, we came to the edge of a wide crater, in the centre of which rose the remarkable cone of Koukab.
All around were evidences of the remains of an extinct volcano, which had been active within a comparatively recent geological period, even perhaps within the time of history, or tradition, as the name of the mound amongst the Arabs denotes a jet of fire or flame, as well as a constellation.
I ascended the cone, which is about 300 feet high, and composed entirely of loose lava, scoria, and ashes, thus resembling precisely the cone rising in the craters of Vesuvius and aetna. It is steep and difficult of ascent, except on one side, where the summit is easily reached even by horses. Within, for it is hollow, it resembles an enormous funnel, broken away at one edge, as if a molten stream had burst through it. Anemonies and poppies, of the brightest scarlet hue, covered its sides; although the dry lava and loose ashes scarcely seemed to have collected sufficient soil to nourish their roots. It would be difficult to describe the richness and brilliancy of this ma.s.s of flowers, the cone from a distance having the appearance of a huge inverted cup of burnished copper, over which poured streams of blood.
From the summit of Koukab I gazed upon a scene as varied as extensive.
Beneath me the two princ.i.p.al branches of the Khabour united their waters.
To the left, or the west, was the true Khabour, the Chaboras of the ancients; a name it bears from its source at Ras-al-ain (_i. e._ the head of the spring). The second stream, that to the east, is the ancient Mygdonius, flowing through Nisibin. Khatouniyah and its lake were just visible, backed by the solitary hill of the Sinjar. The Kurdish mountains bounded the view to the east. In the plain, and on the banks of the rivers, rose many artificial mounds; whilst, in the extreme distance to the north could be distinguished the flocks and black tents of a large wandering tribe. They were those of the Chichi and Milli Kurds, encamped with the Turkish commander Suleiman Agha.
We found our companions near the junction of the rivers, where a raft had been constructed to enable us to cross the smaller stream. I had sent the Bairakdar two days before to apprise Suleiman Agha of my intended visit, and to learn how far I could with safety take Mohammed Emin with me to the Turkish camp. He had returned, and was waiting for me. The Agha had given a satisfactory guarantee for the Sheikh"s safety, and had sent an officer, with a party of irregular troops, to receive me.
We had scarcely crossed the river before a large body of hors.e.m.e.n were seen approaching us. As they drew nigh I recognised in the Turkish commander an old friend, "the Topal," or lame, Suleiman Agha, as he was generally called in the country. He had been Kiayah or lieutenant-governor, to the celebrated Injeh Bairakdar Mohammed Pasha, and, like his former master, possessed considerable intelligence, energy, and activity. From his long connection with the tribes of the Desert, his knowledge of their manners, and his skill in detecting and devising treacheries and stratagems, he was generally chosen to lead expeditions against the Arabs. He was now, as I have stated, endeavoring to recover the government treasure plundered by the Hamoud Bedouins.
His tents were about six miles distant; and, after exchanging the usual salutations, we turned towards them. Many fair speeches could scarcely calm the fears of the timid Jebour Sheikh. Mijwell, on the other hand, rode boldly along, casting contemptuous glances at the irregular cavalry, as they galloped to and fro in mimic combat. The delta, formed by the two streams, was covered with tents. We wended our way through crowds of sheep, horses, cattle, and camels. Suleiman Agha lived under the s.p.a.cious canvas of the chief of the Chichi Kurds. The tents of the Kurdish tribes, who wander in the low country at the foot of the mountains in winter and spring, and seek the hill pastures in the summer, and especially those of the princ.i.p.al men, are remarkable for their size, and the richness of their carpets and furniture. They are often divided into as many as four or five distinct compartments, by screens of light cane or reeds, bound together with many-colored woollen threads, disposed in elegant patterns and devices. Carpets hung above these screens complete the divisions. In the tents of the great chiefs there is a separate compartment for the servants, and one for the mares and colts.
I sat a short time with Suleiman Agha, drank coffee, smoked, and listened patiently to a long discourse on the benefits of _tanzimat_, which had put an end to bribes, treachery, and irregular taxation, especially intended for Mohammed Emin, who was however by no means rea.s.sured by it. I then adjourned to my own tents, which had been pitched upon the banks of the river opposite a well-wooded island, and near a ledge of rocks forming one of those beautiful falls of water so frequent in this part of the Khabour.
We were encamped near the foot of a large artificial Tel called Umjerjeh; and on the opposite side of the Khabour were other mounds of the same name. My Jebour workmen began to excavate in the ruins the day after our arrival. I remained in my tent to receive the visits of the Kurdish chiefs and of the Hyta-Bashis, or commanders of the irregular cavalry. From these free-booters I have derived much curious and interesting information relating to the various provinces of the Turkish empire and their inhabitants, mingled with pleasant anecdotes and vivid descriptions of men and manners. They are generally very intelligent, frank, and hospitable.
Although too often unscrupulous and cruel, they unite many of the good qualities of the old Turkish soldier with most of his vices. They love hard-drinking and gambling, staking their horses, arms, and even clothes, on the most childish game of chance. Their pay, at the same time, is miserably small, rarely exceeding a few shillings a month, and they are obliged to plunder the peaceable inhabitants to supply their actual wants.
The race is now fast disappearing before the Nizam, or regular troops.