Читать книгу The House of Islâm онлайн

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“Yes, surely,” said Milhem; and he proceeded to recount a few of them.

That night, in a pavilion pitched on the open plain, the guards lying upon the ground without, around their watch fires, Shems-ud-dìn could not sleep for the wonder of those tales. Himself a timid man, he loved to hear of wild encounters. He strove to place himself in some of the perils braved by Milhem, and thought he would have died of fright.

There seemed no end to Milhem’s strange adventures. On the morrow he remembered more of them, which he told with a wealth of homely circumstance which enabled Shems-ud-dìn to witness all he heard. For the listener, those long marches passed as the Thousand and One Nights must have passed for King Shahriar.

They left the plain and entered a land of rocks, where the horses picked their own way gingerly. Here progress was, perforce, much slower. At length, after noon of the fourth day, he reached a height whence, their guide informed them, they could catch sight of their destination. Immediately a dispute arose among the soldiery, some vowing they could see a fine city plainly, while others as positively asserted that there was nothing of the sort within view. Milhem made use of his field glass, a marvel he loved to display, then handed it to his brother. At first Shems-ud-dìn could see nothing; but suddenly he became aware of rocks, and houses like to rocks, of monstrous ruins and a few poor fig trees, the whole presented in a rainbow light not of earth.