"Pray tell me, O my father, if it was known to you the things that befell me in the desert. If not, I have much to tell you."

The African was far away; only his emaciated body was in the cell when Michael spoke; when he drew back his mind to his material presence, he met Michael's questioning eyes; his own were tragic and stricken.

"These things are past, my son, in this new world of despair and suffering there is no place for them. Very often I saw you, very often you were in great trouble, trouble as the world understood trouble in the days of peace. But because of the avarice of unG.o.dly rulers there is sorrow and mourning coming to the world, which will teach men that they knew not the meaning of anguish. In the Armageddon they will understand the suffering of the Prophet Jesus, the Man of Sorrows Who was acquainted with grief."

Michael, convinced that the seer's mind was obsessed with this one idea, accepted the fact philosophically; he shrank from asking him the more personal questions he wished answered. Nevertheless, he was extremely curious to learn if he was ignorant of the result of his expedition.

"Tell me, my father, did you see me securing the great treasure of gold and jewels which I went into the desert to find? Did you know how greatly I have reaped my reward?"

"My son, speak to me of the truth which is in thy heart, not of lies."

His angry eyes rebuked Michael. "Stand fast to truth and justice. The men of truth shall find a rich reward--they do not sit in the company of liars."

"I ask your forgiveness, O my father. Truly I spoke not after the fashion of those who have understanding."

"My son, I have seen what I have seen. Your deeds of charity are known to G.o.d, His power extends over all things; not a chicken cheeps in the egg-sh.e.l.l but He has created. Your trials and losses are known to Him, they are His ordaining. Because of your weakness and the carnal thoughts and desires which were in your heart, G.o.d saw fit to remove the treasure from your sight. Again in the days of peace you must seek it, in the bowels of the earth it is laid up for you."

Michael's heart stood still. Verily the old man had seen, for in his words there were truth and meaning.

"My son, listen to the teachings of the Prophet, G.o.d bless his holy name. 'Believing men should restrain their eyes from looking upon strange women, whose sight may excite their carnal pa.s.sions. Draw not near unto fornication. The word of G.o.d restrains the carnal desires of man even from smouldering in secret.'"

"You know, O my father, that I sought not the presence of the strange woman in my camp?"

"My son, through the grace of Allah I have seen. Your temptation was great, your charity was acceptable in G.o.d's sight. He knows that many unbelievers look towards Him, but do not see Him."

"And what now is thy counsel, O my father?"

The African shook his head. "Prayer, my son, that is my counsel. The world has much need of prayer. Pray that through Allah's guidance all nations of the earth may learn how to live peacefully one with another.

I can see nothing further; that is my counsel: Work and pray. I can give you no a.s.surance, but Allah granting, I will pray without ceasing.

You must humbly submit to the will of Allah. This I give you as my counsel. You took the great journey; your heart is still filled with the eagerness of youth, with the vanity of earthly ambition. But all these things will be purged from your heart, your bowels of compa.s.sion will yearn for the mothers of sons, who weep for their sons because they are not. Your journey was not in vain. If your fingers have not yet touched the treasure which you sought, if your desires have strayed from the path of righteousness, if you have not always stood in the Light, there is a new treasure laid up in your heart, my son, the treasure of meekness. Meekness is one of the moral conditions of the Koran, and the servants of the All-Merciful are those who walk meekly upon earth. This treasure has been revealed to you, you have learned many strange and wonderful things, a spiritual treasure has been bestowed upon you which is of greater richness than the gold and the jewels which you sought. You dreamed not of man's weakness, O my son, you relied upon your own strength. Allah has chosen His own method of revealing to you the manner of man's carnal nature."

Michael remained lost in thought while the old man finished his counsel by reciting a beautiful _sura_ from the Koran. In his mind there had been gathering the conviction that there was more truth than he had at first imagined in his daring prophecy, in his foretelling of the calamity which was to befall all Christian countries. He had been perfectly accurate on the subject of his own journey, that it had not been successful in regard to the treasure of Akhnaton. He had seen with extraordinary clearness all which had happened, even to the reading of his heart. It was unnecessary for Michael to tell him in words all that he had gone through, for the African was tired, and his eyes had seen. There was just one thing he had been craving to ask him about; it had been glowing at the back of his mind like a light from a sacred lamp. That precious thing was Margaret. Had this mid-African, whose feet were bending to the open grave, any seer's knowledge which would a.s.sist him?

"I would ask you yet one more question, O my father. Of my dear friends, whom I left in Upper Egypt when I journeyed into the desert--have you counsel regarding them which will ease the anxiety I feel?"

The old man's eyes flashed brightly. He had forgotten; his voice was expressive of human sympathy. "Your guarded lady, _insha Allah_, the future mother of your sons, she was never far from you, she it was who many times comforted you. Often have I seen her spiritual presence very close to you."

"Your words are the truth, O my father. When the weakness of man's nature overwhelmed me, she came to me in the desert."

"Spiritually you embraced her, my son; Allah, in His perfect understanding, granted you this great comfort."

"I have not heard from her, my father, nor has her spiritual presence been close to me for many weeks. My heart is desolate."

"Pray for fort.i.tude, my son, that moral condition which enables us to meet danger and endure pain with calmness." As he said the last words, his eyes looked into the future; his expression became agonized.

"Fort.i.tude," he repeated the word slowly and deliberately, "fort.i.tude--you must pray for it without ceasing, for without it you cannot face the future."

"You do not explain, O my father, why I do not see or hear anything from those who love me."

Michael had seen by the visionary's expression that his thoughts were again obsessed with the Armageddon he had visualized.

The African shook his head. "Some things I may not see, O my son, Allah withholds them from my imperfect human understanding. It is only by His ordaining that I can see what I see. If your heart is clean and worthy, my son, doubt not the faithfulness and steadfastness of the woman to whom you are spiritually united. She raises not her eyes to strange men; if by your own weakness you have lost your spiritual connection with her, then hasten to act worthily of her. The world will have need of all those who have the love of G.o.d in their hearts, of all those who have the moral quality of forgiveness and sympathy.

It is an easy matter to forgive those whom we love. Go you forth into battle and learn to forgive those whom you hate. Never have your opportunities been greater."

As his last words were uttered, with extreme earnestness, through the colonnade and courtyard of the ancient building came the midday call to prayer; it was sonorous and prolonged.

Michael rose hastily from his low seat. The aged student did not detain him. Their farewell was comparatively brief, owing to the _mueddin's_ harmonious and sonorous chanting of the _adan_.

"I will return," Michael said. "I will not leave Egypt without saying farewell to you, O my father, and asking for thy blessing."

"_Insha Allah_ (if G.o.d wills), my son. Very soon G.o.d will permit His servant to enjoy the blessings of paradise."

"It will not be many days before I go to England."

"_Aiwah_, the time draws near when each man will return to the land which gave him birth. The Lord of Battles has decreed it, the Lord of Battles will send forth His summons. From the uttermost ends of the earth all those who have denied Him, all those who have denied that He is G.o.d beside Whom there is none other to be worshipped, they will answer to the call: with pride in their hearts they will slaughter those who should be their brethren. The voice of the slain will travel even as the wind travels to the world's end. Woe unto those nations who have taught false doctrines, who have stretched out their hands to oppress the widows and the helpless, for the anger of the G.o.d of Battles is turned against them. He knows everything, and nothing lies hidden from His sight."

Michael made no answer. His mind was groping after the true understanding of all that the African said.

"If Allah had so willed it, my son, great would have been my happiness, my rejoicing, to see the final triumph of Islam, to see the nations upon the earth loving each other, all borders and barriers broken down, to see the love of G.o.d ruling all men and all countries. When men live with the image of the true G.o.d in their hearts, there will be no dividing barriers. True patriots will be the obedient children of G.o.d, the banner of Islam the universal banner of mankind. Farewell, my son, G.o.d be with you."

His gate was shut behind Michael; the lean figure hastened to obey the call to prayer.

As Michael hurried to the outer gate and crossed the thronged courts of el-Azhar, he meditated on the old man's words. What did they mean?

What had his eyes seen? Locked away in his obscure cell in the centre of the Moslem university-mosque, how could he know what was going to happen in the great countries of Europe? He would find it difficult, no doubt, to a.s.sign to England her correct position on the map. And yet his warnings were strangely intense. Had they any connection with the tales of political sedition of which the _Omdeh_ had so often spoken? Nothing belonging to the present seemed to matter to him now; his thoughts and visualizing were riveted on the agony of the world which he foretold. His prayers were for this new agony and world-wide disaster which had been revealed to him.

It was strangely perplexing. Michael felt great pity for him, that his last few weeks on earth should be so saddened; even though he was convinced that this agony was to be for the final triumph of Islam, it was tearing at his bowels of compa.s.sion. His gentle nature was suffering for the children whom Allah now saw fit to punish.

PART III

CHAPTER I

The war was six months old and Margaret was still a pantry-maid in the private hospital in St. Alphege's Square. She was to be promoted to the wards in a few weeks' time, to fill the place of a V.A.D. who was going out to France. Before taking up her more interesting work, she had been granted a fortnight's leave; the exacting matron realized that the willing horse which works its hardest is one which will eventually collapse under its burden.

Margaret was now visiting an aunt in a northern town, drinking in the keen air of the winter hills and the resin of the pine-woods. She was conscientiously building up her tired system, fitting herself for fresh endeavours; she considered that her brief holiday had been given her for this purpose. Her health and capacity for work were the two a.s.sets which she could give to the war; it was as much a matter of duty to nurse that capital and increase it as it was the duty of the engineers on a ship to keep the driving power of the vessel in perfect order.

During her holiday the only form of war-work which she allowed herself to do, except the mechanical one of knitting, was to help at a railway-station canteen, which supplied free meals to all the soldiers and sailors who pa.s.sed through. The aunt whom she was visiting had the entire responsibility for the free-refreshment-room for one of the shifts for two nights in the week; her shift began at six and ended at nine o'clock. Punctually at nine o'clock another member of the canteen, or "barrow-fund," as it was called, took the responsibility off her hands and kept it until two-thirty a.m. Margaret's aunt asked her to take the place of a helper who had suddenly been telegraphed for to see a wounded brother; who had just arrived at a hospital in Edinburgh.

At the large station, a very important junction, the third-cla.s.s ladies' waiting-room had been given over to this energetic body of women war-workers, who had converted it into an attractive refreshment-room. Margaret was established behind the buffet in her V.A.D.'s uniform. The wide counter in front of her was covered with cups and plates, piled high with tempting sandwiches and bread and b.u.t.ter, cakes and scones; immense urns, full to the brim with steaming coffee and tea, gleamed brightly on a wide shelf behind her.

Everything was in readiness, and there were a few minutes to spare before the first train was due, which would bring a bevy of hungry men into the hospitable room. Margaret used those few minutes to make a tour of inspection; she had to see that plenty of post-cards and writing materials were in evidence on the centre table, that the ill.u.s.trated papers were conspicuously displayed. The barrow, or the moving refreshment buffet, was already out on the platform; it served the men who had no time to leave their carriages. It was winter, so flowers were scarce, but hardly a night pa.s.sed but there was a fresh bouquet on the counter and table. The owners of large country-houses saw to that. The dominoes and draught-boards had been forgotten; Margaret put them on the table in the centre of the room. And then, satisfied that all was right, she took up her position again behind the counter. She was to be responsible for the serving of the tea and coffee; the men helped themselves to the contents of the plates. Her aunt attended to the tea and coffee urns, keeping them replenished and their contents in good condition. Margaret's was distinctly the pleasanter work of the two.

The sharp air of the north had brought back the glow to Margaret's eyes and a freshness to her rather London-bleached cheeks. She looked a deliciously fresh and pleasing waitress in her crisp indoor V.A.D.

uniform. The red cross on the front of her ap.r.o.n was as becoming to her as a bunch of scarlet geraniums. It was too hot, standing so near the steaming urns, for hats and coats, so she had the advantage of showing her rippling hair. The cosy atmosphere of the room made her forgetful of the severity of the wintry atmosphere outside. Margaret's pretty figure and dark head appearing above the buffet-counter were certainly great a.s.sets to the free-refreshment-room. Her aunt, who was a conscientiously undemonstrative woman, felt proud of her niece. She more than once that evening thought to herself what pleasure the girl's beauty would give to the men. It was unfortunately against her principles to allow Margaret to even guess how much she both approved of her and admired her.

Her aunt's thoughts were correct. Margaret's pretty head and her dark eyes were remembered by many an aching heart that night; from her hands the tea and coffee they drank had more flavour than that which was so casually dispensed to them in the army canteens.

"Here they come, Margaret!" her aunt called out, as the door opened and a crowd of khaki-clad figures poured into the room. Most of their faces brightened as they saw the inviting buffet.