Next morning, after bidding farewell to Cornelius, Peter left Caesarea on foot; his destination, Arabia.
Had any doubt lingered in Fara's mind about the unwisdom of making Arabia her permanent home, it would have been dispelled on the evening of her return.
The fact that she wasn't wanted there had been ruthlessly demonstrated by the Queen and Prince Deran, and when she retired that night to lie wide-awake for hours beside the happily sleeping Ione, she was firmly resolved to leave at the earliest possible moment.
It was not the shocking conduct of Rennah and her detestable son that had wounded her most deeply, though that intentional rudeness had been as painful as a physical blow. King Zendi's utter indifference to the distressing incident was beyond understanding.
From her earliest childhood Zendi had been as tender as a father. Fara had all but worshipped him. Sometimes, during the loneliest days of her self-exile in Galilee, when her deep devotion to Voldi and her desire to share his life had momentarily shaken her resolve to sacrifice her love rather than jeopardize his career, it was the remembrance of Zendi's unfailing kindness that had abetted the temptation. The King's affectionate attitude toward her would go far in making her future life in Arabia pleasant and his undisguised loyalty to Voldi would silence all criticism. . . . Now it appeared that Zendi didn't care.
At dawn after a sleepless night, the unhappy girl slipped quietly out of Ione's humble quarters in the midst of the servants' tents—hardly an appropriate lodging for the daughter of an Arabian Princess—and strolled out toward the well-remembered paddocks, feeling that the sight of good old Kedar might be comforting. As she had hoped, Kedar was already going about his morning duties. At the moment he was brushing the glossy coat of a beautiful bay filly. He straightened his rheumatic back with an effort.
'Did you do much riding while you were gone?' he asked.
'None. Saidi was stolen, and where I lived in Galilee we had no horses.'
'That was too bad—about Saidi. Voldi told me.' Kedar patted the filly's satin shoulder. 'This girl is Saidi's niece,' he said. 'Her name is Hagar.'
Fara stepped forward and laid her hand gently on the young mare's velvety muzzle, murmuring, 'She's lovely!'
'She hasn't been ridden much,' said Kedar. 'I hope this isn't a secret, but the King intends to give her to you.'
Fara's eyes widened in surprise.
'How long ago did he tell you that, Kedar?'
'Oh—three years ago, when she was foaled, shortly after you disappeared.'
'The King may have changed his mind in the meantime,' said Fara soberly. 'Has he ever spoken of it since then?'
'Last night,' said Kedar. 'After you had gone to bed. Want to take a little canter, Princess? Nobody will be up for an hour. Why don't you ride over to your old home?'
Fara shook her head. It would be much too painful. They would not have left those valuable tents and equipment unattended. Nothing would be there to see but the sad ghost of a garden and old paths overgrown with weeds. Kedar had left her now to her pensive memories. In a moment he returned with a saddle and bridle. Tossing the saddle across Hagar's back, he fastened the girths; then turning to give Fara a candid head-to-foot survey, he adjusted the stirrup straps, mumbling, 'It seems to me your legs aren't much longer than when you left. A little, maybe. . . . There you are! Up you go. . . . She's got a tender mouth—or pretends she has,' still gripping the reins close against the filly's chin. 'Let her show you how she can pace. She's very proud of it. She makes believe she is scared of anything white, just like her Aunt Saidi. . . . That mare was an awful liar!' he added, as he opened the paddock gate and released his hold on the reins. Fara gathered them up, gently but firmly, with practised hands and Hagar made off at a mincing rack. She was as beautiful as the legendary woman whose name she bore, and as vain as a peacock.
Fara laughed merrily and waved a hand to old Kedar, who stood beaming. How good it was to feel and watch again the ripple of a horse's muscles! It had been so long! And Zendi had planned for her to have this incomparable filly! It was very confusing. Zendi was her friend, after all. Perhaps his conduct last night could be explained: it certainly needed an explanation!
'Come out of it, Hagar!' called Fara, digging her heels into the filly's ribs. Hagar tossed her head and broke into an easy lope. . . . It was an intoxicating sensation! The early-morning breeze tousled Fara's hair. She was ecstatic. In spite of her decision not to visit the site of her old home, she found herself on the familiar trail.
As she had anticipated, nothing remained but the sturdily built paddocks. In the one nearest the vacant area where the tents had stood, a beautiful black horse was tied. His saddle-blanket bore the Arabian royal insignia. Dismounting at a little distance, Fara tied the filly and strolled to the dilapidated garden. On the weather-beaten rustic bench, where she had so often sat beside her mother during those anxious days of her illness, King Zendi smilingly watched her approach. She paused for a moment, slowly proceeded to the bench, and sat down beside him. He took her hand.
'I have been waiting for you, dear child,' he said, gently.
'What made you think I might come?' she asked.
'I surmised you might be up early. You would want to talk to old Kedar, everyone else being unfriendly. You knew you could count on Kedar. He didn't tell you I was here?'
She shook her head.
'That's good,' said Zendi. 'I told him not to tell you. You might not have come had you known. I hurt you badly last night.'
Fara made no comment. Tears stood in her eyes.
'It is not easy for me to tell you,' said Zendi hesitantly, 'but you deserve to know. My life, at present, is difficult. Rennah is ill. It is a sickness of the mind. She has become madly obsessed by the idea that—that—'
He broke off here and sat moodily tracing lines in the sand with his riding-whip; then he faced her to ask, entreatingly, 'You can't guess what I'm trying to say, can you?'
'I'm afraid not, sir,' murmured Fara.
'Then I must begin at the beginning. Did you ever hear that your mother and I were deeply in love when her marriage was forced upon her as a patriotic duty?'
'I knew you were devoted friends,' admitted Fara.
'All of that!' said Zendi. 'After your dear mother had been carried away into bondage and it became expedient for me to marry, Rennah seemed contented with her belief that she had taken Arnon's place in my heart. But after your mother returned alone to Arabia, the Queen became uneasy. She tried hard, I think, to treat your mother kindly; but her suspicion grew. . . . Perhaps I was at fault.'
The unhappy King paused so long here that Fara wished she could think of something appropriate to say.
'Yes,' he continued in a barely audible tone of soliloquy, 'I was clearly at fault. Your mother had been used cruelly. She had come home in humiliating circumstances. I tried to show my friendship. Then, realizing that my attitude would be misunderstood, I went to special pains to allay Rennah's jealousy; and so successfully that the Queen began to take an interest in Arnon. I must give her full credit for that.'
It was a long story, and Zendi insisted on telling it all. Fara listened pensively, her heart aching for him.
'Of course,' he was saying now, 'Rennah had always humoured our son in many things that were to his disadvantage. The boy was wilful, and his over-indulgence had made him arrogant; but I hoped that as he grew older his disposition might improve. Any Crown Prince is an object of pity, Fara. No one dares tell him how to treat his fellows. No other boy dares slap him for his impudence. Deran never had any discipline, at all.
'When your mother died,' continued Zendi, 'and you disappeared, I was sorely grieved. I tried not to show how deeply I had been wounded; but Rennah knew. I had no appetite; I was moody; I wanted to be alone. Rennah turned to Deran for companionship. Anything Deran did or said was exactly right. She made believe he was witty and laughed at his impudences. He insulted my Councillors; he ridiculed me in the presence of our servants. Nothing short of divorcing Rennah and disowning Deran could have relieved my intolerable predicament.'
Again Zendi reached for Fara's hand.
'Now, my child, you know why you were so shamefully used, last night, at our own table.'
'I am glad you wanted to tell me,' said Fara. 'It does relieve my mind to know that you are still my friend. It would be unfair for me to remain here and add to your burden. I shall take Ione—and go. She will be happy to return to her own country. And as I have no country, I think I should prefer to live in Greece. May I have your permission to do that?'
'What about Voldi?'
'Voldi knows I can't marry him.'
'But you do love him, I think.'
'Dearly! Far too dearly to risk ruining his life!'
'You two will be unhappy as long as you live.'
'But I cannot live happily in Arabia, and Voldi will not be happy anywhere else. Our choice is limited to two kinds of unhappiness.'
'Well—you're making the wrong choice! How many thousands of times I have wished that your mother and I had had the courage to run away. I don't know where we could have gone; but any hardship would have been preferable to what we endured.' It suddenly occurred to Zendi that he had unwittingly drawn a picture without Fara in it, and he mumbled an apology that didn't help very much.
'Don't mind me!' said Fara, with a half-bitter chuckle. 'I've never thought it was any fun to be alive.'
King Zendi now sighted something on the trail that won his interest. He stood up and surveyed with apparent satisfaction an approaching train of camels. Fara rose and stood beside him. He took her arm.
'Your tents and furniture,' he said. 'Everything will be put in place today, just as you left it. Your servants will be here soon.'
'Oh, but you mustn't! I cannot stay here!' pleaded Fara.
Then Zendi explained. He had supposed, he said, that she might not want to remain. When the news arrived of her father's assassination, he had assumed that she would return for her beloved Ione and plan to reside in some other country; possibly Greece, for she had often expressed admiration for that historic land. In view of this probable decision, he had been converting her property into money.
'Your sheep and cattle were sent to Damascus,' he said, 'and the caravan will return shortly with the proceeds. Your estate should be ample to provide for you wherever you may decide to live.'
All through the forenoon the King watched as the experienced men pitched Fara's tents on their former site and installed the familiar equipment. The old servants came and set about their accustomed tasks. Ione, directing them, was dizzy with joy. Lunch was served in the garden and Voldi arrived in time for it. The King declined an invitation to stay. Deran had been taken ill in the night, he said, with what appeared to be an unusually bad cold, accompanied by a fever. The Queen was greatly worried about him.
* * * * * *
During the next three days the servants went to and fro between the King's encampment and Fara's compound, bringing forgotten articles of household gear from the storage. They brought also disturbing news of the Prince's illness. His fever had mounted dangerously and he was delirious much of the time. In the morning of the fourth day of his sickness, Voldi rode over to tell Fara that the fever was subsiding but Deran was unable to move his legs. The Queen, he said, was hysterical with grief, noisily upbraiding the physician for his failure to propose a remedy.
But there was no remedy for Deran's disease. He had fallen victim to the dreaded epidemic that had wrought such havoc this summer. Within a week all Arabia had learned that the Crown Prince was a helpless, hopeless paralytic.
Rennah's lamentations were so appalling that even Deran was disgusted by her emotional collapse and bitterly complained that he had enough to bear without being tortured by her outcries—and would she have the goodness to desist and let him die in peace. His surly comment was of no consolation to her. Still in need of some outlet for her distress, Rennah turned to accusations, reviling the baffled old physician, badgering the servants, and making life wretched for the King.
For relief from this tumult, Zendi rode alone for hours and leagues in weather that was becoming increasingly inclement as the chill winds of autumn began to lash the mountain trails.
One snowy morning he brought Fara's money, six heavy pouches loaded with gold, stowed in huge saddle-bags. He handed down the precious freight to the stable-boys, but did not dismount.
Late one afternoon, he arrived home, wet to the skin, his teeth chattering, his face flushed with fever. They helped him off his horse and asked him what was the matter. He was too hoarse to make an audible reply. They put him to bed with hot bricks at his feet and plied him with the usual remedies for severe exposure. The Councillors were summoned. The physician tried everything he knew. The hours of the night dragged wearily through, and at dawn Zendi died.
* * * * * *
A fortnight had passed since the death of the King. Much snow had fallen, earlier than usual, but the sun shone brightly at midday, melting the drifts. Old men who remembered freely predicted a mild, open winter, which meant that Arabia faced the heartening prospect of ample pasturage and prosperity. This was good, especially in view of the fact that the nation was without a ruler. It was in seasons when the grass was scarce that the tribesmen quarrelled and fought and the country needed the control of a firm hand. When the traditional thirty days of mourning passed, the Council would meet and consider the appointment of a new King, it being quite obvious that Prince Deran was unable to succeed to the throne, a fact which the wise men discreetly deplored in their demeanour and conversation but to which they bravely reconciled themselves in their hearts.
At dusk one afternoon, Ione came into Fara's bed-chamber to say that an old man whom she had never seen before was asking to see her.