Allah-illah, Allah-hu.'
'Him the sacred mosque shall greet with a reverence grave and
low; him the busy Bezestein shall welcome with confiding smile. Holy
merchant, now receive the double triumph of thy toil. Allah-illah,
Allah-hu. Allah-illah, Allah-hu.'
'The camel jibs, Abdallah! See, there is something in the track.'
'By the holy stone,[16] a dead man. Poor devil! One should never make
a pilgrimage on foot. I hate your humble piety. Prick the beast and he
will pass the corpse.'
'The Prophet preaches charity, Abdallah. He has favoured my enterprise,
and I will practise his precept. See if he be utterly dead.'
It was the Mecca caravan returning to Bagdad. The pilgrims were within
a day's journey of the Euphrates, and welcomed their approach to fertile
earth with a triumphant chorus. Far as the eye could reach, the long
line of their straggling procession stretched across the wilderness,
thousands of camels in strings, laden with bales of merchandise, and
each company headed by an animal of superior size, leading with tinkling
bells; groups of horsemen, clusters of litters; all the pilgrims
armed to their teeth, the van formed by a strong division of Seljukian
cavalry, and the rear protected by a Kourdish clan, who guaranteed the
security of the pious travellers through their country.
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