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Lew Wallace
COMMODUS & THE WOOING OF MALKATOON
Published by
Books
- Advanced Digital Solutions & High-Quality eBook Formatting -
2017 OK Publishing
ISBN 978-80-7583-002-9
Table of Contents
THE WOOING OF MALKATOON
Othman Renews His Prayer for Malkatoon
Othman and the Lord of Eskischeer
Edebali and the Lord of Eskischeer
The Lord of Eskischeer in Quest of Othman
Prologue
Child Mahommed 1
The dance and song, the tales and juggleries,
With which the wise Sultana-mother used
To speed the laggard hours of harem life,
Were good for folk with souls of every day;
But Mahommed would nothing have that did
Not stir his warrior sense. The cymbal's crash,
And trumpets strident notes, unmixed of plaint
Or melody, could always bid him near
And hold him fast, a wild-eyed listener;
And with his urchin's fist he beat the drum,
And trembled with delight to hear its roll
Invade the silent places of the house,
And die in distant halls. And all day long,
With a heap of stippled ivory cubes,
The gift antique of a forgotten prince
Who erstwhile ruled a land of elephants
Off in the sunrise somewhere, he would build
Tall castle piles, and wall and moat them round,
And when he thought them perfect for defence,
Retire a little space, and with his bow
And arrows shoot them into formless wrecks.
But best of all he loved of afternoons,
When, in the musky - shaded central court,
The ladies of the household met to feast
On spiced meats, and nuts, and snow-cooled draughts,
And exchange trinketries and quips as rich,
And chorus loud the while the slaves before
Them spread what all the merchants from the gates
Without had dared to send them — such the time
The doughty child best loved to dight himself
As Eastern knights for battle bound were wont,
And on the Kislar-Aga's sword for steed,
And yelling shrill,, with undissembled rage
And fury burst upon the startled groups,
And send them screaming thence, and, doing so,
Imagine that he did but re-enact
The role of black Antar, who used alone
To sheer ten thousand horsemen of their heads.
Nor were there any of the luresome wiles
With children potent since the world began
Enough to lay the martial jealousy
With which he held the court. Nor cared he more
For truce proposed in form by heralds trained,
And leading troops of buglers clad in gold,
And blowing flourishes until the sky
Were like to crack and fall. At length would come
The high Sultana. In her deep reserve
Of mother-love she held the only charm
To calm his mood and raise the well-kept siege.
"The battle's done. My lord must now dismount;
And I will tell him of our Othman bold,
And how he wooed and won his Malkatoon."
And with the saying she would gravely reach
Her hands to him, and he would run to her,
And at her feet throw down his lance and shield;
And haply seated then, his ruddy cheek
Soft pillowed on her twin - orbed, ample breast,
The tale she would unfold.
Edebali the Dervish
"My lord must know
That in the ancient time, near Eskischeer,
A many-gated