Then blackness came and he fainted.
THE BLACK ADDER, by Dorothy Quick
Talfa opened the casement window and, leaning out into the night, tried to see the garden below. It was a quiet, moonless night, and she could distinguish nothing. Even the stars were veiled, and a heavy impenetrable blue-blackness covered everything. But a soft wind carried the scent of the jasmines to her nostrils.
She knew the garden so well that she could visualize it mentally, although its beauties were hidden from her eyes. There was the crystal pool and, beyond it, the marble summer house, always cool and inviting. Inside, on the couch of crimson silk, Boud Ali waited. At the thought of him lying there, his slim, muscular body relaxed on the cushions while the black curls of his hair lay loose about his handsome face, Talfa’s heart beat faster and her breasts throbbed against the casement sill.
Boud Ali waited for her, and her every nerve cried out for him, longed for the relief that only resting in his arms could give. So near he was, such a few short steps, and she could feel his lips on hers. Heaven! And yet tonight it could not be!
Talfa shook her head, and the two long braids of blue-black hair slipped over the window-ledge, stretching downward into the night. Talfa, like a Fairy Princess of old, had hair that waved softly about her piquant face and then fell rippling downward until it reached her knees. It was very thick and soft, and she wore it in braids to keep it out of her way. Her deep brown eyes peered out into the night as though they were striving to see the lover who waited for her, and her red lips trembled a little with the sorrow that enveloped her because she could not go to him.
Just two short weeks they had known each other. Only fourteen days ago, she had danced before the Rajah and his guests. Among them had been Boud Ali. As she made the obscene movements that were meant to drive men mad, she had seen him and read desire in his black eyes—desire which had lit a flame in her own heart.
When the dance was over and she and the other dancing-girls lay exhausted on the mosaics of the floor, she had heard the Rajah’s voice.
“Choose whom you will among the dancing-girls to be your companion for the night—save those who are virgin: they are for me alone.”
Talfa had raised her head and, through the clouds of smoke and incense, she had seen Boud Ali start toward her. Willingly would she have stayed and given to him all he asked, she who had never known the touch of man. But it was not to be so; for before he ever reached her side, the chief eunuch had caught her by the wrist and led her and two other girls back to the harem.
There slaves had bathed them with scented waters, dried their hair, and they had sought their couches. Only Talfa could not sleep. The black eyes of Boud Ali had haunted her, and the heat of the night had been oppressive.
She remembered so well that she had drawn a soft silk mantle over her and stolen silently down to the garden. No guards were about. The garden walls were high and the Rajah unafraid of his women betraying him. They knew too well the penalty that would be theirs if they were caught. For his wives perhaps he kept a stricter watch; but of these Talfa knew nothing, she who had been bought for a concubine because of her beauty and her ability to dance.
For a year she had been in the palace and had never seen the Rajah except on the rare occasions when she was called upon to dance, as she had been tonight. But because she was a virgin, she never was allowed to stay for the aftermath of the feast. The Rajah was generous only with those who no longer tempted him. Talfa knew that some time he would send for her, and then—. But that night she had had no room in her thoughts for anyone beyond Boud Ali.
She had gone down the tiny stairway like a ghost, past the sleeping eunuch, out into the cooling night; beyond the crystal pool she had sought the marble summer house. Here some day she would know the embraces of the Rajah when his eyes would rest upon her with desire. But for tonight she would dream of the young stranger.
As she entered the pavilion someone rose from the crimson couch and came toward her with outstretched hands. In the glow of the moonlight she saw Boud Ali, and a crimson flush stained her slender young body under the silken robe.
Boud Ali spoke, and his voice was low and musical. “Truly the priest spoke well who said we know not the power of our own thoughts. Here have I lain for hours, willing that you should come to me, and so the desire of my life has been granted. You are here!”
Talfa took a step nearer to him. “But how did you come? The walls are far too high to climb.”
His clear laugh rang through the scented night. “Nor did I climb! Gold brought me here—gold and a greedy slave, who opened a little-known door in that high wall, and has promised to do so yet again—and will, if you are kind.”
The girl moved forward. “I saw you in the banquet hall,” she began.
He moved toward her until they stood face to face. “Beloved,” he said softly, “I, too, saw such beauty as I had never dreamed, and love was born in my heart. Smile at me, sweet one. Smile, and tell me that I ask not in vain.”
Talfa looked deep into his eyes, and the corners of her mouth curved deliciously. With a sudden gesture of surrender, she stretched forth her hands.
The next second she was in his arms and her silken mantle lay unheeded on the floor.
Twice since then the marble summer house had sheltered their love. Gold had truly opened the way for Boud Ali, and Talfa thought little of the risk she ran. She merely waited until the women’s house was wrapped in slumber before she stole down the tiny stairway. That death would be her portion if she were discovered, faded away before the magic of her lover’s kiss. The fact that the death would be a slow, torturous one, not swift and merciful, she never let come into her thoughts. The moment and Boud Ali were sufficient, and she felt that she would gladly pay any price for the joy, of resting in his arms.
But tonight? Tonight her soul was full of terror, not for herself but for him! They had planned to meet, and her heart had been full of eager anticipation. Then only a few short moments ago word had been brought that the Rajah would visit the women’s quarters and that the dancing-girls should be ready to amuse him.
* * * *
Talfa on hearing the news, had prayed silently that his choice fall not on her when the dance was done. Then like a swift stab of horror had come the thought the Rajah would retire to the summer house with whomever he chose. That was the reason she had seen slaves working there today. They were cleaning and perfuming the pavilion for his use. And just at that time Boud Ali would be there waiting. Death would be his portion, and she could not save him. There was no way. The slave who let him into the garden was in the men’s part of the palace; so even if she knew which slave it was, she had no way of reaching him. And she would not dare disclose her secret to anyone who could send a message. Talfa, herself, could neither read nor write. Only fifteen years old, she had been educated solely to attract and interest the senses.
In sheer panic, she had left the other girls, who were chattering like a group of excited monkeys, and had sought this window overlooking the garden. Out there, not very far away, her lover was waiting. What was it he had said of the power of thought? Gods! If only her thoughts could warn him! But she had no faith in her powers of concentration. By all the Gods, there must be a way! Then out of the night and her own despair, an idea was born.
At their last meeting they had laughingly, joked of “The Black Adder,” a bandit who had been terrorizing the whole province of Tawnpore, so called because he struck quickly like the reptile, and his touch meant death; also because he was always robed in black with a silk hood over his face. No one had the slightest idea of his identity.
When Talfa had playfully refused one of his caresses, Boud Ali had cried, “Submit, or I will call on the Black Adder to make you. See reason, oh, light of my life!”
And then much later, after she had explained that she had refused only for the joy of giving in, they had spoken of the Black Adder again, and Boud Ali had told her some of the bandit’s less gory exploits. Perhaps he would remember their conversation and under cover of