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The Strong Arm

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"Come at once," it said. "Baalbek is unprotected, and the Prince has
gone on a hunting expedition. March through the Pass of El-Zaid, which
is unprotected, because it is the longer route. The armies of Baalbek
are at Tripoli and at Antioch, and the city is without even a garrison.
The southern gate will be open awaiting your coming."

Days passed, and the ambassador paced the roof of his house, looking in
vain towards the south. The streamed flowed as usual through the city.
Anxiety at the lack of all tidings from Damascus began to plough
furrows in his brow. He looked careworn and haggard. To the kindly
inquiries of the Prince regarding his health, he replied that there was
nothing amiss.

One evening, an urgent message came from the palace requesting his
attendance there. The Prince met him with concern on his brow.

"Have you had word from your master, Omar, Governor of Damascus, since
you parted with him?" asked Ismael.

"I have had no tidings," replied the ambassador.

"A messenger has just come in from Damascus, who says that Omar is in
deadly peril. I thought you should know this speedily, and so I sent
for you."

"Of what nature is this peril?" asked the ambassador, turning pale.

"The messenger said something of his falling a prisoner, sorely
wounded, in the hands of his enemies."

"Of his enemies," echoed the ambassador. "He has many. Which one has
been victorious?"

"I have had no particulars and perhaps the news may not be true,"
answered the Prince, soothingly.

"May I question your messenger?"

"Assuredly. He has gone to the Temple of Life, to pray for some of his
own kin, who are in danger. Let us go there together and find him."

But the messenger had already left the Temple before the arrival of his
master, and the two found the great place entirely empty. Standing near
the edge of the slab before the mammoth statue, the Prince said:

"Stand upon that slab facing the statue, and it will tell you more
faithfully than any messenger whether your master shall live or die,
and when."

"I am a Moslem," answered Haziddin, "and pray to none but Allah."

"In Baalbek," said the Prince, carelessly, "all religions are
tolerated. Here we have temples for the worship of the Roman and the
Greek gods and mosques for the Moslems. Here Christian, or Jew, Sun-
worshipper or Pagan implore their several gods unmolested, and thus is
Baalbek prosperous. I confess a liking for this Temple of Life, and
come here often. I should, however, warn you that it is the general
belief of those who frequent this place that he who steps upon the
marble slab facing the god courts disaster, unless his heart is as
free, from treachery and guile as this stone beneath him is free from
flaw. Perhaps you have heard the rumour, and therefore hesitate."

"I have not heard it heretofore, but having heard it, do not hesitate."
Saying which, the ambassador stepped upon the stone. Instantly, the
marble turned under him, and falling, he clutched its polished surface
in vain, dropping helplessly into the reservoir beneath. The air under
his cloak bore him up and kept him from sinking. The reservoir into
which he had fallen proved to be as large as the Temple itself,
circular in form, as was the edifice above it. Steps rose from the
water in unbroken rings around it, but even if he could have reached
the edge of the huge tank in which he found himself, ascent by the
steps was impossible, for upon the first three burned vigorously some
chemical substance, which luridly illuminated the surface of this
subterranean lake. He was surrounded immediately by water, and beyond
that by rising rings of flame, and he rightly surmised that this
substance was Greek fire, for where it dripped into the water it still
burned, floating on the surface. A moment later the Prince appeared on
the upper steps, outside the flaming circumference.

"Ambassador," he cried, "I told you that if you stepped on the marble
slab, you would be informed truly of the fate of your master. I now
announce to you that he dies to-night, being a prisoner in my hands.
His army was annihilated in the Pass of El-Zaid, while he was on his
way to capture this city through your treachery. In your last
communication to him you said that you would investigate our water
storage, and learn how it was discharged. This secret I shall proceed
to put you in possession of, but before doing so, I beg to tell you
that Damascus has fallen and is in my possession. The reservoir, you
will observe, is emptied by pulling this lever, which releases a trap-
door at the centre of the bottom of the tank."

The Prince, with both hands on the lever, exerted his strength and
depressed it. Instantly the ambassador felt the result. First, a small
whirlpool became indented in the placid surface of the water, exactly
in the centre of the disc: enlarging its influence, it grew and grew
until it reached the outer edges of the reservoir, bringing lines of
fire round with it. The ambassador found himself floating with
increased rapidity, dizzily round and round. He cried out in a voice
that rang against the stone ceiling:

"An ambassador's life is sacred, Prince of Baalbek. It is contrary to
the law of nations to do me injury, much less to encompass my death."

"An ambassador is sacred," replied the Prince, "but not a spy. Aside
from that, it is the duty of an ambassador to precede his master, and
that you are about to do. Tell him, when you meet him, the secret of
the reservoir of Baalbek."

This reservoir, now a whirling maelstrom, hurled its shrieking victim
into its vortex, and then drowned shriek and man together.

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