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The Spike or Victoria University College Review 1933

In the Year of Our Lord, Thirteen Hundred

page 56

In the Year of Our Lord, Thirteen Hundred

It was not a large room, but its loftiness made it appear so. Moreover, it was windowless, and in the semi-darkness it was hard to gauge its exact size. The only source of light was a door-way through which could be seen the slender cylindrical pillars of a portico, and beyond, the marble flags of a courtyard. Another doorway was on the opposite side of the room, but it was screened by heavy purple silk curtains. Other than the distant bubbling of a fountain no sound disturbed the peaceful atmosphere of that secluded chamber.

And though there was seclusion, there was not austerity. Instead of a uniform cold grey stone there were pleasant contrasts in red and blue and green. The floor was paved in a dull red sand-stone; the conventional semicircular Moorish arches of the doorway were formed of alternate red and white bricks, while the walls were made up of huge rectangular mosaics. These mosaics did not portray the human form, for that was forbidden, but displayed an amazing variety of multicoloured geometrical patterns. Between the two doorways, and high up above them, there jutted out from the wall a small balcony, an exquisite example in the efflorescent style favoured by Moorish craftsmen. It was completely en-closed by stone lattices: lattices carved with such bewildering wealth of detail as to give them a lace-like frailty.

At the opposite end of the room there could be discerned in the semi-gloom three articles of furniture resting on a large Persian carpet. These were two small tables and a large divan. The divan overspread with a purple silk drapery and heaped with cushions was a manifestation of luxury considered as an art. On either side of it stood the tables; they were octagonal in shape and made of sandalwood inlaid with mother-of-pearl. The glinting of the mother-of-pearl made them peculiarly conspicuous in that half light. At the foot of the divan lay a neat pile of clothing surmounted by a light bejewelled turban, and a curved sword in its chased scabbard. These articles had been arranged by two Nubian slaves who were now kneeling languidly on either side of the divan. From time to time they glanced expectantly towards the doorway.

Before long the entrance from the portico was darkened by the figure of a naked man. From within the room this figure appeared as a perfect silhouette, framed by the Moorish arch of the doorway. In a stronger light the contrast of a black pointed beard and a totally bald scalp would have made the head appear repellant. But in the half-light only the perfectly proportioned contour of the body was visible. The broad shoulders, the slight hips, the tapering limbs, all were perfect; and their beauty was enhanced by a wet and gleaming flawless skin. There was no sign of the knotted muscularity of a developed man, but rather the suggestion of an adolescent youth possessed of premature strength.

The man paused for a few seconds inside the doorway and then, glancing up at the balcony on his left, clapped his hands and walked to the opposite end of the room. Where he had been standing were left two distinct wet footprints, and as he walked he left a trail of fainter ones till he came to the edge of the carpet.

At the signal of the hands being clapped there came from the balcony the sound of a pipe. The music was slow and deliberate, as if the player were producing his notes with caution. They seemed entirely suited to the atmosphere which they filled. It was as if the player were afraid to disturb the calm that reigned there. He seemed to wait for each note to fade away in the far corners of the room before he produced another. The effect was to give the music a marvellous restfulness; music which made one want to linger and listen, forgetful of the passage of the hours.

And inside that gem-like balcony sat the musician. He sat on the floor, his back against the wall and his feet braced against the floral carvings of the lattice. He sat there, and his fingers slowly felt up and down the stem of his pipe. His cheeks were distended with blowing, but otherwise his face was expressionless.

It seemed incredible that this man now playing haunting melodies to soothe the ear of the Sultan of Moorish Spain had piped lively measures to Thames-side watermen. Before, he had played to drunken sailors and vagrant women—people to whom music was not enjoyable unless they could roar out vulgar choruses or perform clumsy gambols to its accompaniment. Now, the player performed to a man capable of appreciating each and every intonation of his wistful improvisations.

page 57

Who could believe that this piper, a half-wit, who had been the sport of tipsy bullies and thieving vagabonds, should now be as carefully tended as an odalisque in the Sultan's harem. No longer need he consider himself fortunate to be allowed to sleep with the dogs on the rushes of a tavern floor; or, failing that, to crouch shivering and sleepless in the niche of a wall. Now he passed his nights on a silk couch and wrapped himself in as many coverings as he fancied.

To him, whose eyes had been accustomed to the sights of filthy hovels, smoke-begrimed ale-houses, garbage-strewn alleyways and revolting cesspools, it was unbelievable that he should see the beauties of the incomparable Alhambra with its restful courtyards, its delicate pillars, its intricate lattices and its voluptuous bathing pools. But he did not see them; for the Sultana came here after her bath too—so they had plucked out his eyes.

—O.A.E.H.