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Published by aravindpunna

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Published by: aravindpunna on May 03, 2013
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 Should you chance, in crossing a certain mountain pass in southern Catalonia, to find yourself  poised above a little valley against the opposite side of which lies a monastery, look to theheights above it. Should you piece out from among the rocks the jagged ruins of a castle, ask itsname. Your guide will perhaps inform you that those blackened stones are called "The Teeth of the Moor," and if he knows the story he will doubtless tell it to you, crossing himself many timesduring the recital. In all probability, however, he will merely shrug his shoulders and say it is a place of bad repute, nothing more.Even the monks of the monastery, who are considered well versed in local history, haveforgotten the reason for the name, although they recall the legend that once upon a time the castleharbored a haughty Moslem lord. Few of them ever heard the story of Joseph the Anchorite, andhow he sought flesh within its portals; those who have will not repeat it. Time was, however,when the tale was fresh, and it runs this wise:Away back in the reign of Abderamus the Just, First Caliph of the West, Hafiz, a certain warlikeMoor, amazed at the fertility of this region, established on the edge of the plateau a stronghold of surprising security. His house he perched upon the crest of the cliff overlooking the valley below. It was backed by verdant, sun-kissed slopes which quickly yielded tribute in suchquantity as to render him rich and powerful. Hafiz lived and fought and died beneath theCrescent banner, leaving in his place a son, who likewise waged war to the northward on behalf of the Prophet and all True Believers, at the same time farming his rich Catalonian acres.Generations came and went, and, although the descendants of Hafiz waxed strong, so also did the power of the hated Christians. Living as they did upon the very fringe of the Mussulman empire,the Moors beheld with consternation the slow encroachment of the Unbelievers--more noticeablehere than farther to the southward. At intervals these enemies were driven back, but invariablythey reappeared, until at length, upon the plain beneath the castle, monks came and built amonastery which they called San Sebastian. Beneath the very eyes of Abul Malek, fourthdescendant of Hafiz, they raised their impious walls; although he chafed to wreak a bloodyvengeance for this outrage, his hands were tied by force of circumstance. Wearied withinterminable wars, the Moorish nation had sought respite; peace dozed upon the land. Men restedand took from the earth new strength with which to resume the never-ending struggle betweenthe Crescent and the Cross, wherefore Abul Malek's rage availed him nothing. From hisembrasured windows he beheld the cassocked enemies of his creed passing to and fro about their  business; he heard his sacred hour of prayer desecrated by their Christian bells, and could do nomore than revile them for dogs, the while he awaited the will of Allah. It was scant comfort for aman of his violent temper.But the truce threatened never to be broken. Years passed and still peace continued to reign.Meanwhile the Moor fed upon his wrongs and, from incessant brooding over them, became
 possessed of a fury more fanatical, more poisonous even than had been engendered by his many battles.Finally, when the wrong had bit too deep for him to endure, he summoned all his followers, andselecting from their number one hundred of the finest horsemen, he bade them make ready for a journey to Cordova; then in their presence he kissed the blue blade of his scimitar and vowedthat the shackles which had hampered him and them would be struck off.For many days there ensued the bustle and the confusion of a great preparation in the house of the Moor; men came and went, women sewed and cleaned and burnished; horses were groomed,their manes were combed and their hoofs were polished; and then one morning, ere the goldensun was an hour high, down the winding trail past the monastery of San Sebastian, came a brilliant cavalcade. Abul Malek led, seated upon an Arabian steed whiter than the clouds whichlay piled above the westward mountains. His two sons, Hassam and Elzemah, followed astridehorses as black as night--horses the distinguished pedigrees of which were cited in the books of Ibn Zaid. Back of them came one hundred swarthy warriors on other coal-black mounts, whoseflashing sides flung back the morning rays. Their flowing linen robes were like the snow, andfrom their turbans gleamed gems of value. Each horseman bore at his girdle a purse, a kerchief,and a poinard; and in their purses lay two thousand dinars of gold. Slaves brought up the rear of the procession, riding asses laden with bales, and they led fifty blood-red bays caparisoned as for a tournament.With scowling glances at the monastery the band rode on across the valley, climbed to the pass,and disappeared. After many days they arrived at Cordova, then when they had rested andcleansed themselves, Abul Malek craved audience of the Caliph, Aboul-Abbas El Hakkam.Being of distinguished reputation, his wish was quickly granted; and on the following day in the presence of the Hadjeb, the viziers, the white and black eunuchs, the archers, and the cuirassiersof the guard, he made a gift to his sovereign of those hundred northern horsemen and their mounts, those fifty blooded bays and their housings, those bales of aloe-wood and camphor,those silken pieces and those two thousand dinars of yellow Catalonian gold. This done, hehumbly craved a favor in return, and when bade to speak, he began by telling of the indignitiesrendered him by the monks of San Sebastian."Five generations my people have dwelt upon our lands, serving the true God and His Prophet,"he declared, with quivering indignation; "but now those idolaters have come. They gibe and theymock at me beneath my very window. My prayers are broken by their yammerings; they defilemy casement, and the stench of their presence assails my nostrils.""What do you ask of me?" inquired the Caliph."I ask for leave to cleanse my doorstep."The illustrious Moslem shook his head, whereat Abul Malek cried:"Does not the Koran direct us to destroy the unbelieving and the impious? Must I then suffer these infidels to befoul my garden?"
"God is merciful; it is His will that for a time the Unbelievers shall appear to flourish," said theCaliph. "We are bound by solemn compact with the kings of Leon and Castile to observe anarmistice. That armistice we shall observe, for our land is weary of wars, our men are tired, andtheir scars must heal. It is not for you or for me to say: 'This is good, or this is evil.' Allah's will be done!"Abul Malek and his sons returned alone to their mountains, but when they reined in at the door of their castle the father spat venomously at the belfried roof of the monastery beneath andvowed that he would yet work his will upon it. Now that the Law forbade him to make way with his enemies by force, he canvassed his brainfor other means of effecting their downfall; but every day the monks went on with their peacefultasks, unmindful of his hatred, and their impious religion spread about the countryside. AbulMalek's venom passed them by; they gazed upon him with gentle eyes in which there was nospleen, although in him they recognized a bitter foe.As time wore on his hatred of their religion became centered upon the monks themselves, and heundertook by crafty means to annoy them. Men said these Christian priests were good; that their lives were spent in prayer, in meditation, and in works of charity among the poor; tales came tothe Moor of their spiritual existence, of their fleshly renunciation; but at these he scoffed. Herefused to credit them."Pah!" he would cry, tugging at his midnight beard; "how can these men be aught but liars, whenthey live and preach a falsehood? Their creed is impious, and they are hypocrites. They are notsuperior beings, they are flesh like you or me. They have our passions and our faults, but athousand times multiplied, for they walk in darkness and dwell in hypocrisy. Beneath their cassocks is black infamy; their hearts are full of evil--aye, of lust and of every unclean thing.Being false to the true God, they are false to themselves and to the religion they profess; and Iwill prove it." Thus ran his reasoning.In order to make good his boast Abul Malek began to study the monks carefully, one after another. He tried temptation. A certain gross-bellied fellow he plied with wine. He flattered andfawned upon the simple friar; he led him into his cellars, striving to poison the good man's bodyas well as his mind; but the visitor partook in moderation, and preached the gospel of Christ soearnestly that the Saracen fled from his presence, bathing himself in clean water to be rid of the pollution. Next he laid a trap for the Abbot himself. He selected the fairest of his slaves, a well-roundedwoman of great physical charm, and bribed her with a girdle of sequins. She sought out theAbbot and professed a hunger for his creed. Bound thus by secrecy to the pious man, she luredhim by every means at her command. But the Abbot had room for no passion save the love of Christ, and her wiles were powerless against this armor.Abul Malek was patient; he renewed his vow to hold the false religion up to ridicule andlaughter, thinking, by encompassing the downfall of a single advocate, thus to prove hiscontention and checkmate its ever-widening influence. He became obsessed by this idea; he

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