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Updated: June 15, 2025
"Know thou," said Moussa, "that we are in such a position and at such an hour that no other name must be invoked save that of the most high God." Moussa was, apparently, the first Arab chief to cross the Pyrenees and march, plundering as he went, into Narbonness.
Moussa, who had during the evening been arrested by order of the Caliph, and had been brought to the palace of the Governor of Bagdad, was now brought in under guard.
Most of the memories of Moussa Isa centred round scars. When I say "memories of Moussa Isa" I mean Moussa Isa's own memories, for there are no memories concerning him.
The sense of the meeting appeared to be that though one would not have chosen this particular animal, necessity knows no rule and if the throat be cut while the animal be alive, one may eat of the flesh and break the Law by so much the less. Moussa Isa must be halalled.
Moussa Isa knew the pattern of it well by the close of day. The Leading Gentleman took that evening to sharpening the already sharp blade of the knife. As he sharpened it on his sandal and the side of the boat, and tried its edge on his thumb, he regarded the thin body of Moussa Isa very critically. His look blended contempt, anticipation, and anxiety.
The fact is well established, that Count Julian and his brother Oppas, archbishop of Toledo, both of them distinguished and influential men, favoured the irruption of the Moors into Spain. Tarik, one of the most renowned captains of his time, was sent into Spain by Moussa.
On the 11th, the travellers once more crossed the Moussa, which formerly divided the kingdoms of Youriba and Borgoo. It was now dry in a great many places, with a very rocky bed; when full, it is about thirty yards in breadth, and flows with a very strong current. On the other side, the road to Kiama lay through a flat country, thickly wooded with fine trees, and inhabited by large antelopes.
He had slept standing jammed against the wall in the Idris of Omdurman, one of the most terrible jails of all time, and a huge foot on his face was a matter of no moment. The Tanga tout suddenly emitted a scream, a blood-curdling scream, and immediately scratched his ribs like a monkey.... Moussa Isa held his peace. Anon the scar-faced man turned over, moving others.
"You could hit me at a thousand yards, O Emir," was the reply. "Let me die by a shot that men will talk about...." "Run, yelping dog," growled the Arab with a sardonic smile. And Moussa ran.
And Moussa Isa licked his chops just as he had seen the black-maned lion do in his own fatherland; just as did the lion from whom the fair Sheikh had saved him. Toward the sailor, Moussa felt no resentment for the assault that had laid him bleeding in the gutter. Had he called him "Hubshi" it would have been a different matter perhaps very different for the sailor.
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