the fire of Nizam's anger with the water of explanation? No matter—it is all one now that you are here."
"While I was gone," Omar asked, "did Yasmi send a message, a token?"
"Ah, that girl." The master of the spies blinked amiably. "Why, I think not—nay, I heard of nothing."
"But your men have tidings?"
Tutush pursed his lips and shook his head regretfully. His agents, he said, had watched like hawks; they had seen nothing. "After all," he observed brightly, "there are other girls in the market—little Persian bulbuls—Chinese slaves from Samarkand-way, very well trained, oh, most skillful. But Nizam is angry. We must have work to show him—some plan to lay before him."
Omar was silent. He had not the ghost of a plan in his head.
"Think, O youthful khwaja. Think of the plan you brought from the House of Wisdom. What was then in thy mind to accomplish, for a patron."
"A new calendar."
"What?"
"A new measure of time that will be accurate, instead of losing hours."
Tutush glanced at Omar apprehensively. The servants had said that the new master behaved strangely. "Now," he suggested, smiling, "lay the hand of pity on the ache of my ignorance. We have the moon, created by Allah to tell us by its first light when a new month begins. Surely no mortal can fashion an instrument to do better what the moon does. Eh—eh?"
"The Egyptians have done it; the Christians have done it." Omar frowned impatiently. "But that small wooden gnomon you have planted here is fit for children to play with. Come, and see."
With Khwaja Mai'mun bringing up the rear they went out to the slender wooden staff. Tutush had taken great pains in superintending its erection by carpenters from the Castle. He thought it cast a beautiful shadow on the carefully smoothed clay. But Omar uprooted it with one heave of his shoulders and cast it down the slope. A deep anger seemed to be burning in this man from the desert roads.
"That thing would bend in the wind and warp in the sun," he cried. "Are we children playing makebelieve? We need what the infidels had, a marble column five times the height of a man, true to a fingernail upon all sides and at the point. Then a base of mortar, and marble slabs to make a triangle for its shadow. The slabs must be ground, polished, bound together with copper and laid with a water level. Oh—send me artisans, and I will tell them what is needed."
"First," muttered Tutush, "I must have the consent of Nizam al Mulk. This thing hath the sound of an infidel monument to me——"
"It is the only way to measure a hair's breadth change in the shadow each day."
"A hair's breadth!" Tutush seized his turban and drew the attentive Khwaja Mai'mun aside, to ask in a whisper if the mathematician did not believe Omar befuddled.
"Fuddled he may be," the old man announced. "As to that I know not. But this I know——" his beard twitched in a faint semblance of a smile—"he is not foolish in making calculations. Such a gnomon as he describes would be accurate. I will even admit that if truly placed it would be as accurate as the great globe of Avicenna yonder."
Tutush carried his perplexity to Nizam who listened coldly enough to his tale—Omar's disappearance had interfered with his own plans—until he admitted that Khwaja Mai'mun approved of the scheme to measure time.
"A calendar," the minister of the Court mused. "It would go against tradition—ay, the Ulema would oppose it. The Christians have one calendar from the days of Rome, the Cathayans have their cycles, and we Persians had the Yazdigird era before the Moslem conquest. I think—I think it would be dangerous."
Closing his eyes, Tutush sighed. "First Omar tells me Time is only one, and now the Arranger of the World doth declare that there are four different Times. Alas, for my understanding."
"Four calendars," corrected Nizam. "And, Malikshah still asks for Omar."
"And now Omar asks for a water clock to measure a single minute in a whole day. What would he
"While I was gone," Omar asked, "did Yasmi send a message, a token?"
"Ah, that girl." The master of the spies blinked amiably. "Why, I think not—nay, I heard of nothing."
"But your men have tidings?"
Tutush pursed his lips and shook his head regretfully. His agents, he said, had watched like hawks; they had seen nothing. "After all," he observed brightly, "there are other girls in the market—little Persian bulbuls—Chinese slaves from Samarkand-way, very well trained, oh, most skillful. But Nizam is angry. We must have work to show him—some plan to lay before him."
Omar was silent. He had not the ghost of a plan in his head.
"Think, O youthful khwaja. Think of the plan you brought from the House of Wisdom. What was then in thy mind to accomplish, for a patron."
"A new calendar."
"What?"
"A new measure of time that will be accurate, instead of losing hours."
Tutush glanced at Omar apprehensively. The servants had said that the new master behaved strangely. "Now," he suggested, smiling, "lay the hand of pity on the ache of my ignorance. We have the moon, created by Allah to tell us by its first light when a new month begins. Surely no mortal can fashion an instrument to do better what the moon does. Eh—eh?"
"The Egyptians have done it; the Christians have done it." Omar frowned impatiently. "But that small wooden gnomon you have planted here is fit for children to play with. Come, and see."
With Khwaja Mai'mun bringing up the rear they went out to the slender wooden staff. Tutush had taken great pains in superintending its erection by carpenters from the Castle. He thought it cast a beautiful shadow on the carefully smoothed clay. But Omar uprooted it with one heave of his shoulders and cast it down the slope. A deep anger seemed to be burning in this man from the desert roads.
"That thing would bend in the wind and warp in the sun," he cried. "Are we children playing makebelieve? We need what the infidels had, a marble column five times the height of a man, true to a fingernail upon all sides and at the point. Then a base of mortar, and marble slabs to make a triangle for its shadow. The slabs must be ground, polished, bound together with copper and laid with a water level. Oh—send me artisans, and I will tell them what is needed."
"First," muttered Tutush, "I must have the consent of Nizam al Mulk. This thing hath the sound of an infidel monument to me——"
"It is the only way to measure a hair's breadth change in the shadow each day."
"A hair's breadth!" Tutush seized his turban and drew the attentive Khwaja Mai'mun aside, to ask in a whisper if the mathematician did not believe Omar befuddled.
"Fuddled he may be," the old man announced. "As to that I know not. But this I know——" his beard twitched in a faint semblance of a smile—"he is not foolish in making calculations. Such a gnomon as he describes would be accurate. I will even admit that if truly placed it would be as accurate as the great globe of Avicenna yonder."
Tutush carried his perplexity to Nizam who listened coldly enough to his tale—Omar's disappearance had interfered with his own plans—until he admitted that Khwaja Mai'mun approved of the scheme to measure time.
"A calendar," the minister of the Court mused. "It would go against tradition—ay, the Ulema would oppose it. The Christians have one calendar from the days of Rome, the Cathayans have their cycles, and we Persians had the Yazdigird era before the Moslem conquest. I think—I think it would be dangerous."
Closing his eyes, Tutush sighed. "First Omar tells me Time is only one, and now the Arranger of the World doth declare that there are four different Times. Alas, for my understanding."
"Four calendars," corrected Nizam. "And, Malikshah still asks for Omar."
"And now Omar asks for a water clock to measure a single minute in a whole day. What would he
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