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NEW
OPTIMIZATION
ALGORITHMS
AND THEIR
APPLICATIONS
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NEW
OPTIMIZATION
ALGORITHMS
AND THEIR
APPLICATIONS
Atom-Based,
Ecosystem-Based and
Economics-Based
WEIGUO ZHAO
Professor, School of Water Conservancy and Hydroelectric
Power, Hebei University of Engineering, China
LIYING WANG
Professor, School of Water Conservancy and Hydroelectric
Power, Hebei university of Engineering, China
ZHENXING ZHANG
Hydrologist, University of Illinois at Urbana-
Champaign, USA
Elsevier
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Copyright © 2021 China Science Publishing & Media Ltd. Published by Elsevier Inc. All Rights
Reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic
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This book and the individual contributions contained in it are protected under copyright by the
Publisher (other than as may be noted herein).
Notices
Knowledge and best practice in this field are constantly changing. As new research and experience
broaden our understanding, changes in research methods, professional practices, or medical
treatment may become necessary.
Practitioners and researchers must always rely on their own experience and knowledge in evaluating
and using any information, methods, compounds, or experiments described herein. In using such
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To the fullest extent of the law, neither the Publisher nor the authors, contributors, or editors, assume
any liability for any injury and/or damage to persons or property as a matter of products liability,
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contained in the material herein.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
A catalog record for this book is available from the Library of Congress
British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN: 978-0-323-90941-9
This book was originally published in China with the ISBN 978-7-03-064198-4
Preface vii
Acknowledgments ix
1. Introduction 1
1.1 Optimization algorithms 1
1.2 A short outline of optimization algorithms 2
1.3 Organization of this book 6
References 7
v
vi Contents
Appendix 153
Index 163
Preface
vii
viii Preface
Weiguo Zhao
Liying Wang
Zhenxing Zhang
Acknowledgments
ix
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CHAPTER 1
Introduction
Contents
1.1 Optimization algorithms 1
1.2 A short outline of optimization algorithms 2
1.3 Organization of this book 6
References 7
New Optimization Algorithms and their Applications Copyright © 2021 China Science Publishing & Media Ltd.
https://doi.org/10.1016/B978-0-323-90941-9.00001-6 Published by Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved. 1
2 New optimization algorithms and their applications
describes the algorithm and the concepts behind it in detail. Some math-
ematical optimization problems are utilized to test the validity of the pro-
posed optimizer form different perspectives in Section 4.3. Section 4.4
gives a conclusion.
Chapter 5 investigates the applications of artificial ecosystem-based opti-
mization to some engineering design cases and the static economic load
dispatch problem and hydrothermal scheduling problem.
Chapter 6 presents the inspiration and supply-demand-based optimiza-
tion in detail, and then the experimental results on a set of mathematical
benchmark functions are analyzed.
Chapter 7 demonstrates the effectiveness of supply-demand-based opti-
mization in solving four engineering problems. Finally we conclude the
work and suggest several directions for future research.
References
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CHAPTER 2
Contents
2.1 Introduction 13
2.2 Basic molecular dynamics 15
2.3 Atom search optimization 18
2.3.1 Mathematical representation of interaction force 19
2.3.2 Mathematical representation of geometric constraint 22
2.3.3 Mathematical representation of atomic motion 23
2.3.4 Framework of the ASO algorithm 25
2.4 Experimental results 26
2.4.1 Benchmark functions 26
2.4.2 Experimental setup 27
2.4.3 Results and discussion 28
2.5 Conclusions 43
References 44
2.1 Introduction
Nature contains boundless secrets that are rich and fantastic. It brings a great
deal of inspiration to people who can greatly contribute to social develop-
ment. Intelligent algorithms (IA), dealing with difficult problems in science
and engineering, is an important branch inspired from nature. Since the
1970s, a variety of nature-inspired optimization algorithms have been put
forward and applied to many real-world problems (Zhang et al., 2008; Poli
et al., 2010; Ayman, 2011; Kourakos and Mantoglou, 2013; Zhao and
Wang, 2016), all of which consist of two basic characteristics.
First, the algorithms mimic evolving properties and the living habit of
biological systems. There are three common algorithms. The genetic algo-
rithm (GA) (Holland, 1975) is a well-known classic optimization algorithm
which can generally obtain high-quality solutions using mutation, crossover,
New Optimization Algorithms and their Applications Copyright © 2021 China Science Publishing & Media Ltd.
https://doi.org/10.1016/B978-0-323-90941-9.00002-8 Published by Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved. 13
14 New optimization algorithms and their applications
At that very moment Ralph Trenchard rode into the holiday camp
pitched by Helen Raynor and her grandfather—Egypt’s Water Finder.
They had pitched it some fifty miles west of Ismailiah whilst they
waited to start upon an expedition into Arabia, which had for its
object the discovery of water hidden in the heart of a range of
mountains, as described upon vellum inscribed by the Holy Palladius.
CHAPTER V
“A rose issues from thorns.”—Arabic Proverb.
The desert looked like an immense mosque with vast purple dome
inlaid with silvery stars, spread with a carpet of many colours—grey,
amethyst, saffron, fawn—stretching to Eternity for the feet of
worshippers to tread. It held the peace of great spaces and the
prayer of the everlasting, and changed, in the twinkling of the stars,
to the likeness of a fairy meadow, in which flowers of every shape
nodded and curtsied and bowed to each other, as far as eye could
see; flowers formed by the light breeze which twisted and turned
the sand into little spirals, until the desert seemed covered with
dancing, silvery poppies across which love came as silently, as
unexpectedly as it comes in country lanes or the city’s crowded
thoroughfares.
Helen Raynor looked over her shoulder towards the camp, pitched
under the isolated palms which formed the so-called oasis, and
smiled at the sound of her “boy’s” voice raised in what he termed a
love song, but which had all the monotonous ring of a long-drawn-
out litany of personal woes.
She sat on a hummock of sand, dazzlingly fair in the starlight, with
a smile of content on her broad, humorous mouth, and the
expectancy of youth in her great, blue eyes, whilst the golden sand
trickled between her fingers as she counted the seconds of the hour
in which love and adventure were to come to her.
She thought lazily of the hot-weather months just passed, spent
quite happily in the big, old palace in Ismailiah bought by her
grandfather who, in his wanderings in the desert, had acquired some
of the attributes of the salamander and an unconscious
thoughtlessness towards the well-being of his neighbour.
Unattracted by the little she knew of the world, she had been
intensely grateful at the unconventional turn life had taken three
years ago, inaugurating a new mode of existence with vista of
unknown lands and good promise of great adventure. She had
proved herself of the greatest assistance to her irascible grandfather.
There was no doubt about it, that, although he seldom bit, he
certainly barked furiously, or rather, yapped without ceasing, driving
others almost frantic through the methodical working of a mind
which teased the most infinitesimal detail to shreds, wore him to
fiddle-strings, led him from success to success and caused his
secretaries one after the other to fold their tents and to steal away
to less nerve-wracking fields of labour.
Since leaving school, Helen had firmly established herself as his
secretary and had accompanied him wherever he had been sent by
the Irrigation Department. She had made herself responsible for his
creature comforts, which almost amounted to nil, and the good
conduct of the staff which learned to adore her, with the exception
of Pierre Lefort.
Half French, half native, he was of the worst type of Oriental.
Eaten up with the vanity of the superficially educated, but with a
genuine, great knowledge of the Arabian horse and the obstreperous
camel, the young man had managed to make himself seemingly
indispensable to Sir Richard on his expeditions. Helen became
accustomed to great distances and solitude, and her eyes gained the
steadfast look of those who look upon the sky as the roof of their
dwelling, whilst her unfailing sense of humour invariably brought her
safely through the most trying ordeals.
Diplomatically feeling her way through the barbed wire
entanglement of her grandfather’s testiness, she gained a great
influence over the brilliant man and, knowing how he chafed against
the authoritative methods and manner of the government official,
had dropped the suggestion in his all-willing ear of taking a
busman’s holiday—a holiday expedition with the object of trying to
find out the whereabouts of the legendary water in the great Red
Desert, the discovery of which had become almost an obsession with
him, since the day he had read the vellum inscribed by the Holy
Palladius.
They had spent the hot-weather months in getting ready for the
expedition, helped enthusiastically by every member of the staff
excepting Pierre Lefort who, loving the dregs of the European
society he frequented in the cities and the corners of the Bazaar to
which he rightly belonged, had made use of every means in his
power to frustrate their endeavours.
He had sworn to an epidemic amongst the camels and
dromedaries in Arabia proper, which was causing them to die by
hundreds; to an absolute dearth of camel drivers, owing to the
terror the men had of the animals’ disease; to the truth of the
terrible tales that had lately come to hand of the activities of a
notorious robber gang, led by a woman, which swooped down from
nowhere upon unwary travellers; that, in consequence of this band
of brigands, neither guide nor servant could be procured for love or
money on the other side, and that last, but not least, no man had
ever been known to penetrate, even a little way, into the empty
desert and to return alive.
Each of his objections had been met; the expedition, down to the
smallest detail, carefully mapped out; the date for the start fixed and
the camp pitched some fifty miles out of Ismailiah. Pierre Lefort
would doubtlessly, if sullenly, have accompanied the party for the
sake of the monetary gain, if he had not fallen a victim to the wiles
of a dancer in the Bazaar.
Had ensued a heated scene between him and Sir Richard which
had ended by the latter taking him by the collar of the coat and
impelling him, none too gently, back upon the road towards
Ismailiah.
Since then a week had passed, which Sir Richard had spent in
racing, as fast as swiftest camel could take him, into Ismailiah, there
to interview men with a knowledge of camels and horses, and racing
back to tell his granddaughter of the blanks he had drawn.
There remained another fortnight in which to find someone
endowed with camel and horse sense, and Helen had just fled the
camp after a trying scene with her distracted and pessimistic
relative.
“Grandads,” she had said, after the recital of the latest failure, “I
have an idea, although it’s only a faint-hope kind of idea.”
“Well!” had snapped Grandads, who was ready to take his ships of
the desert into almost any kind of a port to protect himself from the
storm of failure which threatened to burst.
“I think you are making a great mountain out of your mole-hill.”
“Meaning?”
“Lefort. There are others who understand as much about horses
as he does. I do—for one—almost—and so does Abdul, who did all
the spadework under him. Let me be vet, with Abdul for head groom
and——”
“Wh-a-a-t?” Sir Richard had sprung from his canvas chair with a
bound which would have done credit to a jerboa, or kangaroo rat.
“You! In charge of the horses—you—and what do you know of
camels, may I ask?”
“As much, dearest, as anybody, which amounts to nothing. If it’s
sick, it usually makes up its obstinate mind to die, so there’s no use
worrying about that; if you want to get an extra hour of work out of
it, you give it a most noisome lump of barley-meal and water, and
add a cupful of whisky if you want to make it waltz; if you want it to
go to the right, touch it on the left, and vice versa, and if it’s out on
a non-stop run, hang your coat over its head to pull it up. It will go
for six days in the summer and, I believe, ten in the winter without a
drink, and is warranted to eat everything it comes across; in fact, I
saw Mahli making breakfast off your oldest pair of night slippers this
very morning.”
All that she had said was true. She was a magnificent
horsewoman, and there was mighty little she did not know about
horses; in fact, up to her fifteenth birthday she had unequally
divided her time between her lessons and her horses, to the decided
detriment of the former; then, upon the death of her mother, had
entreated to be allowed to accompany her grandfather to Egypt. He,
unpractical in everything that did not concern the finding of water in
desert places, had consented, and, acting upon some motherly soul’s
advice, offered directly they had arrived in Cairo, had pushed her
promptly under the sheltering wings of the Misses Cruikshanks.
But she might as well have pleaded with the Great Pyramid this
night of stars as she had sat, just outside the tent, with her beautiful
head against the canvas whilst her distracted kinsman had
figuratively rent his raiment in wrath.
“You!” he had cried. “What authority would you have over the
pack of rapscallions who look after the shameless beasts called
camels, any one of which, in the eyes of the average Mohammedan,
is of a hundred times more value than a woman? I know all about
woman’s rights in England, but let me tell you that that means
nothing, absolutely less than nothing out here, where she is not
even allowed to possess a soul of her own, much less a vote. No! if I
can’t find a man to fill the post, I will resign myself to having failed,
throw up my position in the Irrigation Department, and take to bee-
keeping in England.”
And Helen Raynor, who firmly believed that if a thing is to happen
it happens, and that nothing can prevent it from happening, also
vice versa, had ridden some miles out into the silence, where she
had hobbled her mare and sat down upon the hummock to think
things over. She sat facing the direction in which Ismailiah lay, sat
quite still, until the peacefulness of the desert seemed to enfold her
and to wipe out the memory of the past weeks, which had gone far
to disturb the tranquillity she so loved to bring into the daily life of
the camp. She looked all round in utter content and lifted her face to
the stars and listened to the great silence, unbroken now, even by
the love song, then sat forward and stared in the direction of
Ismailiah.
Great is the solitude of the desert, with no sign of life in it at all;
haunting is its solitude when, in the far distance, a solitary figure
moves slowly across the limitless sands.
It is the most perfect illustration of the little span of life granted
each of us upon this earth.
Out of seeming nothing, remote, alone, the figure approaches,
growing clearer and clearer to the watching eye; maybe for a space
he stops and raises his head to the star-strewn sky, or maybe he
passes on, heedless of God’s thoughts about him; even if he stays it
will be but for a brief second before he continues his journey,
growing dimmer and dimmer until he passes out of sight, alone, into
apparent nothingness.
Helen Raynor sat watching a solitary figure as it came slowly
towards her from a far distance, and pressed her hand upon her
heart, troubled by the biblical picture, the silence, the unknown.
So might Abraham have looked in his youth, or Job before
affliction fell upon him, or Boaz, or David, for the desert has not
changed since their days, nor has the camel learned to hasten its
pace or to alter the insolence of its gait. The night breeze died away
suddenly and the flowers born of it faded, leaving a path, marked in
grey and silver as though the tide had but just receded from it, for
the passage of the camel’s feet, which were suddenly urged to a
swift trot by its rider, who rode bare-headed and wrapped in a
burnous.
When about a mile off Ralph Trenchard raised his hand above his
head in salutation to the figure he could see sitting on the hummock,
and urged his camel quicker still, then pulled it to a halt and sat and
stared at the girl, who looked like some silver statue under the light
of the stars; then slipped to the ground instead of bringing the beast
to its knees, hobbled it, dropped the white cloak, and followed the
beckoning finger of Love, whom he could not see for the beauty of
the girl, along the path which had been marked for him to tread
even before the days of Abraham.
And Helen Raynor rose and walked towards him, holding out her
hand, so that they neared each other and met yet again, as those
who truly love do meet down the ages, and will meet, until in perfect
understanding they become one perfect spirit which will not be
divided even by the short-lived dream of death.
“I seem to know you so well,” said Ralph Trenchard quietly.
“And I you. I have seen you—I recognize the scar across your
temple.” Helen Raynor pressed her hand against her forehead in an
effort to capture the elusive memory which had suddenly flitted
through her mind. “I cannot remember. I——”
“My name is Ralph Trenchard, and my business in Egypt one of
pleasure. I was riding out into the desert to be alone at sunrise.”
She shook her head and looked about her and up to the stars and
into the eyes of the man who had come to her out of the night, and
yet not as a stranger; and she looked frankly at the lean, handsome
face with the powerful jaw and humorous mouth, and smiled into
the quiet grey eyes, and made a movement with her hand towards
the oasis.
“I cannot remember where I have seen you, but will you not come
to our camp and have some coffee? I would not keep you from your
ride, but my grandfather will, I am sure, be delighted to meet you. I
am——”
“Of course!” broke in Ralph Trenchard, as he stooped to remove
the hobble from the mare, who danced sideways at the smell of
camel which permeated the new-comer. “You must be Miss Raynor.
Everybody is talking about the danger of the expedition you are
starting out on; they don’t seem to see the other side, the privilege
of searching for something which has been lost for centuries, the joy
of adventuring into a new country.”
They walked across to the camel, which stretched its neck and
made a vicious snap at the mare, who immediately retaliated by
lashing out at the contemptuous face.
“Quiet, you brute!” said Ralph Trenchard, as he removed the
hobble, whereupon the said brute turned its hideous head and
winked at him in hearty friendliness. “There is one thing I really do
pride myself upon, Miss Raynor, though perhaps I ought not to, as it
may only be the result of a certain brotherhood in sheer mule-
headed obstinacy which I share with the quadruped.”
“And what is it?”
“The way I can manage camels. They seem absolutely to love me
before my face, whatever they feel behind my back. I can do almost
anything I like with them.”
Helen Raynor walked close up to him and laid her hand upon his
sleeve.
“Tell me,” she said eagerly, “where are you going to after you
leave Egypt?”
“Well, I have been trying to make up my mind. I’m just down from
Oxford, and am having a look round the old places before settling
down to manage the estate which came to me when the dear old
governor died a few months ago. I was born out here, lived here
until I was ten. My people were stationed out here all over the place.
Mother is buried in Khartoum. I love the country, and speak the
language like a native. I don’t mind much where I go, but I do wish
I could have one jolly good adventure when I get there.”
“Come,” said Helen, her beautiful teeth flashing in a delighted
smile, “I’m more convinced than ever that my grandfather will be
delighted to meet you.”
CHAPTER VI
“Neither with thine eyes hast thou seen, nor with
thine heart hast thou loved.”—Arabic Proverb.
Zarah the Cruel leaned back in her ivory chair, staring unseeingly
at the men she ruled. She frowned and stretched her arms and
played with the crystal knobs until her jewelled fingers looked like
the claws of some great cat, whilst the men glanced at each other as
they watched the movement which, they knew, heralded the
conception of some new idea or plan in the girl’s masterly,
unscrupulous brain.
She had reigned for a year in her father’s stead, and the tales of
her cruelty, her infamy and treachery had spread from Damascus to
Hadramut, from Oman to the Red Sea. In the days of her father the
wealthy only had been in danger of the gang’s predatory attacks;
the humbler caravan had been certain of a safe journey and a sure
arrival at its destination; the needy, just as sure of help in money or
in kind from the man who quietened his conscience by robbing the
one to assist the other, whilst keeping the best part of the spoil for
himself and his men.
His daughter attacked all and sundry, and as much for the love of
the fight as in the hope of gain, meting out dire punishment to those
who fought to the last, and, if taken prisoner, lacked deep enough
purse or strong enough sinew to pay or work their way back to
freedom.
With the exception of Yussuf the men obeyed her and literally
fought for the place of honour at her right hand when she led them
to the attack.
The whole Peninsula rang with the tales of the mysterious,
beautiful woman of the desert. Women used her name as a bogy
with which to frighten their children, men looked at each other
before they spoke of their affairs and then said but little. Her spies
were everywhere, from Damascus to Cairo, from Jiddah to Bagdad,
watching the movements and learning the whereabouts of wealthy
people. The cities made great effort to discover the channels
through which the almost legendary woman gained her information,
sending out spy to counter spy, with the result that some were
found in the holes and corners of the Bazaars at dawn, knifed
through the back, and others, who had been sent to find out the lay
of the land round and about the Sanctuary, buried up to their necks
in the sands, dead, with the letter Z cut upon their foreheads.
With a view to spreading reports of her beauty, her riches, and her
power, she allowed some of the prisoners to return to their homes
without payment of ransom; others disappeared leaving no trace,
whilst many, wholeheartedly, threw in their lot with the band,
working as grooms to the horses and dogs, as tenders to the cattle,
as servants or labourers, marrying the women who looked after the
comforts of the strange community; all of them happy in a freedom
they could not have realized elsewhere, yet terror-stricken by their
mistress, who ordered the severest punishments for the most trifling
mistake.
Built in terraces as had been the ancient monastery, the servants’
quarters stretched up the eastern side of the mountains, hidden by
the jutting wall of rock from the western side where Zarah lived,
alone. The walls of the monastery remained, but the interior of the
buildings had been changed out of all recognition. Where once her
father had lived, with his friend Yussuf, in all the simplicity of those
who belong to the desert, the girl lived in barbaric luxury, the
presence of Yussuf the only cloud upon what seemed otherwise to
be a clear horizon.
Of love she would have none.
Those who had succumbed to the tales of her beauty, her wealth
and her power, and who were willing to risk much through greed,
sent emissaries, laden with many gifts, to negotiate for her hand in
marriage. They would be met far out in the desert, and, blindfolded,
led across the quicksands and into the presence of the mysterious
woman. She received them right royally, fêted them, laughed at
them in secret, and sent them back to their masters, with her own
gifts added to those she had rejected.
She did not attempt to conquer her love for Ralph Trenchard; she
did not want to; she hugged close the pain it caused her pride, and
had sent spies to Egypt in an endeavour to trace him. A report came
that he had landed at Port Said. After that, silence.
She was thinking of him as she lay back in the chair watching the
men, gathered at her command, in the Hall of Judgment. Upon the
first of every three months she called a council, with the object of
making plans for the months succeeding. Those of the men who
could, hurried from every part of the Peninsula to the gathering. A
week of festival invariably followed the great day, during which
sports were held and much wine drunk, in direct disobedience to the
law laid down by Mohammed, the Prophet of Allah the one and only
God. Those of the men who could not attend, and who were mostly
those who had failed in the task set them, sent in reports of their
work by safe messenger.
The spy who had reported the arrival of Ralph Trenchard at Port
Said had not appeared in person, nor sent in further report, so that
Zarah sat a prey to a great anger, which increased every moment
under the goad of suspense and uncertainty, and craved for a victim
upon which to vent herself.
The business of the hour, with its reports and reprimands,
suggestions, punishments and rewards, had been concluded, and
the men waited, eager to draw out a programme for the week of
festival; they looked at their despotic ruler, raised above them on a
dais, as she lay back in her chair sullenly regarding them out of half-
closed eyes; they murmured amongst themselves but, under the
spell of her beauty, murmured only.
She made an arresting Eastern picture outlined against an
enormous fan of peacocks’ feathers, which spread on each side and
above her. It glowed vividly against the south wall of the hall, which
had been covered in Byzantine gold leaf, outlined by an arabesque
design carved out in rough lumps of turquoise matrix, agate, jasper,
onyx, and different coloured marble.
Seven jewelled lamps, hanging above her head by golden chains,
were reflected in the polished surface of the huge dais hewn out of
one great block of black granite, up which she ascended by seven
steps carved to represent seven crouching lions.
Skins of wild beasts were thrown upon a mosaic floor which
replaced the rough stones laid down by the Holy Fathers. It had
been set by skilled Italian workmen, taken prisoners as they
returned from Bagdad, where they had been sent to set the famous
mosaic floor in the house of the Eastern potentate, who is almost as
famous as his flooring.
The Italians had won back their freedom by promising to outrival
the beauty of this floor in Bagdad, and, having fulfilled the promise,
had returned, laden with gifts and well content, to their own country.
The pillars of palm trees had been removed and replaced by others
of stone, inlaid roughly with uncut turquoise matrix, jasper and
agate, which reflected the light of the jewelled lamps hanging from
the roof. The flat roof, which the dead Sheikh had considered good
enough as a covering, had been removed and replaced by another,
vaulted, painted the colour of the night sky and powdered with
silvery stars. It showed misty, this night, above the smoke of torches
held above their heads by thirty prisoners who stood upon the stools
once used as seats by the Holy Fathers, pushed back against the
walls hung with curtains of purple velvet.
Informed that one movement meant instant death, prisoners
awaiting sentence would be ordered to hold lighted torches above
their heads whilst the Arabian girl sat discussing the events of the
day or merely idling away time watching the men wrestling or
gambling, in which last pastime she frequently joined.
Men meant nothing to her, but her overwhelming vanity caused
her to change her raiment many times a day and to smother herself
in jewels.
This night her slender limbs showed through voluminous trousers
made of some semi-transparent material, woven by her women
slaves, and caught at the ankles by bands of gold inlaid with
precious stones; her body, save for breast-plates blazing in jewels,
was bare, and showed like white satin in the light of the torches and
the lamps above her head; her hands glittered with precious stones,
her arms were bare, and a broad gold band set in diamonds bound
her head, confining the thick, red curls.
She sat alone, furious, tortured, her sandalled feet upon an ivory
footstool, her strange eyes flashing from one side of the hall to the
other in an endeavour to find an outlet for her wrath.
She scrutinized the twenty men and ten women of Damascus who
had been captured on their way to Bagdad with a precious load of
steel weapons, and smiled as she glanced from their leader, a fine
old man with white hair and beard and flowing robes, to the girl, his
granddaughter, at his side, and on to the young men and women
who had gained a world-wide reputation through their work of
inlaying steel with gold.
With the fear of death, the one for the other, they had stood
throughout the whole evening, motionless, save when slaves
replaced the burnt-out torches; but a shiver swept them, and a smile
of satisfaction lit the faces of the men in the body of the hall when
the old man swayed, then crashed to the ground with a cry.
Zarah sat upright, her eyes gleaming, her jewels flashing, whilst
the men looked from her to the prostrate man and back.
“Get up!” she cried, too intent upon her enjoyment of the moment
to notice that her enemy Yussuf had entered the hall, standing, a
menacing figure, against the wall. “Get up!” she repeated, “lest I
give orders to have thee thrown from the rocks so that thou
standest for eternity upon thy head in the quicksands.”
A shout of laughter rang out at the words, and ceased as Zarah
sprang up, white with rage.
The old man’s granddaughter, flinging her torch to the far end of
the hall, where it fell at Yussuf’s feet, sprang to the floor and,
kneeling, gathered the old man into her arms.
“He shall not be touched! He shall not be touched!” she cried,
looking fearlessly up at Zarah, who stood at the edge of the dais,
looking down. “Shameless art thou, woman, in thy cruelty!
Shameless in thy nakedness! Shameless in all thy ways! If this old
man, my father’s father, be thrown from the rocks, then thou must
throw me also, for naught but death shall unclasp my arms from
about him. Nay! thou shalt not touch him, thou shalt not, I say.”
She bent down over the old man as Zarah ran down the steps and
caught her by the shoulder. The men gathered in a circle round the
two women, watching the one who shook with rage and the other
who looked up fearlessly, strong in her protecting love.
“Seize them, all of them!” commanded Zarah, “and——” She
stopped dead and looked towards the door, through which a man
came, running at full speed. Zarah turned and, mounting the steps,
sat down in the ivory chair, holding up her hand until silence reigned.
“Hither,” she said curtly, and watched the spy, who had reported
upon Ralph Trenchard’s doings, with no gentle look in her eyes as he
hastened across the floor.
“’Tis well indeed, O my brother, that thou hasteneth thy feet at
last. Perchance the delights of the great city prevented thee from
keeping the hour of council to which thou wast summoned.”
The man flung himself upon his knees before the dais, then
sprang to his feet.
“Thy servant tarried so as to bring good news.”
“Good news! ’Tis indeed well for thee that the news is good.
Speak!”
“The white man with a scar upon his forehead is even now upon
his way—here!”
“Here!”
“Yea! Here! He crosses the water in the company of another man,
white, but of great age. They travel, O my mistress, they travel, O
my brethren, in search of the miraculous water which, so ’tis said, is
hidden in the heart of certain mountains in the Red Desert.”
Laughter rang out, in which Zarah joined, the sweet sound
mingling with the men’s deep voices as they shouted grim
suggestions and coarse pleasantries the one to the other.
Zarah leant forward, her eyes gleaming.
“They come alone, the two white men, in search of this miraculous
water?”
“Nay, O mistress! They travel in a good company of men and
camels, led by a woman——”
“Led by a woman! O my brethren, is there one of thee in need of
a wife or yet another wife?”
Ribald laughter and obscene jest followed close upon her
question.
“What is she like? this woman who dares lead men and camels
across the empty desert.”
“She is as the heavens at sunrise when the light wraps the world
in softest colouring. Her eyes are the blue of the night in which
shines the morning star, her mouth as the sun-kissed pomegranate,
her teeth as shimmering pearls. Her hair! The houris which wait in
paradise to reward the faithful have not such hair as she. It is as the
web of the spider gilded by the sunlight, as the corn glowing in the
noonday sun, and, in its waywardness, twineth about the heart of
men as a child’s fingers about the mother’s breast.”
The men secretly touched each other as they watched the effect
of the man’s words upon the woman who ruled them with no gentle
hand. Thrones built upon a foundation of consideration towards
others are rocky enough at any time, but there is absolutely no
security for the monarch who uses his sceptre as a stick with which
to drive his subjects.
Zarah sat back in her chair, too primitive in her love to try to hide
the jealousy which consumed her.
“Who is she and what position does she hold in the expedition?”
“She rules men, O mistress, and is the granddaughter of the aged
one.”
“His name?”
“It taketh a twisted tongue, O mistress, to pronounce it. I have
essayed and failed. He is a great Sheikh from Inglistan, the land
where, ’tis said, the heavens drop water without ceasing. His men
are well armed; his camels, over which devil-possessed animal the
white man with a scar has a strange control, are of the best; his
men content, and averse to speech with strangers. They have
started; a great caravan awaits them at the port of Jiddah; I
hastened by swiftest camel to bring thee the news.”
Zarah sat silent for a moment, then called the names of six of her
most trusted and unscrupulous followers, and sharply ordered the
hall to be cleared for the space of one hour.
“And the Damascenes, mistress?” asked Al-Asad, who had
mounted the dais at his mistress’s call and stood, gigantic, powerful,
behind her, ready to do her bidding.
Zarah frowned.
Jealousy might torture, but hope and an abnormal vanity lay as
balm upon the wounds. She had no time for the trivial occupation of
finding a punishment befitting the crime of the prisoners. She had
called her six most trusted servants with a view to making plans for
the capture of the entire party, headed by the beautiful woman with
the unpronounceable name.
Time pressed.
Let her but make a prisoner of the white man who had held her in
his arms, subject him to her wiles, her beauty, and surround him
with all the evidence of her great wealth, then what would she have
to fear of any woman where love was concerned!
“Al-Asad!”
He knelt and touched her foot.
“They beg their freedom, those thirty fools. Their freedom they
shall have! Lead them safely over the path, then whip them out into
the desert to find their way back across the road by which they
came. The desert is free to all—to man as well as to beasts of prey
and carrion birds. They have asked for liberty and naught else; bid
them begone with empty hands.”
But there was no fear in the heart of the girl who had leapt to aid
the old man when he fell; she ran forward to the very foot of the
dais and called down curses upon the woman above her, cursed her
until the hall rang with the terrible words and the superstitious men
drew back in fear.
“ ... and thou shalt be driven into the desert, O woman without
heart,” she ended, “and death shall find thee bereft of power and
love. Thou shalt leave thy beauty to the jackals and the scorpions
shall nest in thine eyes and thy hair.” A speck of foam appeared at
the corners of her mouth as she prophesied with the vision of the
East. “I see thee pursuing, I see thee pursued, I see dogs upon thy
track, and one, whose light cometh from within to lighten his
darkness, hard upon thy heels, hunting thee. I——”
She laughed shrilly, pointing at Zarah, who made a quick
movement of the hand. Al-Asad sprang down and, seizing the girl by
the throat, hurled her backwards, whilst the rest of the prisoners,
with hope eternal to spur them, ran from one to the other, until at
last, with the girl and the old man in the centre, they marched boldly
from the hall, with the gigantic half-caste harrying them in the rear.
Whispered words fell upon the ears of Almana, the gentle
Damascene, as she paused to allow those in front to pass through
the door out into the night. She turned for a moment and looked up
into Yussuf’s blinded face as he stood near her in the shadows.
“Put thy trust in Allah and hasten not. Journey westward and stop
and wait. He will save thee and thine.”
He had caught the sound of the girl’s voice as she passed,
encouraging the old man, and risked his life to tell her of the help
that awaits those who put their trust in a higher power.
She whispered her thanks as she passed on, and in such wise did
love come to Yussuf, the blind, and Almana, the Damascene.
Zarah sat in council with all her men; the women and children and
servants slept, so that there were no eyes to watch, nor ears to hear
Yussuf as he passed silently amongst the rocks to the paddock
where the camels were herded at night, hobbled or tied to posts to
prevent them from fighting, as is the custom of the brutes when
together in great numbers.
He passed his hands over the animals, choosing three, then
crossed to a shed in which were piled the “ghakeet” and “shedad”
the saddles used for riding or baggage camels, with water skins and
sacks of dates, the emergency rations required by an Arab for a
sudden journey.
Surely Allah, the one and only God, watched over him and listened
to his prayers when, later, he walked unhesitatingly across the
narrow path of rock, leading the first of three beasts, which
followed, grumbling and snarling, but obediently, from fear, and
guided them by the sound of voices to the Damascenes.
Almana ran to meet him when he rode towards them out of the
night, and led him to her grandfather, who rose and blessed him.
“Come with us, my son, for surely yon place in the mountains is
the dwelling-place of devils. Come with us to Damascus.”
“I will come one day when my task is accomplished, and that will
be in the time appointed, O father,” replied Yussuf, raising his head
and turning towards the East as the wind of dawn swept his face.
The Damascenes lifted their voices in prayer, calling down
blessings upon him as he mounted his camel and rode away into the
glory of the sunrise.
“How sad,” Almana whispered to her grandfather as they watched
him moving swiftly towards the mountains, and “His Eyes” who rode
to meet him. “How sad that he should be blind.”
“He is not blind, my daughter,” replied the old man, as he laid his
hand upon her head. “There are those who see by the light of the
soul, and, verily, our protector is numbered among them.”
CHAPTER VII
“If the moon be with thee thou need’st not mind
about the stars.”—Arabic Proverb.
Helen Raynor and Ralph Trenchard sat looking out across the
Robaa-el-Khali, or Empty Desert, or the Red Desert, as it is called by
the Arabs on account of the colour of its sands.
She sat with her hand in his, watching the strange effect the wind
from the north has upon this desert, which rolls away to the horizon
in great, sandy ridges, and of which no one has explored the heart.
When this wind blows gently, it skims the surface of the great ridges
and lifts the topmost layer of the sand, carrying it down into the
hollows and up on to the crests for mile after mile, until the desert
looks like an ocean of great, glittering billows surging towards the
distant horizon.
“The sky seems to be covered with a transparent, diamond-
encrusted veil,” whispered Helen, as she lifted her face to the moon,
and smiled when the man she loved drew her to him and kissed her.
“It is the effect of the sand in the air, beloved,” he whispered,
“under the moon which shines for all lovers.”
“Look at that wave out there”—she pointed to the east as she
spoke—“breaking into spray. How wonderful—how wonderful it all is,
Ra!”
“I expect a big rock lies just there, beloved, if we could only see it,
so that the sand is blown against it and higher into the air. How I
love the name you have given me, dearest; it seems to belong to the
country where I found you waiting for me, all those months ago,
alone, in the desert, under a moon like this.”
“I really expect it was the same moon, Ra; it is only we who have
moved,” laughed Helen softly. “Yes, I think your nickname suits you;
it’s strong, with the strength of dead Egypt, like you, with your
tremendous will power which can even dominate the camel.”
They laughed as they talked of the long journey with its scenes
and contretemps, during which Ralph Trenchard had had to exercise
every bit of will power and every scrap of patience he possessed, so
as to triumph over the splendid camels which composed the
caravan, and which had aroused admiration and no little jealousy in
the hearts of the inhabitants of the different villages they had
passed through, from the Port of Jiddah to Hutah in the Oasis of
Hareek.
“Do you remember when Mahli ate Grandad’s best tussore coat
and pretended to die, and then, suddenly, got to her feet and rushed
at you, because you offered Duria a whole lump of dates and took
no notice of her in her tantrums?”
“Sheer jealousy and greed, sweetheart. I believe no woman who
loved could be as jealous, or as vindictive, as a female camel in a
rage. Look straight ahead, beloved; can you see something moving
through the waves?”
Helen sat forward and stared due south.