Alroy

B >> Benjamin Disraeli >> Alroy

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20

'Oh! hush my heart, and let thy secret lie hid in the charnel-house of
crushed affections. Hard is the lot of woman: to love and to conceal is
our sharp doom! O bitter life! O most unnatural lot! Man made society,
and made us slaves. And so we droop and die, or else take refuge in idle
fantasies, to which we bring the fervour that is meant for nobler ends.

'Beauteous hero! whether I bear thee most hatred or most love I cannot
tell. Die thou must; yet I feel I should die with thee. Oh! that
to-night could lead at the same time unto our marriage bed and funeral
pyre. Must that white bosom bleed? and must those delicate limbs be
hacked and handled by these bloody butchers? Is that justice? They lie,
the traitors, when they call thee false to our God. Thou art thyself a
god, and I could worship thee! See those beauteous lips; they move. Hark
to the music!'

'Schirene, Schirene!'

'There wanted but that word to summon back my senses. Fool! whither is
thy fancy wandering? I will not wait for tardy justice. I will do the
deed myself. Shall I not kill my Sisera?' She seized a dagger from the
ottoman, a rare and highly-tempered blade. Up she raised it in the air,
and dashed it to his heart with superhuman force. It struck against the
talisman which Jabaster had given to Alroy, and which, from a lingering
superstition, he still wore; it struck, and shivered into a thousand
pieces. The Caliph sprang from his couch; his eyes met the prophetess,
standing over him in black despair, with the hilt of the dagger in her
hand.

'What is all this? Schirene! Who art thou? Esther!' He jumped from
the couch, called to Pharez, and seized her by both hands. 'Speak!' he
continued. 'Art thou Esther? What dost thou here?'

She broke into a wild laugh; she wrestled with his grasp, and pulled him
towards the gallery. He beheld the chief tower of the Serail in flames.
Joining her hands together, grasping them both in one of his, and
dragging her towards the ottoman, he seized a helmet and flung it upon
the mighty shield. It sounded like a gong. Pharez started from his
slumbers, and rushed into the chamber.

'Pharez! Treason! treason! Send instant orders that the palace gates be
opened on no pretence whatever. Go, fly! See the captain himself. Summon
the household. Order all to arms. Speed, for our lives!'

The whole palace was now roused. Alroy delivered Esther, exhausted,
and apparently senseless, to a guard of eunuchs. Slaves and attendants
poured in from all directions. Soon arrived Schirene, with dishevelled
hair and hurried robes, attended by a hundred maidens, each bearing a
torch.

'My soul, what ails thee?'

'Nothing, sweetest; all will soon be well,' replied Alroy, picking up,
and examining the fragments of the shivered dagger, which he had just
discovered.

'My life has been attempted; the palace is in flames; I suspect the city
is in insurrection. Look to your mistress, maidens!' Schirene fell into
their arms. 'I will soon be back.' So saying, he hurried to the grand
court.

Several thousand persons, for the population of the Serail and its
liberties was very considerable, were assembled in the grand court;
eunuchs, women, pages, slaves, and servants, and a few soldiers; all
in confusion and alarm, fire raging within, and mysterious and terrible
outcries without. A cry of 'The Caliph! the Caliph!' announced the
arrival of Alroy, and produced a degree of comparative silence.

'Where is the captain of the guard?' he exclaimed. 'That's well. Open
the gates to none. Who will leap the wall and bear a message to Asriel?
You? That's well too. To-morrow you shall yourself command. Where's
Mesrour? Take the eunuch guard and the company of gardeners,76 and
suppress the flames at all cost. Pull down the intervening buildings.
Abidan's troop arrived with succour, eh! I doubt it not. I expected
them. Open to none. They force an entrance, eh! I thought so. So that
javelin has killed a traitor. Feed me with arms. I'll keep the gate.
Send again to Asriel. Where's Pharez?'

'By your side, my lord.'

'Run to the Queen, my faithful Pharez, and tell her that all's well. I
wish it were! Didst ever hear a din so awful? Methinks all the tambours
and cymbals of the city are in full chorus. Foul play, I guess. Oh! for
Asriel! Has Pharez returned?'

'I am by your side, my lord.'

'How's the Queen?'

'She would gladly join your side.'

'No, no! Keep the gates there. Who says they are making fires before
them? Tis true. We must sally, if the worst come to the worst, and die
at least like soldiers. O Asriel! Asriel!'

'May it please your Highness, the troops are pouring in from all
quarters.'

''Tis Asriel.'

'No, your Highness, 'tis not the guard. Methinks they are Scherirah's
men.'

'Hum! What it all is, I know not; but very foul play I do not doubt.
Where's Honain?'

'With the Queen, Sire.'

''Tis well. What's that shout?'

'Here's the messenger from Asriel. Make way! way!'

'Well! how is't, Sir?'

'Please your Highness, I could not reach the guard.'

'Could not reach the guard! God of my fathers! who should let thee?'

'Sire, I was taken prisoner.'

'Prisoner! By the thunder of Sinai, are we at war? Who made thee
prisoner?'

'Sire, they have proclaimed thy death.'

'Who?'

'The council of the Elders. So I heard. Abidan, Zalmunna----'

'Rebels and dogs! Who else?'

'The High Priest.'

'Hah! Is it there? Pharez, fetch me some drink. Is it true Scherirah has
joined them?'

'His force surrounds the Serail. No aid can reach us without cutting
through his ranks.'

'Oh! that I were there with my good guard! Are we to die here like rats,
fairly murdered? Cowardly knaves! Hold out, hold out, my men! 'Tis sharp
work, but some of us will smile at this hereafter. Who stands by Alroy
to-night bravely and truly, shall have his heart's content to-morrow.
Fear not: I was not born to die in a civic broil. I bear a charmed life.
So to it.'

'Go to the Caliph, good Honain, I pray thee, go. I can support myself,
he needs thy counsel. Bid him not expose his precious life. The wicked
men! Asriel must soon be here. What sayest thou?'

'There is no fear. Their plans are ill-devised. I have long expected
this stormy night, and feel even now more anxious than alarmed.'

''Tis at me they aim; it is I whom they hate. The High Priest, too! Ay,
ay! Thy proud brother, good Honain, I have ever felt he would not rest
until he drove me from this throne, my right; or washed my hated name
from out our annals in my life's blood. Wicked, wicked Jabaster! He
frowned upon me from the first, Honain. Is he indeed thy brother?'

'I care not to remember. He aims at something further than thy life; but
Time will teach us more than all our thoughts.'

The fortifications of the Serail resisted all the efforts of the rebels.
Scherirah remained in his quarters, with his troops under arms, and
recalled the small force that he had originally sent out as much to
watch the course of events as to assist Abidan. Asriel and Ithamar
poured down their columns in the rear of that chieftain, and by dawn a
division of the guard had crossed the river, the care of which had been
entrusted to Scherirah, and had thrown themselves into the palace. Alroy
sallied forth at the head of these fresh troops. His presence decided a
result which was perhaps never doubtful. The division of Abidan fought
with the desperation that became their fortunes. The carnage was
dreadful, but their discomfiture complete. They no longer acted
in masses, or with any general system. They thought only of
self-preservation, or of selling their lives at the dearest cost. Some
dispersed, some escaped. Others entrenched themselves in houses, others
fortified the bazaar. All the horrors of war in the streets were now
experienced. The houses were in flames, the thoroughfares flowed with
blood.

At the head of a band of faithful followers, Abidan proved himself, by
his courage and resources, worthy of success. At length, he was alone,
or surrounded only by his enemies. With his back against a building in a
narrow street, where the number of his opponents only embarrassed them,
the three foremost of his foes fell before his irresistible scimitar.
The barricaded door yielded to the pressure of the multitude. Abidan
rushed up the narrow stairs, and, gaining a landing-place, turned
suddenly round, and cleaved the skull of his nearest pursuer. He hurled
the mighty body at his followers, and, retarding their advance, himself
dashed onward, and gained the terrace of the mansion. Three soldiers of
the guard followed him as he bounded from terrace to terrace. One, armed
with a javelin, hurled it at the chieftain. The weapon slightly wounded
Abidan, who, drawing it from his arm, sent it back to the heart of its
owner. The two other soldiers, armed only with swords, gained upon him.
He arrived at the last terrace in the cluster of buildings. He stood
at bay on the brink of the precipice. He regained his breath. They
approached him. He dodged them in their course. Suddenly, with admirable
skill, he flung his scimitar edgewise at the legs of his farthest
foe, who stopped short, roaring with pain. The chieftain sprang at the
foremost, and hurled him down into the street below, where he was dashed
to atoms. A trap-door offered itself to the despairing eye of the
rebel. He descended and found himself in a room filled with women. They
screamed, he rushed through them, and descending a Staircase, entered a
chamber tenanted by a bed-ridden old man. The ancient invalid enquired
the cause of the uproar, and died of fright before he could receive
an answer, at the sight of the awful being before him, covered with
streaming blood. Abidan secured the door, washed his blood-stained face,
and disguising himself in the dusty robes of the deceased Armenian,
sallied forth to watch the fray. The obscure street was silent. The
chieftain proceeded unmolested. At the corner he found a soldier holding
a charger for his captain. Abidan, unarmed, seized a poniard from the
soldier's belt, stabbed him to the heart, and vaulting on the steed,
galloped towards the river. No boat was to be found; he breasted the
stream upon the stout courser. He reached the opposite bank. A company
of camels were reposing by the side of a fountain. Alarm had dispersed
their drivers. He mounted the fleetest in appearance; he dashed to the
nearest gate of the city. The guard at the gate refused him a passage.
He concealed his agitation. A marriage procession, returning from the
country, arrived. He rushed into the centre of it, and overset the bride
in her gilded wagon. In the midst of the confusion, the shrieks, the
oaths, and the scuffle, he forced his way through the gate, scoured over
the country, and never stopped until he had gained the desert.

The uproar died away. The shouts of warriors, the shrieks of women, the
wild clang of warfare, all were silent. The flames were extinguished,
the carnage ceased. The insurrection was suppressed, and order restored.
The city, all the houses of which were closed, was patrolled by the
conquering troops, and by sunset the conqueror himself, in his hall of
state, received the reports and the congratulations of his chieftains.
The escape of Abidan seemed counterbalanced by the capture of Jabaster.
After performing prodigies of valour, the High Priest had been
overpowered, and was now a prisoner in the Serail. The conduct of
Scherirah was not too curiously criticised; a commission was appointed
to enquire into the mysterious affair; and Alroy retired to the bath[77]
to refresh himself after the fatigues of the victory which he could not
consider a triumph.

As he reposed upon his couch, melancholy and exhausted, Schirene was
announced. The Princess threw herself upon his neck and covered him with
embraces. His heart yielded to her fondness, his spirit became lighter,
his depression melted away.

'My ruby!' said Schirene, and she spoke in a low smothered voice, her
face hidden and nestled in his breast. 'My ruby! dost thou love me?'

He smiled in fondness as he pressed her to his heart.

'My ruby, thy pearl is so frightened, it dare not look upon thee. Wicked
men! 'tis I whom they hate, 'tis I whom they would destroy.'

'There is no danger, sweet. 'Tis over now. Speak not, nay, do not think
of it.'

'Ah! wicked men! There is no joy on earth while such things live.
Slay Alroy, their mighty master, who, from vile slaves, hath made them
princes! Ungrateful churls! I am so alarmed, I ne'er shall sleep again.
What! slay my innocent bird, my pretty bird, my very heart! I'll not
believe it. It is I whom they hate. I am sure they will kill me. You
shall never leave me, no, no, no, no! You shall not leave me, love,
never, never! Didst hear a noise? Methinks they are even here, ready to
plunge their daggers in our hearts, our soft, soft hearts! I think you
love me, child; indeed, I think you do!'

'Take courage, heart! There is no fear, my soul; I cannot love thee
more, or else I would.'

'All joy is gone! I ne'er shall sleep again. O my soul! art thou
indeed alive? Do I indeed embrace my own Alroy, or is it all a wild and
troubled dream, and are my arms clasped round a shadowy ghost, myself a
spectre in a sepulchre? Wicked, wicked men! Can it indeed be true? What,
slay Alroy! my joy, my only life! Ah! woe is me; our bright felicity
hath fled for ever!'

'Not so, sweet child; we are but as we were. A few quick hours, and all
will be as bright as if no storm had crossed our sunny days.'

'Hast seen Asriel? He says such fearful things!'

'How now?'

'Ah me! I am desolate. I have no friend.'

'Schirene!'

'They will have my blood. I know they will have my blood.'

'Indeed, an idle fancy.'

'Idle! Ask Asriel, question Ithamar. Idle! 'tis written in their
tablets, their bloody scroll of rapine and of murder. Thy death led only
to mine, and, had they hoped my bird would but have yielded his gentle
mate, they would have spared him. Ay! ay! 'tis I whom they hate, 'tis I
whom they would destroy. This form, I fear it has lost its lustre, but
still 'tis thine, and once thou saidst thou lovedst it; this form was to
have been hacked and mangled; this ivory bosom was to have been ripped
up and tortured, and this warm blood, that flows alone for thee,
that fell Jabaster was to pour its tide upon the altar of his ancient
vengeance. He ever hated me!'

'Jabaster! Schirene! Where are we, and what are we? Life, life, they
lie, that call thee Nature! Nature never sent these gusts of agony. Oh!
my heart will break. I drove him from my thought, and now she calls him
up, and now must I remember he is my-prisoner! God of heaven, God of my
fathers, is it come to this? Why did he not escape? Why must Abidan, a
common cut-throat, save his graceless life, and this great soul, this
stern and mighty being---- Ah me! I have lived long enough. Would they
had not failed, would----'

'Stop, stop, Alroy! I pray thee, love, be calm. I came to soothe thee,
not to raise thy passions. I did not say Jabaster willed thy death,
though Asriel says so; 'tis me he wars against; and if indeed Jabaster
be a man so near thy heart, if he indeed be one so necessary to thy
prosperity, and cannot live in decent order with thy slave that's here,
I know my duty, Sir. I would not have thy fortunes farred to save my
single heart, although I think 'twill break. I will go, I will die,
and deem the hardest accident of life but sheer prosperity if it profit
thee.'

'O Schirene! what wouldst thou? This, this is torture.'

'To see thee safe and happy; nothing more.'

'I am both, if thou art.'

'Care not for me, I am nothing.'

'Thou art all to me.'

'Calm thyself, my soul. It grieves me much that when I came to soothe I
have only galled thee. All's well, all's well. Say that Jabaster lives.
What then? He lives, and may he prove more duteous than before; that's
all.'

'He lives, he is my prisoner, he awaits his doom. It must be given.'

'Yes, yes!'

'Shall we pardon?'

'My lord will do that which it pleases him.'

'Nay, nay, Schirene, I pray thee be more kind. I am most wretched.
Speak, what wouldst thou?'

'If I must speak, I say at once, his life.'

'Ah me!'

'If our past loves have any charm, if the hope ot future joy, not less
supreme, be that which binds thee to this shadowy world, as it does me,
and does alone, I say his life, his very carnal life. He stands between
us and our loves, Alroy, and ever has done. There is no happiness if
Jabaster breathe; nor can I be the same Schirene to thee as I have been,
if this proud rebel live to spy my conduct.'

'Banish him, banish him!'

'To herd with rebels. Is this thy policy?'

'O Schirene! I love not this man, although me-thinks I should: yet didst
thou know but all!'

'I know too much, Alroy. From the first he has been to me a hateful
thought. Come, come, sweet bird, a boon, a boon unto thy own Schirene,
who was so frightened by these wicked men! I fear it has done more
mischief than thou deemest. Ay! robbed us of our hopes. It may be so. A
boon, a boon! It is not much I ask: a traitor's head. Come, give me thy
signet ring. It will not; nay, then, I'll take it. What, resist! I know
thou oft hast told me a kiss could vanquish all denial. There it is.
Is't sweet? Shalt have another, and another too. I've got the ring!
Farewell, my lovely bird, I'll soon return to pillow in thy nest.'

'She has got the ring! What's this? what's this? Schirene! art gone?
Nay, surely not. She jests. Jabaster! A traitor's head! What ho! there.
Pharez, Pharez!'

'My lord.'

'Passed the Queen that way?'

'She did, my lord.'

'In tears?'

'Nay! very joyful!'

'Call Honain, quick as my thought. Honain! Honain! He waits without. I
have seen the best of life, that's very sure. My heart is cracking. She
surely jests! Hah! Honain. Pardon these distracted looks. Fly to the
Armoury! fly, fly!'

'For what, my lord?'

'Ay! for what, for what! My brain it wanders. Thy brother, thy great
brother, the Queen, the Queen has stolen my signet ring, that is, I gave
it her. Fly, fly! or in a word, Jabaster is no more. He is gone. Pharez!
your arm; I swoon!'

'His Highness is sorely indisposed to-day.'

'They say he swooned this morn.'

'Ay, in the bath.'

'No, not in the bath. 'Twas when he heard of Jabaster's death.'

'How died he, Sir?'

'Self-strangled. His mighty heart could not endure disgrace, and thus he
ended all his glorious deeds.'

'A great man!'

'We shall not soon see his match. The Queen had gained his pardon, and
herself flew to the Armoury to bear the news; alas! too late.'

'These are strange times. Jabaster dead!'

'A very great event.'

'Who will be High Priest?'

'I doubt if the appointment will be filled up.'

'Sup you with the Lord Ithamar to-night?'

'I do.'

'I also. We'll go together. The Queen had gained his pardon. Hum! 'tis
strange.'

'Passing so. They say Abidan has escaped?'

'I hear it. Shall we meet Medad to-night?'

''Tis likely.'

CHAPTER X.

_The Fall of Alroy_

SHE comes not yet! her cheerful form, not yet it sparkles in our
mournful sky. She comes not yet! the shadowy stars seem sad and
lustreless without their Queen. She comes not yet!'

'_WE ARE THE WATCHERS OF THE MOON,[78] AND LIVE IN LONELINESS TO HERALD
LIGHT._'

'She comes not yet! her sacred form, not yet it summons to our holy
feast. She comes not yet! our brethren far wait mute and motionless the
saintly beam. She comes not yet!'

'_WE ARE THE WATCHERS OF THE MOON, AND LIVE IN LONELINESS TO HERALD
LIGHT_.'

'She comes, she comes! her beauteous form sails with soft splendour in
the glittering air. She comes, she comes! The beacons fire, and tell the
nation that the month begins! She comes, she comes!'

'_WE ARE THE WATCHERS OF THE MOON, TO TELL THE NATION THAT THE MONTH
BEGINS_.'

Instantly the holy watchers fired the beacons on the mountain top, and
anon a thousand flames blazed round the land. From Caucasus to Lebanon,
on every peak a crown of light.

'Sire! a Tatar has arrived from Hamadan, who will see none but thyself.
I have told him your Highness was engaged, and sent him to the Lord
Honain; but all denial is lost upon him. And as I thought perhaps the
Lady Miriam----'

'From Hamadan? You did well, Pharez. Admit him.'

The Tatar entered.

'Well, Sir; good news, I hope!'

'Sire, pardon me, the worst. I come from the Lord Abner, with orders to
see the Caliph, and none else.'

'Well, Sir, you see the Caliph. Your mission? What of the Viceroy?'

'Sire, he bade me tell thee, that, the moment the beacon that announced
the Feast of the New Moon was fired on Caucasus, the dreaded monarch of
Karasme, the great Alp Arslan, entered thy kingdom, and now overruns all
Persia.'

'Hah! and Abner?'

'Is in the field, and prays for aid.'

'He shall have it. This is indeed great news! When left you Hamadan?'

'Night and day I have journeyed upon the swiftest dromedary. The third
morn sees me at Bagdad.'

'You have done your duty. See this faithful courier be well tended,
Pharez. Summon the Lord Honain.'

'Alp Arslan! Hah! a very famous warrior. The moment the beacon was
fired. No sudden impulse then, but long matured. I like it not.'

'Sire,' said Pharez, re-entering, 'a Tatar has arrived from the
frontiers of the province, who will see none but thyself. I have told
him your Highness was deeply busied, and as methinks he brings but the
same news, I----'

''Tis very likely; yet never _think_, good Pharez. I'll see the man.'
The Tatar entered.

'Well, Sir, how now! from whom?'

'From Mozul. The Governor bade me see the Caliph and none else, and tell
your Highness that the moment the beacon that announced the Feast of the
New Moon was fired on the mountains, the fell rebel Abidan raised the
standard of Judah in the province, and proclaimed war against your
Majesty.'

'In any force?'

'The royal power keeps within their walls.'

'Sufficient answer. Part of the same movement. We shall have some
trouble. Hast summoned Honain?'

'I have, Sire.'

'Go, see this messenger be duly served, and, Pharez, come hither: let
none converse with them. You understand?'

'Your Highness may assure yourself.'

'Abidan come to life. He shall not escape so well this time. I must see
Scherirah. I much suspect----what's this? More news!'

A third Tatar entered.

'May it please your Highness, this Tatar has arrived from the Syrian
frontier.'

'Mischief in the wind, I doubt not. Speak out, knave!'

'Sire! pardon me; I bear but sad intelligence.'

'Out with the worst!'

'I come from the Lord Medad.'

'Well! has he rebelled? It seems a catching fever.'

'Ah! no, dread Sire, Lord Medad has no thought but for thy glory. Alas!
alas! he has now to guard it against fearful odds. Lord Medad bade me
see the Caliph and none else, and tell your Highness, that the moment
the beacon which announced the Feast of the New Moon was fired on
Lebanon, the Sultan of Roum and the old Arabian Caliph unfurled the
standard of their Prophet, in great array, and are now marching towards
Bagdad.'

'A clear conspiracy! Has Honain arrived? Summon a council of the Vizirs
instantly. The world is up against me. Well! I'm sick of peace. They
shall not find me napping!'

'You see, my lords,' said Alroy, ere the council broke up, 'we must
attack them singly. There can be no doubt of that. If they join, we must
combat at great odds. 'Tis in detail that we must route them. I will
myself to Persia. Ithamar must throw himself between the Sultan and
Abidan, Medad fall back on Ithamar. Scherirah must guard the capital.
Honain, you are Regent. And so farewell. I shall set off to-night.
Courage, brave companions. 'Tis a storm, but many a cedar survives the
thunderbolt.'

The council broke up.

'My own Scherirah!' said the Caliph, as they retired, 'stay awhile.
I would speak with you alone. Honain,' continued Alroy, following the
Grand Vizir out of the chamber, and leaving Scherirah alone, 'Honain, I
have not yet interchanged a word with you in private. What think you of
all this?'

'Sire, I am prepared for the worst, but hope the best.'

''Tis wise. If Abner could only keep that Karasmian in check! I am about
to speak with Scherirah alone. I do suspect him much.'

'I'll answer for his treason.'

'Hah! I do suspect him. Therefore I give him no command. I would not
have him too near his old companion, eh? We will garrison the city with
his rebels.'

'Sire, these are not moments to be nice. Scherirah is a valiant captain,
a very valiant captain, but lend me thy signet ring, I pray thee, Sire.'

Alroy turned pale.

'No, Sir, it has left me once, and never shall again. You have touched
upon a string that makes me sad. There is a burden on my conscience,
why, or what, I know not. I am innocent, you know I am innocent,
Honain!'

'I'll answer for your Highness. He who has enough of the milk of human
kindness to spare a thing like Scherirah, when he stands in his way, may
well be credited for the nobler mercy that spared his better.'

'Ah me! there's madness in the thought. Why is he not here? Had I
but followed; tush! tush! Go see the Queen, and tell her all that has
happened. I'll to Scherirah.'

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20