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
'She came this eve. Quite well.'
'She must excuse all courtesy.'
'Say nothing. She is a soldier's wife. She loves thee well, dear Abner.'
'I know that. I hope my sword may guard her children's throne.'
'Well, give thy orders. Instant battle, eh?'
'Indeed I think so.'
'I'll send couriers to hurry Scherirah. All looks well. Reserve the
guard.'
'Ay, ay! Farewell, dear Sire. When we meet again, I trust your enemies
may be your slaves!'
At the first streak of dawn the Hebrew cavalry, with the exception
of the Guard, charged the advancing columns of the Karasmians with
irresistible force, and cut them in pieces. Alp Arslan rallied his
troops, and at length succeeded in forming his main body in good order.
Alroy and Asriel led on their divisions, and the battle now became
general. It raged for several hours, and was on both sides well
maintained. The slaughter of the Karasmians was great, but their stern
character and superior numbers counterbalanced for a time all the
impetuosity of the Hebrews and all the energy of their leaders. This
day Alroy threw into the shade all his former exploits. Twelve times he
charged at the head of the Sacred Guard, and more than once penetrated
to the very pavilion of Alp Arslan.
In vain he endeavoured singly, and hand to hand, to meet that famous
chieftain. Both monarchs fought in the ranks, and yet Fate decided
that their scimitars should never cross. Four hours before noon, it was
evident to Alroy, that, unless Scherirah arrived, he could not prevail
against the vast superiority of numbers. He was obliged early to call
his reserve into the field, and although the number of the slain on
the side of Arslan exceeded any in the former victories of the Hebrews,
still the Karasmians maintained an immense front, which was constantly
supplied by fresh troops. Confident in his numbers, and aware of the
weakness of his antagonists, Arslan contented himself with acting on the
defensive, and wearying his assailants by resisting their terrible and
repeated charge.
For a moment, Alroy at the head of the Sacred Guard had withdrawn from
the combat. Abner and Asriel still maintained the fight, and the Caliph
was at the same time preparing for new efforts, and watching with
anxiety for the arrival of Scherirah. In the fifth hour, from an
eminence he marked with exultation the advancing banners of his
expected succours. Confident now that the day was won, he announced the
exhilarating intelligence to his soldiers; and, while they were excited
by the animating tidings, led them once more to the charge. It was
irresistible; Scherirah seemed to have arrived only for the pursuit,
only in time to complete the victory. What then was the horror, the
consternation of Alroy, when Benaiah, dashing up to him, informed
him that the long-expected succours consisted of the united forces of
Scherirah and Abidan, and had attacked him in the rear. Human genius
could afford no resource. The exhausted Hebrews, whose energies had been
tasked to the utmost, were surrounded. The Karasmians made a general and
simultaneous advance. In a few minutes the Hebrew army was thrown into
confusion. The stoutest warriors threw away their swords in despair.
Every one thought only of self-preservation. Even Abner fled towards
Hamadan. Asriel was slain. Alroy, finding it was all over, rushed to his
pavilion at the head of about three hundred of the guards, seized the
fainting Schirene, threw her before him on his saddle, and cutting his
way through all obstacles, dashed into the desert.
For eight-and-forty hours they never stopped. Their band was soon
reduced one-third. On the morning of the third day they dismounted
and refreshed themselves at a well. Half only regained their saddles.
Schirene never spoke. On they rushed again, each hour losing some
exhausted co-mate. At length, on the fifth day, about eighty strong,
they arrived at a grove of palm-trees. Here they dismounted. And Alroy
took Schirene in his arms, and the shade seemed to revive her. She
opened her eyes, and pressed his hand and smiled. He gathered her some
dates, and she drank some water.
'Our toils will soon be over, sweetest,' he whispered to her; 'I have
lost everything but thee.'
Again they mounted, and, proceeding at a less rapid pace, they arrived
towards evening at the ruined city, whither Alroy all this time had
been directing his course. Dashing down the great street, they at length
entered the old amphitheatre. They dismounted. Alroy made a couch with
their united cloaks for Schirene. Some collected fuel, great store
of which was found, and kindled large fires. Others, while it was yet
light, chased the gazelles, and were sufficiently fortunate to provide
their banquet, or fetched water from the well known to their leader.
In an hour's time, clustering round their fires in groups, and sharing
their rude fare, you might have deemed them, instead of the discomfited
and luxurious guards of a mighty monarch, the accustomed tenants of this
wild abode.
'Come, my lads,' said Alroy, as he rubbed his hands over the ascending
flame, 'at any rate, this is better than the desert.'
After all his exertions, Alroy fell into profound and dreamless sleep.
When he awoke, the sun had been long up. Schirene was still slumbering.
He embraced her, and she opened her eyes and smiled.
'You are now a bandit's bride,' he said. 'How like you our new life?'
'Well! with thee.'
'Rest here, my sweetest: I must rouse our men, and see how fortune
speeds.' So saying, and tripping lightly over many a sleeping form, he
touched Benaiah.
'So! my brave captain of the guard, still napping! Come! stir, stir.'
Benaiah jumped up with a cheerful face. 'I am ever ready, Sire.'
'I know it; but remember I am no more a king, only a co-mate. Away with
me, and let us form some order.'
The companions quitted the amphitheatre and reconnoitred the adjoining
buildings. They found many stores, the remains of old days, mats, tents,
and fuel, drinking-bowls, and other homely furniture. They fixed upon
a building for their stable, and others for the accommodation of their
band. They summoned their companions to the open place, the scene of
Hassan Subah's fate, where Alroy addressed them and explained to them
his plans. They were divided into companies; each man had his allotted
duty. Some were placed on guard at different parts; some were sent out
to the chase, or to collect dates from the Oasis; others led the horses
to the contiguous pasture, or remained to attend to their domestic
arrangements. The amphitheatre was cleared out. A rude but convenient
pavilion was formed for Schirene. They covered its ground with
mats, and each emulated the other in his endeavours to study her
accommodation. Her kind words and inspiring smiles animated at the same
time their zeal and their invention.
They soon became accustomed to their rough but adventurous life. Its
novelty pleased them, and the perpetual excitement of urgent necessity
left them no time to mourn over their terrible vicissitudes. While Alroy
lived, hope indeed never deserted their sanguine bosoms. And such was
the influence of his genius, that the most desponding felt that to be
discomfited with him, was preferable to conquest with another. They were
a faithful and devoted band, and merry faces were not wanting when at
night they assembled in the amphitheatre for their common meal.
No sooner had Alroy completed his arrangements than he sent forth
spies in all directions to procure intelligence, and especially to
communicate, if possible, with Ithamar and Medad, provided that they
still survived and maintained themselves in any force.
A fortnight passed away without the approach of any stranger; at the end
of which, there arrived four personages at their haunt, not very welcome
to their chief, who, however, concealed his chagrin at their appearance.
These were Kisloch the Kourd, and Calidas the Indian, and their
inseparable companions, the Guebre and the Negro.
'Noble Captain,' said Kisloch, 'we trust that you will permit us to
enlist in the band. This is not the first time we have served under your
orders in this spot. Old co-mates, i'faith, who have seen the best and
the worst. We suspected where you might be found, although, thanks to
the ever felicitous invention of man, it is generally received that you
died in battle. I hope your Majesty is well,' added Kisloch, bowing to
Schirene.
'You are welcome, friends,' replied Alroy; 'I know your worth. You have
seen, as you say, the best and the worst, and will, I trust, see better.
Died in battle, eh! that's good.'
''Tis so received,' said Calidas.
'And what news of our friends?'
'Not over good, but strange.'
'How so?'
'Hamadan is taken.'
'I am prepared; tell me all.'
'Old Bostenay and the Lady Miriam are borne prisoners to Bagdad.'
'Prisoners?'
'But so; all will be well with them, I trow. The Lord Honain is in high
favour with the conqueror, and will doubtless protect them.'
'Honain in favour?'
'Even so. He made terms for the city, and right good ones.'
'Hah! he was ever dexterous. Well! if he save my sister, I care not for
his favour.'
'There is no doubt. All may yet be well, Sir.'
'Let us act, not hope. Where's Abner?'
'Dead.'
'How?'
'In battle.'
'Art sure?'
'I saw him fall, and fought beside him.'
'A soldier's death is all our fortune now. I am glad he was not
captured. Where's Medad, Ithamar?'
'Fled into Egypt.'
'We have no force whatever, then?'
'None but your guards here.'
'They are strong enough to plunder a caravan. Honain, you say, in
favour?'
'Very high. He'll make good terms for us.'
'This is strange news.'
'Very, but true.'
'Well! you are welcome! Share our fare; 'tis rough, and somewhat scanty;
but we have feasted, and may feast again. Fled into Egypt, eh?'
'Ay! Sir.'
'Schirene, shouldst like to see the Nile?'
'I have heard of crocodiles.'
If the presence of Kisloch and his companions were not very pleasing
to Alroy, with the rest of the band they soon became great favourites.
Their local knowledge, and their experience of desert life, made them
valuable allies, and their boisterous jocularity and unceasing merriment
were not unwelcome in the present monotonous existence of the fugitives.
As for Alroy himself, he meditated an escape to Egypt. He determined
to seize the first opportunity of procuring some camels, and then,
dispersing his band, with the exception of Benaiah and a few faithful
retainers, he trusted that, disguised as merchants, they might succeed
in crossing Syria, and entering Africa by Palestine. With these plans
and prospects, he became each day more cheerful and more sanguine as
to the future. He had in his possession some valuable jewels, which he
calculated upon disposing of at Cairo for a sum sufficient for all his
purposes; and having exhausted all the passions of life while yet a
youth, he looked forward to the tranquil termination of his existence in
some poetic solitude with his beautiful companion.
One evening, as they returned from the Oasis, Alroy guiding the camel
that bore Schirene, and ever and anon looking up in her inspiring face,
her sanguine spirit would have indulged in a delightful future.
'Thus shall we pass the desert, sweet,' said Schirene. 'Can this be
toil?'
'There is no toil with love,' replied Alroy.
'And we were made for love, and not for empire,' rejoined Schirene.
'The past is a dream,' said Alroy. 'So sages teach us; but, until we
act, their wisdom is but wind. I feel it now. Have we ever lived in
aught but deserts, and fed on aught but dates? Methinks 'tis very
natural. But that I am tempted by the security of distant lands, I could
remain here a free and happy outlaw. Time, custom, and necessity form
our natures. When I first met Scherirah in these ruins, I shrank with
horror from degraded man; and now I sigh to be his heir. We must not
think!'
'No, love, we'll only hope,' replied Schirene; and they passed through
the gates.
The night was beautiful, the air was still warm and sweet. Schirene
gazed upon the luminous heavens. 'We thought not of these skies when
we were at Bagdad,' she exclaimed; 'and yet, my life, what was the
brightness of our palaces compared to these? All is left to us that man
should covet, freedom, beauty, and youth. I do believe, ere long, Alroy,
we shall look back upon the wondrous past as on another and a lower
world. Would that this were Egypt! Tis my only wish.'
'And it shall soon be gratified. All will soon be arranged. A few brief
days, and then Schirene will mount her camel for a longer ride than just
to gather dates. You'll make a sorry traveller, I fear!'
'Not I; I'll tire you all.'
They reached the circus, and seated themselves round the blazing fire.
Seldom had Alroy, since his fall, appeared more cheerful. Schirene sang
an Arab air to the band, who joined in joyous chorus. It was late
ere they sought repose; and they retired to their rest, sanguine and
contented.
A few hours afterwards, at the break of dawn, Alroy was roused from
his slumbers by a rude pressure on his breast. He started; a ferocious
soldier was kneeling over him; he would have spurned him; he found his
hand manacled. He would have risen; his feet were bound. He looked round
for Schirene, and called her name; he was answered only by a shriek.
The amphitheatre was filled with Karasmian troops. His own men were
surprised and overpowered. Kisloch and the Guebre had been on guard. He
was raised from the ground, and flung upon a camel, which was instantly
trotted out of the circus. On every side he beheld a wild scene of
disorder and dismay. He was speechless from passion and despair.
The camel was dragged into the desert. A body of cavalry instantly
surrounded it, and they set off at a rapid pace. The whole seemed the
work of an instant.
How many days had passed Alroy knew not. He had taken no account of
time. Night and day were to him the same. He was in a stupor. But the
sweetness of the air and the greenness of the earth at length partially
roused his attention. He was just conscious that they had quitted the
desert. Before him was a noble river; he beheld the Euphrates from
the very spot he had first viewed it in his pilgrimage. The strong
association of ideas called back his memory. A tear stole down his
cheek; the bitter drop stole to his parched lips; he asked the nearest
horseman for water. The guard gave him a wetted sponge, with which he
contrived with difficulty to wipe his lips, and then he let it fall to
the ground. The Karasmian struck him.
They arrived at the river. The prisoner was taken from the camel and
placed in a covered boat. After some hours they stopped and disembarked
at a small village. Alroy was placed upon an ass with his back to its
head. His clothes were soiled and tattered. The children pelted him with
mud. An old woman, with a fanatic curse, placed a crown of paper on
his brow. With difficulty his brutal guards prevented their victim
from being torn to pieces. And in such fashion, towards noon of the
fourteenth day, David Alroy again entered Bagdad.
The intelligence of the capture of Alroy spread through the agitated
city. The Moolahs bustled about as if they had received a fresh
demonstration of the authenticity of the prophetic mission. All the
Dervishes began begging. The men discussed affairs in the coffee-houses,
and the women chatted at the fountains.[79]
'They may say what they like, but I wish him well,' said a fair Arab,
as she arranged her veil. 'He may be an impostor, but he was a very
handsome one.'
'All the women are for him, that's the truth,' responded a companion;
'but then we can do him no good.'
'We can tear their eyes out,' said a third.
'And what do you think of Alp Arslan, truly?' inquired a fourth.
'I wish he were a pitcher, and then I could break his neck,' said a
fifth.
'Only think of the Princess!' said a sixth.
'Well! she has had a glorious time of it,' said a seventh.
'Nothing was too good for her,' said an eighth.
'I like true love,' said a ninth.
'Well! I hope he will be too much for them all yet,' said a tenth.
'I should not wonder,' said an eleventh.
'He can't,' said a twelfth, 'he has lost his sceptre.'
'You don't say so?' said a thirteenth.
'It is too true,' said a fourteenth.
'Do you think he was a wizard?' said a fifteenth. 'I vow, if there be
not a fellow looking at us behind those trees.'
'Impudent scoundrel!' said a sixteenth. 'I wish it were Alroy. Let us
all scream, and put down our veils.'
And the group ran away.
Two stout soldiers were playing chess[80] in a coffee-house.
'May I slay my mother,' said one, 'but I cannot make a move. I fought
under him at Nehauend; and though I took the amnesty, I have half a mind
now to seize my sword and stab the first Turk that enters.'
''Twere but sheer justice,' said his companion. 'By my father's
blessing, he was the man for a charge. They may say what they like, but
compared with him, Alp Arslan is a white-livered Giaour.'
'Here is confusion to him and to thy last move. There's the dirhem, I
can play no more. May I slay my mother, though, but I did not think he
would let himself be taken.'
'By the blessing of my father, nor I; but then he was asleep.'
'That makes a difference. He was betrayed.'
'All brave men are. They say Kisloch and his set pocket their fifty
thousand by the job.'
'May each dirhem prove a plague-spot!'
'Amen! Dost remember Abner?'
'May I slay my mother if I ever forget him. He spoke to his men like so
many lambs. What has become of the Lady Miriam?'
'She is here.'
'That will cut Alroy.'
'He was ever fond of her. Dost remember she gained Adoram's life?'
'Oh! she could do anything next to the Queen.'
'Before her, I say, before her. He has refused the Queen, he never
refused the Lady Miriam.'
'Because she asked less.'
'Dost know it seemed to me that things never went on so well after
Jabaster's death?'
'So say I. There was a something, eh?'
'A sort of a peculiar, as it were, kind of something, eh?'
'You have well described it. Every man felt the same. I have often
mentioned it to my comrades. Say what you like, said I, but slay my
mother if ever since the old man strangled himself, things did not seem,
as it were, in their natural propinquity. 'Twas the phrase I used.'
'A choice one. Unless there is a natural propinquity, the best-arranged
matters will fall out. However, the ass sees farther than his rider, and
so it was with Alroy, the best commander I ever served under, all the
same.'
'Let us go forth and see how affairs run.'
'Ay, do. If we hear any one abuse Alroy, we'll cleave his skull.'
'That will we. There are a good many of our stout fellows about; we
might do something yet.'
'Who knows?'
A subterranean dungeon of the citadel of Bagdad held in its gloomy
limits the late lord of Asia. The captive did not sigh, or weep, or
wail. He did not speak. He did not even think. For several days he
remained in a state of stupor. On the morning of the fourth day, he
almost unconsciously partook of the wretched provision which his gaolers
brought him. Their torches, round which the bats whirled and flapped
their wings, and twinkled their small eyes, threw a ghastly glare over
the nearer walls of the dungeon, the extremity of which defied the
vision of the prisoner; and, when the gaolers retired, Alroy was in
complete darkness.
The image of the past came back to him. He tried in vain to penetrate
the surrounding gloom. His hands were manacled, his legs also were
loaded with chains. The notion that his life might perhaps have been
cruelly spared in order that he might linger on in this horrible state
of conscious annihilation filled him with frenzy. He would have dashed
his fetters against his brow, but the chain restrained him. He flung
himself upon the damp and rugged ground. His fall disturbed a thousand
obscene things. He heard the quick glide of a serpent, the creeping
retreat of the clustering scorpions, and the swift escape of the dashing
rats. His mighty calamities seemed slight when compared with these petty
miseries. His great soul could not support him under these noisome and
degrading incidents. He sprang, in disgust, upon his feet, and stood
fearful of moving, lest every step should introduce him to some new
abomination. At length, exhausted nature was unable any longer to
sustain him. He groped his way to the rude seat, cut in the rocky wall,
which was his only accommodation. He put forth his hand. It touched the
slimy fur of some wild animal, that instantly sprang away, its
fiery eyes sparkling in the dark. Alroy recoiled with a sensation of
woe-begone dismay. His shaken nerves could not sustain him under this
base danger, and these foul and novel trials. He could not refrain from
an exclamation of despair; and, when he remembered that he was now far
beyond the reach of all human solace and sympathy, even all human aid,
for a moment his mind seemed to desert him; and he wrung his hands in
forlorn and almost idiotic woe. An awful thing it is, the failure of
the energies of a master-mind. He who places implicit confidence in his
genius will find himself some day utterly defeated and deserted. 'Tis
bitter! Every paltry hind seems but to breathe to mock you. Slow,
indeed, is such a mind to credit that the never-failing resource can at
least be wanting. But so it is. Like a dried-up fountain, the perennial
flow and bright fertility have ceased, and ceased for ever. Then comes
the madness of retrospection.
Draw a curtain! draw a curtain! and fling it over this agonising
anatomy.
The days of childhood, his sweet sister's voice and smiling love, their
innocent pastimes, and the kind solicitude of faithful servants, all the
soft detail of mild domestic life: these were the sights and memories
that flitted in wild play before the burning vision of Alroy, and
rose upon his tortured mind. Empire and glory, his sacred nation, his
imperial bride; these, these were nothing. Their worth had vanished with
the creative soul that called them into action. The pure sympathies
of nature alone remained, and all his thought and grief, all his
intelligence, all his emotion, were centred in his sister.
It was the seventh morning. A guard entered at an unaccustomed hour,
and, sticking a torch into a niche in the wall, announced that a person
was without who had permission to speak to the prisoner. They were the
first human accents that had met the ear of Alroy during his captivity,
which seemed to him an age, a long dark period, that cancelled all
things. He shuddered at the harsh tones. He tried to answer, but his
unaccustomed lips refused their office. He raised his heavy arms, and
endeavoured to signify his consciousness of what had been uttered. Yet,
indeed, he had not listened to the message without emotion. He looked
forward to the grate with strange curiosity; and, as he looked, he
trembled. The visitor entered, muffled in a dark caftan. The guard
disappeared; and the caftan falling to the ground, revealed Honain.
'My beloved Alroy,' said the brother of Jabaster; and he advanced, and
pressed him to his bosom. Had it been Miriam, Alroy might have at
once expired; but the presence of this worldly man called back his
worldliness. The revulsion of his feelings was wonderful. Pride, perhaps
even hope, came to his aid; all the associations seemed to counsel
exertion; for a moment he seemed the same Alroy.
'I rejoice to find at least thee safe, Honain.'
'I also, if my security may lead to thine.'
'Still whispering hope!'
'Despair is the conclusion of fools.'
'O Honain! 'tis a great trial. I can play my part, and yet methinks
'twere better we had not again met. How is Schirene?'
'Thinking of thee.'
'Tis something that she can think. My mind has gone. Where's Miriam?'
'Free.'
'That's something. Thou hast done that. Good, good Honain, be kind to
that sweet child, if only for my sake. Thou art all she has left.'
'She hath thee.'
'Her desolation.'
'Live and be her refuge.'
'How's that? These walls! Escape? No, no; it is impossible.'
'I do not deem it so.'
'Indeed! I'll do anything. Speak! Can we bribe? can we cleave their
skulls? can we----'
'Calm thyself, my friend. There is no need of bribes, no need of
bloodshed. We must make terms.'
'Terms! We might have made them on the plain of Nehauend. Terms! Terms
with a captive victim?'
'Why victim?'
'Is Arslan then so generous?'
'He is a beast, more savage than the boar that grinds its tusks within
his country's forests.'
'Why speakest thou then of hope?'
'I spoke of certainty. I did not mention hope.'
'Dear Honain, my brain is weak; but I can bear strange things, or else
I should not be here. I feel thy thoughtful friendship; but indeed there
need no winding words to tell my fate. Pr'ythee speak out.'
'In a word, thy life is safe.'
'What! spared?'
'If it please thee.'
'Please me? Life is sweet. I feel its sweetness. I want but little.
Freedom and solitude are all I ask. My life spared! I'll not believe
it. Thou hast done this deed, thou mighty man, that masterest all souls.
Thou hast not forgotten me; thou hast not forgotten the days gone by,
thou hast not forgotten thine own Alroy! Who calls thee worldly is a
slanderer. O Honain! thou art too faithful!'
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10 |
11 |
12 |
13 |
14 |
15 | 16 |
17 |
18 |
19 |
20