Tancred

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'Ask Keferinis,' said Fakredeen, still sighing; 'he has been at
Bteddeen, the court of the Emir Bescheer. He knew my mother, at least by
memory. My mother, beautiful Astarte, was an Ansarey.'

'Your mother was an Ansarey!' repeated Astarte, in a tone of infinite
surprise; 'your mother an Ansarey? Of what family was she a child?'

'Ah!' replied Fakredeen, 'there it is; that is the secret sorrow of
my life. A mystery hangs over my mother, for I lost both my parents in
extreme childhood; I was at her heart,' he added, in a broken voice,
'and amid outrage, tumult, and war. Of whom was my mother the child? I am
here to discover that, if possible. Her race and her beautiful religion
have been the dream of my life. All I have prayed for has been to
recognise her kindred and to behold her gods.'

'It is very interesting,' murmured the Queen.

'It is more than interesting,' sighed Fakredeen. 'Ah! beautiful Astarte!
if you knew all, if you could form even the most remote idea of what I
have suffered for this unknown faith;' and a passionate tear quivered on
the radiant cheek of the young prince.

'And yet you came here to preach the doctrines of another,' said
Astarte.

'I came here to preach the doctrines of another!' replied Fakredeen,
with an expression of contempt; his nostril dilated, his lip curled with
scorn. 'This mad Englishman came here to preach the doctrines of another
creed, and one with which it seems to me, he has as little connection
as his frigid soil has with palm trees. They produce them, I am told, in
houses of glass, and they force their foreign faith in the same manner;
but, though they have temples, and churches, and mosques, they confess
they have no miracles; they admit that they never produced a prophet;
they own that no God ever spoke to their people, or visited their land;
and yet this race, so peculiarly favoured by celestial communication,
aspire to be missionaries!'

'I have much misapprehended you,' said Astarte; 'I thought you were both
embarked in a great cause.'

'Ah, you learnt that from Darkush!' quickly replied Fakredeen. 'You see,
beautiful Astarte, that I have no personal acquaintance with Darkush. It
was the intendant of my companion who was his friend; and it is through
him that Darkush has learnt anything that he has communicated. The
mission, the project, was not mine; but when I found my comrade had the
means, which had hitherto evaded me, of reaching Gindarics, I threw
no obstacles in his crotchety course. On the contrary, I embraced the
opportunity even with fervour, and far from discouraging my friend from
views to which I know he is fatally, even ridiculously, wedded, I looked
forward to this expedition as the possible means of diverting his
mind from some opinions, and, I might add, some influences, which I am
persuaded can eventually entail upon him nothing but disappointment
and disgrace.' And here Fakredeen shook his head, with that air of
confidential mystery which so cleverly piques curiosity.

'Whatever may be his fate,' said Astarte, in a tone of seriousness,
'the English prince does not seem to me to be a person who could ever
experience disgrace.'

'No, no,' quickly replied his faithful friend; 'of course I did not
speak of personal dishonour. He is extremely proud and rash, and not
in any way a practical man; but he is not a person who ever would
do anything to be sent to the bagnio or the galleys. What I mean by
disgrace is, that he is mixed up with transactions, and connected with
persons who will damage, cheapen, in a worldly sense dishonour him,
destroy all his sources of power and influence. For instance, now, in
his country, in England, a Jew is never permitted to enter England; they
may settle in Gibraltar, but in England, no. Well, it is perfectly well
known among all those who care about these affairs, that this enterprise
of his, this religious-politico-military adventure, is merely undertaken
because he happens to be desperately enamoured of a Jewess at Damascus,
whom he cannot carry home as his bride.'

'Enamoured of a Jewess at Damascus!' said Astarte, turning pale.

'To folly, to frenzy; she is at the bottom of the whole of this affair;
she talks Cabala to him, and he Nazareny to her; and so, between them,
they have invented this grand scheme, the conquest of Asia, perhaps the
world, with our Syrian sabres, and we are to be rewarded for our pains
by eating passover cakes.'

'What are they?'

'Festival bread of the Hebrews, made in the new moon, with the milk of
he-goats.'

'What horrors!'

'What a reward for conquest!'

'Will the Queen of the English let one of her princes marry a Jewess?'

'Never; he will be beheaded, and she will be burnt alive, eventually;
but, in the meantime, a great deal of mischief may occur, unless we stop
it.'

'It certainly should be stopped.'

'What amuses me most in this affair,' continued Fakredeen, 'is the cool
way in which this Englishman comes to us for our assistance. First, he
is at Canobia, then at Gindarics; we are to do the business, and Syria
is spoken of as if it were nothing. Now the fact is, Syria is the only
practical feature of the case. There is no doubt that, if we were all
agreed, if Lebanon and the Ansarey were to unite, we could clear
Syria of the Turks, conquer the plain, and carry the whole coast in
a campaign, and no one would ever interfere to disturb us. Why should
they? The Turks could not, and the natives of Fran-guestan would not.
Leave me to manage them. There is nothing in the world I so revel in as
hocus-sing Guizot and Aberdeen. You never heard of Guizot and Aberdeen?
They are the two Reis Effendis of the King of the French and the Queen
of the English. I sent them an archbishop last year, one of my fellows,
Archbishop Murad, who led them a pretty dance. They nearly made me King
of the Lebanon, to put an end to disturbances which never existed except
in the venerable Murad's representations.'

'These are strange things! Has she charms, this Jewess? Very beautiful,
I suppose?'

'The Englishman vows so; he is always raving of her; talks of her in his
sleep.'

'As you say, it would indeed be strange to draw our sabres for a Jewess.
Is she dark or fair?'

'I think, when he writes verses to her, he always calls her a moon or a
star; that smacks nocturnal and somewhat sombre.'

'I detest the Jews; but I have heard their women are beautiful.'

'We will banish them all from our kingdom of Syria,' said Fakredeen,
looking at Astarte earnestly.

'Why, if we are to make a struggle, it should be for something. There
have been Syrian kingdoms.'

'And shall be, beauteous Queen, and you shall rule them. I believe now
the dream of my life will be realised.'

'Why, what's that?'

'My mother's last aspiration, the dying legacy of her passionate soul,
known only to me, and never breathed to human being until this moment.'

'Then you recollect your mother?'

'It was my nurse, long since dead, who was the depositary of the
injunction, and in due time conveyed it to me.'

'And what was it?'

'To raise, at Deir el Kamar, the capital of our district, a marble
temple to the Syrian goddess.'

'Beautiful idea!'

'It would have drawn back the mountain to the ancient faith; the Druses
are half-prepared, and wait only my word.'

'But the Nazareny bishops,' said the Queen, 'whom you find so useful,
what will they say?'

'What did the priests and priestesses of the Syrian goddess say, when
Syria became Christian? They turned into bishops and nuns. Let them turn
back again.'

CHAPTER LV.

_Capture of a Harem_

TANCRED and Fakredeen had been absent from Gindarics for two or three
days, making an excursion in the neighbouring districts, and visiting
several of those chieftains whose future aid might be of much importance
to them. Away from the unconscious centre of many passions and
intrigues, excited by the novelty of their life, sanguine of the
ultimate triumph of his manoeuvres, and at times still influenced by
his companion, the demeanour of the young Emir of Lebanon to his friend
resumed something of its wonted softness, confidence, and complaisance.
They were once more in sight of the wild palace-fort of Astarte;
spurring their horses, they dashed before their attendants over the
plain, and halted at the huge portal of iron, while the torches were
lit, and preparations were made for the passage of the covered way.

When they entered the principal court, there were unusual appearances
of some recent and considerable occurrence: groups of Turkish soldiers,
disarmed, reclining camels, baggage and steeds, and many of the armed
tribes of the mountain.

'What is all this?' inquired Fakredeen.

''Tis the harem of the Pasha of Aleppo,' replied a warrior, 'captured on
the plain, and carried up into the mountains to our Queen of queens.'

'The war begins,' said Fakredeen, looking round at Tancred with a
glittering eye.

'Women make war on women,' he replied.

''Tis the first step,' said the Emir, dismounting; 'I care not how it
comes. Women are at the bottom of everything. If it had not been for the
Sultana Mother, I should have now been Prince of the Mountain.'

When they had regained their apartments the lordly Keferinis soon
appeared, to offer them his congratulations on their return. The
minister was peculiarly refined and mysterious this morning, especially
with respect to the great event, which he involved in so much of
obscurity, that, after much conversation, the travellers were as little
acquainted with the occurrence as when they entered the courtyard of
Gindarics.

'The capture of a pasha's harem is not water spilt on sand, lordly
Keferinis,' said the Emir. 'We shall hear more of this.'

'What we shall hear,' replied Keferinis, 'is entirely an affair of the
future; nor is it in any way to be disputed that there are few men who
do not find it more difficult to foretell what is to happen than to
remember what has taken place.'

'We sometimes find that memory is as rare a quality as prediction,' said
Tancred.

'In England,' replied the lordly Keferinis; 'but it is never to be
forgotten, and indeed, on the contrary, should be entirely recollected,
that the English, being a new people, have nothing indeed which they can
remember.'

Tancred bowed.

'And how is the most gracious lady, Queen of queens?' inquired
Fakredeen.

'The most gracious lady, Queen of queens,' replied Keferinis, very
mysteriously, 'has at this time many thoughts.'

'If she require any aid,' said Fakredeen, 'there is not a musket in
Lebanon that is not at her service.'

Keferinis bent his head, and said, 'It is not in any way to be
disputed that there are subjects which require for their management
the application of a certain degree of force, and the noble Emir of
the Lebanon has expressed himself in that sense with the most
exact propriety; there are also subjects which are regulated by the
application of a certain number of words, provided they were well
chosen, and distinguished by an inestimable exactitude. It does not by
any means follow that from what has occurred there will be sanguinary
encounters between the people of the gracious lady, Queen of queens, and
those that dwell in plains and cities; nor can it be denied that war is
a means by which many things are brought to a final conjuncture. At the
same time courtesy has many charms, even for the Turks, though it is not
to be denied, or in any way concealed, that a Turk, especially if he be
a pasha, is, of all obscene and utter children of the devil, the most
entirely contemptible and thoroughly to be execrated.'

'If I were the Queen, I would not give up the harem,' said Fakredeen;
'and I would bring affairs to a crisis. The garrison at Aleppo is not
strong; they have been obliged to march six regiments to Deir el Kamar,
and, though affairs are comparatively tranquil in Lebanon for the
moment, let me send a pigeon to my cousin Francis El Kazin, and young
Syria will get up such a stir that old Wageah Pasha will not spare a
single man. I will have fifty bonfires on the mountain near Beiroot in
one night, and Colonel Rose will send off a steamer to Sir Canning to
tell him there is a revolt in the Lebanon, with a double despatch for
Aberdeen, full of smoking villages and slaughtered women!' and the young
Emir inhaled his nargileh with additional zest as he recollected the
triumphs of his past mystifications.

At sunset it was announced to the travellers that the Queen would
receive them. Astarte appeared much gratified by their return, was very
gracious, although in a different way, to both of them, inquired much
as to what they had seen and what they had done, with whom they had
conversed, and what had been said. At length she observed, 'Something
has also happened at Gindarics in your absence, noble princes. Last
night they brought part of a harem of the Pasha of Aleppo captive
hither. This may lead to events.'

'I have already ventured to observe to the lordly Keferinis,' said
Fakredeen, 'that every lance in the Lebanon is at your command, gracious
Queen.'

'We have lances,' said Astarte; 'it is not of that I was thinking. Nor
indeed do I care to prolong a quarrel for this capture. If the Pasha
will renounce the tribute of the villages, I am for peace; if he will
not, we will speak of those things of which there has been counsel
between us. I do not wish this affair of the harem to be mixed up with
what has preceded it. My principal captive is a most beautiful woman,
and one, too, that greatly interests and charms me. She is not a Turk,
but, I apprehend, a Christian lady of the cities. She is plunged in
grief, and weeps sometimes with so much bitterness that I quite share
her sorrow; but it is not so much because she is a captive, but because
some one, who is most dear to her, has been slain in this fray. I have
visited her, and tried to console her; and begged her to forget her
grief and become my companion. But nothing soothes her, and tears flow
for ever from eyes which are the most beautiful I ever beheld.'

'This is the land of beautiful eyes,' said Tancred, and Astarte almost
unconsciously glanced at the speaker.

Cypros, who had quitted the attendant maidens immediately on the
entrance of the two princes, after an interval, returned. There was
some excitement on her countenance as she approached her mistress, and
addressed Astarte in a hushed but hurried tone. It seemed that the fair
captive of the Queen of the Ansarey had most unexpectedly expressed to
Cypros her wish to repair to the divan of the Queen, although, the
whole day, she had frequently refused to descend. Cypros feared that the
presence of the two guests of her mistress might prove an obstacle to
the fulfilment of this wish, as the freedom of social intercourse that
prevailed among the Ansarey was unknown even among the ever-veiled women
of the Maronites and Druses. But the fair captive had no prejudices on
this head, and Cypros had accordingly descended to request the royal
permission, or consult the royal will. Astarte spoke to Keferinis, who
listened with an air of great profundity, and finally bowed assent, and
Cypros retired.

Astarte had signified to Tancred her wish that he should approach her,
while Keferinis at some distance was engaged in earnest conversation
with Fakredeen, with whom he had not had previously the opportunity of
being alone. His report of all that had transpired in his absence was
highly favourable. The minister had taken the opportunity of the absence
of the Emir and his friend to converse often and amply about them with
the Queen. The idea of an united Syria was pleasing to the imagination
of the young sovereign. The suggestion was eminently practicable. It
required no extravagant combinations, no hazardous chances of fortune,
nor fine expedients of political skill. A union between Fakredeen and
Astarte at once connected the most important interests of the mountains
without exciting the alarm or displeasure of other powers. The union was
as legitimate as it would ultimately prove irresistible. It ensured a
respectable revenue and a considerable force; and, with prudence and
vigilance, the occasion would soon offer to achieve all the rest. On the
next paroxysm in the dissolving empire of the Ottomans, the plain would
be occupied by a warlike population descending from the mountains that
commanded on one side the whole Syrian coast, and on the other all the
inland cities from Aleppo to Damascus.

The eye of the young Emir glittered with triumph as he listened to the
oily sentences of the eunuch. 'Lebanon,' he whispered, 'is the key of
Syria, my Keferinis, never forget that; and we will lock up the land.
Let us never sleep till this affair is achieved. You think she does not
dream of a certain person, eh? I tell you, he must go, or we must get
rid of him: I fear him not, but he is in the way; and the way should
be smooth as the waters of El Arish. Remember the temple to the Syrian
goddess at Deir el Kamar, my Keferinis! The religion is half the battle.
How I shall delight to get rid of my bishops and those accursed monks:
drones, drivellers, bigots, drinking my golden wine of Canobia, and
smoking my delicate Latakia. You know not Canobia, Keferinis; but you
have heard of it. You have been at Bted-deen? Well, Bteddeen to Canobia
is an Arab moon to a Syrian sun. The marble alone at Canobia cost a
million of piastres. The stables are worthy of the steeds of Solomon.
You may kill anything you like in the forest, from panthers to
antelopes. Listen, my Keferinis, let this be done, and done quickly, and
Canobia is yours.'

'Do you ever dream?' said Astrate to Tancred. 'They say that life is
a dream.' 'I sometimes wish it were. Its pangs are too acute for a
shadow.'

'But you have no pangs.'

'I had a dream when you were away, in which I was much alarmed,' said
Astarte. 'Indeed!'

'I thought that Gindarics was taken by the Jews. I suppose you have
talked of them to me so much that my slumbering memory wandered.'

'It is a resistless and exhaustless theme,' said Tancred; 'for the
greatness and happiness of everything, Gindarics included, are comprised
in the principles of which they were the first propagators.'

'Nevertheless, I should be sorry if my dream came to be true,' said
Astarte.

'May your dreams be as bright and happy as your lot, royal lady!' said
Tancred.

'My lot is not bright and happy,' said the Queen; 'once I thought it
was, but I think so no longer.'

'But why?'

'I wish you could have a dream and find out,' said the Queen.
'Disquietude is sometimes as perplexing as pleasure. Both come and go
like birds.'

'Like the pigeon you sent to Damascus,' said Tancred.

'Ah! why did I send it?'

'Because you were most gracious, lady.'

'Because I was very rash, noble prince.'

'When the great deeds are done to which this visit will lead, you will
not think so.'

'I am not born for great deeds; I am a woman, and I am content with
beautiful ones.'

'You still dream of the Syrian goddess,' said Tan-cred.

'No; not of the Syrian goddess. Tell me: they say the Hebrew women are
very lovely, is it so?'

'They have that reputation.'

'But do you think so?'

'I have known some distinguished for their beauty.'

'Do they resemble the statue in our temple?'

'Their style is different,' said Tancred; 'the Greek and the Hebrew are
both among the highest types of the human form.'

'But you prefer the Hebrew?'

'I am not so discriminating a critic,' said Tancred; 'I admire the
beautiful.'

'Well, here comes my captive,' said the Queen; 'if you like, you shall
free her, for she wonderfully takes me. She is a Georgian, I suppose,
and bears the palm from all of us. I will not presume to contend with
her: she would vanquish, perhaps, even that fair Jewess of whom, I hear,
you are so enamoured.'

Tancred started, and would have replied, but Cypros advanced at this
moment with her charge, who withdrew her veil as she seated herself, as
commanded, before the Queen. She withdrew her veil, and Fakredeen and
Tancred beheld Eva!

CHAPTER LVI.

_Eva a Captive_

IN ONE of a series of chambers excavated in the mountains, yet connected
with the more artificial portion of the palace, chambers and galleries
which in the course of ages had served for many purposes, sometimes
of security, sometimes of punishment; treasuries not unfrequently, and
occasionally prisons; in one of these vast cells, feebly illumined from
apertures above, lying on a rude couch with her countenance hidden,
motionless and miserable, was the beautiful daughter of Besso, one who
had been bred in all the delights of the most refined luxury, and in the
enjoyment of a freedom not common in any land, and most rare among the
Easterns.

The events of her life had been so strange and rapid during the last few
days that, even amid her woe, she revolved in her mind their startling
import. It was little more than ten days since, under the guardianship
of her father, she had commenced her journey from Damascus to Aleppo.
When they had proceeded about half way, they were met at the city of
Horns by a detachment of Turkish soldiers, sent by the Pasha of Aleppo,
at the request of Hillel Besso, to escort them, the country being much
troubled in consequence of the feud with the Ansarey. Notwithstanding
these precautions, and although, from the advices they received, they
took a circuitous and unexpected course, they were attacked by the
mountaineers within half a day's journey of Aleppo; and with so much
strength and spirit, that their guards, after some resistance, fled and
dispersed, while Eva and her attendants, after seeing her father cut
down in her defence, was carried a prisoner to Gindarics.

Overwhelmed by the fate of her father, she was at first insensible to
her own, and was indeed so distracted that she delivered herself up to
despair. She was beginning in some degree to collect her senses, and to
survey her position with some comparative calmness, when she learnt
from the visit of Cypros that Fakredeen and Tancred were, by a strange
coincidence, under the same roof as herself. Then she recalled the kind
sympathy and offers of consolation that had been evinced and proffered
to her by the mistress of the castle, to whose expressions at the time
she had paid but an imperfect attention. Under these circumstances she
earnestly requested permission to avail herself of a privilege, which
had been previously offered and refused, to become the companion, rather
than the captive, of the Queen of the Ansarey; so that she might find
some opportunity of communicating with her two friends, of inquiring
about her father, and of consulting with them as to the best steps to be
adopted in her present exigency.

The interview, from which so much was anticipated, had turned out as
strange and as distressful as any of the recent incidents to which it
was to have brought balm and solace. Recognised instantly by Tancred and
the young Emir, and greeted with a tender respect, almost equal to the
surprise and sorrow which they felt at beholding her, Astarte, hitherto
so unexpectedly gracious to her captive, appeared suddenly agitated,
excited, haughty, even hostile. The Queen had immediately summoned
Fakredeen to her side, and there passed between them some hurried and
perturbed explanations; subsequently she addressed some inquiries to
Tancred, to which he replied without reserve. Soon afterwards, Astarte,
remaining intent and moody, the court was suddenly broken up; Keferinis
signifying to the young men that they should retire, while Astarte,
without bestowing on them her usual farewell, rose, and, followed by her
maidens, quitted the chamber. As for Eva, instead of returning to one of
the royal apartments which had been previously allotted to her, she was
conducted to what was in fact a prison.

There she had passed the night and a portion of the ensuing day, visited
only by Cypros, who, when Eva would have inquired the cause of all this
mysterious cruelty and startling contrast to the dispositions which had
preceded it, only shook her head and pressed her finger to her lip, to
signify the impossibility of her conversing with her captive.

It was one of those situations where the most gifted are deserted by
their intelligence; where there is as little to guide as to console;
where the mystery is as vast as the misfortune; and the tortured
apprehension finds it impossible to grapple with irresistible
circumstances.

In this state, the daughter of Besso, plunged in a dark reverie, in
which the only object visible to her mind's eye was the last glance of
her dying father, was roused from her approaching stupor by a sound,
distinct, yet muffled, as if some one wished to attract her attention,
without startling her by too sudden an interruption. She looked up;
again she heard the sound, and then, in a whispered tone, her name----

'Eva!'

'I am here.'

'Hush!' said a figure, stealing into the caverned chamber, and then
throwing off his Syrian cloak, revealing to her one whom she recognised.

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