Tancred

B >> Benjamin Disraeli >> Tancred

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37

'He solicited the office,' said Astarte; 'he wreaked his vengeance,
while he vindicated my outraged feelings.'

'By murdering his dearest friend, the only being to whom he is really
devoted, his more than friend, his foster-sister, nursed by the same
heart; the ally and inspiration of his life, to whom he himself was a
suitor, and might have been a successful one, had it not been for the
custom of her religion and her race, which shrink from any connection
with strangers and with Nazarenes.'

'His foster-sister!' exclaimed Astarte.

At this moment Cypros appeared in the distance, hastening to Astarte
with an agitated air. Her looks were disturbed; she was almost
breathless when she reached them; she wrung her hands before she spoke.

'Royal lady!' at length she said, 'I hastened, as you instructed me,
at the appointed hour, to the Emir Fakredeen, but I learnt that he had
quitted the castle.

Then I repaired to the prisoner; but, woe is me! she is not to be
found.'

'Not to be found!'

'The raiment that she wore is lying on the floor of her prison. Methinks
she has fled.'

'She has fled with him who was false to us all,' said Astarte, 'for it
was the Emir of the Lebanon who long ago told me that you were affianced
to the daughter of Besso, and who warned me against joining in any
enterprise which was only to place upon the throne of Syria one whom the
laws of your own country would never recognise as your wife.'

'Intriguer!' said Tancred. 'Vile and inveterate intriguer!'

'It is well,' said Astarte. 'My spirit is more serene.'

'Would that Eva were with any one else!' said Tancred, thoughtfully, and
speaking, as it were, to himself.

'Your thoughts are with the daughter of Besso,' said Astarte. 'You wish
to follow her, to guard her, to restore her to her family.'

Tancred looked round and caught the glance of the Queen of the Ansarey,
mortified, yet full of affection.

'It seems to me,' he said, 'that it is time for me to terminate a visit
that has already occasioned you, royal lady, too much vexation.'

Astarte burst into tears.

'Let me go,' she said, 'you want a throne; this is a rude one, yet
accept it. You require warriors, the Ansarey are invincible. My castle
is not like those palaces of Antioch of which we have often talked, and
which were worthy of you, but Gindarics is impregnable, and will serve
you for your headquarters until you conquer that world which you are
born to command.'

'I have been the unconscious agent in petty machinations,' said Tancred.
'I must return to the desert to recover the purity of my mind. It is
Arabia alone that can regenerate the world.'

At this moment Cypros, who was standing apart, waved her scarf, and
exclaimed, 'Royal lady, I perceive in the distance the ever-faithful
messenger;' whereupon Astarte looked up, and, as yet invisible to the
inexperienced glance of Tancred, recognised what was an infinitely small
dusky speck, each moment becoming more apparent, until at length a bird
was observed by all of them winging its way towards the Queen.

'Is it the ever-faithful Karaguus,' said Astarte; 'or is it Ruby-lips
that ever brings good news?'

'It is Karaguus,' said Cypros, as the bird drew nearer and nearer; 'but
it is not Karaguus of Damascus. By the ring on its neck, it is Karaguus
of Aleppo.'

The pigeon now was only a few yards above the head of the Queen.
Fatigued, but with an eye full of resolution, it fluttered for a moment,
and then fell upon her bosom. Cypros advanced and lifted its weary wing,
and untied the cartel which it bore, brief words, but full of meaning,
and a terrible interest.

'The Pasha, at the head of five thousand regular troops, leaves Haleb
to-morrow to invade our land.'

'Go,' said Astarte to Tancred; 'to remain here is now dangerous. Thanks
to the faithful messenger, you have time to escape with ease from that
land which you scorned to rule, and which loved you too well.'

'I cannot leave it in the hour of peril,' said Tancred. 'This invasion
of the Ottomans may lead to results of which none dream. I will meet
them at the head of your warriors!'

CHAPTER LVIII.

_Three Letters of Cabala_

IS THERE any news?' asked Adam Besso of Issachar, the son of Selim, the
most cunning leech at Aleppo, and who by day and by night watched the
couch which bore the suffering form of the pride and mainstay of the
Syrian Hebrews.

'There is news, but it has not yet arrived,' replied Issachar, the son
of Selim, a man advanced in life, but hale, with a white beard, a bright
eye, and a benignant visage.

'There are pearls in the sea, but what are they worth?' murmured Besso.

'I have taken a Cabala,' said Issachar, the son of Selim, 'and three
times that I opened the sacred book, there were three words, and the
initial letter of each word is the name of a person who will enter this
room this day, and every person will bring news.'

'But what news?' sighed Besso. 'The news of Tophet and of ten thousand
demons?'

'I have taken a Cabala,' said Issachar, the son of Selim, 'and the news
will be good.'

'To whom and from whom? Good to the Pasha, but not to me! good to the
people of Haleb, but not, perhaps, to the family of Besso.'

'God will guard over his own. In the meanwhile, I must replace this
bandage, noble Besso. Let me rest your arm upon this cushion and you
will endure less pain.'

'Alas! worthy Issachar, I have wounds deeper than any you can probe.'

The resignation peculiar to the Orientals had sustained Besso under
his overwhelming calamity. He neither wailed nor moaned. Absorbed in a
brooding silence, he awaited the result of the measures which had been
taken for the release of Eva, sustained by the chance of success, and
caring not to survive if encountering failure. The Pasha of Aleppo, long
irritated by the Ansarey, and meditating for some time an invasion of
their country, had been fired by the all-influential representations of
the family of Besso instantly to undertake a step which, although it had
been for some time contemplated, might yet, according to Turkish
custom, have been indefinitely postponed. Three regiments of the line,
disciplined in the manner of Europe, some artillery, and a strong
detachment of cavalry, had been ordered at once to invade the contiguous
territory of the Ansarey. Hillel Besso had accompanied the troops,
leaving his uncle under his paternal roof, disabled by his late
conflict, but suffering from wounds which in themselves were serious
rather than perilous.

Four days had elapsed since the troops had quitted Aleppo. It was
the part of Hillel, before they had recourse to hostile movements, to
obtain, if possible, the restoration of the prisoners by fair means; nor
were any resources wanting to effect this purpose. A courier had arrived
at Aleppo from Hillel, apprising Adam Besso that the Queen of the
Ansarey had not only refused to give up the prisoners, but even declared
that Eva had been already released; but Hillel concluded that this
was merely trifling. This parleying had taken place on the border; the
troops were about to force the passes on the following day.

About an hour before sunset, on the very same day that Issachar, the son
of Selim, had taken more than one Cabala, some horsemen, in disorder,
were observed from the walls by the inhabitants of Aleppo, galloping
over the plain. They were soon recognised as the cavalry of the Pasha,
the irregular heralds, it was presumed, of a triumph achieved. Hillel
Besso, covered with sweat and dust, was among those who thus early
arrived. He hastened at a rapid pace through the suburb of the city,
scattering random phrases to those who inquired after intelligence as he
passed, until he reached the courtyard of his own house.

''Tis well,' he observed, as he closed the gate. 'A battle is a fine
thing, but, for my part, I am not sorry to find myself at home.'

'What is that?' inquired Adam Besso, as a noise reached his ear.

''Tis the letter of the first Cabala,' replied Issachar, the son of
Selim.

'Uncle, it is I,' said Hillel, advancing.

'Speak,' said Adam Besso, in an agitated voice; 'my sight is dark.'

'Alas, I am alone!' said Hillel.

'Bury me in Jehoshaphat,' murmured Besso, as he sank back.

'But, my uncle, there is hope.'

'Speak, then, of hope,' replied Besso, with sudden vehemence, and
starting from his pillow.

'Truly I have seen a child of the mountains, who persists in the tale
that our Eva has escaped.'

'An enemy's device! Are the mountains ours? Where are the troops?'

'Were the mountains ours, I should not be here, my uncle. Look from the
ramparts, and you will soon see the plain covered with the troops, at
least with all of them who have escaped the matchlocks and the lances of
the Ansarey.'

'Are they such sons of fire?'

'When the Queen of the Ansarey refused to deliver up the prisoners, and
declared that Eva was not in her power, the Pasha resolved to penetrate
the passes, in two detachments, on the following morning. The enemy
was drawn up in array to meet us, but fled after a feeble struggle.
Our artillery seemed to carry all before it. But,' continued Hillel,
shrugging his shoulders, 'war is not by any means a commercial
transaction. It seemed that, when we were on the point of victory,
we were in fact entirely defeated. The enemy had truly made a feigned
defence, and had only allured us into the passes, where they fired on
us from the heights, and rolled down upon our confused masses huge
fragments of rock. Our strength, our numbers, and our cannon, only
embarrassed us; there arose a confusion; the troops turned and
retreated. And, when everything was in the greatest perplexity, and we
were regaining the plain, our rear was pursued by crowds of cavalry,
Kurds, and other Giaours, who destroyed our men with their long lances,
uttering horrible shouts. For my own part, I thought all was over, but
a good horse is not a bad thing, and I am here, my uncle, having ridden
for twenty hours, nearly, without a pause.'

'And when did you see this child of the mountains who spoke of the lost
one?' asked Besso, in a low and broken voice.

'On the eve of the engagement,' said Hillel. 'He had been sent to me
with a letter, but, alas! had been plundered on his way by our troops,
and the letter had been destroyed or lost. Nevertheless, he induced them
to permit him to reach my tent, and brought these words, that the ever
adorable had truly quitted the mountains, and that the lost letter had
been written to that effect by the chieftain of the Ansarey.'

'Is there yet hope! What sound is that?'

''Tis the letter of the second Cabala,' said Issachar, the son of Selim.

And at this moment entered the chamber a faithful slave, who made signs
to the physician, upon which Issachar rose, and was soon engaged in
earnest conversation with him who had entered, Hillel tending the side
of Besso. After a few minutes, Issachar approached the couch of his
patient, and said, 'Here is one, my lord and friend, who brings good
tidings of your daughter.'

'God of my fathers!' exclaimed Besso, passionately, and springing up.

'Still, we must be calm,' said Issachar; 'still, we must be calm.'

'Let me see him,' said Besso.

'It is one you know, and know well,' said Issachar. 'It is the Emir
Fakredeen.'

'The son of my heart,' said Besso, 'who brings me news that is honey in
my mouth.'

'I am here, my father of fathers,' said Fakredeen, gliding to the side
of the couch.

Besso grasped his hand, and looked at him earnestly in the face. 'Speak
of Eva,' he at length said, in a voice of choking agitation.

'She is well, she is safe. Yes, I have saved her,' said Fakredeen,
burying his face in the pillow, exhausted by emotion. 'Yes, I have
not lived in vain.' 'Your flag shall wave on a thousand castles,' said
Besso. 'My child is saved, and she is saved by the brother of her
heart. Entirely has the God of our fathers guarded over us. Henceforth,
my Fakredeen, you have only to wish: we are the same.' And Besso sank
down almost insensible; then he made a vain effort to rise again,
murmuring 'Eva!'

'She will soon be here,' said Fakredeen; 'she only rests awhile after
many hardships.'

'Will the noble Emir refresh himself after his long journey?' said
Hillel.

'My heart is too elate for the body to need relief,' said the Emir.

'That may be very true,' said Hillel. 'At the same time, for my part,
I have always thought that the body should be maintained as well as the
spirit.' 'Withdraw from the side of the couch,' said Issachar, the son
of Selim, to his companions. 'My lord and friend has swooned.'

Gradually the tide of life returned to Besso, gradually the heart beat,
the hand grew warm. At length he slowly opened his eyes, and said, 'I
have been dreaming of my child, even now I see her.'

Yes, so vivid had been the vision that even now, restored entirely to
himself, perfectly conscious of the locality and the circumstances that
surrounded him, knowing full well that he was in his brother's house at
Aleppo, suffering and disabled, keenly recalling his recent interview
with Fakredeen, notwithstanding all these tests of inward and outward
perception, still before his entranced and agitated vision hovered
the lovely visage of his daughter, a little paler than usual, and an
uncommon anxiety blended with its soft expression, but the same rich
eyes and fine contour of countenance that her father had so often gazed
on with pride, and recalled in her absence with brooding fondness. 'Even
now I see her,' said Besso.

He could say no more, for the sweetest form in the world had locked him
in her arms.

''Tis the letter of the third Cabala,' said Issachar, the son of Selim.

CHAPTER LIX.

_Tancred Returns to Jerusalem_

TANCRED had profited by his surprise by the children of Rechab in the
passes of the Stony Arabia, and had employed the same tactics against
the Turkish force. By a simulated defence on the borders, and by the
careful dissemination of false intelligence, he had allowed the Pasha
and his troops to penetrate the mountains, and principally by a pass
which the Turks were assured by their spies that the Ansarey had
altogether neglected. The success of these manoeuvres had been as
complete as the discomfiture and rout of the Turks. Tancred, at the head
of the cavalry, had pursued them into the plain, though he had halted,
for an instant, before he quitted the mountains, to send a courier to
Astarte from himself with the assurance of victory, and the horsetails
of the Pasha for a trophy.

It so happened, however, that, while Tancred, with very few attendants,
was scouring the plain, and driving before him a panic-struck multitude,
who, if they could only have paused and rallied, might in a moment have
overwhelmed him, a strong body of Turkish cavalry, who had entered
the mountains by a different pass from that in which the principal
engagement had taken place, but who, learning the surprise and defeat of
the main body, had thought it wise to retreat in order and watch events,
debouched at this moment from the high country into the plain and in the
rear of Tancred. Had they been immediately recognised by the fugitives,
it would have been impossible for Tancred to escape; but the only
impression of the routed Turks was, that a reinforcement had joined
their foe, and their disorder was even increased by the appearance in
the distance of their own friends. This misapprehension must, however,
in time, have been at least partially removed; but Baroni, whose quick
glance had instantly detected the perilous incident, warned Tancred
immediately.

'We are surrounded, my lord; there is only one course to pursue. To
regain the mountains is impossible; if we advance, we enter only a
hostile country, and must be soon overpowered. We must make for the
Eastern desert.'

Tancred halted and surveyed the scene: he had with him not twenty men.
The Turkish cavalry, several hundreds strong, had discovered their
quarry, and were evidently resolved to cut off their retreat.

'Very well,' said Tancred, 'we are well mounted, we must try the mettle
of our steeds. Farewell, Gindarica! Farewell, gods of Olympus! To the
desert, which I ought never to have quitted!' and, so speaking, he and
his band dashed towards the East.

Their start was, so considerable that they baffled their pursuers, who,
however, did not easily relinquish their intended prey. Some shots in
the distance, towards nightfall, announced that the enemy had given up
the chase. After three hours of the moon, Tancred and his companions
rested at a well not far from a village, where they obtained some
supplies. An hour before dawn, they again pursued their way over a rich
flat country, uninclosed, yet partially cultivated, with, every now and
then, a village nestling in a jungle of Indian fig.

It was the commencement of December, and the country was very parched;
but the short though violent season of rain was at hand: this renovates
in the course of a week the whole face of Nature, and pours into little
more than that brief space the supplies which in other regions are
distributed throughout the year. On the third day, before sunset, the
country having gradually become desolate and deserted, consisting
of vast plains covered with herds, with occasionally some wandering
Turkmans or Kurds, Tancred and his companions came within sight of a
broad and palmy river, a branch of the Euphrates.

The country round, far as the eye could range, was a kind of downs
covered with a scanty herbage, now brown with heat and age. When Tancred
had gained an undulating height, and was capable of taking a more
extensive survey of the land, it presented, especially towards the
south, the same features through an illimitable space.

'The Syrian desert!' said Baroni; 'a fortnight later, and we shall see
this land covered with flowers and fragrant with aromatic herbs.'

'My heart responds to it,' said Tancred. 'What is Damascus, with all its
sumptuousness, to this sweet liberty?'

Quitting the banks of the river, they directed their course to the
south, and struck as it were into the heart of the desert; yet, on the
morrow, the winding waters again met them. And now there opened on their
sight a wondrous scene: as far as the eye could reach innumerable tents;
strings of many hundred camels going to, or returning from, the waters;
groups of horses picketed about; processions of women with vases on
their heads visiting the palmy banks; swarms of children and dogs;
spreading flocks; and occasionally an armed horseman bounding about the
environs of the vast encampment.

Although scarcely a man was visible when Tancred first caught a glimpse
of this Arabian settlement, a band of horsemen suddenly sprang from
behind a rising ground and came galloping up to them to reconnoitre and
to inquire.

'We are brothers,' said Baroni, 'for who should be the master of so many
camels but the lord of the Syrian pastures?'

'There is but one God,' said the Bedouin, 'and none are lords of the
Syrian pastures but the children of Rechab.'

'Truly, there is only one God,' said Baroni; 'go tell the great Sheikh
that his friend the English prince has come here to give him a salaam of
peace.'

Away bounded back the Bedouins, and were soon lost in the crowded
distance.

'All is right,' said Baroni; 'we shall sup to-night under the pavilion
of Amalek.'

'I visit him then, at length, in his beautiful pastures,' said Tancred;
'but, alas! I visit him alone.'

They had pulled up their horses, and were proceeding leisurely towards
the encampment, when they observed a cavalcade emerging from the outer
boundary of the settlement. This was Amalek himself, on one of his
steeds of race, accompanied by several of his leading Sheikhs, coming
to welcome Tancred to his pavilion in the Syrian pastures. A joyful
satisfaction sparkled in the bright eyes of the old chieftain, as, at
a little distance, he waved his hand with graceful dignity, and then
pressed it to his heart.

'A thousand salaams,' he exclaimed, when he had reached Tancred; 'there
is but one God. I press you to my heart of hearts. There are also other
friends, but they are not here.'

'Salaam, great Sheikh! I feel indeed we are brothers. There are friends
of whom we must speak, and indeed of many things.'

Thus conversing and riding side by side, Amalek and Tancred entered
the camp. Nearly five thousand persons were collected together in this
wilderness, and two thousand warriors were prepared at a moment's notice
to raise their lances in the air. There were nearly as many horses,
and ten times as many camels. This wilderness was the principal and
favourite resting-place of the great Sheikh of the children of Rechab,
and the abundant waters and comparatively rich pasturage permitted him
to gather around him a great portion of his tribe.

The lamps soon gleamed, and the fires soon blazed; sheep were killed,
bread baked, coffee pounded, and the pipe of honour was placed in the
hands of Tancred. For an Arabian revel, the banquet was long and rather
elaborate. By degrees, however, the guests stole away; the women ceased
to peep through the curtains; and the children left off asking Baroni
to give them backsheesh. At length, Amalek and Tancred being left alone,
the great Sheikh, who had hitherto evinced no curiosity as to the cause
of the presence of his guest, said, 'There is a time for all things, for
eating and for drinking, also for prayers. There is, also, a season to
ask questions. Why is the brother of the Queen of the English in the
Syrian desert?'

'There is much to tell, and much to inquire,' said Tancred; 'but before
I speak of myself, let me know whether you can get me tidings of Eva,
the daughter of Besso.'

'Is she not living in rooms with many divans?' said Amalek.

'Alas!' said Tancred, 'she was a prisoner, and is now a fugitive.'

'What children of Gin have done this deed? Are there strange camels
drinking at my wells? Is it some accursed Kurd that has stolen her
sheep; or some Turkman, blacker than night, that has hankered after her
bracelets?'

'Nothing of all this, yet more than all this. All shall be told to you,
great Sheikh, yet before I speak, tell me again, can you get me tidings
of Eva, the daughter of Besso?'

'Can I fire an arrow that will hit its mark?' said Amalek; 'tell me the
city of Syria where Eva the daughter of Besso may be found, and I will
send her a messenger that would reach her even in the bath, were she
there.'

Tancred then gave the great Sheikh a rapid sketch of what had occurred
to Eva, and expressed his fear that she might have been intercepted
by the Turkish troops. Amalek decided that she must be at Aleppo, and,
instantly summoning one of his principal men, he gave instructions for
the departure of a trusty scout in that direction.

'Ere the tenth day shall have elapsed,' said the great Sheikh, 'we
shall have sure tidings. And now let me know, prince of England, by
what strange cause you could have found yourself in the regions of those
children of hell, the Ansarey, who, it is well known, worship Eblis in
every obscene form.'

'It is a long tale,' said Tancred, 'but I suppose it must be told; but
now that you have relieved my mind by sending to Aleppo, I can hardly
forget that I have ridden for more than three days, and with little
pause. I am not, alas! a true Arab, though I love Arabia and Arabian
thoughts; and, indeed, my dear friend, had we not met again, it is
impossible to say what might have been my lot, for I now feel that I
could not have much longer undergone the sleepless toil I have of late
encountered. If Eva be safe, I am content, or would wish to feel so;
but what is content, and what is life, and what is man? Indeed, great
Sheikh, the longer I live and the more I think----' and here the
chibouque dropped gently from Tancred's mouth, and he himself sunk upon
the carpet.

CHAPTER LX.

_The Road to Bethany_

BESSO is better,' said the Consul Pasqualigo to Barizy of the Tower, as
he met him on a December morning in the Via Dolorosa.

'Yes, but he is by no means well,' quickly rejoined Barizy. 'The
physician of the English prince told me----'

'He has not seen the physician of the English prince!' screamed
Pasqualigo, triumphantly.

'I know that,' said Barizy, rallying; 'but the physician of the English
prince says for flesh-wounds----'

'There are no flesh-wounds,' said the Consul Pasqualigo. 'They have all
healed; 'tis an internal shock.'

'For internal shocks,' said Barizy of the Tower, 'there is nothing like
rosemary stewed with salt, and so keep on till it simmers.'

'That is very well for a bruise,' said the Consul Pasqualigo.

'A bruise is a shock,' said Barizy of the Tower.

'Besso should have remained at Aleppo,' said the Consul.

'Besso always comes to Jerusalem when he is indisposed,' said Barizy;
'as he well says, 'tis the only air that can cure him; and, if he
cannot be cured, why, at least, he can be buried in the Valley of
Je-hoshaphat.'

'He is not at Jerusalem,' said the Consul Pasqualigo, maliciously.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37