The Learned Rabbi Zimri.
A SCORCHING sun, a blue and burning sky, on every side lofty ranges of black and barren mountains, dark ravines, deep caverns, unfathomable gorges! A solitary being moved in the distance. Faint and toiling, a pilgrim slowly clambered up the steep and stony track.
The sultry hours moved on; the pilgrim at length gained the summit of the mountain, a small and rugged table-land, strewn with huge masses of loose and heated, rock. All around was desolation: no spring, no herbage; the bird and the insect were alike mute. Still it was the summit: no loftier peaks frowned in the distance; the pilgrim stopped, and breathed with more facility, and a faint smile played over his languid and solemn countenance.
He rested a few minutes; he took from his wallet some locusts and wild honey, and a small skin of water. His meal was short as well as simple. An ardent desire to reach his place of destination before nightfall urged him to proceed. He soon passed over the table-land, and commenced the descent of the mountain. A straggling olive-tree occasionally appeared, and then a group, and soon the groups swelled into a grove. His way wound through the grateful and unaccustomed shade. He emerged from the grove, and found that he had proceeded down more than half the side of the mountain. It ended precipitously in a dark and narrow ravine, formed on the other side by an opposite mountain, the lofty steep of which was crested by a city gently rising on a gradual slope.
Nothing could be conceived more barren, wild, and terrible than the surrounding scenery, unillumined by a single trace of culture. The city stood like the last gladiator in an amphitheatre of desolation.
It was surrounded by a lofty turreted wall, of an architecture to which the pilgrim was unaccustomed: gates with drawbridge and portcullis, square towers, and loopholes for the archer. Sentinels, clothed in steel and shining in the sunset, paced, at regular intervals, the cautious wall, and on a lofty tower a standard waved, a snowy standard, with a red, red cross!
The Prince of the Captivity at length beheld the lost capital of his fathers.35
A few months back, and such a spectacle would have called forth all the latent passion of Alroy; but time and suffering, and sharp experience, had already somewhat curbed the fiery spirit of the Hebrew Prince. He gazed upon Jerusalem, he beheld the City of David garrisoned by the puissant warriors of Christendom, and threatened by the innumerable armies of the Crescent. The two great divisions of the world seemed contending for a prize, which he, a lonely wanderer, had crossed the desert to rescue.
If his faith restrained him from doubting the possibility of his enterprise, he was at least deeply conscious that the world was a very different existence from what he had fancied amid the gardens of Hamadan and the rocks of Caucasus, and that if his purpose could be accomplished, it could only be effected by one means. Calm, perhaps somewhat depressed, but full of pious humiliation, and not deserted by holy hope, he descended into the Valley of Jehoshaphat, and so, slaking his thirst at Siloah, and mounting the opposite height, David Alroy entered Jerusalem by the gate of Zion.36
He had been instructed that the quarter allotted to his people was near this entrance. He inquired the direction of the sentinel, who did not condescend to answer him. An old man, in shabby robes, who was passing, beckoned to him.
‘What want you, friend?’ inquired Alroy.
‘You were asking for the quarter of our people. You must be à stranger, indeed, in Jerusalem, to suppose that a Frank would speak to a Jew. You were lucky to get neither kicked nor cursed.’
‘Kicked and cursed! Why, these dogs——’
‘Hush! hush! for the love of God,’ said his new companion, much alarmed. ‘Have you lent money to their captain that you speak thus? In Jerusalem our people speak only in a whisper.’
‘No matter: the cure is not by words. Where is our quarter?’
‘Was the like ever seen! Why, he speaks as if he were a Frank. I save him from having his head broken by a gauntlet, and——’
‘My friend, I am tired. Our quarter?’
‘Whom may you want?’
‘The Chief Rabbi.’
‘You bear letters to him?’
‘What is that to you?’
‘Hush! hush! You do not know what Jerusalem is, young man. You must not think of going on in this way. Where do you come from?’
‘Bagdad.’
‘Bagdad! Jerusalem is not Bagdad. A Turk is a brute, but a Christian is a demon.’
‘But our quarter, our quarter?’
‘Hush! you want the Chief Rabbi?’
‘Ay! ay!’
‘Rabbi Zimri?’
‘It may be so. I neither know nor care.’
‘Neither knows nor cares! This will never do; you must not go on in this way at Jerusalem. You must not think of it.’
‘Fellow, I see thou art a miserable prattler. Show me our quarter, and I will pay thee well, or be off.’
‘Be off! Art thou a Hebrew? to say “be off” to any one. You come from Bagdad! I tell you what, go back to Bagdad. You will never do for Jerusalem.’
‘Your grizzled beard protects you. Old fool, I am a pilgrim just arrived, wearied beyond expression, and you keep me here listening to your flat talk!’
‘Flat talk! Why! what would you?’
‘Lead me to the Rabbi Zimri, if that be his name.’
‘If that be his name! Why, every one knows Rabbi Zimri, the Chief Rabbi of Jerusalem, the successor of Aaron. We have our temple yet, say what they like. A very learned doctor is Rabbi Zimri.’
‘Wretched driveller. I am ashamed to lose my patience with such a dotard.’
‘Driveller! dotard! Why, who are you?’
‘One you cannot comprehend. Without another word, lead me to your chief.’
‘Chief! you have not far to go. I know no one of the nation who holds his head higher than I do here, and they call me Zimri.’
‘What, the Chief Rabbi, that very learned doctor?’
‘No less; I thought you had heard of him.’
‘Let us forget the past, good Zimri. When great men play the incognito, they must sometimes hear rough phrases. It is the Caliph’s lot as well as yours. I am glad to make the acquaintance of so great a doctor. Though young, and roughly habited, I have seen the world a little, and may offer next Sabbath in the synagogue more dirhems than you would perhaps suppose. Good and learned Zimri, I would be your guest.’
‘A very worshipful young man! And he speaks low and soft now! But it was lucky I was at hand. Good, what’s your name?’
‘David.’
‘A very honest name, good David. It was lucky I was at hand when you spoke to the sentinel, though. A Jew speak to a Frank, and a sentinel too! Hah! hah! hah! that is good. How Rabbi Maimon will laugh! Faith it was very lucky, now, was not it?’
‘Indeed, most fortunate.’
‘Well that is candid! Here! this way. ‘Tis not far. We number few, sir, of our brethren here, but a better time will come, a better time will come.’
‘I think so. This is your door?’
‘An humble one. Jerusalem is not Bagdad, but you are welcome.’
‘King Pirgandicus37entered them,’ said Rabbi Maimon, ‘but no one since.’
‘And when did he live?’ inquired Alroy. ‘His reign is recorded in the Talmud,’ answered Rabbi Zimri, ‘but in the Talmud there are no dates.’ ‘A long while ago?’ asked Alroy. ‘Since the Captivity,’ answered Rabbi Maimon. ‘I doubt that,’ said Rabbi Zimri, ‘or why should he be called king?’
‘Was he of the house of David?’ said Alroy.
‘Without doubt,’ said Rabbi Maimon; ‘he was one of our greatest kings, and conquered Julius Caesar.‘38
‘His kingdom was in the northernmost parts of Africa,’ said Rabbi Zimri, ‘and exists to this day, if we could but find it.’
‘Ay, truly,’ added Rabbi Maimon, ‘the sceptre has never departed out of Judah; and he rode always upon a white elephant.’
‘Covered with cloth of gold,’ added Rabbi Zimri. ‘And he visited the Tombs of the Kings?’39inquired Alroy.
‘Without doubt,’ said Rabbi Maimon. ‘The whole account is in the Talmud.’
‘And no one can now find them?’ ‘No one,’ replied Rabbi Zimri: ‘but, according to that learned doctor, Moses Hallevy, they are in a valley in the mountains of Lebanon, which was sealed up by the Archangel Michael.’
‘The illustrious Doctor Abarbanel, of Babylon,’ said Rabbi Maimon, ‘gives one hundred and twenty reasons in his commentary on the Gemara to prove that they sunk under the earth at the taking of the Temple.’
‘No one reasons like Abarbanel of Babylon,’ said Rabbi Zimri.
‘The great Rabbi Akiba, of Pundebita, has answered them all,’ said Rabbi Maimon, ‘and holds that they were taken up to heaven.’
‘And which is right?’ inquired Rabbi Zimri.
‘Neither,’ said Rabbi Maimon.
‘One hundred and twenty reasons are strong proof,’ said Rabbi Zimri.
‘The most learned and illustrious Doctor Aaron Mendola, of Granada,’ said Rabbi Maimon, ‘has shown that we must look for the Tombs of the Kings in the south of Spain.’
‘All that Mendola writes is worth attention,’ said Rabbi Zimri.
‘Rabbi Hillel,40of Samaria, is worth two Mendolas any day,’ said Rabbi Maimon.
‘‘Tis a most learned doctor,’ said Rabbi Zimri; ‘and what thinks he?’
‘Hillel proves that there are two Tombs of the Kings,’ said Rabbi Maimon, ‘and that neither of them are the right ones.’
‘What a learned doctor!’ exclaimed Rabbi Zimri.
‘And very satisfactory,’ remarked Alroy.
‘These are high subjects,’ continued Maimon, his blear eyes twinkling with complacency. ‘Your guest, Rabbi Zimri, must read the treatise of the learned Shimei, of Damascus, on “Effecting Impossibilities.”’
‘That is a work!’ exclaimed Zimri.
‘I never slept for three nights after reading that work,’ said Rabbi Maimon. ‘It contains twelve thousand five hundred and thirty-seven quotations from the Pentateuch, and not a single original observation.’
‘There were giants in those days,’ said Rabbi Zimri; ‘we are children now.’
‘The first chapter makes equal sense, read backward or forward,’ continued Rabbi Maimon. ‘Ichabod!’ exclaimed Rabbi Zimri. ‘And the initial letter of every section is a cabalistical type of a king of Judah.’
‘The temple will yet be built,’ said Rabbi Zimri. ‘Ay, ay! that is learning!’ exclaimed Rabbi Maimon; ‘but what is the great treatise on “Effecting Impossibilities” to that profound, admirable, and——’
‘Holy Rabbi!’ said a youthful reader of the synagogue, who now entered, ‘the hour is at hand.’
‘You don’t say so! Learned Miamon, I must to the synagogue. I could sit here all day listening to you. Come, David, the people await us.’
Zimri and Alroy quitted the house, and proceeded along the narrow hilly streets to the chief temple of the Hebrews.
‘It grieves the venerable Maimon much that he cannot join us,’ said Rabbi Zimri. ‘You have doubtless heard of him at Bagdad; a most learned doctor.’ Alroy bowed in silence.
‘He bears his years well. You would hardly believe that he was my master.’
‘I perceive that you inherit much of his erudition.’
‘You are kind. If he have breathed one year, Rabbi Maimon will be a hundred and ten next Passover.’
‘I doubt it not.’
‘When he is gathered to his fathers, a great light will be extinguished in Israel. You wanted to know something about the Tombs of the Kings; I told you he was your man. How full he was! His mind, sir, is an egg.’
‘A somewhat ancient one. I fear his guidance will hardly bring me the enviable fortune of King Pirgandicus.’
‘Between ourselves, good David, talking of King Pirgandicus, I cannot help fancying that the learned Maimon made a slight mistake. I hold Pirgandicus was only a prince. It was after the Captivity, and I know no authority for any of our rulers since the destruction assuming a higher title. Clearly a prince, eh? But, though I would whisper it to no one but you, I think our worthy friend grows a little old. We should remember his years, sir. A hundred and ten next Passover. ‘Tis a great burden.’
‘Ay! with his learning added, a very fearful burden indeed!’
‘You have been a week in Jerusalem, and have not yet visited our synagogue. It is not of cedar and ivory, but it is still a temple. This way. It is only a week that you have been here? Why, you look another man! I shall never forget our first meeting: you did not know me. That was good, eh? And when I told you I was the chief Rabbi Zimri, how you changed! You have quite regained your appetite. Ah! ‘tis pleasant to mix once more with our own people. To the left. So! we must descend a little. We hold our meetings in an ancient cemetery. You have a finer temple, I warrant me, in Bagdad. Jerusalem is not Bagdad. But this has its conveniences. ‘Tis safe, and we are not very rich, nor wish to seem so.’
A long passage brought them to a number of small, square, low chambers41leading into each other. They were lighted by brass lamps, placed at intervals in vacant niches, that once held corpses, and which were now soiled by the smoky flame. Between two and three hundred individuals were assembled in these chambers, at first scarcely distinguishable by those who descended from the broad daylight; but by degrees the eyesight became accustomed to the dim and vaporous atmosphere, and Al-roy recognised in the final and more illumined chamber a high cedar cabinet, the type of the ark, and which held the sacred vessels and the sanctified copy of the law.
Standing in lines, with their heads mystically covered,42the forlorn remnant of Israel, captives in their ancient city, avowed, in spite of all their sufferings, their fidelity to their God, and, notwithstanding all the bitterness of hope delayed, their faith in the fulfilment of his promises. Their simple service was completed, their prayers were read, their responses made, their law exhibited, and their charitable offerings announced by their high priest. After the service, the venerable Zimri, opening a volume of the Talmud, and fortified by the opinions of all those illustrious and learned doctors, the heroes of his erudite conversations with the aged Maimon, expounded the law to the congregation of the people.43
‘It is written,’ said the Rabbi, ‘“Thou shalt have none other God but me.” Now know ye what our father Abraham said when Nimrod ordered him to worship fire? “Why not water,” answered Abraham, “which can put out fire? why not clouds, which can pour forth water? why not the winds, which can produce clouds? why not God, which can create winds?”’
A murmur of approbation sounded throughout the congregation.
‘Eliezer,’ said Zimri, addressing himself to a young Rabbi, ‘it is written, that he took a rib from Adam when he was asleep. Is God then a robber?’
The young Rabbi looked puzzled, and cast his eyes on the ground. The congregation was perplexed and a little alarmed.
‘Is there no answer?’ said Zimri.
‘Rabbi,’ said a stranger, a tall, swarthy African pilgrim, standing in a corner, and enveloped in a red mantle, over which a lamp threw a flickering light; ‘Rabbi, some robbers broke into my house last night, and stole an earthen pipkin, but they left a golden vase in its stead.’
‘It is well said; it is well said,’ exclaimed the congregation. The applause was loud.
‘Learned Zimri,’ continued the African, ‘it is written in the Gemara, that there was a youth in Jerusalem who fell in love with a beautiful damsel, and she scorned him. And the youth was so stricken with his passion that he could not speak; but when he beheld her, he looked at her imploringly, and she laughed. And one day the youth, not knowing what to do with himself, went out into the desert; and towards night he returned home, but the gates of the city were shut. And he went down into the valley of Jehoshaphat, and entered the tomb of Absalom and slept;44and he dreamed a dream; and next morning he came into the city smiling. And the maiden met him, and she said, “Is that thou; art thou a laugher?” and he answered, “Behold, yesterday being disconsolate, I went out of the city into the desert, and I returned home, and the gates of the city were shut, and I went down into the valley of Jehoshaphat, and I entered the tomb of Absalom, and I slept, and I dreamed a dream, and ever since then I have laughed.” And the damsel said, “Tell me thy dream.” And he answered and said, “I may not tell my dream only to my wife, for it regards her honour.” And the maiden grew sad and curious, and said, “I am thy wife, tell me thy dream.” And straightway they went and were married and ever after they both laughed. Now, learned Zimri, what means this tale, an idle jest for a master of the law, yet it is written by the greatest doctor of the Captivity?’
‘It passeth my comprehension,’ said the chief Rabbi.
Rabbi Eliezer was silent; the congregation groaned.
‘Now hear the interpretation,’ said the African. ‘The youth is our people, and the damsel is our lost Sion, and the tomb of Absalom proves that salvation can only come from the house of David. Dost thou hear this, young man?’ said the African, coming forward and laying his hand on Alroy. ‘I speak to thee, because I have observed a deep attention in thy conduct.’
The Prince of the Captivity started, and shot a glance at the dark visage before him, but the glance read nothing. The upper part of the countenance of the African was half concealed by masses of dark matted hair, and the lower by his uncouth robes. A flashing eye was its only characteristic, which darted forth like lightning out of a black cloud.
‘Is my attention the only reason that induces you to address me?’ inquired Alroy.
‘Whoever gave all his reasons?’ replied the African, with a laughing sneer.
‘I seek not to learn them. Suffice it, stranger, that how much soever you may mean, as much I can understand.’
‘‘Tis well. Learned Zimri, is this thy pupil? I congratulate thee. I will match him against the hopeful Eliezer.’ So saying, the lofty African stalked out of the chamber. The assembly also broke up. Alroy would willingly have immediately followed the African, and held some further and more private conversation with him; but some minutes elapsed, owing to the officious attentions of Zimri, before he could escape; and, when he did, his search after the stranger was vain. He inquired among the congregation, but none knew the African. He was no man’s guest and no man’s debtor, and apparently had never before been seen.
The trumpet was sounding to close the gates, as Alroy passed the Zion entrance. The temptation was irresistible. He rushed out, and ran for more than one hundred yards without looking back, and when he did, he had the satisfaction of ascertaining that he was fairly shut out for the night. The sun had set, still the Mount of Olives was flushed with the reflection of his dying beams, but Jehoshaphat at its feet was in deep shadow.
He wandered among the mountains for some time, beholding Jerusalem from a hundred different points of view, and watching the single planets and clustering constellations that gradually burst into beauty, or gathered into light. At length, somewhat exhausted, he descended into the vale. The scanty rill of Siloah45looked like a thread of silver winding in the moonlight. Some houseless wretches were slumbering under the arch of its fountain. Several isolated tombs of considerable size46rose at the base of Olivet, and the largest of these Alroy entered. Proceeding through a narrow passage, he entered a small square chamber. On each side was an empty sarcophagus of granite, one with its lid broken. Between these the Prince of the Captivity laid his robe, and, wearied by his ramble, soon soundly slept.
After some hours he woke. He fancied that he had been wakened by the sound of voices. The chamber was not quite dark. A straggling moonbeam fought its way through an open fretwork pattern in the top of the tomb, and just revealed the dim interior. Suddenly a voice spoke, a strange and singular voice.
‘Brother, brother, the sounds of the night begin.’
Another voice answered,
‘Brother, brother, I hear them, too.’
‘The woman in labour!’
‘The thief at his craft!’
‘The sentinel’s challenge!’
‘The murderer’s step!’
‘Oh! the merry sounds of the night!’
‘Brother, brother, let us come forth and wander about the world.’
‘We have seen all things. I’ll lie here and listen to the baying hound. ‘Tis music for a tomb.’
‘Choice and rare. You are idle. I like to sport in the starry air. Our hours are few, they should be fair.’
‘What shall we see, Heaven or Earth?’ ‘Hell for me, ‘tis more amusing.’ ‘As for me, I am sick of Hades.’ ‘Let us visit Solomon!’ ‘In his unknown metropolis?’
‘That will be rare.’
‘But where, oh! where?’
‘Even a spirit cannot tell. But they say, but they say, I dare not whisper what they say.’
‘Who told you?’
‘No one. I overheard an Afrite whispering to a female Ghoul he wanted to seduce.’
‘Hah! hah! hah! hah! choice pair, choice pair! We are more ethereal.’
‘She was a beauty in her way. Her eyes were luminous, though somewhat dank, and her cheek tinged with carnation caught from infant blood.’
‘Oh! gay; oh! gay; what said they?’
‘He was a deserter without leave from Solomon’s body-guard. The trull wriggled the secret out.’
‘Tell me, kind brother.’
‘I’ll show, not tell.’
‘I pr’ythee tell me.’
‘Well, then, well. In Genthesma’s gloomy cave there is a river none has reached, and you must sail, and you must sail—— Brother!’
‘Ay.’
‘Methinks I smell something too earthly.’
‘What’s that?’
‘The breath of man.’
‘Scent more fatal than the morning air! Away, away!’
In the range of mountains that lead from Olivet to the river Jordan is the great cavern of Genthesma, a mighty excavation formed by the combined and immemorial work of Nature and of Art; for on the high basaltic columns are cut strange characters and unearthly forms,47and in many places the natural ornaments have been completed by the hands of the
sculptor into symmetrical entablatures and fanciful capitals, the work, they say, of captive Dives and conquered Afrites for the great king.
It was midnight; the cold full moon showered it brilliancy upon this narrow valley, shut in on all sides by black and barren mountains. A single being stood at the entrance of the cave.
It was Alroy. Desperate and determined, after listening to the spirits in the tomb, he resolved to penetrate the mysteries of Genthesma. He took from his girdle a flint and steel, with which he lighted a torch and then he entered.
The cavern narrowed as he cautiously advanced, and soon he found himself at the head of an evidently artificial gallery. A crowd of bats rushed forward and extinguished his torch48He leant down to relight it and in so doing observed that he had trod upon an artificial pavement.
The gallery was of great extent, with a gradual declination49Being in a straight line with the mouth of the cavern, the moonlit scene was long visible, but Alroy, on looking round, now perceived that the exterior was shut out by the eminence that he had left behind him. The sides of the gallery were covered with strange and sculptured forms.
The Prince of the Captivity proceeded along this gallery for nearly two hours. A distant murmur of falling water, which might have been distinguished nearly from the first, increased in sound as he advanced, and now, from the loud roar and dash at hand, he felt that he was on the brink of some cataract. It as very dark. His heart trembled. He felt his footing ere he ventured to advance. The spray suddenly leaped forward and extinguished his torch.
His eminent danger filled him with terror, and he receded some paces, but in vain endeavoured to reillumine his torch, which was soaked with water.
His courage deserted him. Energy and exertion seemed hopeless. He was about to deliver himself up to despair, when and expanding lustre attracted his attention in the opposing gloom.
A small and bright red cloud seemed sailing towards him. It opened, discharged from its bosom as silvery star, and dissolved again into darkness. But the star remained, the silvery star, and threw a long line of tremulous light upon the vast and raging rapid, which now, fleet and foaming, revealed itself on all sides to the eye of Alroy.
The beautiful interposition in his favour re-animated the adventurous pilgrim. A dark shadow in the foreground, breaking the line of light shed by the star upon the waters, attracted his attention. He advanced, regained his former footing, and more nearly examined it. It was a boat, and in the boat, mute and immovable, sat one of those vast, singular, and hidden forms which eh had observed sculptured on the walls of the gallery.
David Alry, committing his fortunes to the God of Israel, leapt into the boat.
And at the same moment the Afrite, for it was one of those dread beings,50raised the oars, and the barque moved. The falling waters suddenly parted in the long line of the star’s reflection, and the barque glided through their high and severed masses.
In this wise they proceeded for a few minutes, until they entered a beautiful and moonlit lake. In the distance was mountainous country. Alroy examined his companion with a feeling of curiosity not
unmixed with terror. It was remarkable that Alroy could never succeed in any way in attracting his notice. The Afrite seemed totally unconscious of the presence of his passenger. At length the boat reached the opposite shore of the lake, and the Prince of the Captivity debarked.
He debarked at the head of an avenue of colossal lions of red granite,51extending far as the eye could reach, and ascending the side of the mountain, which was cut into a flight of magnificent steps. The easy ascent was in consequence soon accomplished, and Alroy, proceeding along the avenue of lions, soon gained the summit of the mountain.
To his infinite astonishment he beheld Jerusalem. That strongly-marked locality could not be mistaken: at his feet were Jehoshaphat, Kedron, Siloah; he stood upon Olivet; before him was Zion. But in all other respects, how different was the landscape from the one that he had gazed upon a few days back, for the first time! The surrounding hills sparkled with vineyards, and glowed with summer palaces, and voluptuous pavilions, and glorious gardens of pleasure. The city, extending all over Mount Sion, was encompassed with a wall of white marble, with battlements of gold; a gorgeous mass of gates and pillars, and gardened terraces; lofty piles of rarest materials, cedar, and ivory, and precious stones; and costly columns of the richest workmanship and the most fanciful orders, capitals of the lotus and the palm, and flowing friezes of the olive and the vine.
And in the front a mighty Temple rose, with inspiration in its very form; a Temple so vast, so sumptuous, that there needed no priest to tell us that no human hand planned that sublime magnificence!
‘God of my fathers!’ said Alroy, ‘I am a poor, weak thing, and my life has been a life of dreams and visions, and I have sometimes thought my brain lacked a sufficient master; where am I? Do I sleep or live? Am I a slumberer or a ghost? This trial is too much.’ He sank down, and hid his face in his hands: his over-exerted mind appeared to desert him: he wept.
Many minutes elapsed before Alroy grew composed. His wild bursts of weeping sank into sobs, and the sobs died off into sighs. And at length, calm from exhaustion, he again looked up, and lo! the glorious city was no more! Before him was a moon-lit plain, over which the avenue of lions still advanced, and appeared to terminate only in the mountainous distance.
This limit the Prince of the Captivity at length reached, and stood before a stupendous portal, cut out of the solid rock, four hundred feet in height, and supported by clusters of colossal Caryatides.52Upon the portal were engraven some Hebrew characters, which upon examination proved to be the same as those upon the talisman of Jabaster. And so, taking from his bosom that all-precious and long-cherished deposit, David Alroy, in obedience to his instructions, pressed the signet against the gigantic portal.
The portal opened with a crash of thunder louder than an earthquake. Pale, panting, and staggering, the Prince of the Captivity entered an illimitable hall, illumined by pendulous balls of glowing metal. On each side of the hall, sitting on golden thrones, was ranged a line of kings, and, as the pilgrim entered, the monarchs rose, and took off their diadems, and waved them thrice, and thrice repeated, in solemn chorus, ‘All hail, Alroy! Hail to thee, brother king! Thy crown awaits thee!’
The Prince of the Captivity stood trembling, with his eyes fixed upon the ground, and leaning breathless against a column. And when at length he had a little recovered himself, and dared again to look up, he found that the monarchs were re-seated; and, from their still and vacant visages, apparently unconscious of his presence. And this emboldened him, and so, staring alternately at each side of the hall, but with a firm, perhaps desperate step, Alroy advanced.
And he came to two thrones which were set apart from the others in the middle of the hall. On one was seated a noble figure, far above the common stature, with arms folded and downcast eyes. His feet rested upon a broken sword and a shivered sceptre, which told that he was a monarch, in spite of his discrowned head.
And on the opposite throne was a venerable personage, with a long flowing beard, and dressed in white raiment. His countenance was beautiful, although ancient. Age had stolen on without its imperfections, and time had only invested it with a sweet dignity and solemn grace. The countenance of the king was upraised with a seraphic gaze, and, as he thus looked up on high, with eyes full of love, and thanksgiving, and praise, his consecrated fingers seemed to touch the trembling wires of a golden harp.
And further on, and far above the rest, upon a throne that stretched across the hall, a most imperial presence straightway flashed upon the startled vision of Alroy. Fifty steps of ivory, and each step guarded by golden lions,53led to a throne of jasper. A dazzling light blazed forth from the glittering diadem and radiant countenance of him who sat upon the throne, one beautiful as a woman, but with the majesty of a god. And in one hand he held a seal, and in the other a sceptre.
And when Alroy had reached the foot of the throne, he stopped, and his heart misgave him. And he prayed for some minutes in silent devotion, and, without daring to look up, he mounted the first step of the throne, and the second, and the third, and so on, with slow and faltering feet, until he reached the forty-ninth step.
The Prince of the Captivity raised his eyes. He stood before the monarch face to face. In vain Alroy attempted to attract his attention, or to fix his gaze. The large dark eyes, full of supernatural lustre, appeared capable of piercing all things, and illuminating all things, but they flashed on without shedding a ray upon Alroy.
Pale as a spectre, the pilgrim, whose pilgrimage seemed now on the point of completion, stood cold and trembling before the object of all his desires and all his labours. But he thought of his country, his people, and his God; and, while his noiseless lips breathed the name of Jehovah, solemnly he put forth his arm, and with a gentle firmness grasped the unresisting sceptre of his great ancestor.
And, as he seized it, the whole scene vanished from his sight!
Hours or years might have passed away, so far as the sufferer was concerned, when Alroy again returned to self-consciousness. His eyes slowly opened, he cast around a vacant stare, he was lying in the cavern of Genthesma. The moon had set, but the morn had not broken. A single star glittered over the brow of the black mountains. He faintly moved his limbs; he would have raised his hand to his bewildered brain, but found that it grasped a sceptre. The memory of the past returned to him. He tried to rise, and found that he was reposing in the arms of a human being. He turned his head; he met the anxious gaze of Jabaster!
Conquest of the Seljuks
YOUR face is troubled, uncle.’ ‘So is my mind.’ ‘All may go well.’ ‘Miriam, we have seen the best. Prepare yourself for sorrow, gentle girl. I care not for myself, for I am old, and age makes heroes of us all. I have endured, and can endure more. As we approach our limit, it would appear that our minds grow callous. I have seen my wealth, raised with the labours of a thoughtful life, vanish in a morn: my people, a fragile remnant, nevertheless a people, dispersed, or what is worse. I have wept for them, although no tear of selfish grief has tinged this withered cheek. And, were I but alone, ay! there’s the pang. The solace of my days is now my sorrow.’
‘Weep not for me, dear uncle. Rather let us pray that our God will not forsake us.’
‘We know not when we are well. Our hours stole tranquilly along, and then we murmured. Prospering, we murmured, and now we are rightly stricken. The legend of the past is Israel’s bane. The past is a dream; and, in the waking present, we should discard the enervating shadow. Why should we be free? We murmured against captivity. Thisiscaptivity: this damp, dim cell, where we are brought to die.
‘O! youth, rash youth, thy being is destruction. But yesterday a child, it seems but yesterday I nursed him in these arms, a thoughtless child, and now our house has fallen by his deeds. I will not think of it; ‘twill make me mad.’
‘Uncle, dearest uncle, we have lived together, and we will die together, and both in love; but, I pray you, speak no harsh word of David.’
‘Shall I praise him?’
‘Say nothing. What he has done, if done in grief, has been done all in honour. Would you that he had spared Alschiroch?’
‘Never! I would have struck him myself. Brave boy, he did his duty; and I, I, Miriam, thy uncle, at whom they wink behind his back and call him niggard, was I wanting in that hour of trial? Was my treasure spared to save my people? Did I shrink from all the toil and trouble of that time? A trying time, my Miriam, but compared with this, the building of the Temple——’
‘You were then what you have ever been, the best and wisest. And since our fathers’ God did not forsake us, even in that wilderness of wildest woe, I offer gratitude in present faith, and pay him for past mercies by my prayers for more.’
‘Well, well, life must end. The hour approaches when we must meet our rulers and mock trial; precious justice that begins in threats and ends in torture. You are silent, Miriam.’
‘I am speaking to my God.’
‘What is that noise? A figure moves behind the dusky grate. Our gaoler. No, no, it is Caleb! Faithful child, I fear you have perilled much.’
‘I enter with authority, my lord, and bear good tidings.’
‘He smiles! Is’t possible? Speak on, speak on!’
‘Alroy has captured the harem of our Governor, as they journeyed from Bagdad to this city, guarded by his choicest troops. And he has sent to offer that they shall be exchanged for you and for your household. And Hassan has answered that his women shall owe their freedom to nothing but his sword. But, in the meantime, it is agreed between him and the messenger of your nephew, that both companies of prisoners shall be treated with all becoming courtesy. You, therefore, are remanded to your palace, and the trumpet is now sounding before the great mosque to summon all the host against Alroy, whom Hassan has vowed to bring to Hamadan dead or alive.’
‘The harem of the Governor, guarded too by his choicest troops! ‘Tis a great deed. He did remember us. Faithful boy! The harem of the Governor! his choicest troops! ‘Tis a very great deed. Me-thinks the Lord is with him. He has his great father’s heart. Only think of David, a child! I nursed him, often. Caleb! Can this be David, our David, a child, a girl? Yet he struck Alschiroch! Miriam! where is she? Worthy Caleb, look to your mistress; she has fallen. Quite gone! Fetch water. ‘Tis not very pure, but we shall be in our palace soon. The harem of the Governor! I can’t believe it. Sprinkle, sprinkle. David take them prisoners! Why, when they pass, we are obliged to turn our heads, and dare not look. More water: I’ll rub her hand. ‘Tis warmer! Her eyes open! Miriam, choice news, my child! The harem of the Governor! I’ll not believe it!
‘Once more within our walls, Caleb. Life is a miracle. I feel young again. This is home; and yet I am a prisoner. You said the host were assembling; he can have no chance. Think you, Caleb, he has any chance? I hope he will die. I would not have him taken. I fear their tortures. We will die too; we will all die. Now I am out of that dungeon, me-thinks I could even fight. Is it true that he has joined with robbers?’
‘I saw the messenger, and learnt that he first repaired to some bandits in the ruins in the desert. He had become acquainted with them in his pilgrimage. They say their leader is one of our people.’
‘I am glad of that. He can eat with him. I would not have him eat unclean things with the Ishmaelites.’
‘Lord, sir! our people gather to him from all quarters. ‘Tis said that Jabaster, the great Cabalist, has joined him from the mountains with ten thousand men.’
‘The great Jabaster! then there is some chance. I know Jabaster well. He is too wise to join a desperate cause. Art sure about Jabaster? ‘Tis a great name, a very potent spirit. I have heard such things of that Jabaster, sir, would make you stare like Saul before the spirit! Only think of our David, Caleb, making all this noise! I am full of hope. I feel not like a prisoner. He beat the harem guard, and, now he has got Jabaster, he will beat them all.’
‘The messenger told me he captured the harem, only to free his uncle and his sister.’
‘He ever loved me; I have done my duty to him; I think I have. Jabaster! why, man, the name is a spell I There are men at Bagdad who will get up in the night to join Jabaster. I hope David will follow his counsels in all things. I would I had seen his servant, I could have sent him a message.’
‘Lord, sir! the Prince Alroy has no great need of counsellors, I can tell you. ‘Tis said he bears the sceptre of great Solomon, which he himself obtained in the unknown tombs of Palestine.’
‘The sceptre of Solomon! could I but believe it! ‘Tis an age of wonders! Where are we? Call for Miriam, I’ll tell her this. Only think of David, a mere child, our David with the sceptre of Solomon! and Jabaster too! I have great faith. The Lord confound his enemies!’
‘Gentle Rachel, I fear I trouble you; sweet Beruna, I thank you for your zeal. I am better now; the shock was great. These are strange tidings, maidens.’
‘Yes, dear lady! who would have thought of your brother turning out a Captain?’
‘I am sure I always thought he was the quietest person in the world,’ said Beruna, ‘though he did kill Alschiroch.’
‘One could never get a word out of him,’ said Rachel.
‘He was always moping alone,’ said Beruna.
‘And when one spoke to him he always turned away,’ said Leah.
‘Or blushed,’ added Imra.
‘Well, for my part,’ said the beautiful Bathsheba, ‘I always thought Prince David was a genius. He had such beautiful eyes!’
‘I hope he will conquer Hassan,’ said Rachel.
‘So do I,’ said Beruna.
‘I wonder what he has done with the harem,’ said Leah.
‘I don’t think he will dare to speak to them,’ said Imra.
‘You are very much mistaken,’ said Bathsheba.
‘Hark!’ said Miriam.
‘‘Tis Hassan,’ said Bathsheba; ‘may he never return!’
The wild drum of the Seljuks sounded, then a flourish of their fierce trumpets, and soon the tramp of horse. Behind the blinds of their chamber, Miriam and her maidens beheld the magnificent troop of tur-baned horsemen, who, glittering with splendid armour and bright shawls, and proudly bounding on their fiery steeds, now went forth to crush and conquer the only hope of Israel. Upon an Arab, darker than night, rode the superb Hassan, and, as he passed the dwelling of his late prisoners, whether from the exulting anticipation of coming triumph, or from a soft suspicion that, behind that lattice, bright eyes and brilliant faces were gazing on his state, the haughty but handsome Seljuk flourished his scimitar over his head, as he threw his managed steed into attitudes that displayed the skill of its rider.
‘He is handsomer than Alschiroch,’ said Rachel.
‘What a shawl!’ said Beruna.
‘His scimitar was like lightning,’ said Leah.
‘And his steed like thunder,’ said Imra.
‘The evil eye fall on him!’ said Bathsheba.
‘Lord,’ exclaimed Miriam, ‘remember David and all his afflictions!’
The deserted city of the wilderness presented a very different appearance from that which met the astonished gaze of Alroy, when he first beheld its noble turrets, and wandered in its silent streets of palaces.
Without the gates was pitched a numerous camp of those low black tents common among the Kourds and Turkmans; the principal street was full of busy groups engaged in all the preparations of warfare, and all the bustling expedients of an irregular and adventurous life; steeds were stalled in ruined chambers, and tall camels raised their still visages among the clustering columns, or crouched in kneeling tranquillity amid fallen statues and prostrate obelisks.
Two months had scarcely elapsed since Alroy and Jabaster had sought Scherirah in his haunt, and announced to him their sacred mission. The callous heart of him, whose ‘mother was a Jewess,’ had yielded to their inspired annunciations. He embraced their cause with all the fervour of conversion, and his motley band were not long sceptical of a creed which, while it assuredly offered danger and adventure, held out the prospects of wealth and even empire. From the city of the wilderness the new Messiah sent forth his messengers to the neighbouring cities, to announce his advent to his brethren in captivity. The Hebrews, a proud and stiff-necked race, ever prone to rebellion, received the announcement of their favourite prince with transport. The descendant of David, and the slayer of Alschiroch, had double claims upon their confidence and allegiance, and the flower of the Hebrew youth in the neighbouring cities of the Caliphate repaired in crowds to pay their homage to the recovered sceptre of Solomon.
The affair was at first treated by the government with contempt, and the sultan of the Seljuks contented himself with setting a price upon the head of the murderer of his brother; but, when several cities had been placed under contribution, and more than one Moslem caravan stopped, and plundered in the name of the God of Abraham, of Isaac, and of Jacob, orders were despatched from Bagdad to the new governor of Hamadan, Hassan Subah, to suppress the robbers, or the rebels, and to send David Alroy dead or alive to the capital.
The Hebrew malcontents were well apprised by their less adventurous but still sympathising brethren of everything that took place at the head-quarters of the enemy. Spies arrived on the same day at the city of the wilderness, who informed Alroy that his uncle was thrown into a dungeon at Hamadan, and that a body of chosen troops were about to escort a royal harem from Bagdad into Persia.
Alroy attacked the escort in person, utterly discomfited them, and captured their charge. It proved to be the harem of the Governor of Hamadan, and if for a moment the too sanguine fancy of the captor experienced a passing pang of disappointment, the prize at least obtained, as we have seen, the freedom and security of his dear though distant friends. This exploit precipitated the expedition which was preparing at Hamadan for his destruction. The enraged Hassan Subah started from his divan, seized his scimitar, and without waiting for the auxiliaries he had summoned from the neighbouring chieftains, called to horse, and at the head of two thousand of the splendid Seljuk cavalry, hurried to vindicate his love and satiate his revenge.
Within the amphitheatre which he first entered as a prisoner, Alroy sat in council. On his right was Jabaster, Scherirah on his left. A youth, little his senior, but tall as a palm-tree, and strong as a young lion, was the fourth captain. In the distance, some standing, some reclining, were about fifty men completely armed.
‘Are the people numbered, Abner?’ inquired Alroy of the youth.
‘Even so; three hundred effective horsemen, and two thousand footmen; but the footmen lack arms.’
‘The Lord will send them in good time,’ said Jabaster; ‘meanwhile let them continue to make javelins.’
‘Trust in the Lord,’ murmured Scherirah, bending his head, with his eyes fixed on the ground.
A loud shout was heard throughout the city. Alroy started from his carpet. The messenger had returned. Pale and haggard, covered with sweat and sand, the faithful envoy was borne into the amphitheatre almost upon the shoulders of the people. In vain the guard endeavoured to stem the passage of the multitude. They clambered up the tiers of arches, they filled the void and crumbling seats of the antique circus, they supported themselves upon each other’s shoulders, they clung to the capitals of the lofty columns. The whole multitude had assembled to hear the intelligence; the scene recalled the ancient purpose of the building, and Alroy and his fellow-warriors seemed like the gladiators of some old spectacle.
‘Speak,’ said Alroy, ‘speak the worst. No news can be bitter to those whom the Lord will avenge.’
‘Ruler of Israel! thus saith Hassan Subah,’ answered the messenger: ‘My harem shall owe their freedom to nothing but my sword. I treat not with rebels, but I war not with age or woman; and between Bostenay and his household on one side, and the prisoners of thy master on the other, let there be peace. Go, tell Alroy, I will seal it in his best blood. And lo! thy uncle and thy sister are again in their palace.’
Alroy placed his hand for a moment to his eyes, and then instantly resuming his self-possession, he enquired as to the movements of the enemy.
‘I have crossed the desert on a swift dromedary54lent to me by Shelomi of the Gate, whose heart is with our cause. I have not tarried, neither have I slept. Ere to-morrow’s sunset the Philistines will be here, led by Hassan Subah himself. The Lord of Hosts be with us! Since we conquered Canaan, Israel hath not struggled with such a power!’
A murmur ran through the assembly. Men exchanged enquiring glances, and involuntarily pressed each other’s arms.
‘The trial has come,’ said a middle-aged Hebrew, who had fought twenty years ago with Jabaster.
‘Let me die for the Ark!’ said a young enthusiast of the band of Abner.
‘I thought we should get into a scrape,’ whispered Kisloch the Kourd to Calidas the Indian. ‘What could have ever induced us to give up robbing in a quiet manner?’
‘And turn Jews!’ said the Guebre, with a sneer.
‘Look at Scherirah,’ said the Negro, grinning. ‘If he is not kissing the sceptre of Solomon!’
‘I wish to heaven he had only hung Alroy the first time he met him,’ said Calidas.
‘Sons of the Covenant!’ exclaimed Alroy, ‘the Lord hath delivered them into our hands. To-morrow eve we march to Hamadan!’
A cheer followed this exclamation.
‘It is written,’ said Jabaster, opening a volume, ‘“Lo! I will defend this city, to save it, for mine own sake, and for my servant David’s sake.”
‘“And it came to pass that night that the angel of the Lord went out, and smote in the camp of the Assyrians, an hundred four score and five thousand; and when they arose early in the morning, behold! they were all dead corpses.”
‘Now, as I was gazing upon the stars this morn, and reading the celestial alphabet known to the true Cabalist,55behold! the star of the house of David and seven other stars moved, and met together, and formed into a circle. And the word they formed was a mystery to me; but lo! I have opened the book, and each star is the initial letter of each line of the Targum that I have now read to you. Therefore the fate of Sennacherib is the fate of Hassan Subah!’
‘“Trust in him at all times, ye people; pour out your heart before him.” god is a refuge for us. Selah!’
At this moment a female form appeared on the very top of the amphitheatre, upon the slight remains of the upper most tier of which a solitary arch alone was left. The chorus instantly died away, every tongue was silent, every eye fixed. Hushed, mute, and immovable, even Kisloch and his companions were appalled as they gazed upon Esther the Prophetess.
Her eminent position, her imposing action, the flashing of her immense eyes, her beautiful but awful countenance, her black hair, that hung almost to her knees, and the white light of the moon, just rising over the opposite side of the amphitheatre, and which threw a silvery flash upon her form, and seemed to invest her with some miraculous emanation, while all beneath her was in deep gloom,-these circumstances combined to render her an object of universal interest and attention, while in a powerful but high voice she thus addressed them:
‘They come, they come! But will they go? Lo! hear ye this, O house of Jacob, which are called by the name of Israel, and are come forth out of the waters of Judah! I hear their drum in the desert, and the voice of their trumpets is like the wind of eve, but a decree hath gone forth, and it says, that a mortal shall be more precious than fine gold, yea, a man than the rich ore of Ophir.
‘They come, they come! But will they go? I see the flash of their scimitars, I mark the prancing of their cruel steeds; but a decree hath gone forth, and it says, a gleaning shall be left among them, as in the shaking of the olive-tree; two or three berries on the top of the uppermost bough; four or five on the straggling branches.
‘They come, they come! But will they go? Lo! a decree hath gone forth, and it says, Hamadan shall be to thee for a spoil, and desolation shall fall upon Babylon. And there shall the wild beasts of the desert lodge, and howling monsters shall fill their houses, and there shall the daughters of the ostrich dwell, and there shall the screech-owl pitch her tent, and there shall the night-raven lay her eggs, and there shall the satyrs hold their revels. And wolves shall howl to one another in their palaces, and dragons in their voluptuous pavilions. Her time is near at hand; her days shall not be prolonged; the reed and the lotus shall wither in her rivers; and the meadows by her canals shall be as the sands of the desert. For, is it a light thing that the Lord should send his servant to raise up the tribes of Jacob, and to restore the preserved of Israel? Sing, O heavens, and be joyful, O earth, and break forth into singing, O mountains, for the Lord hath comforted his people, and will have mercy upon his afflicted!’
She ceased; she descended the precipitous side of the amphitheatre with rapid steps, vaulting from tier to tier, and bounding with wonderful agility from one mass of ruin to another. At length she reached the level; and then, foaming and panting, she rushed to Alroy, threw herself upon the ground, embraced his feet, and wiped off the dust from his sandals with her hair.
The assembly broke into long and loud acclamations of supernatural confidence and sanguine enthusiasm. They beheld their Messiah wave his miraculous sceptre. They thought of Hassan Subah and his Seljuks only as of victims, and of to-morrow only as of a day which was to commence a new era of triumph, freedom, and empire!
Hassan Subah after five days’ forced marches pitched his sumptuous pavilion in that beautiful Oasis, which had afforded such delightful refreshment to Alroy when a solitary pilgrim. Around for nearly a mile, were the tents of his warriors, and of the numerous caravan that had accompanied him, laden with water and provisions for his troops. Here, while he reposed, he also sought information as to the position of his enemy.
A party of observation, which he had immediately despatched, returned almost instantly with a small caravan that had been recently plundered by the robbers. The merchant, a venerable and pious Moslem, was ushered into the presence of the Governor of Hamadan.
‘From the robbers’ haunt?’ enquired Hassan.
‘Unfortunately so,’ answered the merchant.
‘Is it far?’
‘A day’s journey.’
‘And you quitted it?’
‘Yesterday morn.’
‘What is their force?’
The merchant hesitated.
‘Do they not make prisoners?’ enquired the Governor, casting a scrutinising glance at his companion.
‘Holy Prophet! what a miserable wretch am I!’ exclaimed the venerable merchant, bursting into tears. ‘A faithful subject of the Caliph, I am obliged to serve rebels, a devout Moslem, I am forced to aid Jews! Order me to be hanged at once, my lord,’ continued the unfortunate merchant, wringing his hands. ‘Order me to be hanged at once. I have lived long enough.’
‘What is all this?’ enquired Hassan; ‘speak, friend, without fear.’
‘I am a faithful subject of the Caliph,’ answered the merchant; ‘I am a devout Moslem, but I have lost ten thousand dirhems.’
‘I am sorry for you, sir; I also have lost something, but my losses are nothing to you, nor yours to me.’
‘Accursed be the hour when these dogs tempted me! Tell me, is it sin to break faith with a Jew?’
‘On the contrary, I could find you many reverend Mollahs, who will tell you that such a breach is the highest virtue. Come! come, I see how it is: you have received your freedom on condition of not betraying your merciful plunderers. Promises exacted by terror are the bugbears of fools. Speak, man, all you know. Where are they? What is their force? Are we supposed to be at hand?’
‘I am a faithful subject of the Caliph, and I am bound to serve him,’ replied the merchant; ‘I am a devout Moslem, and ‘tis my duty to destroy all Giaours, but I am also a man, and I must look after my own interest. Noble Governor, the long and the short is, these scoundrels have robbed me of ten thousand dirhems, as my slaves will tell you: at least, goods to that amount. No one can prove that they be worth less. It is true that I include in that calculation the fifty per cent. I was to make on my shawls at Hamadan, but still to me it is as good as ten thousand dirhems. Ask my slaves if such an assortment of shawls was ever yet beheld.’
‘To the point, to the point. The robbers?’ ‘I am at the point. The shawls is the point. For when I talked of the shawls and the heaviness of my loss, you must know that the captain of the robbers—’
‘Alroy?’
‘A fierce young gentleman, I do not know how they call him: said the captain to me, “Merchant, you look gloomy.” “Gloomy,” I said, “you would look gloomy if you were a prisoner, and had lost ten thousand dirhems.” “What, is this trash worth ten thousand dirhems?” said he. “With the fifty per cent. I was to make at Hamadan.” “Fifty per cent.,” said he; “you are an old knave.” “Knave! I should like to hear any one call me knave at Bagdad.” “Well, knave or not, you may get out of this scrape.” “How?” “Why you are a respectable-looking man,” said he, “and are a good Moslem into the bargain, I warrant.” “That I am,” said I, “although you be a Jew: but how the faith is to serve me here I am sure I don’t know, unless the angel Gabriel, as in the fifty-fifth verse of the twenty-seventh chapter of the Koran——“’
‘Tush, tush!’ exclaimed Hassan; ‘to the point.’
‘I always am at the point, only you put me out. However, to make it as short as possible, the captain knows all about your coming, and is frightened out of his wits, although he did talk big; I could easily see that. And he let me go, you see, with some of my slaves, and gave me an order for five thousand dirhems on one Bostenay, of Hamadan (perhaps you know him; is he a good man?), on condition that I would fall in with you, and, Mohammed forgive me, tell you a lie!’
‘A lie!’
‘Yes, a lie; but these Jewish dogs do not understand what a truly religious man is, and when I began to tell the lie, I was soon put out. Now, noble Hassan, if a promise to a Jew be not binding on a true believer, and you will see me straight with the five thousand dirhems, I will betray everything at once.’
‘Be easy about the five thousand dirhems, good man, and tell me all.’
‘You will see me paid?’
‘My honour upon it.’
‘‘Tis well! Know then, the infamous dogs are very weak, and terrified at the news of your progress: one, whom I think they call Jabaster, has departed with the great majority of the people into the interior of the desert, about seven hundred strong. I heard so; but mind, I do not know it. The young man, whom you call Alroy, being wounded in a recent conflict, could not depart with them, but remains among the ruins with some female prisoners, some treasure, and about a hundred companions hidden in sepulchres. He gave me my freedom on condition that I should fall in with you, and assure you that the dogs, full five thousand strong, had given you the go-by in the night, and marched towards Hamadan. They wanted me to frighten you; it was a lie, and I could not tell it. And now you know the plain truth; and if it be a sin to break faith with an infidel, you are responsible for it, as well as for the five thousand dirhems, which, by-the-bye, ought to have been ten.’
‘Where is your order?’
‘‘Tis here,’ said the merchant, drawing it from his vest, ‘a very business-like document, drawn upon one Bostenay, whom they described as very rich, and who is here enjoined to pay me five thousand dirhems, if, in consequence of my information, Hassan Subah, that is yourself, return forthwith to Hamadan without attacking them.’
‘Old Bostenay’s head shall answer for this.’