by Lew Wallace
CHAPTER XVII
LAEL AND THE SWORD OF SOLOMON
Alone in his house, the Prince of India was unhappy, but not, as thereader may hurriedly conclude, on account of the rejection by theChristians of his proposal looking to brotherhood in the bonds ofreligion. He was a trifle sore over the failure, but not disappointed.A reasonable man, and, what times his temper left him liberty to think,a philosopher, he could not hope after the observations he brought fromMecca to find the followers of the Nazarene more relaxed in their faiththan the adherents of Mahomet. In short, he had gone to the palacewarned of what would happen.
It was not an easy thing for him to fold up his grand designpreparatory to putting it away forever; still there was no choice lefthim; and now he would move for vengeance. Away with hesitation.
Descending the heights of Blacherne, he had felt pity for Constantinewho, though severely tried in the day's affair, had borne himself withdignity throughout; but it was Mahommed's hour. Welcome Mahommed!
Between the two, the Prince's predilections were all for the Turk, andthey had been from the meeting at the White Castle. Besides personalaccomplishments and military prestige, besides youth, itself a mightypreponderant, there was the other argument--separating Mahommed fromthe strongest power in the world, there stood only an ancient whosedeath was a daily expectation. "What opportunities the young man willhave to offer me! I have but to make the most of his ambition--to loanmyself to it--to direct it."
Thus the Seer reasoned, returning from Blacherne to his house.
At the door, however, he made a discovery. There the first time duringthe day he thought of her in all things the image of the Lael whom hehad buried under the great stone in front of the Golden Gate atJerusalem. We drop a grain in the ground, and asking nothing of us butto be let alone, it grows, and flowers, and at length amazes us withfruit. Such had been the outcome of his adoption of the daughter of theson of Jahdai.
The Prince called Syama.
"Make ready the chair and table on the roof," he said.
While waiting, he ate some bread dipped in wine: then walked the roomrubbing his hands as if washing them.
He sighed frequently. Even the servants could see he was in trouble.
At length he went to the roof. Evening was approaching. On the tablewere the lamp, the clock, the customary writing materials, a fresh mapof the heavens, and a perfect diagram of a nativity to be cast.
He took the map in his hand, and smiled--it was Lael's work. "How shehas improved!--and how rapidly!" he said aloud, ending a retrospectwhich began with the hour Uel consented to her becoming his daughter.She was unlettered then, but how helpful now. He felt an artist's pridein her growth in knowledge. There were tedious calculations which shetook off his hands; his geometrical drawings of the planets in theirHouses were frequently done in haste; she perfected them next day. Shehad numberless daughterly ways which none but those unused to them likehim would have observed. What delight she took in watching the sky forthe first appearance of the stars. In this work she lent him her youngeyes, and there was such enthusiasm in the exclamations with which shegreeted the earliest wink of splendor from the far-off orbs. And he hadailing days; then she would open the great Eusebian Scriptures at thepage he asked for, and read--sometimes from Job, sometimes from Isaiah,but generally from Exodus, for in his view there was never man likeMoses. The contest with Pharaoh--how prodigious! The battles inmagic--what glory in the triumphs won! The luring the haughty King intothe Red Sea, and bringing him under the walls of water suddenly letloose! What majestic vengeance!
Of the idle dreams of aged persons the possibility of attaching theyoung to them in sentimental bonds of strength to insure resistance toevery other attachment is the idlest. Positive, practical, experiencedthough he was, the childless man had permitted this fantasy to getpossession of him. He actually brought himself to believe Lael's loveof him was of that enduring kind. With no impure purpose, yetselfishly, and to bring her under his influence until of preference shecould devote her life to him, with its riches of affection, admiration,and dutiful service, he had surrendered himself to her; therefore theboundless pains taken by him personally in her education, thesurrounding her with priceless luxuries which he alone could afford--inbrief, the attempt to fasten himself upon her youthful fancy as atitled sage and master of many mysteries. So at length it came to pass,while he was happy in his affection for her, he was even happier in heraffection for himself; indeed he cultivated the latter sentiment andencouraged it in winding about his being until, in utterunconsciousness, he belonged to it, and, in repetition of experiencescommon to others, instead of Lael's sacrificing herself for him, he wasready to sacrifice everything for her. This was the discovery he madeat the door of his house.
The reader should try to fancy him in the chair by the table on theroof. Evening has passed into night. The city gives out no sound, andthe stars have the heavens to themselves. He is lost in thought--orrather, accepting the poetic fancy of a division of the heart intochambers, in that apartment of the palpitating organ of the Prince ofIndia supposed to be the abode of the passions, a very noisy parliamentwas in full session. The speaker--that is, the Princehimself--submitted the question: Shall I remain here, or go to Mahommed?
Awhile he listened to Revenge, whose speech in favor of the latteralternative may be imagined; and not often had its appeals been moreeffective. Ambition spoke on the same side. It pointed out theopportunities offered, and dwelt upon them until the chairman noddedlike one both convinced and determined. These had an assistant notexactly a passion but a kinsman collaterally--Love of Mischief--andwhen the others ceased, it insisted upon being heard.
On the other side, Lael led the opposition. She stood by thepresident's chair while her opponents were arguing, her arms round hisneck; when they were most urgent, she would nurse his hand, and makeuse of some trifling endearment; upon their conclusion, she would gazeat him mutely, and with tears. Not once did she say anything.
In the midst of this debate, Lael herself appeared, and kissed him onthe forehead.
"Thou here!" he said.
"Why not?" she asked.
"Nothing--only"--
She did not give him time to finish, but caught up the map, and seeingit fresh and unmarked, exclaimed:
"You did so greatly to-day, you ought to rest."
He was surprised.
"Did so greatly?"
"At the palace."
"Put the paper down. Now, O my Gul Bahar"--and he took her hand, andcarried it to his cheek, and pressed it softly there--"deal me noriddle. What is it you say? One may do well, yet come out badly."
"I was at the market in my father Uel's this afternoon," she began,"when Sergius came in."
A face wonderfully like the face of the man he helped lead out toGolgotha flashed before the Prince, a briefest passing gleam.
"He heard you discourse before the Emperor. How wickedly thatdisgusting Gennadius behaved!"
"Yes," the Prince responded darkly, "a sovereign beset with suchspirits is to be pitied. But what did the young man think of myproposal to the Emperor?"
"But for one verse in the Testament of Christ"--
"Nay, dear, say Jesus of Nazareth."
"Well, of Jesus--but for one verse he could have accepted your argumentof many Sons of God in the Spirit."
"What is the verse?"
"It is where a disciple speaks of Jesus as the only begotten. Son."
The Wanderer smiled.
"The young man is too literal. He forgets that the Only Begotten Sonmay have had many Incarnations."
"The Princess Irene was also present," Lael went on. "Sergius said shetoo could accept your argument did you alter it"--
"Alter it!"--A bitter look wrung the Prince's countenance--"Sergius, amonk not yet come to orders, and Irene, a Princess without a husband.Oh, a small return for my surrender! ... I am tired--very tired," hesaid impatiently--"and I have so much, so much to think of. Come, goodnight."
"C
an I do nothing for you?"
"Yes, tell Syama to bring me some water."
"And wine?"
"Yes, some wine."
"Very well. Good night."
He drew her to his breast.
"Good night. O my Gul Bahar!"
She went lightly away, never dreaming of the parliament to which sheleft him.
When she was gone, he sat motionless for near an hour, seeing nothingin the time, although Syama set water and wine on the table. And it maybe questioned if he heard anything, except the fierce debate going onin his heart. Finally he aroused, looked at the sky, arose, and walkedaround the table; and his expression of face, his actions, were thoseof a man who had been treading difficult ground, but was safely comeout of it. Filling a small crystal cup, and holding the red liquor,rich with garnet sparkles, between his eyes and the lamp, he said:
"It is over. She has won. If there were for me but the years of onelife, the threescore and ten of the Psalmist, it had been different.The centuries will bring me a Mahommed gallant as this one, andopportunities great as he offers; but never another Lael. FarewellAmbition! Farewell Revenge! The world may take care of itself. I willturn looker-on, and be amused, and sleep.... To hold her, I will livefor her, but in redoubled state. So will I hurry her from splendor tosplendor, and so fill her days with moving incidents, she shall nothave leisure to think of another love. I will be powerful and famousfor her sake. Here in this old centre of civilization there shall betwo themes for constant talk, Constantine and myself. Against his rankand patronage, I will set my wealth. Ay, for her sake! And I will beginto-morrow."
The next day he spent in making drawings and specifications for apalace. The second day he traversed the city looking for a buildingsite. The third day he bought the site most to his fancy. The fourthday he completed a design for a galley of a hundred oars, that it mightbe sea-going far as the Pillars of Hercules. Nothing ever launched fromthe imperial docks should surpass it in magnificence. When he wentsailing on the Bosphorus, Byzantium should assemble to witness hisgoing, and with equal eagerness wait the day through to behold himreturn. And for the four days, Lael was present and consulted in everyparticular. They talked like two children.
The schemes filled him with a delight which would have been remarkablein a boy. He packed his books and put away his whole paraphernalia ofstudy--through Lael's days he would be an actor in the social world,not a student.
Of course he recurred frequently to the engagements with Mahommed. Theydid not disturb him. The Turk might clamor--no matter, there was theever ready answer about the unready stars. The veteran intriguer evenlaughed, thinking how cunningly he had provided against contingencies.But there was a present practical requirement begotten of theseschemes--he must have money--soldans by the bag full.
Very early in the morning of the fifth day, having studied the weathersigns from his housetop, he went with Nilo to the harbor gate ofBlacherne, seeking a galley suitable for an outing of a few days on theMarmora. He found one, and by noon she was fitted out, and with him andNilo aboard, flying swiftly around Point Serail.
Under an awning over the rudder-deck, he sat observing the brown-facedwall of the city, and the pillars and cornices of the noble structurestowering above it. As the vessel was about passing the Seven Towers,now a ruin with a most melancholy history, but in that day awell-garrisoned fortress, he conversed with the master of the galley.
"I have no business in the strict meaning of the term," he said, ingood humor. "The city has become tiresome to me, and I have fancied arun on the water would be bracing to body and restful to mind. So keepon down the sea. When I desire a change of direction, I will tell you."The mariner was retiring. "Stay," the Prince continued, his attentionapparently caught by two immense gray rocks rising bluffly out of theblue rippling in which the Isles of the Princes seemed afloat--"Whatare those yonder? Islands, of course, but their names?"
"Oxia and Plati--the one nearest us is Oxia."
"Are they inhabited?"
"Yes and no," the captain replied, smiling. "Oxia used to have aconvent, but it is abandoned now. There may be some hermits in thecaves on the other side, but I doubt if the poor wretches have noumiasto keep their altars in candles. It was so hard to coax visitors intobelieving God had ever anything to do with the dreary place thatpatrons concluded to give it over to the bad. Plati is a trifle morecheerful. Three or four monks keep what used to be the prison there;but they are strays from unknown orders, and live by herding a fewstarving goats and cultivating snails for the market."
"Have you been on either of them recently?"
"Yes, on Plati."
"When?"
"Within the year."
"Well, you excite my curiosity. It is incredible that there can be twosuch desolations in such close vicinity to yon famous capital. Turn androw me around them."
The captain was pleased to gratify his passenger, and stood by himwhile the galley encircled Oxia, telling legends, and pointing out thecaves to which celebrated anchorites had lent their names. He gave infull the story of Basil and Prusien, who quarrelled, and fought a duelto the scandal of the Church; whereupon Constantine VIII., thenemperor, exiled them, the former to Oxia, the latter to Plati, wheretheir sole consolation the remainder of their lives was gazing at eachother from the mouths of their respective caverns. For some reason,Plati, to which he next crossed, was of more interest to the Princethan its sister isle. What a cruel exterior the prison at the north endhad! Wolves and bats might live in it, but men--impossible! He drewback horrified when told circumstantially of the underground cells.
While yet on the eastern side, the passenger said he would like to goup to the summit.
"There," he exclaimed, pointing to a part of the bluff which appearedto offer a climb, "put me on that shelving rock. I think I can go up byit."
The small boat was lowered, and directly he set foot on the identicalspot which received him when, in the night fifty-six years before, hemade the ascent with the treasures of Hiram King of Tyre.
Almost any other man would have given at least a thought to thatadventure; the slice out of some lives would have justified a tear; buthe was too intent thinking about the jewels and the sword of Solomon.
His affected awkwardness in climbing amused the captain, watching himfrom the deck, but at last he gained the top of the bluff.
The plain there was the same field of sickly weeds and perishing vines,with here and there a shrub, and yonder a stunted olive tree, coveredtrunk and branches with edible snails. If it brought anything in themarket, the crop, singular only to the Western mind, was plenteousenough to be profitable to its farmers. There too was the debris of thetower. With some anxiety he went to the stone which the reader willprobably remember as having to be rolled away from the mouth of thehiding-place. It had not been disturbed. These observations taken, hedescended the bluff, and was received aboard the galley.
A very cautious man was the Prince of India. In commercial parlance, hewas out to cash a draft on the Plati branch of his quadruple bank. Hewas not down to assist the captain of the galley to partnership withhim in the business. So, after completing the circuit of Plati, thevessel bore away for Prinkipo and Halki, which Greek wealth and tastehad converted into dreamful Paradises. There it lay the night and nextday, while the easy-going passenger, out for air and rest, amusedhimself making excursions to the convents and neighboring hills.
The second night, a perfect calm prevailing, he took the small boat,and went out on the sea drifting, having provided himself with wine andwater, the latter in a new gurglet bought for the trip. The captainneed not be uneasy if he were late returning, he said on departing.Nilo was an excellent sailor, and had muscle and spirit to contendagainst a blow.
The tranquil environments of Prinkipo were enlivened by other partiesalso drifting. Their singing was borne far along the starlit sea. Oncebeyond sight and hearing, Nilo plied the oars diligently, bringing upan hour or two after midnight at the shelving rock under the easternb
luff of Plati. The way to the ruined tower was then clear.
Precisely as at the first visit when burial was the object, theconcealing stone was pushed aside; after which the Prince entered thenarrow passage crawling on his hands and knees. He was anxious. If theprecious stones had been discovered and carried away, he would have toextend the voyage to Jaffa in order to draw from the Jerusalem branchof his bank. But the sword of Solomon--that was not in the power of manto duplicate--its loss would be irreparable.
The stones were mouldy, the passage dark, the progress slow. He hadliterally to feel every inch in front of him, using his hands as acaterpillar uses its antennae; but he did not complain--thedifficulties were the inducements which led him to choose thehiding-place in the first instance. At length he went down a brokenstep, and, rising to his knees, slipped his left hand along the face ofthe wall until his fingers dropped into a crack between rocks. It wasthe spot he sought; he knew it, and breathed easily. In murkylamplight, with mallet and chisel--ah, how long ago!--he had worked ashelf there, finishing it with an oblong pocket in the bottom. To maskthe hole was simple. Three or four easy-fitting blocks were removed,and thrusting a hand in, he drew forth the sheepskin mantle of theelder Nilo.
In spite of the darkness, he could not refrain from unrolling themildewed cover. The sword was safe! He drew the blade and shot itsharply back into the scabbard, then kissed the ruby handle, thinkingagain of the purchasing power there was in the relic which was yet morethan a relic. The leather of the water-gurglet, stiff as wood,responded to a touch. The jewels were also safe, the great emerald withthe rest. He touched the bags, counting from one to nine inclusively.Then remembering the ten times he had crawled into the passage to putthe treasures away, he began their removal, and kept at it until everyarticle was safely deposited in the boat.
On the way back to the galley he made new packages, using his mantle asa wrap for the sword, and the new gurglet for the bags of jewels.
"I have had enough," he exclaimed to the captain, dropping wearily onthe deck about noon. "Take me to the city." After a moment ofreflection, he added: "Land me after nightfall."
"We will reach the harbor before sundown."
"Oh, well! There is the Bosphorus--go to Buyukdere, and come back."
"But, my Lord, the captain of the gate may decline to allow you topass."
The Prince smiled, and rejoined, with a thought of the bags in thegurglet thrown carelessly down by him: "Up with the anchor."
The sailor's surmise was groundless. Disembarking about midnight, hewhispered his name to the captain at the gate of Blacherne, and,leaving a soldan in the official palm, was admitted withoutexamination. On the street there was nothing curious in an old mancarrying a mantle under his arm, followed by a porter with ahalf-filled gurglet on his shoulder. Finally, the adventure safelyaccomplished, the Prince of India was home again, and in excellenthumor.
One doubt assailed him--one only. He had just seen the height ofCandilli, an aerial wonder in a burst of moonlight, and straightway hisfancy had crowned it with a structure Indian in style, and of materialto shine afar delicate as snow against the black bosomed mountainbehind it. He was not a Greek to fear the Turks. Nay, in Turkishprotection there was for him a guaranty of peaceable ownership which hecould not see under Constantine. And as he was bringing now thewherewith to realize his latest dream, he gave his imagination aloosened rein.
He built the house; he heard the tinkling of fountains in its courts,and the echoes in the pillared recession of its halls; free of care,happy once more, with Lael he walked in gardens where roses of Persiaexchanged perfumes with roses of Araby, and the daylong singing ofbirds extended into noon of night; yet, after all, to the worn, weary,droughted heart nothing was so soothing as the fancy which had been hischief attendant from the gate of Blacherne--that he heard strangersspeaking to each other: "Have you seen the Palace of Lael?" "No, whereis it?" "On the crest of Candilli." The Palace of Lael! The nameconfirmed itself sweeter and sweeter by repetition. And the doubt grew.Should he build in the city or amidst the grove of Judas trees on thecrest of Candilli?
Just as he arrived before his door, he glanced casually across thestreet, and was surprised by observing light in Uel's house. It wasvery unusual. He would put the treasure away, and go over and inquireinto the matter. Hardly was he past his own lintel when Syama met him.The face of the faithful servant showed unwonted excitement, and,casting himself at his master's feet, he embraced his knees, utteringthe hoarse unintelligible cries with which the dumb are wont to maketheir suffering known. The Master felt a chill of fear--something hadhappened--something terrible--but to whom? He pushed the poor man'shead back until he caught the eyes.
"What is it?" he asked.
Syama arose, took the Prince's hand, and led him out of the door,across the street, and into Uel's house. The merchant, at sight ofthem, rushed forward and hid his face in the master's breast, crying:
"She is gone--lost!--The God of our fathers be with her!"
"Who is gone? Who lost?"
"Lael, Lael--our child--our Gul Bahar."
The blood of the elder Jew flew to his heart, leaving him pale as adead man; yet such was his acquired control of himself, he askedsteadily: "Gone!--Where?"
"We do not know. She has been snatched from us--that is all we know."
"Tell me of it--and quickly."
The tone was imperious, and he pushed Uel from him.
"Oh! my friend--and my father's friend--I will tell you all. You arepowerful, and love her, and may help where I am helpless." Then bypiecemeal he dealt out the explanation. "This afternoon she took herchair and went to the wall in front of the Bucoleon--sunset, and shewas not back. I saw Syama--she was not in your house. He and I set outin search of her. She was seen on the wall--later she was seen todescend the steps as if starting home--she was seen in the garden goingabout on the terrace--she was seen coming out of the front gate of theold palace. We traced her down the street--then she returned to thegarden, through the Hippodrome, and there she was last seen. I calledmy friends in the market to my aid--hundreds are now looking for her."
"She went out in her chair, did you say?"
The steady voice of the Prince was in singular contrast with hisbloodless face.
"Yes."
"Who carried it?"
"The men we have long had."
"Where are they?"
"We sought for them--they cannot be found."
The Prince kept his eyes on Uel's face. They were intensely, fiercelybright. He was not in a rage, but thinking, if a man can be said tothink when his mind projects itself in a shower. Lael's disappearancewas not voluntary; she was in detention somewhere in the city. If thepurpose of the abduction were money, she would be held in scrupuloussafety, and a day or two would bring the demand; but if--he did notfinish the idea--it overpowered him. Pure steel in utmost flexionbreaks into pieces without warning; so with this man now. He threw bothhands up, and cried hoarsely: "Lend me, O God, of thy vengeance!" andstaggering blindly, he would have fallen but for Syama.
