by Lew Wallace
CHAPTER XXII
THE PRINCE OF INDIA SEEKS MAHOMMED
All the next night, Syama, his ear against his master's door, felt thejar of the machine-like tread in the study. At intervals it would slow,but not once did it stop. The poor slave was himself nearly worn out.Sympathy has a fashion of burdening us without in the least lighteningthe burden which occasions it.
To-morrows may be long coming, but they keep coming. Time is a mill,and to-morrows are but the dust of its grinding. Uel arose early. Hehad slept soundly. His first move was to send the Prince all the clerkshe could find in the market, and shortly afterwards the city wasre-blazoned with bills.
"BYZANTINES!
"Fathers and mothers of Byzantium!
"Lael, the daughter of Uel the merchant, has not been found. WhereforeI now offer 10,000 bezants in gold for her dead or alive, and 6,000bezants in gold for evidence which will lead to the discovery andconviction of her abductors.
"The offers will conclude with to-day.
"PRINCE OF INDIA."
There was a sensation when the new placards had been generally read;yet the hunt of the day before was not resumed. It was consideredexhausted. Men and women poured into the streets and talked andtalked--about the Prince of India. By ten o'clock all known of him anda great deal more had gone through numberless discussions; and could hehave heard the conclusions reached he had never smiled again. By aconsensus singularly unanimous, he was an Indian, vastly rich, but nota Prince, and his interest in the stolen girl was owing to forbiddenrelations. This latter part of the judgment, by far the most cruel,might have been traced to Demedes.
In all the city there had not been a more tireless hunter than Demedes.He seemed everywhere present--on the ships, on the walls, in thegardens and churches--nay, it were easier telling where he had notbeen. And by whomsoever met, he was in good spirits, fertile insuggestions, and sure of success. He in fact distinguished himself inthe search, and gave proof of a knowledge of the capital amazing to theoldest inhabitants. Of course his role was to waste the energy of themass. In every pack of beagles it is said there is one particularlygifted in the discovery of false scents. Such was Demedes that firstday, until about two o'clock. The results of the quest were then in,and of the theories to which he listened, nothing pleased him like theabsence of a suggestion of the second sedan. There were witnesses totell of the gorgeous chair, and its flitting here and yonder throughthe twilight; none saw the other. This seems to have sufficed him, andhe suddenly gave up the chase; appearing in the garden of the Bucoleon,he declared the uselessness of further effort. The Jewess, he said, wasnot in Byzantium; she had been carried off by the Bulgarians, and wasthen on the road to some Turkish harem. From that moment the searchbegan to fall off, and by evening it was entirely discontinued.
Upon appearance of the placards the second day, Demedes was again equalto the emergency. He collected his brethren in the Temple, organizedthem into parties, and sent them everywhere--to Galata, to the townsalong the Bosphorus, down the western shore of the Marmora, over to theIslands, and up to the forest of Belgrade--to every place, in short,except the right one. And this conduct, apparently sincere, certainlyenergetic, bore its expected fruit; by noon he was the hero of theoccasion, the admiration of the city.
When very early in the second day the disinclination of the people torenew the search was reported to the Prince of India, he lookedincredulous, and broke out:
"What! Not for ten thousand bezants!--more gold than they have had intheir treasury at one time in ten years!--enough to set up threeempires of such dwindle! To what is the world coming?"
An hour or so later, he was told of the total failure of his secondproclamation. The information drove him with increased speed across thefloor.
"I have an adversary somewhere," he was saying to himself--"anadversary more powerful than gold in quantity. Are there two such inByzantium?"
An account of Demedes' action gave him some comfort.
About the third hour, Sergius asked to see him, and was admitted. Aftera simple expression of sympathy, the heartiness of which was attestedby his sad voice and dejected countenance, the monk said: "Prince ofIndia, I cannot tell you the reasons of my opinion; yet I believe theyoung woman is a prisoner here in this city. I will also beg you not toask me where I think she is held, or by whom. It may turn out that I ammistaken; I will then feel better of having had no confidant. With thisstatement--submitted with acknowledged uncertainty--can you trust me?"
"You are Sergius, the monk?"
"So they call me; though here I have not been raised to the priesthood."
"I have heard the poor child speak of you. You were a favorite withher."
The Prince spoke with trouble.
"I am greatly pleased to hear it."
The trouble of the Prince was contagious, but Sergius presentlyrecovered.
"Probably the best certificate of my sincerity, Prince--the best I canfurnish you--is that your gold is no incentive to the trial at findingher which I have a mind to make. If I succeed, a semblance of pay orreward would spoil my happiness."
The Jew surveyed him curiously. "Almost I doubt you," he said.
"Yes, I can understand. Avarice is so common, and disinterestedness,friendship, and love so uncommon."
"Verily, a great truth has struck you early."
"Well, hear what I have to ask."
"Speak."
"You have in your service an African"--
"Nilo?"
"That is his name. He is strong, faithful, and brave, qualities I mayneed more than gold. Will you allow him to go with me?"
The Prince's look and manner changed, and he took the monk's hand."Forgive me," he said warmly--"forgive me, if I spokedoubtfully--forgive me, if I misunderstood you."
Then, with his usual promptitude, he went to the door, and bade Syamabring Nilo.
"You know my method of speech with him?" the Prince asked.
"Yes," Sergius replied.
"If you have instructions for him, see they are given in a good light,for in the dark he cannot comprehend."
Nilo came, and kissed his master's hand. He understood the troublewhich had befallen.
"This," the Prince said to him, "is Sergius, the monk. He believes heknows where the little Princess is, and has asked that you may go withhim. Are you willing?"
The King looked assent.
"It is arranged," the master added to Sergius. "Have you othersuggestion?"
"It were better he put off his African costume."
"For the Greek?"
"The Greek will excite less attention."
"Very well."
In a short time Nilo presented himself in Byzantine dress, withexception of a bright blue handkerchief on his head.
"Now, I pray you, Prince, give me a room. I wish to talk with the manprivately."
The request was granted, the instructions given, and Sergius reappearedto take leave.
"Nilo and I are good friends, Prince. He understands me."
"He may be too eager. Remember I found him a savage."
With these words, the Prince and the young Russian parted.
After this nobody came to the house. The excitement had been a flash.Now it seemed entirely dead, and dead without a clew. When Time goesafoot his feet are of lead; and in this instance his walk was over thePrince's heart. By noon he was dreadfully wrought up.
"Let them look to it, let them look to it!" he kept repeating,sometimes shaking a clinched hand. Occasionally the idea to which hethus darkly referred had power to bring him to a halt. "I have anadversary. Who is he?" Ere long the question possessed him entirely. Itwas then as if he despaired of recovering Lael, and had but one earthlyobject--vengeance. "Ah, my God, my God! Am I to lose her, and neverknow my enemy? Action, action, or I will go mad!" Uel came with hisusual report: "Alas! I have nothing." The Prince scarcely heard or sawhim. "There are but two places where this enemy can harbor," he wasrepeating to himself--"but two; the palace and"--he brought his
handstogether vehemently--"the church. Where else are they who have power toarrest a whole people in earnest movement? Whom else have I offended?Ay, there it is! I preached God; therefore the child must perish. Somuch for Christian pity!"
All the forces in his nature became active.
"Go," he said to Uel, "order two men for my chair. Syama will attendme."
The merchant left him on the floor patting one hand with another.
"Yes, yes, I will try it--I will see if there is such thing asChristian pity--I will see. It may have swarmed, and gone to hive atBlacherne." In going to the palace, he continually exhorted the porters:
"Faster, faster, my men!"
The officer at the gate received him kindly, and came back with theanswer, "His Majesty will see you."
Again the audience chamber, Constantine on the dais, his courtiers eachin place; again the Dean in his role of Grand Chamberlain; again theprostrations. Ceremony at Blacherne was never remitted. There is apoverty which makes kings miserable.
"Draw nearer, Prince," said Constantine, benignly. "I am very busy. Acourier arrived this morning from Adrianople with report that my augustfriend, the Sultan Amurath, is sick, and his physicians think him sickunto death. I was not prepared for the responsibilities which arerising; but I have heard of thy great misfortune, and out of sympathybade my officer bring thee hither. By accounts the child was rarelyintelligent and lovely, and I did not believe there was in my capital aman to do her such inhuman wrong. The progress of the search thou didstinstitute so wisely I have watched with solicitude little less thanthine own. My officials everywhere have orders to spare no effort orexpense to discover the guilty parties; for if the conspiracy succeedonce, it will derive courage and try again, thus menacing every familyin my Empire. If thou knowest aught else in my power to do, I willgladly hear it."
The Emperor, intent upon his expressions, failed to observe the gleamwhich shone in the Wanderer's eyes, excited by mention of the conditionof the Sultan.
"I will not try Your Majesty's patience, since I know theresponsibilities to which you have referred concern the welfare of anEmpire, while I am troubled not knowing if one poor soul be dead oralive; yet she was the world to me"--thus the Prince began, and theknightly soul of the Emperor was touched, for his look softened, andwith his hand he gently tapped the golden cone of the right arm of histhrone.
"That which brought me to your feet," the Prince continued, "is partlyanswered. The orders to your officers exhaust your personal endeavor,unless--unless"--
"Speak, Prince."
"Your Majesty, I shrink from giving offence, and yet I have in thisterrible affair an enemy who is my master. Yesterday Byzantium adoptedmy cause, and lent me her eyes and hands; before the sun went down herardor cooled; to-day she will not go a rood. What are we to think, whatdo, my Lord, when gold and pity alike lose their influence? ... I willnot stop to say what he must be who is so much my enemy as to lay anicy finger on the warm pulse of the people. When we who have grown oldcast about for a hidden foe, where do we habitually look? Where, exceptamong those whom we have offended? Whom have I offended? Here in theaudience you honored me with, I ventured to argue in favor of universalbrotherhood in faith, and God the principle of agreement; and therewere present some who dealt me insult, and menaced me, until YourMajesty sent armed men to protect me from their violence. They have theear of the public--they are my adversaries. Shall I call them theChurch?"
Constantine replied calmly: "The head of the Church sat here at myright hand that day, Prince, and he did not interrupt you; neither didhe menace you. But say you are right--that they of whom you speak arethe Church--what can I do?"
"The Church has thunders to terrify and subdue the wicked, and YourMajesty is the head of the Church."
"Nay, Prince, I fear thou hast studied us unfairly. I am a member--afollower--a subscriber to the faith--its thunders are not mine."
A despairing look overcast the countenance of the visitor, and hetrembled. "Oh, my God! There is no hope further--she is lost--lost!"But recovering directly, he said: "I crave pardon for interrupting YourMajesty. Give me permission to retire. I have much work to do."
Constantine bowed, and on raising his head, declared with feeling tohis officers: "The wrong to this man is great."
The Wanderer moved backward slowly, his eyes emitting uncertain light;pausing, he pointed to the Emperor, and said, solemnly: "My Lord, thouhadst thy power to do justice from God; it hath slipped from thee. Thechoice was thine, to rule the Church or be ruled by it; thou hastchosen, and art lost, and thy Empire with thee."
He was at the door before any one present could arouse from surprise;then while they were looking at each other, and making ready to cryout, he came back clear to the dais, and knelt. There was in his mannerand countenance so much of utter hopelessness, that the whole courtstood still, each man in the attitude the return found him.
"My Lord," he said, "thou mightest have saved me--I forgive thee thatthou didst not. See--here"--he thrust a hand in the bosom of his gown,and from a pocket drew the great emerald--"I will leave thee thistalisman--it belonged to King Solomon, the son of David--I found it inthe tomb of Hiram, King of Tyre--it is thine, my Lord, so thou fitlypunish the robber of the lost daughter of my soul, my Gul Bahar.Farewell."
He laid the jewel on the edge of the dais, and rising, betook himselfto the door again, and disappeared before the Dean was sufficientlymindful of his duty.
"The man is mad," the Emperor exclaimed.
"Take up the stone"--he spoke to the Dean--"and return it to himto-morrow." [Footnote: This identical stone, or one very like it, maybe seen in the "Treasury" which is part of the old Serail in Stamboul.It is in the first room of entrance, on the second shelf of the greatcase of curios, right-hand side.] For a time then the emerald was keptpassing from hand to hand by the courtiers, none of whom had ever seenits peer for size and brilliance; more than one of them touched it withawe, for despite a disposition to be incredulous in the matter oftraditions incident to precious stones, the legend here, left behindhim by the mysterious old man, was accepted--this was a talisman--ithad belonged to Solomon--it had been found by the Prince of India--andhe was a Prince--nobody but Indian Princes had such emeralds to giveaway. But while they bandied the talisman about, the Emperor sat, hischin in the palm of his right hand, the elbow on the golden cone, notseeing as much as thinking, nor thinking as much as silently repeatingthe strange words of the stranger: "Thou hadst thy power to do justicefrom God; it hath slipped from thee. The choice was thine to rule theChurch or be ruled by it. Thou hast chosen, and art lost, and thyEmpire with thee." Was this prophetic? What did it mean? And by and byhe found a meaning. The first Constantine made the Church; now theChurch will unmake the last Constantine. How many there are who spendtheir youth yearning and fighting to write their names in history, thenspend their old age shuddering to read them there!
The Prince of India was scarcely in his study, certainly he was not yetcalmed down from the passion into which he had been thrown atBlacherne, when Syama informed him there was a man below waiting to seehim.
"Who is he?"
The servant shook his head.
"Well, bring him here."
Presently a gypsy, at least in right of his mother, and tent-born inthe valley of Buyukdere, slender, dark-skinned, and by occupation afisherman, presented himself. From the strength of the odor he broughtwith him, the yield of his net during the night must have beenunusually large.
"Am I in presence of the Prince of India?" the man asked, in excellentArabic, and a manner impossible of acquisition except in the daily lifeof a court of the period.
The Prince bowed.
"The Prince of India who is the friend of the Sultan Mahommed?" theother inquired, with greater particularity. "Sultan Mahommed? PrinceMahommed, you mean."
"No--Mahommed the Sultan."
A flash of joy leaped from the Prince's eyes--the first of the kind intwo days.
The stranger addressed himse
lf to explanation.
"Forgive my bringing the smell of mullet and mackerel into your house.I am obeying instructions which require me to communicate with you indisguise. I have a despatch to tell who I am, and more of my businessthan I know myself."
The messenger took from his head the dirty cloth covering it, and fromits folds produced a slip of paper; with a salute of hand to breast andforehead, declarative of a Turk to the habit born, he delivered theslip, and walked apart to give opportunity for its reading. This wasthe writing in free translation:
"Mahommed, Son of Amurath, Sultan of Sultans, to the Prince of India.
"I am about returning to Magnesia. My father--may the prayers of theProphet, almighty with God, preserve him from long suffering!--is fastfalling into weakness of body and mind. Ali, son of Abed-din theFaithful, is charged instantly the great soul is departed on its way toParadise to ride as the north wind flies, and give thee a record whichAbed-din is to make on peril of his soul, abating not the fraction of asecond. Thou wilt understand it, and the purpose of the sending."
The Prince of India, with the slip in his hand, walked the floor oncefrom west to east to regain the mastery of himself.
"Ali, son of Abed-din the Faithful," he then said, "has a record forme."
Now the thongs of Ali's sandals were united just below the instep withbrass buttons; stooping he took off that of the left sandal, and gaveit a sharp twist; whereupon the top came off, disclosing a cavity, anda ribbon of the finest satin snugly folded in it. He gave the ribbon tothe Prince, saying:
"The button of the plane tree planted has not in promise any greatthing like this I take from the button of my sandal. Now is my missiondone. Praised be Allah!" And while the Prince read, he recapped thebutton, and restored it in place.
The bit of yellow satin, when unfolded, presented a diagram which thePrince at first thought a nativity; upon closer inspection, he askedthe courier:
"Son of Abed-din, did thy father draw this?"
"No, it is the handiwork of my Lord, the Sultan Mahommed."
"But it is a record of death, not of birth."
"Insomuch is my Lord, the Sultan Mahommed, wiser in his youth than manymen in their age"--Ali paused to formally salute the opinion. "Heselected the ribbon, and drew the figure--did all you behold, indeed,except the writing in the square; that he intrusted to my father,saying at the time: 'The Prince of India, when he sees the minute inthe square, will say it is not a nativity; have one there to tell himI, Mahommed, avouch, 'Twice in his life I had the throne from my augustfather; now has he given it to me again, this third time with death tocertify it mine in perpetuity; wherefore it is but righteous holdingthat the instant of his final secession must be counted the beginningof my reign; for often as a man has back the property he parted from asa loan, is it not his? What ceremony is then needed to perfect histitle?"
"If one have wisdom, O son of Abed-din, whence is it except from Allah?Let not thy opinion of thy young master escape thee. Were he to dieto-morrow"--
"Allah forbid!" exclaimed Ali.
"Fear it not," returned the Prince, smiling at the young man'searnestness: "for is it not written, 'A soul cannot die unless bypermission of God, according to a writing definite as to time'?[Footnote: Koran, III. 139.]--I was about to say, there is not in hisgeneration another to lie as close in the bosom of the Prophet. Whereis he now?"
"He rides doubtless to Adrianople. The moment I set out hither, whichwas next minute after the great decease, a despatch was started for himby Khalil the Grand Vizier."
"Knowest thou the road he will take?"
"By Gallipoli."
"Behold, Ali!"--from his finger the Prince took a ring. "This for thygood news. Now to the road again, the White Castle first. Tell theGovernor there to keep ward to-night with unlocked gates, for I mayseek them in haste. Then put thyself in the Lord Mahommed's way comingfrom Gallipoli, and when thou hast kissed his sandals for me, and givenhim my love and duty, tell him I have perfect understanding of thenativity, and will meet him in Adrianople. Hast thou eaten and drunk?"
"Eaten, not drunk, my Lord."
"Come then, and I will put thee in the way to some red wine; for artthou not a traveller?"
The son of Abed-din saluted, saying simply: "_Meshallah!_" and waspresently in care of Syama; after which the Prince took the ribbon tothe table, spread it out carefully, and stood over it in the stronglight, studying the symbols and writing in the square of
THE DIAGRAM.]
"It is the nativity of an Empire, [Footnote: Since the conquest ofConstantinople by Mahommed, Turkey has been historically counted anEmpire.] not a man," the Prince said, his gaze still on the figure--"anEmpire which I will make great for the punishment of these robbers ofchildren."
He stood up at the last word, and continued, excitedly: "It is the wordof God, else it had not come to me now nigh overcome and perishing inbitter waters; and it calls me to do His will. Give over the child, itsays--she is lost to thee. Go up now, and be thou my instrument thisonce again--I AM THE I AM whom Moses knew, the Lord God of Israel whocovenanted with Abraham, and with whom there is no forgetting--no, notthough the world follow the leaf blown into the mouth of a roaringfurnace. I hear, O God! I hear--I am going!"
This, it will be observed, is the second of the two days of grace thePrince appears to have given the city for the return of Lael; and as itis rapidly going without a token of performance, our curiosityincreases to know the terrible thing in reserve of which some of hisoutbursts have vaguely apprised us.
A few turns across the floor brought him back to apparent calmness;indeed, but for the fitful light in his eyes and the swollen veinsabout his temples, it might be supposed he had been successful inputting his distresses by. He brought Syama in, and, for the first timein two days, took a seat.
"Listen, and closely," he said; "for I would be sure you comprehend me.Have you laid the Sacred Books in the boxes?"
Syama, in his way, answered, yes.
"Are the boxes secure? They may have to go a long journey."
"Yes."
"Did you place the jewels in new bags? The old ones were well nighgone."
"Yes."
"Are they in the gurglet now?"
"Yes."
"You know we will have to keep it filled with water."
"Yes."
"My medicines--are they ready for packing?"
"Yes."
"Return them to their cases carefully. I cannot afford to leave or losethem. And the sword--is it with the books?"
"Yes."
"Very well. Attend again. On my return from the voyage I made the otherday for the treasure you have in care"--he paused for a sign ofcomprehension--"I retained the vessel in my service, and directed thecaptain to be at anchor in the harbor before St. Peter's gate"--anotherpause--"I also charged him to keep lookout for a signal to bring thegalley to the landing; in the day, the signal would be a bluehandkerchief waved; at night, a lantern swung four times thus"--he gavethe illustration. "Now to the purpose of all this. Give heed. I maywish to go aboard to-night, but at what hour I cannot tell. Inpreparation, however, you will get the porters who took me to thepalace to-day, and have them take the boxes and gurglet of which I havebeen speaking to St. Peter's gate. You will go with them, make thesignal to the captain, and see they are safely shipped. The otherservants will accompany you. You understand?"
Syama nodded.
"Attend further. When the goods are on the galley, you will stay andguard them. All the other property you will leave in the house herejust as it is. You are certain you comprehend?"
"Yes."
"Then set about the work at once. Everything must be on the ship beforedark."
The master offered his hand, and the slave kissed it, and went softlyout.
Immediately that he was alone, the Prince ascended to the roof. Hestood by the table a moment, giving a thought to the many times his GulBahar had kept watch on the stars for him. They would come and goregularly as of old, but s
he?--He shook with sudden passion, and walkedaround taking what might have answered for last looks at familiarlandmarks in the wide environment--at the old church near by and thesmall section of Blacherne in the west, the heights of Galata and theshapely tower northwardly, the fainter glimpses of Scutari in the east.Then he looked to the southwest where, under a vast expanse of sky, heknew the Marmora was lying asleep; and at once his face brightened. Inthat quarter a bank of lead-colored clouds stretched far along thehorizon, sending rifts lighter hued upward like a fan opening towardthe zenith. He raised his hand, and held it palm thitherward, andsmiled at feeling a breath of air. Somehow the cloud associated itselfwith the purpose of which he was dreaming, for he said audibly, hiseyes fiercely lighted:
"O God, the proud are risen against me, and the assemblies of violentmen have sought after my soul, and have not set thee before them. Butnow hast thou thy hand under my head; now the wind cometh, and theirpunishment; and it is for me to scourge them."
He lingered on the roof, walking sometimes, but for the most partseated. The cloud in the southwest seemed the great attraction. Assuredit was still coming, he would drop awhile into deep thought. If therewere calls at the street door, he did not hear them. At length the sun,going down, was met and covered out of sight by the curtain beyond theMarmora. About the same time a wave of cold February air rolled intothe city, and to escape it he went below.
The silence there was observable; for now Syama had finished, and thehouse was deserted. Through the rooms upper and lower he stalked gloomyand restless, pausing now and then to listen to a sufflation noisierand more portentous than its predecessors; and the moans with which theintermittent blast turned the corners and occasionally surged throughthe windows he received smilingly, much as hospitable men welcomefriends, or as conspirators greet each other; and often as theyrecurred, he replied to them in the sonorous words of the Psalm, andthe refrain, "Now the wind cometh, and the punishment."
When night was fallen, he crossed the street to Uel's. After the firstgreeting, the conversation between the two was remarkable chiefly forits lapses. It is always so with persons who have a sorrow incommon--the pleasure is in their society, not in exchange of words.
In one thing the brethren were agreed--Lael was lost. By and by thePrince concluded it time for him to depart. There was a lamp burningabove the table; he went to it, and called Uel; and when he was come,the elder drew out a sealed purse, saying:
"Our pretty Gul Bahar may yet be found. The methods of the Lord webelieve in are past finding out. If it should be that I am not in thecity when she is brought home, I would not she should have cause to sayI ceased thinking of her with a love equal to yours--a father's love.Wherefore, O son of Jahdai, I give you this. It is full of jewels, eacha fortune in itself. If she comes, they are hers; if a year passes, andshe is not found, they are yours to keep, give or sell, as you please.You have furnished me happiness which this sorrow is not strong enoughto efface. I will not pay you, for acceptance in such kind wereshameful to you as the offer would be to me; yet if she comes not inthe year, break the seal. We sometimes wear rings in help of pleasantmemories."
"Is your going so certain?" Uel asked.
"O my youngest brother, I am a traveller even as you are a merchant,with the difference, I have no home. So the Lord be with you. Farewell."
Then they kissed each other tenderly.
"Will I not hear from you?" Uel inquired.
"Ah, thank you," and the Wanderer returned to him and said, as if toshow who was first in his very farewell thought:
"Thank you for the reminder. If peradventure you too should be gonewhen she is found, she will then be in want of a home. Provide againstthat; for she is such a sweet stranger to the world."
"Tell me how, and I will keep your wish as it were part of the Law."
"There is a woman in Byzantium worthy to have Good follow her namewhenever it is spoken or written."
"Give me her name, my Lord."
"The Princess Irene."
"But she is a Christian!"
Uel spoke in surprise.
"Yes, son of Jahdai, she is a Christian. Nevertheless send Lael to her.Again I leave you where I rest myself--with God--our God."
Thereupon he went out finally, and between gusts of wind regained hisown house. He stopped on entering, and barred the door behind him; thenhe groped his way to the kitchen, and taking a lamp from its place,raked together the embers smothering in a brazier habitually kept forretention of fire, and lighted the lamp. He next broke up some stoolsand small tables, and with the pieces made a pile under the grandstairway to the second floor, muttering as he worked: "The proud arerisen against me; and now the wind cometh, and punishment."
Once more he walked through the rooms, and ascended to the roof. There,just as he cleared the door, as if it were saluting him, and determinedto give him a trial of its force, a blast leaped upon him, like anembodiment out of the cloud in full possession of both world and sky,and started his gown astream, and twisting his hair and beard intolashes whipped his eyes and ears with them, and howled, and snatchedhis breath nearly out of his mouth. Wind it was, and darkness somewhatlike that Egypt knew what time the deliverer, with God behind him, wastrying strength with the King's sorcerers--wind and darkness, but not adrop of rain. He grasped the door-post, and listened to the crashing ofheavy things on the neighboring roofs, and the rattle of light thingsfor the finding of which loose here and there the gust of a storm maybe trusted where eyes are useless. And noticing that obstructionsserved merely to break the flying forces into eddies, he laughed andshouted by turns so the inmates of the houses near might have heard hadthey been out as he was instead of cowering in their beds: "The proudare risen against me, and the assembly of violent men have sought aftermy soul; and now--ha, ha, ha!--the wind cometh and the punishment!"
Availing himself of a respite in the blowing, he ran across the roofand looked over into the street, and seeing nothing, neither light norliving thing, he repeated the refrain with a slight variation: "And thewind--ha, ha!--the wind _is_ come, and the punishment!"--then he fledback, and down from the roof.
And now the purpose in reserve must have revelation.
The grand staircase sprang from the floor open beneath like a bridge.Passing under it, he set the lamp against the heap of kindling there,and the smell of scorching wood spread abroad, followed by smoke andthe crackle and snap of wood beginning to burn.
It was not long until the flames, gathering life and strength, werebeyond him to stay or extinguish them, had he been taken with suddenrepentance. From step to step they leaped, the room meantime fillingfast with suffocating gases. When he knew they were beyond the effortsof any and all whom they might attract, and must burst intoconflagration the instant they reached the lightest of the gustsplaying havoc outside, he went down on his hands and knees, for else ithad been difficult for him to breathe, and crawled to the door. Drawinghimself up there, he undid the bar, and edged through into the street;nor was there a soul to see the puff of smoke and murky gleam whichpassed out with him.
His spirit was too drunken with glee to trouble itself with precautionsnow; yet he stopped long enough to repeat the refrain, with a hideousspasm of laughter: "And now--ha, ha!--the wind _is_ come, and the fire,and the punishment." Then he wrapped his gown closer about his formbending to meet the gale, and went leisurely down the street, intendingto make St. Peter's gate.
Where the intersections left openings, the Jew, now a fugitive ratherthan a wanderer--a fugitive nevertheless who knew perfectly where hewas going, and that welcome awaited him there--halted to scan thecloudy floor of the sky above the site of the house he had justabandoned. A redness flickering and unsteady over in that quarter wasthe first assurance he had of the growth of the flame of smallbeginning under the grand staircase.
"Now the meeting of wind and fire!--Now speedily these hypocrites andtongue-servers, bastards of Byzantium, shall know Israel has a God inwhom they have no lot, and in what regard he holds co
nniving at therape of his daughters. Blow, Wind, blow harder! Rise, Fire, andspread--be a thousand lions in roaring till these tremble like huntedcurs! The few innocent are not more in the account than moths burrowedin woven wool and feeding on its fineness. Already the guilty begin topray--but to whom? Blow, O Wind! Spread and spare not, O Fire!"
Thus he exulted; and as if it heard him and were making answer to hisimprecations, a column, pinked by the liberated fire below it, a burstof sparks in its core, shot up in sudden vastness like a Titan rushingto seizure of the world; but presently the gale struck and toppled itover toward Blacherne in the northwest.
"That way points the punishment? I remember I offered him God and peaceand good-will to men, and he rejected them. Blow, Winds! Now are ye butbreezes from the south, spice-laden to me, but in his ears be aschariots descending. And thou, O Fire! Forget not the justice to bedone, and whose servant thou art. Leave Heaven to say which isguiltier; they who work at the deflowerment of the innocent, or he whoanswers no to the Everlasting offering him love. Unto him be thou asbanners above the chariots!"
Now a noise began--at first faint and uncertain, then, as the redcolumn sprang up, it strengthened, and ere long defined itself--Fire,Fire!
It seemed the city awoke with that cry. And there was peering fromwindows, opening of doors, rushing from houses, and hurrying to wherethe angry spot on the floor of the cloud which shut Heaven off waswidening and deepening. In a space incredibly quick, the streets--thoseleading to the corner occupied by the Jew as well--became rivuletsflowing with people, and then blatant rivers.
"My God, what a night for a fire!"
"There will be nothing left of us by morning, not even ashes."
"And the women and children--think of them!"
"Fire--fire--fire!"
Exchanges like these dinned the Jew until, finding himself anobstruction, he moved on. Not a phase of the awful excitement escapedhim--the racing of men--half-clad women assembling--children staringwild-eyed at the smoke extending luridly across the fifth and sixthhills to the seventh--white faces, exclamations, and not seldom resortto crucifixes and prayers to the Blessed Lady of Blacherne--he heardand saw them all--yet kept on toward St. Peter's gate, now an easything, since the thoroughfares were so aglow he could neither stumblenor miss the right one. A company of soldiers running nearly knockedhim down; but finally he reached the portal, and passed out withoutchallenge. A brief search then for his galley; and going aboard, afterreplying to a few questions about the fire, he bade the captain castoff, and run for the Bosphorus.
"It looks as if the city would all go," he said; and the mariner,thinking him afraid, summoned his oarsmen, and to please him madehaste, as he too well might, for the light of the burning projectedover the wall, and, flung back from the cloud overhead far as the eyecould penetrate, illuminated the harbor as it did the streets, bringingthe ships to view, their crews on deck, and Galata, wall, housetops andtower, crowded with people awestruck by the immensity of the calamity.
When the galley outgoing cleared Point Serail, the wind and the longswells beating in from the Marmora white with foam struck it with suchforce that keeping firm grip of their oars was hard for the rowers, andthey began to cry out; whereupon the captain sought his passenger.
"My Lord," he said, "I have plied these waters from boyhood, and neversaw them in a night like this. Let me return to the harbor."
"What, is it not light enough?"
The sailor crossed himself, and replied: "There is light enough--suchas it is!" and he shuddered. "But the wind, and the running sea, myLord"--
"Oh! for them, keep on. Under the mountain height of Scutari thesailing will be plain."
And with much wonder how one so afraid of fire could be so indifferentto danger from flood and gale, the captain addressed himself tomanoeuvring his vessel.
"Now," said the Jew, when at last they were well in under the Asiaticshore--"now bear away up the Bosphorus."
The light kept following him the hour and more required to make theSweet Waters and the White Castle; and even there the reflection fromthe cloud above the ill-fated city was strong enough to cast half thestream in shadow from the sycamores lining its left bank.
The Governor of the Castle received the friend of his master, the newSultan, at the landing; and from the wall just before retiring, thelatter took a last look at the signs down where the ancient capital wasstruggling against annihilation. Glutted with imaginings of all thatwas transpiring there, he clapped his hands, and repeated the refrainin its past form:
"Now have the winds come, and the fire, and the punishment. So be itever unto all who encourage violence to children, and reject God."
An hour afterwards, he was asleep peacefully as if there were no suchthing as conscience, or a misery like remorse.
* * * * *
Shortly after midnight an officer of the guard ventured to approach thecouch of the Emperor Constantine; in his great excitement he even shookthe sacred person.
"Awake, Your Majesty, awake, and save the city. It is a sea of fire."
Constantine was quickly attired, and went first to the top of the Towerof Isaac. He was filled with horror by what he beheld; but he hadsoldierly qualities--amongst others the faculty of keeping a clear headin crises. He saw the conflagration was taking direction with the windand coming straight toward Blacherne, where, for want of aliment, itneeds must stop. Everything in its line of progress was doomed; but hedecided it possible to prevent extension right and left of that line,and acting promptly, he brought the entire military force from thebarracks to cooperate with the people. The strategy was successful.
Gazing from the pinnacle as the sun rose, he easily traced a blackenedswath cut from the fifth hill up to the eastward wall of the imperialgrounds; and, in proof of the fury of the gale, the terraces of thegarden were covered inches deep with ashes and scoriac-looking flakesof what at sunset had been happy homes. And the dead? Ascertainment ofthe many who perished was never had; neither did closest inquirydiscover the origin of the fire. The volume of iniquities awaitingexposure Judgment Day must be immeasurable, if it is of the bookmaterial in favor among mortals.
The Prince of India was supposed to have been one of the victims of thefire, and not a little sympathy was expended for the mysteriousforeigner. But in refuge at the White Castle, that worthy greedilydevoured the intelligence he had the Governor send for next day. Onepiece of news, however, did more than dash the satisfaction he secretlyindulged--Uel, the son of Jahdai, was dead--and dead of injuriessuffered the night of the catastrophe.
A horrible foreboding struck the grim incendiary. Was the old destinystill pursuing him? Was it still a part of the Judgment that everyhuman being who had to do with him in love, friendship or business,every one on whom he looked in favor, must be overtaken soon or latewith a doom of some kind? From that moment, moved by an inscrutableprompting of spirit, he began a list of those thus unfortunate--Laelfirst, then Uel. Who next?
The reader will remember the merchant's house was opposite thePrince's, with a street between them. Unfortunately the street wasnarrow; the heat from one building beat across it and attacked theother. Uel managed to get out safely; but recollecting the jewelsintrusted to him for Lael, he rushed back to recover them. Staggeringout again blind and roasting, he fell on the pave, and was carried off,but with the purse intact. Next day he succumbed to the injuries. Inhis last hour, he dictated a letter to the Princess Irene, begging herto accept the guardianship of his daughter, if God willed her return.Such, he said, was his wish, and the Prince of India's; and with themissive, he forwarded the jewels, and a statement of the property hewas leaving in the market. They and all his were for the child--so thedisposition ran, concluding with a paragraph remarkable for theconfidence it manifested in the Christian trustee. "But if she is notreturned alive within a year from this date, then, O excellentPrincess, I pray you to be my heir, holding everything of mine yoursunconditionally. And may God keep you!"
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