by Lew Wallace
BOOK VI
CONSTANTINE
CHAPTER I
THE SWORD OF SOLOMON
The current of our story takes us once more to the White Castle at themouth of the Sweet Waters of Asia.
It is the twenty-fifth of March, 1452. The weather, for some dayscloudy and tending to the tempestuous, changed at noon, permitting thesun to show himself in a field of spotless blue. At the edge of themountainous steep above Roumeli Hissar, the day-giver lingered in hisgoing down, as loath to leave the life concentrated in the famousnarrows in front of the old Castle.
On the land, there was an army in waiting; therefore the city of tentsand brushwood booths extending from the shore back to the hills, andthe smoke pervading the perspective in every direction.
On the water, swinging to each other, crowding all the shallows of thedelta of the little river, reaching out into the sweep of theBosphorus, boats open and boats roofed--scows, barges, galleys oaredand galleys with masts--ships--a vast conglomerate raft.
About the camp, and to and fro on the raft, men went and came, likeants in storing time. Two things, besides the locality, identifiedthem--their turbans, and the crescent and star in the red field of theflags they displayed.
History, it would appear, takes pleasure in repetition. Full a thousandyears before this, a greater army had encamped on the banks of the sameSweet Waters. Then it was of Persians; now it is of Turks; andcuriously there are no soldiers to be seen, but only working men, whilethe flotilla is composed of carrying vessels; here boats laden withstone; there boats with lime; yonder boats piled high with timber.
At length the sun, drawing the last ravelling of light after it,disappeared. About that time, the sea gate in front of the Palace ofJulian down at Constantinople opened, and a boat passed out into theMarmora. Five men plied the oars. Two sat near the stern. These latterwere Count Corti and Ali, son of Abed-din the Faithful.
Two hours prior, Ali, with a fresh catch of fish, entered the gate, andfinding no purchaser in the galley, pushed on to the landing, andthence to the Palace.
"O Emir," he said, when admitted to the Count, "the Light of the World,our Lord Mahommed is arrived."
The intelligence seemed to strike the Count with a sudden ague.
"Where is he?" he asked, his voice hollow as from a closed helmet. Erethe other could answer, he added a saving clause: "May the love ofAllah be to him a staff of life!"
"He is at the White Castle with Mollahs, Pachas, and engineers ahost.... What a way they were in, rushing here and there, likesquealing swine, and hunting quarters, if but a crib to lie in andblow! Shintan take them, beards, boots, and turbans! So have they livedon fat things, slept on divans of down under hangings of silk, breathedperfumed airs in crowded harems, Heaven knows if now they are even fitto stop an arrow. They thought the old Castle of Bajazet-Ilderimanother Jehan-Numa. By the delights of Paradise, O Emir--ha, ha,ha!--it was good to see how little the Light of the World cared forthem! At the Castle, he took in with him for household the ancient_Gabour_ Ortachi-Khalil and a Prince of India, whom he calls hisMessenger of the Stars; the rest were left to shift for themselves tilltheir tents arrive. Halting the Incomparables, [Footnote: Janissaries.]out beyond Roumeli-Hissar, he summoned the Three Tails, [Footnote:Pachas.] nearly dead from fatigue, having been in the saddle sincemorning, and rode off with them fast as his Arab could gallop acrossthe country, and down the long hill behind Therapia, drawing rein atthe gate before the Palace of the Princess Irene."
"The Palace of the Princess Irene," the Count repeated. "What did hethere?"
"He dismounted, looked at the brass plate on the gate-post, went in,and asked if she were at home. Being told she was yet in the city, hesaid: 'A message for her to be delivered to-night. Here is a purse topay for going. Tell her Aboo-Obeidah, the Singing Sheik'--only theProphet knows of such a Sheik--'has been here, bidden by SultanMahommed to see if her house had been respected, and inquire if she hasyet her health and happiness.' With that, he called for his horse, andwent through the garden and up to the top of the promontory; then hereturned to Hissar faster than he went to Therapia; and when, to takeboat for the White Castle, he walked down the height, two of the ThreeTails had to be lifted from their saddles, so nearly dead were they."
Here Ali stopped to laugh.
"Pardon me, O Emir," he resumed, "if I say last what I should have saidfirst, it being the marrow of the bone I bring you.... Before sittingto his pilaf, our Lord Mahommed sent me here. 'Thou knowest to get inand out of the unbelieving city,' he said. 'Go privily to the EmirMirza, and bid him come to me to-night.'"
"What now, Ali?"
"My Lord was too wise to tell me."
"It is a great honor, Ali. I shall get ready immediately."
When the night was deep enough to veil the departure, the Count seatedhimself in the fisher's boat, a great cloak covering his armor. Half amile below the Sweet Waters the party was halted.
"What is this, Ali?"
"The Lord Mahommed's galleys of war are down from the Black Sea. Theseare their outlyers."
At the side of one of the vessels, the Count showed the Sultan'ssignet, and there was no further interruption.
A few words now with respect to Corti.
He had become a Christian. Next, the bewilderment into which the firstsight of the Princess Irene had thrown him instead of passing off haddeepened into hopeless love.
And farther--Constantine, a genuine knight himself; in fact more knightthan statesman; delighting in arms, armor, hounds, horses, and martialexercises, including tournaments, hawking, and hunting, found oneabiding regret on his throne--he could have a favorite but never acomrade. The denial only stimulated the desire, until finally heconcluded to bring the Italian to Court for observation and trial, hisadvancement to depend upon the fitness, tact, and capacity he mightdevelop.
One day an order was placed in the Count's hand, directing him to findquarters at Blacherne. The Count saw the honor intended, and discernedthat acceptance would place him in better position to get informationfor Mahommed, but what would the advantage avail if he were hindered inforwarding his budget promptly?
No, the mastership of the gate was of most importance; besides whichthe seclusion of the Julian residence was so favorable to the part hewas playing; literally he had no one there to make him afraid.
Upon receipt of the order he called for his horse, and rode toBlacherne, where his argument of the necessity of keeping the Moslemcrew of his galley apart brought about a compromise. His Majesty wouldrequire the Count's presence during the day, but permit him the nightsat Julian. He was also allowed to retain command of the gate.
A few months then found him in Constantine's confidence, the imperialfavorite. Yet more surprising as a coincidence, he actually became tothe Emperor what he had been to Mahommed. He fenced and jousted withhim, instructed him in riding, trained him to sword and bow. Every dayduring certain hours he had his new master's life at mercy. With athrust of sword, stroke of battle-axe, or flash of an arrow, it was inhis power to rid Mahommed of an opponent concerning whom he wrote: "Omy Lord, I think you are his better, yet if ever you meet him inpersonal encounter, have a care."
But the unexpected now happened to the Count. He came to have anaffection for this second lord which seriously interfered with hisobligations to the first one. Its coming about was simple. Associationwith the Greek forced a comparison with the Turk. The latter's passionwas a tide before which the better gifts of God to rulers--mercy,justice, discrimination, recognition of truth, loyalty, services--wereas willows in the sweep of a wave. Constantine, on the other hand, wasthoughtful, just, merciful, tender-hearted, indisposed to offend or tofancy provocation intended. The difference between a man with and a manwithout conscience--between a king all whose actuations are dominatedby religion and a king void of both conscience and religion--slowly butsurely, we say, the difference became apparent to the Count, and hadits inevitable consequences.
Such was the Count's new footin
g in Blacherne.
The changes wrought in his feeling were forwarded more than he wasaware by the standing accorded him in the reception-room of thePrincess Irene.
After the affair at the Cynegion he had the delicacy not to pushhimself upon the attention of the noble lady. In preference he sent aservant every morning to inquire after her health. Ere long he was therecipient of an invitation to come in person; after which his visitsincreased in frequency. Going to Blacherne, and coming from it, hestopped at her house, and with every interview it seemed his passionfor her intensified.
Now it were not creditable to the young Princess' discernment to sayshe was blind to his feeling; yet she was careful to conceal thediscovery from him, and still more careful not to encourage his hope.She placed the favor shown him to the account of gratitude; at the sametime she admired him, and was deeply interested in the religioussentiment he was beginning to manifest.
In the Count's first audience after the rescue from the lion, sheexplained how she came to be drawn to the Cynegion. This led to detailof her relations with Sergius, concluding with the declaration: "I gavehim the signal to speak in Sancta Sophia, and felt I could not live ifhe died the death, sent to it by me."
"Princess," the Count replied, "I heard the monk's sermon in SanctaSophia, but did not know of your giving the signal. Has any oneimpugned your motive in going to the Cynegion? Give me his name. Mysword says you did well."
"Count Corti, the Lord has taken care of His own."
"As you say, Princess Irene. Hear me before addressing yourself tosomething else.... I remember the words of the Creed--or if I have themwrong correct me: 'I believe in God, and Jesus Christ, his Son.'"
"It is word for word."
"Am I to understand you gave him the form?"
"The idea is Father Hilarion's."
"And the Two Articles. Are they indeed sayings of Jesus Christ?"
"Even so."
"Give me the book containing them."
Taking a New Testament from the table, she gave it to him.
"You will find the sayings easily. On the margins opposite them thereare markings illuminated in gold."
"Thanks, O Princess, most humbly. I will return the book."
"No, Count, it is yours."
An expression she did not understand darkened his face.
"Are you a Christian?" she asked.
He flushed deeply, and bowed while answering:
"My mother is a Christian."
That night Count Corti searched the book, and found that the strengthof faith underlying his mother's prayers for his return to her, and thePrincess' determination to die with the monk, were but Christian lights.
"Princess Irene," he said one day, "I have studied the book you gaveme; and knowing now who Christ is, I am ready to accept your Creed.Tell me how I may know myself a believer?"
A lamp in the hollow of an alabaster vase glows through thetransparency; so her countenance responded to the joy behind it.
"Render obedience to His commands--do His will, O Count--then wilt thoube a believer in Christ, and know it."
The darkness she had observed fall once before on his face obscured itagain, and he arose and went out in silence.
Brave he certainly was, and strong. Who could strike like him? He lovedopposition for the delight there was in overcoming it; yet in hischamber that night he was never so weak. He resorted to the book, butcould not read. It seemed to accuse him. "Thou Islamite--thou son ofMahomet, though born of a Christian, whom servest thou? Judas, whatdost thou in this city? Hypocrite--traitor--which is thy master,Mahomet or Christ?"
He fell upon his knees, tore at his beard, buried his head in his arms.He essayed prayer to Christ.
"Jesus--Mother of Jesus--O my mother!" he cried in agony.
The hour he was accustomed to give to Mahommed came round. He drew outthe writing materials. "The Princess"--thus he began a sentence, butstopped--something caught hold of his heart--the speaking face of thebeloved woman appeared to him--her eyes were reproachful--her lipsmoved--she spoke: "Count Corti, I am she whom thou lovest; but whatdost thou? Is it not enough to betray my kinsman? Thy courage--whatmakest thou of it but wickedness? ... Write of me to thy master. Comeevery day, and contrive that I speak, then tell him of it. Am I sick?Tell him of it. Do I hold to this or that? Tell him. Am I shaken byvisions of ruin to my country? Tell him of them. What is thy love ifnot the servant for hire of his love? Traitor--panderer!"
The Count pushed the table from him, and sprang to foot writhing. Toshut out the word abhorrent above all other words, he clapped his handstight over his ears--in vain.
"Panderer!"--he heard with his soul--"Panderer! When thou hastdelivered me to Mahommed, what is he to give thee? How much?"
Thus shame, like a wild dog, bayed at him. For relief he ran out intothe garden. And it was only the beginning of misery. Such theintroduction or first chapter, what of the catastrophe? He could notsleep for shame.
In the morning he ordered his horse, but had not courage to go toBlacherne. How could he look at the kindly face of the master he wasbetraying? He thought of the Princess. Could he endure her salutation?She whom he was under compact to deliver to Mahommed? A paroxysm ofdespair seized him.
He rode to the Gate St. Romain, and out of it into the country. Gallop,gallop--the steed was good--his best Arab, fleet and tireless. Noonovertook him--few things else could--still he galloped. The earthturned into a green ribbon under the flying hoofs, and there was reliefin the speed. The air, whisked through, was soothing. At length he cameto a wood, wild and interminable, Belgrade, though he knew it not, anddismounting by a stream, he spent the day there. If now and then thesteed turned its eyes upon him, attracted by his sighs, groans andprayer, there was at least no accusation in them. The solitude wasrestful; and returning after nightfall, he entered the city through thesortie under the Palace of Blacherne known as the Cercoporta.
It is well pain of spirit has its intermissions; otherwise long lifecould not be; and if sleep bring them, so much the better.
Next day betimes, the Count was at Blacherne.
"I pray grace, O my Lord!" he said, speaking to the question in theEmperor's look. "Yesterday I had to ride. This confinement in the citydeadens me. I rode all day."
The good, easy master sighed: "Would I had been with you, Count."
Thus he dismissed the truancy. But with the Princess it was a lengthychapter. If the Emperor was never so gracious, she seemed never socharming. He wrote to Mahommed in the evening, and walked the gardenthe residue of the night.
So weeks and months passed, and March came--even the night of thetwenty-fifth, with its order from the Sultan to the White Castle--aninterval of indecision, shame, and self-indictment. How many plans ofrelief he formed who can say? Suicide he put by, a very last resort.There was also a temptation to cut loose from Mahommed, and go boldlyover to the Emperor. That would be a truly Christian enlistment for theapproaching war; and aside from conformity to his present sympathies,it would give him a right to wear the Princess' favor on his helmet.But a fear shook the resort out of mind. Mahommed, whether successfulor defeated, would demand an explanation of him, possibly anaccounting. He knew the Sultan. Of all the schemes presented, the mostplausible was flight. There was the gate, and he its keeper, and beyondthe gate, the sunny Italian shore, and his father's castle. The seasand sailing between were as green landscapes to a weary prisoner, andhe saw in them only the joy of going and freedom to do. Welcome, and toGod the praise! More than once he locked his portables of greatestvalue in the cabin of the galley. But alas! He was in bonds. Life inConstantinople now comprehended two of the ultimate excellencies tohim, Princess Irene and Christ--and their joinder in the argument hetook to be no offence.
From one to another of these projects he passed, and they but served tohide the flight of time. He was drifting--ahead, and not far, he heardthe thunder of coming events--yet he drifted.
In this condition, the most envied man in Constantinople and
the mostwretched, the Sultan's order was delivered to him by Ali.
The time for decision was come. Tired--ashamed--angry with himself, hedetermined to force the end.
The Count arrived at the Castle, was immediately admitted to theSultan; indeed, had he been less resolute, his master's promptitudewould have been a circumstance of disturbing significance.
Observation satisfied him Mahommed was in the field; for with all hisEpicureanism in times of peace, when a campaign was in progress theConqueror resolved himself into a soldierly example of indifference toluxury. In other words, with respect to furnishment, the interior ofthe old Castle presented its every day ruggedness.
One lamp fixed to the wall near the door of the audience chamberstruggled with the murk of a narrow passage, giving to view anassistant chamberlain, an armed sentinel, and two jauntily attiredpages in waiting. Surrendering his sword to the chamberlain, the Counthalted before the door, while being announced; at the same time, henoticed a man come out of a neighboring apartment clad in black velvetfrom head to foot, followed closely by a servant. It was the Prince ofIndia.
The mysterious person advanced slowly, his eyes fixed on the floor, hisvelvet-shod feet giving out no sound. His air indicated deepreflection. In previous encounters with him, the Count had beenpleased; now his sensations were of repugnance mixed with doubt andsuspicion. He had not time to account for the change. It may have hadorigin in the higher prescience sometimes an endowment of the spirit bywhich we stand advised of a friend or an enemy; most likely, however,it was a consequence of the curious tales abroad in Constantinople; forat the recognition up sprang the history of the Prince's connectionwith Lael, and her abandonment by him, the more extraordinary from theevidences of his attachment to her. Up sprang also the opinion ofuniversal prevalence in the city that he had perished in the greatfire. What did it all mean? What kind of man was he?
The servant carried a package wrapped in gold-embroidered green silk.
Coming near, the Prince raised his eyes--stopped--smiled--and said:
"Count Corti--or Mirza the Emir--which have I the honor of meeting?"
In spite of the offence he felt, Corti blushed, such a flood of lightdid the salutation let in upon the falsity of his position. Far fromlosing presence of mind, he perceived at once how intimately the Princestood in the councils of the Sultan.
"The Lord Mahommed must be heard before I can answer," he returned,calmly.
In an instant the Prince became cordial.
"That was well answered," he said. "I am pleased to have my judgment ofyou confirmed. Your mission has been a trying one, but you haveconducted it like a master. The Lord Mahommed has thanked me many timesthat I suggested you for it. He is impatient to see you. We will go intogether."
Mahommed, in armor, was standing by a table on which were a barecimeter, a lamp brightly burning, and two large unrolled maps. In oneof the latter, the Count recognized Constantinople and its environscast together from his own surveys.
Retired a few steps were the two Viziers, Kalil Pacha and his rival,Saganos Pacha, the Mollah Kourani, and the Sheik Akschem-sed-din. Thepreaching of the Mollah had powerfully contributed to arousing thefanatical spirit of the Sultan's Mohammedan subjects. The four werestanding in the attitude usual to Turkish officials in presence of asuperior, their heads bowed, their hands upon their stomachs. Inspeaking, if they raised their eyes from the floor it was to shoot afurtive glance, then drop them again.
"This is the grand design of the work by which you will be governed,"Mahommed said to the counsellors, laying the finger points of his righthand upon the map unknown to the Count, and speaking earnestly. "Youwill take it, and make copies tonight; for if the stars fail not, Iwill send the masons and their workmen to the other shore in themorning."
The advisers saluted--it would be difficult to say which of them withthe greatest unction.
Looking sharply at Kalil, the master asked: "You say you superintendedthe running of the lines in person?"
Kalil saluted separately, and returned: "My Lord may depend upon thesurvey."
"Very well. I wait now only the indication of Heaven that the time isripe for the movement. Is the Prince of India coming?"
"I am here, my Lord."
Mahommed turned as the Prince spoke, and let his eyes rest a momentupon Count Corti, without a sign of recognition.
"Come forward, Prince," he said. "What is the message you bring me?"
"My Lord," the Prince replied, after prostration, "in the HebrewScriptures there is a saying in proof of the influence the planets havein the affairs of men: 'Then fought the kings of Canaan in Taanach bythe waters of Megiddo; they fought from heaven; the stars in theircourses fought against Sisera.' Now art thou truly Sultan of Sultans.To-morrow--the twenty-sixth of March--will be memorable amongst days,for then thou mayst begin the war with the perfidious Greek. From fouro'clock in the morning the stars which fought against Sisera will fightfor Mahommed. Let those who love him salute and rejoice."
The counsellors, dropping on their knees, fell forward, their faces ontheir hands. The Prince of India did the same. Count Corti aloneremained standing, and Mahommed again observed him.
"Hear you," the latter said, to his officers. "Go assemble the masonsand their workmen, the masters of boats, and the chiefs charged withduties. At four o'clock in the morning I will move against Europe. Thestars have said it, and their permission is my law. Rise!"
As his associates were moving backward with repeated genuflections, thePrince of India spoke:
"O most favored of men! Let them stay a moment."
At a sign from the Sultan they halted; thereupon the Prince of Indiabeckoned Syama to come, and taking the package from his hands, he laidit on the table.
"For my Lord Mahommed," he said.
"What is it?" Mahommed demanded.
"A sign of conquest.... My Lord knows King Solomon ruled the world inhis day, its soul of wisdom. At his death dominion did not depart fromhim. The secret ministers in the earth, the air and the waters,obedient to Allah, became his slaves. My Lord knows of whom I speak.Who can resist them? ... In the tomb of Hiram, King of Tyre, the friendof King Solomon, I found a sarcophagus. It was covered with a model inmarble of the Temple of the Hebrew Almighty God. Removing the lid, lo!the mummy of Hiram, a crown upon its head, and at its feet the sword ofSolomon, a present without price. I brought it away, resolved to giveit to him whom the stars should elect for the overthrow of thesuperstitions devised by Jesus, the bastard son of Joseph the carpenterof Nazareth.... Undo the wrappings, Lord Mahommed."
The Sultan obeyed, and laying the last fold of the cloth aside, drewback staring, and with uplifted hands.
"Kalil--Kourani--Akschem-sed-din--all of you, come look. Tell me whatit is--it blinds me."
The sword of Solomon lay before them; its curved blade a gleam ofsplendor, its scabbard a mass of brilliants, its hilt a ruby so pure wemay say it retained in its heart the life of a flame.
"Take it in hand, Lord Mahommed," said the Prince of India.
The young Sultan lifted the sword, and as he did so down a groove inits back a stream of pearls started and ran, ringing musically, andwould not rest while he kept the blade in motion. He was speechlessfrom wonder.
"Now may my Lord march upon Constantinople, for the stars and everysecret minister of Solomon will fight for him."
So saying, the Prince knelt before the Sultan, and laid his lips on theinstep of his foot, adding: "Oh, my Lord! with that symbol in hand,march, and surely as Tabor is among the mountains and Carmel by thesea, so surely Christ will give place to Mahomet in Sancta Sophia.March at four o'clock."
And the counsellors left kisses on the same instep, and departed.
Thence through the night the noises of preparation kept the spacebetween the hills of the narrows alive with echoes. At the hourpermitted by the stars--four o'clock--a cloud of boats cast loose fromthe Asiatic shore, and with six thousand laborers, handmen to athousand master masons, crossed at racin
g speed to Europe. "God is God,and Mahomet is his Prophet," they shouted. The vessels of burden, thosewith lime, those with stone, those with wood, followed as they werecalled, and unloading, hauled out, to give place to others.
Before sun up the lines of the triangular fort whose walls nearRoumeli-Hissar are yet intact, prospectively a landmark enduring as thePyramids, were defined and swarming with laborers. The three Pachas,Kalil, Sarudje, and Saganos, superintended each a side of the work, andover them all, active and fiercely zealous, moved Mahommed, the swordof Solomon in his hand.
And there was no lack of material for the structure extensive as itwas. Asia furnished its quota, and Christian towns and churches on theBosphorus were remorselessly levelled for the stones in them; whereforethe outer faces of the curtains and towers are yet speckled withmarbles in block, capital and column.
Thus Mahommed, taking his first step in the war so long a fervid dream,made sure of his base of operations.
On the twenty-eighth of August, the work completed, from his camp onthe old Asometon promontory he reconnoitred the country up to the ditchof Constantinople, and on the first of September betook himself toAdrianople.
