tosomething of the martyr's spirit as well as the martyr's fate.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.
THE FEAST OF FLOWERS.
"Go, bring me showers of roses--bring."
Flowers--flowers everywhere; one blaze of colour through the royalgardens of Fez. Was not the young King Abdallah about to marry thePrincess Hinda, daughter of a neighbouring potentate, and had he notvowed that since she loved flowers better than anything in the world,flowers she should have, specimens of every flower in his dominions!Lazurac might rule over people and prisoners as he would, but he mustprovide flowers for his boy sovereign, and workmen to plant, deck, andwreathe his gardens within the space of a few hours with every flowerunder heaven. Round every column and arch were twined ropes of roses,oleanders, and arums, in limitless profusion. Crowds of girls tied thewreaths, while the slaves brought them by hundreds and festooned themfrom tree to tree. And so, because hands were short, or perhaps toinsult them still further, the Portuguese prisoners were released fromtheir dungeon and brought out once more into the light of day, to hangup rose-wreaths for the king's _fete_.
But although food had been given them and somewhat more decent clothes,and they had been allowed to wash off their prison-stains before meetingthe eyes of their fellows, they sat blinking at the light and staring ateach other, feeling as if they were the ghosts of the men who threemonths before had entered that gloomy dungeon, so terrible had been itseffect on them. As the slave-drivers perceived that even the strongestof them were really incapable of any active exertion, they were desiredto sort the great heaps of flowers that had been thrown down in a shadyspot, "and to feast their eyes on their master's magnificence." Soonthey were told their work would be daily in the royal gardens.
At another time all would have chafed bitterly at so effeminate anoccupation; but now air, light, and employment of any sort were soenchanting to them that these bearded European nobles picked awaycontentedly at the flowers, and Father Jose sorted the red roses fromthe white with positive pleasure, while young Manoel, who had failedmuch of late, fell asleep with a smile on his face; and Fernando,twining the flowers round his fingers, told how his mother, QueenPhilippa, had described to him and to Joao how the maidens of Englandwould deck a pole with flowers and dance round it on the first of May.
Suddenly rushing out towards them from an inner court, laughing andchattering, their veils pulled carelessly half over their faces, came aparty of young girls.
"More flowers--flowers! Slaves, bring them hither!" cried the foremost,imperatively; then as the prisoners rose to comply, she recoiled with ascream at the ghastly figures that sat among the gorgeous summerflowers.
"Make your obeisance to me," said a Moor, coming up, as he struckFernando across the shoulders with his staff; while Manoel, weak as hewas, sprang at him like a wild cat.
"Ho, fetters here!--Villains, you resist?"
"No no!" cried the lady. "They cannot work so fast in fetters. Theprincesses want flowers--more flowers;" and the girls flew back to theirgarden, followed by some of the Portuguese.
The seclusion of the Moorish women was not so complete as to forbidoccasional intercourse with the other sex, slaves especially; andpresently the foremost girl came scudding back again to where Fernandolay, holding something in both her hands.
"Poor Christian," she said, "here is some milk for you. Muley is cruelto strike you. Shall I ask Princess Hinda to beg the king to cut hishead off?"
Fernando had acquired enough of the Moorish language to understand her,and negatived this alarming proposal decidedly, while he thanked her forthe milk, saying--
"I would not be so discourteous, lady, as to sit in your presence, butthat I cannot rise."
"I suppose that is because they ill-use you," she said, sorrowfully."Look," taking a heap of flowers and laying them beside him, "now Muleywill think you have sorted those. What do they call you?"
"Selim," said Fernando; for though it was well known who he was, likeall the rest he had a slave's name.
"Perhaps you will work for my princess," said the girl; "she will bekind to you."
"Leila, Leila?" cried a voice, and, snatching up a handful of flowers,she ran off in haste.
The preparations were soon made, and the _fete_ proceeded, like a dreamof Eastern splendour and profusion. Thousands of lamps, as the twilightfell, shone among the flowers. The slave-girls danced wonderful andgraceful figures before the guests, and the Portuguese prisoners, withother slaves, held long garlands in a circle to enclose a space for thedancers, their pale, haggard faces showing in strange contrast to theirsurroundings. Zala-ben-Zala was the chief of the guests. As he walkedround to survey the dancing, he paused opposite to Fernando andaddressed him--
"So, slave?" he said, scornfully, "how like you this work? Is this fitservice for a Prince of Portugal?"
"No," said Fernando; "nor fit treatment for a hostage, nor even for aprisoner of war, if so you choose to regard me."
"Will you now write and urge on your brother to deliver you--that lovingbrother who has let you pine in a dungeon rather than yield a fortressfor your sake?"
"I will urge nothing on the King of Portugal," said Fernando, steadily;"nor are the sufferings you choose to inflict on me worthy to change thepolicy of a nation."
"You know not yet what those sufferings may be."
"Well," said the prince, calmly, "the worse they are, the sooner theywill end in death, when your power ceases. You fear not death,Zala-ben-Zala, neither do I."
"There are those here that will break your proud spirit yet," said theMoor fiercely, as he went on.
But the prince's words had not been altogether without effect. If hedied from the cruelties practised on him, the power of his captors wasover, and their last chance of winning Ceuta was gone. Therefore itbecame their aim to make his life as wretched and degrading as it couldbe, but still a life possible to live; and none of the party could haveborne many more days in their terrible dungeon. A wretched lodging wasassigned to them in Fez, their food was of the coarsest bread, theirclothes of undressed sheepskins, and all day they toiled as commonlabourers in the royal gardens, with multitudes of other slaves,Christians of all nations, degraded by their miseries till theirChristianity and even their manhood was forgotten; while, mingled withthem, were dark-skinned natives from other parts of Africa, ignorantheathens.
Miserable as this life was, in that beautiful climate it was so great animprovement on the Darsena, that the poor prisoners, except Manoel,regained much of their health and strength, and Fernando was usuallyable to get through the amount of toil required of him, and even notseldom to help his unhappy comrades. For the only use he made of theconsideration, which, as far as they dared, all the other slaves showedhim, was to persuade them to live peacefully with each other, to beareach other's heavy burdens, and not, as some of the poor wretches wereapt to do, curry favour with their masters by complaining of each other.When they saw Fernando endure blows and curses for neglected workrather than betray the weakness of those who worked with him, they wereready to listen to the words he spoke to them of One Who also hadendured insult and cruelty, and Who was with them through all theirweary days, and the first gleam of hope came to many of them from hisvoice and smile.
One day Fernando, with several others, had been carrying stones andearth for an embankment near the ladies' garden. Father Jose at somelittle distance was sturdily heaping up the burdens brought by the rest,murmuring Psalms to himself the while, Manoel slowly helping him. Thetimes were good, for the mildest of their overseers was in charge ofthem, and they had passed the whole day without a blow to hurry theirfootsteps.
Presently Fernando beheld, leaning over the garden-wall, the same maidenwho had given him the milk.
"Selim," she called, and Fernando put down his load of stones and cametowards her.
"What is your will, lady?" he said, with an involuntary smile at thefair, childish face before him.
"My little green parrot has flown away over the wall;
it is there byyour working place; I want it back."
Fernando bowed, and returning, caught the parrot with so much ease as tosurprise him, and brought it back to its mistress.
"It is safe, lady," he said.
"I am not a lady, I am a slave too," said the girl, fixing her eyes uponhim.
"But your fetters are but chains of roses," said the prince.
"Tell me," she said, "which of the Portuguese prisoners is DomFernando?"
"He speaks to you now," said Fernando, a little surprised at heraccurate repetition of his title.
Leila, for she it was, coloured deeply, a whole world of memories wakingin her. She put her hand to her bosom and drew out a little ornament,which she laid on the wall before the prince.
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