CHAPTER IV.
_Alroy Falls Among Thieves_
TRADITION taught that the sceptre of Solomon could be found only in theunknown sepulchres of the ancient Hebrew monarchs, and that none mightdare to touch it but one of their descendants. Armed with the cabalistictalisman, which was to guide him in his awful and difficult researches,Alroy commenced his pilgrimage to the Holy City. At this time, the loveof these sacred wanderings was a reigning passion among the Jews as wellas the Christians.
The Prince of the Captivity was to direct his course into the heartof those great deserts which, in his flight from Hamadan, he had onlyskirted. Following the track of the caravan, he was to make his wayto Babylon, or Bagdad. From the capital of the caliphs, his journeyto Jerusalem was one comparatively easy; but to reach Bagdad he mustencounter hardship and danger, the prospect of which would havedivested any one of hope, who did not conceive himself the object of anomnipotent and particular Providence.
Clothed only in a coarse black frock, common among the Kourds, girdedround his waist by a cord which held his dagger, his head shaven, andcovered with a large white turban, which screened him from the heat, hisfeet protected only by slippers, supported by his staff, and bearing onhis shoulders a bag of dried meat and parched corn, and a leathern skinof water, behold, toiling over the glowing sands of Persia, a youthwhose life had hitherto been a long unbroken dream of domestic luxuryand innocent indulgence.
He travelled during the warm night or the early starlit morn. During theday he rested: happy if he could recline by the side of somecharitable well, shaded by a palm-tree, or frighten a gazelle from itsresting-place among the rough bushes of some wild rocks. Were theseresources wanting, he threw himself upon the sand, and made an awningwith his staff and turban.
Three weeks had elapsed since he quitted the cavern of the Cabalist.Hitherto he had met with no human being. The desert became less arid.A scanty vegetation sprang up from a more genial soil; the ground brokeinto gentle undulations; his senses were invigorated with the odourof wild plants, and his sight refreshed by the glancing form of somewandering bird, a pilgrim like himself, but more at ease.
Soon sprang up a grove of graceful palm-trees, with their tall thinstems, and bending feathery crowns, languid and beautiful. Around, theverdant sod gleamed like an emerald: silver streams, flowing from abubbling parent spring, wound their white forms within the bright greenturf. From the grove arose the softening song of doves, and showers ofgay and sparkling butterflies, borne on their tinted wings of shiftinglight, danced without danger in the liquid air. A fair and fresh Oasis!
Alroy reposed in this delicious retreat for two days, feeding on theliving dates, and drinking of the fresh water. Fain would he havelingered, nor indeed, until he rested, had he been sufficientlyconscious of his previous exertion. But the remembrance of his greatmission made him restless, and steeled him to the sufferings which yetawaited him.
At the dawn of the second day of his journey from the Oasis he beheld tohis astonishment, faintly but distinctly traced on the far horizon, thewalls and turrets of an extensive city.[13] Animated by this unexpectedprospect, he continued his progress for several hours after sunrise. Atlength, utterly exhausted, he sought refuge from the overpowering heatbeneath the cupola of the ruined tomb of some Moslem saint. At sunsethe continued his journey, and in the morning found himself within a fewmiles of the city. He halted, and watched with anxiety for some evidenceof its inhabitants. None was visible. No crowds or cavalcades issuedfrom the gates. Not a single human being, not a solitary camel, moved inthe vicinity.
The day was too advanced for the pilgrim to proceed, but so great washis anxiety to reach this unknown settlement, and penetrate the mysteryof its silence, that ere sunset Alroy entered the gates.
A magnificent city, of an architecture with which he was unacquainted,offered to his entranced vision its gorgeous ruins and desertedsplendour; long streets of palaces, with their rich line of lesseningpillars, here and there broken by some fallen shaft, vast courtssurrounded by ornate and solemn temples, and luxurious baths adornedwith rare mosaics, and yet bright with antique gilding; now an arch oftriumph, still haughty with its broken friezes; now a granite obeliskcovered with strange characters, and proudly towering over a prostratecompanion; sometimes a void and crumbling theatre, sometimes a long andelegant aqueduct, sometimes a porphyry column, once breathing with theheroic statue that now lies shivered at its base, all suffused with thewarm twilight of an eastern eve.
He gazed with wonder and admiration upon the strange and fascinatingscene. The more he beheld, the more his curiosity was excited. Hebreathed with difficulty; he advanced with a blended feeling ofeagerness and hesitation. Fresh wonders successively unfoldedthemselves. Each turn developed a new scene of still and solemnsplendour. The echo of his step filled him with awe. He looked aroundhim with an amazed air, a fluttering heart, and a changing countenance.All was silent: alone the Hebrew Prince stood amid the regal creation ofthe Macedonian captains. Empires and dynasties flourish and pass away;the proud metropolis becomes a solitude, the conquering kingdom even adesert; but Israel still remains, still a descendant of the most ancientkings breathed amid these royal ruins, and still the eternal sun couldnever rise without gilding the towers of living Jerusalem. A word, adeed, a single day, a single man, and we might be a nation.
A shout! he turns, he is seized; four ferocious Kourdish bandits grappleand bind him.
The bandits hurried their captive through a street which appeared tohave been the principal way of the city. Nearly at its termination,they turned by a small Ionian temple, and, clambering over some fallenpillars, entered a quarter of the city of a more ruinous aspect thanthat which Alroy had hitherto visited. The path was narrow, oftenobstructed, and around were signs of devastation for which the exteriorof the city had not prepared him.
The brilliant but brief twilight of the Orient was fast fading away; asombre purple tint succeeded to the rosy flush; the distant towers roseblack, although defined, in the clear and shadowy air; and the moon,which, when he first entered, had studded the heavens like a small whitecloud, now glittered with deceptive light.
Suddenly, before them rose a huge pile. Oval in shape, and formed bytiers of arches, it was evidently much dilapidated, and one enormous,irregular, and undulating rent, extending from the top nearly to thefoundation, almost separated the side to which Alroy and his companionsadvanced.
Clambering up the remainder of this massive wall, the robbers and theirprisoner descended into an immense amphitheatre, which seemed vaster inthe shadowy and streaming moonlight. In it were groups of men, horses,and camels. In the extreme distance, reclining or squatting on mats andcarpets, was a large assembly, engaged in a rough but merry banquet. Afire blazed at their side, its red and uncertain flame mingling with thewhite and steady moonbeam, and throwing a flickering light over theirferocious countenances, their glistening armour, ample drapery, andshawled heads.
'A spy,' exclaimed the captors, as they dragged Alroy before the leaderof the band.
'Hang him, then,' said the chieftain, without even looking up.
'This wine, great Scherirah, is excellent, or I am no true Moslem,'said a principal robber; 'but you are too cruel; I hate this summarypunishment. Let us torture him a little, and extract some usefulinformation.'
'As you like, Kisloch,' said Scherirah; 'it may amuse us. Fellow, wheredo you come from? He cannot answer. Decidedly a spy. Hang him up.'
The captors half untied the rope that bound Alroy, that it might servehim for a further purpose, when another of the gentle companions ofScherirah interfered.
'Spies always answer, captain. He is more probably a merchant indisguise.'
'And carries hidden treasure,' added Kisloch; 'these rough coats oftencover jewels. We had better search him.'
'Ah! search him,' said Scherirah, with his rough brutal voice; 'do whatyou like, only give me the bottle. This Greek wine is choice booty. Feedthe fire, men. Are you asleep? And then Ki
sloch, who hates cruelty, canroast him if he likes.'
The robbers prepared to strip their captive. 'Friends, friends!'exclaimed Alroy, 'for there is no reason why you should not be friends,spare me, spare me. I am poor, I am young, I am innocent. I am neither aspy nor a merchant. I have no plots, no wealth. I am a pilgrim.'
'A decided spy,' exclaimed Scherirah; 'they are ever pilgrims.'
'He speaks too well to speak truth,' exclaimed Kisloch.
'All talkers are liars,' exclaimed Scherirah.
'That is why Kisloch is the most eloquent of the band.'
'A jest at the banquet may prove a curse in the field,' replied Kisloch.
'Pooh!' exclaimed Scherirah. 'Fellows, why do you hesitate? Search theprisoner, I say!'
They advanced, they seized him. In vain he struggled.
'Captain,' exclaimed one of the band, 'he wears upon his breast ajewel!'
'I told you so,' said the third robber.
'Give it me,' said Scherirah.
But Alroy, in despair at the thought of losing the talisman, rememberingthe injunctions of Jabaster, and animated by supernatural courage, burstfrom his searchers, and, seizing a brand from the fire, held them atbay.
'The fellow has spirit,' said Scherirah, calmly. ''Tis pity it will costhim his life.'
'Bold man,' exclaimed Alroy, 'for a moment hear me! I am a pilgrim,poorer than a beggar. The jewel they talk of is a holy emblem, worthlessto you, to me invaluable, and to be forfeited only with my life. Youmay be careless of that. Beware of your own. The first man who advancesdies. I pray you humbly, chieftain, let me go.'
'Kill him,' said Scherirah.
'Stab him!' exclaimed Kisloch.
'Give me the jewel,' said the third robber.
'The God of David be my refuge, then!' exclaimed Alroy.
'He is a Hebrew, he is a Hebrew,' exclaimed Scherirah, jumping up.'Spare him, my mother was a Jewess.'
The assailants lowered their arms, and withdrew a few paces. Alroy stillremained upon his guard.
'Valiant pilgrim,' said Scherirah, advancing, with a softened voice,'are you for the holy city?'
'The city of my fathers.'
'A perilous journey. And whence from?'
'Hamadan.'
'A dreary way. You need repose. Your name?'
'David.'
'David, you are among friends. Rest, and repose in safety. You hesitate.Fear not! The memory of my mother is a charm that always changes me!'Scherirah unsheathed his dagger, punctured his arm,[14] and, throwingaway the weapon, offered the bleeding member to Alroy. The Prince of theCaptivity touched the open vein with his lips.
'My troth is pledged,' said the bandit; 'I can never betray him in whoseveins my own blood is flowing.' So saying, he led Alroy to his carpet.
'Eat,' David,' said Scherirah.
'I will eat bread,' answered Alroy.
'What! have you had so much meat lately that you will refuse thisdelicate gazelle that I brought down this morning with my own lance?'Tis food for a caliph.'
'I pray you give me bread.'
'Oh! bread if you like. But that a man should prefer bread to meat, andsuch meat as this, 'tis miraculous.'
'A thousand thanks, good Scherirah; but with our people the flesh of thegazelle is forbidden. It is unclean. Its foot is _cloven_.'
'I have heard of these things,' replied Scherirah, with a thoughtfulair. 'My mother was a Jewess, and my father was a Kourd. Whichever beright, I hope to be saved.'
'There is but one God, and Mahomed is his prophet!' exclaimed Kisloch;'though I drink wine. Your health, Hebrew.'
'I will join you,' said to the third robber. 'My father was a Guebre,and sacrificed his property to his faith; and the consequence is, hisson has got neither.'
'As for me,' said a fourth robber, of very dark complexion andsingularly small bright eyes, 'I am an Indian, and I believe in thegreat golden figure with carbuncle eyes, in the temple of Delhi.'
'I have no religion,' said a tall negro in a red turban, grinning withhis white teeth; 'they have none in my country; but if I had heard ofyour God before, Calidas, I would have believed in him.'
'I almost wish I had been a Jew,' exclaimed Scherirah, musing. 'Mymother was a good woman.' 'The Jews are very rich,' said the thirdrobber. 'When you get to Jerusalem, David, you will see the Christians,'continued Scherirah.
'The accursed Giaours,' exclaimed Kisloch, 'we are all against them.'
'With their white faces,' exclaimed the negro. 'And their blue eyes,'said the Indian. 'What can you expect of men who live in a countrywithout a sun?' observed the Guebre.
Alroy awoke about two hours after midnight. His companions were in deepslumber. The moon had set, the fire had died away, a few red embersalone remaining; dark masses of shadow hung about the amphitheatre. Hearose and cautiously stepped over the sleeping bandits. He was notin strictness a prisoner; but who could trust to the caprice of theselawless men? To-morrow might find him their slave, or their companion insome marauding expedition, which might make him almost retrace his stepsto the Caucasus, or to Hamadan. The temptation to ensure his freedomwas irresistible. He clambered up the ruined wall, descended into theintricate windings that led to the Ionic fane, that served him as abeacon, hurried through the silent and starry streets, gained the greatportal, and rushed once more into the desert.
A vague fear of pursuit made him continue his course many hours withoutresting. The desert again became sandy, the heat increased. The breezethat plays about the wilderness, and in early spring is often scentedwith the wild fragrance of aromatic plants, sank away. A luridbrightness suffused the heavens. An appalling stillness pervaded nature;even the insects were silent. For the first time in his pilgrimage,a feeling of deep despondency fell over the soul of Alroy. His energyappeared suddenly to have deserted him. A low hot wind began to rise,and fan his cheek with pestiferous kisses, and enervate his frame withits poisonous embrace. His head and limbs ached with a dull sensation,more terrible than pain; his sight was dizzy, his tongue swollen. Vainlyhe looked around for aid; vainly he extended his forlorn arms, andwrung them to the remorseless heaven, almost frantic with thirst. Theboundless horizon of the desert disappeared, and the unhappy victim, inthe midst of his torture, found himself apparently surrounded by brightand running streams, the fleeting waters of the false mirage!
The sun became blood-red, the sky darker, the sand rose in fierceeddies, the moaning wind burst into shrieks and exhaled more ardentand still more malignant breath. The pilgrim could no longer sustainhimself.[15] Faith, courage, devotion deserted him with his failingenergies. He strove no longer with his destiny, he delivered himselfup to despair and death. He fell upon one knee with drooping head,supporting himself by one quivering hand, and then, full of the anguishof baffled purposes and lost affections, raising his face and arm toheaven, thus to the elements he poured his passionate farewell.
'O life! once vainly deemed a gloomy toil, I feel thy sweetness now!Farewell, O life, farewell my high resolves and proud conviction ofalmighty fame. My days, my short unprofitable days, melt into the past;and death, with which I struggle, horrible death, arrests me in thiswilderness. O my sister, could thy voice but murmur in my ear one singlesigh of love; could thine eye with its soft radiance but an instantblend with my dim fading vision, the pang were nothing. Farewell,Miriam! my heart is with thee by thy fountain's side. Fatal blast,bear her my dying words, my blessing. And ye too, friends, whose tooneglected love I think of now, farewell! Farewell, my uncle; farewell,pleasant home, and Hamadan's serene and shadowy bowers! Farewell,Jabaster, and the mighty lore of which thou wert the priest and I thepupil! Thy talisman throbs on my faithful heart. Green earth and goldensun, and all the beautiful and glorious sights ye fondly lavish onunthinking man, farewell, farewell! I die in the desert: 'tis bitter. Nomore, oh! never more for me the hopeful day shall break, and the freshbreeze rise on its cheering wings of health and joy. Heaven and earth,water and air, my chosen country and my antique creed, farewell,far
ewell! And thou, too, city of my soul, I cannot name thee, unseenJerusalem----'
Amid the roar of the wind, the bosom of the earth heaved and opened,swift columns of sand sprang up to the lurid sky, and hurried towardstheir victim. With the clang of universal chaos, impenetrable darknessdescended on the desert.