CHAPTER III.
Ite, caldi sospiri, al freddo core; Rompete il ghiaccio che pieta contende; E, se prego mortal al ciel s'intende, Morte, o merce sia fine al mio dolore.
_Petrarca._
He has I know not what Of greatness in his looks, and of high fate, That almost awes me.
_Dryden._
Meantime the unfortunate Theodora had spent the day in a continualsuccession of sorrows. She had been conducted to another apartment,somewhat in better order, where she had been pressed in vain to partakeof some food which Marien Rufa with friendly officiousness presented toher. Sad recollections of her past misfortunes left not an interval ofrepose, and her interview with Caneri had awakened in her mind a livelysense of danger and alarm. Slowly, therefore, and painfully the hourswore away. She had no alleviation to her distress. The words of comfortwhich the hag vainly attempted to administer, would have failed tosooth, even from the lips of sympathising friends, much more whensurrounded by the avowed and ferocious enemies of her country.
This melancholy day was succeeded by a night still more dreary; foralthough worn out with fatigue and suffering, Theodora could find norespite in the sweet oblivion of sleep. Alas! the feverish slumber thatstole upon her at intervals, was fraught with all the terrors that herpresent situation could suggest. The phantoms of night in rapidsuccession pressed upon her bewildered imagination: she saw hervenerable father borne down under the pressure of grief, wringing hiswithered hands in agony, and pronouncing a direful malediction on hisungrateful child. She heard that thrilling voice, broken by age, andquivering with emotion, and on his countenance she beheld the workingsof despair. Fitfully she awoke, and struggled hard to chase away theheart-rending vision, and then she sunk again to meet another still morefrightful. The wind whistled gloomily through the forest trees; the wildbird screamed his death song; and a spectre rose with sunken eyes andsqualid cheek, his wounds distilling blood, and his raven locks clottedwith gore. It was her lover--he had left the tree on which he witheredlike the seared leaf of autumn, and stalked to her widowed couch smilingsadly in death,--she shrieked aloud--the phantom fled, and again interror she awoke.
Dreams such as these haunted her imagination during the long night. Norcould the cheering rays of the morn impart consolation to her despondingbosom. She heard the mingling voices of nature's simple minstrels hailin grateful chorus the approach of day, and she listened to the varioussounds of busy humanity, rising from the drowsiness of repose to lifeand activity. But her feelings could no longer sympathise with thepursuits of this world. The appalling images which her feverish fancyhad conjured up still pursued her, and if these unwelcome guests lefther a momentary repose, they were succeeded by others no less chillingto the soul. The heavy measure of her sorrows was yet to be increased bythe anticipation of future evils--evils worse than the terrors ofslavery or death, for she was in hourly danger of encountering thebitter pangs of shame and degradation.
Caneri had been inspired by her beauty with a violent but licentiouspassion, which he had it in his power at that moment to gratify, andthis idea agitated the wretched Theodora with the most dismalapprehensions. While she sat pondering on her disastrous fate, andvainly devising means to avert its danger, she was surprised by theentrance of Marien Rufa.
"A good morrow, sweet lady," said the crone; "well, this is a prettycomfortable chamber:--you must have slept soundly."
A deep sigh was the only answer she could elicit from Theodora.
"At all events," continued Marien Rufa, "you must leave off sighing andweeping, for sure enough you can derive no good thereby. Besides, it ismeet your countenance should assume a more cheerful expression, sinceyou are soon to be honored with a visit from the magnificent Caneri. Hehas been forcibly struck with your charms, and has signified hisintentions of coming shortly to pay his devoirs in person. So I am herebefore-hand to bid you prepare for the illustrious visitor."
The heart of Theodora died within her, as the hag announced this dreadedintelligence, for though we may fancy ourselves prepared to meet adanger with which we are hourly threatened, yet its immediate approachrarely fails to cause an additional pang.
Theodora was cruelly alive to the helplessness of her situation. Shecast a hurried glance around, but could find no signs of comfort; yetshe fixed her last hopes on Marien Rufa, this decayed piece of blanchedmortality, like the drowning wretch who snatches at a withered branch,though conscious of the frail support to which he clings.
From the little previous intercourse with Marien Rufa, Theodora haddiscovered that her disposition was not altogether so inhuman as herexterior naturally seemed to indicate. Though a renegade, she did notappear completely divested of compassion towards those to whom she hadonce been endeared by the ties of religion and country; a latent feelingof remorse lurked within her heart, and she did not seem to feel muchinterest in the affairs of the Moors. These considerations, togetherwith the imminency of her danger, led Theodora to throw herself on theprotection of the crone, and beseech her pity and commiseration. Butbefore she could try the effect of her persuasion, the door suddenlyswung open, and the dreaded figure of Caneri presented itself to hersight.
He dismissed his attendants, and waved his hand to Marien Rufa, whoslowly retired muttering some half formed inaudible sentences. The doorclosed, and Theodora shuddered as she found herself alone with theodious and detested Moor.
He approached her mildly, and endeavoured with soothing words to calmher apprehensions.
"Nay, fair Christian," he said, "thou art too much dejected, nor is thygrief reasonable. The chances of fortune threw thee into my power, andthou art now my slave: this, as well as the circumstance of thybelonging to the race of our accursed enemies, might naturally make theeapprehend but indifferent treatment from the Moor. I might, indeed, havedelivered thee to the brutality of my soldiers; I might have heaped uponthee all the horrors of such a degradation; but I have taken compassionupon thy youth and beauty (his eyes glistened with savage joy), andinstead of that, thou shalt have the honor of being the partner of myown pleasures."
Theodora covered her face with her hands, and her whole frame shookviolently, whilst Caneri, in an agitated and angry tone, proceeded--
"This contempt of my generosity may prove prejudicial to thy futurefortunes. Many, many are the women amongst the faithful who would feelproud to accept the offers which thou seemest to treat with unbecomingdisregard. But trifle not with the benignity of my disposition; forCaneri, though an outcast, and a sovereign only of wild mountains anddeserted villages, has yet power enough to enforce his commands, andinflict a summary vengeance upon those who dare thwart his wishes.Remember, then, thou art my slave, and deny me not as a lover what I caneasily exact as a master."
"I am your slave," cried Theodora, tremblingly, "and it is not myintention either to despise your generosity or dispute your power. I amsensible of both--command me the most menial services, I will doall--nay, take my life; but, oh! spare me, in mercy spare me thedegradation which you are meditating."
"Degradation!" exclaimed Caneri, rising with rage, "degradation! By themighty Allah! such temerity is unparalleled! Thy youth and ignorancealone can excuse the criminality of such an expression."
Theodora could only answer by tears. But during the pause which ensued,the mind of Caneri underwent a sudden revolution; from the highestparoxysm of choler, his features gradually relaxed into completeserenity. This alteration did not proceed from a sense of generositytowards his victim, for he was fully determined to carry his designsinto execution; but, like a refined voluptuary, he calculated theadvantages he might derive from a timely forbearance. He was, therefore,resolved to exhaust every gentle means before he had recourse to thelast extremity.
He now took the hand of Theodora, which she had not the power towithhold, and pressing it tenderly between his own, he renewed his suitwith much more suavity of tone and delicacy of manner. Theodorasu
ffered perhaps more from this unexpected display of kindness, thanfrom the brutal asperity and violence which the Moor had before evinced.For in cases of extreme danger, violence will sometimes inspire a degreeof courage, while condescension and urbanity from those who have thepower to command is more distressing, inasmuch as it enervates thatstrong principle of resistance and leaves in its place the weaker andless decisive resource of expostulation.
But by degrees the patience of the amorous Moor was wearing away withthe ill-success of his suit, and starting up suddenly, and lookingintensely on the afflicted fair, he made a last attempt to conquer heropposition.
Theodora threw herself at his feet, and embracing them eagerly strove tointerest his pity by the intensity of her anguish. Her tears fellcopiously and her sobs almost impeded her utterance; but this evidenceof extreme distress, in lieu of subduing, only tended to kindle morewarmly the fierce desires of the Moor. In his hot distempered veinsraged the fever of passion, as he saw that lovely picture of femalehelplessness prostrate at his feet; her clustering hair floating inloose profusion, and her charms acquiring additional interest from thewild disorder of her situation.
Caneri glutted his eyes with her beauty, and his whole frame thrilled ina ferment of anticipated raptures. He snatched the fainting Theodorafrom the ground, almost overpowered with the conflict of herfeelings.--As he clasped her in his arms, the unfortunate girl beheldhis savage features glistening with joy. She shuddered at their glowingexpression, and with a sudden and violent effort burst from his hold.
The heart of the miscreant swelled with indignation and disappointment.He cast a threatening look on the trembling victim, and no longerrestrained by any consideration, he again violently seized her.
"Who will protect thee now?" cried the Moor, exultingly.
"Death!" replied Theodora, with the courage of despair.
"Death!" retorted Caneri, with a mocking laugh; "Death! Surely thou mustfancy that I am to be intimidated by the ravings of a woman. No, thoucanst not die, even if that were truly thy desire. Thou _shalt_ not die,at least till I think thee no longer worthy of contributing to my joys."Theodora clasped her hands in agony; her fate appeared now inevitable.Her unmanly enemy furiously mastered her remaining efforts; her feeblestruggles were almost overpowered, and as her senses were about toforsake her, she wildly shrieked aloud for help. At this moment a noisewas heard at the entrance of the room; the door, as if by a tremendousexertion of strength, was wrenched from its hinges, and a tallmysterious figure stalked into the apartment and stood motionless withamazement. Theodora uttered a scream of joy at this timely deliverance,while the enraged and disappointed Moor turned fiercely round toascertain who had the temerity to venture upon such an intrusion.
The towering figure that stood before him seemed a stranger to his eyes.He was enveloped in a long and ample Spanish cloak, and his countenancewas almost hidden by a dark clustering feather that fell from hisslouched hat.
Caneri shook with ire.
"What treason is this?" he exclaimed. "A cursed Christian in my verydwelling. Malique! Alagraf! Where are ye, villains? Guards! Seize thewretch, seize him, and drag him to death!"
"Stay!" cried the stranger, in a voice of thunder; "stay! ere thoudarest to offer the least violence to me--nay, advance but one foot, andI'll strike thee to the earth."
Caneri was awed by the noble and fearless manner of the stranger.
"A Christian!" he continued, in a more subdued voice, "and darest thouin my very dominions to utter such vaunting threats? Dost thou forgetthat these are the Alpujarras, and that I am Caneri?"
"I am no Christian," replied the stranger: "a Moor, a true Moor am I,but one who blushes to count Caneri amongst his associates."
"Speak!" cried Caneri, bewildered, "Speak! what mystery is this? Whothen art thou?"
"Know me, then," returned the other, and throwing aside his disguise,discovered a man of tall stature and athletic proportions. On his darkbronzed countenance there was an expression of bold defiance and coolresolution; his eyes were lighted up with the fire of noble courage, andalthough no tender feeling could be detected in his stern features, yetthey were not altogether devoid of generosity. He was a model ofmountain beauty, wild, majestic, and free from artful decoration. Asimple Moorish tunic, which the most humble of his followers might wear,covered his manly figure, and the only mark of distinction by which hisdignity could be recognized was a scarf of green, the sacred colour, anda large buckler on which was portrayed a noble lion, surmounted by theArabic motto,[28]
_Edem pasban derwish est aslan._[29]
Caneri gazed in astonishment, and almost bereft of the powers ofutterance could only exclaim----
"El Feri!"
"Yes!" answered he. "El Feri de Benastepar arrives in time to witnessthe honorable occupation of his colleague in command, whilst our bravecompanions remain unburied and rotting on these wild solitudes, and theproud Christian pursues us like the hungry tiger, giving us not amoment's repose; whilst our forces have been routed and slaughtered bythe victorious Alonso de Aguilar, and the few that have escaped hismurderous sword, in conjunction with El Feri, are compelled to seek forsafety in disguise and flight; I thought we should meet with succour andassistance in the mountain home of Caneri--and how do I meet him? Notready in arms to cover our retreat; not laudably occupied in providingresources for our dispirited soldiers, but meanly courting theblandishments of a Christian slave. Weak and forlorn and despairing, myfew brave comrades are stretched on yonder street, fainting throughwant, and worn out with fatigue. I call upon Caneri for help, and I findthat the power which was intrusted to him for our mutual defence isbasely employed, not against the common enemy, but a feeble defencelessfemale! Shame, Moor! shame! But that I reverence the public voice thatnamed thee chief, and that I desire not to arrogate to myself aretributive justice, I myself would wrench from thee that command whichthou shamest, and entrust it to the hands of men more worthy."
Caneri remained some time speechless and abashed. Amazement, confusionand terror alternately occupied his distracted mind; the taunts andrebukes which El Feri had so lavishly bestowed, roused his anger almostto madness. His heart boiled in a frenzied ebullition to which he durstnot give utterance, for he well knew that he himself would be the firstvictim of its explosion. Convulsed with rage at the imagined insult, heseemed ready to dart upon the arrogant censor of his actions, but thetremendous power of his fellow-chief suddenly paralyzed his arm. It wasthe fierce mastiff burning to rush upon the terrible bull, yetrestrained by the conscious superiority of the noble animal.
Twice the hand of Caneri was involuntarily directed towards his dagger,and twice some sudden recollection seemed to arrest its progress. Andthen he strove to conceal the incautious movement from the eagle eye ofEl Feri; but the inward workings of his soul were easily detected by thekeen penetration of that chief. He stood unmoved, and whilst a sardonicsmile curled his lip, he said in a voice of dreadful import----
"Caneri, thou darest not. I see thy dastardly intention, but thou hastnot the boldness to practise what thy heart has the baseness todictate:--another such a movement, and thou liest a corpse at my feet."
As he uttered these last words, his brow was darkened, and his eyeflashed with indignation. Caneri, if somewhat deficient in the manlyvirtues of a warrior, was amply compensated by the crafty dexterity of adissembler, and he now perceived the policy of hailing as a friend theman whom he dared not defy as an enemy: he therefore with a mightyexertion stifled his emotion, and his whole appearance became calm andcomposed. Indeed an expression of mixed repentance and candour varnishedhis wily and tortuous features, as he proceeded to greet El Feri withwords of amity and companionship.
"Forgive," he said, "the unwary ebullition of transient displeasure.Thou knowest the sincerity of my sentiments towards El Feri. But, werethese even to be doubted, the welfare of the Moorish cause imperiouslyrequires the sacrifice of all private resentment amongst its chiefs."
"Yes," returned El Feri
, "the welfare of the Moorish cause requiresunion and amity between the chiefs, but these are not the only virtuesnecessary to render it successful."
He uttered these words in a significant tone, which could not bemisconstrued, but to which Caneri pretended not to give anyinterpretation.
"Is then our danger so imminent?" he inquired.
"This very day," replied El Feri, sadly, "this very day perhaps our fatewill be decided. The victorious army of Aguilar is rapidly advancingagainst us. We have been completely routed at Gergal, by forces superiorin number and discipline, and the few who have escaped the slaughter areindebted for their safety to their knowledge of the mountain passes. Wehave no time to spare; our men must be instantly put in a state ofdefence or we shall be surprised unprepared: the hidden situation ofthis place affords no security, since a traitor Moor is the guide of theChristians; and to his perfidy is chiefly to be ascribed our latediscomfiture."
This intelligence threw Caneri into some confusion, but he soonrecovered that coolness and presence of mind which constituted hisresources in cases of emergency, and which made up for his moderateshare of personal courage.
"Friend," he cried; "it is enough--let us act."
He was on the point of sallying forth, when he was startled by aconfused murmur from without, and presently a Moor rushed in, with allthe symptoms of fear and alarm.
"Buzcur, what means this trepidation?" demanded Caneri.
"The Christians are in sight," replied Buzcur.
"The Christians! The Christians!" echoed a hundred voices.
"Let us haste then, and prepare for our defence," exclaimed El Feri; andhe rushed forward without even noticing Theodora, for his thoughts weretoo much engrossed by the public weal.
Caneri saw him depart with visible pleasure; for though the dangerappeared great, yet he did not lose sight of his expected prey, andcasting a fierce look on the affrighted girl, he exclaimed----
"The next time we meet, thou shalt not escape me thus."
Then having with promptness secured all her means of evasion, hehastened to join El Feri de Benastepar and his companions.
The feelings of Theodora at this unexpected event were thrown into thehighest excitement. Hope now resumed its sway, though mingled with doubtand fear, for the sudden transition from a state of hopeless despair tothat of comparative safety, is ever attended with a misgiving of itsreality. Her deliverance from the power of the Moors appeared almostcertain; the name of Aguilar was the harbinger of victory; yet theanticipation of her rescue caused so powerful a revulsion of feeling,that Theodora nearly sunk under its pressure. When she had a littlerecovered, she perceived, however, more clearly, that her destiny wasstill involved in threatening clouds. The Christians came, but theymight be vanquished. The name of Alonso de Aguilar conjured up thebrightest hopes, but that of El Feri gave rise to as many fears.
Thus the heart of the afflicted girl fluctuated between pain andpleasure, when the clangor of trumpets, the tramp of horses, and all theimposing sounds of military preparations, announced to her the speedyarrival of the eventful crisis.
In that awful moment her ideas piously reverted to heaven. She fellprostrate on the ground, and while her countrymen were fast approachingto join in terrific conflict with their enemies, she prayed ferventlyfor the assistance of her God in favor of the Christian arms.