Alroy - Benjamin Disraeli (best novels to read in english .txt) 📗

well with them, I trow. The Lord Honain is in high favour with the conqueror, and will doubtless protect them.'

'Honain in favour?'

'Even so. He made terms for the city, and right good ones.'

'Hah! he was ever dexterous. Well! if he save my sister, I care not for his favour.'

'There is no doubt. All may yet be well, Sir.'

'Let us act, not hope. Where's Abner?'

'Dead.'

'How?'

'In battle.'

'Art sure?'

'I saw him fall, and fought beside him.'

'A soldier's death is all our fortune now. I am glad he was not captured. Where's Medad, Ithamar?'

'Fled into Egypt.'

'We have no force whatever, then?'

'None but your guards here.'

'They are strong enough to plunder a caravan. Honain, you say, in favour?'

'Very high. He'll make good terms for us.'

'This is strange news.'

'Very, but true.'

'Well! you are welcome! Share our fare; 'tis rough, and somewhat scanty; but we have feasted, and may feast again. Fled into Egypt, eh?'

'Ay! Sir.'

'Schirene, shouldst like to see the Nile?'

'I have heard of crocodiles.'

If the presence of Kisloch and his companions were not very pleasing to Alroy, with the rest of the band they soon became great favourites. Their local knowledge, and their experience of desert life, made them valuable allies, and their boisterous jocularity and unceasing merriment were not unwelcome in the present monotonous existence of the fugitives. As for Alroy himself, he meditated an escape to Egypt. He determined to seize the first opportunity of procuring some camels, and then, dispersing his band, with the exception of Benaiah and a few faithful retainers, he trusted that, disguised as merchants, they might succeed in crossing Syria, and entering Africa by Palestine. With these plans and prospects, he became each day more cheerful and more sanguine as to the future. He had in his possession some valuable jewels, which he calculated upon disposing of at Cairo for a sum sufficient for all his purposes; and having exhausted all the passions of life while yet a youth, he looked forward to the tranquil termination of his existence in some poetic solitude with his beautiful companion.

One evening, as they returned from the Oasis, Alroy guiding the camel that bore Schirene, and ever and anon looking up in her inspiring face, her sanguine spirit would have indulged in a delightful future.

'Thus shall we pass the desert, sweet,' said Schirene. 'Can this be toil?'

'There is no toil with love,' replied Alroy.

'And we were made for love, and not for empire,' rejoined Schirene.

'The past is a dream,' said Alroy. 'So sages teach us; but, until we act, their wisdom is but wind. I feel it now. Have we ever lived in aught but deserts, and fed on aught but dates? Methinks 'tis very natural. But that I am tempted by the security of distant lands, I could remain here a free and happy outlaw. Time, custom, and necessity form our natures. When I first met Scherirah in these ruins, I shrank with horror from degraded man; and now I sigh to be his heir. We must not think!'

'No, love, we'll only hope,' replied Schirene; and they passed through the gates.

The night was beautiful, the air was still warm and sweet. Schirene gazed upon the luminous heavens. 'We thought not of these skies when we were at Bagdad,' she exclaimed; 'and yet, my life, what was the brightness of our palaces compared to these? All is left to us that man should covet, freedom, beauty, and youth. I do believe, ere long, Alroy, we shall look back upon the wondrous past as on another and a lower world. Would that this were Egypt! Tis my only wish.'

'And it shall soon be gratified. All will soon be arranged. A few brief days, and then Schirene will mount her camel for a longer ride than just to gather dates. You'll make a sorry traveller, I fear!'

'Not I; I'll tire you all.'

They reached the circus, and seated themselves round the blazing fire. Seldom had Alroy, since his fall, appeared more cheerful. Schirene sang an Arab air to the band, who joined in joyous chorus. It was late ere they sought repose; and they retired to their rest, sanguine and contented.

A few hours afterwards, at the break of dawn, Alroy was roused from his slumbers by a rude pressure on his breast. He started; a ferocious soldier was kneeling over him; he would have spurned him; he found his hand manacled. He would have risen; his feet were bound. He looked round for Schirene, and called her name; he was answered only by a shriek. The amphitheatre was filled with Karasmian troops. His own men were surprised and overpowered. Kisloch and the Guebre had been on guard. He was raised from the ground, and flung upon a camel, which was instantly trotted out of the circus. On every side he beheld a wild scene of disorder and dismay. He was speechless from passion and despair. The camel was dragged into the desert. A body of cavalry instantly surrounded it, and they set off at a rapid pace. The whole seemed the work of an instant.

How many days had passed Alroy knew not. He had taken no account of time. Night and day were to him the same. He was in a stupor. But the sweetness of the air and the greenness of the earth at length partially roused his attention. He was just conscious that they had quitted the desert. Before him was a noble river; he beheld the Euphrates from the very spot he had first viewed it in his pilgrimage. The strong association of ideas called back his memory. A tear stole down his cheek; the bitter drop stole to his parched lips; he asked the nearest horseman for water. The guard gave him a wetted sponge, with which he contrived with difficulty to wipe his lips, and then he let it fall to the ground. The Karasmian struck him.

They arrived at the river. The prisoner was taken from the camel and placed in a covered boat. After some hours they stopped and disembarked at a small village. Alroy was placed upon an ass with his back to its head. His clothes were soiled and tattered. The children pelted him with mud. An old woman, with a fanatic curse, placed a crown of paper on his brow. With difficulty his brutal guards prevented their victim from being torn to pieces. And in such fashion, towards noon of the fourteenth day, David Alroy again entered Bagdad.

The intelligence of the capture of Alroy spread through the agitated city. The Moolahs bustled about as if they had received a fresh demonstration of the authenticity of the prophetic mission. All the Dervishes began begging. The men discussed affairs in the coffee-houses, and the women chatted at the fountains.[79]

'They may say what they like, but I wish him well,' said a fair Arab, as she arranged her veil. 'He may be an impostor, but he was a very handsome one.'

'All the women are for him, that's the truth,' responded a companion; 'but then we can do him no good.'

'We can tear their eyes out,' said a third.

'And what do you think of Alp Arslan, truly?' inquired a fourth.

'I wish he were a pitcher, and then I could break his neck,' said a fifth.

'Only think of the Princess!' said a sixth.

'Well! she has had a glorious time of it,' said a seventh.

'Nothing was too good for her,' said an eighth.

'I like true love,' said a ninth.

'Well! I hope he will be too much for them all yet,' said a tenth.

'I should not wonder,' said an eleventh.

'He can't,' said a twelfth, 'he has lost his sceptre.'

'You don't say so?' said a thirteenth.

'It is too true,' said a fourteenth.

'Do you think he was a wizard?' said a fifteenth. 'I vow, if there be not a fellow looking at us behind those trees.'

'Impudent scoundrel!' said a sixteenth. 'I wish it were Alroy. Let us all scream, and put down our veils.'

And the group ran away.

Two stout soldiers were playing chess[80] in a coffee-house.

'May I slay my mother,' said one, 'but I cannot make a move. I fought under him at Nehauend; and though I took the amnesty, I have half a mind now to seize my sword and stab the first Turk that enters.'

''Twere but sheer justice,' said his companion. 'By my father's blessing, he was the man for a charge. They may say what they like, but compared with him, Alp Arslan is a white-livered Giaour.'

'Here is confusion to him and to thy last move. There's the dirhem, I can play no more. May I slay my mother, though, but I did not think he would let himself be taken.'

'By the blessing of my father, nor I; but then he was asleep.'

'That makes a difference. He was betrayed.'

'All brave men are. They say Kisloch and his set pocket their fifty thousand by the job.'

'May each dirhem prove a plague-spot!'

'Amen! Dost remember Abner?'

'May I slay my mother if I ever forget him. He spoke to his men like so many lambs. What has become of the Lady Miriam?'

'She is here.'

'That will cut Alroy.'

'He was ever fond of her. Dost remember she gained Adoram's life?'

'Oh! she could do anything next to the Queen.'

'Before her, I say, before her. He has refused the Queen, he never refused the Lady Miriam.'

'Because she asked less.'

'Dost know it seemed to me that things never went on so well after Jabaster's death?'

'So say I. There was a something, eh?'

'A sort of a peculiar, as it were, kind of something, eh?'

'You have well described it. Every man felt the same. I have often mentioned it to my comrades. Say what you like, said I, but slay my mother if ever since the old man strangled himself, things did not seem, as it were, in their natural propinquity. 'Twas the phrase I used.'

'A choice one. Unless there is a natural propinquity, the best-arranged matters will fall out. However, the ass sees farther than his rider, and so it was with Alroy, the best commander I ever served under, all the same.'

'Let us go forth and see how affairs run.'

'Ay, do. If we hear any one abuse Alroy, we'll cleave his skull.'

'That will we. There are a good many of our stout fellows about; we might do something yet.'

'Who knows?'

A subterranean dungeon of the citadel of Bagdad held in its gloomy limits the late lord of Asia. The captive did not sigh, or weep, or wail. He did not speak. He did not even think. For several days he remained in a state of stupor. On the morning of the fourth day, he almost unconsciously partook of the wretched provision which his gaolers brought him. Their torches, round which the bats whirled and flapped their wings, and twinkled their small eyes, threw a ghastly glare over the nearer walls of the dungeon, the extremity of which defied the vision of the prisoner; and, when the gaolers retired, Alroy was in complete darkness.

The image of the past came back to him. He tried in vain to penetrate the surrounding gloom.