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THE PRINCE OF INDIA

OR

WHY CONSTANTINOPLE FELL


BY LEW. WALLACE



VOL. I.




   _Rise, too, ye Shapes and Shadows of the Past
    Rise from your long forgotten grazes at last
    Let us behold your faces, let us hear
    The words you uttered in those days of fear
    Revisit your familiar haunts again
    The scenes of triumph and the scenes of pain
    And leave the footprints of your bleeding feet
    Once more upon the pavement of the street_
                                       LONGFELLOW




CONTENTS


BOOK I

THE EARTH AND THE SEA ARE ALWAYS GIVING UP THEIR SECRETS

     I. THE NAMELESS BAY
    II. THE MIDNIGHT LANDING
   III. THE HIDDEN TREASURE


BOOK II

THE PRINCE OF INDIA

     I. A MESSENGER FROM CIPANGO
    II. THE PILGRIM AT EL KATIF
   III. THE YELLOW AIR
    IV. EL ZARIBAH
     V. THE PASSING OF THE CARAVAN
    VI. THE PRINCE AND THE EMIR
   VII. AT THE KAABA
  VIII. THE ARRIVAL IN CONSTANTINOPLE
    IX. THE PRINCE AT HOME
     X. THE ROSE OF SPRING


BOOK III

THE PRINCESS IRENE

     I. MORNING ON THE BOSPHORUS
    II. THE PRINCESS IRENE
   III. THE HOMERIC PALACE
    IV. THE RUSSIAN MONK
     V. A VOICE FROM THE CLOISTER
    VI. WHAT DO THE STARS SAY?
   VII. THE PRINCE OF INDIA MEETS CONSTANTINE
  VIII. RACING WITH A STORM
    IX. IN THE WHITE CASTLE
     X. THE ARABIAN STORY-TELLER
    XI. THE TURQUOISE RING
   XII. THE RING RETURNS
  XIII. MAHOMMED HEARS FROM THE STARS
   XIV. DREAMS AND VISIONS
    XV. DEPARTURE FROM THE WHITE CASTLE
   XVI. AN EMBASSY TO THE PRINCESS IRENE
  XVII. THE EMPEROR'S WOOING
 XVIII. THE SINGING SHEIK
   XIX. TWO TURKISH TALES
    XX. MAHOMMED DREAMS


BOOK IV

THE PALACE OF BLACHERNE

     I. THE PALACE OF BLACHERNE
    II. THE AUDIENCE
   III. THE NEW FAITH PROCLAIMED
    IV. THE PANNYCHIDES
     V. A PLAGUE OF CRIME
    VI. A BYZANTINE GENTLEMAN OF THE PERIOD
   VII. A BYZANTINE HERETIC
  VIII. THE ACADEMY OF EPICURUS
    IX. A FISHERMAN'S FETE
     X. THE HAMARI




BOOK I

THE EARTH AND THE SEA ARE ALWAYS GIVING UP THEIR SECRETS



THE PRINCE OF INDIA


CHAPTER I.

THE NAMELESS BAY


In the noon of a September day in the year of our dear Lord 1395, a
merchant vessel nodded sleepily upon the gentle swells of warm water
flowing in upon the Syrian coast. A modern seafarer, looking from the
deck of one of the Messagerie steamers now plying the same line of
trade, would regard her curiously, thankful to the calm which held her
while he slaked his wonder, yet more thankful that he was not of her
passage.

She could not have exceeded a hundred tons burthen. At the bow and
stern she was decked, and those quarters were fairly raised. Amidship
she was low and open, and pierced for twenty oars, ten to a side, all
swaying listlessly from the narrow ports in which they were hung.
Sometimes they knocked against each other. One sail, square and of a
dingy white, drooped from a broad yard-arm, which was itself tilted,
and now and then creaked against the yellow mast complainingly,
unmindful of the simple tackle designed to keep it in control. A
watchman crouched in the meagre shade of a fan-like structure
overhanging the bow deck. The roofing and the floor, where exposed,
were clean, even bright; in all other parts subject to the weather and
the wash there was only the blackness of pitch. The steersman sat on a
bench at the stern. Occasionally, from force of habit, he rested a hand
upon the rudder-oar to be sure it was yet in reach. With exception of
the two, the lookout and the steersman, all on board, officers,
oarsmen, and sailors, were asleep--such confidence could a
Mediterranean calm inspire in those accustomed to life on the beautiful
sea. As if Neptune never became angry there, and blowing his conch, and
smiting with his trident, splashed the sky with the yeast of waves!
However, in 1395 Neptune had disappeared; like the great god Pan, he
was dead.

The next remarkable thing about the ship was the absence of the signs
of business usual with merchantmen. There were no barrels, boxes,
bales, or packages visible. Nothing indicated a cargo. In her deepest
undulations the water-line was not once submerged. The leather shields
of the oar-ports were high and dry. Possibly she had passengers aboard.
Ah, yes! There under the awning, stretched halfway across the deck
dominated by the steersman, was a group of persons all unlike seamen.
Pausing to note them, we may find the motive of the voyage.

Four men composed the group. One was lying upon a pallet, asleep yet
restless. A black velvet cap had slipped from his head, giving freedom
to thick black hair tinged with white. Starting from the temples, a
beard with scarce a suggestion of gray swept in dark waves upon the
neck and throat, and even invaded the pillow. Between the hair and
beard there was a narrow margin of sallow flesh for features somewhat
crowded by knots of wrinkle. His body was wrapped in a loose woollen
gown of brownish-black. A hand, apparently all bone, rested upon the
breast, clutching a fold of the gown. The feet twitched nervously in
the loosened thongs of old-fashioned sandals. Glancing at the others of
the group, it was plain this sleeper was master and they his slaves.
Two of them were stretched on the bare boards at the lower end of the
pallet, and they were white. The third was a son of Ethiopia of unmixed
blood and gigantic frame. He sat at the left of the couch,
cross-legged, and, like the rest, was in a doze; now and then, however,
he raised his head, and, without fully opening his eyes, shook a fan of
peacock feathers from head to foot over the recumbent figure. The two
whites were clad in gowns of coarse linen belted to their waists;
while, saving a cincture around his loins, the negro was naked.

There is often much personal revelation to be gleaned from the
properties a man carries with him from home. Applying the rule here, by
the pallet there was a walking-stick of unusual length, and severely
hand-worn a little above the middle. In emergency it might have been
used as a weapon. Three bundles loosely wrapped had been cast against a
timber of the ship; presumably they contained the plunder of the slaves
reduced to the minimum allowance of travel. But the most noticeable
item was a leather roll of very ancient appearance, held by a number of
broad straps deeply stamped and secured by buckles of a metal blackened
like neglected silver.

The attention of a close observer would have been attracted to this
parcel, not so much by its antique showing, as by the grip with which
its owner clung to it with his right hand. Even in sleep he held it of
infinite consequence. It could not have contained coin or any bulky
matter. Possibly the man was on some special commission, with his
credentials in the old roll. Ay, who was he?

Thus started, the observer would have bent himself to study of the
face; and immediately something would have suggested that while the
stranger was of this period of the world he did not belong to it. Such
were the magicians of the story-loving Al-Raschid. Or he was of the
type Rabbinical that sat with Caiphas in judgment upon the gentle
Nazarene. Only the centuries could have evolved the apparition. Who was
he?

In the course of half an hour the man stirred, raised his head, looked
hurriedly at his attendants, then at the parts of the ship in view,
then at the steersman still dozing by the rudder; then he sat up, and
brought the roll to his lap, whereat the rigor of his expression
relaxed. The parcel was safe! And the conditions about him were as they
should be!

He next set about undoing the buckles of his treasure. The long fingers
were expert; but just when the roll was ready to open he lifted his
face, and fixed his eyes upon the section of blue expanse outside the
edge of the awning, and dropped into thought. And straightway it was
settled that he was not a diplomatist or a statesman or a man of
business of any kind. The reflection which occupied him had nothing to
do with intrigues or statecraft; its centre was in his heart as the
look proved. So, in tender moods, a father gazes upon his child, a
husband at the beloved wife, restfully, lovingly.

And that moment the observer, continuing his study, would have
forgotten the parcel, the white slaves, the gigantic negro, the
self-willed hair and beard of pride--the face alone would have held
him. The countenance of the Sphinx has no beauty now; and standing
before it, we feel no stir of the admiration always a certificate that
what we are beholding is charming out of the common lines; yet we are
drawn to it irresistibly, and by a wish vague, foolish--so foolish we
would hesitate long before putting it in words to be heard by our best
lover--a wish that the monster would tell us all about itself. The
feeling awakened by the face of the traveller would have been similar,
for it was distinctly Israelitish, with exaggerated eyes set deeply in
cavernous hollows--a mobile mask, in fact, concealing a life in some
way unlike other lives. Unlike? That was the very attraction. If the
man would only speak, what a tale he could unfold!

But he did not speak. Indeed, he seemed to have regarded speech a
weakness to be fortified against. Putting the pleasant thought aside,
he opened the roll, and with exceeding tenderness of touch brought
forth a sheet of vellum dry to brittleness, and yellow as a faded
sycamore leaf. There were lines upon it as of a geometrical drawing,
and an inscription in strange characters. He bent over the chart, if
such it may be called, eagerly, and read it through; then, with a
satisfied expression, he folded it back into the cover, rebuckled the
straps, and placed the parcel under the pillow. Evidently the business
drawing him was proceeding as he would have had it. Next he woke the
negro with a touch. The black in salute bent his body forward, and
raised his hands palm out, the thumbs at the forehead. Attention
singularly intense settled upon his countenance; he appeared to listen
with his soul. It was time for speech, yet the master merely pointed to
one of the sleepers. The watchful negro caught the idea, and going to
the man, aroused him, then resumed his place and posture by the pallet.
The action revealed his proportions. He looked as if he could have
lifted the gates of Gaza, and borne them easily away; and to the
strength there were superadded the grace, suppleness, and softness of
motion of a cat. One could not have helped thinking the slave might
have all the elements to make him a superior agent in fields of bad as
well as good.

The second slave arose, and waited respectfully. It would have been
difficult to determine his nationality. He had the lean face, the high
nose, sallow complexion, and low stature of an Armenian. His
countenance was pleasant and intelligent. In addressing him, the master
made signs with hand and finger; and they appeared sufficient, for the
servant walked away quickly as if on an errand. A short time, and he
came back bringing a companion of the genus sailor, very red-faced,
heavily built, stupid, his rolling gait unrelieved by a suggestion of
good manners. Taking position before the black-gowned personage, his
feet wide apart, the mariner said:

"You sent for me?"

The question was couched in Byzantine Greek.

"Yes," the passenger replied, in the same tongue, though with better
accent. "Where are we?"

"But for this calm we should be at Sidon. The lookout reports the
mountains in view."

The passenger reflected a moment, then asked, "Resorting to the oars,
when can we reach the city?"

"By midnight."

"Very well. Listen now."

The speaker's manner changed; fixing his big eyes upon the sailor's
lesser orbs, he continued:

"A few stadia north of Sidon there is what may be called a bay. It is
about four miles across. Two little rivers empty into it, one on each
side. Near the middle of the bend of the shore there is a well of sweet
water, with flow enough to support a few villagers and their camels. Do
you know the bay?"

The skipper would have become familiar.

"You are well acquainted with this coast," he said.

"Do you know of such a bay?" the passenger repeated.

"I have heard of it."

"Could you find it at night?"

"I believe so."

"That is enough. Take me into the bay, and land me at midnight. I will
not go to the city. Get out all the oars now. At the proper time I will
tell you what further I wish. Remember I am to be set ashore at
midnight at a place which I will show you."

The directions though few were clear. Having given them, the passenger
signed the negro to fan him, and stretched himself upon the pallet; and
thenceforth there was no longer a question who was in control. It
became the more interesting, however, to know the object of the landing
at midnight on the shore of a lonesome unnamed bay.




CHAPTER II

THE MIDNIGHT LANDING


The skipper predicted like a prophet. The ship was in the bay, and it
was midnight or nearly so; for certain stars had climbed into certain
quarters of the sky, and after their fashion were striking the hour.

The passenger was pleased.

"You have done well," he said to the mariner. "Be silent now, and get
close in shore. There are no breakers. Have the small boat ready, and
do not let the anchors go."

The calm still prevailed, and the swells of the sea were scarce
perceptible. Under the gentlest impulse of the oars the little vessel
drifted broadside on until the keel touched the sands. At the same
instant the small boat appeared. The skipper reported to the passenger.
Going to each of the slaves, the latter signed them to descend. The
negro swung himself down like a monkey, and received the baggage,
which, besides the bundles already mentioned, consisted of some tools,
notably a pick, a shovel, and a stout crowbar. An empty water-skin was
also sent down, followed by a basket suggestive of food. Then the
passenger, with a foot over the side of the vessel, gave his final
directions.

"You will run now," he said to the skipper, who, to his credit, had
thus far asked no questions, "down to the city, and lie there
to-morrow, and to-morrow night. Attract little notice as possible. It
is not necessary to pass the gate. Put out in time to be here at
sunrise. I will be waiting for you. Day after to-morrow at
sunrise--remember."

"But if you should not be here?" asked the sailor, thinking of extreme
probabilities.

"Then wait for me," was the answer.

The passenger, in turn, descended to the boat, and was caught in the
arms of the black, and seated carefully as he had been a child. In
brief time the party was ashore, and the boat returning to the ship; a
little later, the ship withdrew to where the night effectually
curtained the deep.

The stay on the shore was long enough to apportion the baggage amongst
the slaves. The master then led the way. Crossing the road running from
Sidon along the coast to the up-country, they came to the foothills of
the mountain, all without habitation.

Later they came upon signs of ancient life in splendor--broken columns,
and here and there Corinthian capitals in marble discolored and sunk
deeply in sand and mould. The patches of white on them had a ghastly
glimmer in the starlight. They were approaching the site of an old
city, a suburb probably of Palae-Tyre when she was one of the
spectacles of the world, sitting by the sea to rule it regally far and
wide.

On further a small stream, one of those emptying into the bay, had
ploughed a ravine for itself across the route the party was pursuing.
Descending to the water, a halt was made to drink, and fill the
water-skin, which the negro took on his shoulder.

On further there was another ancient site strewn with fragments
indicative of a cemetery. Hewn stones were frequent, and mixed with
them were occasional entablatures and vases from which the ages had not
yet entirely worn the fine chiselling. At length an immense uncovered
sarcophagus barred the way. The master stopped by it to study the
heavens; when he found the north star, he gave the signal to his
followers, and moved under the trail of the steadfast beacon.

They came to a rising ground more definitely marked by sarcophagi hewn
from the solid rock, and covered by lids of such weight and solidity
that a number of them had never been disturbed. Doubtless the dead
within were lying as they had been left--but when, and by whom? What
disclosures there will be when at last the end is trumpeted in!

On further, but still connected with the once magnificent funeral site,
they encountered a wall many feet thick, and short way beyond it, on
the mountain's side, there were two arches of a bridge of which all
else had been broken down; and these two had never spanned anything
more substantial than the air. Strange structure for such a locality!
Obviously the highway which once ran over it had begun in the city the
better to communicate with the cemetery through which the party had
just passed. So much was of easy understanding; but where was the other
terminus? At sight of the arches the master drew a long breath of
relief. They were the friends for whom he had been searching.

Nevertheless, without stopping, he led down into a hollow on all sides
sheltered from view; and there the unloading took place. The tools and
bundles were thrown down by a rock, and preparations made for the
remainder of the night. The pallet was spread for the master. The
basket gave up its contents, and the party refreshed themselves and
slept the sleep of the weary.

The secluded bivouac was kept the next day. Only the master went forth
in the afternoon. Climbing the mountain, he found the line in
continuation of the bridge; a task the two arches serving as a base
made comparatively easy. He stood then upon a bench or terrace cumbered
with rocks, and so broad that few persons casually looking would have
suspected it artificial. Facing fully about from the piers, he walked
forward following the terrace which at places was out of line, and
piled with debris tumbled from the mountain on the right hand side; in
a few minutes that silent guide turned with an easy curve and
disappeared in what had yet the appearance hardly distinguishable of an
area wrenched with enormous labor from a low cliff of solid brown
limestone.

The visitor scanned the place again and again; then he said aloud:

"No one has been here since"--

The sentence was left unfinished.

That he could thus identify the spot, and with such certainty pass upon
it in relation to a former period, proved he had been there before.

Rocks, earth, and bushes filled the space. Picking footway through, he
examined the face of the cliff then in front of him, lingering longest
on the heap of breakage forming a bank over the meeting line of area
and hill.

"Yes," he repeated, this time with undisguised satisfaction, "no one
has been here since"--

Again the sentence was unfinished.

He ascended the bank next, and removed some of the stones at the top. A
carved line in low relief on the face of the rock was directly exposed;
seeing it he smiled, and replaced the stones, and descending, went back
to the terrace, and thence to the slaves in bivouac.

From one of the packages he had two iron lamps of old Roman style
brought out, and supplied with oil and wicks; then, as if everything
necessary to his project was done, he took to the pallet. Some goats
had come to the place in his absence, but no living creature else.

After nightfall the master woke the slaves, and made final preparation
for the venture upon which he had come. The tools he gave to one man,
the lamps to another, and the water-skin to the negro. Then he led out
of the hollow, and up the mountain to the terrace visited in the
afternoon; nor did he pause in the area mentioned as the abrupt
terminus of the highway over the skeleton piers. He climbed the bank of
stones covering the foot of the cliff up to the precise spot at which
his reconnoissance had ended.

Directly the slaves were removing the bank at the top; not a difficult
task since they had only to roll the loose stones down a convenient
grade. They worked industriously. At length--in half an hour
probably--an opening into the cliff was discovered. The cavity, small
at first, rapidly enlarged, until it gave assurance of a doorway of
immense proportions. When the enlargement sufficed for his admission,
the master stayed the work, and passed in. The slaves followed. The
interior descent offered a grade corresponding with that of the bank
outside--another bank, in fact, of like composition, but more difficult
to pass on account of the darkness.

With his foot the leading adventurer felt the way down to a floor; and
when his assistants came to him, he took from a pocket in his gown a
small case filled with a chemical powder which he poured at his feet;
then he produced a flint and steel, and struck them together. Some
sparks dropped upon the powder. Instantly a flame arose and filled the
place with a ruddy illumination. Lighting the lamps by the flame, the
party looked around them, the slaves with simple wonder.

They were in a vault--a burial vault of great antiquity. Either it was
an imitation of like chambers in Egypt, or they were imitations of it.
The excavation had been done with chisels. The walls were niched,
giving them an appearance of panelling, and over each of the niches
there had been an inscription in raised letters, now mostly defaced.
The floor was a confusion of fragments knocked from sarcophagi, which,
massive as they were, had been tilted, overturned, uncovered,
mutilated, and robbed. Useless to inquire whose the vandalism. It may
have been of Chaldeans of the time of Almanezor, or of the Greeks who
marched with Alexander, or of Egyptians who were seldom regardful of
the dead of the peoples they overthrew as they were of their own, or of
Saracens, thrice conquerors along the Syrian coast, or of Christians.
Few of the Crusaders were like St. Louis.

But of all this the master took no notice. With him it was right that
the vault should look the wreck it was. Careless of inscriptions,
indifferent to carving, his eyes ran rapidly along the foot of the
northern wall until they came to a sarcophagus of green marble. Thither
he proceeded. He laid his hand upon the half-turned lid, and observing
that the back of the great box--if such it may be termed--was against
the wall, he said again:

"No one has been here since"--

And again the sentence was left unfinished.

Forthwith he became all energy. The negro brought the crowbar, and, by
direction, set it under the edge of the sarcophagus, which he held
raised while the master blocked it at the bottom with a stone chip.
Another bite, and a larger chip was inserted. Good hold being thus had,
a vase was placed for fulcrum; after which, at every downward pressure
of the iron, the ponderous coffin swung round a little to the left.
Slowly and with labor the movement was continued until the space behind
was uncovered.

By this time the lamps had become the dependencies for light. With his
in hand, the master stooped and inspected the exposed wall.
Involuntarily the slaves bent forward and looked, but saw nothing
different from the general surface in that quarter. The master beckoned
the negro, and touching a stone not wider than his three fingers, but
reddish in hue, and looking like mere chinking lodged in an accidental
crevice, signed him to strike it with the end of the bar.
Once--twice--the stone refused to stir; with the third blow it was
driven in out of sight, and, being followed vigorously, was heard to
drop on the other side. The wall thereupon, to the height of the
sarcophagus and the width of a broad door, broke, and appeared about to
tumble down.

When the dust cleared away, there was a crevice unseen before, and wide
enough to admit a hand. The reader must remember there were masons in
the old time who amused themselves applying their mathematics to such
puzzles. Here obviously the intention had been to screen an entrance to
an adjoining chamber, and the key to the design had been the sliver of
red granite first displaced.

A little patient use then of hand and bar enabled the workman to take
out the first large block of the combination. That the master numbered
with chalk, and had carefully set aside. A second block was taken out,
numbered, and set aside; finally the screen was demolished, and the way
stood open.




CHAPTER III

THE HIDDEN TREASURE


The slaves looked dubiously at the dusty aperture, which held out no
invitation to them; the master, however, drew his robe closer about
him, and stooping went in, lamp in hand. They then followed.

An ascending passage, low but of ample width, received them. It too had
been chiselled from the solid rock. The wheel marks of the cars used in
the work were still on the floor. The walls were bare but smoothly
dressed. Altogether the interest here lay in expectation of what was to
come; and possibly it was that which made the countenance of the master
look so grave and absorbed. He certainly was not listening to the
discordant echoes roused as he advanced.

The ascent was easy. Twenty-five or thirty steps brought them to the
end of the passage.

They then entered a spacious chamber circular and domed. The light of
the lamps was not enough to redeem the ceiling from obscurity; yet the
master led without pause to a sarcophagus standing under the centre of
the dome, and when he was come there everything else was forgotten by
him.

The receptacle of the dead thus discovered had been hewn from the rock,
and was of unusual proportions. Standing broadside to the entrance, it
was the height of an ordinary man, and twice as long as high. The
exterior had been polished smoothly as the material would allow;
otherwise it was of absolute plainness, looking not unlike a dark brown
box. The lid was a slab of the finest white marble carven into a
perfect model of Solomon's Temple. While the master surveyed the lid he
was visibly affected. He passed the lamp over it slowly, letting the
light fall into the courts of the famous building; in like manner he
illuminated the corridors, and the tabernacle; and, as he did so, his
features trembled and his eyes were suffused. He walked around the
exquisite representation several times, pausing now and then to blow
away the dust that had in places accumulated upon it. He noticed the
effect of the transparent whiteness in the chamber; so in its day the
original had lit up the surrounding world. Undoubtedly the model had
peculiar hold upon his feelings.

But shaking the weakness off he after a while addressed himself to
work. He had the negro thrust the edge of the bar under the lid, and
raise it gently. Having thoughtfully provided himself in the
antechamber with pieces of stone for the purpose, he placed one of them
so as to hold the vantage gained. Slowly, then, by working at the ends
alternately, the immense slab was turned upon its centre; slowly the
hollow of the coffin was flooded with light; slowly, and with seeming
reluctance, it gave up its secrets.

In strong contrast to the plainness of the exterior, the interior of
the sarcophagus was lined with plates and panels of gold, on which
there were cartoons chased and beaten in, representing ships, and tall
trees, doubtless cedars of Lebanon, and masons at work, and two men
armed and in royal robes greeting each other with clasped hands; and so
beautiful were the cartoons that the eccentric medalleur, Cellini,
would have studied them long, if not enviously. Yet he who now peered
into the receptacle scarcely glanced at them.

On a stone chair seated was the mummy of a man with a crown upon its
head, and over its body, for the most part covering--the linen
wrappings, was a robe of threads of gold in ample arrangement. The
hands rested on the lap; in one was a sceptre; the other held an
inscribed silver tablet. There were rings plain, and rings with jewels
in setting, circling the fingers and thumbs; the ears, ankles, even the
great toes, were ornamented in like manner. At the feet a sword of the
fashion of a cimeter had been laid. The blade was in its scabbard, but
the scabbard was a mass of jewels, and the handle a flaming ruby. The
belt was webbed with pearls and glistening brilliants. Under the sword
were the instruments sacred then and ever since to Master Masons--a
square, a gavel, a plummet, and an inscribing compass.

The man had been a king--so much the first glance proclaimed. With him,
as with his royal brethren from the tombs along the Nile, death had
asserted itself triumphantly over the embalmer. The cheeks were
shrivelled and mouldy; across the forehead the skin was drawn tight;
the temples were hollows rimmed abruptly with the frontal bones; the
eyes, pits partially filled with dried ointments of a bituminous color.
The monarch had yielded his life in its full ripeness, for the white
hair and beard still adhered in stiffened plaits to the skull, cheeks,
and chin. The nose alone was natural; it stood up thin and hooked, like
the beak of an eagle.

At sight of the figure thus caparisoned and maintaining its seat in an
attitude of calm composure the slaves drew back startled. The negro
dropped his iron bar, making the chamber ring with a dissonant clangor.

Around the mummy in careful arrangement were vessels heaped with coins
and pearls and precious stones, cut and ready for the goldsmith.
Indeed, the whole inner space of the sarcophagus was set with basins
and urns, each in itself a work of high art; and if their contents were
to be judged by what appeared overflowing them, they all held precious
stones of every variety. The corners had been draped with cloths of
gold and cloths embroidered with pearls, some of which were now falling
to pieces of their own weight.

We know that kings and queens are but men and women subject to the same
passions of common people; that they are generous or sordid according
to their natures; that there have been misers amongst them; but this
one--did he imagine he could carry his amassments with him out of the
world? Had he so loved the gems in his life as to dream he could
illumine his tomb with them? If so, O royal idiot!

The master, when an opening had been made sufficiently wide by turning
the lid upon the edge of the sarcophagus, took off his sandals, gave a
foot to one of his slaves, and swung himself into the interior. The
lamp was then given him, and he surveyed the wealth and splendor as the
king might never again. And as the king in his day had said with
exultation, Lo! it is all mine, the intruder now asserted title.

Unable, had he so wished, to carry the whole collection off, he looked
around upon this and upon that, determining where to begin. Conscious
he had nothing to fear, and least of all from the owner in the chair,
he was slow and deliberate. From his robe he drew a number of bags of
coarse hempen cloth, and a broad white napkin. The latter he spread
upon the floor, first removing several of the urns to obtain space;
then he emptied one of the vessels upon it, and from the sparkling and
varicolored heap before him proceeded to make selection.

His judgment was excellent, sure and swift. Not seldom he put the large
stones aside, giving preference to color and lustre. Those chosen he
dropped into a bag. When the lot was gone through, he returned the
rejected to the vessel, placing it back exactly in its place. Then he
betook himself to another of the vessels, and then another, until, in
course of a couple of hours, he had made choice from the collection,
and filled nine bags, and tied them securely.

Greatly relieved, he arose, rubbed the benumbed joints of his limbs
awhile, then passed the packages out to the slaves. The occupation had
been wearisome and tensive; but it was finished, and he would now
retire. He lingered to give a last look at the interior, muttering the
sentence again, and leaving it unfinished as before:

"No one has been here since"--

From the face of the king, his eyes fell to the silver tablet in the
nerveless hand. Moving close, and holding the lamp in convenient
position, he knelt and read the inscription.

I.

"There is but one God, and He was from the beginning, and will be
without end.

II.

"In my lifetime, I prepared this vault and tomb to receive my body, and
keep it safely; yet it may be visited, for the earth and sea are always
giving up their secrets.

III.

"Therefore, O Stranger, first to find me, know thou!

"That in all my days I kept intercourse with Solomon, King of the Jews,
wisest of men, and the richest and greatest. As is known, he set about
building a house to his Lord God, resolved that there should be nothing
like it in the world, nothing so spacious, so enriched, so perfect in
proportions, so in all things becoming the glory of his God. In
sympathy with him I gave him of the skill of my people, workers in
brass, and silver, and gold, and products of the quarries: and in their
ships my sailors brought him the yield of mines from the ends of the
earth. At last the house was finished; then he sent me the model of the
house, and the coins, and cloths of gold and pearl, and the precious
stones, and the vessels holding them, and the other things of value
here. Ad if, O Stranger, thou dost wonder at the greatness of the gift,
know thou that it was but a small part of what remained unto him of
like kind, for he was master of the earth, and of everything belonging
to it which might be of service to him, even the elements and their
subtleties.

IV.

"Nor think, O Stranger, that I have taken the wealth into the tomb with
me, imagining it can serve me in the next life. I store it here because
I love him who gave it to me, and am jealous of his love; and that is
all.

V.

"So thou wilt use the wealth in ways pleasing in the sight of the Lord
God of Solomon, my royal friend, take thou of it in welcome. There is
no God but his God!

"Thus say I--HIRAM, KING OF TYRE."

"Rest thou thy soul, O wisest of pagan kings," said the master, rising.
"Being the first to find thee here, and basing my title to thy wealth
on that circumstance, I will use it in a way pleasing in the sight of
the Lord God of Solomon. Verily, verily, there is no God but his God!"

This, then, was the business that brought the man to the tomb of the
king whose glory was to have been the friend of Solomon. Pondering the
idea, we begin to realize how vast the latter's fame was; and it ceases
to be matter of wonder that his contemporaries, even the most royal,
could have been jealous of his love.

Not only have we the man's business, but it is finished; and judging
from the satisfaction discernible on his face as he raised the lamp and
turned to depart, the result must have been according to his best hope.
He took off his robe, and tossed it to his slaves; then he laid a hand
upon the edge of the sarcophagus preparatory to climbing out. At the
moment, while giving a last look about him, an emerald, smoothly cut,
and of great size, larger indeed than a full-grown pomegranate, caught
his eyes in its place loose upon the floor. He turned back, and taking
it up, examined it carefully; while thus engaged his glance dropped to
the sword almost at his feet. The sparkle of the brilliants, and the
fire-flame of the great ruby in the grip, drew him irresistibly, and he
stood considering.

Directly he spoke in a low voice:

"No one has been here since"--

He hesitated--glanced hurriedly around to again assure himself it was
not possible to be overheard--then finished the sentence:

"No one has been here _since I came a thousand years ago_."

At the words so strange, so inexplicable upon any theory of nature and
common experience, the lamp shook in his hand. Involuntarily he shrank
from the admission, though to himself. But recovering, he repeated:

"Since I came a thousand years ago."

Then he added more firmly:

"But the earth and the sea are always giving up their secrets. So saith
the good King Hiram; and since I am a witness proving the wisdom of the
speech, I at least must believe him. Wherefore it is for me to govern
myself as if another will shortly follow me. The saying of the king is
an injunction."

With that, he turned the glittering sword over and over admiringly.
Loath to let it go, he drew the blade partly from the scabbard, and its
clearness had the depth peculiar to the sky between stars at night.

"Is there anything it will not buy," he continued, reflectively. "What
king could refuse a sword once Solomon's? I will take it."

Thereupon he passed both the emerald and the sword out to the slaves,
whom he presently joined.

The conviction, but a moment before expressed, that another would
follow him to the tomb of the venerated Tyrian, was not strong enough
to hinder the master from attempting to hide every sign which might aid
in the discovery. The negro, under his direction, returned the lid
exactly to its former fitting place on the sarcophagus; the emerald and
the sword he wrapped in his gown; the bags and the tools were counted
and distributed among the slaves for easy carriage. Lamp in hand, he
then walked around to see that nothing was left behind. Incidentally he
even surveyed the brown walls and the dim dome overhead. Having reached
the certainty that everything was in its former state, he waved his
hand, and with one long look backward at the model, ghostly beautiful
in its shining white transparency, he led the way to the passage of
entrance, leaving the king to his solitude and stately sleep, unmindful
of the visitation and the despoilment.

Out in the large reception room, he paused again to restore the wall.
Beginning with the insignificant key, one by one the stones, each of
which, as we have seen, had been numbered by him, were raised and
reset. Then handfuls of dust were collected and blown into the slight
crevices till they were invisible. The final step was the restoration
of the sarcophagus; this done, the gallery leading to the real vault of
the king was once more effectually concealed.

"He who follows, come he soon or late, must have more than sharp eyes
if he would have audience with Hiram, my royal friend of Tyre," the
adventurer said, in his meditative way, feeling at the same time in the
folds of his gown for the chart so the object of solicitude on the
ship. The roll, the emerald, and the sword were also safe. Signing the
slaves to remain where they were, he moved slowly across the chamber,
and by aid of his lamp surveyed an aperture there so broad and lofty it
was suggestive of a gate rather than a door.

"It is well," he said, smiling. "The hunter of spoils, hereafter as
heretofore, will pass this way instead of the other."

The remark was shrewd. Probably nothing had so contributed to the long
concealment of the gallery just reclosed the second time in a thousand
years as the high doorway, with its invitation to rooms beyond it, all
now in iconoclastic confusion.

Rejoining his workmen, he took a knife from the girdle of one of them,
and cut a slit in the gurglet large enough to admit the bags of
precious stones. The skin was roomy, and received them, though with the
loss of much of the water. Having thus disposed of that portion of the
plunder to the best advantage both for portage and concealment, he
helped swing it securely upon the negro's shoulder, and without other
delay led from the chamber to the great outdoors, where the lamps were
extinguished.

The pure sweet air, as may be imagined, was welcome to every one. While
the slaves stood breathing it in wholesome volumes, the master studied
the stars, and saw the night was not so far gone but that, with
industry, the sea-shore could be made in time for the ship.

Still pursuing the policy of hiding the road to the tomb much as
possible, he waited while the men covered the entrance as before with
stones brought up from the bank. A last survey of the face of the rock,
minute as the starlight allowed, reassured him that, as to the rest of
the world, the treasure might remain with its ancient owner undisturbed
for yet another thousand years, if not forever; after which, in a
congratulatory mood, he descended the mountain side to the place of
bivouac, and thence in good time, and without adventure, arrived at the
landing by the sea. There the negro, wading far out, flung the tools
into the water.

In the appointed time the galley came down from the city, and, under
impulsion of the oars, disappeared with the party up the coast
northward.

The negro unrolled the pallet upon the deck, and brought some bread,
Smyrna figs, and wine of Prinkipo, and the four ate and drank heartily.

The skipper was then summoned.

"You have done well, my friend," said the master. "Spare not sail or
oar now, but make Byzantium without looking into any wayside port. I
will increase your pay in proportion as you shorten the time we are
out. Look to it--go--and speed you."

Afterward the slaves in turn kept watch while he slept. And though the
coming and going of sailors was frequent, not one of them noticed the
oil-stained water-skin cast carelessly near the master's pillow, or the
negro's shaggy half-cloak, serving as a wrap for the roll, the emerald,
and the sword once Solomon's.

The run of the galley from the nameless bay near Sidon was without stop
or so much as a headwind. Always the blue sky above the deck, and the
blue sea below. In daytime the master passenger would occasionally
pause in his walk along the white planks, and, his hand on the gunwale,
give a look at some of the landmarks studding the ancient Cycladean
Sea, an island here, or a tall promontory of the continent yonder,
possibly an Olympian height faintly gray in the vaster distance. His
manner at such moments did not indicate a traveller new to the highway.
A glance at the points such as business men closely pressed give the
hands on the face of a clock to determine the minute of the hour, and
he would resume walking. At night he slept right soundly.

From the Dardanelles into the Hellespont; then the Marmora. The captain
would have coasted, but the passenger bade him keep in the open. "There
is nothing to fear from the weather," he said, "but there is time to be
saved."

In an afternoon they sighted the great stones Oxia and Plati; the
first, arid and bare as a gray egg, and conical like an irregular
pyramid; the other, a plane on top, with verdure and scattering trees.
A glance at the map shows them the most westerly group of the Isles of
the Princes.

Now Nature is sometimes stupid, sometimes whimsical, doing
unaccountable things. One gazing at the other isles of the group from a
softly rocking caique out a little way on the sea divines instantly
that she meant them for summer retreats, but these two, Oxia and Plati,
off by themselves, bleak in winter, apparently always ready for
spontaneous combustion in the heated months, for what were they
designed? No matter--uses were found for them--fitting uses. Eremites
in search of the hardest, grimmest places, selected Oxia, and pecking
holes and caves in its sides, shared the abodes thus laboriously won
with cormorants, the most gluttonous of birds. In time a rude convent
was built near the summit. On the other hand, Plati was converted into
a Gehenna for criminals, and in the vats and dungeons with which it was
provided, lives were spent weeping for liberty. On this isle, tears and
curses; on that, tears and prayers.

At sundown the galley was plying its oars between Oxia and the European
shore about where St. Stephano is now situated. The dome of Sta. Sophia
was in sight; behind it, in a line to the northwest, arose the tower of
Galata. "Home by lamplighting--Blessed be the Virgin!" the mariners
said to each other piously. But no! The master passenger sent for the
captain.

"I do not care to get into harbor before morning. The night is
delicious, and I will try it in the small boat. I was once a rower, and
yet have a fancy for the oars. Do thou lay off and on hereabouts. Put
two lamps at the masthead that I may know thy vessel when I desire to
return. Now get out the boat."

The captain thought his voyager queer of taste; nevertheless he did as
told. In a short time the skiff--if the familiar word can be
pardoned--put off with the negro and his master, the latter at the oars.

In preparation for the excursion the gurglet half full of water and the
sheepskin mantle of the black man were lowered into the little vessel.
The boat moved away in the direction of Prinkipo, the mother isle of
the group; and as the night deepened, it passed from view.

When out of sight from the galley's deck, the master gave the rowing to
the negro, and taking seat by the rudder, changed direction to the
southeast; after which he kept on and on, until Plati lay directly in
his course.

The southern extremity of Plati makes quite a bold bluff. In a period
long gone a stone tower had been constructed there, a lookout and
shelter for guardsmen on duty; and there being no earthly chance of
escape for prisoners, so securely were they immured, the duty must have
been against robbers from the mainland on the east, and from pirates
generally. Under the tower there was a climb difficult for most persons
in daylight, and from the manoeuvring of the boat, the climb was
obviously the object drawing the master. He at length found it, and
stepped out on a shelving stone. The gurglet and mantle were passed to
him, and soon he and his follower were feeling their way upward.

On the summit, the chief walked once around the tower, now the merest
ruin, a tumbledown without form, in places overgrown with sickly vines.
Rejoining his attendant, and staying a moment to thoroughly empty the
gurglet of water, on his hands and knees he crawled into a passage much
obstructed by debris. The negro waited outside.

The master made two trips; the first one, he took the gurglet in; the
second, he took the mantle wrapping the sword. At the end, he rubbed
his hands in self-congratulation.

"They are safe--the precious stones of Hiram, and the sword of Solomon!
Three other stores have I like this one--in India, in Egypt, in
Jerusalem--and there is the tomb by Sidon. Oh, I shall not come to
want!" and he laughed well pleased.

The descent to the small boat was effected without accident.

Next morning toward sunrise the passengers disembarked at Port St.
Peter on the south side of the Golden Horn. A little later the master
was resting at home in Byzantium.

Within three days the mysterious person whom we, wanting his proper
name and title, have termed the master, had sold his house and
household effects. In the night of the seventh day, with his servants,
singular in that all of them were deaf and dumb, he went aboard ship,
and vanished down the Marmora, going no one but himself knew whither.

The visit to the tomb of the royal friend of Solomon had evidently been
to provide for the journey; and that he took precious stones in
preference to gold and silver signified a journey indefinite as to time
and place.




BOOK II

THE PRINCE OF INDIA


CHAPTER I

A MESSENGER FROM CIPANGO


Just fifty-three years after the journey to the tomb of the Syrian
king--more particularly on the fifteenth day of May, fourteen hundred
and forty-eight--a man entered one of the stalls of a market in
Constantinople--to-day the market would be called a bazaar--and
presented a letter to the proprietor.

The Israelite thus honored delayed opening the linen envelope while he
surveyed the messenger. The liberty, it must be remarked, was not a
usual preliminary in the great city, the cosmopolitanism of which had
been long established; that is to say, a face, a figure, or a mode, to
gain a second look from one of its denizens, had then, as it has now,
to be grossly outlandish. In this instance the owner of the stall
indulged a positive stare. He had seen, he thought, representatives of
all known nationalities, but never one like the present visitor--never
one so pinkish in complexion, and so very bias-eyed--never one who
wrapped and re-wrapped himself in a single shawl so entirely, making it
answer all the other vestments habitual to men. The latter peculiarity
was more conspicuous in consequence of a sack of brown silk hanging
loosely from the shoulder, with leaves and flowers done in dazzling
embroidery down the front and around the edges. And then the slippers
were of silk not less rich with embroidery, while over the bare head a
sunshade of bamboo and paper brilliantly painted was carried.

Too well bred to persist in the stare or attempt to satisfy his
curiosity by a direct question, the proprietor opened the letter, and
began reading it. His neighbors less considerate ran together, and
formed a crowd around the stranger, who nevertheless bore the
inspection composedly, apparently unconscious of anything to make him
such a cynosure.

The paper which the removal of the envelope gave to the stall-keeper's
hand excited him the more. The delicacy of its texture, its softness to
the touch, its semi-transparency, were unlike anything he had ever
seen; it was not only foreign, but very foreign.

The lettering, however, was in Greek plainly done. He noticed first the
date; then, his curiosity becoming uncontrollable, and the missive
being of but one sheet, his eyes dropped to the place of signature.
There was no name there--only a seal--an impression on a surface of
yellow wax of the drooping figure of a man bound to a cross.

[Illustration]

At sight of the seal his eyes opened wider. He drew a long breath to
quiet a rising feeling, half astonishment, half awe. Retreating to a
bench near by, he seated himself, and presently became unmindful of the
messenger, of the crowd, of everything, indeed, except the letter and
the matters of which it treated.

The demand of the reader for a sight of the paper which could produce
such an effect upon a person who was not more than an ordinary dealer
in an Eastern market may by this time have become imperious; wherefore
it is at once submitted in free translation. Only the date is
modernized.

"ISLAND IN THE OVER-SEA. FAR EAST. _May_ 15, A.D. 1447.

"Uel, Son of Jahdai.

"Peace to thee and all thine!

"If thou hast kept faithfully the heirlooms of thy progenitors,
somewhere in thy house there is now a duplication of the seal which
thou wilt find hereto attached; only that one is done in gold. The
reference is to prove to thee a matter I am pleased to assert, knowing
it will at least put thee upon inquiry--I knew thy father, thy
grandfather, and his father, and others of thy family further back than
it is wise for me to declare; and I loved them, for they were a
virtuous and goodly race, studious to do the will of the Lord God of
Israel, and acknowledging no other; therein manifesting the chiefest of
human excellences. To which, as more directly personal to thyself, I
will add that qualities of men, like qualities in plants, are
transmissible, and go they unmixed through many generations, they make
a kind. Therefore, at this great distance, and though I have never
looked into thy face, or touched thy hand, or heard thy voice, I know
thee, and give thee trust confidently. The son of thy father cannot
tell the world what he has of me here, or that there is a creature like
unto me living, or that he has to do with me in the least; and as the
father would gladly undertake my requests, even those I now reveal unto
thee, not less willingly will his son undertake them. Refusal would be
the first step toward betrayal.

"With this preface, O Son of Jahdai, I write without fear, and freely;
imparting, first, that it is now fifty years since I set foot upon the
shores of this Island, which, for want of a name likely to be known to
thee, I have located and described as 'In the Over-Sea. Far East.' Its
people are by nature kindly disposed to strangers, and live simply and
affectionately. Though they never heard of the Nazarene whom the world
persists in calling the Christ, it is truth to say they better
illustrate his teachings, especially in their dealings with each other,
than the so-called Christians amongst whom thy lot is cast. Withal,
however, I have become weary, the fault being more in myself than in
them. Desire for change is the universal law. Only God is the same
yesterday, to-day, and to-morrow eternally. So I am resolved to seek
once more the land of our fathers and Jerusalem, for which I yet have
tears. In her perfection, she was more than beautiful; in her ruin, she
is more than sacred.

"In the execution of my design, know thou next, O Son of Jahdai, that I
despatch my servant, Syama, intrusting him to deliver this letter. When
it is put into thy hand, note the day, and see if it be not exactly one
year from this 15 May, the time I have given him to make the journey,
which is more by sea than land. Thou mayst then know I am following
him, though with stoppages of uncertain duration; it being necessary
for me to cross from India to Mecca; thence to Kash-Cush, and down the
Nile to Cairo. Nevertheless I hope to greet thee in person within six
months after Syama hath given thee this report.

"The sending a courier thus in advance is with a design of which I
think it of next importance to inform thee.

"It is my purpose to resume residence in Constantinople; for that, I
must have a house. Syama, amongst other duties in my behalf, is charged
to purchase and furnish one, and have it ready to receive me when I
arrive. The day is long passed since a Khan had attractions for me.
Much more agreeable is it to think my own door will open instantly at
my knock. In this affair thou canst be of service which shall be both
remembered and gratefully recompensed. He hath no experience in the
matter of property in thy city; thou hast; it is but natural,
therefore, if I pray thou bring it into practice by assisting him in
the selection, in perfecting the title, and in all else the project may
require doing; remembering only that the tenement be plain and
comfortable, not rich; for, alas! the time is not yet when the children
of Israel may live conspicuously in the eye of the Christian world.

"Thou wilt find Syama shrewd and of good judgment, older than he
seemeth, and quick to render loyalty for my sake. Be advised also that
he is deaf and dumb; yet, if in speaking thou turn thy face to him, and
use the Greek tongue, he will understand thee by the motion of thy
lips, and make answer by signs.

"Finally, be not afraid to accept this commission on account of
pecuniary involvement. Syama hath means of procuring all the money he
may require, even to extravagance; at the same time he is forbidden to
contract a debt, except it be to thee for kindness done, all which he
will report to me so I may pay them fitly.

"In all essential things Syama hath full instructions; besides, he is
acquainted with my habits and tastes; wherefore I conclude this writing
by saying I hope thou wilt render him aid as indicated, and that when I
come thou wilt allow me to relate myself to thee as father to son, in
all things a help, in nothing a burden.

"Again, O Son of Jahdai, to thee and thine--Peace!"

[Seal.]

The son of Jahdai, at the conclusion of the reading, let his hands fall
heavily in his lap, while he plunged into a study which the messenger
with his foreign airs could not distract.

Very great distance is one of the sublimities most powerful over the
imagination. The letter had come from an Island he had never heard
named. An Island in the Over-Sea which doubtless washed the Eastern end
of the earth, wherever that might be. And the writer! How did he get
there? And what impelled him to go?

A chill shot the thinker's nerves. He suddenly remembered that in his
house there was a cupboard in a wall, with two shelves devoted to
storage of heirlooms; on the upper shelf lay the _torah_ of immemorial
usage in his family; the second contained cups of horn and metal, old
phylacteries, amulets, and things of vertu in general, and of such
addition and multiplication through the ages that he himself could not
have made a list of them; in fact, now his attention was aroused, he
recalled them a mass of colorless and formless objects which had ceased
to have history or value. Amongst them, however, a seal in the form of
a medallion in gold recurred to him; but whether the impression upon it
was raised or sunken he could not have certainly said; nor could he
have told what the device was. His father and grandfather had esteemed
it highly, and the story they told him about it divers times when he
was a child upon their knees he could repeat quite substantially.

A man committed an indignity to Jesus the pretended _Christ_, who, in
punishment, condemned him to linger on the earth until in the fulness
of time he should come again; and the man had gone on living through
the centuries. Both the father and grandfather affirmed the tale to be
true; they had known the unfortunate personally; yet more, they
declared he had been an intimate of the family, and had done its
members through generations friendlinesses without number; in
consequence they had come to consider him one of them in love. They had
also said that to their knowledge it was his custom to pray for death
regularly as the days came and went. He had repeatedly put himself in
its way; yet curiously it passed him by, until he at last reached a
conviction he could not die.

Many years had gone since the stall-keeper last heard the tale, and
still more might have been counted since the man disappeared, going no
one knew whither.

But he was not dead! He was coming again! It was too strange to
believe! It could not be! Yet one thing was clear--whatever the
messenger might be, or presuming him a villain, whatever the lie he
thought to make profitable, appeal could be safely and cheaply made to
the seal in the cupboard. As a witness it, too, was deaf and dumb; on
its face nevertheless there was revelation and the truth.

Through the momentary numbness of his faculties so much the son of
Jahdai saw, and he did not wait. Signing the messenger to follow, he
passed into a closet forming part of the stall, and the two being
alone, he spoke in Greek.

"Be thou seated here," he said, "and wait till I return."

The messenger smiled and bowed, and took seat; thereupon Uel drew his
turban down to his ears, and, letter in hand, started home.

His going was rapid; sometimes he almost ran. Acquaintances met him on
the street, but he did not see them; if they spoke to him, he did not
hear. Arrived at his own door, he plunged into the house as if a mob
were at his heels. Now he was before the cupboard! Little mercy the
phylacteries and amulets, the bridle-spanglery of donkeys, the
trinketry of women, his ancestresses once famous for beauty or many
children--little mercy the motley collection on the second shelf
received from his hands. He tossed them here and there, and here and
there again, but the search was vain. Ah, good Lord! was the medalet
lost? And of all times, then?

The failure made him the more anxious; his hands shook while he essayed
the search once more; and he reproached himself. The medal was valuable
for its gold, and besides it was a sacred souvenir. Conscience stung
him. Over and over he shifted and turned the various properties on the
shelf, the last time systematically and with fixed attention. When he
stopped to rest, the perspiration stood on his forehead in large drops,
and he fairly wrung his hands, crying, "It is not here--it is lost! My
God, how shall I know the truth now!"

At this pause it is to be said that the son of Jahdai was wifeless. The
young woman whom he had taken as helpmeet in dying had left him a girl
baby who, at the time of our writing, was about thirteen years old.
Under the necessity thus imposed, he found a venerable daughter of
Jerusalem to serve him as housekeeper, and charge herself with care of
the child. Now he thought of that person; possibly she knew where the
seal was. He turned to seek her, and as he did so, the door of an
adjoining room opened, and the child appeared.

He held her very dear, because she had the clear olive complexion of
her mother, and the same soft black eyes with which the latter used to
smile upon him in such manner that words were never required to assure
him of her love. And the little one was bright and affectionate, and
had prettinesses in speech, and sang low and contentedly the day long.
Often as he took her on his lap and studied her fondly, he was
conscious she promised to be gentle and beautiful as the departed one;
beyond which it never occurred to him there could be superior
excellences.

Distressed as the poor man was, he took the child in his arms, and
kissed her on the round cheek, and was putting her down when he saw the
medal at her throat, hanging from a string. She told him the
housekeeper had given it to her as a plaything. Untied at last--for his
impatience was nigh uncontrollable--he hurried with the recovered
treasure to a window, to look at the device raised upon it; then, his
heart beating rapidly, he made comparison with the impression sunk in
the yellow wax at the foot of the letter; he put them side by
side--there could be no mistake--the impression on the wax might have
been made by the medallion!

Let it not be supposed now that the son of Jahdai did not appreciate
the circumstance which had befallen. The idea of a man suffering a doom
so strange affected him, while the doom itself, considered as a
judgment, was simply awful; but his thought did not stop there--it
carried him behind both the man and the doom. Who was He with power by
a word, not merely to change the most fixed of the decrees of nature,
but, by suspending it entirely, hold an offending wretch alive for a
period already encroaching upon the eternal? One less firmly rooted in
the faith of his fathers would have stood aghast at the conclusion to
which the answer as an argument led--a conclusion admitting no escape
once it was reached. The affair in hand, however, despite its
speculative side, was real and urgent; and the keeper of the stall,
remembering the messenger in half imprisonment, fell to thinking of the
practical questions before him; first of which was the treatment he
should accord his correspondent's requests.

This did not occupy him long. His father, he reflected, would have
received the stranger cordially, and as became one of such close
intimacy; so should he. The requests were easy, and carried no
pecuniary liability with them; he was merely to aid an inexperienced
servant in the purchase of a dwelling-house, the servant having plenty
of funds. True, when the master presented himself in person, it would
be necessary to determine exactly the footing to be accorded him; but
for the present that might be deferred. If, in the connection, the son
of Jahdai dwelt briefly upon possible advantages to himself, the person
being presumably rich and powerful, it was human, and he is to be
excused for it.

The return to the market was less hurried than the going from it. There
Uel acted promptly. He took Syama to his house, and put him into the
guest-chamber, assuring him it was a pleasure. Yet when night came he
slept poorly. The incidents of the day were mixed with much that was
unaccountable, breaking the even tenor of his tradesman's life by
unwonted perplexities. He had not the will to control his thoughts;
they would go back to the excitement of the moment when he believed the
medallion lost; and as points run together in the half-awake state on
very slender threads, he had a vision of a mysterious old man coming
into his house, and in some way taking up and absorbing the life of his
child. When the world at last fell away and left him asleep, it was
with a dread tapping heavily at his heart.

The purchase which Uel was requested to assist in making proved a light
affair. After diligent search through the city, Syama decided to take a
two-story house situated in a street running along the foot of the hill
to-day crowned by the mosque Sultan Selim, although it was then the
site of an unpretentious Christian church. Besides a direct eastern
frontage, it was in the divisional margin between the quarters of the
Greeks, which were always clean, and those of the Jews, which were
always filthy. It was also observed that neither the hill nor the
church obstructed the western view from the roof; that is to say, it
was so far around the upper curve of the hill that a thistle-down would
be carried by a south-east wind over many of the proudest Greek
residences and dropped by the Church of the Holy Virgin on Blacherne,
or in the imperial garden behind the Church. In addition to these
advantages, the son of Jahdai was not unmindful that his own dwelling,
a small but comfortable structure also of wood, was just opposite
across the street. Everything considered, the probabilities were that
Syama's selection would prove satisfactory to his master. The
furnishment was a secondary matter.

It is to be added that in course of the business there were two things
from which Uel extracted great pleasure; Syama always had money to pay
promptly for everything he bought; in the next place, communication
with him was astonishingly easy. His eyes made up for the deficiency in
hearing; while his signs, gestures, and looks were the perfection of
pantomime. Of evenings the child never tired watching him in
conversation.

While we go now to bring the Wanderer up, it should not be forgotten
that the house, completely furnished, is awaiting him, and he has only
to knock at the door, enter, and be at home.




CHAPTER II

THE PILGRIM AT EL KATIF


The bay of Bahrein indents the western shore of the Persian Gulf. Hard
by the point on the north at which it begins its inland bend rise the
whitewashed, one-story mud-houses of the town El Katif. Belonging to
the Arabs, the most unchangeable of peoples, both the town and the bay
were known in the period of our story by their present names.

The old town in the old time derived importance chiefly from the road
which, leading thence westwardly through Hejr Yemameh, brought up,
after many devious stretches across waterless wastes of sand, at El
Derayeh, a tented capital of the Bedouins, and there forked, one branch
going to Medina, the other to Mecca. In other words, El Katif was to
Mecca on the east the gate Jeddo was to it on the west.

When, in annual recurrence, the time for the indispensable Hajj, or
Pilgrimage, came, the name of the town was on the lips of men and women
beyond the Green Sea, and southwardly along the coast of Oman, and in
the villages and dowars back of the coast under the peaks of Akdar,
only a little less often than those of the holy cities. Then about the
first of July the same peoples as pilgrims from Irak, Afghanistan,
India, and beyond those countries even, there being an East and a Far
East, and pilgrims from Arabia, crowded together, noisy, quarrelsome,
squalid, accordant in but one thing--a determination to make the Hajj
lest they might die as Jews or Christians.

The law required the pilgrim to be at Mecca in the month of Ramazan,
the time the Prophet himself had become a pilgrim. From El Katif the
direct journey might be made in sixty days, allowing an average march
of twelve miles. By way of Medina, it could be made to permit the
votary to be present and participate in the observances usual on the
day of the Mysterious Night of Destiny.

The journey moreover was attended with dangers. Winds, drouth, sand
storms beset the way; and there were beasts always hungry, and robbers
always watchful. The sun beat upon the hills, curtained the levels with
mirage, and in the _fiumuras_ kindled invisible fires; so in what the
unacclimated breathed and in what they drank of the waters of the land
there were diseases and death.

The Prophet having fixed the month of Ramazan for the Hajj, pilgrims
accustomed themselves to assemblage at Constantinople, Damascus, Cairo
and Bagdad. If they could not avoid the trials of the road, they could
lessen them. Borrowing the term caravan as descriptive of the march,
they established markets at all convenient places.

This is the accounting for one of the notable features of El Katif from
the incoming of June till the caravan extended itself on the road, and
finally disappeared in the yellow farness of the Desert. One could not
go amiss for purveyors in general. Dealers in horses, donkeys, camels,
and dromedaries abounded. The country for miles around appeared like a
great stock farm. Herds overran the lean earth. Makers of harness,
saddles, box-houdahs, and swinging litters of every variety and price,
and contractors of camels, horses, and trains complete did not wait to
be solicited; the competition between them was too lively for dignity.
Hither and thither shepherds drove fatted sheep in flocks, selling them
on the hoof. In shady places sandal merchants and clothiers were
established; while sample tents spotted the whole landscape. Hucksters
went about with figs, dates, dried meats and bread. In short, pilgrims
could be accommodated with every conceivable necessary. They had only
to cry out, and the commodity was at hand.

Amongst the thousands who arrived at El Katif in the last of June,
1448, was a man whose presence made him instantly an object of general
interest. He came from the south in a galley of eight oars manned by
Indian seamen, and lay at anchor three days before landing. His ship
bore nothing indicative of nationality except the sailors. She was
trim-looking and freshly painted; otherwise there was nothing uncommon
in her appearance. She was not for war--that was plain. She floated too
lightly to be laden; wherefore those who came to look at her said she
could not be in commercial service.

Almost before furling sail, an awning was stretched over her from bow
to stern--an awning which from the shore appeared one great shawl of
variegated colors. Thereupon the wise in such matters decided the owner
was an Indian Prince vastly rich, come, like a good Mohammedan, to
approve his faith by pilgrimage.

This opinion the stranger's conduct confirmed. While he did not himself
appear ashore, he kept up a busy communication by means of his small
boat. For three days, it carried contractors of camels and supplies
aboard, and brought them back.

They described him of uncertain age; he might be sixty, he might be
seventy-five. While rather under medium height, he was active and
perfectly his own master. He sat in the shade of the awning
cross-legged. His rug was a marvel of sheeny silk. He talked Arabic,
but with an Indian accent. His dress was Indian--a silken shirt, a
short jacket, large trousers, and a tremendous white turban on a red
tarbousche, held by an aigrette in front that was a dazzle of precious
stones such as only a Rajah could own. His attendants were few, but
they were gorgeously attired, wore _shintyan_ swung in rich belts from
their shoulders, and waited before him speechless and in servile
posture. One at his back upheld an umbrella of immense spread. He
indulged few words, and they were strictly business. He wanted a full
outfit for the Hajj; could the contractor furnish him twenty camels of
burden, and four swift dromedaries? Two of the latter were to carry a
litter for himself; the other two were for his personal attendants,
whom he desired furnished with well-shaded _shugdufs_. The camels he
would load with provisions. While speaking, he would keep his eyes upon
the person addressed with an expression uncomfortably searching. Most
extraordinary, however, he did not once ask about prices.

One of the Shaykhs ventured an inquiry.

"How great will his Highness' suite be?"

"Four."

The Shaykh threw up his hands.

"O Allah! Four dromedaries and twenty camels for four men!"

"Abuser of the salt," said the stranger calmly, "hast thou not heard of
the paschal charity, and of the fine to the poor? Shall I go empty
handed to the most sacred of cities?"

Finally an agent was found who, in concert with associates, undertook
to furnish the high votary with all he asked complete.

The morning of the fourth day after his arrival the Indian was pulled
ashore, and conducted out of town a short distance to where, on a
rising ground, a camp had been set up provisionally for his inspection.
There were tents, one for storage of goods and provisions; one for the
suite; one for the chief Shaykh, the armed guards, the tent pitchers,
and the camel drivers; and a fourth one, larger than the others, for
the Prince himself. With the dromedaries, camels, and horses, the camp
was accepted; then, as was the custom, the earnest money was paid. By
set of sun the baggage was removed from the ship, and its partition
into cargoes begun. The Prince of India had no difficulty in hiring all
the help he required.

Of the thirty persons who constituted the train ten were armed
horsemen, whose appearance was such that, if it were answered by a
commensurate performance, the Prince might at his leisure march
irrespective of the caravan. Nor was he unmindful in the selection of
stores for the journey. Long before the sharp bargainers with whom he
dealt were through with him, he had won their best opinion, not less by
his liberality than for his sound judgment. They ceased speaking of him
sneeringly as the _miyan_. [Footnote: Barbarous Indian]

Soon as the bargain was bound, the stranger's attendants set about the
furnishment of the master's tent. Outside they painted it green. The
interior they divided into two equal compartments; one for reception,
the other for a _maglis_ or drawing-room; and besides giving the latter
divans and carpets, they draped the ceiling in the most tasteful manner
with the shawls which on the ship had served for awning.

At length, everything in the catalogue of preparation having been
attended to, it remained only to wait the day of general departure; and
for that, as became his greatness, the Prince kept his own quarters,
paying no attention to what went on around him. He appeared a man who
loved solitude, and was averse to thinking in public.




CHAPTER III

THE YELLOW AIR [Footnote: The plague is known amongst Arabs as "the
Yellow Air."]


One evening the reputed Indian sat by the door of his tent alone. The
red afterglow of the day hung in the western sky. Overhead the stars
were venturing timidly out. The camels were at rest, some chewing their
cuds, others asleep, their necks stretched full length upon the warm
earth. The watchmen in a group talked in low voices. Presently the cry
of a muezzin, calling to prayer, flew in long, quavering, swelling
notes through the hushed air. Others took up the call, clearer or
fainter according to the distance; and so was it attuned to the feeling
invoked by the conditions of the moment that no effort was required of
a listener to think it a refrain from the sky. The watchmen ceased
debating, drew a little apart from each other, spread their _abbas_ on
the ground, and stepping upon them barefooted, their faces turned to
where Mecca lay, began the old unchangeable prayer of Islam--_God is
God, and Mahomet is His Prophet_.

The pilgrim at the tent door arose, and when his rude employes were
absorbed in their devotions, like them, he too prayed, but very
differently.

"God of Israel--my God!" he said, in a tone hardly more than speaking
to himself. "These about me, my fellow creatures, pray thee in the hope
of life, I pray thee in the hope of death. I have come up from the sea,
and the end was not there; now I will go into the Desert in search of
it. Or if I must live, Lord, give me the happiness there is in serving
thee. Thou hast need of instruments of good; let me henceforth be one
of them, that by working for thy honor, I may at last enjoy the peace
of the blessed--Amen."

Timing his movements with those of the watchmen, he sank to his knees,
and repeated the prayer; when they fell forward, their faces to the
earth in the _rik'raths_ so essential by the Mohammedan code, he did
the same. When they were through the service, he went on with it that
they might see him. A careful adherence to this conduct gained him in a
short time great repute for sanctity, making the pilgrimage enjoyable
as well as possible to him.

The evening afterglow faded out, giving the world to night and the
quiet it affects; still the melancholy Indian walked before his tent,
his hands clasped behind him, his chin in the beard on his breast. Let
us presume to follow his reflections.

"Fifty years! A lifetime to all but me. Lord, how heavy is thy hand
when thou art in anger!"

He drew a long breath, and groaned.

"Fifty years! That they are gone, let those mourn to whom time is
measured in scanty dole."

He became retrospective.

"The going to Cipango was like leaving the world. War had yielded to
contentions about religion. I wearied of them also. My curse is to
weary of everything. I wonder if the happiness found in the affection
of women is more lasting?"

He pursued the thought awhile, finishing with a resolution.

"If the opportunity comes my way, I will try it. I remember yet the
mother of my Lael, though I did not understand the measure of the
happiness she brought me until she died."

He returned then to the first subject.

"When will men learn that faith is a natural impulse, and pure religion
but faith refined of doubt?"

The question was succeeded by a wordless lapse in his mind, the better
apparently to prolong the pleasure he found in the idea.

"God help me," he presently resumed, "to bring about an agreement in
that definition of religion! There can be no reform or refinement of
faith except God be its exclusive subject; and so certainly it leads to
lopping off all parasitical worships such as are given to Christ and
Mahomet.... Fifty years ago the sects would have tortured me had I
mentioned God as a principle broad and holy enough for them to stand
upon in compromise of their disputes; they may not be better disposed
now, yet I will try them. If I succeed I will not be a vulgar monument
builder like Alexander; neither will I divide a doubtful fame with
Caesar. My glory will be unique. I will have restored mankind to their
true relations with God. I will be their Arbiter in Religion. Then
surely"--he lifted his face appealingly as to a person enthroned amidst
the stars--"surely thou wilt release me from this too long life.... If
I fail"--he clinched his hands--"if I fail, they may exile me, they may
imprison me, they may stretch me on the rack, but they cannot kill me."

Then he walked rapidly, his head down, like a man driven. When he
stopped it was to say to himself uncertainly:

"I feel weak at heart. Misgivings beset me. Lord, Lord, how long am I
to go on thus cheating myself? If thou wilt not pardon me, how can I
hope honor from my fellow men? Why should I struggle to serve them?"

Again he clinched his hands.

"Oh, the fools, the fools! Will they never be done? When I went away
they were debating, Was Mahomet a Prophet? Was Christ the Messiah? And
they are debating yet. What miseries I have seen come of the dispute!"

From this to the end, the monologue was an incoherent discursive
medley, now plaintive, now passionate, at times prayerful, then
exultant. As he proceeded, he seemed to lose sight of his present aim
at doing good in the hope of release from termless life, and become the
Jew he was born.

"The orators called in the sword, and they plied each other with it
through two hundred years and more. There were highways across Europe
blazoned with corpses.... But they were great days. I remember them.
remember Manuel's appeal to Gregory. I was present at the Council of
Clermont. I heard Urban's speech. I saw Walter, the beggar of Burgundy,
a fugitive in Constantinople; but his followers, those who went out
with him--where were they? I saw Peter, the eremite and coward, dragged
back, a deserter, to the plague-smitten camps of Antioch. I helped vote
Godfrey King of Jerusalem, and carried a candle at his coronation. I
saw the hosts of Louis VII and Conrad, a million and more, swallowed up
in Iconia and the Pisidian mountains. Then, that the persecutors of my
race might not have rest, I marched with Saladin to the re-conquest of
the Holy City, and heard Philip and Richard answer his challenge. The
brave Kurd, pitying the sorrows of men, at last agreed to tolerate
Christians in Jerusalem as pilgrims; and there the strife might have
ended, but I played upon the ambition of Baldwin, and set Europe in
motion again. No fault of mine that the knight stopped at
Constantinople as King of the East. Then the second Frederick presumed
to make a Christian city of Jerusalem. I resorted to the Turks, and
they burned and pillaged it, and captured St. Louis, the purest and
best of the crusaders. He died in my arms. Never before had I a tear
for man or woman of his faith! Then came Edward I., and with him the
struggle as a contest of armies terminated. By decision of the sword,
Mahomet _was_ the Prophet of God, and Christ but the carpenter's
son.... By permission of the Kaliphs, the Christians might visit
Jerusalem as pilgrims. A palmer's staff in place of a sword! For
shield, a beggar's scrip! But the bishops accepted, and then ushered in
an age of fraud, Christian against Christian.... The knoll on which the
Byzantine built his church of the Holy Sepulchre is not the Calvary.
That the cowled liars call the Sepulchre never held the body of Christ.
The tears of the millions of penitents have but watered a monkish
deceit.... Fools and blasphemers! The Via Dolorosa led out of the
Damascus gate on the north. The skull-shaped hill beyond that gate is
the Golgotha. Who should know it better than I? The Centurion asked for
a guide; I walked with him. Hyssop was the only green thing growing
upon the mount; nothing but hyssop has grown there since. At the base
on the west was a garden, and the Sepulchre was in the garden. From the
foot of the cross I looked toward the city, and there was a sea of men
extending down to the gate.... I know!--I know!--I and misery know!...
When I went out fifty years ago there was an agreement between the
ancient combatants; each vied with the other in hating and persecuting
the Jew, and there was no limit to the afflictions he endured from
them.... Speak thou, O Hebron, city of the patriarchs! By him who sits
afar, and by him near unto thee, by the stars this peaceful night, and
by the Everlasting who is above the stars, be thou heard a witness
testifying! There was a day when thou didst stand open to the children
of Israel; for the cave and the dead within it belonged to them. Then
Herod built over it, and shut it up, though without excluding the
tribes. The Christian followed Herod; yet the Hebrew might pay his way
in. After the Christian, the Moslem; and now nor David the King, nor
son of his, though they alighted at the doors from chariots, and beat
upon them with their crowns and sceptres, could pass in and live....
Kings have come and gone, and generations, and there is a new map from
which old names have been dropped. As respects religion, alas! the
divisions remain--here a Mohammedan, there a Christian, yonder a
Judean.... From my door I study these men, the children of those in
life at my going into exile. Their ardor is not diminished. To kiss a
stone in which tradition has planted a saying of God, they will defy
the terrors of the Desert, heat, thirst, famine, disease, death. I
bring them an old idea in a new relation--God, giver of life and power
to Son and Prophet--God, alone entitled to worship--God, a principle of
Supreme Holiness to which believers can bring their creeds and
doctrines for mergence in a treaty of universal brotherhood. Will they
accept it? ... Yesterday I saw a Schiah and a Sunite meet, and the old
hate darkened their faces as they looked at each other. Between them
there is only a feud of Islamites; how much greater is their feud with
Christians? How immeasurably greater the feud between Christian and
Jew? ... My heart misgives me! Lord! Can it be I am but cherishing a
dream?"

At sight of a man approaching through the dusk, he calmed himself.

"Peace to thee, Hadji," said the visitor, halting.

"Is it thou, Shaykh?"

"It is I, my father's son. I have a report to make."

"I was thinking of certain holy things of priceless worth, sayings of
the Prophet. Tell me what thou hast?"

The Shaykh saluted him, and returned, "The caravan will depart
to-morrow at sunrise."

"Be it so. We are ready. I will designate our place in the movement.
Thou art dismissed."

"O Prince! I have more to report."

"More?"

"A vessel came in to-day from Hormuz on the eastern shore, bringing a
horde of beggars."

"Bismillah! It was well I hired of thee a herd of camels, and loaded
them with food. I shall pay my fine to the poor early."

The Shaykh shook his head.

"That they are beggars is nothing," he said. "Allah is good to all his
creatures. The jackals are his, and must be fed. For this perhaps the
unfortunates were blown here by the angel that rides the yellow air.
Four corpses were landed, and their clothes sold in the camp."

"Thou wouldst say," the Prince rejoined, "that the plague will go with
us to the Kaaba. Content thee, Shaykh. Allah will have his way."

"But my men are afraid."

"I will place a drop of sweetened water on their lips, and bring them
safe through, though they are dying. Tell them as much."

The Shaykh was departing when the Prince, shrewdly suspecting it was he
who feared, called him back.

"How call ye the afternoon prayer, O Shaykh?"

"El Asr."

"What didst thou when it was called?"

"Am I not a believer? I prayed."

"And thou hast heard the Arafat sermon?"

"Even so, O Prince."

"Then, as thou art a believer, and a hadji, O Shaykh, thou and all with
thee shalt see the Khatib on his dromedary, and hear him again. Only
promise me to stay till his last _Amin_."

"I promise," said the Shaykh, solemnly.

"Go--but remember prayer is the bread of faith."

The Shaykh was comforted, and withdrew.

With the rising of the sun next day the caravan, numbering about three
thousand souls, defiled confusedly out of the town. The Prince, who
might have been first, of choice fell in behind the rest.

"Why dost thou take this place, O Prince?" asked the Shaykh, who was
proud of his company, and their comparative good order.

He received for answer, "The blessings of Allah are with the dying whom
the well-to-do and selfish in front have passed unnoticed."

The Shaykh repeated the saying to his men, and they replied:
"Ebn-Hanife was a Dervish: so is this Prince--exalted be his name!"

Eulogy could go no further.




CHAPTER IV

EL ZARIBAH


"I will be their Arbiter in Religion," said the Indian Mystic in his
monologue.

This is to be accepted as the motive of the scheme the singular man was
pursuing in the wastes of Arabia.

It must be taken of course with his other declaration--"There can be no
reform or refinement of faith except God be its exclusive subject; and
so certainly it leads to lopping off all parasitical worships such as
are given to Christ and Mahomet."

Fifty years prior, disgusted with the endless and inconsequential
debates and wars between Islam and Christianity, he had betaken himself
to Cipango, [Footnote: Supposably Japan.] wherever that might be.
There, in a repentant hour, he had conceived the idea of a Universal
Religious Brotherhood, with God for its accordant principle; and he was
now returned to present and urge the compromise. In more distinct
statement, he was making the pilgrimage to ascertain from personal
observation if the Mohammedan portion of the world was in a consenting
mood. It was not his first visit to Mecca; but the purpose in mind gave
the journey a new zest; and, as can be imagined, nothing in the least
indicative of the prevalent spirit of the Hajj escaped him. Readers
following the narrative should keep this explanation before them.

From El Derayah the noble pilgrim had taken the longer route by way of
Medina, where he scrupulously performed the observances decreed for the
faithful at the Mosque of the Prophet. Thence he descended with the
caravan from Damascus.

Dawn of the sixth of September broke over the rolling plain known as
the Valley of El Zaribah, disclosing four tents pitched on an eminence
to the right of a road running thence south-west. These tents,
connected by ropes, helped perfect an enclosure occupied by horses,
donkeys, camels and dromedaries, and their cumbrous equipments. Several
armed men kept watch over the camp.

The Valley out to the pink granite hills rimming it round wore a fresh
green tint in charming contrast with the tawny-black complexion of the
region through which the day's journey had stretched. Water at a
shallow depth nourished camel grass in patches, and Theban palms, the
latter much scattered and too small to be termed trees. The water, and
the nearness of the Holy City--only one day distant--had, in a time
long gone, won for El Zaribah its double appointment of meeting place
for the caravans and place of the final ceremony of assumption of the
costume and vows _El Ihram_.

The Prophet himself had prescribed the ceremony; so the pilgrims in the
camp on the eminence, the better to observe it and at the same time get
a needful rest, had come up during the night in advance of the
caravans. In other words, the Prince of India--the title by which he
was now generally known--might, at the opening hour of the day, have
been found asleep in the larger of the four tents; the one with the
minaret in miniature so handsomely gilded and of such happy effect over
the centre pole.

Along the roadsides and on the high grounds of the Valley other tints
were visible, while faint columns of smoke arising out of the hollows
told of preparations for breakfast. These signified the presence of
hucksters, barbers, costume dealers, and traders generally, who, in
anticipation of the arrival of the caravans, had come from the city to
exercise their callings. Amongst them, worthy of special attention, was
a multitude of professional guides, [Footnote: _Mutawif_.] ready for a
trifling hire to take charge of uninitiated pilgrims, and lead them
regardfully through the numerous ceremonies to which they were going.

Shortly after noon the Prince called in a guide, and several barbers,
men with long gowns, green turbans, brass basins, sharp knives, and
bright bladed scissors. The assumption of the real pilgrimage by his
people was then begun. Each man submitted his head, mustaches, and
nails to the experts, and bathed and perfumed himself, and was dusted
with musk. Next the whole party put off their old garments, and attired
themselves in the two white vestments _El Ihram_.[Footnote: A mantle
and skirt of white cloth unsewn.] The change of apparel was for the
better. Finally the votaries put on sandals peculiar in that nothing
pertaining to them might cover the instep; then they stood up in a row
faced toward Mecca, and repeated the ancient formula of dedication of
the _Ihram_ to the Almighty slowly intoned for them by the guide.

The solemn demeanor of the men during the ceremony, which was tedious
and interspersed with prayers and curious recitals, deeply impressed
the Prince, who at the end of the scene retired into his tent, with his
three mute attendants, and there performed the vows for himself and
them. There also they all assumed the indispensable costume. Then, as
he well might do, the law permitting him to seek the shade of a house
or a tent, he had a rug spread before his door, where, in the fresh
white attire, he seated himself, and with a jar of expressed juice of
pomegranates at his side made ready to witness the passing of the
caravans, the dust of which was reported visible in the east.

Afterwhile the cloud of dust momentarily deepening over in that
direction was enlivened by a clash of cymbals and drums, blent with
peals of horns, the fine, high music yet cherished by warriors of the
Orient. Presently a body of horsemen appeared, their spear points
glistening in the sunlight. A glance at them, then his gaze fixed upon
a chief in leading.

The sun had been hot all day; the profiles of the low hills were dim
with tremulous haze lying scorchingly upon them; the furred hulks of
the camels in the enclosure looked as if they were smoking; the sky
held nothing living except two kites which sailed the upper air slowly,
their broad wings at widest extension; yet the chief persisted in
wearing his arms and armor, like the soldiers behind him. Ere long he
rode up and halted in front of the Prince, and near by.

His head was covered with a visorless casque, slightly conical, from
the edge of which, beginning about the temples, a cape of fine steel
rings, buckled under the chin, enveloped the neck and throat, and fell
loosely over the neck and shoulders, and part way down the back. A
shirt of linked mail, pliable as wool, defended the body and the arms
to the elbows; overalls of like material, save that the parts next the
saddle were leather, clothed the thighs and legs. As the casque and
every other link of the mail were plated with gold, the general effect
at a distance was as if the whole suit were gold. A surcoat of light
green cloth hung at the back half hiding a small round shield of
burnished brass; at the left side there was a cimeter, and in the right
hand a lance. The saddle was of the high-seated style yet affected by
horsemen of Circassia; at the pommel a bow and well-filled quiver were
suspended, and as the stirrups were in fact steel slippers the feet
were amply protected by them.

At sight of the martial figure, the Indian, in admiration, arose to a
sitting posture. Such, he thought, were the warriors who followed
Saladin! And when the stranger, reaching the summit of the eminence,
turned out of the road coming apparently to the door of the tent, he
involuntarily sprang to his feet ready to do him honor.

The face, then plainly seen, though strong of feature, and thoroughly
bronzed, was that of a young man not more than twenty-two or three,
dark-eyed, mustached and bearded, and of a serious though pleasant
expression. He kept his seat with ease and grace; if he and the
broad-chested dark-bay horse were not really one, they were one in
spirit; together they wrought the impression which was the origin of
_majesty_, a title for kings.

While the Prince was turning this in his mind, the soldier pulled rein,
and stopped long enough to glance at him and at the camp; then, turning
the horse, he looked the other way, making it apparent he had taken
position on the rise to overlook the plain, and observe the coming and
dispersion of the caravans.

Another mounted man ascended the hill, armed and armored like the first
one, though not so richly, and bearing a standard of dulled yellow silk
hanging from a gilded staff. The ground of the standard was filled with
inscriptions in red lettering, leaving the golden crescent and star on
the point of the staff to speak of nationality. The bearer of the flag
dismounted, and at a sign planted it in the ground.

Seeing his Shaykh, the Prince called him:

"Who is the warrior yonder?--He in the golden armor?"

"The Emir El Hajj, [Footnote: Chief officer of the Pilgrimage. The
appointment was considered the highest favor in the Sultan's gift.] O
Prince."

"He the Emir El Hajj!--And so young?--Oh! a hero of the Serail. The
Kislar Aga extolled him one day."

"Thy remark and common report, O excellent Prince, could not journey
together on the same camel," said the Shaykh. "In the Khan at Medina I
heard his story. There is a famous enemy of the Turks, Iskander Bey, in
strength a Jinn, whose sword two men can scarcely lift. He appeared
before the army of the Sultan one day with a challenge. He whom thou
seest yonder alone dared go forth to meet him. The fought from morning
till noon; then they rested. 'Who art thou?' asked Iskander. 'I am a
slave of Amurath, the Commander of the Faithful, who hath commissioned
me to take thee to him dead or alive.' Iskander laughed, and said, 'I
know by thy tongue now thou art not a Turk; and to see if the Commander
of the Faithful, as thou callest him, hath it in soul to make much of
thy merit as a warrior, I will leave thee the honors of the combat, and
to go thy way.' Whereat they say he lifted his ponderous blade as not
heavier than the leaf of a dead palm, and strode from the field."

The Prince listened, and at the end said, like a man in haste:

"Thou knowest Nilo, my black man. Bring him hither."

The Shaykh saluted gravely, and hurried away, leaving his patron with
eyes fixed on the Emir, and muttering:

"So young!--and in such favor with the old Amurath! I will know him. If
I fail, he may be useful to me. Who knows? Who knows?"

He looked upward as if speaking to some one there.

Meantime the Emir was questioning the ensign.

"This pilgrim," he said, "appears well provided."

And the ensign answered:

"He is the Indian Prince of whom I have been hearing since we left
Medina."

"What hast thou heard?"

"That being rich, he is open-handed, making free with his aspers as
sowers with their seed."

"What more?"

"He is devout and learned as an Imam. His people call him Malik. Of the
prayers he knows everything. As the hours arrive, he lifts the curtains
of his litter, and calls them with a voice like Belal's. The students
in the mosque would expire of envy could they see him bend his back in
the benedictions."

"_Bismillah!_"

"They say also that in the journey from El Katif to Medina he travelled
behind the caravan when he might have been first."

"I see not the virtue in that. The hill-men love best to attack the
van."

"Tell me, O Emir, which wouldst thou rather face, a hill-man or the
Yellow Air?"

"The hill-man," said the other decidedly.

"And thou knowest when those in front abandon a man struck with the
disease?"

"Yes."

"And then?"

"The vultures and the jackals have their rights."

"True, O Emir, but listen. The caravan left El Katif three thousand
strong. Three hundred and more were struck with the plague, and left to
die; of those, over one hundred were brought in by the Indian. They say
it was for this he preferred to march in the rear. He himself teaches a
saying of the _Hadis_, that Allah leaves his choicest blessings to be
gathered from amidst the poor and the dying."

"If he thou describest be not a Prince of India as he claims, he is a"--

"A _Mashaikh_." [Footnote: Holier than a Dervish.]

"Ay, by the Most Merciful! But how did he save the castaways?"

"By a specific known only to kings and lords in his country. Can he but
reach the plague-struck before death, a drop on the tongue will work a
cure. Thou heardst what he did at Medina?"

"No."

"The Masjid El Nabawi [Footnote: Tomb of the Prophet.] as thou knowest,
O Emir, hath many poor who somehow live in its holy shade."

"I know it," said the Emir, with a laugh. "I went in the house rich,
and come out of it poorer than the poorest of the many who fell upon me
at the doors."

"Well," the ensign continued, not heeding the interruption, "he called
them in, and fed them; not with rice, and leeks, and bread ten days
sour, but with dishes to rejoice a Kaliph; and they went away swearing
the soul of the Prophet was returned to the world."

At this juncture a troop of horsemen ascending the hill brought the
conversation to a stop. The uniformity of arms and armor, the furniture
of the steeds, the order and regularity of the general movement,
identified the body as some favorite corps of the Turkish army; while
the music, the bristling lances, the many-folded turbans, and the
half-petticoated trousers threw about it a glamor of purest orientalism.

In the midst of the troop, a vanguard in front, a rearguard behind
them, central objects of care and reverence, moved the sacred camels,
tall, powerful brutes, more gigantic in appearance because of their
caparisoning and the extraordinary burdens they bore. They too were in
full regalia, their faces visored in silk and gold, their heads
resplendent with coronets of drooping feathers, their ample neck cloths
heavy with tasselled metallic fringing falling to the knees. Each one
was covered with a mantle of brocaded silk arranged upon a crinoline
form to give the effect somewhat of the curved expansion on the rim of
a bell. On the humps rose pavilions of silk in flowing draperies, on
some of which the entire _Fatihah_ was superbly embroidered. Over the
pavilions arose enormous aigrettes of green and black feathers. Such
were the _mahmals_, containing, among other things of splendor and
fabulous value, the _Kiswah_ which the Sultan was forwarding to the
Scherif of Mecca to take the place of the worn curtains then draping
the Tabernacle or House of God.

The plumed heads of the camels, and the yet more richly plumed
pavilions, exalted high above the horsemen, moved like things afloat.
One may not tell what calamities to body and soul would overtake the
Emir El Hajj did he fail to deliver the _mahmals_ according to
consignment.

While the cavalry came up the hill the musicians exerted themselves; at
the top, the column turned and formed line left of the Emir, followed
by strings of camels loaded with military properties, and a horde of
camp-followers known as _farrash_. Presently another camp was reared
upon the eminence, its white roofs shining afar over the plain, and in
their midst one of unusual dimensions for the Sultan's gifts.

The caravans in the meantime began to emerge from the dun cloud of
their own raising, and spread at large over the land; and when the
young Emir was most absorbed in the spectacle the Prince's Shaykh
approached him.

"O Emir!" the Arab said, after a salaam.

A wild fanfare of clarions, cymbals, and drums drowning his voice, he
drew nearer, almost to the stirrup.

"O Emir!" he said again.

This time he was heard.

"What wouldst thou?"

There was the slightest irritation in the tone, and on the countenance
of the speaker as he looked down; but the feeling behind it vanished at
sight of a negro whose native blackness was intensified by the spotless
white of the Ihram in which he was clad. Perhaps the bright platter of
beaten copper the black man bore, and the earthen bottle upon it,
flanked by two cups, one of silver, the other of crystal, had something
to do with the Emir's change of manner and mind.

"What wouldst thou?" he asked, slightly bending towards them.

The Shaykh answered:

 "The most excellent Hadji, my patron, whom thou mayst see reclining at
the door of his tent, sends thee greeting such as is lawful from one
true believer to another travelling for the good of their souls to the
most Holy of Cities; and he prays thou wilt accept from him a draught
of this water of pomegranates, which he vouches cooling to the tongue
and healthful to the spirit, since he bought it at the door of the
House of the Prophet--to whom be prayer and praise forever."

During the speech, the negro, with a not unpractised hand, and
conscious doubtless of the persuasion there was in the sound and
sparkle of the beverage, especially to one not yet dismounted from a
long ride on the desert, filled the cups, and held them up for
acceptance.

Stripping the left hand of its steel-backed gauntlet, the Emir lifted
the glass, and, with a bow to the pilgrim then arisen and standing by
the tent-door, drank it at a draught; whereupon, leaving the ensign to
pay like honor to the offered hospitality, he wheeled his horse, and
rode to make acknowledgment in person.

"The favor thou hast done me, O Hadji," he said, dismounted, "is in
keeping with the acts of mercy to thy fellow-men with which I hear thou
hast paved the road from El Katif as with mother-of-pearl."

"Speak not of them, I pray," the Wanderer answered, returning the bow
he received. "Who shall refuse obedience to the law?"

"I see plainly thou art a good man," the Emir said, bowing again.

"It would not become me to say so. Turning to something better, this
tent in the wilderness is mine, and as the sun is not declined to its
evening quarter, perhaps, O gallant Emir, it would be more to thy
comfort were we to go within. I, and all I have, are at thy command."

"I am grateful for the offer, most excellent Hadji--if the address be
lower than thy true entitlement, thou shouldst bring the Shaykh yonder
to account for misleading a stranger--but the sun and I have become
unmindful of each other, and duty is always the same in its demands at
least. Here, because the valley is the _micath_, [Footnote: Meeting
place.] the caravans are apt to run wild, and need a restraining hand.
I plead the circumstance in excuse for presuming to request that thou
wilt allow me to amend thy offer of courtesy."

The Emir paused, waiting for the permission.

"So thou dost accept the offer, amend it as thou wilt," and the Prince
smiled.

Then the other returned, with evident satisfaction: "When our brethren
of the caravans are settled, and the plain is quiet, and I too have
taken the required vows, I will return to thee. My quarters are so
close to thine it would please me to be allowed to come alone."

"Granted, O Emir, granted--if, on thy side, thou wilt consent to permit
me to give thee of the fare I may yet have at disposal. I can promise
thou shalt not go away hungry."

"Be it so."

Thereupon the Emir remounted, and went back to his stand overlooking
the plain, and the coming of the multitude.




CHAPTER V

THE PASSING OF THE CARAVANS


From his position the Wanderer could see the advancing caravans; but as
the spectacle would consume the afternoon, he called his three
attendants, and issued directions for the entertainment of the Emir in
the evening; this done, he cast himself upon the rug, and gave rein to
his curiosity, thinking, not unreasonably, to find in what would pass
before him something bearing on the subject ever present in his mind.

The sky could not be called blue of any tint; it seemed rather to be
filled with common dust mixed with powder of crushed brick. The effect
was of a semi-transparent ceiling flushed with heat from the direct
down-beating action of the sun, itself a disk of flame. Low mountains,
purplish black in hue, made a horizon on which the ceiling appeared
set, like the crystal in the upper valve of a watch. Thus shut in, but
still fair to view east and south of the position the spectator
occupied, lay El Zaribah, whither, as the appointed meeting place, so
many pilgrims had for days and weeks ever wearier growing been "walking
with their eyes." In their thought the Valley was not so much a garden
or landscape of beauty as an ante-chamber of the House of Allah. As
they neared it now, journeying since the break of day, impatience
seized them; so when the cry sped down the irregular column--"It is
here! It is here!" they answered with a universal _labbayaki_,
signifying, "Thou hast called us--here we are, here we are!" Then
breaking into a rabble, they rushed multitudinously forward. To give
the reader an idea of the pageant advancing to possess itself of the
Valley, it will be well to refresh his memory with a few details. He
should remember, in the first place, that it was not merely the caravan
which left El Katif over on the western shore of the Green Sea, but two
great caravans merged into one--_El Shemi_, from Damascus, and _Misri_,
from Cairo. To comprehend these, the region they drained of pilgrims
should be next considered. For example, at Cairo there was a
concentration from the two Egypts, Upper and Lower, from the mysterious
deserts of Africa, and from the cities and countries along the southern
shore of the Mediterranean far as Gibraltar; while the whole East,
using the term in its most comprehensive sense, emptied contingents of
the devout into Damascus. In forwarding the myriads thus poured down
upon them the Arabs were common carriers, like the Venetians to the
hordes of western Europe in some of the later crusades; so to their
thousands of votaries proper, the other thousands of them engaged in
the business are also to be computed. El Medina was the great secondary
rendezvous. Hardly could he be accounted of the Faithful who in making
the pilgrimage would turn his back upon the bones of the Prophet; of
such merit was the saying, "One prayer in this thy mosque is of more
virtue than a thousand in other places, save only the Masjid El Haram."
Once at Medina, how could the pilgrim refuse his presence, if not his
tears, at El Kuba, forever sacred to the Mohammedan heart as the first
place of public prayer in Islam? Finally, it should not be forgotten
that the year we write of belonged to a cycle when readers of the Koran
and worshippers at Mecca were more numerous than now, if not more
zealous and believing. And it was to witness the passing of this
procession, so numerous, so motley, so strangely furnished, so
uncontrolled except as it pleased, the Prince of India was seated at
the door of his tent upon the hill. Long before the spectacle was
sighted in the distance, its approach was announced by an overhanging
pillar of cloud, not unlike that which went before the Israelites in
their exodus through similar wastes. Shortly after the interview with
the Emir, the Prince, looking under the pillar, saw a darkening line
appear, not more at first than a thread stretched across a section of
the east.

The apparition was without a break; nor might he have said it was in
motion or of any depth. A sound came from the direction not unlike that
of a sibilant wind. Presently out of the perspective, which reduced the
many to one and all sizes to a level, the line developed into unequal
divisions, with intervals between them; about the same time the noise
became recognizable as the voices fiercely strained and inarticulate of
an innumerable host of men. Then the divisions broke into groups, some
larger than others; a little later individuals became discernible;
finally what had appeared a line resolved itself into a convulsing
mass, without front, without wings, but of a depth immeasurable.

The pilgrims did not attempt to keep the road; having converted their
march into a race, they spread right and left over the country, each
seeking a near way; sometimes the object was attained, sometimes not;
the end was a confusion beyond description. The very inequalities of
the ground helped the confusion. A group was one moment visible on a
height; then it vanished in a hollow. Now there were thousands on a
level; then, as if sinking, they went down, down, and presently where
they were there was only dust or a single individual.

Afterwhile, so wide was the inrolling tide, the field of vision
overflowed, and the eye was driven to ranging from point to point,
object to object. Then it was discernible that the mass was mixed of
animals and men--here horses, there camels--some with riders, some
without--all, the burdened as well as unburdened, straining forward
under urgency of shriek and stick--forward for life--forward as if of
the two "comforts," Success beckoned them in front, and Despair behind
plied them with spears. [Footnote: In the philosophy of the Arabs
Success and Despair are treated as comforts.]

At length the eastern boundary of the Valley was reached. There one
would suppose the foremost of the racers, the happy victors, would rest
or, at their leisure, take of the many sites those they preferred; but
no--the penalty attaching to the triumph was the danger of being run
down by the thousands behind. In going on there was safety--and on they
went.

To this time the spectacle had been a kind of panoramic generality; now
the details came to view, and accustomed as he was to marvels of
pageantry, the Prince exclaimed: "These are not men, but devils fleeing
from the wrath of God!" and involuntarily he went nearer, down to the
brink of the height. It seemed the land was being inundated with
camels; not the patient brutes we are used to thinking of by that name,
with which domestication means ill-treatment and suffering--the
slow-going burden-bearers, always appealing to our sympathy because
always apparently tired, hungry, sleepy, worn-out--always reeling on as
if looking for quiet places in which to slip their loads of whatever
kind, and lie down and die; but the camel aroused, enraged, frightened,
panic-struck, rebellious, sending forth strange cries, and running with
all its might--an army of camels hurling their gigantic hulks along at
a rate little less than blind impetus. And they went, singly, and in
strings, and yonder a mass. The slower, and those turned to the right
or left of the direct course, and all such as had hesitated upon coming
to a descent, were speedily distanced or lost to sight; so the ensemble
was constantly shifting. And then the rolling and tossing of the
cargoes and packages on the backs of the animals, and the streaming out
of curtains, scarfs, shawls, and loose draperies of every shape and
color, lent touches of drollery and bright contrasts to the scene. One
instant the spectator on the hill was disposed to laugh, then to
admire, then to shiver at the immensity of a danger; over and over
again amidst his quick variation of feeling, he repeated the
exclamation: "These are not men, but devils fleeing from the wrath of
God!"

Such was the spectacle in what may be called the second act; presently
it reached a third; and then the fury of the movement, so inconsistent
with the habits and patient nature of the camel, was explained. In the
midst of the hurly-burly, governing and directing it, were horsemen, an
army of themselves. Some rode in front, and the leading straps on which
they pulled with the combined strength of man and horse identified them
as drivers; others rode as assistants of the drivers, and they were
armed with goads which they used skilfully and without mercy. There
were many collisions, upsets, and entanglements; yet the danger did not
deter the riders from sharing the excitement, and helping it forward to
their utmost. They too used knotted ropes, and stabbed with sharpened
sticks; they also contributed to the unearthly tumult of sounds which
travelled with the mob, a compound of prayers, imprecations, and
senseless screams--the medley that may be occasionally heard from a
modern mad-house.

In the height of the rush the Shaykh came up.

"How long," said the Prince--"in the Prophet's name, how long will this
endure?"

"Till night, O most excellent Hadji--if the caravans be so long in
coming."

"Is it usual?"

"It has been so from the beginning."

Thereupon the curiosity of the Prince took another turn. A band of
horsemen galloped into view--free riders, with long lances carried
upright, their caftans flying, and altogether noble looking.

"These are Arabs. I know by their horses and their bearing," said he,
with admiration; "but possibly thou canst give me the name of their
tribe."

The Shaykh answered with pride: "Their horses are gray, and by the
sign, O lover of the Prophet, they are the Beni-Yarb. Every other one
of them is a poet; in the face of an enemy, they are all warriors."

The camps on the hill, with the yellow flag giving notice of the Emir's
station, had effect upon others besides the Yarbis; all who wished to
draw out of the _melange_ turned towards them, bringing the spectacle
in part to the very feet of the Wanderer; whereas he thought with a
quicker beating of the heart, "The followers of the Prophet are coming
to show me of what they are this day composed." Then he said to the
Shaykh, "Stand thou here, and tell me as I shall ask."

The conversation between them may be thus summarized:

The current which poured past then, its details in perfect view,
carried along with it all the conditions and nationalities of the
pilgrimage. Natives of the desert on bare-backed camels, clinging to
the humps with one hand, while they pounded with the other--natives on
beautiful horses, not needing whip or spur--natives on dromedaries so
swift, sure-footed, and strong there was no occasion for fear. Men, and
often women and children, on ragged saddle-cloths, others in
pretentious boxes, and now and then a person whose wealth and rank were
published by the magnificence of the litter in which he was borne,
swinging luxuriously between long-stepping dromedaries from El Sbark.

"By Allah!" the Prince exclaimed. "Here hath barbarism its limit!
Behold!"

They of whom he spoke came up in irregular array mounted on dromedaries
without housing. At their head rode one with a white lettered green
flag, and beating an immense drum. They were armed with long spears of
Indian bamboo, garnished below the slender points with swinging tufts
of ostrich feathers. Each carried a woman behind him disdainful of a
veil. The feminine screams of exultation rose high above the yells of
the men, helping not a little to the recklessness with which the latter
bore onward.

Woe to such in their way as were poorly mounted. In a twinkling they
were ridden down. Nor did those fare better who were overtaken
struggling with a string of camels. The crash of bursting boxes, the
sharp report of rending ropes, the warning cry, the maddening cheer; a
battle of men, another of beasts--and when the collision had passed,
the earth was strewn with its wreck.

"They are Wahabbas, O Hadji," said the Shaykh. "Thou seest the tufts on
their spears. Under them they carry _Jehannum_."

"And these now coming?" asked the Prince. "Their long white hats remind
me of Persia."

"Persians they are," replied the Shaykh, his lip curling, his eyes
gleaming. "They will tear their clothes, and cut their shaven crowns,
and wail, 'Woe's me, O Ali!' then kiss the Kaaba with defilement on
their beards. The curse of the _Shaykaim_ is on them--may it stay
there!"

Then the Prince knew it was a Sunite speaking of Schiahs.

Yet others of the Cafila of Bagdad passed with the despised sons of
Iran; notably Deccanese, Hindoos, Afghans, and people from the
Himalayas, and beyond them far as Kathay, and China, and Siam, all
better known to the Prince than to his Shaykh, who spoke of them,
saying, "Thou shouldst know thine own, O Hadji! Thou art their father!"

Next, in a blending that permitted no choice of associates, along swept
the chief constituents of the caravans--Moors and Blackamoors,
Egyptians, Syrians, Turks, Kurds, Caucasians, and Arabs of every tribe,
each a multitude of themselves, and their passing filled up the
afternoon.

Towards sundown the hurry and rush of the movement perceptibly
slackened. Over in the west there were signs of a halt; tents were
rising, and the smoke of multiplying fires began to deepen the blue of
the distance. It actually appeared as if settlement for the night would
creep back upon the east, whence the irruption had burst.

At a moment when the Prince's interest in the scene was commencing to
flag, and he was thinking of returning to his tent, the rearmost
divisions of the pilgrims entered the Valley. They were composed of
footmen and donkey-riders, for whom the speed of the advance bodies had
been too great. High-capped Persians, and Turks whose turbans were
reduced to faded fezes, marched in the van, followed closely by a
rabble of Takruris, ragged, moneyless, living upon meat of abandoned
animals. Last of all were the sick and dying, who yet persisted in
dragging their fainting limbs along as best they could. Might they but
reach the Holy City! Then if they died it would be as martyrs for whom
the doors of Paradise are always open. With them, expectants of easy
prey, like the _rakham_ [Footnote: Vultures.] sailing in slow circles
overhead, flocked the beggars, thieves, outcasts and assassins; but
night came quickly, and covered them, and all the things they did, for
evil and night have been partners from the beginning.

At last the Prince returned to his tent. He had seen the sun set over
El Zaribah; he had seen the passing of the caravans. Out there in the
Valley they lay. They--to him, and for his purposes, the Mohammedan
world unchanged--the same in composition, in practice, in creed--only
he felt now a consciousness of understanding them as never before.
Mahomet, in his re-introduction of God to man, had imposed himself upon
their faith, its master idea, its central figure, the superior in
sanctity, the essential condition--the ONE! Knowingly or unknowingly,
he left a standard of religious excellence behind him--Himself. And by
that standard the thief in the wake of the mighty caravans robbing the
dead, the Thug strangling a victim because he was too slow in dying,
were worthy Paradise, and would attain it, for they believed in him.
Faith in the Prophet of God was more essential than faith in God. Such
was the inspiration of Islam. A sinking of spirit fell upon the unhappy
man. He felt a twinge of the bitterness always waiting on failure,
where the undertaking, whatever it be, has enlisted the whole heart. At
such times instinctively we turn here and there for help, and in its
absence, for comfort and consolation; what should he do now but advert
to Christianity? What would Christians say of his idea? Was God lost in
Christ as he was here in Mahomet?




CHAPTER VI

THE PRINCE AND THE EMIR


In the reception room of the Prince's tent the lamps are lighted; one
fastened to the stout centre pole, and five others on as many palings
planted in the ground, all burning brightly. The illumination is
enriched by the admirable blending of colors in the canopy of shawls.
Within the space defined by the five lamps, on a tufted rug, the Mystic
and the Emir are seated, both in _Ihram_, and looking cool and
comfortable, though the night outside still testifies to the heat of
the day.

A wooden trencher, scoured white as ivory, separates the friends,
leaving them face to face. In supping they have reached what we call
the dessert.

On the trencher are slender baskets containing grapes, figs, and dates,
the choicest of the gardens of Medina. A jar of honey, an assortment of
dry biscuits, and two jugs, one of water, the other of juice of
pomegranates, with drinking cups, complete the board.

At this age, Orientals lingering at table have the cheer of coffee and
tobacco; unhappily for the two of whom we are writing, neither of the
great narcotics was discovered. Nevertheless it should not be supposed
the fruits, the honey, and the waters failed to content them. Behind
the host is the negro we already know as Nilo. He is very watchful of
his master's every motion.

As guest and host appear now the formalism of acquaintanceship just
made has somewhat disappeared, and they are talking easily and with
freedom. Occasionally a movement of one or the other brings his head to
a favorable angle, whereat the light, dropping on the freshly shaven
crown, is sharply glinted back.

The Emir has been speaking of the plague.

"At Medina I was told it had run its course," the host remarked.

"True, O Hadji, but it has returned, and with greater violence. The
stragglers were its victims; now it attacks indiscriminately. Yesterday
the guard I keep in the rear came to a pilgrim of rank. His litter was
deserted, and he was lying in it dead."

"The man may have been murdered."

"Nay," said the Emir, "gold in large amount was found on his person."

"But he had other property doubtless?"

"Of great value."

"What disposition was made of it?"

"It was brought to me, and is now with other stores in my tent; a law
of ancient institution vesting it in the Emir El Hajj."

The countenance of the Jew became serious.

"The ownership was not in my thought," he said, waving his hand. "I
knew the law; but this scourge of Allah has its laws also, and by one
of them we are enjoined to burn or bury whatever is found with the
body."

The Emir, seeing the kindly concern of his host, smiled as he answered:

"But there is a higher law, O Hadji."

"I spoke without thinking danger of any kind could disturb thee."

The host drew forward the date basket, and the Emir, fancying he
discerned something on his mind besides the fruit, waited his further
speech.

"I am reminded of another matter, O brave Emir; but as it also is
personal I hesitate. Indeed I will not speak of it except with
permission."

"As you will," the other replied, "I will answer--May the Prophet help
me!"

"Blessed be the Prophet!" said the Prince, reverently. "Thy confidence
doeth me honor, and I thank thee; at the same time I would not presume
upon it if thy tongue were less suggestive of a land whose name is
music--Italy. It is in my knowledge, O Emir, that the Sultan, thy
master--may Allah keep him in countenance!--hath in his service many
excellent soldiers by birth of other countries than his own, broad as
it is--Christians, who are none the less of the true faith. Wherefore,
wilt thou tell me of thyself?"

The question did not embarrass the Emir.

"The answer must be brief," he answered, without hesitation, "because
there is little to tell. I do not know my native country. The
peculiarity of accent you have mentioned has been observed by others;
and as they agreed with you in assigning it to Italy, I am nothing
loath to account myself an Italian. The few shreds of circumstance
which came to me in course of time confirmed the opinion, and I availed
myself of a favorable opportunity to acquire the tongue. In our further
speech, O Hadji, you may prefer its use."

"At thy pleasure," the host replied; "though there is no danger of our
being overheard. Nilo, the slave behind me, has been a mute from birth."

Then, without the slightest interruption, the Emir changed his speech
from Greek to Italian.

"My earliest remembrance is of being borne in a woman's arms out of
doors, under a blue sky, along a margin of white sand, an orchard on
one hand, the sea on the other. The report of the waves breaking upon
the shore lives distinctly in my memory; so does the color of the trees
in the orchard which has since become familiar to me as the green of
olives. Equally clear is the recollection that, returning in-doors, I
was carried into a house of stone so large it must have been a castle.
I speak of it, as of the orchard, and the sea, and the roar of the
breakers, quite as much by reference to what I have subsequently seen
as from trust in my memory."

Here the host interrupted him to remark:

"Though an Eastern, I have been a traveller in the west, and the
description reminds me of the eastern shore of Italy in the region of
Brindisi."

"My next recollection," the Emir resumed, "is a child's fright,
occasioned by furious flames, and thick smoke, and noises familiar now
as of battle. There was then a voyage on the sea during which I saw
none but bearded men. The period of perfect knowledge so far as my
history is concerned began when I found myself an object of the love
and care of the wife of a renowned Pacha, governor of the city of
Brousa. She called me _Mirza_. My childhood was spent in a harem, and I
passed from it into a school to enter upon my training as a soldier. In
good time I became a Janissary. An opportunity presented itself one
day, and I distinguished myself. My master, the Sultan, rewarded me by
promotion and transfer to the _Silihdars_, [Footnote: D'Oheson.] the
most ancient and favored corps of the Imperial army, it being the
body-guard of the Padisha, and garrison of his palace. The yellow flag
my ensign carries belongs to that corps. As a further token of his
confidence, the Sultan appointed me Emir El Hajj. In these few words, O
Hadji, you have my history."

The listener was impressed with the simplicity of the narrative, and
the speaker's freedom from regret, sorrow, or passion of any kind.

"It is a sad story, O Emir," he said, sympathetically, "and I cannot
think it ended. Knowest thou not more?"

"Nothing of incident," was the reply. "All that remains is inferential.
The castle was attacked at night by Turks landed from their galleys."

"And thy father and mother?"

"I never knew them."

"There is another inference," said the Prince, suggestively--"they were
Christians."

"Yes, but unbelievers."

The suppression of natural affection betrayed by the remark still more
astonished the host.

"But they believed in God," he said.

"They should have believed Mahomet was his Prophet."

"I fear I am giving you pain, O Emir."

"Dismiss the fear, O Hadji."

Again the Jew sought the choicest date in the basket. The indifference
of his guest was quick fuel to the misgivings which we have already
noticed as taking form about his purpose, and sapping and weakening it.
To be arbiter in the religious disputes of men, the unique consummation
called for by his scheme, the disputants must concede him room and
hearing. Were all Mohammedans, from whom he hoped most, like this one
born of Christians, then the two conditions would be sternly refused
him. By the testimony of this witness, there was nothing in the
heredity of faith; and it went to his soul incisively that, in
stimulating the passions which made the crusades a recurrence of the
centuries, he himself had contributed to the defeat now threatening his
latest ambition. The sting went to his soul; yet, by force of will,
always at command in the presence of strangers, he repressed his
feeling, and said:

"Everything is as Allah wills. Let us rejoice that he is our keeper.
The determination of our fate, in the sense of what shall happen to us,
and what we shall be, and when and where the end shall overtake us, is
no more to him than deciding the tint of the rose before the bud is
formed. O Emir, I congratulate you on the resignation with which you
accept his judgment. I congratulate you upon the age in which he has
cast your life. He who in a moment of uncertainty would inform himself
of his future should not heed his intentions and hopes; by studying his
present conditions, he will find himself an oracle unto himself. He
should address his best mind to the question, 'I am now in a road; if I
keep it, where will I arrive?' And wisdom will answer, 'What are thy
desires? For what art thou fitted? What are the opportunities of the
time?' Most fortunate, O Emir, if there be correspondence between the
desire, the fitness, and the opportunity!"

The Emir did not comprehend, and seeing it, the host added with a
directness approaching the abrupt:

"And now to make the reason of my congratulations clear, it is
necessary that thou consent to my putting a seal upon your lips. What
sayest thou?"

"If I engage my silence, O Hadji, it is because I believe you are a
good man."

The dignity of the Emir's answer did not entirely hide the effect of
the Prince's manner.

"Know thou then," the latter continued, with a steady, penetrating
gaze--"know thou then, there is a Brahman of my acquaintance who is a
Magus. I use the word to distinguish him from the necromancers whom the
Koran has set in everlasting prohibition. He keeps school in a chapel
hid away in the heart of jungles overgrowing a bank of the Bermapootra,
not far from the mountain gates of the river. He has many scholars, and
his intelligence has compassed all knowledge. He is familiar with the
supernatural as with the natural. On my way, I visited him.... Know
thou next, O Emir, I too have had occasion to make inquiries of the
future. The vulgar would call me an astrologer--not a professional
practising for profit, but an adept seeking information because it
lifts me so much nearer Allah and his sublimest mysteries. Very lately
I found a celestial horoscope announcing a change in the status of the
world. The masterful waves, as you may know, have for many ages flowed
from the West; but now, the old Roman impetus having at last spent
itself, a refluence is to set in, and the East in its turn pour a
dominating flood upon the West. The determining stars have slipped
their influences. They are in motion. _Constantinople is doomed!_"

The guest drew a quick breath. Understanding was flooding him with
light.

"And now, O Emir, say, if the revelation had stopped there--stopped, I
mean, with the overthrow of the Christian capital--wouldst thou have
been satisfied with it?"

"No, by Allah, no!"

"Further, Emir. The stars being communicable yet, what wouldst thou
have asked them next?"

"I would not have rested until I had from them the name of him who is
to be leader in the movement."

The Mystic smiled at the young man's fervor.

"Thou hast saved me telling what I did, and affirmed the logic of our
human nature," he said. "Thy imperial master is old, and much worn by
wars and cares of government, is he not?"

"Old in greatness," answered the Emir, diplomatically.

"Hath he not a son?"

"A son with all the royal qualities of the father."

"But young--not more than eighteen."

"Not more."

"And the Prophet hath lent him his name?"

"Even so."

The host released the eager face of the Emir from his gaze, while he
sought a date in the basket.

"Another horoscope--the second"--he then said, quietly, "revealed
everything but the hero's name. He is to be of kingly birth, and a
Turk. Though a lad, he is already used to arms and armor."

"Oh! by Allah, Hadji," cried the guest, his face flushed, his words
quick, his voice mandatory. "Release me from my pledge of silence. Tell
me who thou art, that I may report thee, and the things thou sayest.
There was never such news to warm a heroic heart."

The Prince pursued his explanation without apparently noticing the
interruption noticing the interruption.

"To verify the confidences of the stars, I sought the Magus in his
chapel by the sacred river. Together we consulted them, and made the
calculations. He embraced me; but it was agreed between us that
absolute verity of the finding could only be had by re-casting the
horoscopes at Constantinople. Thou must know, O Emir, there is an
astral alphabet which has its origin in the inter-relations of the
heavenly bodies, represented by lines impalpable to the common eye;
know also that the most favored adept cannot read the mystic letters
with the assurance best comporting with verity, except he be at the
place of the destined event or revolution. To possess myself of the
advantage, I shall ere long visit the ancient capital. More plainly, I
am on the way thither now."

Instead of allaying the eagerness of the Emir, the words excited it the
more.

"Release me from my pledge," he repeated, entreatingly, "and tell me
who thou art. Mahommed is my pupil; he rides, carries shield, lays
lance, draws arrow, and strikes with sword and axe as I have taught
him. Thou canst not name a quality characteristic of heroes he does not
possess. Doth Allah permit me safe return from the Hajj, he will be
first to meet me at his father's gate. Think what happiness I should
have in saluting him there with the title--Hail Mahommed, Conqueror of
Constantinople!"

The Jew answered:

"I would gladly help thee, O Emir, to happiness and promotion; for I
see what afterwhile, if not presently, they would follow such a
salutation of thy pupil, if coupled with a sufficient explanation; but
his interests are paramount; at the same time it becomes me to be
allegiant to the divinatory stars. What rivalries the story might
awaken! It is not uncommon in history, as thou mayst know, that sons of
promise have been cut off by jealous fathers. I am not accusing the
great Amurath; nevertheless precautions are always proper."

The speaker then became dramatic.

"Nay, brave Emir, the will to help thee has been already seconded by
the deed. I spoke but now of lines of correspondence between the
shining lights that are the life of the sky at night. Let me illustrate
my meaning. Observe the lamps about us. The five on the uprights.
Between them, in the air, two stars of interwoven form are drawn. Take
the lamps as determining points, and use thy fancy a moment."

The Emir turned to the lamps; and the host, swift to understand the
impulse, gave him time to gratify it; then he resumed:

"So the fields of Heaven between the stars, where the vulgar see only
darkness, are filled with traceries infinite in form yet separable as
the letters of the alphabet. They are the ciphers in which Allah writes
his reasons for every creation, and his will concerning it. There the
sands are numbered, and the plants and trees, and their leaves, and the
birds, and everything animate; there is thy history, and mine, and all
of little and great and good and bad that shall befall us in this life.
Death does not blot out the records. Everlastingly writ, they shall be
everlastingly read--for the shame of some, for the delight of others."

"Allah is good," said the Emir, bending his head.

"And now," the Mystic continued, "thou hast eaten and drunk with me in
the Pentagram of the Magii. Such is the astral drawing between the five
lamps. Henceforth in conflicts of interest, fortune against fortune,
influences undreamt of will come to thy assistance. So much have I
already done for thee."

The Emir bowed lower than before.

"Nor that alone," the Jew continued. "Henceforth our lives will run
together on lines never divergent, never crossing. Be not astonished,
if, within a week, I furnish, to thy full satisfaction, proof of what I
am saying."

The expression could not be viewed except as of more than friendly
interest.

"Should it so happen," the Emir said, with warmth, "consider how
unfortunate my situation would be, not knowing the name or country of
my benefactor."

The host answered simply, though evasively:

"There are reasons of state, O Emir, requiring me to make this
pilgrimage unknown to any one."

The Emir apologized.

"It is enough," the host added, "that thou remember me as the Prince of
India, whose greatest happiness is to believe in Allah and Mahomet his
Prophet; at the same time I concede we should have the means of
certainly knowing each other should communication become desirable
hereafter."

He made a sign with his right hand which the negro in waiting responded
to by passing around in front of him.

"Nilo," the master said in Greek, "bring me the two malachite
rings--those with the turquoise eyes."

The slave disappeared.

"Touching the request to be released from the promise of secrecy,
pardon me, O Emir, if I decline to grant it. The verification to be
made in Constantinople should advise thee that the revolution to which
I referred is not ripe for publication to the world. A son might be
excused for dishonoring his parents; but the Magus who would subject
the divine science to danger of ridicule or contempt by premature
disclosure is fallen past hope--he would betray Allah himself."

The Emir bowed, but with evident discontent. At length the slave
returned with the rings.

"Observe, O Emir," the Jew said, passing them both to his guest, "they
are rare, curious, and exactly alike."

The circlets were of gold, with raised settings of deep green stone,
cut so as to leave a drop of pure turquoise on the top of each,
suggestive of birds' eyes.

"They are exactly the same, O Prince," said the Emir, tendering them
back.

The Jew waved his hand.

"Select one of them," he said, "and I will retain the other. Borne by
messengers, they will always identify us each to the other."

The two grew more cordial, and there was much further conversation
across the board, interspersed with attentions to the fruit basket and
pomegranate water. About midnight the Emir took his departure. When he
was gone, the host walked to and fro a long time; once he halted, and
said aloud--"I hear his salute, 'Hail Mahommed, Conqueror of
Constantinople!' It is always well to have a store of strings for one's
bow."

And to himself he laughed heartily.

Next day at dawn the great caravan was afoot, every man, woman, and
child clad in _Ihram_, and whitening the pale green Valley.




CHAPTER VII

AT THE KAABA


The day before the pilgrimage.

A cloud had hung over the valley where Mecca lies like drift in the bed
of a winding gorge. About ten o'clock in the morning the cloud
disappeared over the summit of Abu Kubays in the east. The promise of
rain was followed by a simoom so stifling that it plunged every
breathing thing into a struggle for air. The dogs burrowed in the shade
of old walls; birds flew about with open beaks; the herbage wilted, and
the leaves on the stunted shrubs ruffled, then rolled up, like drying
cinnamon. If the denizens of the city found no comfort in their houses
of stone and mud, what suffering was there for the multitude not yet
fully settled in the blistering plain beyond the bluffs of Arafat?

The zealous pilgrim, obedient to the law, always makes haste to
celebrate his arrival at the Holy City by an immediate visit to the
Haram. If perchance he is to see the enclosure for the first time, his
curiosity, in itself pardonable, derives a tinge of piety from duty.
The Prince of India but illustrated the rule. He left his tents pitched
close to those of the Emir El Hajj and the Scherif of Mecca, under the
Mountain of Mercy, as Arafat was practically translated by the very
faithful. Having thus assured the safety of his property, for
conveniency and greater personal comfort he took a house with windows
looking into the Mosque. By so doing, he maintained the dignity of his
character as a Prince of India. The beggars thronging his door
furnished lively evidence of the expectations his title and greatness
had already excited.

With a guide, his suite, and Nilo shading his head with an umbrella of
light green paper, the Prince appeared in front of the chief entrance
to the sacred square from the north. [Footnote: The Bab el Vzyadeh.]

The heads of the party were bare; their countenances becomingly solemn;
their _Ihram_ fresh and spotlessly white. Passing slowly on, they were
conducted under several outside arches, and down a stairway into a
hall, where they left the umbrella and their shoes.

The visitor found himself then in a cloister of the Mosque with which
the area around the Kaaba is completely enclosed. There was a pavement
of undressed flags, and to the right and left a wilderness of tall
pillars tied together by arches, which in turn supported domes. Numbers
of people, bareheaded and barefooted, to whom the heat outside was
insupportable, were in refuge there; some, seated upon the stones,
revolved their rosaries; others walked slowly about. None spoke. The
silence was a tribute to the ineffable sanctity of the place. The
refreshing shade, the solemn hush, the whiteness of the garments were
suggestive of sepulchres and their spectral tenantry.

In the square whither the Prince next passed, the first object to
challenge his attention was the Kaaba itself. At sight of it he
involuntarily stopped.

The cloisters, seen from the square, were open colonnades. Seven
minarets, belted in red, blue and yellow, arose in columnar relief
against the sky and the mountains in the south. A gravelled plot
received from the cloisters; next that, toward the centre, was a narrow
pavement of rough stone in transverse extension down a shallow step to
another gravelled plot; then another pavement wider than the first, and
ending, like it, in a downward step; after which there was a third
sanded plot, and then a third pavement defined by gilded posts
upholding a continuous row of lamps, ready for lighting at the going
down of the sun. The last pavement was of gray granite polished
mirror-like by the friction of millions of bare feet; and upon it, like
the pedestal of a monument upon a plinth, rested the base of the Holy
House, a structure of glassy white marble about two feet in height,
with a bench of sharp inclination from the top. At intervals it was
studded with massive brass rings. Upon the base the Kaaba rose, an
oblong cube forty feet tall, eighteen paces lengthwise, and fourteen in
breadth, shrouded all in black silk wholly unrelieved, except by one
broad band of the appearance of gold, and inscriptions from the Koran,
of a like appearance, wrought in boldest lettering. The freshness of
the great gloomy curtain told how quickly the gift of the Sultan had
been made available, and that whatever else might betide him, the young
Emir was already happily discharged of his trust.

Of the details, the only one the Jew actually coupled with a thought
was the Kaaba. A hundred millions of human beings pray five times every
day, their faces turned to this funereal object! The idea, though
commonplace, called up that other always in waiting with him. In a
space too brief for the formulation of words, he felt the Arbitership
of his dreams blow away. The work of the founder of Islam was too well
done and now too far gone to be disturbed, except with the sanction of
God. Had he the sanction? A writhing of the soul, accompanied with a
glare, like lightning, and followed, like lightning, by an engulfing
darkness, wrung his features, and instinctively he covered them with
his hands. The guide saw the action, and misjudged it.

"Let us not be in haste," he said. "Others before you have found the
House at first sight blinding. Blessed be Allah!"

The commiseration affected the Prince strangely. The darkness, under
pressure of his hands upon the eyeballs, gave place to an atmosphere of
roseate light, in the fulness of which he saw the House of God
projected by Solomon and rebuilt by Herod. The realism of the
apparition was absolute, and comparison unavoidable. That he, familiar
with the glory of the conception of the Israelite, should be thought
blinded by this _Beit Allah_ of the Arab, so without grace of form or
lines, so primitive and expressionless, so palpably uninspired by
taste, or genius, or the Deity it was designed to honor, restored him
at once: indeed, in the succeeding reaction, he found it difficult to
keep down resentment. Dropping his hands, he took another survey of the
shrouded pile, and swept all the square under eye.

He beheld a crowd of devotees at the northeast corner of the House, and
over their heads two small open structures which, from descriptions
often heard, he recognized as praying places. A stream of worshippers
was circling around the marble base of the Most Holy, some walking,
others trotting; these, arriving at the northeast corner, halted--the
Black Stone was there! A babel of voices kept the echoes of the
enclosure in unremitting exercise. The view taken, the Jew said, calmly:

"Blessed be Allah! I will go forward."

In his heart he longed to be in Constantinople--Islam, it was clear,
would lend him no ear; Christendom might be more amenable.

He was carried next through the Gate of the Sons of the Old Woman;
thence to the space in front of the well Zem-Zem; mindful of the
prayers and prostrations required at each place, and of the dumb
servants who went with him.

The famous well was surrounded by a throng apparently impassable.

"Room for the Royal Hadji--for the Prince of India!" the guide yelled.
"There are no poor where he is--make way!"

A thousand eyes sought the noble pilgrim; and as a path opened for him,
a score of _Zem-Zemis_ refilled their earthen cups with the bitter
water afresh. A Prince of Hind did not come to them every day.

He tasted from a cup--his followers drank--and when the party turned
away there were jars paid for to help all the blind in the caravan back
to healthful vision.

"There is no God but Allah! Be merciful to him, O Allah," the crowd
shouted, in approval of the charity.

The press of pilgrims around the northeastern corner of the Kaaba, to
which the guide would have conducted the Prince next, was greater than
at the well. Each was waiting his turn to kiss the Black Stone before
beginning the seven circuits of the House.

Never had the new-comer seen a concourse so wrought upon by fanaticism;
never had he seen a concourse so peculiarly constituted. All
complexions, even that of the interior African, were a reddish desert
tan. Eyes fiercely bright appeared unnaturally swollen from the
colirium with which they were generally stained. The diversities the
penitential costume would have masked were effectually exposed whenever
mouths opened for utterance. Many sang, regardless of time or melody,
the _tilbiye_ they had hideously vocalized in their advance toward the
city. For the most part, however, the effort at expression spent itself
in a long cry, literally rendered--"Thou hast called me--I am here! I
am here!" The deliverance was in the vernacular of the devotee, and low
or loud, shrill or hoarse, according to the intensity of the passion
possessing him.

To realize the discordancy, the reader must recall the multiplicity of
the tribes and nations represented; then will he fancy the agitation of
the mass, the swaying of the white-clad bodies, the tossing of bare
arms and distended hands, the working of tearful faces turned up to the
black-curtained pile regardless of the smiting of the sun--here men on
their knees, there men grovelling on the pavement--yonder one beating
his breast till it resounds like an empty cask--some comprehension of
the living obstruction in front of the Jew can be had.

Then the guide, calling him, tried the throng.

"The Prince of India!" he shouted, at the top of his voice. "Room for
the beloved of the Prophet! Stand not in his way--Room, room!"

After much persistence the object was achieved. A pilgrim, the last one
in front of the Prince, with arms extended along the two sides of the
angle of the wall where the curtain was looped up, seemed struggling to
embrace the House; suddenly, as in despair he beat his head frantically
against the sharp corner--a second thrust more desperate than the
first--then a groan, and he dropped blindly to the pavement. The guide
rejoicing made haste to push the Prince into the vacant place.

Without the enthusiasm of a traveller, calmly as a philosopher, the
Jew, himself again, looked at the Stone which more nearly than any
other material thing commanded idolatrous regard from the Mohammedan
world. He had known personally most of the great men of that world--its
poets, lawmakers, warriors, ascetics, kings--even the Prophet. And now
they came one by one, as one by one they had come in their several
days, and kissed the insensate thing; and between the coming and going
time was scarcely perceptible. The mind has the faculty of compressing,
by one mighty effort, the incidents of a life, even of centuries, into
a flash-like reenactment.

As all the way from the first view of the sanctuary to arrival at the
gate, and thence to this point, the Jew had promptly followed his
guide, especially in recitation of the prescribed prayers, he was about
to do so now; already his hands were raised.

"Great God! O my God! I believe in Thee--I Believe in thy Book--I
believe in thy Word--I believe in thy Promise," the zealous prompter
said, and waited.

For the first time the votary was slow to respond. How could he, at
such a juncture, refuse a thought to the Innumerables whose ghosts had
been rendered up in vain struggles to obey the law which required them
to come and make proof of faith before this Stone! The Innumerables,
lost at sea, lost in the desert--lost body and soul, as in their dying
they themselves had imagined! Symbolism! An invention of men--a
necessity of necromancers! God had his ministers and priests, the
living media of his will, but of symbols--nothing!

"Great God! O my God!" the guide began again. A paroxysm of disgust
seized the votary. The Phariseeism in which he was born and bred, and
which he could no more outlive than he could outlive his body asserted
itself.

In the crisis of the effort at self-control, he heard a groan, and,
looking down, saw the mad devotee at his feet. In sliding from the
shelf of the base, the man had been turned upon his back, so that he
was lying face upward. On the forehead there were two cruel wounds; and
the blood, yet flowing, had partially filled the hollows of the eyes,
making the countenance unrecognizable.

"The wretch is dying," the Prince exclaimed.

"Allah is merciful--let us attend to the prayers," the guide returned,
intent on business.

"But he will die, if not helped."

"When we have finished, the porters will come for him."

The sufferer stirred, then raised a hand.

"O Hadji--O Prince of India!" he said faintly, in Italian.

The Wanderer bent down to get a nearer view.

"It is the Yellow Air--save me!"

Though hardly articulate, the words were full of light to the listener.

"The virtues of the Pentagram endure," he said, with absolute
self-possession. "The week is not ended, and, lo!--I save him."

Rising to his full stature, he glanced here and there over the throng,
as if commanding attention, and proclaimed:

"A mercy of the Most Merciful! It is the Emir El Hajj."

There was a general silence. Every man had seen the martial figure of
the young chief in his arms and armor, and on horseback; many of them
had spoken to him.

"The Emir El Hajj--dying," passed rapidly from mouth to mouth.

"O Allah!" burst forth in general refrain; after which the ejaculations
were all excerpted from prayers.

"'O Allah! This is the place of him who flies to thee from
fire!--Shadow him, O Allah, in thy shadow!--Give him drink from the cup
of thy Prophet!'"

A Bedouin, tall, almost black, and with a tremendous mouth open until
the red lining was exposed between the white teeth down to the larynx,
shouted shrilly the inscription on the marble over the breast of the
Prophet--"In the name of Allah! Allah have mercy upon him!"--and every
man repeated the words, but not one so much as reached a hand in help.

The Prince waited--still the _Amins_, and prayerful ejaculations. Then
his wonder ceased. Not a pilgrim but envied the Emir--that he should
die so young was a pity--that he should die at the base of the
sanctuary, in the crowning act of the Hajj, was a grace of God. Each
felt Paradise stooping low to receive a martyr, and that its beatitude
was near. They trembled with ecstasy at hearing the gates opening on
their crystal hinges, and seeing light as from the robe of the Prophet
glimmering through them. O happy Emir!

The Jew drew within himself. Compromise with such fanaticism was
impossible. Then, with crushing distinctness, he saw what had not
before occurred to him. In the estimation of the Mohammedan world, the
role of Arbiter was already filled; that which he thought of being,
Mahomet was. Too late, too late! In bitterness of soul he flung his
arms up and shouted:

"The Emir is dying of the plague!"

He would have found satisfaction in seeing the blatant crowd take to
its heels, and hie away into the cloisters and the world outside; not
one moved!

"By Allah!" he shouted, more vehemently than before. "The Yellow Air
hath blown upon the Emir--is blowing upon you--Fly!"

"_Amin! Amin!_--Peace be with thee, O Prince of Martyrs! O Prince of
the Happy! Peace be with thee, O Lion of Allah! O Lion of the Prophet!"
Such the answers returned him.

The general voice became a howl. Surely here was something more than
fanaticism. Then it entered his understanding. What he beheld was Faith
exulting above the horrors of disease, above the fear of death--Faith
bidding Death welcome! His arms fell down. The crowd, the sanctuary,
the hopes he had built on Islam, were no more to him. He signed to his
three attendants, and they advanced and raised the Emir from the
pavement.

"To-morrow I will return with thee, and complete my vows;" he said to
his guide. "For the present, lead out of the square to my house."

The exit was effected without opposition.

Next day the Emir, under treatment of the Prince, was strong enough to
tell his story. The plague had struck him about noon of the day
following the interview in the tent at El Zaribah. Determined to
deliver the gifts he had in keeping, and discharge his trust to the
satisfaction of his sovereign, he struggled resolutely with the
disease. After securing the Scherif's receipt he bore up long enough to
superintend the pitching his camp. Believing death inevitable, he was
carried into his tent, where he issued his final orders and bade his
attendants farewell. In the morning, though weak, half-delirious, his
faith the strongest surviving impulse, he called for his horse, and
being lifted into the saddle, rode to the city, resolved to assure
himself of the blessings of Allah by dying in the shadow of the
sanctuary.

The Prince, listening to the explanation, was more than ever impressed
with the futility of attempting a compromise with people so devoted to
their religion. There was nothing for him but to make haste to
Constantinople, the centre of Christian sentiment and movement. There
he might meet encouragement and ultimate success.

In the ensuing week, having performed the two pilgrimages, and seen the
Emir convalescent, he took the road again, and in good time reached
Jedda, where he found his ship waiting to convey him across the Red Sea
to the African coast. The embarkation was without incident, and he
departed, leaving a reputation odorous for sanctity, with numberless
witnesses to carry it into every quarter of Islam.




CHAPTER VIII

THE ARRIVAL IN CONSTANTINOPLE


Uel, the son of Jahdai, was in the habit of carrying the letter
received from the mysterious stranger about with him in a breast
pocket. How many times a day he took it out for reexamination would be
difficult to say. Observing the appearance of signs of usage, he at
length wrapped it in an envelope of yellow silk. If he had thought less
of it, he would have resorted to plain linen.

There were certain points in the missive which seemed of greater
interest to him than others. For example, the place whence it had been
addressed was an ever recurring puzzle; he also dwelt long upon the
sentence which referred so delicately to a paternal relationship. The
most exigent passages, however, were those relative to the time he
might look for the man's coming. As specially directed, he had taken
note of the day of the delivery of the letter, and was greatly
surprised to find the messenger had arrived the last day of the year
permitted him. The punctuality of the servant might be in imitation of
a like virtue of the master. If so, at the uttermost, the latter might
be expected six months after receipt of the letter. Or he might appear
within the six months. The journeys laid out were of vast distances,
and through wild and dangerous countries, and by sea as well. Only a
good traveller could survive them at all; to execute them in such brief
space seemed something superhuman.

So it befell that the son of Jahdai was at first but little concerned.
The months--three, four, five--rolled away, and the sixth was close at
hand; then every day brought him an increase of interest. In fact, he
found himself looking for the arrival each morning, and at noon
promising it an event of the evening.

November was the sixth and last month of the time fixed. The first of
that month passed without the stranger. Uel became anxious. The
fifteenth he turned the keeping of his shop over to a friend; and
knowing the passage from Alexandria must be by sea, he betook himself,
with Syama, to the port on the Golden Horn known as the Gate of St.
Peter, at the time most frequented by Egyptian sailing masters. In
waiting there, he saw the sun rise over the heights of Scutari, and it
was the morning of the very last day. Syama, meantime, occupied himself
in final preparation of the house for the reception. He was not
excited, like Uel, because he had no doubt of the arrival within the
period set. He was also positively certain of finding his master, when
at length he did appear, exactly as when he separated from him in
Cipango. He was used to seeing Time waste itself upon the changeless
man; he had even caught from him a kind of contempt for what other men
shrank from as dangers and difficulties.

The site of the house has been described; it remains to give the reader
an idea of its interior. There were four rooms on the ground floor
furnished comfortably for servants, of whom the arrangement indicated
three besides Syama. The first floor was of three apartments
communicable by doorways with portieres of camel's hair. The furniture
was Roman, Greek, and Egyptian mixed. Of the three the middle chamber
was largest, and as its fittings were in a style of luxury supposed to
be peculiar to princes, the conclusion was fair that it was designed
for the proprietor's occupancy during his waking hours. A dark blue rug
clothed the floor. In the centre, upon a shield of clear copper, arose
a silver brazier. The arms and legs of the stools here and there on the
rug were carven in grotesque imitation of reptiles and animals of the
ultra dragonish mode. The divans against the walls were of striped
silk. In each corner stood a tall post of silvered bronze, holding at
the end of a graceful crook several lamps of Pompeiian model. A wide
window in the east end, filled with plants in bloom, admitted ample
light, which, glancing through the flowers, fell on a table dressed in
elegant cloth, and bearing a lacquered waiter garnished with cups of
metal and glass, and one hand-painted porcelain decanter for drinking
water. An enormous tiger-skin, the head intact and finished with
extraordinary realism, was spread on the floor in front of the table.
The walls were brilliant with fresh Byzantine frescoing. The air of the
room was faintly pervaded with a sweet incense of intoxicating effect
upon one just admitted to it. Indeed the whole interior partook of this
sweetness.

The care of the faithful servant had not been confined to the rooms; he
had constructed a summer house upon the roof, knowing that when the
weather permitted his master would pass the nights there in preference
to the chambers below. This structure looked not unlike a modern
belfry, except that the pillars and shallow dome of the top were of
Moorish lightness. Thence, to a familiar, the heavens in the absence of
the sun would be an unrolled map.

When the last touch of the preparation had been given, and Syama said
to himself, "He may come now," one point was especially
noticeable--nowhere in the house was there provision for a woman.

The morning of the last day Syama accompanied Uel to the port
reluctantly. Feeling sure his master had not arrived in the night, he
left his friend on the watch, and returned home early.

The noise and stir of business at the ancient landing were engaging.
With a great outcry, a vessel would be drawn up, and made fast, and the
unloading begun. A drove of donkeys, or a string of camels, or a mob of
porters would issue from the gate, receive the cargo and disappear with
it. Now and then a ship rounded the classic Point, its square sail bent
and all the oars at work: sweeping past Galata on the north side of the
Horn, then past the Fish Market Gate on the south, up it would come
gracefully as a flying bird; if there was place for it at the quay,
well; if not, after hovering around awhile, it would push out to a
berth in the open water. Such incidents were crises to Uel. To this one
and to that he would run with the question:

"Where is she from?"

If from the upper sea, he subsided; but if from the Marmora, he kept
eager lookout upon her, hoping to recognize in every disembarkee the
man he was expecting.

That he had never seen the person was of little consequence. He had
thought of him so much awake, and seen him so repeatedly in dreams, he
was confident of knowing him at sight. Imagining a stranger's
appearance is for the most part a gentle tribute of respect; the
mistakes we make are for the most part ludicrous.

No one answering the preconception came. Noon, and still no one; then,
cast down and disappointed, Uel went home, ate something, held the
usual childish dialogue with his little girl, and about mid afternoon
crossed the street to the new residence. Great was his astonishment at
finding a pyramid of coals glowing in the silver brazier, and the chill
already driven from the sitting-room. Here--there--upstairs,
downstairs--the signs were of present occupancy. For a moment he
thought the master had slipped by him or landed at some other port of
the city.

"Is he here? Has he come?" he asked, excitedly, and Syama answered with
a shake of the head.

"Then why the fire?"

Syama, briefly waving his hand as if following the great Marmorean
lake, turned the finger ends into the other palm, saying plainly and
emphatically:

"He is coming--he will be here directly."

Uel smiled--faith could not be better illustrated--and it was so in
contrast with his own incredulity!

He lingered awhile. Restlessness getting the mastery, he returned home,
reflecting on the folly of counting so implicitly upon the conclusion
to a day of a tour so vast. More likely, he thought, the traveller's
bones were somewhere whitening the desert, or the savages of Kash-Cush
had eaten him. He had heard of their cannibalism.

Want of faith, however, did not prevent the shopkeeper from going to
his friend's house after supper. It was night, and dark, and the
chilling moisture of a winter wind blowing steadily from the Black Sea
charged the world outside with discomfort. The brazier with its heap of
living coals had astonished him before; now the house was all alight!
He hastened upstairs. In the sitting-room the lamps were burning, and
the illumination was brilliant. Syama was there, calm and smiling as
usual.

"What--he is here?" Uel said, looking from door to door.

The servant shook his head, and waved his hand negatively, as to say:

"Not yet--be patient--observe me."

To indulge his wonder, Uel took seat. Later on he tried to get from
Syama an explanation of his amazing confidence, but the latter's
substitute for speech was too limited and uncertain to be satisfactory.

About ten o'clock Syama went below, and presently returned with food
and drink on a large waiter.

"Ah, good Lord!" Uel thought. "He is making a meal ready. What a man!
What a master!"

Then he gave attention to the fare, which was of wheaten wafers, cold
fowl, preserved fruits, and wine in a stoneware bottle. These Syama set
on a circular table not higher than the divan in front of which it was
drawn. A white napkin and a bowl for laving the fingers completed the
preparation, as Uel supposed. But no. Syama went below again, and
reappeared with a metal pot and a small wooden box. The pot he placed
on the coals in the brazier, and soon a delicate volume of steam was
pouring from the spout; after handling the box daintily as if the
contents were vastly precious, he deposited it unopened by the napkin
and bowl. Then, with an expression of content upon his face, he too
took seat, and surrendered himself to expectancy. The lisping of the
steam escaping from the pot on the fire was the only sound in the room.

The assurance of the servant was contagious. Uel began to believe the
master would come. He was congratulating himself upon the precaution he
had taken in leaving a man at the port to conduct him rightly when he
heard a shuffling of feet below stairs. He listened startled. There
were several men in the company. Steps shook the floor. Uel and Syama
arose.

The latter's countenance flushed with pleasure; giving one triumphal
glance at his friend, much as to say, There--did I not tell you so? he
walked forward quickly, and reached the head of the steps just as a
stranger finished their ascent. In a moment Syama was on his knees,
kissing the hand held out to him. Uel needed no prompter--it was the
master!

If only on account of the mutuality of affection shown between the two,
the meeting was a pleasant sight. That feature, however, was lost to
the shopkeeper, who had no thought except of the master's appearance.
He had imagined him modelled after the popular conceptions of kings and
warriors--tall, majestic, awe-inspiring. He saw instead a figure rather
undersized, slightly stoop-shouldered, thin; at least it seemed so
then, hid as it was under a dark brown burnoose of the amplitude
affected by Arab sheiks. The head was covered by a woollen handkerchief
of reddish tint, held by a scarlet cord. The edge of the handkerchief
projected over the forehead enough to cast the entire face in shade,
leaving to view only a mass of white beard overflowing the breast.

The master ended the reception at the head of the stairs by gently
raising Syama to his feet. Then he subjected the room to a swift
inspection, and, in proof of satisfaction, he patted the happy retainer
on the shoulder. Invited by the fire, and the assurance of comfort in
its glow, he advanced to the brazier, and while extending his hands
over it, observed Uel. Without surprise or hesitation he walked to him.

"Son of Jahdai!" he said, offering his hand.

The voice was of exceeding kindness. As an overture to peace and
goodwill, it was reenforced by very large eyes, the intense blackness
of which was softened by a perceptible glow of pleasure. Uel was won on
the instant. A recollection of the one supreme singularity of the new
acquaintance--his immunity from death--recurred to him, and he could
not have escaped its effect had he wished. He was conscious also that
the eyes were impressing him. Without distinct thought, certainly
without the slightest courtierly design, he obeyed the impulse of the
moment, and stooped and touched the extended hand with his lips. And
before rising he heard the beginning of further speech:

"I see the truth of my judgment. The family of my ancient friends has
trodden the ways of righteousness under the commandments of the Lord
until it has become a kind unto itself. I see too my trust has been
verified. O Son of Jahdai, you did assist my servant, as I requested,
and to your kindness, doubtless, I am indebted for this home full of
comforts after a long absence among strangers. I hold you my creditor."

The tendency of the speech was to relieve Uel of embarrassment.

"Do not thank me," he answered. "The business was ordinary, and
strictly within Syama's capacity. Indeed, the good man could have
finished it without my help."

The master, rich in experience, noticed the deferential manner of the
reply, and was agreeably assured on his side.

"Very well. There will be no harm in reserving an opinion," he said.
"The good man, as you call him, is making ready a drink with which he
has preceded me from his country, and which you must stay and share, as
it is something unknown in the West."

"Let me first welcome you here," Uel returned.

"Oh, I saw the welcome in your face. But let us get nearer the fire.
The night is chilling. If I were owner of a garden under whatever hill
along the Bosphorus, verily I should tremble for my roses."

Thus briefly, and in such simple manner, the wise Mystic put the
shopkeeper perfectly at ease.

At the brazier they watched Syama in the operation since become of
universal knowledge under title of "drawing tea." The fragrance of the
decoction presently filled the room to the suppression of the incense,
and they drank, ate, and were sociable. The host outlined his travels.
Uel, in return, gave him information of the city. When the latter
departed, it was with a light heart, and an elastic step; the white
beard and patriarchal manner of the man had laid his fears, and the
future was to him like a cloudless sky.

Afterwhile the master signified a wish to retire; whereupon his
household came, as was their wont, to bid him good-night. Of these
there were two white men. At sight of Syama, they rushed to embrace him
as became brethren of old acquaintance long in the same service. A
third one remained at the door. Syama looked at him, and then at the
master; for the man was a stranger. Then the Jew, with quick intuition
of the requirement of the time, went, and took him by the hand, and led
him to the others. Addressing Syama, he said gravely:

"This is Nilo, son of the Nilo whom you knew. As you held the father in
love, so you shall hold the son."

The man was young, very black, and gigantic in stature. Syama embraced
him as he had the others.

In the great city there was not a more united household under roof than
that of the shopkeeper's friend.




CHAPTER IX

THE PRINCE AT HOME


A wise man wishing to know another always attends him when he is in
narrative. The reader may be familiar with the principle, and a
believer in it; for his better satisfaction, therefore, a portion of
the Prince's conversation with Uel over the tea-table the night of his
arrival in Constantinople shall be reported nearly as possible in his
own words. It will be found helpful to the story as well as an expose
of character.

"I said in my letter, as thou mayst remember, O son of Jahdai"--the
voice of the speaker was low, but earnest, and admirably in harmony
with the sentiment, "that I hoped thou wouldst allow me to relate
myself to thee as father to son. Thou hast not forgotten it, I am sure."

"I recall it distinctly," Uel answered, respectfully.

"Thou wilt remember not less clearly then that I added the words, 'in
all things a help, in nothing a burden.'"

Uel assented.

"The addition I thought of great importance," the Prince continued;
"for it was very desirable that thou shouldst not imagine me coming to
sit down upon thee, and in idleness fatten upon the fruits of thy
industry. As something of even greater importance, thou shouldst know
now, at this earliest moment of our intercourse, that I am abundantly
able from what I have of goods and treasure to keep any condition I may
choose to assume. Indeed thou shouldst not be too much astonished did I
practise the style and manner of the nobles who are privileged in the
palaces of thy Caesar. At home I shall be as thou seest me now, thy
friend of simplest habits, because my tastes really incline to them;
when I go abroad, the officials of the Church and State whom I chance
to encounter shall be challenged to comparison of appearance, and be
piqued to inquire about me. Then when the city observes thou art
intimate with me, the demand for thy wares will increase; thou mayst
even be put to stress to keep apace with it. In speaking thus, I trust
thy natural shrewdness, sharpened as it must have become by much
dealing as a merchant."

He paused here to give his cup to Syama for replenishment; whereupon
Uel said: "I have followed thy discourse with interest, and I hope with
understanding; yet I am conscious of a disadvantage. I do not know thy
name, nor if thou hast a title."

"Yes, and thou mightest have set down in the table of defaults," the
Wanderer began pleasantly in reply, but broke off to receive the cup
smoking hot from the servant, and say--"Thanks, Syama. I see thy hand
hath not lost its deftness; neither has the green leaf suffered from
its long journey over the sea."

Uel noticed with what intentness Syama watched the master's lips while
he was speaking, and the gratification that beamed from his face in
answer to the compliment; and he thought, "Verily this must be a good
man to be so beloved by his dependents."

"I was saying, O son of Jahdai, that thou mightest have set down the
other points of information equally necessary to our
intercourse--Whence I come? And why? And I will not leave thee in the
dark respecting them. Only let me caution thee--It is not required that
the public should be taken into our confidence. I have seen a flower
good to look upon, but viscous, and with a scent irresistible to
insects. That flower represents the world; and what is the folly of its
victims but the madness of men who yield themselves with too easy faith
to the seductions of the world? Nay, my son--observe thou the term--I
use it to begin the relationship I seek--observe also I begin the
relationship by confidences which were unwisely given without the
injunction that they are intended to be put away in thy
inner-conscience. Tell me if I am understood."

The question was emphasized by a look whose magnetism thrilled Uel's
every nerve.

"I believe I understand you," he replied.

Then, as if the Prince knew the effect he had wrought, and that it
relieved him from danger of betrayal, he returned to his former easy
manner.

"And yet, as thou shalt see, my son, the confidences are not
crimes--But thy cup is empty, and Syama waiting for it."

"The drink is new to me," Uel replied, yielding to the invitation.

"New? And wilt thou not also say it is better than wine? The world of
which we are talking, will one day take up the admission, and be
happier of it."

Turning then to serious matter:

"Afterwhile," he said, "thou wilt be importuned by the curious to know
who I am, and thou shouldst be able to answer according to the fact--He
is a Prince of India. The vulgar will be satisfied with the reply.
Others will come demanding more. Refer them to me. As to thyself, O son
of Jahdai, call me as I have instructed thee to speak of me--call me
Prince. At the same time I would have thee know that on my eighth day I
was carried into a temple and registered a son of a son of Jerusalem.
The title I give thee for my designation did not ennoble me. The
birthright of a circumcised heritor under the covenant with Israel is
superior to every purely human dignity whatever its derivation."

"In other words, O Prince, thou art"--Uel hesitated.

"A Jew!" the other answered promptly--"A Jew, as thy father was--as
thou art."

The look of pleasure that appeared on the shopkeeper's face was swiftly
interpreted by the Prince, who felt he had indeed evoked a tie of
blood, and bound the man with it.

"So much is despatched," he said, with evident satisfaction; then,
after a draught from the tea-cup, and a re-delivery to Syania for more,
he continued: "Possibly thou wilt also remember my letter mentions a
necessity for my crossing from India to Mecca on the way to Kash-Cush,
and that, despite the stoppage, I hoped to greet thee in person within
six months after Syama reported himself. How stands the time?"

"This is the last day of the six months," Uel answered.

"Yes, there was never man"--the Prince paused, as if the thought were
attended with a painful recollection--"never a man," he presently
resumed, "who kept account of time more exactly than myself."

A copious draught of tea assuaged the passing regret.

"I wrote the letter while in Cipango, an island of the great eastern
sea. Thirty years after I set foot upon its shore, theretofore
unvisited by a white man, a countryman of ours from this city, the sole
survivor of a shipwreck, joined me. From him I heard of thy father's
death. He also gave me thy name.... My life on the island was
comparatively untroubled. Indeed, for thy perfect comprehension, my
son, it is best to make an explanation now; then thou wilt have a key
to many things in my conduct to come as well as conduct gone which
would otherwise keep thee in doubtful reflection. The study of greatest
interest is religion. I have travelled the world over--I mean the
inhabited parts--and in its broad extent there is not a people without
worship of some kind. Wherefore my assertion, that beyond the arts,
above the sciences, above commerce, above any or all other human
concernments, religion is the superlative interest. It alone is divine.
The study of it is worship. Knowledge of it is knowledge of God. Can as
much be said of any other subject?"

Uel did not answer; he was following the speech too intently, and the
Prince, seeing it, drank again, and proceeded:

"The divine study took me to Cipango. Fifty years thou mayst say to
thyself was a long term in such a country. Not so, my son. I found
there two faiths; the one Sin-Siu, which I turned my back upon as
mythologic, without the poetry of the Greek and Roman; the other--well,
a life given to the laws of Buddha were well spent. To say truth, there
is such similitude between them and the teachings of him we are in the
habit of calling the carpenter's son that, if I did not know better, it
were easy to believe the latter spent the years of his disappearance in
some Buddhistic temple.... Leaving explanation to another time, the
same study carried me to Mecca. The binding of men, the putting yokes
about their necks, trampling them in the dust, are the events supposed
most important and therefore most noticeable in history; but they are
as nothing in comparison with winning belief in matters indeterminable
by familiar tests. The process there is so mysterious, the achievement
so miraculous that where the operator is vastly successful one may well
look under them for the permission of God. The day was when Islamism
did but stir contemptuous laughter; now it is the faith acceptable to
more men than any other. Is it not worthy the vigils of a student? And
then it happens, my son, that in the depths of their delusion, people
sometimes presume to make their own gods, and reform them or cast them
out. Deities have been set up or thrown down by their makers in the
changes of a moon. I wanted to see if such calamity had befallen the
Allah of Mahomet.... My going to Kash-Cush was on what thou wouldst
call business, and of it I will also tell thee. At Jedda, whither I
betook myself after making the pilgrimages at Mecca, I regained my
ship, and descended the Red Sea, landing at a village on the extreme
inland shore of the bay of Tajurrah, below the Straits of
Bab-el-Mandel. I was then in Kash-Cush. From the village on the coast,
I passed into the interior, travelling in a litter on the shoulders of
native porters, and, after many days, reached my destination--a
collection of bungalows pitched on the bank of a tributary of the Blue
Nile called the Dedhesa. The journey would have been difficult and
tedious but that one of my attendants--a black man--had been king of
the tribe I sought. His name was Nilo, and his tribe paramount
throughout the uncivilized parts of Kash-Cush. More than fifty years
before,--prior, in fact, to my setting out for Cipango,--I made the
same tour, and found the king. He gave me welcome; and so well did he
please me that I invited him to share my wanderings. He accepted the
proposal upon condition that in his old age he should be returned home,
and exchanged for a younger man of his blood. I agreed, provided one
younger could be found who, besides the requisite physique and the
virtues of intellect and courage, was also deaf and dumb, like himself.
A treaty was thus perfected. I call it a treaty as distinct from a
purchase, for Nilo was my friend and attendant--my ally, if you
please--never my slave. There was a reception for us the like of which
for feasting and merriment was without mention in the traditions of the
tribe. A grandson filled my friend's throne; but he gave it back to
him, and voluntarily took his place with me. Thou shalt see him
to-morrow. I call him Nilo, and spend the morning hours teaching him to
talk; for while he keeps me reminded of a Greek demi-god--so tall,
strong and brave is he--he is yet deaf and dumb, and has to be taught
as Syama was. When thou hast to do with him be gentle and courteous. I
wish it kept in mind he is my friend and ally, bound to me by treaty as
his grandfather was.... The only part of the tour given thee in my
letter which I omitted was the descent of the Nile. Having performed it
before, my curiosity was sated, and I allowed my impatience to be in
thy city here to determine my course. I made way back to the village on
the bay of Tajurrah where, in anticipation of such a change, my vessel
was held in detention. Thence, up the sea and across the Isthmus, I
proceeded to Alexandria, and to-night happily find myself at home, in
hope of rest for my body and renewal of my spirit."

With this, the explanation appeared concluded; for the Prince notified
Syama that he did not desire more tea, and lapsed into a thoughtful
silence. Presently Uel arose, saying: "You must be weary. With
permission I will take my leave now. I confess you have given me much
to think over, and made me happy by taking me into your confidence. If
it be agreeable, I will call at noon to-morrow."

The Prince went with him to the head of the stairs, and there bade him
peace and good-night.




CHAPTER X

THE ROSE OF SPRING


The Prince, as the Jew preferred to be called, kept his house closely
quite a month, resting, not hibernating. He took exercise daily on the
flat roof; and walking to and fro there, found three objects of
attraction: the hill to the southwest with the church upon it, the
Palace of Blacherne off further in the west, and the Tower of Galata.
The latter, across the Golden Horn in the north, arose boldly, like a
light-house on a cliff; yet, for a reason--probably because it had
connection with the subject of his incessant meditations--he paused
oftenest to gaze at the Palace.

He was in his study one day deeply absorbed. The sun, nearing meridian,
poured a stream of white light through the south window, flooding the
table at which he sat. That the reader may know something of the paths
the Mystic most frequented when in meditation, we will make free with
one of the privileges belonging to us as a chronicler.

The volume directly in front of him on the table, done in olive wood
strengthened at the corners with silver, was near two feet in length,
and one and a half in width; when closed, it would be about one foot
thick. Now he had many wonderful rare and rich _antiques_, but none so
the apple of his eye as this; for it was one of the fifty Holy Bibles
of Greek transcription ordered by Constantine the Great.

At his right, held flat by weights, were the _Sacred Books_ of China,
in form a roll of broad-leafed vellum.

At his left, a roll somewhat similar in form and at the moment open,
lay the _Rig-Veda_ of the Aryans in Sanscrit.

The fourth book was the _Avesta_ of Zoroaster--a collection of MSS.
stitched together, and exquisitely rendered by Parse devas into the
Zend language.

A fifth book was the _Koran_.

The arrangement of the volumes around the Judean Bible was silently
expressive of the student's superior respect; and as from time to time,
after reading a paragraph from one of the others, he returned to the
great central treasure, it was apparent he was making a close
comparison of texts with reference to a particular theme, using the
Scriptures as a standard. Most of the time he kept the forefinger of
his left hand on what is now known as the fourteenth verse of the third
chapter of Exodus--"And God said unto Moses, I AM THAT I AM: and he
said, Thus shalt thou say unto the children of Israel, I AM hath sent
me unto you." If, as the Prince himself had declared, religion were
indeed the study of most interest to the greatest number of men, he was
logically consistent in comparing the definitions of _God_ in the
Bibles of theistic nations. So had he occupied himself since morning.
The shrewd reader will at once discern the theme of his comparative
study.

At length he grew weary of bending over the books, and of the
persistent fixedness of attention required for the pursuit of fine
shades of meaning in many different languages. He threw his arms up in
aid of a yawn, and turned partly around, his eyes outrunning the
movement of his body. The half-introverted glance brightened with a
gleam, and remained fixed, while the arms dropped down. He could only
look in wonder at what he saw--eyes black and almost large as his own
gazing at him in timid surprise. Beholding nothing but the eyes, he had
the awesome feeling which attends imagining a spirit suddenly risen;
then he saw a forehead low, round, and white, half shaded by fluffs of
dark hair; then a face of cherubic color and regularity, to which the
eyes gave an indefinable innocency of expression.

Every one knows the effect of trifles on the memory. A verse or a word,
the smell of a flower, a lock of hair, a turn in music, will not merely
bring the past back, but invest it with a miraculous recurrency of
events. The Prince's gaze endured. He stretched his hand out as if
fearful lest what he saw might vanish. The gesture was at once an
impulse and an expression. There was a time--tradition says it was the
year in which he provoked the curse--when he had wife and child. To one
of them, possibly both, the eyes then looking into his might have
belonged. The likeness unmanned him. The hand he stretched forth fell
lightly upon the head of the intruder.

"What are you?" he said.

The vagueness of the expression will serve excellently as a definition
of his condition; at the same time it plunged the child addressed into
doubt. Presently she answered:

"I am a little girl."

Accepting the simplicity of the reply as evidence of innocency too
extreme for fear, he took the visitor in his arms, and sat her on his
knee.

"I did not mean to ask what you are, but who?" he said.

"Uel is my father."

"Uel? Well, he is my friend, and I am his; therefore you and I should
be friends. What is your name?"

"He calls me Gul Bahar."

"Oh! That is Turkish, and means Rose of Spring. How came you by it?"

"My mother was from Iconium."

"Yes--where the Sultans used to live."

"And she could speak Turkish."

"I see! Gul Bahar is an endearment, not a real name."

"My real name is Lael."

The Prince paled from cheek to brow; his lips trembled; the arm
encircling her shook; and looking into his eyes, she saw tears dim
them. After a long breath, he said, with inexpressible tenderness, and
as if speaking to one standing just behind her--"Lael!" Then, the tears
full formed, he laid his forehead on her shoulder so his white hair
blent freely with her chestnut locks; and sitting passively, but
wondering, she heard him sob and sob again and again, like another
child. Soon, from pure sympathy, unknowing why, she too began sobbing.
Several minutes passed thus; then, raising his face, and observing her
responsive sorrow, he felt the need of explanation.

"Forgive me," he said, kissing her, "and do not wonder at me. I am
old--very old--older than thy father, and there have been so many
things to distress me which other men know nothing of, and never can. I
had once"--

He stopped, repeated the long breath, and gazed as at a far object.

"I too had once a little girl."

Pausing, he dropped his eyes to hers.

"How old are you?"

"Next spring I shall be fourteen," she answered.

"And she was just your age, and so like you--so small, and with such
hair and eyes and face; and she was named Lael. I wanted to call her
_Rimah_, for she seemed a song to me; but her mother said, as she was a
gift from the Lord, she wanted in the fulness of days to give her back
to him, and that the wish might become a covenant, she insisted on
calling her Lael, which, in Hebrew--thy father's tongue and mine--means
To God."

The child, listening with all her soul, was now not in the least afraid
of him; without waiting, she made the application.

"You loved her, I know," she said

"How much--Oh, how much!"

"Where is she now?"

"At Jerusalem there was a gate called the Golden Gate. It looked to the
east. The sun, rising over the top of Mount Olivet, struck the plates
of gold and Corinthian brass more precious than gold, so it seemed one
rosy flame. The dust at its rocky sill, and the ground about it are
holy. There, deep down, my Lael lies. A stone that tasked many oxen to
move it covers her; yet, in the last day, she will be among the first
to rise--Of such excellence is it to be buried before that Golden Gate."

"Oh! she is dead!" the child exclaimed.

"She is dead;" and seeing her much affected, he hastened to say, "I
shed many tears thinking of her. Ah, how gentle and truthful she was!
And how beautiful! I cannot forget her. I would not if I could; but you
who look so like her will take her place in my heart now, and love me
as she did; and I will love you even as I loved her. I will take you
into my life, believing she has come again. In the morning I will ask
first, Where is my Lael? At noon, I will demand if the day has been
kind to her; and the night shall not be half set in except I know it
has brought her the sweetness of sleep. Will you be my Lael?"

The question perplexed the child, and she was silent.

Again he asked, "Will you be my Lael?"

The earnestness with which he put the question was that of a hunger
less for love than an object to love. The latter is not often accounted
a passion, yet it creates necessities which are peremptory as those of
any passion. One of the incidents of the curse he was suffering was
that he knew the certainty of the coming of a day when he must be a
mourner for whomsoever he should take into his heart, and in this way
expiate whatever happiness the indulgence might bring him. Nevertheless
the craving endured, at times a positive hunger. In other words, his
was still a human nature. The simplicity and beauty of the girl were
enough to win him of themselves; but when she reminded him of the other
asleep under a great rock before the gate of the Holy City, when the
name of the lost one was brought to him so unexpectedly, it seemed
there had been a resurrection, making it possible for him to go about
once more as he was accustomed to in his first household. A third time
he asked, "You will be my Lael?"

"Can I have two fathers?" she returned.

"Oh, yes!" he answered quickly. "One in fact, the other by adoption;
and they can both love you the same."

Immediately her face became a picture of childish trust.

"Then I will be your Lael too."

He clasped her close to his breast, and kissed her, crying:

"My Lael has come back to me! God of my fathers, I thank thee!"

She respected his emotion, but at length, with her hand upon his
shoulder, said:

"You and my father are friends, and thinking he came here, I came too."

"Is he at home?"

"I think so."

"Then we will go to him. You cannot be my Lael without his consent."

Presently, hand in hand, they descended the stairs, crossed the street,
and were in the shopkeeper's presence.

The room was plainly but comfortably furnished as became the
proprietor's fortune and occupation. Closer acquaintance, it is to be
said, had dissipated the latent dread, which, as has been seen, marked
Uel's first thought of intimacy between the stranger and the child.
Seeing him old, and rich, and given to study, not to say careless of
ordinary things, the father was beginning to entertain the idea that it
might in some way be of advantage to the child could she become an
object of interest to him. Wherefore, as they entered now, he received
them with a smile.

Traces of the emotion he had undergone were in the Prince's face, and
when he spoke his voice was tremulous.

"Son of Jahdai," he said, standing, "I had once a wife and child. They
perished-how and when, I cannot trust myself to tell. I have been
faithful to their memory. From the day I lost them, I have gone up and
down the world hunting for many things which I imagined might renew the
happiness I had from them. I have been prodigal of gratitude,
admiration, friendship, and goodwill, and bestowed them singly and
together, and often; but never have I been without consciousness of
something else demanding to be given. Happiness is not all in
receiving. I passed on a long time before it came to me that we are
rich in affections not intended for hoarding, and that no one can be
truly content without at least one object on which to lavish them.
Here"--and he laid his hand on the child's head--"here is mine, found
at last."

"Lael is a good girl," Uel said with pride.

"Yes, and as thou lovest her let me love her," the Prince responded.
Then, seeing Uel become serious, he added, "To help thee to my meaning,
Lael was my child's name, and she was the image of this one; and as she
died when fourteen, thy Lael's age, it is to me as if the tomb had
miraculously rendered its victim back to me."

"Prince," said Uel, "had I thought she would not be agreeable to you, I
should have been sorry."

"Understand, son of Jahdai," the other interposed, "I seek more of thee
than thy permission to love her. I want to do by her as though she were
mine naturally."

"You would not take her from me?"

"No. That would leave thee bereft as I have been. Like me, thou wouldst
then go up and down looking for some one to take her place in thy
heart. Be thou her father still; only let me help thee fashion her
future."

"Her birthrights are humble," the shopkeeper answered, doubtfully; for
while in his secret heart he was flattered, his paternal feeling
started a scruple hard to distinguish from fear.

A light shone brightly in the eyes of the elder Jew, and his head arose.

"Humble!" he said. "She is a daughter of Israel, an inheritor of the
favor of the Lord God, to whom all things are possible. He keeps the
destinies of his people. He--not thou or I--knows to what this little
one may come. As we love her, let us hope the happiest and the highest,
and prepare her for it. To this end it were best you allow her to come
to me as to another father. I who teach the deaf and dumb to
speak--Syama and Nilo the elder--will make her a scholar such as does
not often grace a palace. She shall speak the Mediterranean tongues.
There shall be no mysteries of India unknown to her. Mathematics shall
bring the heavens to her feet. Especially shall she become wise in the
Chronicles of God. At the same time, lest she be educated into
unfitness for the present conditions of life, and be unsexed, thou
shalt find a woman familiar with society, and instal her in thy house
as governess and example. If the woman be also of Israel, so much the
better; for then we may expect faithfulness without jealousy. And
further, son of Jahdai, be niggardly in nothing concerning our Lael.
Clothe her as she were the King's daughter. At going abroad, which she
shall do with me in the street and on the water, I would have her
sparkle with jewels, the observed of everybody, even the Emperor. And
ask not doubtingly, 'Whence the money for all this?' I will find it.
What sayest thou now?"

Uel did not hesitate.

"O Prince, as thou dost these things for her--so far beyond the best I
can dream of--take her for thine, not less than mine."

With a beaming countenance, the elder raised the child, and kissed her
on the forehead.

"Dost hear?" he said to her. "Now art thou my daughter."

She put her arms about his neck, then held them out to Uel, who took
her, and kissed her, saying:

"Oh my Gul Bahar!"

"Good!" cried the Prince. "I accept the name. To distinguish the living
from the dead, I too will call her my Gul Bahar."

Thereupon the men sat, and arranged the new relation, omitting nothing
possible of anticipation.

Next day the Prince's house was opened with every privilege to the
child. A little later on a woman of courtly accomplishment was found
and established under Uel's roof as governess. Thereupon the Mystic
entered upon a season during which he forgot the judgment upon him, and
all else save Gul Bahar, and the scheme he brought from Cipango. He was
for the time as other men. In the lavishment of his love, richer of its
long accumulation, he was faithful to his duty of teacher, and was
amply rewarded by her progress in study.




BOOK III

THE PRINCESS IRENE


CHAPTER I

MORNING ON THE BOSPHORUS


Our narrative proceeds now from a day in the third year after Lael, the
daughter of the son of Jahdai, dropped into the life of the Prince of
India--a day in the vernal freshness of June.

From a low perch above the mountain behind Becos, the sun is delivering
the opposite European shore of the Bosphorus from the lingering shades
of night. Out on the bosom of the classic channel vessels are swinging
lazily at their anchorages. The masthead of each displays a flag
bespeaking the nationality of the owner; here a Venetian, there a
Genoese, yonder a Byzantine. Tremulous flares of mist, rising around
the dark hulls, become entangled in the cordage, and as if there were
no other escape, resolve themselves into air. Fisher boats are bringing
their owners home from night-work over in the shallows of Indjerkeui.
Gulls and cormorants in contentious flocks, drive hither and thither,
turning and tacking as the schools of small fish they are following
turn and tack down in the warm blue-green depths to which they are
native. The many wings, in quick eccentric motion, give sparkling life
to the empurpled distance.

The bay of Therapia, on the same European shore over against Becos, was
not omitted from rescue by the sun. Within its lines this morning the
ships were in greater number than out in the channel--ships of all
grades, from the sea going commercial galley to the pleasure shallop
which, if not the modern _caique_, was at least its ante-type in
lightness and grace.

And as to the town, one had but to look at it to be sure it had
undergone no recent change--that in the day of Constantine Dragases it
was the same summer resort it had been in the day of Medea the
sorceress--the same it yet is under sway of the benignant Abdul-Hamid.

From the lower point northwardly jutting finger-like into the current
of the channel, the beach swept in a graceful curve around to the base
of the promontory on the south. Then as now children amused themselves
gathering the white and black pebbles with which it was strewn, and
danced in and out with the friendly foam-capped waves. Then as now the
houses seemed tied to the face of the hill one above another in
streetless disarrangement; insomuch that the stranger viewing them from
his boat below shuddered thinking of the wild play which would ensue
did an earthquake shake the hill ever so lightly.

And then as now the promontory south served the bay as a partial
land-lock. Then as now it arose boldly a half mountain densely
verdurous, leaving barely space enough for a roadway around its base.
Then as now a descending terrace of easy grade and lined with rock pine
trees of broadest umbrella tops, slashed its whole townward front.
Sometime in the post-Medean period a sharp-eyed Greek discerned the
advantages it offered for aesthetic purposes, and availed himself of
them; so that in the age of our story its summit was tastefully
embellished with water basins, white-roofed pavilions, and tessellated
pavements Roman style. Alas, for the perishability of things human! And
twice alas, that the beautiful should ever be the most perishable!

But it is now to be said we have spoken thus of the Bosphorus, and the
bay and town of Therapia, and the high promontory, as accessories
merely to a plot of ground under the promontory and linked to it by the
descending terrace. There is no word fitly descriptive of the place.
Ravine implies narrowness; gorge signifies depth; valley means width;
dell is too toylike. A summer retreat more delicious could not be
imagined. Except at noon the sun did but barely glance into it.
Extending hundreds of yards back from the bay toward the highlands west
of the town, it was a perfected garden of roses and flowering vines and
shrubs, with avenues of boxwood and acacias leading up to ample
reservoirs hidden away in a grove of beeches. The water flowing thence
became brooks or was diverted to enliven fountains. One pipe carried it
in generous flow to the summit of the promontory. In this leafy Eden
the birds of the climate made their home the year round. There the
migratory nightingale came earliest and lingered longest, singing in
the day as well as in the night. There one went regaled with the breath
of roses commingled with that of the jasmine. There the bloom of the
pomegranate flashed through the ordered thicket like red stars; there
the luscious fig, ripening in its "beggar's jacket," offered itself for
the plucking; there the murmur of the brooks was always in the
listening ear.

Along the whole front of the garden, so perfectly a poet's ideal,
stretched a landing defended from the incessant swash of the bay by a
stone revetment. There was then a pavement of smoothly laid flags, and
then a higher wall of dark rubble-work, coped with bevelled slabs. An
open pavilion, with a bell-fashioned dome on slender pillars, all of
wood red painted, gave admission to the garden. Then a roadway of gray
pebbles and flesh-tinted shells invited a visitor, whether afoot or on
horseback, through clumps of acacias undergrown with carefully tended
rosebushes, to a palace, which was to the garden what the central jewel
is to the cluster of stones on "my lady's" ring.

Standing on a tumulus, a little removed from the foot of the
promontory, the palace could be seen from cornice to base by voyagers
on the bay, a quadrangular pile of dressed marble one story in height,
its front relieved by a portico of many pillars finished in the purest
Corinthian style. A stranger needed only to look at it once, glittering
in the sun, creamy white in the shade, to decide that its owner was of
high rank--possibly a noble--possibly the Emperor himself.

It was the country palace of the Princess Irene, of whom we will now
speak.[Footnote: During the Crimean war a military hospital was built
over the basement vaults and cisterns of the palace here described. The
hospital was destroyed by fire. For years it was then known as the
"Khedive's Garden," being a favorite resort for festive parties from
the capital. At present the promontory and the retreat it shelters
pertain to the German Embassy, a munificent gift from His Majesty,
Sultan Abdul-Hamid.]




CHAPTER II

THE PRINCESS IRENE [Footnote: This name is of three syllables, and is
pronounced as if spelled E-ren-ay; the last syllable to rhyme with day,
say, may.]


During the reign of the last Manuel, in 1412, as a writer has placed
the incident--that is to say, about thirty-nine years prior to the
epoch occupying us--a naval battle occurred between the Turks and
Christians off Plati, one of the Isles of the Princes. The issue was of
interest to all the peoples who were in the habit of commercial resort
in the region, to the Venetians and Genoese as well as the Byzantines.
To the latter it was of most vital moment, since defeat would have
brought them a serious interruption of communication with the islands
which still remained to the Emperor and the powers in the West upon
which their dependency grew as year after year their capacity for
self-defence diminished.

The Turkish ships had been visible in the offing several days. At last
the Emperor concluded to allow his mariners to go out and engage them.
His indecision had been from a difficulty in naming a commander. The
admiral proper was old and inexperienced, and his fighting impulses,
admitting they had ever really existed, had been lost in the habitudes
of courtierly life. He had become little more than a ceremonial marker.
The need of the hour was a genuine sailor who could manoeuvre a
squadron. On that score there was but one voice among the seamen and
with the public--

"Manuel--give us Manuel!"

The cry, passing from the ships to the multitude in the city, assailed
the palace.

The reader should understand the Manuel wanted was not the Emperor, but
one of his brothers who could lay no claim to birth in the purple. His
mother had not been a lawful spouse; yet the Manuel thus on the tongues
of the many had made a hero of himself. He proved his temper and
abilities in many successful affairs on the sea, and at length became a
popular idol; insomuch that the imperial jealousy descended upon him
like a cloud, and hid him away. Nor could his admirers say he lived; he
had a palace and a family, and it was not known that any of the
monasteries in the city or on the Isles of the Princes had opened to
receive him.

On these shreds of evidence, affirmative and negative, slender as they
may appear, it was believed he was yet alive. Hence the clamor; and
sooth to say it sufficed to produce the favorite; so at least the
commonalty were pleased to think, though a sharper speculation would
have scored the advent quite as much to the emergency then holding the
Empire in its tightening grip.

Restored to active life, Manuel the sailor was given a reception in the
Hippodrome; then after a moment of gladness with his family, and
another in which he was informed of the situation and trial before him,
he hurried to assume the command.

Next morning, with the rising of the sun, the squadron under oar and
sail issued gallantly from its retreat in the Golden Horn, and in order
of battle sought the boastful enemy of Plati. The struggle was long and
desperate. Its circumstances were dimly under view from the seaward
wall in the vicinity of the Seven Towers. A cry of rejoicing from the
anxious people at last rose strong enough to shake the turrets massive
as they were--"Kyrie Eleison! Kyrie Eleison!" Christ had made his cause
victorious. His Cross was in the ascendant. The Turks drew out of the
defeat as best they could, and made haste to beach the galleys
remaining to them on the Asiatic shore behind the low-lying islands.

Manuel the sailor became more than a hero; to the vulgar he was a
savior. All Byzantium and all Galata assembled on the walls and water
along the famous harbor to welcome him when, with many prizes and a
horde of prisoners, he sailed back under the sun newly risen over the
redeemed Propontis. Trumpets answered trumpets in brazen cheer as he
landed. A procession which was a reminder of the triumphs of the
ancient and better times of the Empire escorted him to the Hippodrome.
The overhanging gallery reserved for the Emperor there was crowded with
the dignitaries of the court; the factions were out with their symbols
of blue and green; the scene was gorgeous; yet the public looked in
vain for Manuel the Emperor; he alone was absent; and when the
dispersion took place, the Byzantine spectators sought their homes
shaking their heads and muttering of things in store for their idol
worse than had yet befallen him. Wherefore there was little or no
surprise when the unfortunate again disappeared, this time with his
whole family. The victory, the ensuing triumph, and the too evident
popularity were more than the jealous Emperor could overlook.

There was then a long lapse of years. John Palaeologus succeeded Manuel
on the throne, and was in turn succeeded by Constantine, the last of
the Byzantine monarchs.

Constantine signalized his advent, the great Greek event of 1448, by
numerous acts of clemency, for he was a just man. He opened many prison
doors long hopelessly shut. He conferred honors and rewards that had
been remorselessly erased from account. He condoned offences against
his predecessors, mercifully holding them wanting in evil against
himself. So it came to pass that Manuel, the hero of the sea fight off
Plati, attained a second release, or, in better speech, a second
resurrection. He had been all the years practically buried in certain
cells of the convent of St. Irene on the island of Prinkipo, and now he
came forth an old man, blind and too enfeebled to walk. Borne into
private audience, he was regarded by Constantine with tender sympathy.

"And thou art that Manuel who made the good fight at Plati?"

"Say rather I am he who was that Manuel," the ancient replied. "Death
despises me now because he could not call my decease a victory."

The inquisitor, visibly affected, next spoke in an uncertain voice.

"Is what I have heard true, that at thy going into the Monastery thou
hadst a family?"

The eyes of the unfortunate were not too far gone for tears; some
rolled down his cheeks; others apparently dropped into his throat.

"I had a wife and three children. It is creditable to the feeling
called love that they chose to share my fate. One only survives,
and"--he paused as if feebly aware of the incoherency--"and she was
born a prisoner."

"Born a prisoner!" exclaimed Constantine. "Where is she now?"

"She ought to be here."

The old man turned as he spoke, and called out anxiously:

"Irene--Irene, where art thou, child?"

An attendant, moved like his master, explained.

"Your Majesty, his daughter is in the ante-room."

"Bring her here."

There was a painful hush in the chamber during the waiting. When the
daughter appeared, all eyes were directed to her--all but the father's,
and even he was instantly aware of her presence; for which, doubtless,
the sensibility known only to the long-time blind was sufficiently
alive.

"Where hast thou been?" he asked, with a show of petulance.

"Calm thee, father, I am here."

She took his hand to assure him, and then returned the look of the
Emperor; only his was of open astonishment, while hers was
self-possessed.

Two points were afterwards remembered against her by the courtiers
present; first, contrary to the custom of Byzantine women, she wore no
veil or other covering for the face; in the next place, she tendered no
salutation to the Emperor. Far from prostrating herself, as immemorial
etiquette required, she did not so much as kneel or bow her head. They,
however, excused her, saying truly her days had been passed in the
Monastery without opportunity to acquire courtly manners. In fact they
did not at the time notice the omissions. She was so beautiful, and her
beauty reposed so naturally in an air of grace, modesty, intelligence,
and purity that they saw nothing else. Constantine recovered himself,
and rising from his seat, advanced to the edge of the dais, which in
such audiences, almost wholly without state, raised him slightly above
his guests and attendants, and spoke to the father:

"I know thy history, most noble Greek--noble in blood, noble in
loyalty, noble by virtue of what thou hast done for the Empire--and I
honor thee. I grieve for the suffering thou hast endured, and wish
myself surrounded with many more spirits like thine, for then, from my
exalted place, I could view the future and its portents with greater
calmness of expectation, if not with more of hope. Perhaps thou hast
heard how sadly my inheritance has been weakened by enemies without and
within; how, like limbs lopped from a stately tree, the themes
[Footnote: Provinces.] richest in their yield of revenue have been
wrested from the body of our State, until scarce more than the capital
remains. I make the allusion in apology and excuse for the meagreness
of what I have to bestow for thy many heroic services. Wert thou in the
prime of manhood, I would bring thee into the palace. That being
impossible, I must confine myself to amends within my power. First,
take thou liberty."

The sailor sunk to his knees; then he fell upon his hands, and touched
the floor with his forehead. In that posture, he waited the further
speech. Such was the prostration practised by the Greeks in formally
saluting their Basileus.

Constantine proceeded.

"Take next the house here in the city which was thine when the judgment
fell upon thee. It has been tenantless since, and may be in need of
repairs; if so, report the cost they put thee to, and I will charge the
amount to my civil list." Looking then at the daughter, he added: "On
our Roumelian shore, up by Therapia, there is a summer house which once
belonged to a learned Greek who was the happy possessor of a Homer
written masterfully on stainless parchment. He had a saying that the
book should be opened only in a palace specially built for it; and,
being rich, he indulged the fancy. He brought the marble from the
Pentelic quarries; nothing grosser was permitted in the construction.
In the shade of a portico of many columns of Corinthian model he passed
his days reading to chosen friends, and living as the Athenians were
wont to live in the days of Pericles. In my youth I dwelt much with
him, and he so loved me that at dying he gave me the house, and the
gardens and groves around it. They will help me now to make partial
amends for injustice done; and when will a claimant appear with better
right than the daughter of this brave man? In speaking but now, did he
not call thee Irene?"

A flush overspread her neck and face, but she answered without other
sign of feeling:

"Irene."

"The house--it may be called a palace--and all that pertains to it, are
thine," he continued. "Go thither at will, and begin thy life anew."

She took one step forward, but stopped as suddenly, her color coming
and going. Never had Constantine seen wife or maid more beautiful. He
almost dreaded lest the spell she cast over him would be broken by the
speech trembling upon her lips. She moved quickly to the dais then, and
taking his hand, kissed it fervently, saying:

"Almost I believe we have a Christian Emperor."

She paused, retaining the hand, and looking up into his face.

The spectators, mostly dignitaries of high degree, with their
attendants, were surprised. Some of them were shocked; for it should be
remembered the court was the most rigidly ceremonial in the world. The
rules governing it were the excerpt of an idea that the Basileus or
Emperor was the incarnation of power and majesty. When spoken to by
him, the proudest of his officials dropped their eyes to his
embroidered slippers; when required to speak to him, they fell to their
knees, and kept the posture till he was pleased to bid them rise. Not
one of them had ever touched his fingers, except when he deigned to
hold them out to be most humbly saluted. Their manner at such times was
more than servility; in appearance, at least, it was worship. This
explanation will enable the reader to understand the feeling with which
they beheld the young woman keep the royal hand a prisoner in hers.
Some of them shuddered and turned their faces not to witness a
familiarity so closely resembling profanation.

Constantine, on his part, looked down into the eyes of his fair
kinswoman, knowing her speech was not finished. The slight inclination
of his person toward her was intended for encouragement. Indeed, he
made no attempt to conceal the interest possessing him.

"The Empire may be shorn, even as thou hast said," she resumed
presently, in a voice slightly raised. "But is not this city of our
fathers by site and many advantages as much the capital of the world as
ever? A Christian Emperor founded it, and his name was Constantine; may
it not be its perfect restoration is reserved for another Constantine,
also a Christian Emperor? Search thy heart, O my Lord! I have heard how
noble impulses are often prophets without voices."

Constantine was impressed. From a young person, bred in what were
really prison walls, the speech was amazing. He was pleased with the
opinion she was evidently forming of himself; he was pleased with the
hope she admitted touching the Empire; he was pleased with the
Christian faith, the strength of mind, the character manifested. Her
loyalty to the old Greek regime was unquestionable. The courtiers
thought she might at least have made some acknowledgment of his
princely kindness; but if he thought of the want of form, he passed it;
enough for him that she was a lovely enthusiast. In the uncertainty of
the moment, he hesitated; then, descending from the dais, he kissed her
hand gracefully, courteously, reverently, and said simply:

"May thy hope be God's will."

Turning from her, he helped the blind man to his feet, and declared the
audience dismissed.

Alone with his secretary, the Grand _Logothete_, he sat awhile musing.

"Give ear," he at length said. "Write it, a decree. Fifty thousand gold
pieces annually for the maintenance of Manuel and Irene, his daughter."

The secretary at the first word became absorbed in studying his
master's purple slippers; then, having a reply, he knelt.

"Speak," said Constantine.

"Your Majesty," the secretary responded, "there are not one thousand
pieces in the treasury unappropriated."

"Are we indeed so poor?"

The Emperor sighed, but plucking spirit, went on bravely:

"It may be God has reserved for me the restoration, not only of this
city, but of the Empire. I shall try to deserve the glory. And it may
be that noble impulses _are_ speechless prophets. Let the decree stand.
Heaven willing, we will find a way to make it good."




CHAPTER III

THE HOMERIC PALACE


The reader is now informed of the history of Irene, which is to he
remembered as of an important personage in the succeeding pages.
Knowing also how she became possessed of the palace we have been at
some pains to describe, he is prepared to see her at home.

The night has retreated from the European shore of the Bosphorus,
although the morning is yet very young. The sun in the cloudless sky
beyond Becos, where it appears standing as if to rest from the fatigue
of climbing the hills, is lifting Therapia bodily out of its sparkling
waters. In the bay moreover there are many calls of mariner to mariner,
and much creaking of windlasses, and clashing of oars cast loose in
their leather slings. To make the scene perfectly realistic there is a
smell of breakfast cooking, not unpleasant to those within its waftage
who are yet to have their appetites appeased. These sights, these
sounds, these smells, none of them reach the palace in the garden under
the promontory opposite the town. There the birds are singing their
matin songs, the flowers loading the air with perfume, and vine and
tree drinking the moisture borne down to them from the unresting sea so
near in the north. [Footnote: The Black Sea.]

Under the marble portico the mistress is sitting exactly in the place
we can imagine the old Greek loved most what time he read from his
masterful copy of Homer. Between columns she saw the Bosphorean expanse
clear to the wooded Asiatic shore. Below was a portion of the garden
through which the walk ran, with a graceful curve, to the red kiosk by
the front gate. Just beyond it the landing lay. Around her were palm
and rose trees in painted tubs, and in their midst, springing from a
tall vase carven over with mythologic figures, a jasmine vine affected
all the graces of its most delicate nature. Within reach of her right
hand there were platters of burnished brass on a table of ebony, its
thin, spider legs inlaid with silver in lines. One of the platters bore
a heap of white biscuits such as at this day are called crackers; the
others supported pitchers, and some drinking cups, all of silver.

The mistress sat in an arm-chair very smooth in finish despite the
lineations sunk into its surfaces, and so roomy as to permit her to
drop easily into a half-reclining posture. A footstool dressed in dark
stamped leather was ready to lend its aid to gracefulness and comfort.

We will presume now to introduce the reader to the Princess Irene,
though, as the introduction must be in the way of description, our
inability to render the subject adequately is admitted in advance.

At the moment of first sight, she is sitting erect, her head turned
slightly to the left shoulder, and both hands resting on the dog's head
garnishing the right arm of the chair. She is gazing abstractedly out
at the landing, as if waiting for some one overdue. The face is
uncovered; and it is to be said here that, abhorring the custom which
bound her Byzantine sisterhood to veils, except when in the retiracy of
their chambers, she was at all times brave enough to emphasize the
abhorrence by discarding the encumbrance. She was never afraid of the
effects of the sun on her complexion, and had the art of moving
modestly and with composure among men, who, on their side, were used in
meeting her to conceal their admiration and wonder under cover of grave
respect.

Her figure, tall, slender, perfectly rounded, is clad in drapery of the
purest classic mode. Outwardly it consists of but two garments--a robe
of fine white woollen stuff, and over it a mantle of the same texture
and hue, hanging from a yoke of close-fitting flesh-colored silk richly
embroidered with Tyrian floss. A red rope loosely twisted girdles her
body close under the breasts, from which, when she is standing, the
gown in front falls to the feet, leaving a decided train. The mantle
begins at a point just in front of the arm, under which, and along the
sides, it hangs, like a long open sleeve, being cut away behind about
half down the figure. The contrivance of the yoke enabled the artist,
by gathering the drapery, to determine the lines in which it should
drop, and they were few but positive. In movement, the train was to
draw the gown to the form so its outlines could be easily followed from
the girdle.

The hair, of the tint of old gold, is dressed in the Grecian style; and
its abundance making the knot unusually ample, there was necessity for
the two fillets of pink silk to keep it securely in place.

The real difficulty in the description is now reached. To a reader of
sharp imagination it might be sufficient to say the face of the
Princess Irene, seen the morning in question, was perfectly regular,
the brows like pencilling, the nose delicate, the eyes of violet
shading into blackness, the mouth small with deep corners and lips
threads of scarlet, the cheeks and brow precisely as the received law
of beauty would have them. This would authorize a conception of
surpassing loveliness; and perhaps it were better did we stop with the
suggestions given, since the fancy would then be left to do its own
painting. But patience is besought, for vastly more than a face of
unrivalled perfection, the conjuration is a woman who yet lives in
history as such a combination of intellect, spirit, character, and
personal charm that men, themselves rulers and conquerors, fell before
her at sight. Under necessity therefore of going on with the
description, what words are at command to convey an idea of the
complexion--a property so wholly unartificial with her that the veins
at the temples were as transparent shadows on snow, and the coloring of
the cheeks like a wash of roses? What more is there than to point to
the eyes of the healthful freshness peculiar to children of tender
nurture; the teeth exquisitely regular and of the whiteness of milk and
the lustre of pearls; the ears small, critically set, and tinted pink
and white, like certain shells washed ashore last night? What more? Ah,
yes! There are the arms bare from the shoulder, long and round as a
woman's should be, and terminating in flexile wrists, and hands so
gracefully modelled we shrink from thought of their doing more than
making wreaths of flowers and playing with harp strings. There too is
the pose of the head expressive of breeding and delicacy of thought and
feeling, of pride and courage--the pose unattainable by effort or
affectation, and impossible except where the head, itself faultless, is
complemented by a neck long, slender, yet round, pliant, always
graceful, and set upon shoulders the despair of every one but the
master who found perfection of form and finish in the lilies of the
Madonna. Finally there is the correspondence, in action as well as
repose, of body, limbs, head, and face, to which, under inspiration of
the soul, the air and manner of lovely women are always referable.

The Princess was yet intensely observing the stretch of water before
her, and the rapid changes of the light upon its face, when a boat,
driven by a single oarsman, drew up to the landing, and disembarked a
passenger. That he was not the person she was expecting became
instantly apparent. She glanced at him once, and then, satisfied he was
a stranger in whom she had no interest, resumed study of the bay. He,
however, after dropping something in the boatman's hand, turned, and
walked to the gateway, and through it towards the palace.

Ere long a servant, whose very venerable appearance belied the
steel-pointed javelin he carried, hobbled slowly along the floor of the
portico marshalling a visitor. She touched the golden knot at the back
of her head to be assured of its arrangement, arose, shook out the
folds of her gown and mantle, and was prepared for the interruption.

The costume of the stranger was new to the Princess. A cassock of mixed
white and brown wool that had gone through a primitive loom with little
of any curative process except washing, hung from his neck to his
heels. Aside from the coarseness of warp and woof, it fitted so closely
that but for a slit on each side of the skirt walking would have been
seriously impeded. The sleeves were long and loose, and covered the
hands. From the girdle of untanned skin a double string of black horn
beads, each large as a walnut, dropped to his knees. The buckle of the
girdle, which might have been silver deeply oxidized, was conspicuously
large, and of the rudest workmanship. But withal much the most curious
part of the garb was the cowl, if such it may be called. Projecting
over the face so far as to cast the features in shadow, it carried on
the sides of the head broad flaps, not unlike the ears of an elephant.
This envelope was hideous, yet it served to exalt the man within to
giantesque proportions.

The Princess surveyed the visitor with astonishment hardly concealed.
What part of the world could produce a creature so utterly barbarous?
What business could he have with her? Was he young or old? Twice she
scanned him from head to foot. He was a monk; so much the costume
certified; and while he stopped before her with one foot advanced from
the edge of the skirt, and resting lightly in the clasp of the thongs
of a very old-fashioned sandal, she saw it was white, and blue veined,
and at the edges pink, like a child's, and she said to herself, "He is
young--a young monastic."

The stranger drew from his girdle a linen package carefully folded,
kissed it reverently, and said:

"Would the Princess Irene be pleased if I open the favor for her?"

The voice was manly, the manner deferential.

"Is it a letter?" she asked.

"A letter from the Holy Father, the Archimandrite of the greatest of
the northern Lavras." [Footnote: Monasteries.]

"Its name?"

"Bielo-Osero."

"The Bielo-Osero? Where is it?"

"In the country of the Great Prince." [Footnote: Russia.]

"I knew not that I had an acquaintance in so distant a region as the
north of Russia. You may open the letter."

Unmindful of the indifferent air of the Princess, the monk removed the
cloth, leaving its folds hanging loosely from his hand. A sheet of
vellum was exposed lying on the covered palm.

"The Holy Father bade me when I delivered the writing, O Princess, to
deliver his blessing also; which--the saying is mine, not his--is of
more worth to the soul than a coffer of gold for the wants of the body."

The pious comment was not lost; but without a word, she took the
vellum, and resuming her seat, addressed herself to the reading. First,
her eyes dropped to the signature. There was a look of
surprise--another of uncertainty--then an exclamation:

"Hilarion! Not my Father Hilarion! He is but a sacred memory! He went
away and died--and yet this is his hand. I know it as I know my own."

The monk essayed to remove the doubt.

"Permit me," he said, then asked, "Is there not an island hereabouts
called Prinkipo?"

She gave him instant attention.

"And on the side of the island over against the Asiatic coast, under a
hill named Kamares, is there not a convent built centuries ago by an
Empress?"

"Irene," she interposed.

"Yes, Irene--and was not Father Hilarion for many years Abbot of the
convent? Then, on account of his fame for learning and piety, did not
the Patriarch exalt him to attendance on his own person as Doctor of
the Gospels? Still later, was he not summoned to serve the Emperor in
the capacity of Warden of the Purple Ink?"

"From whom have you all these things?" she asked.

"Excellent Princess, from whom could I have them save the good Father
himself?"

"Thou art then his messenger?"

"It becomes me better to refer you to what he has there written."

So saying, the monk stepped backward, and stood a little way off in a
respectful attitude. She raised the missive, and kissed the signature
several times, exclaiming:

"Now hath God taken care of his own!"

Then she said to the monk, "Thou art indeed a messenger with good
tidings."

And he, accepting the welcome, uncovered his head, by raising the
hideous _klobouk_, [Footnote: Cowl.] and letting it fall back pendant
from his shoulders. The violet eyes of the Princess opened wider,
brightening as with a sudden influx of light. She could not remember a
finer head or a face more perfect in manly beauty, and at the same time
so refined and gentle.

And he was so young--young even as herself--certainly not more than
twenty. Such was her first general impression of him. For the pleasure
there was in the surprise, she would not allow it to be observed, but
said:

"The Father in his letter, no doubt, tells me thy name, but since I
wish to reserve the reading, I hope thou wilt not be offended if I ask
it directly."

"The name my mother gave me is Andre; but when I came to be a deacon in
our Bielo-Osero, Father Hilarion, who presided at the raising, asked me
how I wished to be known in the priesthood, and I answered him,
Sergius. Andre was a good christening, and serves well to remind me of
my dear mother; but Sergius is better, because at hearing it I am
always reminded that by vows and solemn rites of ordination I am a
servant of God."

"I will endeavor to remember thy preference," the Princess said; "but
just now, good Sergius, it is of next importance to know if thou hast
yet had breakfast?"

A smile helped his face to even more of pleasantness.

"No," he answered, "but I am used to fasting, and the great city is not
more than two hours away."

She looked concerned.

"Thy patron Saint hath not deserted thee. Here is a table already set.
He for whom I held it is long on the road; thou shalt take his place,
and be not less welcome." To the old servant she added: "We have a
guest, not an enemy, Lysander. Put up thy javelin, and bring a seat for
him; then stand behind him, lest it happen one service of the cups be
not enough."

Directly the two were at the table opposite each other.




CHAPTER IV

THE RUSSIAN MONK


Sergius took a glass of red wine from the old attendant, and said:

"I should like your permission, O Princess, to make a confession."

His manner was that of one unused to the society of women. He was
conscious she was studying him, and spoke to divert her. As she was
slow answering, he added: "That you may not think me disposed to abuse
the acquaintance you honor me with, especially as you have not yet read
the letter of the good Father Hilarion upon which I rely for your
better regard, I ask the permission rather to show the degree of your
kindness to me. It may interest you also to learn of the confirmation
of a certain faith you are perhaps unwittingly lending a novice in the
ways of the world."

She had been studying him, and her first impression was now confirmed.
His head in shape and pose was a poet's; the long, wavy, flaxen hair,
parted in the middle, left small space for the forehead, which was
nevertheless broad and white, with high-arched, well-defined brows for
base. The eyes were gray. In repose they had a dreamy introspectional
expression. The mustache and beard, the first growth of youth spent
entirely indoors, were as yet too light to shade any part of the face.
The nose was not enough _retrousse_ to be irregular. In brief, the monk
was of the type now well known as Russian. Aside from height and
apparent muscularity, he very nearly realized the Byzantine ideal of
Christ as seen in the cartoons excellently preserved in a mosque of
Stamboul not far from the gate anciently San Romain now _Top Kapoussi_.

The appearance of the young monk, so strikingly suggestive of the being
most sacred in the estimation of the Princess, was at the moment less
curious to her than a certain habit observable in him. The look of
brightness attendant upon the thought he was putting into form would,
when the utterance was through, suffer a lapse which, for want of
strictly definite words, may be described as a sombering of the eyes
when they were widest open, a gazing beyond at something else than the
opposite speaker; implying that the soul was become mysteriously
occupied apart from the mind. The effect was as if she had before her
two widely different characters making themselves present at the same
time in one person. Unquestionably, though rarely, there is a duality
of nature in men, by which, to put it extremely, a seeming incapable
may be vastly capable, outward gentleness a mask for a spirit of
Neronian violence, dulness a low-lying cloud surcharged with genius.
What shall be done with such a nature? When may it be relied upon? Who
shall ever come to really know it?

Occupied with the idea, the Princess heard but the conclusion of the
monk's somewhat awkward apology, and she answered:

"The confession must be of something lighter than a sin. I will listen."

"A sin!" he exclaimed, with a blush. "Pardon me, O Princess. It was a
trifle of which I spoke too seriously. I promise thou shalt take from
it nothing worse than a laugh at my simplicity. See thou these things?"

He gave her a glance full of boyish humor, and from a breast pocket of
his cassock drew a bag of coarse yellow silk; thrusting a hand into its
mouth, he then brought out a number of square leathern chips stamped
with sunken letters, and laid them on the table before her.

"This you must know is our money." The Princess examined the pieces,
and said:

"I doubt if our tradesmen would accept them."

"They will not. I am a witness to the fact. Nevertheless they will
carry a traveller, go he either way, from one end of our Great Prince's
realm to the other. When I left the Lavra, setting out on my journey,
Father Hilarion gave me the bag, saying, as he put it into my hand,
'Now upon coming to the port where the ship awaits thee, be sure to
exchange the money with the merchants there for Byzantine gold; else,
unless God come to thy aid, thou wilt be turned into a mendicant.' And
so I fully meant to do; but when I reached the port, I found it a city
large, and full of people and sights wonderful to me, demanding to be
seen. I forgot the injunction. Indeed I never thought of it until this
morning."

Here he laughed at himself, proving he was not yet seriously alive to
the consequences of his negligence. Presently he resumed:

"I landed only last night, and sick from the tossing of the sea, put up
at an inn in the town yonder. I ordered breakfast, and, according to a
custom of my people, offered to pay before tasting. The master of the
house looked at my money, and told me to show him coin of gold; if not
that, then copper or brass, or even iron, in pieces bearing the name of
the Emperor. Being told I had only this, he bade me look elsewhere for
breakfast. Now I had designed going to the great city to kiss the hand
of the Patriarch, of whom I have always heard as the wisest of men,
before coming to thee; but the strait I was in was hard. Could I expect
better of the innkeepers there? I had a button of gold--a memorial of
my entry into the Lavra. That day Father Hilarion blessed it three
times; and it bore a cross upon its face which I thought might make it
acceptable as if it were lettered with the name of Constantine. A
boatman consented to take it for rowing me to thy landing. Behold! Thou
hast my confession!"

His speech to this time had been in Greek singularly pure and fluent;
now he hesitated, while his eyes, open to the full, sombered, as if
from a field in the brain back of them a shadow was being cast through
his face. When next he spoke it was in his native tongue.

The Princess observed her guest with increasing interest; for she was
wholly unused to such artlessness in men. How could Father Hilarion
have intrusted business of importance to an envoy so negligent? His
confession, as he termed it, was an admission, neither more nor less,
that he had no money of the country into which he was come. And
further, how could the habit of lapsing in thought, or more simply, of
passing abruptly from the present subject, be explained except on the
theory of something to which he had so given himself it had become
overmastering and all absorbent? This, she saw intuitively, would prove
the key to the man; and she set about finding it out.

"Your Greek, good Sergius, is excellent; yet I did not understand the
words with which you concluded."

"I beg pardon," he replied, with a change of countenance. "In my
mother's tongue I repeated a saying of the Psalmist, which you shall
have voice and look as Father Hilarion has given it to me oftener than
I am days old." Then his voice lowered into a sweet intensity fitting
the text: "'The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.' Those were the
words, Princess; and who shall say they do not comprehend all there is
of religion?"

The answer was unexpected, the manner affecting; never had she heard
conviction and faith more perfectly affirmed. More than a monk, the
young man might be a preacher! And Father Hilarion might have grown
wiser of his years! Perhaps he knew, though at a vast distance, that
the need of the hour in Constantinople was not a new notable--a bishop
or a legate--so much as a voice with power of persuasion to still the
contentions with which her seven hills were then resounding. The idea,
though a surmise, was strong enough to excite a desire to read the holy
man's letter. She even reproached herself for not having done so.

"The worthy priest gave me the same saying in the same words," she
said, rising, "and they lose nothing of their meaning by thy
repetition. We may speak of them hereafter. For the present, to keep
thee from breakfast were cruel. I will go and make terms with my
conscience by reading what thou hast brought me from the Father. Help
thyself freely as if thou wert the most favored of guests; or rather
"--she paused to emphasize the meaning--"as though I had been bidden to
prepare for thy coining. Should there be failure in anything before
thee, scruple not to ask for more. Lysander will be at thy service. I
may return presently."

The monk arose respectfully, and stood until she disappeared behind the
vases and flowers, leaving in his memory a fadeless recollection of
graciousness and beauty, which did not prevent him from immediately
addressing himself as became a hungry traveller.




CHAPTER V

A VOICE FROM THE CLOISTER


While the Princess Irene traversed the portico, she repeated the words,
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want; and she could see how the
negligent, moneyless monk, turned away at the inn, was provided for in
his moment of need, and also that she was the chosen purveyor; if so,
by whom chosen? The young man had intended calling on the Patriarch
first; who brought him to her? The breakfast was set for an invited
guest; what held him back, if not the power that led the stranger to
her gate?

In saying now that one of the consequences of the religious passion
characteristic of the day in the East--particularly in
Constantinople--a passion so extreme as to induce the strongest minds
to believe God, and the Son, and even the Holy Mother discernible in
the most commonplace affairs--our hope is to save the Princess from
misjudgment. Really the most independent and fearless of spirits, if
now and then she fell into the habit of translating the natural into
the supernatural, she is entitled to mercy, since few things are harder
to escape than those of universal practice.

Through a doorway, chiselled top and jambs, she entered a spacious hall
nude of furniture, though richly frescoed, and thence passed into a
plain open, court coolly shaded, having in the centre a jet of water
which arose and fell into a bowl of alabaster. The water overflowing
the bowl was caught again in a circular basin which, besides the
ornamental carving on the edge and outside, furnished an ample pool for
the gold fish disporting in it.

In the court there were also a number of women, mostly young Greeks,
sewing, knitting, and embroidering vestments. Upon her entrance they
arose, let their work drop on the spotless white marble at their feet,
and received her in respectful silence. Signing them to resume their
labor, she took a reserved chair by the fountain. The letter was in her
hand, but a thought had the precedence.

Admitting she had been chosen to fulfil the saying quoted, was the call
for the once only? When the monk went up to the city, was her ministry
to end? Would not that be a half-performance? How much farther should
she go? She felt a little pang of trouble, due to the uncertainty that
beset her, but quieted it by an appeal to the letter. Crossing herself,
and again kissing the signature, she began the reading, which, as the
hand was familiar to her, and the composition in the most faultless
Greek of the period, was in nowise a perplexity.

"BIELO-OSERO, 3_d June_, 1452.

"From Hilarion, the Hegumen, to Irene, his well-beloved daughter.

"Thou hast thought of me this longtime as at rest forever--at rest with
the Redeemer. While there is nothing so the equivalent of death as
silence, there is no happiness so sweet as that which springs upon us
unexpectedly. In the same sense the resurrection was the perfect
complement of the crucifixion. More than all else, more than the sermon
on the mount, more than His miracles, more than His unexampled life, it
lifted our Lord above the repute of a mere philosopher like Socrates.
We have tears for His much suffering; but we sing as Miriam sang when
we think of His victory over the grave. I would not compare myself to
Him; yet it pleases me believing these lines, so unexpected, will give
thee a taste of the feeling the Marys had, when, with their spices in
hand, they sought the sepulchre and found only the Angels there.

"Let me tell thee first of my disappearance from Constantinople. I
repented greatly my taking from the old convent by the Patriarch;
partly because it separated me from thee at a time when thy mind was
opening to receive the truth and understand it. Yet the call had a
sound as if from God. I feared to disobey it.

"Then came the summons of the Emperor. He had heard of my life, and, as
a counteraction of vice, he wanted its example in the palace. I held
back. But the Patriarch prevailed on me, and I went up and suffered
myself to be installed Keeper of the Purple Ink. Then indeed I became
miserable. To such as I, what is sitting near the throne? What is power
when not an instrument of mercy, justice and charity? What is easy
life, except walking in danger of habits enervating to the hope of
salvation? Oh, the miseries I witnessed! And how wretched the sight of
them, knowing they were beyond my help! I saw moreover the wickedness
of the court. Did I speak, who listened except to revile me? Went I to
celebrations in this or that church, I beheld only hypocrisy in
scarlet. How often, knowing the sin-stains upon the hands of the
celebrants at the altar in Sta. Sophia, the house in holiness next to
the temple of Solomon--how often, seeing those hands raise the blood of
Christ in the cup before the altar, have I trembled, and looked for the
dome above to let consuming vengeance in upon us, the innocent with the
guilty!

"At last fear filled all my thoughts, and forbade sleep or any comfort.
I felt I must go, and quickly, or be lost for denial of covenants made
with Him, the ultimate Judge, in whose approval there is the peace that
passeth understanding. I was like one pursued by a spirit making its
presence known to me in sobs and plaints, stinging as conscience stings.

"Consent to my departure was not to be expected; for great men dislike
to have their favors slighted. It was not less clear that formal
resignation of the official honor I was supposed to be enjoying would
be serviceable to the courtiers who were not so much my enemies
personally as they were enemies of religion and contemners of all holy
observances. And there were so many of them! Alas, for the admission!
What then was left but flight?

 "Whither? I thought first of Jerusalem; but who without abasement can
inhabit with infidels? Then Hagion Oras, the Holy Hill, occurred to me;
the same argument applied against it as against return to the convent
of Irene-I would be in reach of the Emperor's displeasure. One can
study his own heart. Holding mine off, and looking at it alive with
desires holy and unholy, I detected in it a yearning for hermitage. How
beautiful solitude appears! In what condition can one wishing to change
his nature for the better more certainly attain the end than without
companionship except of God always present? The spirit of prayer is a
delicate minister; where can we find purer nourishment for it than in
the silence which at noon is deep as at midnight?

"In this mood the story of the Russian St. Sergius reverted to me. He
was born at Rostoff. Filled with pious impulses more than dissatisfied
with the world, of which he knew nothing, with a brother, he left his
father's house when yet a youth and betook himself to a great woods in
the region Radenego; there he dwelt among savage beasts and wild men,
fasting and praying and dependent like Elijah of old. His life became a
notoriety. Others drew to him. With his own hands he built a wooden
church for his disciples, giving it the name of Troitza or Thrice Holy
Trinity. Thither I wandered in thought. A call might be there for me,
so weary of the egotism, envy, detraction, greed, grind and battle of
the soulless artificiality called society.

"I left Blacherne in the night, and crossing the sea in the north--no
wonder it is so terrible to the poor mariner who has to hunt his daily
bread upon its treacherous waves--I indulged no wait until, in the
stone church of the Holy Trinity, I knelt before the remains of the
revered Russian hermit, and thanked God for deliverance and freedom.

"The Troitza was no longer the simple wooden church of its founder. I
found it a collection of monasteries. The solitude of my dreams was to
be sought northward further. Some years before, a disciple of
Sergius--Cyrill by name, since canonized--unterrified by winters which
dragged through three quarters of the year, wandered off to a secluded
place on the shore of the White Lake, where he dwelt until, in old age,
a holy house was required to accommodate his following. He called it
Bielo-Osero. There I installed myself, won by the warmth of my welcome.

"Now when I departed from Blacherne, I took with me, besides the
raiment I wore, two pieces of property; a copy of the Rule of the
Studium Monastery, and a _panagia_ given me by the Patriarch--a
medallion portrait of the Blessed Mother of our Lord the Saviour,
framed in gold, and set in brilliants. I carry it hanging from my neck.
Even in sleep it is always lying just above my heart. The day is not
far now when my need of it will be over; then I will send it to thee in
notice that I am indeed at rest, and that in dying I wished to lend
thee a preservative against ills of the soul and fear of death.

"The Rule was acceptable to the Brotherhood. They adopted it, and its
letter and spirit prevailing, the house came in time to be odorous for
sanctity. Eventually, though against my will, they raised me their
Hegumen. And so my story reaches its end. May it find thee enjoying the
delight of the soul's rest I have been enjoying without interruption
since I began life anew in this retreat, where the days are days of
prayer, and the nights illuminated by visions of Paradise and Heaven.

"In the next place, I pray thou wilt take the young brother by whom
this will be delivered into friendly care. I myself raised him to a
deaconship of our Monastery. His priestly name is Sergius. He was
scarcely out of boyhood when I came here; it was not long, however,
before I discovered in him the qualities which drew me to thee during
thy prison life at the old convent of Irene--a receptive mind, and a
native proneness to love God. I made his way easy. I became his
teacher, as I had been thine; and as the years flew by he reminded me
more and more of thee, not merely with respect to mental capacity, but
purity of soul and aspiration as well. Need I say how natural it was
for me to love him? Had I not just come from loving thee?

"The brethren are good men, though unmannerly, and for the most part
the Word reaches them from some other's tongue. Filling the lad's mind
was like filling a lamp with oil. How precious the light it would one
day shed abroad! And how much darkness there was for it to dispel! And
in the darkness--Mercy, Mercy! How many are in danger of perishing!

"Never did I think myself so clearly a servant of God as in the time
Sergius was under my instruction. Thou, alas! being a woman, wert like
a strong-winged bird doomed at best to a narrow cage. The whole world
was before him.

"Of the many notes I have been compelled to take of the wants of
religion in this our age, none so amazes me as the lack of preachers.
We have priests and monks. Their name is Legion. Who of them can be
said to have been touched with the fire that fell upon the faithful of
the original twelve? Where among them is an Athanasius? Or a
Chrysostom? Or an Augustine? Slowly, yet apace with his growth, I
became ambitious for the young man. He showed quickness and astonishing
courage. No task appalled him. He mastered the tongues of the
nationalities represented around him as if he were born to them. He
took in memory the Gospels, the Psalms, and the prophetic books of the
Bible. He replies to me in Greek undistinguishable from mine. I began
to dream of him a preacher like St. Paul. I have heard him talking in
the stone chapel, when the sleet-ridden winds without had filled it
with numbing frost, and seen the Brotherhood rise from their knees, and
shout, and sing, and wrestle like madmen. It is not merely words, and
ideas, and oratorical manner, but all of them, and more--when aroused,
he has the faculty of pouring out his spirit, so that what he says
takes hold of a hearer, making him calm if in a passion, and excited if
in a calm. The willing listen to him from delight, the unwilling and
opposite minded because he enchains them.

"The pearl seemed to me of great price. I tried to keep it free of the
dust of the world. With such skill as I possess, I have worn its stains
and roughnesses away, and added to its lustre. Now it goes from me.

"You must not think because I fled to this corner of the earth, there
is any abatement of my affection for Constantinople; on the contrary,
absence has redoubled the love for it with which I was born. Is it not
still the capital of our holy religion? Occasionally a traveller comes
this way with news of the changes it has endured. Thus one came and
reported the death of the Emperor John, and the succession of
Constantine; another told of justice finally done thy heroic father,
and of thy prosperity; more lately a wandering monk, seeking solitude
for his soul's sake, joined our community, and from him I hear that the
old controversy with the Latins has broken out anew, and more hotly
than ever; that the new Emperor is an _azymite_, and disposed to adhere
to the compact of union of the churches east and west made with the
Pope of Rome by his predecessor, leaving heart-blisters burning as
those which divided the Jews. Indeed, I much fear the likeness may
prove absolute. It certainly will when the Turk appears before our holy
city as Titus before Jerusalem.

"This latest intelligence induced me at last to yield to Sergius'
entreaties to go down to Constantinople, and finish there the courses
begun here. It is true he who would move the world must go into the
world; at the same time I confess my own great desire to be kept
informed of the progress of the discussion between the churches had
much to do with my consent to his departure. He has instructions to
that effect, and will obey them. Therefore I pray thee receive him
kindly for his own sake, for mine, and the promise of good in him to
the cause of Jesus, our beloved Master.

"In conclusion, allow me, daughter--for such thou wert to thy father,
to thy mother, and to me--allow me to recur to circumstances which,
after calm review, I pronounce the most interesting, the most
delightful, the most cherished of my life.

"The house under the Kameses hill at Prinkipo was a convent or refuge
for women rather than men; yet I was ordered thither when thy father
was consigned to it after his victory over the Turks. I was then
comparatively young, but still recollect the day he passed the gate
going in with his family. Thenceforward, until the Patriarch took me
away, I was his confessor.

"Death is always shocking. I remember its visits to the convent while I
was of its people; but when it came and took thy sisters we were doubly
grieved. As if the ungrateful Emperor could not be sufficiently cruel,
it seemed Heaven must needs help him. The cloud of those sad events
overhung the community a long time; at length there was a burst of
sunshine. One came to my cell and said, 'Come, rejoice with us--a baby
is born in the house.' Thou wert the baby; and thy appearance was the
first of the great gladnesses to which I have referred.

"And not less distinctly I live over the hour we met in the chapel to
christen thee. The Bishop was the chief celebrant; but not even the
splendor of his canonicals--the cope with the little bells sewn down
the sides and along the sleeves, the ompharium, the _panagia_, the
cross, the crozier--were enough to draw my eyes from the dimpled pink
face half-hidden in the pillow of down on which they held thee up
before the font. And now the Bishop dipped his fingers in the holy
water--'By what name is this daughter to be known?' And I answered,
'Irene.' Thy parents had been casting about for a name. 'Why not call
her after the convent?' I asked. They accepted the suggestion; and when
I gave it out that great day--to the convent it was holiday--it seemed
a door in my heart of which I was unknowing opened of itself, and took
thee into a love-lined chamber to be sweet lady at home forever. Such
was the second of my greatest happinesses.

"And then afterwhile thy father gave thee over to me to be educated. I
made thy first alphabet, illuminating each letter with my own hand.
Dost thou remember the earliest sentence I heard thee read? Or, if ever
thou dost think of it now, be reminded it was thy first lesson in
writing and thy first in religion--'The Lord is my shepherd; I shall
not want.' And thence what delight I found in helping thee each day a
little further on in knowledge until at length we came to where thou
couldst do independent thinking.

"It was in Sta. Sophia--in my memory not more than an occurrence of
yesterday. Thou and I had gone from the island up to the holy house,
where we were spectators of a service at which the Emperor, as
Basileus, and the Patriarch were celebrants. The gold on cope and
ompharium cast the space about the altar into a splendor rich as
sunshine. Then thou asked me, 'Did Christ and His Disciples worship in
a house like this? And were they dressed as these are?' I was afraid of
those around us, and told thee to use eye and ear, but the time for
questions and answers would be when we were back safely in the old
convent.

"When we were there, thou didst renew the questions, and I did not
withhold the truth. I told thee of the lowliness and simple ways of
Jesus--how He was clothed--how the out-doors was temple sufficient for
Him. I told thee of His preaching to the multitude on the shore of the
Galilean sea--I told of His praying in the garden of Gethsemane--I told
of the attempt to make a King of Him whether He would or not, and how
He escaped from the people--of how He set no store by money or
property, titles, or worldly honors.

"Then thou didst ask, 'Who made worship so formal?' And again I
answered truthfully, there was no Church until after the death of our
Lord; that in course of two hundred years kings, governors, nobles and
the great of the earth were converted to the faith, and took it under
their protection; that then, to conform it to their tastes and dignity,
they borrowed altars from pagans, and recast the worship so sumptuously
in purple and gold the Apostles would not have recognized it. Then, in
brief, I began telling thee of the Primitive Church of Christ, now
disowned, forgotten or lost in the humanism of religious pride.

"Oh, the satisfaction and happiness in that teaching! At each lesson it
seemed I was taking thee closer to the dear Christ from whom the world
is every year making new roads to get further away--the dear Christ in
search of whom I plunged into this solitude.

"How is it with thee now, my daughter? Dost thou still adhere to the
Primitive Church? Do not fear to speak thy mind to Sergius. He too is
in the secret of our faith, believing it best to love our Lord from
what our Lord hath Himself said.

"Now I bring this letter to a close. Let me have reply by Sergius, who,
when he has seen Constantinople, will come back to me, unless He who
holds every man's future in keeping discovers for him a special use.

"Do not forget me in thy prayers.

"Blessings on thee! HILARION."

The Princess read the letter a second time. When she came to the
passage referring to the Primitive Church, her hands dropped into her
lap, and she thought:

"The Father planted right well--better than he was aware, as he himself
would say did he know my standing now."

A glow which might have been variously taken for half-serious,
half-mocking defiance shone in her eyes as the thought ran on:

"Ay, dear man! Did he know that for asserting the Primitive Church as
he taught it to me in the old convent, the Greeks and the Latins have
alike adjudged me a heretic; that nothing saves me from the lions of
the Cynegion, except my being a woman--a woman forever offending by
going when and where I wist with my face bare, and therefore harmless
except to myself. If he knew this, would he send me his blessing? He
little imagined--he who kept his opinion to himself because he could
see no good possible from its proclamation--that I, the prison-bred
girl he so loved, and whom he helped make extreme in courage as in
conviction, would one day forget my sex and condition, and protest with
the vehemence of a man against the religious madness into which the
Christian world is being swept. Oh, that I were a man!"

Folding the letter hastily, she arose to return to her guest. There was
fixedness of purpose in her face.

"Oh, that I were a man!" she repeated, while passing the frescoed hall
on the way out.

In the portico, with the white light of the marble whitening her whole
person, and just as the monk, tall, strong, noble looking, despite the
grotesqueness of his attire, was rising from the table, she stopped,
and clasped her hands.

"I have been heard!" she thought, trembling. "That which it refused to
make me, Heaven has sent me. Here is a man! And he is certified as of
my faith, and has the voice, the learning, the zeal and courage, the
passion of truth to challenge a hearing anywhere. Welcome Sergius! In
want thou camest; in want thou didst find me. The Lord _is_ shepherd
unto us both."

She went to him confidently, and offered her hand. Her manner was
irresistible; he had no choice but to yield to it.

"Thou art not a stranger, but Sergius, my brother. Father Hilarion has
explained everything."

He kissed her hand, and replied:

"I was overbold, Princess; but I knew the Father would report me
kindly; and I was hungry."

"It is my part now to see the affliction comes not back again. So much
has the Shepherd already determined. But, speaking as thy sister,
Sergius, thy garments appear strange. Doubtless they were well enough
in the Bielo-Osero, where the Rule of the Studium is law instead of
fashion; but here we must consult customs or be laughed at, which would
be fatal to the role I have in mind for thee." Then with a smile, she
added, "Observe the dominion I have already assumed."

He answered with a contented laugh: whereupon she went on, but more
gravely:

"We have the world to talk over; but Lysander will now take you to your
room, and you will rest until about mid-afternoon, when my boat will
come to the landing to carry us to the city. The cowl you must exchange
for a hat and veil, the sandals for shoes, the coarse cassock for a
black gown; and, if we have time, I will go with you to the Patriarch."

Sergius followed Lysander submissively as a child.




CHAPTER VI

WHAT DO THE STARS SAY?


The sun which relieved the bay of Therapia from the thraldom of night
did the same service for the Golden Horn; only, with a more potential
voice, it seemed to say to the cities which were the pride of the
latter, Awake! Arise! And presently they were astir indoor and out.

Of all the souls who, obedient to the early summons, poured into the
street, and by the south window of the study of the Prince of India,
some going this direction, some that, yet each intent upon a particular
purpose, not one gave a thought to the Prince, or so much as wondered
if he were awake. And the indifference of the many was well for him; it
gave him immunity to pursue his specialty. But as we, the writer and
the reader, are not of the many, and have an interest in the man from
knowing more about him than they, what would have been intrusion in
them may be excused in us.

Exactly at midnight the Prince, aroused by Syama, had gone to the roof,
where there was a table, with a lamp upon it which he could shade at
pleasure, an hour-glass, and writing materials. An easy chair was also
set for him.

The view of the city offered for his inspection was circumscribed by
the night. The famous places conspicuous in daytime might as well have
been folded up and put away in a closet; he could not see so much as a
glimmer of light from any of them. Pleased thereby, and arguing that
even the wicked are good when asleep, he swept the heavens with a
glance so long and searching there could be no doubt of the purpose
which had brought him forth.

Next, according to the habit of astrologers, he proceeded to divide the
firmament into Angles and Houses, and taking seat by the table,
arranged the lamp to suit him, started the hour-glass running, and drew
a diagram familiar to every adept in divinatory science--a diagram of
the heavens with the Houses numbered from one to twelve inclusive.

In the Houses he then set the mystic symbols of the visible planets as
they were at the moment in position, mindful not merely of the
parallels, but of the degrees as well. Verifying the correctness of the
diagram by a second survey of the mighty overarch more careful even
than the first, he settled himself in the chair, saying complacently:

"Now, O Saturn, thou, the coldest and highest! Thy Houses are
ready--come, and at least behold them. I wait the configurations."

Thereupon, perfectly at ease, he watched the stellar hosts while, to
their own music, they marched past the Thrones of the Most High Planets
unchallenged except by him.

Occasionally he sat up to reverse the hour-glass, though more
frequently he made new diagrams, showing the changes in position of the
several influential bodies relatively to each other and to the benefic
or malific signs upon which so much of result depended; nor did his
eyes once weary or his zeal flag.

Finally when the sun, yet under the horizon behind the heights of
Scutari, began to flood the sky with a brilliance exceeding that of the
bravest of the stars, he collected the drawings, extinguished the lamp,
and descended to his study, but not to rest.

Immediately that the daylight was sufficient, he addressed himself to
mathematical calculations which appeared exhaustive of every rule and
branch of the disciplinary science. Hours flew by, and still he worked.
He received Syama's call to breakfast; returning from the meal, always
the simplest of the day with him, he resumed the problem. Either he was
prodigiously intent on a scheme in mind, or he was occupying himself
diligently in order to forget himself.

About noon he was interrupted.

"My father."

Recognizing the voice, he pushed the proofs of labor from him almost to
the other side of the table, turned in his seat, and replied, his face
suffused with pleasure:

"Thou enemy to labor! Did not some one tell thee of what I have on
hand, and how I am working to finish it in time to take the water with
thee this afternoon? Answer, O my Gul-Bahar, more beautiful growing as
the days multiply!"

The Lael of the son of Jahdai, the Gul-Bahar of the mysterious Prince,
was much grown, and otherwise greatly changed since we saw her last.
Each intervening year had in passing left her a benediction. She was
now about sixteen, slight, and Jewish in eyes, hair, and complexion.
The blood enriched her olive cheeks; the lips took a double freshness
from health; the smile resting habitually on the oval face had a tale
it was always telling of a nature confiding, happy, satisfied with its
conditions, hopeful of the future, and unaware from any sad experience
that life ever admitted of changes. Her beauty bore the marks of
intelligence; her manner was not enough self-contained to be called
courtly; yet it was easy, and carried its own certificate of culture;
it yielded too much to natural affection to deserve the term dignified.
One listening to her, and noticing the variableness of her mood, which
in almost the same instant could pass from gay to serious without ever
reaching an extreme, would pronounce her too timid for achievement
outside the purely domestic; at the same time he would think she
appeared lovable to the last degree, and might be capable of loving in
equal measure.

She was dressed in Byzantine fashion. In crossing the street from her
father's house, she had thrown a veil over her head, but it was now
lying carelessly about her neck. The wooden sandals with blocks under
them, like those yet worn by women in Levantine countries to raise them
out of the dust and mud when abroad, had been shaken lightly from her
feet at the top of the stairs. Perfectly at home, she advanced to the
table, and put one of her bare arms around the old man's neck,
regardless of the white locks it crushed close down, and replied:

"Thou flatterer! Do I not know beauty is altogether in the eye of the
beholder, and that all persons do not see alike? Tell me why, knowing
the work was to be done, you did not send for me to help you? Was it
for nothing you made me acquainted with figures until--I have your
authority for the saying--I might have stood for professor of
mathematics in the best of the Alexandrian schools? Do not shake your
head at me--or"--

With the new idea all alight in her face, she ran around the table, and
caught up one of the diagrams.

"Ah, it is as I thought, father! The work I love best, and can do best!
Whose is the nativity? Not mine, I know; for I was born in the glad
time when Venus ruled the year. Anael, her angel, held his wings over
me against this very wry-faced, snow-chilled Saturn, whom I am so glad
to see in the Seventh House, which is the House of Woe. Whose the
nativity, I say?"

"Nay, child--pretty child, and wilful--you have a trick of getting my
secrets from me. I sometimes think I am in thy hands no more than
tawdry lace just washed and being wrung preparatory to hanging in the
air from thy lattice. It is well for you to know there are some things
out of your reach--for the time at least."

"That is saying you will tell me."

"Yes--some day."

"Then I will be patient."

Seeing him become thoughtful, and look abstractedly out of the window,
she laid the diagram down, went back, and again put her arm around his
neck.

"I did not come to interrupt you, father, but to learn two things, and
run away."

"You begin like a rhetorician. What subdivisions lie under those two
things? Speak!"

"Thank you," she replied, quickly. "First, Syama told me you were at
some particular task, and I wanted to know if I could help you."

"Dear heart!" he said, tenderly.

"Next--and this is all--I did not want you to forget we are to go up
the Bosphorus this afternoon--up to Therapia, and possibly to the sea."

"You wish to go?" he asked.

"I dreamt of it all night."

"Then we will; and to prove I did not forget, the boatmen have their
orders already. We go to the landing directly after noon."

"Not too soon," she answered, laughing. "I have to dress, and make
myself gorgeous as an empress. The day is soft and kind, and there will
be many people on the water, where I am already known quite as well as
here in the city as the daughter of the Prince of India."

He replied with an air of pride:

"Thou art good enough for an emperor."

"Then I may go and get ready."

She withdrew her arm, kissed him, and started to the door, but
returned, with a troubled look.

"One thing more, father."

He was recovering his work, but stopped, and gave her ear.

"What is it?"

"You have said, good father, that as my studies were too confining, it
would be well if I took the air every day in my sedan. So, sometimes
with Syama, sometimes with Nilo, I had the men carry me along the wall
in front of the Bucoleon. The view over the sea toward Mt. Ida is there
very beautiful; and if I look to the landward side, right at my feet
are the terraced gardens of the palace. Nowhere do the winds seem
sweeter to me. For their more perfect enjoyment I have at moments
alighted from the chair, and walked; always avoiding acquaintances new
and old. The people appear to understand my preference, and respect it.
Of late, however, one person--hardly a man--has followed me, and
stopped near by when I stopped; he has even persisted in attempts to
speak to me. To avoid him, I went to the Hippodrome yesterday, and
taking seat in front of the small obelisks in that quarter, was
delighted with the exhibition of the horsemen. Just when the
entertainment was at its height, and most interesting, the person of
whom I am speaking came and sat on the same bench with me. I arose at
once. It is very annoying, father. What shall I do?"

The Prince did not answer immediately, and when he did, it was to ask,
suggestively:

"You say he is young?"

"Yes."

"His dress?"

"He seems to be fond of high colors."

"You asked no question concerning him?"

"No. Whom could I ask?"

Again the Prince reflected. Outwardly he was unconcerned; yet his blood
was more than warm--the blood of pride which, as every one knows, is
easily started, and can go hissing hot. He did not wish her to think of
the affair too much; therefore his air of indifference; nevertheless it
awoke a new train of thought in him.

If one were to insult this second Lael of his love, what could he do?
The idea of appeal to a magistrate was irritating. Were he to assume
punishment of the insolence, from whom could he hope justice or
sympathy--he, a stranger living a mysterious life?

He ran hastily over the resorts at first sight open to him. Nilo was an
instrument always ready. A word would arouse the forces in that loyal
but savage nature, and they were forces subject to cunning which never
slept, never wearied, and was never in a hurry--a passionless cunning,
like that of the Fedavies of the Old Man of the Mountain.

It may be thought the Prince was magnifying a fancied trouble; but the
certainty that sorrow _must_ overtake him for every indulgence of
affection was a haunting shadow always attending the most trifling
circumstance to set his imagination conjuring calamities. That at such
times his first impulse was toward revenge is explicable; the old law,
an eye for an eye, was part of his religion; and coupling it with
personal pride which a thought could turn into consuming heat, how
natural if, while the anticipation was doing its work, his study should
be to make the revenge memorable!

Feeling he was not entirely helpless in the affair, he thought best to
be patient awhile, and learn who was the offender; a conclusion
followed by a resolution to send Uel with the girl next time she went
to take the air.

"The young men of the city are uncontrolled by respect or veneration,"
he said, quietly. "The follies they commit are sometimes ludicrous.
Better things are not to be looked for in a generation given to dress
as a chief ambition. And then it may be, O my Gul-Bahar"--he kissed her
as he uttered the endearment--"it may be he of whom you complain does
not know who you are. A word may cure him of his bad manners. Do not
appear to notice him. Have eyes for everything in the world but him;
that is the virtuous woman's defence against vulgarity and insult under
every circumstance. Go now, and make ready for the boat. Put on your
gayest; forget not the last necklace I gave you--and the bracelets--and
the girdle with the rubies. The water from the flying oars shall not
outflash my little girl. There now--Of course we will go to the landing
in our chairs."

When she disappeared down the stairs, he went back to his work.




CHAPTER VII

THE PRINCE OF INDIA MEETS CONSTANTINE


It is to be remembered now, as very material to our story, that the day
the Prince of India resolved on the excursion up the Bosphorus with
Lael the exquisite stretch of water separated the territorial
possessions of the Greek Emperor and the Sultan of the Turks.

In 1355 the utmost of the once vast Roman dominions was "a corner of
Thrace between the Propontis (Marmora) and the Black Sea, about fifty
miles in length and thirty in breadth." [Footnote: Gibbon.]

When Constantine Dragases--he of whom we are writing--ascended the
throne, the realm was even more diminished.

Galata, just across the Golden Horn, had become a Genoese stronghold.

Scutari, on the Asiatic shore almost _vis-a-vis_ with Constantinople,
was held by a Turkish garrison.

With small trouble the Sultan could have converted the pitiful margin
between Galata and the Cyanean rocks on the Black Sea.

Once indeed he set siege to Constantinople, but was beaten off, it was
said, by the Mother of God, who appeared upon the walls of the city,
and in person took part in the combat. Thereafter he contented himself
with a tribute from the Emperors Manuel and John Palaeologus.

The relations of the Christian and Moslem potentates being thus
friendly, it can be seen how the Princess Irene could keep to her
palace by Therapia and the Prince of India plan jaunts along the
Bosphorus.

Still there is a point to be borne in mind. Ships under Christian flags
seldom touched at a landing upon the Asiatic shore. Their captains
preferred anchoring in the bays and close under the ivy-covered heights
of Europe. This was not from detestation or religious intolerance; at
bottom there was a doubt of the common honesty of the strong-handed
Turk amounting to fear. The air was rife with stories of his treachery.
The fishermen in the markets harrowed the feelings of their timid
customers with tales of surprises, captures, and abductions.
Occasionally couriers rushed through the gates of Constantinople to
report red banners in motion, and the sound of clarions and drums,
signifying armies of Moslems gathering for mysterious purposes.

The Moslems, on their part, it is but fair to say, were possessed of
the same doubts of the Christians, and had answers to accusations
always ready. The surprises, captures, and abductions were the
unlicensed savageries of brigands, of whom they never knew one not a
Greek; while the music and flags belonged to the militia.

Six or seven miles above Scutari a small river, born in the adjacent
highlands, runs merrily down to meet and mingle with the tideless
Bosphorus. The water it yields is clear and fresh; whence the name of
the stream, The Sweet Waters of Asia. On its south side there is a
prairie-like stretch, narrow, but green and besprent with an orchard of
sycamores old and gnarled, and now much frequented on Mohammedan
Sundays by ladies of the harems, who contrive to make it very gay. No
doubt the modest river, and the grass and great trees were just as
attractive ages before the first Amurath, with an army at his heels,
halted there for a night. From that time, however, it was banned by the
Greeks; and for a reason.

On the north bank of the little river there was a fortress known as the
White Castle. An irregular, many-angled pile of undressed stone heavily
merloned on top, its remarkable feature was a tall donjon which a dingy
white complexion made visible a great distance, despite its freckling
of loopholes and apertures for machine artillery. Seeing its military
importance, the Sultan left a garrison to hold it. He was also pleased
to change its name to Acce-Chisar.

The blood-red flag on this donjon was, at the era engaging us, the
disenchanter of the Greeks; insomuch that in passing the Sweet Waters
of Asia they hugged the opposite shore of the Bosphorus, crossing
themselves and muttering prayers often of irreligious compound. A stork
has a nest on the donjon now. As an apparition it is not nearly so
suggestive as the turbaned sentinel who used to occupy its outlook.

The popular imagination located dungeons under the grim old Castle,
whence, of the many Christian men and women immured there, it was said
none ever came forth alive.

But for these things, whether true or false, the Prince of India cared
little. He was not afraid of the Turks. If the Asiatic shore had been
festooned with red flags from the City of the Blind down by the Isles
of the Princes to the last of the gray fortresses overlooking the
Symplegades, it would not have altered a plan of his jot or tittle.
Enough that Lael wanted and needed an outing on the glorious Bosphorus.

Accordingly, shortly after noon two chairs were brought and set down in
his house. That is to say, two upright boxes fixed centrally on poles,
and differing in nowise from the sedans still the mode of carriage
affected by ladies of Constantinople unless it might be in their richer
appointments. Inside, all was silk, lace and cushions; outside, the
inlaying of mother of pearl and vari-colored woods was suggestive of
modern papier-mache. The entrance was by a door in the front. A window
in the door, and lesser ones on the sides, afforded the inmate air and
opportunity for speech. Not wanting to be seen, she had only to draw
the curtains together. In this instance it must be said the decoration
of the carriages had been carried to an extreme.

Soon as the chairs were set down in the house, the Prince and Lael
descended the stairs. The latter was attired in a semi-Greek costume,
very rich and becoming; to embroidery of gold, she added bracelets, and
a necklace of large pearls strung between spheres of gold equally
large. A coronet graced her head, and it was so bejewelled that in
bright light it seemed some one was sprinkling her with an incessant
shower of sparkles.

The two took their seats. The carriers, two to each litter, stalwart
men, uniformly clad in loose white garments, raised the poles on their
shoulders. Syama threw the door of the house open, and at a signal from
the Prince the procession sallied into the street. The crowd, in
expectant waiting there, received it in silent wonder.

It is due the truth to say now that the common eye was attracted by the
appearance of Nilo as much as by the rarities wrought in the panelling
of the carriages. He strode ten or twelve feet in advance of Lael who,
in the place of honor, was completely under the Prince's observation.
The negro's costume was of a King of Kash-Cush. The hair stood on end
in stiff cues, sharply pointed, and held by a chain of silver medals;
an immense ring of silver hung from the cartilage of his nose. The neck
was defended by a gorget of leather bristling with the fangs and claws
of tigers in alternating rows. A robe of scarlet cloth large enough to
envelop the man was thrown behind the massive shoulders. The body,
black as polished ebony, was naked to the waist, whence a white skirt
fell to the knees. The arms and legs were adorned with bracelets and
anklets of ivory, while the straps of the heavy sandals were bordered
with snail-shells. On the left arm he bore a round shield of rhinoceros
hide embossed in brass; in the right hand, a pointless lance. Towering
high above the heads of the crowd which opened before him with
alacrity, the admiration received by the Prince's ally and friend was
but a well-deserved tribute.

"A tiger-hunter!" said one, to a friend at his elbow.

"I should call him king of the tiger-hunters," the friend replied.

"Only a Prince of India would carry such a pensioner with him," another
remarked.

"What a man!" said a woman, half afraid.

"An infidel, no doubt," was the answer.

"It is not a Christian wish, I know," the first added; "still I should
like to see him face a lion in the Cynegion."

"Ay, him they call Tamerlane, because he is shorn of two toes."

The Prince, casting a glance of scarce concealed contempt over the
throng, sighed, as he muttered, "If now I could meet the Emperor!"

The exclamation was from his heart.

We have seen the idea which lured him to Mecca, and brought him to
Constantinople. In the years since flown, it was held subordinate to
his love of Lael--subordinate merely. Latterly it had revived with much
of its original force, and he was now for the first time seriously
scheming for an interview with the Emperor. No doubt a formal request
would have secured the honor; but it was in his view better policy to
be sought than seek, and with all his wealth, there was nothing he
could so well afford to pay for success as time. In his study, he was
continually saying to himself:

"It cannot be that the extravagances to which I am going will fail. He
will hear of me, or we may meet--then the invitation!--And then I will
propose the Brotherhood--God help me! But it is for him to invite me.
Patience, O my soul!"

Extravagances!

The exclamation helps us to an understanding of the style he was
carrying before the public--the silvering on his own black velvet robe,
the jewels in Lael's coronet bursting with light, the gorgeous finish
of the sedans, the barbaric costuming of Nilo. They were not
significant of his taste. Except for what they might bring him, he did
not care for jewels. And as for Lael, he would have loved her for her
name's sake, and her honest, untarnished Jewish blood. Let us believe
so at least until we find otherwise.

Nilo, by this time familiar with every quarter of the city, was told
the boat was in readiness for the party at a landing near the Grand
Gate of Blacherne; to make which, it being on the Golden Horn well up
in the northwest, he must turn the hill back of the Prince's residence,
and pursue one of the streets running parallel with the wall. Thither
he accordingly bent his steps, followed by the porters of the sedans,
and an increasing but respectful assemblage of curious citizens.

Scarcely had the progress begun before the Prince, watching through his
front window, saw a man approach the side of Lael's chair, and peer
into it. His wit served him well and instantly.

"'Tis he--the insolent!--Close up!" he cried, to his porters.

The intruder at the sound of his voice looked at him once, then
disappeared in the throng. He was young, handsome, showily dressed, and
beyond question the person of whom Lael had complained. Though smarting
under the insult, and a suspicion, suddenly engendered, of a watch kept
over his house, the Prince concluded the stranger was of noble
connection, and that the warrant for his boldness was referable to
family influence. While his subtle mind was pothering with schemes of
detection, the affair presented itself in another light, and he laughed
at his own dulness.

"'Tis nothing," he reflected--"nothing! The boy is in love, and
allowing his passion to make a fool of him. I have only to see my
pretty Gul-Bahar does not return the madness."

Deciding then to make inquiry and satisfy himself who the young admirer
was, he dismissed the subject.

Presently Nilo turned into a street of some width compared with the
generality of thoroughfares in the city. On the left hand were shops
and pretentious houses; on the right, towered the harbor wall. The
people attending the procession increased instead of dispersing; but as
they continued in good nature, they gave him no concern. Their comments
amongst themselves were about equally divided between Nilo and Lael.

"Beautiful, beautiful!" one said, catching sight of the latter through
the windows of the chair.

"Who is she?"

"A daughter of a Prince of India."

"And the Prince--Who is he?"

"Ask some one who knows. There he is in the second chair."

Once a woman went close to Lael, snatched a look, and stepped back,
with clasped hands, crying:

"'Tis the Sweet Mother herself!"

Without other incident, the procession passed the gate of St. Peter,
and was nearing that of Blacherne, when a flourish of trumpets
announced a counter pageant coming down the street from the opposite
direction. A man near by shouted:

"The Emperor! The Emperor!"

Another seconded him.

"Long live the good Constantine!"

The words were hardly uttered before they were answered:

"The _azymite_! The _azymite_! Down with the betrayer of Christ!"

In less than a minute the Prince was being borne along in the midst of
two howling factions. Scarcely knowing whether to take Lael into a
house or go on, he tried to communicate with Nilo; but in
unconsciousness of the tempest so suddenly risen, that grandson of a
king marched on in unremitted stateliness, until directly a band of
trumpeters in magnificent livery confronted him.

The astonishment was mutual. Nilo halted, dropping his headless lance
in defence; the trumpeters quit blowing, and, opening order, filed
hastily by him, their faces saying with a distinctness words could not
have helped:

"A son of Satan! Beware!"

The chairs were also brought to a halt.

Thereupon the people, now a mob apparently ready to tear each other
into bloody ribbons, refused to give way to the trumpeters. Nilo
finally comprehending the situation returned to Lael just as the Prince
on foot came up to her. She was pale and trembling with fear.

The deadlock between the musicians and the mob was brought to an end by
the appearance of a detachment of the Imperial guard. A mounted
officer, javelin in hand, rode up and shouted:

"The Emperor! Make way for the Emperor!"

While he was speaking, the horsemen behind him came on steadily. There
was irresistible persuasion in the glitter of their spears; besides it
was matter of universal knowledge that the steel panoply of each rider
concealed a mercenary foreigner who was never so happy as when riding
over a Greek. One yell louder and more defiant than any yet
uttered--"The azymite, the azymite!"--and the mob broke and fled. At a
signal from the officer, the guards, as they came on, opened right and
left of the chairs, and passed them with scarce notice.

A few words from the Prince to Lael dispelled her fears.

"It is an every-day affair," he said, lightly; "an amusement of the
people, the Roman factionists against the Greek. Nobody is ever hurt,
except in howling he opens his jaws too wide."

The levity was affected, but mastering the irritation he really felt,
the Prince was about to make acknowledgment to the officer for his
timely intervention, when another personage appeared, claiming his
attention. Indeed his heart began beating unusually fast, and in spite
of himself his face flushed--he knew he had his wish--the meeting with
Constantine was come!

The last Emperor of the Byzantines sat in an open chair borne upon the
shoulders of eight carriers in striking livery--a handsome man in his
forty-sixth year, though apparently not more than thirty-eight or
forty. His costume was that of Basileus, which was a religious dignity.

A close-fitting cap of red velvet covered his head, with a knot of
purple silk triply divided on the top; while a pliable circlet of
golden scales, clearing the brows, held the cap securely in place. On
each scale a ruby of great size sparkled in solitaire setting. The
circlet was further provided with four strings of pearls, two by each
ear, dangling well down below in front of the shoulders. A loose drab
robe or gown, drawn close at the waist, clothed him, neck, arms, body
and nether limbs, answering excellently as ground for a cope the color
of the cap, divided before and behind into embroidered squares defined
by rows of pearls. Boots of purple leather, also embroidered, gave
finish to the costume. Instead of sword or truncheon, he carried a
plain ivory crucifix. The people staring at him from the doors and
windows knew he was going to Sancta Sophia intent on some religious
service.

While the Emperor was thus borne down upon the Prince, his dark eyes,
kindly looking, glanced from Nilo to Lael, and finally came to rest
full upon the face of the master. The officer returned to him. A few
paces off, the imperial chair stopped, and a conversation ensued,
during which a number of high officials who were of the sovereign's
suite on foot closed up in position to separate their Lord from a
mounted rear guard.

The Prince of India kept his mind perfectly. Having exchanged glances
with the Emperor, he was satisfied an impression was made strong enough
to pique curiosity, and at the same time fix him in the royal memory.
With a quick sense of the proprieties, he thereupon addressed himself
to moving his carriages to the left, that when the conference with the
officers was concluded the Emperor might have the right of way with the
least possible obstruction.

Presently the Acolyte--such the officer proved to be--approached the
Prince.

"His Imperial Majesty," he said, courteously, "would be pleased could I
inform him the name and title of the stranger whose progress he has
been so unfortunate as to interrupt."

The Prince answered with dignity:

"I thank you, noble sir, for the fair terms in which you couch the
inquiry, not less than the rescue I and my daughter owe you from the
mob."

The Acolyte bowed.

"And not to keep his Imperial Majesty waiting," the Prince continued,
"return him the compliments of a Prince of India, at present a resident
of this royal and ancient capital. Say also it will give me happiness
far beyond the power of words when I am permitted to salute him, and
render the veneration and court to which his character and place
amongst the rulers of the earth entitle him."

At the conclusion of the complex, though courtierly reply, the speaker
walked two steps forward, faced the Emperor, and touched the ground
with his palms, and rising, carried them to his forehead.

The answer duly delivered, the Emperor responded to the salaam with a
bow and another message.

"His Imperial Majesty," the Acolyte said, "is pleased at meeting the
Prince of India. He was not aware he had a guest of such distinction in
his capital. He desires to know the place of residence of his noble
friend, that he may communicate with him, and make amends for the
hindrance which has overtaken him to-day."

The Prince gave his address, and the interview ended.

It is of course the reader's privilege to pass judgment upon the
incidents of this rencounter; at least one of the parties to it was
greatly pleased, for he knew the coveted invitation would speedily
follow.

While the Emperor was borne past, Lael received his notice more
especially than her guardian; when they were out of hearing, he called
the Acolyte to his side.

"Didst thou observe the young person yonder?" he asked.

"The coronet she wears certifies the Prince of India to be vastly
rich," the other answered.

"Yes, the Princes of India, if we may judge by common report, are all
rich; wherefore I thought not of that, but rather of the beauty of his
daughter. She reminded me of the Madonna on the Panagia in the transept
of our church at Blacherne."




CHAPTER VIII

RACING WITH A STORM


One who has seen the boats in which fishermen now work the eddies and
still waters of the Bosphorus will not require a description of the
vessel the Prince and Lael stepped into when they arrived at the Grand
Gate of Blacherne. He need only be told that instead of being
pitch-black outside and in, it was white, except the gunwale which was
freshly gilt. The untravelled reader, however, must imagine a long
narrow craft, upturned at both ends, graceful in every line, and
constructed for speed and beauty. Well aft there was a box without
cover, luxuriously cushioned, lined with chocolate velvet, and wide
enough to seat two persons comfortably; behind it, a decked space for a
servant, pilot or guard. This arrangement left all forward for the
rowers, each handling two oars.

Ten rowers, trained, stout, and clad in white headkerchiefs, shirts and
trousers of the same hue, and Greek jackets of brilliant scarlet,
profusely figured over with yellow braid, sat stolidly, blades in hand
and ready dipped, when the passengers took their places, the Prince and
Lael in the box, and Nilo behind them as guard. The vessel was too
light to permit a ceremonious reception.

In front of the party, on the northern shore of the famous harbor, were
the heights of Pera. The ravines and grass-green benches into which
they were broken, with here and there a garden hut enclosed in a patch
of filbert bushes--for Pera was not then the city it now is--were of no
interest to the Prince; dropping his eyes to the water, they took in a
medley of shipping, then involuntarily turned to the cold gray face of
the wall he was leaving. And while seeing in vivid recollection the
benignant countenance of Constantine bent upon him from the chair in
the street, he thought of the horoscope he had spent the night in
taking and the forenoon in calculating. With a darkened brow, he gave
the word, and the boat was pushed off and presently seeking the broader
channel of the Bosphorus.

The day was delightful. A breeze danced merrily over the surface of the
water. Soft white summer clouds hung so sleepily in the southwest they
scarce suggested motion. Seeing the color deepen in Lael's cheeks, and
listening to her questions, he surrendered himself to the pleasures of
the situation, not the least being the admiration she attracted.

By ships at anchor, and through lesser craft of every variety they
sped, followed by exclamations frequently outspoken:

"Who is she? Who can she be?"

Thus pursued, they flew past the gate of St. Peter, turned the point of
Galata, and left the Fish Market port behind; proceeding then in
parallelism with the north shore, they glided under the great round
tower so tall and up so far overhead it seemed a part of the sky. Off
Tophane, they were in the Bosphorus, with Scutari at their right, and
Point Serail at their backs.

Viewed from the harbor on the sea, the old historic Point leaves upon
the well informed an impression that in a day long gone, yielding to a
spasm of justice, Asia cast it off into the waves. Its beauty is
Circean. Almost from the beginning it has been the chosen place in
which men ran rounds gay and grave, virtuous and wanton, foolish and
philosophic, brave and cowardly--where love, hate, jealousy, avarice,
ambition and envy have delighted to burn their lights before
Heaven--where, possibly with one exception, Providence has more
frequently come nearer lifting its veil than in any other spot of earth.

Again and again, the Prince, loth to quit the view, turned and refilled
his eyes with Sancta Sophia, of which, from his position, the wall at
the water's edge, the lesser churches of the Virgin Hodegetria and St.
Irene, and the topmost sections far extending of the palaces of
Bucoleon seemed but foundations. The edifice, as he saw it then,
depended on itself for effect, the Turk having not yet, in sign of
Mohammedan conversion, broken the line of its marvellous dome with
minarets. At length he set about telling stories of the Point.

Off the site of the present palace of Dolma-Batchi he told of
Euphrosyne, the daughter of the Empress Irene; and seeing how the
sorrowful fortune of the beautiful child engaged Lael's sympathies, he
became interested as a narrator, and failed to notice the unusual
warmth tempering the air about Tchiragan. Neither did he observe that
the northern sky, before so clear and blue, was whitening with haze.

To avoid the current running past Arnoot-Kouy, the rowers crossed to
the Asiatic side under the promontory of Candilli.

Other boats thronged the charming expanse; but as most of them were of
a humbler class sporting one rower, the Prince's, with its liveried
ten, was a surpassing attraction. Sometimes the strangers, to gratify
their curiosity, drew quite near, but always without affronting him;
knowing the homage was to Lael, he was happy when it was effusively
rendered.

His progress was most satisfactory until he rounded Candilli. Then a
flock of small boats came down upon him pell-mell, the rowers pulling
their uttermost, the passengers in panic.

The urgency impelling them was equally recognized by the ships and
larger vessels out in the channel. Anchors were going down, sails
furling, and oars drawing in. Above them, moreover, much beyond their
usual levels of flight troops of gulls were circling on rapid wings
screaming excitedly.

The Prince had reached the part of greatest interest in the story he
was telling--how the cruel and remorseless Emperor Michel, determined
to wed the innocent and helpless Euphrosyne, shamelessly cheated the
Church and cajoled the Senate--when Nilo touched his shoulder, and
awoke him to the situation. A glance over the water--another at the
sky--and he comprehended danger of some kind was impending. At the same
moment Lael commenced shivering and complaining of cold. The air had
undergone a sudden change. Presently Nilo's red cloak was sheltering
her.

The boat was in position to bring everything into view, and he spoke to
the rowers:

"A storm is rising."

They ceased work, and looked over their shoulders, each for himself.

"A blow from the sea, and it comes fast. What we shall do is for my
Lord to say," one of them returned.

The Prince grew anxious for Lael. What was done must be for her--he had
no thought else.

A cloud was forming over the whole northeastern quarter of the sky,
along the horizon black, overhead a vast gray wave, in its heart
copper-hued, seething, interworking, now a distended sail, now a sail
bursted; and the wind could be heard whipping the shreds into fleece,
and whirling them a confusion of vaporous banners. Yet glassy, the
water reflected the tint of the cloud. The hush holding it was like the
drawn breath of a victim waiting the first turn of the torturous wheel.

The Asiatic shore offered the Prince a long stretch, and he persisted
in coasting it until the donjon of the White Castle--that terror to
Christians--arrested his eye. There were houses much nearer, some of
them actually overhanging the water; but the donjon seemed specially
inviting; at all events, he coolly reflected, if the Governor of the
Castle denied him refuge, the little river near by known as the Sweet
Waters of Asia would receive him, and getting under its bank, he might
hope to escape the fury of the wind and waves. He shouted resolutely:

"To the White Castle! Make it before the wind strikes, my men, and I
will double your hire."

"We may make it," the rower answered, somewhat sullenly, "but"--

"What?" asked the Prince.

"The devil has his lodgings there. Many men have gone into its accursed
gates on errands of peace, and never been heard of again."

The Prince laughed.

"We lose time--forward! If there be a fiend in the Castle, I promise
you he is not waiting for us."

The twenty oars fell as one, and the boat jumped like a steed under a
stab of the spur.

Thus boldly the race with the storm was begun. The judgment of the
challenger, assuming the Prince to be such, may be questioned. The
river was the goal.

Could he reach it before the wind descended in dangerous force?--That
was the very point of contest.

The chances, it is to be remembered next, were not of a kind to admit
weighing with any approach to certainty; it was difficult even to
marshal them for consideration. The distance was somewhat less than
three-quarters of a mile; on the other part, the competing cloud was
wrestling with the mountain height of Alem Daghy, about four miles
away. The dead calm was an advantage; unfortunately it was more than
offset by the velocity of the current which, though not so strong by
the littoral of Candilli as under the opposite bluffs of
Roumeli-Hissar, was still a serious opposing force. The boatmen were
skilful, and could be relied upon to pull loyally; for, passing the
reward offered in the event of their winning, the dangers of failure
were to them alike. Treating the contest as a race, with the storm and
the boat as competitors, the Prince was not without chances of success.

But whatever the outcome of the venture, Lael would be put to
discomfort. His care of her was so habitually marked by tender
solicitude one cannot avoid wondering at him now.

After all he may have judged the affair more closely than at first
appears. The sides of the boat were low, but danger from that cause
might be obviated by the skill of the rowers; and then Alem Daghy was
not a trifling obstacle in the path of the gale. It might be trusted to
hold the cloud awhile; after which a time would be required by the wind
to travel the miles intervening.

Certainly it had been more prudent to make the shore, and seek refuge
in one of the houses there. But the retort of the spirited Jew of that
day, as in this, was a contemptuous refusal of assistance, and the
degree to which this son of Israel was governed by the eternal
resentment can be best appreciated by recalling the number of his days
on earth.

At the first response to the vigorous pull of the oarsmen, Lael drew
the red cloak over her face, and laid her head against the Prince. He
put his arm around her, and seeing nothing and saying nothing, she
trusted in him.

The rowers, pulling with strength from the start, gradually quickened
the stroke, and were presently in perfect harmony of action. A short
sough accompanied each dip of the blades; an expiration, like that of
the woodman striking a blow with his axe, announced the movement
completed. The cords of their brawny necks played fast and free; the
perspiration ran down their faces like rain upon glass. Their teeth
clinched. They turned neither right nor left; but with their straining
eyes fixed upon him, by his looks they judged both their own well-doing
and the progress of their competitor.

Seeing the boat pointed directly toward the Castle, the Prince watched
the cloud. Occasionally he commended the rowers.

"Well done, my men!--Hold to that, and we will win!"

The unusual brightness of his eyes alone betrayed excitement. Once he
looked over the yet quiet upper field of water. His was the only vessel
in motion. Even the great ships were lying to. No--there was another
small boat like his own coming down along the Asiatic shore as if to
meet him. Its position appeared about as far above the mouth of the
river as his was below it; and its three or five rowers were plainly
doing their best. With grim pleasure, he accepted the stranger as
another competitor in the race.

The friendly heights of Alem, seen from the Bosphorus, are one great
forest always beautifully green. Even as the Prince looked at them,
they lost color, as if a hand out of the cloud had suddenly dropped a
curtain of white gauze over them. He glanced back over the course, then
forward. The donjon was showing the loopholes that pitted its southern
face. Excellent as the speed had been, more was required. Half the
distance remained to be overcome--and the enemy not four miles away.

"Faster, men!" he called out. "The gust has broken from the mountain. I
hear its roaring."

They turned involuntarily, and with a look measured the space yet to be
covered, the distance of the foe, and the rate at which he was coming.
Nor less did they measure the danger. They too heard its warning, the
muffled roar as of rocks and trees snatched up and grinding to atoms in
the inner coils of the cloud.

"It is not a blow," one said, speaking quick, "but a"--

"Storm."

The word was the Prince's.

"Yes, my Lord."

Just then the water by the boat was rippled by a breath, purring,
timorous, but icy.

The effect on the oarsmen was stronger than any word from the master
could have been. They finished a pull long and united; then while the
oars swung forward taking reach for another, they all arose to their
feet, paused a moment, dipped the blades deeper, gave vent to a cry so
continuous it sounded like a wail, and at the same time sunk back into
their seats, pulling as they fell. This was their ultimate exertion. A
jet of water spurted from the foot of the sharp bow, and the bubbles
and oar eddies flew behind indistinguishably.

"Well done!" said the Prince, his eyes glowing.

Thenceforward the men continued to rise at the end of a stroke, and
fall as they commenced delivery of another. Their action was quick,
steady, machine-like; they gripped the water deep, and made no slips;
with a thought of the exhilaration an eagle must feel when swooping
from his eyrie, the Prince looked at the cloud defiantly as a
challenger might. Each moment the donjon loomed up more plainly. He saw
now, not merely the windows and loopholes, but the joinery of the
stones in their courses. Suddenly he beheld another wonder--an army of
men mounted and galloping along the river bank toward the Castle.

The array stretched back into the woods. In its van were two flags
borne side by side, one green, the other red. Both were surrounded by a
troop in bright armor. No need for him to ask to whom they belonged.
They told him of Mecca and Mahomet--on the red, he doubted not seeing
the old Ottomanic symbols, in their meaning poetic, in their simplicity
beautiful as any ever appropriated for martial purposes. The riders
were Turks. But why the green flag? Where it went somebody more than
the chief of a sanjak, more than the governor of a castle, or even a
province, led the way.

The number trailing after the flags was scarcely less mysterious. They
were too many to be of the garrison; and then the battlements of the
Castle were lined with men also under arms. Not daring to speak of this
new apparition lest his oarsmen might take alarm, the Prince smiled,
thinking of another party to the race--a fourth competitor.

He sought the opposing boat next. It had made good time. There were
five oarsmen in it; and, like his own, they were rising and falling
with each stroke. In the passengers' place, he could make out two
persons whom he took to be women.

A roll of thunder from the cloud startled the crew. Clear, angry,
majestic, it filled the mighty gorge of the Bosphorus. Under the sound
the water seemed to shrink away. Lael looked out from her hiding, but
as quickly drew back, crowding closer to the Prince. To calm her he
said, lightly,

"Fear nothing, O my Gul Bahar! A pretty race we are having with the
cloud yonder; we are winning, and it is not pleased. There is no
danger."

She answered by doubling the folds of the gown about her head.

Steadily, lithely, and with never an error the rowers drove through the
waves--steadily, and in exact time, their cry arose cadencing each
stroke. They did their part truly. Well might the master cry them,
"Good, good." But all the while the wind was tugging mightily at its
cloudy car; every instant the rattle of its wheels sounded nearer. The
trees on the hills behind the Castle were bending and bowing; and not
merely around the boat, but far as could be seen the surface of the
ancient channel was a-shirr and a-shatter under beating of advance
gusts.

And now the mouth of the Sweet Waters, shallowed by a wide extended
osier bank, came into view; and the Castle was visible from base to
upper merlon, the donjon, in relief against the blackened sky, rising
more ghostly than ever. And right at hand were the flags, and the
riders galloping with them. And there, coming bravely in, was the
competing boat.

Over toward Roumeli-Hissar the sea birds congregated in noisy flocks,
alarmed at the long line of foam the wind was whisking down the
current. Behind the foam, the world seemed dissolving into spray.

Then the boats were seen from the Castle, and a company of soldiers ran
out and down the bank. A noise like the rushing of a river sounded
directly overhead. The wind struck the Castle, and in the thick of the
mists and flying leaves hurled at it, the donjon disappeared.

"We win, we win, my men!" the Prince shouted. "Courage--good
spirit--brave work--treble wages! Wine and wassail to-morrow!"

The boat, with the last word, shot into the little river, and up to the
landing of the Castle just as the baffled wind burst over the refuge.
And simultaneously the van of the army galloped under the walls and the
competing boat arrived.




CHAPTER IX

IN THE WHITE CASTLE


The landing was in possession of dark-faced, heavily bearded men, with
white turbans, baggy trousers, gray and gathered at the ankles, and
arms of every kind, bows, javelins, and cimeters.

The Prince, stepping from his boat, recognized them as Turkish
soldiers. He had hardly time to make the inspection, brief as it was,
before an officer, distinguished by a turban, kettle-shaped and
elaborately infolded, approached him.

"You will go with me to the Castle," he said.

The official's tone and manner were imperative. Suppressing his
displeasure, the Prince replied, with dignity:

"The Governor is courteous. Return to him with my thanks, and say that
when I decided to come on in the face of the storm, I made no doubt of
his giving me shelter until it would be safe to resume my journey. I
fear, however, his accommodations will be overtaxed; and since the
river is protected from the wind, it would be more agreeable if he
would permit me to remain here."

The response betrayed no improvement in manner:

"My order is to bring you to the Castle."

Some of the boatmen at this raised their eyes and hands toward heaven;
others crossed themselves, and, like men taking leave of hope, cried
out, "O Holy Mother of God!"

Yet the Prince restrained himself. He saw contention would be useless,
and said, to quiet the rowers: "I will go with you. The Governor will
be reasonable. We are unfortunates blown to his hands by a tempest, and
to make us prisoners under such circumstances would be an abuse of one
of the first and most sacred laws of the Prophet. The order did not
comprehend my men; they may remain here."

Lael heard all this, her face white with fear.

The conversation was in the Greek tongue. At mention of the law, the
Turk cast a contemptuous look at the Prince, much as to say, Dog of an
unbeliever, what dost thou with a saying of the Prophet? Then dropping
his eyes to Lael and the boatmen, he answered in disdain of argument or
explanation:

"You--they--all must go."

With that, he turned to the occupants of the other boat, and raising
his voice the better to be heard, for the howling of the wind was very
great, he called to them:

"Come out."

They were a woman in rich attire, but closely veiled, and a companion
at whom he gazed with astonishment. The costume of the latter perplexed
him; indeed, not until that person, in obedience to the order, erected
himself to his full stature upon the landing, was he assured of his sex.

They were the Princess Irene and Sergius the monk.

The conversation between them in the Homeric palace has only to be
recalled to account for their presence. Departing from Therapia at
noon, according to the custom of boatmen wishing to pass from the upper
Bosphorus, they had been carried obliquely across toward the Asiatic
shore where the current, because of its greater regularity, is supposed
to facilitate descent. When the storm began to fill the space above
Alem Daghy, they were in the usual course; and then the question that
had been put to the Prince of India was presented to the Princess
Irene. Would she land in Asia or recross to Europe?

The general Greek distrust of the Turks belonged to her. From infancy
she had been horrified with stories of women prisoners in their hands.
She preferred making Roumeli-Hissar; but the boatmen protested it was
too late; they said the little river by the White Castle was open, and
they could reach it before the storm; and trusting in their better
judgment, she submitted to them.

Sergius, on the landing, pushed the cowl back, and was about to speak,
but the wind caught his hair, tossing the long locks into tangle.
Seeing him thus in a manner blinded, the Princess took up the speech.
Drawing the veil aside, she addressed the officer:

"Art thou the Governor of the Castle?"

"No."

"Are we to be held guests or prisoners?"

"That is not for me to say."

"Carry thou then a message to him who may be the Governor. Tell him I
am the Princess Irene, by birth near akin to Constantine, Emperor of
the Greeks and Romans; that, admitting this soil is lawfully the
property of his master the Sultan, I have not invaded it, but am here
in search of temporary refuge. Tell him if I go to his Castle a
prisoner, he must answer for the trespass to my royal kinsman, who will
not fail to demand reparation; on the other hand, if I become his
guest, it must be upon condition that I shall be free to depart as I
came, with my friend and my people, the instant the wind and waves
subside. Yes, and the further condition, that he wait upon me as
becomes my station, and personally offer such hospitality as his Castle
affords. I shall receive his reply here."

The officer, uncouth though he was, listened with astonishment not in
the least disguised; and it was not merely the speech which impressed
him, nor yet the spirit with which it was given; the spell was in the
unveiled face. Never in his best dream of the perfected Moslem Paradise
had he seen loveliness to compare with it. He stood staring at her.

"Go," she repeated. "There will be rain presently."

"Who am I to say thou art?" he asked.

"The Princess Irene, kinswoman of the Emperor Constantine."

The officer made a low salaam to her, and walked hurriedly off to the
Castle.

His soldiers stood in respectful remove from the prisoners--such the
refugees must for the present be considered--leaving them grouped in
close vicinity, the Prince and the monk ashore, the Princess and Lael
seated in their boats.

Calamity is a rough master of ceremonies; it does not take its victims
by the hand, and name them in words, but bids them look to each other
for help. And that was precisely what the two parties now did.

Unsophisticated, and backward through inexperience, Sergius was
nevertheless conscious of the embarrassing plight of the Princess. He
had also a man's quick sense of the uselessness of resistance, except
in the way of protest. To measure the stranger's probable influence
with the Turks, he looked first at the Prince, and was not, it must be
said, rewarded with a return on which to found hope or encouragement.
The small, stoop-shouldered old man, with a great white beard, appeared
respectable and well-to-do in his black velvet cap and pelisse; his
eyes were very bright, and his cheeks hectic with resentment at the
annoyance he was undergoing; but that he could help out of the
difficulty appeared absurd.

Having by this time rescued his hair from the wind, and secured it
under his cowl, he looked next at Lael. His first thought was of the
unfitness of her costume for an outing in a boat under the quietest of
skies. A glance at the Princess, however, allayed the criticism; while
the display of jewelry was less conspicuous, her habit was quite as
rich and unsubstantial. It dawned upon him then that custom had
something to do with the attire of Greek women thus upon the water.
That moment Lael glanced up at him, and he saw how childlike her face
was, and lovely despite the anxiety and fear with which it was
overcast. He became interested in her at once.

The monk's judgment of the little old man was unjust. That master of
subtlety had in mind run forward of the situation, and was already
providing for its consequences.

He shared the surprise of the Turk when the Princess raised her veil.
Overhearing then her message to the Governor, delivered in a manner
calm, self-possessed, courageous, dignified, and withal adroit, he
resolved to place Lael under her protection.

"Princess," he said, doffing his cap unmindful of the wind, and
advancing to the side of her boat, "I crave audience of you, and in
excuse for my unceremoniousness, plead community in misfortune, and a
desire to make my daughter here safe as can be."

She surveyed him from head to foot; then turned her eyes toward Lael,
sight of whom speedily exorcised the suspicion which for the instant
held her hesitant.

"I acknowledge the obligation imposed by the situation." she replied;
"and being a Christian as well as a woman, I cannot without reason
justifiable in sight of Heaven deny the help you ask. But, good sir,
first tell me your name and country."

"I am a Prince of India exercising a traveller's privilege of
sojourning in the imperial city."

"The answer is well given; and if hereafter you return to this
interview, O Prince, I beg you will not lay my inquiry to common
curiosity."

"Fear not," the Prince answered; "for I learned long ago that in the
laws prescribed for right doing prudence is a primary virtue; and
making present application of the principle, I suggest, if it please
you to continue a discourse which must be necessarily brief, that we do
so in some other tongue than Greek."

"Be it in Latin then," she said, with a quick glance at the soldiers,
and observing his bow of acquiescence, continued, "Thy reverend beard,
O Prince, and respectable appearance, are warranties of a wisdom
greater than I can ever attain; wherefore pray tell me how I, a feeble
woman, who may not be able to release herself from these robbers,
remorseless from religious prejudice, can be of assistance to thy
daughter, now my younger sister in affliction."

She accompanied the speech with a look at Lael so kind and tender it
could not be misinterpreted.

"Most fair and gentle Princess, I will straight to the matter. Out on
the water, midway this and the point yonder, when too late for me to
change direction or stay my rowers, I saw a body of horsemen, whom I
judged to be soldiers, moving hurriedly down the river bank toward the
Castle. A band richly caparisoned, carrying two flags, one green, the
other red, moved at their head. The former, you may know, has a
religious signification, and is seldom seen in the field except a
person of high rank be present. It is my opinion, therefore, that our
arrest has some reference to the arrival of such a personage. In
confirmation you may yet hear the musical flourish in his honor."

"I hear drums and trumpets," she replied, "and admit the surmise an
ingenious accounting for an act otherwise unaccountable."

"Nay, Princess, with respect to thyself at least, call it a deed
intolerable, and loud with provocation."

"From your speech, O Prince, I infer familiarity with these faithless
barbarians. Perhaps you can make your knowledge of them so far
serviceable as to tell me the great man's name."

"Yes, I have had somewhat to do with Turks; yet I cannot venture the
name, rank or purpose of the newcomer. Pursuing the argument, however,
if my conjecture be true, then the message borne the Governor, though
spirited, and most happily accordant with your high degree, will not
accomplish your release, simply because the reason of the capture in
the first place must remain a reason for detaining you in the next. In
brief, you may anticipate rejection of the protest."

"What, think you they will hold me prisoner?"

"They are crafty."

"They dare not!" and the Princess' cheek reddened with indignation. "My
kinsman is not powerless--and even the great Amurath"--

"Forgive me, I pray; but there was never mantle to cover so many crimes
as the conveniences kings call 'reasons of state.'"

She looked vaguely up the river which the tempest was covering with
promiscuous air-blown drifting; but recovering, she said: "It is for me
to pray pardon, Prince. I detain you."

"Not at all," he answered. "I have to remark next, if my conjecture
prove correct, a lady of imperial rank might find herself ill at ease
and solitary in a hold like this Castle, which, speaking by report, is
now kept to serve some design of war to come more particularly than
domestic or social life."

The imagination of the Princess caught the idea eagerly, and, becoming
active, presented a picture of a Moslem lair without women or
apartments for women. Her mind filled with alarm.

"Oh, that I could recall the message!" she exclaimed. "I should not
have tempted the Governor by offering to become his guest upon any
condition."

"Nay, do not accuse yourself. The decision was brave and excellent in
every view," he said, perceiving his purpose in such fair way. "For
see--the storm increases in strength; yonder"--he pointed toward Alem
Daghy--"the rain comes. Not by thy choice, O Princess, but the will of
God, thou art here!"

He spoke impressively, and she bent her head, and crossed herself twice.

"A sad plight truly," he continued. "Fortunately it may be in a measure
relieved. Here is my daughter, Lael by name. The years have scarcely
outrun her childhood. More at mercy than thyself, because without rank
to make the oppressor careful, or an imperial kinsman to revenge a
wrong done her, she is subject to whatever threatens you--a cell in
this infidel stronghold, ruffians for attendants, discomforts to cast
her into fever, separation from me to keep her afraid. Why not suffer
her to go with you? She can serve as tirewoman or companion. In villany
the boldest often hesitate when two are to be overcome."

The speech was effective.

"O Prince, I have not words to express my gratitude. I am thy debtor.
Heaven may have brought this crisis, but it has not altogether deserted
me--And in good time! See--my messenger, with a following! Let thy
daughter come, and sit with me now--and do thou stand by to lend me of
thy wisdom in case appeal to it become necessary. Quick! Nay, Prince,
Sergius is young and strong. Permit him to bring the child to me."

The monk made haste. Drawing the boat close to the shore, he gave Lael
his strong hand. Directly she was delivered to the Princess, and seated
beside her.

"Now they may come!"

Thus the Princess acknowledged the strength derivable from
companionship. The result was perceptible in her voice once more clear,
and her face actually sparkling with confidence and courage.

Then, drawn together in one group, the refugees awaited the officer.

"The Governor is coming," that worthy said, saluting the Princess.

Looking toward the Castle, the expectants beheld a score or more men
issuing from the gate on foot. They were all in armor, and each
complemented the buckler on his arm with a lance from which a colored
pennon blew out straight and stiff as a panel. One walked in front
singly, and immediately the Prince and Princess fixed upon him as the
Governor, and kept him in eye curiously and anxiously.

That instant rain in large drops began to fall. The Governor appeared
to notice the premonition, for looking at the angry sky he halted, and
beckoned to his followers, several of whom ran to him, received an
order, and then hastily returned to the Castle. He came on in quickened
gait.

Here the Prince, with his greater experience, noticed a point which
escaped his associates; and that was the extraordinary homage paid the
stranger.

At the landing the officer and soldiers would have prostrated
themselves, but with an imperious gesture, he declined the salutation.

The observers, it may be well believed, viewed the man afar with
interest; when near, they scanned him as persons under arraignment
study the judge, that from his appearance they may glean something of
his disposition. He was above the average height of men, slender, and
in armor--the armor of the East, adapted in every point to climate and
light service. A cope or hood, intricately woven of delicate steel
wire, and close enough to refuse an arrow or the point of a dagger,
defended head, throat, neck, and shoulders, while open at the face; a
coat, of the same artistic mail, beginning under the hood, followed
closely the contour of the body, terminating just above the knees as a
skirt. Amongst Teutonic and English knights, on account of its
comparative lightness, it would have been distinguished from an
old-fashioned hauberk, and called _haubergeon_. A sleeveless _surcoat_
of velvet, plain green in color, overlaid the mail without a crease or
wrinkle, except at the edge of the skirt. _Chausses_, or leggins, also
of steel, clothed the nether limbs, ending in shoes of thin lateral
scales sharply pointed at the toes. A slight convexity on top, and the
bright gold-gilt band by which, with regular interlacement, the cope
was attached, gave the cap surmounting the head a likeness to a crown.

In style this armor was common. The preference Eastern cavaliers showed
it may have been due in part at least to the fact that when turned out
by a master armorer, after years of painstaking, it left the wearer his
natural graces of person. Such certainly was the case here.

The further equipment of the man admits easy imagining. There were the
gauntlets of steel, articulated for the fingers and thumbs; a broad
flexible belt of burnished gold scales, intended for the cimeter, fell
from the waist diagonally to the left hip; light spurs graced the
heels; a dagger, sparkling with jewels, was his sole weapon, and it
served principally to denote the peacefulness of his errand. As there
was nothing about him to rattle or clank his steps were noiseless, and
his movements agile and easy.

These martial points were naturally of chief attraction to the Prince
of India, whose vast acquaintanceship with heroes and famous warriors
made comparison a habit. On her side, the Princess, to whom
accoutrement and manner were mere accessories, pleasing or otherwise,
and subordinate, sought the stranger's face. She saw brown eyes, not
very large, but exceedingly bright, quick, sharp, flying from object to
object with flashes of bold inquiry, and quitting them as instantly; a
round forehead on brows high-arched; a nose with the curvature of a
Roman's; mouth deep-cornered, full-lipped, and somewhat imperfectly
mustached and bearded; clear, though sunburned complexion--in brief, a
countenance haughty, handsome, refined, imperious, telling in every
line of exceptional birth, royal usages, ambition, courage, passion,
and confidence. Most amazing, however, the stranger appeared yet a
youth. Surprised, hardly knowing whether to be pleased or alarmed, yet
attracted, she kept the face in steady gaze.

Halting when a few steps from the group, the stranger looked at them as
if seeking one in especial.

"Have a care, O Princess! This is not the Governor, but he of whom I
spoke--the great man."

The warning was from the Prince of India and in Latin. As if to thank
him for a service done--possibly for identifying the person he
sought--the subject of the warning slightly bowed to him, then dropped
his eyes to the Princess. A light blown out does not vanish more
instantly than his expression changed.
Wonder--incredulity--astonishment--admiration chased each other over
his face in succession. Calling them emotions, each declared itself
with absolute distinctness, and the one last to come was most decided
and enduring. Thus he met her gaze, and so ardent, intense and
continuous was his, that she reddened cheek and forehead, and drew down
the veil; but not, it should be understood, resentfully.

The disappearance of the countenance, in effect like the sudden
extinguishment of a splendor, aroused him. Advancing a step, he said to
her, with lowered head and perceptible embarrassment:

"I come to offer hospitality to the kinswoman of the Emperor
Constantine. The storm shows no sign of abatement, and until it does,
my Castle yonder is at her order. While not sumptuous in appointment as
her own palace, fortunately there are comfortable apartments in it
where she can rest securely and with reserve. The invitation I presume
to make in the name of my most exalted master Sultan Amurath, who takes
delight in the amity existing between him and the Lord of Byzantium. To
lay all fear, to dispel hesitation, in his name again, together with
such earnest of good faith as lies in an appeal to the most holy
Prophet of God, I swear the Princess Irene shall be safe from
interruption while in the Castle, and free to depart from it at her
pleasure. If she chooses, this tender of courtesy may, by agreement,
here in the presence of these witnesses, be taken as an affair of
state. I await her answer."

The Prince of India heard the speech more astonished by the
unexceptional Latin in which it was couched than the propriety of the
matter or the grace of its delivery, though, he was constrained to
admit, both were very great. He also understood the meaning of the look
the stranger had given him at the conclusion of his warning to the
Princess, and to conceal his vexation, he turned to her.

That moment two covered chairs, brought from the Castle, were set down
near by, and the rain began to fall in earnest.

"See," said the Governor, "the evidence of my care for the comfort of
the kinswoman of the most noble Emperor Constantine. I feared it would
rain before I could present myself to her; nor that alone, fair
Princess--the chair must convict me of a wholesome dread of accusation
in Constantinople; for what worse could be said than that I, a faithful
Moslem, to whom hospitality is an ordination of religion, refused to
open my gates to women in distress because they were Christians. Most
noble and fair lady, behold how much I should esteem acceptance of my
invitation!"

Irene looked at the Prince of India, and seeing assent in his face,
answered:

"I will ask leave to report this courtesy as an affair of state that my
royal kinsman may acknowledge it becomingly."

The Governor bowed very low while saying:

"I myself should have suggested the course."

"Also that my friends"--she pointed to the Prince of India, and the
monk--"and all the boatmen, be included in the safeguard."

This was also agreed to; whereupon she arose, and for assistance
offered her hand to Sergius. Lael was next helped from the boat. Then,
taking to the chairs, the two were carried into the Castle, followed by
the Prince and the monk afoot.




CHAPTER X

THE ARABIAN STORY-TELLER


The reader will doubtless refer the circumstance to the jealousy which
is supposed to prompt the Faithful where women are required to pass
before men; yet the best evidence of the Governor's thoughtfulness for
his female guests met them at their approach to the Castle. There was
not a man visible except a sentinel on the battlement above the gate,
and he stood faced inwardly, making it impossible for him to see them
when they drew near.

"Where are the horsemen of whom you spoke? And the garrison, where are
they?" Sergius asked the Prince.

The latter shrugged his shoulders, as he answered:

"They will return presently."

Further proof of the same thoughtfulness was presented when the two
chairs were set down in the broad stone-paved passage receiving from
the front door. The sole occupant there was a man, tall as the monk,
but unnaturally slender; indeed, his legs resembled those of a lay
figure, so thin were they, while the residue of his person, although
clad in a burnoose gorgeously embroidered, would have reminded a modern
of the skeletons surgeons keep for office furniture. Besides blackness
deep as the unlighted corner of a cellar, he had no beard. The Prince
of India recognized him as one of the indispensables of an Eastern
harem, and made ready to obey him without dissent--only the
extravagance of the broidery on the burnoose confirmed him in the
opinion that the chief just arrived outranked the Governor. "This is
the Kislar Aga of a Prince," he said to himself.

The eunuch, like one accustomed to the duty, superintended the
placement of the chairs; then, resting the point of a very bright
crescent-shaped sword on the floor, he said, in a voice more incisive
than the ordinary feminine tenor:

"I will now conduct the ladies, and guard them. No one will presume to
follow."

The Prince replied: "It is well; but they will be comforted if
permitted to abide together."

He spoke with deference, and the black responded:

"This is a fort, not a palace. There is but one chamber for the two."

"And if I wish to communicate with them or they with me?"

"_Bismillah!_" the eunuch replied. "They are not prisoners. I will
deliver what thou hast for them or they for thee."

Thereupon the Princess and Lael stepped from the chairs, and went with
their guide. When they were gone, word sped through the Castle, and
with clamor and clangor, doors opened, and men poured forth in
companies. And again the Prince reflected: "Such discipline pertains to
princes only."

Now the office of eunuch was by no means an exclusive pagan
institution; time out of mind it had been a feature of Byzantine
courts; and Constantine Dragases, the last, and probably the most
Christian of Greek emperors, not only tolerated, but recognized it as
honorable. With this explanation the reader ought not to be surprised
if the Princess Irene accepted the guidance offered her without fear or
even hesitation. Doubtless she had been in similar keeping many times.

Climbing a number of stairways, the eunuch brought his fair charges
into a part of the Castle where there were signs of refinement. The
floors were swept; the doors garnished with rugs; a delicate incense
lingered in the air; and to rescue the tenants, whoever they might be,
from darkness, lighted lamps swung from the ceiling, and were affixed
to the walls. Stopping finally before a portiere, he held it aside
while saying:

"Enter here, and be at home. Upon the table yonder there is a little
bell; ring, and I will answer."

And seeing Lael clinging closely to the Princess, he added: "Be not
afraid. Know ye rather that my master, when a child, heard the story of
Hatim, a warrior and poet of the Arabs, and ever since he has lived
believing hospitality a virtue without which there can be no godliness.
Do not forget the bell."

They entered and were alone.

To their amazement the room was more than comfortably furnished. What
may be termed a chandelier swung from the ceiling with many lamps ready
for lighting; under it there was a circular divan; then along the four
sides a divan extended continuously, with pillows at the corners in
heaps. Matting covered the floor, and here and there rugs of gay dyes
offered noticeable degrees of warmth and coloring. Large trays filled
the deep recesses of the windows, and though the smell of musk
overpowered the sweet outgivings of the roses blooming in them, they
sufficed to rouge the daylight somewhat scantily admitted. The
roughness and chill of the walls were provided against by woollen
drapery answering for arras.

They went first to one of the windows, and peered out. Below them the
world was being deluged with fiercely driven rain. There was the
Bosphorus lashed into waves already whitened with foam. The European
shore was utterly curtained from sight. Gust after gust raved around
the Castle, whistling and moaning; and as she beheld the danger
escaped, the Princess thought of the saying of the Prince of India and
repeated it in a spirit of thanksgiving: "By the will of God thou art
here."

The reflection reconciled her to the situation, and led on till
presently the face and martial figure of the Governor reproduced
themselves to her fancy. How handsome he appeared--how courteous--how
young!--scarcely older than herself! How readily she had yielded to his
invitation! She blushed at the thought.

Lael interrupted the revery, which was not without charm, and for that
reason would likely return, by bringing her a child's slipper found
near the central divan; and while examining the embroidery of
many-colored beads adorning it, she divined the truth.

Isolated as the Castle was on a frontier of the Islamic world, and
crowded with men and material of war, yet the Governor was permitted
his harem, and this was its room in common. Here his wives, many or
few, for the time banished to some other quarters, were in the habit of
meeting for the enjoyment of the scant pleasantries afforded by life
like theirs.

Again she was interrupted. The arras over one of the walls was pushed
aside, and two women came in with refreshments. A third followed with a
small table of Turkish pattern which she placed on the floor. The
viands, very light and simple, were set upon the table; then a fourth
one came bringing an armful of shawls and wraps. The last was a Greek,
and she explained that the Lord of the Castle, her master, was pleased
to make his guests comfortable. In the evening later a more substantial
repast would be served. Meantime she was appointed to wait on them.

The guests, assured by the presence of other women in the Castle,
partook of the refection; after which the table was removed, and the
attendants for the present dismissed. Wrapping themselves then in
shawls, for they had not altogether escaped the rain, and were
beginning to feel the mists stealing into the chamber through the
unglazed windows, they took to the divan, piling the cushions about
them defensively.

In this condition, comfortable, cosey, perfectly at rest, and with the
full enjoyment of the sensations common to every one in the midst of a
novel adventure, the Princess proceeded to draw from Lael an account of
herself; and the ingenuousness of the girl proved very charming,
coupled as it was with a most unexpected intelligence. The case was the
not unusual one of education wholly unsupported by experience. The real
marvel to the inquisitor was that she should have made discovery of two
such instances the same day, and been thrown into curious relation with
them. And as women always run parallels between persons who interest
them, the Princess was struck with the similarities between Sergius and
Lael. They were both young, both handsome, both unusually well informed
and at the same time singularly unsophisticated. In the old pagan
style, what did Fate mean by thus bringing them together? She
determined to keep watch of the event.

And when, in course of her account, Lael spoke of the Prince of India,
Irene awoke at once to a mystery connected with him. Lacking the full
story, the narrator could give just enough of it to stimulate wonder.
Who was he? Where was Cipango? He was rich--learned--knew all the
sciences, all the languages--he had visited countries everywhere, even
the inhabited islands. To be sure, he had not appeared remarkable;
indeed, she gave him small attention when he was before her; she
recalled him chiefly by his eyes and velvet pelisse. While she was
mentally resolving to make better study of him, the eunuch appeared
under the portiere, and, coming forward, said, with a half salaam to
the Princess:

"My master does not wish his guests to think themselves forgotten. The
kinswoman of the most august Emperor Constantine, he remembers, is
without employment to lighten the passage of a time which must be
irksome to her. He humbly prays her to accept his sympathy, and sends
me to say that a famous story-teller, going to the court of the Sultan
at Adrianople, arrived at the Castle to-day. Would the Princess be
pleased to hear him?"

"In what tongue does he recite?" she asked.

"Arabic, Turkish, Greek, Latin, Hebrew," was the reply.

"Oh, a most wise man!"

Irene consulted Lael, and thinking to offer her amusement, assented to
the suggestion, with thanks to the Governor.

"Have the veils ready," the eunuch said, as he retreated backward to
the door. "The story-teller is a man, and he will come directly."

The story-teller was ushered in. He walked to the divan where his
auditors sat, slowly, as if he knew himself under close observation,
and courted it.

Now caravans were daily shows in Constantinople. The little bell of the
donkey leading its string of laden camels through the narrow streets
might be heard any hour, and the Shaykh in charge was almost invariably
an Arab. So the Princess had seen many of the desert-born, and was
familiar with their peculiarities; never, however, had chance brought a
nobler specimen of the race before her. As he approached, stepping as
modern stage heroes are wont, she saw the red slippers, the white shirt
falling to the ankles and girdled at the waist, its bosom a capacious
pocket, the white and red striped cloak over the shoulders. She marked
the material of which they were made, the shirt of selected Angora
wool, the cloak of camel's hair, in its fineness iridescent and soft as
velvet. She saw in the girdle an empty scabbard for a yatagan
elaborately covered with brilliants. She saw on the head a kerchief of
mixed silk and cotton, tasselled, heavily striated red and yellow, and
secured by the usual cord; but she scarcely more than noticed them--the
air of the man, high, stately, king-like, was a superior attraction,
and she gazed at his face unconscious that her own was uncovered.

The features were regular, the complexion sunburned to the hue of
reddish copper, the beard thin, the nose sharp, the cheeks hollow, the
eyes, through the double shade of brows and kerchief, glittered like
balls of polished black amber. His hands were crossed above the girdle
after the manner of Eastern servants before acknowledged superiors; his
salutation was expressive of most abject homage; yet when he raised
himself, and met the glance of the Princess, his eyes lingered, and
brightened, and directly he cast off or forgot his humility, and looked
lordlier than an Emir boasting of his thousand tents, with ten spears
to each, and a score of camels to the spear. She endured the gaze
awhile; for it seemed she had seen the face before--where, she could
not tell; and when, as presently happened, she began to feel the
brightness of the eyes intenser growing, the sensation reminded her of
the Governor at the landing. Could this be he? No, the countenance here
was of a man already advanced in life. And why should the Governor
resort to disguise? The end, nevertheless, was the same as on the
landing--she drew down the veil. Then he became humble again, and
spoke, his eyes downcast, his hands crossed:

"This faithful servant"--he pointed to the eunuch "my friend"--the
eunuch crossed his hands, and assumed an attitude of pleased
attention--"brought me from his master--may the most Merciful and
Compassionate continue a pillow to the good man here and to his soul
hereafter!--how a kinswoman of the Emperor whose capital is to the
earth a star, and he as the brightness thereof, had taken refuge with
him from the storm, and was now his guest, and languishing for want of
amusement. Would I tell her a story? I have a horde of parables, tales,
and traditions, and many nations have contributed to it; but, alas, O
Princess! they are simple, and such as beguile tentmen and tentwomen
shut in by the desert, their fancies tender as children's. I fear your
laughter. But here I am; and as the night bird sings when the moon is
risen, because the moon is beautiful and must be saluted, even so I am
obedient. Command me."

The speech was in Greek, with the slightest imperfection of accent; at
the conclusion the Princess was silent.

"Knowest thou"--she at length said--"knowest thou of one Hatim,
renowned as a warrior and poet of the Arabs?"

The eunuch saw the reference, and smiled. Asking of Hatim now was only
another form of inquiry after his master; not merely had the latter
been in her mind; she wished to know more about him. On his part, the
story-teller arose from his servile posture, and asked with the
animation of one to whom a favorite theme is presented:

"Noble lady, know you aught of the desert?"

"I have never been there," the Princess answered.

"Though not beautiful, it is the home of mysteries," he said, with
growing enthusiasm. "When he whom in the same breath you worship as God
and the Son of God--an opposition beyond the depth of our simple
faith--made ready to proclaim himself, he went for a time into the
Wilderness, and dwelt there. So likewise our Prophet, seeing the dawn
of his day, betook himself to Hiva, a rock, bleak, barren, waterless.
Why, O Princess, if not for purification, and because God of preference
has founded his dwelling there, wasting it indeed the better to nurse
his goodness in a perfected solitude? Granting this, why may I not
assert without shocking you that the sons of the desert are the noblest
of men?--

"Such was Hatim!

"In the Hijaz and the Nejd, they tell of him thus:

"In the day the Compassionate set about world-making, which is but a
pastime with him, nor nearly so much as nest-building to a mother-dove,
he rested. The mountains and rivers and seas were in their beds, and
the land was variegated to please him, here a forest, there a grassy
plain; nothing remained unfinished except the sand oceans, and they
only wanted water. He rested.

"Now, if, with their sky, a sun-field in the day, a gallery of stars at
night, and their winds, flying from sea to sea, but gathering no taint,
the deserts are treeless, and unknowing the sweetness of gardens and
the glory of grass, it was not by accident or forgetfulness; for with
him, the Compassionate, the Merciful, there are no accidents or lapses
of any kind. He is all attention and ever present. Thus the Throne
verse--'Drowsiness overcomes him not nor sleep.... His firmament spans
the Heaven and the Earth, and the care of them does not distress him.'

"Why then the yellowness and the burning, the sameness and solitude,
and the earth intolerant of rain and running stream, and of roads and
paths--why, if there was neither accident nor forgetfulness?

"He is the High and the Great! Accuse him not!

"In that moment of rest, not from weariness or overburden, but to
approve the work done, and record the approval as a judgment, he said,
speaking to his Almightiness as to a familiar: 'As it is it shall stay.
A time will come when with men I, and the very name of me, shall go out
utterly like the green of last year's leaf. He who walks in a garden
thinks of it only; but he who abides in a desert, wanting to see the
beautiful, must look into the sky, and looking there he shall be
reminded of me, and say aloud and as a lover, 'There is no God but him,
the Compassionate, the Merciful.... The eyes see him not, but he seeth
the eyes; and He is the Gracious, the Knowing'.... So also comes a time
when religion shall be without heart, dead, and the quickening of
worship lost in idolatry; when men shall cry, God, my God, to stones
and graven images, and sing to hear their singing, and the loud music
it goes with. And that time shall be first in lands of growth and
freshness, in cities where comforts and luxuries are as honey in hives
after the flowering of palms. Wherefore--Lo, the need of deserts. There
I shall never be forgotten. And out of them, out of their hardness and
heat, out of their yellow distances and drouth, religion shall arise
again, and go forth purified unto universality; for I shall be always
present there, a life-giver. And against those days of evil, I shall
keep men there, the best of their kind, and their good qualities shall
not rust; they shall be brave, for I may want swords; they shall keep
the given word, for as I am the Truth, so shall my chosen be; there
shall be no end to charity among them, for in such lands charity is
life, and must take every form, friendship, love of one another, love
of giving, and hospitality, unto which are riches and plenty. And in
their worship, I shall be first, and honor next. And as Truth is the
Soul of the World, it being but another of my names, for its salvation
they shall speak with tongues of fire, this one an orator, that one a
poet; and living in the midst of death, they shall fear me not at all,
but dishonor more. Mine are the Sons of the Desert--the
Word-Keepers!--the Unconquered and Conquerless! For my name's sake, I
nominate them Mine, and I alone am the High and the Great.... And there
shall be amongst them exemplars of this virtue and that one singly; and
at intervals through the centuries standards for emulation among the
many, a few, in whom all the excellences shall be blent in indivisible
comeliness.'

"So came Hatim, of the Bene-Tayyi, lustrous as the moon of Ramazan to
eager watchers on high hilltops, and better than other men, even as all
the virtues together are better than any one of them, excepting charity
and love of God.

"Now Hatim's mother was a widow, poor, and without relations, but
beloved by the Compassionate, and always in his care, because she was
wise beyond the men of her time, and kept his laws, as they were known,
and taught them to her son. One day a great cry arose in the village.
Everybody rushed to see the cause, and then joined in the clamor.

"Up in the north there was an appearance the like of which had never
been beheld, nor were there any to tell what it was from hearsay. Some
pooh-poohed, saying, contemptuously:

"'Tis only a cloud.'

"Others, observing how rapidly it came, in movement like a bird sailing
on outspread motionless wings, said:

"'A roc! A roc!'

"When the object was nearer, a few of the villagers, in alarm, ran to
their houses, shrieking:

"'Israfil, Israfil! He is bringing the end of time!'

"Soon the sight was nearly overhead; then it was going by, its edge
overhead, the rest of it extending eastwardly; and it was long and
broad as a pasture for ten thousand camels, and horses ten thousand. It
had no likeness earthly except a carpet of green silk; nor could those
standing under describe what bore it along. They thought they heard the
sound of a strong wind, but as the air above far and near was full of
birds great and small, birds of the water as well as the land, all
flying evenly with the carpet, and making a canopy of their wings, and
shade deeper than a cloud's, the beholders were uncertain whether the
birds or the wind served it. In passing, it dipped gently, giving them
a view of what it carried--a throne of pearl and rainbow, and a crowned
King sitting in majesty; at his left hand, an army of spirits, at his
right, an army of men in martial sheen.

"While the prodigy was before them, the spectators stirred not; nor was
there one brave enough to speak; most of them with their eyes devoured
it all, King and throne, birds, men and spirits; though afterwards
there was asking:

"'Did you see the birds?'

"'No.'

"'The spirits?'

"'No.'

"'The men?'

"'I saw only the King upon His throne.'

"In the passing, also, a man, in splendor of apparel, stood on the
carpet's edge and shouted:

"'God is great! I bear witness there is no God but God.'

"The same instant something fell from his hand. When the marvel was out
of sight in the south, some bethought them, and went to see what it was
which fell. They came back laughing, 'It was only a gourd, and as we
have much better on our camel-saddles, we threw it away.'

"But the mother of Hatim, listening to the report, was not content. In
her childhood she heard what was tradition then; how Solomon, at the
completion of his temple in Jerusalem, journeyed to Mecca upon a carpet
of silk wafted by the wind, with men, spirits, and birds. Wherefore,
saying to herself, 'It was Solomon going to Mecca. Not for nothing
threw he the gourd,' she went alone, and brought it in, and opened it,
finding three seeds--one red, like a ruby; a second blue, like a
sapphire; the third green, like an emerald.

"Now she might have sold the seeds, for they were beautiful as gems cut
for a crown, and enriched herself; but Hatim was all the world to her.
They were for him, she said, and getting a brown nut such as washes up
from vines in the sea, she cut it, put the treasures into it, sealed
them there, and tied them around the boy's neck.

"'Thanks, O Solomon,' she said. 'There is no God but God; and I shall
teach the lesson to my Hatim in the morning, when _al hudhud_ flies for
water; at noon, when it whistles to itself in the shade; and at night,
when it draws a wing over its head to darken the darkness, and sleep.'

"And from that day through all his days Hatim wore the brown nut with
the three seeds in it; nor was there ever such an amulet before or
since; for, besides being defended by the genii who are Solomon's
servants, he grew one of the exemplars promised by God, having in
himself every virtue. No one braver than he; none so charitable; none
so generous and merciful; none so eloquent; none on whose lips poetry
was such sweet speech for the exalting of souls; above all, never had
there been such a keeper of his word of promise.

"And of this judge you by some of the many things they tell of him.

"A famine fell upon the land. It was when Hatim had become Sheik of his
tribe. The women and children were perishing. The men could no more
than witness their suffering. They knew not whom to accuse; they knew
no one to receive a prayer. The time predicted was come--the name of
God had gone out utterly, like the green of last year's leaf. In the
Sheik's tent even, as with the poorest, hunger could not be
allayed--there was nothing to eat. The last camel had been
devoured--one horse remained. More than once the good man went out to
kill him, but the animal was so beautiful--so affectionate--so fleet!
And the desert was not wide enough to hold his fame! How much easier to
say, 'Another day--to-morrow it may rain.'

"He sat in his tent telling his wife and children stories, for he was
not merely the best warrior of his day; he was the most renowned poet
and storyteller. Riding into battle, his men would say, 'Sing to us, O
Hatim--sing, and we will fight.' And they he loved best, listening to
him, had nigh forgot their misery, when the curtain of the tent was
raised.

"'Who is there?' he asked.

"'Thy neighbor,' and the voice was a woman's. 'My children are
anhungred and crying, and I have nothing for them. Help, O Sheik, help
or they die.'

"'Bring them here,' he said, rising.

"'She is not worse off than we,' said his wife, 'nor are her children
more hungry than ours. What will you do?'

"'The appeal was to me,' he answered.

"And passing out, he slew the horse, and kindled a fire; then, while
the stranger and her children were sharing piece by piece with his own,
'Shame, shame!' he said, 'that ye alone should eat;' and going through
the dowar, he brought the neighbors together, and he only went hungry.
There was no more of the meat left. Was ever one merciful like Hatim?
In combat, he gave lives, but took none. Once an antagonist under his
foot, called to him: 'Give me thy spear, Hatim,' and he gave it.

"'Foolish man!' his brethren exclaimed.

"'What else was there?' he answered. 'Did not the poor man ask a gift
of me?'

"Never a captive besought his help vainly. On a journey once, a
prisoner begged him to buy his liberty; but he was without the money
required, and on that account he was sorely distressed. To his
entreaties, the strangers listened hard-heartedly; at last he said to
them:

"Am not I--Hatim--good as he? Let him go, and take me.'

"And knocking the chains from the unfortunate, he had them put on
himself, and wore them until the ransom came.

"In his eyes a poet was greater than a king, and than singing a song
well the only thing better was being the subject of a song.
Perpetuation by tombs he thought vulgar; so the glory unremembered in
verse deserved oblivion. Was it wonderful he gave and kept giving to
story-tellers, careless often if what he thus disposed of was another's?

"Once in his youth--and at hearing this, O Princess, the brown-faced
sons of the desert, old and young, laugh, and clap their hands--he gave
of his grandfather's store until the prudent old man, intending to cure
him of his extravagance, sent him to tend his herds in the country.
Alas!

"Across the plain Hatim one day beheld a caravan, and finding it
escorting three poets to the court of the King of El-Herah, he invited
them to stop with him, and while he killed a camel for each of them,
they recited songs in his praise, and that of his kin. When they wished
to resume the journey, he detained them.

"'There is no gift like the gift of song,' he said. 'I will do better
by you than will he, the King to whom you are going. Stay with me, and
for every verse you write I will give you a camel. Behold the herd!'

"And at departing, they had each a hundred camels, and he three hundred
verses.

"'Where is the herd?' the grandfather asked, when next he came to the
pasture.

"'See thou. Here are songs in honor of our house,' Hatim answered,
proudly--'songs by great poets; and they will be repeated until all
Arabia is filled with our glory.'

"'Alas! Thou hast ruined me!' the elder cried, beating his breast.

"'What!' said Hatim, indignantly. 'Carest thou more for the dirty
brutes than for the crown of honor I bought with them?'"

Here the Arab paused. The recitation, it is to be remarked, had been
without action, or facial assistance--a wholly unornate delivery; and
now he kept stately silence. His eyes, intensely bright in the shadow
of the _kufiyeh,_ may have produced the spell which held the Princess
throughout; or it may have been the eyes and voice; or, quite as
likely, the character of Hatim touched a responsive chord in her breast.

"I thank you," she said, adding presently: "In saying I regret the
story ended so soon, I pray you receive my opinion of its telling. I
doubt if Hatim himself could have rendered it better."

The Arab recognized the compliment with the faintest of bows, but made
no reply in words. Irene then raised her veil, and spoke again.

"Thy Hatim, O eloquent Arab, was warrior and poet, and, as thou hast
shown him to me, he was also a philosopher. In what age did he live?"

"He was a shining light in the darkness preceding the appearance of the
Prophet. That period is dateless with us."

"It is of little consequence," she continued. "Had he lived in our day,
he would have been more than poet, warrior and philosopher--he would be
a Christian. His charity and love of others, his denial of self, sound
like the Christ. Doubtless he could have died for his fellow-men. Hast
thou not more of him? Surely he lived long and happily."

"Yes," said the Arab, with a flash of the eyes to denote his
appreciation of the circumstance. "He is reported to have been the most
wretched of men. His wife--I pray you will observe I am speaking by the
tradition--his wife had the power, so dreadful to husbands, of raising
Iblis at pleasure. It delighted her to beat him and chase him from his
tent; at last she abandoned him."

"Ah!" the Princess exclaimed. "His charities were not admirable in her
eyes."

"The better explanation, Princess, may be found in a saying we have in
the desert--'A tall man may wed a small woman, but a great soul shall
not enter into bonds with a common one.'"

There was silence then, and as the gaze of the story-teller was again
finding a fascination in her face, Irene took refuge behind her veil,
but said, presently:

"With permission, I will take the story of Hatim for mine; but here is
my friend--what hast thou for her?"

The story-teller turned to Lael.

"Her pleasure shall be mine," he said.

"I should like something Indian," the girl answered, timidly, for the
eyes oppressed her also.

"Alas! India has no tales of love. Her poetry is about gods and
abstract religions. Wherefore, if I may choose, I will a tale from
Persia next. In that country there was a verse-maker called Firdousi,
and he wrote a great poem, _The Shah Nameh_, with a warrior for hero.
This is how Rustem, in single combat, killed Sohrab, not knowing the
youth was his son until after the awful deed was done."

The tale was full of melancholy interest, and told with singular grace;
but it continued until after nightfall; of which the party was
admonished by the attendants coming to light the lamps. At the
conclusion, the Arab courteously apologized for the time he had wrested
from them.

"In dealing with us, O Princess," he said, "patience is full as lovely
as charity."

Lifting the veil again, she extended her hand to him, saying, "The
obligation is with us. I thank you for making light and pleasant an
afternoon which else had been tedious."

He kissed her hand, and followed the eunuch to the door. Then the
supper was announced.




CHAPTER XI

THE TURQUOISE RING


The Prince of India, left in the passage of the Castle with Sergius,
was not displeased with the course the adventure appeared to be taking.
In the first place, he felt no alarm for Lael; she might be
uncomfortable in the quarter to which she had been conducted, but that
was all, and it would not last long. The guardianship of the eunuch was
in his view a guaranty of her personal safety. In the next place,
acquaintance with the Princess might prove serviceable in the future.
He believed Lael fitted for the highest rank; she was already educated
beyond the requirements of the age for women; her beauty was
indisputable; as a consequence, he had thought of her a light in the
court; and not unpleasantly it occurred to him now that the fair
Princess might carry keys for both the inner and outer doors of the
royal residence.

Generally the affair which was of concern to Lael was an affair of
absorbing interest to the Prince; in this instance, however, another
theme offered itself for the moment a superior attraction.

The impression left by the young master of ceremonies in the reception
at the landing was of a kind to arouse curiosity. His appearance,
manner, speech and the homage paid him denoted exalted rank; while the
confidence with which he spoke for Sultan Amurath was most remarkable.
His acceptance of the terms presented by the Princess Irene was little
short of downright treaty-making; and what common official dared carry
assumption to such a height? Finally the Prince fell to thinking if
there was any person the actual governor of the Castle would quietly
permit to go masquerading in his authority and title.

Then everything pointed him to Prince Mahommed. The correspondence in
age was perfect; the martial array seen galloping down the bank was a
fitting escort for the heir-apparent of the gray Sultan; and he alone
might with propriety speak for his father in a matter of state.

"A mistake cannot be serious," said the Prince to himself, at the end
of the review. "I will proceed upon the theory that the young man is
Prince Mahommed."

This was no sooner determined than the restless mind flew forward to an
audience. The time and place--midnight in the lonesome old Castle--were
propitious, and he was prepared for it.

Indeed it was the very purpose he had in view the night of the repast
in his tent at El Zaribah where he so mysteriously intrusted the Emir
Mirza with revelations concerning the doom of Constantinople.

Once more he ran over the scheme which had brought him from Cipango. If
Islam could not be brought to lead in the project, Christendom might be
more amenable to reason. The Moslem world was to be reached through the
Kaliph whom he expected to find in Egypt; wherefore his contemplated
trip down the Nile from Kash-Cush. If driven to the Christian,
Constantine was to be his operator. Such in broadest generality was the
plan of execution he had resolved upon.

But to these possibilities he had appended another of which it is now
necessary to speak.

Enough has been given to apprise the reader of the things to which the
Prince preferably devoted himself. These were international affairs,
and transcendently war. If indeed the latter were not the object he had
always specially in mind, it was the end to which his management
usually conducted. For mere enjoyment in the sight of men facing the
death which strangely passed him by, he delighted in hovering on the
edge of battle until there was a crisis, and then plunging into its
heated heart.

He had also a peculiar method of bringing war about. This consisted in
providing for punishments in case his enterprises miscarried.
Invariably somebody suffered for such failures. In that way he soothed
the pangs of wounded vanity.

When he was inventing the means for executing his plots, and forming
the relations essential to them, it was his habit to select instruments
of punishment in advance.

Probably no better illustration of this feature of his dealings can be
given than is furnished by the affair now engaging him. If he failed to
move the Kaliph to lead the reform, he would resort to Constantine; if
the Emperor also declined, he would make him pay the penalty; then came
the reservation. So soon after his arrival from Cipango as he could
inform himself of the political conditions of the world to which he was
returning, he fixed upon Mahommed to avenge him upon the offending
Greek.

The meeting with Mirza at El Zaribah was a favorable opportunity to
begin operating upon the young Turk. The tale the Emir received that
night under solemn injunctions of secrecy was really intended for his
master. How well it was devised for the end in view the reader will be
able to judge from what is now to follow.

The audience with Mahommed determined upon by the Prince of India, our
first point of interest is in observing how he set about accomplishing
it. His promptness was characteristic.

Directly the ladies had disappeared with the eunuch, the soldiers
poured from their hiding places in the Castle, and seeing one whom he
judged an officer, the Prince called to him in Turkish:

"Ho, my friend!"

The man was obliging.

"Present my salutations to the Governor of the Castle, and say the
Prince of India desires speech with him."

The soldier hesitated.

"Understand," said the Prince, quickly, "my message is not to the great
Lord who received me at the landing. But the Governor in fact. Bring
him here."

The confident manner prevailed.

Presently the messenger returned with a burly, middle-aged person in
guidance. A green turban above a round face, large black eyes in
muffling of fleshy lids, pallid cheeks lost in dense beard, a drab gown
lined with yellow fur, a naked cimeter in a silk-embroidered sash,
bespoke the Turk; but how unlike the handsome, fateful-looking
masquerader at the river side!

"The Prince of India has the honor of speech with the Governor of the
Castle?"

"God be praised," the Governor replied. "I was seeking your Highness.
Besides wishing to join in your thanks for happy deliverance from the
storm, I thought to discharge my duty as a Moslem host by conducting
you to refreshments and repose. Follow me, I pray."

A few steps on the way, the Governor stopped:

"Was there not a companion--a younger man--a Dervish?"

"A monk," said the Prince; "and the question reminds me of my
attendant, a negro. Send for him--or better, bring them both to me. I
wish them to share my apartment."

In a short time the three were in quarters, if one small room may be so
dignified. The walls were cold gray stone; one oblong narrow port-hole
admitted scanty light; a rough bench, an immense kettle-drum shaped
like the half of an egg-shell, and propped broadside up, some piles of
loose straw, each with folded sheepskins on it, constituted the
furnishment.

Sergius made no sign of surprise or disappointment. Possibly the
chamber and its contents were reproductions of his cell up in
Bielo-Osero. Nilo gave himself to study of the drum, reminded,
doubtless, of similar warlike devices in Kash-Cush. The Prince alone
expostulated. Taking a stand between the Governor and the door, he said:

"A question before thou goest hence."

The Turk gazed at him silently.

"To what accommodations have the Princess Irene and her attendant been
taken? Are they vile as these?"

"The reception room of my harem is the most comfortable the Castle
affords," the Governor answered.

"And they?"

"They are occupying it."

"Not by courtesy of thine. He who could put the hospitality of the
Prince Mahommed to shame by maltreating one of his guests."

He paused, and grimly surveyed the room.

"Such a servant would be as evil-minded to another guest; and that the
other is a woman, would not affect his imbruited soul."

"The Prince Mahommed!" the Governor exclaimed.

"Yes. What brings him here, matters not; his wish to keep the Romans in
ignorance of his near presence, I know as well as thou; none the less,
it was his royal word we accepted. As for thee--thou mightest have
promised faith and hospitality with thy hand on the Prophet's beard,
yet would I have bidden the Princess trust herself to the tempest
sooner."

Sergius was now standing by, but the conversation being in Turkish, he
listened without understanding.

"Thou ass!" the Prince continued. "Not to know that the kinswoman of
the Roman Emperor, under this roof by treaty with the mighty Amurath,
his son the negotiator, is our guardian! When the storm shall have
spent itself, and the waters quieted down, she will resume her journey.
Then--it may be in the morning--she will first ask for us, and then thy
master will require to know how we have passed the night. Ah, thou
beginnest to see!"

The Governor's head was drooping; his hands crossed themselves upon his
stomach; and when he raised his eyes, they were full of deprecation and
entreaty.

"Your Highness--most noble Lord--condescend to hear me."

"Speak. I am awake to hear the falsehood thou hast invented in excuse
of thy perfidy to us, and thy treason to him, the most generous of
masters, the most chivalrous of knights."

"Your Highness has greatly misconceived me. In the first place you have
forgotten the crowded state of the Castle. Every room and passage is
filled with the suite and escort of"--

He hesitated, and turned pale, like a man dropped suddenly into a great
danger. The shrewd guest caught at the broken sentence and finished it:

"Of Prince Mahommed!"

"With the suite and escort," the Governor repeated.... "In the next
place, it was not my intention to leave you unprovided. From my own
apartments, light, beds and seats were ordered to be brought here, with
meats for refreshment, and water for cleansing and draught. The order
is in course of execution now. Indeed, your Highness, I swear by the
first chapter of the Koran"--

"Take something less holy to swear by," cried the Prince.

"Then, by the bones of the Faithful, I swear I meant to make you
comfortable, even to my own deprivation."

"By thy young master's bidding?"

The Governor bent forward very low.

"Well," said the Prince, softening his manner--"the misconception was
natural."

"Yes--yes."

"And now thou hast only to prove thy intention by making it good."

"Trust me, your Highness."

"Trust thee? Ay, on proof. I have a commission"--

The Prince then drew a ring from his finger.

"Take this," he said, "and deliver it to the Emir Mirza."

The assurance of the speech was irresistible; so the Turk held out his
hand to receive the token.

"And say to the Emir, that I desire him to thank the Most Compassionate
and Merciful for the salvation of which we were witnesses at the
southwest corner of the Kaaba."

"What!" exclaimed the Governor. "Art thou a Moslem?"

"I am not a Christian."

The Governor, accepting the ring, kissed the hand offering it, and took
his departure, moving backward, and with downcast eyes, his manner
declarative of the most abject humility.

Hardly was the door closed behind the outgoing official, when the
Prince began to laugh quietly and rub his hands together--quietly, we
say, for the feeling was not merriment so much as self-gratulation.

There was cleverness in having doubted the personality of the
individual who received the refugees at the landing; there was greater
cleverness in the belief which converted the Governor into the Prince
Mahommed; but the play by which the fact was uncovered--if not a stroke
of genius, how may it be better described? The Prince of India thought
as he laughed:

"Not long now until Amurath joins his fathers, and then--Mahommed."

Presently he stopped, a step half taken, his gaze upon the floor, his
hands clasped behind him. He stood so still it would not have been
amiss to believe a thought was all the life there was in him. He
certainly did believe in astrology. Had not men been always ruled by
what they imagined heavenly signs? How distinctly he remembered the age
of the oracle and the augur! Upon their going out he became a believer
in the stars as prophets, and then an adept; afterwhile he reached a
stage when he habitually mistook the commonest natural results, even
coincidences, for confirmations of planetary forecasts. And now this
halting and breathlessness was from sudden recollection that the
horoscope lying on his table in Constantinople had relation to Mahommed
in his capacity of Conqueror. How marvellous also that from the meeting
with Constantine in the street of the city, he should have been blown
by a tempest to a meeting with Mahommed in the White Castle!

These circumstances, trifling to the reader, were of deep influence to
the Prince of India. While he stands there rigid as a figure marbleized
in mid action, he is saying to himself:

"The audience will take place--Heaven has ordered it. Would I knew what
manner of man this Mahommed is!"

He had seen a handsome youth, graceful in bearing, quick and subtle in
speech, cultivated and evidently used to governing. Very good, but what
an advantage there would be in knowing the bents and inclinations of
the royal lad beforehand.

Presently the schemer's head arose. The boyish Prince was going about
in armor when soft raiment would be excusable--and that meant ambition,
dreams of conquest, dedication to martial glory. Very good indeed! And
then his manner under the eyes of the girlish Princess--how quickly her
high-born grace had captivated him! Something impossible were he not of
a romantic turn, a poet, sentimentalist, knight errant.

The Prince clapped his hands. He knew the appeals effective with such
natures. Let the audience come.... Ah, but--

Again he sunk into thought. Youths like Mahommed were apt to be wilful.
How was he to be controlled? One expedient after another was swiftly
considered and as swiftly rejected. At last the right one! Like his
ancestors from Ertoghrul down, the young Turk was a believer in the
stars. Not unlikely he was then in the Castle by permission of his
astrologer. Indeed, if Mirza had repeated the conversation and
predictions at El Zaribah, the Prince of India was being waited for
with an impatience due a master of the astral craft. Again the Wanderer
cried, "Let the audience come!" and peace and confidence were
possessing him when a loud report and continuous rumble in the room set
the solid floor to quaking. He looked around in time to see the big
drum quivering under a blow from Nilo.

From the negro his gaze wandered to Sergius standing before the one
loophole by which light and air were let into the dismal chamber; and
recalling the monk as the sole attendant of the Princess Irene, he
thought it best to speak to him.

Drawing near, he observed the cowl thrown back, and that the face was
raised, the eyes closed, the hands palm to palm upon the breast.
Involuntarily he stopped, not because he was one of those who always
presume the most Holy Presence when prayer is being offered--he
stopped, wondering where he had seen that countenance. The delicate
features, the pallid complexion, the immature beard, the fair hair
parted in the middle, and falling in wavy locks over the shoulders, the
aspect manly yet womanly in its refinement, were strangely familiar to
him. It was his first view of the monk's face. Where had he seen it?
His memory went back, far back of the recent. A chill struck his heart.
The features, look, air, portrait, the expression indefinable except as
a light of outcoming spirit, were those of the man he had helped
crucify before the Damascus gate in the Holy City, and whom he could no
more cast out of mind than he could the bones from his body. His feet
seemed rooting into the flinty flags beneath them. He heard the
centurion call to him: "Ho, there! If thou knowest the Golgotha, come
show it." He felt the sorrowful eyes of the condemned upon him. He
struck the bloody cheek, and cried as to a beast: "Go faster, Jesus!"
And then the words, wrung from infinite patience at last broken:

"I am going, but do thou TARRY TILL I COME."

For relief, he spoke:

"What dost thou, my friend?"

Sergius opened his eyes and answered simply, "I am praying."

"To whom?"

"To God."

"Art thou a Christian?"

"Yes."

"God is for the Jew and the Moslem."

"Nay," said Sergius, looking at the Prince without taking down his
hands, "all who believe in God find happiness and salvation in Him--the
Christian as well as the Jew and the Moslem."

The questions had been put with abrupt intensity; now the inquisitor
drew back astonished. He heard the very postulate of the scheme to
which he was devoting himself--and from a boy so like the dead Christ
he was working to blot out of worship he seemed the Christ arisen!

The amazement passed slowly, and with its going the habitual shrewdness
and capacity to make servants of circumstances apparently the most
untoward returned. The youth had intellect, impressiveness, aptitude in
words, and a sublime idea. But what of his spirit--his courage--his
endurance in the Faith?

"How came this doctrine to thee?"

The Prince spoke deferentially.

"From the good father Hilarion."

"Who is he?"

"The Archimandrite of Bielo-Osero."

"A monastery?"

"Yes."

"How did he receive it?"

"From the Spirit of God, whence Christ had his wisdom--whence all good
men have their goodness--by virtue of which they, like Him, become sons
of God."

"What is thy name?"

"Sergius."

"Sergius"--the Prince, now fully recovered, exerted his power of
will--"Sergius, thou art a heretic."

At this accusation, so terrible in those days, the monk raised the
rosary of large beads dangling from his girdle, kissed the cross, and
stood surveying the accuser with pity.

"That is," the Prince continued with greater severity, "speak thou thus
to the Patriarch yonder"--he waved a hand toward Constantinople--"dare
repeat the saying to a commission appointed to try thee for heresy, and
thou wilt thyself taste the pangs of crucifixion or be cast to the
beasts."

The monk arose to his great height, and replied, fervently:

"Knowest thou when death hath the sweetness of sleep? I will tell
thee"--A light certainly not from the narrow aperture in the wall
collected upon his countenance, and shone visibly--"It is when a martyr
dies knowing both of God's hands are a pillow under his head."

The Prince dropped his eyes, for he was asking himself, was such
sweetness of sleep appointed for him? Resuming his natural manner, he
said: "I understand thee, Sergius. Probably no man in the world, go
thou East or West, will ever understand thee better. God's hands under
my head, welcome death!--Let us be friends."

Sergius took his offered hand.

Just then there was a noise at the door, and a troop of servants
entered with lighted lamps, rugs, a table, stools, and beds and
bedding, and it was not long until the apartment was made habitable.
The Prince, otherwise well satisfied, wanted nothing then but a reply
from Mirza; and in the midst of his wonder at the latter's delay, a
page in brilliant costume appeared, and called out:

"The Emir Mirza!"




CHAPTER XII

THE RING RETURNS


The Prince, at the announcement of Mirza, took position near the centre
of the room where the light was ample. His black velvet pelisse
contrasting strongly with his white hair and beard, he looked a
mysterious Indian potentate to whom occult Nature was a familiar, and
the stars oracular friends.

Mirza's cheeks were scarcely so sun and sand stained as when we first
beheld him in conduct of the caravan to Mecca; in other respects he was
unchanged. His attire, like the lord Mahommed's at the reception on the
landing, was of chain mail very light and flexible. He carried a dagger
in his belt, and to further signify confidence in the Prince, the flat
steel cap forming his headgear was swinging loosely from his left arm;
or he might have intended to help his friend to a more ready
recognition by presenting himself bareheaded. He met his survey with
unaffected pleasure, took the hand extended in greeting, and kissed it
reverentially.

"Forgive me, O Prince, if my first greeting have the appearance of a
reproach," Mirza said, as he gave up the hand. "Why have you kept us
waiting so long?"

The Prince's countenance assumed a severe expression.

"Emir, I gave you confidence under seal."

The Emir flushed deeply.

"Was it knightly to betray me? To whom have you told the secret? How
many have been waiting for my coming?"

"Be merciful, I pray."

"But the stars. You have made me culprit with them. I may pardon you;
can you assure me of their pardon?"

The Emir raised his head, and with an expostulatory gesture, was about
to reply, when the Prince continued, "Put thy words in the tongue
coinage of Italy, for to be overheard now were to make me an offender
like unto thyself."

Mirza glanced hastily at Sergius, still praying before the loophole,
and at Nilo; then he surveyed the cell critically, and said, in
Italian, "This is the prison of the Castle--and thou--can it be I see
thee a prisoner?"

The Prince smiled. "The Governor led me here with my friends; and what
you behold of accommodations he sent in afterwards, saying the better
rooms were filled with soldiery."

"He will rue the deed. My Lord is swift at righting a wrong, and trust
me, O Prince, to make report. But to return"--Mirza paused, and looked
into the Prince's eyes earnestly--"Is your accusation just? Hear me;
then by the motive judge. When I stood before my master, Prince
Mahommed, a returned pilgrim, if not taller in fact, his bearing was
more majestic. I kissed his hand wondering if some servant of the
Compassionate, some angel or travelling Jinn, had not arrived before
me, and whispered him of what you told me, speaking for the stars. And
when we were alone, he would have account of the countries journeyed
through, of the people met, of Medina and Mecca, and the other holy
places; nor would he rest until he had from me the sayings I had heard
on the way, everything from calls to prayer to the Khatib's sermon.
When I told him I had not heard the sermon, nor seen the preacher or
his camel, he demanded why, and--what else was there to do, O
Prince?--I related how we had been pursued by the terrible Yellow Air;
how it had overtaken me; how I fell down dying at the corner of the
Kaaba, and by whom I was saved even as the life was departing. This
last directed him to you. My efforts to put him off but whetted his
desire. He would not be diverted or denied. He
insisted--urged--threatened. At last I told him all--of your joining us
with the Hajj from El Khatif--your rank and train--your marches in the
rear--the hundreds of miserables you saved from the plague--of our
meeting at Zaribah, your hospitality, your learning in all that
pertains to the greatest of the prophets, your wisdom above the wisdom
of other men. And you grew upon him as I proceeded. 'Oh, a good man
truly!' 'What courage!' 'What charity!' 'The Prophet himself!' 'Oh,
that I had been you!' 'O foolish Mirza, to suffer such a man to
escape!' With such exclamations he kept breaking up my story. It was
not long until he fastened upon our meeting in the tent. He plied me to
know of what we talked--what you said, and all you said. O Prince, if
you did but know him; if you knew the soul possessing him, the
intellectual things he has mastered, his sagacity, his art, his will,
his day-dreams pursuing him in sleep, the deeds he is prepared to do,
the depth and strength of his passions, his admiration for heroes, his
resolve to ring the world with the greatness of his name--Oh, knew you
the man as I do, were you his lover as I am, his confidant--had you,
for teaching him to ride and strike with sword and spear, his promise
of a share in the glory beckoning him on, making his mighty
expectations a part of you even as they are of him, would you--ah,
Prince, could you have withheld the secret? Think of the revelation!
The old East to awake, and march against the West! Constantinople
doomed! And he the leader for whom the opportunity is waiting! And to
call my weakness betrayal! Unsay it, unsay it, Prince!"

The face of the auditor as Mirza proceeded with his defence would have
been a profitable study. He saw himself succeeding in the purpose of
his affected severity; he was drawing from Mahommed's intimate the
information he most desired; and thus advised in advance, his role in
the interview coming would be of easy foresight and performance. Not to
appear too lightly satisfied, however, he said gravely, "I see the
strain you underwent, my gallant friend. I see also the earnestness of
your affection for your most noble pupil. He is to be congratulated
upon the possession of a servant capable of such discernment and
devotion. But I recall my question--How many are there waiting for me?"

"Your revelations, O Prince, were imparted to my master alone; and with
such certainty as you know yourself, you may believe them at rest in
his bosom. No one better than he appreciates the importance of keeping
them there under triple lock. More than one defeat--I think he would
permit the confession--has taught him that secrecy is the life of every
enterprise."

"Say you so, Emir? I feel warmth returning to my hope. Nay, listening
to you, and not believing in improvised heroes, I see how your course
may have been for the best. The years gone since you yielded to his
importunities, wisely used, have doubtless served him providentially."

The Prince extended his hand again, and it was ardently taken; then, on
his part, more than pleased, Mirza said, "I bring you a message from my
Lord Mahommed. I was with him when the Governor came and delivered your
ring to me--and, lest I forget a duty, Prince, here it is--take it at
some future time it may be serviceable as today."

"Yes, well thought!" the Jew exclaimed, replacing the signet on his
finger, and immediately, while looking at the turquoise eye, he dropped
his tone into the solemn, "Ay, the obligations of the Pentagram
endure--they are like a decree of God."

The words and manner greatly impressed Mirza.

"My Lord Mahommed," he said, "observed the delivery of the ring to me
by the Governor; and when we were alone, and I had recounted the story
of the jewels, 'What!' my Lord cried, quite as transported as myself.
'That wonderful man--he here--here in this Castle! He shall not escape
me. Send for him at once. I brook no delay.' He stamped his foot. 'Lest
he vanish in the storm--go!' When I was at the door, he bade me come
back. 'The elder man with the white beard and black eyes, said you? It
were well for me to begin by consulting his comfort. He may be tired,
and in want of repose; his accommodations may be insufficient;
wherefore go see him first, and ascertain his state and wishes.' And as
I was going, he summoned me to return again. 'A moment--stay!' he
said.'The circumstance enlarges with thought. Thou knowest, Mirza, I
did not come here with a special object; I was drawn involuntarily; now
I see it was to meet him. It is a doing of the stars. I shall hear from
them!' O Prince"--Mirza's eyes sparkled, arid he threw up both his
hands--"if ever man believed what he said, my master did."

"A wise master truly," said the Jew, struggling with his exultation.
"What said he next?"

"'While I am honoring their messenger'--thus my Lord continued--'why
not honor the stars? Their hour is midnight, for then they are all out,
from this horizon and that calling unto each other, and merging their
influences into the harmony the preachers call the Will of the Most
Merciful. A good hour for the meeting. Hear, Mirza--at midnight--in
this room. Go now.' And so it is appointed."

"And well appointed, Emir."

"Shall I so report?"

"With my most dutiful protestations."

"Look for me then at midnight."

"I shall be awake, and ready."

"Meantime, Prince, I will seek an apartment more in correspondence with
the degree of my Lord's most honored guest."

"Nay, good Mirza, suffer me to advise in that matter. The bringing me
into this place was a mistake of the Governor's. He could not divine
the merit I have in your master's eyes. He took me for a Christian. I
forgive him, and pray he may not be disturbed. He may be useful to me.
Upon the springing of a mischance--there is one such this instant in my
mind's eye--I may be driven to come back to this Castle. In such an
event, I prefer him my servant rather than my enemy."

"O Prince!"

"Nay, Emir, the idea is only a suggestion of one of the Prophets whom
Allah stations at the turns in every man's career."

"But every man cannot see the Prophets."

The Jew finished gravely: "Rather than disturb the Governor further,
soothe him for me; and when the Lord Mahommed goes hence, do thou see
an instruction is left putting the Castle and its chief at my order.
Also, as thou art a grateful friend, Mirza, serve me by looking into
the kettles out of which we are to have our refreshment, and order
concerning them as for thyself. I feel a stir of appetite."

The Emir backed from the apartment, leaving a low salaam just outside
the door.

If the reader thinks the Prince content now, he is not mistaken. True
he paced the floor long and rapidly; but, feeling himself close upon a
turn in his course, he was making ready for it perfectly as possible by
consulting the Prophet whom he saw waiting there.

And as the Lord Mahommed failed not to remember them what time he
betook himself to supper, the three guests up in the prison fared well,
nor cared for the howling of the wind, and the bursting and beating of
the rain still rioting without the walls.




CHAPTER XIII

MAHOMMED HEARS FROM THE STARS


The second recall of the Emir Mirza departing with the appointment for
the Prince of India was remarkable, considering Mahommed's usual
quickness of conclusion and steadiness of purpose; and the accounting
for it is noteworthy.

So completely had the young Turk been taken up by study and military
service that leisure for love had been denied him; else he either
despised the passion or had never met a woman to catch his fancy and
hold it seriously.

We have seen him make the White Castle by hard galloping before the
bursting of the storm. While at the gate, and in the midst of his
reception there, the boats were reported making all speed to the river
landing; and not wishing his presence at the Castle to be known in
Constantinople, he despatched an under officer to seize the voyagers,
and detain them until he had crossed the Bosphorus _en route_ to
Adrianople. However, directly the officer brought back the spirited
message of the Princess Irene to the Governor of the Castle, his mind
underwent a change.

"What," he asked, "sayst thou the woman is akin to the Emperor
Constantine?"

"Such is her claim, my Lord, and she looks it."

"Is she old?"

"Young, my Lord--not more than twenty."

Mahommed addressed the Governor:

"Stay thou here. I will take thy office, and wait upon this Princess."

Dismounting, then, in the capacity of Governor of the Castle, he
hastened to the landing, curious as well as desirous of offering refuge
to the noble lady.

He saw her first a short way off, and was struck with her composed
demeanor. During the discussion of his tender of hospitality, her face
was in fair view, and it astonished him. When finally she stepped from
the boat, her form, delicately observable under the rich and graceful
drapery, and so exquisitely in correspondence with her face, still
further charmed him.

Before the chairs were raised, he sent a messenger to the Castle with
orders to place everybody in hiding, and for his Kislar-Aga, or chief
eunuch, to be in the passage of entrance to receive and take charge of
the kinswoman of the Emperor and her attendant. By a further order the
Governor proper was directed to vacate his harem apartments for her
accommodation.

In the Castle, after the Princess had been thus disposed of, the
impression she made upon him increased.

"She is so high-born!--so beautiful!--She has such spirit and
mind!--She is so calm under trial--so courageous--so decorous--so used
to courtly life!"

Such exclamations attested the unwonted ferment going on in his mind.
Gradually, as tints under the brush of a skilful painter lose
themselves in one effect, his undefined ideas took form.

"O Allah! What a Sultana for a hero!"

And by repetition this ran on into what may be termed the chorus of a
love song--the very first of the kind his soul had ever sung.

Such was Mahommed's state when Mirza received the turquoise ring, and,
announcing the Prince of India, asked for orders. Was it strange he
changed his mind? Indeed he was at the moment determining to see again
the woman who had risen upon him like a moon above a lake; so, directly
he had despatched the Emir to the Prince of India with the appointment
for midnight, he sent for an Arab Sheik of his suite, arrayed himself
in the latter's best habit, and stained his hands, neck, and
face-turned himself, in brief, into the story-teller whom we have seen
admitted to amuse the Princess Irene.

At midnight, sharply as the hour could be determined by the uncertain
appliances resorted to by the inmates of the Castle, Mirza appeared at
his master's door with the mystical Indian, and, passing the sentinel
there, knocked like one knowing himself impatiently awaited. A voice
bade them enter.

The young Turk, upon their entrance, arose from a couch of many
cushions prepared for him under a canopy in the centre of the room.

"This, my Lord, is the Prince of India" said Mirza; then, almost
without pause, he turned to the supposed Indian, and added more
ceremoniously: "Be thou happy, O Prince! The East hath not borne a son
so worthy to take the flower from the tomb of Saladin, and wear it, as
my master here--the Lord Mahommed."

Then, his duty done, the Emir retired.

Mahommed was in the garb used indoors immemorially by his race--sharply
pointed slippers, immense trousers gathered at the ankles, a yellow
quilted gown dropping below the knees, and a turban of balloon shape,
its interfolding stayed by an aigrette of gold and diamonds. His head
was shaven up to the edge of the turban, so that, the light falling
from a cluster of lamps in suspension from the ceiling, every feature
was in plain exposure. Looking into the black eyes scarcely shaded by
the upraised arching brows, the Prince of India saw them sparkle with
invitation and pleasure, and was himself satisfied.

He advanced, and saluted by falling upon his knees, and kissing the
back of his hands laid palm downward on the floor. Mahommed raised him
to his feet.

"Rise, O Prince!" he said--"rise, and come sit with me."

From behind the couch, the Turk dragged a chair of ample seat, railed
around except at the front, and provided with a cushion of camel's
hair--a chair such as teachers in the Mosques use when expounding to
their classes. This he placed so while he sat on the couch the visitor
would be directly before him, and but little removed. Soon the two were
sitting cross-legged face to face.

"A man devout as the Prince of India is reported to me," Mahommed
began, in a voice admirably seconding the respectful look he fixed upon
the other, "must be of the rightly guided, who believe in God and the
Last Day, and observe prayer, and pay the alms, and dread none but
God--who therefore of right frequent the temples."

"Your words, my Lord, are those of the veritable messenger of the most
high Heaven," the Wanderer responded, bending forward as if about to
perform a prostration. "I recognize them, and they give me the
sensation of being in a garden of perpetual abode, with a river running
beneath it." Mahommed, perceiving the quotation from the Koran, bent
low in turn, saying: "It is good to hear you, for as I listen I say to
myself, This one is of the servants of the Merciful who are to walk
upon the earth softly. I accost you in advance, Welcome and Peace."

After a short silence, he continued: "A frequenter of mosques, you will
see, O Prince, I have put you in the teacher's place. I am the student.
Yours to open the book and read; mine to catch the pearls of your
saying, lest they fall in the dust, and be lost."

"I fear my Lord does me honor overmuch; yet there is a beauty in
willingness even where one cannot meet expectation. Of what am I to
speak?"

Mahommed knit his brows, and asked imperiously, "Who art thou? Of that
tell me first."

Happily for the Prince, he had anticipated this demand, and, being
intensely watchful, was ready for it, and able to reply without
blenching: "The Emir introduced me rightly. I am a Prince of India."

"Now of thy life something."

"My Lord's request is general--perhaps he framed it with design. Left
thus to my own judgment, I will be brief, and choose from the mass of
my life."

There was not the slightest sign of discomposure discernible in the
look or tone of the speaker; his air was more than obliging--he seemed
to be responding to a compliment.

"I began walk as a priest--a disciple of Siddhartha, whom my Lord, of
his great intelligence, will remember as born in Central India. Very
early, on account of my skill in translation, I was called to China,
and there put to rendering the Thirty-five Discourses of the father of
the Budhisattwa into Chinese and Thibettan. I also published a version
of the Lotus of the Good Law, and another of the Nirvana. These brought
me a great honor. To an ancestor of mine, Maha Kashiapa, Buddha
happened to have intrusted his innermost mysteries--that is, he made
him Keeper of the Pure Secret of the Eye of Right Doctrine. Behold the
symbol of that doctrine."

The Prince drew a leaf of ivory, worn and yellow, from a pocket under
his pelisse, and passed it to Mahommed, saying, "Will my lord look?"

Mahommed took the leaf, and in the silver sunk into it saw this sign:

[Illustration]

"I see," he said, gravely. "Give me its meaning."

"Nay, my Lord, did I that, the doctrine of which, as successor of
Kashiapa, though far removed, they made me Keeper--the very highest of
Buddhistic honors--would then be no longer a secret. The symbol is of
vast sanctity. There is never a genuine image of Buddha without it over
his heart. It is the monogram of Vishnu and Siva; but as to its
meaning, I can only say every Brahman of learning views it
worshipfully, knowing it the compression of the whole mind of Buddha."

Mahommed respected the narrator's compunction, and returned the symbol,
saying simply, "I have heard of such things."

"To pursue," the Prince then said, confident of the impression he was
producing: "At length I returned to my own country enriched beyond
every hope. A disposition to travel seized me. One day, passing the
desert to Baalbec, some Bedouin made me prisoner, and carrying me to
Mecca, sold me to the Scherif there; a good man who respected my
misfortune and learning--may the youths ever going in Paradise forget
not his cup of flowing wine!--and wrought with me over the Book of the
One God until I became a believer like himself. Then, as I had
exchanged the hope of Nirvana for the better and surer hope of Islam,
he set me free.... Again in my native land, I betook myself to
astrologic studies, being the more inclined thereto by reason of the
years I had spent in contemplating the abstrusities of Siddhartha. I
became an adept--something, as my Lord may already know, impossible to
such as go about unknowing the whole earth and heavens, and the powers
superior, those of the sky, and those lesser, meaning Kings, Emperors,
and Sultans."

"How!" exclaimed Mahommed. "Is not every astrologer an adept?"

The Prince answered softly, seeing the drift was toward the professor
in the young Turk's service. "There is always a better until we reach
the best. Even the stars differ from each other in degree."

"But how may a man know the superior powers?"

"The sum of the observations kept by the wise through the ages, and
recorded by them, is a legacy for the benefit of the chosen few. Had my
Lord the taste, and were he not already devoted by destiny, I could
take him to a college where what is now so curious to him is simple
reading."

The hard and doubting expression on Mahommed's face began to soften,
yet he persisted: "Knowing the superior, why is it needful to know the
inferior powers?"

"My Lord trenches now upon the forbidden, yet I will answer as his
shrewdness deserves. Never man heard from the stars in direct
speech--that were almost like words with God. But as they are servants,
they also have servants. Moreover what we have from them is always in
answer. They love to be sought after by the diligent. Some ages ago an
adept seeking this and that of them conjecturally, had reply, 'Lo! A
tribe of poor wanderers in the East. Heed them, for they shall house
their dominion in palaces now the glory of the West, and they shall dig
the pit to compass the fall of the proud.' Is it this tribe? Is it
that? But the seeker never knew. The children of Ertoghrul were yet
following their herds up and down the pastures they had from
Ala-ed-din, the Iconian. Not knowing their name, he could not ask of
them from the decree-makers?"

The Mystic beheld the blood redden Mahommed's open countenance, and the
brightening of his eyes; and as he was speaking to his pride, he knew
he was not amiss.

"The saying of the stars," he went on, "descended to succeeding adepts.
Time came to their aid. When at length your fathers seated themselves
in Broussa, the mystery was in part revealed. Anybody, even the
low-browed herdsman shivering in the currents blowing from the Trojan
heights, could then have named the fortunate tribe. Still the exposure
was not complete; a part remained for finding out. We knew the diggers
of the pit; but for whom was it? To this I devoted myself. Hear me
closely now--my Lord, I have traversed the earth, not once, but many
times--so often, you cannot name a people unknown to me, nor a land
whither I have not been--no, nor an island. As the grandson of
Abd-el-Muttalib was a Messenger of God, I am a Messenger of the
Predicting Stars--not their prophet, only their Interpreter and
Messenger. The business of the stars is my business." Mahommed's lips
moved, and it was with an effort he kept silent.

The Prince proceeded, apparently unconscious of the interest he was
exciting: "Here and there while I travelled, I kept communication with
the planets; and though I had many of their predictions to solve, I
asked them oftenest after the unnamed proud one for whom thy
Ottomanites were charged to dig a pit. I presented names without
number--names of persons, names of peoples, and lest one should be
overlooked, I kept a record of royal and notable families. Was a
man-child horn to any of them, I wrote down the minute of the hour of
his birth, and how he was called. By visitations, I kept informed of
the various countries, their conditions, and their relations with each
other; for as the state of the earth points favorably or unfavorably to
its vegetation, so do the conditions of nations indicate the approach
of changes, and give encouragement to those predestined to bring the
changes about. Again I say, my Lord, as the stars are the servants of
God, they have their servants, whom you shall never know except as you
are able to read the signs their times offer you for reading. Moreover
the servants are sometimes priests, sometimes soldiers, sometimes
kings; among them have been women, and men of common origin; for the
seed of genius falls directly from God's hand, and He chooses the time
and field for the sowing; but whether high or low, white or black, good
or bad, how shall a Messenger interpret truly for the stars except by
going before their elect, and introducing them, and making their paths
smooth? Must he not know them first?"

A mighty impulsion here struck Mahommed. Recurring rather to what he
had heard from Mirza of the revelation dropped by the strange person
met by him during the pilgrimage, he felt himself about to be declared
of the elect, and unable to control his eagerness, he asked abruptly:

"Knowest thou me, O Prince?"

The manner of the Mystic underwent a change. He had been deferential,
even submissive; seldom a teacher so amiable and unmasterful; now he
concentrated his power of spirit, and shot it a continuing flash from
his large eyes.

"Know thee, Lord Mahommed?" he answered, in a low voice, but clear and
searching, and best suited to the conflict he was ushering in--the
conflict of spirit and spirit. "Thou knowest not thyself as well."

Mahommed shrank perceptibly--he was astonished.

"I mean not reference to thy father--nor to the Christian Princess, thy
mother,--nor to thy history, which is of an obedient son and brave
soldier,--nor to thy education, unusual in those born inheritors of
royal power--I mean none of these, for they are in mouths everywhere,
even of the beggars nursing their sores by the waysides.... In thy
father's palace there was a commotion one night--thou wert about to be
born. A gold-faced clock stood in the birth chamber, the gift of a
German King, and from the door of the chamber eunuchs were stationed.
Exactly as the clock proclaimed midnight, mouth and mouth carried the
cry to a man on the roof--'A Prince is born! A Prince is born! Praised
be Allah!' He on the roof was seated at a table studying a paper with
the signs of the Zodiac in the usual formulary of a nativity. At the
coming of the cry, he arose, and observed the heavens intently; then he
shouted, 'There is no God but God! Lo, Mars, Lord of the
Ascendant--Mars, with his friends, Saturn, Venus, and Jupiter in happy
configuration, and the moon nowhere visible. Hail the Prince!' And
while his answer was passing below, the man on the roof marked the
planets in their Houses exactly as they were that midnight between
Monday and Tuesday in the year 1430. Have I in aught erred, my lord?"

"In nothing, O Prince."

"Then I proceed.... The nativity came to me, and I cast and recast it
for the aspects, familiarities, parallels and triplicities of the hour,
and always with the same result. I found the sun, the angles and the
quality of the ambient signs favorable to a career which, when run, is
to leave the East radiant with the glory of an unsetting sun."

Here the Jew paused, and bowed--"Now doth my Lord doubt if I know him
best?"




CHAPTER XIV

DREAMS AND VISIONS


Mahommed sat awhile in deep abstraction, his face flushed, his hands
working nervously in their own clasp. The subject possessing him was
very pleasurable. How could it be else?

On his side the Prince waited deferentially, but very observant. He was
confident of the impression made; he even thought he could follow the
young Turk's reflections point by point; still it was wisest to let him
alone, for the cooling time of the sober second thought would come, and
then how much better if there were room for him to believe the decision
his own.

"It is very well, Prince," Mahommed said, finally, struggling to keep
down every sign of excitement. "I had accounts of you from Mirza the
Emir, and it is the truth, which neither of us will be the worse of
knowing, that I see nothing of disagreement in what he told me, and in
what you now tell me of yourself. The conceptions I formed of you are
justified: you are learned and of great experience; you are a good man
given to charity as the Prophet has ordered, and a believer in God. At
various times in the world's history, if we may trust the writers,
great men have had their greatness foretold them; now if I think myself
in the way of addition to the list of those so fortunate, it is because
I put faith in you as in a friendly Prophet."

At this the Prince threw up both hands.

"Friendly am I, my lord, more than friendly, but not a Prophet. I am
only a Messenger, an Interpreter of the Superior Powers."

Much he feared the demands upon him if he permitted the impression that
he was a Prophet to go uncontradicted; as an astrologer, he could in
need thrust the stars between him and the unreasonable. And his
judgment was quickly affirmed.

"As you will, O Prince," said Mahommed. "Messenger, interpreter,
prophet, whichever pleases you, the burden of what you bring me is
nevertheless of chiefest account. Comes a herald, we survey him, and
ask voucher for his pretensions; are we satisfied with them, why then
he gives place in our interest, and becomes secondary to the matter he
bears. Is it not so?"

"It is righteously said, my Lord."

"And when I take up this which you have brought me"--Mahommed laid a
hand upon his throat as if in aid of the effort he was making to keep
calm and talk with dignity--"I cannot deny its power; for when was
there an imaginative young man who first permitted ambition and love of
glory to build golden palaces for their abiding in his heart, with
self-control to stop his ears to promises apparently from Heaven? O
Prince, if you are indeed my friend, you will not laugh at me when you
are alone!... Moreover I would not you should believe your tidings
received carelessly or as a morsel sweet on my tongue; but as wine
warms to the blood coursing to the brain, it has started inquiries and
anxieties you alone can allay. And first, the great glory whose running
is to fill the East, like an unsetting sun, tell me of it; for, as we
all know, glory is of various kinds; there is one kind reserved for
poets, orators, and professors cunning in the arts, and another for
cheer of such as find delight in swords and bossy shields, and armor
well bedight, and in horses, and who exult in battle, and in setting
armies afield, in changing boundary lines, and in taking rest and
giving respite in the citadels of towns happily assaulted. And as of
these the regard is various, tell me the kind mine is to be."

"The stars speak not doubtfully, my Lord. When Mars rises ascendant in
either of his Houses, they that moment born are devoted to war, and,
have they their bent, they shall be soldiers; nor soldiers merely, but
as the conjunctions are good, conquerors, and fortunate, and Samael,
his angel, becomes their angel. Has my Lord ever seen his nativity?"

"Yes."

"Then he knows whereof I speak."

Mahommed nodded affirmatively, and said, "The fame is to my taste,
doubt not; but, Prince, were thy words duly weighed, then my glory is
to be surpassing. Now, I am of a line of heroes. Othman, the founder;
Orchan, father of the Janissaries; Solyman, who accepted the crescent
moon seen in a dream by the sea at Cyzicus as Allah's bidding to pass
the Hellespont to Tzympe in Europe; Amurath, conqueror of Adrianople;
Bajazet, who put an end to Christian crusading in the field of
Nicopolis--these filled the East with their separate renowns; and my
father Amurath, did he not subdue Hunyades? Yet, Prince, you tell me my
glory is to transcend theirs. Now--because I am ready to believe
you--say if it is to burst upon me suddenly or to signalize a long
career. The enjoyment of immortality won in youth must be a pleasant
thing."

"I cannot answer, my Lord"

"Cannot?"

And Mahommed's eagerness came near getting the better of his will.

"I have nothing from the stars by which to speak, and I dare not assume
to reply for myself."

Then Mahommed's eyes became severely bright, and the bones of his hands
shone white through the skin, so hard did he compress them.

"How long am I to wait before the glory you promise me ripens ready for
gathering? If it requires long campaigns, shall I summon the armies
now?"

A tone, a stress of voice in the question sent a shiver through the
Prince despite his self-command. His gaze upon Mahommed's countenance,
already settled, intensified, and almost before the last word passed he
saw the idea he was expected to satisfy, and that it was the point to
which his interrogator had been really tending from the commencement of
the interview. To gain a moment, he affected not to clearly understand;
after a repetition, he in turn asked, with a meaning look:

"Is not thy father, O Prince, now in his eighty-fifth year?"

Mahommed leaned further forward.

"And is it not eight and twenty years since he began reigning wisely
and well?"

Mahommed nodded assent.

"Suffer me to answer now. Besides his age which pleads for him, your
father has not allowed greatness and power to shade the love he gave
you heartily the hour he first took you in his arms. Nature protests
against his cutting off, and in this instance, O Prince, the voice of
Nature is the voice of Allah. So say I speaking for myself."

Mahommed's face relaxed its hardness, and he moved and breathed freely
while replying: "I do not know what the influences require of me."

"Speak you of the stars, my Lord," the other returned, "hear me, and
with distinctness. As yet they have intrusted me with the one
prediction, and that you have. In other words, they are committed to a
horoscope based upon your nativity, and from it your glory has been
rightly delivered. So much is permitted us by the astrologic law we
practise. But this now asked me, a circumstance in especial, appertains
to you as chief of forces not yet yours. Wherefore--heed well, my
Lord--I advise you to make note of the minute of the hour of the day
you gird yourself with the sword of sovereignty which, at this
speaking, is your great father's by sanction of Heaven; then will I
cast a horoscope for Mahommed the Sultan, not Mahommed, son of Amurath
merely--then, by virtue of my office of Interpreter of the Stars,
having the proper writing in my hand, I will tell you this you now
seek, together with all else pertaining to your sovereignty intrusted
me for communication. I will tell you when the glory is open to you,
and the time for setting forward to make it yours--even the dawning of
the term of preparation necessarily precedent to the movement itself.
Now am I understood? Will my Lord tell me I am understood?"

An observation here may not be amiss. The reader will of course notice
the clever obtrusion of the stars in the speech; yet its real craft was
in the reservations covered. Presuming it possible for the Prince to
have fixed a time to Mahommed's satisfaction, telling it would have
been like giving away the meat of an apple, and retaining the rind. The
wise man who sets out to make himself a need to another will carefully
husband his capital. Moreover it is of importance to keep in mind
through this period of our story that with the Prince of India
everything was subsidiary to his scheme of unity in God. To which end
it was not enough to be a need to Mahommed; he must also bring the
young potentate to wait upon him for the signal to begin the movement
against Constantinople; for such in simplicity was the design scarcely
concealed under the glozing of "the East against the West." That is to
say, until he knew Constantine's disposition with respect to the
superlative project, his policy was delay. What, in illustration, if
the Emperor proved a friend? In falconry the hawk is carried into the
field hooded, and cast off only when the game is flushed. So the Prince
of India thought as he concluded his speech, and looked at the handsome
face of the Lord Mahommed.

The latter was disappointed, and showed it. He averted his eyes, knit
his brows, and took a little time before answering; then a flash of
passion seized him.

"With all thy wisdom, Prince, thou knowest not how hard waiting will
be. There is nothing in Nature sweeter than glory, and on the other
hand nothing so intolerably bitter as hungering for it when it is in
open prospect. What irony in the providence which permits us to harvest
greatness in the days of our decline! I dream of it for my youth, for
then most can be made of it. There was a Greek--not of the Byzantine
breed in the imperial kennel yonder"--he emphasized the negative with a
contemptuous glance in the direction of Constantinople--"a Greek of the
old time of real heroes, he who has the first place in history as a
conqueror. Think you he was happy because he owned the world? Delight
in property merely, a horse, a palace, a ship, a kingdom, is vulgar:
any man can be owner of something; the beggar polishes his crutch for
the same reason the king gilds his throne--it belongs to him.
Possession means satiety. But achieve thou immortality in thy first
manhood, and it shall remain to thee as the ring to a bride or as his
bride to the bridegroom.--Let it be as you say. I bow to the stars.
Between me and the sovereignty my father stands, a good man to whom I
give love for love; and he shall not be disturbed by me or any of mine.
In so far I will honor your advice; and in the other matter also, there
shall be one ready to note the minute of the hour the succession falls
to me. But what if then you are absent?"

"A word from my Lord will bring me to him; and His Majesty is liable to
go after his fathers at any moment"--

"Ay, and alas!" Mahommed interposed, with unaffected sorrow, "a king
may keep his boundaries clean, and even extend them thitherward from
the centre, and be a fear unto men; yet shall death oblige him at last.
All is from God."

The Prince was courtier enough to respect the feeling evinced.

"But I interrupted you," Mahommed presently added. "I pray pardon."

"I was about to say, my Lord, if I am not with you when His Majesty,
your father, bows to the final call--for the entertainment of such was
Paradise set upon its high hill!--let a messenger seek me in
Constantinople; and it may even serve well if the Governor of this
Castle be instructed to keep his gates always open to me, and himself
obedient to my requests."

"A good suggestion! I will attend to it. But"--

Again he lapsed into abstraction, and the Prince held his peace
watchfully.

"Prince," Mahommed said at length, "it is not often I put myself at
another's bidding, for freedom to go where one pleases is not more to a
common man than is freedom to do what pleases him to a sovereign; yet
so will I with you in this matter; and as is the custom of Moslems
setting out on a voyage I say of our venture, 'In the name of God be
its courses and its moorings.' That settled, hearken further. What you
have given me is not all comprehensible. As I understand you, I am to
find the surpassing glory in a field of war. Tell me, lies the field
far or near? Where is it? And who is he I am to challenge? There will
be room and occasion for combat around me everywhere, or, if the
occasion exist not, my Spahis in a day's ride can make one. There is
nothing stranger than how small a cause suffices us to set man against
man, life or death. But--and now I come to the very difficulty--looking
here and there I cannot see a war new in any respect, either of
parties, or objects, or pretence, out of which such a prodigious fame
is to be plucked. You discern the darkness in which I am groping.
Light, O Prince--give me light!"

For an instant the mind of the Jew, sown with subtlety as a mine with
fine ore, was stirred with admiration of the quality so strikingly
manifested in this demand; but collecting himself, he said, calmly, for
the question had been foreseen:

"My Lord was pleased to say a short while ago that the Emir Mirza, on
his return from the Hajj, told him of me. Did Mirza tell also of my
forbidding him to say anything of the predictions I then intrusted him?"

"Yes," Mahommed answered, smiling, "and I have loved him for the
disobedience. He satisfied me to whom he thought his duty was first
owing."

"Well, if evil ensue from the disclosure, it may be justly charged to
my indiscretion. Let it pass--only, in reporting me, did not Mirza say,
Lord Mahommed, that the prohibition I laid upon him proceeded from a
prudent regard for your interests?"

"Yes."

"And in speaking of the change in the status of the world I then
announced, and of the refluent wave the East was to pour upon the
West"--

"And of the doom of Constantinople!" Mahommed cried, in a sudden
transport of excitement.

"Ay, and of the hero thou wert to be, my Lord! Said he nothing of the
other caution I gave him, how absolute verity could only be had by a
recast of the horoscope at the city itself? And how I was even then on
my way thither?"

"Truly, O Prince. Mirza is a marvel!"

"Thanks, my Lord. The assurance prepares me to answer your last demand."

Then, lowering his voice, the Prince returned to his ordinary manner.

"The glory you are to look for will not depend upon conditions such as
parties to the war, or its immediate cause, or the place of its
wagement."

Mahommed listened with open mouth.

"My Lord knows of the dispute long in progress between the Pope of Rome
and the Patriarch of Constantinople; one claiming to be the head of the
Church of Christ, the other insisting on his equality. The dispute, my
Lord also knows, has been carried from East to West, and back and back
again, prelate replying to prelate, until the whole Church is falling
to pieces, and on every Christian tongue the 'Church East' and the
'Church West' are common as morning salutations."

Mahommed nodded.

"Now, my Lord," the Prince continued, the magnetic eyes intensely
bright, "you and I know the capital of Christianity is yonder "--he
pointed toward Constantinople--"and that conquering it is taking from
Christ and giving to Mahomet. What more of definition of thy glory wilt
thou require? Thus early I salute thee a Sword of God."

Mahommed sprang from his couch, and strode the floor, frequently
clapping his hands. Upon the passing of the ecstasy, he stopped in
front of the Prince.

"I see it now--the feat of arms impossible to my father reserved for
me."

Again he walked, clapping his hands.

"I pray your pardon," he said, when the fit was over. "In my great joy
I interrupted you."

"I regret to try my Lord's patience further," the Prince answered, with
admirable diplomacy. "It were better, however, to take another step in
the explanation now. A few months after separating from Mirza in Mecca,
I arrived in Constantinople, and every night since, the heavens being
clear, I have questioned the stars early and late. I cannot repeat to
my Lord all the inquiries I made of them, so many were they, and so
varied in form, nor the bases I laid hold of for horoscopes, each
having, as I hoped, to do with the date of the founding of the city.
What calculations I have made--tables of figures to cover the sky with
a tapestry of algebraic and geometrical symbols: The walks of astrology
are well known--I mean those legitimate--nevertheless in my great
anxiety, I have even ventured into the arcana of magic forbidden to the
Faithful. The seven good angels, and the seven bad, beginning with
Jubanladace, first of the good, a celestial messenger, helmeted,
sworded with flame, and otherwise beautiful to behold, and ending with
Barman, the lowest of the bad, the consort and ally of witches--I
besought them all for what they could tell me. Is the time of the
running of the city now, to-morrow, next week--when? Such the burden of
my inquiry. As yet, my Lord, no answer has been given. I am merely bid
keep watch on the schism of the Church. In some way the end we hope has
connection with that rancor, if, indeed, it be not the grand result.
With clear discernment of the tendencies, the Roman Pontiff is striving
to lay the quarrel; but he speaks to a rising tide. We cannot hasten
the event; neither can he delay it. Our role is patience--patience. At
last Europe will fall away, and leave the Greek to care of himself;
then, my Lord, you have but to be ready. The end is in the throes of
its beginning now."

"Still you leave me in the dark," Mahommed cried, with a frown.

"Nay, my Lord, there is a chance for us to make the stars speak."

The beguiler appeared to hesitate.

"A chance?" Mahommed asked.

"It is dependent, my Lord."

"Upon what?"

"The life of the Sultan, thy father."

"Speak not in riddles, O Prince."

"Upon his death, thou wilt enter on the sovereignty."

"Still I see not clearly."

"With the horoscope of Mahommed the Sultan in my hand, then certainly
as the stars perform their circuits, being set thereunto from the first
morning, they must respond to me; and then, find I Mars in the
Ascendant, well dignified essentially and accidentally, I can lead my
Lord out of the darkness."

"Then, Prince?"

"He may see the Christian capital at his mercy."

"But if Mars be not in the Ascendant?"

"My Lord must wait."

Mahommed sprang to his feet, gnashing his teeth.

"My Lord," said the Prince, calmly, "a man's destiny is never
unalterable; it is like a pitcher filled with wine which he is carrying
to his lips--it may be broken on the way, and its contents spilled.
Such has often happened through impatience and pride. What is waiting
but the wise man's hour of preparation?"

The quiet manner helped the sound philosophy. Mahommed took seat,
remarking, "You remind me, Prince, of the saying of the Koran,
'Whatsoever good betideth thee, O man, it is from God, and whatsoever
evil betideth, from thyself is it.' I am satisfied. Only"--

The Prince summoned all his faculties again.

"Only I see two periods of waiting before me; one from this until I
take up the sovereignty; the other thence till thou bringest me the
mandate of the stars. I fear not the second period, for, as thou
sayest, I can then lose myself in making ready; but the first, the
meantime--ah, Prince, speak of it. Tell me how I can find surcease of
the chafing of my spirit."

The comprehension of the wily Hebrew did not fail him. His heart beat
violently. He was master! Once more he was in position to change the
world. A word though not more than "now," and he could marshal the
East, which he so loved, against the West, which he so hated. If
Constantinople failed him, Christianity must yield its seat to Islam.
He saw it all flash-like; yet at no time in the interview did his face
betoken such placidity of feeling. The _meantime_ was his, not
Mahommed's--his to lengthen or shorten--his for preparation. He could
afford to be placid.

"There is much for my Lord to do," he said.

"When, O Prince--now?"

"It is for him to think and act as if Constantinople were his capital
temporarily in possession of another."

The words caught attention, and it is hard saying what Mahommed's
countenance betokened. The reader must think of him as of a listener
just awakened to a new idea of infinite personal concern.

"It is for him now to learn the city within and without," the Jew
proceeded; "its streets and edifices; its halls and walls; its strong
and weak places; its inhabitants, commerce, foreign relations; the
character of its ruler, his resources and policies; its daily events;
its cliques and clubs, and religious factions; especially is it for him
to foment the differences Latin and Greek."

It is questionable if any of the things imparted had been so effective
upon Mahommed as this one. Not only did his last doubt of the man
talking disappear; it excited a boundless admiration for him, and the
freshest novitiate in human nature knows how almost impossible it is to
refuse trust when once we have been brought to admire. "Oh!" Mahommed
cried. "A pastime, a pastime, if I could be there!"

"Nay, my Lord," said the insidious counsellor, with a smile, "how do
kings manage to be everywhere at the same time?"

"They have their Ambassadors. But I am not a king."

"Not yet a king"--the speaker laid stress upon the
adverb--"nevertheless public representation is one thing; secret agency
another."

Mahommed's voice sank almost to a whisper.

"Wilt thou accept this agency?"

"It is for me to observe the heavens at night, while calculations will
take my days. I trust my Lord in his wisdom will excuse me."

"Where is one for the service? Name him, Prince--one as good."

"There is one better. Bethink you, my Lord, the business is of a long
time; it may run through years."

Mahommed's brow knit darkly at the reminder.

"And he who undertakes it should enter Constantinople and live there
above suspicion. He must be crafty, intelligent, courtly in manner,
accomplished in arms, of high rank, and with means to carry his state
bravely, for not only ought he to be conspicuous in the Hippodrome; he
should be welcome in the palace. Along with other facilities, he must
be provided to buy service in the Emperor's bedroom and council
chamber--nay, at his elbow. It is of prime importance that he possesses
my Lord's confidence unalterably. Am I understood?"

"The man, Prince, the man!"

"My Lord has already named him."

"I?"

"Only to-night my Lord spoke of him as a marvel."

"Mirza!" exclaimed Mahommed, clapping his hands.

"Mirza," the Prince returned, and proceeded without pause: "Despatch
him to Italy; then let him appear in Constantinople, embarked from a
galley, habited like a Roman, and with a suitable Italian title. He
speaks Italian already, is fixed in his religion, and in knightly
honor. Not all the gifts at the despot's disposal, nor the
blandishments of society can shake his allegiance--he worships my Lord."

"My servant has found much favor with you, O Prince?"

Accepting the remark as a question, the other answered:

"Did I not spend the night with him at El Zaribah? Was I not witness of
his trial of faith at the Holy Kaaba? Have I not heard from my Lord
himself how, when put to choice, he ignored my prohibition respecting
the stars?"

Mahommed arose, and again walked to and fro.

"There is a trouble in this proposal, Prince," he said, halting
abruptly. "So has Mirza become a part of me, I am scarcely myself
without him."

Another turn across the floor, and he seemed to become reconciled. "Let
us have done for to-night," he next said. "The game is imperative, but
it will not be harmed by a full discussion. Stay with me to-morrow,
Prince."

The Prince remembered the Emperor. Not unlikely a message from that
high personage was at his house, received in course of the day.

"True, very true, and the invitation is a great honor to me," he
replied, bowing; "but I am reminded that the gossips in Byzantium will
feast each other when to-morrow it passes from court to bazaar how the
Princess Irene and the Prince of India were driven by the storm to
accept hospitality in the White Castle. And if it get abroad, that
Mahommed, son of the great Amurath, came also to the Castle, who may
foretell the suspicions to hatch in the city? No, my Lord, I submit it
is better for me to depart with the Princess at the subsidence of the
waters."

"Be it so," Mahommed returned, cordially. "We understand each other. I
am to wait and you to communicate with me; and now, morning comes
apace, good night."

He held his hand to the Jew; whereat the latter knelt and kissed the
hand, but retained it to say:

"My Lord, if I know him rightly, will not sleep to-night; thought is an
enemy to sleep; and besides the inspiration there is in the destiny
promised, its achievement lies all before him. Yet I wish to leave
behind me one further topic, promising it is as much greater than any
other as the Heavens are higher than the earth."

"Rise, Prince," said Mahommed, helping him to his feet. "Such
ceremonious salutation whether in reception or at departure may be
dispensed with hereafter; thou art not a stranger, but more than a
guest. I count thee my friend whom everything shall wait upon--even
myself. Speak now of what thou callest the greater scheme. I am most
curious."

There was a silence while one might count ten slowly. The Jew in that
space concentrated the mysterious force of which he was master in great
store, so it shone in his eyes, gave tone to his voice, and was an
outgoing of WILL in overwhelming current. "Lord Mahommed," he said, "I
know you are a believer in God."

The young Turk was conscious of a strange thrill passing through him
from brain to body.

"In nature and every quality the God of the Jew, the Christian, and the
Moslem is the same. Take we their own sayings. Christ and Mahomet were
witnesses sent to testify of Him first, highest and alone--Him the
universal Father. Yet behold the perversity of man. God has been
deposed, and for ages believers in Him have been divided amongst
themselves; wherefore hate, jealousies, wars, battle and the smoke of
slaughter perpetually. But now is He at last minded to be restored.
Hear, Lord Mahommed, hear with soul and mortal ear!"

The words and manner caught and exalted Mahommed's spirit. As Michael,
with a sweep of his wings, is supposed to pass the nether depths, an
impulsion bore the son of Amurath up to a higher and clearer plane. He
could not but hear.

"Be it true now that God permits His presence to be known in human
affairs only when He has a purpose to justify His interposition; then,
as we dare not presume the capital of Christendom goes to its fall
without His permission, why your designation for the mighty work? That
you may be personally glorified, my Lord? Look higher. See yourself His
chosen instrument--and this the deed! From the seat of the Caesars, its
conquest an argument, He means you to bring men together in His name.
Titles may remain--Jew, Moslem, Christian, Buddhist--but there shall be
an end of wars for religion--all mankind are to be brethren in Him.
This the deed, my Lord--Unity in God, and from it, a miracle of the
ages slow to come but certain, the evolution of peace and goodwill
amongst men. I leave the idea with you. Good night!"

Mahommed remained so impressed and confounded that the seer was
permitted to walk out as from an empty room. Mirza received him outside
the door.




CHAPTER XV

DEPARTURE FROM THE WHITE CASTLE


The storm continued till near daybreak. At sunrise the wind abated, and
was rapidly succeeded by a dead calm; about the same time the last
cloud disappeared, leaving the sky an azure wonder, and the shores of
the Bosphorus far and near refreshed and purified.

After breakfast, Mirza conducted the Prince of India to another private
audience with Mahommed. As the conference had relation to the subjects
gone over in the night, the colloquy may be dispensed with, and only
the conclusions given.

Mahommed admitted he had not been able to sleep; in good spirits,
however, he agreed, if the Prince were accountable for the wakefulness,
he was to be forgiven, since he had fairly foretold it, and, like other
prophets, was entitled to immunity. The invitation to remain at the
Castle was renewed, and again declined.

Mahommed next conceded the expediency of his waiting to hear what
further the stars might say with respect to the great business before
him, and voluntarily bound himself to passive conduct and silence; in
assuagement of the impatience he knew would torment him, he insisted,
however, upon establishing a line of couriers between his place of
residence, wherever it might be, and the White Castle. Intelligence
could thus be safely transmitted him from Constantinople. In
furtherance of this object the Governor of the Castle would be
instructed to honor the requests of the Prince of India.

Mahommed condescended next to approve the suggestion of a secret agency
in Constantinople. Respecting a person for the service, the delicacy of
which was conceded, he had reached the conclusion that there was no one
subject to his control so fitted in every respect as Mirza. The
selection of the Emir might prove troublesome since he was a favorite
with the Sultan; if investigations consequent on his continued absence
were instituted, there was danger of their resulting in disagreeable
exposure; nevertheless the venture was worth the while, and as time was
important, the Emir should be sent off forthwith under instructions in
harmony with the Prince's advice. Or more clearly, he was to betake
himself to Italy immediately, and thence to the Greek capital, a
nobleman amply provided with funds for his maintenance there in
essential state and condition. His first duty when in the city should
be to devise communication with the White Castle, where connection with
the proposed line of couriers should be made for safe transmission of
his own reports, and such intelligence as the Prince should from time
to time consider it advisable to forward.

This of course contemplated recognition and concert between the Emir
and the Prince. In token of his confidence in the latter, Mahommed
would constitute him the superior in cases of difference of opinion;
though from his knowledge of Mirza's romantic affection acquired in
Mecca and on the road thither, he had little apprehension of such a
difference.

Mahommed and the Prince were alike well satisfied with the conclusions
between them, and their leave-taking at the end of the audience was
marked with a degree of affection approaching that of father and son.

About mid-afternoon the Prince and Sergius sallied from the Castle to
observe the water, and finding it quiet, they determined to embark.

The formalities of reception in the Castle were not less rigidly
observed at the departure. In care of the eunuch the Princess and Lael
descended to the hall of entrance where they were received by the
supposed Governor, who was in armor thoroughly cleansed of dust and
skilfully furbished. His manner was even more gallant and dignified. He
offered his hand to assist the Princess to seat in the chair, and upon
taking it she glanced furtively at his face, but the light was too
scant for a distinct view.

In the Castle and out there were no spectators.

Passing the gate, the Princess bethought her of the story-teller, and
looked for him well as she could through the narrow windows. At the
landing, when the Governor had in silence, though with ease and grace,
helped her from the carriage, the porters being withdrawn, she
proceeded to acknowledgments.

"I am sorry," she said, through her veil, "that I must depart without
knowing the name or rank of my host."

"Had I greater rank. O Princess," he returned, gravely. "I should have
pleasure in introducing myself; for then there would be a hope that my
name supported by a title of dignity, would not be erased from your
memory by the gayeties of the city to which you are going. The White
Castle is a command suitable to one of humble grade, and to be saluted
Governor, because I am charged with its keeping, satisfies my pride for
the present. It is a convenient title, moreover, should you ever again
honor me with a thought or a word."

"I submit perforce," she said. "Yet, Sir Governor, your name would have
saved me from the wonder of my kinsman, if not his open question, when,
as I am bound to, I tell him of the fair treatment and high courtesy
you have shown me and my friends here while in refuge in your Castle
walls. He knows it natural for the recipient of bounty to learn who the
giver is, with name and history; but how amazed and displeased he will
be when I barely describe your entertainment. Indeed, I fear he will
think me guilty of over description or condemn me for ingratitude."

She saw the blood color his face, and noticed the air of sincerity with
which he replied. "Princess, if payment for what you have received at
my hands were worthy a thought, I should say now, and all my days
through, down to the very latest, that to have heard you speak so
graciously is an overprice out of computation."

The veil hid her responsive blush; for there was something in his voice
and manner, possibly the earnestness marking them, which lifted the
words out of the commonplace and formal. She could not but see how much
more he left implied than actually expressed. For relief, she turned to
another subject.

"If I may allude to a part of your generous attention, Sir Governor,
distinguishing it from the whole, I should like to admit the pleasure
had from the recitation of the Arabian story-teller. I will not ask his
name; still it must be a great happiness to traverse the world with
welcome everywhere, and everywhere and all the time accompanied and
inspired by a mind stored with themes and examples beautiful as the
history of El Hatim."

A light singularly bright shone in the Governor's eyes, significant of
a happy idea, and with more haste than he had yet evinced, he replied:

"O Princess, the name of the Arab is Aboo-Obeidah; in the desert they
call him the Singing Sheik, and among Moslems, city bred and tent born
alike, he is great and beloved. Such is his sanctity that all doors he
knocks at open to him, even those of harems zealously guarded. When he
arrives at Adrianople, in his first day there he will be conducted to
the Hanoum of the Sultan, and at her signal the ladies of the household
will flock to hear him. Now, would it please you, I will prevail on him
to delay his journey that he may visit you at your palace."

"The adventure might distress him," she replied.

"Say not so. In such a matter I dare represent and pledge him. Only
give me where you would have him come, and the time, O Princess, and he
will be there, not a star in the sky more constant."

"With my promise of good welcome to him then," she said, well pleased,
"be my messenger, Sir Governor, and say in the morning day after
to-morrow at my palace by Therapia. And now thanks again, and farewell."

So saying she held her hand to him, and he kissed it, and assisted her
into the boat.

The adieux of the others, the Prince of India, Sergius and Lael, were
briefer. The Governor was polite to each of them; at the same time, his
eyes, refusing restraint, wandered to where the Princess sat looking at
him with unveiled face.

In the mouth of the river the boats were brought together, and, while
drifting, she expressed the pleasure she had from the fortunate meeting
with the Prince; his presence, she doubted not, contributed greatly to
the good conclusion of what in its beginning seemed so unpromising.

"Nor can I convey an idea of the confidence and comfortable feeling I
derived from the society of thy daughter," she added, speaking to the
Prince, but looking at Lael. "She was courageous and sensible, and I
cannot content myself until she is my guest at Therapia."

"I would be greatly pleased," Lael said, modestly.

"Will the Princess appoint a time?" the Wanderer asked.

"To-morrow--or next week--at your convenience. These warm months are
delightful in the country by the water side. At Therapia, Prince--thou
and thine. The blessing of the Saints go with you--farewell."

Then though the boats kept on down toward Constantinople, they
separated, and in good time the Prince of India and Lael were at home;
while the Princess carried Sergius to her palace in the city. Next day,
having provided him with the habit approved by metropolitan Greek
priests, she accompanied him to the patriarchal residence, introduced
him with expressions of interest, and left him in the holy keeping.

Sergius was accepted and rated a neophyte, the vanity of the Byzantine
clergy scorning thought of excellence in a Russian provincial. He
entered upon the life, however, with humility and zeal, governed by a
friendly caution from the Princess.

"Remember," she said to him, as they paused on the patriarchal
doorsteps for permission to enter, "remember Father Hilarion is
regarded here as a heretic. The stake, imprisonment in darkness for
life, the lions in the Cynegion, punishment in some form of approved
cruelty awaits a follower of his by open avowal. Patience then; and
when endurance is tried most, and you feel it must break, come to me at
Therapia. Only hold yourself in readiness, by reading and thought, to
speak for our Christian faith unsullied by human inventions, and bide
my signal."

And so did he observe everything and venture nothing that presently he
was on the road to high favor.




CHAPTER XVI

AN EMBASSY TO THE PRINCESS IRENE


When the Princess Irene returned to Therapia next day, she found
awaiting her the Dean of the Court, an official of great importance to
whom the settlement of questions pertinent to rank was confided. The
state barge of fifteen oars in which he arrived was moored to the
marbles of the quay in front of her palace, a handsomely ornamented
vessel scarcely needing its richly liveried rowers to draw about it the
curious and idle of the town in staring groups. At sight of it, the
Princess knew there was a message for her from the Emperor. She lost no
time in notifying the Dean of her readiness to receive him. The
interview took place in the reception room.

The Dean was a venerable man who, having served acceptably through the
preceding reign, was immensely discreet, and thoroughly indurate with
formalism and ceremony; wherefore, passing his speech and manner, it is
better worth the while to give, briefly as may be, the substance of the
communication he brought to the Princess.

He was sure she remembered all the circumstances of the coronation of
His Majesty, the Emperor, and of His Majesty's entry into
Constantinople; he was not so certain, however, of her information
touching some matters distinguishable as domestic rather than
administrative. Or she might know of them, but not reliably. Thus she
might not have heard authentically that, immediately upon his becoming
settled in the imperial seat, His Majesty decided it of first
importance to proceed to the selection of a spouse.

The Dean then expatiated on the difficulty of finding in all the world
a woman suitable for the incomparable honor. So many points entered
into the consideration--age, appearance, rank, education, religion,
dowry, politics--upon each of which he dwelt with the gravity of a
philosopher, the assurance of a favorite, and the garrulity of age.
Having at length presented the problem, and, he thought, sufficiently
impressed the Princess with its unexampled intricacies and perils, he
next unfolded the several things resolved upon and attempted in the way
of solution.

Every royal house in the West had been searched for its marriageable
females. At one time a daughter of the Doge of Venice was nearly
chosen. Unfortunately there were influential Greeks of greater pride
than judgment to object to the Doge. He was merely an elective chief.
He might die the very day after celebrating the espousals, and
then--not even the ducal robes were inheritable. No, the flower to deck
the Byzantine throne was not in the West.

Thereupon the East was explored. For a time the election trembled
between a Princess of Trebizond and a Princess of Georgia. As usual the
court divided on the question, when, to quiet the factions, His Majesty
ordered Phranza, the Grand Chamberlain, a courtier of learning and
diplomatic experience, who held the Emperor's confidence in greater
degree than any other court official, unless it might be the Dean
himself, to go see the rivals personally, and report with
recommendation. The ambassador had been gone two years. From Georgia he
had travelled to Trebizond; still nothing definite. The embassy, having
been outfitted in a style to adequately impress the semi-barbarians,
was proving vastly expensive. His Majesty, with characteristic wisdom,
had determined to take the business in his own keeping. There were many
noble families in Constantinople. Why not seek a consort among them?

The scheme had advantages; not least, if a Byzantine could be found,
the Emperor would have the happiness of making the discovery and
conducting the negotiations himself--in common parlance, of doing his
own courting. There might be persons, the Dean facetiously remarked,
who preferred trusting the great affair of wife-choosing to
ambassadors, but he had never seen one of them.

The ground covered by the ancient in his statement is poorly
represented by these paragraphs, ample as they may seem to the reader.
Indeed, the sun was falling swiftly into the lap of night when he
thought of concluding. Meantime the Princess listened silently, her
patience sustained by wonder at what it all meant. The enlightenment at
last came.

"Now, my dear Princess," he said, lowering his voice, "you must know
"--he arose, and, as became one so endued with palace habits, peered
cautiously around.

"Be seated, my Lord," she said; "there are no eyes in my doors nor ears
in my walls."

"Oh, the matter is of importance--a state secret!" He drew the stool
nearer her.

"You must know, dear Princess, that the Grand Chamberlain, Phranza, has
been negligent and remiss in the time he has consumed, saying nothing
of his lavishment of treasure so badly needed at home. Notaras, the
Admiral, and the Grand Domestic, are both pursuing His Majesty
vigorously for funds and supplies; worse still, the Patriarch lets slip
no opportunity to bid him look at the furniture of the churches going
to ruin. The imperial conscience being tender in whatever pertains to
God and religion, he has little peace left for prayers. Wherefore,
there are of us who think it would be loyalty to help secure a bride
for His Majesty at home, and thus make an end to the wasteful and
inconclusive touring of Phranza."

The Dean drew yet nearer the Princess, and reduced his voice to a tone
slightly above a whisper.

"Now you must know further--I am the author and suggestor of the idea
of His Majesty's choosing an Empress from the many noble and beautiful
dames and maidens of this our ancient city of Byzantium, in every
respect the equals, and in many points mentionable the superiors of the
best foreigner possible of finding."

The Dean pursed his white-bearded mouth, and posed himself proudly; but
his auditor still holding her peace, he leaned forward further, and
whispered, "My dear Princess, I did more. I mentioned you to His
Majesty"--

The Princess started to her feet, whiter than whitest marble in the
Pentelic panelling of the room; yet in total misapprehension of her
feeling, the venerable intriguant went on without pause: "Yes, I
mentioned you to His Majesty, and to-morrow, Princess--to-morrow--he
will come here in person to see you, and urge his suit."

He dropped on his knees, and catching her hand, kissed it.

"O Princess, fairest and most worthy, suffer me first of all the court
to congratulate you on the superlative honor to which you will he
invited. And when you are in the exalted position, may I hope to be
remembered"--

He was not permitted to finish the petition. Withdrawing her hand with
decisive action, she bade him be silent or speak to her questions. And
he was silent through surprise.

In such manner she gained an interval for thought. The predicament, as
she saw it, was troublesome and unfortunate. Honor was intended her,
the highest in the imperial gift, and the offer was coming with never a
doubt of its instantaneous and grateful acceptance. Remembering her
obligations to the Emperor, her eyes filled with tears. She respected
and venerated him, yet could not be his Empress. The great title was
not a sufficient inducement. But how manage the rejection? She called
on the Virgin for help. Directly there was a way exposed. First, she
must save her benefactor from rejection; second, the Dean and the court
must never know of the course of the affair or its conclusion.

"Rise, my Lord," she said, kindly though with firmness. "The receiver
of great news, I thank you, and promise, if ever I attain the throne to
hold you in recollection. But now, so am I overwhelmed by the prospect,
I am not myself. Indeed, my Lord, would you increase my indebtedness to
its utmost limit, take every acknowledgment as said, and leave
me--leave me for preparation for the morrow's event. God, his Son and
angels only know the awfulness of my need of right direction and good
judgment."

He had the wit to see her agitation, and that it was wisest for him to
depart.

"I will go, Princess," he said, "and may the Holy Mother give you of
her wisdom also." She detained him at the door to ask: "Only tell me,
my Lord, did His Majesty send you with this notice?"

"His Majesty honored me with the message."

"At what hour will he come?"

"In the forenoon."

"Report, I pray you then, that my house will be at his service."




CHAPTER XVII

THE EMPEROR'S WOOING


About ten o'clock the day following the extraordinary announcement
given, a galley of three banks of oars, classed a _trireme_, rounded
the seaward jut of the promontory overhanging the property of the
Princess Irene at Therapia.

The hull of the vessel was highly ornate with gilding and carving. At
the how, for figure-head, there was an image of the Madonna of the
_Panagia_, or Holy Banner of Constantinople. The broad square sail was
of cherry-red color, and in excellent correspondence, the oars, sixty
to a side, were painted a flaming scarlet. When filled, the sail
displayed a Greek cross in golden filament. The deck aft was covered
with a purple awning, in the shade of which, around a throne, sat a
grave and decorous company in gorgeous garments; and among them moved a
number of boys, white-shirted and bare of head, dispensing perfume from
swinging censers. Forward, a body guard, chosen from the household
troops and full armed, were standing at ease, and they, with a corps of
trumpeters and heralds in such splendor of golden horns and tabards of
gold as to pour enrichment over the whole ship, filled the space from
bulwark to bulwark. The Emperor occupied the throne.

This galley, to which the harmonious movement of the oars gave a
semblance of life, in the distance reminding one of a great bird
fantastically feathered and in slow majestic motion, was no sooner hove
in sight than the townspeople were thrown into ferment. A flotilla of
small boats, hastily launched, put out in racing order to meet and
escort it into the bay, and before anchorage was found, the whole shore
was astir and in excited babblement.

A detachment of the guard was first landed on the quay in front of the
Princess' gate. Accepting the indication, thither rushed the populace;
for in truth, since the occupation of the Asiatic shore of the
Bosphorus by the Turks, the Emperor seldom extended his voyages far as
Therapia. Then, descending the sides by carpeted stairs, the suite
disembarked, and after them, amidst a tremendous flourish from the
trumpet corps, Constantine followed.

The Emperor, in his light boat, remained standing during the passage to
the shore that he might be seen by the people; and as he then appeared,
helmed and in close-fitting cuirass, his arms in puffed sleeves of red
silk, his legs, below a heavily embroidered narrow skirt, clothed in
pliant chain mail intricately linked, his feet steel-shod, a purple
cloak hanging lightly at the back from neck to heel, and spurred and
magnificently sworded, and all agleam with jewels and gold, it must be
conceded he justified his entitlement.

At sight of his noble countenance, visible under the raised visor, the
spectators lifted their voices in hearty acclamations--"God and
Constantine! Live the Emperor!"

It really seemed as if the deadly factiousness of the capital had not
reached Therapia. In the lifted head, the brightened eyes, the gracious
though stately bows cast right and left, Constantine published the
pleasure the reception was giving him.

A long flourish timed his march through the kiosk of the gate, and
along the shell-strewn, winding road, to the broad steps leading to the
portico of the palace; there, ascending first, he was received by the
Princess.

Amid a group of maids in attendance, all young, fair, high-born, she
stood, never more tastefully attired, never more graceful and
self-possessed, never more lovely, not even in childhood before the
flitting of its virginal bloom; and though the portico was garden-like
in decoration, vines, roses and flowering shrubs everywhere, the
sovereign had eyes for her alone.

Just within the line of fluted pillars he halted, and drew himself up,
smiling as became a suitor, yet majestic as became a king. Then she
stepped forward, and knelt, and kissed his hand, and when he helped her
to her feet, and before the flush on her forehead was gone, she said:

"Thou art my sovereign and benefactor; nor less for the goodnesses thou
hast done to thy people, and art constantly doing, welcome, O my Lord,
to the house thou didst give me."

"Speak not so," he replied. "Or if it please thee to give me credit, be
it for the things which in some way tried me, not those I did for
reward."

"Reward!"

"Ay, for such are pleasure and peace of mind."

Then one by one, she naming them as they advanced, her attendants
knelt, and kissed the floor in front of him, and had each a pleasant
word, for he permitted none to excel him in decorous gallantry to good
women.

In return, he called the officers of his company according to their
rank; his brother, who had afterward the grace to die with him; the
Grand Domestic, general of the army; the Grand Duke Notaras, admiral of
the navy; the Grand Equerry (_Protostrator_); the Grand Chancellor of
the Empire (_Logothete_); the Superintendent of Finance; the Governor
of the Palace (_Curopalate_); the Keeper of the Purple Ink; the Keeper
of the Secret Seal; the First Valet; the Chief of the Night Guard
(_Grand Drumgaire_); the Chief of the Huntsmen (_Protocynege_); the
Commander of the Body Guard of Foreigners (_Acolyte_); the Professor of
Philosophy; the Professor of Elocution and Rhetoric; the Attorney
General (_Nornophylex_); the Chief Falconer (_Protojeracaire_) and
others--these he called one by one, and formally presented to the
Princess, not minding that with many of them she was already acquainted.

They were for the most part men advanced in years, and right well
skilled in the arts of courtiership. The _empressement_ of manner with
which they saluted her was not lost upon her woman's instinct;
infinitely quick and receptive, she knew without a word spoken, that
each left his salute on her hand believing it the hand of his future
Empress. Last of those presented was the Dean of the Court. He was
noticeably formal and distant; besides being under the eye of his
master, the wily diplomat was more doubtful of the outcome of the day's
visit than most of his colleagues.

"Now," the Princess said, when the presentation was finished, "will my
most noble sovereign suffer me to conduct him to the reception room?"

The Emperor stepped to her side, and offered his hand. "Pardon, Sire,"
she added, taking the hand. "It is necessary that I speak to the Dean."

And when the worthy came to her, she said to him: "Beyond this, under
the portico, are refreshments for His Majesty's suite. Serve me, I
pray, by leading thy colleagues thither, and representing me at the
tables. Command the servants whom thou wilt find there."

Now the reader must not suppose he is having in the foregoing
descriptions examples of the style of ceremonials most in fashion at
the Greek court. Had formality been intended, the affair would have
been the subject of painstaking consideration at a meeting of officials
in the imperial residence, and every point within foresight arranged;
after which the revolution of the earth might have quickened, and
darkness been unnaturally precipitated, without inducing the slightest
deviation from the programme.

When resolving upon the visit, Constantine considerately thought of the
Princess' abhorrence of formality, and not to surprise her, despatched
the Dean with notice of the honor intended. Whereupon she arranged the
reception to suit herself; that is, so as to remain directress of the
occasion. Hence the tables under the portico for the entertainment of
the great lords, with the garden open to them afterward. This
management, it will be perceived, left Constantine in her separate
charge.

So, while the other guests went with the Dean, she conducted the
Emperor to the reception room, where there were no flowers, and but one
armless chair. When he was seated, the two alone, she knelt before him,
and without giving him time to speak, said, her hands crossed upon her
bosom: "I thank my Lord for sending me notice of his coming, and of his
purpose to invite me to share his throne. All night I have kept the
honor he intended me in mind, believing the Blessed Mother would listen
to my prayers for wisdom and right direction; and the peace and
confidence I feel, now that I am at my Lord's feet, must be from
her.... Oh, my Lord, the trial has not been what I should do with the
honor, but how to defend you from humiliation in the eyes of your
court. I wish to be at the same time womanly and allegiant. How gentle
and merciful you have been to me! How like a benignant God to my poor
father! If I am in error, may Heaven forgive me; but I have led you
here to say, without waiting for the formal proposal, that while you
have my love as a kinswoman and subject, I cannot give you the love you
should have from a wife."

Constantine was astonished.

"What!" he said.

Before he could get further, she continued, sinking lower at his feet:

"Ah me, my Lord, if now thou art thinking me bold and forward, and
outcast from natural pride, what can I but plead the greater love I
bear you as my benefactor and sovereign? ... It may be immodest to thus
forestall my Lord's honorable intent, and decline being his wife before
he has himself proposed it; yet I pray him to consider that with this
avowal from me, he may go hence and affirm, God approving the truth,
that he thought better of his design, and did not make me any overture
of marriage, and there will be no one to suffer but me.... The
evil-minded will talk, and judge me punished for my presumption.
Against them I shall always have a pure conscience, and the knowledge
of having rescued my Lord from an associate on his throne who does not
love him with wifely devotion."

Pausing there, the Princess looked into his face, her own suffused. His
head drooped; insomuch that the tall helmet with its glitter, and the
cuirass, and fine mail reenforced by the golden spurs and jewelled
sword and sword-harness, but deepened the impression of pain bewrayed
on his countenance.

"Then it is as I have heard," he said, dejectedly. "The rustic hind may
have the mate of his choice, and there is preference allowed the bird
and wild wolf. The eye of faith beholds marriages of love in meeting
waters and in clouds brought together from diverse parts. Only Kings
are forbidden to select mates as their hearts declare. I, a master of
life and death, cannot woo, like other men."

The Princess moved nearer him.

"My Lord," she said, earnestly, "is it not better to be denied choice
than to be denied after choosing?"

"Speakest thou from experience?" he asked.

"No," she answered, "I have never known love except of all God's
creatures alike."

"Whence thy wisdom then?"

"Perhaps it is only a whisper of pride."

"Perhaps, perhaps! I only know the pain it was intended to relieve goes
on." Then, regarding her moodily, not angrily, nor even impatiently, he
continued: "Did I not know thee true as thou art fair, O Princess, and
good and sincere as thou art brave, I might suspect thee."

"Of what, my Lord?"

"Of an intent to compass my misery. Thou dost stop my mouth. I may not
declare the purpose with which I came--I to whom it was of most
interest--or if I do, I am forestopped saying, 'I thought better of it,
and told her nothing.' Yet it was an honorable purpose nursed by sweet
dreams, and by hopes such as souls feed upon, strengthening themselves
for trials of life; I must carry it back with me, not for burial in my
own breast, but for gossips to rend and tear, and make laughter of--the
wonder and amusement of an unfeeling city. How many modes of punishment
God keeps in store for the chastening of those who love Him!"

"It is beggarly saying I sympathize"--

"No, no--wait!" he cried, passionately. "Now it breaks upon me. I may
not offer thee a seat on my throne, or give a hand to help thee up to
it; for the present I will not declare I love thee; yet harm cannot
come of telling thee what has been. Thou hadst my love at our first
meeting. I loved thee then. As a man I loved thee, nor less as an
Emperor because a man. Thou wast lovely with the loveliness of the
angels. I saw thee in a light not of earth, and thou wert transparent
as the light. I descended from the throne to thee thinking thou hadst
collected all the radiance of the sun wasting in the void between
stars, and clothed thyself in it."

"Oh, my Lord"--

"Not yet, not yet"--

"Blasphemy and madness!"

"Be it so!" he answered, with greater intensity. "This once I speak as
a lover who was--a lover making last memories of the holy passion, to
be henceforth accounted dead. Dead? Ah, yes!--to me--dead to me!"

She timidly took the hand he dropped upon his knee at the close of a
long sigh.

"It may rest my Lord to hear me," she said, tearfully. "I never doubted
his fitness to be Emperor, or if ever I had such a doubt, it is no
more. He has conquered himself! Indeed, indeed, it is sweet to hear him
tell his love, for I am woman; and if I cannot give it back measure for
measure, this much may be accepted by him--I have never loved a man,
and if the future holds such a condition in store for me, I will think
of my Lord, and his strength and triumph, and in my humbler lot do as
he has so nobly done. He has his Empire to engage him, and fill his
hours with duties; I have God to serve and obey with singleness. Out of
the prison where my mother died, and in which my father grew old
counting his years as they slowly wore away, a shadow issued, and is
always at hand to ask me, 'Who art thou? What right hast thou to
happiness?' And if ever I fall into the thought so pleasant to woman,
of loving and being loved, and of marriage, the shadow intervenes, and
abides with me until I behold myself again bounden to religion, a
servant vowed to my fellow creatures sick, suffering, or in sorrow."

Then the gentle Emperor fell to pitying her, and asked, forgetful of
himself, and thinking of things to lighten her lot, "Wilt thou never
marry?"

"I will not say no, my Lord," she answered. "Who can foresee the turns
of life? Take thou this in reply--never will I surrender myself to
wedlock under urgency of love alone. But comes there some great
emergency, when, by such sacrifice, I may save my country, or my
countrymen in multitude, or restore our holy religion overthrown or in
danger, then, for the direct God-service there may be in it, I could
give myself in contract, and would."

"Without love?" he asked.

"Yes, without loving or being loved. This body is not mine, but God's,
and He may demand it of me for the good of my fellow-men; and, so there
be no tarnishment of the spirit, my Lord, why haggle about the husk in
which the spirit is hidden?"

She spoke with enthusiasm. Doubt of her sincerity would have been
blasphemous. That such fate should be for her, so bright, pure and
heroic! Not while he had authority! And in the instant he vowed himself
to care of her by resolution strong as an oath. In thought of the
uncertainties lowering over his own future, he saw it was better she
should remain vowed to Heaven than to himself; thereupon he arose, and
standing at her side, laid a hand lightly upon her head, and said
solemnly:

"Thou hast chosen wisely. May the Blessed Mother, and all the
ministering angels, in most holy company, keep guard lest thou be
overtaken by calamity, sorrow and disappointment. And, for me, O
Irene!"--his voice shook with emotion--"I shall be content if now thou
wilt accept me for thy father."

She raised her eyes, as to Heaven, and said, smiling: "Dear God! How
Thou dost multiply goodnesses, and shower them upon me!"

He stooped, and kissed her forehead.

"Amen, sweet daughter!"

Then he helped her to her feet.

"Now, while thou wert speaking, Irene, it was given me to see how the
betrothal I was determined upon would have been a crime aside from
wresting thee from the service of thy choice. Phranza is a true and
faithful servant. How know I but, within his powers, and as he lawfully
might, he has contracted me by treaty to acceptance of the Georgian?
Thou hast saved me, and my ancient Chamberlain. Those under the portico
are conspirators. But come, let us join them."




CHAPTER XVIII

THE SINGING SHEIK


IT was about ten o'clock when the Emperor and Princess Irene appeared
on the portico, and, moving toward the northern side, wended slowly
through the labyrinth of flowers, palms, and shrubs. The courtiers and
dignitaries, upon their approach, received them in respectful silence,
standing in groups about the tables.

A chair, with arms, high back, and a canopy, looking not unlike a
sedilium, had been set in an open space. The reservation was further
marked by a table in front of the chair, and two broad-branched palm
trees, one on each side. Thither the Princess conducted the sovereign;
and when he was seated, at a signal from her, some chosen attendants
came bearing refreshments, cold meats, bread, fruits, and wines in
crystal flagons, which they placed on the table, and retiring a little
way, remained in waiting, while their mistress, on a stool at the left
of the board, did the honors.

The introduction of a queen into a palace is usually the signal for a
change of the existing domestic regime. Old placeholders go out; new
favorites come in; and not seldom the revolution reaches the highest
official circles of the government. The veterans of the suite, to some
of whom this bit of knowledge had come severely home, were very
watchful of the two superior personages. Had His Majesty really exposed
his intent to the Princess? Had he declared himself to her? Had she
accepted? The effect was to trebly sharpen the eyes past which the two
were required to go on their way to the reserved table.

Mention has been made of Phranza, the Grand Chamberlain, at the moment
absent on a diplomatic search for an imperial consort. Of all attaches
of the court, he was first in his master's regard; and the distinction,
it is but just to say, was due to his higher qualities and superior
character. The term _favorite_, as a definition of relationship between
a despot and a dependent, is historically cloudy; wherefore it is in
this instance of unfair application. Intimate or confidante is much
more exactly descriptive. But be that as it may, the good understanding
between the Emperor and his Grand Chamberlain was amply sufficient to
provoke the jealousy of many of the latter's colleagues, of whom Duke
Notaras, Grand Admiral, and the most powerful noble of the Empire, was
head and front. The scheme for the elevation of the Princess to the
throne originated with him, and was aimed malevolently at Phranza, of
whom he was envious, and Constantine, whom he hated on religious
grounds. Interest in the plot brought him to Therapia; yet he held
himself aloof, preferring the attitude of a spectator coldly polite to
that of an active partisan in the affair. He declined sitting at a
table, but took position between two of the columns whence the view of
the bay was best. There were numbers of the suite, however, who
discredited the motive with which he chose the place.

"See Notaras," said one of a group, whispering to friends drinking wine
a little way off. "The scene before him is charming, but is he charmed
with it as he appears?"

"There was an old demi-god with an eye in his forehead. Notaras' best
orb just now is in the back of his head. He may be looking at the bay;
he is really watching the portico"--such was the reply.

"Out! He cares nothing for us."

"Very true--we are not the Emperor."

"My Lord Duke is not happy to-day," was remarked in another coterie.

"Wait, my dear friend. The day is young."

"If this match should not be made after all"--

"He will know it first."

"Yes, nothing from the lovers, neither smile nor sigh, can escape him."

The Professor of Philosophy and his brother the Professor of Rhetoric
ate and drank together, illustrating the affinity of learning.

"Our Phranza is in danger," said the latter, nervously. "As thou art a
subscriber to the doctrine of the _Phaedon_, I wish we could disembody
our souls, if only for an hour."

"Oh, a singular wish! What wouldst thou?"

"Tell it not; but"--the voice dropped into a whisper--"I would despatch
mine in search of the wise Chamberlain to warn him of what is here in
practice."

"Ah, my brother, thou didst me the honor to read and approve my
treatise on the Philosophy of Conspiracy. Dost thou remember the
confounding elements given in the thesis?"

"Yes--Goodness is one."

"Under condition; that is, when the result is dependent upon a party of
virtuous disposition."

"I remember now."

"Well, we have the condition here."

"The Princess!"

"And therefore the Duke, not our Phranza, is in danger. She will
discomfit him."

"May Heaven dispose so!" And the Rhetorician almost immediately added,
"Observe thou. Notaras has established himself within easy hearing of
the two. He has actually invaded the space reserved for them."

"As if to confirm my forecast!"

Then the Philosopher raised a cup.

"To Phranza!"

"To Phranza!" the Rhetorician responded.

This episode hardly concluded when the Emperor's brother sauntered to
the Duke's side; and on the appearance of the Emperor and the Princess,
he exclaimed, enthusiastically:

"Come of it what may, my Lord, the damsel is comely, and I fear not to
compare her with the best of Trebizond or Georgia."

The Duke did not answer. Indeed, the lords were all intent upon exactly
the same subject. Whether there had been an overture and an acceptance,
or an overture and a declination, they believed the principals could
not conceal the result; a look, a gesture, or something in the manner
of one or both of them, would tell the tale to eyes of such practical
discernment. By the greater number the information would be treated as
news for discussion merely; a few had hopes or fears at stake; none of
them was so perilously involved as Notaras; in his view, failure meant
the promotion of Phranza, of all consequences, not excepting his own
loss of favor and prestige, the most intolerable.

On the other part, Constantine was not less concerned in misleading his
court. At the proper time he would give out that he had changed his
mind at the last moment; before engaging himself to the Princess, he
had concluded it best to wait and hear from Phranza. Accordingly, in
passing along the portico, he endeavored to look and behave like a
guest; he conversed in an ordinary tone; he suffered his hostess to
precede him; and, well seconded by her, he was installed in the state
chair, without an argument yes or no for the sharp reviewers. At the
table he appeared chiefly solicitous to appease an unusual hunger,
which he charged to the early morning air on the Bosphorus.

Notaras, whom nothing of incident, demeanor or remark escaped, began
very early to be apprehensive. Upon beholding his master's unlover-like
concession to appetite, he remarked sullenly, "Verily, either his
courage failed, and he did not submit a proposal, or she has rejected
him."

"My Lord Duke," the Emperor's brother replied, somewhat stung, "dost
thou believe it in woman to refuse such an honor?"

"Sir," the Duke retorted, "women who go about unveiled are above or
below judgment."

The Princess, in her place at the table, began there to recount her
adventure at the White Castle, but when far enough in the recital to
indicate its course the Emperor interrupted her.

"Stay, daughter," he said, gently. "The incident may prove of
international interest. If not objectionable to you, I should be
pleased to have some of my friends hear it." Then raising his voice, he
called out: "Notaras, and thou, my brother, come, stand here. Our fair
hostess had yesterday an astonishing experience with the Turks on the
other shore, and I have prevailed on her to narrate it." The two
responded to the invitation by drawing nearer the Emperor at his right
hand.

"Proceed now, daughter," the latter said.

"Daughter, daughter, indeed!" the Duke repeated to himself, and so
bitterly it may be doubted if his master's diplomacy availed to put him
at rest. The paternalism of the address was decisive--Phranza had won.

Then, presently overcoming her confusion, the Princess succeeded in
giving a simple but clear account of how she was driven to the Castle,
and of what befell her while there. When she finished, the entire suite
were standing about the table listening.

Twice she had been interrupted by the Emperor.

"A moment!" he said to her, while she was speaking of the Turkish
soldiery whose arrival at the ancient stronghold had been so nearly
simultaneous with her own. Then he addressed himself to the Grand
Domestic and the Admiral. "My Lords, in passing the Castle, on our way
up, you remember I bade the pilot take our ship near the shore there.
It seemed to me the garrison was showing unusually large, while the
flags on the donjon were strange, and the tents and horses around the
walls implied an army present. You remember?"

"And we have now, Sire, the justification of your superior wisdom," the
Grand Domestic replied, rising from a low salutation.

"I recall the circumstance, my Lords, to enjoin you not to suffer the
affair to slip attention when next we meet in council--I pray pardon,
daughter, for breaking the thread of your most interesting and
important narrative. I am prepared to listen further."

Then, after description of the Governor, and his reception of the
fugitives on the landing, His Majesty, with apologies, asked permission
to offer another inquiry.

"Of a truth, daughter, the picture thou hast given us under the title
of Governor beareth no likeness to him who hath heretofore responded to
that dignity. At various times I have had occasion to despatch
messengers to the commandant, and returning, they have reported him a
coarse, unrefined, brutish-looking person, of middle age and low rank;
and much I marvel to hear the freedom with which this person doth
pledge my august friend and ally, Sultan Amurath. My Lords, this will
furnish us an additional point of investigation. Obviously the Castle
is of military importance, requiring an old head full of experience to
keep it regardful of peace and clear understanding between the powers
plying the Bosphorus. We are always to be apprehensive of the fire
there is in young blood."

"With humility, Your Majesty," said the Grand Domestic, "I should like
to hear from the Princess, whose loveliness is now not more remarkable
than her courage and discretion, the evidence she has for the opinion
that the young man is really the Governor."

She was about to reply when Lysander, the old servant, elbowed himself
through the brilliant circle, and dropped his javelin noisily by her
chair.

"A stranger calling himself an Arab is at the gate," he said to her,
with the semblance of a salutation.

The simplicity of the ancient, his zeal in the performance of his
office, his obliviousness to the imperial presence, caused a ripple of
amusement.

"An Arab!" the Princess exclaimed, in momentary forgetfulness. "How
does the man appear?"

Lysander was in turn distraught; after a short delay, however, he
managed to answer: "His face is dark, almost black; his head is covered
with a great cloth of silk and gold; a gown hides him from neck to
heels; in his girdle there is a dagger. He has a lordly air, and does
not seem in the least afraid. In brief, my mistress, he looks as if he
might be king of all the camel drivers in the world."

The description was unexpectedly graphic; even the Emperor smiled,
while many of the train, presuming license from his amusement, laughed
aloud. In the midst of the merriment, the Princess, calmly, and with
scarce a change from her ordinary tone, proceeded to an explanation.

"Your Majesty," she said, "I am reminded of an invitation left with the
person whose identity was in discussion the instant of this
announcement. In the afternoon, while I was sojourning in the White
Castle, an Arab story-teller was presented to me under recommendation
of my courteous host. He was said to be of great professional renown in
the East, a Sheik travelling to Adrianople for the divertisement of the
Hanoum of the Sultan. In the desert they call him endearingly the
_Singing Sheik_. I was glad to have the hours assisted in their going,
and he did not disappoint me. So charmed was I by his tales and manner
of telling them, by his genius, that in taking my departure from what
proved a most agreeable retreat, and in acknowledging the hospitable
entertainment given me, I referred to the singer, and requested the
Governor to prevail on him to extend his journey here, in order to
favor me with another opportunity to hear him. Had I then known it was
in my Lord's purposes to visit me with such a company of most noble
gentlemen, or could I have even anticipated the honor, I should not
have appointed to-day for the audience with him. But he is in
attendance; and now, with full understanding of the circumstances, it
is for Your Majesty to pronounce upon his admission. Perhaps"--she
paused with a look of deprecation fairly divisible share and share
alike between the Emperor and the Lords around her--"perhaps time may
hang heavy with my guests this morning; if so, I shall hold myself
obliged to the Singing Sheik if he can help me entertain them."

Now, was there one present to attach a criticism to the favor extended
the Arab, he dismissed it summarily, wondering at her easy grace. The
Emperor no doubt shared the admiration with his suite; but concealing
it, he said, with an air of uncertainty, "Thy recommendation, daughter,
is high; and if I remain, verily, it will be with expectation wrought
up to a dangerous degree; yet having often heard of the power of the
strolling poets of whom this one is in probability an excellent
example, I confess I should be pleased to have thee admit him."

Of the Admiral, he then asked, "We were to set out in return about
noon, were we not?"

"About noon, Your Majesty."

"Well, the hour is hardly upon us. Let the man appear, daughter; only,
as thou lovest us, contrive that he keep to short recitals, which,
without holding us unwillingly, will yet suffice to give an idea of his
mind and methods. And keep thyself prepared for an announcement of our
departure, and when received, mistake it not for discontent with
thyself. Admit the Arab."




CHAPTER XIX

TWO TURKISH TALES


The situation now offered the reader is worth a pause, if only to fix
it in mind.

Constantine and Mahommed, soon to be contestants in war, are coming
face to face, lovers both of the same woman. The romance is obvious;
yet it is heightened by another circumstance. One of them is in danger.

We of course know Aboo-Obeidah, the Singing Sheik, is Prince Mahommed
in disguise; we know the Prince also as heir of Amurath the Sultan, a
very old man liable to vacate place and life at any moment. Suppose now
the rash adventurer--the term fits the youth truly as if he were
without rank--should be discovered and denounced to the Emperor. The
consequences can only be treated conjecturally.

In the first place, to what extremities the Prince would be put in
explaining his presence there. He could plead the invitation of the
Princess Irene. But his rival would be his judge, and the judge might
find it convenient to laugh at the truth, and rest his decision on the
prisoner's disguise, in connection with his own presence--two facts
sufficiently important to serve the most extreme accusation.

Constantine, next, was a knightly monarch who knew to live nobly, and
dared die as he lived; yet, thinking of what he might do with Mahommed
fallen into his hands under circumstances so peculiar, there was never
a Caesar not the slave of policy. In the audience to Manuel the sailor,
we have seen how keenly sensitive he was to the contraction the empire
had suffered. Since that day, to be sure, he had managed to keep the
territory he came to; none the less, he felt the Turk to whom the
stolen provinces invariably fell was his enemy, and that truce or
treaty with him did not avail to loosen the compression steadily
growing around his capital. Over and over, daytime and night, the
unhappy Emperor pondered the story of the daughter of Tantalus; and
often, starting from dreams in which the Ottoman power was a serpent
slowly crawling to its victim, he would cry in real agony--"O
Constantinople--Niobe! Who can save thee but God? And if He will
not--alas, alas!" The feeling thus engendered was not of a kind to
yield readily to generosity. Mahommed once securely his, everything
might be let go--truth, honor, glory--everything but the terms of
advantage purchasable with such an hostage.

The invitation to the imaginary Sheik had been a last act of grace by
Irene, about to embark for the city. Mahommed, when he accepted, knew
Therapia by report a village very ancient historically, but decaying,
and now little more than a summer resort and depot of supplies for
fishermen. That its proverbial quietude would be disturbed, and the
sleepy blood of its inhabitants aroused, by a royal galley anchoring in
the bay to discharge the personnel of the empire itself, could have had
no place in his anticipations. So when he stepped into a boat, the
Aboo-Obeidah of his eulogy, and suffered himself, without an attendant,
to be ferried across to Roumeli-Hissar; when he there took an humble
wherry of two oars, and bade the unliveried Greeks who served them pull
for Therapia, it was to see again the woman who was taking his fancy
into possession, not Constantine and his court bizarre in splendor and
habitude. In other words, Mahommed on setting out had no idea of
danger. Love, or something very like it, was his sole inspiration.

The trireme, with the white cross on its red sail, its deck a martial
and courtly spectacle, had been reported to him as the hundred and
twenty flashing scarlet blades, in their operation a miracle of unity,
whisked it by the old Castle, and he had come forth to see it. Where
are they going? he asked those around him; and they, familiar with the
Bosphorus, its shipping and navigation, answered unanimously, To
exercise her crew up in the Black Sea; and thinking of the breadth of
the dark blue fields there, the reply commended itself, and he
dismissed the subject.

The course chosen by his boatmen when they put off from Roumeli-Hissar
kept him close to the European shore, which he had leisure to study.
Then, as now, it was more favored than its Asiatic opposite. The winds
from the sea, southward blowing, unloaded their mists to vivify its ivy
and myrtle. The sunlight, tarrying longest over its pine-clad summits,
coaxed habitations along the shore; here, a palace; there, under an
overhanging cliff, a hamlet; yonder, a long extended village
complaisantly adapting itself to the curvatures of the brief margin
left it for occupancy. Wherever along the front of the heights and on
the top there was room for a field the advantage had been seized. So
the Prince had offered him the sight of all others most significant of
peace among men--sight of farmers tilling the soil. With the lucid sky
above him summer-laden, the water under and about him a liquid
atmosphere, the broken mountain-face changing from lovely to lovelier,
and occasionally awakening him with a superlative splendor, the abodes
so near, and the orchards and strawberry and melon patches overhead,
symbolizing goodwill and fraternity and happiness amongst the poor and
humble--with these, and the rhythmic beating of the oars to soothe his
spirit, fierce and mandatory even in youth, he went, the time divided
between views fair enough for the most rapturous dreams, and the Greek,
of whom, with all their brightness, they were but dim suggestions. Past
the stream-riven gorge of Balta-Liman he went; past Emirghian; past the
haven of Stenia, and the long shore-town of Yenikeui; then, half
turning the Keuibachi bend, lo! Therapia, draggling down the stony
steep, like a heap of bangles on a brown-red cheek. And there, in the
soft embracement of the bay, a bird with folded wings asleep--the
_trireme_!

The sight startled the Prince. He spoke to the rowers, and they ceased
fighting the current, and with their chins over their shoulders, looked
whither he pointed. From ship to shore he looked; then, pursuing the
curve inland to the bridge at the upper end; thence down what may be
called the western side, he beheld people crowding between a quay and a
red kiosk over which pended a wooded promontory.

"There is a Princess living in this vicinity," said he to one of the
rowers, slightly lifting the handkerchief from his face. "Where is her
palace?"

"In the garden yonder. You see the gate over the heads of the men and
women."

"What is her name?"

"Princess Irene. She is known on this shore as the Good Princess."

"Irene--a sound pleasant to the ear"--Mahommed muttered. "Why is she
called good?"

"Because she is an angel of mercy to the poor."

"That is not usual with the great and rich," he said next, yielding to
a charm in the encomiums.

"Yes," the boatman responded, "she is great, being akin to the Emperor,
and rich, too, though"--

Here the man broke off to assist in bringing the boat back from its
recession with the current, at this point boisterously swift.

"You were saying the Princess is rich," Mahommed said, when the oars
were again at rest.

"Oh, yes! But I cannot tell you, my friend, how many are partners in
her wealth. Every widow and orphan who can get to her comes away with a
portion. Isn't it so?"

His companion grunted affirmatively, adding: "Down yonder a man with a
crooked back lives in an arched cell opening on the water. Perhaps the
stranger saw it as he came up."

"Yes," Mahommed answered.

"Well, in the back part of the cell he has an altar with a crucifix and
a picture of the Blessed Mother on it, and he keeps a candle burning
before them day and night--something he could not do if we did not help
him, for candles of wax are costly. He has named the altar after the
Princess, Sta. Irene. We often stop and go in there to pray; and I have
heard the blessings in the light of that candle are rich and many as
the Patriarch has for sale in Sta. Sophia."

These praises touched Mahommed; for, exalted as he was in station, he
was aware of the proneness of the poor to berate the rich and grumble
at the great, and that such had been a habit with them from the
commencement of the world. Again the boat slipped down the current;
when it was brought back, he asked: "When did the ship yonder come up?"

"This morning."

"Oh, yes! I saw it then, but thought the crew were being taken to the
sea for practice."

"No," the boatman replied, "it is the state galley of His Majesty the
Emperor. Did you not see him? He sat on the throne with all his
ministers and court around him."

Mahommed was startled.

"Where is the Emperor now?" he inquired.

"I should say, seeing the crowd yonder, that His Majesty is in the
palace with the Princess."

"Yes," said the second rower, "they are waiting to see him come out."

"Row out into the bay. I should like to have the view from that
quarter."

While making the detour, Mahommed reflected. Naturally he remembered
himself the son of Amurath; after which it was easy to marshal the
consequences of exposure, if he persisted in his venture. He saw
distinctly how his capture would be a basis of vast bargaining with his
father, or, if the sturdy old warrior preferred revenge to payment of a
ruinous ransom, how the succession and throne might slip to another,
leaving him a prisoner for life.

Yet another matter presented itself to him which the reader may decide
worthy a separate paragraph. Its mention has been waiting this
opportunity. The Prince from Magnesia, his seat of government, was on
the way to Adrianople, called thither by his father, who had chosen a
bride for him, daughter of a renowned Emir. Regularly he would have
crossed the Hellespont at Gallipoli; a whim, however, took him to the
White Castle--whim or destiny, one being about as satisfactory as the
other. Pondering silently whether it were not best to return, he
thought, apropos the Princess Irene, of the nuptials to be celebrated,
and of his bride expectant; and a Christian, pausing over the
suggestion, may be disposed to condemn him for inconstancy.

In countries where many wives are allowed the same husband he is not
required to love any of them. Indeed, his fourth spouse may be the
first to command him; hers the eyes for his enslavement; hers the voice
of the charmer charming both wisely and forever. Mahommed did now think
of the Emir's daughter, but not with compunction, nor even in
comparison. He had never seen her face, and would not until after the
wedding days. He thought of her but to put her aside; she could not be
as this Christian was, neither so accomplished nor courtly; besides
which, it was dawning upon him that there were graces of mind and soul
as well as of person, while perfection was a combination of all the
graces in equal degree. Gleams of the latter had visited him while
gazing into the radiant face of the Emperor's kinswoman; and how, at
such favoring times, his fancy had gone out to her and come back
warmed, enlivened, glorified! There is a passion of the mind and a
passion of the blood; and though one and one make two, two is still a
multiple of one.

Looking thus at the galley, Mahommed thought of the tales in the East
not less common than in the West, and believed in them faithfully, for
chivalry was merely on the wane--tales of beauteous damsels shut up in
caves or adamantine castles, with guardian lions couchant at the gates,
and of well-sworded heroes who marched boldly up to the brutes, and
slew them, and delivered the captives always with reward. Of course, in
making the application, the Princess was the prisoner, the ship the
lion, and himself--well, in want of a sword, he laid hand upon his
dagger, precisely as a liberating knight up to the ideal would do.

Nor was this all. The revelations of the Prince of India were still
fresh to him. He wished to see his competitor. How did he look? Was
there enough of him to make battle? He smiled thinking of the pleasure
there would be in slyly studying the Princess and the Emperor at the
same time. He drew the handkerchief down, looked at his brown-stained
hands, and adjusted the folds of his burnoose. The disguise was perfect.

"Take me to the landing--there before the gate of the Good Princess,"
he said, with the air of a traveller above suspicion.

His resolution was taken. Challenging all chances, he would respond to
the invitation of the Princess. And so completely were doubt and
hesitation dismissed with our adventurer, that it was not Mahommed who
stepped from the boat where the populace was in densest assemblage, but
Aboo-Obeidah, the Singing Sheik, and as such we will speak of him.

The guard at the gate, viewing him askance, detained him until he could
be reported.

A fair conception of the scene presented when the Sheik stood on the
floor of the portico is probably in the reader's mind; yet a glance at
it may be pardoned. It was at first like a sudden introduction to an
oriental garden. There were the vines, flowering shrubs, fruiting
trees, many-fronded palms, and the effect of outdoors derived from the
shadows of the pillars, and the sunshine streaming brilliantly through
the open intervals. The tables bore proofs of the collation served upon
them. Overhead was the soft creaminess of pure marble in protected
state mellowed by friendly touches of time. At the end of the vista,
the company was indistinctly visible through the verdure of obtruding
branches. Voices came to him from that part, and gleams of bright
garments; and to get to them it seemed he must pass through a
viridescent atmosphere flecked with blooms, and faintly sweet with
odors. For in losing the masculinity of their race the Greeks devoted
themselves more and more to refined effeminacies.

Moving slowly forward under the guidance of Lysander, whose javelin
beating the floor accentuated the rasping shuffle of his sandals, the
Sheik came presently to a full view of the concourse.

He stopped, partly in obedience to a fine instinct of propriety
teaching him he was now subject to the pleasure of his hostess, and
partly to single out the royal enemy against whom he believed he was
about to be pitted by destiny.

Constantine was sitting at ease, his left elbow resting on an arm of
the sedilium, his forefinger supporting his cheek, his cloak across his
lap. The attitude was reflective; the countenance exposed under the
lifted visor of the helmet, was calm and benignant; except there was no
suggestion of an evil revery holding the current of his thought, or
casting a shade of uncertainty over his soul, he looked not unlike the
famous Il Penseroso familiar to art-seekers in the Medici Chapel of
Florence. Then the eyes of the rivals met. The Greek was in no wise
moved. How it would have been with him could he have seen through the
disguise of the Sheik may never be said. On the other part, the Sheik
lifted his head, and seemed taking on increase of stature. A projecting
fold of the head-kerchief overhung his face, permitting nothing to be
seen but red-hued cheeks, a thin beard, and eyes black and glittering.
The review he felt himself undergoing did not daunt him; it only sent
his pride mounting, like a leap of flame. "By the Virgin!" said one of
the courtiers to another, in a louder tone than the occasion demanded.
"We may indeed congratulate ourselves upon having seen the king of
camel drivers." There was a disposition to laugh amongst the
lighter-minded of the guests, but the Princess checked it by rising.
"Bid the Sheik approach," she said, to the old domestic; and, at a sign
from her, the waiting-women drew closer about her chair. The figure of
the Princess clad all in white, a bracelet of plain gold upon her left
arm, fillets in her hair, one red, the other blue, a double strand of
pearls about her neck--this figure, with the small head, perfect in
turn, set matchlessly upon the sloping shoulders, the humid eyes full
of violet light, the cheeks flushed with feeling--this figure so bright
in its surroundings, admitted no rivalry in attention, none in
admiration; the courtiers, old and young, turned from the Sheik, and
the Sheik from the Emperor. In a word, every eye centred upon the
Princess, every tongue bade hush lest what she said might be lost.
Etiquette required the Sheik's presentation to the Emperor first, but
seeing her about to comply with the rule, he prostrated himself at her
feet. As he arose, she said: "When I invited you to come and give me
more of the cheer there is in your art, O Sheik, I did not know my
gracious kinsman, to whom every Greek is proud and happy to be
allegiant, designed visiting me to-day. I pray you will not suffer too
much from his presence, but regard him a royal auditor who delights in
a tale well told, and in verses when the theme and measure go lovingly
together. His Majesty, the Emperor!"

"Hist! Didst hear?" whispered the Professor of Philosophy to the
Professor of Rhetoric. "Thyself couldst not have spoken better."

"Ay, truly," the other answered. "Save a trifle of stiffness, the
speech might have served Longinus."

With her last word, the Princess stepped aside, leaving Mahommed and
Constantine front to front.

Had the Sheik been observant of the monarch's dues, he would have
promptly prostrated himself; but the moment for the salutation passed,
and he remained standing, answering the look he received calmly as it
was given. The reader and the writer know the reason governing him; the
suite, however, were not so well informed, and they began to murmur.
The Princess herself appeared embarrassed.

"Lord of Constantinople," the Sheik said, seeing speech was his, "were
I a Greek, or a Roman, or an Ottoman, I should make haste to kiss the
floor before you, happy of the privilege; for--be the concession well
noted"--he glanced deferentially around him as he spoke--"the report
which the world has of you is of a kind to make it your lover. After a
few days--Allah willing--I shall stand before Amurath the Sultan.
Though in reverencing him I yield not to any one simply his friend, he
will waive prostration from me, knowing what Your Majesty may not. In
my country we cleanse the ground with our beards before no one but God.
Not that we are unwilling to conform to the rules of the courts in
which we find ourselves; with us it is a law--To kiss a man's hand
maketh him the master; prostrate thyself to him, and without other act,
thou becomest his subject. I am an Arab!"

The Sheik was not in the least defiant; on the contrary, his manner was
straightforward, simple, sincere, as became one interposing conscience
against an observance in itself rightful enough. Only in the last
exclamation was there a perceptible emphasis, a little marked by a lift
of the head and a kindling of the eyes.

"I see Your Majesty comprehends me," he said, continuing; "yet to
further persuade your court, and especially the fair and high-born
lady, whose guest, with all my unworthiness, I am, from believing me
moved in this matter by disrespect for their sovereign, I say next, if
by prostration I made myself a Roman, the act would be binding on the
tribe whose Sheik I am by lawful election. And did I that, O thou whose
bounties serve thy people in lieu of rain! though my hand were white,
like the first Prophet's, when, to assure the Egyptian, he drew it from
his bosom, it would char blacker than dust of burned willow--then, O
thou, lovelier than the queen the lost lapwing reported to Solomon!
though my breath were as the odor of musk, it would poison, like an
exhalation from a leper's grave--then, O my lords! like Karoon in his
wickedness, I should hear Allah say of me, O Earth, swallow him! For as
there are crimes and crimes, verily the chief who betrays his brethren
born to the practice of freedom, shall wander between tents all his
days, crying, Oh, alas! oh, alas! Who now will defend me against God?"

When the Sheik paused, as if for judgment, he was not only acquitted of
intentional disrespect; the last grumbler was anxious to hear him
further.

"What astonishing figures!" the Philosopher whispered to the
Rhetorician. "I begin to think it true that the East hath a style of
its own."

"I commend thy sagacity, my brother," the other replied. "His
peroration was redolent of the Koran--A wonderful fellow nevertheless!"

Presently the whole concourse was looking at the Emperor, with whom it
rested whether the Sheik should be dismissed or called on for
entertainment.

"Daughter," said Constantine to the Princess, "I know not enough of the
tribal law of thy guest to have an opinion of the effect upon him and
his of the observance of our ancient ceremony; wherefore we are bound
to accept his statement. Moreover it does not become our dignity to
acquire subjects and dominion, were they ever so desirable, in a method
justly liable to impeachment for treachery and coercion. Besides
which--and quite as important, situated as we are--thy hospitality is
to be defended."

Here the Sheik, who had been listening to the Emperor, and closely
observing him, thrice lightly clapped his hands.

"It remains for us, therefore, to waive the salutation in this
instance."

A ripple of assent proceeded from the suite.

"And now, daughter," Constantine pursued, "thy guest being present to
give thee of his lore, it may be he will be pleased to have us of his
audience as well. Having heard much of such performances, and
remembering their popularity when we were in our childhood, we will
esteem ourselves fortunate if now favored by one highly commended as a
master in his guild."

The Sheik's eyes sparkled brighter as he answered, "It is written for
us in our Holiest, the very Word of the Compassionate,--'If ye are
greeted with a greeting, then greet ye with a better greeting, or at
least return it.' Verily my Lord dispenseth honor with so light a hand
as not to appear aware of the doing. When my brethren under the black
tents are told of my having won the willing ear of their Majesties of
Byzantium and Adrianople, they will think of me as one who has been
permitted to walk in the light of two suns simultaneous in shining."

So saying, he bowed very low.

"My only unhappiness now is in not knowing the direction in which my
Lord's preferences run; for as a stream goes here and there, but all
the time keeps one general course, seeking the sea, so with taste;
though it yield a nod now, and then a smile, it hath always a deeper
delight for the singer's finding. I have the gay and serious--history,
traditions--the heroics of men and nations, their heart-throbs in verse
and prose--all or any for the Lord of Constantinople and his kinswoman,
my hostess,--may her life never end until the song of the dove ceases
to be heard in the land!"

"What say you, my friends?" asked Constantine, glancing graciously at
those around him.

Then they looked from him to the Princess, and in thought of the
betrothal, replied, "Love--something of love!"

"No," he returned, unflinchingly. "We are youths no longer. There is
enlightenment in the traditions of nations. Our neighbors, the
Turks--what hast thou of them, Sheik?"

"Didst thou hear?" said Notaras to one at his elbow. "He hath recanted;
the Empress will not be a Greek."

There was no answer; for the Sheik, baring his head, hung the kerchief
and cord upon his arm, preliminaries which gave him perfectly to view.
A swarthy face; hair black, profuse, closely cut along the temples;
features delicate but manly--these the bystanders saw in a general way,
being more attracted by the repressed fire in the man's eyes, and his
air high and severely noble.

When the Princess caught sight of the countenance, she fell into a
confusion. She had seen it, but where and when? The instant he was
beginning he gazed at her, and in the exchange of glances she was
reminded of the Governor bidding her adieu on the shore of the Sweet
Waters. But he was youthful, while this one--could it be he was old?
The feeling was a repetition of that she had in the Castle when the
storyteller appeared the first time.

"I will tell how the Turks became a Nation."

Then, in Greek but a little broken, the Sheik began a recital.

  ALAEDDIN AND ERTOGHRUL

  I

  A tale of Ertoghrul!--
                        How when the Chief
  Lay one day nooning with his stolen herds,
  A sound of drumming smote him from the East,
  And while he stood to see what came of it,
  The West with like notes fainter, echo-like,
  Made answer; then two armies rode in view,
  Horses and men in steel, the sheen of war
  About them and above, and wheeling quick
  From column into line, drew all their blades,
  Shook all their flags, and charged and lost themselves
  In depths of dusty clouds, which yet they tore
  With blinding gleams of light, and yells of rage,
  And cheers so high and hoarse they well might seem
  The rolling thunder of a mountain storm.
  Long time the hosts contended; but at last
  The lesser one began to yield the ground,
  Oppressed in front, and on its flanks o'erwhelmed:
  And hasted then the end, a piteous sight,
  Most piteous to the very brave who know
  From lessons of their lives, how seldom 'tis
  Despair can save where valor fails to win.
  Then Ertoghrul aroused him, touched to heart.

  "My children, mount, and out with cimeter!
  I know not who these are, nor whence they come;
  Nor need we care. 'Twas Allah led them here,
  And we will honor Him--and this our law;
  What though the weak may not be always right,
  We'll make it always right to help the weak.
  Deep take the stirrups now, and ride with me,
  _Allah-il-Allah!"_

                     Thus spake Ertoghrul;
  And at the words, with flying reins, and all
  His eager tribe, four hundred sworded men,
  Headlong he rode against the winning host.

  II

  Beneath the captured flags, the spoils in heaps
  Around him laid, the rescued warrior stood,
  A man of kingly mien, while to him strode
  His unexpected friend.

                         "Now who art thou?"
  The first was first to ask.

                              "Sheik Ertoghrul
  Am I."

         "The herds I see--who calls them his?"

  Laughed Ertoghrul, and showed his cimeter.
  "The sword obeys my hand, the hand my will,
  And given will and hand and sword, I pray
  Thee tell me, why should any man be poor?"

  "And whose the plain?"

                         "Comes this way one a friend
  Of mine, and leaves his slippers at my door,
  Why then, 'tis his."
                       "And whose the hills that look
  Upon the plain?"

                   "My flocks go there at morn,
  And thence they come at night--I take my right
  Of Allah."

             "No," the stranger mildly said,
  "'Twas Allah made them mine."

                                Frowned Ertoghrul,
  While darkened all the air; but from his side
  Full pleasantly the stranger took a sword,
  Its carven hilt one royal emerald,
  Its blade both sides with legends overwrought,
  Some from the Koran, some from Solomon,
  All by the cunning Eastern maker burned
  Into the azure steel-his sword he took,
  And held it, belt, and scabbard too, in sign
  Of gift.

           "The herds, the plain, the hills were mine;
  But take thou them, and with them this in proof
  Of title."

             Lifted Ertoghrul his brows,
  And opened wide his eyes.

                            "Now who art thou?"
  He asked in turn.

                    "Oh, I am Alaeddin--
  Sometimes they call me Alaeddin the Great."

  "I take thy gifts--the herds, the plain, the hills,"
  Said Ertoghrul; "and so I take the sword;
  But none the less, if comes a need, 'tis thine.
  Let others call thee Alaeddin the Great;
  To me and mine thou'rt Alaeddin the Good
  And Great."

              With that, he kissed the good King's hand;
  And making merry, to the Sheik's dowar
  They rode. And thus from nothing came the small;
  And now the lonely vale which erst ye knew,
  And scorned, because it nursed the mountain's feet,
  Doth cradle mornings on the mountain's top.

                                   _Mishallah!_

The quiet which held the company through the recitation endured a space
afterwards, and--if the expression be allowed--was in itself a
commentary upon the performance.

"Where is our worthy Professor of Rhetoric?" asked Constantine.

"Here, Your Majesty," answered the man of learning, rising.

"Canst thou not give us a lecture upon the story with which thy Arabian
brother hath favored us?"

"Nay, sire, criticism, to deal justly, waiteth until the blood is cool.
If the Sheik will honor me with a copy of his lines, I will scan and
measure them by the rules descended to us from Homer, and his Attic
successors."

The eyes of the Emperor fell next upon the moody, discontented face of
Duke Notaras.

"My lord Admiral, what sayest thou of the tale?"

"Of the tale, nothing; of the story-teller--I think him an insolent,
and had I my way, Your Majesty, he should have a plunge in the
Bosphorus."

Presuming the Sheik unfamiliar with Latin, the Duke couched his reply
in that tongue; yet the former raised his head, and looked at the
speaker, his eyes glittering with intelligence--and the day came, and
soon, when the utterance was relentlessly punished.

"I do not agree with you, my Lord," Constantine said, in a melancholy
tone. "Our fathers, whether we look for them on the Roman or the Greek
side, might have played the part of Ertoghrul. His was the spirit of
conquest. Would we had enough of it left to get back our own!--Sheik,"
he added, "what else hast thou in the same strain? I have yet a little
time to spare--though it shall be as our hostess saith."

"Nay," she answered, with deference, "there is but one will here."

And taking assent from her, the Sheik began anew.

  EL JANN AND HIS PARABLE

  _Bismillah!_

                           Ertoghrul pursued a wolf,
  And slew it on the range's tallest peak,
  Above the plain so high there was nor grass
  Nor even mosses more. And there he sat
  Him down awhile to rest; when from the sky,
  Or the blue ambiency cold and pure,
  Or maybe from the caverns of the earth
  Where Solomon the King is wont to keep
  The monster Genii hearkening his call,
  El Jann, vast as a cloud, and thrice as black,
  Appeared and spoke--

                      "Art thou Sheik Ertoghrul?"

  And he undaunted answered: "Even so."

  "Well, I would like to come and sit with thee."

  "Thou seest there is not room for both of us."

  "Then rise, I say, and get thee part way down
  The peak."

             "'Twere easier," laughed Ertoghrul,
  "Madest thou thyself like me as thin and small;
  And I am tired."

                   A rushing sound ran round and up
  And down the height, most like the whir of wings
  Through tangled trees of forests old and dim.
  A moment thus--the time a crisped leaf,
  Held, armlength overhead, will take to fall--
  And then a man was sitting face to face
  With Ertoghrul.

                  "This is the realm of snow,"
  He said, and smiled--"a place from men secure,
  Where only eagles fearless come to nest,
  And summer with their young."

                                The Sheik replied,
  "It was a wolf--a gaunt gray wolf, which long
  Had fattened on my flocks--that lured me here.
  I killed it."

                "On thy spear I see no blood;
  And where, O Sheik, the carcass of the slain?
  I see it not."

                 Around looked Ertoghrul--
  There was no wolf; and at his spear--
  Upon its blade no blood. Then rose his wrath,
  A mighty pulse.

                  "The spear hath failed its trust--
  I'll try the cimeter."

                         A gleam of light--
  A flitting, wind-borne spark in murk of night--
  Then fell the sword, the gift of Alaeddin;
  Edge-first it smote the man upon his crown--
  Between his eyes it shore, nor staying there,
  It cut his smile in two--and not yet spent,
  But rather gaining force, through chin and chine,
  And to the very stone on which he sat
  It clove, and finished with a bell-like clang
  Of silvern steel 'gainst steel.

                                  "Aha! Aha!"--
  But brief the shout; for lo! there was no stain
  Upon the blade withdrawn, nor moved the man,
  Nor changed he look or smile.

                                "I was the wolf
  That ran before thee up the mountain side;
  'Twas I received thy spear as now thy sword;
  And know thou further, Sheik, nor wolf nor man
  Am I, nor mortal thing of any kind;
  Only a thought of Allah's. Canst thou kill
  A thought divine? Not Solomon himself
  Could that, except with thought yet more divine.
  Yield thee thy rage; and when thou think'st of me
  Hereafter, be it as of one, a friend,
  Who brought a parable, and made display
  Before thee, saying--
                       "Lo! what Allah wills."

  Therewith he dropped a seed scarce visible
  Into a little heap of sand and loam
  Between them drawn.

                     "Lo! Allah wills."

                                        And straight
  The dust began to stir as holding life.
  Again El Jann--

                 "Behold what Allah wills!"

  A tiny shoot appeared; a waxen point
  Close shawled in many folds of wax as white,
  It might have been a vine to humbly creep--
  A lily soon to sunward flare its stars--
  A shrub to briefly coquette with the winds.
  Again the cabalism--

                      "Lo! Allah's will."

  The apparition budded, leafed, and branched,
  And with a flame of living green lit all
  The barrenness about. And still it grew--
  Until it touched the pillars of the earth,
  And lapped its boundaries, the far and near,
  And under it, as brethren in a tent,
  The nations made their home, and dwelt in peace
  Forever.

           "Lo!"--

                  And Ertoghrul awoke.

                                      _Mishallah!_

This recitation commanded closer attention than the first one. Each
listener had a feeling that the parable at the end, like all true
parables, was of continuous application, while its moral was in some
way aimed at him.

The looks the Sheik received were by no means loving. The spell was
becoming unpleasant. Then the Emperor arose, as did the Princess, to
whom, as hostess, the privilege of sitting had been alone conceded.

"Our playtime is up--indeed, I fear, it has been exceeded," he said,
glancing at the Dean, who was acting master of ceremonies.

The Dean responded with a bow low as his surroundings admitted;
whereupon the Emperor went to the Princess, and said, "We will take
leave now, daughter, and for myself and my lords of the court, I
acknowledge a most agreeable visit, and thank you for it."

She respectfully saluted the hand he extended to her.

"Our gate and doors at Blacherne are always open to you."

The adieu was specially observed by the courtiers, and they
subsequently pronounced it decorous for a sovereign, cordial as became
a relative, but most un-loverlike. Indeed, it was a strong point in the
decision subsequently of general acceptance, by which His Majesty was
relieved of the proposal of marriage to the Princess.

The latter took his offered arm, and accompanied him to the steps of
the portico, where, when he had descended, the lords one by one left a
kiss on her hand.

Nor should it be forgotten, that as Constantine was passing the Sheik,
he paused to say to him in his habitually kind and princely manner:
"The tree Sheik Ertoghrul saw in his dream has spread, and is yet
spreading, but its shadow has not compassed all the nations; and while
God keeps me, it will not. Had not I myself invited the parable, it
might have been offensive. For the instruction and entertainment given
me, accept thou this--and go in peace."

The Sheik took the ring offered him, and the gaze with which he
followed the imperial giver was suggestive of respect and pity.




CHAPTER XX

MAHOMMED DREAMS


It was a trifle after noon. The trireme and the assemblage of admiring
townspeople had disappeared, leaving the bay and its shores to their
wonted quiet. The palace, however, nestling in the garden under the
promontory, must be permitted to hold our interest longer.

Aboo-Obeidah had eaten and drunk, for being on a journey, he was within
the license of the law as respects wine; and now he sat with the
Princess alone at the end of the portico lately occupied by the Emperor
and his suite. A number of her attendants amused themselves out of
hearing of the two, though still within call. She occupied the
sedilium; he a seat by the table near her. Save a fine white veil on an
arm and a fan which she seldom used, her appearance was as in the
morning.

It is to be admitted now that the Princess was finding a pleasure in
the society of the Sheik. If aware of the fact, which was doubtful, it
is still more doubtful if she could have explained it. We are inclined
to think the mystery attaching to the man had as much to do with the
circumstance as the man himself. He was polite, engaging, and handsome;
the objection to his complexion, if such there were, was at least
offset by a very positive faculty of entertaining; besides which, the
unspeakable something in manner, always baffling disguises, always
whispering of other conditions, always exciting suggestions and
expectations, was present here.

If she thought him the Bedouin he assumed to be, directly a word
changed the opinion; did she see the Governor of the old Castle in his
face, an allusion or a bit of information dropped by him unaware spoke
of association far beyond such a subordinate; most perplexing, however,
where got the man his intelligence? Did learning like his, avoiding
cloisters, academies, and teachers of classical taste, comport with
camel-driving and tent-life in deserts harried by winds and sand?

The mystery, together with the effort to disentangle it, resolved the
Princess into an attentive auditor. The advantages in the conversation
were consequently with the Sheik; and he availed himself of them to
lead as he chose.

"You have heard, O Princess, of the sacred fig-tree of the Hindus?"

"No."

"In one of their poems--the Bhagavad Gita, I think--it is described as
having its roots above and its branches downward; thus drawing life
from the sky and offering its fruit most conveniently, it is to me the
symbol of a good and just king. It rose to my mind when thy
kinsman--may Allah be thrice merciful to him!--passed me with his
speech of forgiveness, and this gift "--he raised his hand, and looked
at the ring on one of the fingers-"in place of which I was more
deserving burial in the Bosphorus, as the black-browed Admiral said."

A frown dark as the Admiral's roughened his smooth brow.

"Why so?" she inquired.

"The tales I told were of a kind to be spared a Greek, even one who may
not cover his instep with the embroidered buskin of an Emperor."

"Nay, Sheik, they did not ruffle him. On the tongue of a Turk, I admit,
the traditions had been boastful, but you are not a Turk."

The remark might have been interrogative; wherefore with admirable
address, he replied: "An Ottoman would see in me an Arab wholly
unrelated to him, except as I am a Moslem. Let it pass, O Princess--he
forgave me. The really great are always generous. When I took the ring,
I thought, Now would the young Mahommed have so lightly pardoned the
provocation?"

"Mahommed!" she said.

"Not the Prophet," he answered; "but the son of Amurath."

"Ah, you know him?"

"I have sat with him, O Princess, and at table often helped him to meat
and bread. I have been his cupbearer and taster, and as frequently
shared his outdoor sports; now hunting with hawk, and now with hound.
Oh, it were worth a year of common days to gallop at his right hand,
and exult with him when the falcon, from its poise right under the sun,
drops itself like an arrow upon its enemy! I have discoursed with him
also on themes holy and profane, and given and taken views, and telling
him tales in prose and verse, have seen the day go out, then come
again. In knightly practice I have tilted with him, and more than once,
by his side in battle, loosened rein at the same cry and charged. His
Sultana mother knows him well; but, by the lions and the eagles who
served Solomon, I know him, beginning where her knowledge left
off--that is, where the horizon of manhood stretched itself to make
room for his enlarging soul."

The awakening curiosity of his listener was not lost upon the Sheik.

"You are surprised to hear a kindly speech of the son of Amurath," he
said.

She flushed slightly.

"I am not a person, Sheik, whose opinions are dangerous to the peace of
States, and of whom diplomacy is required; yet it would grieve me to
give offence to you or your friend, the Prince Mahommed. If now I
concede a wish to have some further knowledge of one who is shortly to
inherit the most powerful of the Eastern Kingdoms, the circumstance
ought not to subject me to harsh judgment."

"Princess," the Sheik said, "nothing so becomes a woman as care where
words may be the occasion of mischief. As a flower in a garden, such a
woman would rank as the sovereign rose; as a bird, she would be the
bulbul, the sweetest of singers, and in beauty, a heron with throat of
snow, and wings of pink and scarlet; as a star, she would be the first
of the evening, and the last to pale in the morning--nay, she would be
a perpetual morning. Of all fates what more nearly justifies reproach
of Allah than to have one's name and glory at the mercy of a rival or
an enemy? I am indeed Mahommed's friend--I know him--I will defend him,
where sacred truth permits defence. And then"--his glance fell, and he
hesitated.

"And what then?" she asked.

He gave her a grateful look, and answered: "I am going to Adrianople.
The Prince will be there, and can I tell him of this audience, and that
the Princess Irene regrets the evil reported of him in Constantinople,
and is not his enemy, straightway he will number himself of those the
most happy and divinely remembered, whose books are to be given them in
their right hands."

The Princess looked at the singer, her countenance clear, serene, fair
as a child's, and said:

"I am the enemy of no one living. Report me so to him. The Master I
follow left a law by which all men and women are neighbors whom I am to
love and pray for as I love and pray for myself. Deliver him the very
words, O Sheik, and he will not misunderstand me."

A moment after she asked:

"But tell me more of him. He is making the world very anxious."

"Princess," the Sheik began, "Ebn Hanife was a father amongst
Dervishes, and he had a saying, 'Ye shall know a plant by its flower, a
vine by its fruit, and a man by his acts; what he does being to the man
as the flower to the plant, and the fruit to the vine; if he have done
nothing, prove him by his tastes and preferences, for what he likes
best that he will do when left to himself.' By these tests let us
presume to try the Prince Mahommed.... There is nothing which enthralls
us like the exercise of power--nothing we so nearly carry with us into
the tomb to be a motive there; for who shall say it has not a part in
the promise of resurrection? If so, O Princess, what praise is too
great for him who, a young man placed upon a throne by his father,
comes down from it at his father's call?"

"Did Mahommed that?"

"Not once, O Princess, but twice."

"In so much at least his balance should be fair."

"To whom is the pleasant life in a lofty garden, its clusters always
near at hand--to whom, if not to the just judges of their fellow-men?"

The Sheik saluted her twice by carrying his right hand to his beard,
then to his forehead.

"Attend again, O Princess," he continued, more warmly than in the
outset. "Mahommed is devoted to learning. At night in the field when
the watches are set, the story-tellers, poets, philosophers, lawyers,
preachers, experts in foreign tongues, and especially the inventors of
devices, a class by themselves, supposed generally to live on dreams as
others on bread--all these, finding welcome in his tent, congregate
there. His palace in the city is a college, with recitations and
lectures and instructive conversations. The objection his father
recognized the times he requested him to vacate the throne was that he
was a student. His ancestors having been verse makers, poetry is his
delight; and if he does not rival them in the gentle art, he surpasses
them in the number of his acquirements. The Arab, the Hebrew, the
Greek, the Latin address him and have answers each in his mother's
tongue. Knew you ever a scholar, O Princess, whose soul had utterly
escaped the softening influence of thought and study? It is not
learning which tames the barbarian so much as the diversion of mind
from barbaric modes required of him while in the pursuit of learning."

She interrupted him, saying pleasantly: "I see, O Sheik, if to be at
the mercy of an enemy is sad, how fortunate where one's picture is
intended if the artist be a friend. Where had the Prince his
instructors?"

There was a lurking smile in the Sheik's eyes, as he replied: "The
sands in my country drink the clouds dry, and leave few fountains
except of knowledge. The Arab professors in Cordova, whom the Moorish
Kaliphs deemed themselves honored in honoring, were not despised by the
Bishops of Rome. Amurath, wanting teachers for Mahommed, invited the
best of them to his court. Ah--if I had the time!"

Observing his sigh had not failed its mark, he continued: "I would
speak of some of the books I have seen on the Prince's table; for as a
licensed friend, I have been in his study. Indeed, but for fear of too
greatly recommending myself, I would have told you earlier, O Princess,
how he favoured me as one of his teachers."

"Of poetry and story-telling, I suppose?"

"Why not?" he asked. "Our history is kept and taught in such forms.
Have we a hero not himself a poet, he keeps one.... Upon the Prince's
table, in the central place, objects of his reverence, the sources to
which he most frequently addresses himself when in need of words and
happy turns of expression, his standards of comparison for things
beautiful in writing and speech, mirrors of the Most Merciful,
whispering galleries wherein the voice of the Most Compassionate is
never silent, are the Koran, with illustrations in gold, and the Bible
in Hebrew, copied from _torahs_ of daily use in the Synagogues."

"The Bible in Hebrew! Does he read it?"

"Like a Jewish elder."

"And the Gospels?"

The Sheik's face became reproachful.

"Art thou--even thou, O Princess--of those who believe a Moslem must
reject Christ because the Prophet of Islam succeeded him with later
teachings?"

Dropping then into the passionless manner, he continued:

"The Koran does not deny Christ or his Gospels. Hear what it says of
itself: 'And this Koran is not a forgery of one who is no God, but it
hath been sent down as a confirmation of those books which have been
before it, and an explanation of the Scriptures from the Lord of the
Worlds.' [Footnote: The Koran] ... That verse, O Princess, transcribed
by the Prince Mahommed himself, lies between the Bible and the Koran;
the two being, as I have said, always together upon his table."

"What then is his faith?" she asked, undisguisedly interested.

"Would he were here to declare it himself!"

This was said disconsolately; then the Sheik broke out:

"The truth now of the son of Amurath! Listen!--He believes in God. He
believes in the Scriptures and the Koran, holding them separate wings
of the divine Truth by which the world is to attain righteousness. He
believes there have been three Prophets specially in the confidence of
God: Moses, the first one; Jesus, who was greater than Moses; Mahomet,
the very greatest--not for speaking better or sublimer things, but
because he was last in their order of coming. Above all, O Princess, he
believes worship due to the Most High alone; therefore he prays the
prayer of Islam, God is God, and Mahomet is his Prophet--meaning that
the Prophet is not to be mistaken for God."

The Sheik raised his dark eyes, and upon meeting them the Princess
looked out over the bay. That she was not displeased was the most he
could read in her face, the youthful light of which was a little shaded
by thinking. He waited for her to speak.

"There were other books upon the Prince's table?" she presently asked.

"There were others, O Princess."

"Canst thou name some of them?"

The Sheik bowed profoundly.

"I see the pearls of Ebn Hanife's saying were not wasted. Mahommed is
now to be tried by his tastes and preferences. Let it be so.... I saw
there, besides dictionaries Greek, Latin, and Hebrew, the Encyclopaedia
of Sciences, a rare and wonderful volume by a Granadian Moor, Ibn
Abdallah. I saw there the Astronomy and Astronomical Tables of Ibn
Junis, and with them a silver globe perfected from the calculations of
Almamon the Kaliph, which helps us to the geographical principle not
yet acknowledged in Rome, that the earth is round. I saw there the Book
of the Balance of Wisdom by Alhazan, who delved into the laws of nature
until there is nothing phenomenal left. I saw there the Philosophy of
Azazzali the Arab, for which both Christian and Moslem should be
grateful, since it has given Philosophy its true place by exalting it
into a handmaiden of Religion. I saw there books treating of trade and
commerce, of arms and armor, and machines for the assault and defence
of cities, of military engineering, and the conduct of armies in grand
campaigns, of engineering not military, dealing with surveying, and the
construction of highways, aqueducts, and bridges, and the laying out of
towns. There, also, because the soul of the student must have rest and
diversion, I saw volumes of songs and music loved by lovers in every
land, and drawings of mosques, churches and palaces, masterpieces of
Indian and Saracenic genius; and of gardens there was the Zebra,
created by Abderrahman for the best loved of his Sultanas. Of poetry, O
Princess, I saw many books, the lord of them a copy of Homer in Arabic,
executed on ivory from the translation ordered by Haroun Al-Raschid."

During this recital the Princess scarcely moved. She was hearing a new
version of Mahommed; and the Sheik, like a master satisfied with his
premises, proceeded to conclusions.

"My Lord has a habit of dreaming, and he does not deny it--he believes
in it. In his student days, he called it his rest. He used to say, when
his brain reeled in overtask dreaming was a pillow of down and
lavender; that in moments of despair, dreaming took his spirit in its
hands softer than air, and, nurse-like, whispered and sung to it, and
presently it was strong again. Not many mornings ago he awoke to find
that in a deep sleep some ministrant had come to him, and opened the
doors of his heart, and let out its flock of boyish fantasies. He has
since known but three visions. Would it please you, O Princess, to hear
of them? They may be useful as threads on which to hang the Dervish
father's pearls of saying."

She re-settled herself, resting her cheek on her hand, and her elbow on
the arm of the chair, and replied:

"I will hear of them."

"The visions have all of them reference to the throne he is soon to
ascend, without which they would be the mere jingling of a jester's
rattle.

"First Vision.... He will be a hero. If his soul turned from war, he
were not his father's son. But unlike his father, he holds war the
servant of peace, and peace the condition essential to his other
visions.

"Second Vision.... He believes his people have the genius of the Moors,
and he will cultivate it in rivalry of that marvellous race."

"Of the Moors, O Sheik?" the Princess said, interrupting him. "Of the
Moors? I have always heard of them as pillagers of sacred
cities--infidels sunk in ignorance, who stole the name of God to excuse
invasions and the spilling of rivers of blood."

The Sheik lifted his head haughtily.

"I am an Arab, and the Moors are Arabs translated from the East to the
West."

"I crave thy pardon," she said, gently.

And calming himself, he rejoined: "If I weary you, O Princess, there
are other subjects to which I can turn. My memory is like the box of
sandal-wood a lady keeps for her jewelry. I can open it at will, and
always find something to please--better probably because I have it from
another."

"No," she returned, artlessly, "a hero in actual life transcends the
best of fancies--and besides, Sheik, you spoke of a third vision of
your friend, the Prince Mahommed."

He dropped his eyes lest she should see the brightness with which they
filled.

"War, my Lord says, is a necessity which, as Sultan, he cannot avoid.
Were he disposed to content himself with the empire descending from his
great father, envious neighbors would challenge him to the field. He
must prove his capacity in defence. That done, he vows to tread the
path made white and smooth by Abderrahman, the noblest and best of the
Western Kaliphs. He will set out by founding a capital somewhere on the
Bosphorus. Such, O Princess, is my Lord Mahommed's Third Vision."

"Nay, Sheik--on the Marmora--at Broussa, perhaps."

"I am giving the Vision as he gave it to me, Princess. For where else,
he asks, has the spreading earth diviner features than on the
Bosphorus? Where bends a softer sky above a friendlier channel by
Nature moulded for nobler uses? Where are there seas so bridled and
reduced? Does not the rose bloom here all the year? Yonder the East,
here the West--must they be strangers and enemies forever? His capital,
he declares, shall be for their entertainment as elder and younger
brother. Within its walls, which he will build strong as a mountain's
base, with gates of brass invulnerable, and towers to descry the clouds
below the horizon, he will collect unselfishly whatever is good and
beautiful, remembering he serves Allah best who serves his fellow-men."

"All his fellow-men, Sheik?"

"All of them."

Then she glanced over the bay, and said very softly:

"It is well; for 'if ye salute your brethren only, what do ye more than
others?'"

The Sheik smiled, saying:

"And thus the latest Prophet, O Princess. 'Turn away evil by that which
is better; and lo, he between whom and thyself was enmity, shall become
as though he were a warm friend.'" [Footnote: Koran]

She answered, "A goodly echo."

"Shall I proceed?" he then asked.

"Yes."

"I was speaking of the Third Vision.... To make his capital the centre
of the earth, he will have a harbor where ships from every country, and
all at once, can come and lie, oars slung and sails furled: and near by
for trade, a bazaar with streets of marble, and roofed with glass, and
broad and long enough for a city unto itself; and in the midst a khan
for lodging the merchants and travellers who have not other houses. And
as did Abderrahman, he will build a University of vast enclosure; here
temples, there groves; nor may a study be named without its teacher,
and he the most famous; so the votaries of Music and Poetry,
Philosophy, Science, and the Arts, and the hundred-handed Mechanics
shall dwell together like soldiers in a holy league. And comes that way
one religious, of him but a question, Believest thou in God? and if he
answer yes, then for him a ready welcome. For of what moment is it, my
Lord asks, whether God bear this name or that? Or be worshipped with or
without form? Or on foot or knee? Or whether the devout be called
together by voice or bell? Is not Faith everything?"

The picture wrought upon the Princess. Her countenance was radiant, and
she said half to herself, but so the Sheik heard her:

"It is a noble Vision."

Then the Sheik lowered his voice:

"If, with such schemes, excluding races and religions--hear me again, O
Princess!--if with such schemes or visions, as thou wilt, the Lord
Mahommed allows himself one selfish dream, wouldst thou condemn him?"

"What is the selfish dream?" she asked.

"He has an open saying, Princess, 'Light is the life of the world,
while Love is the light of life.' Didst thou ever hear how Othman wooed
and won his Malkatoon?"

"No."

"It is a Turkish tale of love. Mahommed had it from his mother when he
was a lad, and he has been haunted ever since with a belief which, to
his dreaming, is like the high window in the eastern front of a palace,
outwardly the expression-giver, within the principal source of light.
The idea is strongest what times the moon is in the full; and then he
mounts a horse, and hies him, as did Othman, to some solitary place
where, with imagination for cup-bearer, he drinks himself into happy
drunkenness." The Sheik, bending forward, caught her eyes with his, and
held them so not a glance escaped him.

"He thinks--and not all the Genii, the winged and the unwinged, of the
wisest of Kings could win him from the thought--that he will sometime
meet a woman who will have the mind, the soul of souls, and the beauty
of the most beautiful. When she will cross his vision is one of the
undelivered scriptories which Time is bringing him; yet he is looking
for her, and the more constantly because the first sight of her will be
his first lesson in the mystery called love. He will know her, for at
seeing her a lamp will light itself in his heart, and by it, not the
glare of the sun, his spirit will make sure of her spirit. Therefore in
his absoluteness of faith, O Princess, there is a place already
provided for her in his promised capital, and even now he calls it this
House of Love. Ah, what hours he has spent planning that abode! He will
seat it in the Garden of Perfection, for the glorifying which, trees,
birds, flowers, summer-houses, water, hill-tops and shaded vales shall
be conquered. Has he not studied the Zehra of Abderrahman? And divided
it as it was into halls, courts and chambers, and formed and
proportioned each, and set and reset its thousand and more columns, and
restored the pearls and gold on its walls, and over the wide Alhambran
arches hung silken doors sheened like Paradisean birds? And all that
when he shall have found her, his Queen, his Malkatoon, his Spirit of
Song, his Breath of Flowers, his Lily of Summer, his Pearl of Oman, his
Moon of Radjeb, monotony shall never come where she dwells nor shall
she sigh except for him absent. Such, O Princess Irene, is the one
dream the Prince has builded with the world shut out. Does it seem to
you a vanity of wickedness?"

"No," she returned, and covered her face, for the Sheik's look was
eager and burning bright.

He knelt then, and kissed the marble at her feet.

"I am Prince Mahommed's ambassador, O Princess," he said, rising to his
knees. "Forgive me, if I have dared delay the announcement."

"His ambassador! To what end?"

"I am afraid and trembling."

He kissed the floor again.

"Assure me of pardon--if only to win me back my courage. It is
miserable to be shaken with fear."

"Thou hast done nothing, Sheik, unless drawing thy master's portrait
too partially be an offence. Speak out."

"It is not three days, Princess, since you were Mahommed's guest."

"I his guest--Mahommed's!"

She arose from her chair.

"He received you at the White Castle."

"And the Governor?"

"He was the Governor."

She sunk back overcome with astonishment. The Sheik recalled her
directly.

"Prince Mahommed," he said, "arrived at the Castle when the boats were
discovered, and hastened to the landing to render assistance if the
peril required it.... And now, O Princess, my tongue falters. How can I
without offending tell of the excitement into which seeing you plunged
him? Suffer me to be direct. His first impression was supported by the
coincidences--your coming and his, so nearly at the same instant--the
place of the meeting so out of the way and strange--the storm seemingly
an urgency of Heaven. Beholding and hearing you, 'This is she! This is
she! My Queen, my Malkatoon!' he cried in his heart. And yesterday"--

"Nay, Sheik, allow the explanation to wait. Bearest thou a message from
him to me?"

"He bade me salute thee, Princess Irene, as if thou wert now the Lady
of his House of Love in his Garden of Perfection, and to pray if he
might come and in person kiss thy hand, and tell thee his hopes, and
pour out at thy feet his love in heartfuls larger than ever woman had
from man."

While speaking, the Sheik would have given his birthright to have seen
her face.

Then, in a low voice, she asked:

"Does he doubt I am a Christian?"

The tone was not of anger; with beatings of heart trebly quickened, he
hastened to reply:

"'That she is a Christian'--may God abandon my mouth, if I quote him
unfaithfully!--'That she is a Christian, I love her the more. For see
you, Sheik'--by the faith of an Arab, Princess, I quote him yet, word
for word--'my mother was a Christian.'"

In the morning of this very day we have seen her put to like question
by Constantine, and she did not hesitate; now the reply took a time.

"Say to Prince Mahommed," she at length returned, "that his message
presents itself honorably, for which it is deserving a soft answer. His
fancy has played him false. I cannot be the woman of his dream. She is
young; I am old, though not with years. She is gay; I am serious. She
is in love with life, hopeful, joyous; I was born to sorrow, and in
sorrow brought up, and the religion which absorbed my youth is now
life's hold on me. She will be delighted with the splendors he has in
store for her; so might I, had not the wise man long since caught my
ear and judgment by the awful text, Vanity of vanities, all is vanity.
While her charms endure she will keep him charmed with the world; I
could not so much, for the world to come has possession of me, and the
days here are but so many of a journey thither. Tell him, O Sheik,
while he has been dreaming of palaces and gardens in rivalry of
Abderrahman the Kaliph, I have been dreaming of a house in splendor
beyond the conception of architects; and asks he more about it, tell
him I know it only as a house not made with hands. Tell him I speak not
in denial of possibilities; for by the love I have never failed to
accord the good and noble, I might bend my soul to his; to this hour,
however, God and His Son the Christ, and the Holy Mother, and the
Angels and deserving men and women have taken up my heart and
imagination, and in serving them I have not aspired to other happiness.
A wife I might become, not from temptation of gain or power, or in
surrender to love--I speak not in derision of the passion, since, like
the admitted virtues, it is from God--nay, Sheik, in illustration of
what may otherwise be of uncertain meaning to him, tell Prince Mahommed
I might become his wife could I by so doing save or help the religion I
profess. Then, if I brought him love, the sacrifice would rescue it
from every taint. Canst thou remember all this? And wilt thou deliver
it truly?"

The Sheik's demeanor when she ended was greatly changed; his head was
quite upon his breast; his attitude and whole appearance were
disconsolate to the last degree.

"Alas, Princess! How can I carry such speech to him, whose soul is
consuming with hunger and thirst for thy favor?"

"Sheik," she said in pity, "no master, I think, had ever a more
faithful servant than thou hast proved thyself. Thy delivery of his
message, could it be preserved, would be a model for heralds in the
future."

Thereupon she arose, extended her hand to him, and he kissed it; and as
she remained standing, he arose also.

"Be seated," she then said, and immediately that they were both in
their chairs again, she took direction of the interview.

"You asked me, Sheik, if I had heard how Othman wooed and won his
Malkatoon, and said it was a Turkish romance. The Othman, I take it,
was founder of Prince Mahommed's house. Now, if thou art not too weary,
tell me the story."

As the recital afforded him the opportunities to give poetic expression
to his present feeling, he accepted the suggestion gladly, and, being
in the right mood, was singularly effective. Half the time listening
she was in tears. It was past three o'clock when he finished. The
audience then terminated. In no part of it had her manner been more
gracious than when she conducted him along the portico, or her
loveliness so overwhelming as when she bade him adieu at the head of
the steps.

Standing between columns near the sedilium, she saw him gain his boat,
take something from the sitting-box, step ashore again, and return to
her gate, where he remained awhile pounding with a stone. The action
was curious, and when he was out of sight rounding the water front of
the promontory, she sent Lysander to investigate.

"The infidel has fixed a brass plate to the right-hand post of the
kiosk," the ancient reported, in bad humor. "It may be a curse." The
Princess then called her attendants, and went with them to see the
brass plate. There it was, an arm's reach overhead, and affixed firmly
to the post, the corners turned down to serve the tacking. Graven on
its polished surface was the following:

[Illustration]

Wholly unable to decipher it, she sent for a Dervish, long resident in
the town, and returned to the portico.

"Princess," the old man said, having viewed the mysterious plate, "he
who did the posting was a Turk; and if he were aged, I should say thou
hast entertained unaware the great Amurath, Sultan of Sultans."

"But the man was young."

"Then was he the son of Amurath, Prince Mahommed."

The Princess turned pale.

"How canst thou speak so positively?" she asked.

"It is a _teukra_; in the whole world, O Princess, there are but two
persons with authority to make use of it."

"And who are they?"

"The Sultan, and Mahommed, next him in the succession."

In the silence which ensued, Lysander officiously proposed to remove
the sign. The Dervish interposed.

"Wilt thou hear me, O Princess," he said, with a low reverence,
"whether the plate proceeded from Amurath or Mahommed, or by the order
of either of them, the leaving it behind signifies more than friendship
or favor--it is a safeguard--a proclamation that thou and thy people
and property here are under protection of the master of all the Turks.
Were war to break out to-morrow, thou mightest continue in thy palace
and garden with none to make thee afraid save thine own countrymen.
Wherefore consider well before acceding to the rancor of this ancient
madman."

Thus the truth came to the Princess Irene. The Singing Sheik was Prince
Mahommed!

Twice he had appeared before her; in the White Castle once, and now in
her palace; and having announced himself her lover, and proposed
marriage, he intended her to know him, and also that he was not
departing in despair. Hence the plate on the gate! The circumstance was
novel and surprising. Her present feelings were too vague and uncertain
for definition: but she was not angry.

Meantime Mahommed, returning to the old Castle, debated with himself.
He loved the Princess Irene with the passion of a soul unused to denial
or disappointment, and before he reached the Roumelian Hissar he swore
a Moslem oath to conquer Constantinople, less for Islam and glory, than
for her. And from that hour the great accomplishment took hold of him
to the exclusion of all else.

At Hissar he ascended the mountain, and, standing on the terreplein of
the precipice in front of what is now Robert College, he marked the
narrowness of the Bosphorus below, and thinking of the military
necessity for a crossing defended on both shores, he selected a site
for a castle on the European side opposite the White Castle in Asia. In
due time we will have occasion to notice the creation of the walls and
towers of the stupendous fortification yet standing between Bebek and
Hissar, a monument to his energy and sagacity more imposing than
anything left by him in Constantinople.





BOOK IV

THE PALACE OF BLACHERNE


CHAPTER I

THE PALACE OF BLACHERNE


The Prince of India was not given to idle expectations. He might
deceive others, but he seldom deceived himself. His experience served
him prophetically in matters largely dependent on motives ordinarily
influential with men. He was confident the Emperor would communicate
with him, and soon.

The third day after the adventure at the White Castle, a stranger,
mounted, armed, and showily caparisoned, appeared at the Prince's door
under guidance of Uel. In the study, to which he was hidden, he
announced himself the bearer of a complimentary message from His
Majesty, concluding with an invitation to the palace of Blacherne. If
agreeable, His Majesty would be pleased to receive the Indian dignitary
in the afternoon at three o'clock. An officer of the guard would be at
the Grand Gate for his escort. The honor, needless to say, was accepted
in becoming terms.

When the Prince descended to the hall of entry on the ground floor to
take the sedan there, the unusual care given his attire was apparent.
His beard was immaculately white. His turban of white silk, balloon in
shape, and with a dazzle of precious stones in front, was a study. Over
a shirt of finest linen, with ruffles of lace at the throat and breast,
there was a plain gown of heavy black velvet, buttoned at the neck, but
open down to a yellow sash around the waist. The sash was complemented
by a belt which was a mass of pearls in relief on a ground of gold
embroidery. The belt-plate and crescented sword scabbard were aflame
with brilliants on blue enamelling. His trousers, ample as a skirt,
were of white satin overflowing at the ankles. Pointed red slippers,
sparkling with embroidery of small golden beads, completed the costume.

The procession in the street was most striking. First Nilo, as became a
king of Kash-Cush, barbarously magnificent; the sedan next, on the
shoulders of four carriers in white livery; at the rear, two domestics
arrayed _a la Cipango_, their strange blue garments fitting them so
close as to impede their walking; yet as one of them bore his master's
paper sunshade and ample cloak, and the other a cushion bloated into
the proportions of a huge pillow, they were by no means wanting in
self-importance. Syama, similarly attired, though in richer material,
walked at the side of the sedan, ready to open the door or answer such
signal as he might receive from within.

The appearance of this retinue in the streets was a show to the idle
and curious, who came together as if rendered out of the earth, and in
such numbers that before fairly reaching the thoroughfare by which the
Grand Gate of Blacherne was usually approached from the city side, the
gilded box on the shoulders of its bearers looked, off a little way,
not unlike a boat rocking in waves.

Fortunately the people started in good humor, and meeting nothing to
break the mood, they permitted the Prince to accomplish his journey
without interruption. The companionship of the crowd was really
agreeable to him; he hardly knew whether it were pleasanter to be able
to excite such respectful curiosity than to gratify it successfully. It
might have been otherwise had Lael been with him.

The Very High Residence, as the Palace of Blacherne was generally
spoken of by Greeks, was well known to the Prince of India. The
exclamation with which he settled himself in the sedan at setting out
from his house--"Again, again, O Blacherne!"--disclosed a previous
personal acquaintance with the royal property. And over and over again
on the way he kept repeating, "O Blacherne! Beautiful Blacherne! Bloom
the roses as of old in thy gardens? Do the rivulets in thy alabaster
courts still run singing to the mosaic angels on the walls?"

As to the date of these recollections, if, as the poets tell us, time
is like a flowing river, and memory a bridge for the conveniency of the
soul returning to its experiences, how far had this man to travel the
structure before reaching the Blacherne he formerly knew? Over what
tremendous spaces between piers did it carry him!

The street traversed by the Prince carried him first to the Grate of
St. Peter on the Golden Horn, and thence, almost parallel with the city
wall, to Balat, a private landing belonging to the Emperor, at present
known as the gate of Blacherne.

At the edge of an area marble paved, the people stopped, it being the
limit of their privilege. Crossing the pavement, the visitor was set
down in front of the Grand Gate of the Very High Residence. History,
always abominating lapses, is yet more tender of some places than
others. There, between flanking towers, an iron-plated valve strong
enough to defy attack by any of the ancient methods was swung wide
open, ready nevertheless to be rolled to at set of sun. The guard
halted the Prince, and an officer took his name, and apologizing for a
brief delay, disappeared with it. Alighting from his sedan, the worthy
proceeded to take observation and muse while waiting.

The paved area on which he stood was really the bottom of a
well-defined valley which ran off and up irregularly toward the
southeast, leaving an ascent on its right memorable as the seventh hill
of Constantinople. A stone wall marked here and there by sentinel
boxes, each with a red pennon on its top, straggled down along the foot
of the ascent to the Grand Gate. There between octangular towers
loopholed and finished battlement style was a covered passage
suggestive of Egypt. Two Victories in high relief blew trumpets at each
other across the entrance front. Ponderous benches of porphyry,
polished smooth by ages of usage, sat one on each side for the guards;
fellows in helmets of shining brass, cuirasses of the same material
inlaid with silver, greaves, and shoes stoutly buckled. Those of them
sitting sprawled their bulky limbs broadly over the benches. The few
standing seemed like selected giants, with blond beards and blue eyes,
and axes at least three spans in length along their whetted edges. The
Prince recognized the imperial guards--Danes, Saxons, Germans, and
Swiss--their nationalities merged into the corps entitled _Varangians_.

Conscious, but unmindful of their stare, he kept his stand, and swept
the hill from bottom to top, giving free rein to memory.

In 449 A. D.--he remembered the year and the circumstance well--an
earthquake threw down the wall then enclosing the city. Theodosius
restored it, leaving the whole height outside of this northwestern part
a preserve wooded, rocky, but with one possession which had become so
infinitely sanctified in Byzantine estimation as to impart the quality
to all its appurtenances, that was the primitive but Very Holy Church
of Blacherne, dedicated to the Virgin.

Near the church there was a pleasure house to which the Emperors,
vainly struggling to escape the ceremonies the clergy had fastened upon
them to the imbitterment of life, occasionally resorted, and down on
the shore of the Golden Horn a zoological garden termed the Cynegion
had been established. The latter afterwhile came to have a gallery in
which the public was sometimes treated to games and combats between
lions, tigers, and elephants. There also criminals and heretics were
frequently carried and flung to the beasts.

Nor did the Prince fail to recall that in those cycles the sovereigns
resided preferably in the Bucoleon, eastwardly by the sea of Marmora.
He remembered some of them as acquaintances with whom he had been on
close terms--Justinian, Heraclius, Irene, and the Porphyrogentes.

The iconoclastic masters of that cluster of magnificent tenements, the
Bucoleon, had especial claims upon his recollection. Had he not incited
them to many of their savageries? They were incidents, it is true,
sadly out of harmony with his present dream; still their return now was
with a certain fluttering of the spirit akin to satisfaction, for the
victims in nearly every case had been Christians, and his business of
life then was vengeance for the indignities and sufferings inflicted on
his countrymen.

With a more decided flutter, he remembered a scheme he put into effect
just twenty years after the restoration of the wall by Theodosius. In
the character of a pious Christianized Israelite resident in Jerusalem,
he pretended to have found the vestments of the Holy Mother of Christ.
The discovery was of course miraculous, and he reported it
circumstantially to the Patriarchs Galvius and Candidus. For the glory
of God and the exaltation of the Faith, they brought the relics to
Constantinople. There, amidst most solemn pomp, the Emperor assisting,
they were deposited in the Church of Saints Peter and Mark, to be
transferred a little later to their final resting-place in the holier
Church of the Virgin of Blacherne. There was a world of pious propriety
in the idea that as the vestments belonged to the Mother of God they
would better become her own house. The _Himation_ or _Maphorion_, as
the robe of the Virgin was called, brought the primitive edifice in the
woods above the Cynegion a boundless increase of sanctity, while the
discoverer received the freedom of the city, the reverence of the
clergy, and the confidence of the Basileus.

Nor did the prodigious memory stay there. The hill facing the city was
of three terraces. On the second one, half hidden among cypress and
plane trees, he beheld a building, low, strong, and, from his
direction, showing but one window. Some sixteen years previous, during
his absence in Cipango, a fire had destroyed the Church of the Virgin,
and owing to the poverty of the people and empire, the edifice had not
been rebuilt. This lesser unpretentious structure was the Chapel of
Blacherne which the flames had considerately spared. He recognized it
instantly, and remembered it as full of inestimable relics--amongst
them the _Himation_, considered indestructible; the Holy Cross which
Heraclius, in the year 635, had brought from Jerusalem, and delivered
to Sergius; and the _Panagia Blachernitissa_, or All Holy Banner of the
Image of the Virgin. Then rose another reminiscence, and though to
reach him it had to fly across a chasm of hundreds of years, it
presented itself with the distinctness of an affair of yesterday. In
626, Heraclius being Emperor, a legion of Avars and Persians sacked
Scutari, on the Asiatic side of the Bosphorus, and laid siege to
Constantinople. The Byzantines were in awful panic; and they would have
yielded themselves had not Sergius the Patriarch been in control. With
a presence of mind equal to the occasion, he brought the _Panagia_
forth, and supported by an army of clerics and monks, traversed the
walls, waving the All Holy Banner. A volley of arrows from invisible
archers fell upon the audacious infidels, and the havoc was dreadful;
they fled, and their prince, the Khagan, fled with them, declaring he
had seen a woman in shining garments but of awful presence on the
walls. The woman was the Holy Mother; and with a conceit easily
mistaken for gratitude, the Byzantines declared their capital
thenceforward guarded by God. When they went out to the Church in the
Woods and found it unharmed by the enemy, they were persuaded the
Mother had adopted them; in return, what could they else than adopt
her? Pisides, the poet, composed a hymn, to glorify her. The Church
consecrated the day of the miraculous deliverance a fete day observable
by Greeks forever. The Emperor removed the old building, and on its
site raised another of a beauty more expressive of devotion. To secure
it from ravage and profanation, he threw a strong wall around the whole
venerated hill, and by demolishing the ancient work of Theodosius, made
Blacherne a part of the city.

By and by the Church required enlargement, and it was then cruci-formed
by the addition of transepts right and left. Still later, a Chapel was
erected specially for the relics and the All Holy Banner. This was
contiguous to the Church, and besides being fireproof, it covered a
spring of pure water, afterwards essential in many splendid ceremonies
civil as well as religious. The Chamber of Relics was prohibited to all
but the Basileus. He alone could enter it. By great favor, the Prince
of India was once permitted to look into the room, and he remembered it
large and dimly lighted, its shadows alive, however, with the glitter
of silver and gold in every conceivable form, offered there as the Wise
Men laid their gifts before the Child in the Cave of the Nativity.

Again and again the Church was burned, yet the Chapel escaped. It
seemed an object of divine protection. The sea might deliver tempests
against the Seven Hills, earthquakes shake the walls down and crack the
hanging dome of St. Sophia, cinders whiten paths from the porphyry
column over by the Hippodrome to the upper terrace of Blacherne; yet
the Chapel escaped--yet the holy fountain in its crypt flowed on purer
growing as the centuries passed.

The Prince, whose memories we are but weaving into words, did not
wonder at the increase of veneration attaching to the Chapel and its
precious deposits--manuscripts, books, bones, flags, things personal to
the Apostles, the Saints, the Son and His Mother, parings of their
nails, locks of their hair, spikes and splinters of the Cross
itself--he did not wonder at it, or smile, for he knew there is a
devotional side to every man which wickedness may blur but cannot
obliterate. He himself was going about the world convinced that the
temple of Solomon was the House of God.

The guards sprawling on the benches kept staring at him; one of them
let his axe fall without so much as attracting the Prince's attention.
His memory, with a hold on him too firm to be disturbed by such
trifles, insisted on its resurrectionary work, and returned him to the
year 865. Constantinople was again besieged, this time by a horde from
the Russian wilderness under the chiefs Dir and Askold. They had passed
the upper sea in hundreds of boats, and disembarking on the European
shore, marched down the Bosphorus, leaving all behind them desolate.
Photius was then Patriarch. When the fleet was descried from the walls,
he prevailed on the Emperor to ask the intervention of the Virgin. The
_Maphorion_ or Sacred Robe was brought out, and in presence of the
people on their knees, the clergy singing the hymn of Pisides, the holy
man plunged it into the waves.

A wind arose under which the water in its rocky trough was as water in
a shaken bowl. The ships of the invaders sunk each other. Not one
survived. Of the men, those who lived came up out of the vortexes
praying to be taken to the Church of Blacherne for baptism. This was
two hundred years and more after the first deliverance of the city, and
yet the Mother was faithful to her chosen!--Constantinople was still
the guarded of God!--The _Penagia_ was still the All Holy! Having
repulsed the Muscovite invasion, what excuse for his blasphemy would
there be left the next to challenge its terrors?

The Prince of India saw the blackened walls of the burned Church, an
appealing spectacle which the surrounding trees tried to cover with
their foliage, but could not; then he lifted his eyes to the Palace
upon the third terrace.

To the hour decay sets in the touches of Time are usually those of an
artist who loves his subject, and wishes merely to soften or ennoble
its expression. So had he dealt with the Very High Residence.

It began in the low ground down by the Cynegion, and arose with the
city wall, which was in fact its southwestern front. Though always
spoken of in the singular, like the Bucoleon, it was a collection of
palaces, vast, irregular, and declarative of the taste of the different
eras they severally memorialized. The spaces between them formed courts
and _places_ under cover; yet as the architects had adhered to the idea
of a main front toward the northeast, there appeared a certain unity of
design in the structures.

This main front, now under the Prince's view, was frequently broken,
advancing here, retreating there; one section severely plain and
sombre; another relieved by porticos with figured friezes resting on
tall columns. The irregularities were pleasing; some of them were
stately; and they were all helped not a little by domes and pavilions
without which the roof lines would have been monotonous.

Lifting his gaze up the ascent from the low ground, it rested presently
on a Tower built boldly upon the Heraclian wall. This was the highest
pinnacle of the Palace, first to attract the observer, longest to hold
his attention. No courier was required to tell its history to him
through whose eyes we are now looking--it was the tower of Isaac
Angelus. How clearly its outlines cut the cloudless sky! How strong it
seemed up there, as if built by giants! Yet with windows behind
balconies, how airy and graceful withal! The other hills of the city,
and the populated valleys between the hills, spread out below it, like
an unrolled map. The warders of the Bucoleon, or what is now Point
Serail, the home-returning mariner shipping oars off Scutari, the
captain of the helmeted column entering the Golden Gate down by the
Seven Towers, the insolent Genoese on the wharves of Galata, had only
to look up, and lo! the perch of Isaac. And when, as often must have
happened, the privileged lord himself sat midafternoons on the
uppermost balcony of the Tower, how the prospect soothed the fever of
his spirit! If he were weary of the city, there was the Marmora, always
ready to reiterate the hues of the sky, and in it the Isles of the
Princes, their verdurous shades permeated with dreamful welcome to the
pleasure-seeker as well as the monk; or if he longed for a further
flight, old Asia made haste with enticing invitation to some of the
villas strewing its littoral behind the Isles; and yonder, to the eye
fainting in the distance, scarce more than a pale blue boundary cloud,
the mountain beloved by the gods, whither they were wont to assemble at
such times as they wished to learn how it fared with Ilium and the sons
of Priam, or to enliven their immortality with loud symposia. A
prospect so composed would seem sufficient, if once seen, to make a
blind man's darkness perpetually luminous.

Sometimes, however, the superlative magnate preferred the balcony on
the western side of the Tower. There he could sit in the shade, cooled
by waftures from a wide campania southward, or, peering over the
balustrade, watch the peasantry flitting through the breaks of the
Kosmidion, now the purlieus of Eyoub.

Again the Prince was carried back through centuries. It had been
determined to build at Blacherne; but the hill was steep. How could
spaces be gained for foundations, for courts and gardens? The
architects pondered the problem. At last one of bolder genius came
forward. We will accept the city wall for a western front, he said, and
build from it; and for levels, allow us to commence at the foot of the
height, and rear arches upon arches. The proposal was accepted; and
thereafter for years the quarter was cumbered with brick and skeleton
frames, and workingmen were numerous and incessantly busy as colonized
ants. Thus the ancient pleasure house disappeared, and the first formal
High Residence took its place; at the same time the Bucoleon, for so
many ages the glory of Constantinople, was abandoned by its masters.

Who was the first permanent occupant of the Palace of Blacherne? The
memory, theretofore so prompt, had now no reply. No matter--the Prince
recalled sessions had with Angelus on the upper balcony yonder. He
remembered them on account of his host one day saying: "Here I am
safe." The next heard of him he was a captive and blind.

Passing on rapidly, he remembered the appearance of Peter the Hermit in
the gorgeous reception room of the Palace in 1096. Quite as distinctly,
he also remembered the audience Alexis I. tendered Godfrey of Bouillon
and his Barons in the same High Residence.

What a contrast the host and his guests presented that day! The latter
were steel clad from head to foot and armed for battle, while Alexis
was a spectacle of splendor unheard of in the barbarous West. How the
preachers and eunuchs in the silk-gowned train of the one trembled as
the redoubtables of the West mangled the velvet carpets with their
cruel spurs! How peculiarly the same redoubtables studied the pearls on
the yellow stole of the wily Comnene and the big jewels in his Basilean
mitre--as if they were counting and weighing them mentally, preliminary
to casting up at leisure a total of value! And the table ware--this
plate and yon bowl--were they really gold or some cunning deception?
The Greeks were so treacherous! And when the guests were gone, the
Greeks, on their part, were not in the least surprised at the list of
spoons and cups subtly disappeared--gifts, they supposed, intended by
the noble "Crosses" for the most Holy Altar in Jerusalem!

Still other remembrances of the Prince revived at sight of the
Palace--many others--amongst them, how the Varangians beat the boastful
Montferrat and the burly Count of Flanders in the assault of 1203,
specially famous for the gallantry of old Dandolo, operating with his
galleys on the side of the Golden Horn. Brave fellows, those
Varangians! Was the corps well composed now as then? He glanced at the
lusty examples before him on the stone benches, thinking they might
shortly have to answer the question.

These reminiscences, it must not be forgotten, were of brief passage
with the Prince, much briefer than the time taken in writing them. They
were interrupted by the appearance of a military official whose uniform
and easy manner bespoke palace life. He begged to be informed if he had
the honor of addressing the Prince of India; and being affirmatively
assured, he announced himself sent to conduct him to His Majesty. The
hill was steep, and the way somewhat circuitous; did the Prince need
assistance? The detention, he added, was owing to delay in getting
intelligence of the Prince's arrival to His Majesty, who had been
closely engaged, arranging for certain ceremonies which were to occur
in the evening. Perhaps His Majesty had appointed the audience
imagining the ceremonies might prove entertaining to the Prince. These
civilities, and others, were properly responded to, and presently the
cortege was in motion.

The lower terrace was a garden of singular perfection.

On the second terrace, the party came to the ruined Church where,
during a halt, the officer told of the fire. His Majesty had registered
a vow, he said, at the end of the story, to rebuild the edifice in a
style superior to any former restoration.

The Prince, while listening, observed the place. Excepting the Church,
it was as of old. There the grove of cypresses, very ancient, and tall
and dark. There, too, the Chapel of purplish stone, and at one side of
it the sentry box and bench, and what seemed the identical detail of
Varangians on duty. There the enclosed space between the edifices, and
the road across the pavement to the next terrace only a little deeper
worn. There the arched gateway of massive masonry through which the
road conducted, the carving about it handsome as ever; and there,
finally, from the base of the Chapel, the brook, undiminished in volume
and song, ran off out of sight into the grove, an old acquaintance of
the Prince's.

Moving on through the arched way, the guide led up to the third and
last terrace. Near the top there was a cut, and on its right embankment
a party of workmen spreading and securing a canopy of red cloth.

"Observe, O Prince," the officer said. "From this position, if I
mistake not, you will witness the ceremony I mentioned as in
preparation."

The guest had time to express his gratification, when the Palace of
Blacherne, the Very High Residence, burst upon him in long extended
view, a marvel of imperial prodigality and Byzantine genius.




CHAPTER II

THE AUDIENCE


The sedan was set down before a marble gate on the third terrace.

"My duty is hardly complete. Suffer me to conduct you farther," the
officer said, politely, as the Prince stepped from the box.

"And my servants?"

"They will await you."

The speakers were near the left corner of a building which projected
considerably from the general front line of the Palace. The wall, the
gateway, and the building were of white marble smoothly dressed.

After a few words with Syama, the Prince followed his guide into a
narrow enclosure on the right of which there was a flight of steps, and
on the left a guard house. Ascending the steps, the two traversed a
passage until they came to a door.

"The waiting-room. Enter," said the conductor.

Four heavily curtained windows lighted the apartment. In the centre
there were a massive table, and, slightly removed from it, a burnished
copper brazier. Bright-hued rugs covered the floor, and here and there
stools carven and upholstered were drawn against the painted walls. The
officer, having seen his charge comfortably seated, excused himself and
disappeared.

Hardly was he gone when two servants handsomely attired came in with
refreshments--fruits in natural state, fruits candied, sweetened bread,
sherbet, wine and water. A chief followed them, and, with much humility
of manner, led the Prince to a seat at the table, and invited him to
help himself. The guest was then left alone; and while he ate and drank
he wondered at the stillness prevalent; the very house seemed in awe.

Ere long another official entered, and after apologizing for
introducing himself, said: "I am Dean of the Court. In the absence of
my lord Phranza, it has fallen to me to discharge, well as I can, the
duties of Grand Chamberlain."

The Prince, observant of the scrutinizing glance the Dean gave his
person, acknowledged the honor done him, and the pleasure he derived
from the acquaintance. The Dean ought to be happy; he had great fame in
the city and abroad as a most courteous, intelligent, and faithful
servant; there was no doubt he deserved preeminently the confidence his
royal master reposed in him.

"I am come, O Prince," the old functionary said, after thanks for the
friendly words, "to ascertain if you are refreshed, and ready for the
audience."

"I am ready."

"Let us to His Majesty then. If I precede you, I pray pardon."

Drawing the portiere aside, the Dean held it for the other's passage.

They entered an extensive inner court, surrounded on three sides by a
gallery resting on pillars. On the fourth side, a magnificent staircase
ascended to a main landing, whence, parting right and left, it
terminated in the gallery. Floor, stairs, balustrading, pillars,
everything here was red marble flooded with light from a circular
aperture in the roof open to the sky.

Along the stairs, at intervals, officers armed and in armor were
stationed, and keeping their positions faced inwardly, they seemed like
statues. Other armed men were in the galleries. The silence was
impressive. Coming presently to an arched door, the Prince glanced into
a deep chamber, and at the further end of it beheld the Emperor seated
in a chair of state on a dais curtained and canopied with purple velvet.

"Take heed now, O Prince," said the Dean, in a low voice. "Yonder is
His Majesty. Do thou imitate me in all things. Come."

With this kindly caution the Dean led into the chamber of public
audience. Just within the door, he halter, crossed hands upon his
breast, and dropped to his knees, his eyes downcast; rising, he kept on
about halfway to the dais, and again knelt; when near his person's
length from the dais, he knelt and fully prostrated himself. The Prince
punctiliously executed every motion, except that at the instant of
halting the last time he threw both hands up after the manner of
Orientals. A velvet carpet of the accepted imperial color stretched
from door to dais greatly facilitated the observances.

A statuesque soldier, with lance and shield, stood at the left of the
dais, a guard against treachery; by the chair, bare-headed,
bare-legged, otherwise a figure in a yellow tunic lightly breastplated,
appeared the sword-bearer, his slippers stayed with bands of gold, a
blade clasped to his body by the left forearm, the hilt above his
shoulder; and spacious as the chamber was, a row of dignitaries civil,
military, and ecclesiastical lined the walls each in prescribed
regalia. The hush already noticed was observable here, indicative of
rigid decorum and awful reverence. "Rise, Prince of India," the Emperor
said, without movement.

The visitor obeyed.

The last of the Palaeologae was in Basilean costume; a golden circlet
on his head brilliantly jewelled and holding a purple velvet cap in
place; an overgown of the material of the cap but darker in tint, and
belted at the waist; a mantle stiff with embroidery of pearls hanging
by narrow bands so as to drop from the shoulder over the breast and
back, leaving the neck bare; an ample lap-robe of dark purple cloth
sparkling with precious stones covering his nether limbs. The chair was
square in form without back or arms; its front posts twined and
intricately inlaid with ivory and silver, and topped each with a golden
cone for hand-rest. The bareness of the neck was relieved by four
strings of pearls dropped from the circlet two on a side, and drawn
from behind the ears forward so as to lightly tip the upper edge of the
mantle. The right hand rested at the moment on the right cone of the
chair; the left was free. The attitude of the figure thus presented was
easy and unconstrained, the countenance high and noble, and altogether
the guest admitted to himself that he had seldom been introduced to
royalty more really imposing.

There was hardly an instant allowed for these observations. To set his
guest at ease, Constantine continued: "The way to our door is devious
and upward. I hope it has not too severely tried you."

"Your Majesty, were the road many times more trying I would willingly
brave it to be the recipient of honors and attentions which have made
the Emperor of Constantinople famous in many far countries, and not
least in mine."

The courtierly turn of the reply did not escape the Emperor. It had
been strange if he had not put the character of his guest to question;
indeed, an investigation had proceeded by his order, with the
invitation to audience as a result; and now the self-possession of the
stranger, together with his answer, swept the last doubt from, the
imperial mind. An attendant, responding to a sign, came forward.

"Bring me wine," and as the servant disappeared with the order,
Constantine again addressed his visitor. "You maybe a Brahman or an
Islamite," he said, with a pleasant look to cover any possible mistake:
"in either case, O Prince, I take it for granted that the offer of a
draught of Chian will not be resented."

"I am neither a Mohammedan, nor a devotee of the gentle son of Maya. I
am not even a Hindoo in religion. My faith leads me to be thankful for
all God's gifts to his creatures. I will take the cup Your Majesty
deigns to propose."

The words were spoken with childlike simplicity of manner; yet nowhere
in these pages have we had a finer example of the subtlety which,
characteristic of the speaker, seemed inspiration rather than study. He
knew from general report how religion dominated his host, and on the
spur of the moment, thought to pique curiosity with respect to his own
faith; seeing, as he fancied, a clear path to another audience, with
ampler opportunity to submit and discuss the idea of Universal
Brotherhood in God.

The glance with which he accompanied assent to the cup was taken as a
mere accentuation of gratitude; it was, however, for discovery. Had the
Emperor noticed the declaration of what he was not? Did his
intelligence suggest how unusual it was for an Indian to be neither a
Mohammedan, nor a Brahman, nor even a Buddhist in religion? He saw a
sudden lifting of the brows, generally the preliminary of a question;
he even made an answer ready; but the other's impulse seemed to spend
itself in an inquiring look, which, lingering slightly, might mean much
or nothing. The Prince resolved to wait.

Constantine, as will be seen presently, did observe the negations, and
was moved to make them the subject of remark at the moment; but
inordinately sensitive respecting his own religious convictions, he
imagined others like himself in that respect, and upon the scruple, for
which the reader will not fail to duly credit him, deferred inquiry
until the visitor was somewhat better understood.

Just then the cupbearer appeared with the wine; a girlish lad he was,
with long blond curls. Kneeling before the dais, he rested a silver
platter and the liquor sparkling on it in a crystal decanter upon his
right knee, waiting the imperial pleasure.

Taking the sign given him, the Dean stepped forward and filled the two
cups of chased gold also on the platter, and delivered them. Then the
Emperor held his cup up while he said in a voice sufficiently raised
for general hearing:

"Prince of India, I desired your presence to-day the rather to
discharge myself of obligations for important assistance rendered my
kinswoman, the Princess Irene of Therapia, during her detention at the
White Castle; a circumstance of such late occurrence it must be still
fresh in your memory. By her account the Governor was most courteous
and hospitable, and exerted himself to make her stay in his stronghold
agreeable as possible. Something truly extraordinary, considering the
forbidding exterior of the house, and the limited means of
entertainment it must have to offer, she declared he succeeded in
converting what threatened to be a serious situation into an adventure
replete with pleasant surprises. A delegate is now at the Castle
assuring the Governor of my appreciation of his friendly conduct. By
her account, also, I am bounden to you, Prince, scarcely less than to
him."

The gravity of the visitor at hearing this was severely attacked. Great
as was his self-control, he smiled at thought of the dilemma the
Governor was in, listening to a speech of royal thanks and receiving
rich presents in lieu of his young master Mahommed. When the envoy
returned and reported, if perchance he should describe the Turk whom he
found in actual keeping of the Castle, the discrepancy between his
picture of the man and that of the Princess would be both mysterious
and remarkable.

"Your Majesty," the Prince returned, with a deprecating gesture, "the
storm menaced me quite as much as the Princess, and calls for
confession of my inability to see wherein I rendered her service free
of regard for myself. Indeed, it is my duty to inform Your Majesty, all
these noble witnesses hearing me, that I am more beholden to your noble
kinswoman for help and deliverance in the affair than she can be to me.
But for the courage and address, not to mention the dignity and force
with which she availed herself of her royal relationship, resolving
what was at first a simple invitation to refuge into a high treaty
between the heads of two great powers, I and my daughter"--

"Daughter, said you?"

"Yes, Your Majesty--Heaven has so favored me--I, my daughter, and my
frightened boatmen would have been committed to the river near the
Castle, without recourse except in prayer to Heaven. Nay, Your Majesty,
have I permission to say on, Charity had never a sweeter flowering than
when the Princess remembered to take the stranger under her protection.
I am past the age of enthusiasm and extravagance--my beard and dimming
eyes prove the admission--yet I declare, weighing each word, she has
the wit, the spirit, the goodness, the loveliness to be the noblest of
queens to the best of kings; and fails she such choice, it will be
because destiny has been struck by some unaccountable forgetfulness."

By this time the courtiers, drawn in from the walls, composed a very
brilliant circle around the throne, each one curious to hear the
stranger as he had been to see him; and they were quick to point his
last sentence; for most of them had been with the Emperor in the voyage
to Therapia, which was still a theme of wager and wrangle scarcely less
interesting than in its first hour. By one impulse they ventured a
glance at the royal face, seeking a revelation; but the countenance was
steady as a mask.

"The encomium is well bestowed, and approves thy experience, Prince, as
a reader of women," Constantine said, with just enough fervor.
"Henceforth I shall know the degree of trust to repose in thy judgment,
other problems as difficult being in controversy. Nevertheless, is the
lady to be believed, then, O Prince, I repeat my acknowledgment of
indebtedness. It pleases me to greatly estimate thy influence and good
judgment happily exerted. Mayst thou live long, Prince of India, and
always find thyself as now among friends who charge themselves to be
watchful for opportunities to befriend thee."

He raised the cup.

"It is Your Majesty's pleasure," the guest replied, and they drank
together.

"A seat for the Prince of India," the Emperor next directed.

The chair, when brought, was declined.

"In my palace--for at home I exercise the functions of a king--it often
falls to me to give audiences; if public, we call them _durbars;_ and
then an inferior may not sit in my presence. The rule, like all
governing the session, is of my own enactment. I see plainly how
greatly Your Majesty designs to heap me with honors; and if I dare
decline this one, it is not from disposition to do a teacher's part,
but from habit which has the sanction of heredity, and the argument
self addressed: Shall I despise my own ordinances? God forbid!"

A murmur from the concourse was distinctly audible, which the Dean
interpreted by repeated affirmative nods. In other words, by this
stroke the able visitor won the court as he had already won its head;
insomuch that the most doubting of the doubters would not have refused
to certify him on belief the very Prince of India he claimed to be. The
Emperor, on his part, could not but defer to scruples so cogently and
solemnly put; at the same time, out of his very certainty respecting
the guest, he passed to a question which in probability the reader has
been for some time entertaining.

"The makers of a law should be first to observe it; for having done so,
they then have God's license to exert themselves in its enforcement;
and when one is found observant of a principle which has root so
perceptibly in conscience, to deny him his pleasure were inexcusable.
Have thy will, Prince."

The applause which greeted the decision of His Majesty was hardly out
of ear when he proceeded:

"Again I pray you, Sir Guest--I greatly misapprehend the travellers who
tell of India, if the people of that venerable country are not given to
ceremonials religious as well as secular. Many of our own observances
of a sacred nature are traceable to study and discernment of the good
effects of form in worship, and since some of them are unquestionably
borrowed from temples of the Pagan gods, yet others may be of Hindoo
origin. Who shall say? Wherefore, speaking generally, I should fear to
ask you to any of our Church mysteries which I did not know were purely
Greek. One such we have this evening. We call it _Pannychides_. Its
principal feature is a procession of monastic brethren from the holy
houses of the city and Islands--all within the jurisdiction of our
Eastern Church, which, please God, is of broader lines than our State.
The fathers have been assembling for the celebration several days. They
will form in the city at set of sun, throwing the march into the night.
Here, within our grounds, more particularly at the door of the Chapel
of our Holy Virgin of Blacherne, I will meet them. They will pass the
night in prayer, an army on bended knees, sorrowing for the pains of
our Saviour in Gethsemane. I was uncertain what faith you profess; yet,
Prince, I thought--forgive me, if it was an error--a sight of the
spirit of our Churchmen as it will be manifested on this occasion might
prove interesting to you; so I have taken the liberty of ordering a
stand erected for your accommodation at a position favorable to
witnessing the procession in movement up the terraces. No one has seen
the spectacle without realizing as never before the firmness of the
hold Christ has taken upon the souls of men." The last words startled
the Prince. Christ's hold upon the souls of men! The very thing he
wanted to learn, and, if possible, measure. A cloud of thoughts fell
about him; yet he kept clear head, and answered quietly:

"Your Majesty has done me great kindness. I am already interested in
the Mystery. Since we cannot hope ever to behold God with these mortal
eyes, the nearest amend for the deprivation is the privilege of seeing
men in multitudes demonstrating their love of Him."

Constantine's eyes lingered on the Prince's face. The utterances
attracted him. The manner was so artfully reverential as not to leave a
suspicion of the guile behind it. Going down great galleries, every one
has had his attention suddenly arrested; he pauses, looks, and looks
again, then wakes to find the attraction was not a picture, but only a
flash within his own mind. So, with the guest before him, the Emperor
was thinking of the man rather than seeing him--thinking of him with
curiosity fully awakened, and a desire to know him better. And had he
followed up the desire, he would have found its source in the idea that
India was a region in which reflection and psychological experiment had
been exhausted--where if one appeared with a thought it turned old ere
it could be explained--where wisdom had fructified until there was no
knowledge more--where the teaching capacity was all there was
remaining. That is to say, in the day of the last Byzantine Emperor,
centuries ago, humanity in India was, as now, a clock stopped, but
stopped in the act of striking, leaving a glory in the air imaginable
like the continuing sound of hushed cathedral bells.

"Prince," he at length said, "you will remain here until the procession
is announced at the Grand Gate. I will then give you a guide and a
guard. Our steward has orders to look after your comfort." Turning then
to the acting Chamberlain, he added: "Good Dean, have we not a little
time in which to hear our guest further?"

"Your Majesty, an hour at least."

"You hear, O Prince? Provided always that it be not to your
displeasure, tell me what I am to understand by the disclaimer which,
broadly interpreted, leaves you either a Jew or a Christian?"




CHAPTER III

THE NEW FAITH PROCLAIMED


The question came earlier than the Prince expected, and in different
form. Those in position to observe his face saw it turn a trifle pale,
and he hesitated, and glanced around uneasily, as though not altogether
assured of his footing. This might have been by-play; if so, it was
successful; every countenance not sympathetic was serious.

"Your Majesty's inquiry must be for information. I am too humble for an
unfriendly design on the part of one so exalted as the Emperor of
Constantinople. It might be otherwise if I represented a church, a
denomination, or a recognized religion; as it is, my faith is my own."

"But bethink thee, Prince, thou mayst have the truth--the very God's
truth," Constantine interposed, with kindly intent. "We all know thy
country hath been the cradle of divine ideas. So, speak, and fear not."

The glance the Emperor received was winsomely grateful.

"Indeed, Your Majesty, indeed I have need of good countenance. The
question put me has lured more men to bloody graves than fire, sword
and wave together. And then why I believe as I believe demands time in
excess of what we have; and I am the bolder in this because in limiting
me Your Majesty limits yourself. So I will now no more than define my
Faith. But first, it does not follow from my disclaimer that I can only
be a Jew or a Christian; for as air is a vehicle for a multitude of
subtleties in light, faith in like manner accommodates a multitude of
opinions."

While speaking, the Prince's voice gradually gained strength; his color
returned, and his eyes enlarged and shone with strange light. Now his
right hand arose, the fingers all closed except the first one, and it
was long and thin, and he waved it overhead, like a conjuring wand. If
the concourse had been unwilling to hear him, they could not have
turned away.

"I am not a Hindoo, my Lord; because I cannot believe men can make
their own gods."

The Father Confessor to the Emperor, at the left of the dais in a stole
of gold and crimson cloth, smiled broadly.

"I am not a Buddhist," the Prince continued; "because I cannot believe
the soul goes to nothingness after death."

The Father Confessor clapped his hands.

"I am not a Confucian; because I cannot reduce religion to philosophy
or elevate philosophy into religion."

The blood of the audience began to warm.

"I am not a Jew; because I believe God loves all peoples alike, or if
he makes distinctions, it is for righteousness' sake."

Here the chamber rang with clapping.

"I am not an Islamite; because when I raise my eyes to Heaven, I cannot
tolerate sight of a man standing between me and God--no, my Lord, not
though he be a Prophet."

The hit was palpable, and from hate of the old enemy, the whole
assemblage broke into an uproar of acclamation. Only the Emperor kept
his gravity. Leaning heavily on the golden cone at the right of his
chair, his chin depressed, his eyes staring, scarcely breathing, he
waited, knowing, that having gone so far, there was before the speaker
an unavoidable climax; and seeing it in his face, and coming, he
presently aroused, and motioned for silence.

"I am not"--

The Prince stopped, but when the hush was deepest went on--"I am not a
Christian; because--because I believe--God is God."

The Father Confessor's hands were ready to clap, but they stayed so;
the same spell took hold of the bystanders, except that they looked at
the Emperor, and he alone seemed to comprehend the concluding phrase.
He settled back easily in his seat, saying, "Thy Faith then is--"

"God!"

The monosyllable was the Prince's.

And with clear sight of the many things reprobated--Images, Saints, the
Canonized, even the worship of Christ and the Holy Mother--with clear
sight also of the wisdom which in that presence bade the guest stop
with the mighty name--at the same time more curious than ever to hear
in full discourse the man who could reduce religion to a single word
and leave it comprehensible, Constantine drew a breath of relief, and
said, smiling, "Of a surety, O Prince, there was never a Faith which,
with such appearance of simplicity in definition, is capable of such
infinity of meaning. I am full of questions; and these listening, my
lords of the court, are doubtless in a similar mood. What sayest thou,
O my most orthodox Confessor?" The Father bowed until the hem of his
blazing stole overlaid the floor.

"Your Majesty, we too are believers in God; but we also believe in much
beside; so, if but for comparison of creeds, which is never
unprofitable while in good nature, I should like to hear the noble and
fair speaking guest further."

"And you, my Lords?"

The throng around answered, "Yes, yes!"

"We will have it so then. Look, good Logothete, for the nearest day
unoccupied."

A handsome man of middle age approached the dais, and opening a
broad-backed book, evidently the record of the royal appointments,
turned a number of leaves, and replied: "Your Majesty, two weeks from
tomorrow."

"Note the same set aside for the Prince of India.-Dost hear, Prince?"

The latter lowered his face the better to conceal his pleasure.

"All days are alike to me," he answered.

"In this our palace, then--two weeks from to-morrow at the hour of
noon. And now"--the rustle and general movement of the courtiers was
instantly stayed--"and now, Prince, didst thou not speak of exercising
the functions of a king at home? Thy capital must be in India, but
where, pray? And how callest thou thyself? And why is this city so
fortunate as to have attracted thy wandering feet? It is not every king
so his own master as to turn traveller, and go about making study of
the world; although, I admit, it would be better could every king do
so."

These questions were rapidly put, but as the Prince was prepared for
them, he responded pleasantly:

"In answering the questions Your Majesty now honors me with. I am aware
how serious the mistake would be did I think of your curiosity alone. A
most excellent quality in a great man is patience. Alas, that it should
be one of the most abused! ... Among the oldest of Hindoo titles is
_Rajah_. It means King rather than Prince, and I was born to it. Your
Majesty may have heard of Oodeypoor, the bosom jewel of Rajpootana, the
white rose just bloomed of Indian cities. At the foot of a spur of the
Arawalli mountains, a river rises, and on its right bank reposes the
city; from which, southeast a little way, a lake lies outspread, like a
mirror fallen face upward. And around the lake are hills, tall and
broken as these of the Bosphorus; and seen from the water the hills are
masses of ivy and emerald woods thickly sprinkled with old fortresses
and temples, and seven-roofed red pagodas, each the home of a great
gold-decked Buddha, with lesser Buddhas in family. And in the lake are
islands all palaces springing from the water line in open arches, and
sculptured walls, and towered gates; and of still days their wondrous
cunning in the air is renewed afresh in the waveless depths below them.
If they are glorious then, what are they when reconstructed for festal
nights in shining lamps? For be it said, my Lord, if a stranger in the
walls of this centre of empire may speak a word which has the faintest
savor of criticism, the Indian genius analyzed beauty before there was
a West, and taking suggestions from spark and dewdrop, applied them to
architecture. Smile not, I pray, for you may see the one in the lamp
multiplied for outline traceries, and the other in the fountain, the
cascade, and the limpid margin at the base of walls. Or if still you
think me exaggerating, is not the offence one to be lightly forgiven
where the offender is telling of his birthplace? In one of the palaces
of that Lake of Palaces I was born, the oldest son of the Rajah of
Meywar, Oodeypoor his capital. In these words, which I hope may be
kindly judged, Your Majesty will find answers to one, if not two of the
questions you were pleased to ask me--Why I am here? And why making
study of the world? Will Your Majesty pardon my boldness, if I suggest
that a reply to those inquiries would be better at the audience set for
me next? I fear it is too long for telling now."

"Be it so," said Constantine, "yet a hint of it may not be amiss. It
may set us to thinking; and, Prince, a mind prepared for an idea is
like ground broken and harrowed for seed."

The Prince hesitated.

"Your Majesty--my Lord"--he then said firmly, "the most sorrowful of
men are those with conceptions too great for them, and which they must
carry about with nothing better to sustain their sinking spirits than a
poor hope of having them one day adopted; for until that day they are
like a porter overladen and going from house to house unknowing the
name of the owner of his burden or where to look for him. I am such an
unfortunate.... Oodeypoor, you must understand, is more than comely to
the eye of a native; it is a city where all religions are tolerated.
The Taing, the Brahman, the Hindoo, the Mohammedan, the Buddhist live
together there, protected and in peace, with their worship and houses
of worship; nor is there any shutting of mouths, because controversy
long since attained finality amongst them; or perhaps it were better
saying, because opinions there have now their recognized grooves, and
run in them from generation to generation--opinions to which men are
born as to their property, only without right of change or
modification; neither can they break away from them. There is no excuse
if an intelligent man in such a situation does not comprehend all the
religions thus in daily practice; or if one does comprehend them he
should not flatter himself possessed of any superior intellect.... The
Rajah, my father, died, and I mounted his silver throne, and for ten
years administered justice in the Hall of Durbars to which he had been
used, he and his father's father, Children of the Sun, most pure of
blood. By that time I was of mature mind, and having given myself up to
study, came to believe there is but one doctrine--principle--call it
what you will, my Lord--but one of heavenly origin--one primarily
comprehensible by all--too simple indeed to satisfy the egotism of men;
wherefore, without rejecting, they converted it into a foundation, and
built upon it each according to his vanity, until, in course of ages,
the foundation was overlaid with systems of belief, childish,
unnatural, ridiculous, indecent, or else too complicated for common
understanding"--

"This principle--what is it, Prince?" Constantine asked nervously.

"Your Majesty, I have already once named it."

"Mean you God?"

"And now, my Lord, thou hast pronounced it."

The stillness in the chamber was very deep. Every man seemed to be
asking, what next?

"One day, Your Majesty--it was in my tenth year of government--a
function was held in a tent erected for the purpose--a _shamiana_
vastly larger than any hall. I went up to it in state, passing through
lines of elephants, an hundred on either hand, covered with cloth of
gold and with houdahs of yellow silk roofed with the glory of peacocks.
Behind the mighty brutes soldiery blotted out the landscape, and the
air between them and the sky was a tawny cloud of flaunting yak-tails;
nor had one use for ears, so was he deafened by beat of drums and
blowing of brazen horns twice a tall man's height. I sat on a throne of
silver and gold, all my ministers present. My brother entered, he the
next entitled. Halfway down the aisle of chiefs I met him, and then led
him to my seat, and saluted him Rajah of Meywar. Your Majesty, so I
parted with crown and title--laid them down voluntarily to search the
world for men in power in love with God enough to accept him as their
sum of faith. Behold why I travel making the earth a study! Behold why
I am in Constantinople!"

Constantine was impressed.

"Where hast thou been?" he at length asked--"where before coming here?"

"It were easier did Your Majesty ask where I have not been. For then I
could answer, Everywhere, except Rome."

"Dost thou impugn our devotion to God?"

"Not so, not so, my Lord! I am seeking to know the degree of your love
of Him."

"How, Prince?"

"By a test."

"What test?"

No man listening could have said what mood the Emperor was in; yet the
guest replied with an appearance of rising courage: "A trial, to find
all the other things entering into Faith which Your Majesty and Your
Majesty's lords and subjects are willing to lay down for God's sake."

With a peremptory gesture Constantine silenced the stir and rustle in
the chamber. "It is right boldly put," he said.

"But none the less respectfully. My Lord, I am striving to be
understood."

"You speak of a trial. To what end?"

"One Article of Faith, the all-essential of Universal Brotherhood in
Religion."

"A magnificent conception! But is it practicable?"

Fortunately or unfortunately for the Prince, an officer that moment
made way through the courtiers, and whispered to the Dean, who at once
addressed himself to the Emperor.

"I pray pardon, but it pleased Your Majesty to bid me notify you when
it is time to make ready for the Mystery to-night. The hour is come;
besides which a messenger from Scholarius waits for an interview."

Constantine arose.

"Thanks, worthy Dean," he said; "we will not detain the messenger. The
audience is dismissed."

Then descending from the dais, he gave his hand to the Prince. "I see
the idea you have in mind, and it is worthy the bravest effort. I shall
look forward to the next audience with concern. Forget not that the
guestship continues. My steward will take you in charge. Farewell."

The Prince, sinking to his knees, kissed the offered hand, whereupon
the Emperor said as if just reminded: "Was not your daughter with my
kinswoman in the White Castle?"

"Your Majesty, the Princess on that occasion most graciously consented
to accept my daughter as her attendant."

"Were she to continue in the same attendance, Prince, we might hope to
have her at court some day."

"I lay many thanks at Your Majesty's feet. She is most honored by the
suggestion." Constantine in lead of his officers then passed out,
while, in care of the steward, the Prince was conducted to the
reception room, and served with refreshments. Afterwhile through the
windows he beheld the day expiring, and the first audience finished,
and the second appointed, he was free to think of the approaching
Mystery.

Be it said now he was easy in feeling--satisfied with the management of
his cause--satisfied with the impression he had made on the Emperor and
the court as well. Had not the latter applauded and voted to hear him
again? When taken with the care habitually observed by leading
personages in audiences formal as that just passed, how broadly
sympathetic the expressions of the monarch had been.

In great cheerfulness the Prince ate and drank, and even occupied the
wine-colored leisure conning an argument for the occasion in
prospect--noon, next day two weeks! And more clearly than ever his
scheme seemed good. Could he carry it through--could he succeed--the
good would be recognized--never a doubt of that. If men were sometimes
blind, God was always just.

In thought he sped forward of the coming appointment, and saw himself
not only the apostle of the reform, but the chosen agent, the
accredited go-between of Constantine and the young Mahommed. He
remembered the points of negotiation between them. He would not require
the Turk to yield the prophetic character of Mahomet; neither should
the Byzantine's faith in Christ suffer curtailment; he would ask them,
however, to agree to a new relation between Mahomet and Christ on the
one side and God on the other--that, namely, long conceded, as having
existed between God and Elijah. And then, an article of the utmost
materiality, the very soul of the recast religion, he would insist that
they obligate themselves to worship God alone, worship being His
exclusive prerogative, and that this condition of exclusive worship be
prescribed the only test of fraternity in religion; all other worship
to be punishable as heresy. Nor stopped he with Mahommed and
Constantine; he doubted not bringing the Rabbis to such a treaty. How
almost identical it was with the Judaism of Moses. The Bishop of Rome
might protest. What matter? Romanism segregated must die. And so the
isms of the Brahman and the Hindoo, so the Buddhist, the Confucian, the
Mencian--they would all perish under the hammering of the union. Then,
too, Time would make the work perfect, and gradually wear Christ and
Mahomet out of mind--he and Time together. What if the task did take
ages? He had an advantage over other reformers--he could keep his
reform in motion--he could guide and direct it--he could promise
himself life to see it in full acceptance. In the exuberance of
triumphant feeling, he actually rejoiced in his doom, and for the
moment imagined it more than a divine mercy.




CHAPTER IV

THE PANNYCHIDES


An invitation from the Emperor to remain and view the procession
marching up the heights of Blacherne had been of itself a compliment;
but the erection of a stand for the Prince turned the compliment into a
personal honor. To say truth, however, he really desired to see the
Pannychides, or in plain parlance, the Vigils. He had often heard of
them as of prodigious effect upon the participants. Latterly they had
fallen into neglect; and knowing how difficult it is to revive a dying
custom, he imagined the spectacle would be poor and soon over. While
reflecting on it, he looked out of the window and was surprised to see
the night falling. He yielded then to restlessness, until suddenly an
idea arose and absorbed him.

Suppose the Emperor won to his scheme; was its success assured? So used
was he to thinking of the power of kings and emperors as the sole
essential to the things he proposed that in this instance he had failed
to concede importance to the Church; and probably he would have gone on
in the delusion but for the Mysteries which were now to pass before
him. They forced him to think of the power religious organizations
exercise over men.

And this Church--this old Byzantine Church! Ay, truly! The Byzantine
conscience was under its direction; it was the Father Confessor of the
Empire; its voice in the common ear was the voice of God. To cast
Christ out of its system would be like wrenching a man's heart out of
his body. It was here and there--everywhere in fact--in signs,
trophies, monuments--in crosses and images--in monasteries, convents,
houses to the Saints, houses to the Mother. What could the Emperor do,
if it were obstinate and defiant? The night beheld through the window
crept into the Wanderer's heart, and threatened to put out the light
kindled there by the new-born hope with which he had come from the
audience.

"The Church, the Church! It is the enemy I have to fear," he kept
muttering in dismal repetition, realizing, for the first time, the
magnitude of the campaign before him. With a wisdom in wickedness which
none of his successors in design have shown, he saw the Christian idea
in the bosom of the Church unassailable except a substitute
satisfactory to its professors could be found. Was God a sufficient
substitute? Perhaps--and he turned cold with the reflection--the
Pannychides were bringing him an answer. It was an ecclesiastical
affair, literally a meeting of Churchmen _en masse_. Where--when--how
could the Church present itself to any man more an actuality in the
flesh? Perhaps--and a chill set his very crown to crawling--perhaps the
opportunity to study the spectacle was more a mercy of God than a favor
of Constantine.

To his great relief, at length the officer who had escorted him from
the Grand Gate came into the room.

"I am to have the honor," he said, cheerfully, "of conducting you to
the stand His Majesty has prepared that you may at ease behold the
Mysteries appointed for the night. The head of the procession is
reported appearing. If it please you, Prince of India, we will set out."

"I am ready."

The position chosen for the Prince was on the right bank of a cut
through which the road passed on its ascent from the arched gateway by
the Chapel to the third terrace, and he was borne thither in his sedan.

Upon alighting, he found himself on a platform covered by a canopy,
carpeted and furnished with one chair comfortably cushioned. At the
right of the chair there was a pyramid of coals glowing in a brazier,
and lest that might not be a sufficient provision against the damps of
the hours, a great cloak was near at hand. In front of the platform he
observed a pole securely planted and bearing a basket of inflammables
ready for conversion into a torch. In short, everything needful to his
well-being, including wine and water on a small tripod, was within
reach.

Before finally seating himself the Prince stepped out to the brow of
the terrace, whence he noticed the Chapel below him in the denser
darkness of the trees about it like a pool. The gleam of armor on the
area by the Grand Gate struck him with sinister effect. Flowers saluted
him with perfume, albeit he could not see them. Not less welcome was
the low music with which the brook cheered itself while dancing down to
the harbor. Besides a cresset burning on the landing outside the Port
entrance, two other lights were visible; one on the Pharos, the other
on the great Galata tower, looking in the distance like large stars.
With these exceptions, the valley and the hill opposite Blacherne, and
the wide-reaching Metropolis beyond them, were to appearances a blacker
cloud dropped from the clouded sky. A curious sound now came to him
from the direction of the city. Was it a rising wind? Or a muffled roll
from the sea? While wondering, some one behind him said:

"They are coming."

The voice was sepulchral and harsh, and the Prince turned quickly to
the speaker.

"Ah, Father Theophilus!"

"They are coming," the Father repeated.

The Prince shivered slightly. The noise beyond the valley arose more
distinctly.

"Are they singing?" he asked.

"Chanting," the other answered.

"Why do they chant?"

"Knowest thou our Scriptures?"

The Wanderer quieted a disdainful impulse, and answered:

"I have read them."

The Father continued:

"Presently thou wilt hear the words of Job: 'Oh, that thou wouldst hide
me in the grave, that thou wouldst keep me in secret, until thy wrath
be past, that thou wouldst appoint me a set time and remember me.'"

The Prince was startled. Why was one in speech so like a ghost selected
his companion? And that verse, of all to him most afflicting, and which
in hours of despair he had repeated until his very spirit had become
colored with its reproachful plaint--who put it in the man's mouth?

The chant came nearer. Of melody it had nothing; nor did those engaged
in it appear in the slightest attentive to time. Yet it brought relief
to the Prince, willing as he was to admit he had never heard anything
similar--anything so sorrowful, so like the wail of the damned in
multitude. And rueful as the strain was, it helped him assign the
pageant a near distance, a middle distance, and then interminability.

"There appear to be a great many of them," he remarked to the Father.

"More than ever before in the observance," was the reply.

"Is there a reason for it?"

"Our dissensions."

The Father did not see the pleased expression of his auditor's face,
but proceeded: "Yes, our dissensions. They multiply. At first the jar
was between the Church and the throne; now it is the Church against the
Church--a Roman party and a Greek party. One man among us has
concentrated in himself the learning and devotion of the Christian
East. You will see him directly, George Scholarius. By visions, like
those in which the old prophets received the counsel of God, he was
instructed to revive the _Pannychides._ His messengers have gone hither
and thither, to the monasteries, the convents, and the eremitic
colonies wherever accessible. The greater the presence, he says, the
greater the influence."

"Scholarius is a wise man," the Prince said, diplomatically.

"His is the wisdom of the Prophets," the Father answered.

"Is he the Patriarch?"

"No, the Patriarch is of the Roman party--Scholarius of the Greek."

"And Constantine?"

"A good king, truly, but, alas; he is cumbered with care of the State."

"Yes, yes," said the Prince. "And the care leads to neglect of his
soul. Kings are sometimes to be pitied. But there is then a special
object in the Vigils?"

"The Vigils to-night are for the restoration of the unities once more,
that the Church may find peace and the State its power and glory again.
God is in the habit of taking care of His own."

"Thank you, Father, I see the difference. Scholarius would intrust the
State to the Holy Virgin; but Constantine, with a worldlier
inspiration, adheres to the craft held by Kings immemorially. The
object of the Vigils is to bring the Emperor to abandon his policy and
defer to Scholarius?"

"The Emperor assists in the Mystery," the Father answered, vaguely.

The procession meantime came on, and when its head appeared in front of
the Grand Gate three trumpeters blew a flourish which called the guards
into line. A monk advanced and held parley with an officer; after which
he was given a lighted torch, and passed under the portal in lead of
the multitude. The trumpeters continued plying their horns, marking the
slow ascent.

"Were this an army," said Father Theophilus, "it would not be so
laborious; but, alas! the going of youth is nowhere so rapid as in a
cloister; nor is age anywhere so feeble. Ten years kneeling on a stony
floor in a damp cell brings the anchorite to forget he ever walked with
ease."

The Prince scarcely heard him; he was interested in the little to be
seen crossing the area below--a column four abreast, broken into
unequal divisions, each division with a leader, who, at the gate,
received a torch. Occasionally a square banner on a cross-stick
appeared--occasionally a section in light-colored garments; more
frequently a succession of heads without covering of any kind;
otherwise the train was monotonously rueful, and in its slow movement
out of the darkness reminded the spectator on the height of a serpent
crawling endlessly from an underground den. Afterwhile the dim white of
the pavement was obscured by masses stationary on the right and left of
the column; these were the people stopping there because for them there
was no further pursuit of the spectral parade.

The horns gave sonorous notice of the progress during the ascent. Now
they were passing along the first terrace; still the divisions were
incessant down by the gate--still the chanting continued, a dismal
dissonance in the distance, a horrible discord near by. If it be true
that the human voice is music's aptest instrument, it is also true that
nothing vocalized in nature can excel it in the expression of diabolism.

Suddenly the first torch gleamed on the second terrace scarce an
hundred yards from the Chapel.

"See him now there, behind the trumpeters--Scholarius!" said Father
Theophilus, with a semblance of animation.

"He with the torch?"

"Ay!--And he might throw the torch away, and still be the light of the
Church."

The remark did not escape the Prince. The man who could so impress
himself upon a member of the court must be a power with his brethren of
the gown generally. Reflecting thus, the discerning visitor watched the
figure stalking on under the torch. There are men who are causes in
great events, sometimes by superiority of nature, sometimes by
circumstances. What if this were one of them? And forthwith the
observer ceased fancying the mystical looking monk drawing the
interminable train after him by the invisible bonds of a will mightier
than theirs in combination--the fancy became a fact. "The procession
will not stop at the Chapel," the Father said; "but keep on to the
palace, where the Emperor will join it. If my Lord cares to see the
passage distinctly, I will fire the basket here."

"Do so," the Prince replied.

The flambeau was fired.

It shed light over the lower terraces right and left, and brought the
palace in the upper space into view from the base of the forward
building to the Tower of Isaac; and here, close by, the Chapel with all
its appurtenances, paved enclosure, speeding brook, solemn cypresses,
and the wall and arched gateway at the hither side stood out in almost
daytime clearness. The road in the cut underfoot must bring the frocked
host near enough to expose its spirit.

The bellowing of the horns frightened the birds at roost in the
melancholy grove, and taking wing, they flew blindly about.

Then ensued the invasion of the enclosure in front of the
Chapel--Scholarius next the musicians. The Prince saw him plainly; a
tall man, stoop-shouldered, angular as a skeleton; his hood thrown
back; head tonsured; the whiteness of the scalp conspicuous on account
of the band of black hair at the base; the features high and thin,
cheeks hollow, temples pinched. The dark brown cassock, leaving an
attenuated neck completely exposed, hung from his frame apparently much
too large for it. His feet disdained sandals. At the brook he halted,
and letting the crucifix fall from his right hand, he stooped and
dipped the member thus freed into the water, and rising flung the drops
in air. Resuming the crucifix, he marched on.

It cannot be said there was admiration in the steady gaze with which
the Prince kept the monk in eye; the attraction was stronger--he was
looking for a sign from him. He saw the tall, nervous figure cross the
brook with a faltering, uncertain step, pass the remainder of the
pavement, the torch in one hand, the holy symbol in the other; then it
disappeared under the arch of the gate; and when it had come through,
the sharp espial was beforehand with it, and waiting. It commenced
ascending the acute grade--now it was in the cut--and now, just below
the Prince, it had but to look up, and its face would be on a level
with his feet. At exactly the right moment, Scholarius did look up,
and--stop.

The interchange of glances between the men was brief, and can be
likened to nothing so aptly as sword blades crossing in a red light.

Possibly the monk, trudging on, his mind intent upon something which
was part of a scene elsewhere, or on the objects and results of the
solemnities in celebration, as yet purely speculative, might have been
disagreeably surprised at discovering himself the subject of study by a
stranger whose dress proclaimed him a foreigner; possibly the Prince's
stare, which we have already seen was at times powerfully magnetic,
filled him with aversion and resentment; certain it is he raised his
head, showing a face full of abhorrence, and at the same time waved the
crucifix as if in exorcism.

The Prince had time to see the image thus presented was of silver on a
cross of ivory wrought to wonderful realism. The face was dying, not
dead; there were the spikes in the hands and feet, the rent in the
side, the crown of thorns, and overhead the initials of the
inscription: This is the King of the Jews. There was the worn,
buffeted, bloodspent body, and the lips were parted so it was easy to
think the sufferer in mid-utterance of one of the exclamations which
have placed his Divinity forever beyond successful denial. The swift
reversion of memory excited in the beholder might have been succeeded
by remorse, but for the cry:

"Thou enemy of Jesus Christ--avaunt!"

It was the voice of Scholarius, shrill and high; and before the Prince
could recover from the shock, before he could make answer, or think of
answering, the visionary was moving on; nor did he again look back.

"What ails thee, Prince?"

The sepulchral tone of Father Theophilus was powerful over the benumbed
faculties of His Majesty's guest; and he answered with a question:

"Is not thy friend Scholarius a great preacher?"

"On his lips the truth is most unctuous."

"It must be so--it must be so! For"--the Prince's manner was as if he
were settling a grave altercation in his own mind--"for never did a man
offer me the Presence so vitalized in an image. I am not yet sure but
he gave me to see the Holy Son of the Immaculate Mother in flesh and
blood exactly as when they put Him so cruelly to death. Or can it be,
Father, that the effect upon me was in greater measure due to the
night, the celebration, the cloud of ministrants, the serious objects
of the Vigils?"

The answer made Father Theophilus happy as a man of his turn could
be--he was furnished additional evidence of the spiritual force of
Scholarius, his ideal.

"No," he answered, "it was God in the man."

All this time the chanting had been coming nearer, and now the grove
rang with it. A moment, and the head of the first division must present
itself in front of the Chapel. Could the Wanderer have elected then
whether to depart or stay, the _Pannychides_ would have had no further
assistance from him--so badly had the rencounter with Scholarius shaken
him. Not that he was afraid in the vulgar sense of the term. Before a
man can habitually pray for death, he must be long lost to fear. If we
can imagine conscience gone, pride of achievement, without which there
can be no mortification or shame in defeat, may yet remain with him, a
source of dread and weakness. The chill which shook Brutus in his tent
the evening before Philippi was not in the least akin to terror. So
with the Prince at this juncture. There to measure the hold of the
Christian idea upon the Church, it seemed Scholarius had brought him an
answer which finished his interest in the passing Vigils. In brief, the
Reformer's interest in the Mystery was past, and he wished with his
whole soul to retreat to the sedan, but a fascination held him fast.

"I think it would be pleasanter sitting," he said, and returned to the
platform.

"If I presume to take the chair, Father," he added, "it is because I am
older than thou."

Hardly was he thus at ease when a precentor, fat, and clad in a long
gown, stepped out of the grove to the clear lighted pavement in front
of the Chapel. His shaven head was thrown back, his mouth open to its
fullest stretch, and tossing a white stick energetically up and down in
the air, he intoned with awful distinctness: "The waters wear the
stones. Thou washest away the things which grow out of the dust of the
earth, and Thou destroyest the hopes of man."

The Prince covered his ears with his hands.

"Thou likest not the singing?" Father Theophilus asked, and continued:
"I admit the graces have little to do with musical practice in the holy
houses of the Fathers." But he for whom the comfort was meant made no
reply. He was repeating to himself: "Thou prevailest forever against
him, and he passeth."

And to these words the head of the first division strode forward into
the light. The Prince dropped his hands in time to hear the last verse:
"But his flesh upon him shall have pain, and his soul within him shall
mourn."

For whom was this? Did the singers know the significancy of the text to
him? The answer was from God, and they were merely messengers bringing
it. He rose to his feet; in his rebellious passion the world seemed to
melt and swim about him. He felt a longing to burn, break, destroy--to
strike out and kill. When he came to himself, Father Theophilus, who
thought him merely wonder struck by the mass of monks in march, was
saying in his most rueful tone: "Good order required a careful
arrangement of the procession; for though the participants are pledged
to godly life, yet they sometimes put their vows aside temporarily. The
holiest of them have pride in their establishments, and are often too
ready to resort to arms of the flesh to assert their privileges. The
Fathers of the Islands have long been jealous of the Fathers of the
city, and to put them together would be a signal for riot. Accordingly
there are three grand divisions here--the monks of Constantinople,
those of the Islands, the shores of the Bosphorus and the three seas,
and finally the recluses and hermits from whatever quarter. Lo! first
the Fathers of the Studium--saintly men as thou wilt see anywhere."

The speech was unusually long for the Father; a fortunate circumstance
of which the Prince availed himself to recover his self-possession. By
the time the brethren eulogized were moving up the rift at his feet, he
was able to observe them calmly. They were in long gowns of heavy gray
woollen stuff, with sleeves widening from the shoulders; their cowls,
besides covering head and visage, fell down like capes. Cleanly,
decent-looking men, they marched slowly and in order, their hands
united palm to palm below their chins. The precentor failed to inspire
them with his fury of song.

"These now coming," Father Theophilus said of the second fraternity,
"are conventuals of Petrion, who have their house looking out on the
harbor here. And these," he said of the third, "are of the Monastery of
Anargyres--a very ancient society. The Emperor Michael, surnamed the
Paphlegonian, died in one of their cells in 1041. Brotherhood with them
is equivalent to saintship."

Afterwhile a somewhat tumultuous flock appeared in white skirts and
loose yellow cloaks, their hair and beard uncut and flying. The
historian apologized.

"Bear with them," he said; "they are mendicants from the retreats of
Periblepte, in the quarter of Psammatica. You may see them on the
street corners and quays, and in all public places, sick, blind, lame
and covered with sores. They have St. Lazarus for patron. At night an
angel visits them with healing. They refuse to believe the age of
miracles is past."

The city monastics were a great host carrying banners with the name of
their Brotherhoods inscribed in golden letters; and in every instance
the Hegumen, or Abbot, preceded his fraternity torch in hand.

A company in unrelieved black marched across the brook, and their
chanting was lugubrious as their garb.

"Petra sends us these Fathers," said Theophilus--"Petra over on the
south side. They sleep all day and watch at night. The second coming
they say will happen in the night, because they think that time most
favorable for the trumpeting herald and the splendor of the
manifestations."

Half an hour of marching--men in gray and black and yellow, a few in
white--men cowled--men shorn and unshorn--barefooted men and men in
sandals--a river of men in all moods, except jovial and happy, toiling
by the observing stand, seldom an upturned face, spectral, morose,
laden body and mind--young and old looking as if just awakened after
ages of entombment;--a half hour of dismal chanting the one chapter
from the book of the man in the land of Uz, of all utterances the most
dismal;--a half hour of waiting by the Prince for one kindly sign,
without discovering it--a half hour, in which, if the comparison be not
too strong, he was like a soul keeping watch over its own abandoned
body. Then Father Theophilus said:

"From the cloisters of St. James of Manganese! The richest of the
monasteries of Constantinople, and the most powerful. It furnishes
Sancta Sophia with renowned preachers. Its brethren cultivate learning.
Their library is unexcelled, and they boast that in the hundreds of
years of their society life, they had never an heretic. Before their
altars the candles are kept burning and trimmed forever. Their numbers
are recruited from the noblest families. Young men to whom the army is
open prefer God-service in the elegant retirement of St. James of
Manganese. They will interest you, Prince; and after them we will have
the second grand division."

"Brethren of the Islands?"

"Yes, of the Islands and the sea-shores."

Upon the pavement then appeared a precentor attired like a Greek priest
of the present day; a rimless hat black and high, and turned slightly
outward at the top; a veil of the same hue; the hair gathered into a
roll behind, and secured under the hat; a woollen gown very dark,
glossy, and dropping in ample folds unconfined from neck to shoe. The
Hegumen followed next, and because of his age and infirmities a young
man carried the torch for him. The chanting was sweet, pure, and in
perfect time. All these evidences of refinement and respectability were
noticed by the Prince, and looking at the torch-bearer again, he
recognized the young monk, his room-mate in the White Castle.

"Knowest thou the youth yonder?" he asked, pointing to Sergius.

"A Russian recently arrived," the Father replied. "Day before yesterday
he was brought to the palace and presented to the Emperor by the
Princess Irene. He made a great impression."

The two kept their eyes on the young man until he disappeared ascending
the hill.

"He will be heard from;" and with the prediction the Prince gave
attention to the body of the Brotherhood.

"These men have the bearing of soldiers," he said presently.

"Their vows respecting war are liberal. If the _panagia_ were carried
to the walls, they would accompany it in armor."

The Prince smiled. He had not the faith in the Virgin of Blacherne
which the Father's answer implied.

The St. James' were long in passing. The Prince kept them in sight to
the last four. They were the aristocracy of the Church, prim, proud; as
their opportunities were more frequent, doubtless they were more wicked
than their associates of the humbler fraternities; yet he could not
promise himself favor from their superior liberality. On the contrary,
having a great name for piety to defend, if a test offered, they were
the more certain to be hard and vindictive--to send a heretic to the
stake, and turn a trifling variation from the creed into heresy.

"Who is this?" the Prince exclaimed, as a noble-looking man in full
canonicals stepped out of the cypress shadows, first of the next
division.

"Master of Ceremonies for the Church," Father Theophilus replied. "He
is the wall between the Islanders and the Metropolitans."

"And he who walks with him singing?"

"The _Protopsolete_--leader of the Patriarch's Choir."

Behind this singer the monks of the Isles of the Princes! In movement,
order, dress, like their predecessors in the march--Hegumen with their
followers in gray, black and white--hands palm to palm
prayerfully--chanting sometimes better, sometimes worse--never a look
upward but always down, as if Heaven were a hollow in the earth, an
abyss at their feet, and they about to step into it.

The Prince was beginning to tire. Suddenly he thought of the meeting of
pilgrims at El Zaribah. How unlike was the action there and here! That
had been a rush, an inundation, as it were, by the sea, fierce, mad, a
passion of Faith fostered by freedom; this, slow, solemn, sombre,
oppressive--what was it like? Death in Life, and burial by programme so
rigid there must not be a groan more or a tear less. He saw Law in it
all--or was it imposition, force, choice smothered by custom, fashion
masquerading in the guise of Faith? The hold of Christ upon the Church
began to look possible of measurement.

"Roti first!" said the Father. "Rocky and bare, scarce a bush for a
bird or grass for a cricket. Ah, verily he shall love God dearly or
hate the world mortally who of free will chooses a cloister for life at
Roti!"

The brethren of the three convents of the Island marched past clad in
short brown frocks, bareheaded, barefooted. The comments of the
historian were few and brief.

"Poor they look," he said of the first one, "and poor they are, yet
Michael Rhangabe and Romain Lacapene were glad to live and die with
them." Of the second: "When Romain Diogenes built the house these
inhabit, he little dreamed it would shelter him, a refugee from the
throne." Of the third: "Dardanes was a great general. In his fortunate
days he built a tower on Roti with one cell in it; in an evil hour he
aspired to the throne--failed--lost his eyes, retired to his lonesome
tower--by his sanctity there drew a fraternity to him, and died. That
was hundreds of years ago. The brethren still pray for his soul. Be it
that evil comes of good; not less does good come of evil--and so God
keeps the balances."

In the same manner he descanted on the several contingents from
Antigone as they strode by; then of those from God's houses at Halki,
the pearl of the Marmora; amongst them the monastery of John the
Precursor, and the Convents of St. George, Hagia Trias, and lastly the
Very Holy House of the All Holy Mother of God, founded by John VIII.
Palaeologus. After them, in turn, the consecrated from Prinkipo,
especially those from the Kamares of the Basilissa, Irene, and the
Convent of the Transfiguration.

The faithful few from the solitary Convent on the Island of Oxia, and
the drab-gowned abstinents of the monastery of Plati, miserables given
to the abnormity of mixing prayer and penance with the cultivation of
snails for the market in Constantinople, were the last of the Islanders.

Then in a kind of orderly disorganization the claustral inculpables
from holy houses on Olympus down by the Dardanelles, the Bosphorus, and
the Bithynian shore behind the Isles of the Princes, and some from
retreats in the Egean and along the Peloponnesus, their walls now dust,
their names forgotten.

"Where is the procession going?" the Prince now asked.

"Look behind you--up along the front of the palace."

And casting his eyes thither, the questioner beheld the ground covered
with a mass of men not there before.

"What are they doing?"

"Awaiting the Emperor. Only the third grand division is wanting now;
when it is up His Majesty will appear."

"And descend to the Chapel?"

"Yes."

For a time a noise more like the continuous, steady monotone of falling
water than a chant had been approaching from the valley, making its
darkness vocal. It threatened the gates awhile; now it was at the
gates. The Prince's wonder was great, and to appease it Father
Theophilus explained:

"The last division is at hand."

In the dim red light over the area by the gate below, the visitor
beheld figures hurriedly issuing from the night--figures in the
distance so wild and fantastic they did not at first seem human. They
left no doubt, however, whence the sound proceeded. The white sand of
the road up the terraces was beaten to dust under the friction and
pressure of the thousands of feet gone before; this third division
raised it into an attending cloud, and the cloud and the noise were
incessant.

Once more the Prince went out to the brink of the terrace. The monotony
of the pageant was broken; something new was announcing itself.
Spectres--devils--gnomes and jinn of the Islamitic Solomon--rakshakas
and hanumen of the Eastern Iliads--surely this miscellany was a
composition of them all. They danced along the way and swung themselves
and each other, howling like dervishes in frenzy. Again the birds took
wing and flew blindly above the cypresses, and the end of things seemed
about to burst when a yell articulate yet unintelligible shook the
guarded door of the venerable Chapel.

Then the demoniacs--the Prince could not make else of them--leaping the
brook, crowding the pent enclosure, hasting to the arched exit, were
plainly in view. Men almost naked, burned to hue of brick-dust; men in
untanned sheepskin coats and mantles; men with every kind of headgear,
turbans, handkerchiefs, cowls; men with hair and beard matted and
flying; now one helped himself to a louder yell by tossing in air the
dirty garment he had torn from his body, hirsute as a goat's; now one
leaped up agile as a panther; now one turned topsy-turvy; now groups of
them swirled together like whimsical eddies in a pool. Some went
slowly, their arms outspread in silent ecstasy; some stalked on with
parted lips and staring eyes, trance-like or in dead drunkenness of
soul; nevertheless the great majority of them, too weary and far spent
for violent exertion, marched with their faces raised, and clapping
their hands or beating their breasts, now barking short and sharp, like
old hounds dreaming, then finishing with long-drawn cries not unlike
the ending of a sorrowful chorus. Through the gate they crowded, and at
sight of their faces full of joy unto madness, the Prince quit pitying
them, and, reminded of the Wahabbees at El Zaribah, turned to Father
Theophilus.

"In God's name," he said, "who are these?"

"A son of India thou, and not know them at sight?"

There was surprise in the question, and a degree of unwarranted
familiarity, yet the Father immediately corrected himself, by solemnly
adding: "Look there at that one whirling his mantle of unshorn skin
over his head. He has a cave on Mt. Olympus furnished with a stool, a
crucifix, and a copy of the Holy Scriptures; he sleeps on the stone;
the mantle is his bedding by night, his clothing by day. He raises
vegetables, and they and snow-water seeping through a crevice in his
cavern subsist him.... And the next him--the large man with the great
coat of camel's hair which keeps him scratched as with thorns--he is
from the Monastery of St. Auxentius, the abode of a powerful fraternity
of ascetics. A large proportion of this wing of the celebrants is of
the same austere house. You will know them by the penitential,
dun-colored garment--they wear no other.... Yonder is a brother
carrying his right arm at a direct angle above his shoulder, stiff and
straight as a stick of seasoned oak. He is of a colony of Stylites
settled on this shore of the upper Bosphorus overlooking the Black Sea.
He could not lower the arm if he wished to; but since it is his
certificate of devoutness, the treasures of the earth laid at his feet
in a heap would be insufficient to induce him to drop it though for an
instant. His colony is one of many like it. Spare him thy pity. He
believes the clinch of that hand holds fast the latch of Heaven.... The
shouters who have just entered the arch in a body have hermitaries in
close grouping around the one failing monastery on Plati, and live on
lentils and snails; aside from which they commit themselves to Christ,
and so abound in faith that the Basileus in his purple would be very
happy were he true master of a tithe of their happiness.... Hast thou
not enough, O Prince? Those crossing the brook now?--Ah, yes! They are
anchorites from Anderovithos, the island. Pitiable creatures looked at
from the curtained windows of a palace--pitiable, and abandoned by men
and angels! Be not sure. Everything is as we happen to see it--a bit of
philosophy, which, as they despise the best things secularly considered
of this life, steels them to indifference for what you and I, and
others not of their caste, may think. They have arrived at a summit
above the corrupting atmosphere of the earth, where every one of them
has already the mansion promised him by our Blessed Lord, and where the
angels abide and delight to serve him.... For the rest, O Prince, call
them indifferently recluses, hermits, anticenobites, mystics, martyrs,
these from Europe, those from isolations deep somewhere in Asia. Who
feeds them? Did not ravens feed Elijah? Offer them white bread and
robes of silk, yesterday's wear of a king. 'What!' they will ask.
'Shall any man fare better than John the Forerunner?' Speak to them of
comfortable habitations, and they will answer with the famous saying,
'Foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests; but the Son of
Man hath not where to lay His head.' What more is there to be said?
Thou seest them, thou knowest them."

Yes, the Prince knew them. Like the horde which stood by the Black
Stone envious of Mirza's dying, these were just as ready to die for
Christ. He smiled grimly, and thought of Mahommed, and how easy the
Church had made the conquest of which he was dreaming.

It was with a sense of relief he beheld the tail of the division follow
its body up to the palace.

Then, last of all, came the dignitaries of the Church, the Cartulaire,
least in rank, with many intermediates, up to the Cyncelle, who, next
to the absent Patriarch, represented him. If what had preceded in the
procession was poor and unpretentious, this part was splendid to
excess. They were not more than eighteen or twenty in number, but they
walked singly with considerable intervals between them; while on the
right and left of each, a liveried servant carried a torch which gave
him to be distinctly seen. And the flashing of gold on their persons
was wonderful to the spectator. Why not? This rare and anointed body
was the Church going in solemnity to assist the Basileus in a high
ceremony.

Afterwhile the Emperor appeared descending to the Chapel.

To the Prince's amazement, he was in a plain, priestly black frock,
without crown, sword, sceptre or guard; and so did his guise compare
with the magnificence of the ecclesiastics surrounding him, he actually
seemed in their midst a prisoner or a penitent. He passed his visitor
like one going from the world forgetting and forgot.

"An explanation, Father," said the Prince. "The Church is in its robes,
but my august friend, the Emperor, looks as if he had suffered
dethronement."

"Thou wilt presently see His Majesty enter the Chapel alone. The legend
supposes him there in presence directly of God; if so, what merit would
there be in regalia? Would his sword or sceptre make his supplication
more impressive?"

The Prince bowed.

And while he watched, the gold-clad escort halted before the Holy
House, the door opened, and Constantine went in unattended. Then, the
door being shut behind him, the clergy knelt, and remained kneeling.
The light from the torches was plenteous there, making the scene
beautiful.

And yet further, while he stood watching, the trumpeting and chanting
on the level in front of the palace behind him ceased, and a few
minutes afterwards, he was aware of the noise of many feet rushing in a
scramble from all directions to the Chapel. Here and there flambeaux
streamed out, with hundreds of dark-gowned excited figures speeding
after them as best they could.

The bank the Prince occupied was overrun, like other contiguous spaces.
The object of the invaders was to secure a position near the revered
building as possible; for immediately on attaining it they dropped to
their knees, and began counting their rosaries and mumbling prayers. At
length it befell that the terraces far and near were densely crowded by
monks in low recitation.

"My Lord," said Father Theophilus, in a tone of reserved depth, "the
Mystery is begun. There is no more to be seen. Good-night!" And without
ado, he too knelt where he stood, beads in hand, eyes fixed upon the
one point of devotional interest.

When the sedan was brought, the Prince gave one last glance at the
scene, feeling it was to be thenceforward and forever a burden on his
memory. He took in and put away the weather-stained Chapel, centre of
so much travail; the narrow court in front of it brilliantly lighted
and covered with priests high and low in glittering vestments; the
cypresses looming skyward, stately and stiff, like conical monuments:
the torches scattered over the grounds, revealing patches of men
kneeling, their faces turned toward the Chapel: the mumbling and
muttering from parts unlighted telling of other thousands in like
engagement. He had seen battle-fields fresh in their horrors; decks of
ships still bloody; shores strewn with wreckage and drowned sailors,
and the storm not spent; populous cities shaken down by earthquakes,
the helpless under the ruins pleading for help; but withal never had he
seen anything which affected him as did that royal park at mid of
night, given up to that spectral multitude!

It seemed he could not get away from the spectacle soon enough; for
after issuing from the Grand Gate, he kept calling to his carriers,
impatiently: "Faster, my men, faster!"




CHAPTER V

A PLAGUE OF CRIME


Sergius' life in Constantinople had been almost void of incident. His
introduction to the Patriarch by the Princess Irene started him well
with that reverend official, whose confidence and love she commanded to
a singular degree. His personal qualities, however, were very helpful.
The gentleness of his nature, his youth, his simplicity,
respectfulness, intelligence and obvious piety were all in his favor;
at the same time the strongest attraction he possessed with the
strangers amongst whom he found himself was his likeness according to
the received Byzantine ideal to Christ. He had a habit, moreover, of
walking slowly, and with a quiet tread, his head lowered, his hands
clasped before him. Coming in this mood suddenly upon persons, he often
startled them; at such times, indeed, the disturbed parties were
constrained to both observe and forgive him--he reminded them so
strikingly of the Nazarene as He must have looked while in solitary
walks by the sea or along the highways of Galilee. Whatever the cause,
it is very certain His Serenity, the Patriarch, from mere attention to
the young Russian, passed speedily to interest in him, and manifested
it in modes pleasant and noticeable. By his advice, Sergius attached
himself to the Brotherhood of the Monastery of St. James of Manganese.
This was the first incident in his city life out of the usual. The
second was his presentation at court, where he was not less successful
with the Emperor than he had been with the Patriarch. Yet Sergius was
not happy. His was the old case of a spirit willing, even anxious, to
do, but held in restraint. He saw about him such strong need of saving
action; and the Christian plan, as he understood it, was so simple and
efficacious. There was no difference in the value of souls. Taking
Christ's own words, everything was from the Father, and He held the
gates of Heaven open for the beggar and the emperor alike. Why not
return to the plan devised, practised, and exemplified by the Saviour
Himself? The idea bore heavily upon his mind, and accounted for the
bent head and slow step fast becoming habitudes. At times the insurgent
impulses seemed beyond control. This was particularly when he walked in
crowded places; for then the people appeared an audience summoned and
ready to hear him; he had only to go into their midst, call to them,
and begin speaking; but often as he beheld the calm, patient, pleading
face of the Princess Irene, and heard her say ever so gently: "Wait,
wait! I know the situation--you do not. Our object is the most good.
God will send the opportunity. Then martyrdom, if it come, is going to
Heaven. Wait--I will give you the signal. You are to speak for me as
well as yourself. You are to be my voice"--so often he grew reconciled.

There was another trouble more difficult of comprehension and
description. Under its influence the sky did not look so blue as
formerly; the breeze was less refreshing; the sun where it scattered
its golden largesse over the sea failed to relieve it of dulness; and
in all things, himself included, there was something wanting--exactly
what he could not tell. However, as he had been indulging comparisons
of life in Constantinople with life in Bielo-Osero, and longing for the
holy quiet of the latter, he concluded he was homesick, and was
ashamed. It was childishness! The Great Example had no home! And with
that thought he struggled manfully to be a man forever done with such
weaknesses.

It became his wont of afternoons when the weather was tolerable to seek
the city wall opposite the old Chalcedonian point. In going thither, he
sometimes passed through the Hippodrome and Sta. Sophia, both in such
contact to the collection of palaces known as the Bucoleon that each
might have been fairly considered an appurtenance of the other. The
exercises in the spacious palaestrae had small interest for him; there
was always such evident rancor between the factions Blue and Green. The
dome of the great Church he regarded man's best effort at construction,
beyond which there was nothing more attainable; but how it dwindled and
faded when from the wall he looked at the sky, the sea, and the land,
the handiworks of God!

On the wall, at a point marked by a shallow angle, there was a cracked
stone bench, offering seawardly a view of the Isles of the Princes, and
the Asian domain beyond Broussa to the Olympian heights; westwardly,
the Bucoleon and its terraced gardens were near by, and above them in
the distance the Tower of Isaac Angelus arose over Blacherne, like a
sentinel on guard against the opposing summits of Galata and Pera. From
the bench, the walk, besides being wide and smooth, extended, with a
slight curvature northward to the Acropolis, now Point Serail, and on
the south to the Port of Julian. The airy promenade thus formed was
reached by several stairs intermediate the landmarks mentioned; yet the
main ascent was near the Imperial stables, and it consisted of a flight
of stone steps built against the inner face of the wall, like a broad
buttress. This latter was for the public, and of sunny days it was used
incessantly. Everybody in the category of invalids affected it in
especial, since litters and sedans were not inhibited there. In short,
the popularity of this mural saunter can be easily imagined.

The afternoon of the day the Prince of India was in audience by the
Emperor's invitation, Sergius was the sole occupant of the stone bench.
The hour was pleasant; the distant effects were perfect; birds and
boats enlivened the air and water; and in listening to the swish of
waves amongst the rocks and pebbles below, so like whisperings, he
forgot where he was, and his impatience and melancholy, and the people
strolling negligently past. One of his arms lay along the edge of the
bulwark before him, and he was not thinking so much as simply enjoying
existence. To such as noticed him he appeared a man in the drowsy stage
next to sleep.

Afterwhile a voice aroused him, and, without moving, he became aware of
two men stopped and talking. He could not avoid hearing them.

"She is coming," said one.

"How do you know?" the other asked.

"Have I not told you I keep a spy on the old Prince's house? A
messenger from him has just reported the chair arrived for her; and
this being her favorite stroll, she will be here presently."

"Have you considered the risks of your project?"

"Risks? Pah!"

The exclamation was with a contemptuous laugh.

"But they have grown since last night," the other persisted. "The
Indian is now at the Palace, His Majesty's guest."

"Yes, I had report of that also; but I have studied the game, and if
you fear to join me, I will see it through alone. As an offence against
law, it is abduction, not murder; and the penalty, imprisonment, can be
easily changed to banishment, which with me means at the utmost a short
absence to give friends an opportunity to prepare for my return.
Consider, moreover, the subject of the offence will be a woman. Can you
name an instance in which the kidnapper of a woman has been
punished?--I mean in our time?"

"True, women are the cheapest commodity in the market; therefore"--

"I understand," the first speaker interposed, a little impatiently,
"but Princes of India are not common in Constantinople, while their
daughters are less so. See the temptation! Besides, in the decadence of
our Byzantine empire, the criminal laws fail worse and worse of
execution. Only last night my father, delivering a lecture, said
neglect in this respect was one of the reasons of the Empire's going.
Only the poor and degraded suffer penalties now. And I--pah! What have
I to fear? Or thou? And from whom? When the girl's loss is
discovered--you observe I am viewing the affair in its most malignant
aspect--I know the course the Prince will take. He will run to the
palace; there he will fall at the Emperor's feet, tell his tale of woe,
and"--

"And if thou art denounced?"

The conspirator laughed again. "The worse for the Prince," he at length
replied. "The Hegumen, my honored father, will follow him to the
palace, and--but let the details go! The relations between the Basileus
and the Church are strained to breaking; and the condition is not
sanable while the quarrel between the Patriarch and Scholarius waxes
hotter."

"The Patriarch and Scholarius quarrelling? I had not heard of that."

"Openly, openly! His Majesty and the Patriarch are tenderly
sympathetic. What more is wanting to set the Prophet scolding? The
Patriarch, it is now known, will not be at the _Pannychides_ to-night.
His health began failing when, over his objection, it was decided to
hold the Mystery, and last week he betook himself to the Holy Mountain.
This morning the Prophet"--

"Thou meanest Scholarius?"

"Scholarius denounced him as an _azymite_, which is bad, if true; as
unfaithful to God and the Church, which is worse; and as trying to
convert the Emperor into an adherent of the Bishop of Rome, which,
considering the Bishop is Satan unchained, will not admit of a further
descent in sin. The Mystery tonight is Scholarius' scheme in
contravention of His Serenity's efforts. Oh, it is a quarrel, and a big
one, involving Church and State, and the infallibility of our newly
risen Jeremiah. Thus full-handed, thinkest thou in a suit the Prince of
India against the venerable Hegumen of all the St. James', His Majesty
will hesitate? Is thy opinion of him as a politician so
uncomplimentary? Think again, I say--think again!"

"Thy father's Brotherhood are His Majesty's friends!"

"Ah, the very point! They despise Scholarius now, and what an ado, what
a political display, to drive them into his arms! The Princes of India,
though they were numerous as the spectre caravan, could not carry
influence that far."

Here there was a rest in the conversation.

"Well, since thou wilt not be persuaded to let the enterprise go," the
protesting friend next said, "at least agree with me that it is
indiscreet to speak of it in a place public as this."

The laugh of the conspirator was heartier than before.

"Ah, hadst thou warned me not to speak of it to the"--

"Enough of that! The Prince of India is nothing to me--thou art my
friend."

"Agree with me then that thou hast ears, while the public"--

"Have not, thou wouldst say. Still there are things which may not be
whispered in a desert without being overheard."

"The Pagans who went before us had a god of wisdom, and they called him
Hermes. I should say thou hast been to school to him. 'Twas he,
doubtless, who taught outlaws to seek safety in crowded cities. By the
same philosophy, where can one talk treason more securely than on this
wall? Afraid of discovery! Not I, unless thou mumblest in thy sleep. We
go about our good intents--the improvement of our fortune for
instance--with awful care, and step by step, fortifying. The practice
is applicable to wickedness. I am no bungler. I will tell thee a
tale.... Thou knowest the Brotherhood of the Monastery of St. James of
Manganese is very ancient, and that the house in which it is quartered
is about as old as the Brotherhood. Their archives are the richest in
the empire. They have a special chamber and a librarian. Were he of the
mind, he might write a history of Constantinople by original data
without leaving his library. Fortunately the mere keepers of books
seldom write books.... My father's office is in the Monastery, and I
frequently find myself in his company there. He never fails to improve
the opportunity to lecture me, for he is a good man. One day, by
invitation, I accompanied the librarian to his place of keeping, and
saw it, and wondered how he could be willing to give his days--he is
now an old man--to such a mass of rot and smells. I spare you mention
of the many things he showed me; for there was but one of real ado with
what we are considering, an old document illuminated with an
untarnished chrysobula. 'Here,' said he, 'is something curious.' The
text was short--writers in those days knew the tricks of condensation,
and they practised them virtuously. I asked him to give it to me--he
refused--he would sooner have given me the last lock on his head, which
is a great deal, seeing that hair grows precious exactly as it grows
scantier. So I made him hold the lamp while I read.... The document was
dated about A.D. 1300--a century and a half gone, and proved to be a
formal report by the Patriarch to a council of Bishops and Hegumen....
Thou knowest, I am sure, the great cistern; not the Philoxenus, but the
larger one, with an entrance west of Sta. Sophia, sometimes called the
Imperial, because built by the first Constantine and enlarged by
Justinian."

"I know it."

"Well, there was a great ceremony there one day; the same with which
the report was concerned. The clergy attended in force and panoply led
by His Serenity in person--monks, nuns, deacons and deaconesses--in a
word, the Church was present. The cistern had been profaned. A son of
Satan, moved by a most diabolical ingenuity, had converted it into a
den of wickedness surpassing sinful belief; and the procession and
awful conclave were to assist His Serenity in restoring the water to
wholesomeness, impossible, in the belief of consumers, except by solemn
exorcism.... Heed now, my friend--I am about to tap the heart of my
story. A plague struck the city--a plague of crime. A woman
disappeared. There was search for her, but without success. The affair
would have been dismissed within the three days usually allotted
wonders of the kind, had not another like it occurred--and then
another. The victims, it was noticed, were young and beautiful, and as
the last one was of noble family the sensation was universal. The whole
capital organized for rescue. While the hunt was at its height, a
fourth unfortunate went the way of the others. Sympathy and curiosity
had been succeeded by anxiety; now the public was aroused to anger, and
the parents of handsome girls were sore with fear. Schemes for
discovery multiplied; ingenuity was exhausted; the government took part
in the chase--all in vain. And there being then a remission in the
disappearance, the theory of suicide was generally accepted. Quiet and
confidence were returning, when, lo! the plague broke out afresh! Five
times in five weeks Sta. Sophia was given to funeral services. The ugly
women, and the halt, and those long hopeless of husbands shared the
common terror. The theory of suicide was discarded. It was the doing of
the Turks, everybody said. The Turks were systematically foraging
Constantinople to supply their harems with Christian beauty; or if the
Turks were innocent, the devil was the guilty party. On the latter
presumption, the Church authorities invented a prayer of special
application. Could anything better signify the despair of the
community? A year passed--two years--three--and though every one
resolved himself into a watchman and hunter; though heralds cried
rewards in the Emperor's name three times each day on the street
corners, and in every place of common resort; though the fame of the
havoc, rapine, spoliation, or whatsoever it may please thee to call the
visitation, was carried abroad until everybody here and there knew
every particular come to light concerning it, with the pursuit, and the
dragging and fishing in the sea, never a clew was found.
One--two--three years, during which at intervals, some long, some
short, the ancient Christian centre kept on sealing its doors, and
praying. Finally the disappearances were about to be accepted as
incidents liable to happen at any time to any young and pretty woman.
They were placed in the category with death. There was mourning by
friends--that was about all. How much longer the mystery would have
continued may not be said.... Now accidents may not have brought the
world about, yet the world could not get along without accidents. To
illustrate. A woman one day, wanting water for her household, let a
bucket down one of the wells of the cistern, and drew up a sandal
slippery and decaying. A sliver buckle adhered to it. Upon inspecting
the prize, a name was observed graven on its underside. The curious
came to see--there was discussion--at length an examiner blessed with a
good memory coupled the inscription with one of the lost women. It was
indeed her name! A clew to the great mystery was at last obtained. The
city was thrown into tumult, and an exploration of the cistern
demanded. The authorities at first laughed. 'What!' they said. 'The
Royal reservoir turned into a den of murder and crime unutterable by
Christians!' But they yielded. A boat was launched on the darkened
waters--But hold!"

The voice of the speaker changed. Something was occurring to stop the
story. Sergius had succumbed to interest in it; he was listening with
excited sense, yet kept his semblance of sleep.

"Hold!" the narrator repeated, in an emphatic undertone. "See what
there is in knowing to choose faithful allies! My watchman was right.
She comes--she is here!"

"Who is here?"

"She--the daughter of the old Indian. In the sedan to my left--look!"

Sergius, catching the reply, longed to take the direction to himself,
and look, for he was comprehending vaguely. A blindfolded man can
understand quite well, if he is first informed of the business in
progress, or if it be something with which he is familiar; imagination
seems then to take the place of eyes. A detective, having overheard the
conversation between the two men, had not required sight of them; but
the young monk was too recently from the cloisters of Bielo-Osero to be
quick in the discernment of villanies. He knew the world abounded in
crime, but he had never dealt with it personally; as yet it was a
destroying wolf howling in the distance. He yearned to see if what he
dimly surmised were true--if the object at the moment so attractive to
his dangerous neighbors were indeed the daughter of the strange Indian
he had met at the White Castle. His recollection of her was wonderfully
distinct. Her face and demeanor when he assisted her from the boat had
often reverted to his thought. They spoke to him so plainly of
simplicity and dependence, and she seemed so pure and beautiful! And
making the acknowledgment to himself, his heart took to beating quick
and drum-like. He heard the shuffle and slide of the chairmen going;
when they ceased a new and strange feeling came and possessed itself of
his spirit, and led it out after her. Still he managed to keep his head
upon his arm.

"By the saintly patron of thy father's Brotherhood, she is more than
lovely! I am almost persuaded."

"Ah, I am not so mad as I was!" the conspirator replied, laughing; then
he changed to seriousness, and added, like one speaking between
clinched teeth--"I am resolved to go on. I will have her--come what
may, I will have her! I am neither a coward nor a bungler. Thou mayst
stay behind, but I have gone too far to retreat. Let us follow, and see
her again--my pretty Princess!"

"Stay--a moment."

Perception was breaking in on Sergius. He scarcely breathed.

"Well?" was the answer.

"You were saying that a boat was launched in the cistern. Then what?"

"Of discovery? Oh, yes--the very point of my argument! A raft was found
moored between four of the great pillars in the cistern, and there was
a structure on it with furnished rooms. A small boat was used for going
and coming."

"Wonderful!"

"Come--or we will lose the sight of her."

"But what else?"

"Hooks, such as fishermen use in hunting lobsters were brought, and by
dragging and fishing the missing women were brought to light--that is,
their bones were brought to light. More I will tell as we go. I will
not stay longer."

Sergius heard them depart, and presently he raised his head. His blood
was cold with horror. He was having the awful revelation which sooner
or later bursts upon every man who pursues a walk far in life.




CHAPTER VI

A BYZANTINE GENTLEMAN OF THE PERIOD


Sergius kept his seat on the bench; but the charm of the glorious
prospect spread out before it was gone.

Two points were swimming in his consciousness, like motes in a mist:
first, there was a conspiracy afoot; next, the conspiracy was against
the daughter of the Prince of India.

When at the door of the old Lavra upon the snow-bound shore of the
White Lake, he bade Father Hilarion farewell and received his blessing,
and the commission of an Evangel, the idea furthest from him was to
signalize his arrival in Constantinople by dropping first thing into
love. And to be just, the idea was now as distant from him as ever; yet
he had a vision of the child-faced girl he met on the landing at the
White Castle in the hands of enemies, and to almost any other person
the shrinking it occasioned would have been strange, if not suspicious.
His most definite feeling was that something ought to be done in her
behalf.

Besides this the young monk had another incentive to action. In the
colloquy overheard by him the chief speaker described himself a son of
the Hegumen of the St. James'. The St. James'! His own Brotherhood! His
own Hegumen! Could a wicked son have been born to that excellent man?
Much easier to disbelieve the conspirator; still there were traditions
of the appearance of monsters permitted for reasons clear at least to
Providence. This might be an instance of the kind. Doubtless the
creature carried on its countenance or person evidences of a miracle of
evil. In any event there could be no harm in looking at him.

Sergius accordingly arose, and set out in pursuit of the conspirators.
Could he overtake the sedan, they were quite certain to be in the
vicinity, and he doubted not discovering them.

The steps of the sedan-carriers, peculiarly quick and sliding, seemed
in passing the bench to have been going northwardly toward Point
Demetrius. Thither he first betook himself.

In the distance, over the heads of persons going and coming, he shortly
beheld the top of a chair in motion, and he followed it rapidly,
fearing its occupant might quit the wall by the stairs near the stables
of the Bucoleon. But when it was borne past that descent he went more
leisurely, knowing it must meet him on the return.

Without making the Point, however, the chair was put about toward him.
Unable to discover any one so much as suggestive of the plotters, and
fearing a mistake, he peered into the front window of the painted box.
A woman past the noon of life gave him back in no amiable mood the
stare with which he saluted her.

There was but one explanation: he should have gone down the wall
southwardly. What was to be done? Give up the chase? No, that would be
to desert his little friend. And besides he had not put himself within
hearing of the design against her--it was a doing of Providence. He
started back on his trace.

The error but deepened his solicitude. What if the victim was then
being hurried away?

At the head of the stairway by the stables he paused; as it was
deserted, he continued on almost running--on past the cracked
bench--past the Cleft Gate. Now, in front, he beheld the towers of the
imperial residence bearing the name Julian, and he was upbraiding
himself for indecision, and loading his conscience with whatever grief
might happen the poor girl, when he beheld a sedan coming toward him.
It was very ornate, and in the distance shone with burnishments--it was
the chair--hers. By it, on the right hand, strode the gigantic negro
who had so astonished him at the White Castle. He drew a long breath,
and stopped. They would be bold who in daylight assailed that king of
men!

And he was taking note of the fellow's barbaric finery, the solemn
stateliness of his air, and the superb indifference he manifested to
the stare of passers-by, when a man approached the chair on the
opposite side. The curtain of the front window was raised, and through
it, Sergius observed the inmate draw hastily away from the stranger,
and drop a veil over her face.

Here was one of the parties for whom he was looking. Where was the
other? Then the man by the left window looked back over his shoulder as
if speaking, and out of the train of persons following the sedan, one
stepped briskly forward, joined the intruder, and walked with him long
enough to be spoken to, and reply briefly; after which he fell back and
disappeared. This answered the inquiry.

Assured now of one of the conspirators in sight, the monk resolved to
await the coming up. Through the front window of the carriage, which
was truly a marvel of polish and glitter, the girl might recognize him;
perhaps she would speak; or possibly the negro might recall him; in
either event he would have an excuse for intervention.

Meantime, calmly as he could--for he was young, and warm blooded, and
in all respects a good instrument to be carried away by righteous
indignation--he took careful note of the stranger, who kept his place
as if by warrant, occasionally addressing the shrinking maiden.

Sergius was now more curious than angry; and he cared less to know who
the conspirator was than how he looked. His surprise may be imagined
when, the subject of investigation having approached near enough to be
perfectly observed, instead of a monster marked, like Cain, he appeared
a graceful, though undersized person, with an agreeable countenance.
The most unfavorable criticism he provoked was the loudness--if the
word can be excused--of his dress.

A bright red cloak, hanging in ample folds from an exaggerated buckle
of purple enamel on his left shoulder, draped his left side; falling
open on the right, it was caught by another buckle just outside the
right knee. The arrangement loosed the right arm, but was a serious
hamper to walking, and made it inconvenient to get out the rapier, the
handle of which was protrusively suggested through the cloak. A tunic
of bright orange color, short in sleeve and skirt, covered his body.
Where undraped, tight-fitting hose terminating in red shoes, flashed
their elongated black and yellow stripes with stunning effect. A red
cap, pointed at top, and rolled up behind, but with a long visor-like
peak shading the eyes, and a white heron feather slanted in the band,
brought the head into negligent harmony with the rest of the costume.
The throat and left arm were bare, the latter from halfway above the
elbow.

This was the monk's first view of a Byzantine gentleman of the period
abroad in full dress to dazzle such of the gentler sex as he might
chance to meet.

If Sergius' anticipation had been fulfilled; if, in place of the
elegant, rakish-looking chevalier in florid garb, he had been
confronted by an individual awry in body or hideous in feature, he
would not have been confused, or stood repeating to himself, "My God,
can this be a son of the Hegumen?"

That one so holy could have offspring so vicious stupefied him. The
young man's sins would find him out--thus it was written--and then,
what humiliation, what shame, what misery for the poor father!

Speeding his sympathy thus in advance, Sergius waited until the
foremost of the sedan carriers gave him the customary cry of warning.
As he stepped aside, two things occurred. The occupant of the box
lifted her veil and held out a hand to him. He had barely time to
observe the gesture and the countenance more childlike because of the
distress it was showing, when the negro appeared on the left side of
the carriage. Staying a moment to swing the javelin with which he was
armed across the top of the buckler at his back, he leaped forward with
the cry of an animal, and caught the gallant, one hand at the shoulder,
the other at the knee. The cry and the seizure were parts of the same
act. Resistance had been useless had there been no surprise. The Greek
had the briefest instant to see the assailant--an instant to look up
into the face blacker of the transport of rage back of it, and to cry
for help. The mighty hands raised him bodily, and bore him swiftly
toward the sea-front of the wall.

There were spectators near by; amongst them some men; but they were
held fast by terror. No one moved but Sergius. Having seen the
provocation, he alone comprehended the punishment intended.

The few steps to the wall were taken almost on the run. There, in
keeping with his savage nature, the negro wished to see his victim
fall, but a puff of wind blew the red cloak over his eyes, and he
stopped to shake it aside. The Greek in the interval seeing the jagged
rocks below, and the waves rolling in and churning themselves into
foam, caught at his enemy's head, and the teeth of the gold-gilt iron
crown cut his palms, bringing the blood. He writhed, and into Nilo's
ears--pitiless if they had not been dead--poured screams for mercy.
Then Sergius reached out, and caught him.

Nilo made no resistance. When he could free his eyes from the cloak he
looked at the rescuer, who, unaware of his infirmity, was imploring him:

"As thou lovest God, and hopest mercy for thyself, do no murder!"

Now, if not so powerful as Nilo, Sergius was quite as tall; and while
they stood looking at each other, their faces a little apart, the
contrast between them was many sided. And one might have seen the
ferocity of the black visage change first with pleased wonder; then
brighten with recognition.

The Byzantine gained his feet quickly, and in his turn taken with a
murderous impulse, drew his sword. Nilo, however, was quickest; the
point of his javelin was magically promotive of Sergius' renewed
efforts to terminate the affair. A great many persons were now present.
To bring a multitude in hot assemblage, strife is generally more
potential than peace, assume what voice the latter may. These rallied
to Sergius' assistance; one brought the defeated youth his hat, fallen
in the struggle; others helped him rearrange his dress; and
congratulating him that he was alive, they took him in their midst, and
carried him away. To have drawn upon such a giant! What a brave spirit
the lad must possess!

It pleased Sergius to think he had saved the Byzantine. His next duty
was to go to the relief of the little Princess. A dull fancy would have
taught how trying the situation must have been to her; but with him the
case was of a quick understanding quickened by solicitude. Taking Nilo
with him, he made haste to the sedan.

If we pause here, venturing on the briefest break in the narrative, it
is for the reader's sake exclusively. He will be sure to see how fair
the conditions are for a romantic passage between Lael and Sergius, and
we fear lest he fly his imagination too high. It is true the period was
still roseate with knighterrantry; men wore armor, and did battle
behind shields; women were objects of devotion; conversation between
lovers was in the style of high-flown courtesy, chary on one side,
energized on the other by calls on the Saints to witness vows and
declarations which no Saint, however dubious his reputation, could have
listened to, much less excused; yet it were not well to overlook one or
two qualifications. The usages referred to were by no means prevalent
amongst Christians in the East; in Constantinople they had no footing
at all. The two Comneni, Isaac and Alexis, approached more nearly the
Western ideal of Chivalry than any of the Byzantine warriors; if not
the only genuine Knights of Byzantium, they were certainly the last of
them; yet even they stood aghast at the fantastic manners of the
Frankish armigerents who camped before their gates en route to the Holy
Land. As a consequence, the language of ordinary address and
intercourse amongst natives in the Orient was simple and less
discolored by what may be called pious profanity. Their discourse was
often dull and prolix, but never a composite of sacrilege and
exaggeration. Only in their writings were they pedantic. From this the
reader can anticipate somewhat of the meeting between Sergius and Lael.
It is to be borne in mind additionally that they were both young; she a
child in years; he a child in lack of worldly experience. Children
cannot be other than natural.

Approaching the sedan anxiously, he found the occupant pale and faint.
Nilo being close at his side, she saw them both in the same glance, and
reached her hand impulsively through the window. It was a question to
which the member was offered. Sergius hesitated. Then she brought her
face up unveiled.

"I know you, I know you," she said, to Sergius. "Oh, I am so glad you
are come! I was so scared--so scared--I will never go from home again.
You will stay with me--say you will--it will be so kind of you.... I
did not want Nilo to kill the man. I only wanted him driven off and
made let me alone. He has followed and persecuted me day after day,
often as I came out. I could not set foot in the street without his
appearing. My father would have me bring Nilo along. He did not kill
him, did he?"

The hand remained held out during the speech, as if asking to be taken.
Meanwhile the words flowed like a torrent. The eyes were full of
beseechment, and irresistibly lovely. If her speech was innocent, so
was her appearance; and just as innocently, he took the hand, and held
it while answering:

"He was not hurt. Friends have taken him away. Do not be afraid."

"You saved him. I saw you--my heart was standing still in my throat.
Oh, I am glad he is safe! I am no longer afraid. My father will be
grateful; and he is generous--he loves me nearly as much as I love him.
I will go home now. Is not that best for me?"

Sergius had grown the tall man he was without having been so
entreated--nay, without an adventure in the least akin to this. The
hand lay in his folded lightly. He remembered once a dove flew into his
cell. The window was so small it no doubt suggested to the poor
creature a door to a nesting place. He remembered how he thought it a
messenger from the Heaven which he never gave over thinking of and
longing for, and he wanted to keep it, for afterwhile he was sure it
would find a way to tell him wherewith it was charged. And he took the
gentle stray in his hand, and nursed it with exceeding tenderness.
There are times when it seems such a blessing that memories lie shallow
and easy to stir; and now he recalled how the winged nuncio felt like
the hand he was holding--it was almost as soft, and had the same
magnetism of life--ay, and the same scarce perceptible tremble. To be
sure it was merely for the bird's sake he kept hold of the hand, while
he answered:

"Yes, I think it best, and I will go with you to your father's door."

To the carriers he said: "You will quit the wall at the grand stairs.
The Princess wishes to be taken home."

The sensation of manliness incident to caring for the weak was
refreshingly delightful. While the chair was passing he took place at
the window. The fingers of the little hand still rested on the silken
lining, like pinkish pearls. He beheld them longingly, but a restraint
fell upon him. The pinkish pearls became sacred. He would have had them
covered from the dust which the whisking breezes now blew up. The
breezes were insolent. The sun, sinking in gold over the Marmora, ought
to temper the rays it let fall on them. Long as the orb had shone, how
curious that it never acquired art enough to know the things which too
much of its splendor might spoil. Then too he desired to speak with
Lael--to ask if she was any longer afraid--he could not. Where had his
courage gone? When he caught the young Greek from Nilo, the shortest
while ago, he was wholly unconscious of timidity. The change was
wonderful. Nor was the awkwardness beginning to hamper his hands and
feet less incomprehensible. And why the embarrassment when people
paused to observe him?

Thus the party pursued on until the descent from the wall; he on the
right side of the chair, and Nilo on the left. Down in the garden where
they were following a walk across the terrace toward Sta. Sophia, Lael
put her face to the window, and spoke to him. His eagerness lest a word
were lost was remarkable. He did not mind the stooping--and from his
height that was a great deal--nor care much if it subjected him to
remark.

"Have you seen the Princess lately--she who lives at Therapia?" Lael
asked.

"Oh, yes," he answered. "She is my little mother. I go up there often.
She advises me in everything."

"It must be sweet to have such a mother," Lael said, with a smile.

"It is sweet," he returned.

"And how lovely she is, and brave and assuring," Lael added. "Why, I
forgot when with her to be afraid. I forgot we were in the hands of
those dreadful Turks. I kept thinking of her, and not of myself."

Sergius waited for what more she had to say.

"This afternoon a messenger came from her to my father, asking him to
let me visit her."

The heart of the monk gave a jump of pleasure.

"And you will go?"

A little older and wiser, and she would have detected a certain urgency
there was in the tone with which he directed the inquiry.

"I cannot say yet. I have not seen my father since the invitation was
received; he has been with the Emperor; but I know how greatly he
admires the Princess. I think he will consent; if so, I will go up to
Therapia to-morrow."

Sergius, silently resolving to betake himself thither early next
morning, replied with enthusiasm: "Have you seen the garden behind her
palace?"

"No."

"Well, of course I do not know what Paradise is, but if it be according
to my fancy, I should believe that garden is a piece of it."

"Oh, I know I shall be pleased with the Princess, her garden--with
everything hers."

Thereupon Lael settled back in her chair, and nothing more was said
till the sedan halted in front of the Prince's door. Appearing at the
window there, she extended a hand to her escort. The pinkish pearls did
not seem so far away as before, and they were now offered directly. He
could not resist taking them.

"I want you to know how very, very grateful I am to you," she said,
allowing the hand to stay in his. "My father will speak to you about
the day's adventure. He will make the opportunity and
early.--But--but"--

She hesitated, and a blush overspread her face.

"But what?" he said, encouragingly.

"I do not know your name, or where you reside."

"Sergius is my name."

"Sergius?"

"Yes. And being a monk, I have a cell in the Monastery of St. James of
Manganese. I belong to that Brotherhood, and humbly pray God to keep me
in good standing. Now having told you who I am, may I ask"--

He failed to finish the sentence. Happily she divined his wish.

"Oh," she said, "I am called Gul-Bahar by those who love me dearest,
though my real name is Lael."

"By which am I to call you?"

"Good-by," she continued, passing his question, and the look of doubt
which accompanied it. "Good-by--the Princess will send for me
to-morrow."

When the chair was borne into the house, it seemed to Sergius the sun
had rushed suddenly down, leaving a twilight over the sky. He turned
homeward with more worldly matter to think of than ever before. For the
first time in his life the cloister whither he was wending seemed
lonesome and uncomfortable. He was accustomed to imagine it lighted and
warmed by a presence out of Heaven--that presence was in danger of
supersession. Occasionally, however, the girlish Princess whom he was
thus taking home with him gave place to wonder if the Greek he had
saved from Nilo could be a son of the saintly Hegumen; and the
reflection often as it returned brought a misgiving with it; for he saw
to what intrigues he might be subjected, if the claim were true, and
the claimant malicious in disposition. When at last he fell asleep on
his pillow of straw the vision which tarried with him was of walking
with Gul-Bahar in the garden behind the Homeric palace at Therapia, and
it was exceedingly pleasant.




CHAPTER VII

A BYZANTINE HERETIC


While the venerable Chapel on the way up the heights of Blacherne was
surrounded by the host of kneeling monastics, and the murmur of their
prayers swept it round about like the sound of moaning breezes, a
messenger found the Hegumen of the St. James' with the compliments of
the Basileus, and a request that he come forward to a place in front of
the door of the holy house. The good man obeyed; so the night long,
maugre his age and infirmities, he stayed there stooped and bent,
invoking blessings upon the Emperor and Empire; for he loved them both;
and by his side Sergius lingered dutifully torch in hand. Twelve hours
before he had engaged in the service worshipfully as his superior, nor
would his thoughts have once flown from the Mystery enacting; but
now--alas, for the inconstancy of youth!--now there were intervals when
his mind wandered. The round white face of the Princess came again and
again looking at him plainly as when in the window of the sedan on the
promenade between the Bucoleon and the sea. He tried to shut it out;
but often as he opened the book of prayers which he carried in common
with his brethren, trying to read them away; often as he shook the
torch thinking to hide them in the resinous smoke, the pretty, melting,
importunate eyes reappeared, their fascination renewed and unavoidable.
They seemed actually to take his efforts to get away for encouragement
to return. Never on any holy occasion had he been so negligent--never
had negligence on his part been so obstinate and nearly like sin.

Fortunately the night came to an end. A timid thing when first it
peeped over the hills of Scutari, the day emboldened, and at length
filled the East, and left of the torches alive on the opposing face of
Blacherne only the sticks, the cups, and the streaming smoke. Then the
great host stirred, arose, and in a time incredibly brief, silently
gave itself back to the city; while the Basileus issued from his
solitary vigils in the Chapel, and, in a chastened spirit doubtless,
sought his couch in one of the gilded interiors up somewhere under the
Tower of Isaac.

The Hegumen of the St. James', overcome by the unwonted draughts upon
his scanty store of strength, not to mention the exhaustion of spirit
he had undergone, was carried home in a chair. Sergius was faithful
throughout. At the gate of the monastery he asked the elder's blessing.

"Depart not, my son; stay with me a little longer. Thy presence is
comforting to me."

The adjuration prevailed. Truth was, Sergius wished to set out for
Therapia; but banishing the face of the little Princess once more, he
helped the holy man out of the chair, through the dark-stained gate,
down along the passages, to his apartment, bare and penitential as that
of the humblest neophyte of the Brotherhood. Having divested the
superior of his robes, and, gently as he could, assisted him to lay his
spent body on the narrow cot serving for couch, he then received the
blessing.

"Thou art a good son, Sergius," the Hegumen said, with some cheer.
"Thou dost strengthen me. I feel thou art wholly given up to the Master
and His religion--nay, so dost thou look like the Master that when thou
art by I fancy it is He caring for me. Thou art at liberty now. I give
thee the blessing."

Sergius knelt, received the trembling hands on his bowed head, and
kissed them with undissembled veneration.

"Father," he said, "I beg permission to be gone a few days."

"Whither?"

"Thou knowest I regard the Princess Irene as my little mother. I wish
to go and see her."

"At Therapia?"

"Yes, Father."

The Hegumen averted his eyes, and by the twitching of the fingers
clasped upon his breast exposed a trouble at work in the depths of his
mind.

"My son," he at length said, "I knew the father of the Princess Irene,
and was his sympathizer. I led the whole Brotherhood in the final
demand for his liberation from prison. When he was delivered, I
rejoiced with a satisfied soul, and took credit for a large part of the
good done him and his. It is not to magnify myself, or unduly publish
my influence that the occurrence is recalled, but to show you how
unnatural it would be were I unfriendly to his only child. So if now I
say anything in the least doubtful of her, set it down to conscience,
and a sense of duty to you whom I have received into the fraternity as
one sent me specially by God.... The life the Princess leads and her
manners are outside the sanctions of society. There is no positive
wrong in a woman of her degree going about in public places unveiled,
and it must be admitted she does it most modestly; yet the example is
pernicious in its effect upon women who are without the high qualities
which distinguish her; at the same time the habit, even as she
illustrates it, wears an appearance of defiant boldness, making her a
subject of indelicate remark--making her, in brief, a topic for
discussion. The objection, I grant, is light, being at worst an offence
against taste and custom; much more serious is her persistence in
keeping up the establishment at Therapia. A husband might furnish her
an excuse; but the Turk is too near a neighbor--or rather she, a single
woman widely renowned for beauty, is too tempting to the brutalized
unbelievers infesting the other shore of the Bosphorus. Feminine
timidity is always becoming; especially is it so when honor is more
concerned than life or liberty. Unmarried and unprotected, her place is
in a holy house on the Islands, or here in the city, where, aside from
personal safety, she can have the benefit of holy offices. Now rumor is
free to accuse her of this and that, which charity in multitude and
without stint is an insufficient mantle to save her from. They say she
prefers guilty freedom to marriage; but no one, himself of account,
believes it--the constitution of her household forbids the taint. They
say she avails herself of seclusion to indulge uncanonized worship. In
plain terms, my son, it is said she is a heretic."

Sergius started and threw up his hands. Not that he was surprised at
the charge, for the Princess herself had repeatedly admitted it was in
the air against her; but coming from the venerated chief of his
Brotherhood, the statement, though a hearsay, sounded so dreadfully he
was altogether unprepared for it. Knowing the consequences of heresy,
he was also alarmed for her, and came near betraying himself. How
interesting it would be to learn precisely and from the excellent
authority before him, in what the heresy of the Princess consisted. If
there was criminality in her faith, what was to be said of his own?

"Father," he remarked, calmly as possible, "I mind not the other
sayings, the reports which go to the Princess' honor--they are the
tarnishments which malice is always blowing on things white because
they are white--but if it be not too trying to your strength, tell me
more. Wherein is she a heretic?"

Again, the gaunt fingers of the Hegumen worked nervously, while his
eyes averted themselves.

"How can I satisfy your laudable question, my son, and be brief?" and
with the words he brought his look back, resting it on the young man's
face. "Give attention, however, and I will try.... I take it you know
the Creed is the test of orthodoxy, and"--he paused and searched the
eyes above his wistfully--"and that it has your unfaltering belief. You
know its history, I am sure--at least you know it had issue from the
Council of Nicaea over which Constantine, the greatest of ail Emperors,
condescended to preside in person. Never was proceeding more perfect;
its perfection proved the Divine Mind in its composition; yet, sad to
say, the centuries since the august Council have been fruitful of
disputes more or less related to those blessed canons, and sadder
still, some of the disputes continue to this day. Would to God there
was no more to be said of them!"

The good man covered his face with his hands, like one who would shut
out a disagreeable sight. "But it is well to inform you, my son, of the
questions whose agitation has at last brought the Church down till only
Heaven can save it from rupture and ruin. Oh, that I should live to
make the acknowledgment--I who in my youth thought it founded on a rock
eternal as Nature itself!... A plain presentation of the subject in
contention may help you to a more lively understanding of the gravity
and untimeliness of the Princess' departure.... First, let me ask if
you know our parties by name. Verily I came near calling them
_factions_, and that I would not willingly, since it is an opprobrious
term, resort to which would be denunciatory of myself--I being one of
them."

"I have heard of a Roman party and of a Greek party; but further, I am
so recently come to Constantinople, it would be safer did I take
information of you."

"A prudent answer, by our most excellent and holy patron!" exclaimed
the Hegumen, his countenance relaxing into the semblance of a smile.
"Be always as wise, and the St. James' will bless themselves that thou
wert brought to us.... Attend now. The parties are Greek and Roman;
though most frequently its enemies speak of the latter as _azymites_,
which you will understand is but a nickname. I am a Romanist; the
Brotherhood is all Roman; and we mind not when Scholarius, and his
arch-supporter, Duke Notaras, howl _azymite_ at us. A disputant never
takes to contemptuous speeches except when he is worsted in the
argument."

The moderation of the Hegumen had been thus far singularly becoming and
impressive; now a fierce light gleamed in his eyes, and he cried, with
a spasmodic clutch of the hands: "We are not of the forsworn! The curse
of the perjured is not on our souls!"

The intensity of his superior astonished Sergius; yet he was shrewd
enough to see and appreciate the disclosures of the outburst; and from
that moment he was possessed of a feeling that the quarrel between the
parties was hopelessly past settlement. If the man before him, worn
with years, and actually laboring for the breath of life, could be so
moved by contempt for the enemy, what of his co-partisans? Age is
ordinarily a tamer of the passions. Here was an instance in which much
contention long continued had counteracted the benign effect. As a
teacher and example, how unlike this Hegumen was to Hilarion. The young
man's heart warmed with a sudden yearning for the exile of the dear old
Lavra whose unfailing sweetness of soul could keep the frigid
wilderness upon the White Lake in summer purple the year round. Never
did love of man for man look so lovely; never did it seem so
comprehensive and all sufficient! The nearest passion opposition could
excite in that pure and chastened nature was pity. But here! Quick as
the reflection came, it was shut out. There was more to be learned. God
help the heretic in the hands of this judge at this time! And with the
mental exclamation Sergius waited, his interest in the definition of
heresy sharpened by personal concern.

"There are five questions dividing the two parties," the Hegumen
continued, when the paroxysm of hate was passed. "Listen and I will
give them to you in naked form, trusting time for an opportunity to
deal with them at large.... First then the Procession of the Holy
Ghost. That is, does the Holy Ghost proceed from the Son, or from the
Father and the Son? The Greeks say from the Son; the Romans say the
Father and the Son being One, the Procession must needs be from both of
them conjunctively.... Next the Nicene Creed, as originally published,
did undoubtedly make the Holy Ghost proceed from the Father alone. The
intent was to defend the unity of the Godhead. Subsequently the Latins,
designing to cast the assertion of the identity of the Spirit of the
Father and the Spirit of the Son in a form which they thought more
explicit, planted in the body of the Creed the word _filioque_, meaning
_from the Son._ This the Greeks declare an unwarranted addition. The
Latins, on their part, deny it an addition in any proper sense; they
say it is but an explanation of the principle proclaimed, and in
justification trace the usage from the Fathers, Greek and Latin, and
from Councils subsequent to the Nicene.... When we consider to what
depths of wrangle the two themes have carried the children of God who
should be brethren united in love, knowing rivalry only in zeal for the
welfare of the Church, that other subjects should creep in to help
widen the already dangerous breach has an appearance like a judgment of
God; yet it would be dealing unfairly with you, my son, to deny the
pendency of three others in particular. Of these we have first, Shall
the bread in the Eucharist be leavened or unleavened? About six hundred
years ago the Latins began the use of unleavened bread. The Greeks
protested against the innovation, and through the centuries arguments
have been bandied to and fro in good-natured freedom; but lately,
within fifty years, the debate has degenerated into quarrel, and
now--ah, in what terms suitable to a God-fearing servant can I speak of
the temper signalizing the discussion now? Let it pass, let it pass!...
We have next a schism respecting Purgatory. The Greeks deny the
existence of such a state, saying there are but two places awaiting the
soul after death--Heaven and Hell."

Again the Hegumen paused, arrested, as it were, by a return of
vindictive passion.

"Oh, the schismatics!" he exclaimed. "Not to see in the Latin idea of a
third place a mercy of God unto them especially! If only the righteous
are admitted to the All Holy Father immediately upon the final
separation of body and spirit; if there is no intermediate state for
the purgation of such of the baptized as die sodden in their sins, what
shall become of them?"

Sergius shuddered, but held his peace.

"Yet another point," the superior continued, ere the ruffle in his
voice subsided--"another of which the wranglers have made the most; for
as you know, my son, the Greeks, thinking themselves teachers of all
things intellectual, philosophy, science, poetry, art, and especially
religion, and that at a period when the Latins were in the nakedness of
barbarism, are filled with pride, like empty bottles with air; and
because in the light of history their pride is not unreasonable, they
drop the more readily into the designs of the conspirators against the
Unity of the Church--I speak now of the Primacy. As if power and final
judgment were things for distribution amongst a number of equals! As if
one body were better of a hundred heads! Who does not know that two
wills equally authorized mean the absence of all will! Of the
foundations of God Chaos alone is unorganized; and to such likeness
Scholarius would reduce Christendom! God forbid! Say so, my son--let me
hear you repeat it after me--God forbid:"

With an unction scarcely less fervid than his chief's, Sergius echoed
the exclamation; whereupon the elder looked at him, and said, with a
flush on his face, "I fear I have given rein too freely to disgust and
abhorrence. Passion is never becoming in old men. Lest you misjudge me,
my son, I shall take one further step in explanation; it will be for
you to then justify or condemn the feeling you have witnessed in me. A
deeper wound to conscience, a grosser provocation to the divine
vengeance, a perfidy more impious and inexcusable you shall never
overtake in this life, though you walk in it thrice the years of
Noah.... There have been repeated attempts to settle the doctrinal
differences to which I have referred. A little more than a hundred
years ago--it was in the reign of Andronicus III.--one Barlaam, a
Hegumen, like myself, was sent to Italy by the Emperor with a proposal
of union; but Benedict the Pope resolutely refused to entertain the
proposition, for the reason that it did not contemplate a final
arrangement of the question at issue between the Churches. Was he not
right?"

Sergius assented.

"In 1369, John V. Palaeologus, under heavy pressure of the Turks,
renewed overtures of reconciliation, and to effectuate his purpose, he
even became a Catholic. Then John VI., the late Emperor, more
necessitous than his predecessor, submitted such a presentation to the
Papal court that Nicolos of Cusa was despatched to Constantinople to
study and report upon the possibilities of a doctrinal settlement and
union. In November, 1437, the Emperor, accompanied by Joseph, the
Patriarch, Besserion, Archbishop of Nicaea, and deputies empowered to
represent the other Patriarchs, together with a train of learned
assistants and secretaries, seven hundred in all, set out for Italy in
response to the invitation of Eugenius IV, the Pope. Landing at Venice,
the Basileus was escorted to Ferrara, where Eugenius received him with
suitable pomp. The Council of Basle, having been adjourned to Ferrara
for the better accommodation of the imperial guest, was opened there in
April, 1438. But the plague broke out, and the sessions were
transferred to Florence where the Council sat for three years. Dost
thou follow me, my son?"

"With all my mind, Father, and thankful for thy painstaking."

"Nay, good Sergius, thy attention more than repays me.... Observe now
the essentials of all the dogmatic questions I named to you as to-day
serving the conspiracy against the Unity of our beloved Church were
settled and accepted at the Council of Florence. The primacy of the
Roman Bishop was the last to be disposed of, because distinguishable
from the other differences by a certain political permeation; finally
it too was reconciled in these words--bear them in memory, I pray, that
you may comprehend their full import--'The Holy Apostolic See and Roman
Pontiff hold the Primacy over all the world; the Roman Pontiff is the
successor of Peter, Prince of Apostles, and he is the true Vicar of
Christ, the head of the whole Church, the Father and Teacher of all
Christians.' [Footnote: Addis and Arnold's Catholic Die. 349.] In
Italy, 1439--mark you, son Sergius, but a trifle over eleven years
ago--the members of the Council from the East and West, the Greeks with
the Latins--Emperor, Patriarchs, Metropolitans, Deacons, and lesser
dignitaries of whatever title--signed a Decree of Union which we call
the _Hepnoticon_, and into which the above acceptances had been
incorporated. I said all signed the decree--there were two who did not,
Mark of Ephesus and the Bishop Stauropolis. The Patriarch of
Constantinople, Joseph, died during the Council; yet the signatures of
his colleagues collectively and of the Emperor perfected the Decree as
to Constantinople. What sayest thou, my son? As a student of holy
canons, what sayest thou?"

"I am but a student," Sergius replied; "still to my imperfect
perception the Unity of the Church was certainly accomplished."

"In law, yes," said the Hegumen, with difficulty rising to a sitting
posture--"yes, but it remained to make the accomplishment binding on
the consciences of the signatories. Hear now what was done. A form of
oath was draughted invoking the most awful maledictions on the parties
who should violate the decree, and it was sworn to."

"Sworn to?"

"Ay, son Sergius--sworn to by each and all of those attendant upon the
Council--from Basileus down to the humblest catechumen inclusive, they
took the oath, and by the taking bound their consciences under penalty
of the eternal wrath of God. I spoke of certain ones forsworn, did I
not?"

Sergius bowed.

"And worse--I spoke of some whose souls were enduring the curse of the
perjured. That was extreme--it was passion--I saw thee shudder at it,
and I did not blame thee. Hear me now, and thou wilt not blame me....
They came home, the Basileus and his seven hundred followers. Scarcely
were they disembarked before they were called to account. The city,
assembled on the quay, demanded of them: 'What have you done with us?
What of our Faith? Have you brought us the victory?' The Emperor
hurried to his palace; the prelates hung their heads, and trembling and
in fear answered: 'We have sold our Faith--we have betrayed the pure
sacrifice--we have become Azymites.' [Footnote: _Hist. de l'eglise_
(L'Abbe Rohrbacher), 3d ed. Vol. 22. 30. MICHEL DUCAS.] Thus spake
Bessarion; thus Balsamon, Archdeacon and Guardian of the Archives; thus
Gemiste of Lacedaemon; thus Antoine of Heraclius; thus spake they all,
the high and the low alike, even George Scholarius, whom thou didst see
marching last night first penitent of the Vigils. 'Why did you sign the
Decree?' And they answered, 'We were afraid of the Franks.' Perjury to
impiety--cowardice to perjury!... And now, son Sergius, it is said--all
said--with one exception. Some of the Metropolitans, when they were
summoned to sign the Decree, demurred, 'Without you pay us to our
satisfaction we shall not sign.' The silver was counted down to them.
Nay, son, look not so incredulous--I was there--I speak of what I saw.
What could be expected other than that the venals would repudiate
everything? And so they did, all save Metrophanes, the Syncelle, and
Gregory, by grace of God the present Patriarch. If I speak with heat,
dost thou blame me? If I called the recusants forsworn and perjured,
thinkest thou the pure in Heaven charged my soul with a sin? Answer as
thou lovest the right?"

"My Father," Sergius replied, "the denunciation of impiety cannot be
sinful, else I have to unlearn all I have ever been taught; and being
the chief Shepherd of an honorable Brotherhood, is it not thy duty to
cry out at every appearance of wrong? That His Serenity, the Patriarch,
receives thy acquittal and is notably an exception to a recusancy so
universal, is comforting to me; to have to cast him out of my
admiration would be grievous. But pardon me, if from fear thou wilt
overlook it, I again ask thee to speak further of the heresy of the
Princess Irene."

Sergius, besides standing with his back to the door of the cell, was
listening to the Hegumen with an absorption of sense so entire that he
was unaware of the quiet entrance of a third party, who halted after a
step or two but within easy hearing.

"The request is timely--most timely," the Hegumen replied, without
regarding the presence of the newcomer. "I had indeed almost forgotten
the Princess.... With controversies such as I have recounted raging in
the Church, like wolves in a sheepfold, comes one with new doctrines to
increase the bewilderment of the flock, how is he to be met? This is
what the Princess has done, and is doing."

"Still, Father, you leave me in the dark."

The Hegumen faltered, but finally said: "Apart from her religious views
and novel habits, the Princess Irene is the noblest nature in
Byzantium. Were we overtaken by some great calamity, I should look for
her to rise by personal sacrifice into heroism. In acknowledgment of my
fatherly interest in her, she has often entertained me at her palace,
and spoken her mind with fearless freedom, leaving me to think her
pursued by presentiments of a fatality which is to try her with
terrible demands, and that she is already prepared to submit to them."

"Yes," said Sergius, with an emphatic gesture, "there are who live
martyrs all their days, reserving nothing for death but to bring them
their crowns."

The manner of the utterance, and the thought compelled the Hegumen's
notice.

"My son," he said, presently, "thou hast a preacher's power. I wish I
foreknew thy future. But I must haste or"--

"Nay, Father, permit me to help you recline again."

And with the words, Sergius helped the feeble body down.

"Thanks, my son," he received, in return, "I know thy soul is gentle."

After a rest the speech was resumed.

"Of the Princess--she is given to the Scriptures; in the reading, which
else would be a praiseworthy usage, she refuses light except it proceed
from her own understanding. We are accustomed when in doubt--thou
knowest it to be so--to take the interpretations of the Fathers; but
she insists the Son of God knew what He meant better than any whose
good intentions are lacking in the inspirations of the Holy Ghost."

A gleam of pleasure flitted over the listener's countenance.

"So," the Hegumen continued, "she hath gone the length of fabricating a
creed for herself, and substituting it for that which is the foundation
of the Church--I mean the Creed transmitted to us from the Council of
Nicaea."

"Is the substitute in writing, Father?"

"I have read it."

"Then thou canst tell me whence she drew it."

"From the Gospels word and word.... There now--I am too weak to enter
into discussion--I can only allude to effects."

"Forgive another request"--Sergius spoke hastily--"Have I thy
permission, to look at what she hath written?"

"Thou mayst try her with a request; but remember, my son"--the Hegumen
accompanied the warning with a menacious glance--"remember proselyting
is the tangible overt act in heresy which the Church cannot
overlook.... To proceed. The Princess' doctrines are damnatory of the
Nicene; if allowed, they would convert the Church into a
stumbling-block in the way of salvation. They cannot be tolerated.... I
can no more--the night was too much for me. Go, I pray, and order wine
and food. To-morrow--or when thou comest again--and delay not, for I
love thee greatly--we will return to the subject."

Sergius saw the dew gathering on the Hegumen's pallid forehead, and
observed his failing voice. He stooped, took the wan hand from the
laboring breast, and kissed it; then turning about quickly to go for
the needed restoration, he found himself face to face with the young
Greek whom he rescued from Nilo in the encounter on the wall.




CHAPTER VIII

THE ACADEMY OF EPICURUS


"I would have a word with you," the Greek said, in a low tone, as
Sergius was proceeding to the door.

"But thy father is suffering, and I must make haste."

"I will accompany thee."

Sergius stopped while the young man went to the cot, removed his hat
and knelt, saying, "Thy blessing, father."

The Hegumen laid a hand on the petitioner's head.

"My son, I have not seen thee for many days," he said; "yet in hope
that thou hast heard me, and abandoned the associates who have been
endangering thy soul and my good name, and because I love thee--God
knows how well--and remember thy mother, who lived illustrating every
beatitude, and died in grace, praying for thee, take thou my blessing."

With tears starting in his own eyes, Sergius doubted not the effect of
the reproof upon the son; and he pitied him, and even regretted
remaining to witness the outburst of penitence and grief he imagined
forthcoming. The object of his sympathy took down the hand, kissed it
in a matter-of-fact way, arose, and said, carelessly: "This lamentation
should cease. Why can I not get you to understand, father, that there
is a new Byzantium? That even in the Hippodrome nothing is as it used
to be except the colors? How often have I explained to you the latest
social discovery admitted now by everybody outside the religious
orders, and by many within them--I mean the curative element in sin."

"Curative element in sin!" exclaimed the father.

"Ay--Pleasure."

"O God!" sighed the old man, turning his face hopelessly to the wall,
"Whither are we drifting?"

He hardly heard the prodigal's farewell.

"If you wish to speak with me, stay here until I return."

This Sergius said when the two passed out of the cell. Going down the
darkened passage, he glanced behind him, and saw the Greek outside the
door; and when he came back with the Hegumen's breakfast, and reentered
the apartment, he brushed by him still on the outside. At the cot,
Sergius offered the refreshment on his knees, and in that posture
waited while his superior partook of it; for he discerned how the aged
heart was doubly stricken--once for the Church, deserted by so many of
its children, and again for himself, forsaken by his own son.

"What happiness to me, O Sergius, wert thou of my flesh and blood!"

The expression covered every feeling evoked by the situation.
Afterwhile another of the Brotherhood appeared, permitting Sergius to
retire.

"I am ready to hear you now," he said, to the Greek at the door.

"Let us to your cell then."

In the cell, Sergius drew forth the one stool permitted him by the
rules of the Brotherhood.

"Be seated," he said.

"No," the visitor returned, "I shall be brief. You do not know my
father. The St. James' should relieve him of active duty. His years are
sadly enfeebling him."

"But that would be ungrateful in them."

"Heaven knows," the prodigal continued, complainingly, "how I have
labored to bring him up abreast of the time; he lives entirely in the
past. But pardon me; if I heard aright, my father called you Sergius."

"That is my monastic name."

"You are not a Greek?"

"The Great Prince is my political sovereign."

"Well, I am Demedes. My father christened me Metrophanes, after the
late Patriarch; but it did not please me, and I have entitled myself.
And now we know each other, let us be friends."

Sergius' veil had fallen over his face, and while replacing it under
the hat, he replied, "I shall strive, Demedes, to love you as I love
myself."

The Greek, it should be remembered, was good featured, and of a
pleasant manner; so much so, indeed, as to partially recompense him for
his failure in stature; wherefore the overture was by no means
repulsive.

"You may wonder at my plucking you from my father's side; you may
wonder still more at my presumption in seeking to attach myself to you;
but I think my reasons good.... In the first place, it is my duty to
acknowledge that but for your interference yesterday the gigantic
energumen by whom I was unexpectedly beset would have slain me. In
fact, I had given myself up for lost. The rocks at the foot of the wall
seemed springing out of the water to catch me, and break every bone in
my body. You will accept my thanks, will you not?"

"The saving two fellow beings, one from murder, the other from being
murdered, is not, in my opinion, an act for thanks; still, to ease you
of a sense of obligation, I consent to the acknowledgment."

"It does relieve me," Demedes said, with a taking air; "and I am
encouraged to go on."

He paused, and surveyed Sergius deliberately from head to foot, and the
admiration he permitted to be seen, taken as a second to his continuing
words, could not have been improved by a professed actor.

"Are not flesh and blood of the same significance in all of us? With
youth and health superadded to a glorious physical structure, may we
not always conclude a man rich in spirit and lusty impulses? Is it
possible a gown and priestly hat can entirely suppress his human
nature? I have heard of Anthony the Anchorite."

The idea excited his humor, and he laughed.

"I mean no irreverence," he resumed; "but you know, dear Sergius, it is
with laughter as with tears, we cannot always control it.... Anthony
resolved to be a Saint, but was troubled by visions of beautiful women.
To escape them, he followed some children of Islam into the desert.
Alas! the visions went with him. He burrowed then in a tomb--still the
visions. He hid next in the cellar of an old castle--in vain--the
visions found him out. He flagellated himself for eighty and nine
years, every day and night of which was a battle with the visions. He
left two sheepskins to as many bishops, and one haircloth shirt to two
favorite disciples--they had been his armor against the visions.
Finally, lest the seductive goblins should assail him in death, he bade
the disciples lose him by burial in an unknown place. Sergius, my good
friend"--here the Greek drew nearer, and laid a hand lightly on the
monk's flowing sleeve--"I heard some of your replies to my father, and
respect your genius too much to do more than ask why you should waste
your youth"--

"Forbear! Go not further--no, not a word!" Sergius exclaimed. "Dost
thou account the crown the Saint at last won nothing?"

Demedes did not seem in the least put out by the demonstration;
possibly he expected it, and was satisfied with the hearing continued
him.

"I yield to you," he said, with a smile, "and willingly since you
convince me I was not mistaken in your perception.... My father is a
good man. His goodness, however, but serves to make him more sensitive
to opposition. The divisions of the Church give him downright
suffering. I have heard him go on about them hours at a time. Probably
his proneness to lamentation should be endured with respectful
patience; but there is a peculiarity in it--he is blind to everything
save the loss of power and influence the schisms are fated to entail
upon the Church. He fights valorously in season and out for the old
orthodoxies, believing that with the lapse of religion as at present
organized the respectability and dominion of the holy orders will also
lapse. Nay, Sergius, to say it plainly, he and the Brotherhood are fast
keying themselves up to a point in fanaticism when dissent appears
blackest heresy. To you, a straightforward seeker after information, it
has never occurred, I suspect, to inquire how far--or rather how
close--beyond that attainment lie punishments of summary infliction and
most terrible in kind? Torture--the stake--holocausts in the
Hippodrome--spectacles in the Cynegion--what are they to the enthused
Churchmen but righteous judgments mercifully executed on wayward
heretics? I tell you, monk--and as thou lovest her, heed me--I tell you
the Princess Irene is in danger."

This was unexpected, and forcibly put; and thinking of the Princess,
Sergius lost the calmness he had up to this time successfully kept.

"The Princess--tortured--God forbid!"

"Recollect," the Greek continued--"for you will reflect upon
this--recollect I overheard the close of your interview with my father.
To-morrow, or upon your return from Therapia, be it when it may, he
will interrogate you with respect to whatever she may confide to you in
the least relative to the Creed, which, as he states, she has prepared
for herself. You stand warned. Consider also that now I have in part
acquitted myself of the obligation I am under to you for my life."

The simple-mindedness of the monk, to whom the book of the world was
just beginning to open, was an immense advantage to the Greek. It
should not be surprising, therefore, if the former relaxed his air, and
leaned a little forward to hear what was further submitted to him.

"Have you breakfasted?" the prodigal asked, in his easy manner.

"I have not."

"Ah! In concern for my father, you have neglected yourself. Well, I
must not be inconsiderate. A hungry man is seldom a patient listener.
Shall I break off now?"

"You have interested me, and I may be gone several days."

"Very well. I will make haste. It is but justice to the belligerents in
the spiritual war to admit the zeal they have shown; Gregory the
Patriarch, and his Latins, on the one side, and Scholarius and his
Greeks on the other. They have occupied the pulpits alternately, each
refusing presence to the other. They decline association in the
Sacramental rites. In Sta. Sophia, it is the Papal mass to-day;
to-morrow, it will be the Greek mass. It requires a sharp sense to
detect the opposition in smell between the incense with which the
parties respectively fumigate the altars of the ancient house. I
suppose there is a difference. Yesterday the parabaloni came to blows
over a body they were out burying, and in the struggle the bier was
knocked down, and the dead spilled out. The Greeks, being the most
numerous, captured the labarum of the Latins, and washed it in the mud;
yet the monogram on it was identical with that on their own. Still I
suppose there was a difference."

Demedes laughed.

"But seriously, Sergius, there is much more of the world outside of the
Church--or Churches, as you prefer--than on the inside. In the tearing
each other to pieces, the militants have lost sight of the major part,
and, as normally bound, it has engaged in thinking for itself. That is,
the shepherd is asleep, the dogs are fighting, and the sheep, left to
their individual conduct, are scattered in a hunt for fresher water and
greener pasturage. Have you heard of the Academy of Epicurus?"

"No."

"I will tell you about it. But do you take the seat there. It is not
within my purpose to exhaust you in this first conference."

"I am not tired."

"Well"--and the Greek smiled pleasantly--"I was regardful of myself
somewhat in the suggestion. My neck is the worse of having to look up
so constantly.... The youth of Byzantium, you must know, are not
complaining of neglect; far from it--they esteem it a great privilege
to be permitted to think in freedom. Let me give you of their
conclusions. There is no God, they say, since a self-respecting God
would not tolerate the strife and babble carried on in his name to the
discredit of his laws. Religion, if not a deceit, is but the tinkling
of brazen cymbals. A priest is a professor eking out an allowance of
fine clothes and bread and wine; with respect to the multitude, he is a
belled donkey leading a string of submissive camels. Of what account
are Creeds except to set fools by the ears? Which--not what--_which_ is
the true Christian Faith? The Patriarch tells us, 'Verily it is this,'
and Scholarius replies, 'Verily the Patriarch is a liar and a traitor
to God for his false teaching'--he then tells us it is that other thing
just as unintelligible. Left thus to ourselves--I acknowledge myself
one of the wandering flock--flung on our own resources--we resorted to
counselling each other, and agreed that a substitute for religion was a
social necessity. Our first thought was to revive Paganism; worshipping
many gods, we might peradventure stumble upon one really existent:
whether good or bad ought not to trouble us, provided he took
intelligent concern in the drift of things. To quarrel about his
qualities would be a useless repetition of the folly of our elders--the
folly of swimming awhile in a roaring swirl. Some one suggested how
much easier and more satisfactory it is to believe in one God than in
many; besides which Paganism is a fixed system intolerant of freedom.
Who, it was argued, would voluntarily forego making his own gods? The
privilege was too delightful. Then it was proposed that we resolve
ourselves each into a God unto himself. The idea was plausible; it
would at least put an end to wrangling, by giving us all an agreeable
object to worship, while for mental demands and social purposes
generally we could fall back on Philosophy. Had not our fathers tried
Philosophy? When had society a better well being than in the halcyon
ages of Plato and Pythagoras? Yet there was a term of indecision with
us--or rather incubation. To what school should we attach ourselves? A
copy of the Enchiridion of Epictetus fell into our hands, and after
studying it faithfully, we rejected Stoicism. The Cynics were proposed;
we rejected them--there was nothing admirable in Diogenes as a patron.
We next passed upon Socratus. _Sons of Sophroniscus_ had a lofty sound;
still his system of moral philosophy was not acceptable, and as he
believed in a creative God, his doctrine was too like a religion.
Though the Delphian oracle pronounced him the wisest of mankind, we
concluded to look further, and in so doing, came to Epicurus. There we
stopped. His promulgations, we determined, had no application except to
this life; and as they offered choice between the gratification of the
senses and the practice of virtue, leaving us free to adopt either as a
rule of conduct, we formally enrolled ourselves Epicureans. Then, for
protection against the Church, we organized. The departure might send
us to the stake, or to Tamerlane, King of the Cynegion, or, infinitely
worse, to the cloisters, if we were few; but what if we took in the
youths of Byzantium as an entirety? The policy was clear. We founded an
Academy--the Academy of Epicurus--and lodged it handsomely in a temple;
and three times every week we have a session and lectures. Our
membership is already up in the thousands, selected from the best blood
of the Empire; for we do not confine our proselyting to the city."

Here Sergius lifted his hand. He had heard the prodigal in silence, and
it had been difficult the while to say which dominated his
feeling--disgust, amazement, or pity. He was scarcely in condition to
think; yet he comprehended the despairing cry of the Hegumen, Oh, my
God! whither are we drifting? The possibilities of the scheme flew
about him darkly, like birds in a ghastly twilight. He had studied the
oppositions to religion enough to appreciate the attractive power there
was for youth in the pursuit of pleasure. He knew also something of the
race Epicureanism had run in the old competitions of philosophy--that
it had been embraced by more of the cultivated Pagan world than the
other contemporary systems together. It had been amongst the last, if
not in fact the very last, of the conquests of Christianity. But here
it was again; nor that merely--here it was once more a subject of
organized effort. Who was responsible for the resurrection? The Church?
How wicked its divisions seemed to him! Bishop fighting Bishop--the
clergy distracted--altars discredited--sacred ceremonies
neglected--what did it all mean, if not an interregnum of the Word? Men
cannot fight Satan and each other at the same time. With such
self-collection as he could command, he asked: "What have you in
substitution of God and Christ?"

"A Principle," was the reply.

"What Principle?"

"Pleasure, the Purpose of this Life, and its Pursuit, an ennobled
occupation."

"Pleasure to one is not pleasure to another--it is of kinds."

"Well said, O Sergius! Our kind is gratification of the senses. Few of
us think of the practice of virtue, which would be dreaming in the
midst of action."

"And you make the pursuit an occupation?"

"In our regard the heroic qualities of human nature are patience,
courage and judgment; hence our motto--Patience, Courage, Judgment. The
pursuit calls them all into exercise, ennobling the occupation."

The Greek was evidently serious. Sergius ran him over from the pointed
shoes to the red feather in the conical red hat, and said in accents of
pity:

"Oh, alas! Thou didst wrong in re-entitling thyself. Depravity had been
better than Demedes."

The Greek lifted his brows, and shrugged his shoulders.

"In the Academy we are used to taking as well as giving," he said,
wholly unembarrassed. "But, my dear Sergius, it remains for me to
discharge an agreeable commission. Last night, in full session, I told
of the affair on the wall. Could you have heard my description of your
intervention, and the eulogium with which I accompanied it, you would
not have accused me of ingratitude. The brethren were carried away;
there was a tempest of applause; they voted you a hero; and, without a
dissent, they directed me to inform you that the doors of the Academy
were open"--

"Stop," said Sergius, with both hands up as if to avert a blow. After
looking at the commissioner a moment, his eyes fiercely bright, he
walked the floor of the cell twice.

"Demedes," he said, halting in front of the Greek, a reactionary pallor
on his countenance, "the effort thou art making to get away from God
proves how greatly He is a terror to thee. The Academy is only a
multitude thou hast called together to help hide thee from Christ. Thou
art an organizer of Sin--a disciple of Satan"--he was speaking not loud
or threateningly, but with a force before which the other shrank
visibly--"I cannot say I thank thee for the invitation on thy tongue
unfinished, but I am better of not hearing it. Get thee behind me."

He turned abruptly, and started for the door.

The Greek sprang after him, and took hold of his gown.

"Sergius, dear Sergius," he said, "I did not intend to offend you.
There is another thing I have to speak about. Stay!"

"Is it something different?" Sergius asked.

"Ay--as light and darkness are different."

"Be quick then."

Sergius was standing under the lintel of the door. Demedes slipped past
him, and on the outside stopped.

"You are going to Therapia?" he asked.

"Yes."

"The Princess of India will be there. She has already set out."

"How knowest thou?"

"She is always under my eyes."

The mockery in the answer reminded Sergius of the Academy. The prodigal
was designing to impress him with an illustration of the Principle it
had adopted in lieu of God. The motto, he was having it thus early
understood, was not an empty formula, but an inspiring symbol, like the
Cross on the flag. This votary, the advertisement as much as said, was
in pursuit of the little Princess--he had chosen her for his next
offering to the Principle which, like another God, was insatiable of
gifts, sacrifices, and honors. Such the thoughts of the monk.

"You know her?" Demedes asked.

"Yes."

"You believe her the daughter of the Prince of India?"

"Yes."

"Then you do not know her."

The Greek laughed insolently.

"The best of us, and the oldest can be at times as much obliged by
information as by a present of bezants. The Academy sends you its
compliments. The girl is the daughter of a booth-keeper in the
bazaar--a Jew, who has no princely blood to spare a descendant--a dog
of a Jew, who makes profit by lending his child to an impostor."

"Whence hadst thou this--this--"

The Greek paid no attention to the interruption.

"The Princess Irene gives a fete this afternoon. The fishermen of the
Bosphorus will be there in a body. I will be there. A pleasant time to
you, and a quick awakening, O Sergius!"

Demedes proceeded up the passage, but turned about, and said:
"Patience, Courage, Judgment. When thou art witness to all there is in
the motto. O Sergius, it may be thou wilt be more placable. I shall see
to it that the doors of the Academy are kept open for thee."

The monk stood awhile under the lintel bewildered; for the introduction
to wickedness is always stunning--a circumstance proving goodness to be
the natural order.




CHAPTER IX

A FISHERMAN'S FETE


The breakfast to which Sergius addressed himself was in strict
observance of the Rules of the Brotherhood; and being plain, it was
quickly despatched. Returning to his cell, he let his hair loose, and
combed it with care; then rolling it into a glistening mass, he tucked
it under his hat. Selecting a fresher veil next, he arranged that to
fall down his back and over the left shoulder. He also swept the dark
gown free of dust, and cleansing the crucifix and large black horn
beads of his rosary, lingered a moment while contemplating the five
sublime mysteries allotted to the third chaplet, beginning with the
Resurrection of Christ and ending with the Coronation of the Blessed
Virgin. In a calmness of spirit such as follows absolution, he finally
sallied from the Monastery, and ere long arrived at the landing outside
the Fish Market Gate on the Golden Horn. The detentions had been long;
so for speed he selected a two-oared boat.

"To Therapia--by noon," he said to the rower, and, dropping into the
passenger's box, surrendered himself to reflection.

The waterway by which the monk proceeded is not unfamiliar to the
reader, a general idea of it having been given in the chapter devoted
to the adventures of the Prince of India in his outing up the Bosphorus
to the Sweet Waters of Asia. The impression there sought to be
conveyed--how feebly is again regretfully admitted--was of a panorama
remarkable as a composition of all the elements of scenic beauty blent
together in incomparable perfection. Now, however, it failed the
tribute customary from such as had happily to traverse it.

The restfulness of the swift going; the shrinking of the flood under
the beating of the oars; the sky and the wooded heights, and the
stretches of shore, town and palace lined; the tearing through the blue
veil hanging over the retiring distances; the birds, the breezes, the
ships hither coming and yonder going, and the sparkles shooting up in
myriad recurrence on the breaking waves--all these pleasures of the
most delicate of the receiving senses were tyrannically forbidden him.

The box in which he sat half reclining was wide enough for another
passenger side by side with him, and it seemed he imagined the vacant
place occupied now by Demedes, and now by Lael, and that he was
speaking to them; when to the former, it was with dislike, and a
disposition to avoid the touch of his red cloak, though on the sleeve
ever so lightly; when to the latter, his voice would lower, his eyes
soften, and the angry spots on his brow and cheeks go out--not more
completely could they have disappeared had she actually exorcised them
with some of the sweet confessions lovers keep for emergencies, and a
touch of finger besides.

"So," he would say, Demedes for the time on the seat, "thou deniest
God, and hast a plot against Christ. Shameful in the son of a good
father!... What is thy Academy but defiance of the Eternal Majesty? As
well curse the Holy Ghost at once, for why should he who of preference
seeketh a bed with the damned he disappointed? Or is thy audacity a
blasphemous trial of the endurance of forgiveness?".... Exit Demedes,
enter Lael.... "The child--she is a child! By such proof as there is in
innocence, and in the loveliness of blushing cheeks, and eyes which
answer the Heavenly light they let in by light as Heavenly let out, she
is a child! What does evil see in her to set it hungering after her? Or
is there in virtue a signal to its enemies--Lo, here! A light to be
blown out, lest it disperse our darkness!".... Reenter Demedes....
"Abduct her!--How?--When? To that end is it thou keepest her always
under eye? The Princess Irene gives a Fisherman's Fete--the child will
be there--thou wilt be there. Is this the day of the attempt? Bravos as
fishermen, to seize her--boats to carry her off--the Bosphorus wide and
deep, and the hills beyond a hiding-place, and in the sky over them the
awful name Turk. The crime and the opportunity hand in hand! Let them
prosper now, and I who have from the cradle's side despatched my soul
faith in hand to lay it at Heaven's gate may never again deny a merit
in the invocation of Sin virtuous as prayer".... To Lael in the
seat.... "But be not afraid. I will be there also. I"... A sudden fear
fell upon him. If the abduction were indeed arranged for the afternoon,
to what might he not be led by an open attempt to defeat it?
Bloodshed--violence! He whose every dream had been of a life in which
his fellow-men might find encouragement to endure their burdens, and of
walking before them an example of love and forbearance, submissive and
meek that he might with the more unanswerable grace preach obedience
and fraternity to them--Merciful Heaven! And he shuddered and drew the
veil hastily over his face, as if, in a bloody tumult, the ideal life,
so the ultimate happiness, were vanishing before his eyes. Taking the
confessions of such as have been greatly tried, few men, few even of
those renowned for courage and fine achievement, ever pass their
critical moments of decision unassailed by alternative suggestions due
to fear. Sergius heard them now. "Return to thy cell, and to thy beads,
and prayer," they seemed to say. "What canst thou, a stranger in a
strange land, if once the Academy of which thou wert this morning
informed, becomes thy enemy? Ay, return to thy cell! Who is she for
whom thou art putting thyself in the way of temptation? The daughter of
a booth-keeper in the bazaar--a Jew, who hath no princely blood to
spare a descendant--a dog of a Jew, who maketh profit by lending his
child to an impostor."

The suggestion was powerful. In the heat of the debate, however, an
almost forgotten voice reached him, reciting one of the consolations of
Father Hilarion: "Temptations are for all of us; nor shall any man be
free of them. The most we can hope is to be delivered from them. What
vanity to think we can travel threescore and ten years from our
cradles, if so long we live, without an overture of some kind from the
common enemy! On the other side, what a triumph to put his
blandishments by! The Great Exemplar did not fly from Satan; he stayed,
and overcame him."

"Be not afraid," Sergius said, as if to Lael, and firmly, like one
resolved of fear and hesitation. "I will be there also."

Then looking about him, at his left hand he beheld the village of
Emirghian, bent round a mountain's base, in places actually invading
the water. In face of such a view a susceptible nature must needs be
very sick of soul to go blindly on. The brightly painted houses cast
tremulous reflections to a vast depth in the limpid flood, and where
they ceased, down immeasurably, the vivid green of the verdure on the
mountain's breast suggested the beginning of the next of the seven
Mohammedan earths. Above this borrowed glory he seemed afloat; and to
help the impression, the sound of many voices singing joyously was
borne to him. He waved his hand, and the rowers, resting from their
labor, joined him in listening.

The little gulf of Stenia lies there landlocked, and out of it a boat
appeared, skimming around the intervening promontory. In a mass of
flowers, in a shade of garlands hanging from a low mast, its arms and
shrouds wreathed with roses, the singers sat timing their song with
their oars. The refrain was supported by zitheras, flutes and horns.
The vessel turned northwardly when fairly out in the strait; and then
another boat came round the point--and another--and another--and many
others, all decorated, and filled with men, women and children making
music.

Sergius' boatmen recognized the craft, deep in the water, black and
long, and with graceful upturned ends.

"Fishermen!" they said.

And he rejoined: "Yes. The Princess Irene gives them a fete. Make
haste. I will go with them. Fall in behind."

"Yes, yes--a good woman! Of such are the Saints!" they said, signing
the cross on breast arid brow.

The singing and the gala air of the party put Sergius in his wonted
spirits; and as here and there other boats fell into the line,
similarly decorated, their occupants adding to the volume of the
singing, by the time Therapia was sighted the good-natured, happy
fishermen had given him of their floral abundance, and adopted him.

What a scene the Therapian bay presented! Boats, boats, boats--hundreds
of them in motion, hundreds lining the shore, the water faithfully
repeating every detail of ornature, and apparently a-quiver with
pleasure. The town was gay with colors; while on the summit and sides
of the opposite promontory every available point answered flaunt with
flaunt. And there were song and shouting, gladsome cries of children,
responses of mothers, and merriment of youth and maiden. Byzantium
might be in decadence, her provinces falling away, her glory wasting;
the follies of the court and emperors, the best manhood of the empire
lost in cloisters and hermitages, the preference of the nobility for
intrigue and diplomacy might be all working their deplorable
results--nay, the results might be at hand! Still the passion of the
people for fetes and holidays remained. Tastes are things of heredity.
In nothing is a Byzantine of this day so nearly a classic Greek as in
his delicacy and appreciation where permitted to indulge in the
beautiful.

The boatmen passed through the gay entanglement of the bay slowly and
skilfully, and finally discharged their passengers on the marble quay a
little below the regular landing in front of the red pavilion over the
entrance to the Princess' grounds. The people went in and out of the
gate without hindrance; nor was there guard or policeman visible. Their
amiability attested their happiness.

The men were mostly black-bearded, sunburned, large-handed, brawny
fellows in breeches black and amply bagged, with red sashes and light
blue jackets heavily embroidered. The legs below the knees were
exposed, and the feet in sandals. White cloths covered their heads.
Their eyes were bright, their movements agile, their air animated. Many
of them sported amulets of shell or silver suspended by ribbons or
silken cords around their bare necks. The women wore little veils
secured by combs, but rather as a headdress, and for appearances. They
also affected the sleeveless short jacket over a snowy chemise; and
what with bright skirts bordered with worsted chenille, and sandal
straps carried artfully above the ankles, they were not wanting in
picturesqueness. Some of the very young amongst them justified the
loveliness traditionally ascribed to the nymphs of Hellas and the fair
Cycladean Isles. Much the greater number, however, were in outward
seeming prematurely old, and by their looks, their voices ungovernably
shrill, and the haste and energy with which they flung themselves into
the amusement of the hour unconsciously affirmed that fishermen's wives
are the same everywhere. One need not go far to find the frontiers of
society--too frequently they are close under the favorite balcony of
the king.

Something on the right cheek of the gate under the pavilion furnished
an attraction to the visitors. When Sergius came up, he was detained by
a press of men and women in eager discussion; and following their eyes
and the pointing of their fingers, he observed a brazen plate overhead
curiously inscribed. The writing was unintelligible to him as to his
neighbors. It looked Turkish--or it might have been Arabic--or it might
not have been writing at all. He stayed awhile listening to the
conjectures advanced. Presently a gypsy approached leading a bear,
which, in its turn, was drawing a lot of noisy boys. He stopped,
careless of the unfriendly glances with which he was received, and at
sight of the plate saluted it with a low salaam several times
unctuously repeated.

"Look at the hamari there. He can tell what the thing means."

"Then ask him."

"I will. See here, thou without a religion, consort of brutes! Canst
thou tell what this"--pointing to the plate--"is for? Come and look at
it!"

"It is not needful for me to go nearer. I see it well enough. Neither
am I without a religion. I do not merely profess belief in God--I
believe in Him," the bear-keeper replied.

The fisherman took the retort and the laugh it occasioned
good-humoredly, and answered: "Very well, we are even; and now perhaps
thou canst tell me what I asked."

"Willingly, since thou canst be decent to a stranger.... The young
Mahommed, son of Amurath, Sultan of Sultans"--the gypsy paused to
salute the title--"the young Mahommed, I say, is my friend." The
bystanders laughed derisively, but the man proceeded. "He has resided
this long time at Magnesia, the capital of a prosperous province
assigned to his governorship. There never was one of such station so
civil to his people, and much learning has had a good effect upon his
judgment; it has taught him that the real virtue of amusement lies in
its variety. Did he listen exclusively to his doctors discoursing of
philosophy, or to his professor of mathematics, or to his poets and
historians, he would go mad even as they are mad; wherefore, along with
his studies, he hunts with hawk and hound; he tilts and tourneys; he
plays the wandering minstrel; and not seldom Joqard and I--hey, fellow,
is it not so?" he gave the bear a tremendous jerk--"Joqard and I have
been to audience with him in his palace."

"A wonderful prince no doubt; but I asked not of him. The plate,
man--what of this plate? If nothing, then give way to Joqard."

"There are fools and fools--that is, there are plain fools and wise
fools. The wise fool answering the plain fool, is always more
particular with his premises than his argument."

The laugh was with the hamari again; after which he continued: "So,
having done with explanation, now to satisfy you."

From the breast of his gown, he brought forth a piece of bronze
considerably less than the plate on the gate, but in every other
respect its counterpart.

"See you this?" he said, holding the bronze up to view.

There was quick turning from plate to plate, and the conclusion was as
quick.

"They are the same, but what of it?"

"This--Joqard and I went up one day and danced for the Prince, and at
the end he dismissed us, giving me a red silk purse fat with gold
pieces, and to Joqard this passport. Mark you now. The evil minded used
to beat us with cudgels and stones--I mean among the Turk--but coming
to a town now, I tie this to Joqard's collar, and we have welcome. We
eat and drink, and are given good quarters, and sped from morning to
morning without charge."

"There is some magic in the plate, then?"

"No," said the hamari, "unless there is magic in the love of a people
for the Prince to be their ruler. It certifies Joqard and I are of
Prince Mahommed's friends, and that is enough for Turks; and the same
yonder. By the sign, I know this gate, these grounds, and the owner of
them are in his protection. But," said the bear-keeper, changing his
tone, "seeing one civil answer deserves another, when was Prince
Mahommed here?"

"In person? Never."

"Oh, he must have been."

"Why do you say so?"

"Because of the brass plate yonder."

"What does it prove?"

"Ah, yes!" the man answered laughingly. "Joqard and I pick up many odd
things, and meet a world of people--don't we, fellow?" Another furious
jerk of the leading strap brought a whine from the bear, "But it is
good for us. We teach school as we go; and you know, my friend, for
every _solidus_ its equivalent in _noumia_ is somewhere."

"I will give you a _noumia_, if you will give me an answer."

"A bargain--a bargain, with witnesses!"

Then after a glance into the faces around, as if summoning attention to
the offer, the hamari proceeded.

"Listen. I say the brass up there proves Prince Mahommed was here in
person. Wishing to notify his people that he had taken in his care
everything belonging to this property, the owner included, the Prince
put his signature to the proclamation."

"Proclamation?"

"Yes--you may call it plain brass, if you prefer; none the less the
writing on it is _Mahommed:_ and because such favors must bear his name
on them, they are reserved for his giving. No other man, except the
great Sultan, his father, would bestow one of them. Joqard had his from
the Prince's hand directly; wherefore--I hope, friend, you have the
_noumia_ ready--the brass on this post must have been fixed there by
the Prince with his own hand."

The fishermen were satisfied; and it was wonderful how interesting the
safeguard then became to them. By report they knew Mahommed the
prospective successor of the terrible Amurath; they knew him a soldier
conspicuous in many battles; and from the familiar principle by which
we admire or dread those possessed of qualities unlike and superior to
our own, their ideas and speculations concerning him were wild and
generally harsh. Making no doubt now that he had really been to the
gate, they asked themselves, What could have been his object? To look
at the plate was next thing to looking at the man. Even Sergius partook
of the feeling. To get a better view, he shifted his position, and was
beset by inquietudes not in the understanding of the fishermen.

The Princess Irene, her property and dependents, were subjects of
protection by the Moslem; that much was clear; but did she know the
fact? Had she seen the Prince? Then the Hegumen's criticism upon the
persistence with which she kept her residence here, a temptation to the
brutalized unbeliever on the other shore, derived a point altogether
new.

Sergius turned away, and passed into the well-tended grounds. While too
loyal to the little mother, as he tenderly called the Princess, to
admit a suspicion against her, with painful clearness, he perceived the
opportunity the affair offered her enemies for the most extreme
accusations; and he resolved to speak to her, and, if necessary, to
remonstrate.

Traversing the shelled roadway up to the portico of the palace, he
looked back through the red pavilion, and caught a glimpse of Joqard
performing before a merry group of boys and elders male and female.




CHAPTER X

THE HAMARI


The love of all things living which was so positively a trait of
character with the Princess Irene was never stinted in her dealings
with her own country folk. On this occasion her whole establishment at
Therapia was accorded her guests; yet, while they wandered at will
merry-making through the gardens, and flashed their gay colors along
the side and from the summit of the promontory, they seemed to have
united in holding the palace in respectful reserve. None of them,
without a special request, presumed to pass the first of the steps
leading up into the building.

When Sergius, approaching from the outer gate, drew nigh the front of
the palace, he was brought to a stop by a throng of men and women
packed around a platform the purpose of which was declared by its use.
It was low, but of generous length and breadth, and covered with fresh
sail-cloth; at each corner a mast had been raised, with yard-arms well
squared, and dressed profusely in roses, ferns, and acacia fronds. On a
gallery swung to the base of the over-pending portico, a troupe of
musicians were making the most of flute, cithara, horn, and
kettle-drum, and not vainly, to judge from the flying feet of the
dancers in possession of the boards.

Lifting his eyes above the joyous exhibition, he beheld the carven
capitals of the columns, tied together with festoonery of evergreens,
and relieved by garlands of shining flowers, and above the musicians,
under a canopy shading her from the meridian sun, the Princess Irene
herself. A bright carpet hanging down the wall enriched the position
chosen by her, and in the pleasant shade, surrounded by young women,
she sat with uncovered head and face, delighted with the music and the
dancing--delighted that it was in her power to bring together so many
souls to forget, though so briefly, the fretting of hard conditions
daily harder growing. None knew better than she the rapidity of the
national decadence.

It was not long until the young hostess noticed Sergius, taller of his
high hat and long black gown; and careless as usual of the
conventionalities, she arose, and beckoned to him with her fan; and the
people, seeing whom she thus honored, opened right and left, and with
good-will made way for him. Upon his coming her attendants drew
aside--all but one, to whom for the moment he gave but a passing look.

The Princess received him seated. The youthful loveliness of her
countenance seemed refined by the happiness she was deriving from the
spectacle before her. He took the hand she extended him, kissed it
respectfully, with only a glance at the simple but perfected Greek of
her costume, and immediately the doubts, and fears, and questions, and
lectures in outline he had brought with him from the city dropped out
of mind. Suspicion could not look at her and live.

"Welcome, Sergius," she said, with dignity. "I was afraid you would not
come to-day."

"Why not? If my little mother's lightest suggestions are laws with me,
what are her invitations?"

For the first time he had addressed her by the affectionate term, and
the sound was startling. The faintest flush spread over her cheek,
admonishing him that the familiarity had not escaped attention. Greatly
to his relief, she quietly passed the matter.

"You were at the _Pannychides?_" she asked.

"Yes, till daybreak."

"I thought so, and concluded you would be too weary to see us to-day.
The Mystery is tedious."

"It might become so if too frequently celebrated. As it was, I shall
not forget the hillside, and the multitude of frocked and cowled
figures kneeling in the dim red light of the torches. The scene was
awful."

"Did you see the Emperor?"

She put the question in a low tone.

"No," he returned. "His Majesty sent for our Hegumen to come to the
Chapel. The good man took me with him, his book and torch bearer; but
when we arrived, the Emperor had passed in and closed the door, and I
could only imagine him on his knees alone in the room, except as the
relics about him were company."

"How unspeakably dismal!" she said with a shudder, adding in sorrowful
reflection, "I wish I could help him, for he is a prince with a tender
conscience; but there is no way--at least Heaven does not permit me to
see anything for him in my gift but prayer."

Sergius followed her sympathetically, and was surprised when she
continued, the violet gray of her eyes changing into subtle fire. "A
sky all cloud; the air void of hope; enemies mustering everywhere on
land; the city, the court, the Church rent by contending
factions--behold how a Christian king, the first one in generations, is
plagued! Ah, who can interpret for Providence? And what a miracle is
prophecy!"

Thereupon the Princess bethought herself, and cast a hurried glance out
over the garden.

"No, no! If these poor souls can forget their condition and be happy,
why not we? Tell me good news, Sergius, if you have any--only the good.
But see! Who is he making way through the throng yonder? And what is it
he is leading?"

The transition of feeling, though sudden and somewhat forced, was
successful; the Princess' countenance again brightened; and turning to
follow her direction, Sergius observed Lael, who had not fallen back
with the other attendants. The girl had been a modest listener; now
there was a timid half smile on her face, and a glistening welcome in
her eyes. His gaze stopped short of the object which had inspired his
hostess with such interest, and dropped to the figured carpet at the
guest's feet; for the feeling the recognition awakened was clouded with
the taunt Demedes had flung at him in the hall of the monastery, and he
questioned the rightfulness of this appearance. If she were not the
daughter of the Prince of India, she was an--impostor was the word in
his mind.

"I was expecting you," she said to him, artlessly.

Sergius raised his face, and was about to speak, when the Princess
started from her seat, and moved to the low balustrade of the portico.

"Come," she called, "come, and tell me what this is."

Sergius left a friendly glance with Lael.

Where the roadway from the gate led up to the platform an opening had
been made in the close wall of spectators attracted by the music and
dancing. In the opening, the hamari was slowly coming forward, his
turban awry, his brown face overrun and shining with perspiration, his
sharp gypsy eyes full of merriment. With the leading strap over a
shoulder, he tugged at Joqard. Sergius laughed to see the surprise of
the men and women, and at the peculiar yells and screams with which
they struggled to escape. But everybody appearing in good nature, he
said to the Princess: "Do not be concerned. A Turk or Persian with a
trained bear. I passed him at the gate."

He saw the opportunity of speaking about the brass plate on the post,
and while debating whether to avail himself of it, the hamari caught
sight of the party at the edge of the portico, stopped, surveyed them,
then prostrated himself in the abjectest Eastern manner. The homage was
of course to the Princess--so at least the assemblage concluded; and
jumping to the idea that the bear-keeper had been employed by her for
their divertisement, each man in the company resolved himself into an
ally and proceeded to assist him. The musicians were induced to suspend
their performance, and the dancers to vacate the platform; then, any
number of hands helping them up, Joqard and his master were promoted to
the boards, sole claimants of attention and favor.

The fellow was not in the least embarrassed. He took position on the
platform in front of the Princess, and again saluted her Orientally,
and with the greatest deliberation, omitting no point of the
prostration. Bringing the bear to a sitting posture with folded paws,
he bowed right and left to the spectators, and made a speech in
laudation of Joqard. His grimaces and gesticulation kept the crowd in a
roar; when addressing the Princess, his manner was respectful, even
courtierly. Joqard and he had travelled the world over; they had been
through the Far East, and through the lands of the Frank and Gaul; they
had crossed Europe from Paris to the Black Sea, and up to the Crimea;
they had appeared before the great everywhere--Indian Rajahs, Tartar
Khans, Persian Shahs, Turkish Sultans; there was no language they did
not understand. The bear, he insisted, was the wisest of animals, the
most susceptible of education, the most capable and willing in service.
This the ancients understood better than the moderns, for in
recognition of his superiority they had twice exalted him to the
Heavens, and in both instances near the star that knew no deviation.
The hamari was a master of amplification, and his anecdotes never
failed their purpose.

"Now," he said, "I do not care what the subject of discourse may be;
one thing is true--my audience is always composed of believers and
unbelievers; and as between them"--here he addressed himself to the
Princess--"as between them, O Most Illustrious of women, my difficulty
has been to determine which class is most to be feared. Every
philosopher must admit there is quite as much danger in the man who
withholds his faith when it ought to be given, as in his opposite who
hurries to yield it without reason. My rule as an auditor is to wait
for demonstration. So"--turning to the assemblage--"if here any man or
woman doubts that the bear is the wisest of animals, and Joqard the
most learned and accomplished of bears, I will prove it." Then Joqard
was called on.

"For attend, O Illustrious Princess!--and look ye, O men and women,
pliers of net and boat!--look ye all! Now shall Joqard himself speak
for Joqard."

The hamari began talking to the bear in a jargon utterly unintelligible
to his hearers, though they fell to listening with might and main, and
were silent that they might hear. Nothing could have been more earnest
than his communications, whatever they were; at times he put an arm
about the brute's neck; at times he whispered in its ear; and in return
it bowed and grunted assent, or growled and shook its head in refusal,
always in the most knowing manner. In this style, to appearance, he was
telling what he wanted done. Then retaining the leading strap, the
master stepped aside, and Joqard, left to himself, proceeded to prove
his intelligence and training by facing the palace, bringing his arms
overhead, and falling forward. Everybody understood the honor intended
for the Princess; the bystanders shouted; the attendants on the portico
clapped their hands, for indeed never in their remembrance had the
prostration been more profoundly executed. Arising nimbly the performer
wheeled about, reared on his hind feet, clasped his paws on his head,
and acknowledged the favor of the commonalty by resolving himself into
a great fur ball, and rolling a somersault. The acclamation became
tumultuous. One admirer ran off and returned with an armful of wreaths
and garlands, and presently Joqard was wearing them royally.

With excellent judgment the hamari proceeded next to hurry the
exhibition, passing from one trick to another almost without pause
until the wrestling match was reached. This has been immemorially the
reliable point in performances of the kind he was giving, but he
introduced it in a manner of his own.

Standing by the edge of the platform, as the friend and herald of
Joqard, he first loudly challenged the men before him, every one
ambitious of honor and renown, to come up and try a fall; and upon
their hanging back, he berated them. Wherever a tall man stood
observable above the level of heads, he singled him out. Failing to
secure a champion, he finally undertook the contest himself.

"Ho, Joqard," he cried, while tying the leading strap around the
brute's neck, "thou fearest nothing. Thy dam up in the old Caucasian
cave was great of heart, and, like her, thou wouldst not quail before
Hercules, were he living. But thou shalt not lick thy paws and laugh,
thinking Hercules hath no descendant."

Retiring a few steps he tightened the belt about his waist, and drew
his leathern jacket closer.

"Get ready!" he cried.

Joqard answered promptly and intelligently by standing up and facing
him, and in sign of satisfaction with the prospect of an encounter so
to his taste, he lolled the long red tongue out of his jaws. Was he
licking his chops in anticipation of a feast or merely laughing? The
beholders became quiet; and Sergius for the first time observed how
very low in stature the hamari seemed.

"Look out, look out! O thou with the north star in the tip of thy tail!
I am coming--for the honor of mankind, I am coming."

They danced around each other watching for an opening. "Aha! Now thou
thinkest to get the advantage. Thou art proud of thy fame, and cunning,
but I am a man. I have been in many schools. Look out!"

The hamari leaped in and with both hands caught the strap looped around
Joqard's neck; at the same time he was himself caught in Joqard's ready
arms. The growl with which the latter received the attack was angry,
and lent the struggle much more than a mere semblance of danger. Round
and about they were borne; now forward, then back; sometimes they were
likely to tumble from the boards. The hamari's effort was to choke
Joqard into submission; Joqard's was to squeeze the breath out of the
hamari's body; and they both did their parts well.

After some minutes the man's exertions became intermittent. A little
further on the certainty of triumph inspired Joqard to fierce
utterances; his growls were really terrible, and he hugged so
mercilessly his opponent grew livid in the face. The women and children
began to cry and scream, and many of the men shouted in genuine alarm:
"See, see! The poor fellow is choking to death!" The excitement and
fear extended to the portico; some of the attendants there, unable to
endure the sight, fled from it. Lael implored Sergius to save the
hamari. Even the Princess was undecided whether the acting was real or
affected.

Finally the crisis came. The man could hold out no longer; he let go
his grip on the strap, and, struggling feebly to loose his body from
the great black arms, shouted hoarsely: "Help, help!" As if he had not
strength to continue the cry, he threw his hands up, and his head back
gasping.

The Princess Irene covered her eyes. Sergius stepped over the
balustrade; but before he could get further, a number of men were on
the stage making to the rescue. And seeing them come, the hamari laid
one hand on the strap, and with the other caught the tongue protruding
from Joqard's open jaws; as a further point in the offensive so
suddenly resumed, he planted a foot heavily on one of his antagonist's.
Immediately the son of the proud Caucasian dam was flat on the boards
simulating death.

Then everybody understood the play, and the merriment was heightened by
the speech the hamari found opportunity to make his rescuers before
they could recover from their astonishment and break up the tableau
they formed. The Princess, laughing through her tears, flung the victor
some gold pieces, and Lael tossed her fan to him. The prostrations with
which he acknowledged the favors were marvels to behold.

By and by, quiet being restored, Joqard was roused from his trance, and
the hamari, calling the musicians to strike up, concluded the
performance with a dance.










End of Project Gutenberg's The Prince of India, Volume I, by Lew. Wallace