An Astounding Revelation
It was now El Zagal’s turn to be amazed at the effect that his words
produced on his foeman; for Alured grew pale as death, and swayed in
his saddle as if stunned by a blow.
But instantly the wary Englishman was himself again, for the caution
taught him by a two years’ struggle with the endless wiles of Moslem
war, warned him at once of the imprudence of betraying such emotion
before an enemy. Rallying his wonderful self-command, he said with
perfect steadiness—
“Marvel not, valiant emir, if thy words amaze me; for, in truth, a good
knight of mine own land, who was as like to me as my image in a glass,
hath long been accounted dead, and I myself deemed I had seen him slain
with my own eyes. If he be yet alive, it is as great a marvel as ever
minstrel’s lay hath told.”
This explanation was all the more satisfactory to the emir, that (as
his next words showed) it agreed with his own opinion.
“As truly as the Prophet (may his name be exalted!) made the full moon
pass through the sleeves of his mantle, it must be as thou sayest, O
Christian. At Grenada all men say that this slave of whom I speak hath
indeed been raised from the dead, and that no weapon hath power to harm
him, even as they say of thee.”
“Know’st thou,” asked Alured, “the land of his birth, or the name he
bore?”
But El Zagal shook his head, and frankly owned that he knew nothing of
either.
“At some fitter season, then,” said De Claremont, “I will gladly hear
all thou canst tell me of him, for I would fain learn if he be in truth
my ancient comrade: but now must we go hence with speed, lest we be
assailed in turn. Lo! I give thee back thy good blade, which none can
wield so well; and if thou wilt pledge thy word to be true prisoner
till rescued or ransomed, thou shalt ride among us free and unfettered.”
The Moor’s handsome face brightened at a courtesy that he could well
appreciate, the civilized Moslems of Spain having a chivalry of their
own, wholly wanting to the savage and ignorant Turks who were then
hewing their way into the Greek Empire of Constantinople. He at once
gave the required pledge; and when they were clear of the perilous
pass, and riding down the northern side of the range to the border
fortress of Santa Fé (Holy Faith), then garrisoned by Alured and his
men, the emir told freely all he knew of the mysterious captive of
Grenada.
He had been bought at Seville by one of the king’s purveyors, some
years before, from the crew of a Barbary corsair, who had taken him
with a captured Christian ship, after a long and hard fight, which cost
them half their number. In this combat the nameless captive had
performed prodigies of valour, fighting so desperately that even when
sorely wounded, and assailed by five or six at once, he held out for
some time after the rest of his comrades. At last he was struck down,
and, as every one thought, slain; but when the deck was cleared, he was
found still alive, to the amazement of the pirates, who thenceforth
treated him with the utmost care, not only on account of the high price
such a slave would fetch, but from a superstitious awe of one over whom
death seemed to have no power.
“When he came to Grenada,” went on the emir, “he found favour with our
king, who loveth strong and valiant men; and he named him ‘El Katoom’
(the strong), and would have had him take the faith of Islam, and be a
captain of our host, as being a mighty man of valour. But the Christian
said nay; and then was the king wroth, and laid before him the holy
Koran and a sharp sword, and bade him choose between them. But the
Christian said that he feared not death, and that the king might slay
him if he would; but that it was ill done for a king to bid any man do
what, in like case, he would not do himself. Then the king marvelled
and let him be, and to this day he dwells in the palace unharmed, and
all men wonder at him.”
“He is a brave man, be he who he may,” said De Claremont, with
sparkling eyes. “Said’st thou, noble emir, that he is not suffered to
go forth even of the palace gates?”
“Even so; for a certain wise man read in the stars that it was the fate
of one like this slave to do much ill to the servants of the Prophet.
Howbeit, methinks that prophecy spake of thee rather than of him; for
thou art made in the same likeness as himself, and truly thy sword hath
been mighty against the hosts of the faithful.”
Alured made no reply, and seemed lost in thought; and when they entered
the fortress, the knight, after seeing the sentries relieved, the
rescued captives cared for, and the emir lodged in a commodious upper
room near his own, withdrew to think over, as calmly as he could, the
astounding possibility of this mysterious slave being his lost brother
Hugo, of whose blood he had till now believed himself guilty.
The more he thought of it, the more likely it seemed. Though he had
seen Hugo fall, he had no proof of his death, having fled from the spot
without looking behind him. And could there be two men in the world so
exactly like himself, not only in face and form, but even in look and
voice?
Nor was it hard to find an answer to the question how Hugo—if Hugo it
were—after being left for dead at Calais, could have reappeared alive
in Seville. He well remembered—for every detail of that fatal day was
indelibly stamped on his memory—the Black Prince’s charge to him and
his brother to watch the shore against a descent of the corsairs who
infested the coast. Had some of these rovers landed and found a man in
rich armour lying seemingly dead, their first thought would have been
to strip him, and then, finding him still alive, to carry him off for
ransom or sale as a slave. That the ship taken by the Barbary pirates
was one of these corsairs, with Hugo on board, Alured had little doubt,
for no peaceful trader could have so long resisted the superior numbers
of the Africans, and the unknown Christian’s heroic and long-sustained
combat against such fearful odds was just what might be expected of his
gallant brother. Lastly, the captive’s strict confinement within the
palace walls explained why Hugo—if it were he—had never sent word
home that he was still alive.
Putting all this together, he felt sure that his wild guess was right,
and his heart bounded with such a thrill of joy as had not pulsed
through it for many a weary day.
“If this,” cried he, “be indeed the blessing of which good Brother
Michael spake as awaiting me here in the south, he said truly, for all
I have were a cheap price to pay for the knowledge that I am free of my
brother’s blood, and may yet find him again!”
He lost no time in questioning the emir as to the personal habits and
peculiarities of “El Katoom,” and learned that he had the lofty bearing
of a man of high birth, that he excelled in all exercises, especially
riding, and that, when in deep thought, he was wont to twist his hair
round the forefinger of his left hand.
De Claremont’s heart leaped at the last words, for he well remembered
this habit of his lost brother. There could be no more doubt; Hugo was
alive, and not far away!
“This seems a true picture of my lost comrade,” said he, as composedly
as he could; “and whether it be he or no, it were a good deed to save
so bold a warrior from captivity. Think’st thou, brave emir, thy king
would set him free if I offer him thy freedom in exchange? I trow he
hath in his host few like thee!”
El Zagal acknowledged the compliment with a stately bow, but his grave
look showed that he doubted the success of the plan.
“Thy words are gracious as thy deeds, noble knight; but a servant of
the Prophet cannot lie, and thou must hear the truth from me, though it
be bitter as an unripe date. Our king might miss me, were I to return
no more; but not for my ransom, nor for the best jewel in his crown,
would he free yon slave, who is to work such ill to the hosts of the
faithful.”
“But if, as thou say’st, the prophecy spake not of him, but of me, what
boots it to hold him captive?”
“Most true. Yet it will not be easy to convince the king that it is so.
But this will I do; I will write with mine hand a letter to the king,
and tell him how the case standeth, and what terms thou dost ask for my
ransom; and then let him do as Allah (God) shall guide him.”
The letter was sent off to Grenada at once, but for several weary weeks
the impatient Alured waited in vain for an answer.
Trying as it was, however, this interval was not wasted; for, both from
a wish to lighten his gallant foe’s captivity, and because the
cultivated Moor was a pleasanter companion than his own rude spearmen,
he improved his acquaintance with El Zagal till the two brave men,
widely as they differed in all points, felt to each other as old
friends rather than foes. Thus De Claremont gained a far better
knowledge than before of the manners, customs, beliefs, and even
superstitions of the Grenada Moors, which was hereafter to do him good
service.
At last, as the two stood side by side on the walls one evening,
watching the stormy sunset fade over the dark mountains, El Zagal said
suddenly—
“Yonder comes a rider in the dress of my people, as one in haste!”
In fact, the solitary rider who had just come dashing over the crest of
a far-off ridge in the last glow of sunset, neared them so fast that
the emir’s keen eye was soon able to recognize the messenger he had
sent to Grenada; and Alured, with undisguised impatience, hurried down
to hear his all-important tidings.
But the reply, for which he had waited so long, crushed all his hopes
at one blow; for the king sternly refused to give up “the slave El
Katoom” on any terms whatever!