_Conquest of the Seljuks_
YOUR face is troubled, uncle.’ ‘So is my mind.’ ‘All may go well.’
‘Miriam, we have seen the best. Prepare yourself for sorrow, gentle
girl. I care not for myself, for I am old, and age makes heroes of us
all. I have endured, and can endure more. As we approach our limit, it
would appear that our minds grow callous. I have seen my wealth, raised
with the labours of a thoughtful life, vanish in a morn: my people, a
fragile remnant, nevertheless a people, dispersed, or what is worse. I
have wept for them, although no tear of selfish grief has tinged this
withered cheek. And, were I but alone, ay! there’s the pang. The solace
of my days is now my sorrow.’
‘Weep not for me, dear uncle. Rather let us pray that our God will not
forsake us.’
‘We know not when we are well. Our hours stole tranquilly along, and
then we murmured. Prospering, we murmured, and now we are rightly
stricken. The legend of the past is Israel’s bane. The past is a dream;
and, in the waking present, we should discard the enervating shadow. Why
should we be free? We murmured against captivity. This _is_ captivity:
this damp, dim cell, where we are brought to die.
‘O! youth, rash youth, thy being is destruction. But yesterday a child,
it seems but yesterday I nursed him in these arms, a thoughtless child,
and now our house has fallen by his deeds. I will not think of it;
‘twill make me mad.’
‘Uncle, dearest uncle, we have lived together, and we will die together,
and both in love; but, I pray you, speak no harsh word of David.’
‘Shall I praise him?’
‘Say nothing. What he has done, if done in grief, has been done all in
honour. Would you that he had spared Alschiroch?’
‘Never! I would have struck him myself. Brave boy, he did his duty; and
I, I, Miriam, thy uncle, at whom they wink behind his back and call him
niggard, was I wanting in that hour of trial? Was my treasure spared to
save my people? Did I shrink from all the toil and trouble of that time?
A trying time, my Miriam, but compared with this, the building of the
Temple----’
‘You were then what you have ever been, the best and wisest. And since
our fathers’ God did not forsake us, even in that wilderness of wildest
woe, I offer gratitude in present faith, and pay him for past mercies by
my prayers for more.’
‘Well, well, life must end. The hour approaches when we must meet our
rulers and mock trial; precious justice that begins in threats and ends
in torture. You are silent, Miriam.’
‘I am speaking to my God.’
‘What is that noise? A figure moves behind the dusky grate. Our gaoler.
No, no, it is Caleb! Faithful child, I fear you have perilled much.’
‘I enter with authority, my lord, and bear good tidings.’
‘He smiles! Is’t possible? Speak on, speak on!’
‘Alroy has captured the harem of our Governor, as they journeyed from
Bagdad to this city, guarded by his choicest troops. And he has sent to
offer that they shall be exchanged for you and for your household. And
Hassan has answered that his women shall owe their freedom to nothing
but his sword. But, in the meantime, it is agreed between him and the
messenger of your nephew, that both companies of prisoners shall be
treated with all becoming courtesy. You, therefore, are remanded to
your palace, and the trumpet is now sounding before the great mosque
to summon all the host against Alroy, whom Hassan has vowed to bring to
Hamadan dead or alive.’
‘The harem of the Governor, guarded too by his choicest troops! ‘Tis a
great deed. He did remember us. Faithful boy! The harem of the Governor!
his choicest troops! ‘Tis a very great deed. Me-thinks the Lord is with
him. He has his great father’s heart. Only think of David, a child! I
nursed him, often. Caleb! Can this be David, our David, a child, a girl?
Yet he struck Alschiroch! Miriam! where is she? Worthy Caleb, look to
your mistress; she has fallen. Quite gone! Fetch water. ‘Tis not very
pure, but we shall be in our palace soon. The harem of the Governor! I
can’t believe it. Sprinkle, sprinkle. David take them prisoners! Why,
when they pass, we are obliged to turn our heads, and dare not look.
More water: I’ll rub her hand. ‘Tis warmer! Her eyes open! Miriam,
choice news, my child! The harem of the Governor! I’ll not believe it!
‘Once more within our walls, Caleb. Life is a miracle. I feel young
again. This is home; and yet I am a prisoner. You said the host were
assembling; he can have no chance. Think you, Caleb, he has any chance?
I hope he will die. I would not have him taken. I fear their tortures.
We will die too; we will all die. Now I am out of that dungeon,
me-thinks I could even fight. Is it true that he has joined with
robbers?’
‘I saw the messenger, and learnt that he first repaired to some bandits
in the ruins in the desert. He had become acquainted with them in his
pilgrimage. They say their leader is one of our people.’
‘I am glad of that. He can eat with him. I would not have him eat
unclean things with the Ishmaelites.’
‘Lord, sir! our people gather to him from all quarters. ‘Tis said that
Jabaster, the great Cabalist, has joined him from the mountains with ten
thousand men.’
‘The great Jabaster! then there is some chance. I know Jabaster well. He
is too wise to join a desperate cause. Art sure about Jabaster? ‘Tis
a great name, a very potent spirit. I have heard such things of that
Jabaster, sir, would make you stare like Saul before the spirit! Only
think of our David, Caleb, making all this noise! I am full of hope. I
feel not like a prisoner. He beat the harem guard, and, now he has got
Jabaster, he will beat them all.’
‘The messenger told me he captured the harem, only to free his uncle and
his sister.’
‘He ever loved me; I have done my duty to him; I think I have. Jabaster!
why, man, the name is a spell I There are men at Bagdad who will get up
in the night to join Jabaster. I hope David will follow his counsels
in all things. I would I had seen his servant, I could have sent him a
message.’
‘Lord, sir! the Prince Alroy has no great need of counsellors, I can
tell you. ‘Tis said he bears the sceptre of great Solomon, which he
himself obtained in the unknown tombs of Palestine.’
‘The sceptre of Solomon! could I but believe it! ‘Tis an age of wonders!
Where are we? Call for Miriam, I’ll tell her this. Only think of David,
a mere child, our David with the sceptre of Solomon! and Jabaster too! I
have great faith. The Lord confound his enemies!’
‘Gentle Rachel, I fear I trouble you; sweet Beruna, I thank you for your
zeal. I am better now; the shock was great. These are strange tidings,
maidens.’
‘Yes, dear lady! who would have thought of your brother turning out a
Captain?’
‘I am sure I always thought he was the quietest person in the world,’
said Beruna, ‘though he did kill Alschiroch.’
‘One could never get a word out of him,’ said Rachel.
‘He was always moping alone,’ said Beruna.
‘And when one spoke to him he always turned away,’ said Leah.
‘Or blushed,’ added Imra.
‘Well, for my part,’ said the beautiful Bathsheba, ‘I always thought
Prince David was a genius. He had such beautiful eyes!’
‘I hope he will conquer Hassan,’ said Rachel.
‘So do I,’ said Beruna.
‘I wonder what he has done with the harem,’ said Leah.
‘I don’t think he will dare to speak to them,’ said Imra.
‘You are very much mistaken,’ said Bathsheba.
‘Hark!’ said Miriam.
‘‘Tis Hassan,’ said Bathsheba; ‘may he never return!’
The wild drum of the Seljuks sounded, then a flourish of their fierce
trumpets, and soon the tramp of horse. Behind the blinds of their
chamber, Miriam and her maidens beheld the magnificent troop of
tur-baned horsemen, who, glittering with splendid armour and bright
shawls, and proudly bounding on their fiery steeds, now went forth to
crush and conquer the only hope of Israel. Upon an Arab, darker than
night, rode the superb Hassan, and, as he passed the dwelling of
his late prisoners, whether from the exulting anticipation of coming
triumph, or from a soft suspicion that, behind that lattice, bright
eyes and brilliant faces were gazing on his state, the haughty but
handsome Seljuk flourished his scimitar over his head, as he threw his
managed steed into attitudes that displayed the skill of its rider.
‘He is handsomer than Alschiroch,’ said Rachel.
‘What a shawl!’ said Beruna.
‘His scimitar was like lightning,’ said Leah.
‘And his steed like thunder,’ said Imra.
‘The evil eye fall on him!’ said Bathsheba.
‘Lord,’ exclaimed Miriam, ‘remember David and all his afflictions!’
The deserted city of the wilderness presented a very different
appearance from that which met the astonished gaze of Alroy, when he
first beheld its noble turrets, and wandered in its silent streets of
palaces.
Without the gates was pitched a numerous camp of those low black tents
common among the Kourds and Turkmans; the principal street was full
of busy groups engaged in all the preparations of warfare, and all the
bustling expedients of an irregular and adventurous life; steeds were
stalled in ruined chambers, and tall camels raised their still visages
among the clustering columns, or crouched in kneeling tranquillity amid
fallen statues and prostrate obelisks.
Two months had scarcely elapsed since Alroy and Jabaster had sought
Scherirah in his haunt, and announced to him their sacred mission. The
callous heart of him, whose ‘mother was a Jewess,’ had yielded to their
inspired annunciations. He embraced their cause with all the fervour
of conversion, and his motley band were not long sceptical of a creed
which, while it assuredly offered danger and adventure, held out the
prospects of wealth and even empire. From the city of the wilderness
the new Messiah sent forth his messengers to the neighbouring cities, to
announce his advent to his brethren in captivity. The Hebrews, a
proud and stiff-necked race, ever prone to rebellion, received the
announcement of their favourite prince with transport. The descendant
of David, and the slayer of Alschiroch, had double claims upon their
confidence and allegiance, and the flower of the Hebrew youth in the
neighbouring cities of the Caliphate repaired in crowds to pay their
homage to the recovered sceptre of Solomon.
The affair was at first treated by the government with contempt, and the
sultan of the Seljuks contented himself with setting a price upon the
head of the murderer of his brother; but, when several cities had been
placed under contribution, and more than one Moslem caravan stopped,
and plundered in the name of the God of Abraham, of Isaac, and of Jacob,
orders were despatched from Bagdad to the new governor of Hamadan,
Hassan Subah, to suppress the robbers, or the rebels, and to send David
Alroy dead or alive to the capital.
The Hebrew malcontents were well apprised by their less adventurous
but still sympathising brethren of everything that took place at the
head-quarters of the enemy. Spies arrived on the same day at the city
of the wilderness, who informed Alroy that his uncle was thrown into
a dungeon at Hamadan, and that a body of chosen troops were about to
escort a royal harem from Bagdad into Persia.
Alroy attacked the escort in person, utterly discomfited them, and
captured their charge. It proved to be the harem of the Governor of
Hamadan, and if for a moment the too sanguine fancy of the captor
experienced a passing pang of disappointment, the prize at least
obtained, as we have seen, the freedom and security of his dear though
distant friends. This exploit precipitated the expedition which was
preparing at Hamadan for his destruction. The enraged Hassan Subah
started from his divan, seized his scimitar, and without waiting for the
auxiliaries he had summoned from the neighbouring chieftains, called to
horse, and at the head of two thousand of the splendid Seljuk cavalry,
hurried to vindicate his love and satiate his revenge.
Within the amphitheatre which he first entered as a prisoner, Alroy sat
in council. On his right was Jabaster, Scherirah on his left. A youth,
little his senior, but tall as a palm-tree, and strong as a young lion,
was the fourth captain. In the distance, some standing, some reclining,
were about fifty men completely armed.
‘Are the people numbered, Abner?’ inquired Alroy of the youth.
‘Even so; three hundred effective horsemen, and two thousand footmen;
but the footmen lack arms.’
‘The Lord will send them in good time,’ said Jabaster; ‘meanwhile let
them continue to make javelins.’
‘Trust in the Lord,’ murmured Scherirah, bending his head, with his eyes
fixed on the ground.
A loud shout was heard throughout the city. Alroy started from his
carpet. The messenger had returned. Pale and haggard, covered with sweat
and sand, the faithful envoy was borne into the amphitheatre almost upon
the shoulders of the people. In vain the guard endeavoured to stem the
passage of the multitude. They clambered up the tiers of arches,
they filled the void and crumbling seats of the antique circus, they
supported themselves upon each other’s shoulders, they clung to the
capitals of the lofty columns. The whole multitude had assembled to
hear the intelligence; the scene recalled the ancient purpose of the
building, and Alroy and his fellow-warriors seemed like the gladiators
of some old spectacle.
‘Speak,’ said Alroy, ‘speak the worst. No news can be bitter to those
whom the Lord will avenge.’
‘Ruler of Israel! thus saith Hassan Subah,’ answered the messenger: ‘My
harem shall owe their freedom to nothing but my sword. I treat not with
rebels, but I war not with age or woman; and between Bostenay and his
household on one side, and the prisoners of thy master on the other, let
there be peace. Go, tell Alroy, I will seal it in his best blood. And
lo! thy uncle and thy sister are again in their palace.’
Alroy placed his hand for a moment to his eyes, and then instantly
resuming his self-possession, he enquired as to the movements of the
enemy.
‘I have crossed the desert on a swift dromedary[54] lent to me by
Shelomi of the Gate, whose heart is with our cause. I have not tarried,
neither have I slept. Ere to-morrow’s sunset the Philistines will be
here, led by Hassan Subah himself. The Lord of Hosts be with us! Since
we conquered Canaan, Israel hath not struggled with such a power!’
A murmur ran through the assembly. Men exchanged enquiring glances, and
involuntarily pressed each other’s arms.
‘The trial has come,’ said a middle-aged Hebrew, who had fought twenty
years ago with Jabaster.
‘Let me die for the Ark!’ said a young enthusiast of the band of Abner.
‘I thought we should get into a scrape,’ whispered Kisloch the Kourd to
Calidas the Indian. ‘What could have ever induced us to give up robbing
in a quiet manner?’
‘And turn Jews!’ said the Guebre, with a sneer.
‘Look at Scherirah,’ said the Negro, grinning. ‘If he is not kissing the
sceptre of Solomon!’
‘I wish to heaven he had only hung Alroy the first time he met him,’
said Calidas.
‘Sons of the Covenant!’ exclaimed Alroy, ‘the Lord hath delivered them
into our hands. To-morrow eve we march to Hamadan!’
A cheer followed this exclamation.
‘It is written,’ said Jabaster, opening a volume, ‘“Lo! I will defend
this city, to save it, for mine own sake, and for my servant David’s
sake.”
‘“And it came to pass that night that the angel of the Lord went out,
and smote in the camp of the Assyrians, an hundred four score and five
thousand; and when they arose early in the morning, behold! they were
all dead corpses.”
‘Now, as I was gazing upon the stars this morn, and reading the
celestial alphabet known to the true Cabalist,[55] behold! the star of
the house of David and seven other stars moved, and met together, and
formed into a circle. And the word they formed was a mystery to me; but
lo! I have opened the book, and each star is the initial letter of each
line of the Targum that I have now read to you. Therefore the fate of
Sennacherib is the fate of Hassan Subah!’
‘_“Trust in him at all times, ye people; pour out your heart before him.”
god is a refuge for us. Selah!_’
At this moment a female form appeared on the very top of the
amphitheatre, upon the slight remains of the upper most tier of which
a solitary arch alone was left. The chorus instantly died away, every
tongue was silent, every eye fixed. Hushed, mute, and immovable, even
Kisloch and his companions were appalled as they gazed upon Esther the
Prophetess.
Her eminent position, her imposing action, the flashing of her immense
eyes, her beautiful but awful countenance, her black hair, that hung
almost to her knees, and the white light of the moon, just rising over
the opposite side of the amphitheatre, and which threw a silvery flash
upon her form, and seemed to invest her with some miraculous emanation,
while all beneath her was in deep gloom,-these circumstances combined
to render her an object of universal interest and attention, while in a
powerful but high voice she thus addressed them:
‘They come, they come! But will they go? Lo! hear ye this, O house of
Jacob, which are called by the name of Israel, and are come forth out of
the waters of Judah! I hear their drum in the desert, and the voice of
their trumpets is like the wind of eve, but a decree hath gone forth,
and it says, that a mortal shall be more precious than fine gold, yea, a
man than the rich ore of Ophir.
‘They come, they come! But will they go? I see the flash of their
scimitars, I mark the prancing of their cruel steeds; but a decree hath
gone forth, and it says, a gleaning shall be left among them, as in
the shaking of the olive-tree; two or three berries on the top of the
uppermost bough; four or five on the straggling branches.
‘They come, they come! But will they go? Lo! a decree hath gone forth,
and it says, Hamadan shall be to thee for a spoil, and desolation shall
fall upon Babylon. And there shall the wild beasts of the desert lodge,
and howling monsters shall fill their houses, and there shall the
daughters of the ostrich dwell, and there shall the screech-owl pitch
her tent, and there shall the night-raven lay her eggs, and there shall
the satyrs hold their revels. And wolves shall howl to one another in
their palaces, and dragons in their voluptuous pavilions. Her time is
near at hand; her days shall not be prolonged; the reed and the lotus
shall wither in her rivers; and the meadows by her canals shall be as
the sands of the desert. For, is it a light thing that the Lord should
send his servant to raise up the tribes of Jacob, and to restore the
preserved of Israel? Sing, O heavens, and be joyful, O earth, and break
forth into singing, O mountains, for the Lord hath comforted his people,
and will have mercy upon his afflicted!’
She ceased; she descended the precipitous side of the amphitheatre with
rapid steps, vaulting from tier to tier, and bounding with wonderful
agility from one mass of ruin to another. At length she reached the
level; and then, foaming and panting, she rushed to Alroy, threw herself
upon the ground, embraced his feet, and wiped off the dust from his
sandals with her hair.
The assembly broke into long and loud acclamations of supernatural
confidence and sanguine enthusiasm. They beheld their Messiah wave his
miraculous sceptre. They thought of Hassan Subah and his Seljuks only
as of victims, and of to-morrow only as of a day which was to commence a
new era of triumph, freedom, and empire!
Hassan Subah after five days’ forced marches pitched his sumptuous
pavilion in that beautiful Oasis, which had afforded such delightful
refreshment to Alroy when a solitary pilgrim. Around for nearly a mile,
were the tents of his warriors, and of the numerous caravan that had
accompanied him, laden with water and provisions for his troops. Here,
while he reposed, he also sought information as to the position of his
enemy.
A party of observation, which he had immediately despatched, returned
almost instantly with a small caravan that had been recently plundered
by the robbers. The merchant, a venerable and pious Moslem, was ushered
into the presence of the Governor of Hamadan.
‘From the robbers’ haunt?’ enquired Hassan.
‘Unfortunately so,’ answered the merchant.
‘Is it far?’
‘A day’s journey.’
‘And you quitted it?’
‘Yesterday morn.’
‘What is their force?’
The merchant hesitated.
‘Do they not make prisoners?’ enquired the Governor, casting a
scrutinising glance at his companion.
‘Holy Prophet! what a miserable wretch am I!’ exclaimed the venerable
merchant, bursting into tears. ‘A faithful subject of the Caliph, I am
obliged to serve rebels, a devout Moslem, I am forced to aid Jews! Order
me to be hanged at once, my lord,’ continued the unfortunate merchant,
wringing his hands. ‘Order me to be hanged at once. I have lived long
enough.’
‘What is all this?’ enquired Hassan; ‘speak, friend, without fear.’
‘I am a faithful subject of the Caliph,’ answered the merchant; ‘I am a
devout Moslem, but I have lost ten thousand dirhems.’
‘I am sorry for you, sir; I also have lost something, but my losses are
nothing to you, nor yours to me.’
‘Accursed be the hour when these dogs tempted me! Tell me, is it sin to
break faith with a Jew?’
‘On the contrary, I could find you many reverend Mollahs, who will tell
you that such a breach is the highest virtue. Come! come, I see how it
is: you have received your freedom on condition of not betraying your
merciful plunderers. Promises exacted by terror are the bugbears of
fools. Speak, man, all you know. Where are they? What is their force?
Are we supposed to be at hand?’
‘I am a faithful subject of the Caliph, and I am bound to serve him,’
replied the merchant; ‘I am a devout Moslem, and ‘tis my duty to destroy
all Giaours, but I am also a man, and I must look after my own interest.
Noble Governor, the long and the short is, these scoundrels have robbed
me of ten thousand dirhems, as my slaves will tell you: at least, goods
to that amount. No one can prove that they be worth less. It is true
that I include in that calculation the fifty per cent. I was to make
on my shawls at Hamadan, but still to me it is as good as ten thousand
dirhems. Ask my slaves if such an assortment of shawls was ever yet
beheld.’
‘To the point, to the point. The robbers?’ ‘I am at the point. The
shawls is the point. For when I talked of the shawls and the heaviness
of my loss, you must know that the captain of the robbers--’
‘Alroy?’
‘A fierce young gentleman, I do not know how they call him: said the
captain to me, “Merchant, you look gloomy.” “Gloomy,” I said, “you would
look gloomy if you were a prisoner, and had lost ten thousand dirhems.”
“What, is this trash worth ten thousand dirhems?” said he. “With the
fifty per cent. I was to make at Hamadan.” “Fifty per cent.,” said he;
“you are an old knave.” “Knave! I should like to hear any one call me
knave at Bagdad.” “Well, knave or not, you may get out of this scrape.”
“How?” “Why you are a respectable-looking man,” said he, “and are a good
Moslem into the bargain, I warrant.” “That I am,” said I, “although you
be a Jew: but how the faith is to serve me here I am sure I don’t
know, unless the angel Gabriel, as in the fifty-fifth verse of the
twenty-seventh chapter of the Koran----“’
‘Tush, tush!’ exclaimed Hassan; ‘to the point.’
‘I always am at the point, only you put me out. However, to make it
as short as possible, the captain knows all about your coming, and is
frightened out of his wits, although he did talk big; I could easily see
that. And he let me go, you see, with some of my slaves, and gave me an
order for five thousand dirhems on one Bostenay, of Hamadan (perhaps
you know him; is he a good man?), on condition that I would fall in with
you, and, Mohammed forgive me, tell you a lie!’
‘A lie!’
‘Yes, a lie; but these Jewish dogs do not understand what a truly
religious man is, and when I began to tell the lie, I was soon put
out. Now, noble Hassan, if a promise to a Jew be not binding on a true
believer, and you will see me straight with the five thousand dirhems, I
will betray everything at once.’
‘Be easy about the five thousand dirhems, good man, and tell me all.’
‘You will see me paid?’
‘My honour upon it.’
‘‘Tis well! Know then, the infamous dogs are very weak, and terrified
at the news of your progress: one, whom I think they call Jabaster, has
departed with the great majority of the people into the interior of the
desert, about seven hundred strong. I heard so; but mind, I do not
know it. The young man, whom you call Alroy, being wounded in a recent
conflict, could not depart with them, but remains among the ruins with
some female prisoners, some treasure, and about a hundred companions
hidden in sepulchres. He gave me my freedom on condition that I should
fall in with you, and assure you that the dogs, full five thousand
strong, had given you the go-by in the night, and marched towards
Hamadan. They wanted me to frighten you; it was a lie, and I could not
tell it. And now you know the plain truth; and if it be a sin to break
faith with an infidel, you are responsible for it, as well as for the
five thousand dirhems, which, by-the-bye, ought to have been ten.’
‘Where is your order?’
‘‘Tis here,’ said the merchant, drawing it from his vest, ‘a very
business-like document, drawn upon one Bostenay, whom they described as
very rich, and who is here enjoined to pay me five thousand dirhems, if,
in consequence of my information, Hassan Subah, that is yourself, return
forthwith to Hamadan without attacking them.’
‘Old Bostenay’s head shall answer for this.’
‘I am glad of it. But were I you, I would make him pay me first.’
‘Merchant,’ said Hassan, ‘have you any objection to pay another visit to
your friend Alroy?’
‘Allah forbid!’
‘In my company?’
‘That makes a difference.’
‘Be our guide. The dirhems shall be doubled.’
‘That will make up for the fifty per cent. I hardly like it; but in your
company that makes a difference. Lose no time. If you push on, Alroy
must be captured. Now or never! The Jewish dogs, to rifle a true
believer!’
‘Oglu,’ said Hassan to one of his officers. ‘To horse! You need not
strike the tents. Can we reach the city by sunset, merchant?’
‘An hour before, if you be off at once.’ ‘Sound the drums. To horse! to
horse!’ The Seljuks halted before the walls of the deserted city. Their
commander ordered a detachment to enter and reconnoitre. They returned
and reported its apparent desolation. Hassan Subah, then directing
that a guard should surround the walls to prevent any of the enemy from
escaping, passed with his warriors through the vast portal into the
silent street. The still magnificence of the strange and splendid scene
influenced the temper even of this ferocious cavalry. They gazed around
them with awe and admiration. The fierceness of their visages was
softened, the ardour of their impulse stilled. A supernatural feeling
of repose stole over their senses. No one brandished his scimitar, the
fiery courser seemed as subdued as his lord, and no sound was heard but
the melancholy, mechanical tramp of the disciplined march, unrelieved
by martial music, inviolate by oath or jest, and unbroken even by the
ostentatious caracoling of any showy steed.
It was sunset; the star of eve glittered over the white Ionian fane that
rose serene and delicate in the flashing and purple sky.
‘This way, my lord!’ said the merchant guide, turning round to Hassan
Subah, who, surrounded by his officers, led the van. The whole of the
great way of the city was filled with the Seljukian warriors. Their ebon
steeds, their snowy turbans, adorned with plumes of the black eagle and
the red heron, their dazzling shawls, the blaze of their armour in
the sunset, and the long undulating perspective of beautiful forms and
brilliant colours, this regiment of heroes in a street of palaces. War
had seldom afforded a more imposing or more picturesque spectacle.
‘This way, my lord!’ said the merchant, pointing to the narrow turning
that, at the foot of the temple, led through ruined streets to the
amphitheatre.
‘Halt!’ exclaimed a wild shrill voice. Each warrior suddenly arrested
his horse.
‘Who spoke?’ exclaimed Hassan Subah.
‘I!’ answered a voice. A female form stood in the portico of the temple,
with uplifted arms.
‘And who art thou?’ enquired Hassan Subah, not a little disconcerted.
‘Thine evil genius, Seljuk!’
Hassan Subah, pale as his ivory battle-axe, did not answer; every man
within hearing shuddered; still the dread woman remained immovable
within the porch of the temple.
‘Woman, witch, or goddess,’ at length exclaimed Hassan Subah, ‘what
wouldst thou here?’
‘Seljuk! behold this star. ‘Tis a single drop of light, yet who even
of thy wild band can look upon it without awe? And yet thou worse than
Sisera, thou comest to combat against those for whom even “the stars in
their courses fought.”’
‘A Jewish witch!’ exclaimed the Seljuk.
‘A Jewish witch! Be it so; behold, then, my spell falls upon thee, and
that spell is Destruction.
‘Awake, awake, Deborah: awake, awake, utter a song; arise, Barak, and
lead thy captivity captive, thou son of Abinoam!’
Immediately the sky appeared to darken, a cloud of arrows and javelins
broke from all sides upon the çlevoted Seljuks: immense masses of stone
and marble were hurled from all directions, horses were stabbed by
spears impelled by invisible hands, and riders fell to the ground
without a struggle, and were trampled upon by their disordered and
affrighted brethren.
‘We are betrayed,’ exclaimed Hassan Subah, hurling a javelin at the
merchant, but the merchant was gone. The Seljuks raised their famous war
cry.
‘Oglu, regain the desert,’ ordered the chieftain.
But no sooner had the guard without the walls heard the war cry of
their companions, than, alarmed, for their safety, they rushed to their
assistance. The retreating forces of Subah, each instant diminishing as
they retreated, were baffled in their project by the very eagerness of
their auxiliaries. The unwilling contention of the two parties increased
the confusion; and when the Seljuks, recently arrived, having at length
formed into some order, had regained the gate, they found to their
dismay that the portal was barricadoed and garrisoned by the enemy.
Uninspired by the presence of their commander, who was in the rear, the
puzzled soldiers were seized with a panic, and spurring their
horses, dispersed in all directions of the city. In vain Hassan Subah
endeavoured to restore order. The moment was past. Dashing with about
thirty men to an open ground, which his quick eye had observed in his
progress down the street, and dealing destruction with every blow, the
dreaded Governor of Hamadan, like a true soldier, awaited an inevitable
fate, not wholly despairing that some chance might yet turn up to
extricate him from his forlorn situation.
And now, as it were by enchantment, wild armed men seemed to arise from
every part of the city. From every mass of ruin, from every crumbling
temple and mouldering mansion, from every catacomb and cellar, from
behind every column and every obelisk, upstarted some desperate warrior
with a bloody weapon. The massacre of the Seljuks was universal. The
horsemen dashed wildly about the ruined streets, pursued by crowds of
footmen; sometimes, formed in small companies, the Seljuks charged and
fought desperately; but, however stout might be their resistance to the
open foe, it was impossible to withstand their secret enemies. They had
no place of refuge, no power of gaining even a moment’s breathing time.
If they retreated to a wall it instantly bristled with spears; if they
endeavoured to form, in a court, they sank under the falling masses
which were showered upon them. Strange shouts of denunciation blended
with the harsh braying of horns, and the clang and clash of cymbals and
tambours sounded in every quarter of the city.
‘If we could only mount the walls, Ibrahim, and leap into the desert!’
exclaimed Hassan Subah to one of his few remaining comrades; ‘‘tis our
only chance. We die here like dogs! Could I but meet Alroy!’
Three of the Seljuks dashed swiftly across the open ground in front,
followed by several Hebrew horsemen.
‘Smite all, Abner. Spare none, remember Amalek,’ exclaimed their
youthful leader, waving his bloody scimitar.
‘They are down; one, two, there goes the third. My javelin has done for
him.’
‘Your horse bleeds freely. Where’s Jabaster?’
‘At the gates; my arm aches with slaughter. The Lord hath delivered them
into our hands. Could I but meet their chieftain!’
‘Turn, bloodhound, he is here,’ exclaimed Hassan Subah.
‘Away, Abner, this affair is mine.’
‘Prince, you have already slain your thousands.’
‘And Abner his tens of thousands. Is it so? This business is for me
only. Come on, Turk.’
‘Art thou Alroy?’
‘The same.’
‘The slayer of Alschiroch?’
‘Even so.’
‘A rebel and a murderer.’
‘What you please. Look to yourself.’
The Hebrew Prince flung a javelin at the Seljuk. It glanced from the
breastplate; but Hassan Subah staggered in his seat. Recovering, he
charged Alroy with great force. Their scimitars crossed, and the blade
of Hassan shivered.
‘He who sold me that blade told me it was charmed, and could be broken
only by a caliph,’ said Hassan Subah. ‘He was a liar.’
‘As it may be,’ said Alroy, and he cut the Seljuk to the ground. Abner
had dispersed his comrades. Alroy leaped from his fainting steed, and,
mounting the ebon courser of his late enemy, dashed again into the
thickest of the fight.
The shades of night descended, the clamour gradually decreased, the
struggle died away. A few unhappy Moslemin who had quitted their saddles
and sought concealment among the ruins, were occasionally hunted out,
and brought forward and massacred. Long ere midnight the last of the
Seljuks had expired.[56]
The moon shed a broad light upon the street of palaces crowded with
the accumulated slain and the living victors. Fires were lit, torches
illumined, the conquerors prepared the eager meal as they sang hymns of
praise and thanksgiving.
A procession approached. Esther the prophetess, clashing her cymbals,
danced before the Messiah of Israel, who leant upon his victorious
scimitar, surrounded by Jabaster, Abner, Scherirah, and his chosen
chieftains. Who could now doubt the validity of his mission? The
wide and silent desert rang with the acclamations of his enthusiastic
votaries.
Heavily the anxious hours crept on in the Jewish quarter of Hamadan.
Again and again the venerable Bostenay discussed the chances of success
with the sympathising but desponding elders. Miriam was buried in
constant prayer. Their most sanguine hopes did not extend beyond the
escape of their Prince.
A fortnight had elapsed, and no news had been received of the progress
of the expedition, when suddenly, towards sunset, a sentinel on a
watch-tower announced the appearance of an armed force in the distance.
The walls were instantly lined with the anxious inhabitants, the streets
and squares filled with curious crowds. Exultation sat on the triumphant
brow of the Moslemin; a cold tremor stole over the fluttering heart of
the Hebrew.
‘There is but one God,’ said the captain of the gate.
‘And Mahomed is His prophet,’ responded a sentinel.
‘To-morrow we will cut off the noses of all these Jewish dogs.’
‘The sceptre has departed,’ exclaimed the despairing Bostenay.
‘Lord, remember David!’ whispered Miriam, as she threw herself upon the
court of the palace, and buried her face in ashes.
The Mollahs in solemn procession advanced to the ramparts, to shed their
benediction on the victorious Hassan Subah. The Muezzin ascended the
minarets to watch the setting sun, and proclaim the power of Allah with
renewed enthusiasm.
‘I wonder if Alroy be dead or alive,’ said the captain of the gate.
‘If he be alive, he will be impaled,’ responded a sentinel.
‘If dead, the carcass will be given to the dogs,’ rejoined the captain;
‘that is the practice.’
‘Bostenay will be hung,’ said the sentinel.
‘And his niece, too,’ answered the captain.
‘Hem!’ said the sentinel. ‘Hassan Subah loves a black eye.’
‘I hope a true Moslem will not touch a Jewess,’ exclaimed an indignant
black eunuch.
‘They approach. What a dust!’ said the captain of the gate.
‘I see Hassan Subah!’ said the sentinel.
‘So do I,’ said the eunuch, ‘I know his black horse.’
‘I wonder how many dirhems old Bostenay is worth,’ said the captain.
‘Immense!’ said the sentinel.
‘No plunder, I suppose?’ said the eunuch.
‘We shall see,’ said the captain; ‘at any rate, I owe a thousand to old
Shelomi. We need not pay now, you know.’
‘Certainly not,’ said the black eunuch. ‘The rebels.’
A body of horsemen dashed forward. Their leader in advance reined in his
fiery charger beneath the walls.
‘In the name of the Prophet, who is that?’ exclaimed the captain of the
gate, a little confused.
‘I never saw him before,’ said the sentinel, ‘although he is in the
Seljuk dress. ‘Tis some one from Bagdad, I guess.’
A trumpet sounded.
‘Who keeps the gate?’ called out the warrior.
‘I am the captain of the gate,’ answered our friend.
‘Open it, then, to the King of Israel.’
‘To whom?’ enquired the astonished captain.
‘To King David. The Lord hath delivered Hassan Subah and his host into
our hands, and of all the proud Seljuks none remaineth. Open thy gates,
I say, and lose no time. I am Jabaster, a lieutenant of the Lord; this
scimitar is my commission. Open thy gates, and thou and thy people shall
have that mercy which they have never shown; but if thou delayest one
instant, thus saith the King our master, “I will burst open your portal,
and smite, and utterly destroy all that you have, and spare them not;
but slay both man and woman, infant and suckling, ox and sheep, camel
and ass.”’
‘Call forth the venerable Lord Bostenay,’ said the captain of the gate,
with chattering teeth. ‘He will intercede for us.’
‘And the gentle Lady Miriam,’ said the sentinel. ‘She is ever
charitable.’
‘I will head the procession,’ said the black eunuch; ‘I am accustomed to
women.’
The procession of Mollahs shuffled back to their college with profane
precipitation; the sun set, and the astounded Muezzin stood with their
mouths open, and quite forgot to announce the power of their Deity,
and the validity of their Prophet. The people all called out for the
venerable Lord Bostenay and the gentle Lady Miriam, and ran in crowds to
see who could first kiss the hem of their garments.
The principal gate of Hamadan opened into the square of the great
mosque. Here the whole population of the city appeared assembled. The
gates were thrown open; Jabaster and his companions mounted guard. The
short twilight died away, the shades of night descended. The minarets
were illumined,[57] the houses hung with garlands, the ramparts covered
with tapestry and carpets.
A clang of drums, trumpets, and cymbals announced the arrival of the
Hebrew army. The people shouted, the troops without responded with a
long cheer of triumph. Amid the blaze of torches, a youth waving his
scimitar, upon a coal-black steed, bounded into the city, at the head
of his guards, the people fell upon their knees, and shouted ‘Long live
Alroy!’
A venerable man, leading a beauteous maiden with downcast eyes,
advanced. They headed a deputation of the chief inhabitants of the city.
They came to solicit mercy and protection. At the sight of them, the
youthful warrior leaped from his horse, flung away his scimitar, and
clasping the maiden in his arms, exclaimed, ‘Miriam, my sister, this,
this indeed is triumph!’
‘Drink,’ said Kisloch the Kourd to Calidas the Indian; ‘you forget,
comrade, we are no longer Moslemin.’
‘Wine, methinks, has a peculiarly pleasant flavour in a golden cup,’
said the Guebre. ‘I got this little trifle to-day in the Bazaar,’ he
added, holding up a magnificent vase studded with gems.
‘I thought plunder was forbidden,’ grinned the Negro.
‘So it is,’ replied the Guebre; ‘but we may purchase what we please,
upon credit.’
‘Well, for my part, I am a moderate man,’ exclaimed Calidas the Indian,
‘and would not injure even these accursed dogs of Turks. I have not cut
my host’s throat, but only turned him into my porter, and content myself
with his harem, his baths, his fine horses, and other little trifles.’
‘What quarters we are in! There is nothing like a true Messiah!’
exclaimed Kisloch, devoutly.
‘Nothing,’ said Calidas; ‘though to speak truth, I did not much believe
in the efficacy of Solomon’s sceptre, till his Majesty clove the head of
the valiant Seljuk with it.’
‘But now there’s no doubt of it,’ said the Guebre.
‘We should indeed be infidels if we doubted now,’ replied the Indian.
‘How lucky,’ grinned the Negro, ‘as I had no religion before, that I
have now fixed upon the right one!’
‘Most fortunate!’ said the Guebre. ‘What shall we do to amuse ourselves
to-night?’
‘Let us go to the coffee-houses and make the Turks drink wine,’ said
Calidas the Indian.
‘What say you to burning down a mosque?’ said Kisloch the Kourd.
‘I had great fun with some Dervishes this morning,’ said the Guebre. ‘I
met one asking alms with a wire run through his cheek,[58] so I caught
another, bored his nose, and tied them both together!’
‘Hah! hah! hah!’ burst the Negro.
Asia resounded with the insurrection of the Jews, and the massacre of
the Seljuks. Crowds of Hebrews, from the rich cities of Persia and the
populous settlements on the Tigris and the Euphrates, hourly poured into
Hamadan.
The irritated Moslemin persecuted the brethren of the successful rebel,
and this impolicy precipitated their flight. The wealth of Bagdad
flowed into the Hebrew capital. Seated on the divan of Hassan Subah, and
wielding the sceptre of Solomon, the King of Israel received the homage
of his devoted subjects, and despatched his envoys to Syria and to
Egypt. The well-stored magazines and arsenals of Hamadan soon converted
the pilgrims into warriors. The city was unable to accommodate the
increased and increasing population. An extensive camp, under the
command of Abner, was formed without the walls, where the troops were
daily disciplined, and where they were prepared for greater exploits
than a skirmish in a desert.
Within a month after the surrender of Hamadan, the congregation of the
people assembled in the square of the great mosque, now converted into a
synagogue. The multitude was disposed in ordered ranks, and the terrace
of every house was crowded. In the centre of the square was an altar of
cedar and brass, and on each side stood a company of priests guarding
the victims, one young bullock, and two rams without blemish.
Amid the flourish of trumpets, the gates of the synagogue opened, and
displayed to the wondering eyes of the Hebrews a vast and variegated
pavilion planted in the court. The holy remnant, no longer forlorn,
beheld that tabernacle of which they had so long dreamed, once more
shining in the sun, with its purple and scarlet hangings, its curtains
of rare skins, and its furniture of silver and gold.
A procession of priests advanced, bearing, with staves of cedar, run
through rings of gold, a gorgeous ark, the work of the most cunning
artificers of Persia. Night and day had they laboured, under the
direction of Jabaster, to produce this wondrous spectacle. Once more
the children of Israel beheld the cherubim. They burst into a triumphant
hymn of thanksgiving, and many drew their swords, and cried aloud to be
led against the Canaanites.
From the mysterious curtains of the tabernacle, Alroy came forward,
leading Jabaster. They approached the altar. And Alroy took robes from
the surrounding priests, and put them upon Jabaster, and a girdle, and
a breastplate of jewels. And Alroy took a mitre, and placed it upon the
head of Jabaster, and upon the mitre he placed a crown; and pouring oil
upon his head, the pupil anointed the master High Priest of Israel.
The victims were slain, the sin-offering burnt. Amid clouds of incense,
bursts of music, and the shouts of a devoted people; amid odour, and
melody, and enthusiasm, Alroy mounted his charger, and at the head of
twenty thousand men, departed to conquer Media.
The extensive and important province of Aderbijan, of which Hamadan was
the capital, was formed of the ancient Media. Its fate was decided
by one battle. On the plain of Nehauend, Alroy met the hastily-raised
levies of the Atabek of Kermanshah, and entirely routed them. In the
course of a month, every city of the province had acknowledged the
supremacy of the new Hebrew monarch, and, leaving Abner to complete the
conquest of Louristan, Alroy entered Persia.
The incredible and irresistible progress of Alroy roused Togrul, the
Turkish Sultan of Persia, from the luxurious indolence of the palaces
of Nishapur. He summoned his emirs to meet him at the imperial city of
Rhey, and crush, by one overwhelming effort, the insolent rebel.
Religion, valour, and genius, alike inspired the arms of Alroy, but he
was, doubtless, not a little assisted by the strong national sympathy
of his singular and scattered people, which ever ensured him prompt
information of all the movements of his enemy. Without any preparation,
he found agents in every court, and camp, and cabinet; and, by their
assistance, he anticipated the designs of his adversaries, and turned
even their ingenuity to their confusion. The imperial city of Rhey was
surprised in the night, sacked, and burnt to the ground. The scared
and baffled emirs who escaped, flew to the Sultan Togrul, tearing their
beards, and prophesying the approaching termination of the world. The
palaces of Nishapur resounded with the imprecations of their master,
who, cursing the Jewish dogs, and vowing a pilgrimage to Mecca, placed
himself at the head of a motley multitude of warriors, and rushed upon
the plains of Irak, to exterminate Alroy.
The Persian force exceeded the Hebrew at least five times in number.
Besides a large division of Seljuks, the Caucasus had poured forth its
strange inhabitants to swell the ranks of the Faithful. The wild tribes
of the Bactiari were even enlisted, with their fatal bows, and the
savage Turkmans, tempted by the sultan’s gold, for a moment yielded
their liberty, and shook their tall lances in his ranks.
But what is a wild Bactiari, and what is a savage Turkman, and what
even a disciplined and imperious Seljuk, to the warriors of the God of
Abraham, of Isaac, and of Jacob? At the first onset, Alroy succeeded in
dividing the extended centre of Togrul, and separating the greater part
of the Turks from their less disciplined comrades. At the head of his
Median cavalry, the Messiah charged and utterly routed the warriors of
the Caucasus. The wild tribes of the Bactiari discharged their arrows
and fled, and the savage Turkmans plundered the baggage of their own
commander.
The Turks themselves fought desperately; but, deserted by their allies,
and surrounded by an inspired foe, their efforts were unavailing, and
their slaughter terrible. Togrul was slain while heading a desperate and
fruitless charge, and, after his fall, the battle resembled a massacre
rather than a combat. The plain was glotted with Seljuk gore. No quarter
was given or asked. Twenty thousand chosen troops fell on the side
of the Turks; the rest dispersed and gained the mountains. Leaving
Scherirah to restore order, Alroy the next morning pushed on to Nishapur
at the head of three thousand horsemen, and summoned the city ere the
inhabitants were apprised of the defeat and death of their sultan. The
capital of Persia escaped the fate of Rhey by an inglorious treaty and
a lavish tribute. The treasures of the Chosroes and the Gasnevides
were despatched to Hamadan, on which city day dawned, only to bring
intelligence of a victory or a conquest.
While Alroy dictated peace on his own terms in the palaces of Nishapur,
Abner, having reduced Louristan, crossed the mountains, and entered
Persia with the reinforcements he had received from Jabaster. Leaving
the government and garrisoning of his new conquests to this valiant
captain, Alroy, at the head of the conquerors of Persia, in consequence
of intelligence received from Hamadan, returned by forced marches to
that city.
Leaving the army within a day’s march of the capital, Alroy, accompanied
only by his staff, entered Hamadan in the evening, and, immediately
repairing to the citadel, summoned Jabaster to council. The night was
passed by the king and the high priest in deep consultation. The next
morning, a decree apprised the inhabitants of the return of their
monarch, of the creation of the new ‘Kingdom of the Medes and Persians,’
of which Hamadan was declared the capital, and Abner the viceroy, and
of the intended and immediate invasion of Syria, and re-conquest of the
Land of Promise.
The plan of this expedition had been long matured, and the preparations
to effect it were considerably advanced. Jabaster had not been idle
during the absence of his pupil. One hundred thousand warriors were now
assembled[59] at the capital of the kingdom of the Medes and Persians;
of these the greater part were Hebrews, but many Arabs, wearied of the
Turkish yoke, and many gallant adventurers from the Caspian, easily
converted from a vague idolatry to a religion of conquest, swelled the
ranks of the army of the Lord of Hosts.
The plain of Hamadan was covered with tents, the streets were filled
with passing troops, the bazaars loaded with military stores; long
caravans of camels laden with supplies every day arrived from
the neighbouring towns; each instant some high-capped Tatar with
despatches[60] rushed into the city and galloped his steed up the steep
of the citadel. The clang of arms, the prance of horses, the flourish
of warlike music, resounded from all quarters. The business and the
treasure of the world seemed, as it were in an instant, to have become
concentrated in Hamadan. Every man had some great object; gold glittered
in every hand. All great impulses were stirring; all the causes of human
energy were in lively action. Every eye sparkled, every foot trod firm
and fast. Each man acted as if the universal fate depended upon his
exertions; as if the universal will sympathised with his particular
desire. A vast population influenced by a high degree of excitement is
the most sublime of spectacles.
The commander of the Faithful raised the standard of the Prophet on the
banks of the Tigris. It was the secret intelligence of this intended
event that had recalled Alroy so suddenly from Persia. The latent
enthusiasm of the Moslemin was excited by the rare and mystic ceremony,
and its effects were anticipated by previous and judicious preparations.
The Seljuks of Bagdad alone amounted to fifty thousand men; the Sultan
of Syria contributed the warriors who had conquered the Arabian princes
of Damascus and Aleppo; while the ancient provinces of Asia Minor, which
formed the rich and powerful kingdom of Seljukian Roum, poured forth a
myriad of that matchless cavalry, which had so often baffled the armies
of the Cæsars. Never had so imposing a force been collected on the banks
of the Tigris since the reign of Haroun Alraschid. Each day some warlike
Atabek, at the head of his armed train, poured into the capital of the
caliphs,[61] or pitched his pavilion on the banks of the river; each day
the proud emir of some remote principality astonished or affrighted
the luxurious Babylonians by the strange or uncouth warriors that had
gathered round his standard in the deserts of Arabia, or on the shores
of the Euxine. For the space of twenty miles, the banks of the river
were, on either side, far as the eye could reach, covered with the
variegated pavilions, the glittering standards, the flowing streamers
and twinkling pennons of the mighty host, of which Malek, the Grand
Sultan of the Seljuks, and Governor of the Caliph’s palace, was chief
commander.
Such was the power assembled on the plains of Asia to arrest the
progress of the Hebrew Prince, and to prevent the conquest of the
memorable land promised to the faith of his fathers, and forfeited by
their infidelity. Before the walls of Hamadan, Alroy reviewed the army
of Israel, sixty thousand heavy-armed footmen, thirty thousand archers
and light troops, and twenty thousand cavalry. Besides these, there had
been formed a body of ten thousand picked horsemen, styled the ‘Sacred
Guard,’ all of whom had served in the Persian campaign. In their centre,
shrouded in a case of wrought gold, studded with carbuncles, and carried
on a lusty lance of cedar, a giant--for the height of Elnebar exceeded
that of common men by three feet--bore the sceptre of Solomon. The
Sacred Guard was commanded by Asriel, the brother of Abner.
The army was formed into three divisions. All marched in solemn order
before the throne of Alroy, raised upon the ramparts, and drooped their
standards and lances as they passed their heroic leader. Bostenay, and
Miriam, and the whole population of the city witnessed the inspiring
spectacle from the walls. That same eve, Scherirah, at the head of forty
thousand men, pushed on towards Bagdad, by Kermanshah; and Jabaster,
who commanded in his holy robes, and who had vowed not to lay aside his
sword until the rebuilding of the temple, conducted his division over
the victorious plain of Nehauend. They were to concentrate at the pass
of Kerrund, which conducted into the province of Bagdad, and await the
arrival of the king.
At the dawn of day, the royal division and the Sacred Guard, the whole
under the command of Asriel, quitted the capital. Alroy still lingered,
and for some hours the warriors of his staff might have been observed
lounging about the citadel, or practising their skill in throwing the
jerreed as they exercised their impatient chargers before the gates.
The king was with the Lady Miriam, walking in the garden of their
uncle. One arm was wound round her delicate waist, and with the other
he clasped her soft and graceful hand. The heavy tears burst from her
downcast eyes, and stole along her pale and pensive cheek. They walked
in silence, the brother and the sister, before the purity of whose
surpassing love even ambition vanished. He opened the lattice gate.
They entered into the valley small and green; before them was the marble
fountain with its columns and cupola, and in the distance the charger of
Alroy and his single attendant.
They stopped, and Alroy gathered flowers, and placed them in the hair of
Miriam. He would have softened the bitterness of parting with a smile.
Gently he relaxed his embracing arm, almost insensibly he dropped her
quivering hand.
‘Sister of my soul,’ he whispered, ‘when we last parted here, I was a
fugitive, and now I quit you a conqueror.’
She turned, she threw herself upon his neck, and buried her face in his
breast.
‘My Miriam, we shall meet at Bagdad.’
He beckoned to her distant maidens; they advanced, he delivered Miriam
into their arms. He pressed her hand to his lips, and, rushing to his
horse, mounted and disappeared.
A body of irregular cavalry feebly defended the pass of Kerrund. It
was carried, with slight loss, by the vanguard of Scherirah, and the
fugitives prepared the host of the caliph for the approach of the Hebrew
army.
Upon the plain of the Tigris the enemy formed into battle array. The
centre was commanded by Malek, the Grand Sultan of the Seljuks himself;
the right wing, headed by the Sultan of Syria, was protected by the
river; and the left, under the Sultan of Roum, was posted upon the
advantageous position of some irregular and rising ground. Thus proud
in the number, valour, discipline, and disposition of his forces, Malek
awaited the conqueror of Persia.
The glittering columns of the Hebrews might even now be perceived
defiling from the mountains, and forming at the extremity of the plain.
Before nightfall the camp of the invaders was pitched within hearing of
that of Malek. The moving lights in the respective tents might plainly
be distinguished; and ever and anon the flourish of hostile music fell
with an ominous sound upon the ears of the opposed foe-men. A few miles
only separated those mighty hosts. Upon to-morrow depended, perhaps, the
fortunes of ages. How awful is the eve of battle!
Alroy, attended by a few chieftains, personally visited the tents of
the soldiery, promising them on the morrow a triumph, before which the
victories of Nehauend and Nishapur would sink into insignificance. Their
fiery and excited visages proved at once their courage and their
faith. The sceptre of Solomon was paraded throughout the camp in solemn
procession. On the summit of a huge tumulus, perhaps the sepulchre
of some classic hero, Esther, the prophetess, surrounded by the chief
zealots of the host, poured forth her exciting inspirations. It was a
grand picture, that beautiful wild girl, the groups of stern, devoted
warriors, the red flame of the watch-fires mixing with the silver
shadows of the moon as they illumined the variegated turbans and
gleaming armour of her votaries!
In the pavilion of Alroy, Jabaster consulted with his pupil on the
conduct of the morrow.
‘This is a different scene from the cavern of the Caucasus,’ said Alroy,
as the high priest rose to retire.
‘It has one great resemblance, sire; the God of our fathers is with us.’
‘Ay! the Lord of Hosts. Moses was a great man. There is no career except
conquest.’
‘You muse.’
‘Of the past. The present is prepared. Too much thought will mar it.’
‘The past is for wisdom, the present for action, but for joy the future.
The feeling that the building of the temple is at hand, that the Lord’s
anointed will once again live in the house of David, absorbs my spirit;
and, when I muse over our coming glory, in my fond ecstasy I almost lose
the gravity that doth beseem my sacred office.’
‘Jerusalem; I have seen it. How many hours to dawn?’
‘Some three.’
‘‘Tis strange I could sleep. I remember, on the eve of battle I was ever
anxious. How is this, Jabaster?’
‘Your faith, sire, is profound.’
‘Yes, I have no fear. My destiny is not complete. Good night, Jabaster.
See, Asriel, valiant priest. Pharez!’
‘My lord!’
‘Rouse me at the second watch. Good night, boy.’
‘Good night, my lord.’
‘Pharez! Be sure you rouse me at the second watch. Think you it wants
three hours to dawn?’
‘About three hours, my lord.’
‘Well! at the second watch, remember; good night.’
‘It is the second watch, my lord.’
‘So soon! Have I slept? I feel fresh as an eagle. Call Scherirah, boy.’
‘‘Tis strange I never dream now. Before my flight my sleep was ever
troubled. Say what they like, man is made for action. My life is now
harmonious, and sleep has now become what nature willed it, a solace,
not a contest. Before, it was a struggle of dark passions and bright
dreams, in whose creative fancy and fair vision my soul sought refuge
from the dreary bale of daily reality.
‘I will withdraw the curtains of my tent. O most majestic vision! And
have I raised this host? Over the wide plain, far as my eye can range,
their snowy tents studding the purple landscape, embattled legions
gather round their flags to struggle for my fate. It is the agony of
Asia.
‘A year ago, upon this very spot, I laid me down to die, an unknown
thing, or known and recognised only to be despised, and now the sultans
of the world come forth to meet me. I have no fear. My destiny is not
complete. And whither tends it? Let that power decide which hitherto has
fashioned all my course.
‘Jerusalem, Jerusalem! ever harping on Jerusalem. With all his lore,
he is a narrow-minded zealot whose dreaming memory would fondly make
a future like the past. O Bagdad, Bagdad, within thy glittering halls,
there is a charm worth all his Cabala!
‘Hah! Scherirah! The dawn is near at hand, the stars are still shining.
The air is very pleasant. Tomorrow will be a great day, Scherirah, for
Israel and for you. You lead the attack. A moment in my tent, my brave
Scherirah!’
The dawn broke; a strong column of the Hebrews, commanded by Scherirah,
poured down upon the centre of the army of the caliph. Another column,
commanded by Jabaster, attacked the left wing, headed by the Sultan
of Roum. No sooner had Alroy perceived that the onset of Scherirah had
succeeded in penetrating the centre of the Turks, than he placed himself
at the head of the Sacred Guard, and by an irresistible charge completed
their disorder and confusion. The division of the Sultan of Syria, and
a great part of the centre, were entirely routed and driven into the
river, and the remainder of the division of Malek was effectually
separated from his left wing.
But while to Alroy the victory seemed already decided, a far different
fate awaited the division of Jabaster. The Sultan of Roum, posted in
an extremely advantageous position, and commanding troops accustomed to
the discipline of the Romans of Constantinople, received the onset of
Jabaster without yielding, and not only repelled his attack, but finally
made a charge which completely disordered and dispersed the column of
the Hebrews. In vain Jabaster endeavoured to rally his troops, in vain
he performed prodigies of valour, in vain he himself struck down the
standard-bearer of the sultan, and once even penetrated to the pavilion
of the monarch. His division was fairly routed. The eagerness of the
Sultan of Roum to effect the annihilation of his antagonists prevented
him from observing the forlorn condition of the Turkish centre. Had he,
after routing the division of Jabaster, only attacked Alroy in the rear,
the fortune of the day might have been widely different. As it was, the
eagle eye of Alroy soon detected his inadvertence, and profited by his
indiscretion. Leaving Ithamar to keep the centre in check, he charged
the Sultan of Roum with the Sacred Guard, and afforded Jabaster an
opportunity of rallying some part of his forces. The Sultan of Roum,
perceiving that the day was lost by the ill-conduct of his colleagues,
withdrew his troops, retreated in haste, but in good order to Bagdad,
carried off the caliph, his harem, and some of his treasure, and
effected his escape into Syria. In the meantime the discomfiture of
the remaining Turkish army was complete. The Tigris was dyed with their
blood, and the towns through which the river flowed were apprised of the
triumph of Alroy by the floating corpses of his enemies. Thirty thousand
Turks were slain in battle: among them the Sultans of Bagdad and Syria,
and a vast number of atabeks, emirs, and chieftains. A whole division,
finding themselves surrounded, surrendered on terms, and delivered up
their arms. The camps and treasures of the three sultans were alike
captured, and the troops that escaped so completely dispersed, that they
did not attempt to rally, but, disbanded and desperate, prowled over and
plundered the adjoining provinces. The loss of the division of Jabaster
was also severe, but the rest of the army suffered little. Alroy himself
was slightly wounded. The battle lasted barely three hours. Its results
were immense. David Alroy was now master of the East.
The plain was covered with the corpses of men and horses, arms and
standards, and prostrate tents. Returning from the pursuit of the Sultan
of Roum, Alroy ordered the trumpets to sound to arms, and, covered
with gore and dust, dismounted from his charger, and stood before the
pavilion of Malek, leaning on his bloody scimitar, and surrounded by his
victorious generals.
‘Ah, Jabaster!’ said the conqueror, giving his hand to the pontiff,
‘‘twas well your troops had such a leader. No one but you could have
rallied them.
You must drill your lads a little before they again meet the Cappadocian
cavalry. Brave Scherirah, we shall not forget our charge. Asriel, tell
the guard, from me, that the victory of the Tigris was owing to their
scimitars. Ithamar, what are our freshest troops?’
‘The legion of Aderbijan, sire.’
‘How strong can they muster?’
‘It counts twelve thousand men: we might collect two-thirds.’
‘Valiant Ithamar, take the Aderbijans and a division of the guards, push
on towards Bagdad, and summon the city. If his Sultanship of Roum offer
battle, take up a position, and he shall quickly have his desire. For
the present, after these hasty marches and sharp fighting, the troops
must rest. I think he will not tarry. Summon the city, and say that if
any resistance be offered, I will make it as desolate as old Babylon.
Treat with no armed force. Where is the soldier that saved me a cracked
skull; his name Benaiah?’
‘I wait your bidding, sire.’
‘You’re a captain. Join the division of Ithamar, and win fresh laurels
ere we meet again. Gentle Asriel, let your brother know our fortune.’
‘Sire, several Tartars have already been despatched to Hamadan.’
‘‘Tis well. Send another with these tablets to the Lady Miriam. Despatch
the pavilion of Malek as a trophy for the town. Elnebar, Goliath of
the Hebrews, you bore our sacred standard like a hero! How fares the
prophetess? I saw her charging in our ranks, waving a sabre with her
snowy arm, her long, dark hair streaming like a storm, from which her
eyes flashed lightning.’
‘The king bleeds,’ said Jabaster.
‘Slightly. It will do me service. I am somewhat feverish. A kingdom
for a draught of water! And now for our wounded friends. Asriel, do you
marshal the camp. It is the Sabbath eve.[62] Time presses.’
The dead were plundered, and thrown into the river, the encampment of
the Hebrews completed. Alroy, with his principal officers, visited the
wounded, and praised the valiant. The bustle which always succeeds a
victory was increased in the present instance by the anxiety of the army
to observe with grateful strictness the impending Sabbath.
When the sun set, the Sabbath was to commence. The undulating horizon
rendered it difficult to ascertain the precise moment of the setting.
The crimson orb sunk behind the purple mountains, the sky was flushed
with a rich and rosy glow. Then might be perceived the zealots, proud in
their Talmudical lore, holding a skein of white silk in their hands,
and announcing the approach of the Sabbath by their observation of
its shifting tints. While the skein was yet golden, the forge of the
armourer still sounded, the fire of the cook still blazed, still the
cavalry led their steeds to the river, and still the busy footmen braced
up their tents and hammered at their palisades. The skein of silk became
rosy, the armourer worked with renewed energy, the cook puffed with
increased zeal, the horsemen scampered from the river, the footmen cast
an anxious glance at the fading twilight.
The skein of silk became blue; a dim, dull, sepulchral, leaden tinge
fell over its purity. The hum of gnats arose, the bat flew in circling
whirls over the tents, horns sounded from all quarters, the sun had set,
the Sabbath had commenced. ‘The forge was mute, the fire extinguished,
the prance of horses and the bustle of men in a moment ceased. A deep, a
sudden, an all-pervading stillness dropped over that mighty host. It
was night; the sacred lamp of the Sabbath sparkled in every tent of the
camp, which vied in silence and in brilliancy with the mute and glowing
heavens.
Morn came; the warriors assembled around the altar and the sacrifice.
The high priest and his attendant Levites proclaimed the unity and the
omnipotence of the God of Israel, and the sympathetic responses of his
conquering and chosen people reechoed over the plain. They retired
again to their tents, to listen to the expounding of the law; even
the distance of a Sabbath walk was not to exceed that space which
lies between Jerusalem and the Mourft of Olives. This was the distance
between the temple and the tabernacle; it had been nicely measured, and
every Hebrew who ventured forth from the camp this day might be observed
counting the steps of a Sabbath-day’s journey. At length the sun again
set, and on a sudden fires blazed, voices sounded, men stirred, in
the same enchanted and instantaneous manner that had characterised the
stillness of the preceding eve. Shouts of laughter, bursts of music,
announced the festivity of the coming night; supplies poured in from all
the neighbouring villages, and soon the pious conquerors commemorated
their late triumph in a round of banqueting.
On the morrow, a Tatar arrived from Ithamar, informing Alroy that the
Sultan of Roum had retreated into Syria, that Bagdad was undefended, but
that he had acceded to the request of the inhabitants that a deputation
should wait upon Alroy before the troops entered the city, and had
granted a safe conduct for their passage.
On the morrow, messengers announced the approach of the deputation. All
the troops were under arms. Alroy directed that the suppliants should
be conducted through the whole camp before they arrived at the royal
pavilion, on each side of which the Sacred Guard was mustered in array.
The curtains of his tent withdrawn displayed the conqueror himself,
seated on a sumptuous divan. On his right hand stood Jabaster in his
priestly robes, on his left Scherirah. Behind him, the giant Elnebar
supported the sacred sceptre. A crowd of chieftains was ranged on each
side of the pavilion.
Cymbals sounded, muffled kettle-drums, and the faint flourish of
trumpets; the commencement of the procession might be detected in the
long perspective of the tented avenue. First came a company of beauteous
youths, walking two by two, and strewing flowers; then a band of
musicians in flowing robes of cloth of gold, plaintively sounding their
silver trumpets. After these followed slaves of all climes, bearing
a tribute of the most rare and costly productions of their countries:
Negroes with tusks and teeth of the elephant, plumes of ostrich
feathers, and caskets of gold dust; Syrians with rich armour; Persians
with vases of atar-gul, and Indians with panniers of pearls of Ormuz,
and soft shawls of Cachemire. Encircled by his children, each of whom
held alternately a white or fawn-coloured gazelle, an Arab clothed in
his blue bornouz, led by a thick cord of crimson silk a tall and tawny
giraffe. Fifty stout men succeeded two by two, carrying in company a
silver shield laden with gold coin, or chased goblets studded with gems.
The clash of cymbals announced the presence of the robes of honour,[63]
culled from the wardrobe of the commander of the Faithful; the silk of
Aleppo and the brocade of Damascus, lined with the furs of the sable
and the ermine, down from the breast of the swan, and the skins of white
foxes.
After these followed two grey dromedaries, with furniture of silver, and
many caparisoned horses, each led by a groom in rich attire. The last
of these was a snow-white steed, upon whose front was the likeness of a
ruby star, a courser of the sacred stud of Solomon, and crossed only by
the descendants of the Prophet.
The muffled kettle-drums heralded the company of black eunuchs, with
their scarlet vests and ivory battle-axes. They surrounded and shrouded
from the vulgar gaze fourteen beautiful Circassian girls, whose
brilliant visages and perfect forms were otherwise concealed by their
long veils and ample drapery.
The gorgeous procession, as they approached the conqueror, bowed humbly
to Alroy, and formed in order on each side of the broad avenue. The
deputation appeared; twelve of the principal citizens of Bagdad, with
folded arms, and downcast eyes, and disordered raiment. Meekly and
mutely each touched the earth with his hand, and kissed it in token of
submission, and then, moving aside, made way for the chief envoy and
orator of the company, Honain!
Humbly, but gracefully, the physician of the caliph bowed before the
conqueror of the East. His appearance and demeanour afforded a contrast
to the aspect of his brother envoys; not less calm or contented his
countenance, not less sumptuous or studied his attire, than when he
first rescued Alroy in the bazaar of Bagdad from the grip of the false
Abdallah.
He spoke, and every sound was hushed before the music of his voice.
‘Conqueror of the world, that destiny with which it is in vain to
struggle has placed our lives and fortunes in your power. Your slaves
offer for your approbation specimens of their riches; not as tribute,
for all is yours; but to show you the products of security and peace,
and to induce you to believe that mercy may be a policy as profitable
to the conqueror as to the conquered; that it may be better to preserve
than to destroy; and wiser to enjoy than to extirpate.
‘Fate ordained that we should be born the slaves of the caliph; that
same fate has delivered his sceptre into your hands. We offer you the
same devotion that we yielded to him, and we entreat the same protection
which he granted to us.
‘Whatever may be your decision, we must bow to your decree with the
humility that recognises superior force. Yet we are not without hope.
We cannot forget that it is our good fortune not to be addressing
a barbarous chieftain, unable to sympathise with the claims of
civilisation, the creations of art, and the finer impulses of humanity.
We acknowledge your irresistible power, but we dare to hope everything
from a prince whose genius all acknowledge and admire, who has spared
some portion of his youth from the cares of government and the pursuits
of arms to the ennobling claims of learning, whose morality has been
moulded by a pure and sublime faith, and who draws his lineage from a
sacred and celebrated race, the unrivalled antiquity of which even the
Prophet acknowledges.’
He ceased: a buzz of approbation sounded throughout the pavilion, which
was hushed instantly as the lips of the conqueror moved.
‘Noble emir,’ replied Alroy, ‘return to Bagdad, and tell your
fellow-subjects that the King of Israel grants protection to their
persons, and security to their property.’
‘And for their faith?’ enquired the envoy, in a lower voice.
‘Toleration,’ replied Alroy, turning to Jabaster.
‘Until further regulations,’ added the high priest.
‘Emir,’ said Alroy, ‘the person of the caliph will be respected.’
‘May it please your highness,’ replied Honain, ‘the Sultan of Roum has
retired with our late ruler.’
‘And his harem?’
‘And his harem.’
‘It was needless. We war not with women.’
‘Men, as well as women, must acknowledge the gracious mercy of your
highness.’
‘Benomi,’ said Alroy, addressing himself to a young officer of the
guard, ‘command the guard of honour that will attend this noble emir on
his return. We soldiers deal only in iron, sir, and cannot vie with the
magnificence of Bagdad, yet wear this dagger for the donor’s sake:’ and
Alroy held out to Honain a poniard flaming with gems.
The Envoy of Bagdad advanced, took the dagger, pressed it to his lips,
and placed it in his vest.[64]
‘Scherirah,’ continued Alroy, ‘this noble emir is your charge. See
that a choice pavilion of the host be for his use, and that his train
complain not of the rough customs of our camp.’
‘May it please your highness,’ replied Honain, ‘I have fulfilled my
office, and, with your gracious permission, would at once return. I have
business only less urgent than the present, because it concerns myself.’
‘As you will, noble emir. Benomi, to your post. Farewell, sir.’
The deputation advanced, bowed, and retired. Alroy turned to Jabaster.
‘No common person that, Jabaster?’
‘A very gracious Turk, sire.’
‘Think you he is a Turk?’
‘By his dress.’
‘It may be so. Asriel, break up the camp. We’ll march at once to
Bagdad.’
The chiefs dispersed to make the necessary arrangements for the march.
The news that the army was immediately to advance to Bagdad soon
circulated throughout the camp, and excited the most lively enthusiasm.
Every hand was at work, striking the tents, preparing the arms and
horses. Alroy retired to his pavilion. The curtains were drawn. He was
alone, and plunged in profound meditation.
‘Alroy!’ a voice sounded.
He started, and looked up. Before him stood Esther the prophetess.
‘Esther! is it thou?’
‘Alroy! enter not into Babylon.’
‘Indeed.’
‘As I live, the Lord hath spoken it. Enter not into Babylon.’
‘Not enjoy my fairest conquest, maiden?’
‘Enter not into Babylon.’
‘What affrights thee?’
‘Enter not into Babylon.’
‘I shall surely change the fortunes of my life without a cause.’
‘The Lord hath spoken. Is not that a cause?’
‘I am the Lord’s anointed. His warning has not reached me.’
‘Now it reaches thee. Doth the king despise the prophetess of the Lord?
It is the sin of Ahab.’
‘Despise thee! Despise the mouth that is the herald of my victories!
‘Twere rank blasphemy. Prophesy triumph, Esther, and Alroy will never
doubt thy inspiration.’
‘He doubts it now. I see he doubts it now. O my king, I say again, enter
not into Babylon.’
‘Beauteous maiden, those eyes flash lightning. Who can behold their wild
and liquid glance, and doubt that Esther is inspired! Be calm, sweet
girl, some dream disturbs thy fancy.’
‘Alroy, Alroy, enter not into Babylon!’
‘I have no fear, I bear a charmed life.’
‘Ah me! he will not listen.’ All is lost!’
‘All is gained, my beautiful.’
‘I would we were upon the Holy Mount, and gazing on the stars of sacred
Zion.’
‘Esther,’ said Alroy, advancing, and gently taking her hand, ‘the
capital of the East will soon unfold its marvels to thy sight. Prepare
thyself for wonders. Girl, we are no longer in the desert. Forget thy
fitful fancies. Come, choose a husband from my generals, child, and I
will give a kingdom for thy dower. I would gladly see a crown upon that
imperial brow. It well deserves one.’
The prophetess turned her dark eyes full upon Alroy. What passed in her
mind was neither evident nor expressed. She gazed intently upon the calm
and inscrutable countenance of the conqueror, then flung away his hand,
and rushed out of the pavilion.