Two hours after night-fall, and while the Spaniards were still engaged
in close battle with the besiegers, who, this night, seemed as if their
rage was never to be appeased, the cavalier Don Amador de Leste rested
in his chamber, (the Moorish boy sitting dejected at his feet,) now
starting up with cries of grief and impatience, as the continued
explosions of artillery admonished him of the straits of his friends,
and now, as these seemed to die away and be followed by silence, giving
his mind to other not less exciting thoughts, and questioning the page
of the events of the past day.
"Not now, not now,--ask me not _now_!" replied the page, with great
emotion to one of his demands; "for now can I think of naught but my
father. It is not his custom to leave me so long by night, even when the
battle continues. Heaven protect him! for at any moment, he may die; and
what then am I, in this land, and among this people? Would to heaven we
had perished in Spain,--nay, in Barbary,--in the sea along with our
friends; for, then, might we have died together!"
"Give not way to this passion," said the cavalier, with an attempt at
consolation, which drove not the gloom from his own countenance; "for
thou knowest, that, whatever evil may happen to Abdalla, I will myself
befriend thee."
"My father is slain!" cried Jacinto, wringing his hands, "or long since
would he have been with us."
"If this be the case," said Amador, with grave benevolence, "and I will
not deny that Abdalla doth keep his life in constant jeopardy, it
plainly shows, that I am bound to make a father's effort to protect
thee, and thou to follow my counsels. Hark!" he exclaimed, as a furious
cannonade, seemingly of all the pieces shot off together, brought its
roar and its tremor to his prison-house,--"dost thou not hear how
ferocious is the combat, at this moment? Know, Jacinto, that every
explosion seems like a petard fastened to and bursting upon mine own
bosom,--so very great are the shock and pang of mind with which, at such
time, I bethink me of the condition of my countrymen. Much longer I
cannot endure my captivity; I have resolved that it shall end, even, if
that be needful, by the breach of my solemn vow; for, I am persuaded,
the dishonour and compunction which must follow upon that, will be but
light, compared with the great ignominy of my present inactivity, and
the unspeakable remorse which rends my vitals, while submitting to it.
But I can by no means escape, while thou art left alone to be my jailer;
if I escape by force of arms, it shall be when thy father is here to
oppose me. I counsel thee, however, as thinking, with thee, that Abdalla
may be dead----"
Here Jacinto burst into the most bitter lamentations.
"Be not thus afflicted; for I speak to thee only of a possibility which
may be feared, and not of a certainty to be mourned. What I mean is,
that this possibility should be enough to release thee, as well as
myself, from this house; for if Abdalla be really deceased, it must be
evident to thee, nothing could be more foolish, and even dangerous, than
to remain in it alone; seeing that, if we be not found out and murdered
by the Mexicans, we must surely expect to be starved. Guided by the
sounds of battle, we can easily find our way to the palace; and perhaps,
by wrapping ourselves in some of these cotton curtains, we may make our
way through the herds of Mexicans, without notice, as being mistaken for
some of their fellow-combatants. Once arrived within earshot of the
palace, I have no fear but that we shall be very safe; and I pledge my
vow to thee, that I will so faithfully guard thee on the way, that no
weapon shall strike thee, that has not first pierced my own bosom."
The page clasped his hands, and regarded his master with looks in which
affection struggled with despair.
"But if my father should live--oh, if my father should live! and
returning to this desolate house, should find that his child has
deserted him!"
"If he live," said the cavalier, "then shall he know, that thou hast
taken the only step to preserve him from destruction, both temporal and
eternal. I will not rest, till I have procured for him a free pardon; I
will hold thee as a hostage, which, in addition to the assurance of
forgiveness, will speedily bring him into the garrison: for, knowing his
love to thee, I know he cannot live without thee. Besides, I will
obtain, for I will demand it, permission for him to return with thee to
Spain; and if my knight consent, we will depart together; for now I am
convinced that heaven doth fight against us, even to upholding the
godless heathen. Let us therefore depart, making our trust in God, who
will cover us, this night, as with shields, to protect our weakness."
"Alas, alas!" cried the boy, faltering with grief and fear, "my lord is
sick and wounded, feeble and helpless."
"That I have not all the vigour, which, a few days since, was mine,"
said the cavalier, snatching up his sword, and brandishing it, once or
twice, in the air, as if to make trial of his strength, "I cannot deny.
Nevertheless, I am stronger than yesterday; and besides, while placing
great reliance on the protection of heaven, I shall trust less to my
weapon than to such disguises as it may be in our power to adopt. With
these figured curtains wrapped about us, and, if there be any feathers
about the house, a bunch or two tied to our heads, I have no doubt, we
can delude the Mexican fighting men, and, in the tumult of battle, pass
through their ranks, entirely unmolested."
While the page hesitated and wept, visibly struggling between his wishes
and his fears, there occurred a sudden interruption in the cannonade;
and, in the dead silence that followed, both heard the sound of rapid
footsteps approaching the door, accompanied by smothered groans.
The page started--In an instant, the steps were heard in the passage,
followed by a heavy sound, as of a man falling upon the floor.
"Oh God! my father! my poor father!" cried Jacinto, springing to the
door.
He was arrested by the arm of the neophyte, who plainly distinguished,
along with the groans that came from the passage, a noise as if the
sufferer were struggling to his feet; and in a moment after, as he
pushed aside the curtain, to go out himself, the slave Ayub, covered
with blood, rushed by him into the apartment, and again fell prostrate.
"My father, Ayub! my father?" cried the page, kneeling at his side.
"Allah il Allah! praised be God, for now I am safe!" said the Morisco,
raising on his arm, and, though his whole frame shook as in the ague of
death, regarding the pair with the greatest exultation. "I thought they
had shot me through the liver with a bullet; but Allah be praised! 'twas
naught but an arrow. Help me up, noble senor--Eh? ay? Trim the taper a
little, and give me a morsel of drink."
"Thou sayest naught of my father, Ayub?" said Jacinto, eagerly and yet
with mortal fear,--for he knew by the gesture of Don Amador, as he
ceased his unavailing attempt to lift the wounded man, but more by the
countenance of Ayub himself, that he was a dying man.
"How can I speak without light?" cried the Moor, with a sort of chuckle.
"Trim the torch, trim the torch, and let me see where these boltheads be
rankling.--Praise be to Allah, for I thought myself a dead man!"
"Wilt thou not speak to me of my father?" exclaimed Jacinto, in agony.
"A brave night! a brave night!" muttered Ayub, fumbling at his
garments--"Valiant unbelievers!--Praised be God--The Wali----"
"Ay, the Wali! the Wali, thy master!" cried Jacinto, his voice dwindling
to a hoarse and terrified whisper;--"my father, thy master, Ayub?"
"The Wali----Hah!" exclaimed the unbeliever, roused by the distant
explosions;--"At it yet, brave pagans? Roar, cannon! Shout, infidel!
shout and whistle--shout, whistle, and kill!--Save me the Wali, save me
the Wali!"
"Oh heaven, Ayub!--thou sayest nothing of him,--of my father!"
"They took him a prisoner--but we'll have him again!--Lelilee!
Lelilee!--Strike fast, pagan!--A brave day for Granada!"
At these words, Jacinto seemed not less like to die than the fugitive.
But as he neither fell to the floor, nor screamed, Don Amador still held
fast to Ayub, who was now struggling in the most fearful convulsions,
and yet, strange to hear, still uttering broken expressions of joy.
"A prisoner, a prisoner!--A little drink, for the sake of Allah!" he
cried, incoherently. "Ha, ha! one runs not so far with a bullet in the
liver!--Now they are at it! now they are killing the great senores!
now, they murder 'em!--Great joy! a great sight for a Moor!
great--great--great revenge!--Many days agone--Great--great revenge!
says the Wali--They killed my mother--Great revenge--great--great--Oho!
great revenge for Granada!"
With these accents on his lips, mingled with sounds of laughter, and
horrid contortions of countenance, the infidel Moor, (for such was
Ayub,) sprang suddenly to his knees; and flinging abroad his arms, and
uttering a yell of agony, fell back instantly upon the floor, quivered a
moment, and then lay a disfigured corse.
"Dost thou see, Jacinto!" said Don Amador, taking the shivering boy by
the arm. "Ayub is dead, and thy father a prisoner. If thou wilt save the
life of Abdalla, the Wali, (I never before knew that Abdalla, though
noble, was of this dignity--but this shall help me to plead for him;)
get thyself instantly in readiness, and let us begone."
The page turned a tearless countenance on his patron, and replied, with
a tranquillity that seemed to come from desperation,--
"I will go with my lord, for I have no friend now but him,--I will go
with my lord, to look upon my father's dead body; for I know the
Spaniards will not spare his life a moment,--I will go with my
lord,--and would that I had gone sooner! for now, it is too late."
As Jacinto pronounced these words, he began to weep anew, though
hearkening passively to the instructions of the cavalier.
"If thou canst find me any plumes," said Amador, "fetch them to me
straight; and if thou hast about the house, any Mexican garment, which
thou canst wear, haste thou to don it. As for myself, I will first arm,
and then robe me in the tunic of this poor dead misbeliever. Be of good
heart, I charge thee--God will protect us."
"There are robes enough, both for my lord and me," said the sobbing
boy,--"and shrouds too--It is too late.--But I can die with my lord!"
"Why, that is spoken with more valour than I thought thou hadst," said
the cavalier. "But bring me the robes, without thinking of thy shrouds;
and be very quick, for I must have thee to buckle some of these straps
of my jambeux."
The page took up a little taper that lay near the flambeau, and,
shuddering as he passed by the body, instantly departed on his errand.