The chief eunuch did not keep the adventurous companions long in
suspense; for, before the muezzin had announced the close of day from
the minarets, he had reached the Khan of Bedreddin, and inquired for the
Armenian physician.
“We have no time to lose,” said the eunuch to Iskander. “Bring with you
whatever you may require, and follow me.”
The eunuch led the way, Iskander and Nicæus maintaining a respectful
distance. After proceeding down several streets, they arrived at the
burial-ground, where they had conversed in the morning; and when they
had entered that more retired spot, the eunuch fell back, and addressed
his companion.
“Now, worthy Hakim,” he said, “if you deceive me, I will never patronize
a man of science again. I found an opportunity of speaking to the
Prince this afternoon of your talisman, and he has taken from my
representations such a fancy for its immediate proof, that I found it
quite impossible to postpone its trial even until to-morrow. I mentioned
the terms. I told the Prince your life was the pledge. I said nothing
of the moiety of the reward, worthy Hakim. That is an affair between
ourselves. I trust to your honour, and I always act thus with men of
science.”
“I shall not disgrace my profession or your confidence, rest assured,”
replied Iskander. “And am I to see the captive to-night?”
“I doubt it not. Are you prepared? We might, perhaps, gain a little
time, if very necessary.”
“By no means, sir; Truth is ever prepared.”
Thus conversing, they passed through the burial-ground, and approached
some high, broad walls, forming a terrace, and planted with young
sycamore-trees. The eunuch tapped with his silver stick, at a small
gate, which opened, and admitted them into a garden, full of large
clumps of massy shrubs. Through these a winding walk led for some way,
and then conducted them to an open lawn, on which was situate a vast
and irregular building. As they approached the pile, a young man of
very imperious aspect rushed forward from a gate, and abruptly accosted
Iskander.
“Are you the Armenian physician?” he inquired.
Iskander bowed assent.
“Have you got your talisman? You know the terms? Cure this Christian
girl and you shall name your own reward; fail, and I shall claim your
forfeit head.”
“The terms are well understood, mighty Prince,” said Iskander, for the
young man was no less a personage than the son of Amurath, and future
conqueror of Constantinople; “but I am confident there will be no
necessity for the terror of Christendom claiming any other heads than
those of his enemies.”
“Kaflis will conduct you at once to your patient,” said Mahomed. “For
myself, I cannot rest until I know the result of your visit. I shall
wander about these gardens, and destroy the flowers, which is the only
pleasure now left me.”
Kaflis motioned to his companions to advance, and they entered the
Seraglio.
At the end of a long gallery they came to a great portal, which Kaflis
opened, and Iskander and Nicæus for a moment supposed that they had
arrived at the chief hall of the Tower of Babel, but they found the
shrill din only proceeded from a large company of women, who were
employed in distilling the rare atar of the jasmine flower. All their
voices ceased on the entrance of the strangers, as if by a miracle; but
when they had examined them, and observed that it was only a physician
and his boy, their awe, or their surprise, disappeared; and they crowded
round Iskander, some holding out their wrists, others lolling out their
tongues, and some asking questions, which perplexed alike the skill
and the modesty of the adventurous dealer in magical medicine. The
annoyance, however, was not of great duration, for Kaflis so belaboured
their fair shoulders with his official baton, that they instantly
retreated with precipitation, uttering the most violent shrieks, and
bestowing on the eunuch so many titles, that Iskander and his page were
quite astounded at the intuitive knowledge which the imprisoned damsels
possessed of that vocabulary of abuse, which is in general mastered only
by the experience of active existence.
Quitting this chamber, the eunuch and his companions ascended a lofty
staircase. They halted at length before a door. “This is the chamber of
the tower,” said their guide, “and here we shall find the fair captive.”
He knocked, the door was opened by a female slave, and Iskander and
Nicæus, with an anxiety they could with difficulty conceal, were ushered
into a small but sumptuous apartment. In the extremity was a recess
covered with a light gauzy curtain. The eunuch bidding them keep in the
background, advanced, and cautiously withdrawing the curtain slightly
aside, addressed some words in a low voice to the inmate of the recess.
In a few minutes the eunuch beckoned to Iskander to advance, and
whispered to him: “She would not at first see you, but I have told her
you are a Christian, the more the pity, and she consents.” So saying,
he withdrew the curtain, and exhibited a veiled female figure lying on a
couch.
“Noble lady,” said the physician in Greek, which he had ascertained
the eunuch did not comprehend; “pardon the zeal of a Christian friend.
Though habited in this garb, I have served under your illustrious sire.
I should deem my life well spent in serving the daughter of the great
Hunniades.”
“Kind stranger,” replied the captive, “I was ill prepared for such a
meeting. I thank you for your sympathy, but my sad fortunes are beyond
human aid.”
“God works by humble instruments, noble lady,” said Iskander, “and with
his blessing we may yet prosper.”
“I fear that I must look to death as my only refuge,” replied Iduna,
“and still more, I fear that it is not so present a refuge as my
oppressors themselves imagine. But you are a physician; tell me then how
speedily Nature will make me free.”
She held forth her hand, which Iskander took and involuntarily pressed.
“Noble lady,” he said, “my skill is a mere pretence to enter these
walls. The only talisman I bear with me is a message from your friends.”
“Indeed!” said Iduna, in an agitated tone.
“Restrain yourself, noble lady,” said Iskander, interposing, “restrain
yourself. Were you any other but the daughter of Hunniades I would not
have ventured upon this perilous exploit. But I know that the Lady Iduna
has inherited something more than the name of her great ancestors--their
heroic soul. If ever there were a moment in her life in which it behoved
her to exert all her energies, that moment has arrived. The physician
who addresses her, and his attendant who waits at hand, are two of the
Lady Iduna’s most devoted friends. There is nothing that they will not
hazard, to effect her delivery; and they have matured a plan of escape
which they are sanguine must succeed. Yet its completion will require,
on her part, great anxiety of mind, greater exertion of body, danger,
fatigue, privation. Is the Lady Iduna prepared for all this endurance,
and all this hazard?”
“Noble friend,” replied Iduna, “for I cannot deem you a stranger, and
none but a most chivalric knight could have entered upon this almost
forlorn adventure; you have not, I trust, miscalculated my character. I
am a slave, and unless heaven will interpose, must soon be a dishonoured
one. My freedom and my fame are alike at stake. There is no danger, and
no suffering which I will not gladly welcome, provided there be even a
remote chance of regaining my liberty and securing my honour.”
“You are in the mind I counted on. Now, mark my words, dear lady. Seize
an opportunity this evening of expressing to your gaolers that you have
already experienced some benefit from my visit, and announce your rising
confidence in my skill. In the meantime I will make such a report that
our daily meetings will not be difficult. For the present, farewell. The
Prince Mahomed waits without, and I would exchange some words with him
before I go.”
“And must we part without my being acquainted with the generous friends
to whom I am indebted for an act of devotion which almost reconciles me
to my sad fate?” said Iduna. “You will not, perhaps, deem the implicit
trust reposed in you by one whom you have no interest to deceive, and
who, if deceived, cannot be placed in a worse position than she at
present fills, as a very gratifying mark of confidence, yet that trust
is reposed in you; and let me, at least, soothe the galling dreariness
of my solitary hours, by the recollection of the friends to whom I am
indebted for a deed of friendship which has filled me with a feeling of
wonder from which I have not yet recovered.”
“The person who has penetrated the Seraglio of Constantinople in
disguise to rescue the Lady Iduna,” answered Iskander, “is the Prince
Nicæus.”
“Nicæus!” exclaimed Iduna, in an agitated tone. “The voice to which I
listen is surely not that of the Prince Nicæus; nor the form on which I
gaze,” she added, as she unveiled. Beside her stood the tall figure
of the Armenian physician. She beheld his swarthy and unrecognised
countenance. She cast her dark eyes around with an air of beautiful
perplexity.
“I am a friend of the Prince Nicæus,” said the physician. “He is here.
Shall he advance? Alexis,” called cut, Iskander, not waiting for
her reply. The page of the physician came forward, but the eunuch
accompanied him. “All is right,” said Iskander to Kaflis. “We are sure
of our hundred purses. But, without doubt, with any other aid, the case
were desperate.”
“There is but one God,” said the eunuch, polishing his carbuncle, with a
visage radiant as the gem. “I never repented patronizing men of science.
The prince waits without. Come along!” He took Iskander by the arm.
“Where is your boy? What are you doing there, sir?” inquired the eunuch,
sharply, of Nicæus, who, was tarrying behind, and kissing the hand of
Iduna.
“I was asking the lady for a favour to go to the coffee-house with;”
replied Nicæus, “you forget that I am to have none of the hundred
purses.”
“True,” said the eunuch; “there is something in that. Here, boy, here
is a piastre for you. I like to encourage men of science, and all that
belong to them. Do not go and spend it all in one morning, boy, and when
the fair captive is cured, if you remind me, boy, perhaps I may give you
another.”