THE SULTAN.
On the day succeeding the hunting party, the Sultan, having taken his
place in his audience-hall, with his secretaries and officials in
attendance, directed Abd el Aziz to have the executioners in readiness;
and then ordered Abdslem to be brought before him. He was accordingly
brought in heavily ironed, from the prison where he had lain all night.
The pain from the treatment his hands had undergone was becoming
excruciating; but he forced his features to assume an expression of
composure; which was undisturbed by the preparations he saw making by
the executioner as he passed; and on which he depended for his success
in escaping from punishment. As soon as he had been forced to bow down
before the Sultan, and was allowed to stand, and before waiting for the
usual permission to speak: "May our lord's life be prolonged. Is this,"
said he, lifting up his tortured hands in chains, "is this the reward of
loyalty? Shall the breath of private slander deprive my lord of his most
devoted slaves? Where are my accusers? What is my crime?" and he looked
boldly round on the audience.
The Sultan being in possession of such glaring evidence of his guilt,
was somewhat astonished at his assurance. "What mockery is this?" said
he. "Is the slave mad? Read out this letter, that he and all may know
that he dies with justice."
The Taleb, to whom the letter had been handed, opened the scroll, and
read as follows:--
"In the name of the One God, the Merciful, peace and his blessing. To
our friend Sidi Abdslem Ibn el Hadj, Marockshee. We have received and
considered the words that you have sent us, requiring money to seduce
the soldiers of your master the Sultan; time shall not be prolonged
before you will be met by a faithful messenger: exert yourself, be
faithful, and be assured of our friendship. Peace. This ---- day of
Moharram, 1248." Attached was the seal of the Sheik of the Sebaïe.
A thrill ran through the assembly, as they listened to the perusal of
this flagrant proof of guilt, and felt that his days were numbered. The
Sultan had watched the prisoner's countenance, which did not appear to
be disturbed by any conviction of guilt, but rather assumed an air of
greater self-complacency.
"And is that, my lord," said he, "the crime that is laid to your slave's
charge? Alas! for the dream of the seller of earthenware! On that letter
I had built a vision of rewards and honours from the Khalifa, and behold
what has befallen me! Let my lord slay me, if so it is written; but let
my lord hear me alone--and your servant's innocence will be white, and
my lord will hear matters of importance."
The Sultan was staggered; Abdslem had maintained his part with such
coolness and confidence that the Sultan's curiosity was excited, though
he never supposed he could explain away such convincing evidence.
Fettered as he was he was harmless; and on a motion from the Sultan, the
secretaries, officials, all, withdrew out of hearing, to the lower end
of the hall, and Abdslem, kneeling at the border of the Sultan's carpet,
on a motion to speak, proceeded as follows:--
"May my lord live for ever! It is now two months ago, that ever watchful
to frustrate the designs of my lord's enemies, I noticed a trader, a man
of suspicion, mixing with the soldiers; determined to know his object, I
put myself in his way, and drew him into talk. I will not repeat his
blasphemy against your highness, exalted of God; but pretending to be
deceived, I lured him on, until he had the audacity to propose to me, on
the part of an Arab Sheik, to corrupt my lord's servants from their
allegiance, promising me rewards. I was immediately inspired with the
design of entrapping the rebel Sheik, and placing him in my lord's
power. I wrote a letter, to which that now read is an answer, and to
ensure his coming, I asked for money, which he would either bring
himself, or come with promises instead, for Arabs like not to part with
their gold. The miscarriage of his letter has frustrated my plan, and,
but for my lord's forbearance, must ere this have cost me my life. As it
is, I have suffered; but it is in my lord's service. God is great! It
was written."
This clever explanation of the affair, in which he appeared to be so
seriously compromised, had gradually changed the Sultan's feelings
towards him; but he remained for some minutes with his brows knit, his
beard resting in his hand, and his eyes fixed on the prisoner's face, as
though he would read his heart. "God is merciful," he said, at length.
"This may be true, the All-knowing knows. Yes: you shall prove its
truth. The Sheik will not know that his letter fell into our hands,--his
messenger will come,--you will bring him before us. Thus shall you prove
your truth. You are free! Guards there!" and half-a-dozen soldiers
rushed in, expecting orders to drag Abdslem to his fate. "Knock off his
fetters, and let his hands be released; he is free!"
Abdslem prostrated himself and kissed the earth, he was then led out by
the soldiers, invoking blessings on the Sultan's clemency.
The Wezeer and secretaries now resumed their seats.
"I have intelligence from Algiers, O my lord," said the Wezeer.
"Speak, O Hadjie," said the Sultan.
"There has been a battle near Oujda on our borders, and the Emir Abd el
Kader has beaten the infidels."
"May the infidels be accursed!" said the Sultan.
"The Ameer has sent a white female slave for the Sultan's hareem."
"The slave will be welcome," said the Sultan.
"God is great!" said the Wezeer, "but as my lord can see, the object of
the Ameer is to embroil the Sultan with the French, and compel us to be
his allies."
"Are we Algerines and sons of Othman that we should fear the infidels?"
said the Sultan; "send a letter of thanks to the Ameer, and a present of
steeds with embroidered trappings."
"My lord's will shall be obeyed," said the Wezeer. He then continued,
"The French are strong in ships, O Sultan! and Suerah will be attacked
by sea, and where will be my lord's revenues from the merchants?
Moreover, the slave is not young, and has grey eyes, and red hair: by
the side of the houris of Mequinez, she is an Afreet!"
"Let her be sent back!" exclaimed the Sultan: "why should we quarrel
with the Francese? They can stop our commerce on the sea. Who is Abd el
Kader that we should fight for him? Is he not a Berebber of the Kabyles?
Send orders, O Wezeer, to the Kaïd of Oujda to resist any violation of
our frontier."
"The Khalifa shall be obeyed," said the astute Wezeer.
He then took up another letter. "Here, O my lord," he said, "is news
that war is about to break out between the Inglees and the Oroose; may
the Beneficent give us peace."
"O Wezeer," said the Sultan, "what is that to us? let the infidels
fight, what is that to the true believers? if the dog bite the pig, or
the pig bite the dog, what is that to us? Are we not Moslemeen?" And he
arose and broke up the audience.
Azora sat alone in a room in the women's apartments; it was furnished
with carpets, ottomans, and cushions. At one end, a glass door opened
into a garden, full of fruit-trees and flowers, but surrounded by high
walls. An old woman to whose charge she had been consigned had selected
the room for her, and treated her with every attention. Here, without
altering her dress, she had snatched an unrefreshing sleep. She had
received a communication from her mother,--for gold can open a Sultan's
hareem--enjoining on her to gain time, by procrastination, to further
the measures taken for her deliverance, and she naturally shrunk from
hurrying on her own fate, if delay might be obtained without a sacrifice
of principle. Her eyes were fixed on the walls of her prison, and she
was absorbed in deep and painful thought on her unfortunate position and
probable fate, when she was startled by the entrance of the Sultan. She
immediately arose and stood by the door of the garden, involuntarily,
from fear or humility, removing as far as possible from him.
"Have you an answer to my proposal, O light of my earth?" said he,
approaching her with a smile.
"Alas, my lord!" said Azora, clasping her hands, "is justice dead? is
there no condition of freedom but sinning against God, even the God of
my fathers?"
"Talk not to me of gods," said he, impatiently; "my religion does not
interfere with my pleasure; if it is to save you from danger, do not
your priests teach you that compulsion is not sin? But why, O my
beautiful, talk of sin?" he continued, in a winning tone. "Is it a crime
to love? Can your gentle eyes spurn a Sultan from your feet? Drive me
not to despair. Oh, if you would but adopt our holy faith, I, even I,
would be your champion; and where would be the slave that would dare to
think a thought to harm you? Oh, Azora! Azora! I have had no peace since
I saw you; you are the sultana, I am the slave,--the victim. Oh, look on
me at your feet, and have pity,--on yourself, on me!" He was on his
knee, with his left hand he held her right, which was cold as marble,
while the other was stretched out imploringly. There is no doubt he
loved her, as much as a man so incapable by habit of real love could do.
She was so different from the inmates of his hareem; many of these
doubtless had beauty, but it was the difference of human beings reared
in a torpid state of seclusion, and one who had been always free!--the
fascination of intellect. Azora would not have been woman, had she not
been deeply moved by this earnest appeal. To see him, before whom all
men trembled, a suppliant at her feet, it was a fearful trial for human
nature unaided. And she breathed an inward prayer for help. She dreaded
the storm which she saw gathering, but felt more courage to brave his
threats than his entreaties. Gently disengaging herself from his hands,
she said,--
"O my lord, tempt me not. Let not my lord kneel to his servant; threaten
me, torture me, but let not my lord talk of love. Do I not know the fate
of a favourite,--the plaything of a day; thrown by to pine in neglect
and solitude? And shall I not expect, and deserve, worse than these,--I,
a despised renegade, a traitoress to my faith, surrounded by jealous
enemies,--and forsaken by my God? No!" said she firmly, and looking up
to heaven, "rather let me die at once, than die a thousand deaths by
dragging out a degraded life of shame and remorse, to end in eternal
ruin."
And now the storm burst; his love spurned and his power braved, it is
not easy to describe the tumult of passion, the more fierce from being
seldom roused, that raged in the Sultan's breast, on hearing this
address. Love, revenge, fury, seized on him by turns, his emotions were
too intense for utterance, but shown by the terrific working of his
countenance; he bit his parched lip till the blood flowed, his eyes
flashed fire, from under his dark stormy brow, and his frame trembled as
if about to be overcome by a fit of insanity. While this hurricane
lasted, the life of Azora, who stood terror-struck, hung by a frail
thread. By a strong effort he gradually recovered his self-possession,
and when he spoke it was with frightful calmness; his face was deadly
pale as he turned to depart, "This, then, is your decision; you are
prepared for the consequences?"
In her resolve not to compromise her principles, Azora had forgotten the
necessity of obtaining delay; but having asserted these, she had now to
risk the rectification of this omission.
"O my lord! be not hasty," she said, "let me have time to consider;
perhaps--" but her voice faltered; "but--if I must--die--a few days or
weeks will be a short preparation for eternity!"
The Sultan stopped, and fixed his eyes on her changing countenance, in
which he thought he saw signs of her wavering, and his love prompted him
to delay while any hope remained. He replied in his former calm tone,
"Azora, I have granted your request; two weeks shall you have for
reflection. If at the end of that time you still spurn my love, by the
tomb of the Prophet! no power on earth shall save you."
He was gone. Azora remained gazing at the closed door; it was as a
dream, the time had been so short which had transported her from her
quiet home to be the inmate of a palace with her life in danger. Tears
came to her relief, and she sought to realise her position; she was not
left long, however, to indulge her grief, for soon after the Sultan's
departure, she was surrounded by the ladies of the hareem, who led her
away to their own rooms; and during the time that her fate was
undecided, she was treated with the greatest kindness, attired in costly
dresses, adorned with valuable jewels; and they endeavoured to amuse her
with music and tale-tellers, leaving nothing untried to turn her from
her purpose, and reduce her to their own state of captivity.