somewhat austerely upon him, and added coldly, “suffer me to tell you
Christian! that in Persia we are careful not to give any scandal to
morals: if we cede sometimes to the force of beauty and of temperament,
we believe ourselves bound not to make a boast of our frailty, and we
avoid, if possible, dishonouring a noble house. I would have you take
care how you trifle with the protection afforded by the roof of an
ambassador.”
Sebastian regarded him with quick-raised indignation. “How Prince!” he
exclaimed, “do you believe me capable of abusing this
protection?--beware how you lightly wound the honour of a man, to whom
fortune has left no other possession.”
As Sebastian spoke he smote the hilt of his sword, while starting from
his seat Prince Abbas drew back with an air of self-recollection.
“Let us not break our bond of friendship for a woman!” he said, “for one
who may not deserve such a triumph: rather let us deal frankly with each
other. I will confess that the tone in which I first spoke of your
gallantry, had the harshness of a censor, not the kindness of a friend:
austerity is the fault of my nature; as such forgive me. Now tell me in
return, whether the lady I met in the gardens, and who fled away at
seeing me, has not passed the night here.--I would warn you for your own
safety not to encourage an amour which may end disastrously: the lady’s
mien bespoke her of high birth, and in Persia the irregularities of
women of quality are punished with death. Make me your confidant; if
your love is honorable, my sympathy at least,--dare you trust me with
her name?”--
Sebastian interrupted him, “You are not serious Prince in expecting me
to make a confidence of this kind!--do you think it possible for a man
of honour to betray the weakness even of a woman he contemned?--however,
be satisfied; I have no confidence of the sort to repose in you: it is
true the lady was here; I may not deny it; but on the faith of a
Portuguese, a soldier, and”----Sebastian hastily stopt, and confused by
the word which in his fervour he was about to use, he turned away,
glowing and disordered.
Prince Abbas, who saw in this embarrassment only the sign of
insincerity, exclaimed with an air of angry chagrin, “what a
contemptible passion is this love! or rather, what a degrading passion
when illicit, since it palsies the tongue of truth, and makes ingenuous
souls tread the path of falsehood! Say no more Sir Knight! I esteem you
still too much not to regret that in future I must not esteem you so
highly.”
By a violent effort which respect for Abbas’s principles alone produced,
the impetuous Sebastian reined in his vehement feelings, and said, in
the breathless tone of restrained wrath, “on the faith of a Portuguese,
a soldier, and a Christian, that lady visited me to night, for the
first, and I firmly believe, for the last time: she was with me only a
short period; her veil was but partly put aside for a single moment
during her discourse; and love had no share in it.”
“Love had no share in it!” repeated Prince Abbas, stopping hastily, as
he walked to and fro, “in the name of Heaven, then, what errand could
bring a Persian woman at the dead of night to the solitary lodging of a
stranger?”
“That is precisely the question I may not answer;” replied Sebastian,
“my honour is pledged to secrecy; and having assured you that your
suspicions are unjust, I exact this proof of your reliance: Prince, you
must not speak of my adventure.--The reputation of the lady is a sacred
deposit in my hands, and that wantonly attacked, will draw down my
vengeance.--Since appearances demanded them, I owed explanation and
asseverations to your friendship, and I have done violence to my nature
in order to give them; but in the former case my vengeance will be as
prompt as it will be justifiable.”
The stern air of the young monarch heightened the effect of his
commanding voice: Abbas looked at him with some admiration. “Be it so!”
he cried, offering his hand, “I pledge myself for discretion; nay more,
I must believe your strange assertion: but allow me, my friend, to
suspect the lady of less singular ideas; she will seek you again, depend
on it.--Whatever motive she may have feigned for so hazardous a step, be
certain that love alone could tempt a Persian woman to trust herself and
her character with a young warrior in this Kiosk at this hour.--I have
but one caution to give you: beware how you sully the purity of royal
blood! I have a virgin sister who has seen you at our tournaments;
should she, forsaken by modesty, forget what is due to her birth--should
she be this vieled unknown--I need not talk to you of the implacable
hatred of a dishonoured brother, and a betrayed friend.”
“As the lady told me her name and rank, I may at least assure you,”
returned Sebastian, “that she is not your sister.”
Prince Abbas turned hastily round, and eyed Sebastian again with an
earnest and anxious look: some new idea evidently shot through his mind,
for he changed colour repeatedly, and several times beginning to speak,
hesitated, and broke off. “It is no matter!” he said at last, “others
may resemble her also--Sir Knight I thank you for your moderation:
forget not what I have told you, that in Persia the dishonour of one
noble house, is the dishonour of all.--Farewel! when we meet again, two
hours hence, at the head of our troops, we meet only to think, and to
talk of war.”
The friendly smile which for an instant dispersed the unusual gloom of
Abbas’s countenance, could not deceive Sebastian: when he had left him,
he reflected on the events of the night with some uneasiness; it was
possible that Maimuna might have misled him by a false account of
herself and of her motive, and that in reality she might be the sister
of Abbas. It was possible, that pleased with his person, and curious to
know his character, she had either feigned this excuse to visit him, or
in fact purposed to send him her page, that such a trust might form some
bond between them.
The fear of either wounding the honour of Abbas, or of staining his own
by an appearance of baseness, made Sebastian for the first time in his
life easily accessible to the suspicion of a woman’s attachment, but how
was he to act?--it was impossible for him to recede from the promises
already given, which bound him to secrecy, and to receive the orphan
boy.
He waited the day-break with extreme solicitude.--At the appointed time
his protegée arrived; he came attended by the old slave of Maimuna, who
presenting him with a costly gift from his mistress, hastily
disappeared.
CHAP. III.
The boy, who was very young and very timid, stood looking down with an
air of gentleness which attracted kindness; his extreme youth
immediately destroyed the suspicion which Maimuna’s conversation had
first raised, since a passion for him was preposterous to suppose: at
this conviction Sebastian felt his embarrassment and apprehension
increase, but he approached the youth, and taking his hand, said to him,
“Is it still your wish, Zaphna, to leave the security of a gentle lady’s
house, for the vicissitudes of a camp?--Nature stamps us all with the
impress of her intentions; and _your_ delicate frame has not been
moulded from the clay she makes soldiers of,--let me then advise you to
read your fate better, and to desist from this wild desire.”
Zaphna withdrew his hand from that of the King, and without raising his
eyes from the ground, or moving his head, which was bashfully averted,
he replied in a low voice, “I thought, Sir Knight, that you had promised
my lady to receive me? do not injure my indulgent mistress by imagining
that even your persuasions can avail, where hers have failed. I am
resolved to accompany the army.”
The firm tone of his last words caused Sebastian to smile: “I see you
are unused to opposition;” he observed, “but my pretty friend, you must
remember that to serve a rough soldier will be a very different task
from that of living in the lap of a soft mistress, whom your boyish
petulancies may entertain. You must expect infinite hardships and
privations with me; however, count upon my affection for you, and my
zeal for your lady; and when I return you to her, tell her that for one
dear, absent woman’s sake, I am thus obedient to the wishes of another.”
The boy blushed for his lady, as if he felt what Sebastian meant to
convey; but he spoke not; his hands pressed on his heart, and his head
bent still lower, expressed obedience.
The King then described the few duties he would require of him; and
hearing the sound of the trumpets, hastened away to join Sir Anthony
Shirley, and to go with him to the field.
They rode together towards the troops; while Zaphna took charge of his
master’s war-equipage and Barémel; and seated beside them in a covered
sort of carriage, made one in a long line of baggage.
Abbas and Sebastian met now with brows cleared from every cloud; their
whole souls were given to action:--they beheld with animated looks the
numerous troops passing in review before them. As they filed off in
divisions and began their march, the oriental magnificence of their
white vestments, their pointed caps covered with gold, their decorated
arms and embroidered banners, their horses (covered with purple
housings,) tossing their manes like sea-foam lifted by winds, formed a
spectacle at once new and splendid.
An European warrior saw in this army little more than a gorgeous
preparation for some vast tournament, where the mockery of battle is
exhibited amidst pomp and gaiety: the light-robed Persians, with their
painted quivers and gilded bows, scattered and diffused in various
groups, could not excite such an emotion as the deadly sight of
phalanxed men ribbed in grim iron, armed with maces and battle-axes, and
steadily advancing as if by one movement and with one thought.
The King of Portugal at first saw the Persian troops with pleasure, as
he would have considered a lively picture, but his reflections soon
became graver, and estimating their feebleness, he followed their march
with concern: some vain regrets also intruded; past disasters rose to
remembrance; and on the boundless plain where the Persians had lately
stood, his troubled fancy saw the ghost of his own gallant army.
The sudden paleness of his cheek at this mental phantom, attracted the
attention of Sir Anthony Shirley, he rode up to him, and fixing his eyes
on his face, said, “you appear disturbed brave friend! perhaps your
noble mind conceives, that in thus beholding you entrusted with the
command my pledge has obtained, I am secretly agitated, and fear that I
may have gone too far: not so, I know that my honour, my safety, nay my
life, hang upon your fidelity to the Sophi, and it is from that reason I
confidently expect fidelity at your hands.”
“You might risk your salvation on me, after this!” exclaimed Sebastian,
ardently grasping Shirley’s hand in both his, and squeezing it within
them, “Generous Englishman! did a man meditate treachery, such heroic
reliance would damn him or make him true!--Yes!” he added, after a
pause, “I will save Persia, or lose myself! your nobleness renders the
recovery of her I love, but a secondary object.”
In the bright suffusion that spread over Sebastian’s elevated
countenance, in the enthusiasm of his voice, Shirley read the worth he
sought to ascertain: a slighter but less pleasing glow, (for it was the
blush of shame,) tinted _his_ face; his reliance had been transiently
staggered, and the speech Sebastian had understood literally, was meant
delicately to convey a renewed exhortation.
Shirley had lived, alas! too long in courts, not to be justified in this
apprehensiveness. Struck with amiable remorse, he was going to drew a
valuable gem from his finger and proffer it to the Christian Knight, as
a type of friendship, when he was checked by perceiving no ring on his
hand which he might give him in exchange: awed by that sensitive
delicacy which had appeared in all the stranger’s actions, Shirley
relinquished the intention.
Tefza’s parting gift had enabled the King to preserve himself
independent of every pecuniary obligation; and though he accepted a
lodging from the hospitality of Sir Anthony, that gentleman’s domestics
had tasted liberally of his bounty: no one indeed served him without
being recompensed beyond the value of their services.
Never could Sebastian forget that he was a King: happily fortune had not
yet reminded him that even a monarch must shape his largesses to his
means. In the quality of a commander it was necessary for him to use the
Sophi’s treasures, but it was only for the purposes of that situation,
and for public service, that he destined to employ them; his own fund
was, or he determined it should be, sufficient for his own personal
wants.
By the new plan of the night, the two generals, instead of marching
forward together, as if the whole army meant to attack the Basha, deemed
it best to wave the use of a faint intended merely to mislead; for time
pressed, and the able conduct of their enemy required a counterpoise in
promptitude.
The troops divided on the field, and their commanders exchanged adieus:
they were on the point of separating, when Prince Abbas said in a low
voice, and with a troubled air which he tried to render gay, “There are
some bright eyes in Ispahan at this moment dim with tears for you I
conjecture.”
Sebastian smiled, shook his head, then bowing to Sir Anthony Shirley,
rode up to head his division.
It was not till after the troops had attained their place of destination
by rapid marches, and that Sebastian had reconnoitred the ground and
made the requisite dispositions, that he sent for Zaphna into his tent
at night to converse with him, and give repose to his mind by
recitations of Persian poetry.
The King was lying along a mattrass when the boy entered. As only a
single light burned in the tent, he could not distinctly observe his
lineaments, but he was charmed with the beautiful simplicity of his
figure, with which a Persian dress of delicate-coloured silk
delightfully harmonized: a turban of the same taffeta heightened the
graceful air of his head and throat, which still averted, and a little
inclined, indicated a timid and gentle temper.
“Come hither, Zaphna,” he said, in a tender accent, for the boy’s age
and figure reminded him of young Diego: “come hither! you must not look
thus apprehensive. In me you see a master who will indulge you in every
thing, except what would make your lady unhappy--cheer up--tell me how
you have travelled? if you have had all your little wants attended to?
is there any wish of yours that I can gratify.”
Zaphna, thanked him, and expressing himself perfectly content, continued
still to stand at a distance.
“Why do you not come nearer?” asked Sebastian as he kindly held out his
hand, while saying this, the bashful youth was obliged to approach and
give him his: Sebastian felt that it trembled. “Ah my little friend,” he
gaily exclaimed, “this hand was never formed to draw the warrior’s bow.”
For the first time, Zaphna hastily turned round and fixed a disturbed
look upon his master; the glance of his eyes caused the King to start
up. “I have met that glance before!” he was just going to exclaim, but
checking himself, he let the hand of his page drop, and continued gazing
on him.
A face finely-composed, whiter than ivory, unmixed with any shade,
except that formed by the arch of two jet-black brows, now remained
motionless before him: Sebastian eagerly perused it, with a mixture of
admiration, regret, and alarm. After a long silence he took his
determination, and said with a serious air.
“Perhaps you are surprized, Zaphna, that I do not question you about
your mistress, and try to discover some circumstance flattering to my
vanity, but I must teach you your master. He would willingly walk for
ever in the path of sincerity himself, and therefore he makes it a rule
to believe the same of every other person: Your fair lady told me her
name and rank, she assured me that in seeking my protection for you, she
was doing it for your sake alone, I shall therefore religiously confide
on this assurance. Let me, however, take one painful precaution, which
is this, to tell you a conversation that passed between me and the
Prince of Persia, on the night of the lady Maimuna’s visit; perhaps it
may be of consequence for her to know.”
The colours of the rose now diffused themselves even to the ivory
forehead of Zaphna: the name of Abbas evidently caused this alteration.
Faltering and confused, he repeated, “The Prince of Persia!--what then,
Sir Knight, have you no reserves from your friend? my lady thought not
so, when she confided her reputation and perhaps her life in your
honour. Ah me! unhappy wretch that I am,--my mad resolution!”--tears
gushed from his eyes as he broke off, and he concealed his face in his
drapery.
Again the opinion of Sebastian varied, and requiring the boy to calm
himself, he succinctly related the interview between him and Prince
Abbas: By this detail Zaphna learned that Abbas in reality knew nothing
that could endanger the character or safety of his protectress, and this
conviction quieted him: the honourable frankness of Sebastian
heightened his esteem for the master he served, and wiping his tears,
he said firmly, “I may not answer any question implied by this recital,
but I venture to protest Sir Knight, that my lady is incapable of giving
warrant to the Prince of Persia’s suspicions. A chaste woman believes
herself safe everywhere, and she ventured therefore to visit a young
warrior alone, in the dead of night. Think better of her than Prince
Abbas does.”--Here Zaphna’s firmness forsook him, and he broke off with
a deep sigh.
There was something in the boy’s manner which perplexed Sebastian: this
alternate appearance of timidity and of courage, this extreme
sensibility to the cause of his mistress, nay more, the visible trouble
excited in him by the name of Abbas, forced him to recur again to that
suspicion which his friend had infused: he almost believed that he
beheld in Zaphna the young Princess of Persia herself.
At this idea, did “no thought infirm alter his cheek?”--did no throb of
vanity or passion transiently disorder the movement of that heart, which
ought never to have beaten but for Kara Aziek?--not one!--all the
sensibilities of his age and nature glowed solely for her; in her was
summed up to him everything that is tender, trusting, faithful, and
delightful: he needed not the aid of principle to assist him in
remaining true to one who loved him so devotedly.--The constancy and
intensity of her love, had sealed his for eternity.
“We will dismiss this subject;” said he, after a long and serious pause,
“Suffice it that you tell your lady what we have discoursed on, lest any
mischance should happen from the Prince’s rigorous attention to Persian
customs: I would have nothing to reproach myself with. The Prince and I
are now separated by our different duties; we command in different
provinces; perhaps we may never meet again; one or both of us may fall
in battle: should it be my fate, I charge you preserve his esteem to my
memory.” This sad image excited such excessive emotion in Zaphna, that
pale, trembling, and tearful, he spoke almost without consciousness,
faltering out, “The Prince does not join you then--one of you may
fall!--your injunction shall be obeyed--but O never may”----the
incoherent sentence was lost in sighs.
Grieved to have thus pained him, Sebastian indulgently bade him retire,
Zaphna prest his hands on his bosom and disappeared.
Satisfied with having acted sincerely, although still troubled with
suspicions of Zaphna’s sex, Sebastian wrested his thoughts from this
comparatively inconsiderable subject, and fixed them solely on the
important plan of the campaign.--The morning sun awoke him to activity
and to care.
As the war-council had discovered Ibrahim’s army to be advancing
towards the capital, it was Prince Abbas’s task to meet and to give them
battle, while the Christian knight was to cut off their retreat, by
possessing himself of all the forts and passes on the line of Armenia.
This distribution evidently awarded to Abbas the most brilliant, and at
the same time the least difficult duty; but Sebastian, who considered
their two commands with a soldier’s judgment, thought himself
distinguished by the grant of the most hazardous.
During the short period of his abode at Ispahan, he had devoted himself
not to the vain attempt of altering the manœuvres of the troops
committed to him, but to a deep consideration of how he could best
employ a machine so ill-constructed: he now reaped the benefit of such
reflections; and found that in the hands of an able commander, bravery
and docility are nearly all-sufficient.
Behold him now, attacking, storming, carrying sword in hand every
stronghold of the Turks; sometimes marching under the insufferable noon
day sun, or in the darkness of a stormy night, to surprize and to
overcome the enemy! see him pass with the velocity of a sweeping wind,
from one extremity of the frontier to another, restoring wandering
outcasts to their houses, rescuing children and women from dishonour and
slavery, followed everywhere by rejoicing and benedictions!
But wherever he went, his heart sought only Aziek: these quick-gathered
laurels filled his grasp with worthless leaves, while she was
unattained. His interrogatories to the Turkish prisoners were productive
of no satisfaction; they were all ignorant whether she had or had not
reached Syria.
This uncertainty, though it had not power to detach his mind during the
day from his momentous duties, dominated over him at that season when
others tasted the refreshing sweets of repose: on his pillow he thought
but of her. Zaphna alone shared his confidence, for Zaphna had now
banished some of his timidity, and by the kindest attentions won on his
master’s heart.
Sebastian had long ceased to fancy that the Princess of Persia shared
his fatigues disguised: how could the mere sight of any man have excited
such a mad passion as that which should lead a Persian Princess into the
situation of Zaphna? and would not her disappearance have spread dismay
through the kingdom long ere this? doubtless Maimuna was really what she
appeared, she had spoken truth, and the boy’s resemblance to her was the
natural consequence of relationship.
While Sebastian discoursed of his love, and lightly touched on the
sufferings which had given birth to, and nursed it, his youthful
confident shed tears, and seemed to feel but too faithful a sympathy
with his feelings: was it possible for one so young to have felt the
master passion? it might be so: perhaps his longing after war, was only
the desire of banishing from his mind some cherished image: this fancy
increased Sebastian’s partiality, and half their nights were spent
together in melancholy discourse.
At this period the news of Prince Abbas’s defeat fell like a thunderbolt
on the victorious camp of Sebastian: a courier brought the intelligence
in the middle of the night; he was charged with this billet from the
Prince himself.
“I have lost a battle--the enemy will be at the gates of Ispahan perhaps
ere you receive this.--Come brave stranger and retrieve my errors.”
Tears of admiration and regret started in the eyes of Sebastian while he
ran over this noble submission of a great soul: doubly roused to save
Persia, he threw the silk on which the letter was written to Zaphna,
while he hastily mentioned its purport, and bade him prepare for
immediate departure.
The dreadful danger which menaced the capital, in which probably was
involved the safety of the person he loved, took so powerful an effect
upon the delicate boy, that unable to speak, he motioned for his master
not to follow him, and tottering to the door of their tent, hastened to
get air.
After some minutes’ absence, he returned with his eyes swollen, but his
manner less agitated: “I have dear friends in Ispahan, you know Sir, he
said timidly, I tremble for them--O let us hasten thither.”
“You cannot support the fatigue of advancing as I shall do, replied his
master, I must be at Ispahan ere sun set to-morrow, compose
yourself--you shall follow me as safely and as swiftly as possible. My
poor boy! I would not have you the prize of Ibrahim.”
The King stopped not for a more particular farewel, he did not even wait
for Zaphna’s answer, but hurried out to rouse his soldiers, to issue
orders, to draw supplies from the different garrisons, and to march for
Ispahan.