Abbas: from them he learned that Abbas had thrown himself into the
capital with a handful of men, and that doubtless ere this he must have
surrendered to the Basha.
At a short distance from the capital Sebastian ordered his troops to
halt, in a situation which concealed them from the view of the town; he
then dispatched scouts to gain information: their return confirmed his
fears; Ispahan was taken; the city was filled with Turks and Syrians,
and a division of their army lay encamped on the plain to the eastward.
A moment decided him, he divided his force into two unequal parts; with
the smaller he hoped to deceive the enemy into giving him battle, while
with the other, and at the same time, he attacked the town itself.
Every thing would depend on the courage and steadiness of his
comparatively small band.
Having detailed his plan to the officers, and when stamped by their
concurrence, explained it to his men, he made them a short exhortation:
with the strong motive of fighting for their houses, their liberties,
rights, and dearest connexions; he mingled so warm an eulogium upon the
Prince, and painted the anguish of his brave heart in such lively
colours, that all the soldiers, as if animated by one soul, exclaimed,
“they would efface his misfortune or die!”
“On then, my gallant friends!” exclaimed the transported Sebastian,
waving his bright sword and pointing to Ispahan. “On then, for God and
your Prince!”
May we doubt that such honourable enthusiasm prevailed? no; credulous of
the stratagem employed, Ibrahim sent orders to his encamped army to give
the Persians battle. It was late in the evening when the two parties
encountered; the Persian general had instructions to fight
Parthian-like, retreating at every stroke, thus drawing his adversary by
quick degrees from Ispahan. Meanwhile Sebastian waited impatiently under
cover of the mountain behind the city, for the hour of darkness: every
one in the town went to repose, except only a few Turkish sentinels;
everything was still; the clashing of the contending troops came no
longer from the distant echoes. A shadowy moon favoured stratagem: by
its uncertain light some thickets of myrtles (then covered with white
blossoms) among which his men were planted, appeared like so many more
divisions of phalanxed soldiers.
Again he divided his force, and attacked at the same instant two
quarters of the city: the walls were scaled, the gates forced, the
streets crowded with exulting Persians; the noise of tumult, of hope, of
fury, of victory! resounded through all the squares: Sebastian was
everywhere; like some warring angel sent to succour a cause favoured by
Heaven, he was seen in every quarter of Ispahan.
The Turks, half asleep, and scarcely-roused from the stupefaction of
opium, ran about in aimless confusion: from one of these, whom he had
taken prisoner, Sebastian learned the destiny of the Prince; at that
moment the Basha’s person might have been secured, but it was possible
that while securing him Abbas might be sacrificed. Sebastian hesitated
scarce a moment, selfish wishes were subdued, he flew to his friend, and
had the delight of restoring him to liberty: they hastily embraced.
“Go Prince,” exclaimed Sebastian, interrupting his thanks, “shew
yourself to the people--the sight of you will repay them for all their
fatigues,” so saying, they separated.
Abbas flew to head a party of Persians that were yet disputing the gate
of the palace, Sebastian hastened out of the city to recall the
pursuing part of the army, lest success might carry them too far.
Ibrahim with a remnant of followers had succeeded in gaining that
division of his force which followed the retreating part of Sebastian’s;
his troops now outnumbered those they pursued, but ignorant of the
strength in Ispahan, he made no other use of this advantage than that of
effecting his retreat to a pass where he encamped himself strongly.
To attempt forcing his camp would have been to risk the superiority
already gained; the Persians were exhausted by a rapid march and
incessant fighting; Sebastian therefore called them back, and re-entered
the town, where they were rejoined before day-break by the other
division, which having left Ibrahim entrenching himself amongst the
mountains, had wheeled round through a defile, and trod back their
steps.
The knight of the cross had now fulfilled his vow to Sir Anthony
Shirley, he had saved Persia: nay more, while there remained a chance of
victory inclining to the adversary, he had done violence to his heart’s
wish of seeking for Kara Aziek.
The contest over, he ran to the palace, the late quarter of the Basha:
almost assured of finding her he sought, he hastily interrogated the
guards to learn if the Turkish women had been respected; he was answered
that there were no foreign women in the city; none had accompanied the
Basha’s army.
Struck and afflicted, Sebastian was some moments ere he could reply, or
interrogate anew, different soldiers and Syrian prisoners: one of the
latter assured him that there were women in the Basha’s camp near
Bagdad, and that he knew a Moorish lady had arrived there. At this
intelligence the hopes of Sebastian revived; “I will speak with that man
again;” he said to the Persian who had interpreted between them, “see
that you bring him to me when I require him,” the appearance of Prince
Abbas interrupted his speech.
In expressive silence the Prince took and squeezed his hand, and held it
to his heart; his silence was even more eloquent than his countenance:
that semblance of coldness which was natural to him, or rather, was the
effect of a violent repression of violent sensibility, gave way before
the magnitude of his obligations to Sebastian.
“You have indeed retrieved my error!” he said at last, “you have saved
my father and the kingdom; you have preserved me from dying of grief and
shame! what is the recompence we are to give you?--the only valuable
recompence in our power you have already wrested from us by a noble
force--you have won our eternal gratitude and admiration.--Is there any
thing else in Persia we may offer?--command it.”--
“One thing more;” replied Sebastian, sweetly smiling, “I would have the
Persians respect Christians for my sake:--should such ever fall into
their hands or settle amongst them, I pray you bid them remember that it
was a Christian Knight who loved their Prince, and combatted in their
defence.”
“And is that all?” exclaimed Abbas, pleasure sparkling in his fine
countenance--“have those bright eyes I warned you against, taught your
heart no tenderer desire?--were you to claim the rarest beauty in
Ispahan, nay even my sister Zelide, it is not the friend whose life,
liberty, and honour you have saved, that dare deny the boon.”
“Be under no apprehension Prince,” replied Sebastian, “the image of one,
amiable as lovely, has long sealed both my heart and eyes against other
impressions: no Persian lady can efface it.”
The smile with which Sebastian concluded, was reflected by one from the
young Persian, he then led the way to the state apartments, where the
Sophi and Sir Anthony Shirley waited to greet their deliverer.
A glow of modest pleasure sat on the face of Sebastian as he bent to the
repeated thanks and eulogiums of Shirley: enfeebled by age and emotion,
the Sophi wept like a child, while he embraced his son; after which he
unclasped from his throat a massy collar of diamonds, and essayed to
fasten it round that of Sebastian: but his shaking hands refused to obey
his will, and Abbas hastened to supply his place.
There was something so sacred in the feelings of an old man and a
father, that the King of Portugal would not pain them by refusing this
magnificent offering; he suffered Abbas to clasp the collar, then full
of her who alone agitated his secret thoughts, proposed to the Sophi,
that after the repose of a night, the troops should make a vigorous
assault upon the camp of the Basha, and terminate the war at once, by
crushing the whole Turkish force in Persia.
Timid from misfortune, the Sophi adopted this counsel only in part: he
insisted on the necessity of his soldiers having a longer period to
recruit their strength, lest the Basha, re-inforced by a body of
reserve, which it was believed he had stationed behind him in the
country of Armenia, should prove eventually too strong for their
diminished numbers.
To the plausibility of this argument Sebastian opposed every reason
which could be judiciously urged in support of the adverse opinion; the
Sophi was absolute; and Prince Abbas, brave as a lion, but without a
genius for war, inclined to his father’s judgment, Sebastian bowed
gravely, and resigned himself to the decision.
Abbas now eyed his friend with the unsteady and disturbed look of a man
who fears the effect of what he is going to say; his cheeks by turns
crimsoned and grew pale: at length coming close to Sebastian, he said
in a low embarrassed voice, “imagine yourself in my place, what would be
your desire at this moment?”
Sebastian turned round and looked at him earnestly; “I comprehend you
Prince!” he said, turning pale also, “you would have me resign my
command;--you would strike this last and most important blow
yourself.--I cannot blame such laudable ambition--I honour it--but I
fear--that is--the soldiers used to my method of”--he stopt in extreme
confusion, and pained to bitterness; no selfish avarice of distinction
or power, mixed with the dread of a second misfortune to Abbas; he saw
the limits of his friend’s military capacity, and he trembled at once
for Kara Aziek and for Persia.
His resolution however was taken; he determined to speak frankly to
Abbas on his evident inexperience, and then represent to him the fatal
consequences which must ensue, should the Persians be routed. “Retire
with me into this anti-chamber,” he said softly; the Prince followed him
in silent dissatisfaction.
There, an explanation ensued, and though Sebastian failed of dissuading
Abbas from his rash resolution, he had the consolation of observing that
this obstinacy grew out of nobleness; no envy discovered itself; nothing
but the laudable, though ill-judged longing for an opportunity of
regaining what he thought he had forfeited, a title to the throne and
people which he had shewn himself unable to protect.
Fearful of appearing to prize command for its own sake, Sebastian had
nothing left but to request permission to serve as a volunteer under his
friend, this request was granted; the compact was ratified by the Sophi,
and again vainly combated by Sir Anthony Shirley, after which the
warrior friends issued from the palace, that they might inspect the
arsenals, concert measures together, and provide as far as possible
against future disaster.
These employments detained Sebastian till after day break, when he
sought his Kiosk in the garden of the ambassador: he now met his page
for the first time since their late parting; the boy had but just
arrived, and learnt the news of the royal family’s safety, and the
consequent security of Ispahan.
On seeing their deliverer, he fell at his feet, and bathing his hand
with tears, as he timidly kissed it, repeated in a broken voice, “This,
this for my country.”--Touched by his sensibility, Sebastian raised him,
and anticipating his questions, briefly detailed the incidents of the
night. “You have doubtless enquired after the lady Maimuna?” he asked:
Zaphna answered, that she had escaped outrage.
“Will you return to her?” said the King, “or, must I allow you to see
the end of this campaign? is it your wish to join me in my expedition
with the Prince?”
A thousand changing colours painted the face of Zaphna at the last
expression--he looked down, but answered firmly “It is.”--
Again Sebastian endeavoured to dissuade him, and again the youth
resisted. Wearied in body and spirit, the King required repose, and
charging his page to bring him in the morning the Turkish prisoner, whom
he sought to interrogate, he dismissed him, and laid down to sleep.
At the hour of rising, Zaphna re-appeared with the Turk; Sebastian then
learnt that the Moorish lady had been seen only once by the Basha, that
he had expressed himself anxious to preserve her from the enemy, and had
inclosed her, with her women, in a strong fortress among the mountains
of Taurus: if she remained there still, this fellow, having once kept
guard at her door, undertook to lead Sebastian thither, and to obtain
his entrance.
At this proposal, the imprudent lover lost every idea of personal
danger: too certain that the evil genius of Abbas would give victory to
his enemy, and that consequently the loss of Kara Aziek would follow the
loss of Persia, he believed there was no longer time to hesitate; he
must endeavour to save her, since no longer permitted to save the
country. Again, therefore, he must use the aid of artifice: O hateful
necessity! to which so many upright souls are forcibly made to bend!--
After a few moments of deep thought, he accepted the offer of Jusuf (the
Turkish soldier,) it was settled that they should go privately out of
the city together at night, where two trusty Italian servants whom Sir
Anthony Shirley had transferred to his service, were to be in waiting,
with horses and arms: these men were to accompany them to the fortress,
and concealing themselves amongst the hills, wait at a certain point of
rendezvous for the return of Sebastian with his prize.
To gain admittance into the tower, it would be only needful to state
that Sebastian was a messenger from the foreign knight, who disgusted
with some affront given him by Prince Abbas, was willing to revenge
himself, by betraying the Sophi and the city he was left to guard: that
to avoid the suspicion which would ensue, did he go to the Basha’s camp,
towards which Abbas was marching, he had chosen this plan of sending an
emissary to the Basha’s wife, requiring her promise in Ibrahim’s name of
acquiescence with the demands of the foreigner.
In state matters alone, the Turks sometimes relaxed their strict rules
with respect to women; it was more than probable therefore, that in this
instance, tempted by the signal advantage held out, of ending the war by
a decisive blow, they would fall into the snare: once admitted, Jusuf
undertook from his knowledge of the place, and by a path down the height
on which the fortress was situated, to secure the flight of the lovers.
A door opened from the women’s apartments upon this very path, which
being a fissure overhung by extremely thick shrubs, and terminating in a
wood, might be depended on for concealing their course; could they once
gain the horses, their retreat would be certain.
Sebastian did not hesitate to embrace this plausible plan: the
countenance of Jusuf bore the stamp of integrity; and compassion for the
Moorish lady, (whose unceasing sighs he had often heard during the whole
night of his watch at her door,) appeared to have infused into him an
unfeigned zeal for her service. Trusting to his sincerity, Sebastian
gave him some gold, and promising him a richer reward hereafter, left
him in the Kiosk.
The enthusiasm inspired by Sebastian’s late intrepid and able conduct,
and still more by the sweet graciousness of his manner, did not allow
the two Italians to debate a moment about risking themselves for his
sake, and for that of the ladies he wished to succour: they promised to
meet him in a grove of plane trees, behind the city, at the hour of
twilight.
It was not Sebastian’s intention to encumber himself with his page, and
to avoid the boy’s importunity he resolved not to speak to him of the
enterprize until they were beyond the city walls; there he should
disclose his intention, and leave him in charge to reveal the motive of
his apparent flight to Sir Anthony Shirley, should fate destine him to
perish or be detained in the fortress.
Desperate indeed was the throw he was about to hazard: every thing
rested on the faith of one man who might betray and ruin him; but if,
withheld by caution, he should let this perilous opportunity escape,
Kara Aziek might be lost to him for ever; once possessed by the Basha,
death only would offer her refuge.--This thought determined him.
Having arranged his own dearest concern, he hastened to visit such parts
of the city as required particular attention to their defence: he
examined, instructed, superintended, directed a thousand details in the
fortification; he repeated the most important orders again and again,
that Ispahan might not feel his absence should he not return ere the
departure of Prince Abbas: he then returned to his Kiosk, warned by the
sun, whose softening light was already sinking behind clouds.
CHAP. IV.
Sebastian had scarce entered, when Prince Abbas appeared; he came to
inform him that, having received intelligence by a deserter from the
enemy, of a new movement of the Basha, which it was important for him to
frustrate, he should revert to his friend’s advice, and march at
nightfall.
At this intelligence, Sebastian’s complexion suddenly altered: “why does
your colour change?” asked Abbas, with surprize.
“The information troubles me,” replied his friend, “for I do not feel
qualified to march so soon--I am not myself yet--indisposed--disturbed I
know not how in my mind.”
“You do not forgive me, I fear,” returned Abbas, “for selfishly checking
you in the career of glory;--knight, you wrong me, if you do not honour
my motive; if you do not believe that I lament the necessity which
forces me to attempt that, which your abler arm need only extend itself
to seize.--Let me but redeem my fame, or lose a worthless, slighted
life, a life that has now no charms,--since”--the Prince broke off
abruptly, smothered a succession of sorrowful sighs, and turning aside
his face, moved some steps away.
Sebastian guessed ill at his emotion, when concluding it to arise solely
from a warrior’s disappointment, he warmly replied, “What fantastic
stain does my Prince attach to himself? valour, judgment, numbers, what
are they in war, but uncertain and deceiving things? victory after all
is in the hand of Heaven; and when a commander has faithfully employed
every faculty of his soul for the success of his army, he may stand
acquitted not only to his conscience, but to his countrymen.--Go,
however, brave Abbas, I envy not the laurels you are about to gather:
your feelings _are_ respected by one who has felt the pang of deserved
self-reproach. It was my sad destiny to lose a memorable battle, to
cause the deaths of thousands by a mixture of credulity and obstinacy.
Yes!” Sebastian added, fixing his eyes upon the symbol of the cross he
wore on his shield, “for the blood that flowed in torrents on that fatal
day, I have no hope of pardon but from the sacred blood that was shed
here.”
A ray of consolation shone on the face of Abbas at this avowal of the
invincible stranger; “You must detail this disastrous story when we meet
again,” he said, “now I must hasten away--believing that you were to
accompany me, I have confided the care of Ispahan to Peri Nadir.--I see
by your looks that a night’s repose is absolutely needful to you--join
me when you are refreshed.”
Sebastian smiled assent: he looked at his friend, irresolute whether he
should not confide to him the project for the night; but an instant’s
reflection decided him to remain silent. Abbas might not see the
necessity for such haste, and if so, Sebastian could not urge his
weightiest reason, which was founded on an apprehension of the Prince’s
failure; believing it imprudent to risk opposition, he exchanged a
cordial embrace with him, and they parted.
As Abbas passed the portico of the Kiosk, he encountered Sebastian’s
page: the boy slowly ascending the entrance steps, with his head bent
down, saw not the Prince, who struck by his air and figure suddenly
stopped: finding his way obstructed, Zaphna raised his eyes;--those
eyes--that ivory throat--that complexion untinted by the faintest red,
threw Abbas’s senses into tumults,--did he, or did he not see before
him the woman for whom his soul languished?
The eagerness and astonishment of his countenance as he hastily bent
forward and attempted to catch the arm of Zaphna, alarmed the object of
his scrutiny; Zaphna’s heart died within him, he was on the point of
sinking to the earth with grief and shame, when desperately rousing
himself, he sprung past the Prince and gained the hall of the Kiosk.
Abbas’s first impulse was to follow; but recalling his scattered senses,
and resolving not to accuse Sebastian till convinced beyond all
sophistry to disprove, he tore himself from the scene, and ran with a
madman’s haste to the abode of Maimuna.
He questioned her slaves and her women--he insisted upon being admitted
to her presence--of conversing with her, at least a moment, from her
window; he was told that Maimuna was sick and she could see no one. At
this information Abbas’s jealous suspicion increased to madness; he
commanded her favorite maid to be left alone with him, and giving the
reins to his natural violence of character, enjoined her to say on her
life whether her mistress were not with the foreign knight, disguised as
a boy.
His high authority, his imperious tone, and above all, the fear of his
vengeance, terrified the poor servant, she fell at his feet, confessing
the truth of his supposition; but of her mistress’s motives for such
imprudent conduct she was totally ignorant.
At this confirmation of his worst apprehension, fully as he had expected
to receive it, Abbas lost all consciousness, and for a moment his limbs
failed under him: it was but a moment of weakness; the anguish of a
virtuous passion blighted in its fondest hope, yielded to the phrenzy of
resentment: again the burning blood rushed to his cheek, again lightning
darted from his eyes, and thunder spoke in his voice.
“Stir not hence on your peril!” he exclaimed, “I go to unmask that
hypocrite who has betrayed Maimuna; guilty as she is, I will save her if
possible.”
He broke away as he concluded, and taking the road to the Kiosk, was
arrested by a woman meanly attired, who bending the knee to him,
intreated him to listen to her for an instant--“I cannot stay,
woman!--another time--carry your petition to the Sophi,--another time!”
The petitioner laid hold of his robe--“For the love of Ispahan, hear me
great Prince!--I have something strange to tell--treason and that
foreign knight.”
At these words Abbas was spell-bound--“What of that pernicious wretch!”
he exclaimed incautiously. The tone in which he spoke encouraged the
woman, and beckoning to a grove of trees that surrounded a fountain, he
followed her there impatiently.
The short detail he then listened to set the seal to Sebastian’s fate.
This woman, the wife of one of Sir Anthony Shirley’s Italians, had been
weakly entrusted by her husband with their projected enterprize:
terrified for her husband’s safety, which so hazardous a plan
endangered, she took the resolution of disclosing all to Prince Abbas.
Half-detailed by the Italian, therefore imperfectly re-delivered by her,
the story presented only a confused account of Sebastian’s intention to
fly that night to a fortress of the Basha’s, and that love for some lady
had occasioned him to take the step: occupied solely with the image of
Mainuma, Abbas filled up the dark sketch as his distracted imagination
prompted; he interrogated the woman afresh, and she with a weakness
common to informers who are not complete in their information, answered
as she saw most consonant with the train of his suspicions.
The Prince believed himself now in possession of a clue to his friend’s
sudden wish of absenting himself from the army; love and mortified
ambition had then sapped his virtues or displayed their hollowness; he
considered him with horror and with hatred: disgrace, public shame, and
an ignominious death, were the images which quickly rose to appease his
furious passions.