_Tancred Returns to Jerusalem_
TANCRED had profited by his surprise by the children of Rechab in the
passes of the Stony Arabia, and had employed the same tactics against
the Turkish force. By a simulated defence on the borders, and by the
careful dissemination of false intelligence, he had allowed the Pasha
and his troops to penetrate the mountains, and principally by a pass
which the Turks were assured by their spies that the Ansarey had
altogether neglected. The success of these manoeuvres had been as
complete as the discomfiture and rout of the Turks. Tancred, at the head
of the cavalry, had pursued them into the plain, though he had halted,
for an instant, before he quitted the mountains, to send a courier to
Astarte from himself with the assurance of victory, and the horsetails
of the Pasha for a trophy.
It so happened, however, that, while Tancred, with very few attendants,
was scouring the plain, and driving before him a panic-struck multitude,
who, if they could only have paused and rallied, might in a moment have
overwhelmed him, a strong body of Turkish cavalry, who had entered
the mountains by a different pass from that in which the principal
engagement had taken place, but who, learning the surprise and defeat of
the main body, had thought it wise to retreat in order and watch events,
debouched at this moment from the high country into the plain and in the
rear of Tancred. Had they been immediately recognised by the fugitives,
it would have been impossible for Tancred to escape; but the only
impression of the routed Turks was, that a reinforcement had joined
their foe, and their disorder was even increased by the appearance in
the distance of their own friends. This misapprehension must, however,
in time, have been at least partially removed; but Baroni, whose quick
glance had instantly detected the perilous incident, warned Tancred
immediately.
‘We are surrounded, my lord; there is only one course to pursue. To
regain the mountains is impossible; if we advance, we enter only a
hostile country, and must be soon overpowered. We must make for the
Eastern desert.’
Tancred halted and surveyed the scene: he had with him not twenty men.
The Turkish cavalry, several hundreds strong, had discovered their
quarry, and were evidently resolved to cut off their retreat.
‘Very well,’ said Tancred, ‘we are well mounted, we must try the mettle
of our steeds. Farewell, Gindaricâ! Farewell, gods of Olympus! To the
desert, which I ought never to have quitted!’ and, so speaking, he and
his band dashed towards the East.
Their start was, so considerable that they baffled their pursuers, who,
however, did not easily relinquish their intended prey. Some shots in
the distance, towards nightfall, announced that the enemy had given up
the chase. After three hours of the moon, Tancred and his companions
rested at a well not far from a village, where they obtained some
supplies. An hour before dawn, they again pursued their way over a rich
flat country, uninclosed, yet partially cultivated, with, every now and
then, a village nestling in a jungle of Indian fig.
It was the commencement of December, and the country was very parched;
but the short though violent season of rain was at hand: this renovates
in the course of a week the whole face of Nature, and pours into little
more than that brief space the supplies which in other regions are
distributed throughout the year. On the third day, before sunset, the
country having gradually become desolate and deserted, consisting
of vast plains covered with herds, with occasionally some wandering
Turkmans or Kurds, Tancred and his companions came within sight of a
broad and palmy river, a branch of the Euphrates.
The country round, far as the eye could range, was a kind of downs
covered with a scanty herbage, now brown with heat and age. When Tancred
had gained an undulating height, and was capable of taking a more
extensive survey of the land, it presented, especially towards the
south, the same features through an illimitable space.
‘The Syrian desert!’ said Baroni; ‘a fortnight later, and we shall see
this land covered with flowers and fragrant with aromatic herbs.’
‘My heart responds to it,’ said Tancred. ‘What is Damascus, with all its
sumptuousness, to this sweet liberty?’
Quitting the banks of the river, they directed their course to the
south, and struck as it were into the heart of the desert; yet, on the
morrow, the winding waters again met them. And now there opened on their
sight a wondrous scene: as far as the eye could reach innumerable tents;
strings of many hundred camels going to, or returning from, the waters;
groups of horses picketed about; processions of women with vases on
their heads visiting the palmy banks; swarms of children and dogs;
spreading flocks; and occasionally an armed horseman bounding about the
environs of the vast encampment.
Although scarcely a man was visible when Tancred first caught a glimpse
of this Arabian settlement, a band of horsemen suddenly sprang from
behind a rising ground and came galloping up to them to reconnoitre and
to inquire.
‘We are brothers,’ said Baroni, ‘for who should be the master of so many
camels but the lord of the Syrian pastures?’
‘There is but one God,’ said the Bedouin, ‘and none are lords of the
Syrian pastures but the children of Rechab.’
‘Truly, there is only one God,’ said Baroni; ‘go tell the great Sheikh
that his friend the English prince has come here to give him a salaam of
peace.’
Away bounded back the Bedouins, and were soon lost in the crowded
distance.
‘All is right,’ said Baroni; ‘we shall sup to-night under the pavilion
of Amalek.’
‘I visit him then, at length, in his beautiful pastures,’ said Tancred;
‘but, alas! I visit him alone.’
They had pulled up their horses, and were proceeding leisurely towards
the encampment, when they observed a cavalcade emerging from the outer
boundary of the settlement. This was Amalek himself, on one of his
steeds of race, accompanied by several of his leading Sheikhs, coming
to welcome Tancred to his pavilion in the Syrian pastures. A joyful
satisfaction sparkled in the bright eyes of the old chieftain, as, at
a little distance, he waved his hand with graceful dignity, and then
pressed it to his heart.
‘A thousand salaams,’ he exclaimed, when he had reached Tancred; ‘there
is but one God. I press you to my heart of hearts. There are also other
friends, but they are not here.’
‘Salaam, great Sheikh! I feel indeed we are brothers. There are friends
of whom we must speak, and indeed of many things.’
Thus conversing and riding side by side, Amalek and Tancred entered
the camp. Nearly five thousand persons were collected together in this
wilderness, and two thousand warriors were prepared at a moment’s notice
to raise their lances in the air. There were nearly as many horses,
and ten times as many camels. This wilderness was the principal and
favourite resting-place of the great Sheikh of the children of Rechab,
and the abundant waters and comparatively rich pasturage permitted him
to gather around him a great portion of his tribe.
The lamps soon gleamed, and the fires soon blazed; sheep were killed,
bread baked, coffee pounded, and the pipe of honour was placed in the
hands of Tancred. For an Arabian revel, the banquet was long and rather
elaborate. By degrees, however, the guests stole away; the women ceased
to peep through the curtains; and the children left off asking Baroni
to give them backsheesh. At length, Amalek and Tancred being left alone,
the great Sheikh, who had hitherto evinced no curiosity as to the cause
of the presence of his guest, said, ‘There is a time for all things, for
eating and for drinking, also for prayers. There is, also, a season to
ask questions. Why is the brother of the Queen of the English in the
Syrian desert?’
‘There is much to tell, and much to inquire,’ said Tancred; ‘but before
I speak of myself, let me know whether you can get me tidings of Eva,
the daughter of Besso.’
‘Is she not living in rooms with many divans?’ said Amalek.
‘Alas!’ said Tancred, ‘she was a prisoner, and is now a fugitive.’
‘What children of Gin have done this deed? Are there strange camels
drinking at my wells? Is it some accursed Kurd that has stolen her
sheep; or some Turkman, blacker than night, that has hankered after her
bracelets?’
‘Nothing of all this, yet more than all this. All shall be told to you,
great Sheikh, yet before I speak, tell me again, can you get me tidings
of Eva, the daughter of Besso?’
‘Can I fire an arrow that will hit its mark?’ said Amalek; ‘tell me the
city of Syria where Eva the daughter of Besso may be found, and I will
send her a messenger that would reach her even in the bath, were she
there.’
Tancred then gave the great Sheikh a rapid sketch of what had occurred
to Eva, and expressed his fear that she might have been intercepted
by the Turkish troops. Amalek decided that she must be at Aleppo, and,
instantly summoning one of his principal men, he gave instructions for
the departure of a trusty scout in that direction.
‘Ere the tenth day shall have elapsed,’ said the great Sheikh, ‘we
shall have sure tidings. And now let me know, prince of England, by
what strange cause you could have found yourself in the regions of those
children of hell, the Ansarey, who, it is well known, worship Eblis in
every obscene form.’
‘It is a long tale,’ said Tancred, ‘but I suppose it must be told; but
now that you have relieved my mind by sending to Aleppo, I can hardly
forget that I have ridden for more than three days, and with little
pause. I am not, alas! a true Arab, though I love Arabia and Arabian
thoughts; and, indeed, my dear friend, had we not met again, it is
impossible to say what might have been my lot, for I now feel that I
could not have much longer undergone the sleepless toil I have of late
encountered. If Eva be safe, I am content, or would wish to feel so;
but what is content, and what is life, and what is man? Indeed, great
Sheikh, the longer I live and the more I think----’ and here the
chibouque dropped gently from Tancred’s mouth, and he himself sunk upon
the carpet.