‘Curse them devoutly,
Hammer them stoutly.’”
The king smiled slightly at the ardour of the favourite of his army, but looked round for more deliberate counsel. “Sire,” said Villena, “far be it from us to inquire the grounds upon which your majesty builds your hope of dissension among the foe; but, placing the most sanguine confidence in a wisdom never to be deceived, it is clear that we should relax no energy within our means, but fight while we plot, and seek to conquer, while we do not neglect to undermine.”
“You speak well, my Lord,” said Ferdinand, thoughtfully; “and you yourself shall head a strong detachment to-morrow, to lay waste the Vega. Seek me two hours hence; the council for the present is dissolved.”
The knights rose, and withdrew with the usual grave and stately ceremonies of respect, which Ferdinand observed to, and exacted from, his court: the young prince remained.
“Son,” said Ferdinand, when they were alone, “early and betimes should the Infants of Spain be lessoned in the science of kingcraft. These nobles are among the brightest jewels of the crown; but still it is in the crown, and for the crown, that their light should sparkle. Thou seest how hot, and fierce, and warlike, are the chiefs of Spain—excellent virtues when manifested against our foes: but had we no foes, Juan, such virtues might cause us exceeding trouble. By St. Jago, I have founded a mighty monarchy! observe how it should be maintained—by science, Juan, by science! and science is as far removed from brute force as this sword from a crowbar. Thou seemest bewildered and amazed, my son: thou hast heard that I seek to conquer Granada by dissensions among the Moors; when Granada is conquered, remember that the nobles themselves are at Granada. Ave Maria! blessed be the Holy Mother, under whose eyes are the hearts of kings!” Ferdinand crossed himself devoutly; and then, rising, drew aside a part of the drapery of the pavilion, and called; in a low voice, the name of Perez. A grave Spaniard, somewhat past the verge of middle age, appeared.
“Perez,” said the king, reseating himself, “has the person we expected from Granada yet arrived?”
“Sire, yes; accompanied by a maiden.”
“He hath kept his word; admit them. Ha! holy father, thy visits are always as balsam to the heart.”
“Save you, my son!” returned a man in the robes of a Dominican friar, who had entered suddenly and without ceremony by another part of the tent, and who now seated himself with smileless composure at a little distance from the king.
There was a dead silence for some moments; and Perez still lingered within the tent, as if in doubt whether the entrance of the friar would not prevent or delay obedience to the king’s command. On the calm face of Ferdinand himself appeared a slight shade of discomposure and irresolution, when the monk thus resumed:
“My presence, my son, will not, I trust, disturb your conference with the infidel—since you deem that worldly policy demands your parley with the men of Belial.”
“Doubtless not—doubtless not,” returned the king, quickly: then, muttering to himself, “how wondrously doth this holy man penetrate into all our movements and designs!” he added, aloud, “Let the messenger enter.”
Perez bowed, and withdrew.
During this time, the young prince reclined in listless silence on his seat; and on his delicate features was an expression of weariness which augured but ill of his fitness for the stern business to which the lessons of his wise father were intended to educate his mind. His, indeed, was the age, and his the soul, for pleasure; the tumult of the camp was to him but a holiday exhibition—the march of an army, the exhilaration of a spectacle; the court as a banquet—the throne, the best seat at the entertainment. The life of the heir-apparent, to the life of the king possessive, is as the distinction between enchanting hope and tiresome satiety.
The small grey eyes of the friar wandered over each of his royal companions with a keen and penetrating glance, and then settled in the aspect of humility on the rich carpets that bespread the floor; nor did he again lift them till Perez, reappearing, admitted to the tent the Israelite, Almamen, accompanied by a female figure, whose long veil, extending from head to foot, could conceal neither the beautiful proportions nor the trembling agitation, of her frame.
“When last, great king, I was admitted to thy presence,” said Almamen, “thou didst make question of the sincerity and faith of thy servant; thou didst ask me for a surety of my faith; thou didst demand a hostage; and didst refuse further parley without such pledge were yielded to thee. Lo! I place under thy kingly care this maiden—the sole child of my house—as surety of my truth; I intrust to thee a life dearer than my own.”
“You have kept faith with us, stranger,” said the king, in that soft and musical voice which well disguised his deep craft and his unrelenting will; “and the maiden whom you intrust to our charge shall be ranked with the ladies of our royal consort.”
“Sire,” replied Almamen, with touching earnestness, “you now hold the power of life and death over all for whom this heart can breathe a prayer or cherish a hope, save for my countrymen and my religion. This solemn pledge between thee and me I render up without scruple, without fear. To thee I give a hostage, from thee I have but a promise.”
“But it is the promise of a king, a Christian, and a knight,” said the king, with dignity rather mild than arrogant; “among monarchs, what hostage can be more sacred? Let this pass: how proceed affairs in the rebel city?”
“May this maiden withdraw, ere I answer my lord the king?” said Almamen.
The young prince started to his feet. “Shall I conduct this new charge to my mother?” he asked, in a low voice, addressing Ferdinand.
The king half smiled: “The holy father were a better guide,” he returned, in the same tone. But, though the Dominican heard the hint, he retained his motionless posture; and Ferdinand, after a momentary gaze on the friar, turned away. “Be it so, Juan,” said he, with a look meant to convey caution to the prince; “Perez shall accompany you to the queen: return the moment your mission is fulfilled—we want your presence.”
While this conversation was carried on between the father and son, the Hebrew was whispering, in his sacred tongue, words of comfort and remonstrance to the maiden; but they appeared to have but little of the desired effect; and, suddenly falling on his breast, she wound her arms around the Hebrew, whose breast shook with strong emotions, and exclaimed passionately, in the same language, “Oh, my father! what have I done?—why send me from thee?—why intrust thy child to the stranger? Spare me, spare me!”
“Child of my heart!” returned the Hebrew, with solemn but tender accents, “even as Abraham offered up his son, must I offer thee, upon the altars of our faith; but, O Leila! even as the angel of the Lord forbade the offering, so shall thy youth be spared, and thy years reserved for the glory of generations yet unborn. King of Spain!” he continued in the Spanish tongue, suddenly and eagerly, “you are a father, forgive my weakness, and speed this parting.”
Juan approached; and with respectful courtesy attempted to take the hand of the maiden.
“You?” said the Israelite, with a dark frown. “O king! the prince is young.”
“Honour knoweth no distinction of age,” answered the king. “What ho, Perez! accompany this maiden and the prince to the queen’s pavilion.”
The sight of the sober years and grave countenance of the attendant seemed to re-assure the Hebrew. He strained Leila in his arms; printed a kiss upon her forehead without removing her veil; and then, placing her almost in the arms of Perez, turned away to the further end of the tent, and concealed his face with his hands. The king appeared touched; but the Dominican gazed upon the whole scene with a sour scowl.
Leila still paused for a moment; and then, as if recovering her self-possession, said, aloud and distinctly,—“Man deserts me; but I will not forget that God is over all.” Shaking off the hand of the Spaniard, she continued,