Tancred by Benjamin Disraeli (year 2 reading books .TXT) 📕

to Baroni, 'They are strangers; why are they here?'

'Aleikoum! We know where you come from,' was the reply of one of the horsemen. 'Is that the brother of the Queen of the English? Let him ride with us, and you may go on in peace.'

'He is my brother,' said Sheikh Hassan, 'and the brother of all here. There is no feud between us. Who are you?'

'We are children of Jethro, and the great Sheikh has sent us a long way to give you salaam. Your desert here is not fit for the camel that your Prophet cursed. Come, let us finish our business, for we wish to see a place where there are palm trees.'

'Are these children of Eblis?' said Sheikh Hassan to Baroni.

'It is the day of judgment,' said Baroni, looking pale; 'such a thing has not happened in my time. I am lost.'

'What do these people say?' inquired Tancred.

'There is but one God,' said Sheikh Hassan, whose men had now reached him, 'and Mahomet is his Prophet. Stand aside, sons of Eblis, or you shall bite the earth which curses you!'

A wild shout from every height of the defile was the answer. They looked up, they looked round; the crest of every steep was covered with armed Arabs, each man with his musket levelled.

'My lord,' said Baroni, 'there is something hidden in all this. This is not an ordinary desert foray. You are known, and this tribe comes from a distance to plunder you;' and then he rapidly detailed what had already passed.

'What is your force, sons of Eblis?' said the Sheikh to the horsemen.

'Count your men, and your muskets, and your swords, and your horses, and your camels; and if they were all double, they would not be our force. Our great Sheikh would have come in person with ten thousand men, were not your wilderness here fit only for Giaours.'

'Tell the young chief,' said the Sheikh to Baroni, 'that I am his brother, and will shed the last drop of my blood in his service, as I am bound to do, as much as he is bound to give me ten thousand piastres for the journey, and ask him what he wishes.'

'Demand to know distinctly what these men want,' said Tancred to Baroni, who then conferred with them.

'They want your lordship,' said Baroni, 'whom they call the brother of the Queen of the English; their business is clearly to carry you to their great Sheikh, who will release you for a large ransom.'

'And they have no feud with the Jellaheens?'

'None; they are strangers; they come from a distance for this purpose; nor can it be doubted that this plan has been concocted at Jerusalem.'

'Our position, I fear, is fatal in this defile,' said Tancred; 'it is bitter to be the cause of exposing so many brave men to almost inevitable slaughter. Tell them, Baroni, that I am not the brother of the Queen of the English; that they are ridiculously misled, and that their aim is hopeless, for all that will be ransomed will be my corpse.'

Sheikh Hassan sat on his horse like a statue, with his spear in his hand and his eye on his enemy; Baroni, advancing to the strange horsemen, who were in position about ten yards from Tancred and his guardian, was soon engaged in animated conversation. He did all that an able diplomatist could effect; told lies with admirable grace, and made a hundred propositions that did not commit his principal. He assured them very heartily that Tancred was not the brother of the Queen of the English; that he was only a young Sheikh, whose father was alive, and in possession of all the flocks and herds, camels and horses; that he had quarrelled with his father; that his father, perhaps, would not be sorry if he were got rid of, and would not give a hundred piastres to save his life. Then he offered, if he would let Tancred pass, himself to go with them as prisoner to their great Sheikh, and even proposed Hassan and half his men for additional hostages, whilst some just and equitable arrangement could be effected. All, however, was in vain. The enemy had no discretion; dead or alive, the young Englishman must be carried to their chief.

'I can do nothing,' said Baroni, returning; 'there is something in all this which I do not understand. It has never happened in my time.'

'There is, then, but one course to be taken,' said Tancred; 'we must charge through the defile. At any rate we shall have the satisfaction of dying like men. Let us each fix on our opponent. That audacious-looking Arab in a red kefia shall be my victim, or my destroyer. Speak to the Sheikh, and tell him to prepare his men. Freeman and Trueman,' said Tancred, looking round to his English servants, 'we are in extreme peril; I took you from your homes; if we outlive this day, and return to Montacute, you shall live on your own land.'

'Never mind us, my lord: if it wern't for those rocks we would beat these niggers.'

'Are you all ready?' said Tancred to Baroni.

'We are all ready.'

'Then I commend my soul to Jesus Christ, and to the God of Sinai, in whose cause I perish.' So saying, Tancred shot the Arab in the red kefia through the head, and with his remaining pistol disabled another of the enemy. This he did, while he and his band were charging, so suddenly and so boldly, that those immediately opposed to them were scattered. There was a continuous volley, however, from every part of the defile, and the scene was so involved in smoke that it was impossible for Tancred to see a yard around him; still he galloped on and felt conscious that he had companions, though the shouting was so great that it was impossible to communicate. The smoke suddenly drifting, Tancred caught a glimpse of his position; he was at the mouth of the defile, followed by several of his men, whom he had not time to distinguish, and awaited by innumerable foes.

'Let us sell our lives dearly!' was all that he could exclaim. His sword fell from his wounded arm; his horse, stabbed underneath, sank with him to the ground. He was overpowered and bound. 'Every drop of his blood,' exclaimed the leader of the strange Arabs, 'is worth ten thousand piastres.'


CHAPTER XXX.


Plans for Rescue


THERE is Besso?' said Barizy of the Tower, as the Consul Pasqualigo entered the divan of the merchant, about ten days after the departure of Tancred from Jerusalem for Mount Sinai.

'Where is Besso? I have already smoked two chibouques, and no one has entered except yourself. I suppose you have heard the news?'

'Who has not? It is in every one's mouth.' 'What have you heard?' asked Barizy of the Tower, with an air of malicious curiosity.

'Some things that everybody knows,' replied Pasqualigo, 'and some things that nobody knows.'

'Hah, hah!' said Barizy of the Tower, pricking up his ears, and preparing for one of those diplomatic encounters of mutual pumping, in which he and his rival were practised. 'I suppose you have seen somebody, eh?'

'Somebody has been seen,' replied Pasqualigo, and then he busied himself with his pipe just arrived.

'But nobody has seen somebody who was on the spot?' said Barizy.

'It depends upon what you mean by the spot,' replied Pasqualigo.

'Your information is second-hand,' observed Barizy.

'But you acknowledge it is correct?' said Pasqualigo, more eagerly.

'It depends upon whether your friend was present----' and here Barizy hesitated.

'It does,' said Pasqualigo.

'Then he was present?' said Barizy.

'He was.'

'Then he knows,' said Barizy, eagerly, 'whether the young English prince was murdered intentionally or by hazard.'

'A--h,' said Pasqualigo, whom not the slightest rumour of the affair had yet reached, 'that is a great question.'

'But everything depends upon it,' said Barizy. 'If he was killed accidentally, there will be negotiations, but the business will be compromised; the English want Cyprus, and they will take it as compensation. If it is an affair of malice prepense, there will be war, for the laws of England require war if blood royal be spilt.'

The Consul Pasqualigo looked very grave; then, withdrawing his lips for a moment from his amber mouthpiece, he observed, 'It is a crisis.'

'It will be a crisis,' said Barizy of the Tower, excited by finding his rival a listener, 'but not for a long time. The crisis has not commenced. The first question is: to whom does the desert belong; to the Porte, or to the Viceroy?'

'It depends upon what part of the desert is in question,' said Pasqualigo.

'Of course the part where it took place. I say the Arabian desert belongs to the Viceroy; my cousin, Barizy of the Gate, says "No, it belongs to the Porte." Raphael Tafna says it belongs to neither. The Bedouins are independent.'

'But they are not recognised,' said the Consul Pasqualigo. 'Without a diplomatic existence, they are nullities. England will hold all the recognise powers in the vicinity responsible. You will see! The murder of an English prince, under such circumstances too, will not pass unavenged. The whole of the Turkish garrison of the city will march out directly into the desert.'

'The Arabs care shroff for your Turkish garrison of the city,' said Barizy, with great derision.

'They are eight hundred strong,' said Pasqualigo.

'Eight hundred weak, you mean. No, as Raphael Tafna was saying, when Mehemet. Ali was master, the tribes were quiet enough. But the Turks could never manage the Arabs, even in their best days. If the Pasha of Damascus were to go himself, the Bedouins would unveil his harem while he was smoking his nargileh.'

'Then England will call upon the Egyptians,' said the Consul.

'Hah!' said Barizy of the Tower, 'have I got you at last? Now comes your crisis, I grant you. The English will send a ship of war with a protocol, and one of their lords who is a sailor: that is the way. They will call upon the pasha to exterminate the tribe who have murdered the brother of their queen; the pasha will reply, that when he was in Syria the brothers of queens were never murdered, and put the protocol in his turban. This will never satisfy Palmerston; he will order----'

'Palmerston has nothing to do with it,' screamed out Pasqualigo; 'he is no longer Reis Effendi; he is in exile; he is governor of the Isle of Wight.'

'Do you think I do not know that?' said Barizy of the Tower; 'but he will be recalled for this purpose. The English will not go to war in Syria without Palmerston. Palmerston will have the command of the fleet as well as of the army, that no one shall say "No" when he says "Yes." The English will not do the business of the Turks again for nothing. They will take this city; they will keep it. They want a new market for their cottons. Mark me: England will never be satisfied till the people of Jerusalem wear calico turbans.'

Let us inquire also with Barizy of the Tower, where was Besso? Alone in his private chamber, agitated and troubled, awaiting the return of his daughter from the bath; and even now, the arrival may be heard of herself and her attendants in the inner court.

'You want me, my