Tales of the Caravan, Inn, and Palace Part 4

"How can that be?" cried I, in astonishment.

"I came with my sister from a distant country," began the stranger, beckoning me at the same time to follow him. "I lived with her here at the house of a friend. My sister had been ill, and yesterday she died suddenly. Her relatives will bury her to-morrow. But in accordance with an old custom in our family, all of its members must be buried in the tomb of their ancestors. Many who died in foreign lands were embalmed and brought home. I will permit our relatives here to keep my sister's body, but I must at least take to my father the head of his daughter, that he may see her once more."

This custom of cutting off the heads of beloved relatives seemed horrible to me; still I thought best not to offer any objections, lest the stranger should feel insulted. I therefore told him that I was acquainted with the method of embalming the dead, and requested him to conduct me to the deceased. Still I could not refrain from inquiring why all this was to be conducted so secretly and at night? He answered that his relatives, holding his views on this subject to be wicked, would prevent him from carrying them out by day; but when the head was once removed, they could say little more on the subject. Of course he might have brought me the head himself but a natural feeling held him back from removing it.

In the meantime we had reached a large and magnificent house, which my companion pointed out to me as the end of our night's pilgrimage. We pa.s.sed by the princ.i.p.al gate, entering by a smaller one, which the stranger closed carefully after him, and ascended a spiral staircase in the darkness. It led into a dimly lighted corridor, from which he gained a room which was lighted by a lamp suspended from the ceiling.

In this room was a bed, on which the body lay. The stranger turned his head away, apparently making an attempt to hide his tears. He pointed to the bed; ordered me to do my work well and quickly, and walked out of the door.

I took out my instruments, which as a physician I always carried with me, and approached the bed. Only the head of the dead girl was visible, but this was so beautiful that I was seized with the deepest pity. The dark hair hung down in long braids; the face was pale; the eyes were closed.

I first made a slight incision in the skin, as is the practice with surgeons when they are about to remove a limb. Then I selected my sharpest knife, and with one stroke cut through the windpipe. But what a tragedy! The girl opened her eyes, closing them again instantly, and with a deep sigh, now, for the first time, breathed out her life, while at the same time a warm stream of blood gushed from the wound. I was sure that I had taken the life of this poor creature; for that she was now dead was beyond question, as there could be no recovery from this wound.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

I stood some moments almost stupefied at what had taken place. Had the man in the red mantle betrayed me, or had his sister been lying in a trance? The latter conjecture seemed the most plausible. But I dared not say this to the brother of the girl; therefore I resolved to take the head completely off. But one more groan came from the dying girl, a spasm shook her form, and all was over. Overcome with horror, I rushed out of the room. But the lamp in the corridor had gone out, and there was no trace of my companion. In the darkness, I was compelled to feel my way along the wall to reach the stairway. I finally found it, and descended, slipping and stumbling. Nor was there any one below. I found the door unlocked, and breathed freer when I once more stood upon the street. Urged on by terror, I ran to my rooms, and buried myself in the cushions of my couch.

But sleep fled from me, and the approach of morning warned me to compose myself. It seemed altogether likely to me that the man who had betrayed me into doing this atrocious deed would not inform on me. I resolved to go on as usual with my business, and if possible to a.s.sume a cheerful manner. But a new circ.u.mstance, that I now noticed for the first time, increased my terror. My cap and girdle, as well as my instruments, were missing, and I was uncertain whether I had left them in the chamber of the murdered girl, or had lost them in my flight.

Unfortunately the first supposition seemed the more probable, and thus the murder would be traced to me.

I opened my shop at the usual time. My neighbor, who was a talkative man, came in to see me as usual in the morning.

"What do you say to the horrible tragedy that happened last night?" was his greeting. I acted as if I knew nothing about it. "What, is it possible that you don't know what the whole city is talking about? Not know that the most beautiful flower of Florence, Bianca, the Governor's daughter, was murdered during the night? I saw her yesterday, looking so happy as she rode through the streets with her lover; and to-day was to have been her wedding day."

Every word was a stab in my heart. And how often did I suffer these pangs, as one by one my customers repeated the story, each making it more horrible than the other! And yet none of them could make it as terrible as it had been when presented to my own eyes.

About noon an officer from the court stepped into my shop, and requested me to send the people away.

"Signor Zaleukos," said he, producing the articles I had missed, "are these things yours?"

I hesitated for a moment whether I should deny all knowledge of them; but as I saw through the half open door my landlord and several acquaintances who could have borne witness against me, I determined not to make the matter worse by a lie, and acknowledged the ownership of the articles. The officer bade me follow him, and led me to a large building, which I soon recognized as the prison. There he showed me to a room, telling me that I should occupy it for the present.

My situation seemed desperate when I came to think it over in the solitude of the prison. The thought that I had committed murder, even though it was done accidentally, kept returning to my mind. Neither could I hide from myself the fact that the glitter of the gold had captivated my senses, or I should never have rushed so blindly into this affair.

Two hours after my arrest I was led out of my chamber. Pa.s.sing down several steps, we entered a large hall. Twelve men, most of them of advanced age, sat at a long table, covered with a black cloth. On the side of the hall were ranged rows of benches, filled with the aristocracy of Florence. High up, in the galleries the spectators were crowded close together. When I was brought before the black-covered table, a man of dark and sad aspect arose. It was the Governor. He told those a.s.sembled that he, being the father of the murdered girl, could not preside over this case, and that he would vacate his seat, for the present, in favor of the oldest senator. The oldest senator was a man of at least ninety years. He was bent with age, and his temples were fringed with thin white hairs; but his eyes were still brilliant, and his voice was clear and strong.

He began by asking me if I confessed to the murder. I besought him to give me his attention, and related fearlessly and in distinct tones what I had done. I noticed that as I proceeded, the Governor first turned pale and then red; and when I had finished, he sprang up in a rage. "What, wretch!" he exclaimed to me, "it is your intention, then, to impute this crime, that you committed in a spirit of avarice, to another?"

The presiding senator reproved him for this outburst, and reminded him that he had of his own accord renounced his right to direct the trial; nor did it appear, he said, that I contemplated robbery, as, by his own admission, nothing was stolen from his daughter. The senator declared to the Governor that he must give an account of his daughter's past life, as this was the only means of judging whether I had spoken the truth or not. At the same time he would close the court for that day, in order, as he said, to get some further information from the papers of the deceased, which the Governor should turn over to him. I was led back to my prison, where I pa.s.sed a miserable day, occupied with the eager wish that some connection might be established between the man in the red mantle and the deceased.

Full of expectation, I entered the hall of justice on the following day. There were several letters on the table. The aged senator asked me whether they were in my hand-writing. I looked at them, and found that they must have been written by the same hand that wrote me the two notes I had received. I expressed this belief to the senators, but they paid no attention to my opinion, and answered that I both could and did write those notes myself, as the signature at the end of the letters was certainly a Z, the initial letter of my name. And then the letters contained threats against the deceased, and warnings against the wedding which was about to take place.

The Governor seemed to have made some strange disclosures about me, as I was on this day treated more sternly and suspiciously. To justify myself, I called for all the papers that were to be found in my room.

But I was told that search had already been made there, and nothing found. When the court broke up, my hope had entirely vanished; and when I was led back to the hall on the third day, the verdict was communicated to me. I had been convicted of willful murder, and sentenced to death. To this, then, I had come at last! Deprived of every thing that was still dear to me on earth, far from my home, I should die innocent of crime, and, in the bloom of my youth, under an ax!

I was sitting in my lonely prison on the evening of the day that had decided my fate, with my hopes all dissipated, and my thoughts earnestly turned on death, when my prison door opened, and a man entered, who regarded me long and silently. "And thus I find you once more, Zaleukos?" said he. I had not recognized him by the dull gleam of my lamp, but the tone of his voice awoke old memories in me. It was Valetty, one of the few friends I had made during my studies in Paris.

He said that happening to come to Florence, where his father, who was a man of prominence, lived, he heard of my story; he had come to see me, to learn from my own lips how I had come to commit so terrible a crime.

I told him the whole story. He seemed very much astonished, and implored me to tell him, my only friend, the whole truth, and not die with a lie on my lips, I swore to him by every thing that was sacred that I had spoken the truth, and that the only burden on my conscience was that, dazed by the glitter of the gold, I had not perceived the improbabilities in the stranger's story. "Then you did not know Bianca?" asked he. I a.s.sured him that I had never seen her before.

Valetty then told me that a deep secret hung over the deed, that the Governor had pa.s.sed sentence on me very hastily, and there was a rumor among the people that I had known Bianca for a long time, and had murdered her out of revenge for her approaching marriage with another.

I remarked to him that all this might apply to the man in the red mantle, but that I was unable to prove his partic.i.p.ation in the deed.

Valetty embraced me, weeping, and promised to make every effort to save my life. I had but little hope, yet I knew that Valetty was a wise man and experienced in the laws, and that he would do his best to save me.

For two long days I remained in uncertainty. At last Valetty appeared.

"I bring you consolation, even though it be painful," said he. "You will live and be set at liberty; but with the loss of a hand."

Joyfully I thanked my friend for my life. He told me that the Governor was inexorably opposed to opening the case again, but that finally, in order not to appear unjust, he agreed that if a similar case could be found in any books of Florentine history, then my punishment should be regulated by the punishment there recorded. Valetty and his father had thereupon looked through the old books by day and night, and finally found a case the exact counterpart of mine. The punishment there awarded was stated thus: "His left hand shall be amputated, his goods confiscated, and he himself banished forever." This was now to be my punishment; and I had to prepare myself for the painful ordeal that awaited me. But I will not dwell on that terrible hour when I stood on the public square, laid my hand on the block, and felt my own blood stream over me.

Valetty took me to his own house until I had recovered; then he generously provided me with money for my journey; as all that I had acquired in my years of labor was forfeited to the State. I traveled from Florence to Sicily, and there embarked on the first ship for Constantinople. My hopes were turned upon the money I had given into the keeping of my friend; I also asked permission to live with him, but he astounded me with the question, why I did not occupy my own house?

He informed me that a strange man had bought a house in my name in the Greek quarter, and had told the neighbors that I would soon be there to take possession of it. I immediately went there with my friend, and was warmly welcomed by all my old acquaintances. An old merchant gave me a letter, left by the man who had bought the house for me.

The letter was as follows: "Zaleukos, two hands will be always ready to provide so tirelessly for you that you will not feel the loss of one.

The house that you see, and all it contains, is yours; and every year you will be given enough to place you in the ranks of your wealthiest countrymen. May you forgive him who is more unfortunate than yourself."

I suspected who had written this; and the merchant replied to my question that he had taken the man to be a Frank, and that he wore a red mantle. I knew enough to own to myself that the stranger was not entirely dest.i.tute of n.o.ble sentiments. I found my new house fitted up in the very best manner, and there was also a shop stocked with wares finer than I had ever owned before.

Ten years have pa.s.sed since then; yet, more from habit than necessity, I continue to make these commercial journeys. I have never since visited that country where I met with my misfortune. Every year I receive a thousand gold pieces. But though it rejoices me to know that the unfortunate stranger has some n.o.ble traits of character, it is impossible for him to cure the sorrow of my soul, which is perpetually haunted by the terrible vision of the murdered Bianca.

While the Greek merchant had told his story, the others had listened to him with the deepest interest. Selim Baruch, particularly, had shown much emotion, having sighed deeply several times, while Muley was sure that at one time he had seen tears in his eyes. The merchants commented for some time on the story.

"And do you not hate the stranger who so basely endangered your life and caused the loss of so important a member of your body?" asked Selim Baruch.

"There was a time at first," answered the Greek, "when my heart accused him before G.o.d that he had brought this sorrow on me and poisoned my life. But I found consolation in the religion of my fathers, which commands me to love my enemies. And then he must be more unhappy than I."

"You are a n.o.ble man!" exclaimed Selim Baruch, as he pressed the Greek's hand warmly.

The leader of the guard here interrupted the conversation. He entered the tent with an anxious air, and reported that it would not do for them to retire to their couches, as this was the place where the caravans were usually attacked; and, besides, his sentinels believed they saw several hors.e.m.e.n in the distance.

The merchants were greatly disturbed at this news; but Selim Baruch, the stranger, expressed surprise at their consternation, and thought that they were so strongly guarded that they need not fear a troop of Arab robbers.

"True, Master!" answered the leader of the escort; "if it were only such fellows, one could lie down to sleep without anxiety. But for sometime past the terrible Orbasan has appeared occasionally; and therefore it behooves one to be on his guard."

Selim desired to know who this...o...b..san might be, and one of the merchants answered him: "There are all sorts of reports current among the people about this wonderful man. Some believe him to be a supernatural being, because he has often overcome five or six men in a fight. Others hold that he is a brave Frank, whom misfortune has driven into these parts. But from all accounts this much is certain: that he is an infamous robber and thief!"

"But still you will hardly be able to maintain that," retorted Lezah, another of the merchants. "Even though a robber, he is a magnanimous man, and has shown himself such to my brother, as I could relate to you. He has made orderly men of his whole band, and while he roams over the desert, no other band dare show itself. Neither is he a common robber, but simply levies a tax on the caravans, and whoever pays this willingly may travel on without further molestation, for Orbasan is the Ruler of the Desert."

Thus the merchants discoursed in the tent; but the guard, who was stationed around the camp, began to be uneasy. A considerable troop of armed hors.e.m.e.n was seen at a distance of half an hour's ride, and seemed to be making directly for the camp. One of the guard therefore went into the tent to announce that they would probably be attacked.

The merchants conferred with one another as to what was to be done: whether they had better ride out and meet the attack, or await it in camp. The two eldest merchants were in favor of the latter course; but the fiery Muley and Zaleukos chose the first, and called on Selim to follow their example. But Selim quietly drew a small blue cloth, covered with red stars, from his girdle, tied it to a spear, and ordered one of the slaves to fasten it to the top of the tent, saying he would pledge his life that when the hors.e.m.e.n saw this signal they would draw off quietly. Muley placed no faith in the result, but the slave fixed the lance on top of the tent. In the meantime all those in camp had seized their weapons, and looked for the hors.e.m.e.n in intense expectancy. But they had apparently caught sight of the signal on the tent, as they suddenly changed their course, and moved off from the camp in an opposite direction.

The merchants gazed in wonder, now at the vanishing hors.e.m.e.n, and then on Selim. But he stood before the tent, looking out unconcernedly over the plain, as if nothing unusual had happened. At length Muley broke the silence.

"Who are you, O mighty stranger?" cried he. "You that tame the wild hordes of the desert by a signal."

"You rate my power much higher than it is," answered Selim Baruch. "I provided myself with this token when I fled from captivity. What it signifies, I do not know myself; only this much I do know: that whoever travels with this sign stands under powerful protection."

The merchants thanked Selim and called him their deliverer; and really the number of the hors.e.m.e.n was so great that the caravan could not have resisted them very long.

With lighter hearts the merchants laid down to rest; and when the sun began to set, and the evening breeze blew over the plains of sand, they broke camp, and resumed their journey.