The Talisman by Walter Scott (which ebook reader txt) 📖

The Saracen recovered his composure as the Christian spoke, so far as to withdraw his hand from his weapon, as if the motion had been without meaning, but still continued in deep ire.

“By the sword of the Prophet,” he said, “which is the key both of heaven and hell, he little values his own life, brother, who uses the language thou dost! Believe me, that were thine hands loose, as thou term'st it, one single true believer would find them so much to do that thou wouldst soon wish them fettered again in manacles of iron.”

“Sooner would I wish them hewn off by the shoulder-blades!” replied Sir Kenneth.

“Well. Thy hands are bound at present,” said the Saracen, in a more amicable tone—“bound by thine own gentle sense of courtesy; nor have I any present purpose of setting them at liberty. We have proved each other's strength and courage ere now, and we may again meet in a fair field—and shame befall him who shall be the first to part from his foeman! But now we are friends, and I look for aid from thee rather than hard terms or defiances.”

“We ARE friends,” repeated the knight; and there was a pause, during which the fiery Saracen paced the tent, like the lion, who, after violent irritation, is said to take that method of cooling the distemperature of his blood, ere he stretches himself to repose in his den. The colder European remained unaltered in posture and aspect; yet he, doubtless, was also engaged in subduing the angry feelings which had been so unexpectedly awakened.

“Let us reason of this calmly,” said the Saracen. “I am a physician, as thou knowest, and it is written that he who would have his wound cured must not shrink when the leech probes and tests it. Seest thou, I am about to lay my finger on the sore. Thou lovest this kinswoman of the Melech Ric. Unfold the veil that shrouds thy thoughts—or unfold it not if thou wilt, for mine eyes see through its coverings.”

“I LOVED her,” answered Sir Kenneth, after a pause, “as a man loves Heaven's grace, and sued for her favour like a sinner for Heaven's pardon.”

“And you love her no longer?” said the Saracen.

“Alas,” answered Sir Kenneth, “I am no longer worthy to love her. I pray thee cease this discourse—thy words are poniards to me.”

“Pardon me but a moment,” continued Ilderim. “When thou, a poor and obscure soldier, didst so boldly and so highly fix thine affection, tell me, hadst thou good hope of its issue?”

“Love exists not without hope,” replied the knight; “but mine was as nearly allied to despair as that of the sailor swimming for his life, who, as he surmounts billow after billow, catches by intervals some gleam of the distant beacon, which shows him there is land in sight, though his sinking heart and wearied limbs assure him that he shall never reach it.”

“And now,” said Ilderim, “these hopes are sunk—that solitary light is quenched for ever?”

“For ever,” answered Sir Kenneth, in the tone of an echo from the bosom of a ruined sepulchre.

“Methinks,” said the Saracen, “if all thou lackest were some such distant meteoric glimpse of happiness as thou hadst formerly, thy beacon-light might be rekindled, thy hope fished up from the ocean in which it has sunk, and thou thyself, good knight, restored to the exercise and amusement of nourishing thy fantastic fashion upon a diet as unsubstantial as moonlight; for, if thou stood'st tomorrow fair in reputation as ever thou wert, she whom thou lovest will not be less the daughter of princes and the elected bride of Saladin.”

“I would it so stood,” said the Scot, “and if I did not—”

He stopped short, like a man who is afraid of boasting under circumstances which did not permit his being put to the test. The Saracen smiled as he concluded the sentence.

“Thou wouldst challenge the Soldan to single combat?” said he.

“And if I did,” said Sir Kenneth haughtily, “Saladin's would neither be the first nor the best turban that I have couched lance at.”

“Ay, but methinks the Soldan might regard it as too unequal a mode of perilling the chance of a royal bride and the event of a great war,” said the Emir.

“He may be met with in the front of battle,” said the knight, his eyes gleaming with the ideas which such a thought inspired.

“He has been ever found there,” said Ilderim; “nor is it his wont to turn his horse's head from any brave encounter. But it was not of the Soldan that I meant to speak. In a word, if it will content thee to be placed in such reputation as may be attained by detection of the thief who stole the Banner of England, I can put thee in a fair way of achieving this task—that is, if thou wilt be governed; for what says Lokman, 'If the child would walk, the nurse must lead him; if the ignorant would understand, the wise must instruct.'”

“And thou art wise, Ilderim,” said the Scot—“wise though a Saracen, and generous though an infidel. I have witnessed that thou art both. Take, then, the guidance of this matter; and so thou ask nothing of me contrary to my loyalty and my Christian faith, I, will obey thee punctually. Do what thou hast said, and take my life when it is accomplished.”

“Listen thou to me, then,” said the Saracen. “Thy noble hound is now recovered, by the blessing of that divine medicine which healeth man and beast; and by his sagacity shall those who assailed him be discovered.”

“Ha!” said the knight, “methinks I comprehend thee. I was dull not to think of this!”

“But tell me,” added the Emir, “hast thou any followers or retainers in the camp by whom the animal may be known?”

“I dismissed,” said Sir Kenneth, “my old attendant, thy patient, with a varlet that waited on him, at the time when I expected to suffer death, giving him letters for my friends in Scotland; there are none other to whom the dog is familiar. But then my own person is well known—my very speech will betray me, in a camp where I have played no mean part for many months.”

“Both he and thou shalt be disguised, so as to escape even close examination. I tell thee,” said the Saracen, “that not thy brother in arms—not thy brother in blood—shall discover thee, if thou be guided by my counsels. Thou hast seen me do matters more difficult—he that can call the dying from the darkness of the shadow of death can easily cast a mist before the eyes of the living. But mark me: there is still the condition annexed to this service—that thou deliver a letter of Saladin to the niece of the Melech Ric, whose name is as difficult to our Eastern tongue and lips, as her beauty is delightful to our eyes.”

Sir Kenneth paused before he answered, and the Saracen observing his hesitation, demanded of him, “if he feared to undertake this message?”

“Not if there were death in the execution,” said Sir Kenneth. “I do but