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“I broke the wind of the finest charger in all Asia when I last ascended these mountains,” said Iskander; “I hope this day’s journey way be accepted as a sort of atonement.”
“Faith! there is little doubt I am the best mounted of the two,” said Nicæus. “However, I hope we shall return at a sharper pace.”
“How came it, my Nicæus,” said Iskander, “that you never mentioned to me the name of Iduna when we were at Athens? I little supposed when I made my sudden visit to Hunniades, that I was about to appeal to so fair a host. She is a rarely gifted lady.”
“I knew of her being at the camp as little as yourself,” replied the Prince of Athens, “and for the rest, the truth is, Iskander, there are some slight crosses in our loves, which Time, I hope, will fashion rightly.” So saying Nicæus pricked on his donkey, and flung his stick at a bird which was perched on the branch of a tree. Iskander did not resume a topic to which his companion seemed disinclined. Their journey was tedious. Towards nightfall they reached the summit of the usual track; and as the descent was difficult, they were obliged to rest until daybreak.
On the morrow they had a magnificent view of the rich plains of Roumelia, and in the extreme distance, the great city of Adrianople, its cupolas and minarets blazing and sparkling in the sun. This glorious prospect at once revived all their energies. It seemed that the moment of peril and of fate had arrived. They pricked on their sorry steeds; and on the morning of the next day, presented themselves at the gates of the city. The thorough knowledge which Iskander possessed of the Turkish character obtained them an entrance, which was at one time almost doubtful, from the irritability and impatience of Nicæus. They repaired to a caravansera of good repute in the neighbourhood of the seraglio; and having engaged their rooms, the Armenian physician, attended by his page, visited several of the neighbouring coffee-houses, announcing, at the same time, his arrival, his profession, and his skill.
As Iskander felt pulses, examined tongues, and distributed drugs and charms, he listened with interest and amusement to the conversation of which he himself was often the hero. He found that the Turks had not yet recovered from their consternation at his audacity and success. They were still wondering, and if possible more astounded than indignant. The politicians of the coffee-houses, chiefly consisting of Janissaries, were loud in their murmurs. The popularity of Amurath had vanished before the triumph of Hunniades, and the rise of Iskander.
“But Allah has in some instances favoured the faithful,” remarked Iskander; “I heard in my travels of your having captured a great princess of the Giaours.”
“God is great!” said an elderly Turk with a long white heard. “The Hakim congratulates the faithful because they have taken a woman!”
“Not so merely,” replied Iskander; “I heard the woman was a princess. If so, the people of Franguestan will pay any ransom for their great women; and, by giving up this fair Giaour, you may free many of the faithful.”
“Mashallah!” said another ancient Turk, sipping his coffee. “The Hakim speaks wisely.”
“May I murder my mother!” exclaimed a young Janissary, with great indignation. “But this is the very thing that makes me wild against Amurath. Is not this princess a daughter of that accursed Giaour, that dog of dogs, Hunniades? and has he not offered for her ransom our brave Karam Bey himself, and his chosen warriors? and has not Amurath said nay? And why has he said nay? Because his son, the Prince of Mahomed, instead of fighting against the Giaours, has looked upon one of their women, and has become a Mejnoun. Pah! May I murder my mother, but if the Giaours were in full march to the city, I’d not fight. And let him tell this to the Cadi who dares; for there are ten thousand of us, and we have sworn by the Kettle but we will not fight for Giaours, or those who love Giaours!”
“If you mean me, Ali, about going to the Cadi,” said the chief eunuch of Mahomed, who was standing by, “let me tell you I am no tale-bearer, and scorn to do an unmanly act. The young prince can beat the Giaours without the aid of those who are noisy enough in a coffee-house when they are quiet enough in the field. And, for the rest of the business, you may all ease your hearts; for the Frangy princess you talk of is pining away, and will soon die. The Sultan has offered a hundred purses of gold to any one who cures her; but the gold will never be counted by the Hasnadar, or I will double it.”
“Try your fortune, Hakim,” said several laughing loungers to Iskander.
“Allah has stricken the Frangy princess,” said the old Turk with a white beard.
“He will strike all Giaours,” said his ancient companion, sipping his coffee. “It is so written.”
“Well! I do not like to hear of women slaves pining to death,” said the young Janissary, in a softened tone, “particularly when they are young. Amurath should have ransomed her, or he might have given her to one of his officers, or any young fellow that had particularly distinguished himself.” And so, twirling his mustachios, and flinging down his piastre, the young Janissary strutted out of the coffee-house.
“When we were young,” said the old Turk with the white beard to his companion, shaking his head, “when we were young—”
“We conquered Anatolia, and never opened our mouths,” rejoined his companion.
“I never offered an opinion till I was sixty,” said the old Turk; “and then it was one which had been in our family for a century.”
“No wonder Hunniades carries everything before him,” said his companion.
“And that accursed Iskander,” said the old man.
The chief eunuch, finishing his vase of sherbet, moved away. The Armenian physician followed him.
CHAPTER 9
The chief eunuch turned into a burial-ground, through which a way led, by an avenue of cypress-trees, to the quarter of the Seraglio. The Armenian physician, accompanied by his page, followed him.
“Noble sir!” said the Armenian physician; “may I trespass for a moment on your lordship’s attention?”
“Worthy Hakim, is it you?” replied the chief eunuch, turning round with an encouraging smile of courteous condescension, “your pleasure?”
“I would speak to you of important matters,” said the physician.
The eunuch carelessly seated himself on a richly-carved tomb, and crossing his legs with an air of pleasant superiority, adjusted a fine emerald that sparkled on his finger, and bade the Hakim address him without hesitation.
“I am a physician,” said the Armenian.
The eunuch nodded.
“And I heard your lordship in the coffee-house mention that the Sultan, our sublime Master, had offered a rich reward to any one who could effect the cure of a favourite captive.”
“No less a reward than one hundred purses of gold,” remarked the eunuch. “The reward is proportioned to the exigency of the cue. Believe me, worthy sir, it is desperate.”
“With mortal means,” replied the Armenian; “but I possess a talisman of magical influence, which no disorder can resist. I would fain try its efficacy.”
“This is not the first talisman that has been offered us, worthy doctor,” said the eunuch, smiling incredulously.
“But the first that has been offered on these terms,” said the Armenian. “Let me cure the captive, and of the one hundred purses, a moiety shall belong to yourself. Ay! so confident am I of success, that I deem it no hazard to commence our contract by this surety.” And so saying, the Armenian took from his finger a gorgeous carbuncle, and offered it to the eunuch. The worthy dependent of the Seraglio had a great taste in jewellery. He examined the stone with admiration, and placed it on his finger with complacency. “I require no inducements to promote the interests of science, and the purposes of charity,” said the eunuch, with a patronising air. “‘Tis assuredly a pretty stone, and, as the memorial of an ingenious stranger, whom I respect, I shall, with pleasure, retain it. You were saying something about a talisman. Are you serious? I doubt not that there are means which might obtain you the desired trial; but the Prince Mahomed is as violent when displeased or disappointed as munificent when gratified. Cure this Christian captive, and we may certainly receive the promised purses: fail, and your head will as assuredly be flung into the Seraglio moat, to say nothing of my own.”
“Most noble sir!” said the physician, “I am willing to undertake the experiment on the terms you mention. Rest assured that the patient, if alive, must, with this remedy, speedily recover. You marvel! Believe me, had you witnessed the cures which it has already effected, you would only wonder at its otherwise incredible influence.”
“You have the advantage,” replied the eunuch, “of addressing a man who has seen something of the world. I travel every year to Anatolia with the Prince Mahomed. Were I a narrow-minded bigot, and had never been five miles from Adrianople in the whole course of my life, I might indeed be sceptical. But I am a patron of science, and have heard of talismans. How much might this ring weigh, think you?”
“I have heard it spoken of as a carbuncle of uncommon size,” replied the Armenian.
“Where did you say you lodged, Hakim?”
“At the Khan of Bedreddin.”
“A very proper dwelling. Well, we shall see. Have you more jewels? I might, perhaps, put you in the way of parting with some at good prices. The Khan of Bedreddin is very conveniently situated. I may, perhaps, towards evening, taste your coffee at the Khan of Bedreddin, and we will talk of this said talisman. Allah be with you, worthy Hakim!” The eunuch nodded, not without encouragement, and went his way.
“Anxiety alone enabled me to keep my countenance,” said Nicæus. “A patron of science, forsooth! Of all the insolent, shallow-brained, rapacious coxcombs—”
“Hush, my friend!” said Iskander, with a smile. “The chief eunuch of the heir apparent of the Turkish empire is a far greater man than a poor prince, or a proscribed rebel. This worthy can do our business, and I trust will. He clearly bites, and a richer bait will, perhaps, secure him. In the meantime, we must be patient, and remember whose destiny is at stake.”
CHAPTER 10
The chief eunuch did not keep the adventurous companions long in suspense; for, before the muezzin had announced the close of day from the minarets, he had reached the Khan of Bedreddin, and inquired for the Armenian physician.
“We have no time to lose,” said the eunuch to Iskander. “Bring with you whatever you may require, and follow me.”
The eunuch led the way, Iskander and Nicæus maintaining a respectful distance. After proceeding down several streets, they arrived at the burial-ground, where they had conversed in the morning; and when they had entered that more retired spot, the eunuch fell back, and addressed his companion.
“Now, worthy Hakim,” he said, “if you deceive me, I will never patronize a man of science again. I found an opportunity of speaking to the Prince this afternoon of your talisman, and he has taken from my representations such a fancy for its immediate proof, that I found it quite impossible to postpone its trial even until to-morrow. I mentioned the terms. I told the Prince your life was the pledge. I said nothing of the moiety of the reward, worthy Hakim. That is an affair between ourselves. I trust to your honour, and I always act thus with men of science.”
“I shall not disgrace my profession or your confidence, rest assured,” replied Iskander. “And am I to see the captive to-night?”
“I doubt it not. Are you prepared? We might, perhaps, gain a little time, if very necessary.”
“By no means, sir; Truth is ever prepared.”
Thus conversing, they passed through the burial-ground, and approached some high, broad walls, forming a terrace, and planted with young sycamore-trees. The eunuch tapped with his silver stick, at a small gate, which opened, and admitted them into a garden, full of large clumps of massy shrubs. Through these a winding walk led for some way, and then conducted them to an open lawn, on which was situate a vast and irregular building. As they approached the pile, a young man of very imperious aspect rushed forward from a gate, and abruptly accosted Iskander.
“Are you the Armenian physician?” he inquired.
Iskander bowed assent.
“Have you got your talisman? You know the terms? Cure this Christian girl and you shall name your own reward; fail, and I shall claim your forfeit head.”
“The terms are well understood, mighty Prince,” said Iskander, for the young man was no less a personage than the son of Amurath, and future conqueror of Constantinople; “but I am confident there will be no necessity for the terror of Christendom claiming any other heads than those of his enemies.”
“Kaflis will conduct you at once to your patient,” said Mahomed. “For myself, I cannot rest until I know the result of your visit. I shall wander about these gardens, and destroy the flowers, which is the only pleasure now left me.”
Kaflis motioned to his companions to advance, and they entered the Seraglio.
At the end of a long gallery they came to a great portal, which Kaflis opened, and Iskander and Nicæus for a moment supposed that they had arrived at the chief hall of the Tower of Babel, but they found the shrill din only proceeded from a large company of women, who were employed in distilling the rare atar of the jasmine flower. All their voices ceased on the entrance of the strangers, as if by a miracle; but when they had examined them, and observed that it was only a physician and his boy, their awe, or their surprise, disappeared; and they crowded round Iskander, some holding out their wrists, others lolling out their tongues, and some asking questions, which perplexed alike the skill and the modesty of the adventurous dealer in magical medicine. The annoyance, however, was not of great duration, for Kaflis so belaboured their fair shoulders with his official baton, that they instantly retreated with precipitation, uttering the most violent shrieks, and bestowing on the eunuch so many titles, that Iskander and his page were quite astounded at the intuitive knowledge which the imprisoned damsels possessed of that vocabulary of abuse, which is in general mastered only by the experience of active existence.
Quitting this chamber, the eunuch and his companions ascended a lofty staircase. They halted at length before a door. “This is the chamber of the tower,” said their guide, “and here we shall find the fair captive.” He knocked, the door was opened by a female slave, and Iskander and Nicæus, with an anxiety they could with difficulty conceal, were ushered into a small but sumptuous apartment. In the extremity was a recess covered with a light gauzy curtain. The eunuch bidding them keep in the background, advanced, and cautiously withdrawing the curtain slightly aside, addressed some words in a low voice to the inmate of the recess. In a few minutes the eunuch beckoned to Iskander to advance, and whispered to him: “She would not at first see you, but I have told her you are a Christian, the more the pity, and she consents.” So saying, he withdrew the curtain, and exhibited a veiled female figure lying on a couch.
“Noble lady,” said the physician in Greek, which he had ascertained the eunuch did not comprehend; “pardon the zeal of a Christian friend. Though habited in this garb, I have served under your illustrious sire. I should deem my life well spent in serving the daughter of the great Hunniades.”
“Kind stranger,” replied the captive, “I was ill prepared for such a meeting. I thank you for your sympathy, but my sad fortunes are beyond human aid.”
“God works by humble instruments, noble lady,” said Iskander, “and with his blessing we may yet prosper.”
“I fear that I must look to death as my only refuge,” replied Iduna, “and still more, I fear that it is not so present a refuge as my oppressors themselves imagine. But you are a physician; tell me then how speedily Nature will make me free.”
She held forth her hand, which Iskander took and involuntarily pressed. “Noble lady,” he said, “my skill is a mere pretence to enter these walls. The only talisman I bear with me is a message from your friends.”
“Indeed!” said Iduna, in an agitated tone.
“Restrain yourself, noble lady,” said Iskander, interposing, “restrain yourself. Were you any other but the daughter of Hunniades I would not have ventured upon this perilous exploit. But I know that the Lady Iduna has inherited something more than the name of her great ancestors—their heroic soul. If ever there were a moment in her life in which it behoved her to exert all her energies, that moment has arrived. The physician who addresses her, and his attendant who waits at hand, are two of the Lady Iduna’s most devoted friends. There is nothing that they will not hazard, to effect her delivery; and they have matured a plan of escape which they are sanguine must succeed. Yet its completion will require, on her part, great anxiety of mind, greater exertion of body, danger, fatigue, privation. Is the Lady Iduna prepared for all this endurance, and all this hazard?”
“Noble friend,” replied Iduna, “for I cannot deem you a stranger, and none but a most chivalric knight could have entered upon this almost forlorn adventure; you have not, I trust, miscalculated my character. I am a slave, and unless heaven will interpose, must soon be a dishonoured one. My freedom and my fame are alike at stake. There is no danger, and no suffering which I will not gladly welcome, provided there be even a remote chance of regaining my liberty and securing my honour.”
“You are in the mind I counted on. Now, mark my words, dear lady. Seize an opportunity this evening of expressing to your gaolers that you have already experienced some benefit from my visit, and announce your rising confidence in my skill. In the meantime I will make such a report that our daily meetings will not be difficult. For the present, farewell. The Prince Mahomed waits without, and I would exchange some words with him before I go.”
“And must we part without my being acquainted with the generous friends to whom I am indebted for an act of devotion which almost reconciles me to my sad fate?” said Iduna. “You will not, perhaps, deem the implicit trust reposed in you by one whom you have no interest to deceive, and who, if deceived, cannot be placed in a worse position than she at present fills, as a very gratifying mark of confidence, yet that trust is reposed in you; and let me, at least, soothe the galling dreariness of my solitary hours, by the recollection of the friends to whom I am indebted for a deed of friendship which has filled me with a feeling of wonder from which I have not yet recovered.”
“The person who has penetrated the Seraglio of Constantinople in disguise to rescue the Lady Iduna,” answered Iskander, “is the Prince Nicæus.”
“Nicæus!” exclaimed Iduna, in an agitated tone. “The voice to which I listen is surely not that of the Prince Nicæus; nor the form on which I gaze,” she added, as she unveiled. Beside her stood the tall figure of the Armenian physician. She beheld his swarthy and unrecognised countenance. She cast her dark eyes around with an air of beautiful perplexity.
“I am a friend of the Prince Nicæus,” said the physician. “He is here. Shall he advance? Alexis,” called cut, Iskander, not waiting for her reply. The page of the physician came forward, but the eunuch accompanied him. “All is right,” said Iskander to Kaflis. “We are sure of our hundred purses. But, without doubt, with any other aid, the case were desperate.”
“There is but one God,” said the eunuch, polishing his carbuncle, with a visage radiant as the gem. “I never repented patronizing men of science. The prince waits without. Come along!” He took Iskander by the arm. “Where is your boy? What are you doing there, sir?” inquired the eunuch, sharply, of Nicæus, who, was tarrying behind, and kissing the hand of Iduna.
“I was asking the lady for a favour to go to the coffee-house with;” replied Nicæus, “you forget that I am to have none of the hundred purses.”
“True,” said the eunuch; “there is something in that. Here, boy, here is a piastre for you. I like to encourage men of science, and all that belong to them. Do not go and spend it all in one morning, boy, and when the fair captive is cured, if you remind me, boy, perhaps I may give you another.”
CHAPTER 11
Kaflis and his charge again reached the garden. The twilight was nearly past. A horseman galloped up to them, followed by several running footmen. It was the prince.
“Well, Hakim,” he inquired, in his usual abrupt style, “can you cure her?”
“Yes;” answered Iskander, firmly.
“Now listen, Hakim,” said Mahomed. “I must very shortly leave the city, and proceed into Epirus at the head of our troops. I have sworn two things, and I have sworn them by the holy stone. Ere the new moon, I will have the heart of Iduna and the head of Iskander!”
The physician bowed.
“If you can so restore the health of this Frangy girl,” continued Mahomed, “that she may attend me within ten days into Epirus, you shall claim from my treasury what sum you like, and become physician to the Seraglio. What say you?”
“My hope and my belief is,” replied Iskander, “that within ten days she may breathe the air of Epirus.”
“By my father’s beard, you are a man after my own heart,” exclaimed the prince; “and since thou dealest in talismans, Hakim, can you give me a charm that you will secure me a meeting with this Epirot rebel within the term, so that I may keep my oath. What say you? what say you?”
“There are such spells,” replied Iskander. “But mark, I can only secure the meeting, not the head.”
“That is my part,” said Mahomed, with an arrogant sneer. “But the meeting, the meeting?”
“You know the fountain of Kallista in Epirus. Its virtues are renowned.”
“I have beard of it.”
“Plunge your scimitar in its midnight waters thrice, on the eve of the new moon, and each time summon the enemy you would desire to meet. He will not fail you.”
“If you cure the captive, I will credit the legend, and keep the appointment,” replied Mahomed, thoughtfully.
“I have engaged to do that,” replied the physician.
“Well, then, I shall redeem my pledge,” said the prince
“But mind,” said the physician, “while I engage to cure the lady and produce the warrior, I can secure your highness neither the heart of the one nor the head of the other.”
“‘Tis understood,” said Mahomed.
CHAPTER 12
The Armenian physician did not fail to attend his captive patient at an early hour on the ensuing morn. His patron Kaflis received him with an encouraging smile.
“The talisman already works;” said the eunuch: “she has passed a good night, and confesses to an improvement. Our purses are safe. Methinks I already count the gold. But I say, worthy Hakim, come hither, come hither,” and Kaflis looked around to be sure that no one was within hearing, “I say,” and here he put on a very mysterious air indeed, “the prince is generous; you understand? We go shares. We shall not quarrel. I never yet repented patronizing a man of science, and I am sure I never shall. The prince, you see, is violent, but generous. I would not cure her too soon, eh?”
“You take a most discreet view of affairs,” responded Iskander, with an air of complete assent, and they entered the chamber of the tower.
Iduna performed her part with great dexterity; but, indeed, it required less skill than herself and her advisers had at first imagined. Her malady, although it might have ended fatally, was in its origin entirely mental, and the sudden prospect of freedom, and of restoration to her country and her family, at a moment when she had delivered herself up to despair, afforded her a great and instantaneous benefit. She could not, indeed, sufficiently restrain her spirits, and smiled incredulously when Iskander mentioned the impending exertion and fatigues with doubt and apprehension. His anxiety to return immediately to Epirus, determined him to adopt the measures for her rescue without loss of time, and on his third visit, he prepared her for making the great attempt on the ensuing morn. Hitherto Iskander had refrained from revealing himself to Iduna. He was induced to adopt this conduct by various considerations. He could no longer conceal from himself that the daughter of Hunniades exercised an influence over his feelings which he was unwilling to encourage. His sincere friendship for Nicæus, and his conviction that It was his present duty to concentrate all his thought and affection in the cause of his country, would have rendered him anxious to have resisted any emotions of the kind, even could he have flattered himself that there was any chance of their being returned by the object of his rising passion. But Iskander was as modest as he was brave and gifted. The disparity of age between himself and Iduna appeared an insuperable barrier to his hopes, even had there been no other obstacle. Iskander struggled with his love, and with his strong mind the struggle, though painful, was not without success. He felt that he was acting in a manner which must ultimately tend to the advantage of his country, the happiness of his friend, and perhaps the maintenance of his own self-respect. For he had too much pride not to be very sensible to the bitterness of rejection.