University of Virginia Library

8. VIII.

There was but a single mode of escape for Amri
from the terrors of that voice of conscience, and that
was by plunging madly into newer depths of vice and
indulgence. The terror which it inspired only drove
him the more impetuously forward in the prosecution
of his dishonourable purposes; and he hoped, in seeking
his not less vicious but more powerful associate, Edacer,
to quiet, or at least drown in a greater confusion,
the strife which was busy in his mind. Filled with the
toils, not to speak of the “pomp and circumstance,” of
his new condition, the Governor of Cordova was not
so readily accessible to the Jew as the dissolute Edacer,
a coarse and worthless noble of the Goth, had
usually been found; and Amri was compelled to wait
among the crowd of officers, applicants, and offenders,
who desired or needed the presence of authority. Nor,
when he did appear, did Edacer condescend to regard
the Hebrew, until the demands had been satisfied of
the greater number of those persons who were in
attendance. Yet was it evident to the latter that his
eye had been one of the first to catch that of the governor
upon his entrance into the Hall of State. At
another time, and under other circumstances, the impatient
spirit of the Hebrew youth would have been loath
to brook such slight from one who had been his companion
in all manner of vice; but now, thirsting as he
did for vengeance, which he felt could not well be
attained but through the power of Edacer, he was
content to suppress, or at least to conceal, his annoyance.
The novelty of the scene before him had also

its effect, as it excited his imagination, in quieting his
discontent. Edacer presided as a judge; and, to the
surprise of Amri, he now observed that the person in
authority was most severe in his judgments upon all
those vices which he, in connexion with Amri, had been
most given to indulge in. It may be that a selfishness
not less singular than narrow prompted the noble to
deny that to others below him which was a source of
gratification to himself. It is not unfrequently the case
that the vicious mind, not through any lurking and
lingering sense of virtue, but through the sheer intemperance
of excess, would punish those very practices in
another which it most earnestly pursues itself. The
problem was one most difficult of solution to the Jew,
but his was not the sleepless spirit which would deny
itself all rest in a search after truth; and even while he
mediated the matter, in an errant mood, the audience
was dismissed, and a private signal from Edacer motioned
him, when the crowd had withdrawn, to an inner
apartment. The Jew followed in silence: the soldiers
remained without, in waiting, and Amri stood alone
with the governor in a private chamber. Here Edacer
threw aside his robes of state, and casting himself at
full length upon a couch, bade the Jew, before he could
speak a syllable of that which he had to say, bring him
a bowl of wine from a vessel which stood in a distant
niche of the chamber, and was hidden from sight by a
falling curtain.

“Drink, Amri,” he cried, as he gave back the half-emptied
bowl to the Hebrew—“drink, and speak
freely. The wine is good—it is a god.”

“Thou hast said not more in its behalf, my Lord
Governor, than it well deserves,” said Amri, as he finished
the draught; “the wine is more than a god—it
is a god-maker. We have both felt its power. This is
old, and of a rich flavour and fragrance. It is worthy
of the lips of the Lord of Cordova. May I congratulate

your highness on the justice and extreme felicity
of your decrees to-day. Truly, my lord, I should think
you had heard some homilies, and imbibed some lessons
from the lips of my worthy kinsman, Melchior of the
Desert. There was a holy unction in your rebuke, as
you counselled that citizen in the soiled mantle, charged
with rape upon the daughter of his neighbour, and
doomed him to a loss of half his substance in compensation
to the woman he had defiled, which I looked not
to have heard from your lips.”

“Thou knowest me not, Amri,” responded the noble,
with a laugh of peculiar self-complaisance—“thou
knowest me not, my worthy Amri: my principles have
ever been held most unexceptionable, and the most
sanctified priest in all Iberia could never discourse better
than can I on the vices and ill practices of youth—
with a more holy phraseology, and a more saintlike
horror and aversion. What matters it if my practice do
not accord with the rule of my lips? The mason will
prescribe to the noble a dwelling, whose vastness and
beauty he himself will never compass, nor seek to compass,
in building up his own. The low hovel satisfies
his pride, and he heeds not the lofty symmetry of the
fabric which he designs for his neighbour. It is thus
with all. We teach others—we thus show that our
hearts are free and liberal, since we give, confessedly,
good principles and wholesome laws to our neighbours
which we appropriate not to our own use. The priest
is thus liberal—the learned doctor, and his reverence
the pope—his decrees are wise and holy; though 'tis
most certain that he waxes fat, and wealthy, and powerful,
the more he goes aside from the exercise of his own
teachings. When I counselled and punished the young
citizen, I but followed the practice of our holy father. I
counselled him for his good, and not for my own: my rebuke
was addressed to his necessities, not to those of the
Governor of Cordova. Dost thou conceive me, Amri?”

“Do I see the sun to-day, my lord? I shall answer
one question much more readily than the other. The
argument is clear. It was not thy sin that thou hadst
in cognizance, else the case, perchance, had been somewhat
different,” replied the Jew.

“Of a truth it had. We, at least, who have the
power, and can make principles, have no reason to
believe in our own fallibility. Holy church is full of
analogies which give wholesome sanction to the indulgences
of this transitory life. The rules of virtue and
conduct which we lay down and declare to be fixed
laws, are rules only for those who are to obey them.
The maker of the law does his sole duty when he has
made it—the citizen does his when he obeys it. The
path is clear for both; and as he who has made can
unmake, so the ruler may not for himself heed the rule
which is the work of his own head and hands, when it
shall be the desire of his head to undo it.”

“It is light, my lord. Of a truth the great Solomon
never spoke more truly or wisely; though I misdoubt
if Melchior, of whom I came to speak to thee but now,
my Lord Governor—I much misdoubt if he would not
pick me some open place in thy argument.”

“He could not well, Jew, believe me; the truth is
beyond the cunning of any of thy tribe. But what hast
thou to say to me of Melchior? Hast thou tidings of
his movements? Get me knowledge of his place of
secret hiding, Amri, so that I may entrap him, Hebrew,
and I make thy fortune, since my own will then be
secure. Such success will give me a stronger hold in
the favour of Roderick, and silence the enemies, some
of whom have striven, though, as thou seest, but vainly,
to keep back my advancement.”

“I will do it—I have the knowledge which thou
desirest, my lord,” replied the Jew.

“Now, wouldst thou wert a Christian,” responded
the Gothic nobleman, half rising from the couch upon

which he lay, “for then would I hug thee to my heart
as the best friend and truest servant in Cordova. Speak
out thy knowledge, Amri, that I may rejoice in what
thou promisest.”

“I have a greater knowledge and a more profitable
secret even than that of Melchior's place of hiding. Know
that he designs once more a rising of our people.”

“Ha! but I shall foil him there. I am glad of it,
nevertheless. This will only make greater the good
service which I shall render to Roderick;” and the
governor rubbed his hands together joyfully and confidently
as he uttered these words. He then bade the
Jew relate more fully the intelligence which he brought.

“There is even more matter in this than thou hast
heard, my Lord Edacer, since there are yet others
linked in this rebellion of Melchior, making it one of
more character and import. What sayst thou if I tell
you that the banished prince Pelayo is one of these
conspirators?—what if I tell thee that he is here, even
now, in Cordova?—and if, farther, I say to thee that
thou mayst, at one grasp, take both the rebels, with
others yet unnamed to thee, and place their heads at the
feet of King Roderick. This were good service to thee,
my Lord Edacer, and no less good service to thy lord
the king.”

“Thou stunnest me, Amri, with thy good tidings.
I can scarce believe what thou sayst, Jew—thou mockest
me—thou hadst better not!”

“I do not—I swear it by the beard of Samuel, and
the speaking rod of Moses! It is true as the graven
tables. I mock thee not, unless the sober truth be thy
mock.”

The governor leaped from his couch, himself proceeded
to the beverage which was hidden in the niche,
and drank freely of its contents; then, turning to the
Jew, he bade him relate at full the extent of his knowledge,
and the manner in which he became possessed

of it. But Amri had some scruples, and perhaps it is
not strange to say that these had reference to the safety
of his father. He was careful that in what he said
there should be nothing to commit Adoniakim. Nature
still occupied a spot--a small, a solitary spot--in his
bosom, though driven, in great measure, from that dark
and desecrated abiding-place of guilt.

"I will tell thee, my lord, all that is needful to place
thee in possession of Melchior of the Desert, of Pelayo,
the son of Witiza, of Abimelech the Hebrew leader,
who comes from Merida, and others worthy to go with
these to punishment--such as the Lords Aylor and
Eudon. Will these suffice thee?"

"Hast thou not other secrets, Amri ?" demanded
Edacer, fixing upon him a glance which seemed meant
to pierce through the very bosom of the Hebrew.

"I have!" was the unhesitating and firm reply.

"Thou shalt give me all," said the Gothic noble,
sternly.

"I will not!" replied the Hebrew, with almost equal
sternness; "thou shalt have the truth in the matter
which I speak of, as it concerns the men I have named
to thee. Thou shalt know where to place thy hands
upon them, and I will name to thee the very hour of
their assembling. Thou canst fail in nothing if thou
wilt heed the counsel which I give thee and the conditions
which I make: deny me, and delay for more,
and even this shalt thou forfeit."

"Beware, Amri — let not thy confidence in our old
friendship persuade thee into a most unwise audacity.
Remember, I am now no longer the poor Edacer, having
base wants which thy father's wealth could feed,
and which made even thee, at moments, the master of
my will. I have now the power to punish thee-ay, to
tear the secret from thy bosom, and extort the speech
from thy lips, even if thou hadst there locked up the
very life of thy father."

The Hebrew shivered as he heard this threat; the
ill-directed kindness of Adoniakim came to his mind,
and once more he heard the dreadful sounds of that
pursuing voice which threatened him with a sudden and
fatal doom. But he tasked his utmost energies to the
performance, and replied fearlessly and with but little
hesitation, while he repeated his resolve still to reserve
to himself something of the narrative he was required to
unfold—

“I fear not, my Lord Edacer, and thy threat is most
unwise, since, without my limbs to lead thee, and my
hand to guide thee, in some matters yet unascertained,
even the words of my mouth would fail to serve thee in
the matter of which we speak. There is something yet
to me unknown which is needful to thy success.
Hearken, then, to what I am willing to unfold to thee,
and content thee with my conditions. Is it not enough
that thou shalt have Melchior and Pelayo, and the very
heads of this rebellion—the hated enemies of King
Roderick—to proffer to his acceptance? What is it to
thee if I would save an old man who has wealth which
I need, or a boy who has suckled at the same breast
which gave milk and nourishment to me? Perhaps a
Jewish maiden is also at risk, whom I would preserve
with a fonder feeling than belongs to either of these—
art thou so greedy that thou wouldst take all? Will not
the part which I assign to thee—the all that is needful
to King Roderick's favour—will that not repay thee for
thy toil and the valour of thy men?”

“It will—it will!” replied the impatient Edacer, who
probably only insisted upon having that portion of his
secret which Amri seemed anxious to reserve, as he was
unwilling to forego the exercise of any portion of his
supposed power over the fears and service of the Hebrew.
“It will!” he continued—“save the old man
whose money thou desirest, and thy foster-brother, who
has drawn milk from the same nipples with thee, and

the Jewish girl, too, if she be worth the care which
would save, when so many of the Gothic blood are ready
for any hire and for any service. They demands, if these
be all, are small enough. They are granted thee. Speak
only as it pleases thee, Amri, and I am satisfied.”

After this, the Hebrew framed his story to his own
satisfaction. He simply omitted all those portions of
his intelligence which could effect the safety of his
father, and guide to the present place of Thyrza's concealment—a
discovery which he had also been fortunate
enough to make. The papers which he had read had
apprized him of the place of meeting, of the probable
number of the leaders who would be there assembled—
of what would be the direction of their troops—how
gathered together—how divided—and of the particular
command which should be assigned to Melchior and
Abimelech, as leaders of the Jewish insurgents. The
fond parental care of Melchior had already, meanwhile,
placed his daughter (still disguised in her male attire)
in the secluded and unsuspected dwelling of a Hebrew,
within the walls of the city of Cordova, where she was
required to remain while the success of the rebels continued
doubtful. These portions of his secret excepted,
the traitorous youth revealed all that he knew of the
conspiracy to his dissolute listener, whose ears drank in
greedily every syllable which he uttered. His joy at
the intelligence could scarcely be restrained from the
most wild excesses, and he now—forgetting all differences
of station and religion, both hitherto so much insisted
upon in his intimacy with the Hebrew—actually
embraced the informer, and lavished upon him the most
unqualified praises and caresses. When he became
sufficiently composed, he proceeded to examine Amri
more closely, and required him to recapitulate, that he
might better determine in what manner to proceed in
arresting the insurgents. In this decision the cunning

mind of Amri proved a useful auxiliary to the more
purposeless but more daring one of Edacer.

“The leaders only will assemble in the Cave, my
lord: their numbers will be few—some fifty at the most.
To take these the force required will be moderate, yet
it must greatly exceed theirs, since, doubtlessly, they
will fight like desperate men. What guard have you in
Cordova?”

“Two hundred men,” replied the governor.

“Enough, if rightly managed, my lord. You need
no more. To go out of Cordova to gather a greater
number would be to make the rebels suspicious of
danger, and they might avoid the meeting. No doubt
they have many emissaries in Cordova, who would convey
to them the knowledge of any addition to your
guards, or any sudden or strange movement which you
might make. There should be no change in your regular
doings; but after nightfall you should steal forth,
with your men, at different routes, sending them under
chosen guides, and they should rendezvous near the
Fountain of the Damsels; from thence, under your own
lead, they could reach the Cave of Wamba in time,
moving silently and with caution, to find all the conspirators
assembled. One sudden blow, and the game
is yours. They cannot save themselves by flight—
they cannot even give you battle, for they will be crowded
together beyond all chance of a free movement, with
necks stiffened only for the better exercise of your
swords.”

“'Twere a brave fortune, truly, could I but secure
it—could I but succeed!” was the exclamation of Edacer
as he listened to the plan of Amri. The Jew urged
the certainty of his success.

“You must succeed, my lord. It needs only that
you be resolute, and keep your men so. The rebels
cannot hope to fly; and they are quite too few for any
hope from flight with the force which you can array.”

“But then their troops, Amri: they have been gathering
along the passes—how far, how near, we know
not. They may press down upon Cordova itself, hearing
of the fate of their leaders, and endanger the city.
What then?”

“This staggers not, my lord. Have you a trusty
captain in your troop?”

“Yes, there is one—Balermin—my lieutenant.”

“Give him command: bid him make alarm in the
city when you shall have been gone five hours from it.
Let him arm the trustiest citizens, as if they stood in
danger from the Saracen; then let him send forth trusty
messengers to the lieutenant of King Roderick, who has
a force of men but five leagues off—off by the west—
I have not the name of the place—”

`Darane—I know the village,” said the governor.

“I know—what then?”

“Bid him quick bring his soldiers to thy aid. Thou
wilt need them to disperse the rebels and clear the
passes, when thou shalt have entrapped their leaders.
What more? The game is before thee!”

“Clear enough! Thy plans are excellent, Amri—
thou shouldst have been a warrior, Amri.”

“No, my lord—the shouting terrifies me. I could
plan out the field, and say well enough when and where
the blow should be stricken, but the shouting of many
men has a dreadful sound which appals me. My heart
trembles when I hear it even in the peaceful walls of a
city, and when they shout with joyfulness and glee; but
when they shout in anger, and with the fierce rapture
of an angry beast, who scents the carnage with a keen
nostril coming down the wind—then I shiver with convulsion,
and I sicken even to faintness. I cannot fight
—I cannot even fly—my knees give way from beneath
me, and a child might slay me then.”

“'Tis very wonderful!” exclaimed the Goth, looking
upon the Jew with a pitying surprise as he listened—

“I have no such terrors. The cry which appals thee,
to me is like the blood-scent to the angry beast of which
thou speakest. It is then that I shout also, and I hear
my own voice with a rapturous sense, as it thrills and
rises louder than any of those who shout around me.
My blood leaps then in my bosom, and my eyes glow
red and burningly, and my hand grasps my sword, and
twitches with a pleasure of its own, as if it tugged at the
throat of my enemy.”

“I know it—I have seen thee angry. I saw thee
once take Astigia by the throat, even as thou sayst,
until he grew black in the face under thy grasp,” and,
as he spoke, the Hebrew gazed upon Edacer with a
simple expression of admiration in his countenance,
while the other, as if to secure the respect he had
already excited, now bared his muscular arm, upon
which the veins were swelling in heaped-up ridges, and
the brawn stood out in hills and knots that seemed fearfully
to deform it, and demanded no less admiration for
the exhibition which he made of his strength than he
had before elicited from his admirer by his display of
courage. Not satisfied by the acknowledgments thus
extorted from his companion, the dissolute nobleman,
who had his vanity also, himself sneered at the incident
to which the Hebrew had referred when he sought to
convince him that his valour had not been unobserved
by him.

“That affair with Astigia,” said Edacer, “of which
thou speakest, was only a child's affair. He was but
an infant in my grasp. I could tell thee, Amri, of other
strifes and struggles which laugh at this. What sayst
thou to the fight which I had with two strong and subtle-minded
Saracens, both of whom I slew without succour,
and both striving against me at the same moment; and
yet that was boyish valour only. I could do better now.
It would not be so easy now for any Saracen to make
his mark upon my bosom, as did one of those in that

same combat. Look, Amri, at the scar—the cimeter
went keenly there, as thou seest, though not deeply.
In the same moment my mace dug deeply into the
scull of the infidel, and the other, as he beheld the fate
of his companion, sought, but in vain, to escape his
doom by flight. They lay not far apart from each other
when the fight was done, and a like blow had slain the
two.”

“Both slain by thy hands?” demanded Amri, while
beholding the scarred bosom which Edacer bared to his
sight.

“Have I not said? They both perished by my
hand; and thou shalt see what blows that same hand
will bestow upon the limbs of the rebels to whose hiding-place
thou shalt guide me. The strife with Astigia
will no longer have a place in thy memory, in the thought
of the blows which thou shalt then behold. Thou shalt
see—”

The idle boaster, who, nevertheless, was brave
enough in battle, would have farther gone in his self-eulogistic
strain, had not the apprehensions of the Jew
here interrupted him—

“I will believe what thou tellest me, my lord—but I
would not see it. There will be no need that I should
be present when the strife comes on—”

“Fool!—timid fool that thou art!” responded the
other, scornfully—“what hast thou to fear? Thou
shalt look on the strife as one upon the eminence, who
beholds the spectacle below. The danger shall be beneath
thee, if there be danger; but I warrant thee there
shall be none, though the force of the rebels were thrice
what thou hast said it to be.”

“Freely do I believe thee, my lord,” said the other;
“but what need that I be there? I should not be able
to help thee with a single blow, or, when the fight was
done, to rejoice in thy victory, since the clamour would
appal me, and I should not even see the heavy strokes

or the brave men who give them. Besides, I have
cares at the hour when thou shalt strike which shall call
me elsewhere; and I would have thee assign to me a
badge of thy service, and one of thy attendants also
wearing the habit of thy soldiers. These, with a written
order under thy hand as Governor of Cordova, commanding
for me free entrance into any house in Cordova
in the keeping of the Hebrew, under pain of death to
those who may deny me, I would have thee intrust to
my use and good discretion.”

“What wouldst thou with them?” was the demand
of Edacer.

“There is a page kept bound in Melchior's service—
a tender, timid boy, that has my blood—him would I
challenge as my right. I would take him from those
who keep him back from me—”

“What sort of boy is he—he is thy blood?”

“From the same heart with mine,” replied the Jew;
“but kept from me unjustly. 'Tis a boy—a simple,
sad, and very timid boy, having the spirit of a shrinking
girl, and needing kindest tendance. Melchior keeps
him under pretence of right, but mere pretence; for I
will show thee, when I have him safe, that I am his best
guardian. The power I ask from thee will draw the
bolts and make the doors open which now are shut.”

“This all?” demanded the governor.

“All, my lord.”

“It shall be thine. When the time comes thou'lt
have it, not before, and for that night alone. Now
bring the bowl. Let us drink, Amri—then speed to
the Lady Urraca. When didst thou see her last?”

The Jew shrank from this subject, but he replied
quickly, and with as little show of hesitation or annoyance
in his manner as possible, for he feared to awaken
suspicion. The consciousness of his purposed crime
was in his mind, and there is no foe like guilt. It pursues
us wherever we fly, and, unlike other enemies, it is

found in all forms and all places, and we have no moment
secure from its obtrusion. The Jew felt its presence
as he replied to Edacer, stating the time at which
he had left the ill-starred lady of whom he had been
questioned. But Edacer drank, and did not heed the
confusion which Amri could not altogether suppress or
conceal.

“Thou shalt meet me there to-night,” said the noble.
“She has bidden me to supper, and I make bold to take
thee with me. She hath a kindness for thee, Amri,
which shall well excuse me, and call for no words of
mine. We shall have other toils upon the morrow
which shall keep us both from such indulgence.”

“Thou wilt have thy enemies in the toils, my lord.
King Roderick will do well already to look around him
for thy reward. Thy success in this will make thee a
favourite with the Goth. It may be—”

“What, Amri?”

“Ah! my Lord Edacer, when thou becomest a royal
prince, thou wouldst have no eye for the poor Hebrew.”

“By Heaven, thou wrongest me, Amri. Let the
power but be mine, and thou shalt be—what matters it
to promise? I tell thee, Amri, thou shalt rejoice that I
have had thee in my service. Thou shalt glory to have
been faithful to me. No more. Leave me now; we
meet at Urraca's.”

The Jew left him, as he was commanded; and the
smiling scorn he did not seek to hide which rose involuntarily
upon his countenance as he listened to the
speech of the vain, thoughtless, and dreaming Edacer.