University of Virginia Library

8. VIII.

When she had gone, a secret door in the wall was
thrown open, through which Melchior, Adoniakim, and
Amri passed, leaving Namur, the proprietor of the porch,
to meet the approaching enemy,—a task to which, in
the persecuted condition of the Jews in that time and
country, he had long before been familiar.

Meanwhile the Jewish maiden, with a heart that
trembled with various emotions, but with a step as confident
as if she were really of the sex whose habiliments
she wore, made her way, as she had been directed by
her father, to the lodge which stood at the entrance of
the porch. Here, concealed in a dark recess of the
wall, she took her station, and patiently awaited the
coming of the person she had been sent to guide. An
hour, probably, had elapsed, when her ears distinguished
the sound as of many persons approaching. There was
a hum of voices, the tread of several following feet, and
once she distinguished a rattling noise, as of the heavy

iron head of a lance clashing against the solid wall.
Cautiously, and trembling all the while, she stole forth
to the entrance of the little recess where she had stationed
herself, and her eye discerned, moving down a
dim lane that stretched away into the distance on her
right, a group as of armed men. She saw in the starlight
the glittering of steel; and she plainly saw one
shining helmet, towering brightly in advance of the rest.
At that moment a light but firm footfall, near at hand,
also reached her ears. She turned; and, though the
approaching person was enveloped in a cloak, she could
not doubt that it was him she sought. The erect and
elevated form, the free, unhesitating tread, all spoke for
Pelayo; and, perhaps, there was an instinct in her own
bosom that needed no aid from her senses to speak for
his presence.

He, too, seemed to have discerned the coming enemy;
for once he paused, and his head was turned, as if
inquiringly, in the direction of the intruders. At that
moment she emerged lightly from the recess, and her
slight hand and trembling fingers plucked him by the
skirts of his cloak. He started, and his ready hand
clutched his dagger.

“Lamech,” said the maiden, in a whisper, “Lamech
—I come from Melchior.”

“Ha! where is he?”

She motioned him to follow her, and led the way into
the recess from which she had just emerged. He followed
her promptly, and a few words told him all, and
accounted for her presence.

“These are the soldiers now, sir—my lord. We
must keep in silence here till they have passed.”

“Get thy dagger ready in the meanwhile, Lamech,
for they may think it well to look into this alley. How
now—wherefore dost thou tremble? Thy fears will not
make them blind, nor better thy own strength. Pluck up
thy spirits, and fear nothing.”

Well might she tremble. She stood beside the Prince
Pelayo, and his hand rested upon her shoulder while he
spoke. The voices of the soldiers were now distinctly
heard, and it could be distinguished by the two that they
spoke of Melchior and of the promised reward. Lamech
trembled like a leaf in the October winds, as he
heard their fell threatenings. Pelayo felt distinctly the
beatings of that fluttering heart, and, in a whisper, endeavoured
to reassure it.

“Thy father is safe now, Lamech, and we are safe,
I doubt not, since, in their great thirst to pursue him, they
will not pause to search out other places of which they
have no suspicion. Why dost thou withdraw from me,
boy, and bend forward as if thou wouldst go forth? Move
not; thy weight is nothing against my arm. I could bear
thee like a child in flight.”

A voice was heard at the entrance of the alley.

“Here is a dark hole—dark enough to hide a dozen
outlaws. Shall we not look in here?”

Pelayo thrust the trembling boy, as he heard these
words, behind him, dropped his cumbrous cloak from his
shoulders, and stood in the centre of the alley, prepared
for the intruders. But the words of the fierce Edacer in
reply rendered his preparations unnecessary.

“No—we have no time for this. I know where the
outlaw is. Let us haste, and we shall find him. We
have already wasted too much time with that drunken
Astigia. On!”

Their heavy tread was heard passing before the entrance,
and Pelayo resumed his cloak.

“Come, boy—come, Lamech,” he said, in gentle
tones to the maiden. “Thou hast nothing to fear now,
and canst lead me to the place thy father appointed.
Thou art but a frail ally, Lamech, and wouldst not stand
well the assault of thine enemy. Thy people have too
long been wanting to the strife, and may not lift sword
with cool hand and reckless spirit.”

“Yet Judah was a lion once, my lord,” was the response
of the person addressed.

“Thou art not Judah, then, Lamech. The dove's
spirit is thine rather than the lion's. But lead on, Lamech—lead
on, and fear nothing. Thy hand yet trembles
under mine.”

This was true, and as strange, in the thought of the
maiden, as it was true. Why should her hand always
tremble when it met that of Pelayo? Why should her
heart tremble when she heard him speak? Why should
she fear him? Did she fear him, and wherefore her
emotions? Vainly did she ask herself these questions.
Her thoughts could not give her back an answer, and
her heart dared not!