University of Virginia Library

15. XV.

The fierce noble gave him but little time to deliberate
after his arrival. His lodgings were in confusion.
The half-drunken soldiers whom he had employed
were yet clamorous around him for their promised
pay, which he could not so easily provide; when the
presence of Amri, if it did not at once relieve him from
this difficulty, furnished him, at least, with a victim upon
whom to vent his indignation.

“Dog of a Jew!” he cried, as the youth appeared
before him; “dog of a Jew, am I thy sport—thy
plaything? Dost thou think to serve me at thy pleasure—to
lead me into the haunts of thy accursed tribe on
a profitless quest for that which it holds not? Speak!
ere I bid the spears of these men search thy bosom for
their prey. They shall have it freely an they find it
there!”

He grappled the throat of the Jew with a grasp of
iron as he spoke these words. But Amri was nothing

dismayed. He well knew where the power lay to manage
his superior.

“My lord—” He began to speak when Edacer interrupted
him.

“Hast thou money? I ask not for thy words yet!
Thy gold—the men must be paid. I have none.”

“I have but little, my lord, and—”

“Give it, and think not long, whatever thou dost; for
it is easier with these spears to search to thy very heart
for thy wealth, than to wait for thy slow hands to pluck
it forth from thy vestments!”

“It is here; thou hast all.”

The Jew gave forth his purse freely, since he well
knew that it was idle to oppose a demand made in a
form so unequivocal. But he had previously abducted
from the purse a goodly portion of the precious pieces,
which he had elsewhere hidden about him. With these
the Goth paid his retainers, whom he at once dismissed
from his presence, but he bade them keep at hand in
the event of other employment. When they had gone
he again addressed Amri in the wonted language of extortion.

“Thou seest! All that I got from thee have I given
among them. Not a piece remains.”

“Truly thou hast paid them freely, my lord, seeing
that they have done thee but little service,” responded
Amri.

“And have I let thee to my company, Jew,—and
held thee fit for my friends, in their moments of mirth
and freedom, to be requited after this fashion. Shalt
thou pay nothing for this privilege?”

“Do I not pay? Have I not paid, even now, my
lord?”

“Hast thou not seen? Have I thy moneys? Thou
hast paid but the base agents of thy own scheme, which
yet has failed us. For that thou shalt answer. Wherefore
is it so? Wherefore hast thou led me into the

vile quarter where thy tribe harbours—amid its sinks
and filthy corners—in an idle search after that which it
holds not? Am I thy thing of sport?—the instrument
from which thy base fingers shall bring forth whatever
sound shall offer to thy mood? Answer me! for I
meditate for thee a shrewd penalty unless thou showest
me wherefore thou hast done this.”

“I told thee truth, my lord.”

“Thou liest!—I sought the Quarter of the Jew—I
sought the dwelling of Namur of the Porch. I searched
it narrowly, both high and low. Melchior was not
there—nor had he been,—else how should he have
escaped?”

“He was there, my lord. He had been. It was
thy own fault and my misfortune that thou foundest him
not. He heard of thy approach.”

“Traitor! By thee—”

The Jew started. The reply of the Goth, uttered at
random, and without a purpose, save that of anger on his
part, had touched truly. But he recovered himself instantly,
and replied—

“No! by the creatures thou didst have with thee.”

“What creatures, Jew?”

“The drunken Lord Astigia!” was the bold reply.
“He it was that defeated thy pursuit. He it was,—
and those with him,—that forced Melchior to escape.
What! shall the hunter clamour aloud to warn the game
he seeks? Shall he who seeks the conspirator, in his
place of watch and hiding, bid the trumpets bray to
make his coming known? Yet such was the clamour
of Astigia, as he came upon the Hebrew Quarter.”

“How knowest thou?—wast thou nigh?” demanded
the Goth.

“Not I. But from one who saw it all I heard it
truly. The Lord Astigia grew drunken, and then furious,
and fought with thee. This was the story brought
me.”

“He did—'tis true,” was the reply.

“He clamoured much, and all the quarter was aroused
to hear his howlings, and the clash of swords in fierce
strife even came to my ears that were distant. But I
thought not that it came from thee. I thought not that
thou wouldst go on a quest so secret and so full of trial
with a besotted train who must defeat thee.”

“Thou art right, Jew; though thy speech does not
beseem thy lips to speak, nor my ears to hear—thou art
right nevertheless. Astigia did as thou sayest, though I
thought not that his clamour had reached the Jewish
Quarter. Indeed, I think not so now. How knowest
it?”

“Thinkest thou a hunted man, like Melchior of the
Desert, will adventure himself among his enemies keeping
no watch? His friends are all about him, and they
heed the public ways. The quick ears that heard the
clamour ere thou reachedst the quarter, had ready feet
that soon bore their intelligence.”

“'Tis like,” said the Goth.

“'Tis certain,” boldly pursued the Hebrew; “'tis
certain. Had he not been so warned thou hadst entrapped
him, even in the dwelling of Namur.”

“We must do it yet. The prize is great. Thou
must search out his hiding-place again, Amri,—we must
share the treasure.”

“Shall I?” responded the Hebrew, assuming an expression
of sullenness as he spoke; “shall I pursue
again—find where the game sleeps, to have the hunter
lose him?”

“It shall not be again, Amri,” replied the Goth, in
gentler language.

The Hebrew continued in the same strain.

“Then, if it fail through the mischance of others,
shall I have the lifted spear to my breast, and a fierce
threat, and a foul oath of scorn in my ears, until I give
money? Such is the share of Amri.”

“It shall not hap again,” said the other, soothingly;
for without the aid of the Hebrew he felt that he could
do nothing. “Thou hast had wrong, Amri,—thou shalt
have justice. Seek out the man again—find where he
lies, then come to me. The reward will then be ours,
and then thou shalt have a goodly part of it.”

The Hebrew promised, and was about to go, but
Edacer detained him.

“Thy purse was but scantily filled. I must have
more. Thou hast it—thou must give it!”

“Thou wilt take all I have,” gloomily answered the
youth.

“What! dost thou murmur? Have I not made thee
free with the Lady Urraca?—does she not love thee,
and let thee to her affections?”

“For money! She hath an affection for gold, my
lord, like all thy nobles.”

“Well—what of that? Thou hast her.”

“'Tis true,” said the Hebrew, giving up his money,
even to the last piece, to the unglutted noble.

“'Tis true,” he muttered to himself on leaving him,
“I have Urraca—a Gothic dame, not too noble to sell
herself to the Jew she despises for the gold he brings.
I have her—but I hate her. I have been her slave—I
will be so no longer. The loveliness of Thyrza has
freed me from that bondage. I loathe the very thought
of Urraca when I think of the loveliness of the child of
Melchior.”

And he hurried away, as he mused thus, with more
rapidity to the dwelling of his father. His aim was now
once more to gain access to the abode and presence of
the damsel.