University of Virginia Library

12. CHAPTER XII.
THE MOORISH SORCERESS.

The written message that Renault had received in
the fortress from the hand of Gobin, and which had produced
such an effect upon him, was couched in these
figurative words, and without date or signature.

In a little more than half an hour after receiving it,
and crossing the lake with his forces, he came in sight
of the gate of the city with three hundred men at his
back. He was impetuously thundering on, with the intention
of carrying the barriers by storm, when the
gray woman appeared suddenly in his path.

“Hold, Renault!” she cried, waving her arm as he
approached her at the head of his men.

He instantly halted his troop, he himself drawing
rein within three feet of her with so sudden a check to
the impetus of his horse that he threw him back upon
his haunches. The fore feet of the animal for a moment
beat the air, and threatened to descend upon the
breast of the sorceress, who saved herself from being
struck with his hoofs by adroitly seizing him by the bit,
and, with a wonderful display of coolness and strength,
turning him aside.

“Dismount; I would speak with thee,” she cried, authoritatively.

Impatient as he was to fly to the rescue or to the
revenge of his sister, he nevertheless obeyed. Throwing
his rein to one of his troop, he followed her, as she
preceded him at a rapid pace, until she came beneath
the wall, near an angle of one of the abutments, against
which stood the ruins of a stone hut. This she entered,
making a sign for him to follow.

“Nay, time is more precious than life, and why
waste it in mystery, woman?” said Renault, pausing on
the threshold.

“Thy sister is in no present danger! but, if thou
wouldst finally save her, thou must be guided by me.
Did not a message from me bring thee hither at the
head of thy troop?”

“Thou hast spoken truly. Lead on! I will be guided
by thee!”

She immediately entered the inner room of the dark
hut, and, lifting a trap door, descended a dilapidated
flight of steps. He followed her unhesitatingly, an
idea of the object she had in view flashing upon his
mind, and found himself in a cavernous passage, with

broken arches and an unpaved floor. Her footsteps,
for he could see nothing in the gloom, guided him along
the damp, subterraneous passage, which, after several
intricate windings, conducted them to a flight of stairs
at its extremity. These she ascended to an apartment,
into which, through numerous crevices, streamed the
light of the moon. After listening an instant at a door,
she boldly threw it open, and Renault, to his surprise,
found that he was in a street within the walls.

“The knowledge of this passage gives us possession
of the town,” he cried, with animation, forgetting, in
his great discovery, the immediate object in which he
was so deeply interested.

“Follow me,” she said, on gaining the street, without
pausing to look behind her.

“Alone! I can effect nothing alone! In five minutes
I will have my men dismounted and let into the
town,” he said, going back into the building.

“Young man,” she cried, sternly, “follow me!
Leave thy troop to wait for thy return.”

“I will not go without the power to punish this tyrant!”
he replied, determinedly.

“Is not thy sister in momentary peril? The evil of
one moment's delay a legion of warriors may not undo.”

“I obey,” he anxiously responded, and followed her.

On the way to the palace she informed him, in her
brief, figurative manner, of the particulars of Azèlie's
abduction, none of which had escaped her vigilant and
ceaseless espionnage.

“She sleeps yet, say you?” he asked, with trembling.

“Until the nightingale sings its evening song. I
have long been familiar, like this false slave Absulem,
with this and every other draught to produce sleep.
Their qualities, powers, and effects are all known to
me.”

“Sleeps she unprotected save by her own innocence?
Alas! she is no longer the spotless and gentle dove I
have so many years nestled in my bosom,” he said, with
bitter anguish, while the fierce grasp he held upon his

naked sword, as he strode along in the shadows of the
buildings, betrayed the stern and deadly character of
his thoughts.

“His own subtle and refined passion will be her
safeguard till she awakes to the life and warmth of
beauty. She sleeps securely.”

“Pray Heaven thy words be true!”

“From the garden, after entering her chamber and
writing the line to thee, which, on the way, I gave to
one who has proved a faithful messenger, did I follow
the Moor with his burden even to the door of his cabinet.
Thence passing round the balcony, I saw her
through the window laid tenderly upon an ottoman;
and from Osma's words and bearing, as well as my
knowledge of his character, knew that he had not
caused this drugged sleep for a darker purpose than
her quiet removal from thy roof to his own. Knowing
the moment she would awake, I left her securely,
and hastened to the gate to meet thy coming.”

“Why not admit my troop?”

“They are but a handful to the Spanish army, and
would defeat our purpose.”

“Wherefore this interest in my sister?” asked Renault,
abruptly.

“Thou shalt shortly know, but not to-night. Now
think of her safety, for yonder is the palace.”

“And, hark! there is the nightingale singing,” cried
Renault, bounding forward.

“Be not too hasty, young man. Remain here in
this recess of the Cathedral tower, and await my return.”

Before he could object or make any reply, she had
crossed the space between the church nad the palace,
and approached a casement that extended quite to the
ground. Pressing her finger against a corner section
of the lattice, the diamond-shaped leaf of the window
opened inwardly, and let her into a low hall in the basement
of the palace. She crossed it with a rapid and
familiar step, and, ascending a winding stairway, reached
a paved saloon on the main floor. Here soldiers,

retainers, and lounging officers caused her to turn
aside and glide in the deep shadows among the columns
until she came to a door ajar, which by a private
stair communicated with the suite of apartments occupied
by the Count of Osma. In a few seconds, avoiding
in her progress, with singular adroitness and address,
an encounter with any of the members of the household,
she reached the marble passage, and the next instant
was in the very cabinet of the count, an unseen
listener and witness of the scene between him and
Azèlie. When the terrified girl flew past her, closely
pursued by the count, she followed her in turn as swiftly,
till she saw her at the feet of Estelle.

“She is for the moment safe,” she said, retiring in
the shade as Osma passed; “I will now bring the
brother hither, that he may fall into the snare I would
have set for him. If he be suffered to go at liberty,
the public and overwhelming judgment I design for
Osma will be defeated by his rashness. This trial
Osma shall consent to. Until then, Renault must not
be suffered to go free or communicate with his band.
There is seeming evil in this, but good will come of
it, and the Spaniard's shame and infamy be the more
sure. If Allah let me live till the day of trial, I will
turn my face to Mecca, and then die.”

Thus communing with her thoughts, she re-entered
the gallery, and was leaving it by the way she had
come, when at the other end of it her active eye detected
a door slowly opening. Instantly concealing
herself in a recess, she saw the Moor emerge from the
secret staircase leading to the dungeons of the Inquisition,
and advance towards the cabinet. She directly
placed herself before him in his path with a gesture of
menace and silence. With a face full of fear, he crossed
his hands upon his breast, and stood tremblingly
awaiting her commands.

“Thou hast the confidence of thy master. Thy
word is even as his. Go to the captain of the guard,
and bid him remain at his post whatsoever may happen
within the palace, and bid him admit myself and

those I bring with me without question, as if by thy
master's order. As thou fearest me, obey!”

The Moor made an obeisance of submission, as if
to a supernatural being, and was about to leave her,
when she inquired the cause of his appearance through
the secret door in the wall in so stealthy a manner.
From him she learned with pleasure, what she had
desired to know, the place of Don Henrique's confinement,
of whose arrest she had been an unseen witness
while watching to counteract Osma's plots.

“Hath his death been decreed?” she asked, eagerly.

“His soul will be with Allah with the next sunrise,”
answered the Moor.

“Meet me here at midnight with the keys of his
dungeon, or beware my power!” she said, authoritatively.

“Sulem hath no will but that of Azrael whom thou
servest,” he replied, in a tone of superstitious awe,
sinking into an Oriental posture of dread adoration.

“To thine errand quickly,” she commanded; and,
watching him till he disappeared, returned to the outside
of the palace by the way she had entered, and
going into the shadow of the tower, where Renault,
towards whom her intentions now wore a mysterious
complexion, waited with the utmost impatience for her
reappearance.

“The tidings!” he gasped, seizing her arm as she
approached.

“As I would have them. The crisis for thy presence
has arrived! Follow me!”

“Past the guards?” he demanded, with surprise,
as she boldly crossed an angle of the Place d'Armes,
where citizens and soldiers off duty were listening in
groups to the governor's band, which was filling the
square with martial and stirring music.

“Do not hesitate. Come boldly on! Thou canst
not enter in safety the way I came.”

Surprised, yet not intimidated by the danger he incurred
in exposing himself thus openly, with a price
set upon his head, he obeyed her. Partly concealing

his features with the cape of the short capote he wore,
he passed through the guards by her side unchallenged,
though not without being, from his strange
companionship, an object of curiosity. The Moor
was standing on the last step of the stone staircase as
the sorceress, with Renault by her side, mounted the
flight of steps. In a moment afterward, Renault,
whose feet were winged by the loud voice of the infuriated
count as he seized upon Estelle to separate her
from his victim, was in the presence of the Spaniard
at the very crisis of the most imminent peril. From
that moment until guarded prisoners to their own
dwelling, the fate of both brother and sister is known.

Renault felt happy even as a prisoner when he reflected
that Azèlie was safe, and that, ere she could fall
a victim to the deferred passion of a lawless tyrant,
she might yet be offered up a sacrifice on the shrine of
virgin purity. On taking possession of his habitation
again, the court of which now echoed strangely to the
tread of sentinels, he reflected in great perplexity upon
the singular conduct of the enchantress. She had
clearly manifested an interest in him, yet it was by her
agency he had been made captive. She had shown a
singular regard for Azèlie, yet by her means the trial,
so certain to result in the condemnation of the accused,
had been determined on.

“Why,” thought he, “did she not exert that wonderful
power she possesses over this savage Spaniard,
by demanding and securing for her both liberty and a
cessation of his persecution. Nevertheless, I feel a
disposition to trust her; but it is because, perhaps,
that there is none else to trust save Heaven!” He
thus mused with himself; and then, kneeling by the
couch of his sister, implored the protection and guidance
of that Heaven for one so dear to him, so beset
by danger, and so borne down with such a weight of
sorrow.

From the gate of Renault's dwelling, whither she
had accompanied the palanquin, the sorceress took her
way in the direction of the bounds of the city; and entering

the mansion from which she had issued with
Renault, in a few seconds was outside of the walls,
walking with rapid strides towards a group of horsemen,
who seemed to have rode near the town for the
purpose of reconnoitring. One of them saw her and
spurred towards her. It was Charleval, the companion
in arms of Renault, who, during the hour's mysterious
absence of his friend and chief, had become so
impatient as to meditate setting fire to the gates and
entering the city, believing he must have been betrayed
by the mysterious being who had commanded
him to follow her. The others of the group were De
Thoyras, who had arrived after Renault's departure
with forty chasseurs, Gobin, and the trumpeter Boviedo,
the two latter mounted upon the same steed; Gobin
having generously restored to his paunchy friend the
animal of which he had despoiled him, on finding him,
upon his return from the fortress, sitting on the ground
where he had cast himself, sadly bewailing his loss.

“Where is our chief?” demanded Charleval, on
coming up to her.

“In prison,” she said, firmly.

“This is thy work, hag! Thy treachery hath cost
thee thy life,” cried Charleval, presenting a pistol at
her head.

“Nay, cousin Charleval,” cried Gobin, galloping up
at the instant astride behind Boviedo, and striking up
the pistol, “it were worth thy soul to harm mother
Beelzebub.”

“I fear him not,” she said, without being moved at
her imminent peril. “If thou art the chief in the absence
of Renault,” she continued, addressing the impatient
Charleval, “it is with thee my business lies.
Know that Osma the Spaniard hath a lawless passion
for Azèlie the Quadroone, and this night hath stolen
her from her chamber and borne her to his palace.”

“This I know: and the licentious Spaniard had better
have formed a harem with every fair quadroone in
the province than placed eyes on Azèlie. Not a sword
in Louisiana will rest in its scabbard until she be rescued
or avenged.”

“This is the spirit I would see awakened. Renault
was admitted by me through a secret passage and conducted
to the palace. There was no moment for delay,
and his single arm was of more avail than thy
small force of horsemen, with the whole Spanish army
to withstand thee. It was in part to save the massacre
of yonder horsemen that I took him alone. He rescued
his sister from dishonour, but is himself made
prisoner.”

“This is both good and ill news! He must be rescued,
or the blood of another victim will glut the vengeance
of the Spanish demon,” cried Charleval, with
determination.

“Thou art too impetuous,” she said, sternly. “Osma's
day of retribution is at hand. Know that, defeated
in possessing Azèlie, he hath claimed both herself
and Renault to be slaves, and by a certain parchment
hath sworn to make good his claim. They
have appealed to the tribunal, and on the sixth day
from this their trial is to take place. In the mean
while, both are imprisoned in their own dwelling, which
is strongly guarded.”

“This is villany most deep and subtle,” exclaimed
Charleval through his clinched teeth.

“Hear! The thousand savage warriors Renault
informs me you have sent for will be here by the fifth
night. Till then, retire to thy fortress, and augment
thy numbers with true men. The tribunal will be
open at ten on the morning of the sixth day. At that
hour be at the head of thy forces within yonder forest,
but let nor plume nor steel-point be seen from the
walls. The whole of the Spanish troops at the same
hour will be drawn up in the Place d'Armes to protect
the cabildo, while sitting, from any outbreak of popular
feeling on account of unjust judgment. Few will
be left to guard the gates, and all men's minds will be
bent on affairs within rather than without the city.
At this crisis I will meet thee, and secretly conduct thy
forces into the town. Then disposing them at hand
near the precincts of the hall of council, thou mayst

thyself enter it and witness the trial; for I would have
all men behold the judgment of Osma.”

“Woman, who art thou?”

“The friend of Renault and Azèlie. Wouldst thou
know more to give me thy confidence?”

“'Tis enough; Renault hath spoken to me of thee,
and himself trusted thee. He shall not be sacrificed
by any hesitation on the part of his friends. It shall
be as thou sayest. At ten on St. Michael's day, yonder
frowning line of forest shall hold within its spreading
arms sixteen hundred warriors.”

“And ten minutes afterward they shall be within
the walls, moving silently and swiftly towards the palace,
armed with the judgment of the guilty. Depart,
and gather thy strength. The night wears apace, and
each moment now is as a day to thee.”

“Farewell, wonderful and mysterious woman!
Whoever and whatever thou art, I know thou hast
given Osma and the city into our hands!”

The sorceress made no reply, but, waving him impatiently
to depart, he once more bade her adieu, and,
accompanied by the others, including the jester, galloped
towards the squadron of horse which was drawn
up in a solid column on the edge of the woods. On
reaching it he gave a single brief order, and the whole
troop, wheeling to the right, moved at a fast trot into
the wood, and were shortly afterward lost to the eye
and ear.

She looked after them until the last faint rumble of
the fall of a thousand hoofs had ceased, and then slowly
and thoughtfully, as if weighing over again the
plans she had projected, returned to the hut and entered
the city. When the heavy tongue of the Cathedral
bell had sounded the first stroke of twelve, she
secretly entered the palace through the panel in the
Moorish casement by which she had formerly gained
access to the interior, and, ere it had sounded the last
deep note, she was in the marble gallery, gliding like a
spectre along its sides in the direction of the private
door leading to the dungeons. All was silent as the

tomb. Osma slept on his guilty pillow; Estelle was
in her chamber, but seated by the lattice in her nightrobe,
thinking of Renault, and devising some plan for
his escape.

The Moor was not at his post; and, while she waited
for him, a groan, mingled with an execration, startled
her. It was from Rascas, who lay on a pallet in the
antechamber of the cabinet, suffering from his wound.
The next instant she was by his pillow of pain. A
faint lamp at his bed's head shed a ghastly light upon
his countenance. His eyes were shut, and she turned
back her cowl from her face and touched him. He
then opened them and gazed upon her, at first with a
vacant look; but intelligence lightened his glance, and
he cried with fear,

“Away, accursed sorceress! Hast thou come to
force me to sell my soul!” and he covered his eyes
with his hands, as if he would shut out the sight of
her, while his whole frame shuddered.

“Ha, ha! Rascas the assassin, as men call thee,
dost thou have hope for thy soul, that thou tremblest
for it?”

“I am going to die!” he said, as if under the extreme
of mortal fear, and wholly overcome with mental
horror.

“And now thou wouldst play the coward, who hast
played the villain so bravely. Didst thou not know
thou wouldst one day die, that death hath now taken
thee by surprise?”

“In full life I feared it not. It seemed a long way
off—beyond the utmost limits of old age.”

“Thou didst think all men mortal but thyself. Thus
it is, and death ever comes to all unexpectedly. It
has thus come to thee, and methinks thou art poorly
prepared to meet it.”

“What shall I do?” he cried, with miserable eagerness,
which could ill conceal the hopeless despair beneath
it.

“Do as I bid thee, and thou shalt live.”

“Live!” he repeated, seizing her hand and wildly
pressing it to his lips.

“Live, and live to repent!”

“Give me only life—I care not for repentance!
Oh, if I could know I should not die now—die now!”
he repeated, lifting himself to his elbow, and anxiously
reading her face with his feverish eyes. “Give me
only life, and I laugh at repentance! ha, ha, ha! Oh,
life, life, LIFE!” he continued to repeat, as the Arabian
dying for thirst in the desert cries “Water, water,
water!”

She surveyed him a few moments with a look of
scornful contempt, and then said in a deep voice,

“Thou knowest the secret crimes of thy master's
life.”

“Who hath told thee?” he demanded, with fear.

“It matters not. This knowledge may save thy
life.”

“How?” he eagerly demanded, his desire to live
overcoming the agony of his wound, which only betrayed
itself in the involuntary contractions of the
muscles of his face.

“By bearing testimony against him.”

“Will this give me life? Will it?”

“I have learned from the report of the surgeon the
condition of thy wound. It is mortal for all the skill
of any chirurgeon. He hath said you will die!”

“Save, give me life, and I will do what thou wilt,
were it to bury my knife in my master's heart!”

“Ha, ha! Thou wert penitent but now for thy
crimes, and thou wouldst purchase longer life by adding
to them.”

“So that I live, I care not for the price. Put death
off now! save me now!” he cried, with an eloquence
of fear that astonished her, while it excited her contempt.

“Though surgeon's skill will not avail thee, mine
will. Swear that thou wilt answer truth against thy
master when thou shalt be called upon, and I will exert
my power to save thee from death.”

“I swear.”

“I little heed thy oath. Know that the ointment I

shall apply to thy wound is a deadly poison. Six days
it must be applied, morning and evening, with the rising
and setting of the sun. The seventh day the patient
would die a mass of corruption but for a counterpoison,
which, for seven days more applied to the
wound, perfecteth a cure.”

“If thou shouldst fail me on the seventh day—”

“Then thou wouldst become a livid corpse, so that
no man could look upon thee.”

“I will not trust thee, fiendish enchantress!”

“Be it so. Thou wilt not live to the third day from
this in thy present state.”

The assassin shuddered, hid his face in the bed-covering,
and writhed with intense misery, both of mind
and body. At length, groaning heavily and hopelessly,
he cried,

“Apply thy medicament, woman, and my testimony
shall be thine.”

She drew from her girdle a small puch, that, among
other articles, contained a crystal vial holding a pale,
amber-coloured oil, which, on removing the silver stopper,
filled the chamber with an extremely pungent, yet
not an unpleasant odour. After cleansing the wound
in his side, she poured the healing fluid upon it, and
bound it skilfully up. He felt instant relief; and,
after pressing her hands with a grateful look, suddenly,
from a total cessation of pain, fell into a deep sleep.
She contemplated for a moment the effect of her skill,
and then sought once more the private outlet from the
gallery. A few seconds afterward the Moor appeared,
having been waiting at the door of the palace for
her entrance that way, and now betrayed evident surprise
at finding her already at the place appointed.
Receiving impatiently his explanation for his delay,
she sternly bade him lead her to the cell of his prisoner.