7. VII.
The design of Amri was a deep one. He desired,
in the first place, to obtain access to the presence of
Melchior and of his daughter. This, at present, seemed
impossible. His father had kept him from the knowledge
of Melchior's visit, and exhibited no sort of disposition
to extend his confidence. In no way could he
have shown the possession of the secret, unless by an
exposure of the dishonourable means which he had taken
to procure it. He adopted means yet more dishonourable
to effect his purpose. Having prepared the enemies
of Melchior, it was now his purpose to defeat
their aim. Such a service must commend him, as he
thought, to the person he had betrayed, and procure him
a degree of confidence which he well perceived he was
not likely to obtain otherwise. He cared but little for
the annoyance which such a proceeding must bring to
the aged man,—he thought still less of the degrading
falsehoods and dishonourable means through which he
would have to wade to effect his object. These were
no considerations to one so base of heart as Amri.
An hour before the time at which the proposed visit
of the officers was to be made in search of the outlaw,
at the Porch of Namur, Amri hurried to the spot. He
pressed his way, by a cunning story and the utterance
of his own name, through the persons appointed to admit
the visiters, and, to the surprise of Adoniakim, his father,
who was present, not less than of all the rest, he stood
suddenly before them.
“What brings you here, my son?” cried Adoniakim,
with alarm, seeing the well-feigned apprehensions of the
youth.
“Your safety—your safety, my father. Melchior,
your enemies—the guards of the Goth—they will be
soon upon thee.”
“How!—speak, my son,” cried Adoniakim, in terror;
but Melchior said nothing, and looked calmly upon
the youth.
“The officer of Don Roderick, with many soldiers,
even now bend their way in search of Melchior.”
“How knowest thou this, Amri?” asked Melchior;
“how didst thou thyself learn so readily to seek me out
in my dwelling?”
“Ay, tell me, Amri, how didst thou learn the abiding-place
of Melchior?”
“From Edacer, the Goth, my father,” replied the
youth, with unexampled effrontery; “thou knowest, my
father, of the moneys I had in trust for him?”
“I do—I do,—speak nothing of that, my son.”
“I sought him out but a little since, that I might deliver
them into his hands. There were persons with him,
and they bade me wait at the entrance. It was then
that I heard loud talking from within concerning Melchior,
and I strove to hear what they should say of thee.
It was by this means that I came to know of thy dwelling,
for the soldier who spoke pointed it out with great
exactness in the Porch of Namur, and I found that they
awaited but the hour of midnight to approach in search
of thee. When I heard this, my father, I did not scruple
to seek out Melchior in his seclusion, though it was
not my thought to find thee here also, and exposed to
the same danger.”
“Now, bless thee, my son!” cried the delighted
father; “thou hast done rightly and well. Said I not,
Melchior,—said I not, that the heart was right,—that
the warm blood and the giddy head, and not a vicious
spirit, led the boy erring?”
“Amri has done us good service, Adoniakim, and I
give him thanks for the good disposition and the ready
speed which have brought him here to-night; and yet I
would not that he had listened secretly to the language
of the Gothic noble whom he had styled his friend. It
was not the right part for the noble spirit; and while we
acknowledge the good service, Adoniakim, we must
chide the means, even for the good of the youth, by
which he was led to perform it.”
“Now out upon the preacher!” said Amri to himself,
as he heard this rebuke; but he bore it with seeming
humility, for he well perceived the necessity of moving
cautiously in all that he did under the piercing eye of
Melchior.
“We must provide against this danger, Namur.
Thou must prepare the secret passage, while I send one
to preserve the young prince, so that he fall not into the
hands of his enemies.”
This was said by Melchior, in a whisper, to the aged
man called Namur of the Porch—a man of substance
and of great repute among his tribe. He then called to
him Lamech. As the features of the boy, whom he had
seen in his assumed capacity of porter, met his eye, a
strange emotion ran through the veins of Amri. He
scarce could withdraw his glance from the rich, clear
loveliness of her countenance; and the capricious fancy
which prompted him curiously to seek her at the first,
now grew into a strong and passionate desire to possess
her. Melchior led her, still in the garb of a boy, and
still known by the name of Lamech, into an adjoining
closet.
“Thyrza, thou dost not fear to go forth into the city?”
“Father, I fear nothing which thou believest right.”
“Go, then, my child, to the outer lodge at the Porch
of Namur, and watch for the coming of the Prince Pelayo.
Thou wilt know him well, methinks?”
“Well I know him, father.”
“Guide him from this spot, and seek me in the dwelling
of Barzelius. At the eastern gate I myself will be
in waiting to receive you; and thither we shall now
retire. Thou fearest not to trust thyself with the prince?
—he will protect thee if there be need.”
“I fear nothing with him, father. He is a noble,—
he—”
She paused, and her words became confused. The
old man did not observe the interruption, but led her
forth, saying,
“Thou hast thy dagger? Leave it not; it may serve
thee, my child, in some dreadful strait, as once before
it served thy blessed mother, whom yet it could not save.
Heaven keep thee, my child!”
He led her forth from the apartment where the rest
were in waiting, and long after she had gone did the
eyes of Amri bend towards the dark passageway through
which she had departed.
