University of Virginia Library

8. CHAPTER VIII.
THE TRIAL OF ARROWS.

In the meantime, matters were going on apparently
very much to the satisfaction of Osmyn
and Nadab. These wicked princes, on their return
to Guzan, had immediately presented themselves
before the king their father, arrayed in
garments of deep mourning, and wearing countenances
of profound sorrow. Throwing themselves
at the old monarch's feet, they had, with
much affectation of violent grief, informed him
of the loss of their dear brother Selim upon the
“Isle of Death.” Calling the captain of their
vessel to corroborate the statement, they minutely
detailed the sad incidents of their landing
upon the Upas isle, and described their frantic
search for the lost prince till the approach of
night constrained them, through fear of their own
lives, to give up the hope of rescuing him. They
did not allude to aught that had previously occurred,
never mentioning a syllable concerning
their visit to the astrologer Rahbek, or of the prediction
concerning Selim. These facts they
chose rather to keep to themselves, lest their
discovery should awaken some remark, if not
suspicion.

The tidings of his favorite son's death was
like a dagger stroke to the old king of Guzan.
He never recovered from the blow, but began to
droop immediately, and in a very few weeks was
gathered to his fathers. But ere he died, he
called around his bed the principal men of his
kingdom, together with the priests, called the
Council of the Mosque, and disclosed to them
his wishes regarding the selection of a successor
to the throne of Guzan.

“When I am dead,” said the old monarch,
“let my body be anointed, and clothed in my
royal robes, with the crown upon my head.
Then bear me forth to the plain beyond our city,
and place me upon the ivory throne, with my
face turned toward Meeca. Let the councillors
and wise men surround me, as in life, and let
the king's guard be drawn up in array. Then,
let my two sons Osmyn and Nadab be summoned,
and placed one hundred yards in front of the
throne. Let them prepare their arrows and
bows, and when the chief priest shall give the
word, let them in succession shoot each an arrow
at my heart. He who shall pierce nearest to the
heart shall be my successor and reign over
Guzan.”

The wise men and priests marvelled greatly
at this singular desire of the old king, but when,
with a solemn voice, he had repeated it, and
bidden the scribes to write it upon parchment,
they conceived that in his strange command,
the monarch was doubtless actuated by some
higher direction; so they promised with one
consent to fulfil the task enjoined upon them.

“Swear this to me, by Allah and the Prophet!”
said the king.

And with one voice the wise men and priests
answered—“We swear!”

In compliance, therefore, with the will, no
sooner did the monarch breathe his last, than he
was washed and anointed with oil and perfumes,
and after being arrayed in fine linen and clad in-his
usual royal robes, was borne to the grand
mosque, where prayers were offered for his
soul's repose, and many ceremonies, suited to
the rank of the departed, performed with great
solemnity. Osmyn and Nadab the princes stood
on either side of the body, while the priests
chanted their prayers, and though, as was noticed
by many, no tears flowed from the eyes of the
two princes, yet their countenances wore an exceeding
gloomy expression, and they beat their
breasts, and threw ashes on their beards, as if
they suffered the most poignant anguish. But,
in truth, all the while, these hypocrites were
conscious of no real sorrow for the loss of their
good father, but were thinking, on the contrary,
of the trial of skill which was to take place between
them, in which the successful archer should
win the crown of Guzan.

After the ceremonies in the mosque were
ended, the will of the deceased king was read to
the assembled people, and then lights were
placed at the head and foot of the corpse, which
was suffered to remain, well-guarded by the
priests, for one night in the sacred edifice.

Next morning, in slow procession, to the
sound of solemn music, the body was borne from
the mosque to the great plain beyond the city,
and there placed, as in life, upon the royal throne
of ivory and gold, with its heart exposed, and
its face turned toward the east. And there,
while thousands of the people, came hourly
forth, to gaze upon the features of their dead
monarch, the immovable king remained till the
third day, on which was to take place the trial
of skill that was to award the sovereignty of
Guzan to the son who should pierce nearest to
his father's heart.

All these things, Prince Selim learned while
on his way from the seaport to the capital, and
when at length he neared the city, and came in
sight of the immense assemblage which covered
the plain on which his royal father sat
in death, he could no longer restrain his feelings,
but breaking away from the merchants,
people, Ali-Naro and all, he set spurs to his
steed, and galloped swiftly in advance, impatient
to look upon his parent's face.

As he rode thus wildly forward, many of the
people recognized the features of their young
prince, and shouted his name, which was communicated
from one to another; so that, almost
as soon as his arrival near the throne, the vast
multitude who filled the plain, had become aware
of the return of him whom they had believed
lost forever. And, when, at last, the hurrying
crowds beheld the horseman leap from his saddle
at the foot of the royal chair, and ascending
its ivory steps, cast himself prostrate at the dead
monarch's feet, and grasping his cold hands,
covered them with kisses, the assemblage with
spontaneous sympathy, set up a shout that
shook the very skies, and rolled along the wide
plain to the city walls like a roar of continuous
thunder.

Osmyn and Nadab, too, seated among the
priests and councillors, near the throne, beheld
the form of their brother, appearing before them
like one arisen from the grave, and at first their
superstitious terror almost overcome them.
It seemed as though Heaven had permitted the
spirit of the murdered prince to return and convict
them of their perfidy. But when, in a few
moments, they became convinced that it was no
other than the living form of Selim, their hardihood
returned to them, and they resolved at
once to make the best of the matter. Rising,
therefore, with the priests, they advanced hurriedly
to the throne, and, as Selim rose from his
embrace of the dead, presented themselves with
outstretched arms as if to welcome him.

By this time Ali-Naro and his three hundred
corsairs, together with the multitude who had
accompanied Selim from the seaport, arrived in
front of the ivory throne. The old captain
beheld the two young men, whom he recognized
by their dress as the princes, approach and proffer
their hands to the prince whom they had so
basely abandoned to almost certain destruction;
but what was his surprise, likewise, to see Selim
accept the embrace and return their hollow
salutation. He could scarcely restrain his indignation
from venting itself in an accusation of
the two princes before all the people, until Selim,
turning from his brothers after the greeting,
said in a low tone:

“Ali-Naro, wonder not that I make peace with
these. In presence of a dead father, it is not
fitting that brothers should quarrel.”

Ali-Naro admired the noble spirit which dictated
this conduct of Selim, though for his
own part, he would have chosen to brand the
princes with their unnatural crime without
further delay. But, the priests now approaching,
no further remark was possible, and he
listened in silence, therefore, whilst the chief
councillor welcomed back the young prince, and
with much ceremony read to him his father's
last commands.

“For this ceremony,” concluded the councillor,
“we are now met together—that a successor
may be chosen to our departed sovereign,
it is ordained that his sons shall essay their skill
with the bow—the time-honored weapon of the
brave soldiers of Guzan. It is the third day
from our good king's death, and you are come
in time, prince, to perform your part. Let the
trumpet sound, and the ground be prepared.”

Saying this, the chief-councillor waved his
hand, and straightway a blast of trumpets was
heard, followed by strains of melancholy music,
during which the soldiers marched from behind
the throne, and advancing in close column,
cleared a space of several hundred yards in front;
the multitudes crowding each other, and rushing
to obtain good positions where they could
view the trial of archery about to take place.

Osmyn and Nadab, tormented with uneasiness
at their brother's unlooked for return, not
only because they knew him to be at least their
equal with the bow, but lest he should be aware
of their nefarious treatment of him at the “Isle
of Death,” nevertheless managed to conceal
their annoyance, and proceeded to choose their
bows and arrows with much deliberation from a
large heap which the soldiers brought to their
feet. Apparently, they found much difficulty in
suiting themselves with the weapons, for they
snapped in pieces many of the bows and arrows
as soon as they had handled them. In truth,
the importance of the prize for which they were
to shoot, rendered them both extremely anxious,
and as each prince was regarded as equal to the
other in the practice of archery, they knew very
well that a slight superiority in bow or arrow
might turn the scale of victory. At length, however,
the preparations were completed, and Osmyn
and Nadab, standing a hundred yards in
front of the throne, prepared to discharge their
arrows at the dead monarch's undefended heart.

During all this time, Prince Selim had remained
near the throne, leaning upon Ali-Naro's
arm, and gazing fixedly upon his father's placid
countenance, which seemed indeed to smile upon
the youth even in death. It was not till the
chief-councillor again approached him, that he
perceived how far the preparations had progressed,
and that his two brothers stood ready,
Osmyn bending his bow, and fixing the arrow.

“It is necessary, Prince Selim,” said the aged
councillor, “that you choose your weapons in
like manner with your brothers. We have sworn
to carry out the will of your departed father!”

“I do not like this means of chance,” said
Selim.

“What fear you?” demanded the councillor.
“Is it not well-known to us all that you are
quite as good an archer as is either of your
brothers? It is then in your power to win the
throne, and that certainly is likewise the popular
wish.”

“Let me reflect,” cried Selim, abruptly turning
from the councillor, and retiring, with Ali-Naro
to the place where the latter's followers
were drawn up. And there, while Osmyn and
Nadab began the trial, the young prince bowed
his head upon his breast, and communed silently
with Allah, asking direction from Heaven concerning
the part which he was to act in this
crisis of his fortunes.

Osmyn advanced several paces before his
brother, and in sight of all the multitude that
covered the plain. He drew his arrow to its
head, and stood a moment, poised, and resting
on his right foot, a model of strength and
daring.

Osmyn was, as we have said, the eldest of the
princes. He possessed a tall and muscular
figure, with vigorous limbs, and broad shoulders.
His features were beauty-moulded, and
his eye black and piercing; but he lacked the
symmetry and beauty which were apparent in
Selim's form and face; and his appearance,
though at times imposing, was not majestic like
the latter's. Nevertheless, as he now stood,
with his bow bent, and his eye flashing, there
was much that was striking in his appearance.

The bow twanged—the arrow clove the air,
and sped swiftly toward the throne. But either
the wonted skill of Osmyn had failed him at this
moment, or some secret agitation had unnerved
his arm, for the shaft, instead of striking the
body, rung with a loud sound against the royal
crown and struck a diamond from its jewelled
circlet.

The multitude raised a loud cry, apparently
well pleased at the ill success of Osmyn, who

turned away, with his face pale, and his teeth
compressing his discolored lips. It was easy to
perceive that the prince was writhing inwardly
at his failure.

Nadab now approached the stand, with a
confident smile upon his features. Nadab, the
second son, was different in stature from his
elder brother, being neither so tall nor vigorous.
His demeanor was not so bold, nor his carriage
so resolute; but he wore a self-satisfied and cunning
look, which marked him to be the equal of
Osmyn, if not in force, at least in artifice. He
took a long and steady look at the form of his
royal father, and then slowly drew back the
arrow.

This time there appeared no possibility of a
bad shot. The shaft winged its straight course,
as many thought, straight for the dead king's
heart, and a general shudder ran through all the
people, as if the impiety of the act first made
itself apparent to their minds. Nadab stood
expectant, his bow firmly grasped in his left
hand, whilst his eye followed the arrow's flight.
Osmyn looked up likewise, a gloomy frown
wrinkling his forehead.

But the force of the bow had been miscalculated.
The shaft, after speeding straight forward
at first, began to slacken in speed, and at length
fell at the foot of the ivory throne, without having
reached its mark.

Again a shout like thunder rolled up from the
excited spectators, and Nadab turned toward his
elder brother, muttering savagely:

“There's magic in it. That boy will ruin
us!”

“He shall not live to do it,” returned Osmyn,
morosely, casting a meaning look upon his
brother.

But the attention of both was now immediately
directed to him of whom they spoke. Selim,
wrapped in his meditations, had not witnessed
Osmyn's shot, though made aware of its result
by the exclamations of those around him. He
had, however, beheld the apparently sure flight
of Nadab's arrow, and experienced in his own
frame the shudder that simultaneously pervaded
the other spectators. But when he saw the
weapon, instead of striking his sire, fall spent at
the monarch's feet, he could not but feel that the
hand of Heaven was directing this seemingly
unnatural trial of skill. The reflection gave him
new confidence in the providence which had thus
far preserved him.

But no sooner was the fortune of Nadab as
certained, than a murmur among the populace
called loudly for the appearance of the third
prince, and Selim's name was once more heard
resounding from a thousand throats. The priests,
councillors and sages, now surrounded the young
prince, and adjured him at once to prepare himself
for taking part in the trial.

“Here,” said an aged noble, pressing forward.
“Here, my prince, is a bow, and here a sheaf of
arrows, the truest in the land. Heaven, doubtless,
designs that you alone should be our king.”

Selim mechanically clasped the bow which
was presented to him, and taking at random an
arrow from the bundle, walked slowly toward
the stand, followed by all the priests and nobles,
and led by Ali-Naro. Here in view of all the
throng, he lifted his arms toward heaven, and
invoked its protection. Then, fitting the shaft,
he drew the bow to his shoulder, and took sight,
while the people held their breaths in anxious
expectation.

But when Prince Selim, glancing from his
arrow's level, beheld the object at which he was
aiming his weapon—that brow so kingly even
in death, that face which had ever smiled upon
him—that breast which had been his pillow in
infancy and youth, the young man's affection
asserted its superiority to all considerations of
policy. He contemplated a moment the throned
monarch before him, then raising the bow and
arrow in his hands, he dashed them suddenly to
the ground, and sinking on his knees, cried
aloud:

“No, no! I cannot do so impious a thing. I
cannot aim my weapon at a father's heart. Let
my brothers enjoy the throne! I am content,
and will yield my claim!”

These words were spoken clearly, so that the
multitude heard them on every side, and their
effect was instantaneous. A low murmur, which
gradually swelled into loud acclamations, attested
the people's recognition of their young
prince's filial piety. From a thousand lips arose
the shout:

“Selim shall be our king! Selim is the choice
of Guzan! We will have no other prince but
Selim!”

And the populace pressed forward to cast
themselves before him.

“He shall shoot! He fears to try his skill!”
cried Osmyn, almost beside himself with rage,
as he witnessed the excitement of the people.
He was answered by those around with a clamor
of:

“No, Osmyn! No Nadab—Selim is our
choice.”

“That I fear not to essay my skill shall be
proved,” said Selim, calmly, as he stooped, and
took up the bow and arrow. “Not at my father's
bosom will I shoot—but at yonder hawk.”

Saying this, Prince Selim fitted his shaft, and
directed it toward a large hawk, which at the
utmost stretch of an arrow's flight was circling
above the heads of the people. It seemed almost
impossible to drive a weapon to so great a
height, and the elder princes laughed at what
they deemed would be a signal failure on the
part of their brother. Not so the populace, they
waited eagerly till the arrow left its rest, and
winged toward the bird of prey, and then another
loud shout broke spontaneously from their
lips. Ere it had died away, the skill of Selim
was no longer to be questioned. The hawk was
seen falling swiftly from the lofty flight it had
been making, while the arrow, after piercing the
bird's neck, was descending at a slower rate
through the air.

And, O, miracle as it seemed—that shaft,
sinking gently, swayed by the wind, dropped
upon the breeze and was carried slowly over the
ivory throne, whence, descending, it lodged in
the bosom of the dead king of Guzan; whilst
the hawk fell upon the plain beyond.

Prince Selim sank upon his knees, with the
bow clasped between his united hands. The
people shouted not, for they recognized a power
in this, above all human providence. But the
priests and nobles advanced to the throne, and
the chief-councillor, lifting up the arrow, still
wet with the hawk's blood, cried in a loud voice:

“This is a sign from Allah! The arrow of
Prince Selim is nearest to his father's heart!
I proclaim therefore Prince Selim as the king of
Guzan! Let all hear and obey!”

The chief-councillor's voice was downed in
the glad response of the multitude, who crowded
around their new monarch, whilst Osmyn and
Nadab, mounting their horses, rode swiftly away
from the plain. Ali-Naro and his corsairs then
surrounded Selim, and formed a body-guard,
supported on either side by all the Guzan soldiery
and populace. And thus the pious prince
was escorted to the ivory throne, where, after
once more offering thanks for the protection of
Heaven, he directed that his royal father's remains
should be reverentially placed upon the
bier, and carried back to the mosque, thence to
be borne to the tombs of the kings of Guzan.