Читать книгу The Knight Of Leon: - Sylvanus Cobb - Страница 9

Table of Contents

"HOLD, Moor! Tell me where is my master."

"Take care how you handle your sword, good Pedro. You might hurt somebody."

"San Jago bless me. May I be roasted alive on St. Lawrence's gridiron, if I didn't fear that you were gone."

"Not quite," said Charles, with a laugh, as he entered the room and threw off his Moorish cap and mantle.

"But bless me, sir Charles, it's long after midnight. Where have you been?" uttered the honest esquire, who stood in his night-clothes. "I got up only a few minutes ago, and something put it into my head to come and see if you were safe. I saw your cap and cloak here, and I feared some of the Moors had carried you off."

"No, no, Pedro; I have only been enjoying a short walk by moonlight. I wouldn't disturb you, for I knew that you were fatigued, and that you love your sleep."

"I don't love my sleep so well but that I can attend my master; and if he knows when he's safe he wont walk much alone after dark."

"Is there danger?" asked the knight, in a light, merry tone.

"More than you wot of, perhaps," returned Pedro, with much earnestness. "Let me tell you that the alcalde wont forgive you for having beat him in the lists. And there's more, too."

"Ah," uttered the knight, becoming more serious as he saw the earnestness of his follower.

"Yes. I believe you are narrowly watched."

"By whom?"

"By emissaries of the alcalde."

"Pooh!"

"San Dominic, sir Charles, I believe I tell you the truth."

"And for what should they watch me?"

"Perhaps they suspect we are here for no good purpose."

"Then let them suspect, and let them watch, too. They will see nothing to help them. My mission can be performed without much show."

"I think it will prove the blind man's mission, after all," said Pedro.

Charles looked into his esquire's face for a moment, and then he placed his hand upon his brow.

"Pedro," he said, at length, "I hope I shall succeed. For the sake of Leon and Castile, I hope so."

"And for your own sake, too, my master."

Again Charles of Leon placed his hand upon his brow, and for some moments he dwelt in his own thoughts. Pedro watched him narrowly, and he was not a little puzzled at his master's manner.

"Go seek your rest again, Pedro," said the knight, as he turned towards his dressing-table.

The faithful esquire obeyed without remark; but when he reached the door, he turned and looked back upon his master. There was a look of anxiety in his countenance, and his lips moved with his thoughts as he passed out.

After Pedro had gone, the count sat down to his dressing-case, and drawing forth from his bosom a roll of parchment, he opened it and began to look over its contents by the light of the lamp his servant had left. He read it half through, and then letting go of its corners he allowed it to roll up of its own accord, while he braced back in his chair and gazed vacantly into the space before him.

"I believe Pedro tells me the truth," he said to himself. "The alcalde is surely my enemy, and I may yet make him doubly so. Yet there can be no danger, for they will not dare to touch me without strong provocation. I will perform my mission if possible, and when I return to Leon——"

The young Christian hesitated in his speech, and arose from his seat. His thoughts were upon Zehra, and he dared not give them utterance. He took up the parchment, and as he gazed upon it his features trembled.

"To both these deeds, my knightly word is pledged," he said, as he placed the roll once more in his bosom. "Yet they need not clash—they cannot. Zehra—beautiful, lovely girl—with you I will keep my faith. Let the danger come—and it may come from Leon as well as here-but I can face it for you."

It was but a few moments after Charles had put the parchment in his bosom, and just as he was thinking of seeking his couch, that he heard a sound outside of one of his windows. There was a broad verandah ran around the building on a level with the floor upon which was the knight's apartment, and Charles thought it might be some one merely passing the window. In a moment there was a dark shadow thrown across the floor, where the moonbeams lay, and upon turning he saw the figure of a man outside of the window. He started back to the table where he had laid his sword, and as he grasped its hilt the window was thrown open, and the stranger stepped into the apartment.

"Put up your weapon, Charles of Leon," said the new comer. "I am far from meaning you harm."

"You choose a strange time for a visit, at all events," said the knight, holding his sword in his hand. "And there is a door to my room, too."

"Never mind the time, nor the mode of my entrance, sir knight. Do you not recognize me?"

"Abdalla?" uttered Charles, as he now recognized in his visitor the lame man whom he had picked up from the roadside, and whom he had seen once since at the tournament.

"Yes," returned the Moor. "I told you when I first saw you that we might never meet again, but you see we have met notwithstanding."

Charles gazed upon his visitor with no little degree of curiosity and wonder, and instinctively he let his sword settle back into its scabbard.

"There is a seat at your disposal," said the knight, "and if it would please you I would hear your business."

"My business is but little, sir Charles, and before I speak of it I must assure you that I come as no spy upon you. What passes between us is sacred with us. I know that you have come to Granada with some sort of a mission from King John of Leon and Castile. You need not start. Now dare you tell me what that mission is?"

"I dare tell, but I shall not."

The Moor smiled.

"You own that you have a mission, then?"

"I have not owned it, nor have I contradicted you."

"Very well—let it pass. I think not that you would have travelled so far without an object."

Charles eyed his visitor uneasily. There was something in the Moor's look that half awed and half puzzled him. On the present occasion Abdalla looked the same as he did on the morning when the Christian had met him on the road; but yet Charles could see that he was deeply disguised. There was a look of more than common intelligence in his countenance, and his eyes themselves spoke a volume of character. One thing, more than all else, however, moved Charles with a sort of distrust. The Moor seemed uneasy and anxious. His glances were quick and varying, and the least movement of the vines that grew up about the windows caused him to start with half developed fear.

"Charles of Leon," continued the Moor, after a moment's silence, "I am going to ask you an important question. I, too, am a knight, and upon my knightly honor I swear that your answer, whatever it may be, shall not pass from my lips. I have reason to believe that you are here on secret business. Now will your king pursue this thing with the sword, if necessary?"

"Upon my faith, sir, you ask me a curious question," returned the Christian.

"And I have a curious reason for asking it," said the Moor.

"You display but little wit, at all events. You know me—know my rank station and title, and profess, even, to know my very business; while I know nothing at all of you—not even your name, for that matter."

As the Christian knight ceased speaking, he was struck by the change that came over the Moor's countenance. His eyes sparkled with a fierce lustre, his lips were compressed tightly over his pearly teeth, and his brow grew dark.

"Rank! station! name!" he uttered, in thrilling accents. "Charles of Leon, I have none! I have only my honor left to me, and that I will keep. I have reason for asking the question. Will King John send an army if you should fail?"

"You ask me that which I cannot answer," returned Charles, gazing with growing interest upon his strange visitor.

"If you know, I implore you to tell me," urged Abdalla.

"Look ye, Moor," said the Christian; "you seem to know not what you are asking of me. Here am I, a stranger in your city, perhaps with spies already upon my movements, looked upon with distrust by your alcalde, and known to be an adherent of a government which has heretofore been hostile to the Moslem. Now with what reason can you ask me such a question, and expect that I should answer it!"

The Moor looked troubled.

"I confess," he returned, "that my question may seem out of place; but your thoughts could be no more safe in your own bosom than they might in mine."

"That is not the way I generally regard important secrets. But I will tell you the truth. King John will not send an armed force to Granada. He has as much as he can do to look out for his troubles at home. You should know that the holy brotherhood of Leon are giving him trouble enough. Whatever may be my business here, I have nothing to do with your government nor its affairs, nor will my king do it either."

"Then I have nothing more to ask of you," said the Moor, while a disappointed look settled upon his features.

"But I have a question to ask of you," said Charles. "You say you know the business that has brought me here. I should like to know how you obtained your information."

"By my simple knowledge of facts that are in existence."

"Ah," uttered the Christian, with a slight start, a look of anxious interest manifesting itself on his features the while. "Could you then give me information? Know you what I seek?"

"I think I do."

"What!"

"I cannot tell you that till you confirm me in my belief of what you seek."

Charles of Leon felt almost sure that the Moor was but acting the spy upon him. To be sure the Moslem's countenance gave denial to such a supposition, but yet the count would not trust him.

"I don't think I shall need your assistance," he said, after a few moments of thought.

"I may have no assistance to render you. In fact, I have none to offer," returned Abdalla, as he gathered his mantle about him and arose from his seat. "I sought you because I had a faint hope that John of Leon and Castile would have had the daring to have pushed his mission with the sword, or, at least, to have threatened that thing."

"And I assure you he has no such intention."

"I believe you."

"Sir Moor, methinks you can have no very great love for Granada."

"Love for Granada!" repeated Abdalla. "Ah, sir knight, you cannot read my soul as you can your own. But I must leave you now. You will excuse me if I go the same way I came. We may meet again. If we do it will be a stranger meeting than this. Beware of the alcalde!"

As the Moor spoke, he threw back the door-like sash of the window and stepped out upon the verandah, and in a moment he was gone.

Charles of Leon pondered long upon the strange meeting. He had no fear of the Moslem, for he had taken care not to commit himself; but he could not help thinking that in some way Abdalla was acting the spy. He doubted if the Moor knew as much as he professed.

"He only said that to try me," said the young knight to himself, as he began to prepare for his couch. "The Moor can know nothing of the business that has brought me here. How should he? By my faith, I am not to be thrown off my guard in that way."

Ere long Charles laid himself down upon his couch, and that night his dreams were many and varied; and when Pedro came to awaken him in the morning, it seemed as though he had not slept at all.