Dissembling his rage at the indiscreet anger of the young King, Hamet coolly replied, that Muley Moloch was now master of all the fords and passages of the Lucos, from the ocean to the mountains of Benzeroel, that consequently an attempt to force these would be the attempt of madmen, since their troops were already fainting with a long sultry march, and nearly destitute of provisions: by avoiding an engagement for at least some days, they would give time for the arrival of King Philip’s promised succours, and might be further re-inforced by deserters from the usurper Moloch.
Perceiving his aim at last, and transported out of all patience, the unreflecting Sebastian forgot every thing but indignation: he started from his seat with a look of fierce defiance, crying out, “away with such dissembling! Moor, I can read your heart:—you would do without the aid of the Christians. In a few days, perhaps hours, you expect death to rid you of your uncle, and give you these kingdoms by some political trick—then would our treaty, aye and our safety, be left to your honour!—but thank heaven, my brave Portuguese are not to be thus trifled with!—we shall march forward; if without you, for ourselves,—for the release of christian captives—for the sake of the blessed cross; if with you, for your advantage as well as for our own,—and with a conscientious resolution to preserve our share in the compact inviolate.
“Prince! we are in sight of the enemy—behold me draw this sword, which I swear by the virgin mother of Jesus, never to sheathe till it has cut my way through yonder host!”
A sublime sterness sat on the brow of the young warrior while he spoke: in one moment the clashing of swords and the murmur of vows were heard throughout the assembly; as if electrified with the same fire, all the knights followed his chivalric example.
Hamet was silent: at length he bowed before the royal seat, saying in a subdued voice, “light of thy people, thou hast not interpreted my zealous caution with the usual charity of a Christian: let my actions speak for me!—I will follow thee unto death.”
“Prove that I have wronged thee, Hamet!” returned Sebastian, with a relenting smile, “and thou shalt find me more prompt to repair, than I have been to commit, this injury.”
Muley Hamet bowed submissively again; the clouds of passion and suspicion then fled from the face of the King, and demanding his officer’s attention, he proceeded to hear their separate opinions upon the subject under discussion.
Experienced and inexperienced, now decided on Sebastian’s side; even De Castro voted for giving battle to the Xeriff. Conduct that would have been prudent at Arzile, became cowardice at Alcazar: to begin retreating towards the coast, seemed at this period more hazardous than to risk an engagement; for in the former case, an enormous army hanging upon their rear, might harrass their retreat, and at last make an easy prey of the famished and fatigued soldiers: by the former plan the Portuguese would preserve a chance of victory, or at least secure to themselves honourable graves.
Gratified with his council, and pleasingly surprised to find Don Emanuel urgent for action, Sebastian graciously acknowledged that pleasure, and paying a just tribute to his rival’s warlike talents, resolved thenceforth only to remember his services.—He now gave him his hand with a look so effulgently expressive, that De Castro’s tranquil countenance became agitated with unexpected pleasure; he bent his knee to the ground, and ventured to put his lips respectfully to the hand that had been given him;—Sebastian suffered it to remain awhile in his grasp—then calling his knights to their posts, hastened out to reconnoitre and to marshal his troops.
All was now animation in the Portuguese camp; dauntless hearts, hot with religious zeal, made them eager for engagement: the King went at night from tent to tent, encouraging his men, and rousing their emulation by proclaiming his intention of instituting a new order upon that day, should Heaven bless his arms: to the highest distinction in this novel institution, even the humblest soldier might aspire, and be enrolled in the same proud list with his commander. From the private’s quarters he returned to his own tent, where assembling his officers, he imparted the magnificent prize destined for their reward:—the crown of Fez!