Abensallah continued to hear his royal guest with that complacent pleasure with which virtuous old age perceives generous principles in youth; but he had lived long enough in the world to know that youth does not always act in conformity with its principles, nay, that its most amiable qualities may be wrought by interested persons into a foundation for the opposite vices. So blindly devoted to the infallibility of papal authority, and so abhorrent of any religion which disputed it, Abensallah rightly doubted whether Sebastian, in the event of complete success, would have persevered in his system of moderation: intolerant persecution might have been easily brought to bear the aspect of religious duty, and that commanded or recommended by a spiritual superior, would soon have swept away every barrier opposed by a character naturally candid.
Such reflections as these, by teaching the dervise to consider his companions’ misfortunes as a necessary discipline, silenced any further regret; yet Sebastian’s sweet and animated manner had so won upon his affections, that he could not help exclaiming, “I shall be loth to part with thee, my son; but we shall meet again in paradise.”
Touched by such kindness, the king pressed Abensallah to accompany him into Portugal, adding to many arguments the entreaties and promises of a grateful spirit, conscious of possessing in his own dominions the means of fulfilling them all.
“Did I live only for myself, answered the dervise, I should perhaps gladly leave a land where I see nothing but misery, but the more miserable it is, the more I am called upon to remain. My holy profession, and the peaceful life I lead, gives me frequent opportunities of assisting captives to escape, or of conveying intelligence from them to the Christian fortresses; if the old man of the rocks were gone, what would become of these poor strangers?—Added to this, I am frequently able to terminate the bloody feuds of my countrymen—to restore harmony amongst brethren, and bring back rebellious children to their parents; these are my treasures, King! which would be poorly exchanged for all your benefits. I shall however, bless you daily; and I will preserve from injury the grave of your departed friend.”
At this mention of Stukeley, clouds gathered over the face of Sebastian; making an effort to dispel them, he hastily uttered some grateful expressions, and then discoursed upon the means of discovering such of his subjects as might have survived the battle.
Abensallah promised to make diligent search for such captives, and to use all his influence for their release.
Sebastian squeezed his hand, exclaiming with generous warmth, “Slacken not your exertions Abensallah for the meanest of my people; I stand indebted to every man whom I brought from Portugal for his liberty. If I part with the whole of my revenue, pawn the jewels of my crown, make myself a debtor to half the monarchs in Christendom, and after all, become a beggar throughout my own dominions for contributions and gifts, I will do it to ransom these gallant sufferers.—Should I reach Lisbon, my first step will be to raise money and send it over to the governor of Tangier; from his hands you will then receive whatever sums may be needful.”
“And should I in my inquiry, find Christians of other nations, perhaps aged men bowed down with sorrow and toil, languishing to die in their native land—”
“Ransom them—ransom them!” interrupted Sebastian, tears glistering in his eyes, “first restore liberty to my Portuguese, for remember, freedom is a debt I owe them—then take all the superflux, and purchase with it happiness for others. There are two noble Portuguese, Abensallah, whom I pray you to search for with a father’s anxiety: one is my dearly-loved cousin, the prior of Crato, the other Don Emanuel de Castro; he saved my life at Alcazar. When you find these, shew them this ring, and say that he who gave it you, is alive, and then I hope, in Portugal.”
“How shall I know these gallant gentlemen?” asked the dervise, “you may know Don Emanuel de Castro,” replied Sebastian, “from all the world: though you should behold him in the vilest habit and employment, yet will such an air of nobleness shine through them, that you cannot help discovering in him an extraordinary man. He is of larger proportions than I, his visage oval and full of thought, his complexion dark olive, his eyes dark grey, somewhat melancholy but very sweet; on his left hand he has a deep scar, got in the wars of India.