“The prior of Crato is of a different mould: though some years older than De Castro, he has preserved almost the roundness and floridness of boyhood; his fair curling hair, light blue eyes, and jovial manner, will soon point him out: he will rejoice to see this ring!—and so will De Castro,” added the King, after a pause, “as it is a token of my safety, he will rejoice, though it was a gift of Gonsalva’s.”
“’Tis a fanciful ring for a warrior,” observed the dervise, curiously eying the bauble, which after the gaudy fashion of those times was formed by various precious stones into a miniature garland of flowers.
“Oh father!” exclaimed Sebastian, passionately fixing his eyes on it also, “that ring was given me by the loveliest and most beloved of women.—I have no other token to send to my friends, or I would not part with that—it must serve too, as a pledge for the governor of Tangier: she who gave it knows I would have defended it with my life, and therefore would not resign it but for the sake of fulfilling a duty.”
Hurried away in thought to the beautiful creature whom this incident recalled, Sebastian forgot every thing else and sunk into silence: he dwelt with tender delight upon the unequivocal proof she had given him of her attachment, which bestowed and avowed ere she could suspect his royal station, carried with them the charm of disinterestedness. He then reproached himself for those fantastic jealousies to which he had sometimes given way, when he saw her dancing with another, and confessed now, that her apparent insensibility at times, had arisen only from a little female coquetry, delighting in power, and willing to prove its extent.
Thus satisfied with her affection, he felt no apprehension of being coldly received, because he returned not a conqueror; the Moors themselves attested his gallant conduct in the field, and the brilliant success of their onset had shewn, that but for the perfidy of Hamet, the day would have been won by the Christians.—What then had he to fear? perhaps given up as lost, he would return to revive his Gonsalva’s widowed heart; she would love him the more for his dangers and distresses, and that delicate pride which had stifled the expressions of tenderness to a powerful, splendid monarch, would impel her to the same monarch, become poor and unfortunate.
Observing his guest absorbed in reflections, which from the expression of his countenance did not appear unpleasant, the worthy Abensallah gently removed into his outer chamber, for the purpose of giving audience to some distressed people who came to implore his counsel.—Meanwhile Sebastian remained leaning on his rude couch, his ideas wandering from late sorrow, over the enchanted ground of the more distant past, till gently wearied, thought glided into dreams, and dreams at last ended in long and profound sleep.
The wounds of Sebastian and his consequent feebleness now daily disappeared, and Abensallah was therefore enabled to make longer excursions from the cave, for the sake of gaining information for his guest: his habitation, always considered sacred, was not likely to excite suspicion as a Christian’s hiding place; and even if it did so, the inner apartment was a secure retreat, being so contrived as to deceive the most prying observer.—Ismael’s fidelity had been too often tried in similar circumstances to be doubted now, so that Abensallah left him without apprehension, to attend Sebastian; whom, however, he knew only as a Portuguese knight.
On the good dervise’s return from Alcazar-quiver, he brought strange intelligence.—After the fatal battle, Hamet Abdulcrim, the new emperor, had strictly enquired for the King of Portugal; he was told that he had fallen: this assertion having been made by Don Nugno De Mascarenhas, the King’s chief equerry, he was sent to the field in order that he might produce a proof of his veracity by finding the King’s body.
In the place he described, was indeed found a corpse in green armour, much maimed and disfigured: the Portuguese who saw it, confessed it to be that of their sovereign, and therefore assured Hamet Abdulcrim that any farther search for Sebastian alive, was useless.—Information of his nephew’s death was now forwarded to Philip of Spain, (the late Xeriff having been in alliance with him,) and when Abensallah heard the tale, a messenger from Madrid was hourly expected to beg the body, and to procure the release of some Castillian prisoners.
On first hearing this account, Sebastian’s inflammable blood took fire, for he believed himself wilfully abandoned by his people; but the next instant made him cool again. It was impossible not to perceive that Marcarenhas, who had always loved his master, could be only actuated by the desire of facilitating his concealment in Barbary, should he be living, and seeking the means of escape; this well-meant deceit had evidently given a hint to the other persons examined by the Xeriff, and to it, probably Sebastian might finally owe his preservation.