‘I have been the unconscious agent in petty machinations,’ said Tancred. ‘I must return to the desert to recover the purity of my mind. It is Arabia alone that can regenerate the world.’
At this moment Cypros, who was standing apart, waved her scarf, and exclaimed, ‘Royal lady, I perceive in the distance the ever-faithful messenger;’ whereupon Astarte looked up, and, as yet invisible to the inexperienced glance of Tancred, recognised what was an infinitely small dusky speck, each moment becoming more apparent, until at length a bird was observed by all of them winging its way towards the Queen.
‘Is it the ever-faithful Karaguus,’ said Astarte; ‘or is it Ruby-lips that ever brings good news?’
‘It is Karaguus,’ said Cypros, as the bird drew nearer and nearer; ‘but it is not Karaguus of Damascus. By the ring on its neck, it is Karaguus of Aleppo.’
The pigeon now was only a few yards above the head of the Queen. Fatigued, but with an eye full of resolution, it fluttered for a moment, and then fell upon her bosom. Cypros advanced and lifted its weary wing, and untied the cartel which it bore, brief words, but full of meaning, and a terrible interest.
‘The Pasha, at the head of five thousand regular troops, leaves Haleb to-morrow to invade our land.’
‘Go,’ said Astarte to Tancred; ‘to remain here is now dangerous. Thanks to the faithful messenger, you have time to escape with ease from that land which you scorned to rule, and which loved you too well.’
‘I cannot leave it in the hour of peril,’ said Tancred. ‘This invasion of the Ottomans may lead to results of which none dream. I will meet them at the head of your warriors!’