“My father,” said Hussein, “you may still live to avenge your wrongs. Besides, you have been severely wounded in the action of to-day, and your death will therefore be rather a suicide than a sacrifice, if you expose yourself merely to court destruction. You cannot, in your present state, endure the exertion of another conflict. Try the river; your steed is stout, and may bear you to the shore in safety; we will cover your retreat.”
“The danger is equal,” replied Lody; “but it is more honourable to die on the field than in the river.”
Still they urged his retreat. “But can I fly and leave my children? No! I will perish on this field. I will never leave my brave sons to meet an honourable death and live to become a mere man of sorrows.”
It was at length agreed, after considerable difficulty, that Chan Lody and one of his sons and daughter should try the river, and the other remain behind to keep the enemy in check until the fugitives had gained the opposite shore.
When this was determined, they separated for the night. With early dawn the brothers were at their posts. As the light was gradually stretching over the distant plain in a broad grey stream, a dispute arose between them which should attack the enemy. Whilst, however, the generous altercation was going on, Perist, who had struck Azmut in the Emperor’s presence, appeared at the head of the imperialists.
“It is decided,” said Azmut; “there is my enemy,—especially and personally mine. Hussein, you would not interfere with your brother’s privilege to redress his own wrongs. Fly with my father, and leave me to my revenge.”
Saying this, he spurred his horse forward; and his father, joined by Hussein, plunged into the river.
CHAPTER IV.
Chan Lody and his son Hussein had great difficulty in stemming the rapid current. Their horses were carried a considerable distance down the stream, and almost exhausted before they reached the opposite bank; fortunately, the channel was so full that the water was on a level with the land. When they had made good their transit, they shouted to apprise the generous Azmut of their safety, whom, however, they did not see; for he was engaged in that perilous onset of destruction to which he had so heroically devoted himself.
The father’s distress was great when he perceived that Jahanira had not followed them. He concluded that, fearing to encounter the peril of crossing the river, she had resolved to throw herself upon the clemency of the conquerors; for the defeat of her brother and his small band was certain. Such a resolution, however, was so contrary to her nature that he rejected the supposition almost as soon as he had formed it, and came to the final conclusion that she had determined to share the fate of Azmut. The anxious father hoped, that, should they hear his shouts of safety, they would immediately fly from the unequal contest, and attempt the passage of the river, as he and his elder son had done with unexpected success.