"The purport of his mission," replied Malique, "I know not; nor was I made acquainted with his departure until this morning. The guards of the night allowed him to pass. Possessed as Alagraf was of your secrets and unbounded confidence, it was naturally supposed that he acted under your instructions: his egress from the town therefore caused neither surprise nor alarm."
"My instructions!" cried fiercely the chief; "I gave him no instructions; it is an act of insubordination. That man was ever too proud; his accursed Christian blood still remained in his veins, when his mouth pronounced a recantation of his creed. He renounced his country; but could not renounce his character. By the mighty Allah! he shall severely suffer for this breach of discipline if Cañeri has power amongst the Moors. Yes, he shall feel the bitter consequences of his imprudence upon his return."
"Return!" cried Malique, despondingly, "If he acted not according to your orders, I much apprehend he will never return; for his companions in flight leave no doubt as to the motives that have directed him."
"Companions!" exclaimed Cañeri, in breathless anxiety. "What companions?"
"Even the fair captive, and the menial Roque," replied Malique, after some hesitation.
"What! Theodora gone! gone with the renegade!—hell! furies!—unsay those words, Malique! tremble for the villains that allowed him to leave the town—nay, tremble for your own life!"
The fury of Cañeri knew no bounds, upon the confirmation of Malique's intelligence. He stamped and raved like a madman, and plucked his beard in very ire: then, in the summary way of distributing Moorish justice, he caused the chief and two or three of the guards of the night to be slaughtered in his presence. Indeed, Malique himself would have shared the same fate, had not the private interest of the Moor superseded his frenzied revenge. But Cañeri considered Malique as totally devoted to his person, and he was loath to part with a man of whose aid and counsel he stood in greater need than ever. Thus the life of Malique was spared by the despot, as those of many other humble slaves had before been and will again, by their despotic masters, not for the services which they have already rendered, but in consideration of those which they might still afford.
"Malique, quick," cried Cañeri, "take the best of my troops, the fleetest of my horses, and speed after that accursed renegade; bring him, dead or alive;—alive, if possible; and ask for any recompence, any, how great soever, which I can grant.—Begone!—fly!"
In a moment the faithful Malique with a chosen band was mounted, and in a moment they started rapidly with the velocity that a hope of recompence or a dread of punishment inspires. They sped in the direction reported to be taken by the fugitives, but it was too late; the renegade had devised the necessary precautions to insure success in his undertaking. He had the advantage of a whole night's journey, and had besides prudently changed his route as soon as he found himself out of sight.
Thus the efforts of Malique proved as abortive as the ravings of his master. After a day spent in fruitless pursuit, the party was compelled to retreat before an advancing band of Christians, and returned to Alhaurin, to witness the extravagant rage of Cañeri, who was alternately the prey of shame, disappointment, and vexation. Indeed, all the Moors evinced signs of discontent at the disappearance of the renegade. Some, because his presence animated their courage, and others because they dreaded the despotic temper of Cañeri, now rendered doubly formidable by this untoward event. All the Moors were, therefore, in dismay at the flight of the renegade, all but one, and that was Aboukar, who found with no less surprise than joy, that amongst the companions of the runaway was included his spouse, Marien Rufa.