Before the captives were led to their respective places of confinement the women of the village were allowed to come and look upon the hated Nazarenes; so, muffled in their white ‘haiks’—after the men had withdrawn—they flocked around the wretched Portuguese. Many uttered curses, thinking of their husbands, fathers, or brothers who had been slain in the great battle; but João heard expressions of pity proceeding from a group of women as they looked upon the handsome young Nazarene condemned on the morrow to such a cruel death.
As night came on, João was put into the stable with a heavy chain fastened to his fetters and to an iron stake driven deep into the ground. A bowl of water, with some coarse bread made of ‘dra’ (millet) was placed within his reach. João, worn out with fatigue from his long march, soon fell into a deep sleep: he dreamed that he had been placed by the Sheikh as a target, and that the gun which was aimed at his heart missed fire again and again, when he saw the figure of a woman, looking like an angel in a white garment, standing behind the Sheikh, and whenever the latter opened the pan of his flint-lock to put in fresh priming, she sprinkled water on the powder. Raising his arms in his sleep, João shouted out, ‘I die happy, for eyes of pity are upon me!’ In doing this he woke with a start, and saw the figure of a woman holding a green earthenware lamp. Bright eyes gleamed through the muffled ‘haik,’ and he fancied he recognised one of the women from whom he had heard expressions of pity. ‘It must be a dream,’ thought João, so he rubbed his eyes; but still the figure stood before him, and, in a trembling, sweet voice, said, ‘Nazarene! Do you believe in God and in the Day of Resurrection?’
João answered, ‘I believe.’
‘Trust then in Him,’ the figure continued; ‘He created Moslem and Christian. He is merciful to those who believe in and love Him. I seek to save you, Nazarene, from a cruel death. I shall never be happy if “Baba” (my father) puts you to death to-morrow, as he says he will, for you have eaten our bread. Baba takes counsel of no man, and is very hard-hearted, but he is always kind to me, for I am his only child. He has never denied me a favour; but when I begged for mercy towards you, he replied, “Nazarenes are ‘kaffers’ (rebels against God); they do not believe in God and the last Day; they are hateful in the sight of God and of all true believers, and therefore are accursed. The prisoners must die.”’ So saying, the gentle girl sobbed piteously; but after a pause continued, ‘Nazarene, you have a good, kind face. I feel certain you must love God and that He loves you. Upon my head will be your blood if I do not save you. It is past midnight and Baba is asleep; but as I lay on my couch I could not rest, thinking of the cruel death prepared for you to-morrow. Can you ride, Nazarene? Can you face danger bravely?’ demanded she, her eyes flashing brightly from under her ‘haik’ as she spoke.
João rubbed his eyes again to make sure it was not a dream. ‘I can ride,’ he replied; ‘I have no fear of death, and I feel happy now that a woman’s pity has fallen on me.’
‘See, Nazarene!’ she said, taking a key from her bosom, ‘this, which I drew from beneath the pillow of my sleeping father, will release you.’ So saying she bent and unlocked the fetters; then, pointing to a saddle and bridle hanging in the stable, she continued, ‘Put those on the gray mare; she is the fastest animal in the village. Here are my father’s spurs, and here is a “jelab” to hide your Christian garb: follow the road you came by until out of the village, then ride fast towards the setting stars. Why do you hesitate? There is no time to be lost: the mare never fails, and will have the speed over all pursuers. Gird on also this sword which I have here concealed; it is my father’s trusty weapon.’
João shook his head and replied, ‘I cannot do what may bring you into trouble, even to save my life.’
The girl stamped her little foot, saying, ‘Do at once as I direct, or I shall hate you. Baba loves me dearly: he will not kill me. I should never be happy again if you, our guest, were cruelly murdered to-morrow.’
But João repeated, ‘I must not and cannot accept your offer. I can die happily and bravely now, since I feel there will be one gentle heart to pity me.’
The Sheikh’s daughter, trembling with emotion, exclaimed, ‘Are you mad, Nazarene, that you reject the only chance of saving your life?’