It was in vain that the other members of the party interfered to stop the quarrel. Phalax rode apart—brandished his spear, and challenged the offended youth to mortal combat. Quick as lightning, the latter rode forth, and whirling his weapon over his head, prepared for the attack.
The two were at the distance of a hundred yards, when, putting spurs to their steeds, they flew at each other, each with his spear in an attitude of deadly hostility. The horses met, and both riders were thrown to the earth. The spear of Phalax passed through the body of his antagonist—and the young man lay dying on the ground. Phalax was stunned, but otherwise unhurt. He soon arose, and went to the side of his dying companion: “Forgive me,” said he, “Oh, forgive me. I was drunk and scarcely knew what I said. I remember to have spoken improperly to you. Arise, my dear friend, and tell me you forgive me.” “It is in vain,” said the youth. “I forgive you, but I die.” Saying this, he breathed his last.
Phalax, being of royal blood, had been brought up to think that all mankind were made for princes, and might be used as their passions or pleasures should dictate. He did not feel, therefore, as if he had committed a great crime, or slain one who had the same rights with himself; he had only taken the life of an inferior. He, however, mourned for his friend, and felt much ashamed of his impetuosity and want of self-government. He said little, but determined to be more prudent in future. With this resolve he proceeded on his journey.
We cannot trace all the adventures of Phalax and his party. It is sufficient to say, that they were so confident of reaching the capital before their rivals, that they did not deem it necessary to be either prudent or industrious. They knew that the route of Abdael, was not only more difficult and dangerous, but more circuitous—and, besides all this—they believed that, even if their rival should deliver the message first, the Khan would bestow the honor upon Phalax, and his party, in consideration of their rank. And, finally, if even this should fail, and if, as they said among themselves, “the king should have such bad taste as to prefer a plebeian to a prince—why, at least we have noble blood in our veins; and that is an advantage we shall ever enjoy—Abdael cannot be a prince or a nobleman.”
Thus offering apologies for their negligence, and fortifying themselves in their folly, the party proceeded, forgetting the great object of their expedition in the indulgence of the various passions which tempted them by the way. It was the love of glory that had been presented to the imagination of Phalax, as the motive to action. This was a selfish passion, and gave way the moment another passion, a little stronger, took possession of the breast. The desire of ease, the desire of wine, the desire of dissipation, the desire of pleasure, often mastered the desire of glory, and made the young leader of the party forget this, and the means by which it was to be obtained. Besides all this, it must be remembered that in their debauchery at the prince’s palace, a deception had been practised upon them, and precious time had slipped, unreckoned, away, thus leaving them in a state of delusion.
We must now turn to Abdael and his companions. Soon after they set out, Malek, an old soldier, rode to his side, and said, “It is a hard lot, my young master, to have the longer route, and the more mountainous path; what do you intend to do?” “My duty, and trust in Heaven!” said Abdael. “I had no doubt of it,” said Malek, and, apparently satisfied, he rode on.
The party did not attempt to urge their horses. They proceeded slowly, but steadily, and stopped for the night, after having performed but a very moderate journey. The next day they did the same; and so on, the third and fourth day. The greatest care was taken of the horses at night; and the men were particular to avoid every species of excess. They abstained from wine altogether, for Abdael feared that they might be betrayed into indiscretion, or licentiousness. They were obliged to keep their arms constantly in hand, for they were surrounded with enemies.
It might have seemed, to a careless observer, rather a dull party, but if any one could have looked beneath their stern exterior, and have seen their hearts, he would have discovered a sober satisfaction there, arising from the consciousness of performing their duty; he would also, have seen, that even the dangers and difficulties which surrounded them, became sources of agreeable excitement.
Beside this, the feeling of mutual danger, and the necessity of mutual support, created a kindly feeling between the individuals; and thus they were in fact, like so many steadfast friends, united for common protection and defence. They were, therefore, cheerful and happy. They had little hope of reaching the capital in season to achieve a triumph over Phalax, but they had, at least the satisfaction of feeling that even in defeat, they would have the approbation of their own consciences, and, perhaps, obtain the respect of the king.
In a few days they reached rugged and precipitous mountains, and now the necessity of all their care, courage, and perseverance became obvious. The road wound amid deep and fearful valleys, crossed rapid streams, threaded wild passes, traversed ridges and peaks, which hung like curtains of everlasting rock, over the ravines below. Although it was summer, these lofty regions were covered with snow, and the wind was as keen and chill as winter.