“Then he only did the same as we would have done,” replied Selim; “he killed his enemy who would have robbed him of life and liberty, therefore unbind him at once.”
The men stared at him in surprise and began to obey him most unwillingly—“Is the murderer of your brave son to go unpunished?” one of them asked, “I would we had killed him at once instead of bringing him here.”
“He shall not die!” cried Selim: “I claim him as my share of the booty; he shall be my servant and I will have him in my own tent.”
Said could find no words with which to thank the old man—the men left the tent grumbling. As soon as they had communicated Selim’s decision to the women and children who were waiting outside to witness Said’s execution, there was a terrible outcry, some of them vowing to avenge Almansor’s death, as his own father would not.
The rest of the prisoners were divided amongst their capturers, some were released in order that they might go and treat for a ransom for some of their wealthy prisoners, and some were kept as slaves and sent to tend the herds of cattle; many who had formerly ten or twelve slaves to wait upon them were now set to perform the most menial duties. But not so Said. Was it his brave, heroic, appearance which prepossessed Selim in his favour or was it the intervention of some good fairy? There was no knowing which, but Said was certainly treated more like a son than a servant. But the strange affection of Selim for Said caused jealousy amongst the others. Everywhere he encountered hostile glances, and when he passed through the camp he heard murmurings and angry words, and sometimes an arrow would whizz past his breast, and at such times he could not help thinking that the little whistle he carried must in some way protect him.
If he complained to Selim it was useless, for the whole camp seemed banded together to shield the would-be murderer and to take part against Said.
And so one day Selim said: “I had hoped that you might have stood to me in place of my son whom you slew, but the fault lies neither with you nor me. They are all embittered against you, and I find I am unable to protect you. Of what good would it be to me after your death to punish your murderer?
“As soon as the men return from their present expedition I shall say I have received the ransom money from your father and send you away in charge of several trustworthy men.”
“But there is no one I can trust beside yourself,” said Said. “They will murder me as soon as we are well on the way.”
“I will make them take an oath to protect you that no one has ever yet broken.”