"I know well what you think. You think that a woman to whom this very morning you spoke such words as women cannot well forgive, being revengeful laid a plot to murder you, and then, being a woman, changed her mind. Well, it is not so; Metem can prove it to you!"

"Lady, I believe you," he said, "without needing the testimony of Metem.

But now the story grows still more strange, for if you had done me no wrong, how comes it that to preserve me from harm you set your tender flesh between the arrow and one who had reviled you?"

"It was by chance," she answered faintly. "I learnt the truth and ran to warn you. Then I saw the arrow fly towards your heart, and strove to grasp it, and it pierced me. It was by chance, by such a chance as made me dream your danger." And she fainted.

CHAPTER VIII

AZIEL PLIGHTS HIS TROTH

At first Aziel feared that the poison had done its work, and that Elissa was dead, till placing his hand upon her heart he felt it beating faintly, and knew that she did but swoon. To leave her to seek water or a.s.sistance was impossible, since he dared not loose his hold of the bandage about her wrist. So, patiently as he might, he knelt at her side awaiting the return of Metem.

How beautiful her pale face seemed there in the moonlight, set in its frame of dusky hair. And how strange was this tale of hers, of a dream that she had dreamed, a dream which, to save his own, led her to offer her life to the murderer's arrow. Many would not believe it, but he felt that it was true; he felt that even if she wished it she could not lie to him, for as he had known since first they met, their souls were open to each other. Yes, having thus been warned of his danger, she had offered her life for him--for him who that morning had called her, unjustly so Metem said, "a girl of the groves and a murderess." How came it that she had done this, unless indeed she loved him as--he loved her?

Aziel could no longer palter with himself, it was the truth. Last night when Issachar accused him, he had felt this, although then he would not admit it altogether, and now to-night he knew that his fate had found him. They would say that, after the common fashion of men, he had been conquered by a lovely face and form and a brave deed of devotion. But it was not so. Something beyond the flesh and its works and attributes drew him towards this woman, something that he could neither understand nor define (unless, indeed, the vision of Issachar defined it), but of which he had been conscious since first he set eyes upon her face. It was possible, it was even probable, that before another hour had gone by she would have pa.s.sed beyond his reach, into the deeps of death, whither for a while he could not follow her. Yet he knew that the knowledge that she never could be his would not affect the love of her which burnt in him, for his desire towards her was not altogether a desire of the earth.

Aziel bent down over the swooning girl, looking into her pale face, till her lips almost touched his own, and his breath beating on her brow seemed to give her life again. Now she stirred, and now she opened her eyes and gazed back at him a while, deeply and with meaning, even as he gazed at her.

He spoke no word, for his lips seemed to be smitten with silence, but his heart said, "I love you, I love you," and her heart heard it, for she whispered back:--

"Bethink you who and what I am."

"It matters not, for we are one," he replied.

"Bethink you," she said again, "that soon I may be dead and lost to you."

"It cannot be, for we are one," he replied. "One we have been, one we are to-day, and one we shall be through all the length of life and death."

"Prince," she said again, "once more and for the last time I say: Bethink you well, for it comes upon me that your words are true, and that if I take that which to-night you offer, it will be for ever and for aye."

"For ever and aye, let it be," Aziel said, leaning towards her.

"For ever and for aye, let it be," she repeated, holding up her lips to his.

And thus in the silent moonlit garden they plighted their strange troth.

"Lady," said a voice in their ears, the voice of Metem, "I pray you let me dress your hand, for there is no time to lose."

Aziel looked up to see the Phoenician bending over them with a sardonic smile, and behind him the tall form of Issachar, who stood regarding them, his arms folded on his breast.

"Holy Issachar," went on Metem with malice, "be pleased to hold this lady's hand, since it seems that the prince here can only tend her lips."

"Nay," answered the Levite, "what have I to do with this daughter of Baaltis? Cure her if you can, or if you cannot, let her die, for so shall a stone of stumbling be removed from the feet of the foolish." And he glanced indignantly at Aziel.

"Had it not been for this same stone at least the feet of the foolish by now would have pointed skywards. The G.o.ds send me such a stone if ever a black dwarf draws a poisoned arrow at me," answered Metem, as he busied himself with his drugs. Then he added, "Nay, Prince, do not stop to answer him, but hold the lady's hand to the light."

Aziel obeyed, and having washed out the wound with water, Metem rubbed ointment into it which burnt Elissa so sorely that she groaned aloud.

"Be patient beneath the pain, lady," he said, "for if it has not already pa.s.sed into your blood, this salve will eat away the poison of the arrow."

Then half-leading and half-carrying her, they brought her back to the palace. Here Metem gave her over into the care of her father, telling him as much of the story as he thought wise, and cautioning him to keep silent concerning what had happened.

At the door of the palace Issachar spoke to Aziel.

"Did I dream, Prince," he said, "or did my ears indeed hear you tell that idolatress that you loved her for ever, and did my eyes see you kiss her on the lips?"

"It seems that you saw and heard these things, Issachar," said Aziel, setting his face sternly. "Now hear this further, and then I pray you give me peace on this matter of the lady Elissa: If in any way it is possible, I shall make her my wife, and if it be not possible, then for so long as she may live at least I will look upon no other woman."

"Then that is good news, Prince, to me, who am charged with your welfare, for be sure, if I can prevent you, you shall never mix your life with that of this heathen sorceress."

"Issachar," the prince replied, "I have borne much from you because I know well that you love me, and have stood to me in the place of a father. But now, in my turn, I warn you, do not seek to work harm to the lady Elissa, for in striking her you strike me, and such blows may bring my vengeance after them."

"Vengeance?" mocked the Levite. "I fear but one vengeance, and it is not yours, nor do I listen to the whisperings of love when duty points the path. Rather would I see you dead, prince Aziel, then lured down to h.e.l.l by the wiles of yonder witch."

Then before Aziel could answer he turned and left him.

As Issachar went to his own chamber full of bitterness and indignation, he pa.s.sed the door of Elissa's apartments, and came face to face with Metem issuing from them.

"Will the woman live?" he asked of him.

"Be comforted, worthy Issachar. I think so; that is, if the bandage does not slip. I go to tell the prince."

"Gladly would I give a hundred golden shekels to him who brought me tidings that it had slipped and the woman with it, down to the arms of her father Beelzebub," broke in the Levite pa.s.sionately.

"Pretty words for a holy man," said Metem, feigning amazement. "Well, Issachar, I will do most things for good money, but to shift that bandage would be but murder, and this I cannot work even for the gold and to win your favour."

"Fool," answered Issachar, "did I ask you to do murder? I do not fight with such weapons; let the woman live or die as it is decreed. Nay, enter my chamber, for I would speak with you, who are a cunning man versed in the craft of courts. Listen now: I love this prince Aziel, for I have reared him from his childhood, and he has been a son to me who have none. More, I am sent hither to this hateful land to watch him and hold him from harm, and for all that chances to him I must account. And now, what has chanced? This woman, Elissa, by her witcheries----"

"Softly, Issachar; what witcheries does she need beyond those lips and form and eyes?"

"By her witcheries, I tell you, has ensnared him so that now he swears that he will wed her."

"What of it, Issachar? He might travel far to find a lovelier woman."

"What of it, do you ask, remembering who he is? What of it, when you know his faith, and that this fair idolater will sap it, and cause him to cast away his soul? What of it, when with your own ears you heard him swear to love her through all the deeps of life and death? Man, are you mad?"

"No, but some might say that you are, holy father, who forget that I am also of this religion which you revile. But for good or ill, so the matter stands; and now what is it that you wish of me?"

"I wish that you should make it impossible that the prince Aziel should take this woman to wife. Not by murder, indeed, for 'thou shalt not kill,' saith the law, but by bringing it about that she should marry the king Ithobal, or if that fail, in any other fashion which seems good to you."

"'Thou shalt not kill,' saith your law; tell me then, Issachar, does it say also that thou shalt hand over a woman to a fate that she chances to hold to be worse than death? Doubtless it is foolish of her, and we should not heed such woman's folly. Yet this one has a certain strength of will, and I question if all the elders of the city will bring her living to the arms of Ithobal."

"It is nought to me, Metem, if she weds Ithobal, or weds him not, save that I do not love this heathen man, and surely her temper and her witcheries would bring ruin on him. What I would have you do is to prevent her from marrying Aziel; the way I leave to you."