Part 11 (1/2)
”And what should I be paid for this service, holy Issachar?”
The Jew thought and answered, ”A hundred golden shekels.”
”Two hundred gold shekels,” replied Metem reflectively, ”nay, I am sure you said _two_ hundred, Issachar. At least, I do not work for less, and it is a small sum enough, seeing that to earn it I must take upon myself the guilt of severing two loving hearts. But I know well that you are right, and that this would be an evil marriage for the prince Aziel, and also for the lady Elissa, who then day by day and year by year must bear the scourge of your reproaches, Issachar. Therefore I will do my best, not for the money indeed, but because I see herein a righteous duty. And now here is parchment, give me the lamp that I may prepare the bond.”
”My word is my bond, Phoenician,” answered the Levite haughtily.
Metem looked at him. ”Doubtless,” he said, ”but you are old, and this is--a rough country where accidents chance at times. Still, the thing would read very ill, and, as you say, your word is your bond. Only remember, Issachar, two hundred shekels, bearing interest at two shekels a month. And now you are weary, holy Issachar, with plotting for the welfare of others, and so am I. Farewell, and good dreams to you.”
The Levite watched him go, muttering to himself, ”Alas that I should have fallen to such traffic with a knave, but it is for your sake and for your soul's sake, O Aziel my son. I pray that Fate be not too strong for me and you.”
For two days from this night Elissa lay almost senseless, and by many it was thought that she would die. But when Metem saw her on the morning after she had been wounded, and noted that her arm was but little swollen, and had not turned black, he announced that she would certainly live, whatever the doctors of the city might declare. Thereon Sakon, her father, and Aziel blessed him, but Issachar said nothing.
As the Phoenician was walking through the market-place early on the next day an aged black woman, whom he did not know, accosted him, saying that she had a message for his ear from the king Ithobal who was camped without the city and who desired to see the merchandise that he had brought with him from the coasts of Tyre. Now Metem had already sold all his wares at a great advantage; still, as he would not neglect this opportunity of trade, he purchased others from his fellow merchants, and loading two camels with them, set out for the camp of Ithobal, riding on a mule. By midday he had reached it. The camp was pitched near water in a pleasant grove of trees, and on one of these not far from the tent of Ithobal Metem noted that there hung the body of a black dwarf.
”Behold the fate of him who shoots at the buck and hits the doe. Well, I have always said that murder is a dangerous game, since blood calls out for blood,” thought Metem as he rode towards the tent.
At its door stood king Ithobal looking very huge and sullen in the sunlight. Metem dismounted and prostrated himself obsequiously.
”May the King live for ever,” he said, ”the great King, the King to whom all the other kings of the earth are as the little G.o.ds to Baal, or the faint stars to the sun.”
”Rise, and cease from flatteries,” said Ithobal shortly; ”I may be greater than the other kings, but at least you do not think it.”
”If the king says so, so let it be,” replied Metem calmly. ”A woman yonder in the market-place told me that the king wished to trade for my merchandise. So I have brought the best of it; priceless goods that which much toil I have carried hither from Tyre,” and he pointed to the two camels laden with the inferior articles which he had purchased, and began to read the number and description of the goods from his tablets.
”What value do you set upon the whole of them, merchant?” asked Ithobal.
”To the traders of the country so much, but to you, O King, so much only,” and he named a sum twice that which he had paid in the city.
”So be it,” a.s.sented Ithobal indifferently; ”I do not haggle over wares.
Though your price is large, presently my treasurer shall weigh you out the gold.”
There was a moment's pause, then Metem said:--
”The trees in this camp of yours bear evil fruit, O King. If I might ask, why does that little black monkey hang yonder.”
”Because he tried to do murder with his poisoned arrows,” answered Ithobal sullenly.
”And failed? Well, it must comfort you to think that he did fail if he was of the number of your servants. It is strange now that some knave unknown attempted murder last night in the palace gardens, also with poisoned arrows. I say attempted, but as yet I cannot be sure that he did not succeed.”
”What!” exclaimed Ithobal, ”was----” and he stopped.
”No, King, prince Aziel was not hit; the Lady Elissa took that shaft through her hand, and lies between life and death. I am doctoring her, and had it not been for my skill she would now be stiff and black--as the rogue who shot the arrow.”
”Save her,” said Ithobal hoa.r.s.ely, ”and I will pay you a doctor's fee of a hundred ounces of pure gold. Oh! had I but known, the clumsy fool should not have died so easily.”
Metem took out his tablets and made a note of the amount.