The Alhambra 25

The Alhambra 25

The astrologer regarded him for a moment from under his bushy eyebrows.

 

“And what wouldst thou give, if I could provide thee such a retreat?”

 

“Thou shouldst name thy own reward; and whatever it might be, if within

the scope of my power, as my soul liveth, it should be thine.”

 

“Thou hast heard, O king, of the garden of Irem, one of the prodigies of

Arabia the happy.”

 

“I have heard of that garden; it is recorded in the Koran, even in the

chapter entitled ‘The Dawn of Day.’ I have, moreover, heard marvellous

things related of it by pilgrims who had been to Mecca; but I considered

them wild fables, such as travellers are wont to tell who have visited

remote countries.”

 

“Discredit not, O king, the tales of travellers,” rejoined the

astrologer, gravely, “for they contain precious rarities of knowledge

brought from the ends of the earth. As to the palace and garden of Irem,

what is generally told of them is true; I have seen them with mine own

eyes;--listen to my adventure, for it has a bearing upon the object of

your request.

 

“In my younger days, when a mere Arab of the desert, I tended my

father’s camels. In traversing the desert of Aden, one of them strayed

from the rest, and was lost. I searched after it for several days, but

in vain, until, wearied and faint, I laid myself down at noontide, and

slept under a palm-tree by the side of a scanty well. When I awoke I

found myself at the gate of a city. I entered, and beheld noble streets,

and squares, and market-places; but all were silent and without an

inhabitant. I wandered on until I came to a sumptuous palace, with a

garden adorned with fountains and fish-ponds, and groves and flowers,

and orchards laden with delicious fruit; but still no one was to be

seen. Upon which, appalled at this loneliness, I hastened to depart;

and, after issuing forth at the gate of the city, I turned to look upon

the place, but it was no longer to be seen; nothing but the silent

desert extended before my eyes.

 

“In the neighborhood I met with an aged dervise, learned in the

traditions and secrets of the land, and related to him what had befallen

me. ‘This,’ said he, ‘is the far-famed garden of Irem, one of the

wonders of the desert. It only appears at times to some wanderer like

thyself gladdening him with the sight of towers and palaces and

garden-walls overhung with richly-laden fruit-trees, and then vanishes,

leaving nothing but a lonely desert. And this is the story of it. In old

times, when this country was inhabited by the Addites, King Sheddad, the

son of Ad, the great-grandson of Noah, founded here a splendid city.

When it was finished, and he saw its grandeur, his heart was puffed up

with pride and arrogance, and he determined to build a royal palace,

with gardens which should rival all related in the Koran of the

celestial paradise. But the curse of heaven fell upon him for his

presumption. He and his subjects were swept from the earth, and his

splendid city, and palace, and gardens, were laid under a perpetual

spell, which hides them from human sight, excepting that they are seen

at intervals, by way of keeping his sin in perpetual remembrance.’

 

“This story, O king, and the wonders I had seen, ever dwelt in my mind;

and in after-years, when I had been in Egypt, and was possessed of the

book of knowledge of Solomon the Wise, I determined to return and

revisit the garden of Irem. I did so, and found it revealed to my

instructed sight. I took possession of the palace of Sheddad, and passed

several days in his mock paradise. The genii who watch over the place

were obedient to my magic power, and revealed to me the spells by which

the whole garden had been, as it were, conjured into existence, and by

which it was rendered invisible. Such a palace and garden, O king, can

I make for thee, even here, on the mountain above thy city. Do I not

know all the secret spells? and am I not in possession of the book of

knowledge of Solomon the Wise?”

 

“O wise son of Abu Ayub!” exclaimed Aben Habuz, trembling with

eagerness, “thou art a traveller indeed, and hast seen and learned

marvellous things! Contrive me such a paradise, and ask any reward, even

to the half of my kingdom.”

 

“Alas!” replied the other, “thou knowest I am an old man, and a

philosopher, and easily satisfied; all the reward I ask is the first

beast of burden, with its load, which shall enter the magic portal of

the palace.”

 

The monarch gladly agreed to so moderate a stipulation, and the

astrologer began his work. On the summit of the hill, immediately above

his subterranean hermitage, he caused a great gateway or barbican to be

erected, opening through the centre of a strong tower.

 

There was an outer vestibule or porch, with a lofty arch, and within it

a portal secured by massive gates. On the keystone of the portal the

astrologer, with his own hand, wrought the figure of a huge key; and on

the keystone of the outer arch of the vestibule, which was loftier than

that of the portal, he carved a gigantic hand. These were potent

talismans, over which he repeated many sentences in an unknown tongue.

 

When this gateway was finished, he shut himself up for two days in his

astrological hall, engaged in secret incantations; on the third he

ascended the hill, and passed the whole day on its summit. At a late

hour of the night he came down, and presented himself before Aben Habuz.

“At length, O king,” said he, “my labor is accomplished. On the summit

of the hill stands one of the most delectable palaces that ever the

head of man devised, or the heart of man desired. It contains sumptuous

halls and galleries, delicious gardens, cool fountains, and fragrant

baths; in a word, the whole mountain is converted into a paradise. Like

the garden of Irem, it is protected by a mighty charm, which hides it

from the view and search of mortals, excepting such as possess the

secret of its talismans.”

 

“Enough!” cried Aben Habuz, joyfully, “to-morrow morning with the first

light we will ascend and take possession.” The happy monarch slept but

little that night. Scarcely had the rays of the sun begun to play about

the snowy summit of the Sierra Nevada, when he mounted his steed, and,

accompanied only by a few chosen attendants, ascended a steep and narrow

road leading up the hill. Beside him, on a white palfrey, rode the

Gothic princess, her whole dress sparkling with jewels, while round her

neck was suspended her silver lyre. The astrologer walked on the other

side of the king, assisting his steps with his hieroglyphic staff, for

he never mounted steed of any kind.

 

Aben Habuz looked to see the towers of the palace brightening above him,

and the embowered terraces of its gardens stretching along the heights;

but as yet nothing of the kind was to be descried. “That is the mystery

and safeguard of the place,” said the astrologer, “nothing can be

discerned until you have passed the spell-bound gateway, and been put in

possession of the place.”

 

As they approached the gateway, the astrologer paused, and pointed out

to the king the mystic hand and key carved upon the portal of the arch.

“These,” said he, “are the talismans which guard the entrance to this

paradise. Until yonder hand shall reach down and seize that key, neither

mortal power nor magic artifice can prevail against the lord of this

mountain.”

 

While Aben Habuz was gazing, with open mouth and silent wonder, at these

mystic talismans, the palfrey of the princess proceeded, and bore her in

at the portal, to the very centre of the barbican.

 

“Behold,” cried the astrologer, “my promised reward; the first animal

with its burden which should enter the magic gateway.”

 

Aben Habuz smiled at what he considered a pleasantry of the ancient man;

but when he found him to be in earnest, his gray beard trembled with

indignation.

 

“Son of Abu Ayub,” said he, sternly, “what equivocation is this? Thou

knowest the meaning of my promise: the first beast of burden, with its

load, that should enter this portal. Take the strongest mule in my

stables, load it with the most precious things of my treasury, and it is

thine; but dare not raise thy thoughts to her who is the delight of my

heart.”

 

“What need I of wealth?” cried the astrologer, scornfully; “have I not

the book of knowledge of Solomon the Wise, and through it the command of

the secret treasures of the earth? The princess is mine by right; thy

royal word is pledged; I claim her as my own.”

 

The princess looked down haughtily from her palfrey, and a light smile

of scorn curled her rosy lip at this dispute between two gray-beards for

the possession of youth and beauty. The wrath of the monarch got the

better of his discretion. “Base son of the desert,” cried he, “thou

mayst be master of many arts, but know me for thy master, and presume

not to juggle with thy king.”

 

“My master! my king!” echoed the astrologer,--“the monarch of a

mole-hill to claim sway over him who possesses the talismans of Solomon!

Farewell, Aben Habuz; reign over thy petty kingdom, and revel in thy

paradise of fools; for me, I will laugh at thee in my philosophic

retirement.”

 

So saying, he seized the bridle of the palfrey, smote the earth with his

staff, and sank with the Gothic princess through the centre of the

barbican. The earth closed over them, and no trace remained of the

opening by which they had descended.

 

Aben Habuz was struck dumb for a time with astonishment. Recovering

himself, he ordered a thousand workmen to dig, with pickaxe and spade,

into the ground where the astrologer had disappeared. They digged and

digged, but in vain; the flinty bosom of the hill resisted their

implements; or if they did penetrate a little way, the earth filled in

again as fast as they threw it out. Aben Habuz sought the mouth of the

cavern at the foot of the hill, leading to the subterranean palace of

the astrologer; but it was nowhere to be found. Where once had been an

entrance, was now a solid surface of primeval rock. With the

disappearance of Ibrahim Ebn Abu Ayub ceased the benefit of his

talismans. The bronze horseman remained fixed, with his face turned

toward the hill, and his spear pointed to the spot where the astrologer

had descended, as if there still lurked the deadliest foe of Aben Habuz.

 

From time to time the sound of music, and the tones of a female voice,

could be faintly heard from the bosom of the hill; and a peasant one day

brought word to the king, that in the preceding night he had found a

fissure in the rock, by which he had crept in, until he looked down into

a subterranean hall, in which sat the astrologer, on a magnificent

divan, slumbering and nodding to the silver lyre of the princess, which