The Days of Chivalry; Or, The Legend of Croquemitaine. Quatrelles
The commandant, terrified at the news, flew to inform the governor of the palace of the discovery. He, in turn, hurried off to the lord chamberlain, who, dreading the responsibility of waking the sultan, went, at the top of his speed, to find the prime minister. The prime minister ran, out of breath, to break the alarming intelligence to his master.
Marsillus dressed in a twinkling.
Pale and trembling, with his eyes but half open, and his clothes huddled on anyhow, he hastened to the sultana. She, not expecting such a visit, and never having seen her lord in such trim before, gave a loud shriek, at which her fifty attendants rushed in in alarm. On hearing the news Marsillus had to impart, the lovely Hadrama and ten of her ladies-in-waiting fainted away.
“By the beard of the Prophet!” said the sultan, impatiently, “this is no time for such monkey tricks! We have not a moment to lose. That one of you that is last to recover her senses shall receive fifty strokes of the bastinado.”
In an instant all were on their feet, and prepared to depart. The sultan, the sultana, the prime minister, the chamberlain, the commandant, the officer of the guard, the sentry, the fifty ladies-in-waiting, the fifty life guards, and the eunuchs, set forward, preceded by twenty black slaves bearing torches. The procession arrived at Murad’s apartment; the door was burst open; his majesty perceived who was the victim, and breathed more freely.
“Really,” said the fair Hadrama, “this tutor has given us a most unnecessary alarm.”
“This is your stupidity, vizier!” said the king, frowning. “How dare you disturb us for a trifle like this?”
“Sire, it was your lord chamberlain who roused me, and stated that the prince was murdered. If I had for a moment supposed——” but at this the chamberlain, seeing himself in danger of losing the royal favour, threw the blame on the governor, who turned upon the commandant. The commandant passed on the charge to the officer of the guard; and he, being a man of action, promptly ordered a hundred blows of the bamboo to be administered to the soldier who was the prime origin of the mishap.
The procession, reassured, was about to resume its progress, when the queen suddenly uttered a piercing shriek.
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“What’s the matter now?” said Marsillus, giving a start, which was repeated by all around him.
“Do you not see that the room is empty? They have killed my child. There is no doubt about it: I was dreaming of a cat when you woke me! My child is dead!”
“Then,” said the chamberlain, “the tutor must have killed him.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Marsillus; “and as for you, madam, you’re a fool. Retire to your apartments. And do you take notice, governor of the palace, that if my son is not found by sunrise, you will be honoured by immediate impalement. Go!—I rely upon your zeal and activity!”
Marsillus retired to bed again, flung himself on his pillow, and slept till nine, which was a thing he never did before. On waking, he saw the governor of the palace seated motionless at the foot of his couch.
“Oh, there you are! You bring good news?”
“Sire, the young prince is found!”
“There!” said the sultan to the fair Hadrama, who had just come in, “you see you were too ready to alarm yourself.”
The sultana only answered by wiping away a tear.
“And pray where did you find Murad?”
“In the olive-grove which borders the royal park.”
“Oh, ho! so my young eaglet is trying his wings. What was he doing?”
“The prince was taking a nap, surrounded by a lioness and three young lions.”
“That is impossible, governor. I know you too well: you would never have gone to look for him there!”
“My lord, the lioness was dead, and so were two of the cubs. The third, failing to obtain any other nutriment from its dam, was breakfasting off her.”
“And pray who had done all this slaughter?”
“I!” said Murad, who entered, pale and gory, followed by two slaves dragging the young lion along in chains.
Marsillus rose, ran to his son, clasped him in his arms, and covered him with caresses.
His son did not return them, for he had fainted, overcome with pain and loss of blood. I need hardly say he was tended as became the son of a king, and the slayer of lions.
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A few days after, the prime minister submitted a report to the sultan, proving in the clearest manner that the prince’s tutor had committed suicide. Marsillus smiled.
“Well done, vizier! I see how to reward you: you shall take the place left vacant by my son’s tutor.”
Murad grew up. He and the young lion were never separated. They were seen together everywhere—even on the field of battle, and thus it was that in course of time they made their appearance in the lists at Fronsac.
Now that you have, made the acquaintance of Murad Henakyeh Meimoumovassi, we will return to Charlemagne.
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