Historical fiction, Scottish; Scotland -- In literature
"I have trusted him," he said, "with all he asked, and with the power
of ruining me entirely, if such be his purpose. He has but to breathe a
whisper, and the whole mad crew of crusaders, kept in humour at the
expense of so much current falsehood, and so much more gold, will
return with fire and sword to burn down Constantinople, and sow with
salt the place where it stood. I have done what I had resolved never to
do,--I have ventured kingdom and life on the faith of a man born of
woman. How often have I said, nay, sworn, that I would not hazard
myself on such peril, and yet, step by step, I have done so! I cannot
tell--there is in that man's looks and words a good faith which
overwhelms me; and, what is almost incredible, my belief in him has
increased in proportion to his showing me how slight my power was over
him. I threw, like the wily angler, every bait I could devise, and some
of them such as a king would scarcely have disdained; to none of these
would he rise; but yet he gorges, I may say, the bare hook, and enters
upon my service without a shadow of self-interest.--Can this be
double-distilled treachery?--or can it be what men call
disinterestedness?--If I thought him false, the moment is not yet
past--he has not yet crossed the bridge--he has not passed the guards
of the palace, who have no hesitation, and know no disobedience--But
no--I were then alone in the land, and without a friend or
confidant.--I hear the sound of the outer gate unclose, the sense of
danger certainly renders my ears more acute than usual.--It shuts
again--the die is cast. He is at liberty--and Alexius Comnenus must
stand or fall, according to the uncertain faith of a mercenary
Varangian." He clapt his hands; a slave appeared, of whom he demanded
wine. He drank, and his heart was cheered within him. "I am decided,"
he said, "and will abide with resolution the cast of the throw, for
good or for evil."
So saying, he retired to his apartment, and was not again seen during
that night.
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SECOND.
And aye, as if for death, some lonely trumpet peal'd.
CAMPBELL.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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