The Wanderings of Persiles and Sigismunda
A Northern Story
9781465639462
188 pages
Library of Alexandria
Overview
Near the mouth of a deep and narrow dungeon, which was more like a tomb than a prison to its wretched inmates, stood Corsicurbo, the barbarian. He shouted with a terrible voice, but, although the fearful clamour was heard far and near, none could hear his words distinctly, except the miserable Clelia, an unhappy captive, buried in this abyss. "Clelia," he said, "see that the boy who was committed to your custody two days ago, be bound fast to the cord I am about to let down; see that his hands are tied behind him, and make him ready to be drawn up here: also look well if among the women of the last prize there are any beautiful enough to deserve being brought amongst us, and to enjoy the light of the clear sky that is above us." So saying, he let down a strong hempen cord, and for some brief space he and four other barbarians pulled it, until, with his hands tied strongly behind him, they drew up a boy, seemingly about nineteen or twenty years of age, drest in linen like a mariner, but beautiful, exceedingly. The first thing the barbarians did was to investigate the manacles and cords with which his hands were tied behind his back; then they shook the locks of hair, which, like an infinity of rings of pure gold, covered his head. They cleaned his face, which had been obscured by dust, and revealed a beauty, so marvellous, that it softened and touched even the hearts of those who were carrying him to execution. The gallant boy showed no sort of affliction in his bearing, but with beaming eyes he uplifted his countenance, and looking round on every side, with a clear voice and firm accent, he cried, "I give thanks, O vast and pitying Heavens, that I have been brought out to die where your light will shine upon my death, and not where those dark dungeons, from which I have just arisen, would have covered me with their gloomy horrors; I would wish, because I am a Christian, not to die in despair at least, although my misfortunes are such as to make me almost desire it." None of this speech was understood by the barbarians, being spoken in a different language from theirs; so, closing the mouth of the cavern with a large stone, and carrying the boy, still bound, among the four, they arrived at the sea-shore, where they had a raft of timber fastened together with strong filaments of bark and flexible osiers. This contrivance served them, as soon appeared, for a boat, in which they crossed to another island, about two or three miles distant. They leaped upon the raft, and put their prisoner seated in the midst of them. Immediately one of the barbarians took a great bow that was in the raft, and fitting into it an enormous arrow, the point of which was made of flint, he quickly bent it, and looking the boy in the face, made him his mark, giving signs as if he would shoot him through the heart. The other barbarians took three heavy poles, cut like oars, and whilst one used his as a rudder, the other two impelled the raft in the direction of the island before mentioned. The beautiful boy, who alternately hoped and feared the blow of the threat'ning dart, rounded his shoulders, compressed his lips, arched his brows, and in deep silence asked in his heart of Heaven, not to be delivered from this death, as near as it was cruel, but that he might have strength given him to suffer. The savage archer, seeing this, and knowing that it was not by this manner of death he was to die; finding even in his hard heart some pity for the boy, and not desiring to give him a protracted suffering, still kept the arrow pointed at his breast, but put the bow aside, and let him know by signs, as well as he could, that he did not wish to kill him.
