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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 41549 ***
+
+Transcriber's note:
+
+Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
+
+Small capital text has been replaced with all capitals.
+
+Variations in spelling, punctuation and hyphenation have been retained
+except in obvious cases of typographical error.
+
+[=] combined with a letter, example [=a], indicates a macron over the
+letter.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+  "GOD WILLS IT"
+
+
+[Illustration: logo]
+
+[Illustration: "IN A TWINKLING RICHARD WAS AT THE HEAD OF THE RAGING
+BRUTE"]
+
+
+
+
+  "GOD WILLS IT!"
+
+  A Tale of the First Crusade
+
+  BY
+  WILLIAM STEARNS DAVIS
+  AUTHOR OF "A FRIEND OF CÆSAR"
+
+  WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY LOUIS BETTS
+
+     _"Who through faith subdued kingdoms, wrought righteousness,
+     obtained promises, stopped the mouths of lions, quenched the
+     violence of fire, escaped the edge of the sword, out of weakness
+     were made strong, waxed valiant in fight, turned to flight the
+     armies of the aliens."_
+
+  --HEBREWS xi. 33, 34.
+
+  New York
+  THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
+  LONDON: MACMILLAN & CO., LTD.
+  1901
+
+  _All rights reserved_
+
+
+
+
+  COPYRIGHT, 1901,
+  BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.
+
+
+  _Norwood Press
+  J. S. Cushing & Co.--Berwick & Smith
+  Norwood, Mass., U.S.A._
+
+  To my long-time Friend
+
+  ARTHUR WASHBURN
+
+  I DEDICATE THIS TALE
+
+  OF THE DAYS OF FAITH
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+
+The First Crusade was the sacrifice of France for the sins of the Dark
+Ages. Alone of all the Crusades it succeeded, despite its surrender of
+countless lives. No Richard of England, no St. Louis led; its heroes
+were the nobles and peasants of France and Norman Italy, who endured a
+thousand perils and hewed their victorious way to Jerusalem. In this
+Crusade united Feudalism and Papacy won their greatest triumph.
+Notwithstanding the self-seeking of a few, the mass of the Crusaders
+were true to their profession,--they sought no worldly gain, but to
+wash out their sins in infidel blood. In this Crusade also the alien
+civilizations of Christendom and Islam were brought into a dramatic
+collision which has few historic counterparts.
+
+Except in Scott's "Count Robert of Paris," which deals wholly with the
+Constantinople episode, I believe the First Crusade has not been
+interpreted in fiction. Possibly, therefore, the present book may have
+a slight value, as seeking to tell the story of the greatest event of
+a great age.
+
+I have sometimes used modern spellings instead of unfamiliar
+eleventh-century names. The Crusade chronicles often contradict one
+another, and once or twice I have taken trifling liberties. To Mr. S.
+S. Drury and Mr. Charles Hill, University friends who have rendered
+kind aid on several historical details, I owe many thanks.
+
+  W. S. D.
+
+  HARVARD UNIVERSITY.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+  PROLOGUE
+
+                                                  PAGE
+
+  HOW HILDEBRAND GAVE A BATTLE CRY                   1
+
+  CHAPTER
+
+        I. HOW BARON WILLIAM SALLIED FORTH          13
+
+       II. HOW RICHARD WON THREE FRIENDS            24
+
+      III. HOW RICHARD WON A BROTHER                37
+
+       IV. HOW RICHARD WENT TO PALERMO              46
+
+        V. HOW RICHARD WON TWO FOES                 53
+
+       VI. HOW ROLLO MET INSULT                     64
+
+      VII. HOW DE VALMONT SENT HIS GAGE             74
+
+     VIII. HOW IFTIKHAR SPED A VAIN ARROW           81
+
+       IX. HOW TRENCHEFER DROVE HOME                94
+
+        X. HOW IFTIKHAR SAID FAREWELL TO SICILY    113
+
+       XI. HOW RICHARD FARED TO AUVERGNE           121
+
+      XII. HOW RICHARD CAME TO ST. JULIEN          127
+
+     XIII. HOW RICHARD SINNED AGAINST HEAVEN       138
+
+      XIV. HOW RICHARD'S SIN WAS REWARDED          148
+
+       XV. HOW RICHARD FOUND THE CRUCIFIX          158
+
+      XVI. HOW LADY IDE FORGAVE RICHARD            168
+
+     XVII. HOW RICHARD SAW PETER THE HERMIT        179
+
+    XVIII. HOW RICHARD MET GODFREY OF BOUILLON     187
+
+      XIX. HOW RICHARD TOOK THE CROSS              195
+
+       XX. HOW RICHARD RECEIVED GREAT MERCY        206
+
+      XXI. HOW RICHARD RETURNED TO LA HAYE         214
+
+     XXII. HOW RICHARD PARTED WITH HIS BROTHER     224
+
+    XXIII. HOW IFTIKHAR'S MESSENGER RETURNED       235
+
+     XXIV. HOW THEY SLEW THE FIRST INFIDEL         247
+
+      XXV. HOW DUKE GODFREY SAVED THE DAY          258
+
+     XXVI. HOW RICHARD WAS AGAIN CHASTENED         272
+
+    XXVII. HOW THE ARMY CAME TO ANTIOCH            283
+
+   XXVIII. HOW RICHARD REGAINED HIS BROTHER        293
+
+     XXIX. HOW IFTIKHAR BORE HOME HIS PRIZE        302
+
+      XXX. HOW THERE WAS FESTIVAL AT ALEPPO        315
+
+     XXXI. HOW MARY REDEEMED HER SOUL              328
+
+    XXXII. HOW MORGIANA PROFFERED TWO CUPS         341
+
+   XXXIII. HOW EYBEK TURNED GRAY                   354
+
+    XXXIV. HOW MUSA PRACTISED MAGIC                367
+
+     XXXV. HOW RICHARD HEARD A SONG                381
+
+    XXXVI. HOW THE ISMAELIANS SAW TRENCHEFER       402
+
+   XXXVII. HOW ROLLO CARRIED WEIGHT                415
+
+  XXXVIII. HOW RICHARD AND MUSA AGAIN PARTED       428
+
+    XXXIX. HOW PETER BARTHELMY HAD A DREAM         444
+
+       XL. HOW THE HOLY LANCE WAS FOUND            457
+
+      XLI. HOW LIGHT SMOTE DARKNESS                472
+
+     XLII. HOW MORGIANA WOUND HER LAST SPELL       483
+
+    XLIII. HOW THE ARMY SAW JERUSALEM              489
+
+     XLIV. HOW MORGIANA BROUGHT WARNING            499
+
+      XLV. HOW RICHARD HAD SPEECH WITH MUSA        510
+
+     XLVI. HOW IFTIKHAR CEASED FROM TROUBLING      522
+
+    XLVII. HOW TRENCHEFER WAS BROKEN               535
+
+   XLVIII. HOW RICHARD SAW THE SUN RISE            546
+
+
+
+
+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+                                                              PAGE
+
+  "In a twinkling Richard was at the head of the raging brute"  16
+
+  "The cup trembled, as at the very thought she shuddered"      40
+
+  "The lad lay with his bright locks in a crimson pool"        146
+
+  "'How may I lift eyes to you when I belong to the cause of
+  Christ?'"                                                    222
+
+  "Iftikhar took from the seat a little lute, touched the
+  strings, and sang"                                           327
+
+  "All blindly, he knew they were mounting stairways"          401
+
+  "And in his hand the rusted head of a lance"                 462
+
+  "The infidel gave way"                                       542
+
+
+
+
+GOD WILLS IT!
+
+
+
+
+PROLOGUE
+
+HOW HILDEBRAND GAVE A BATTLE CRY
+
+
+High noon in Italy. Without, a hot sun, a blue bay, a slow sea-breeze;
+within, a vaulted chamber, bare stone walls, a few blazoned pennons
+upon the pillars, here and there pictured tapestries, where one might
+see many a merry tourney and passage-at-arms. Very gentle were the
+footfalls, though the room was not empty: the whispers were so low
+that the droning buzz of a bee, which had stolen in at the narrow
+window, sounded loud as a mill wheel. There were a score of persons in
+the chamber: tonsured priests in white stoles, and monks in black
+cassocks; knights in silvered hauberks; a white-robed Moor with the
+eyes of a falcon and the teeth of a cat; and a young lad, Richard, son
+of Sir William the castellan, a shy boy of twelve, who sat upon the
+stone window seat, blinking his great eyes and wondering what it all
+might mean. No eye rested on the lad: the company had thought only for
+one object,--a figure that turned wearily on the velvet pillows, half
+raised itself, sank once more. Then came a thin voice, gentle as a
+woman's:--
+
+"Abd Rahman, come: feel my wrist, and do not fear to speak the truth."
+
+The Moor at the foot of the bed rose from the rushes whereon he had
+been squatting; stole noiselessly to the sick man's side. From the
+arch of the vault above dangled a silver ball. The Moor smote the
+ball, and with his eye counted the slow vibrations while his hand held
+the wrist. Even the vagrant bee stopped humming while the sphere
+swung to and fro for a long minute. Then without a word Abd Rahman
+crept to a low table where a lamp was heating a silver vial, and on
+which other vials and spoons were lying. He turned the warm red elixir
+into a spoon, and brought it to the dying man. There was a rush of
+color to the pallid cheeks, with a striving to rise from the pillow;
+but the Moor again held his wrist. Another long silence,--then the
+question from the bed:--
+
+"Do not hesitate. Is it near the end?"
+
+Abd Rahman salaamed until his turban touched the rushes.
+
+"Sheik Gregorius, all life save Allah's is mortal," said he in mongrel
+Latin.
+
+At the words, there ran a shiver and sobbing through all the company;
+the priests were kissing their crucifixes; the monks were on their
+knees,--and had begun to mutter _Agnus Dei, qui tolles peccata mundi,
+miserere nobis!_ The sufferer's voice checked them.
+
+"Sweet children, what is this? Sorrow? Tears? Rather should you not
+rejoice that God has remembered my long travail, and opens wide the
+doorway to the dwellings of His rest?" But the answer was renewed
+sobbing. Only Abd Rahman crouched impassive. To him death was death,
+for Nubian slave or lordly Kalif.
+
+"Draw nearer, dear brothers, my children in Christ," came the voice
+from the bed. "Let me see your faces; my sight grows dim. The end is
+not far."
+
+So they stood close by, those prelates and knights of the stout Norman
+fortress city of Salerno, on that five-and-twentieth of May, in the
+year of grace one thousand and eighty-five. None spoke. Each muttered
+his own prayer, and looked upon the face of the dying. As they stood,
+the sun dropped a beam athwart the pillows, and lit up the sick man's
+face. It was a pale, thin, wasted face, the eyelids half drooping, the
+eyes now lack-lustre, now touched by fretful and feverish fire; the
+scanty gray hair tonsured, the shaven lips drawn tensely, so wan that
+the blue veins showed, as they did through the delicate hands at rest
+on the coverings. Yet the onlookers saw a majesty more than royal in
+that wan face; for before them lay the "Servant of the Servants of
+God." They looked upon Gregory VII, christened Hildebrand, heir of St.
+Peter, Vicar of Christ, before whom the imperial successor of
+Charlemagne and Cæsar had knelt as suppliant and vassal. The silence
+was again waxing long.
+
+"Dear children," said the dying Pope, "have you no word for me before
+I go?" Whereupon the lordliest prelate of them all, the Archbishop of
+Salerno, fell on his knees, and cried aloud:--
+
+"Oh, _Sanctissime_! how can we endure when you are reft from us? Shall
+we not be unshepherded sheep amongst ravening wolves; forsaken to the
+devices of Satan! Oh, Father, if indeed you are the Vicar of Our Lord,
+beg that He will spare us this loss; and even now He will lengthen out
+your days, as God rewarded the good Hezekiah, and you will be restored
+to us and to Holy Church!" But there was a weary smile upon Gregory's
+pale face.
+
+"No, my brother, be not afraid. I go to the visible presence of Our
+Lord: before His very throne I will commend you all to His mercy."
+Then the dim eyes wandered round the room. "Where is Odon? Where is
+Odon, Bishop of Ostia? Not here?--"
+
+"_Beatissime_" said old Desidarius, Abbot of Monte Casino, "we have
+sent urgent messages to Capua, bidding him come with speed."
+
+A wistful shadow passed across the face of Gregory.
+
+"I pray God I may give him my blessing before I die."
+
+He coughed violently; another vial of Abd Rahman's elixir quieted him,
+but even the imperturbable face of the Moor told that the medicine
+could profit little.
+
+"Let us partake of the body and blood of Our Lord," said Gregory; and
+the priests brought in a golden chalice and gilded pyx, containing the
+holy mysteries. They chanted the _Gloria Patri_ with trembling voices;
+the archbishop knelt at the bedside, proffering the pyx. But at that
+instant the lad, Richard, as he sat and wondered, saw the Pope's
+waxen face flush dark; he saw the thin hands crush the coverings into
+folds, and put by the elements.
+
+"I forget; I am first the Vicar of Christ; second, Hildebrand, the
+sinner. I have yet one duty before I can stand at God's judgment
+seat." The archbishop rose to his feet, and the holy vessel quaked in
+his hand; for he saw on the brow of Gregory the black clouds,
+foretelling the stroke of the lightning.
+
+"What is your command, _Sanctissime_?" he faltered.
+
+And the Pope answered, lifting himself unaided:--
+
+"Speak! how has God dealt with the foes of Holy Church and His
+Vicegerent? Has He abased Guibert of Ravenna, the Antipope, very
+Antichrist? Has he humbled Henry, the German, Antichrist's friend?"
+The voice was strong now; it thrilled through the vaulted chamber like
+the roar of the wind that runs herald to the thunders.
+
+And Desidarius answered feebly: "Holy Father, it is written, 'He that
+is unjust let him be unjust still.' Guibert the Antipope, who
+blasphemes, calling himself Clement the Third, still lords it in the
+city of Peter; in Germany Henry the accursed is suffered to prosper
+for yet a little season."
+
+Whereupon Richard saw a terrible thing. The face of the Pope flushed
+with an awful fury; he sat upright in the bed, his eyes darting fire,
+and night on his forehead. Abd Rahman rose to quiet him--one glance
+thrust the Moor back. None seconded. The Pope was still Pope; his were
+the keys of heaven and hell,--perdition to deny! And now he spoke in
+harsh command, as if handing down the doom of kingdoms, as indeed he
+did.
+
+"Hearken, bishops and prelates! I, Gregory, standing at the judgment
+seat of God, am yet the Vicar of Christ. Of me it is said, 'Whatsoever
+ye shall bind on earth shall be bound in heaven;' and let my last act
+on this sinful earth be this--to devote to the devil and his angels
+the souls of Henry, king of the Germans, who vaunts the name of
+emperor, and Guibert, whose sin shall be forgiven never, for he is
+Antichrist."
+
+The pontiff gasped for breath; his voice sounded again.
+
+"Take vellum, and write the formula of the greater excommunication
+against the two accursed. Make haste: for all the rest of the world I
+will forgive, but they shall be parched forever. Then let me, like
+Pope Zacharias, sign the anathema with the very blood of Our Lord.
+Haste; for the time grows short."
+
+They obeyed like mute slaves. Richard saw a priest's pen racing over
+the parchment, and shivered to his young self; for two of the world's
+highest were being handed over to eternal torment. The Pope still sat.
+In his eye flashed a fire born of passion passing reason.
+
+"Yes," he ran on. "I am the son of the carpenter of Saona, the poor
+monk at St. Mary of the Aventine. Yet I have been set above kings. At
+Canossa the prince of this world has knelt at my feet, confessing his
+imperial majesty lesser than mine. I have made and unmade kings; I
+have raised up and pulled down; and the holy bride of Christ shall
+come unblemished to her marriage. The Church--the Church--shall wax
+forever; and this has been the work of my hands!" The Pope raved,--all
+knew it,--but who should say him nay? Still he stormed on in his
+passion: "They have driven me to exile, but mine is the victory. I
+die, but the Church advances to triumph! Kingdoms fall,--the Church is
+established. The earth passes away,--the Church sits down to the
+marriage supper with the Lamb: for the gates of hell shall not prevail
+against her!"
+
+Gregory saw the priest lift his eyes from the writing-desk.
+
+"Is it written?"
+
+"It is written, Holy Father."
+
+"Bring it to me, and bring the chalice and the pen; for I will sign."
+
+The archbishop brought the vellum and the holy cup, and knelt at the
+bedside; and others had brought lighted candles, twelve in number,
+each held by a prelate or priest who stood in semicircle about the
+bed. Then while they chanted the great psalm of wrath, they heard the
+bell of the castle tolling,--tolling,--not for the death of the body,
+but for the more grievous death of the soul. "_In consummatione, in
+ira consummationis_"--"Consume them, in wrath consume them," swelled
+the terrible chant.
+
+"Give me the crucifix," commanded Gregory. Desidarius placed one of
+silver in his hand. A priest at either side bore him up from the bed.
+Softly, but solemnly as the Judge of the last Great Day, Gregory read
+the major anathema:--
+
+"I, Gregory, Servant of the Servants of God, to whom is given all
+power in heaven, on earth, and in hell, do pronounce you, Henry, false
+Emperor, and you, Guibert, false Pope, anathematized, excommunicate,
+damned! Accursed in heaven and on earth,--may the pains of hell follow
+you forever! Cursed be you in your food and your possessions, from the
+dog that barks for you to the cock that crows for you! May you wax
+blind; may your hands wither; like Dathan and Abiram, may hell swallow
+you up quick; like Ananias and Sapphira, may you receive an ass's
+burial! May your lot be that of Judas in the land of shades! May these
+maledictions echo about you through the ages of ages!"
+
+And at these words the priests cast down their candles, treading them
+out, all crying: "Amen and amen! So let God quench all who contemn the
+Vicar of Christ."
+
+Then in a silence so tense that Richard felt his very eyeballs
+beating, Gregory dipped in the chalice, and bent over the roll. The
+lad heard the tip of the pen touch the vellum,--but the words were
+never written....
+
+Darkening the doorway was a figure, leaning upon a crooked staff; in
+the right hand a withered palm branch,--the gaze fixed straight upon
+the Vicegerent of God. And Gregory, as he glanced upward, saw,--gave a
+cry and sigh in one breath; then every eye fastened upon the newcomer,
+who without a word advanced with soft gliding step to the foot of the
+bed, and looked upon the Pope.
+
+None addressed him, for he was as it were a prophet, a Samuel called
+up from his long rest to disclose the mysteries hid to human ken. The
+strange visitor was of no great height; fasting and hardship had worn
+him almost to a skeleton. From under his dust-soiled pilgrim's coat
+could be seen the long arms, with the skin sun-dried, shrivelled. Over
+his breast and broad shoulders streamed the snow-white hair and beard.
+Beneath the shaggy brows, within deep sockets, were eyes, large, dark,
+fiery, that held the onlooker captive against his will. The pilgrim's
+nose seemed like the beak of a hawk, his fingers like dry talons. And
+all looked and grew afraid, for he was as one who had wrestled with
+the glamour and sin of the world for long, and had been more than
+victor.
+
+Pope and pilgrim gazed upon each other: first spoke Hildebrand:--
+
+"Sebastian, my brother-monk!"
+
+"Hildebrand, my fellow at St. Mary's!"
+
+Then the apparition fell on his knees, saying humbly:--
+
+"And will not the Pope bless Sebastian the palmer from Jerusalem?"
+
+What the pontiff replied was lost to all about; then louder he
+spoke:--
+
+"And has Sebastian the palmer forgotten his love for Hildebrand the
+monk, when he reverences the Vicar of Christ?"
+
+But the stranger arose.
+
+"I kneel, adoring Gregory, Vicegerent of God: I stand to lay bare to
+Hildebrand, the man, his mortal sin."
+
+A thrill of horror ran through all the churchmen, and the archbishop
+whispered darkly to Desidarius, but the Pope reproved:--
+
+"And I implore the prayers of Sebastian, a more righteous man than I;
+let him speak, and all Christians honor him."
+
+So they stood. The palmer drew close to the bedside, pointing into the
+pontiff's face a finger bare as that of one long in the grave.
+
+"Listen, Hildebrand of Saona! I am come from my pilgrimage to the tomb
+of our dear Lord. I have come hither to fall at your feet, to bid you
+remember the captivity of the city of Christ, and His sorrow at the
+wrong done Him through His little ones. I come to find the Vicar of
+Christ like the meanest of humankind, nigh to death, and preparing to
+stand naked at God's tribunal. I find him not forgiving his enemies,
+but devoting to hell. I find him going before God, his last breath a
+curse--"
+
+But the Pope was writhing in agony.
+
+"Not this, my brother, my brother," rang his plea. "O Sebastian,
+holier man than I," and he strove to turn from the palmer's terrible
+gaze, but could not. "Not in my own wrath and hatred do I this. Henry
+and Guibert blaspheme Christ and His church, not me. Did I not freely
+forgive Censius the brigand, who sought my life? Have I ever been a
+worldly prelate, whose cellars are full of wines, whose castles abound
+with plate and falcons and chargers? Has simony or uncleanness ever
+justly been laid at my door? Not so, not so,--I am innocent."
+
+But Sebastian never wavered. "You and I were fellow-monks at St.
+Mary's, friends, as one soul dwelling in two bodies. But the pleasure
+of God led us wide apart; you became maker of popes, very Pope--I
+remained a simple monk; for our Lord spared me the burdens of
+greatness. Now for the third time I have been to the tomb of Christ,
+to plead pardon for my many sins and I bring from Palestine treasures
+more precious than gold."
+
+The whole company was about the palmer when he drew forth a little
+packet. "See--the finger-bone of the blessed St. Jerome; this flask is
+filled with water of Jordan; this dust my poor hands gathered at the
+Holy Sepulchre." And now all bowed very low. "This splinter is of that
+wood whereon the price of all our sins was paid."
+
+Hildebrand took the last relic, kissed it, placed it in his bosom
+lovingly. Then came the slow question. "And are the Eastern Christians
+still persecuted, the pilgrims outraged, the sacred places polluted?"
+
+"Look, _Sanctissime_" was the answer, tinged half with bitterness and
+scorn; and Sebastian bared his arm, showing upon it a ring of scarce
+healed scars. "These are tokens of the tortures I endured by command
+of the Emir of Jerusalem, when I rejoiced to be counted worthy to
+suffer for Christ's dear sake."
+
+"Wounds of Our Lord!" cried the archbishop on his knees, "we are
+unworthy to wash the feet of such as you!"
+
+"No," replied the palmer. "It was but merciful chastening. Yet my
+heart burns when I behold Christians cursing and slaying one another,
+while so many infidels rage unslain and the Holy City mourns their
+captive. Therefore I stand here, _Sanctissime_, to reproach you for
+your sin."
+
+Again Gregory broke forth: "Unjust Sebastian, eleven years since I
+pleaded with King Henry, setting forth the miseries of Jerusalem; ever
+has my soul been torn for her captivity. Did I not profess myself
+ready to lead over land and sea to the Holy Sepulchre? Then the devil
+stirred Henry to his onslaught on the Church, and God has opened no
+door for this righteous warfare."
+
+Sebastian leaned over, speaking into the Pope's face.
+
+"You have put your hand to the plough and looked back. You promised
+Michael Ducas the Greek aid against the Turks. You anathematized him
+for heresy. You wrote of holy war. War blazed forth in Saxony, where
+your underling, Rudolf of Swabia, slew his fellow-Christians with your
+blessing, while Christ's children in the East were perishing. You
+called to Rome Robert Guiscard, that man of sin, whose half-paynim
+army spared neither nun nor matron in its violence when it sacked, and
+led thousands of Roman captives to endless bondage in Calabria. Where
+then your anathemas? You cared more for humiliating Cæsar than for
+removing the humiliation of Christ. Therefore I reproach."
+
+There were great beads of sweat on the Pope's forehead; he was panting
+in agony; again and again the splinter of the cross was pressed to his
+breast, as if the very touch would quench the raging flame within.
+"_Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa!_" he was repeating. Next he
+spoke aloud: "Sweet friends, bear witness,--all my life I have loved
+righteousness and hated iniquity; therefore, in exile, here at
+Salerno, I die. Yet our old enemy, Satan, has been too strong. I am a
+very sinful man, thinking too much of the glory of Peter, too little
+of the sorrow of Christ. Pray for me,--for Hildebrand, chief of
+sinners; for Gregory the Pope is nigh his end."
+
+When the pontiff's breath failed, there were again shadows in the
+doorway, and two figures entered treading softly; the one a tall and
+handsome churchman, in a high prelate's dress, the second a cavalier,
+not tall, but mighty of limb and shoulder, the jewels flashing on his
+baldric, the gold spurs at his heels. The warrior threw back his helm,
+and all saw the long, fair beard, the steel-blue eyes, the mien of
+high command.
+
+"Odon, Cardinal of Ostia, my dear son!" cried the fainting Pope, as
+the prelate knelt at the bedside, beseeching the blessing. "But--you?"
+and he wondered, looking upon the knight. The other bowed his head.
+
+"Holy Father," said he, in the tongue of northern France, "do you not
+know me? I have greatly sinned: I have fought with Henry against Holy
+Church. I repent; assign any penance--for from Rome I have come,
+seeking absolution at the hands of the true Vicar of Christ."
+
+"And you are--?" came from Hildebrand's thin lips.
+
+"Godfrey of Bouillon." And the knight knelt beside the cardinal.
+
+The light was again in the Pope's eye. "Fear not," came his words. "As
+you have been the foe of Holy Church, so now you shall become her
+champion. Your sins are forgiven; what you shall do, learn hereafter."
+Another spasm of coughing; Abd Rahman administered his last elixir.
+All knew the end was very near. But again the pontiff spoke. "I must
+say farewell, sweet children. Make Desidarius my successor, for he has
+served Holy Church full long. But he is old, and after him"--his eyes
+went over to Odon--"you shall sit upon the throne of Peter." The
+prelate was in tears.
+
+"Say it not," he cried. "Unworthy!--Anselm of Lucca, Hugh of Lyons,
+they are better men than I."
+
+"No," said Gregory, gently, "you will succeed in due time, and do not
+refuse the service of the Lord." Then he turned to Sebastian. "Dear
+brother, O for ten years of life, five, one! I have been an
+unfaithful shepherd of my sheep! But God is all wise. Never in this
+body shall I call the soldiers of the West to arm against the enemies
+of Christ! Yet--yet--" the voice faltered, steadied again--"the time
+cometh when God wills it, and you, Odon, shall call forth the warriors
+of the Cross; and you, O Godfrey,--be this your penance,--you shall
+lead the host to Jerusalem. And the host shall move victoriously,
+Frank, German, Italian! The Holy City shall be rescued from her
+spoilers! And this be your battle cry, against which paynim or devil
+may not prevail, '_God wills it!_' For what God wills, may no man or
+archfiend stay!"
+
+His voice pealed like a trumpet, like the shout of a dauntless captain
+leading through the deathly press. All looked on him. When his hands
+stretched on high, every other hand was outstretched. Nearer they
+crowded, and the swords of the Norman knights leaped from their
+scabbards,--there was the clang of mail, the flash of light on bare
+steel,--highest of all the sword of Godfrey. Hildebrand struggled to
+rise; Sebastian upbore at one side, Odon at the other. The Pope gazed
+upward toward the vaulting--seemingly through it--beyond--
+
+"I see the heavens opened," was his cry. "I see horses and chariots; a
+mighty host; and Michael and all his angels with swords of fire. I see
+the earth covered with armies innumerable, and red with the carnage of
+countless battles. I see the great host of those who have shed their
+blood for Christ, ascending into heaven, with psalms of praise,
+clothed in white robes, while their comrades below march on to
+victory." A pause,--a final burst of ecstasy,--"I see the Cross
+triumphant on the walls of Jerusalem! And all this shall be not now,
+yet speedily; for so God wills it!"
+
+The Pope reeled; Sebastian caught him; they laid him on the bed. Abd
+Rahman was beside--no need of his skill--a great rush of blood surged
+from Gregory's lips, one brief spasm--he was dead.
+
+"Christians," spoke Sebastian the palmer, "think not the Vicar of
+Christ has left us unaided in this sacred task. At the throne of God
+he will pray that our fingers be taught the sword, that we be girded
+with strength for the battle. And now while his spirit is borne on
+high by angels, let us take on ourselves the vow of holy war."
+
+The lad Richard, whose young wits had been sadly perplexed by all he
+had seen since at early morn he had been sent to watch in the
+sick-room, that his weary father the castellan might rest, made as if
+to glide from the chamber; but Sebastian by a glance recalled. They
+stood around the bed, looking upon the dead man's face, their arms
+stretched on high.
+
+"We swear it! That soon as the path is plain, we will free Jerusalem.
+So God wills it!"
+
+Thus cried Odon, thus all; but loudest of all Godfrey of Bouillon.
+Then Sebastian, turning to Richard, said:--
+
+"And you, fair young sir, whom the saints make the sprout of a mighty
+warrior for Christ--will you vow also?"
+
+Whereupon Richard, holding himself very lordly, as became his noble
+Norman blood, replied with outstretched hand, in right manly
+fashion:--
+
+"Yes, with St. Maurice's help, I will slay my share of the infidels!"
+
+"Amen," quoth Abbot Desidarius, solemnly, "Gregory the Pope is dead in
+the body, but in the spirit he shall win new victories for Holy Church
+and for God."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+HOW BARON WILLIAM SALLIED FORTH
+
+
+It was early dawn in May, 1094. The glowing sun had just touched the
+eastern mountains with living fire; the green brakes and long
+stretches of half-tropical woodland were springing out of the shadow;
+a thin mist was drifting from the cool valleys; to the north the sea's
+wide reach was dancing and darkling. Upon a little height overlooking
+the Sicilian town of Cefalu three men were standing, very unlike in
+age and dress, yet each with attention fixed on one object,--a white
+falcon which the youngest of the party had perched on his fist. Two of
+the men were past the prime of life. Of one, the swarthy countenance,
+sharp features, bright Oriental dress, ponderous blue turban, and
+crooked cimeter proclaimed him at once a Moor, undoubtedly a Moslem;
+the other, taller, thinner than his comrade, wore a coarse, dark
+mantle; his hood was thrust back, displaying a head crowned with a
+tight-fitting steel cap, a face stern and tough, as if it were of
+oxhide, marked almost to deformity by plentiful sword scars. He wore a
+grizzled gray beard; at his side jangled a heavy sword in battered
+sheath; and in his hands, which lacked more than one finger, he held a
+crossbow, the bolts for which swung in a leathern case at his thigh.
+The two stood by their third companion, who was holding up the falcon
+on a gold-embroidered glove, while the other hand readjusted the
+feather-tufted hood over the bird's eyes.
+
+"By St. Michael," the young man was declaring, "say to me, Herbert,
+and you also, Nasr, there was never such a falcon; no, not in all
+Count Roger's mews."
+
+The speaker stood at least a head taller than the others, and they
+were not short men. He was a strong-limbed fellow of perhaps
+two-and-twenty; with a face not regular and handsome certainly; the
+cheek-bones were too high, the features too rugged, the mouth too
+large for that. But it was an honest, ingenuous face; the brown eyes
+snapped with lively spirits, and, if need be, with no trifling
+passion; the mouth was affable; the little brown mustache twisted at a
+determined curve; and the short dark hair--he was bare-headed--was
+just curly enough to be unruly. He wore a bleaunt, an undercloak of
+fine gray cloth, and over this was caught a loose mantle of scarlet
+woollen,--a bright dress that marked out his figure from afar.
+
+The young man had been speaking in Norman French, and his comrade in
+the steel cap, who answered to the name of Herbert, broke out
+loudly:--
+
+"Aye, my Lord Richard, there is not such a falcon in all Sicily from
+Syracuse to Trapani; not such a bird as will strike so huge a crane or
+heron from so far, and go at the quarry so fearless." And the old man
+held up a dead crane, as if in proof of his assertion.
+
+"I am glad to think it," replied the other, "for I have no small hope
+that when next I go to Palermo, I may show that haughty Louis De
+Valmont I know somewhat of hawking, and can breed a bird to outmatch
+his best."
+
+"Allah!" grunted Nasr, the Moor, "the young _Cid_ is right. Never have
+I seen a better falcon. And he does well to harbor the old grudge
+against the boisterous De Valmont, who will get his dues if the Most
+High will! Ha, ha!" And the old rascal began croaking in his throat,
+thinking he was laughing.
+
+Nasr had spoken in Arabic, but his companions understood him well
+enough; for what tongue was not current in Sicily? The young man's
+face was clouded, however, as if by no very pleasant recollection;
+then he burst out:--
+
+"By the Mass, but I will not forget the high words that pompous knight
+spoke to me. If it be a sin to harbor an enmity, as Sebastian the
+chaplain says, why then"--and he crossed himself--"I will do penance
+in due time. But the quarrel must be wiped out first." And he clapped
+his hand on his sword-hilt to confirm his word.
+
+"_Ai!_" muttered Herbert, "the churchmen talk of the days when spears
+shall be beaten into pruning-hooks--so they say it; but I say, let old
+Herbert be dead before that time dawns. What is life without its
+grudges? A good horse, a good sword, a good wife, and a good
+grudge--what more can an honest man want, be he knight or 'villain'?"
+
+Richard yawned and commenced to scratch his head.
+
+"Ah!" he commented, "it was very early we rose! I have not yet rubbed
+the vapors out of my crown. Sir Gerald, the knight travelling from
+Palermo who lodged with us, was given hospitality in my bed, and we
+talked of his horses and sweethearts till past midnight. Then
+Brochart, my best dog, was not content to sleep under the bed, as is
+his wont, but must needs climb up and lie upon me, and I was too
+slumberous to roll him off; so I have dreamt of imps and devils all
+night long."
+
+He drew the strap tight that held the falcon to his glove, and led the
+way down the slope, remarking that since he had tested the new bird
+thus early, he would not hesitate to display her keenness to his
+father the Baron, who proposed to ride hawking that day. So they
+passed down the hill towards Cefalu with its white houses and
+squat-domed churches spreading out below them, a fair picture to the
+eye; for the summer sea, flecked by a few fishers' sails, stretched
+beyond, and the green hills far to either hand. Before them on a sheer
+eminence rose the battlemented keep of the castle, an ancient
+Saracenic fortress lately remodelled by the new Norman lords, the dawn
+falling bright and free on its amber-gray walls, and lending a rich
+blush to the stately crimson banner that from topmost rampart was
+trailing to the southern wind.
+
+As the three went down the slope they struck the highroad just beyond
+a little clump of palm trees, and at the turn they ran on a travelling
+party that was evidently just setting forth from Cefalu. There were
+several women and priests on palfreys and mules, one or two mounted
+men-at-arms, and several pack animals; but the centre of the whole
+party was found in an enormous black horse, who at that instant had
+flung off his rider, and was tossing his forefeet in the air and
+raging and stamping as if by a demon possessed. Two stout Lombard
+serving-men were tugging at his bits, but he was kicking at them
+viciously, and almost worrying out of their grasp at every plunge. The
+women were giving little shrieks each time the great horse reared; the
+priests were crossing themselves and mumbling in Latin; and all their
+beasts were growing restive.
+
+In a twinkling Richard was at the head of the raging brute, and with a
+mighty grip close to the jaw taught the foaming monster that he felt a
+master hand. A moment more and the horse was standing quiet and
+submissive. Richard resigned his hold to a servant, and turned to the
+strange travellers. A fat man in a prelate's dress, with a frosty red
+face, was pushing his white mule forward; Richard fell at once on his
+knees, for he recognized in the churchman My Lord Prelate Robert of
+Evroult, the Bishop of Messina. The good father was all thanks.
+
+"_Dominus vobiscum_, my son; you have subdued a savage beast, to which
+I, a man of peace and not of war, should never have given harborage in
+my stables. And who may you be, for I have seen your face before, yet
+forget the name?"
+
+"_Beatissime_, I am Richard Longsword, son of William Longsword,
+seigneur of this Barony of Cefalu."
+
+"A right noble knight you will prove yourself, no doubt," commented
+the bishop; "when at Palermo do not fail to wait on me." And then,
+when he had given his blessing, he signed for the cavalcade to
+proceed.
+
+"I thank your episcopal grace," quoth Richard, still very dutifully;
+and then his eye lit on another of the travellers,--one much more to
+his liking than the reverend prelate; for a lady sitting on a second
+white mule had thrust back the yellow veil from before her face, and
+the Norman caught a glimpse of cheeks red as a rose and white as milk,
+and two very bright eyes. Only a glimpse; for the lady, the instant
+he raised his gaze, dropped the veil; but she could not cover up those
+dark, gleaming eyes. Richly dressed was she, after the fashion of the
+Greeks, with red ribbons on her neck and a blue silk mantle and
+riding-hood. Her mule had a saddle of fine, embossed leather, and
+silver bits. At her side rode an old man in a horse-litter led by
+foot-boys; he also daintily dressed, and with the handsome, clear-cut
+features and venerable white beard of a Greek gentleman. The lady had
+dropped her veil at his warning nod, but now she bent over the mule
+and half motioned to Richard.
+
+"You understand Greek, Sir Frank?" was her question; not in the
+mongrel Sicilian dialect, but in the stately tongue of Constantinople.
+In her voice was a little tremor and melody sweet as a springtime
+brook. The Norman bowed low.
+
+"I understand and speak, fair lady," replied he, in her own tongue.
+
+"How brave you have been!" cried the Greek, ingenuously; "I feared the
+raging horse would kill you."
+
+Richard shrugged his shoulders and laughed:--
+
+"It is nothing; I know horses as my second self."
+
+But the lady shook her head, and made all the red ribbons and bright
+veil flutter. "I am not wont to be contradicted," said she; "a brave
+deed, I say. I did not think you Franks so modest."
+
+The old man was leaning from the litter. "Let us ride, my daughter,"
+he was commanding. The lady tapped her mule on the neck with the ivory
+butt of her whip. "Farewell, Sir Frank; St. Theodore keep you, if you
+make so light of peril!"
+
+Richard bowed again in silence. He would not forget those eyes in a
+day, though he had seen many bright eyes at Count Roger's court.
+"_Ai_," cried he to his companions, "to the castle, or the hawking
+begins without us."
+
+So they struck a brisk pace, whilst Herbert related how he had heard
+that the Greek gentleman, though a cripple, had stood high at the
+court of Constantinople, and that he had come to Cefalu on a Pisan
+ship a few days before. It was declared he was in exile, having fallen
+out of the Emperor's favor, and had been waiting at Cefalu until the
+bishop came up, giving them escort for the land journey to Palermo.
+
+"As for the daughter, ah! she is what you have just seen,--more
+precious than all the relics under a church altar; but her father
+watches her as if she were made of gold!"
+
+"I am vexed," replied the young man. "I did not know this before; it
+was uncourtly that persons of their rank should lodge in Cefalu, and
+no one of the castle wait on them." Then because one thought had led
+to another: "Tell me, Nasr, have you learned anything of that Spanish
+knight whom they say keeps himself at the country house of Hajib the
+Kadi? Assuredly he is no true cavalier, or he would not thus
+churlishly withdraw himself. There are none too many men of spirit
+here at Cefalu, for me to stick at making acquaintance."
+
+Nasr showed his sharp, white teeth.
+
+"Yes, I have gained sight of the Spaniard. From the brother-in-law of
+the cousin of the wife of the steward of the Kadi, I learn that he is
+called Musa, and is of a great family among the Andalusian Moslems."
+
+Richard chuckled at the circuit this bit of news had taken; then
+pressed:--
+
+"But you have seen him? What is he like?"
+
+"If my lord's slave"--Nasr was always respectful--"may speak,--the
+Spanish knight is a very noble cavalier. I saw him only once, yet my
+eye tells if a man has the port of a good swordsman and rider.
+Assuredly this one has, and his eyes are as keen and quick as a
+shooting star."
+
+"Yet he keeps himself very retired about the country house?"
+
+"True, _Cid_, yet this, they say, is because he is an exile in Sicily,
+and even here has fears for his life; so he remains quiet."
+
+"Foh!" grunted Richard, "I am weary of quiet men and a quiet life. I
+will go back to Palermo, and leave my father to eat his dinners and
+doze over his barony. I have the old grudge with De Valmont to settle,
+and some high words with Iftikhar, captain of the Saracen guards, will
+breed into a very pretty quarrel if I am bent on using them. Better
+ten broils than this sleepy hawking and feasting!"
+
+So they crossed the drawbridge, entered the outer walls of the bailey,
+with its squalid outbuildings, weather-beaten stables, the gray, bare
+donjon looming up above; and entering a tiny chapel, Richard and
+Herbert fell on their knees, while a priest--none other than
+Sebastian, who had stood at Hildebrand's side--chanted through the
+"_Gloria_" and "_Preface_" But when it came time for the sermon, the
+baron's two bears, caged in the bailey, drowned the pious prosings
+with an unholy roar as they fell on one another; and the good cleric
+cried, "Amen!" that all might run and drag them asunder.
+
+There by the cage Richard greeted his father,--a mighty man even in
+his old age, though his face was hacked and scarred, and showed little
+of the handsome young cavalier who had stolen the heart of every maid
+in Rouen. But in his blue Norman eyes still burned the genial fire;
+his tread was heavy as a charger's, his great frame straight as a
+plummet; a stroke of his fist could fell a horse, and his flail-like
+sword was a rush in his fingers. He was smooth-shaven; round his neck
+strayed a few white locks, all his crown worn bare by the long rubbing
+of his helmet. One could have learned his rank by the ermine lining on
+his under-mantle, by the gold plates on his sword belt and samite
+scabbard; but in a "villain's" dress he would have been known as one
+of those lordly cavaliers who had carried the Norman name and fame
+from the Scottish Marches to Thessaly.
+
+Father and son embraced almost in bear-fashion, each with a crushing
+hug. Then Richard must needs kiss his mother, the fair Lady Margaret
+of Auvergne, sweet and stately in her embroidered bleaunt, with golden
+circlet on her thick gray-gold hair; after her, Eleanor, a small
+maiden of sixteen, prim, demure, and very like her mother, with two
+golden braids that fell before her shoulders almost to her knees; and
+lastly, Stephen, a slight, dark lad, with a dreamy, contemplative face
+and an eye for books in place of arrow-heads, whom the family placed
+great hopes on: should he not be bishop, nay Pope, some bright day, if
+the saints favored?
+
+"Hola, Richard!" cried the Baron, with a spade-like paw on his son's
+shoulder. "So you made test of the white falcon; does she take
+quarry?"
+
+"A crane large enough to hold a dog at bay!"
+
+"Praised be St. Maurice! Come, let us eat, and then to horse and
+away!"
+
+So they feasted in the great hall, the plates and trenchers
+clattering, enough spiced wine to crack the heads of drinkers less
+hardened, the busy Norman varlets and Greek serving-maids buzzing to
+and fro like bees; for who could hawk with hunger under the girdle? A
+brief feast; and all had scattered right and left to make ready; but
+not for long.
+
+Soon they were again in the court, the Baron, his sons, and Herbert,
+with Aimeri, the falconer, who had brought out his pride, as fine a
+half-dozen of goshawks and gerfalcons as might be found in all Sicily.
+The birds were being strapped fast to each glove, the grooms were
+leading out the tall palfreys, and the Baron stood with one hand on
+the pommel of his saddle, ready to dig his spurs and be away, when a
+mighty clangor arose from the bronze slab hanging by the gate.
+
+"By St. Ouen," cried he, in a hot Norman oath, pausing in his spring,
+"what din is that? I have no mind to put off the hawking to bandy
+words with some wandering priest who would stop to swill my wine!"
+
+But Herbert, the seneschal, had gone to the gate, and came back with
+his wicked eyes dancing in his head.
+
+"Ho! My lord, there will be no hawking to-day!" he was bawling with
+all his lungs.
+
+"Why not, rascal?" growled the Baron; yet he, too, began to sniff an
+adventure, like a practised war-horse.
+
+"These people will make it clear to my lord."
+
+And after the seneschal trooped three very dissimilar persons, who all
+broke out in a breath into howls and cries.
+
+The first was a well-fed priest, but with a tattered cassock and a
+great red welt swelling upon his bare poll; the second, a dark-eyed
+Greek peasant of the country in a dress also much the worse for wear;
+and the third, a tall, gaunt old Moor, whose one-time spotless white
+kaftan and turban were dust-sprinkled and torn. They all cried and
+bellowed at once, but the priest got out the first coherent word.
+
+"Rescue, noble Baron, rescue, for the love of Christ! My master, the
+Bishop of Messina, is fallen into the hands of the men of Belial, and
+I, even I, of all his following, am escaped to tell the tale.
+Rescue--"
+
+And here the Greek broke in:--
+
+"Oh! most august Frank, by St. Basil and St. Demetrius, I adjure you,
+save my sister, whom the pirates have carried away."
+
+But the old Moor, with tears in his eyes, knelt and kissed the Baron's
+very feet.
+
+"Oh! fountain of generosity, save my master, for the Berber raiders
+seek not his ransom, but his life. Rescue, O champion of the
+innocent!"
+
+"By the splendor of God!" roared the Baron, with a great oath, "I make
+nothing of all this wind. What mean they, Herbert?" And the seneschal,
+who stood by all alert, replied curtly: "I gather, Moorish pirates
+have landed below the town toward Lascari to kill or kidnap the
+Spanish knight who dwells with Hajib the Kadi; and doubtless the
+Bishop of Messina and his company have fallen into their hands while
+passing along the road. It may be, my lord,"--and the sly fellow
+winked, as if the hint would be needed,--"that if we ride forth, we
+may nip them before they regain the ship. The Kadi's villa is far
+inland."
+
+Baron William was no man of words when deeds were needed. In a trice
+he had clapped to his mouth the great olifant--the ivory horn that
+dangled at his baldric, and its notes rang out sharp and clear. Twice
+he wound a mighty blast; and almost before the last peal died away
+the castle was transformed. The Norman men-at-arms, dozing and dicing
+in the great hall, were tearing their shields from the wall, their
+lances from the cupboards and presses. Forth sounded that merriest of
+jingling, the clinking of good ring-steel hauberks as they dragged
+them on. In the stables feverish grooms girt fast the saddles on the
+stamping _destrers_--the huge war-horses. And up from other parts of
+the castle rose the boom of kettledrums, the clash and brattle of
+cymbals, as the Baron's Saracens, nigh half of his garrison, came
+racing into the bailey, clattering their brass-studded targets with
+their bow staves, and tossing their crooked cimeters. Richard and his
+father had rushed into the donjon, but were back quick as thought with
+their mail shirts jangling about them, and stout steel caps hiding all
+the face save the eyes. The good Baron was snorting and dancing for
+the fray as if it had been his first battle; or as if he were what the
+_jongleurs_ said of Charlemagne, "two hundred years old, scarred by a
+hundred fields, yet the last to weary of the mêlée."
+
+Good Lady Margaret stood by the gate as the troops rode out, after her
+son and husband had kissed her. Dear woman! it was not the first time
+she had seen them ride forth perchance to deadlier fields, but she had
+not yet learned to love the blasts of the war-horn. Until they
+returned she would spend the time in the chapel, betwixt hope and
+fear, telling it all to "Our Lady of Succors."
+
+"Will you not come with us?" cried Richard, gayly, to Sebastian, the
+old priest, who stood at his mother's side. "Play Roland's Bishop
+Turpin, who slew so many infidels."
+
+The good man shrugged his shoulders, and said with a sigh: "Not
+slaying infidels, but slaying for slaying's sake you lust after, my
+son. When you ride for Christ's love only, then perhaps I ride with
+you; but St. George shield you--if not for your sake, at least for
+ours."
+
+The troops cantered forth, twenty good Norman men-at-arms; as many
+light-mailed Saracen riders,--the Baron and his son in full armor. At
+the turn in the road below the castle Richard waved his kite-shaped
+shield, as last salute to the little group by the drawbridge.
+
+"Let us go to the chapel, my children," said Lady Margaret to her
+younger son and her daughter. "We can do nothing here."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+HOW RICHARD WON THREE FRIENDS
+
+
+Little heeded Richard Longsword the warnings of priest or mother, as
+with a good horse between his knees, a stout shield tossed over his
+back, and the white hawk blinking under her hood and perched upon his
+shoulder, he spurred ahead of his troop, leading their mad gallop. One
+thought, be it confessed, was uppermost in his mind,--the Greek lady
+with the yellow veil and red ribbons,--she the booty of Berber
+raiders, while he was near by with a keen sword in his scabbard! St.
+Maurice forbid! So furious was his riding that the Baron, who was
+foaming behind, must needs shout to him not to outpace the company.
+The ground sped fast under the flying hoofs. A fair and fruitful
+country it was, had he given it heed: fields of cotton, orchards of
+orange and lemon, flower masses scattered here and there bright as the
+rainbow, and the great mountains swelling up above all, with Pizzo
+Antenna and San Salvadore in the background, their mighty summits
+standing forth as brown and green crystal against the azure.
+
+There was a kind, sweet wind creeping in from the sea, bearing a
+breath of the pure brine; and to the sea were threading the silver
+rivulets from the meadows, the racing brooks from the mountain sides.
+Small place had all this in the young Norman's mind. Already as they
+cantered westward toward the foothills, his keen eye had lit on a
+sluggish column of smoke, at sight whereof he gave his flying steed
+another thrust with the rowels; and all the riders at his back, when
+they saw, set up one gleeful yell,--they were on track of the
+raiders. Now frightened Moslem or Greek peasants scampered past them,
+too scared to whimper out more than a word as to where the foe
+awaited. Then as they swung round a turn in the road, and cleared a
+clump of manna trees, a woman came flying to meet them,--old, but
+decently dressed, and throwing up her hands she gave one mighty howl
+to Richard.
+
+"Oh! Sir Frank; rescue, rescue for my dear mistress! Save her from the
+Hagarenes!" For so the Greeks called all the race of Ishmael.
+
+Richard bent low in his saddle. "Never fear, good woman; where are the
+raiders? I will rescue your lady!"
+
+"There!" cried the old woman, screaming again. "Oh! they will kill us
+all! St. Irene, St. John, St. Basil--"
+
+But Longsword did not wait for her to finish her adjuration. Right at
+the turn in the road were advancing a knot of men in bright barbaric
+dresses with tossing spears and brandished cimeters. When they caught
+sight of their galloping pursuers, they set up a hideous din from
+horns and cymbals and tabors; and the shout of the Baron's party was
+met by a louder from fourfold as many throats.
+
+The Baron had pricked up abreast of his son, and one sweeping glance
+over the freebooters' array told the story.
+
+"Nigh two hundred," he muttered under his helmet, "and think
+themselves too strong to be molested. We have met them as they return
+to their ship. Berbers mostly, but I see the fair skins of some
+Christian renegadoes. They have captured some horses, and their
+prisoners are strapped to them, in the centre of the band. By the
+peacock! it will be a pretty fight ere we get at them! But we have our
+mounts, and one rider matches ten on the ground."
+
+The pirates stood on a little clearing flanked by vineyard hedges; and
+a low stone wall lay betwixt them and their assailants. The horde were
+drawing up in close mass: the best-armored men without, bowmen within,
+prisoners and booty in the centre. A tall mounted African in a
+splendid suit of silvered armor and in gilded casque was wheeling
+about, ordering, brandishing his long cimeter,--evidently the chief.
+Just before the pirates lay the wall, which a mounted enemy must clear
+at a bound to strike them. Baron William turned to Herbert.
+
+"Ready, my men?"
+
+"Ready, lord."
+
+Then again the Baron wound the horn, and the restless horses felt no
+spur when the whole band as one swept forward. Right as they came to
+the leap of the wall a deadly arrow fire smote them. Three steeds went
+down: four riders reeled; but the others took the bound and crashed
+upon the Berbers. Four and five to one were the odds, but not a rider
+that had not slain his tens and scattered his hundreds; and the weight
+of the Norman sword and axe the luckless raiders felt with cost. Like
+a sledge shattering the wood the impact smote them: there was one
+struggle, one wild push and rally to maintain the spear hedge. It was
+broken, and the Baron's men were cutting hand to hand, and hewing down
+the Berbers. Loud ran out the Norman war-cry, "_Nostre Dame, Dieu ay
+nous ade_," and the very shout struck terror to the hearts of the
+quaking pirates. An instant of deadly fencing man to man, and they
+were scattered. Like rats they were breaking through the thickets and
+dashing down the hillside; close on their heels flew Nasr and his
+Saracens, shooting and hewing with might and main.
+
+But Richard had higher foes in view. The instant the pirates
+scattered, their six riders had struck out boldly, pushing their
+beasts over the walls and through the groves and hedges, all flying
+northward toward their only safety,--the ships. Now behind each of
+four riders was strapped a prisoner, and it was on these last that
+Richard cast chiefest eye; especially on one, for from the prisoner's
+throat he could see trailing red ribbons. Leaving the men to hunt down
+the fugitives on foot, he thrust his steed by a long leap over a hedge
+and was away after the mounted raiders, little recking whether he had
+a follower.
+
+The wind whistled in his teeth as his good horse sped across ploughed
+lands, and took ditch or garden wall with noble bounds. Now he was
+gaining on the rearmost fugitive, a lean, black African on a stolen
+steed, who was weighted in his race by no less a prisoner than the
+reverend bishop. Richard laughed behind his helm, as he saw the holy
+man writhing and twisting on his uneasy pillion, and coughing forth
+maledictions at every jolt in the mad chase. The Norman swung up
+abreast the Moor, and struck out with his sword. The raider made shift
+to wield his cimeter, but one stroke cleft him down, and as he fell he
+dragged the bishop with him, who landed on the crupper with a mighty
+thud that made him howl to all the saints.
+
+Richard glanced back; two or three of the Baron's men were in the far
+distance, the rest scattered; only Herbert on a well-tried horse flew
+close at hand.
+
+"Help, fair son! _Maledicte_, I perish--I die a martyr, butchered by
+paynims!" groaned the bishop. But Richard left him to salve his own
+bruises, and pricked the faster. Be the foe two or twenty, he would
+follow the lady of the red ribbons. Swift as a dream he flew on.
+Before him on the greensward lay the old Greek, thrust from the
+pillion to lighten the load of his captor. Feebly he struggled to rise
+as Richard swept past. "Ah, young Frank, for Christ's dear sake save
+my daughter!" was his cry and groan.
+
+"That will I!" snorted the Norman, and he smote his steed's neck with
+the flat of his great sword. The bishop, the Greek had vanished;
+hedge, ravine, brooklet, he swept through them, over them; nor knew
+how often St. George saved him from headlong fall. The Berbers were
+lashing and prodding with their cimeter points; but Richard was well
+mounted, only the great black horse bearing the captive lady sped
+ahead despite all Richard's speed.
+
+A stone wall,--all the fugitives cleared it saving the last, behind
+whom was strapped a young man, fast prisoner. As Longsword flew, he
+saw this rider miss the leap, crash downward. In a twinkling all the
+pursued, save the guard of the lady, wheeled, charged back. But
+Richard had reached the wall, passed with a bound, and for a long
+instant it was foil and fence, his life dancing on three cimeter
+points at his breast. Then, sudden as a thunderclap, there was a new
+blade opposed to the Berbers,--the erstwhile captive had burst his
+bands, leaped from under the kicking charger, disarmed his guard, and
+was in the midst of the fray, giving blow for blow. But at sight of
+him, all three pirates forsook the Norman, and rained their blows upon
+the prisoner.
+
+"_Allah!_ Hew him down, though we die for it!" was the shout of their
+chief. The captive parried all three as one; ere the second stroke,
+Richard had sped the first raider past sword-play. His new ally beat
+down a second with a sweeping blow. The third cried "Mercy!"--but
+neither gave him heed. The released prisoner, a light-skinned young
+Moslem of Spain, wiry as a hound, nimble as a cat, had caught the rein
+of a fallen Berber, and swung himself into the dead man's saddle,
+touching no stirrup, almost ere Richard could admire.
+
+"As the Most High lives," cried the Spaniard, as if rescue were mere
+incident, "after the lady! The ship is near!" And ride they did,
+though the black horse was far ahead now, despite his burden.
+
+"Ride, Frank, ride!" shouted the other, leaning over his steed's neck,
+and seeming to lend speed by very touch and voice. "Allah smite us, if
+she is taken!"
+
+Over the foothills, across the rolling country, the feet of their
+horses springing like on-rushing winds, raced the twain. They saw blue
+water before an orange grove, and not far away the pirate's
+refuge,--the ship. And still the black horse held them in chase,
+though losing slowly. Richard flung the target from his back, to make
+greater speed. He could see the lady struggling on her uneasy pillion.
+Her captor with one hand gripped her fast; with the other, smote and
+prodded with his cimeter. The flecks of blood were on the black
+steed's flanks. The lady plucked at the Berber's throat with strength
+born of despair.
+
+"Rescue, rescue, for the love of Christ!" rang her cry; and as if in
+answer, the great charger began to plunge in his gallop, nigh casting
+his double mount. The Berber wrestled him down, with a mighty strain
+on the reins; but in the instant Richard had gained apace. "Ai! St.
+Michael!" he thundered, his good sword swung almost in stroke. But at
+the shout there was a wild yell from beyond the orange trees, and as
+he swept on he saw a score or more pirates rushing with drawn swords
+to greet them,--and through the grove the tacklings of the ship.
+Straight toward the midst of the Berbers sped the black horse: a
+moment,--the lady would be lost indeed!
+
+"Rescue for the love of Christ!" again her wail in reply to the
+triumphant howl of her captor. The Norman's hand was on his shoulder;
+down he plucked the white falcon, unhooded, tossed in air,--one circle
+she cut, then sped straight in the flying raider's eyes.
+
+Vainly he strove to buffet away with a fist; the instant the grip on
+the reins relaxed, the black horse was plunging, rearing, and
+Longsword was abreast. With one long stroke he smote the Berber from
+the saddle; the lady reeled also, strapped fast. But the Norman, proud
+in his might, calmed the black horse with one hand on the bits; drew
+his blade once across the thong, releasing the captive. The pirate
+tumbled to earth with never a groan.
+
+Barely in time--the twenty were all about them now; but Richard
+Longsword fought as twenty, the Spaniard as twenty more. "A houri! A
+great prize! A great ransom!" howled the raiders, seeking their prey;
+but they ran on doom. For the Norman mounted, and in his armor dashed
+them down with his heavy sword; and those whom the Spaniard's cimeter
+bit never cried more. Yet with all the death twinkling about, Richard
+held his steed and mailed breast betwixt the foe and the lady. Even
+while he fought, her clear Greek voice encouraged. "Holy Mother, that
+was a well-struck blow! Oh, were I but a man with a sword!"
+
+How long the mounted two could have beat back the unmounted twenty
+only the wise saints know; for just as Richard's hauberk had turned
+the third javelin, and his eyes danced with stars when his helmet
+dinted, a new cry rang from behind.
+
+"Forward, brothers! Slay! death!" And a bolt from Herbert's crossbow
+crashed through a pirate's target,--herald of the advent of the
+man-at-arms and fifteen riders more; at sight whereof the
+pirates--guessing at last that it was all over with their comrades who
+had gone inland--fled like partridges through the grove, over the
+white sands; and before Herbert could rein in his steaming beast, they
+heard the blocks creaking, as feverish hands made sail and warped the
+ship to sea. Not all thus to escape; for the Normans nipped several,
+whom they tugged away, strapped to the saddle-bows, after having
+searched them for jewels down to their shoes.
+
+Richard looked about him. The lady, agile as a _fée_, had alighted,
+and was standing, clinging with both hands to an orange tree, panting
+for breath,--as did all. The Spaniard had dismounted also, and stood
+leaning against the saddle.
+
+While waiting breath for speech, Longsword surveyed the rescued,
+finding in both need of more than one glance. The costume of the Moor
+had been sadly dealt with, but his silken vest and the shawl at his
+girdle were of the finest silk, and set off a most shapely frame. He
+was tall, wiry, supple as a blooded charger; and no dress would have
+concealed a face so intelligent, ingenuous, winsome, that, as Richard
+looked thereon, he had but a single thought,--"I would know more of
+this man." The countenance was a fine oval, the forehead not high but
+prominent; the eye, brilliant, deep, and dark; the small mouth, shaded
+by a black curly beard; the skin not swarthy, yet tinged with pale
+brown, a gentle bronzing of the sun-loved vegas. But these are parts
+only, and the whole--how much fairer was it than any part! For the
+face thrilled with eager, active intelligence, and the eyes seemed but
+open windows to a soul,--a soul perchance to admire, to reverence, to
+love. And as Richard beheld him, he felt a magic current of
+fellow-feeling drawing him to the Spaniard, ere they had spoken ten
+syllables.
+
+Yet not all the Norman's gaze was for the Moslem--far from it. The
+lady no longer wore her yellow veil: the red ribbons were in tatters
+round her throat; her blue mantle had many a rent; but of these, who
+would think? She stood with her brown hair all dishevelled to the
+winds, and underneath the flying tresses one could see those bright
+eyes--dark, bright, and very merry; a high, white forehead, small red
+lips, and features that seemed smoothed and rounded like some marble
+image of the old pagans, which Sebastian had called "a snare of
+Satan." But this was no snare; for these cheeks were moulded with a
+soft texture and bloom like a pale rose; not quite fair, like Norman
+maidens, but just tinted enough to show the breath of the sun. All
+this Richard saw, and was not awestruck nor abashed, as in the
+presence of many handsome dames; but simply delighted, and, as chance
+would have it, the lady herself broke silence.
+
+"By St. Theodore, Sir Frank," quoth she, holding out both hands to
+Richard, "will you say again to my face that you can do nothing
+brave?" And here she laughed so merrily, that the Norman was laughing
+too when he replied, having taken the hands:--
+
+"Ah! dear lady, it is the white falcon you should thank, if any praise
+be due."
+
+"And no praise for the falcon's trainer?" quoth she, still laughing;
+then with a sudden turn, while the tears almost stood in her eyes,
+"_Eu!_ Brave, noble sir, what may I do to repay! Kneel, fall at your
+feet, kiss them?"--and half she made to do so, but Richard shrank
+back, as if horrified.
+
+"St. Michael forbid!" cried he; "rather this, let me kneel and kiss
+your hand, blessing Our Lady she has suffered me to save you!"
+
+"But the peril was very great!" protested the lady, while Richard did
+as he wished, and kissed a hand very small and white.
+
+"But the joy of peril is greater in such a cause!" he flashed back,
+rising. There was a shadow flitting across that bright face.
+
+"My father?" the question came slowly. "He is--safe?"
+
+"I saw him released; have no fear. I swore to him I would save you."
+And the flush of pleasure was Richard's tenfold payment.
+
+"Let us go to him," said the Norman, as he bade one of the men-at-arms
+arrange a pillion and ride back with the Greek toward the scene of the
+first battle.
+
+"Ah! may all the dear saints bless you and your good men--I would give
+my life for my father!" said she.
+
+So while the lady rode ahead, Richard galloped stirrup to stirrup with
+the Spaniard. He had needed no words to tell him that the Moslem was a
+notable cavalier, and the Spaniard had dispelled all doubts by a frank
+declaration of his name and position.
+
+"Know, O Frank, that you have this day won the eternal gratitude of
+Musa, son of Abdallah, the late Vizier of Al'mu'tamed, King of
+Cordova, though I am better known as 'the Sword of Granada,' for in
+that city have I spent much of my life."
+
+And the Christian bowed his casqued head in humblest reverence,
+asking:--
+
+"Then truly have I saved that famous knight, who, they say, held the
+lists at Toledo, during the truce, against the Cid Campeador and all
+his cavaliers?"
+
+"I had that fortune," said the Spaniard, smiling, and returning the
+bow; "but," and he spoke lightly, "I would not have you, Sir Frank,
+regard me in an awesome fashion; for, believe me, after striking the
+blows I saw you give to-day, you may, I think, break lances with the
+best, and owe deference to none."
+
+"Ah, my lord," cried Richard, "it has been a great privilege for a
+simple 'bachelor' like myself to be of service to so great a warrior."
+
+The Moslem laughed, and made reply: "No, I will not be 'lorded' by
+you. I think I know an equal and a friend when I set eyes on him. To
+you my name is Musa; and yours--?"
+
+"Richard Longsword," was the answer.
+
+"Then, O Richard, we know one another and are brothers."
+
+Then and there, while the horses were at a merry pace, the two young
+men leaned over their saddles and caught one another's hands. And at
+that moment was stricken a friendship that was destined to bind with
+hooks of steel through more than one fateful year. As if to cement the
+tie, Longsword passed the flask at his belt to the Spaniard.
+
+"Drink, friend, for you have seen enough this day to chill your veins,
+even if your prophet forbids wine."
+
+"I am but a lax Moslem," replied Musa, with another of his soft
+smiles. And taking the flask, he clapped it to his lips. "'Wine of
+Paradise'!" cried he, when he took it away. "Ah, an hour since I
+expected that I would be soon drinking from the cups of the houris in
+the real Paradise, or more likely"--with a sly wag of the
+head--"scorching in no gentle fire!"
+
+"Then the raiders sought your life, not your ransom?" asked the
+Norman.
+
+"Assuredly; do not think I have lain so hidden here at Cefalu because,
+like a dervish or one of your monks, I enjoy solitude. I fled Spain
+because my blood is too princely to make my presence safe to Yusuf,
+the Almoravide, who has come from Africa to save us Spanish Moslems
+from conquest by the Christians, and who has conquered us himself.
+When Granada fell and its treasures were scattered as booty to his
+rude Berber officers, and when Seville and all Andalusia were in his
+hands, imprudently I spoke of the days of our great Kalifs. The words
+were remembered by enemies and duly reported. Presently I heard that
+Yusuf suspected me of leading a revolt in Cordova against his rule,
+and that he keenly desired my head. I will not tell how I escaped to
+my Cid Campeador at Valencia, and thence to King Alfonso of Castile.
+But the Almoravide's arms are long. Nowhere in Spain would I be safe.
+So I came to Sicily, where I have relatives, hoping by lying close to
+elude his agents; but in vain, as has just been proved!"
+
+"So," asked Richard, "this raid was on your account?"
+
+"Of course," replied Musa; "I was surprised at the country house of
+Hajib this morning, and taken before I could kill more than two of the
+pirates. In their chief I recognized a corsair long in the service of
+Yusuf. They aimed to bear me in chains to Cordova, that the Almoravide
+might gloat over me alive, ere calling the headsman. You saw how they
+rained their blows at me, when they saw rescue at hand."
+
+"The saints be praised, I saved you!" exclaimed the Norman. "You were
+indeed in the very jaws of death."
+
+"Aye," was the careless answer, "and I owe you all thanks; yet this is
+not the first time I have imagined I would see no more mornings."
+
+"Ah, my lord, you are a great cavalier!" cried Richard,
+enthusiastically.
+
+The Spaniard shook his hand in warning.
+
+"I am not 'lord' to you, brother! If Allah favors our friendship, what
+brave adventures shall we not have together!"
+
+Longsword made no reply. The Moor had captivated him: he felt that he
+could ride through a thousand men-at-arms with such a friend at his
+side. Presently they drew rein under a wide-spreading, venerable
+chestnut tree that bowed over the highway. Here were gathered the
+Baron and most of his men: here was my lord bishop sitting on the
+ground upon a saddle, still groaning and rubbing his bruised shins,
+while two scared priests were shivering beside him, and muttering a
+_gratias Deo_ for their deliverance from the infidel. The old Greek
+was also there, resting on a saddle-bag; but when the young Norman
+galloped up he made shift to rise; and his daughter, who had already
+left her pillion, hastened to say:--
+
+"This, my father, is that brave Frankish nobleman to whom we owe so
+much," and then to Longsword: "And this is my father, the Cæsar Manuel
+Kurkuas, late of Constantinople, but who now is exile, and travelling
+to Palermo."
+
+The old Kurkuas, despite his lameness, bowed in the stately fashion of
+that ceremonious courtesy which was his inheritance.
+
+"Lord Richard," said he, in his sonorous native tongue, for he already
+knew the Norman's name, "the blessings of a father be yours; and if at
+any time, by word or deed, I may repay you, your wish shall be my
+highest law."
+
+But the daughter broke out, a little hotly:--
+
+"Oh! father, not in so solemn and courtly a manner thank him! We are
+not in 'His Divine Majesty's' palace, by the Golden Horn. Take him by
+the hand as I have done; tell him that we are his friends forever, and
+that if we go back to Constantinople, we will take him with us, and
+share with him all the riches and honor that would belong to a real
+Kurkuas."
+
+The old man listened to her flow of eager words, half pleased, half
+alarmed; then, with a deprecatory shrug, exclaimed:--
+
+"Pardon a thousand times, my lord, if I am too old to speak all that
+lies at heart, save in a cold and formal way. Yet pardon, also, my
+daughter; for she has so unbridled a tongue that if you come to know
+her, strong must your friendship be, or she will drive you from her by
+sheer witless chatter."
+
+Whereupon, before Richard could reply, the lady returned to the
+charge. "Yes, truly, I am half of Frankish blood myself. And I think
+it better to speak from my heart and declare 'I love you' and 'I hate
+you,' than to move my lips softly and politely and say things that
+mean nothing."
+
+The Greek shrugged again, as if accustomed to such outbursts. "You
+have lost your veil," he said gently, raising his eyes.
+
+"Assuredly," was the answer; "nor do Frankish ladies wear them." Then,
+turning to Richard, "Tell me, Sir Norman, do you see anything about me
+to be ashamed of, that I must veil my face?"
+
+The remark was advanced so naturally, in such perfectly good faith,
+that Longsword, without the least premeditation, answered as readily
+as if to his sister:--
+
+"I see no reason why you should veil, my lady."
+
+"Then do not speak of it again, dear father," said she.
+
+The mules of the bishop's party, which had been taken when the pirates
+fell upon them, had been recovered, and the bishop began to stop
+groaning over his bruises. The Baron remarked that, although the
+baggage had been retaken, it was too late to repack and make the
+journey that day. One and all, they must go back to Cefalu and enjoy
+the hospitality of the castle. The bishop demurred, when he saw that
+the Moslem Musa was bidden to share the feast; but he was very hungry,
+and reflected that Christ and Mohammed were impiously good comrades in
+Sicily. He and the priests with the Greek and his daughter mounted the
+mules and started away, just as Herbert rode up with the tidings that
+the Berbers' ship had long since put to sea. As for the great black
+horse that had nigh carried Mary away from her rescuers, the grateful
+prelate bestowed him upon Richard. "He was an unruly beast," declared
+the bishop, "_furiosus, impetuosus, perditus equus_, in whom a devil
+beyond all doubt had entered; and if the Baron's son desired him, he
+was welcome, though he feared, instead of a gift, he was bestowing a
+cursing." But Richard beheld the huge crupper and chest of the great
+beast, watched his mighty stride, and reflected that such a _destrer_
+would bear quite as safely in battle as one with the prized white coat
+and greyhound feet. Therefore he thanked the bishop and led the horse
+away.
+
+So they fared back to the castle, while the Cefalu people gave them
+cheers and flowers as they passed along the way; but the fairest
+welcome was on Lady Margaret's face when they all pounded over the
+drawbridge.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+HOW RICHARD WON A BROTHER
+
+
+A notable feast it was the good Lady Margaret set before her
+unexpected guests; for if the warning was short, the eager hands were
+many, and the day before there had been rare hunting. The worthy
+Baron, her lord, took pride in the goodly Norman habit of sitting long
+at table, and would have found eight hours none too many for meat and
+drink, had there been another to keep him company. And if this feast
+ended sooner, there was no lack of good food and better cheer.
+Hincmar, the stately chamberlain, marshalled his guests up to the
+fountain at the door of the great hall, where they washed their hands
+in punctilious order of precedence. The hall itself was hung with rare
+tapestries, the floor was strewn with fresh mint and cornflags; over
+the diners' benches were cast rich carpets of the East, and for the
+host and his immediate relatives and guests were gilt chairs of
+embossed leather. Then the serving-lads went in and out, bringing
+wine-soup in three kinds in remembrance of the Trinity, and flesh and
+fowl, from a stuffed cormorant to a haunch of bear's flesh. Last of
+all the great drinking-horns began to pass to and fro, and the skins
+of Cyprian wine from the cellars, to empty.
+
+The Baron had placed the bishop at his right hand at the head of the
+long table, on his left the Greek Cæsar. But a little lower sat
+Richard, and beside him Musa and Mary Kurkuas; and while they were
+busy over the trenchers talk flew fast, and these in brief were the
+stories they told one another.
+
+William Longsword, the present Baron of Cefalu, had been a Norman
+seigneur of noble lineage and slender estates near the ducal capital
+of Rouen. The Longswords were an ancient house. They boasted their
+descent from that notable William Longsword who had succeeded to the
+sovereignty of Rollo the Norman; yet, as too often, a great name did
+not mean great fiefs, and young William's best fortune was the weight
+of his battle-axe. But that battle-axe was very heavy. At
+Val-es-Dunes, when William the Bastard crushed his rebellious barons,
+Longsword had won the great Duke's highest favor. At Hastings none had
+struck doughtier blows than he. For a moment he had dreamt of a broad
+English barony and a Saxon heiress. But when the new king was at York
+there rose ill-blood and a hint to the monarch that the mutiny of
+certain Anjou mercenaries was due to his vassal.
+
+One morning Longsword finding that fetters, not fiefs, waited him in
+England, fled just in time to Flanders, and went south to _gaaignant_,
+"to go a gaining," as the Normans put it, seeking fortune wherever the
+saints favored. In Auvergne he had married the daughter of a mountain
+baron, but had drifted on to Italy, had served with Counts Robert
+Guiscard and Roger, his brother, in Calabria, Epirus, and Sicily; and
+at last when Noto, the last Saracen stronghold in Sicily, fell, and
+Count Roger rewarded his faithful cavaliers, William Longsword had
+found himself Lord of Cefalu, with a stout castle and a barony of
+peaceful and industrious Moslems and Greeks for vassals; now for four
+years past he had ceased roving, and dreamed of handing down a goodly
+seigneury to his firstborn.
+
+Thus Richard told his father's story, and Mary related more briefly
+how her father--and she proudly recounted his titles--was the
+"preëminently august" Cæsar Manuel Kurkuas; whose family was of the
+most noble and wealthy of the whole imperial city. He had been a great
+warrior in his day, until a crippling wound in the Patzinak war had
+forced the one-time "commander of the guards" to accept the peaceful
+office of "first prefect" of the capital. And in this position he
+might have died in honor and prosperity, had it not come to Emperor
+Alexius's ears that he had intrigued in favor of Constantine, the son
+of the dead sovereign Romanus, who was just raising the rebel
+standard. "And so," explained his daughter, quite simply, for she was
+bred at the Grecian court, "the Princess Anna Comnena, who is my kind
+friend, gave me to understand that all was not well with my father,
+and the Grand Chamberlain let fall that 'his eyes were in danger.'
+Therefore, with the aid of St. Basil and our cousin, the High Admiral,
+we made escape on a Venetian ship, and it was well we did; for
+Constantine, I hear, has been captured and blinded, and if we had been
+taken, the like would have befallen my father, and I would have been
+cast into the convent of Antiochus 'to live with the angels,' as they
+call taking the veil, at Constantinople."
+
+"Allah forbid!" cried Musa, who had been following all her story, and
+Richard winced when he thought of those brown locks falling under the
+shears.
+
+The Greek gave a little shrug and shiver. "Ah!" said she, "let us not
+speak of it. Yet I do not blame the Emperor. He has many enemies to
+guard against." And she paused.
+
+"But you said you were half a Frank," said Richard, wishing to turn
+the conversation.
+
+"Yes, truly, my father was envoy to the Duke of Aquitaine. In Provence
+he met my mother, daughter of the Baron of La Haye. She must have been
+a beautiful woman. They say all Constantinople was at her feet, when
+my father brought her there--his bride. But she died when I was a very
+little girl. I can only remember her bright eyes and sweet face."
+Another pause; and Richard did not try to break it. Was he not
+conscious in his innermost soul, that there were bright eyes and a
+sweet face very close to his own? That for an hour past, as the
+fashion was, he had been dipping his hand in the same bowl where also
+dipped another hand, soft, and white, and delicate? The evening was
+stealing on. Now the ruddy torches were sputtering in their cressets
+along the wall; and the glow fell softly over the feasters, seeming to
+hide witchery and sweet madness in every flickering shadow. For the
+first time in his life Richard Longsword felt a strange intoxication
+stealing over him. Not the wine--he had not drained a beaker. Up at
+the head of the table the Baron and the bishop were matching bumpers,
+and the former, between his draughts, was trying to tell Cæsar Manuel
+some tale of the Durazzo campaign in which they had both fought,
+though on opposing sides. At the foot of the table the Norman
+men-at-arms were splashing their liquor, and roaring broad jests at
+the Greek serving-maids. Musa, having satisfied hunger, sat with his
+long eyelashes cast down in dreamy Oriental revery. Only for one face
+and for one voice did Richard have sight or hearing. The princess held
+the Majolica cup to her lips, tasted, held it toward the Norman.
+
+"See," said she, softly, "you have saved my father's liberty--perhaps
+his life--and me"--the color half left the wonderful face while she
+spoke--"from death or worse." The cup trembled as she shuddered at the
+thought. "When the Berbers seized me, I pleaded with all the saints to
+let me die,--better a thousand deaths than to breathe out one's life
+captive in an African harem!"
+
+"By Our Lady, speak not of it," came from Richard,--he, too,
+trembling. But the brightness had darted again into the Greek's eyes
+while she continued: "And now attend--the reward! Know, brave Frank,
+that three months since a 'supremely august' prince, close to
+Alexius's self, would have given half his inheritance for gift like
+this!"
+
+And with her own hands she held the cup to his lips. Richard drank.
+What else possible? He felt himself caught in a tide irresistible, too
+delicious in its caress to escape from if he might. Was the wine fire,
+that it burned through every vein? Yet the very flame bore a
+sweetness, a delight beyond all thought; the hot pain drowned in the
+ecstasy. He did not know what he replied, but the lady was answering.
+
+"_Eu!_ What joy I take in you Franks, whom I have never seen before
+to-day. When first did we meet? This morning beside the raging horse?
+I think I have known and admired you these score of years!"
+
+[Illustration: "THE CUP TREMBLED AS AT THE VERY THOUGHT SHE
+SHUDDERED"]
+
+"I?" quoth Richard, wool-gathering.
+
+The lady laughed at her indiscretion.
+
+"You do well to ask. At times my father rails at me; 'Daughter, you
+open your mind to strangers like a casket.' Again I am silent, hidden,
+locked fast, as my mood alters. Be it so, I am the open casket
+to-night. I will speak it all forth. The saints grant I may dwell
+amongst you Franks; how much better to crush down a raging horse with
+one touch, than to know all the wisdom of Plato!"
+
+"Why better?" asked the Norman, never taking his gaze from that face
+all rosy in the flickering light.
+
+"Why?" her voice rose a little, and the brightness of the torches was
+in her eyes. "Let others con the musty parchments,--a thousand times
+better are the men who _do_, as you of the West,--than the weaklings
+who only _know_. Plato babbled foolishness describing his 'perfect
+nation,' for when he strove to realize it--failure!"
+
+"These are riddles, sweet lady!" cried Richard; "who was this
+Plato--some pagan long since in hell?"
+
+Whereat the princess began to laugh afresh; not offensively, but
+sweetly as a running brook; so that the other would have said a
+hundred witless things to make her continue. Then she answered, her
+eyes dancing, and Richard thought he saw the lips of the dreamy
+Spaniard twitch: "Yes, for all his mist-hung cobwebs, he must have
+broiled in no common fire. But I love better to talk of coursing and
+falconry; that science better befits a Christian!"
+
+"St. Stephen!" blurted out the Norman, pricking his ears, "can you
+ride and hawk?"
+
+"Do you think I sat smelling inkhorns and tangling silk yarn all day
+in our palace by the Golden Gate? I had my own Arabian palfrey, my own
+dear goshawks: not four months have flown since I hunted with the
+Princess Anna over the lovely hills of the Emperor's preserves beyond
+the Sweet Waters of Europe. O"--and Richard almost thought her about
+to weep--"St. Irene, pity my horse and the birds, their mistress so
+far away!"
+
+"By the Mass," began Richard, more flighty than ever, "you shall find
+our Sicilian birds put the best of Constantinople to shame. But the
+saints are very kind not to let you grow more sad over your loss; next
+to losing one's kinsfolk, what worse than to lose horse or falcon!"
+The lady had kissed a second cup, and pressed it to his lips. "Drink,
+then, in token of the merry rides we shall have side by side, if you
+come to wait on us at Palermo!"
+
+And Richard drank, while all the time he felt the tide of intoxication
+sweeping him onward. Glancing into the Greek's eyes, he knew in a
+half-conscious way that a like spirit possessed her too. Had they been
+alone, only the saints know what might have befallen. Richard's voice
+was very loud when he answered, "No, by the Splendor of God, you must
+stay at Cefalu,--you shall ride my best palfrey; fly the white
+falcon!" The lady cut him short with another laugh, her face still
+very merry: "St. Basil, make them deaf; they all look at us! What have
+we been doing!"
+
+Richard started, as from a dream: father, mother, bishop, the Cæsar,
+were all looking upon them. The Lady Margaret was turning a warning
+face upon Richard, but the Cæsar addressed his daughter austerely. "My
+child, these noble Franks and your valiant rescuer will take away
+strange tales of your conduct at this feast. Believe me, kind lords,
+my daughter is commonly less bold and unmaidenly than to-night. This
+has been a strange day for us, and we must pardon her much."
+
+"You forget the princess is not your sister," added Lady Margaret,
+severely, her eyes on Richard; and the Baron was ready with his own
+word, but the younger Greek cut all short.
+
+"Yes, by St. Theodore," was her saucy cry, "this has been a strange
+day for us all. And if you, my father, think my saving is over-dear at
+two cups of wine, let the Berbers snatch me off again! But give no
+blame to my Lord Richard, for it was I that began, led on, and made
+the fire tenfold hotter."
+
+Cæsar Manuel hobbled to his feet.
+
+"I do not blame my Lord Richard," said he, curtly; "I only fear lest
+closer knowledge make him repent your friendship. Most gallant Baron,
+and you, noble lady," continued he, bowing in courtly fashion to both,
+"I am feeble, and my daughter has diverted you enough. With your
+pardon, let us go to our chambers."
+
+The Baron muttered something to the effect that there was still much
+wine--a pity to miss it. Mary rose and deliberately allowed Richard to
+bend and kiss her hand, courtesied before the Baron and his lady,
+knelt while the half-tipsy bishop hiccoughed out a benediction.
+Stately as a queen, she drew herself up, but her last shaft was darted
+at the Cæsar. "Dear father, are you not sorry I am so little
+contrite?" then to Richard, "And you, my lord, do not forget we go to
+Palermo!" There was a rustle of her dress; Manuel limped after; three
+serving-varlets brought up the Greeks' rear. They were gone. Richard
+started again--looked about. His mother and sister had risen also. The
+Baron and the bishop had reached that stage of joviality where the
+holy man was commencing to sing and brandish his flagon. Richard
+tasted the wine--insipid; how unlike the sweet fire of the cups
+proffered by the lady! Musa had glided from his revery,--was casting
+about sharply.
+
+"My head throbs, though I have drunk little," professed the Norman.
+"Do you wish more?" Musa shook his head. "Then come upon the
+battlements; the bishop's bellowing makes one mad."
+
+They mounted through darkened chambers, up dizzy ladders, to the
+summit of the donjon. It was a murky, cloudy night that greeted them
+as they emerged from the trap-door and stood alone on the stone-girt
+platform, with the land and the sea one vague black haze below. No
+moon, no stars; only a red flash on the ground where the light
+streamed from a loophole in the great hall. No sound save the faint
+shouts of the drinkers, echoing from far below, and their own measured
+footfalls. They paced the platform for a few moments in silence. Then
+the Norman broke forth in Arabic:--
+
+"Musa, son of Abdallah, we have sworn brotherhood. Our friendship is
+young: may I put it to a test?"
+
+"My hands, my wits, my head if need be, all yours, my brother,"
+replied the Spaniard, never hesitating.
+
+"Help me to gain the hand of this lady!"
+
+Their hands rested on one another's shoulders. Richard felt--but
+perchance he was wrong--a quiver run through the Moslem; only for an
+instant, if at all. Very naturally Musa replied:--
+
+"Had you said, 'Kill me this enemy,' how easy to aid you! But to win
+the lady, what may I do? I am no magician to mix you philters. In her
+eyes I am only Moslem, and Infidel. She has not learned, as have you
+Sicilian Normans, that Christian and Moslem may be friends. I would be
+a sorry pursuivant in your behalf."
+
+Richard was silent; then cried out:--
+
+"_Ai_, it is all madness! I have no need to be told. I set eyes on her
+first this morning. Holy Mother, what sin is mine that I should be
+afflicted thus! Never before have I loved a maid so much as my white
+falcon. Yet were I longing for a drop of water in Purgatory, I could
+not have greater desire. It is sin; it is madness; I must never see
+her again, or great sorrow will come of it!"
+
+But Musa pressed his arm closer, and more kindly.
+
+"No," said he, softly, in his rich Spanish accent; "if it is mere
+fleeting passion, it will end; and the upright man is none the worse.
+Is it a sin to take delight, when Allah reveals to us what seems a
+glimmer of Paradise? And as for the future, that lies in the hands of
+the Most High. Whatever is written in the books of our dooms--what
+power may withstand? To-day, call it madness, and speak not of it.
+To-morrow, if it live, call it passion--speak in whispers. A month, a
+year; call it love--it will speak for itself. It is a fire--all men
+see it. And who would then hide its brightness?"
+
+"Ah," answered the Norman, "what day is this! How dare I stand and
+speak thus to you of what I ought to hide even from myself? How long
+have I known you?"
+
+"How long?" replied the other, dreamily. "Friendships are made in the
+heart of Allah. Before the earliest star was created, before He said
+to the earth, 'Be,' it was destined that friend should be joined to
+friend, and when two such souls in the body meet face to face, they
+are not strangers. In each other they see a fellow that they have
+loved, while they dwelt as thoughts in the bosom of the Eternal."
+
+"Yes," said Richard, caught in the pensive mood of the other, "we are
+friends. Why? We know not. To what end? A mystery! It is well we both
+believe God is good."
+
+"He is good," said Musa, reverently, and they descended.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+HOW RICHARD WENT TO PALERMO
+
+
+The yawning servants had carried the bishop from under the table, long
+before Baron William that night found the bottom of his last flagon.
+Yet early the next morning, none was more nimble and jovial than he.
+The Greeks did not come down to the great hall; they were fatigued,
+said Sylvana the old servant who had adjured Richard to rescue them
+during the fight. The Cæsar's wound was paining him, and he required
+the care of his daughter. So it was noon before Richard set eyes again
+on the princess, as she came into the bailey with her father on her
+arm, to help him into his litter. The bishop was impatient to be away.
+What with the clamor of the foot-boys and grooms, and the neighing of
+impatient steeds, there was little chance for ceremonious
+leave-taking. The bishop had thanks and blessings for his rescuers and
+hosts. The Cæsar gave a few courtly phrases of gratitude; his daughter
+bestowed on Lady Margaret and Eleanor each a hearty kiss, and for
+Richard, one smile from her bright eyes, and the words, "Fail not to
+wait on us, if you come to Palermo." So the troop started, leaving
+Richard to stare after them until the cavalcade was a speck on the
+roadway, and for the rest of the day to resolve many times that to
+Palermo he would go ere many months be sped.
+
+But in the days that followed he was not idle. First of all the
+bishop's gift, the great black horse, had to be wrestled into
+submission; no light task, for the mighty beast would rage like a
+bull; but in the end the brute was conquered, and "Rollo"--such was
+his christening--became Richard's boon comrade and second self; dear
+as those horses whereof the _jongleurs_ sang, that would snatch their
+masters from the midst of a host of foes, or recognize them returning
+home after seven years, when the riders' own wives had forgotten them.
+But this was the least the raid of the Berbers had brought to Richard,
+for he and Musa became grappled to each other by bonds of friendship
+that tightened each day. The Spaniard had sealed his gratitude by the
+gift of a Valencia hauberk, inwrought with gold wire, light almost as
+velvet, on whose links once the sword of Cid Campeador had turned. And
+Musa brought also a wonderful chessboard of rock crystal with men of
+silver, over whose magic squares the Norman was to puzzle many an
+hour; but beyond all else, Musa brought himself--more a marvel every
+hour to Richard Longsword. What had he not learned and done! A
+swordsman whose prowess in the fence tested Richard's utmost skill; a
+poet whose musical Arabic must have charmed many a fair brunette by
+the darkling Guadalquiver. He could talk of elixirs, alembics, and
+horoscopes. The learning of the University of Cordova was his; he
+could read Greek and Latin, and had a smattering of the Languedoc.
+Only a consistent Moslem he was not,--neither going to the mosque on
+Fridays, nor abstaining from wine nor remembering the fasts; and when
+Richard asked, "Will you turn Christian?" Musa had replied, laughing,
+"I am of the rationalist school of the Kalif Mamun,--reason alone is
+the father of religion; even the commands of Al-Koran are not fetters
+to bind, when reason directs otherwise."
+
+Richard could only shake his head. Moslems, he was very sure, were
+likely to scorch in eternal fire, but at least he conceived they ought
+to be consistent in supporting their superstition, if they held to it
+at all. As for himself, when he compared his life and acquirements to
+Musa's, he grew exceeding humble; born in a camp in Campania, his
+boyhood spent now in this, now in another Italian or Sicilian castle,
+from a lad he had learned to wield a sword as became the son of a
+doughty sire. But he had neither the gentle troubadour's art, as the
+knights of Provence, nor the deeper lore of the Spaniard. Reading,
+thanks to Sebastian's patience, he might make shift with; he could
+barely scrawl an awkward fist. One accomplishment his south-Italian
+life gave him: he could speak Greek, Arabic, Latin, the Languedoc, and
+the Languedoil; but with these and some skill in hawking and jousting
+his learning ended, and it was small enough.
+
+As day sped into day, Musa was ever at the castle of Cefalu. He had
+relatives in Palermo who desired him there, and declared the city safe
+against kidnapper or assassin; but he was not tempted to leave the
+country house of Hajib. The Baron smiled on the friendship; he had
+long since learned to love infidels, if they were only brave knights;
+Sebastian alone was all fears and frowns, and had many a wordy tilt
+with the Spaniard.
+
+"Ah, Richard," cried the chaplain once, when the two friends sat at
+chess in the great hall, "know you not Holy Church condemns chess as
+no less perilous to the soul than very dicing?"
+
+And when Richard, despite prickings of conscience, would not leave the
+game, Sebastian admonished in private:--
+
+"Remember the words of the Apostle: 'Be not unequally yoked with
+unbelievers, for what concord hath Christ with Belial?' Be warned;
+bitter sorrow or perdition will come of this friendship; have you
+forgotten your vow to slay the unbelievers and free Jerusalem?"
+
+"But we await the will of God, father," answered Richard, carelessly.
+
+"And the will of God is that you first cast off these ties of Satan,
+and make ready for holy warfare, or assuredly God will remember your
+sin and punish you." But Richard would not hear. Ever he drew closer
+to Musa; the reckless paladin Roland and his "sage" friend Oliver were
+no nearer comrades, and in the after days Longsword likened their love
+to nothing less than the bonds betwixt David and Jonathan.
+
+Yet Sebastian never forbore his warnings. "Dear son," he said, when
+Musa was telling his wondering friend of the marvellous mountain of
+Kaf, which encircles the earth, and whither the Almighty had banished
+the rebellious genii, "be not seduced by the wisdom which cometh from
+the Father of Lies. Though Musa called himself Christian (and were not
+damned already), yet his soul would be lost because of his sinful
+learning. It was so with Gerbert, whom the Devil even aided to become
+Pope, yet in the end snatched away his soul; in testimony whereof his
+bones rattle in their tomb, every time a pope lies nigh to death."
+
+"_Wallah!_" cried the Spaniard, gently, "your mind, friend, is as wide
+as the bridge Es-Sirat, which bridges Hell on the road to
+Heaven,--finer than a hair, sharper than a sword-edge."
+
+"Mock me not, Child of the Devil," retorted the unappeased churchman.
+
+"Nay," was the mild answer, "I am not obstinate. Convince me, satisfy
+my reason; I will then turn Christian."
+
+"Ah," replied Sebastian, sadly, "have you never heard the words of the
+holy Anselm of Canterbury, 'Let the intellect submit to authority,
+when it can no longer agree therewith'?"
+
+Musa shook his head.
+
+"Let us not wrangle to no purpose," said he, extending a frank hand;
+"our own Prophet commands us, 'Dispute not with those who have
+received the scriptures'--the Christians and Jews--'save in the
+mildest manner.' Think not we blaspheme the Son of Mary. No good
+Moslem speaks His name without adding 'on whom be peace.' We too hold
+He was born of a pure virgin, by a miracle of God, and Al-Koran says
+'He is the word of God, and a spirit proceeding out of Him.'"
+
+"Aye," made answer the priest, stripping his arm, and smiling grimly
+as he pointed to his scars, "and is this not a token of your tolerance
+and reverence?"
+
+Musa shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"_Mâshallah!_ Those Seljouks at Jerusalem are but barbarians. We
+Arabs love them a little less than we do most Christians!"
+
+"One fire awaits you all," muttered the obdurate priest, withdrawing.
+
+So days sped, and a letter came to Musa from Palermo, from his uncle
+the great merchant Al-Bukri, the "general syndic" of the capital.
+There was promise of patronage and high office with the Fatimite court
+at Cairo. Would the Spanish knight come down to Palermo for
+consultation? And Richard vowed loudly he would travel to the city
+too, only his heart grew sad when Musa spoke of parting and a career
+in Egypt. "Be not troubled, brother mine," quoth Musa, lightly; "what
+is fated, is fated; as for my fortune, so far as man may dispose, I
+say as did once an Egyptian kalif, 'I carry my kingdom here!'" and he
+slapped the hilt of his cimeter. And Richard, when he thought of what
+awaited in Palermo, went about with his head in the air. Night and day
+had the vision of the Greek been before his face. Would he not hew
+through hosts to possess her? Had he not already won a name and a
+fame--as a true sprig of the Longswords? Was not the lady in his debt,
+had she not shown all favor? What hindered him to recount his father's
+fiefs to Manuel, and say, "Sir, give me your daughter!"
+
+"But the lady may be dowerless," objected old Herbert, who had been
+Richard's confidant since earliest boyhood; "I have little liking for
+cat-hearted Greeks who spit, not bite. And I fear the Emperor has
+snapped up all the exiled Cæsar's estates."
+
+"No," was his answer; "I hear that through Venetian merchants, Cæsar
+Manuel saved much ready money. But"--and Richard's voice rose
+high--"were she mine with only our old Norman dower,--a chaplet of
+roses and a mother's kiss,--by St. Michael, I swear I would take her;
+for the tips of her fingers are dearer than red gold!"
+
+"_Ai_," cried the old daredevil, "you have indeed a merry passion.
+Well, go your way, and the Holy Mother favor you!"
+
+The Baron consented half reluctantly to his son's desires. He did not
+love most Greeks; but Cæsar Manuel had been a brave cavalier, and had
+saved the wreck of his great fortune; and the Baron was too fond of
+his eldest to refuse him anything in reason. Only, before starting, he
+gave Richard this advice:--
+
+"Be not over-anxious to brew up more quarrel with that Louis de
+Valmont. I know he comes from your mother's country of Auvergne, and
+his family and hers have been long at feud. But he is a knight of
+great renown, and till you have won your spurs, do not bear yourself
+loftily. He is a haughty man, high in favor with Count Roger, and a
+broil with him may breed you little glory."
+
+So Richard vowed discretion after his careless way. The two friends
+were to sail from Cefalu upon a Tunisian corn-ship, that made Palermo
+on her homeward voyage. Herbert was to follow by land, bringing down
+the retinue and horses; and his young master went on board, laughing
+and promising himself that when next Cefalu lay under his eyes, at his
+side should be another.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Brief voyaging and a kind west wind brought the Tunisian soon in sight
+of the red crags of Monte Pellegrino, which dominated the "City of the
+threefold Tongue," where dwelt Greek and Latin and Arab in peace,
+brotherhood, and prosperity. Before Longsword and his friend stretched
+Palermo, its white palaces, its domes and minarets bright as snow
+under the morning's azure sky; around them lay the fair wide crescent
+of the harbor running away to the wooded headland of Capo Zafferana;
+and on the emerald waves loitered the rich argosies of Pisa, Amalfi,
+Venice, and Andalusia, beating out against the laggard wind. Behind
+the long reach of the city stretched the "Golden Shell," one long
+green vega, thick with orchards of olive and orange; broken with
+feathery palm groves, tinted with flowering thickets bright as the
+sunset; threaded by the circling Preto, and many another silver
+rivulet hurrying to the sea.
+
+A fair picture, thought Musa; while Richard repeated the proud boast
+of its citizens, that Palermo was indeed _prima sedes, corona regis,
+et regni caput_. Then their ship made anchor off the old Saracen
+castle of Castellamare, where now lay the Norman garrison. Busy
+boatmen set them down on the quay in the harbor of Khalessa, where
+were the warehouses of the great Arab merchants, and where all around
+brawled the crowd and clamor of a half-Eastern traffic. And even
+Musa's eyes were amazed at the wealth and splendor of this busy city,
+which had hardly yet realized that her masters now went to church and
+no more to the great mosque. At the stately house of Al-Bakri courtly
+hospitality awaited them. The grave syndic was all smiles and flowery
+compliments to his nephew's preserver, and cried out when Richard made
+to go to the castle. On the next day a messenger came for the Norman,
+with words that made his sun shine very bright and the sea-breeze
+sweet as nard of Araby--Cæsar Manuel Kurkuas begged Richard to wait on
+him at the "Palace of the Diadem," which lay without the city by
+Monreale.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+HOW RICHARD WON TWO FOES
+
+
+The "Palace of the Diadem" had been the pride of some haughty Kelbite
+emir in the days when Palermo was a prime jewel in the Arabian crown;
+but the glory of its builder's family had long since been laid low.
+Moslem had slaughtered Moslem in the feuds that racked Sicily.
+Byzantines and Pisans had menaced the capital and ravaged its emerald
+vega. Now at last the Norman had come to conquer, and remained as
+lord; so that the owners of the palace had long sought purchaser. Then
+the Greek Cæsar came, an exile, but with a good store of bezants held
+in trust by Venetian merchants, and the palace had passed into his
+hands. It lay on the first slopes of the hills rising back of
+Monreale, close by the Norman count's hunting lodge; the steep
+mountain sides crowding down upon it from above; before it, to the
+north, the broad sweeps of the Golden Shell; and around, dense groves
+of locust and almond, palm trees and judas trees, with thickets in
+perennial bloom. Here, all the year long, little brooks kept the
+greensward moist and sweet; and in springtime the orange blossoms
+glistered whiter than clouds against rare green foliage. At evening,
+from behind clustered thickets would drift the notes of the
+nightingale, while the still, shy moon crept upwards in the sky. Such
+the gardens about the palace. And the palace itself? It was a lyric in
+stone. One could wander through long halls and wide courts in a soft
+half-light, with no rude sun venturing to touch a vulgar ray upon the
+stalactite vaults, the mazy colonnades, the red granite and jasper
+shafts, the tile work and moulding of red and blue and gold. Buried in
+the midst of these halls, where the air ever breathed of musk, and
+rose-water, and frankincense, what effort to lie through the round
+year, and hear the fountains plash their music, and dream of love,
+joy, and the kiss of the houris?
+
+Here dwelt the Cæsar and his daughter. Not alone; thither came all
+Palermo, from Count Roger downward. True, Manuel was in exile, but
+there were many roads back to Alexius's favor, and once regained, the
+Cæsar's friendship was worth the winning. And as for the princess, all
+the young knights quarrelled in secret for the chance to offer her
+holy water at church, or to ride in Countess Adelaide's train when she
+took the fair Greek hawking. Much ill-blood was brewed, and some
+little shed; for the Norman and Saracen knights alike would almost
+have given their heads for one smile from her. Yet the hottest rivals
+were the one-time friends, the great knight, Louis de Valmont of
+Auvergne, far-famed as a jouster, and Iftikhar Eddauleh, commander of
+Count Roger's Saracen guards, reputed the stoutest lance in Sicily.
+
+Thus it befell that Louis and Iftikhar (who, despite his creed and
+dark skin, was all gallantry to the Christian ladies) had ridden to
+Monreale to pay their _devoirs_ to the princess on the selfsame day
+Richard and his friend rode thither also. The Cæsar affected something
+of his native state at Monreale; he met his guests in a marble court,
+where a gilded swan was pouring tinkling water from its curving
+throat; and scattered about the alabaster basin, in the mild
+half-light, lay rug-covered divans, gay carpets, and a great cushioned
+armchair for the aged Greek. The Cæsar wore the insignia of his
+rank,--buskins of green leather, and a gem-set, open cap, whence
+dangled a long lappet of pearls over either cheek. And his daughter,
+too, was another and far statelier lady than she whom Richard
+Longsword had plucked from the Berbers. She stood to greet her guests,
+all radiant in purple tunic, a silken cape about her shoulders which
+shone with gems worth a baron's ransom; and when she spoke, it was
+with the nod and mien of one whose life it had been to command.
+
+Yet they were very merry. De Valmont had equal fame as troubadour and
+as cavalier. He had brought the princess an "improvised" _canso_,
+wherein he protested his abject wretchedness when the light of her
+face was hid from him, professed himself her slave, and conjured
+heaven, since she still remained so cold, to take away his life, that
+he might no more suffer. At this poem Mary professed herself
+delighted; for she was long past blushing at lip service. Then
+Iftikhar, swelling with jealousy, matched the Provençal with his
+Arabic, which Mary, like any cosmopolitan Byzantine, understood well;
+he sang how all the black-eyed maids of Paradise burned in jealousy of
+the Greek, how before her beauty each nightingale forgot his song, and
+a hundred genii flitted about her, feasting their ravished eyes.
+Whereat Louis, in rivalry, would have capped his song with another,
+when a serving-lad announced Richard Longsword and Musa of Granada.
+
+Longsword knew Iftikhar and De Valmont well, yet in years to come he
+dated their contact from this hour. Splendid was the emir in form and
+face, with broad shoulders and lordly height and poise. His swarthy
+Egyptian skin became him as a bay coat a charger; his ponderous hands,
+full black beard, red morocco-shod feet, the huge cimeter at his side,
+all spoke one word--"power"; a prince in very deed, from his jewelled
+black turban downward. And beside him stood Louis,--short, but great
+of limb, fair-haired, handsome, save for a certain smile more arrogant
+than affable. His beard was trimmed to a little beak, his hair
+carefully shaven across his forehead, as the fashion was; and he wore
+his native high black boots, the bane of all Provençal-hating Normans.
+On the gold plates of his sword-belt were jewel-set rosettes, and
+despite the heat of the day he did not disdain to show a mantle lined
+with rare sable,--no poor cavalier's dress.
+
+Mary greeted the newcomers warmly; warmly--yet to Richard how
+different was she from that merry girl who had pressed the cup to his
+lips that fateful evening at Cefalu! He had come expecting to demand,
+and to carry away; and behold! the laughing maid was a stately
+princess; her suitor was one of a score of young men who loved
+without hope; his rivals were the most valorous cavaliers in all the
+broad island. He had but set eyes on De Valmont and the emir, when he
+saw his day-dreams vanish in thin air. What had he, unknighted,
+comparatively unrenowned, to proffer, when such champions sought her
+grace?
+
+Still, for a while the talk ran gayly. Mary told of her rescue, and
+praised Longsword's valor; but his joy was tempered as he saw the
+patronizing smile that sat on De Valmont's face, when the recital
+finished.
+
+"Our young friend comes of my own Auvergne stock," said the knight,
+with venomous urbanity; "when he reaches due years he will break
+lances with the best."
+
+The Norman's cheek flushed, but he mastered his temper. "You say well,
+fair sir; I am indeed a very young cavalier. Yet I hope I am not
+unworthy of my mother's family of St. Julien, which has won some small
+credit in its feuds with its neighbors."
+
+There was an arrow in this reply; for the houses of St. Julien and
+Valmont were at bitter strife, and thus far the saints had given glory
+to the former. So the knight frowned in his turn, and shot back:--
+
+"Yet, I think, good squire, that you are Norman rather than Provençal.
+No gentleman of the South Country preserves that worthy old custom,
+whereby the father hands down his festival clothes to the son through
+three, and here, I imagine, four generations."
+
+The insult was palpable enough, but Longsword reined in his anger.
+
+"You are wrong, Sir Louis," quoth he, very softly; "my bleaunt is new,
+though I have no Provençal tailor; for I remembered the saying of
+certain holy churchmen: 'He who dresses after the godless fashion of
+the men of the Languedoc, puts in peril his soul.'"
+
+The parry and thrust had gone on long enough to promise little honor
+to De Valmont, and the knight ended by saying blandly: "It grieves me,
+dear friend, that you listen to such slanders. Be assured there are no
+Christians better than those of Provence."
+
+Richard affected to be appeased. Yet every moment his soul was crying
+out against this rival, who disdained and mocked him as a mere boy.
+And bitterer grew his wrath, when Louis continued:--
+
+"Come, heir of Cefalu; can you not match with me in singing the praise
+of the adorable mistress of our hearts, the ever incomparable Princess
+Mary Kurkuas,--flower of the Greeks, star of the Moslems, sun of all
+Christian cavaliers! Let us hold our _tenso_; and contend,--not with
+sword,--but with verses, singing the matchless worth of our lady."
+
+Richard felt the anger swelling within him. He had prudence in dealing
+with Louis, but not to bear tamely a thrust of sheer malice, likely to
+permit a display of his rival's superior accomplishments before the
+princess. Well enough De Valmont had known that the Norman was no
+troubadour.
+
+"Louis de Valmont," answered Longsword, haughtily, "I am no clerk in
+your 'courts of love,' whereof you Provençals boast so often. When I
+will praise man or maid, I find blunt speech good enough, if they have
+wit to hear. When I have difference with any gentleman, I have a good
+horse and a good sword--and let St. Maurice judge between us."
+
+"By St. Martin," cried the Provençal, bursting into a laugh, "hear you
+this, my Lord Iftikhar! Our excellent Norman, when I speak of a
+contest of _cansos_, at once talks of hauberks and lances."
+
+The emir cast a disdainful eye upon Longsword.
+
+"_Allah akhbar!_" he commenced, then more mildly: "yet how can we say
+aught against so excellent a young man, as he who plucked our princess
+from the pirates?"
+
+Richard's gorge was rising; but before his hot words broke forth,
+Musa, who had bided his time, interposed:--
+
+"Tell me, Cid Louis," said he, in his broken Languedoc, "men say you
+have served in Spain; is that not so?"
+
+"I saw service there with Raymond of St. Gilles," was the answer, "and
+with King Alfonso, and Cid Campeador."
+
+"And brave cavaliers they are," continued the Andalusian. "None
+better, Christian or Moslem, so far as knightly courtesy is known."
+
+"You say well," asserted the Provençal; "they are splendid knights. By
+the Cross," he added deprecatingly, "I count myself no poor lance,
+with St. Martin's help; but in Spain every cavalier was nigh my peer."
+
+"I rejoice you found such noble comrades; but, by Allah, know this, O
+Frank: I have ridden against all the good lances of Spain, and Richard
+Longsword of Cefalu is as firm a saddle as the best!"
+
+The Spaniard had drawn himself up haughtily; there was fire in his
+eye, half a threat in his voice. Neither De Valmont nor Iftikhar cared
+to contradict him. And when Louis, vainly endeavoring to turn the tide
+that was setting against him in the princess's presence, again
+proposed a _tenso_, Richard was again able to answer in tones of lofty
+scorn.
+
+"Have you no shame, fair sir, to rehearse here the frivolous songs you
+doubtless learned at the court of William of Aquitaine, whose _cansos_
+and _tornadas_ are all in praise of his paramours--a new love and a
+new song each day?"
+
+"Have a care, young sir, have a care!" quoth the southern knight,
+angrily.
+
+"I seek no quarrel," was the reply;--"nor shun one." This last, under
+the breath.
+
+Louis stepped before the Norman with his hands on his hips.
+
+"Heir of Cefalu," said he, in undertone, "if it is true you are a good
+lance--well. But remember this, that is told in Auvergne. On the
+mountains near the castle of Valmont lies a chapel, whither often I
+went to pray, waiting some champion to come and test my valor; but
+none has ever dared, nor have I ever ridden against my match, save
+against my own brother Raoul, the Seigneur of Valmont."
+
+"Do not threaten," said Richard, still in undertone.
+
+"Threaten? I?" replied the knight. "I speak of the past, not of the
+present. Yet those are sorry who cross my path."
+
+They said no more. The emir and De Valmont were the first to take
+leave. Mary gave Louis her hand to kiss, and Iftikhar salaamed very
+low. When the two were gone, all who remained were happier; and the
+princess, who had been silent long, found her tongue.
+
+"You are not a friend of Sir Louis, or the emir?" said she.
+
+"I would not be their foes," replied Longsword, looking into the
+bubbling fountain; "yet it is true Sir Louis is very willing to think
+himself above an unknighted cavalier. And the emir and I know each
+other little."
+
+"Ah," said the lady, her eyes also resting on the water, "it is sad it
+is thus. Believe me, Lord Richard, you and De Valmont should be
+friends. He is a gallant cavalier. I have heard much of his valor. He
+is a poet also. What lady would not lose her heart at his
+compliments?"
+
+Now all this was gall and wormwood to Richard, but he made shift to
+reply.
+
+"Yes, doubtless he is a splendid knight."
+
+"But you are not his friend? Why?"
+
+"Lady," replied the Norman, a little sourly, "if to be the cavalier is
+only to wear the wreath in the tourney, and sing _cansos_ in the
+'courts of love'--behold Louis de Valmont; from the Scottish Marches
+to our Sicily none knightlier. But," and his eye kindled, "with God's
+help, when in my turn I win stroke of the accolade, they shall say of
+Richard Longsword that he was more than mere jouster or troubadour;
+for I am no soft Provençal like De Valmont. My ancestors snuffed the
+bleak north wind, and laughed at the cold and storm. I hold that the
+belted knight is consecrated priest: standing in the world, should
+behold its sin and violence, and keep his own heart pure, should lay
+low the wicked, and lift up the weak; for God has set him apart to
+pray, not with his lips, but with his good sword; and he should ride
+to each _mêlée_ as to a sacrament."
+
+"Verily," cried she, smiling; "it is you that are now the poet!"
+
+"Not so," was the half-gloomy answer; "I repeat the words of
+Sebastian, our chaplain, who is one of the saints of God."
+
+"You will be a noble cavalier," said Mary, when the two friends arose
+to leave her. "Yet," she added, "I will not have you a foe to Louis de
+Valmont. That my friends should be enemies among themselves, would be
+a heavy grief."
+
+Richard kissed Mary's hand, and rode away. He and Musa had been bidden
+to come again and often to Monreale; but he had no great joy in the
+prospect. Rather his thoughts were darksome as the night.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The shadows were falling when the Norman and his friend left the
+Palace of the Diadem. The half-light of the marble arcade was fading
+into a soft haze, wherein the gauzy tracery that pierced the pillared
+stone work was barely visible. Manuel Kurkuas lay on his cushions,
+sunk in silent reveries; his daughter had stolen to his side, cast one
+arm about his neck, and with her other hand softly, slowly, stroked
+his long white beard. Neither spoke for a long time. Presently in came
+an Arab serving-man with noiseless step: tiny lamps began to twinkle
+red and green up against the vaulting, throwing the mazy mosaic work
+into flickering shadow. The tinkle, tinkle of the fountain never
+ceased. They could hear the note of the nightingales from the grove,
+sweet, tremulous, melancholy. The servants set a tray before the Cæsar
+with silver cups, and fruit, and cakes, salaamed and retired. Then the
+fountain and the _bulbuls_ alone broke the evening calm. Presently the
+old Greek raised his head.
+
+"They have brought the tray?" he asked, still dreamily.
+
+"Yes, there is a sleeping powder in your wine. Will you drink?"
+
+"Not yet," said the Cæsar, still musing; then half stirring: "Ah! my
+daughter, do you remember where we were one year ago this night?"
+
+"We were at our summer house by Chalcedon, and doubtless had just
+returned from a sail to the Isles of the Princes on the Emperor's own
+galley."
+
+"It is beautiful, that Bosphorus; and our noble capital," ran on
+Manuel, dreamily. "No church in the world like to our Hagia Sophia! No
+dwelling like the 'Sacred Palace' of our Emperor! No river fairer than
+the blue Bosphorus! Ours are all the trophies of the art of Greece at
+her prime; ours the books preserving the ancient learning; the speech
+of Plato, of Demosthenes, so unlike this Frankish magpies' chatter! Do
+you not long to be back? I shall be recalled. You will be again a
+great lady at Constantinople; marry some '_pan-sebastos_,' or perhaps
+the heir of the purple buskins himself." Mary was silent; the old man
+continued: "No reply? I know your thoughts. You are half a Frank and
+love them better: better to watch these mad knights at tourney than
+read Polybius with the Princess Anna?"
+
+"Yes, my father," was the simple reply; "we have glory, art, learning,
+a name never to die. But the future is with these Franks--so
+boisterous, so brutish! For high resolve and higher action make people
+great, not gazing at statues, and reading of brave deeds done of old."
+
+More silence save for the bulbuls and the fountain.
+
+"Daughter mine," replied the Cæsar, "you say well. We have fought a
+good fight,--we of the Rome by the Bosphorus: we have flung back Avar
+and Arab. The Turks press hard, yet we may hold them at bay a little
+longer; but our race is indeed grown old, and our glory, too. And you
+love the West? What wonder! your mother spoke this Languedoc in which
+this De Valmont sings. And doubtless you will give your hand to him;
+men say he is a mighty cavalier; as his wife you will be a great lady
+among these Franks."
+
+"Father!" cried out Mary, in protest.
+
+"No," said the Greek, still smiling, "I will not give you away against
+your will. If not he, whom? Does the Moslem Iftikhar find favor?
+Religion sits light in this strange Sicily."
+
+But Mary shook her head angrily.
+
+"Ah, then you perhaps were glad when young Richard of Cefalu came
+to-day. But he is no poet like De Valmont. His manners may prove as
+rough as his blows."
+
+"I will not give myself to a chamberlain or a troubadour. Shall I
+receive _cansos_ when my hair is gray, or my face wrinkled? If I wish
+soft manners, let it be one of the eunuch-courtiers about the
+Emperor's palace."
+
+The Cæsar laughed softly. "You have seen this Richard but little; he
+saved us both; we owe him all gratitude. He shall come often. I am a
+shrewd judge of men, and read their faces. His I like well. Just now
+he thinks De Valmont has you snared, and is very sorrowful. But no
+trial harms the lover. To-day he worships your face, as do all. Later
+let us see if he looks deeper, and loves you with all your faults!"
+
+"My faults?"
+
+"Yes," with another soft laugh, "you are over-fond of the applause,
+and glitter, and whir of admiration. You know your face is very fair
+to see, and love to let men see it. And though in action you are often
+prudent and demure, yet--as on that night at Cefalu--you are like a
+coiled spring,--such as moves the singing bird of the Emperor: one
+touch will make you flash forth in some madness. But beneath all I
+know you are pure and strong, and will make a noble woman."
+
+"You temper praise with blame, my father," was her answer.
+
+"Now let me sup and go to rest; and while I drink, take your lute and
+sing. Not from the choruses of Æschylus; nor Pindar nor Anacreon: sing
+me Proclus's hymn to the Muses, the last pagan poem in our Greek,
+which is worthy to stand beside our best; and the burden of the hymn,
+too, fits with my mood to-night."
+
+So Mary took up the lute, let her fingers wander over the strings, and
+then, while the fountain babbled accompaniment, sang sweet as a silver
+bell:--
+
+    "Glory and praise to those sweet lamps of Earth,
+      The nine fair daughters of Almighty Jove:
+    Who all the passage dark to death from birth
+      Lead wandering souls with their bright beams of love.
+
+    "Through cares of mortal life, through pain and woe,
+      The tender solace of their counsel saves:
+    The healing secrets of their songs forego
+      Despair: and when we tremble at the waves
+
+    "Of life's wild sea of murk incertitude,
+      Their gentle touch upon the helm is pressed,
+    Their hand points out the beacon star of good,
+      Where we shall make our harbor and have rest:--
+
+    "Hear, heavenly Sisters, hear! O ye who know
+      The winds of wisdom's sea, the course to steer;
+    Who light the flame that lightens all below,
+      And bring the spirits of the perfect there,
+
+    "Where the immortals are, when this life's fever
+      Is left behind as a dread gulf o'erpassed,
+    And souls, like mariners, escaped forever,
+      Throng on the happy foreland, saved at last!"
+
+The lute was still. Naught but the plash, plash of the fountain, the
+distant call of the birds. In through the marble tracery stole the
+silent panels of moonlight. Manuel Kurkuas sat long in deeper
+revery:--
+
+"'Throng on the happy foreland, saved at last!'" he murmured; "ah!
+daughter mine, it is late: we must seek rest."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+HOW ROLLO MET INSULT
+
+
+On the next day Richard rode again to Monreale, this time without
+Musa. But on the way, just as his horse brought him clear of the city,
+and he was speeding past the straggling Saracen village that stretched
+far up the hills to Baidha, the canter of two riders going at a mad
+pace thundered behind him, and he saw Louis de Valmont with Iftikhar
+Eddauleh close at his heels. The Provençal knight was bravely
+accoutred with silk mantle and boots of the latest fashion, and was
+bestriding a splendid white palfrey that made Richard shiver the tenth
+commandment then and there. The emir was no less gay in flaming
+scarlet vest, and trailing to the wind a red and yellow kaftan; while
+on his head tossed a great blue turban, whereon the gems were
+sparkling. Clearly the two had set forth independently, and had no
+mind for comradeship; for Richard soon learned that Iftikhar had put
+his horse to his speed to outstrip De Valmont, and the latter had
+ridden away from him. When the Provençal drew close upon Richard,
+however, the Norman, nowise anxious to be the last, spurred on also,
+and soon all three were in the race; which ended by De Valmont
+shooting ahead, and leaving the others side by side. As the knight
+vanished in a cloud of dust, Iftikhar reined in his good bay, and
+turned to Longsword.
+
+"He passes us both, Cid Richard," quoth the emir, showing his white
+teeth, while he laughed.
+
+"Truly, emir," was the answer, "they say there is no rider like him in
+all the South Country."
+
+The Egyptian grinned again, a little angrily.
+
+"_Wallah!_ Let him go. I will reach Monreale soon enough. Not even
+Louis de Valmont shall cross my path save when I choose; neither he
+nor any other."
+
+"You wax bold, my lord. And may I ask why you speak thus? Surely, it
+is no wound to your honor or mine that he chances to-day to outride us
+both."
+
+Iftikhar laughed aloud, was silent a moment, then broke forth.
+
+"Verily, Cid Richard, why ride we all, you, I, De Valmont, to
+Monreale! _Ya!_ do you still ask why I say I 'let none cross me'?"
+
+Richard's hand started towards his hilt.
+
+"My Lord Iftikhar, we all seek the good favor of that incomparable
+lady, Mary Kurkuas."
+
+The Egyptian's hand was on his cimeter also. "You speak well," came
+back his haughty answer; "but I speak to a young cavalier like
+yourself this word of warning--do not carry your passion too far. As
+for De Valmont, let him know this, good lance that he is: I am as sure
+a saddle as he, and I am more." Iftikhar leaned, as he rode, and half
+whispered to Richard, "Do you know the brotherhood of the Ismaelians?"
+
+"The secret confederacy among Moslems, whose god is the dagger?"
+
+Iftikhar spoke very low: "Know, O Norman, that I am a grand prior
+amongst the Ismaelians. Soon as Allah wills, I return to Syria. At my
+nod will be countless devotees, who rush on death as to a feast.
+Therefore I am not lightly to be thwarted by De Valmont even. _Ya!_"
+
+And the emir laughed grimly. Richard kept silence, but swore in his
+heart that laugh should be like Roland's laugh at Ganelon,--a laugh
+that cost Roland his life.
+
+When they came to the Palace of the Diadem, De Valmont was there
+before them, and had the lady's ear. He was telling of a marvellous
+hunting party that was on foot for the morrow, and how Count Roger's
+daughter, the young Countess Blanche, had especially bidden him to
+ride with the princess to the chase. And Richard, and Iftikhar also,
+had perforce to stand by, while Mary gave the Provençal her sweetest
+thanks, and promised him her glove to wear at the next jousting.
+
+Sorry comfort it was to Longsword, especially as the princess gave him
+and the emir only enough of the talk to let them know she remembered
+they were there. As for Iftikhar, black jealousy drove him forth
+quickly. He salaamed himself away, and went tearing down the road to
+Palermo, uttering invocations to all the evil jinns, to blast Louis de
+Valmont's happiness for many a long year. But Richard would not own to
+such defeat; while Louis and Mary bartered merry small talk, he sat
+beside the old Cæsar, and found in the noble Greek, after the crust of
+dignity was broken, a man of the world who could tell his story.
+
+And Richard found that Manuel had been a mighty warrior in his youth,
+though not after the Norman fashion. Richard learned with wonder how
+armies were marshalled according to careful rules in the military
+books of Nicephorus Phocus and Leo the Wise; how campaigns could be
+worked out, and armies shuffled about dexterously as chessmen, instead
+of depending on chance _mêlées_ and bull valor. The Cæsar had stirring
+tales to tell of wars and paladins Richard had never before heard
+of,--Zimiskes and his terrible fight with Swiatoslaf the Russian, when
+St. Theodore himself, men said, led the charge through the pagan
+spear-hedge; of Basil, the terrible "Bulgarian slayer"; of the
+redoubtable champion, Diginis Akritas, grim lord of the Cilician
+Marches, the terror of the border Arabs; only Manuel's face clouded
+when he spoke of the present darkened fame of his people.
+
+"I was with Romanus Diogenes," said he, bitterly, "at Manzikert, that
+fatal day when by the treachery of Andronicus, general of the reserve,
+our Emperor and all Asia Minor were betrayed to Alp-Arslan the
+Seljouk. Oh! Sir Frank--" and his dim eyes lighted, "never saw I
+harder fight than that: all that mortal men might, did we, riding down
+the Turkish hordes with sword and lance all day. But at nightfall we
+were surrounded, and the hosts rolled in around us. Treason had cut
+off our succor. Our divisions perished; our emperor was a prisoner;
+and the force that Alexius Comnenus led against you Normans at
+Durazzo was a shadow, a mockery, of what had been our army in the days
+when the Kalif of Bagdad trembled at the advance of the terrible
+Romans!"
+
+When Richard left the palace it was in company with Louis de Valmont.
+Mary had been very gracious to the Norman in parting, and Manuel had
+urged him to come again. He was an old man, time was heavy on his
+hands; he was rejoiced to tell his tales to whoever would listen. But
+it was Louis who had the last word with the princess, Louis who
+whispered at the farewell some soft pleasantry that had a deeper ring
+than the common troubadour's praise and compliment. Longsword and the
+Provençal rode back towards Palermo side by side. De Valmont was in a
+happy enough mood to be very gracious.
+
+"Heir, of Cefalu," said he, while they cantered stirrup to stirrup, "I
+did wrong yesterday. I thought you sought to cross me in a quest--what
+shame for me to avow it--after the hand of this lady. But to-day by
+your discreet carriage I see you have no such rashness. Who can but
+fall at the princess's feet, and sigh with passion! And her father,
+though a Greek, must have been a fine man once in the saddle."
+
+The Provençal's words were like flint striking steel; Richard replied
+very slowly, sure warning that fire was near at hand.
+
+"Sir Louis de Valmont, with our eyes on the lady, no marvel we possess
+only one thought. Yet not I only, but Iftikhar Eddauleh may cry
+'Hold!' ere you carry this fair game to an end. The emir this day
+boasted to me he was become grand prior of the Ismaelians, the
+devotees of the dagger, and that not even so good a lance as you might
+cross his road when he minded otherwise."
+
+The knight frowned blackly.
+
+"The emir and I are friends no longer. The princess may love the gems
+in his turban, his Arabic verses; but not even here in Sicily will she
+wed an infidel. He has more than one woman in his harem in the city.
+Over his devotees and his own lance I lose little slumber."
+
+"You say well, fair sir," said Richard; "yet honor forbids me to
+conceal it. I think you will not take Mary Kurkuas to the priest
+before you have tried the temper of my sword, though Iftikhar do what
+he lists."
+
+"Take care, my brave lad!" cried the Provençal, dropping his jaw in a
+sneer. "I wish to splinter no lances against such as you."
+
+"By St. Michael, I swear it; aye, and will make it good on my body!"
+And Richard raised his hand in an oath.
+
+"Fie!" cried the other, pricking ahead. "In the morning you will
+repent of this folly. I can win no glory in a broil with you; which,
+if I follow up, will end with your funeral mass."
+
+And before Richard could make reply De Valmont's white palfrey had
+swept far in advance, leaving the Norman with only his raging thoughts
+for company. In this state he rode into the town, seeking the house of
+Al-Bakri. But close by the door a noisy crowd was swelling: Pisan
+sailors, Greek peasants come to market, Moslem serving-lads, and chief
+of all several men-at-arms in leather jerkins and steel caps, all
+howling and shouting in half a dozen tongues, and making the narrow
+street and bare gray house-walls ring with their clamors.
+
+"A hair, a hair of the wonderful horse of Cefalu!" was braying one of
+the men-at-arms in the very centre of the throng. "Pull out his tail;
+let him drag a cart! What knight ever rode such a _destrer_? And this
+is the best-loved steed of my Lord Richard! Like master, like horse!"
+While others shouted: "Give up the fellow! He is ours! We claim him
+for our master, Louis de Valmont. What need has your Lord Richard of a
+_jongleur_--mountebank himself?"
+
+And then in the midst of the press, Longsword saw his old retainer
+Herbert, sitting upon Rollo; perched behind on the great steed a
+small, scared-looking man, with the little bright eyes and peaked nose
+of a mouse; with a strange dress of blue and red stripes, and hugging
+a great viol under his arm. So far the crowd had confined itself to
+noise; but it was pressing so madly around the entrance to the court,
+that the porter had hesitated to throw open the gate lest the mob
+press in with the rider. There was an angry glint in Herbert's eyes;
+and the veteran had his fingers round his hilt with the blade half
+drawn, while Rollo had tossed up his great black head, and was
+snuffing and pawing as if his hoofs were ready to fly out on his
+besetters.
+
+"A thousand fiends!" cried Richard, pushing into the throng, "what
+have we here! Dogs, devils, back all of you!" And he struck right and
+left with his riding whip, making a red scar on more than one swarthy
+cheek. "Out of the way, rascals, or your heads pay for it!"
+
+There was no resisting this menace. Rollo himself had struck out with
+his mighty hoofs, and a sailor went down upon the pavement with a
+groan. The crowd slunk back, cursing and threatening under breath; but
+no man wished to come to an issue with his betters.
+
+"Now, Herbert," cried the Norman, "what means this? Has Satan
+uncovered the Pit, and his imps flown out? Who is this man with you?"
+
+"May all the saints blast them!" and here the veteran doomed all his
+assailants to pitiless and eternal torment. "To be brief, good lord,
+this man is by name Theroulde, a right good fellow; as you see by his
+viol, a _jongleur_. Before your father fled England, I knew him well,
+when we both were younger. I found him as I rode by the quay, landed
+from a Pisan merchantman, and seeking to escape the men-at-arms of
+Louis de Valmont, who, seeing him a stranger and likely to prove a
+merry fellow, wished to carry him to the castle, willy-nilly, to give
+them sport over their cups; and this sailor gang fell in with them.
+Then when I saw that he did not like their greeting, and that he
+recognized me as an old comrade, I took him up behind me, and rode
+away; but this pack," with a contemptuous snap of the finger,
+"travelled behind us like the curs they are; and I think they would
+have learned how my sword could bite, had you not come up."
+
+"Theroulde? Theroulde?" repeated Richard to the _jongleur_, who had
+leaped to the ground and stood bowing and scraping, but still hugging
+his beloved viol; "are you not son of that Taillefer, the brave
+minstrel to whom Duke William granted that he should ride first at
+Senlac, singing of Roland and Roncesvalles, and who died a cavalier's
+death that day?"
+
+"I am his son, gracious lord," said the man, with another bow and wide
+grimace. "I am Theroulde of Mount St. Michael, and well I loved and
+served your father in the brave days of the English war."
+
+"By the peacock," cried Longsword, "and what lucky saint sends you to
+Sicily, to enter my father's service once more, if you will?"
+
+"Ah! lord," was the doleful answer, "glad I am to see Sicily; but no
+merry thing brings me hither. I was in the service of my dear Lord
+Henry, son of William the Bastard, and dwelt in his court at Mount St.
+Michael, with a warm nook by the fire and a flagon of good drink
+always mine for the wishing. But three years since I was driven out an
+exile, when William, the wicked 'Red King,' and Duke Robert besieged
+Henry their brother, and took the stronghold. So ever since I have
+wandered over Champagne and Burgundy and the Ile de France; and then I
+went down to Aquitaine and thence to Dauphiny. But I did not learn to
+love the chattering Provençals, who think songs of mawkish love better
+than our northern _chansons_ of valorous knights. Then I heard that
+your noble father had been blessed with a fair barony here in Sicily;
+and hither I came to seek his bounty, though I did not expect to find
+in his son so grand a cavalier."
+
+Richard laughed a little sourly. Now he had a new grudge against Louis
+de Valmont; to the sins of the master had been added those of the men.
+A knight did not always as yet keep squires of as gentle blood as
+himself. De Valmont's crew of attendants were but little better than
+"villains." The insults to Herbert and Rollo were not to be forgiven
+in a moment. And in this new fury Richard rode into the courtyard;
+while Theroulde, delighted to be under friendly patronage, rattled on,
+rehearsing his wares.
+
+"Know, most valiant sir, that I boast myself versed in all the noble
+histories of that wise Trojan priest, Dares, and of the rich Greek
+cavalier, Dictys of Crete; I can tell you all their tales of Sir
+Hector and of Sir Ulysses and of the fair and never too much praised
+Countess Medea. I have set in new verse the whole tale of Roland and
+Oliver, and how Count Ganelon betrayed them; and I can tell you the
+story of Oberon, king of faery, who was begotten by Julius Cæsar at
+the isle of Cephallenia, while he was at war with King Pompey."
+
+So he would have run on forever had not Richard thrust him away and
+gone in to Musa, with a face dark as a thundercloud. The _jongleur_
+was left to the hospitality of the Moslem servants of Al-Bakri, who
+treated him kindly though he eyed them askance; for to his mind they
+all were servants of Apollin, the pagan demon of the sun. Presently a
+messenger went from Richard to the castle, where De Valmont lay,
+bearing a letter,--a letter which demanded of the Provençal that he
+either inflict summary chastisement on his men who had insulted
+Richard through his favorite horse, or make good the affront by a
+meeting face to face.
+
+Richard spent the next two hours in the little court of the syndic,
+pacing moodily under the orange trees that stood around the fountain
+basin; while Musa lolled on the rugs upon the divan under the arcade,
+and tried to persuade his friend to sit down with him at chess.
+
+"By the Mass, Musa," cried the Norman, twisting his mustache with
+nervous energy, while his eyes studied the black and white tiled
+pavement, "Moslem that you are, I had rather see Mary Kurkuas yours
+than De Valmont's. What with all the brave tales you tell of your
+sweethearts in Cordova and Granada, you must know the way to a woman's
+heart."
+
+"_Allah!_" exclaimed the Spaniard, taking a cushion from the divan and
+flinging it merrily at his friend. "Do you not know, I am like the
+Arab youth who died fighting at Emesa?" said he. "I see the black-eyed
+girls, the houris looking at me; and one for love of whom all the
+world would die, beckons me, saying, 'Come hither quickly, for I love
+thee.' Not that I would slander the beauty of your Greek; but," with
+half a sigh, "he who has seen the maidens of Andalusia can long only
+for the houris of Paradise."
+
+"You speak folly," cried the Norman, pettishly. "Where are your eyes?"
+But at this moment Hugh, the serving-lad who had gone to the castle
+with the cartel, returned.
+
+"A letter from Sir Louis de Valmont," he announced.
+
+It was a roll of parchment, written by some priest or monk, with only
+a rude mark over the signature, in another hand; for Louis with all
+his "gay" science was no clerk. It ran thus:--
+
+"Louis de Valmont, Knight of Auvergne, to Richard Longsword, greeting:
+I am astounded that an unknighted 'bachelor' like yourself, who has
+won neither spurs, nor vassals, nor fame in arms, should venture to
+address me with such insolence. As for my men they had their frolic,
+and only a fool will quarrel about it. As for your defiance, I will
+win small honor by slaying a boy like yourself in the lists, as I
+could well do, and my honor is in no wise hurt when I say I will not
+meet you. Farewell."
+
+Richard tore the parchment into shreds and strode to and fro in
+bootless fury.
+
+"By the splendor of God!" cried he, stretching his arms aloft, "the
+day shall come when this Louis and all the spawn of his sinful house
+shall curse the hour he sent me this. So may Our Lady help!"
+
+Musa could do nothing to comfort. Richard told his trials to
+Sebastian, just come down from Cefalu. And in Sebastian he found a
+counsellor very like to those of long-tormented Job.
+
+"Ah! dear son, this is because all love is sorrow except it be the
+love of heaven. Says not the Apostle, 'Love not the world, neither the
+things in the world,'--"
+
+"Not so," broke in Richard; "in loving Mary Kurkuas I love an angel of
+light."
+
+Sebastian shook his head solemnly. "Dear son, this is a chastisement
+sent on you from heaven for forgetting your vow, now that you are
+come to man's estate. Often have I invoked my patron saint, Sebastian,
+by the arrows that pierced his side, that you would put by all these
+carnal lusts, this friendship for Musa, the paynim, and dedicate life
+and might to the freeing of the Holy City."
+
+But Richard was in an impious mood that day. "I was a child when I
+took the vow. Let the saints smite me, if they will, only first let me
+humble De Valmont!"
+
+"Alas!" came the answer, "they will indeed smite you, until in very
+agony for your sin you will plead to go to Jerusalem."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+HOW DE VALMONT SENT HIS GAGE
+
+
+Richard's fury lasted more than one angry day, Musa's comforting
+counting for nothing. Sebastian's warnings--twanging the same old
+string--only made his rage the hotter. He wrote to Cefalu, saying it
+was all over with his suit, and received a letter dictated by his
+father (who wrote only with his battle-axe) that it was as well; he
+could marry a daughter of the Baron's old friend, the Count of Foix.
+William had not seen her, but she would bring a large dowry, and a
+messenger could sail with proposals for Toulouse at once. Richard
+returned answer that he could not marry the lady--she came within the
+forbidden degrees through some ancient alliance of his mother's house
+with that of Foix. But his heart burned more than ever. Then respite
+came: Count Roger was summoned to Campania by his nephew and suzerain
+Duke Roger Bursa, to help crush certain malcontent barons, and away he
+sailed, taking Iftikhar and his much-prized Saracen guard. With him
+also went Musa and Richard Longsword, who was finding Palermo a dreary
+place, and gladly bartered gloomy thoughts for hard campaigning.
+
+Louis de Valmont remained. Every morn he fared to Monreale to bask
+under the smiles of Mary. Very pleasant these days to her. As Manuel
+had said, she was more than fond of the praise of men; knew her eyes
+darted madness, and was not ashamed to show them. Palermo was not
+Constantinople; no polished Greek as spoken in the circle of Psellus,
+the philosopher, and of Anna Comnena; no splendid state ceremonies.
+But life was free; men spoke of their loves and hates plainly; did not
+prattle friendship and misty compliment and stab in the dark.
+Yet in the end Louis's homage began to pall on her. She heard
+unpleasant stories touching him through Sylvana, her nurse, an
+indefatigable gossip-monger. The Provençal, she learned, was accounted
+a hard master to his men; his peers praised his courage, but not his
+courtesy; he had fought a duel in Catalonia with a baron, in a broil
+concerning the latter's lady; he had two Moslem sweethearts in
+Palermo; some said three. All these tales did not go to prosper
+Louis's suit, and he began to find the morning chatter growing dull
+and the princess meeting his _cansos_ with sober and troublesome
+questions.
+
+Manuel Kurkuas said little; he was a shrewd man, and knew it was
+easier to lead than to drive. What with De Valmont's hollow gallantry
+and boasting of his own great deeds, he fell daily in the daughter's
+eyes. Then one day two carrier pigeons fluttered to the casements of
+the Palermo castle, and Sylvana came to Mary itching with a tale. The
+princess had just bidden Louis farewell. His importunity was great,
+her perplexity greater; for she did not love the man, yet things had
+gone too far for her to dismiss him without bitterness and gossip all
+over the city.
+
+"_Hei, despoina!_" quoth the old woman; "Bardas, the groom, is come
+from Palermo--a terrible story. Richard Longsword in deathly peril!"
+And Sylvana, sly sinner, who knew Mary better than Mary knew herself,
+had expected the start, and flush, and little cry. "No, by St. Basil,
+he is safe enough," protested she, consequentially. "He was with Count
+Roger in Italy in the war against William of Grantmesnil, who has
+turned rebel. Let him tell the whole tale himself. But the chief part
+is this: There was a castle which my Lord Count and his kinsman, Duke
+Roger Bursa, swore they would take, but it was defended as though held
+by very devils. The engines beat a breach in the walls, and the next
+thing was the storming. But to make the breach and to go through it
+are not the same thing, as Nicetas, who was my uncle's son, and fought
+in Syria, once told."
+
+"I have heard that story," cried the lady, impatiently; "go on."
+
+"Well, as I said, the breach was stoutly defended. My Lord Count
+orders up his boasted Saracen guard, and bids my Lord Iftikhar lead
+the storm: once, twice, they charge--are beaten back--the third time
+when ordered, say they are not fond of dying--too many comrades are
+fallen already. Then while the emir hung back, forward comes my Lord
+Richard and Musa, his friend; they will lead the storm. A few mad
+Franks follow them. They win the breach and the castle. St. Theodore
+must have aided. They say my Lord Richard had as many wounds as you
+have fingers, when they took him up. No, do not stare about thus:
+Bardas said he only lost a little blood. But they have made him a
+knight after the fashion of these Franks, by Duke Roger's own hand;
+and to Musa they gave I know not what presents. And now seeing that
+the rebels have sued for mercy, the Count is coming back with all his
+men, and sent off pigeons from Stromboli saying that he will arrive
+to-morrow."
+
+To-morrow came and went, and De Valmont held aloof, half to Mary's
+satisfaction, half to her vexation. Nor did several succeeding days
+see him. But finally it fell out that he and his rival sallied forth
+from Palermo by different roads, and both came to Monreale and into
+the Princess's presence at about the same time. And now it was Louis's
+turn to let his sharp little beard curl up in impotent anger. For Mary
+gave never a glance to his high-peaked Anjou boots with which he
+swelled in pride, but only had eyes for the golden spurs that were
+twinkling significantly upon Longsword's heels, and the broad white
+belt that girt him.
+
+"Ah! Sir Richard," cried she, with a pretty stress on the "sir," "now
+at last you will not deny that you can do a brave deed or two!"
+
+The Norman blushed manfully; for praise from her lips was dearer than
+from Pope or Emperor.
+
+"Dear lady," said he, humbly, "thanks to the valor of my good
+comrades, and the help of the blessed angel Michael, men are pleased
+to speak well of me."
+
+"And the sword you wear," continued she, "it is not the one I saw
+glance so bright at Cefalu. Who gave it?" And she added, while Richard
+drew forth the weapon: "How long! How heavy! What magic letters are
+these upon the blade?"
+
+Richard had bared a mighty weapon, which he held outstretched while
+the sun glinted on the long, polished steel, and the gold chased work
+on the guard shone bright.
+
+"Know," he said proudly, "that from this weapon we Longswords take our
+name. This is 'Trenchefer,' passed from father to son, so far as
+memory may reach to the days when our house came down from the
+Northland with Duke Rollo, and hewed away our duchy from the weakling
+Emperor. Never has a Longsword carried this blade and endured
+captivity. Never has a hostile hand gripped its hilt; never has a
+first-born of my race"--Richard held his head still higher--"lacked a
+first-born who could not toss it like a twig." And he brandished the
+great gleaming blade on high. "As for these strange characters, they
+say they are an incantation, pagan no doubt, but it still holds good:
+a rune-song, they call it, which makes Trenchefer cut iron like wool
+and steel like fagots. Here in the hilt is the reliquary, set there by
+my pious grandfather to destroy the sin of the spell, and make it
+stronger; here is a tooth of St. Matthias, and a clot of the blood of
+St. Gereon the Martyr. All his life my father has borne this, and
+never yet has Trenchefer failed in the sorest need. Now that my father
+is old, and I a belted knight, I have taken Trenchefer to bear until
+my own first-born can wield it worthily."
+
+Mary stepped beside him, took the hilt in both her little hands, and
+made shift to raise the great sword. It was very heavy. The blood
+mounted to her cheeks; she smiled, but bit her lips, and made a mighty
+effort. Once she raised the blade, then dropped it with a clang, and
+laughed merrily.
+
+"_Eu!_ Sir Richard," she cried in Greek, "what a pretty toy for a maid
+like myself! I will let you always swing it for me."
+
+"It is not heavy," quoth the Norman, his iron wrist tossing it
+lightly.
+
+"Not heavy!" was the reply. "You Franks are born, I half think, in
+armor; slaying is to you a pleasant art."
+
+"And why not, sweet lady?" answered the other, seriously. "Is there
+anything better befitting a brave gentleman, after a noble life, than
+to be rocked to sleep in a fair battle with the swords clinking merry
+music above, and angels to convoy his soul?"
+
+But at this moment De Valmont, who had stood by gnawing his mustachios
+all this while, stepped up and took the sword out of Richard's hand.
+
+"Assuredly, Sir Richard," said he, holding up the sword, though truth
+to tell he found it nothing easy, "you have here a mighty weapon. You
+will be the thirteenth of Charlemagne's twelve peers, and contest the
+captaincy with Roland's self." He sheathed the sword, and laughed
+dryly.
+
+There was no need for any special wits to see that Louis was seeking a
+quarrel at last.
+
+"I trust it will be found keen enough to satisfy any who question
+_now_ my knighthood," came back the hot retort. But Mary intervened
+with haughty mandate:--
+
+"Sir Louis! Sir Richard! what is this in my presence? How often have I
+bidden you be friends, if you would keep my favor! Must you brawl
+under my very eyes?"
+
+"I cry pardon of Sir Richard," began the Provençal, feeling he had
+made a misstep; but Longsword cut him short.
+
+"And I grant none; but this is no place. Let us begone!"
+
+"I warn you!" cried De Valmont, in black fury, "if we meet, but one
+shall ride away. Hitherto you have crossed swords with weaklings, and
+I give you a proverb, 'Amongst the blind, the one-eyed man is king.'"
+
+"And I return proverb for proverb," blazed back the Norman: "'It is
+well to let the sleeping dog lie.' Let God judge if I have sought this
+quarrel!"
+
+"Sirs," commanded Mary Kurkuas, with her haughtiest gesture, "get you
+gone both, nor return till this strife be ended!" And she pointed
+towards the door.
+
+Richard collected himself with a mighty effort.
+
+"I obey, lady," was all he said; while he bowed, kissed the hem of her
+mantle, and stalked out of the palace. De Valmont did not follow him,
+but stood staring darkly about, as though wanting half his wits.
+
+"Sir Louis," repeated the princess, still at her lordly poise, "did
+you not hear what I said?"
+
+"Ah! _Dona!_ beautiful mistress!" cried the Provençal, half
+threatening, half entreating; "what words are these? Depart? Will you
+dismiss me? By St. Martin, I swear life will be all night without you!
+Oh, pity, favor me; have mercy on my distress!"
+
+Mary looked upon him, and saw that half his profession sprang from his
+troubadour gallantry; but the rest--the mad light in his eyes proved
+how genuine!
+
+"Give me your hand!" raged on De Valmont, half beside himself. Then
+with a step nearer--"No, not your hand, your lips!"
+
+Mary flushed in turn with her anger; quail she did not.
+
+"Sir Louis, recollect yourself," she commanded sternly; "let what has
+slipped you be forgotten. I repeat--depart, or I call my father's
+servants; and come not again, until your quarrel with Richard
+Longsword be ended."
+
+"Then, by Christ's wounds, I will have his life!" roared the Provençal
+with a great oath, and tore out of the room, leaving Mary quaking amid
+hysteric laughter.
+
+When Manuel Kurkuas heard what had passed, he grew very grave.
+
+"Enemies they have been since first they met here at Monreale," was
+his comment, "and now I fear they will strike friendship only in
+heaven, unless," he added dryly, "their sins be such--and they are
+many--they will perchance meet elsewhere."
+
+So his daughter spent the remainder of the day in no little
+trepidation and sorrow; for it was no pleasant thing to feel that two
+gallant gentlemen, for whom she had cared much, were to risk immortal
+souls, perhaps on her account. About noon the next day, Sylvana came
+to her gleefully with the whole story.
+
+"_Ei_, my lady," chattered she, "all Palermo is talking of it, and
+Bardas has brought me all they say. It is told that this morning Sir
+Richard went to the Cathedral, and confessed to a priest and received
+the host; then he set hand on a box of holy relics and swore something
+secret, but doubtless terrible. A little later, lo! in comes Sir Louis
+and does the very same. Then right in the porch of the church they
+came face to face, and Sir Louis broke out with revilings terrible to
+hear, and finally cried, 'You are not an equal fit to kiss my cheek;
+"villain" you are, or little better, who should kiss my spurs!'
+Whereupon Sir Richard gave him a great box on the ear, which nearly
+knocked him down, crying, 'This is the kiss I give you!' And then and
+there they would have drawn, but other gentlemen dragged them asunder
+by main force, and took them to Count Roger, who, when he found he
+could not compose their quarrel, demanded of each his knightly word
+that they would remain apart until the great tourney, which will be
+when the envoys from the Egyptian emperor come. Then the two will
+meet, and Our Lady guard their lives!"
+
+Mary Kurkuas did not sleep soundly that night. Often as the dreams
+came to her, they took form of champions in armor, charging, charging,
+ever charging! And when she awoke, it was with the last words of De
+Valmont ringing in her ears, "By Christ's wounds, I will have his
+life!" A long time after all the palace was still, she arose, lit a
+taper, and knelt before a stiff little Byzantine painting of the Holy
+Mother that was by her bedside.
+
+"O pure and blessed Lady," she prayed, "have mercy on me! Have mercy
+on them both! I have sinned in leading them on so madly; they have
+sinned in loving me so madly! Oh, pity, mercy; have compassion on us
+all!"
+
+So ran her prayer. After a while she was a little comforted, and fell
+into troubled sleep.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+HOW IFTIKHAR SPED A VAIN ARROW
+
+
+News from over the sea,--from Italy! News that set old Sebastian
+declaiming, and wandering about all day with a mad fire in his eyes
+and a verse from Isaiah the prophet on his lips. For it was bruited
+abroad that a wonderful pilgrim had come from the East, Peter of
+Amiens, once a noble and a warrior, but one who had forsworn the world
+and gone to the Holy City to expiate his sins. Now he had returned,
+and stood before Pope Urban with messages from the down-trodden
+Patriarch of Jerusalem; also with a marvellous tale,--that Christ had
+appeared in vision to him, and bidden him summon the soldiers of the
+West to the deliverance of the City of God. And the Holy Father had
+believed, and given him letters bidding all men hear him and obey. Nor
+was that all. There was a great council of the Church soon to convene
+at Plaisance to move all Italy to go against the infidel; and if Italy
+were too sunken in her civil strifes and unknightly commerce, the Pope
+had sworn he would appeal to his own people, the French--"bold
+cavaliers so dear to God."
+
+When Sebastian heard this tale, brought by a Genoese, he was all
+eagerness to take the next ship for Marseilles with Richard. "It was
+the acceptable day of the Lord; who was not for Him was against Him:
+beware lest the laggards endure the reproach of Deborah upon Reuben,
+that abode by his sheepfold, and Dan, who remained in his ships." But
+Richard only swelled with desire to see De Valmont prone upon the
+sands; and Musa smiled in his soft manner, saying, "Have not you
+Franks broils enough among yourselves, that you must seek Jerusalem?"
+Whereupon Sebastian had cried, "Ah! Child of the Devil, you seek to
+pluck away Richard's soul; but every night I wrestle with God in
+prayer, beseeching God He will sever this unholy friendship. And my
+faith does not fail!"
+
+Musa gave no answer; silence was the stoutest armor against the
+churchman.
+
+Presently all thoughts of Italy and France were chased from mind by
+the coming of the long-awaited embassy from the Egyptian kalif to
+Palermo. A great and splendid embassy it was, headed by no less a
+person than Hisham, son of Afdhal, vizier to the kalif Abul Kasim.
+There were long trains of stately Abyssinian eunuchs and negro
+guardsmen in gay liveries; a mighty glitter of scarlet and purple
+caftans, jewel-decked turbans, gold-sheathed cimeters, a present of
+dazzling gems for the Count and the Countess. The echo of the
+earthquake in France and Italy had been heard in Africa, and the kalif
+had been anxious to forestall the joining of the redoubtable Sicilian
+Count to the Crusade by early display of friendship. Then, too, it was
+told that the kalif had especial love for Count Roger, because in
+crushing the Sicilian emirs he had only chastised rebels, who had a
+little earlier cast off their fealty to the Cairo Emperor.
+
+And Count Roger, bound to do his guests full honor, sent out his
+heralds over the length and breadth of Sicily, proclaiming a grand
+tournament. Forth went the messengers "crying the tourney," till their
+mules were dust-covered and their voices cracked. To the remotest
+Norman castle and Saracen village in the mountains they went, and man
+and maid made ready their best, and counted the days; for the Count
+had ordered there should be games and combats for Christian and Moslem
+alike.
+
+The days sped slowly for Mary Kurkuas. De Valmont and Longsword were
+bound by pledge to Count Roger not to wait on her till after the
+tourney. Bitterly Mary reproached herself for her folly. Did not all
+Palermo know how she had given her glove to De Valmont? And Richard?
+Why had she held that cup to his lips that night at Cefalu? Mere
+gratitude? Was not that repaying her preserver with more than
+friendship? And was she not willing to pay? Such her questions--never
+answered. Poor little Countess Blanche, Count Roger's daughter, soon
+to be exiled as given in marriage to the king of Hungary, would have
+laughed with glee to have two such gallant cavaliers joust with her
+name on their lips. But Mary's heart told her that it was very wrong.
+Her father's health failed fast; she was filled with foreboding. Musa
+and Iftikhar were the only visitors at Monreale now. Musa was ever the
+same,--gentle, sweet-voiced, courtly, never unduly familiar. Iftikhar
+at times swelled with a passion that nearly betrayed him; but Mary was
+too accustomed to ardent lovers to take alarm. Yet at times, to her
+dismay, she saw he really held that their religion was no barrier
+between them, and that he would gladly have stood on equality with
+Richard and De Valmont. One day it befell that the fire in the emir
+nearly flashed out. He had paid a more than commonly florid
+compliment, and Mary twitted him.
+
+"But you Moslems in truth cannot care much for women, for all your
+verses and praise; we are not even granted immortal souls by your
+law!"
+
+"Oh, believe it not," cried the emir, hotly; "for in Paradise the true
+believer will rejoice in the company of all the wives of his mortal
+state!"
+
+"Yes," interposed Musa, with a soft laugh. "He will if he desire them,
+otherwise not; and there are many husbands and many wives!"
+
+The princess saw the frown that swept over the brow of the emir at
+this interference.
+
+"Come, my lord," commanded she, pointing to the lute, "you shall sing
+to me! Sing of love, and mirth, and laughter, for I am in a doleful
+mood to-day."
+
+But Iftikhar only frowned the more.
+
+"O Brightness of the Heart!" he replied gloomily, "I too am not merry.
+Were I to sing, it would be Kalif Rahdi's poem, of which the burden
+runs, 'Man is but the child of woe!' You would not care for such
+melancholy?"
+
+"Assuredly not," laughed the lady. "Then you shall play the minstrel,
+Sir Musa. First you shall tell us of those wonderful poets' gardens in
+your Spain; then you shall sing one of the songs that win the sighs
+and blushes in the harems of Seville or Granada." And she held out the
+lute.
+
+Musa obeyed, tightened the strings, tinkled a few notes, and said in
+his musical, liquid Arabic:--
+
+"Know, O lady, that we Spaniards are not like the Moslems of the East;
+we do not hide our wives and daughters in prison houses. To us
+marriage is born of true love, and he who would win love must be a
+poet; therefore all Andalusians are poets. Would you hear of the
+wooing of my mother? She was the daughter of the emir of Malaga, and
+on the day my father came to her father's court, he saw her in the
+gardens, dancing with her women; and his heart was as fire. Sleep left
+him. Three days he spent in sighs and sorrow, and on the fourth he
+stole under the garden wall and sang his passion: how she was lovelier
+than the Ez-Zahra, 'City of the Fairest'; her voice was sweeter than
+the murmur of the Guadalquiver glancing in the sun; her eyes more
+beautiful than the stars when they twinkle in the lake, and a smile
+from her lips surpassed all wine. Then, on the next night as he sang,
+she answered him in like manner in verse; how her love was strong as
+the Berber lion; his white teeth more precious than pearls; his head
+more beautiful than garlands of roses; and his words cut her heart
+more keenly than cimeters of Murcia. So my father rejoiced, for he
+knew he had won; and went boldly to the emir and demanded his daughter
+in marriage."
+
+"And what are the songs which your poets sing by the Guadalquiver and
+the Darro?" asked the princess.
+
+"Ah, lady," answered Musa, dreamily, "no true poet can sing his
+love-song twice. See; I will wish myself back at Cordova, in the
+orange groves I love so well, and will sing as move the genii of
+song." And the Spaniard ran his hands over the echoing strings, and
+sang in low, weird melody:--
+
+    "Sweet as the wind when it kisses the rose
+                Is thy breath!
+    Blest, if thy lips had but once on me smiled,
+                Would be death!
+    Give me the throat of the bulbul to sing
+                Forth thy praise:
+    Then wouldst thou drink the clear notes as they spring
+                All thy days!
+    Nard of far Oman's too mean for thy sweetness,
+    Eagle wings lag at thy glancing eyes' fleetness;
+    By thy pure beauty, bright gems lack completeness;
+                Lady, ah, fairest!
+
+    Were I a genie, with rapture I'd seize thee;
+                I'd haste away
+    To magic-wrought cavern, all jewelled and golden;
+                There I'd stay
+    While the long glad years with printless feet wheeling
+                Leave no trace,
+    Save only new beauty and soft love revealing
+                In thy face.
+    The speeding of ages would breed us no sorrow;
+    I'd shrink from no past, and dread naught of the morrow;
+    The laugh in thine eyes, that alone I would borrow,
+                Lady, ah, rarest!"
+
+"_Ai_, Sir Musa," cried Mary, when the strings were still, "were you
+Louis de Valmont or even my Lord Iftikhar, I should say in my heart,
+'How much you are my slave!' But to a Spaniard like yourself the
+making of such a song--it means nothing?"
+
+"Nothing," answered the Andalusian, his dreamy eye wandering over the
+marble tracery on the wall above.
+
+The emir broke forth hotly:--
+
+"_Wallah_, you Spaniard, what mean then your pretty songs, your
+chatter of praise and compliment, if they are words, words, and
+nothing more? In the East, whence I come, we thrill, we feel, we make
+no shame to flame with a mighty passion. Aye, and make our deeds match
+our fine words."
+
+Musa laid down the lute, and stared at the emir unconcernedly.
+
+"My good lord," answered he, "do you not know that when I sing love, I
+sing not the love of any one lady? And think not I despise our
+princess--she is peerless among women. Rather I praise that divine
+essence which reveals itself in every bright eye and velvet cheek from
+east to west,--this pure beauty sent down from Paradise by the favor
+of Allah, I adore; and whenever I behold it, its praise I must sing."
+
+"You are trained in the heathen philosophy of your schools of
+Cordova," retorted the emir; "I cannot follow your thought. To me it
+is better to have the taste of one cup of wine than be told of the
+sweetness of ten thousand. Enough; the Count requires me." And he
+arose to bow himself out.
+
+Musa had arisen also, and courteously thrust his right hand in his
+breast, where he murmured the farewell, "Peace be on you."
+
+Iftikhar's answer hung for a moment on his lips, then he gave the
+customary reply among Moslem friends, "And on you be peace, and the
+mercy of Allah and His blessings!"
+
+Mary sighed when the emir was gone.
+
+"You are not gay, dear lady," said the Spaniard; "if I can do aught to
+aid, command me."
+
+Half petulantly the princess caught a sugared cake from the tray by
+the divan and threw it into the fountain, where the greedy fish in the
+basin waited.
+
+"I should be very happy, should I not?" exclaimed she, with a laugh
+not very merry. "See, since I have come to Palermo, here are Richard
+Longsword and De Valmont with blades drawn on my account; the emir
+sighs like the west wind, and is all gloom and restlessness; and you,
+Sir Musa," she went on boldly, "were you to speak out your own heart,
+are wishing them all three dead, that you might have no rival. Holy
+Mother," added she, with half a sob, half a laugh, "I am too much
+loved! What am I, silly girl, that so many brave cavaliers should pawn
+their souls for my poor sake!"
+
+"Sweet mistress," replied the Spaniard, very slowly, flinging a second
+cake into the fountain, "you are wrong. Your friend, your admirer, I
+will ever be. Were we both Christian or Moslem, had I no memories of
+moon-lit nights and sun-lit orchards in Spain--but enough of that!
+Know that I am the sworn brother of Richard Longsword; that he loves
+you purely and honorably; that after the manner of his people he will
+become a great man, whom any lady, be she however high, might love to
+call her lord. And that you may smile on him, is my first and only
+prayer."
+
+Mary's whole face crimsoned at this, for Musa was not now playing the
+poet. There was a ring of command in her voice when she made answer:--
+
+"Sir Musa, I cannot have another say for them what Richard and Louis
+de Valmont may not say to my face. Let us await the tourney. Who knows
+lest your friend will woo no more after that day? I hear--God spare
+them both--that Louis is a terrible knight; he will ride against
+Longsword as though all the fiends were in him."
+
+"They are in the hands of the Most High," said the Andalusian, still
+very gently; "yet, believe me, the Provençal may have ridden down many
+stout knights, and yet not the peer of Longsword. But--" and he in
+turn salaamed, "I have also to hasten. And perhaps even my presence is
+burdensome."
+
+"No," cried the Greek, extending her hands, "come, come often; I have
+too many lovers, too few friends. My father sinks day by day; Christ
+pity me! I am alone in a strange land; I have borne myself foolishly.
+The beauty you sing of is half a curse. If truly you would be my
+friend, and nothing more, do not desert me. I am very wretched."
+
+There were tears in her eyes; her voice choked a little, but she stood
+proud and steady, the great princess still.
+
+Very low was the reverence paid by the Spaniard. He kissed the bright
+rug at her feet; then rising, answered:--
+
+"Star of the Greeks, not you, but Allah who has put enchantment in
+your eyes, has bred this trouble, if trouble it be. But as for me, I
+swear it, by Allah the Great, you shall never call on me in vain!"
+
+"You are a noble cavalier, Sir Musa," said the lady, now all dignity;
+"I thank you."
+
+So the days went by, and it was the evening before the tourney. All
+around Palermo spread the tents, bright pavilions of silk with broad
+pennons above, whipping the slow south wind. The gardens of the Golden
+Shell buzzed with the clatter and hum of a thousand busy squires. In
+the city, every house--Christian, Moslem, or Jewish--was thrown open
+to guests. There were flags at every door and window; and within
+pealed the laughter of feasters, the note of viol and psaltery and
+tabor at the dance. All the house walls without and within were decked
+in tapestries, cloth of gold, and priceless _pail_e and _cendal_ silk,
+some from the looms of Thebes or Corinth, some from the farthest Ind.
+Mixed with these Orient stuffs, the storied Poitou tapestry shook to
+the breeze in long folds, displaying kings and emperors and the legion
+of the saints. Much wagering there was with knight and villain on the
+issues of the day. Many cavaliers of the baser sort had entered,
+merely in hopes to fill their purses by the ransom of defeated
+combatants; most of all, men chaffered over the coming duel between
+Richard and Louis. "Longsword would never stand one round," ran the
+vulgar tongue; "De Valmont had no peer unless it were Iftikhar. The
+saints have mercy on the younger knight in Purgatory!"
+
+As for Mary, she had spent the afternoon in no common vexation. Her
+father was worse, and could not go to the tourney. Countess Adelaide
+had bidden the princess sit with her, but Mary had little joy in the
+prospect.
+
+That evening as she sat with a taper at her reading-desk, the purple
+vellum leaves of George of Pisidia's learned epic brought little
+forgetfulness. While she was staring at the words, Bardas, the
+serving-man, startled her: "The emir Iftikhar to see the gracious
+princess." And without awaiting permission the Egyptian entered. He
+was in his splendid panoply,--gold on the rings of his cuirass, two
+broad eagle wings on his helmet, between them burned a great ruby.
+Under the mail-shirt hung the green silk trousers with their pearl
+embroidery, gems again on the buckles of the high shoes, more gems on
+the gilded sword hilt.
+
+"You are come in state, my lord," said the Greek, while he made
+profound obeisance. "What may I do for you?"
+
+"O lady of excellent beauty," he began abruptly, "will you indeed give
+your hand to him who conquers to-morrow?"
+
+The wandering eye, the flushed cheek, the mad fire of his words--all
+these were a warning. Mary drew herself up.
+
+"You ask what you have no right, my lord," answered she; "I am in no
+way pledged."
+
+Unlucky admission: in a twinkling the emir had moved a step toward her
+and stretched out his arms.
+
+"Oh, happy mortal that I am! O lady with the wisdom of Sukman, nephew
+of Job, the beauty of Jacob, the sweet voice of David, the purity of
+Mary the Virgin! Listen! Favor me!"
+
+"Sir!" cried the Greek, recoiling as he advanced, "what is this
+speech? No more of it. I am Christian, you a Moslem. Friends we have
+been, perhaps to our cost. More than that, never; we part, if you
+think to make otherwise!"
+
+Iftikhar fell on his knees. All the flame of a terrible passion was
+kindling his eyes. Even as she trembled, Mary could admire his
+Oriental splendor. But she did not forget herself.
+
+"I must bid you leave me!" with a commanding gesture. "If our
+friendship leads to this--it is well to make an end!"
+
+"Not so," burst from the Egyptian, still supplicating; "none worship
+you as do I! To me you are fair as the moon in its fourteenth night,
+when the clouds withdraw. For your sake I will turn Christian. To win
+you--" But Mary was in no gracious mood that night.
+
+"Madman," she tossed back, all her anger rising at his importunity,
+"do you think you will buy me with such a bribe? Forswear Mohammed for
+your soul's sake, not for mine! I do not love you. Were I to look on
+any Moslem, why not Musa? he is a noble cavalier."
+
+Iftikhar was not kneeling now. His eyes still flashed. His voice was
+husky; but he mastered it.
+
+"Lady," he said a little thickly, "think well before you say me nay.
+Listen--I am a man of great power among both Franks and Moslem. Were I
+to go to Syria, even higher things await me,--commands, cities,
+principalities," his voice rose higher, "kingdoms even; for you should
+know that I am a chieftain of the Ismaelians, one of the highest
+_dais_ of that dread brotherhood, whose daggers strike down the
+mightiest, and at whose warning kalifs tremble--"
+
+Mary cut him short; her poise grew more haughty. "I do not love you.
+Were you kalif or emperor, I would not favor you. Depart."
+
+"Hearken!" cried the Egyptian, with a last effort; "my breast bursts
+for the love of you; the light of your eyes is my sun; a kiss from
+you--my arms about you--"
+
+But here the Greek, whose face had crimsoned, snatched a tiny baton
+beside a bronze gong.
+
+"Away from me!" she commanded fiercely, as he took an uneasy step
+toward her. "Away! or I sound the gong and call the grooms."
+
+"Woman!" came from his lips hotly, "what is such a threat to me? I
+would have you with your love if I might. But, by the Glory of Allah,
+you I will have, though your every breath were a curse. Your grooms!"
+with a proud toss of his splendid head; "were they ten, what have I to
+fear? I, the best sword in all Sicily, in all Syria, Egypt, and Iran,
+perchance." And he came a step still nearer; and now at last Mary
+began to dread, but still she did not quail.
+
+"I doubt not your valor, my lord," she said very coldly. "But my heart
+and hand are not to be won with a cimeter, as was won that castle
+breach which Musa and Richard Longsword, not you, entered first."
+
+Scarce were the words out of her mouth before terror seized her. For
+in a twinkling Iftikhar had snatched the gong from her reach, and
+caught her wrist in a grasp of iron. She could feel the hot breath
+from his nostrils in her face, see the mad blood swelling the veins of
+his forehead. In her panic she screamed once, and instantly Iftikhar
+was pressing her very throat. In his mighty hands she was dumb and
+helpless as a child.
+
+"Hear me," came from his lips in a hoarse whisper. "I have not come
+hither alone. I had come to bear away the pledge of your love. You
+spurn me. All is provided. My slave Zeyneb is without, and with him
+fifteen men, all armed, hidden in the gardens. What resistance could
+your servants make, were you to cry ever so loudly? My men are
+devotees of our order--would kill themselves at my bidding. A ship
+lies in the harbor at my command. It is night. You are helpless. I
+will carry you aboard. Before morning we are beyond sight of Sicily,
+beyond pursuit. And you are mine, be it in love or hate,
+forever--forever!"
+
+Iftikhar pressed his face nearer. Mary thrilled with horror beyond
+words. She had one thought,--her father, her father.
+
+"To Egypt," Iftikhar was repeating, "to Syria. There is a palace of
+mine at Aleppo, beside which this is a cottage. And it shall be yours
+and you mine. _Allah akhbah!_ How beautiful you are; your lips, a
+kiss--"
+
+But even as Mary's senses reeled, she heard a step, a familiar step,
+and Iftikhar had let her drop from his hands as though her form were
+flame. She caught at a column, steadied herself, and looked upon the
+face of Musa.
+
+The Spaniard was standing in the dim light of the hall, dressed in
+sombre black armor; but the red plumes danced on his helmet. His
+shield was on his arm, naked cimeter outstretched.
+
+"The peace of Allah be with you, fair lady, and noble lord," said
+Musa, bowing in most stately fashion, first to the shivering Greek,
+then to Iftikhar. The Egyptian already had his weapon drawn, but the
+Andalusian did not fall on guard.
+
+"Most excellent emir," continued he, very gently, "Count Roger bids me
+say, if you will go at once to the castle, it will please him well.
+And your men in the gardens shall be no care to you. I have ridden
+from Palermo with forty lancers, who will give them all good company
+on return."
+
+Night was never blacker than the frown of the Egyptian, when he
+replied huskily: "And, Sir Spaniard, why does Count Roger favor _you_
+with bearing me his orders? And why come you here unbidden, with
+cimeter and target?"
+
+"Because," answered Musa, his brow too darkening, "I know too well why
+the Commander of the Guard is here." Then, more sternly, "And that I
+have come barely in time--praise be to Allah--to save him from a deed
+at which the very jinns of hell would cry out!"
+
+He took a step closer to Iftikhar, and the two blades went up
+together. But Mary sprang forward, with the cry:--
+
+"Not as you live! You shall not. Would you kill my father by fighting
+here, and for me?"
+
+Musa let his point fall, and bowed with courtly ease.
+
+"You say well, Star of the Greeks. The emir will speak with me
+elsewhere."
+
+Iftikhar made no attempt to conceal his rage.
+
+"Cursed be you and all your race! What enchanter has told you
+this--has humiliated me thus?"
+
+"You ask what I may not tell," and Musa smiled in his gentle way.
+"Enough, I was told all that was in your heart, about an hour
+since,--the ship, the men, the design. Count Roger also knows; and, my
+lord, he has been none too well pleased with your faithfulness of
+late. I have come with forty given me by the Count. They do not know
+their errand; they are to move at my nod. Ride back with me to
+Palermo, my lord, and pledge me your word, by Allah the Great, said
+thrice, that you will not molest Mary Kurkuas so long as you remain in
+Sicily, or--"
+
+"And if I will not--" broke from the raging emir.
+
+"Then, my lord, I shall carry you to the castle in fetters. My men are
+also without--" Iftikhar had half started upon the Spaniard, swinging
+his cimeter. "Never!" came between his teeth. Musa beckoned away Mary
+with his own weapon. "To your father!" he commanded. But the Egyptian
+let his point sink. "Allah make you feel the fire of Gehennah!" was
+his curse. "I am trapped, I will swear."
+
+"Then, my lord, saving Count Roger, and the lady, and myself, none
+shall ever know of this," said Musa softly, and he pointed with his
+cimeter to the doorway. Iftikhar repeated the great oath--the most
+terrible among Moslems--thrice; bowed to the Spaniard; made a profound
+salaam to Mary; the samite curtains in the passage closed behind him;
+his footfalls died away; he was gone. Musa bowed in turn:--
+
+"Allah is merciful, dear lady. Do I prove a faithful cavalier?"
+
+"Ah, Sir Musa!" cried Mary, still faint and weak, "God requite you. I
+offer you all I have, except love--and could I give that, it were mean
+repayment."
+
+Musa's plumes almost brushed the pavement as he again saluted.
+
+"I may not tell how I learned of this plot. I was warned secretly by a
+strange Arabian woman, who required of me solemn oath not to reveal
+her. To her, owe the thanks! But my mistress's words are more precious
+than as if each syllable were treasures of gold; the praise, flashed
+from her eyes, beyond gems; her voice sweeter than all the
+nightingales of Khorassan. I am well repaid."
+
+He, too, departed. Mary stood long clinging to the pillar, now
+shivering, now laughing. What had she not escaped? When might she
+forget the unholy desire on the emir's face when he departed? Had he
+indeed forsaken his passion for her forever?
+
+"St. Theodore," she cried with a sad, wild laugh, "I am cursed with
+too much love!"
+
+Then she went to her father.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+HOW TRENCHEFER DROVE HOME
+
+
+November sixth; feast of St. Leonard, the warrior hermit; third hour
+of the morning. In the monastery church the monks were chanting
+"terce" to an empty nave. When the muezzins climbed their minarets to
+bid all Moslems "come to prayer," few heard. Mary Kurkuas sat in the
+pavilion of Countess Adelaide, viewing the lists and wondering if even
+the vision of the Golden Horn and Constantinople might be more fair.
+The lists were set in the broad plain betwixt the city and Monte
+Pellegrino, the loftier western height of Castellaccio and Monte
+Cuccio. All about lay the matchless country--Palermo, its masses of
+white buildings crowned with gilded minarets; the blooming "Golden
+Shell" a sea of olive trees, palm, fig, orange, running down to that
+other sea of emerald; and in the background rocks of saffron topped by
+the broken peaks beyond.
+
+Against the stout wooden barriers with pointed palings, pressed and
+jostled a vast swarm of city folk,--Greek, Frank, Arab, Jew,--their
+busy tongues making babel. Within the barriers, but behind the low
+inner fence, loitered the impatient squires, splendid in bright
+mantles and silvered casques, ready, the instant conflict joined, to
+rush to the _mêlée_, and drag dismounted combatants from under the
+horses. But for the ladies--"the stars of the tourney"--were set shady
+pavilions,--wooden lodges, brightly painted, flag-covered. Now their
+rising tiers of seats were filled by a buzzing throng, rustling their
+silken mantles and satin bleaunts. And the sun was glancing on many a
+gemmed fillet and many a ribbon-decked, blond tress that fell nigh to
+its proud owner's knees. These on the western side. On the eastern
+fluttered gauzy veils, feathery fans, blazing brocade of Mosul, and
+kerchiefs of Kufa. Dark eyes flashed from beneath the veiling. But
+Moslem watched Christian in peace. A clang of trumpets was drifting
+down the wind--the tourneyers were coming from Palermo.
+
+Fifty viols braying in the hands of marching Frankish _jongleurs_;
+fifty Egyptian timbrels clattering; kettledrums, northern horns;
+heralds in blue mantles, Christian and Moslem side by side--the
+combatants two abreast--Norman, Provençal, Sicilian, Arab, Egyptians
+of the embassy,--a goodly company; gold on every Toledo hauberk,
+silver on each bit and bridle; a trailing pennon on every lance, save
+when a prouder banner streamed--the silken stocking of some fair dame,
+gift of love to her chosen cavalier. So the procession entered. Behind
+them trailed a new horde of common folk who had come from watching two
+blindfolded varlets chase a pig in a ring; these, too, now pressed
+against the palings, peering and edging for a glimpse within. Then,
+while the actual combatants rode to the tents at either end of the
+lists, two cavaliers--Count Roger de Hauteville and Prince Tancred,
+his nephew--came to take seats in the Countess's lodge; for they were
+judges of the games.
+
+A lordly cavalier was the Sicilian count despite threescore years and
+more; fire still in his blue eyes, command and power in his voice;
+worthy suzerain of so fair an isle. At his side stood his
+nephew,--stranger as yet to Mary Kurkuas; but at once she noted his
+flaxen hair and crafty "sea-green" eye, and stature above that of
+common men. She was told he had fame as the most headlong cavalier in
+all south Italy; but she little dreamed what deeds God destined him to
+dare. Very ceremonious was the Prince, when he saluted the Greek lady.
+He spoke her own tongue fluently, and never in Constantinople had she
+met a gentleman more at his ease in courtly company. Their talk ran
+soon to the tourney and the combatants.
+
+"I wish you joy, fair princess," protested Tancred; "not often may any
+lady see two stouter champions ride with her name on the lips of
+both!"
+
+Mary shook her head.
+
+"Would God they might do anything else! They tell me Sir Louis has
+sworn to have Sir Richard's life; and the Auvergner is a terrible
+cavalier."
+
+Tancred shot a glance keen as an arrow. Did he know that Mary's heart
+would ride with one of the train and not with the other?
+
+"Spare him your tears," was the answer. "Louis de Valmont is a famous
+knight; but I do not think he will down Richard Longsword in one
+joust,--or in seven."
+
+"St. Basil spare both--and forgive both!" was the unuttered reply. But
+she asked, "Yet I saw neither among the combatants?"
+
+"True; both protested they could not meet in the regular tourney and
+take the required oath to fight solely to gain skill. Fight on the
+same side they will not; therefore they will come forward when the
+general games end." Tancred was cut short by a word from the Count.
+
+"See, my princess--a cavalier asks your favor."
+
+None other than Musa had reined before the pavilion on a prancing
+white Berber. His plain black mail fitted his fine form like a
+doublet. His mettled horse caracoled under his touch with a grace that
+made a long "Ah!" come from betwixt more than one pair of red lips.
+His glance sought the Greek.
+
+Mary rose deliberately; long since had she learned not to dread the
+public eye.
+
+"See, Sir Musa," cried she, loosing the red ribbon from her neck.
+"Wear this in the games and do me honor!" More than two heads had come
+together.
+
+"Has De Valmont a new rival?" ran the whisper. But Mary knew her
+ground.
+
+"Your reward for service untold," she tossed forth; and only the Count
+and two more knew what her words implied. Musa caught the ribbon with
+a flourish of his lance; pressed it to his lips, then wound it deftly
+around the green, peaked cap which he wore Andalusian fashion in lieu
+of turban.
+
+"You honor a gallant cavalier," said the Count, applauding. "I offered
+him much to join my service; but he listens to the proffers of the
+Egyptian envoys."
+
+"Look!" came Tancred's voice; and Mary saw Iftikhar Eddauleh, on a
+dappled Arabian and in his panoply of the night before, come plunging
+down the lists. Abreast of Musa he drew rein in a twinkling, and the
+two riders came together so close that no other might hear the words
+which flew between them. But ten thousand saw Musa's hand clap to
+hilt, and Iftikhar's lance half fall to rest.
+
+"Holy Mother--keep them asunder!" was Mary's whispered prayer.
+
+Count Roger had risen.
+
+"Sirs--what is this? Brew quarrels under your lady's very eyes? Go
+apart, or I forbid you to ride in the games." Iftikhar bowed his
+head,--in no very good grace, it seemed,--and cantered sulkily to the
+upper end of the lists.
+
+"I fear Iftikhar Eddauleh and I must soon seek other masters,"
+remarked the Count to Tancred, in Mary's hearing. "Rumor has it, he
+has dealings with the Ismaelians. He grows haughty and insubordinate.
+A good captain and a matchless cavalier; yet I shall not grieve to see
+him return to the East."
+
+But now the Christian heralds were calling on the Normans and
+Provençals to range themselves in two companies and do battle, after
+the rule of that knightly paragon, Geoffrey de Preully,--"for the love
+of Christ, St. George, and all fair ladies." Of the passage at arms
+that followed, needless here to tell. Many a stout blow was struck
+despite blunted weapons; ten good knights fell senseless from their
+horses; the squires took up two dead; sent for a priest to anoint a
+third. Before the fray ended, little Countess Blanche and her ladies
+had fluttered and shrieked till wild and hoarse. They had torn off
+ribbons, necklaces, lockets, bracelets, and tossed forth madly
+"gauntlets of love" to favorite cavaliers, until they sat--or stood
+rather--dressed only in their robes and their long, bright hair.
+
+Then came respite, while the lists were cleared for the Saracens'
+games,--for the wise Count suffered no ill-blood to breed by letting
+Christian ride against Moslem. The Egyptian cavaliers took
+part--stately men, in red, silver-embroidered tunics, with blue,
+gem-set aigrettes flashing in their turbans. No less gallant were the
+Sicilian Saracens, and Iftikhar most brilliant of them all. A small
+palm tree was set in the midst of the arena,--the trunk bronze, the
+leaves one sheen of gold-foil. A silver dove dangled from a bough, in
+the bill a golden ring. Then the Arab heralds proclaimed that each
+horseman should ride in turn, catching the ring upon his lance; and he
+who once failed should not try again.
+
+So they rode, twenty or more. The first round none missed; three in
+the second; and so till the ninth, when there were but two,--and these
+Iftikhar and Musa the Andalusian.
+
+"Beard of the Prophet!" cried Hasham, the Egyptian envoy, who sat at
+the Count's side, "the two are as enchanted. Not in all Egypt--in all
+Syria and Khorassan,--such horsemen!"
+
+"And the All-wise alone knows," responded the Count, "which of the two
+be the better! Yet I wish any save these two were contending. See!
+Again!"
+
+And the twain rode many times; till Mary, whose cheeks were very hot
+and eyes very bright, forgot to count the rounds. At last a shout:--
+
+"Iftikhar fails!" The ring was still in the dove's mouth. Musa swung
+lightly his horse; dropped lance-point, dashed at the tree at a
+gallop, fleet as the north wind, amid a cloud of dust; but as he flew
+down the lists a mightier shout was rising. The ring glittered on his
+spear. The Count placed the prize in Mary's hand, when the heralds led
+the victor to the judges' lodge.
+
+"Sir Musa," said she clearly, while he knelt and she fixed the
+diamond-studded aigrette upon his cap, "you have so ridden that all
+your friends grow proud. May it be ever thus!"
+
+"Could each gem be a thousand," answered the Spaniard, in his musical
+accent, "they were less precious than your words to-day."
+
+"There spoke the true cavalier of Spain!" cried Count Roger, who loved
+Moslems so that priests grumbled he dissuaded them from Christianity.
+And Hasham added, "Verily, the efreets bewitched the Almoravide when
+he exiled such a horseman!"
+
+"By the brightness of Allah!" replied Musa, with a sweeping bow to the
+ladies, "who could not ride through a thousand blades with such gaze
+upon him!"
+
+The Andalusian started to ride slowly back to his station, when the
+Count summoned him again.
+
+"Sir Musa, all is not smooth between you and Iftikhar Eddauleh. In the
+game to follow I desire that you ride on the same side. I will not
+have you meet. What were those words between you?"
+
+The Spaniard's teeth shone white when he answered:--
+
+"Bountiful lord, the emir deigned to tell me that if ever we met face
+to face and naught hindered, I would do well to commend my soul to
+Allah."
+
+"And you?"
+
+"Made answer that the secrets of Allah were hid, and no man knows
+whether the Book of Doom assigns death to Iftikhar or to Musa when
+they meet; as Musa for his part prays they may."
+
+"Mad spirits!" laughed Roger; "but I cannot have more than De Valmont
+and Longsword sacrifice themselves to-day. Your word that you will not
+seek Iftikhar's mischief in the games!"
+
+"Given, my lord."
+
+"Good!"--then to an attendant knight, "Send the emir to the pavilion."
+
+But the emir had withdrawn himself, and was not to be found, until
+amid the clash of Eastern music the arena was cleared and the Moslem
+game of the wands began. The ten riders who had contended best for the
+rings were drawn up, five against five. Light round targets were
+brought them, and in the place of pointed lances, long brittle reeds.
+He who failed to break his reed on an opponent's target, when they
+charged at gallop, fell out of the game, unless his rival fared no
+better. Iftikhar Eddauleh and Musa were arrayed on the same side, with
+three combatants between. The Count had seen the shadow flit across
+Mary's face, and reassured: "They will not meet unless the other eight
+are worsted before either of them--and that can scarcely be; for all
+are great cavaliers."
+
+Then the kettledrums boomed, while the ten dashed together. A fair
+sight, without the bloodshed of the Christians' tourney. As each rider
+swept forward after breaking his reed, he dashed on past attendants
+standing with a sheaf of unbroken lances, dropped his shivered butt,
+snatched another, and spurred back to the contest. The horses caught
+their masters' spirit, and threw up their heels merrily as they flew
+on charge after charge. Well matched were all; only on the seventh
+round did an agile Sicilian, by a quick crouch in the saddle, elude an
+Egyptian's reed while fairly breaking his own. The dust rose high. The
+horses panted. One by one the combatants dropped out. At last, after
+the multitude had howled and cheered till weary, the dust cloud
+settled, and revealed that of one party of five not one remained
+contesting; of the other, side by side sat Musa and Iftikhar Eddauleh.
+
+The great Count shook his head, and Mary had little joy. They at least
+knew what fires would spur on the emir, when he rode; but to deny the
+crowd their sport would have meant riot,--nay, bloodshed,--what with
+their thousands standing on the benches, pressing the palings, shaking
+earth and air with tumult. The two contestants mounted new horses and
+sat face to face; behind each stood an attendant with the sheaf of
+reed lances. Count Roger swept his eye over the lists.
+
+"Ha! who is that dwarfish fellow behind the emir?" demanded he; and a
+knight beside answered:--
+
+"Zeyneb, Iftikhar's body-servant and shadow."
+
+Roger did not need to see the cloud that spread on Mary's face.
+"Holla!" cried the Count, "_he_ is not admitted to the lists! A
+venomous cat, I hear." A new roar from the benches drowned his voice.
+The two had charged amid deafening din. Three times past, and the
+reeds fairly broken; four times,--never drawing rein,--the emir broke
+only by a great shift; five times, both shivered fairly; sixth time,
+the Egyptian shattered only his tip, which still dangled from the
+butt.
+
+"The Spaniard wins!" cried a thousand throats. But the emir had
+spurred by, dashed up to his attendant, snatched lance, wheeled
+instantly, and thundered back, Musa flying to meet him.
+
+"Ho!" trumpeted the Count, leaping up, "Iftikhar's lance! See!" In a
+twinkling the lists rang as never before. The Spaniard reeled in his
+saddle; his target flew in twain; he clapped his right hand to his
+shoulder and drew it away--blood!
+
+Prince Tancred had bounded into the arena.
+
+"Felony!" his shout; "the emir had a pointed weapon. Sir Musa is run
+through. Physicians--aid!"
+
+A dozen squires and grooms buzzed around the Spaniard, making to lift
+him from his horse. He sat erect--dispersed them with an angry
+gesture.
+
+"Nothing--_Bismillah!_ The lance turned as it split the target. My
+side was grazed, and a little blood drawn--it is nothing!"
+
+"Lead Iftikhar Eddauleh this way," raged Tancred, his green eyes fired
+with his wrath. The emir had deliberately ridden back unbidden. From
+the benches came countless curses and jeers--Frankish and Arabic; he
+heeded none.
+
+"What is this doing of yours?" demanded Tancred, very grave. "You rode
+with a pointed lance--no reed."
+
+The Egyptian drew himself up very proudly.
+
+"By the soul of my father!" swore he, outstretching his hand to Musa,
+"all men saw we were riding madly, and paying little heed to what was
+thrust in our hands. Just as we struck, I saw the steel--too late. A
+pointed lance must have been hidden in the reeds. Allah be praised,
+you are not slain!"
+
+"This is not easy to believe," began Tancred. Musa cut him short:--
+
+"I accept his oath--I am not disabled. Ride again!"
+
+He cantered to his stand at the head of the lists. Tancred returned to
+the Count.
+
+"Where is Zeyneb, the emir's dwarf?" demanded Roger.
+
+"By Our Lady," cried the Prince, with a glance--"gone!"
+
+"After him!" thundered Roger. "His was felony or foolishness, best
+paid by hanging. Lay him by the heels!"
+
+Men-at-arms rushed away; but in neither the multitude nor the city
+found they Zeyneb.
+
+The two rode once more--met; broke fairly. Men heard their voices for
+an instant raised high--curse and defiance, doubtless. Who might say?
+A second time--all eyes following. Mary saw the Spaniard swing nimbly
+in his saddle. The emir's lance overshot harmlessly; his own snapped
+fairly on the target. Another mighty shout--Musa had won!
+
+"Again I wish you glory!" said Mary, as she fixed a second diamond
+aigrette on the cap of the kneeling Spaniard. "May God ever guard you
+as now, and let you shed glory on your friends!" But this last was in
+a tone few around might hear.
+
+"And I protest," replied Musa, no louder, "I crave no honor greater
+than that of serving you."
+
+Mary blushed. She knew the Andalusian meant all he said; yet she was
+not afraid, as she had been if Iftikhar or De Valmont had so spoken. A
+page served Musa courteously, bringing him a basin of perfumed water,
+towels of sweet white linen, and a goblet of cool Aquillan wine. Then
+he sat with the Count and his party during the noon interval,
+protesting that Iftikhar had given him but a slight bruise which
+needed no stanching, though Mary feared otherwise. Very tolerantly he
+listened to the tale of Gerland, militant Bishop of Girgenti, how in
+his diocese he had turned his cathedral into a castle--the unbelievers
+being so many. The squires brought fruit and cakes and wine. The Greek
+monks--Cosman and Eugenius--whom Count Roger patronized for their
+poesy, sang a new hymn in honor of the Blessed Trinity; an Arab rival
+presented a tale in verse of the Count's late raid to Malta, and so
+the hour passed. The multitude scattered a little, but did not
+disperse. The best wine had been kept till the last. What were blunted
+swords or riding with reed lances, beside a duel betwixt gallant
+knights under their lady's very eye; swords whetted, and
+life--perchance soul--at stake!
+
+Mary found her heart beating fast. The moments crept slowly. People,
+she knew, were staring at her,--pointing, whispering her name. Sweet
+no doubt to feel that scarce a young knight but would nigh give his
+right hand for a gracious speech from her, hardly a woman but would
+almost pawn hope of heaven to sit in her place! But when the pure
+heart of the Greek turned to her dying father and the gallant
+gentlemen who were hazarding body and soul on her account,--even the
+bright sun shone darkly.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Richard Longsword had watched the tourney from a lodge at the northern
+end of the lists beside his fidgeting father and grave-faced mother,
+trying to enjoy the contests and to forget himself in the tale
+Theroulde told, while they waited, of the redoubtable paynim knight
+Chernubles, who could toss four mules' loads like a truss of straw.
+Herbert growled advice in his ear. Sebastian said never a word, but
+Richard knew he had lain all that night before the altar, outstretched
+like a cross while invoking heavenly legions to speed his "spiritual
+son." Only when Musa and Iftikhar contended, Longsword forgot himself;
+thrilled at his friend's peril, rejoiced at his victory, and swore a
+deep, if silent, oath that the emir should not go scatheless on so
+poor excusings.
+
+The interval ended at last--praised be all saints! The heedless
+chatter of the ladies, the braying laughs of the men-at-arms, were a
+little chilled. Slowly a great hush spread across the lists. Richard
+kissed father and mother, wrung Herbert's great scarred paw, and
+vanished in a tent at the northern end of the close. Here waited
+Sebastian and friendly Bishop Robert of Evroult, who brought the Host
+and heard Longsword's confession and shrived him. Richard vowed two
+tall candlesticks of good red gold to Our Lady of the Victory, if all
+went well; made testaments, if the day went ill. "_Dominus absolvat_,"
+the Bishop had said ere the young man rose from his knees. But
+Sebastian was murmuring in his heart, "Oh, if he were but to ride for
+the love of Christ and His Holy City, and not for unchristian hate and
+love of the eyes of a sinful maid!"
+
+Then Musa came to the tent, thrusting all the Cefalu squires aside,
+and himself put on the Norman's hauberk, drew the chainwork coif over
+the head for shield of throat and cheeks, clapped on the silvered
+helm, and made fast the leather laces, till Richard was hid save for
+the flashing of his eyes.
+
+When all was ready they led him out, and Theroulde strode before,
+proud to play the knight's pursuivant. From the end of the lists the
+_jongleur_ sounded his challenge:--
+
+"Ho, Louis de Valmont! Ho, Louis de Valmont! My master awaits you!
+Here stands the good knight, Sir Richard of Cefalu, armed for fair
+battle, ready to make good on his body against cavalier or villain who
+denies that Louis de Valmont is base-born, unknightly, unworthy to
+wear his spurs of gold!"
+
+Whereupon, from the other end of the arena, advanced a second
+pursuivant, Bernier by name, a dapper Provençal in a fantastic blue
+cloak, answering shrilly:--
+
+"Ho, bold man! Who are you that mock Sir Louis de Valmont? He has no
+lance save for his peers."
+
+Then Theroulde threw back, still advancing:--
+
+"So tell your master to be well shriven, for my Lord Richard of Cefalu
+swears he will number him among the saints ere sunset!"
+
+And Bernier paid in return:--
+
+"Foolish crow cawing folly, you are! Not the saints, but the very
+devil, shall be Richard Longsword's company this night!"
+
+But Theroulde was undaunted, and boasted haughtily:--
+
+"My master's sword is trenchant as Roland's 'Durindana'; his strength
+that of all the paladins in one. He is terrible as King Oberon with
+all his magic host!"
+
+So they bandied their vauntings, and the crowd roared in mirth at each
+sally, until two trumpets pealed forth, one from either end of the
+lists, and out from the tents came the combatants in full armor, a
+herald at each bridle. Louis de Valmont was a notable figure, mailed.
+He bestrode a high-stepping white _destrer_, with huge crupper, hair
+like silk, eyes like fire, ears carefully cropped away after the
+French fashion. The high saddle glittered with gilding and chased
+work; the brass knob of the kite-shaped shield on the left arm shone,
+and the steel covering flashed as though of flame. Louis wore a
+hauberk enamelled red, with black wire embroidered into the sleeves;
+but the red crest of his tall helm was brighter than all the rest.
+
+No less bravely panoplied in his white hauberk sat Longsword, but no
+skill of his could give grace to the awkward gait and uncouth form of
+Rollo. A great wave of jeering laughter swept down the benches as the
+black monster passed.
+
+"Ho, steed of Cefalu! Are you an unhorned ox?"
+
+"Defend us, saints! This horse is sired by Satan!"
+
+"His limbs are iron, they drag so heavily!"
+
+These and a hundred more shouts flew out. Men did not see Richard's
+muscles grow hard as steel, and his face set like rock, when he caught
+their mockery; for every insult to the horse was the like to the
+master. But the vows that rose then from his heart boded little good
+to Louis de Valmont; for they were sparks from the anvil of a mighty
+spirit. Neither did he know--as Mary Kurkuas knew--that the most
+battle-scarred knights in the Count's pavilion jeered not, but
+muttered darkly; and Prince Tancred whispered to Roger: "They are
+wrong when they say De Valmont has the better chance. I know a horse
+and a man at sight,--and here are both."
+
+They brought the two knights to the barrier opposite the Count's
+pavilion. Very lightly, though armed, the twain dismounted, and stood
+side by side before their suzerain.
+
+"Sir knights," quoth Roger, soberly, "I like this combat little. You
+do ill, Sir Richard, to seek quarrel with a cavalier of long renown;
+you too, Sir Louis, to press a contest that will breed small glory if
+won, much sorrow if lost."
+
+Before either could reply, Mary Kurkuas arose and spoke also. "Since
+on my account you are at strife, as you love me, I command, even at
+this late hour, put wrath by. Be reconciled, or perchance whoever
+wins, I will forbid you both my face forever."
+
+And Richard, as he looked on those red cheeks, the brown hair blown
+out from the purple fillet and waving in little tresses to the wind,
+nigh felt a spell spread over him,--was half-ready to bow obedient and
+forget all hatred, not to displeasure so fair a vision. But Satan had
+entered into Louis de Valmont's heart, prompting him to answer, hollow
+and fierce, from the depths of his helmet.
+
+"Sweet lady, gracious lord, I am touched in honor. Gladly will I put
+all by with Sir Richard, if only he will confess freely that he spoke
+presumptuously for one of his few years, and was indiscreet in
+affecting to cross a cavalier of my fame in quest of gallantry."
+
+If Louis had been bent on dashing the last bridge of retreat, he had
+succeeded.
+
+"After Sir Louis's words," came the reply from Richard's casque at its
+haughty poise, "I see I need make no answer. Let us ride, my lord, and
+St. Michael speed us!"
+
+The Count frowned upon the Auvergner:--
+
+"Except you call back your words, Sir Louis, I must perforce order the
+combat. Yet you may well seek honorable reconciliation."
+
+"I have offered my terms, my lord," returned Louis; and deliberately
+mounting, he rode to his end of the lists.
+
+Tancred had stepped beside Richard.
+
+"Fair sir," said he, softly, "you are a young cavalier, but a right
+knightly one. Trust in St. Michael and your own stout heart. De
+Valmont seeks your life, but do not fear. And know this: I pass for a
+keen judge of man and maid,--if it is you that conquer, the Princess
+Mary will not greatly grieve."
+
+"Holy Mother, how know you this?" and Richard's hands dropped from the
+bridle. But Tancred only smiled.
+
+"Does a woman speak only with her lips? I saw your sword-play in
+Italy, and learned to love you. And now I tell you this, thinking it
+may make your blade dance swifter. Go, then,--and all the saints go
+with you!"
+
+"Let God judge betwixt them; and let them do their battle!" announced
+Count Roger, gravely, while the combatants were led to their places.
+Before each horse attendants stretched a cord, made fast to posts.
+Others measured two lances of equal length,--lances not blunted, but
+with bright steel heads and little pennons, Louis's with golden
+border; Longsword's, green blazoned with a silver lion. Then a herald
+made sure that neither knight had fastened himself to his saddle.
+
+The attendants scattered from the lists. De Valmont's horse was pawing
+and sniffing uneasily, but Rollo stood firm as a rock. The champions
+sat face to face, featureless, silent as of granite. No chatter now in
+the pavilions. Theroulde broke the stillness with his cry, "Go
+forward, brave son of a valiant father!" And Bernier forced a broad
+jest as he glanced at the ladies, "Joy here to pick out one's wife!"
+
+Richard was very calm. The moment had come. He and Louis de Valmont
+were face to face, under the eyes of Mary Kurkuas. Betwixt his helmet
+bars he could see that wonderful face, the head bent forward, the eyes
+brighter by day than ever stars by night,--at least to him. Holy
+saints! what deed could he not do with that gaze upon him, with the
+love of the Greek staked upon his strong arm and ready eye! "For Mary
+Kurkuas!" That was his battle-cry, though sounded only in his soul. It
+became stiller--he could hear Rollo's deep breathing. Count Roger had
+turned to Bishop Gerland. The prelate rose, held on high a brazen
+crucifix, at which both champions made the sign of the cross with
+their lance points. Four men with hatchets approached the cords before
+the chargers.
+
+"_In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen_," came the
+words slowly; and at the last, Roger signed to the four. "Cut!" his
+command. The axes fell as one. Their sound was hid by the bursting
+tumult. Quick as light the horses caught the greensward with mighty
+strides. Behind, the dust spumed thick. As they flew, each rider swung
+lightly forward, lance level with thigh, shield over the crouching
+chest.
+
+Crash! Both steeds were hurled on haunches, and struggled, tearing the
+ground. The riders reeled, staggered in the saddle. Then with a mighty
+tug at the reins, brought their beasts standing, and rode apart,--in
+the hands of each a broken butt, on the ground the flinders of stout
+hornbeam lances.
+
+Din unspeakable rang along the lists, as the two swung back to their
+stations. No more banter and jeers at Rollo. Old Herbert, whose eyes
+had danced with every gallop, muttered in the ear of poor Lady
+Margaret:--
+
+"Good cheer, sweet lady! The lad is a good lad. Did you see? The
+Auvergner was half slung from the saddle, but Richard met his lance
+like a rock."
+
+They brought new lances to the knights, and, while both waited for
+breath, Bernier came down the lists with his master's message.
+
+"My lord bids me say, fair knight," declared he to Longsword, "that he
+loves good jousting and did not expect so smart a tilt. Yet he warns
+Sir Richard, in fair courtesy and no jesting, he will make this next
+bout Sir Richard's last--therefore, if there be any parting message or
+token--"
+
+Sebastian, who stood by, cut him short.
+
+"Bear this back to Louis de Valmont, the murderous man of sin: It is
+written, 'Let not him that putteth on his armor, boast like him that
+taketh it off.'" And while Bernier was returning, half crestfallen,
+the good cleric was muttering: "Ah, blessed Mother of Pity, spare
+Richard, thy poor child. Make him conscious of his sin--his unholy
+passion, and presumption. Yet--it will be a rare thing to see De
+Valmont on his back. Holy saints--what do I say!"
+
+Again they rode; again the last vision before Richard's eyes, ere
+Rollo shot on the course, was that figure,--white face and brown hair,
+and those eyes upon him. All men knew Louis spurred with Satan behind
+him on the charger. Another shivering crash--more lances broken. When
+they parted, both shields were dinted by the shock. Many heard knights
+cry that the two were riding more madly than ever. A third
+time--behold! Louis de Valmont had been half lifted from his saddle;
+one foot had lost its stirrup; but Longsword sat as a tower. Those at
+the southern end heard the Auvergner cursing his squires and grooms,
+calling for a new horse, and invoking aid of all powers in heaven and
+hell when next he rode.
+
+A great hush again down all the lists. The pursuivants had no heart to
+cry. For a fourth time Richard Longsword and Louis de Valmont sat face
+to face,--and rode. The horses shot like bolts of lightning. The crash
+sounded from barrier to barrier. In the whirling murk of dust one
+could see naught; but out of it all sounded a shout of triumph,--Richard's
+voice: "St. Michael and Mary Kurkuas!" Then while men blinked, the
+dust was settled, and Louis de Valmont was rising from the sand,
+smitten clean from his horse. None beheld his face; but his mad cry of
+rage they heard, as his great sword flashed forth, when on foot he ran
+toward his foe. But lightly as a cat, Longsword had bounded from the
+saddle, faced the Auvergner, whom the tall Norman towered high above;
+and for the first time the multitude saw the sun glint on the long
+blade of Trenchefer. Right before Roger's pavilion, under Mary's eye,
+they fought, leaping in armor as though in silken vest, making their
+huge swords dance in their hands like willow wands. The blade of De
+Valmont rained down blows as of hail upon the bowing sedges. Fury and
+wounded pride sped might through his arm. For a twinkling Longsword
+gave way before his furious onset; as quickly stood firm, paying blow
+for blow. Not for life the Auvergner battled,--for dearer than
+life,--his knightly name. The best lance in the South Country
+dismounted, then mastered by a boy scarce knighted? A thousand deaths
+better! Thrice, all his strength flew with a downright stroke,--a
+smithy's sledge less crushing. But when he smote on Trenchefer the
+steels rang sharp; the blow was turned. From under their helms each
+beheld madness in his foeman's eyes, and flashed back equal madness.
+Richard fought the more slowly, his casque dented and his shield; but
+the Valencia mail was proof. After the first, he yielded not a step;
+and at each blow parried, at each stout stroke paid, the saints, if
+none other, heard him mutter across his teeth: "This, to win Mary
+Kurkuas! This, for the love of the Greek!"
+
+But still the Provençal pressed, and still the Norman held him. Mary
+saw De Valmont's blade shun Trenchefer. His sword half turned as
+Richard attempted parry,--but smote the Norman's helm-crest. Mary
+almost thought she could see the fire-spark leap in bright day. But
+ere she could thrill with dread, Longsword had staggered, recovered,
+returned the stroke. Quick, deep as from huge bellows, heard she their
+breaths. Each moment her heart cried, "All is over!" as some doughty
+blow fell. But it would be parried, or turned on the good mail. On
+they fought,--fought till mild women rose from the benches and shouted
+as not before in that day's mad games; and old cavaliers, who set a
+battle before a feast, stood also with a terrible light in their eyes,
+blessing the saints for showing them such sword-play! As Mary watched,
+her thoughts raced thick and fast: now she longed to laugh, now to
+weep; now only to hear no more of the click and clash of those long
+swords. Would it never end?
+
+But now Prince Tancred was again with his head beside Count Roger.
+"The Auvergner fails!" Men began to cry out that De Valmont no longer
+gave back the Norman's blows; only parried. And, of a sudden, Mary saw
+the iron tower of Richard Longsword, that had stood firm so long, leap
+as with new life. Twice Trenchefer sprang high, and crashed upon De
+Valmont. Twice the Auvergner tottered. Thrice--De Valmont's guard
+shivered as a rush--through shield, hauberk, gorget cleft the Vikings'
+blade. The shield flew in twain. The Provençal fell with a clash of
+mail, and, as he reeled, Mary could see the spout of blood where the
+sword had bitten the shoulder.
+
+The Count was standing. He beckoned to Longsword--tried to speak. One
+mighty shout from Frank and Moslem drowned all else.
+
+"Richard Longsword! Richard of Cefalu!"
+
+All the lists were calling it. The bright mantles and gauzy veils were
+all a-flutter. Richard stood over his adversary, Trenchefer swinging
+in his hand. Again the Count beckoned--still uproar. Roger flung his
+white judge's wand into the arena.
+
+"_Ho! Ho!_" thundered he,--and there was hush at last.
+
+"Sir Richard Longsword," spoke the Count, "you have won after such
+sword-play as I have never seen before. De Valmont's life is yours, if
+still he lives. Yet if you will, kill not--though he promised you
+small mercy. For he is a gallant Cavalier, and proved to-day a mighty
+knight, though no victor."
+
+"And I," returned Longsword, under his helm, "give him his life. Let
+him live--live to remember how Richard of Cefalu humbled him before
+the eyes of Mary Kurkuas!"
+
+So he turned to walk to the end of the lists, but others swarmed about
+him; Musa foremost, who unlaced his casque in a trice, and kissed him
+heartily on one cheek, while Herbert croaked and shed great bull tears
+on the other. Prince Tancred ran down to him, and many nobles more,
+while Baron William and his dame sat very stately in their lodge,
+their hearts full, but saying nothing--a thousand eyes upon them.
+Count Roger had turned to Mary:--
+
+"My princess, I too must speak with this new paladin; and you need
+have no shame to go with me."
+
+The Greek's forehead was very red; but while her words were hanging on
+her tongue, a serving-lad from Monreale touched her mantle:--
+
+"Gracious mistress--my lord, the Cæsar Manuel, is newly stricken, and
+lies very low. He sends for you."
+
+Mary bowed to the Count:--
+
+"My lord, you see it is impossible for me to go to Sir Richard. Yet
+tell him I have prayed long he might have no hurt. And now I must go
+to my father."
+
+So Roger went down alone, and led the great throng that swept around
+the victor as amid the din of harps, viols, and kettledrums uncounted
+they bore him to his tent. Few saw the squires that carried Louis de
+Valmont away. He still breathed. A Saracen physician said he was
+fearfully smitten, but that life was strong within him, and he would
+live. But who then cared for the fate of the vanquished?
+
+They bore Richard back to Palermo in high procession. All the knights
+swore that he had outdone all the cavaliers of the tourney, and must
+receive the chief prize. A great banquet and dance was held at the
+castle; the halls rang with music and the clink of wine-cups; the
+floors shook beneath a thousand twinkling feet. The young knights to
+prove their hardihood danced in the armor worn all day,--chain mail
+jingling in time to the castanets. The _jongleurs_ sang new
+_chansons_; the ladies blazed in brighter silks and velvet; a myriad
+flambeaux flickered over all. Only Mary Kurkuas was not there, nor was
+Emir Iftikhar, delight of the ladies. To Richard and to Musa there
+were homage and flattery enough to addle wiser wits than theirs.
+Richard danced till the morn was paling, despite two great welts on
+his forehead. Two young ladies--"flowers of beauty," the _jongleurs_
+cried--brought to him the prize of honor, a shield set with jewels and
+blazoned with four stripes of gold. Each added to her pleasant words a
+kiss. In truth, not a cavalier's daughter there that night would have
+said nay to Richard Longsword, had he prayed for anything. When at
+full dawn he fell asleep, it was to dream of gallant sword-play,
+throbbing music, and bright eyes, but the eyes were always those of
+Mary Kurkuas.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+HOW IFTIKHAR SAID FAREWELL TO SICILY
+
+
+Richard Longsword spent the winter in Palermo. There had come a letter
+oversea from his grandfather, old Baron Gaston of St. Julien in
+Auvergne, beseeching his daughter to send to France her son, who, fame
+had it, was a mighty cavalier. He was needed to set right his barony,
+for he himself grew weak and his vassals quarrelsome. But though
+Richard's eyes danced when he thought of France, and he won from Musa
+a pledge to postpone any Egyptian service till the new adventure was
+well over, he lingered in Sicily. For the life of Cæsar Manuel that
+winter ebbed fast. In early spring came a stately dromon streaming
+with purple flags, to bear him back to Constantinople, and a great
+letter in vermilion ink sealed with gold, pledging the favor of
+Alexius to his "dear cousin," and entreating his return to the palace
+by the Golden Gate. But on the day the imperial messenger landed, they
+were bearing Manuel Kurkuas to his last rest. The Greek Bishop of
+Palermo was there, also Count Roger, Tancred, and many seigneurs. Then
+when it was over, and Mary had seen all and done all, with the white
+face and dry eyes of those true women who can weep for little things
+but not for great, she found herself alone in the world and utterly
+desolate. The house of Kurkuas had been a decaying stock. Even at
+Constantinople her relatives were distant. Only in Provence, at La
+Haye, dwelt her uncle, whom she had never seen,--brother of her
+long-dead mother. Either she must go to him or return to
+Constantinople, where were many ministers and admirers, but only the
+Princess Anna to be her true friend. Yet Mary would not leave
+Monreale. The Palace of the Diadem was hers. All day long she would
+sit in its twilight courts beside the fountain, reading or trying to
+read, with only Sylvana for companion. When Richard or Musa went each
+day to ask for her, she would send kind greetings; but said she could
+not see them. Sylvana, however, was a wise woman as became her years;
+and one day, behold! Musa was led into the court of the fountain
+unheralded, and the princess must needs speak with him.
+
+"Ah! Sir Spaniard," said she, with a wan smile, "for my father's
+memory I would have bidden you stay away. I am in no mood for your
+songs of the orange groves by the Darro. Yet"--and here flashed forth
+her old arch brightness--"now that Sylvana has circumvented me, I am
+very glad you are here!"
+
+Musa smiled sweetly and gravely.
+
+"Dear lady, would that all your sorrows were but monsters, that I
+might slay them. What may I proffer you,--music? But your heart is too
+heavy. Words? The lips are but unskilful revealers of the soul. And
+mine,"--he added with a sincere glance, "is very full for you."
+
+"Do as you will!" cried the lady, suddenly; "say as you will. Look! My
+father is dead; at Constantinople I have few that love me. What
+matters it what befall me? I am alone--alone; and to whom am I a
+care?"
+
+"Brightness of the Greeks," replied the Andalusian, "say not, you are
+alone; say not, you are a care to none. To me you are a friend,
+and"--he went on quite steadily--"much more than a friend to another."
+
+And Mary looked at him very steadily also, when she replied: "It is
+true. When Richard Longsword comes to me, I will have something to
+say."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Musa rode from Monreale at a racing gallop that afternoon. All the
+staid Moslem burghers stared at him as he pounded up the city streets;
+and just as the sun was sinking Richard Longsword was leaping from the
+steaming Rollo without the gate at the Palace of the Diadem. When
+Bardas led him within, he heard the princess's little wind-organ
+throbbing and quavering. He stood in the court, and saw her bending
+over the keys, while all the silver pipes were ringing. The notes,
+marked red and green on the parchment, were spread before her. Sylvana
+had her hand on the bellows, as her mistress sang the mad old pagan
+chorus of Euripides:--
+
+  "O Eros, O Eros, how melts love's yearning
+    From thine eyes when the sweet spell witcheth the heart
+    Of them against whom thou hast marched in thy might!
+    Not me, not me, for mine hurt do thou smite,
+  My life's heart-music to discord turning.
+    For never so hotly the flame-spears dart,
+    Nor so fleet are the star-shot arrows of light,
+    As the shaft from thy fingers that speedeth its flight,
+  As the flame of the Love-queen's bolts fierce burning,
+    O Eros, the child of Zeus who art!"
+
+Richard stepped softly across the rugs. The bell-like voice died away,
+the organ notes wandered, were still. Mary rose from the music.
+Flushed indeed was her face, but her voice was steady.
+
+"I have sent for you, Sir Richard!" she said. "I am glad you have
+come."
+
+But Richard, foolish fellow, had run to her, and crushed her to his
+breast in his giant arms, and was trying to say something with his
+lips very near to hers. And Mary felt his touch and kiss as blest as a
+heaven-sent fire.
+
+"O sweetest of the sweet!" he was crying, "what have I done that I
+should have such joy? For one such touch from you, I would have beaten
+down a thousand De Valmonts."
+
+"And do you think, Richard," said she, piteously, "that all I love in
+you is this?"--and she pressed her hand around the knotted muscles of
+his arm. Then she began to weep and laugh at once, and they both wept
+and laughed, like the children that they were; and Sylvana smiled
+softly to her sly old self, and bore away the organ.
+
+"And what was in your heart, Mary," cried the Norman, when he found a
+steady tongue, "that night when you held the goblet to my lips at
+Cefalu?"
+
+"And what was in yours when you drank? Oh, I was all madness that
+night. I said to myself, 'Here is the kind of man I would fain be
+born,--with a twinkling eye and an arm like iron.' Had not my father's
+gaze been on me, St. Theodore knows what I would have done! What with
+your head so close to mine, and the wild deeds of the day making us as
+friends for a thousand years! But now," and she began to laugh again
+softly, "you will have to tame me a great deal. I may look a
+wood-dove, but I have the heart of a hawk. It will be a long time
+before I can be content to obey any one;" then with a naughty toss of
+her pretty head,--"even you."
+
+"Ah!" exclaimed Richard, "it is I that need the taming; I, whose wits
+are in my hands, who love the ring of good steel better than all
+Musa's roundelays."
+
+"Let us not settle too much of the future," answered she, pertly; "we
+shall perhaps know each other better as time speeds." So they
+twittered and laughed, till long after the last bird-song had died
+into silence, the last bulbul had folded his weary head under a wing.
+A full moon was overhead when Richard swung onto the back of Rollo.
+His lips were still sweet with the nectar of a warm kiss; the wind was
+just creeping over the orange grove, which was whispering softly. Here
+and there the fireflies flashed out tiny beacons. Rollo threw up his
+great muzzle, and shook his raven mane, as if he knew, rascal that he
+was, of the joy in his master's heart. Then, swift as the north wind
+he flew toward Palermo, and for Richard, as he rode, the night shone
+as a summer's morn.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The gossips at Palermo bandied the tale about, almost before those
+concerned in it knew it themselves. No one marvelled; all said that
+Richard Longsword had fairly won his prize, and Mary Kurkuas would
+never have shame for her lord. Only the Emir Iftikhar communed darkly
+with his own heart, and with certain sworn followers of his in the
+Saracen guard. The good syndic Al-Bakri was a mighty newsmonger. A
+certain neighbor brought him a story; he in turn dealt it out to Musa;
+and the Spaniard gave Richard Longsword strong reasons for wearing
+his Valencia mail shirt under his bleaunt. Baron William had returned
+to Cefalu. But when a letter came from his son, the seigneur sent
+straightway, bidding Richard come home, and bring with him Mary
+Kurkuas, who it was not meet should remain alone, with only Sylvana
+and the serving-men and maids at Monreale. Richard, hasty mortal,
+would have had her to church before setting out. But Mary shook her
+head. The turf was not yet green over the grave of the Cæsar, and she
+owed a duty to her mother's kinsfolk in Provence. If Richard was to go
+to Auvergne, she would go with him to La Haye, the barony of her
+uncle, and there might be the wedding. So with Sylvana as duenna, away
+they went to Cefalu. There dear Lady Margaret opened her heart wide to
+the motherless Greek; and they spent many a merry day, with guests and
+good company coming from far and near to drink at the Baron's board,
+and to pledge the health of "the peerless lady, Mary Kurkuas, the
+fairest of her age in all Sicily and France." Day after day Richard
+and Mary rode forth together; for the Greek was as mad a rider as
+though born on the saddle. The white falcon was on her wrist; they
+chased the luckless quarry over thicket and brake, while Longsword
+laughed as he saw how Mary dashed beside him. And there were long
+evenings, when in the soft gloaming, and no other was near, they could
+sit in Lady Margaret's bower outside the castle walls, with the
+sleeping flowers clinging all about, and a little stream tumbling
+gently in the ravine below. Here every breath was eloquence, every
+word a poem, and the voice of Mary sweeter than Musa's lute. Only
+Mary,--for Richard was all blind these days,--noticed that Musa and
+Herbert were ever watchful; that Musa always insisted that his friend
+wear the Valencia shirt; that even when the lovers rode off seemingly
+alone, there would be Musa or Herbert or Nasr riding within bowshot.
+
+All the castle had opened its heart to Mary,--even Sebastian; though
+the churchman did not capitulate without a struggle.
+
+"Lady," said he once to her, "you Greeks are in peril of your souls.
+You communicate with leavened, not unleavened, bread, for which you
+may all go to perdition; and in your creed you do omit _Filioque_, in
+speaking of the Holy Ghost, which I do conceive is the sin whereof Our
+Lord speaks, saying, 'He that shall blaspheme against the Holy Ghost
+hath never forgiveness, but is in danger of eternal damnation.' And
+for this sin Pope Leo Third had your patriarch excommunicated, and
+delivered over to be buffeted by Satan."
+
+But Mary only answered very gravely:--
+
+"Are not men created in God's image?"
+
+"Certainly, daughter," replied Sebastian, soberly.
+
+"And is Nasr, the abominable devil-visaged Saracen here, a man?"
+
+"A man," began poor Sebastian, wavering, "yet created for--"
+
+"Surely," cried Mary, cutting him short, "God has a strange image, if
+it is like Nasr. Unless, indeed, he be of the race Vergilius the
+heretical philosopher describes: born in the Antipodes, not descended
+from Adam, and for whom no Redeemer died."
+
+"Daughter, daughter," protested Sebastian.
+
+"Do not be angry," came the reply, "only I will answer for my heresy
+when you explain concerning Nasr." And with this Sebastian was content
+to drop the encounter.
+
+Then of a sudden came a day when the even flow of life at Cefalu was
+rudely shaken. Richard and Mary had ridden with some retinue to games
+which Baron William's neighbor, the Lord of Pollina, had been holding.
+The jousts had been hot, though not so fierce as to be bloody. Richard
+had refused to ride, for all the country-side stood in some awe of
+him. Musa had won the hearts of all the ladies, as he ever did, by his
+dashing horsemanship and grace. Evening was beginning to fall. They
+were still two miles from Cefalu, and before them opened a long,
+shaded avenue of holm-oak and cypress, through which shimmered the
+failing light. Mary touched whip to her fleet palfrey. The good horse
+shot forward, and beside her raced Richard, leaving the rest behind.
+They had swung into the avenue, the steeds were just stretching their
+necks for a headlong pace, when lo, as by magic, behind a thicket rose
+three men, and in a twinkling three arrows sped into Longsword's
+breast! The clang of the bow and Mary's cry were as one. But even as
+Richard reeled in the saddle, Musa and Nasr were beside him, at a
+raging gallop. The Norman shivered, sat erect. One arrow was quivering
+in his saddle leather, two hung by the barbs from his mantle.
+
+"You are wounded!" was the cry of the Greek. But Richard put her by
+with a sweep of the hand.
+
+"For me as for you, Musa, this Spanish mail is a guardian saint. The
+arrows were turned. I am unhurt."
+
+"Mother of God!" Mary was crying, all unstrung, "what has befallen
+us!"
+
+But Nasr and Herbert had shot ahead. They could hear horses crashing
+through the thickets; other men plunged in after them on foot. Then a
+great shout, and forth they came, haling two very quaking and
+blackguardly-looking Egyptians, in the hands of one a strong bow.
+
+"By the glory of Allah!" Nasr was swearing, "these men are of the Emir
+Iftikhar's guard. We shall have a tale to tell when next we fare to
+Palermo."
+
+They dragged the wretches into the light. Nasr's identification and
+their guilt were beyond dispute. Their comrade had made his escape.
+But when Musa began to question them as to who prompted their deed,
+they had never a word, only cried out, "Have pity on us, O Sword of
+Grenada; like you, we are Moslems, and we sought an infidel's life!"
+
+"By the beard of the Prophet!" protested the Spaniard, "good Moslems
+you are in truth. Well do you remember Al Koran, which saith, 'He that
+slayeth one soul shall be as if the blood of all mankind were upon
+him;'" and he added cynically, "Console yourselves, perchance you will
+be martyrs, and enter the crops of the green birds in Paradise."
+
+"Mercy, mercy, gracious Cid!" howled the Egyptians.
+
+"Away with them!" cried Richard, who saw that Mary was very pale and
+trembled on her horse. "At Cefalu we have for them a snug dungeon,
+thirty feet underground, with straw beds floating in water. There they
+can recollect, if Iftikhar Eddauleh put this archery in their heads!"
+
+So Herbert and Nasr trotted the prisoners away, strapped to the
+saddles. That night, after Sebastian had said mass in memory of the
+merciful preservation of his "dear son," Baron William and Herbert
+taught the Egyptians how Normans were accustomed to eke out meagre
+memories. They began by sprinkling salt water on the prisoners' feet,
+and letting goats lick it; and then, as Sebastian aptly expressed in
+his Latin, _sic per gradus ad ima tenditur_, they at last called for
+red-hot irons. In this way, though the Egyptians were stupid and
+forgetful at first, in time they remembered how Iftikhar had sent them
+to Cefalu, to do what, except for the Valencia mail, they nearly
+accomplished. They had acted in a spirit of blind obedience, fully
+expecting to be captured and to suffer; and when they heard Baron
+William ordering the gallows, they only blinked with stolid Oriental
+eyes, for they saw that groanings availed nothing.
+
+Very early the next day a messenger flew post haste to Palermo, with a
+formal demand from Baron William that the High Mufti, who judged all
+the Saracens of Sicily, should hear charges against the Emir Iftikhar.
+But the messenger was late. The third assassin had secured a fast
+horse, and outstripped him by half a day. Iftikhar was already out to
+sea, bound, it was said, for Damietta.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+HOW RICHARD FARED TO AUVERGNE
+
+
+Now when the south wind blew gently with the advancing spring, Richard
+set forth for Auvergne. With him went Sebastian, rejoiced to see "that
+very Christian country of France," and Herbert his arch-counsellor,
+and Nasr with a score of tough Saracens, very fiends as they looked,
+Baron William's old retainers, who would have followed the devil with
+a stout heart so long as he led to hard blows and good plunder. Just
+before he started, Richard was admonished by his father not to rush
+into quarrel with Raoul, the brother of Louis, whose lands of Valmont
+lay close by St. Julien. "A rough, bearish fellow," William called
+him, who had won the name of the "Bull of Valmont" by his headlong
+courage. He had broiled with Louis, chased him from the fief, and now
+lived alone with his mother, the Lady Ide, and young brother Gilbert.
+Just now, report had it, he was at sword's points with the abbot of
+Our Lady of St. Julien, who claimed freedom from tolls upon the
+Valmont lands, and William warned his son against being used by the
+monk to fight his unchurchly quarrel. So Richard promised discretion,
+kissed his mother for the last time; and away he went on a stanch
+galleon of Amalfi headed for Marseilles, and making Palermo on her
+voyage from Alexandria.
+
+A short voyage, too short almost for Richard and Mary, who found even
+the evenings grow enchanted, while they sat on the gilded poop
+watching the sun creep down into the deep; or listened to the tales of
+Theroulde, who set Mary a-laughing when he told of King Julius Cæsar,
+and how he built the walls of Constantinople, and wooed the "very
+discreet Fée," Morgue, who became his wife. But the joy was rarest to
+be alone upon the poop, with the soft breeze crooning in the rigging,
+the foam dancing from the beak and trailing behind its snowy pathway
+where trod the dying light.
+
+"Ah," said Mary one evening, as the first star twinkled in the deep
+violet, "one year it is since I set eyes on you, my Richard; since you
+plucked me from the Berbers. In this year I have lost my father, and
+gained--you!" And there were both sadness and joy upon her face.
+
+"A year!" quoth Richard, his eyes not upon the stars, but upon a
+coronal of brown hair. "How could I ever have lived without you? Since
+you have entered into me, my strength waxes twenty-fold. By St.
+Michael, I will seek a great adventure to prove it!"
+
+"Do you think to give me joy by risking life at every cross-road to
+prove your love? Does a true lover think so meanly of his love, that
+he is willing to tear her heart by thrusting his precious self in
+peril?"
+
+"No," protested he, taking her right hand in his own, then the other;
+and holding both captive in his right, while she laughed and struggled
+vainly to get free. "But what do you love in me? The only thing I
+have;--an arm that is very heavy. And shall I not use that gift of the
+saints? Are there not haughty tyrants with no fear of God in their
+hearts, who must be overthrown by a Christian cavalier? Is the world
+so good, so free from violence, and wickedness, and strife, that he
+who can wield a sword for Christ should let it rust in the scabbard?
+You would not have me always in your bower, listening to those Greek
+books which I called Churchmen's frippery, until you made them all
+music. Only yesterday I heard Sebastian grumble, 'St. Martin forbid
+that the princess play the Philistine woman to our Samson, and shear
+his locks; so that Holy Church fail of a noble champion!'"
+
+"I will never play the Philistine woman to you, my Richard," answered
+Mary, lightly. Then as a sweet and sober light came into her eyes:
+"Oh, dear heart, I know well what you must be! It is true the world
+is very evil. We are young, and the light shines fair; but there is a
+day to dance, and a day, not to mourn, but to put by idle things. You
+will be a great man, Richard," with a proud, bright glance into his
+face; "men will dread you and your righteous anger against their
+wickedness; God will give you mighty deeds to do, great battles to
+win, great wrongs to right, and perhaps"--here with another
+glance--"they will think you grow hard and sombre, when it is only
+because you dare not turn back from your task, but must think of duty,
+not of childish things. But I will still be with you; and when you go
+away to the wars, as go you must, I will never weep till your banner
+is out of sight; and if I do weep, I will still say, as you said, 'It
+is no dreadful thing for a brave gentleman to die, if he dies with his
+face toward the foe, and his conscience clear.'"
+
+"You will make me a very saint," said Richard, still holding fast her
+hands; "but it is by your prayers alone, dear saint, that I may dare
+have hope of heaven."
+
+"No," replied the Greek, smiling, "you are not a saint. Oh, you will
+do very wrong, I know! But God and Our Lady understand that your heart
+is true and pure. It is our souls that go to heaven, not our tongues
+with their harsh words, nor our hands with their cruel blows. And when
+you are fiercest, and the tempting fiends tear you, and the sky seems
+very black, then I will kiss you--so--and you will recollect yourself,
+and be my own true cavalier, who wields his sword because the love of
+Christ is in his heart."
+
+"But you will not always be with me," protested Richard. "When I am
+alone and sorely tempted--what then?"
+
+"Then you must love me so much that my face will be ever before your
+eyes; and by this you will know when you strike for Christ, and when
+for worldly passion or glory."
+
+"Ah!" cried Richard, "what have I done that God should send down one
+of His saints to sit by me, and speak to me, and dwell forever with
+me?"
+
+"Forever!" said Mary, lugubriously; "we shall all be in heaven in a
+hundred years. How well that there is no marriage nor giving in
+marriage there, or some of those lovely saintesses might make eyes at
+so fine a warrior-angel as you; then I would wax jealous, and St.
+Peter, if he is the peacemaker, might have his wits sore puzzled." But
+here soberness left them both, and they laughed and laughed once more;
+till Musa and Theroulde, who had discreetly withdrawn to the cabin,
+came forth, and the _jongleur_, looking up at the now gleaming
+planets, told how wise beldames said, those lights sang a wondrous
+melody all night long, and a new-born child heard their music.
+
+Richard was still holding Mary's hands, and she saucily told Musa that
+she had begun early those lessons of obedience which her lord would
+surely teach her.
+
+"Flower of Greece," laughed the Spaniard, "in Andalusia the women are
+our rulers; at their beck palaces rise, wars are declared, peace is
+stricken. The king of Seville for his favorite wife once flooded his
+palace court with rose water, to satisfy her whim. Come with me to
+Spain, not Auvergne."
+
+"No," answered Mary, tugging free her hands and shaking a dainty
+sleeve of Cyprian gauze, "we will never turn infidel and peril our
+souls--not even to please _you_, Sir Musa."
+
+She saw a dark shadow flit over Musa's face: was it as the ship's
+lantern swayed in the slow swell of the sea? But he replied quickly:--
+
+"Alas! I am not such a friend to the lord of Andalusia to-day that I
+can proffer there princely hospitality."
+
+Then their talk ran fast on a thousand nothings; but the shadow on
+Musa's face haunted Mary. She resolved in her heart, she would never
+again remind him that their faith lay as a gulf between them.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The stout ship reached Marseilles, where she was to barter her Eastern
+wares for Frankish iron, oil, and wax. Her passengers sped joyously to
+La Haye, a rich and stately castle in the pleasant South Country,
+where Baron Hardouin, Mary's uncle, received his niece and future
+nephew with courtly hospitality, as became a great seigneur of
+Provence. And when Richard rode again northward with a lock of brown
+hair in his bosom, he had a promise that, when he returned in autumn,
+there should be a wedding such as became the heiress of a Greek Cæsar
+and a great Baroness of the Languedoc.
+
+Never again was Longsword to ride with fairer visions and a merrier
+heart. He was in France, the home of knightly chivalry, of Christian
+faith. As they passed through Aix and Avignon and Orange, and all
+along the stately Rhone, the wealthy lords and ladies entertained him
+in their castles, Theroulde paying by his stories for all the
+feastings and wassail. And Richard carried his head high, for the fame
+of his deeds in Sicily had run overseas; and men honored him, and the
+great countesses gave soft looks and words,--with more perchance, had
+he only suffered. "Verily," thought Richard in his heart, "the
+_jongleurs_ did well to sing that when King Alexander the Great lay
+a-dying, he had only one sorrow,--that he had not conquered France,
+head of the whole world." But for the ladies, their troops of
+troubadours and their "courts of love," Richard had only pleasant
+words, no more. For Longsword had a vision before his eyes that two
+years before he had never dreamed. Fairer than all knightly glory, the
+sweet delirium of battle, the cry of a thousand heralds proclaiming
+him victor, rose the dream of a strong and beautiful woman ever beside
+him; her voice ever in his ears, her touch upon his arm, her breath
+upon his cheek; and from year unto year his soul drawing to itself joy
+and power merely by looking upon her--this was the dream. And Richard
+marvelled that once his life had found rest in hawking and sword-play.
+So as he rode northward, all the little birds upon the arching trees
+sang that one name "Mary"; and the great Rhone, hastening seaward,
+murmured it from each eddy and foaming boulder; and the kind west wind
+whispered it, as it blew over the pleasant corn-lands of Toulouse and
+Aquitaine.
+
+Thus ever toward the north; at last they touched the domain of the
+Count of Vaudan close to Auvergne, and near St. Flour they entered
+Auvergne itself. Then around them rose the mountains like frozen
+billows of the angry North Sea, their jagged summits crowned with
+cinder-filled craters; upon their bold flanks patches of basalt, where
+clinging pines shook down their needles. On nigh each cliff perched a
+castle, black as the rock and as steep; and amid the clefts of the
+mountains were little valleys where browsed sure-footed kine; where
+the people were rude, rough men, with great beards, leather dresses,
+surly speech, and hands that went often to their sword-hilts.
+
+"Sure, it is a wild land I have come to set right!" cried Richard,
+gazing at the fire-scarped ranges of _puys_; and he rejoiced at
+thought of ordering his grandsire's barony with a strong hand. But
+Sebastian again was only gloom and warnings.
+
+"Ah, dear son, how much better to leave your grandfather's petty
+seigneury to its fate, and heed the word of holy Peter the Hermit, who
+is preaching the war against the infidels."
+
+"Not while Mary Kurkuas lives will I quit her to go to Jerusalem,"
+proclaimed Richard, boldly, and Sebastian shook his head, as was his
+wont. "'The woman tempted me, and I did eat,'" was his bitter answer;
+"God is not mocked; your pride shall yet be dashed utterly."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+HOW RICHARD CAME TO ST. JULIEN
+
+
+Now at last they were drawing near to St. Julien, whither Richard sent
+advance messengers. And as he saw how, despite the rocks and the
+ragged landscape, fair meadow valleys began to spread out, and wide
+fields bursting with their summer fatness, he grew still more elated
+and arrogant in soul. How many gallant adventures awaited beyond those
+hills! How he would rule with a strong hand his grandsire's seigneury!
+Nay more, he would do better: he would some day ride over this road
+with Mary Kurkuas at his side, and hear knight and villain hail him,
+"Richard, by the Grace of God, Count and Suzerain of all Auvergne."
+With only five horsemen had Robert Guiscard left Normandy, and when he
+died, half Italy and nigh all Sicily were at his feet; and should not
+Richard of Cefalu do better, with a fair, rich barony to build upon?
+
+Presently, after a long day's ride, the young knight's company came
+forth from the last pass amongst the hilltops, and before them--St.
+Julien. Richard could see the tall square towers of the distant castle
+shining yellow gray in the dying sun; he could see the long reaches of
+ploughed land, the glebe of the Abbey of Our Lady of St. Julien, to
+whose abbot the local baron paid each year six bunches of wild
+flowers, token of nominal fealty. Far away were the dun masses of the
+monastery's many roofs and walls; about the castle nestled the
+thatches of a little town, a fair stream ran through the valley, and
+all around the beetling mountains kept watch.
+
+"A goodly land," cried Sebastian, shading his eyes with a gaunt hand;
+"a goodly land; ah, dear Christ, grant that the hearts of the men
+within it be as pure as thine own heavens above!"
+
+"And have I done wrong," declared Richard, pointing from corn-land to
+castle, and thence to river, "to come so far to possess it? Does not
+God will rather that I should play my part here, than throw away life
+and love in a mad wandering to Jerusalem?"
+
+But Sebastian shook his head.
+
+"They say the devil can appear as an angel of light; God forfend that
+the earthly beauty of this country breed perdition for your soul."
+
+So they went down the hillside, laughing and singing, and pricking on
+their flagging steeds, though Richard saw that Musa was only half
+merry.
+
+"Tell me, brother mine," said he, "why are you not gay? Do you envy me
+my first inheritance?"
+
+The Spaniard threw up his hands in inimitable gesture.
+
+"_Wallah_; is not your joy my joy, soul of my soul!" cried he,
+earnestly. "Not gay? Allah forbid that there be truth in portents. As
+at noon we rested, and I slept under the trees, I dreamt that I was
+grievously plucked by the hair."
+
+"And that forbodes--?"
+
+"That some calamity or ill news comes either to me or to some dear to
+me. So our Arabian diviners interpret dreams, and so some years since
+Al-A[=a]zid, my master at Cordova, instructed me."
+
+"Christ defend us!" quoth Richard, crossing himself. He was not
+imagining ill for himself nor for Musa, but for Mary Kurkuas.
+
+"Be not troubled," continued the Spaniard; "the surest presages often
+fail." Richard rode on in silence. The melancholy of his friend was
+contagious. A cloud drifted over the sun; the bright landscape
+darkened. As they passed by a wayside cross on the hillside, a
+skeleton swung from an oak in the hot wind--some brigand or villain,
+who had enraged the seigneur. A wretched beggar met them, just as
+they plunged into the trees to enter the valley.
+
+"Alms! alms! kind lord," he croaked, his face red with bloody patches;
+and as he spoke he lay on the ground, and foamed as if grievously ill.
+
+"Away with you!" growled Sebastian, angrily; "you have smeared blood
+on your face, and there is a bit of soap in your cheeks."
+
+So they left, and heard his shrill curse, when he saw Richard tossed
+forth never a _denier_.
+
+"No good omens," muttered Herbert, in his beard.
+
+"Ride faster," commanded Richard, touching spur to Rollo.
+
+So they hastened, while above them the canopy of leaves grew denser,
+and more clouds piled across the dimming sun. Then as they swung round
+a turn, they came upon a man with a great load of fagots on his
+back,--a tall, coarse-faced fellow, with a shock head and unkempt
+beard, hatless, dressed in a dirt-dyed blouse held by a leathern belt,
+woollen trousers, and high, rude boots.
+
+Herbert rode up to him, as he stood staring with dazed, lack-lustre
+eyes at the company.
+
+"Ho, sirrah; and are we on the Baron of St. Julien's land?" No answer;
+then again, "Are we on the Baron of St. Julien's land?" Still no
+answer, while the scoundrel gazed about like a cornered cat, looking
+for chance to escape. Herbert grasped his ear in no gentle pinch.
+
+"I work miracles," bellowed he. "I make the dumb speak!" Then as he
+twisted the ear, the man howled out:--
+
+"Yes, this is his land."
+
+"And why not all this before?" roared Herbert.
+
+"I love my lord," growled the fellow; "how do I know but that you seek
+his ill? Sorrow enough he has, without need of more."
+
+"Ha!" exclaimed Richard, "what is this? Speak out, my man. I am his
+friend and yours!"
+
+But before he could get answer, the pound, pound, of several horsemen
+was heard ahead. And they saw in the road four riders, two accoutred
+men-at-arms, two others, by their dress and steeds evidently gentlemen
+of the lesser sort. One of these, a tall young man of about Richard's
+age, spurred ahead; and as he drew near, he dropped his lance-head in
+salute.
+
+"Noble lord," said he, "do I speak with Richard Longsword of Cefalu,
+grandson of the Baron of St. Julien?"
+
+"I am he, fair sir," replied Richard, with like salute.
+
+"I am rejoiced to see your safety. Your messengers have arrived. We
+expected your coming. Know that I am Bertrand, squire of the Baron,
+your grandfather; and this is his good vassal the castellan, Sir
+Oliver de Carnac; in our Lord's name we greet you well and all your
+company."
+
+So Richard thanked them for their courtesy, and then questioned:--
+
+"And is my lord the Baron well?"
+
+But at his words a great cloud lowered on the face of the squire, and
+he turned to De Carnac; and that stern-faced knight began to look very
+blank, though saying nothing. Then Bertrand began hesitatingly:--
+
+"It grieves me, fair lord; but the Baron is very ill just now; the
+skill of the monks of St. Julien does nothing for him."
+
+"Ha!" exclaimed the Norman. "I give him joy; I have here a famous
+Spanish knight, who, besides being a mighty cavalier, knows all the
+wisdom of the paynim schools, which, if very bad for the soul, is
+sovereign for the body."
+
+"No skill avails, lord," said Bertrand, looking down. "He is blind."
+
+"Blind!" came from Longsword. "When? how? he did not write."
+
+"No, fair sir; three days since it happed; and I have a sorry tale to
+tell."
+
+"Briefly then." Musa saw the Norman's face very calm and grave, and he
+shuddered, knowing a mighty storm was gathering.
+
+"Lord," said Bertrand, "over yonder mountain lies the castle of
+Valmont: its seigneur, Raoul, has for years been at feud with your
+grandfather, my lord. Much blood has flowed to neither's advantage.
+When Louis went away, the two barons made a manner of peace; but of
+late they quarrelled, touching the rights to certain hunting-land. The
+suzerain, Count Robert of Auvergne, is old; he gave judgment against
+Raoul, but had no power to enforce. Four days since Baron Gaston went
+upon the debatable land to lay a hound; with him only Gaspar, the
+huntsman. Raoul and many men meet them; high words, drawn swords; and
+after our Baron had slain three men with his own hands, the 'Bull of
+Valmont' takes him. Raoul is in a black rage, and his enemy in his
+power."
+
+Richard's face was black also, but he was not raging.
+
+"Go on," said he, very calmly.
+
+"Raoul says to my lord, 'It is a grievous thing to take the life of a
+cavalier, who cannot defend himself. I will not do it, yet you shall
+never see that pleasant hunting-land more.' Then he calls John of the
+Iron Arm, a man-at-arms and chief devil at Valmont, who is after his
+own heart, and bids him bring the 'hot-bowl.'"
+
+"The 'hot-bowl'?"
+
+"Yes, lord; a red-hot brazier, which they passed before our Baron's
+eyeballs, until the sight was scorched out forever."
+
+Richard was turning very pale. "Mother of God!" muttered he, crossing
+himself; but Bertrand went on:--
+
+"Then Raoul struck off Gaspar's right hand, and bade him lead his
+seigneur home with the other, and let them remember there was brave
+hunting on the Valmont lands."
+
+"And what has been done against Raoul?" asked Richard.
+
+"Nothing, lord. De Carnac is our chief; but when we knew you were
+coming, and heard how you had laid the Bull's brother, Louis de
+Valmont, on his back, great knight that he was, we waited; for, we
+said, 'When Sir Richard comes, we shall be led by one of St. Julien's
+own stock, and we shall see if he loves Raoul more than do we.'"
+
+"You have done well, dear friend," said Richard, still very quietly.
+"Now tell me, how is my grandfather; well, save for his eyes?"
+
+"Alas! he was nigh dead when he came back, and to-day the monks
+declared he would slip away; only desire for revenge keeps his soul in
+him."
+
+"I must see him," said Longsword, simply; then to Musa, "Ha! my
+brother, will you be at my side in this adventure?"
+
+"_Allah akhbar_," cried the Spaniard, his eyes on fire, "that Raoul
+shall feel my cimeter!"
+
+"Softly, softly, dear son," quoth Sebastian, who had heard all,
+"_Omnia licent, sed omnia non expediunt!_"
+
+"No Latin now, good father," was the Norman's prompt retort, and he
+turned to Bertrand: "To the castle with speed!"
+
+Forward they rode through the squalid little village, where ragged
+peasants and slatternly women opened their eyes wide, and crossed
+themselves as their eyes lit on the "Saracen devils"; then they
+clattered onto the stone bridge, and past the toll-keeper's booth at
+the drawbridge in the middle span. Before them across a stretch of
+cleared land rose the castle: not a curiously planned system of
+outworks, barbicans, baileys, and keeps, as Richard saw in his older
+days, but a single massive tower, square, built from ponderous blocks
+of black basalt that could mock at battering-ram. It perched upon a
+rocky rising, at the foot a moat, deep, flooded by the stream, where
+even now the fish were leaping; outside the moat, a high wooden
+stockade; within this, the stables. From the crest far above, the eye
+could sweep to the farthest glens of the valley. Ten men could make
+good the hold against an army; for where was the hero that could mount
+to the only entrance--that door in the sheer wall thirty feet above
+the moat, and only a wooden drawbridge to reach it, which pulleys
+could lift in a twinkling?
+
+Richard looked at the castle and shrugged his shoulders. "Is the hold
+of Raoul de Valmont like to this?" he asked.
+
+"As you say, lord; only the outer wall is higher," replied Bertrand,
+while they left their steeds at the foot of the dizzy bridge. Richard
+blew through his teeth. "St. Michael," cried he, "there will be a tale
+to tell ere we get inside!"
+
+When they came within the great hall, dark and sombre, with slits for
+the archers its only windows, there were all the castle servants
+waiting to do Richard honor, from the gray old chamberlain and the
+consequential cellarer to the "sergeants" that kept the guard. But
+Longsword would have none of their scrapes and bows.
+
+"Take me to my grandfather," he commanded, after turning down a horn
+of mead. So they led him up blind ladders to a room above. Here the
+windows were scarce larger; there was a great canopied bed, a
+_prie-dieu_ chair, two or three clothes-presses; on the floor new,
+sweet rushes. The day was sultry, but there was a hot fire roaring in
+the cavernous chimney-place. The glowing logs sent a red glare over
+all the room; in every corner lurked black shadows. Before the fire
+stretched two enormous wolf-hounds, meet hunters for the fiercest
+bear. There was a huge armchair deeply cushioned before the fire, the
+back toward the doorway. As Richard entered, the hounds sprang up,
+growling, with grinning teeth, and a sharp brattling voice broke
+out:--
+
+"Out of the room, pestilent monk. Away to perdition with your
+cordials, or I set the dogs on you. Give me the head of Raoul de
+Valmont, then stab me if you will!"
+
+"Grandsire, it is I!" cried Richard, and ran beside the chair, and
+fell on his knees. A great hairy hand reached out for him, and he saw
+a face, hard as a knotted old oak, beaten by storm, scorched by
+lightning. Strength was there, brute courage, bitter hate, and an iron
+will. Only the lips now were crisped, the white beard was singed to
+the very jowl, and across the eyes was drawn a white bandage, stained
+with blood.
+
+"Mother of God!" moaned the old man, groping piteously. "Is this the
+welcome that I give you, sweet grandson?"
+
+But Richard, who thought it no shame to weep, held the mighty hand to
+his lips and sobbed loudly, while "the water of his heart" ran down
+his cheeks.
+
+"_Ai_, dear grandsire," said he, when he had his voice, "it is well I
+have come. I too bear no love for the race of Valmont."
+
+The old Baron felt for the Norman's arm; caught it; ran his hands from
+wrist to shoulder; gripped tight on the iron muscles.
+
+"It is true, it is true!" he half laughed; "you are of my stock, and
+your father was a mighty cavalier. You will be worthy to have the
+barony."
+
+"Say it not, sweet sir," cried Richard; "please God, you will yet live
+many a year!"
+
+"Ho!" roared the Baron, in anger, "would you have me live as a blind
+cow! What is life without hawks or hounds or tourneys or war! God
+willing, I shall die soon. Hell were nothing worse than this. I do not
+fear it!"
+
+"Christ forbid you should speak sincerely!" protested Richard,
+crossing himself.
+
+"No; it is true," raged the old man; "there is good company down
+below. Do not say Bernard the Devil is not there, these seven years,
+and he was my good friend. I am as bad as he. Fire can't hurt a man,
+if he can only _see_. What have I to do with your saints and prayers
+and priests' prattle! Heaven for them; and for men who love good
+sword-play and a merry lass--"
+
+But Richard cut him short.
+
+"Don't blaspheme! How know you that this is not a reward for all your
+sins?"
+
+"Raoul used by the saints to reward me? Ha, ha--" and the Baron this
+time bellowed a wild laugh in earnest.
+
+"Grandfather," said Richard, very gently, "you are in no mood for
+further talk. I will leave you, and come again."
+
+"Come, and say that Raoul has gone to the imps!" raged the Baron;
+then, as Richard's steps sounded departing, "and if you take John of
+the Iron Arm, Raoul's chief under-devil, alive, give him a bath in
+boiling lard to remind him of what awaits him yonder!"
+
+Barely had Richard reached the great hall when Bertrand was at him
+again:--
+
+"Their reverences, the abbot of Our Lady of St. Julien, the prior, and
+the sub-prior, come to see your lordship."
+
+So the three monks in their black Benedictine habits came in before
+Richard, who bowed very low, remembering the wise maxim: "Honor all
+churchmen, but look well to your money." The abbot was short and fat,
+the prior short but less fat, the sub-prior leaner still. Otherwise
+they seemed children of one mother, with their pale, flabby faces,
+their long gray beards, and black cowls and cassocks.
+
+"_Benedicte_, fair son," began the abbot; "we trust the true love of
+God and Holy Church is in your heart."
+
+"Of God and Holy Church," repeated the prior.
+
+"Of God and Holy Church," chanted the sub-prior.
+
+"I am a great sinner, holy father," quoth Richard, dutifully, "yet I
+hope for forgiveness. What may I do for you?"
+
+Then the abbot ran off into a long, winding discourse as to how the
+barons of St. Julien had ever been the protectors and "advocates" of
+the abbey, and how of late "that man of Belial, Raoul de Valmont," had
+oppressed the monks in many ways. "And even now God has mysteriously
+deigned," continued the prelate, "that he should commit a sin, the
+like whereof have been few since the days of Judas called Iscariot."
+
+"And what may this be?" asked Richard, soberly.
+
+"When our _refectarius_," solemnly went on the abbot, "passed over the
+Valmont lands, driving three black pigs, and with twelve fair round
+Auvergne cheeses amongst other gifts of the pious in his cart, this
+man of blood cruelly possessed himself of the pigs and cheeses,
+saying, 'The holy brethren will find prayers rise strongest when they
+have pulse in their bellies'--blasphemous sinner!"
+
+"Accursed robber!" cried the prior.
+
+"Friend of the fiends!" echoed the sub-prior.
+
+"And therefore," wound up the abbot, "we do warn you, on the peril of
+your soul, to cut off this child of perdition root and branch; to call
+forth to arms the _ban_ and the _arrière-ban_; to make his castle a
+dunghill and his name a byword and a hissing!"
+
+Richard was smiling. When the abbot finished, he gave the holy fathers
+a merry laugh that made them half feel their weighty mission a
+failure. But Musa, as he looked upon his friend, trembled, for he did
+not like that kind of smile or laugh. Richard flashed forth
+Trenchefer, and laid his hand on the knob that contained such holy
+relics.
+
+"See you, holy fathers, gentlemen and vassals all. I, Richard
+Longsword, setting my hand on the holy relics of the blessed Matthias
+and the blessed Gereon, do swear before God Most High, that I will
+have the life of Raoul de Valmont, and of every man or lad of his
+sinful race; and God and these holy saints do so to me, if I show
+mercy!"
+
+And all the men-at-arms, and Bertrand and De Carnac, saw that they had
+to do with a born leader of warriors, and cried out "Amen!" with a
+mighty shout, so that the solid rafters quaked and reëchoed. But
+Sebastian as well as Musa shuddered when he beheld Longsword; for the
+Norman's words rang hard and sharp as whetted steel, and the good
+churchman's heart was heavy with new foreboding.
+
+"This is a cruel vow, my son," he broke in. "Raoul de Valmont must
+suffer for his sin; but Louis,--he whom you spared when at your
+feet,--will you seek his life also, and that of the lad Gilbert, the
+younger brother?"
+
+But Richard flung out hotly:--
+
+"Silence, Sebastian; cursed am I for sparing Louis de Valmont. Cursed
+for sparing an accursed race! I will have the lives of all--all; and
+will right my grandsire and myself also. So help me God!"
+
+Sebastian had one last appeal.
+
+"For the sake of Mary Kurkuas, do not rush into this blood-feud. God
+will not bless you if you go beyond Raoul!"
+
+Longsword threw back his head.
+
+"I were unworthy of Mary Kurkuas if I yielded a hair! No power shall
+shake me! Let Christ pity them; I will not!"
+
+Sebastian turned away.
+
+"Dear Lord," he prayed, "Thou seest how my sweet son is torn by the
+fiends who seek his soul; first he forgets Jerusalem, now will dip his
+hands wantonly in Christian blood. Spare him; pity him; restore him to
+himself."
+
+That night Richard sat at chess with Musa; played skilfully, laughed
+loud. His talk was merry, but his face was very hard.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+HOW RICHARD SINNED AGAINST HEAVEN
+
+
+Night was falling. There was a gray mist creeping over the mountain;
+the ash trees and beeches loomed to spectral size; the sky was thick
+with dun cloud-banks. But De Carnac, as he looked upward, muttered to
+Longsword in a bated whisper, "The clouds are less heavy; wait two
+hours--they will break and give us the moon."
+
+"Hist, men!" Richard cautioned the band about him; "not yet; we must
+wait for darkness."
+
+Long had they already waited,--those score of Saracens and fifty or
+more St. Julien men, lying in ambush behind the trees, north of the
+crag whereon perched the Valmont castle, the only side where an easy
+road led up to the outer rampart, within which still lowered the great
+keep. They had seen men go in and out, but none molested them in the
+safe shadow of the trees. Their hearts had leaped at the chirp of each
+cricket, the call of each wood-bird. The sounds died away; naught
+followed; each man listened to the beating in his own breast.
+
+It grew darker. Now the last light shimmered between the leaf-laden
+branches; a murky haze overspread tree and shrub and moss-covered
+ground until all objects were lost in the black night. The castle was
+a good three hundred paces away, but it was so still that they heard
+the rattle of the porter's keys when he made fast the great outer
+gate. The chains of the drawbridge rattled; they could see a lantern
+flash on a steel cap as its owner made the parapet rounds; a few
+glints of light from the narrow windows in the keep faded one by one;
+then--silence.
+
+Richard felt for his sheath and loosened Trenchefer; then whispered to
+a shock-pated "villain," whose wrists were bound, and the cord in
+Herbert's keeping:--
+
+"Now, Giles of the Mill, serve us true in this; for as I hope in
+heaven, your hands shall be stricken off, and the stumps plunged in
+hot sulphur, if you play false!"
+
+"Never fear, lord," answered the fellow. "Raoul hung my eldest son for
+fishing in his stream after mid-Lent; never fear his brother will fail
+to let down the ladder."
+
+Richard rose to his feet very slowly. It was so dark under the trees
+that the keenest eye saw only blackness. On the western hill-crest,
+where the clouds gave way, the last bars of pale light still hung, but
+dimming each moment.
+
+"_Nox ruit interea, et montes umbrantur_," repeated Sebastian, softly,
+at Longsword's elbow.
+
+"_Ai_, father," muttered the Norman, turning, "why did you not remain
+in the glen by the horses? We will call you, if any need shriving."
+
+"And shall not the shepherd go with the sheep?" said Sebastian,
+solemnly. "Ah! dear son, if God bless you this night, slay the guilty,
+but spare the innocent!"
+
+"Time enough," protested Richard, "to consider, when we see the inside
+of that keep. By St. Michael, it will be no jaunty hawking!"
+
+Sebastian laid his great, iron-capped mace upon his shoulder. "This
+weapon I bear," said he, "that I may not live by the sword, and so by
+the sword perish."
+
+"Now, my men!" commanded Richard, his voice still very low; and
+silently the long line of dark figures rose from the fern brake. As
+they rose, a distant bell pealed out many miles away, the notes
+stealing in among the trees like echoes from an untrodden world.
+
+"They toll some one who has died in Bredon," whispered Bertrand, the
+squire. "Let us pray," said Richard. And all the Christians knelt. The
+Saracens stood dumbly, but perhaps said their word to "Allah,"--for
+who among them was fated to see another morning?
+
+So Richard prayed--a wild, unholy prayer, as became his unholy frame
+of mind; and he ended, "Thus I confide myself to the stout heart Thou
+hast given me, and to my good sword, and my good right arm; but last
+of all to Thee!" And one may hope the Most High rejoiced that He was
+not utterly forgotten.
+
+"Come!" commanded Longsword, rising. "Keep your shields from banging,
+all the crossbows ready, and the swords loose. De Carnac, you have
+torches; we shall need them; and you, Herbert--the great axe."
+
+Softly as birds upon the wing, those seventy mad spirits stole across
+the band of open ground betwixt forest and castle. Then they halted
+before the looming outworks. They heard the sentinel above tramp along
+the platform. A stray gleam of light touched his lance-head. He might
+have tossed a pebble down upon Longsword's helm. Herbert laid down his
+great axe, set his crossbow, laid a quarrel and levelled into the
+dark.
+
+"Not as you love me!" growled Richard, clapping a hand on the reckless
+veteran; "will you blast all now?"
+
+Tramp, tramp; the sentry was gone round behind the other side of the
+keep. Richard crept up to the wall, and at his side Musa. It was so
+dark here, they only knew the barrier by their hands.
+
+"Now, Giles, your signal!" Longsword passed the word. And then sounded
+a low bird-call, a second, a third; then silence again. More steps on
+the parapet above; and a voice very far away, and mysterious in the
+dark.
+
+"Below there?"
+
+"Yes," answered Richard.
+
+"Here; the ladder; I have fastened it." And something whirred down
+into the gloom, and struck the ground lightly. It was the end of a
+rope ladder. Richard groped for it, caught, and gave command.
+
+"Stand by, men; I will go first; who second?"
+
+"Who but I, brother?" protested Musa, in his ear.
+
+"Good; let us gain the parapet, if we may, in silence; then storm the
+drawbridge and the keep-gate before the alarm. And now"--and he
+gripped Trenchefer in his teeth and began to climb.
+
+Two rounds he had mounted, when there was a second step above; then a
+shout, cry, scuffle:--
+
+"Devil! Traitor! Help!" and in an eye-twinkle there was a torch
+flaming on the parapet. Richard paused a moment. Right at the crown of
+the battlement stood a figure in armor, and behind the bulwark was the
+noise of struggle. Louder the shout:--
+
+"Treachery! attack! to arms!"
+
+Twenty voices had it now. A mighty horn was blaring; a great bell was
+tossing up its brazen throat in ringing clangor.
+
+"Down, lord, down!" it was Herbert who called.
+
+"Follow me, all who love God!" flung back Richard; and he sped up the
+ladder, and Musa after him. Twenty rounds there were to clear; and at
+the top, one who was swinging his sword to cut the cords. But in the
+torchlight Herbert again levelled, and whing!--his quarrel had sped
+clean through the man-at-arms. A second was there, a third, but a
+flight of Saracen arrows smote them. Richard never knew how he climbed
+those rounds. He was grasping the battlement--a long leap cleared it.
+He had won the platform; beside him was Musa; and beside Musa stood
+Herbert. The parapet was theirs--and what a sight!
+
+Upon the summit of the great keep a huge bonfire had sprung up, and
+the tall flames leaped toward the inky heavens. Down the long bridge
+from the keep-door were running men in armor,--ten, twenty,
+twoscore,--and their swords were flashing. And two mighty shouts came
+swelling from within and without:--
+
+"God and De Valmont!"
+
+"Our Lady of St. Julien!"
+
+Richard saw a man in a silvered casque running down the drawbridge--a
+dwarfish man with the shoulders of a bull; over his head danced the
+spiked ball of an armed whip.
+
+"Ah! St. Julien dogs!" was his shout. "To the fiends with them all!"
+
+"Up, men!" roared Richard, his voice swelling above battle-shout,
+bell, and fire. But a great curse came from Herbert. "God spare our
+souls! One rope of the ladder is snapped!"
+
+"Make it fast," flew back the answer. "Musa and I will cover you. Ha,
+my brother?"
+
+And while Herbert tugged at the cords, the Spaniard's cimeter swung
+side by side with Trenchefer. A great rush: the Valmont men, tall
+mountain giants, were at the two and about them in a twinkling. One
+sweep should have flung the twain to the court below; fools!--they
+knew not that all the South Country had no better swordsmen. Richard
+struck right, Musa left; and their blades grew red. The attackers
+recoiled as from live fire. A second rush--a second repulse; once
+more--the parapet was narrow; the Valmont men reeled back, and some
+cried out in terror.
+
+"Out of the way, dogs!" Raoul was bawling. "I will beat them down!"
+
+But as he rushed, Herbert rose from his task. The great axe was
+swinging over his head; and as it poised, first De Carnac, then Nasr,
+then the rest by tens cleared the wall.
+
+"God is with us!" burst from Richard, and he leaped from the parapet
+into the court below. Right amongst the swarming Valmonters he
+plunged, and Trenchefer cleared the path. At his right pressed Musa,
+at his left Herbert, and with such guardian saints all hell might rage
+in vain against him.
+
+Man to man they fought and right valiantly; but our Lady of St. Julien
+smiled on her votaries that sinful night. They flung wide the door to
+the court; the Saracens swarmed in, biting like cats with their
+crooked cimeters.
+
+"Devils! Paynim devils!" howled the Valmonters, as they still more
+gave way. "Christ save! We are lost!"
+
+"Back to the keep!" thundered Raoul, who had laid more than one foeman
+low. "Back, and I will guard the bridge!"
+
+The Valmonters surged back. They swarmed upon the drawbridge. The wood
+creaked with their rush, the stout chains tightened. Raoul, whose
+flail had made even De Carnac give way, turned to follow, but Richard
+was on him.
+
+"Now, torturer of old men!" the Norman hissed it through his teeth
+while he felt Trenchefer leaping on high, as though it were a
+breathing thing.
+
+"Now, St. Julien hound!" and Raoul ran down the bridge to meet him.
+They were above the moat--a misstep, death. Richard knew it all, yet
+in strange way knew nothing. Fear--what was it? He saw Raoul's great
+spike dash down upon him; his head rang, strange lights glared in his
+eyes; but all his strength sped into the hilt of Trenchefer. The good
+sword caught the tough oak of the flail, cleft it as a reed, and Raoul
+de Valmont gave one great cry, and showed a face all gnarled with
+deathly hate as he reeled into the darkling moat.
+
+"God is with us!" again Richard cried, and he leaped upon the
+drawbridge. The great door slammed fast in his face; he could hear the
+bolts rattle; feverish hands strained on the levers to the
+bridge-ropes. But just as the planking sprang up, the axe of Herbert
+drove through the ropes like pack thread, and Richard rushed onward to
+the door.
+
+"Quarter, kind lord, quarter!" voices were crying from within. "Mercy!
+our lives! as you love Christ!"
+
+"Down with the door!" raged Longsword, whose head seemed one ball of
+fire.
+
+Herbert poised the great axe, and the solid wood sprang in with the
+blow, but the bolts were strong.
+
+"Give it me!" and Richard snatched the axe like a toy. Three times the
+door gave back under the shattering shock; and with the fourth it
+reeled inward. From the battlement above, beams and stones snowed down
+upon him. What recked Longsword? He knew they would not hurt, and
+cared not if they should. Where in his mind was Mary Kurkuas when he
+felt the hot blood streaming on his torn forehead, and the fury of
+demons in his heart!
+
+"God is with us!" a third time he called it. Before, opened the dark,
+narrow, vaulted way to the great hall. There were flashing eyes and
+tossing blades in the passage. What were these at such an hour! The
+Valmonters had lived as devils, as devils they fought; but what could
+they do, save die? Three minutes of hard cutting hand to hand, and the
+way was cleared. Longsword and his men--that were left--stood in the
+great hall. The cups still lay on the long tables, scraps of food on
+the trenchers; for the evening's carousal had not been cleared away.
+For a moment there was darkness, then a cresset on the wall flashed
+up, another and another, and all was light.
+
+"Fire! Death! Sack!" the St. Julien men were shouting, and who should
+say them nay?
+
+There were women and little children cowering on the settles, young
+girls ran screaming up the swaying ladders to the lofts above, and
+after them the raging victors. Richard's voice was a trumpet calling
+above the stormy chaos.
+
+"Up to the parapet, Nasr! Let not a man escape! Search the dungeons,
+Herbert, lest any hide!"
+
+"Kill! kill!" threescore throats were echoing.
+
+But Richard had caught an old woman by the arm, and dragged her from
+her knees.
+
+"They say Raoul had a young brother. Where is he? Speak, if you wish
+to live." His sword was swinging, very red.
+
+"Pity, lord," moaned the shivering creature. "Spare Gilbert. He is
+harmless as a dove!"
+
+"Where is the boy, woman?" belched the Norman, and struck at her with
+his knotted fists.
+
+"Oh, mercy!" screamed she; "his mother, Lady Ide, took him to the
+chapel."
+
+"After me, men!" blazed Richard; and he ran towards a rude stairway
+leading to a chamber below.
+
+Musa caught his arm. "My brother!" he cried in his ear, "you are
+beside yourself! This is no work for a cavalier. Your grandfather is
+avenged. Call off the men!"
+
+"By the Splendor of God!" flashed forth Longsword, "not even _you_
+shall stop me now!" He thrust back Musa with one sweep of his arm, and
+flew down the stairway, twenty blades at his heels.
+
+Above, raged the roar of conflict: the moans, cries, agony,
+battle-shouts, all blending in one hideous, echoing storm. For a
+moment after the red glare of the hall, Richard blinked in the dark;
+then in the lower chamber he saw an altar, and four tall candles
+burning upon it; and around the altar clung white-clad figures,
+moaning and praying in one breath.
+
+Straight across the little chapel sped Richard; and as he did so he
+saw amongst the women two men, one tall and in armor, with a sword at
+his side; the other a youth, with a fair girl's face and curling
+golden hair. As he strode, one of the women rose and stood before him;
+very queenly she was in her flowing gray hair, and her brave sweet
+face; for she was Ide of the Swan's Neck, once the fairest lady in all
+Auvergne.
+
+"As you hope in God--" began she. But as she spoke the man in armor
+sprang from the altar, sword in hand.
+
+"Ha! John of the Iron Arm!" laughed De Carnac at Richard's side.
+
+"By the Cross!" cried the Valmonter, "you shall not take me here like
+a cornered rat!"
+
+And before he could raise to parry, Richard saw the other's blade
+swing straight upon him. One flash--one thought of Mary
+Kurkuas--crash! The great mace of Sebastian had dashed the sword
+aside, and De Carnac smote the man-at-arms so that he toppled with a
+dull cry. Richard saw John of the Iron Arm at his feet.
+
+"Seize! Bind!" he shouted; "let him be as Baron Gaston said." And he
+strode straight on toward the altar. Lady Ide caught at his hands.
+
+"As you hope in God," she pleaded, "do not harm my son! Revere the
+altar!"
+
+And Richard, with all the fiends in his heart, smote her so that she
+fell without a moan. He saw the boy clinging to a box on the
+altar--sacred relics doubtless. In one hand the lad held up a brazen
+crucifix, and stretched it forth--defence against the slayer.
+
+"Pity, pity, for the love of Christ!" he was pleading. He was only a
+young lad.
+
+Sebastian tore at Richard's arm.
+
+"As you love Our Lord!" cried the churchman, "spare him!" Richard
+glared round the room.
+
+"Some of you strike down this boy!" was his command to all about. De
+Carnac, mad sinner, started forward, gave a glance at the relic box
+and crucifix, recoiled, crossing himself. "Deliver us from evil!" he
+was muttering.
+
+"You, Abul Kadir," cried Richard to a grinning Saracen. "Pluck the boy
+away! Hew him down!"
+
+But the Moslem, though his fingers twitched round his hilt, did not
+stir. "Away, away!" pleaded Sebastian, dragging at the Norman's arm.
+"Our Lady spare this wickedness!"
+
+"Pity, sweet lord!" moaned the lad, his fair head bowed beneath the
+crucifix. Richard shook himself from Sebastian's hand. Trenchefer had
+sprung on high; at his shout the vaulting rang.
+
+"I have sworn it! Christ died not for the spawn of Valmont!" The great
+sword dashed down the crucifix, shattered the sacred box; the lad lay
+with his bright locks in a crimson pool.
+
+Then silence more horrible than any noise. In the rooms above they
+were still chasing, plundering, slaughtering; it sounded very far
+away. All the tapers save one had been dashed out by the stroke; in
+the pale flicker Richard could see strong men with their heads bowed,
+and their lips moving in prayer. Musa leaned against a stone pillar,
+his cimeter dropped, his face buried in his hands. Only Sebastian was
+raising his hand in adjuration.
+
+"Come out of him, thou unclean demon," he was saying slowly and
+solemnly.
+
+Richard looked left, looked right. Why did men stare at him, and
+shrink away from his glance? Why did his head throb as if the veins
+were bursting? He held up Trenchefer--how red the blade was! What had
+he been doing? Lady Ide on the hard flags was beginning to quiver and
+moan--how came she there? The other women had fled the chapel. The
+gray shadowy walls seemed turning round and round; Richard caught the
+altar-rail to stand steady.
+
+[Illustration: "THE LAD LAY WITH HIS BRIGHT LOCKS IN A CRIMSON
+POOL"]
+
+Now a mightier shout in the halls above.
+
+"Out! Out! The castle burns!" And with the shout a rising roar and
+crackle, and the sniff of creeping smoke.
+
+Still Richard stood; almost he felt as a man waking from a dream.
+Would it not all flee away and leave him at Cefalu in his mother's
+bower? or at Palermo in the genii palace with Mary Kurkuas beside the
+plashing fountain?
+
+Musa had stepped to him and touched his arm gently. "Dear brother, the
+castle burns quickly. We must haste, if all would get out!"
+
+Richard shook himself; his head steadied.
+
+"Come, my men!" He led them up from the chapel. Already the flames
+were mastering the upper lofts. The parapet was a pyramid of glowing
+fire. The victors rushed down the drawbridge with their spoil; a great
+copper dresser, plate, gold cups, tapestry--the plunder of Raoul de
+Valmont for many a long year. Only Musa stayed long enough in the
+chapel to bear the Lady Ide outside the bailey, where some of the
+castle women were not too terrified to care for her, and take her to
+the cottage of a peasant not far away.
+
+Richard stood outside the gate. The fire was climbing downward and
+mounting upward. Now from every loophole spouted a blazing jet. The
+sky had cleared, but the eddying smoke veiled stars and moon. The
+great keep was a flaming beacon against the dark; ten leagues away
+lord and vassal would see it, and say that Raoul the Bull of Valmont
+had met his deserts at last. The St. Julien men crowded around their
+chief, gave him cheer on cheer, and cried out that with him to lead no
+emperor might withstand them. Richard stretched up his hands toward
+the glowing fire-mount.
+
+"Let God Himself undo my deed this night!" he cried. Then they walked
+to the glen, took horse and were away, and saw St. Julien before dawn.
+All the ride Richard was laughing and boasting, and saying that he
+wished a Raoul every month that he might have such rare sport; but
+Sebastian and Musa said little, and their thoughts were none the most
+gay.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+HOW RICHARD'S SIN WAS REWARDED
+
+
+There was mirth and dancing in the St. Julien castle when Longsword
+and his band returned. Seventy and more had they gone away, scarce
+fifty came back, some of the women howled long for the husband or
+brother whom they brought home on the shields; but save for these, who
+was there but had a laugh and a cheer for Richard, who had borne
+himself a very paladin in the fight? When the knight dismounted at the
+castle gate, forth came the gray-haired steward with the great horn
+goblet of the urus-ox,--a mighty cup centuries old, ornamented with
+strangely wrought silver bands, and brimming with home-brewed mead.
+
+"Drink, fair lord," he commanded, "for you have proved a right noble
+seigneur of St. Julien. None but a cavalier of wondrous valor is
+suffered to drink from this."
+
+So Richard drained the great horn. "To the perdition of every
+Valmonter, and to the bright eyes of Mary Kurkuas!"
+
+Then he went to the chamber of his grandfather, who had sat all that
+night, gnawing his nails, crying to the varlets to run to the parapet
+to see if the sky was aglow toward Valmont. As Richard came in the old
+man staggered up to him, caught him by the arm, and sniffled piteously
+when Richard told how they won the outwork and the bridge and the
+keep.
+
+"By the Cross!" swore the Baron, half laughing, half moaning, "I would
+have given half my life to be there,--there and strike one good blow,
+and feel the steel eat through Raoul de Valmont."
+
+"Raoul de Valmont will never feel another sword," said Richard,
+softly; "he is gone to his account."
+
+"Aye," cried the Baron; "gone, so the varlets who ran here told me;
+gone, and a long time St. Peter will have of it reading off the list
+of his sins. By Our Lady, they were not a few; and perhaps mine are as
+many, ha! Well, even the devil will not frighten me much, after what I
+have lived through!"
+
+"You must live and undo your misdeeds if you can, dear grandfather,"
+said Richard, whose own conscience was as yet very easy.
+
+"Yes, I must have a talk with the abbot. Live like a demon, then
+square at the end with the priests! Two or three fields added to the
+glebe, a few _sols_ ready money, and the saints forget all about you,
+and let you crawl under the gate of heaven--that is the way a man of
+spirit should live and die! But the Valmonters--the boy Gilbert?"
+
+"I killed him," said Richard, deliberately.
+
+"Good; he had never done any harm; neither have wolf whelps; but we
+kill them just the same. And John of the Iron Arm?"
+
+"He is here. De Carnac struck him down, but he is alive; they have him
+in the dungeon now."
+
+"Good again; I can hear him whistle his tune before we let him die.
+_Ai_, lad, you will be a right good seigneur for this old castle. I
+shall sleep in the ground more snugly because I know you possess all.
+I have fought, scraped, and lied to make the barony larger. No man
+shall ever say Gaston forgave a foe, or failed to square off a grudge,
+and now Raoul has been paid--ha!"
+
+So Richard left the old man to chuckle in his darkness. The next day
+the abbot came over with congratulations, blessings, and a request for
+the great altar cross of Valmont,--which was due, because the
+"_aggrave_ and _reaggrave_," double and triple anathema, he had
+thundered against the Valmonters, doubtless went far to blast their
+prowess; and Longsword all piously gave the cross. The monks chanted
+_Te Deums_ and enough masses to lift every fallen St. Juliener promptly
+out of purgatory. Richard went about with merry face and loud laugh.
+"After the feast comes the dance!" he would cry, when all marvelled at
+his nimbleness after so hard a _mêlée_.
+
+At the great feast in honor of the victory, Richard sat at the head of
+the long horseshoe table, drank with the deepest, and never blushed
+when Theroulde likened him in valor to Huon of Bordeaux or even to
+Roland.
+
+"You seem very joyous to-night, dear son," said Sebastian, who
+appeared gloomier than ever.
+
+"And why should I not?" quoth Richard, stretching forth for more wine.
+"Have I not blotted out my grandfather's enemy; have I not a noble
+barony; have I not the love of the best of friends," with a glance at
+Musa, "and of the fairest woman in the world?"
+
+"Ah! sweet son," replied Sebastian, sighing, "all these shall pass
+away! The grass withereth, the flower fadeth; there will come a time
+when you will cry, 'Would God I had been mindful of my vow and gone to
+Jerusalem.' Even now it is not too late; let us go and hear the holy
+Peter of Amiens, called Peter the Hermit."
+
+Richard cut him short with a direful oath. "Speak not again of
+Jerusalem. I care more for Mary Kurkuas and for Musa than for ten
+thousand Jerusalems! Let others who have more sin on their souls, and
+are more frighted by priests' patter, go if they list. For me I give
+you the good Arab saying:--
+
+    "'Begone all eating cares this night!
+    Who recks to see the morning light?'"
+
+Then, to a serving-varlet: "Here, fellow, another horn." And Richard
+stood up with all eyes upon him. "To Mary Kurkuas," he drank, "and
+long may she be the liege lady of St. Julien."
+
+Every man present, except Sebastian, roared out the pledge; but
+Sebastian only sat still, and prayed to the saints.
+
+Thus sped some weeks, and old Baron Gaston breathed his last. Before
+he died John of the Iron Arm had gone before him, in a manner better
+surmised than said. The Baron had felt his sins coming home upon him
+as his time drew nigh. The abbot went to see him very often. Gaston
+wished to die as a monk. The brethren put on him the monk's robe and
+scapulary, the sub-prior pronounced over him some words of
+consecration, and the dying sinner muttered some half-articulate vows.
+Yet he seemed more concerned as to what would befall his good horse
+Fleuri when he was gone, than about the welfare of his soul. Around
+his bed night and day sat his petty nobles and neighbors watching in
+solemn silence, except to cross themselves when a magpie croaked, or
+when it was said that a vulture hovered over the castle--sure sign of
+the death-angel's approach. The moment the Baron was dead, the
+serving-boys ran through the castle, emptying every vessel of water,
+lest in one the straying soul should drown itself. The monks gave him
+a funeral as became one of their own order, and one who had made over
+to them so wide a stretch of farm-land. Ten days after Gaston was
+buried, they proclaimed Richard Baron of St. Julien. Lady Margaret was
+her father's only heir; but she was far away, and a man with a strong
+arm was needed in that troubled seigneury. So Richard Longsword sat
+down in the Baron's high seat at the end of the great hall, and all
+the lesser nobles came before him, knelt, placed their hands in his,
+and swore themselves "his men." And Richard raised each up, kissed him
+on the mouth, and promised love and protection so long as he observed
+fealty. Fealty, Richard himself owed in name to the Count of Auvergne,
+with the young William of Aquitaine as overlord of all. But times were
+turbulent, Aquitaine and Toulouse at bitter feud. Richard looked upon
+the castle, the stout men, the broad lands, and the blue sky: "No
+power can say me nay," was his laugh, "saving God and Mary Kurkuas."
+And one fears he did not greatly dread the former. But the barony he
+ruled with a strong hand, and ended the petty tyrannies of the lesser
+nobles upon their serfs; while Sebastian as chancellor chased from
+office the chaplain of St. Julien, a rollicking, hard-swearing sinner,
+with a consort, six children, and wide fame as a toper. In his stead
+reigned Sebastian himself, who soon crossed swords even with the
+abbot: first, because there were fowls in the abbey kettles Fridays;
+second, because the brethren bartered smacks with the bouncing village
+maids. "_Peccatum venale!_" cried the abbot to the last charge, and
+defended the former by saying that fowls were created along with fish
+on Friday, and who that day refused fish? So both good men complained
+to Richard, but he merrily said that Nasr, as an impartial infidel,
+should compose their quarrel. And ignoring their war, Longsword rode
+up and down the barony, setting the crooked straight, making the
+"villains" worship him for his ready laugh, his great storehouse of
+humor, his willingness to stand with the weak against the strong. Only
+men who had followed him at Valmont whispered about him. One day
+Richard heard two men-at-arms with their heads together, while he sat
+at chess with Musa.
+
+"Our seigneur is a terrible man. You should have seen him in the
+chapel."
+
+"From what I was told, he smote the very relic box. He must shudder
+lest the hand of God be laid on him."
+
+"He shudder? Lord Richard would not shrink, if he saw a thousand
+fiends. His heart is made of iron, like his hands, if only you could
+see it. Yet sometimes I tremble lest we all be smitten a deadly blow
+for his deed. We all stood by consenting, though the stroke was his."
+
+Richard heard, and the whispers so shook his mind that he made a false
+move, lost a piece, lost the game. Musa saw that he was silent for
+once that evening. A messenger had come the day before from La Haye:
+Mary was well and joyous; they would have a bridal that would be a
+tale through all the South Country. Yet Richard was no longer merry.
+Musa confided his anxiety to Herbert, who had become his firm friend.
+
+"The Cid my brother is not well. He talks in his sleep; he boasts
+before men, but fears to be left alone. Last night he cried out on
+his bed to take away Gilbert de Valmont and his fair, blood-stained
+hairs."
+
+Herbert shook his head. "The 'little lord'"--for so he fondly called
+his mighty nursling--"has done a deed, even I," he laughed grimly,
+"who have a few things to tell the priests, would not like to dip
+hands in. Slaying the lad was no wrong, mind you. But the altar! the
+altar! Better kill fifty in cold blood than shatter a relic box!"
+
+"No, I think he fears lest Allah requires the boy's blood at his
+hands."
+
+Herbert brayed out a great laugh. "God will never wink twice, caring
+for those Valmonters. They say Louis is coming north with a band to
+take vengeance. Pretty fighting--no music sweeter than that of
+sword-blades."
+
+"I would that the princess were here," said Musa, "to lift Richard
+from his black mood." But when the news came that Louis was trying to
+induce the Counts of Aquitaine and Toulouse to make peace and march
+against St. Julien, Richard only laughed loudly as Herbert.
+
+"By St. Maurice, let all come; and bring the king of France and Duke
+of Lorraine. Valmont was too easy a task; let me match my strength
+against great lords now!"
+
+Musa only shook his head.
+
+"Allah grant," was his prayer, "that naught befall unhappily, until we
+go back to La Haye for the wedding. Mary Kurkuas's bright eyes will
+scatter all this darkness."
+
+But day after day went on, and no bolt fell. Richard continued to ride
+hard, hunt hard, drink hard. Musa began to feel, however, that the
+shadow was beginning to lift. Louis had been unable to induce Toulouse
+and Aquitaine to compose their feud; there was little to fear from his
+quarter. Then one afternoon came the stroke from heaven.
+
+A fair sunny afternoon it was, in the late summer. Richard had been up
+with the dawn, following a great boar over the mountains. The dogs had
+brought the beast to bay, and his white tusks had killed three hounds,
+before Longsword had ended all with a stroke of his Danish
+hunting-axe. The boar was a giant of his kind. They brought him on a
+packhorse, that staggered beneath the weight. The carcass was laid out
+before the huge fireplace of the hall, and all the castle girls and
+women stood round pinching his shaggy sides, feeling of his white
+teeth, laughing, chattering, and screaming. Richard, having put off
+his hunting-boots, was calling to a serving-boy for water, when the
+bronze slab at the gate began to clang, proclaiming a stranger.
+
+"_Héh_, porter, open to me!" was the cry without, and there was a
+scurry of many feet on stairways, for few visitors made their way to
+St. Julien.
+
+Presently they led into the hall a wandering pedler. He had a weighty
+pack of Paris pins, of ribbons, of Eastern silks, and fifty kinds of
+petty gewgaws that set the women oh-ing and ah-ing. But when he undid
+his bundles, he dragged forth a letter, a roll of parchment, carefully
+sealed.
+
+"This, fair lord," said he to Richard, "I was bidden to bring you from
+Marseilles, where a shipmaster put it in my hands."
+
+"From Sicily--from Cefalu, then." Richard had not expected a letter so
+early, but so much the merrier. Only he was puzzled when he saw that
+the superscription was not in the hand of his brother Stephen, the
+usual scribe for his father. Richard broke the seal, which he did not
+recognize, unrolled, and read; while the girls swarmed round the
+pedler, ransacked his wares, and pleaded with the men to be generous
+with the spoils of Valmont, and buy.
+
+But Musa, as he looked at Richard reading, saw sudden sweat-beads
+standing on his forehead. The letter ran thus:
+
+    "Robert of Evroult, Bishop of Messina, to his very dear spiritual
+    son, the valiant and most Christian knight, Sir Richard Longsword,
+    sends his greeting and episcopal blessing.
+
+    "May the grace of our Lord, the pity of our Blessed Lady, ever
+    Virgin, the sweet savor of the Holy Ghost, be upon you. May
+    Michael, Raphael, and Gabriel, the great and all-adorable
+    archangels, spread their shields about you, to deliver you. May
+    all the company of the saints on high intercede for you at the
+    throne of the Father of all mercies, and bless you; and may God
+    Himself grant unto you strength and peace.
+
+    "Fair son, it has pleased the Most High to lay upon me a burden
+    which makes my bones to cry out, and my nights to be spent in
+    tears and in roarings. Yet who better than I may write you? Bow to
+    the will of God, and listen. Ten days since it befell that Moslem
+    corsairs landed by night at Cefalu, and stormed your father's
+    castle. The tales we have heard are scanty, for few who saw what
+    befell are here to tell. From a man-at-arms who escaped, it would
+    seem that the castle was surprised about midnight. The garrison
+    was small; for my lord, your father, had sent many of his men into
+    the mountains to chastise some robbers. They say your father laid
+    about him as became a Christian and a cavalier, and slew many; yet
+    at the end, seeing there was no hope, stabbed your mother with his
+    own hands to spare her captivity amongst the infidels. They say,
+    too, that your brother Stephen died fighting with a valor worthy
+    of his father and brother. As for your sister Eleanor, I hear
+    nothing. Therefore, we dare hope, if indeed it is a thing to hope,
+    that she is not dead, but carried away captive by the unbelievers.
+    Soon as the alarm was spread, Prince Tancred, who was near Cefalu,
+    took ships and followed after the pirate's two vessels. One
+    outsailed him; he captured the other after much struggle. The
+    prisoners confessed their chief was the Emir Iftikhar, one time in
+    Count Roger's service. The emir was on the vessel which escaped
+    with your sister, so said the captives. The prince put to death
+    his prisoners in a manner meet to remind them of the greater
+    torments waiting their unbelieving souls. Rumor has it, Iftikhar
+    has sent a creature of his, one Zeyneb, to France to seek your
+    hurt. This is incredible, yet be guarded. I have had masses said
+    for the souls of your kinsfolk; and consider, sweet son, even in
+    your grief, how now they are removed far from this evil world, and
+    have their dwelling with the saints in light. May the tender pity
+    of Christ comfort you, and give you peace. Farewell."
+
+A great cry, inarticulate, terrible, burst from Richard's lips. He
+staggered as he stood. Herbert grasped him round, to steady. The
+parchment fell heavily from his hand. Musa caught it, read a few
+lines.
+
+"My brother! Allah have compassion--" he sobbed, his own heart melting
+fast.
+
+"Where is Sebastian?" came the choking whisper from Longsword.
+
+"Gone to the village, lord," hesitated Bertrand, "to confess two
+thieves. He is staying to the feast for the executioner and priest
+after the hanging!"
+
+"My God! My God! Why hast Thou forsaken me?" Richard was moaning. His
+face was ashen. They looked on him, some about to stop their ears at
+his blasphemy; but one glance told it was no blasphemy, but bitter
+truth. He was putting by Herbert lightly as a child, and springing
+toward the door that led down to the drawbridge. At the sight of his
+face the women began to weep.
+
+"My brother! my brother! stay!" Musa was calling. He might better have
+cried to the whirlwind.
+
+"Halt him, men!" shouted Herbert, leaping after. "He is mad; he will
+slay himself!"
+
+Two or three men-at-arms leaped out, as if to stop him. At one flash
+from his eyes they fell back, crossing themselves. Richard ran out
+upon the drawbridge. They could see his feet totter; all held
+breath--the moat was very deep; he recovered, ran on.
+
+Herbert made a trumpet of his hands and shouted to the porter at the
+outwork:--
+
+"Stop him! Close the gate!"
+
+But Richard ran right past the gazing fellow, and reached the open.
+Musa had sped after him.
+
+"Richard, you are mad! Where are you going?" was his despairing call.
+Longsword only ran the faster. They saw him leave the beaten road, and
+fly along over garden walls, ditches, hedges, with great bounds worthy
+of a courser.
+
+Musa pressed behind, but soon found himself completely outdistanced.
+Richard was heading straight for the lowering mountain. The Arab
+turned back, panting for breath. Already the Norman was out of sight,
+lost in the forest. Musa hastened to the castle.
+
+"Call out all the men, send word to the village," was his command to
+De Carnac; "beat up the mountain with dogs, or you will never see your
+baron again!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+HOW RICHARD FOUND THE CRUCIFIX
+
+
+As Richard Longsword ran across field and fallow that bright
+afternoon, had the warm sun turned to ink, he would scarce have known
+it. Sight he had not, nor hearing. He did not feel the bushes that
+whipped smartly in his face as he dashed through them; he did not see
+the wide ravine of the brook brawling at his feet. Only by some mad
+instinct he leaped and cleared it, and ran on and on; fleeing--from
+what? His head was throbbing, though he had touched no wine; there was
+a great weight in his breast, numbing, crushing. He even tried to stop
+himself, to look about, to call back sense and reason. Useless; the
+passion mastered him, and still he ran on.
+
+As he ran, he prayed; prayed aloud, and knew not what he prayed. "Holy
+Mary, pray for me! Holy Mother of God, pray for me! Holy Virgin of
+Virgins, pray for me! Mother of divine grace, pray for me!"
+
+And still on! Would the fire in his brain never quench? He stumbled
+over a fallen tree, and knew he was in the forest. He rose, glanced
+back; he could see at last,--the tower of St. Julien was still in
+sight. And in the tower were men and maids who could laugh, and
+chatter, and love the sunshine. Away from them! Richard broke in among
+the crowding trees, and ran yet faster. Presently, though his pain
+grew not the less, it ceased to be one aching blur of feelings. Forms,
+faces, were darting before his eyes; now among the trees; now peering
+from the thickets; now flitting along some grassy mead on the mountain
+side. They were not real. He knew it well. When he fastened his gaze
+on them, they were nowhere. But still he ran. His feet flew like those
+of the hunted roe. And was he not hunted? Was he not fleeing? From
+what?
+
+Richard had known his Latin, cavalier that he was. The words of the
+service were ringing in his ears--who uttered them? "Whither shall I
+go from Thy spirit, or whither shall I flee from Thy presence? If I
+ascend up into heaven, Thou art there; if I make my bed in hell,
+behold Thou art there." The words sounded and sounded again. Richard
+clapped his fingers to his ears. Still he heard them. And he must run,
+run as never before, if he would escape from his pursuer.
+
+Presently he stumbled over a second log; fell headlong beneath a pine
+tree upon a slipping carpet of dead needles. The fall was heavy; he
+felt his head thrill with a new pain. For a moment he lay still; and a
+cool fern pressed comfortingly against his cheek. It was good to rest
+quietly and look upward into the dark tracery far overhead. He could
+just see a little patch of the blue shimmering through the pine
+boughs, a very blue bit of sky. If heaven lay beyond that azure, how
+fair a land it must be! Richard pressed his hands to his brow, and
+held them there for long. The throbbing had a little abated. He sat
+up; looked around. Not a sound except the drone of a mountain
+honey-bee hanging over some blossom. Trees, trees, before, behind. His
+eye lost itself in the ranges and mazes of gray-black trunks. There
+was no path; he had no recollection of the way. He called aloud--only
+echoes from far-off glens.
+
+Richard rose and sat upon the log; and his fingers tore at the wood's
+soft mould. Would God his mind had been in His hands! The Cefalu
+folk--they were all before him--father, mother, sister, brother. He
+should never see them more in this world--and in the next? Oh, horror!
+what part could his sainted mother have with her unholy, murderous
+son! His father had sinned after his kind, yet to him little had been
+given of holy teaching, and little would be required. But he, Richard
+Longsword, had he not been brought up gently by his mother, as became
+a high-born Christian cavalier? Were not her prayers still in his
+ears? Had there not been at his side for guide and counsellor
+Sebastian, who was one of the elect of God? Had he not given his
+mother a pious and holy kiss when he fared away to Auvergne? and did
+she not send him forth with his virgin knightly honor, to do great
+deeds for the love of Christ? and how had he kept that honor? He had
+slain Raoul, and there was never a stain upon his conscience; but
+Gilbert the lad, the innocent boy who had poured out his blood at the
+very altar--was it for the love of Christ that he had slain _him_? And
+that vaunt he had flung to heaven when the keep of Valmont burned:
+"Let God Himself undo the deed!" Lo, it was made good--not even God,
+were Gilbert de Valmont to stand forth with breath, could take back
+that sinful stroke of Trenchefer!
+
+Richard cried aloud in his agony; and the black woods rang, and birds
+flew screaming from their haunts, as though the hawk were on them;
+echo and reëcho, then the woods were still. Richard roused himself by
+a painful effort. The tree trunks were darkening; the patch of blue
+above waxed dim; night was approaching.
+
+"St. Michael!" he muttered, "I must get away quickly, or sleep under
+the trees."
+
+But a native of the region might well have wandered in that dusky
+maze, and where were Richard's wits for woodcraft? He plunged
+heedlessly onward, forcing aside saplings by brute strength, his mind
+on anything but his path. One thing alone he knew and cared
+for,--never on earth, never in heaven, would he see his mother again,
+or his father, or Stephen, the brother at whose learning he had
+mocked, but in secret revered. And his sister? Well for Iftikhar
+Eddauleh five hundred leagues lay betwixt him and Richard Longsword,
+or the emir might have found his proof-panoply become his shroud!
+
+Still Richard wandered. It darkened fast. He began to find himself
+peering askance into every shadow. He lengthened his stride, for the
+forest was proving too dense for running. His speed led
+nowhere--trees, and ever trees, and still the light was failing.
+Richard raised his voice for a great halloo. Echoes again, but out of
+the gloom came more,--a low, deep growl; and the Norman knew its
+meaning well. There was a little break in the forest; the gloaming was
+a trifle stronger. Richard saw before him two eyes, bright in the
+twilight as coals of fire, and the vague outlines of a huge, dark
+form. All the battle instinct of the Norman leaped into life.
+
+"Good," cried he to the woods, "a bear!"
+
+He snatched at his side, no sword--unbuckled at the castle, just
+before he read the letter. But he laughed in very delight at what
+might master his chief enemy--conscience. "Good!" cried he again, and
+he plucked up a great stone. At the moment he felt as if he could
+grapple the brute in bare hands and come off victor; and if
+otherwise--what matter?
+
+With all his might he dashed the stone between those gleaming eyes. A
+mighty snarl. Richard tore the bough from a tree with giant grip, and
+sprang to the battle. Another snarl and growl, and behold! the brute
+instead of rearing and showing teeth, shambled away, and was lost in
+the shadows of the forest. Doubtless it had just been feeding, and
+would not fight unless at bay. But Richard cried out, cut by his
+pain:--
+
+"Dear God, even the beasts turn from me, I am so accursed!"
+
+He sat again upon a log; it was very dark. He could just see the tall
+columns of the trees. The patches of sky were a violet-black now. He
+stared and stared; he could go no farther; to wander on were madness.
+There were deep ravines on the mountain side. Richard remained still a
+long time. As the darkness grew, his sight of things past increased.
+His boyhood; his life in South Italy and Sicily; his first meeting
+with Mary; his duel with Louis; his parting with Mary; the storming of
+Valmont; his mother, ever his mother. She had nursed him herself--rare
+mark of devotion for a seigneur's lady. She had been proudest of the
+proud, when he had won his honors. She had whispered to him an
+hundred sweet admonitions that dear, bright night he was last at
+Cefalu. Did he love her more than Mary? Praises be to God, there are
+loves that never war; and such were these! Oh, had he but been at
+Cefalu, with his good right arm, and Musa, and Herbert, and Nasr--how
+different, how much better! And now all were dead save Eleanor, his
+bright-haired sister, and she--the captive of Iftikhar. Why, if God
+had been so wroth with him, had He not stricken him, and let the
+innocent go free? He was strong; his will was adamant as the blade of
+Trenchefer; to save those dear ones a single pang--what would he not
+suffer! Were they not--all save his sister--happy now? Surely the
+saints had taken joy to welcome his mother and brother; and within,
+his father's soul was white, if some little seared without.
+
+"Ah!" cried Richard, "if my own heart were clean, I would not grieve.
+I would pray for their souls, and love Mary Kurkuas, and know that
+pure angels intercede for me at God's throne; but now--what with the
+blood of Gilbert de Valmont, the shattering of the altar--what is mine
+but torment eternal!"
+
+And Richard saw, he was quite sure, as he strained his eyes in the
+dark, a fair green country strewn with flowers, and in the midst a
+battlemented city, and within that a glittering throne with myriad
+bright angels, playing lute and harp unceasing. Upon the throne sat an
+old man, with a white beard falling to his girdle, crowned with gold,
+and holding an orb and sceptre; and Richard knew this was God the
+Father. Then he saw angels bringing up men before the throne: Raoul de
+Valmont, John of the Iron Arm, and all their sinful crew. And God said
+to them: "Why have you come here, your sins unrepented, unshriven, all
+unprepared to die?" And they answered: "Richard Longsword has sent us;
+he was wiser than Thou, Lord, and could not bear with us as Thou hadst
+done so long." Then God said: "Your sins are very great. Depart to the
+lake of fire!" Then they brought a fair-haired, girlish boy, and God
+said: "Why hast thou come, dear child, when thou hadst not done on
+earth that which I designed for thee?" And the boy answered: "Richard
+Longsword is wiser than Thou; he did not wish me to be on earth." So
+the angels gave the lad white wings like their own, and a great viol
+like a _jongleur's_. But God said: "Concerning Richard Longsword it is
+written, 'Whosoever shall offend one of these little ones, that
+believe in me, it were better for him that a millstone were hanged
+about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea.'"
+Then some angels, very terrible, approached Richard as he gazed, to
+lead him to the throne; and lo! he was stripped naked as an infant at
+the font, and all the strength had sped out of him!...
+
+A mighty peal of thunder! the jagged lightnings springing above the
+trees; now all the woods were lit by the white bolts, now all was
+black; and on high, giants were dragging down pinnacles of a mighty
+fortress. Richard cowered on his seat. The raindrops smote him, but
+could not cool his glowing temples. The tale of the great storm that
+presaged Roland's death came to him--how from Mount St. Michael to
+Cologne there was pitch darkness at noonday. Would God this were omen
+of his death only--not of his perdition! Betwixt the lightnings could
+he not see children running about with two heads, and all the boughs
+swelling out with heads of serpents--sure sign of the presence of the
+devil? And, in the darkness, what was that flickering will-o'-the-wisp
+form, unless it was Herodias's daughter dancing, dancing with glee, as
+they said she ever did when she saw a soul devoted, like herself, to
+Satan? Would the night ever pass? Richard cowered on his seat. At
+last--and who might say how long it was in coming?--there was a faint
+tinge among the tree tops, a low flutter of wings on the branches. One
+shy bird commenced his morning call; another, another. The blank maze
+of tree trunks began to unravel into moss-strewn avenues. The dawning
+was at hand, and the sky fast coming blue. The only traces of the rain
+were the diamond drops hanging on twig and flower. A warm, moist odor
+was rising in the wood; the day would be very hot. Richard roused
+himself. His clothes were wet; he flung away his fur-lined
+"pelisson"; the heat of the heavy coat was intolerable. His head
+swam, as he stood up; but he summoned his strong will. His brain
+steadied. He looked about.
+
+"I am lost," reasoned he; "there is only one way to find the path to
+St. Julien; I must go above the trees. From the mountain crest I can
+see which side to go down." So he climbed, though now his steps were
+no longer strong, and his feet ached wearily. At last--the saints
+above knew after how long--he saw the pines thinning, then the rocks
+shone black and bare in the sun. One last effort--and he was out of
+the forest; the jagged summit still towered above him, but he could
+look forth--on what a view! Far and wide stretched the pleasant
+Auvergne country; corn-land and orchard, green but browning with the
+dying summer. The mountains pressed in on every side, north and west
+the great volcanic _puys_ tossed their bleak crests far into the blue,
+as if piers to upbear the heavens. Away to the east were more
+hills--the Cevennes; and beyond, very near the sky line, what was that
+whiteness through the scattering haze--the Alps? As he looked up, an
+eagle rose with hoarse scream from a crag above, and flew into the sky
+straight in the face of the sun, until his broad pinions were only a
+speck against the glowing blue. Richard looked downward. To his right
+and far away lay a village, monastery buildings, a tall bare
+tower--St. Julien--very small; he must have travelled far. But below
+him, at his feet, so that he felt he could cast a stone upon it, was
+another tower--black, smoke-stained; its bare parapet open to heaven,
+a great charred mass around--Valmont! Richard gazed and shuddered.
+"Dear God," he cried softly, "why hast Thou led me here, to show me
+the place of my sin? Am I not enough punished?"
+
+The scream of the eagle had died away. Higher and higher climbed the
+sun. All the valleys were springing out of the receding shadow. There
+was a soft, kind wind upon the mountain. Its kiss was sweet and
+comforting; but Richard needed more than the wind. It was not all pain
+of the heart that tore him now. His head was very heavy; he felt his
+knees beating together; at times his sight grew dim.
+
+"I am ill, in fever," he muttered to himself; "I must hasten to some
+house, or I shall die, and then--" But he never completed. He could
+see peasants' cottages beyond the Valmont tower; perhaps the dwellers
+had been wronged by his men the night of the sack, and would make him
+scantly welcome; but it was better to risk that, than lie down on the
+naked crest of the _puy_. He staggered downward, ever downward. Thrice
+he fell; thrice rose by a mighty effort. At last he dimly realized
+that the ground before him no longer sloped; he was clear of rock and
+trees, and before him, seared and bare, was the keep of Valmont.
+Richard fell again, this time on soft grass, and lay long. His head
+had ceased to pain him, but he felt weak as a little child. "I shall
+die! Christ pity me!" was all his thought. But again he rose, rose and
+staggered onward. The ruin drew him towards it, as by an enchanter's
+spell. He found his way past the outer wall, through the open gate
+where the weeds were already twining. One side of the tower had
+fallen, filling the moat; within, the other three walls rose, bare,
+fire-scarped, cavernous. Still Richard dragged forward. He was upon
+the cinders now; charred beams, benches. Here was a shivered target,
+there a shattered lance. As he advanced, three crows flew, coming from
+some carrion spoil they had found within. He was inside the enclosure
+of the keep; the sun no longer beat on him. It was cool and still. His
+strength was at an end. On a pile of dust and ashes were little green
+weeds springing. It was soft. He lay down, and tried to close his eyes
+and call back some prayers. "Here it is I shall die!" his wan lips
+muttered. But as he rested, something hard pressed his head. He took
+it, dragged it from the dust. Behold! a brass crucifix, and right
+across the body of Our Lord a deep, rude dint! "The crucifix held by
+the boy when I slew him!" moaned Richard. Then he looked on the face
+of the Christ. The lips moved not, the eyes gave no sign; but as
+Richard kept gazing, he felt the brass turning to fire in his
+hands,--pain, but pain infused with a wondrous gladness. "Christ died
+not for the spawn of Valmont!" had been his blasphemy; had Christ died
+for _him_? "Ah! Sweet Son of God," cried Richard from his soul, "Thou
+didst not come to earth and suffer for the pure and righteous, but
+Thou didst come for such as I. Thou didst pardon the thief on the
+cross; canst Thou pardon even me? I have committed foul murder, and
+insulted holy relics, and made the heavens ring with my blasphemies. I
+have no merit; I were justly sent to perdition for my sins; I lie
+here, perhaps dying. Have mercy, Lord, have mercy!" Did a voice speak
+from the blue above? Was it only some forest bird that croaked in
+Richard's disordered ear? "Lord," cried Richard, half rising, "if Thou
+canst forgive, do not let me die; let me live, and, by Thy holy agony,
+I swear I will remember the vow of my youth; I will remember the
+sorrows of Thy Holy City; and I will rest not day nor night, I will
+spare not wealth nor love nor blood, till I see the Cross triumphant
+upon the walls of Jerusalem, or until I die--if so God wills it!" And
+he knew nothing more until some one was dashing water in his face, and
+above him he saw the villain, "Giles of the Mill," who had been the
+betrayer of Valmont.
+
+"Ah, lord," he was saying, "well it was that Americ, the leper,
+wandering here in search for red adders, found you and told me!"
+
+"Americ, the leper?" asked Richard, his wits wandering.
+
+"Yes, lord; we keep him shut in a little hut outside the hamlet. But
+early in the mornings we let him go out hunting for red adders with
+white bellies; for if he eats enough of them with leeks, he is cured.
+But you, fair sir, are grievously ill. I must take you to my cottage."
+
+Then Richard lapsed again into a stupor; and when next he saw the
+world, he was in the miller's house. The good-wife was making a great
+fire with vine branches, and hanging a huge iron pot to heat water.
+They had laid Richard on the bed, the only one in the whole house,
+broad enough for both parents and the half-dozen dirty, shock-headed
+brats, that were squalling round the single room, and chasing the
+little pigs who belonged there as much as themselves. The children
+would steal up to the bed softly on tiptoe, and make curious glances
+at the "great seigneur," who had avenged their elder brother by
+slaying the terrible Bull of Valmont. Then their mother would cry out
+to them to keep their distance: "Who were they to set eyes on the
+mighty lord, who could send them all to the gallows if he listed?" But
+Richard, as he gazed on the unkempt, freckled faces, said in his
+heart, "Ah, if I could give all the St. Julien lands for the one white
+conscience of that little girl!"
+
+Giles of the Mill presently had out his plodding horse, and pounded
+away on the road to St. Julien, while his wife called in two wrinkled
+old crones, who looked at Richard, and shook their heads, then
+whispered almost loud enough to let him understand. The women put
+strange things into the pot: the feet of a toad, many weeds and
+flowers, the tail of a kitten, and a great spider. Then when the water
+was very hot, they brought some to him in a huge wooden spoon.
+Richard, though he knew what Arabian physicians could do, was too weak
+to resist them. Presently there was a clatter of hoofs without, and
+Herbert, Musa, and Sebastian were coming into the cottage. The face of
+Musa was very grave when he touched Richard's wrist; his next act was
+to empty the kettle on the earthen floor. The Norman's last strength
+was gone: he had tried to rise to greet his friends, sank back; his
+words were but whispers. Sebastian bent over him.
+
+"Dear father," the priest barely heard, "pray for me, pray for me; I
+have sworn to go to Jerusalem."
+
+But Richard's eyes were too dim to see the light breaking on
+Sebastian's face. Herbert and Musa devised a litter, and they bore the
+knight back to St. Julien.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+HOW LADY IDE FORGAVE RICHARD
+
+
+Richard Longsword lay betwixt death and life for many a long day.
+Sebastian hardly left him for an hour, nor did Herbert; but it was
+Musa that saved him. Sebastian had a plainly expressed dislike for the
+Spaniard's ministrations.
+
+"It is suffering Satan to cast out Satan," said he, to the
+Andalusian's face, "to suffer an infidel, such as you, to try to heal
+Richard."
+
+"Verily, learned sheik," answered Musa, with one of his grave smiles,
+"if it is better that Richard should die and dwell with your saints, I
+will not use my art."
+
+"No," sighed Sebastian, who had not lived in Sicily with eyes quite
+closed, "the lad is reserved for great things, for God and Holy
+Church. He must not die; use your arts, and I will pray Our Lady that
+she will defeat the evil in your science, and retain the good."
+
+So Richard was medicined according to the teachings of the world-famed
+Abul Kasim, and Sebastian went so far as to side with Musa, when the
+Arab forbade the officious sub-prior--who boasted himself a leech--to
+speak again of poulticing the Baron's head with sheep's lungs. A
+wandering Jewish doctor from the school of Montpellier gave more
+efficient aid. The abbot brought over a finger bone of St. Matthew to
+put under Richard's pillow,--sure talisman against madness. And it was
+sorely needed. Many a time those about the bed would shiver when they
+heard Longsword scream aloud that Gilbert was standing beside him, his
+face red with blood.
+
+"Remember Mary's tale," Richard would cry, "of the evil Emperor
+Constans, who slew his brother, and how the dead man stood before him
+in sleep, holding forth a cup of blood, saying, 'Drink, my brother,
+drink!' So with me, Gilbert de Valmont holds the cup, I cannot drink
+it! Holy Saints, I cannot! Away, away with him!"
+
+And in half-lucid moments, Richard would hear Sebastian pray, "Dear
+Lord, if by penance and sacrifice of mine I gain merit in Thy sight,
+lay it not up for me, but for Richard, my dear son. For I love him,
+Lord, more than any other, saving Thee; and he has sinned grievously,
+and Thy hand is heavy upon him. But pity him; he repents, he will go
+to deliver Thy tomb and Holy City."
+
+After this, when Richard lapsed again into his mad spells, he would
+howl that he was being cast into the burning abyss of Baratron with
+the devils Berzebu and Nero. But at last the fever left him wan and
+weak, with a face grown ten years older in two months. The castle folk
+rejoiced. The abbot came with congratulations and a tale how Brother
+Matthias, admittedly a little near-sighted, had seen in broad day St.
+Julien himself, accompanied by his stag, who had signified that the
+Baron should recover, and give five hundred "white deniers" to the
+abbey as thank-offering. Sebastian firmly forbade any generosity.
+
+"Do you doubt the vision?" asked Richard.
+
+Sebastian smiled grimly. "I do not doubt. But St. Julien asked for
+money for himself; and your all is dedicated to a higher than St.
+Julien--Christ. Our Lord did not bid us bestow riches on the rich.
+Need there will be of all money and good swords and strong right arms,
+before our sinful eyes see the deliverance of the Holy City. Let not
+even pious gratitude turn your thoughts aside." So the monks growled
+helplessly, for Sebastian had the Baron's ear now, and all the people
+venerated him as being one who seldom touched fish or flesh, slept
+little, prayed long, and always cast down his eyes when he passed a
+pretty maid.
+
+Then came another letter, from La Haye, in Mary Kurkuas's neat Greek
+hand.
+
+    "Mary Kurkuas to her dearest heart, Richard Longsword, sends tears
+    and many kisses. Life of my life, I have heard the news from
+    Sicily, and my heart is torn. It was for my sake that you earned
+    the wrath of Iftikhar, because I said 'I love you' to you, not to
+    him. Each morning and sunset I kneel before my picture of the
+    Blessed 'God-bearer,' praying her to have pity on you, to make you
+    strong, to stanch your heart. From my wise Plato and Plutarch, I
+    draw no healing; but when I look on the face of the Mother of God
+    I know all is well, though human eye may not see. There has come a
+    travelling _jongleur_ from Auvergne, who tells a wonderful tale of
+    your deed at Valmont. In the midst of my sorrow I yet rejoice and
+    thank the saints, that my own true cavalier was spared, and was
+    suffered to slay that horrible Raoul. Yet I am glad it was all hid
+    from me till safely over. I know you have a great work to do in
+    Auvergne, and would not call you hence. Yet remember now that the
+    summer is just sped, that I am waiting for you at La Haye. Then
+    when you come, I can touch your face, and smooth away all the
+    pain, and we will look no longer back but forward. And so with a
+    thousand kisses more, farewell."
+
+This letter made the gloom on Richard Longsword's brow settle more
+darkly than ever. She knew of his sorrow, of his storming of
+Valmont--of the death of Gilbert, not a word! Here was fresh sorrow;
+to his own mortal pain must be added that of giving anguish to one
+dearer than self. Who was he, with innocent blood almost reddening his
+hands, with blasphemies nigh upon his lips, to take in his arms a
+beautiful woman, pure as an angel of light? Richard ground his teeth
+in his pain.
+
+"Dear Sebastian," cried he once, despairing, "can even the great
+pilgrimage wipe out my sin? Did not Foulques of Anjou go thrice to
+Jerusalem before earning peace for his soul?"
+
+"My son," was the answer, "fear not; your sin is great, yet not as
+Foulques's, for he tortured his brother to death in a dungeon. No
+other pilgrimage--to St. James of Compostella, to St. Martin of
+Tours--is like to that to Jerusalem. And now you are to go, not with
+staff and scrip, but with a good sword, and to win great battles for
+God and His Christ!"
+
+So for a moment Richard brightened; then, lapsing in gloom, he
+groaned: "Unworthy, all unworthy am I so much as to look upon the City
+of God! Let me turn monk, and seek peace in toil and fast and vigil."
+
+But Sebastian shook his head: "Well I know that too often the very
+seat of Satan is within the cloister--spiritual arrogance, worldly
+lust, even in the great abbey of Clugny itself. And did God give you a
+grip of steel and an arm of iron to let them grow weak in some monkish
+cell? You have a great work before you, sweet son. Fear not, be
+patient. God will bring it to pass!"
+
+There was a strength, a simple majesty, about Sebastian, when he
+spoke, that made all doubts for the moment flee away. So Richard
+continued to possess himself in such peace as he might. Day by day he
+grew stronger; and at last, just as October began with its cool
+evenings and crystal mornings, he was again riding about upon Rollo.
+All the St. Julien vassals fell on their knees when their dread lord
+passed their hamlets, and they put up a prayer of thanksgiving; for
+they said, "The seigneur is a kind and just man, with the love of God
+in his heart, despite his fury at Valmont."
+
+But now came messengers out of the south. Louis de Valmont had raised
+a great force; all the roving bandits of the woods had gathered around
+him; the war between Aquitaine and Toulouse lagged, and many landless
+cavaliers had come under his banner. When Herbert heard the news he
+began to talk of victualling St. Julien for a long siege, and sending
+to Burgundy and Languedoc for help. But Richard would hear none of it.
+
+"The saints know there has been enough Christian blood spilled, since
+I came to Auvergne. There shall be no more in my quarrel," declared
+he; and he sent back a messenger to Louis, saying that he prayed him
+to enter on no new feud, but to grant a meeting where they might
+compose their quarrels without arms. Three days sped, and back came
+the envoy with a letter, which three months earlier would have made
+Richard swear great oaths and draw out Trenchefer. "Louis de Valmont,"
+ran the reply, "will come to St. Julien and there meet Richard
+Longsword, and five hundred lances will come with him. As for
+composition, let Richard make what terms he could with the saints, for
+on earth he need beg for no quarter."
+
+"By the Glory of Allah!" declared Musa, when the letter was read, "we
+will make them cry 'Hold!' before many arrows fly!" And Herbert began
+to call to arms the vassals of the barony, and chuckled when he
+thought of the brave times ahead. But Richard, when he had slept on
+the letter, called for Sebastian, and was with him long alone. Then he
+unbuckled Trenchefer, put on a soiled, brown bleaunt, and bade them
+bring a common palfrey for himself and a mule for Sebastian. He
+commanded Herbert to keep strict guard of the castle, to yield to
+none, to attack none. Even to Musa he would not tell the object of his
+journey. With the priest at his side he rode out of the village, and
+turned his face toward the south, where the road climbed over the
+mountains.
+
+They journeyed on till the sun lacked a bare hour of setting. Then
+before them, on a smooth meadow where ran a little river, they saw
+many rude tents, horses picketed to lances thrust in the ground, the
+smoke of camp-fires; and heard the hum of a hundred voices. Presently
+into the road sprang half a dozen surly, hard-visaged men with tossing
+pole-axes and spiked clubs. They demanded of knight and priest their
+business, in no gentle tone.
+
+"Tell your master, Louis de Valmont," said Sebastian, mildly, "that a
+cavalier and a servant of Holy Church would speak with him."
+
+"A servant of Holy Church, ho!" cried one of the men-at-arms, with a
+covetous glance at the mule; but Sebastian fastened his firelike eyes
+upon the fellow, who dropped his gaze and began to mutter something
+about the evil eye.
+
+They led the two into the midst of the camp, where a great press of
+disorderly varlets and petty nobles swarmed around, pointing,
+laughing, whispering loudly. Only the largest tent was carefully
+closed, and about it stood sentries in armor. A man-at-arms went to
+this, thrust in his head, and was back with the message:--
+
+"Sir Louis de Valmont and his mother, the noble Lady Ide, have no time
+to waste words with every wandering knight and priest that come this
+way. They bid you state your errand to me and begone, or we strip you
+of steeds and purses."
+
+"Tell Louis de Valmont," said Richard, in a voice that many might
+hear, "that the Baron of St. Julien and his chaplain desire speech
+with him, and that speedily!"
+
+There was half a hum, half a growl, in the crowd about. Swords waved
+on high; lances tossed; voices began to shout, "Seize! Strike!"
+Sebastian swept round upon the soldiery with his terrible gaze, and
+all recoiled. Richard stood stern and motionless as a rock. Then the
+flap of the tent dashed aside, and forth strode a figure in silvered
+casque and hauberk.
+
+"Sir Louis de Valmont," said Richard, very gravely, advancing with
+outstretched hand, "I greet you well. Let us meet in peace in Christ's
+name!"
+
+A dark scowl knotted the brow of De Valmont.
+
+"By all the fiends, what devil persuaded you to come into my presence?
+As God lives, you shall die this night, though you kiss my feet and
+beg for life."
+
+But Sebastian answered for Richard.
+
+"It shall be as you say, Louis de Valmont; but first you shall look
+into your own soul, and see if you be a meet instrument to execute
+God's will. We cannot speak here. Let us enter the tent."
+
+Louis stood obdurate; but with a single sweep of his hand and a second
+lightning glance, Sebastian scattered the men-at-arms, and he and
+Richard strode right past De Valmont into the tent.
+
+Dimly within they saw the rude camp furniture, bedding and rugs on the
+ground, where were laid out some silver dishes and flagons, and two
+serving-maids were making ready a meal; but as they stepped in, before
+them rose a figure, a woman with gray hair and a face ashen with a
+great sorrow, who sprang forth to Richard with a bitter cry.
+
+"Away, away, wretch, murderer! Hew him to death, Louis! Ah! my boy! my
+boy!"
+
+It was the Lady Ide. And at her cry Richard's face also grew ashen,
+but he did not quail.
+
+"Dear lady," answered he, "I am all you say. Yet let me speak. Your
+son's men are all around; my life is in Louis's keeping."
+
+"Away! away!" moaned the mother, "and as they kill you, let my curse
+still be in your ears! Each night I cry to God to remember the blood
+of Gilbert. Oh, may God's wrath be heavy upon you!"
+
+"Lady," replied Richard, turning even paler, "God's wrath has indeed
+been heavy upon me! Let them seize and torture me, I do not fear."
+
+And here Louis broke in, raging:--
+
+"Enough of this! In Satan's name, will you add to your infamy by
+reviling my mother to her face? Ho, Robert, Aimeon,--this way!--drag
+him forth!"
+
+But Sebastian looked straight into De Valmont's eyes.
+
+"Peace, man of sin! Know that if Richard Longsword be indeed so
+accursed as you deem him, yet he is as Cain; for God has set a mark
+upon him, lest any finding him should slay him!"
+
+And under the priest's terrible gaze the Provençal's hand left his
+sword-hilt, and he held down his head. Then to Lady Ide, Sebastian
+spoke:--
+
+"Daughter, your sorrow is great. Nevertheless, I warn you. As you
+would stand at the judgment seat on the great Day, listen to the words
+of this knight."
+
+And Lady Ide also bowed her head. Then Richard began: "Noble lady, the
+first cause of your sorrows lies not in me. My grandfather and your
+son Raoul quarrelled; on what account I know not. But as God is my
+just judge, the thing Raoul did to Baron Gaston, when he held him
+prisoner, cried to heaven. I slew Raoul in fair battle after he had
+tortured my grandfather, fettered in a dungeon."
+
+And at this the mother burst forth:--
+
+"Oh, holy St. Martin, but Raoul was a terrible man! Yes, I confess it,
+though it was I that bore him. Did I not plead with him not to torture
+Baron Gaston, and tell him the saints would requite tenfold?"
+
+"Amen, daughter!" commented Sebastian, sternly.
+
+"But Gilbert, my youngest, innocent as song-thrush! gentle as a little
+girl!" the lady wailed.
+
+"And I will speak of him also," continued Richard. "Before I came to
+St. Julien, I had had quarrel with Sir Louis. Yet we warred in
+knightly fashion. Sir Louis lost the day, but there was no stain upon
+his honor. Still there was little love betwixt me and any of the De
+Valmont name when I went to Auvergne. Then I came to St. Julien, and
+saw my grandfather. Holy Cross! dear lady--could you have seen him,
+you would have melted with pity--all seared by fire, those sightless
+eyeballs!"
+
+"No more! by every saint, no more!" moaned Lady Ide.
+
+"When I saw him, and heard of Raoul, and heard that he had a younger
+brother Gilbert, I swore a great oath to Heaven that the Valmonts were
+a godless brood, and I would slay them all--all. For in my eyes
+Gilbert was but as his brother." Lady Ide groaned, but Richard went
+on: "Then when I stormed Valmont, I fought Raoul face to face and man
+to man, and he perished as befits a valiant cavalier. Whether my own
+sins are not now as great as his, let God judge; but if he died, he
+died--I dare to say it--not without cause."
+
+"It is true! Dear Christ, it is true! And I was his mother." Lady Ide
+had her face bowed on her hands, and shook with her sobs. Richard
+drove straight on:--
+
+"Then the devil entered into me. I was mad with lust of slaying and
+the heat of battle. My veins seemed turned to fire. I knew all that I
+did, yet in a strange way knew not--only beheld myself striking,
+shouting, running, as if I stood a great way off. I struck you down
+foully. I slew Gilbert at the altar, and all the time that I raged, I
+felt deep within--that what I did, was a sin against God. I shattered
+the holy relics; I blasphemed heaven. There are those who have sinned
+more than I, but they are not many."
+
+The lady was not weeping now. She was staring at Richard with hard,
+tearless eyes,--all the picture of that fearful night standing, as in
+a vision, before them.
+
+"But I have been punished,--punished, perhaps, after my sins,--yet
+scarce has God given me grace to bear. I had a mother who held me
+dear--dearer, if I may say it, than you held Gilbert."
+
+"It cannot be!" cried Ide, starting up, but Sebastian frowned and she
+was quiet.
+
+"I had a mother, a father who also loved me, a brother gentle as
+Gilbert, and a sister," and when Richard spoke the word even Louis
+turned away his gaze, there was such agony on Longsword's face. "And
+now tidings have come from Sicily that father, mother, and brother are
+dead, slain wantonly by Iftikhar Eddauleh, whom Louis knows well; and
+my sister! holy Mother of God, drive the thought from my heart! is the
+captive of that paynim. So think you not the sin I committed against
+you and yours has not met its reward? Think you I shall greatly fear,
+if Sir Louis calls in his men and bids them slay me? What is death
+beside the pains that I bear here!" And Richard smote his breast. Then
+Louis burst forth:--
+
+"But why, by the Holy Cross, did you venture hither? You know I have
+sworn to have your life."
+
+"Right well," answered the Norman, dropping his gaze; "and doubtless
+you expected to find me holding St. Julien with all my vassals, and
+much blood ready to be spilled. But I again have sworn an oath,--and
+the oath is this: 'For my sins, and for the souls of my parents and
+brother, I will go to free the Holy City from the unbeliever. And I
+will shed no more Christian blood until I see the Cross triumphant on
+the walls of Jerusalem, or until I die.' Therefore I stand before you,
+asking to be forgiven; and if you will not, I do not fear death."
+
+A long silence; then the woman broke it:--
+
+"My boy! my boy! You have killed him! You must suffer!"
+
+"I am willing, lady," said Richard, never stirring.
+
+But Sebastian now had his word:--
+
+"Take care, daughter, lest you too sin in the sight of God! What said
+Our Lord upon the cross? 'Father, forgive them!' And has not this
+Richard Longsword been chastened? been brought very low? You lost your
+two sons; but one of these, by your own lips, is confessed worthy of
+death, and for the slaying of the other this man has been repaid. He
+slew one innocent: he has lost three--and one worse than dead. And he
+is a chosen vessel of the Lord. For God has cut him short in his sins,
+even as He cut short Paul when breathing forth threatenings and
+slaughter. For I say unto you: I had granted unto me a vision,"--and
+Sebastian's voice rose to a swelling height,--"no flitting dream of
+the night, but clear as the noonday; I saw Richard Longsword standing
+on the walls of Jerusalem, and above his head the cross. And he shall
+fight great battles for Christ, and endure great tribulation more; but
+shall see the desires of God upon the wicked. Therefore, you and you,
+deal pitifully with him. For he has sinned, but has repented, and now
+is one of God's elect."
+
+And as Sebastian spoke, lo! Lady Ide's eyes were bright with tears,
+and her frame shook with a mighty sobbing; for, as she looked on
+Richard Longsword's face, she saw it aged with an agony beyond any
+curse of human thought.
+
+"Ah, dear God!" she cried, lifting up her hands, still very soft and
+white, "Thou knowest it is hard, yet I--I forgive him!"
+
+Richard knelt and kissed the hem of her robe.
+
+"Sweet lady," said he, "you have given water to one who seemed parched
+in nigh quenchless fire. For when such as you may forgive, I may look
+to heaven, and say, 'Christ is not less merciful.'"
+
+Lady Ide only pressed her hands to her face. Richard turned to Louis.
+"And am I forgiven by you also?" was his prayer. But Louis answered:--
+
+"My mother forgives you. That is enough. I am not made like the
+angels, as is she. I will do you no harm. Since I cannot take my men
+to St. Julien, we will go to Clermont, where the Pope will hold the
+council, and brave adventures will be set afoot. Between us there is a
+truce. Let forgiveness and friendship wait."
+
+So Richard bowed his head and went out of the tent.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+HOW RICHARD SAW PETER THE HERMIT
+
+
+Thus Richard returned to St. Julien, to the great joy and wonderment
+of Musa and Herbert, who had never expected to see him again after
+learning his quest. As the days of autumn advanced, Richard began to
+make ready for his progress to Clermont. For hither, report had it,
+all France was flocking, small and great. In July Urban II, who, as
+Cardinal of Ostia, had once knelt at the bed of the dying Gregory, had
+crossed the Alps to see once more his native land,--for he was a
+Frenchman, born near Chatillon-sur-Marne,--and now that he had become
+the Vicar of Christ he did not forget that the best servants of Our
+Lord prayed to Him in the Languedoc or the Languedoil. And so, leaving
+behind Italy, with its wrangling prelates, its sordid city-folk, its
+Antipope, and half-phantom emperor, he returned to his own people. And
+lo! all France felt a thrill at the pontiff's coming--for who did not
+know that wonders past thinking were at hand! The sense of sin hung
+heavy on each man's soul: fast, penance, alms, gifts to abbeys, gifts
+to rear cathedral walls, the vows of the monks--all these too feeble
+to lift the pall of guilt! Richard was not the only despairing baron
+who cried after this fashion,--"Miserable man that I am--who shall
+save me from the body of this death!" Sin there was in France, lust,
+violence; but also a spark of "the fire not of this world." Let the
+breath of the spirit blow; let the prophet's voice cry to the four
+winds; and the spark would spring to a flame, the flame to a roaring,
+the roaring would echo to the ends of the earth. The sky was bright
+over beloved France; day by day new castles were rising, cities also,
+and cathedrals mounting up to heaven. All without grew more joyous
+every day; but men, looking within, saw their sins beyond reckoning.
+With France so fair, and "heaven so like thee, dear France," who would
+not give all to possess so lovely a country forever!--yet their
+sins--they were so many!
+
+Urban had crossed the Alps in July; in August he was at Nimes; in
+September he crossed the Rhone, thence to Clugny, "Queen of Abbeys,"
+where he had been a humble monk years before. As November advanced, he
+set his face toward Clermont, in Auvergne; and when St. Julien's folk
+made preparation to journey thither, Sebastian could scarce restrain
+his own impatience. All day he roamed about, his eyes bright but
+vacant. Richard did not share his joy; for he thought not of the
+pilgrimage only, but of Musa, and his mind grew darker. How he loved
+the Arab! And yet was not this bond betwixt Christian and Moslem a sin
+not lightly to be punished?
+
+"_Ai_, my brother!" Richard would cry in despair; "turn Christian; go
+with me to Jerusalem; when we return, take half of the St. Julien
+lands!" Whereupon Musa laughed in his melancholy way, replying:--
+
+"And why may not I bid you become Moslem and speed to Egypt?"
+
+"Well that my faith is strong!" returned the Norman, bitterly. "But we
+must part--must part! Yet God has made you flesh of my flesh. We see
+love in each other's eyes. We hear each other's voices, and hear joy!
+Were we both of one faith, where we two were, there would be heaven!
+Yet, O Musa, we are sundered by a gulf wider than the sea!"
+
+The friends had been pacing along the clearing without the castle; and
+now Musa thrust his arm around the shoulder of the mighty Norman, and
+the two strode on a long time silent. Then Richard continued:--
+
+"Tell me, Musa, if you go to Egypt, and we Franks to Jerusalem, and it
+befalls that you have chance to fight in defence of the Holy City,
+will you embrace it? You are not a strait Moslem."
+
+The Spaniard answered very slowly, his eyes on the ground:--
+
+"What is written in the book of our dooms, that may no kalif shun.
+Says Al-Koran, 'The fate of every man, we have bound about his neck.'
+And again it says, 'No soul can die unless by the will of Allah,
+according to that which is written in the book containing the
+destinies of all things.' Therefore why ask me? The Most High knows
+what will befall, whether you Christians will have your will, and see
+your cross above the Holy City, or whether you will all be lying with
+the dead."
+
+"Amen!" answered Richard, solemnly. "Only to the Christian there can
+be no doubt as to the will of God, unless, by the unworthiness of our
+sinful hearts, we are denied the boon of setting free the tomb of Our
+Lord. But, my kind brother, it is not of this that I would speak. I
+dread this parting from you. Think! here stand I, with many vassals to
+fear me, a few, like Herbert, to worship me; but--" and the strong
+voice was broken--"on all the wide earth there are but three that love
+me,--Sebastian, Mary Kurkuas, and you. And how may I lift eyes to Mary
+now? And you--you are to be taken away."
+
+Musa only looked on the grass at his feet. Then he said sweetly:--
+
+"Ah, my brother, though now we part, I do not think our friendship
+will have brought bitterness only. So long as we live we shall think
+each of the other as the half of one's own soul that has traversed
+away, but will in some bright future return. And who knows that your
+churchmen, and even our prophet (on whom be peace), are wrong alike?
+That every man and maid who has walked humbly in the sight of the Most
+High, and striven to do His will, will not be denied the joy
+hereafter? Do you think Allah is less compassionate than we, who have
+dwelt together these many days, and to whom our faith has been no
+barrier to pure love?"
+
+Richard shook his head.
+
+"God knows," said he, half piteously; "Sebastian says to me each day:
+'The Spaniard is of the devil. Take heed! He stands on the brink of
+the lake of quenchless fire; send him away, if you are truly devoted
+to the service of Our Lord.'"
+
+"And he is right," answered Musa, bending down and plucking a late
+floweret; "our paths lie far asunder. You will go to Jerusalem, and if
+you fare prosperously, you will return with the great load lifted from
+your soul, and rule here as a mighty baron with Mary Kurkuas at your
+side. And I--doubtless I shall gain favor at Cairo. They will give me
+work to do. I shall become a great emir,--vizier perhaps--no--I will
+better that; what may not a good sword hope with favoring start? May I
+not be hailed in twenty years 'Commander of the Faithful'?"
+
+And Richard, catching the lighter mood, answered: "And will you go
+forever mateless? At Palermo how many bright eyes smiled on you! As
+kalif the fifty houris of your harem will chase from mind the memory
+of Richard the Frank." Musa tore in pieces the floweret, and blew away
+the petals.
+
+"A harem? Allah forefend! My father had three wives, and was the slave
+of each at once. Never wittingly will I yield myself to love, save of
+one who shall be the fairest of the daughters of Allah and gifted with
+His own wisdom!"
+
+"You speak of Mary Kurkuas!" cried the Norman, starting.
+
+"_Wallah_, to every lover his mistress is the only fair one!"
+
+So Musa made merry. A few days afterward he rode away with the
+Saracens to La Haye, to tell Mary that for the sin of her betrothed,
+Richard dared not hail her his bride. A sorry story! but only Musa
+could make the best of it. Nasr and his Saracens were to be shipped
+back to Sicily. As for Longsword, he set forth with a few men-at-arms
+westward for Clermont.
+
+As they travelled, more and more people met them, and all were going
+the selfsame way. At Chanterelle the lord of the castle had to send to
+Richard begging pardon, but there were already so many cavaliers with
+their retainers halting with him for the night, that he could offer
+no hospitality. At Valbelaix, lo! a great crowd of peasants, men with
+long hair and shaggy beards, foot-sore women and little children, were
+on the road; and when Richard asked them how they durst leave their
+seigneur's lands and brave his wrath, an old man fell on his knees and
+answered:--
+
+"Ah, gentle knight, our seigneur may be angry, but God is still more
+angry. For we have all many sins, and they say that at Clermont the
+Holy Father will tell us how we may be loosed from them."
+
+Then Richard bowed his head very humbly and bade Herbert cast a whole
+bag of silver obols amongst the good people, and was very glad when
+the children cried out in their sweet, clear voices: "God bless you,
+good lord," and "Our Lady remember your kindness."
+
+As the company rode toward Courgoul, they came on another knight with
+his train. The cavalier was a thick-pated, one-eyed old warrior, who
+had a life of hard fighting and foul living written all over his face.
+But when Richard inquired whither he journeyed, the old sinner made
+reply:--
+
+"To Clermont, brave sir."
+
+"And why to Clermont?"
+
+"Ah! you have two eyes. You can see; my sins are more than the leaves
+on the trees. I could never remember them all at confession. But even
+I," and he crossed himself, "am a Christian; and if by riding a few
+jousts with the infidels the saints will think more kindly of me, St.
+Anastaise, it would be no irksome penance!"
+
+So they travelled, and Richard began to see that he was not the only
+one who felt the hand of God very heavy upon him. When the troop came
+to Courgoul, a great band of country folk, farmers, petty nobles, and
+two or three greater lords were overtaken, all hurrying and shouting,
+so that for a long time Longsword could learn nothing from them. Then,
+at last, men began to cry, "He is here! he is here!" just as they
+turned in before the little village church.
+
+"Who is this 'he'?" pressed Richard. And twenty tongues tossed back:
+"Are you a stranger? Peter of Amiens! Peter the Hermit, the apostle of
+God!"
+
+So the whole band swarmed to the church door, but could not enter, for
+within there was no room to stand. And an old priest came forth, and
+scarce obtained silence:--
+
+"Back, back, good Christians, the saintly Peter will come and speak to
+you under the great tree."
+
+Then all surged again to a wide-spreading oak before the church, and
+the building emptied like bees pouring from a hive; but last of all,
+with a sacristan guarding at either side to keep off the people, came
+a little man, almost a dwarf in stature. He had his eyes on the
+ground; his carriage was ungainly; head and feet were bare. His hair
+was unshorn, his brown beard fell upon his breast. One could see that
+his cheeks were wan with fasting. He wore a gray hermit's cloak, and
+beneath that a rude, dirty cassock, girt With a cord. And this was the
+man who was setting France aflame, and doing that which King Philip or
+his greatest vassal could not with all their lieges! "Your blessing,
+father, your blessing!" voices began to cry. And now a woman, who had
+tried to kiss his cloak's hem, but had been thrust back by a
+sacristan, fell on her knees, and was kissing the sod where the
+hermit's foot had pressed. More voices: "Your blessing, father! Our
+sins are great! Pray to God for us--He will hear you!" And the baron
+whom Richard had met was on his knees before the anchorite, bowing his
+wicked old head, and moaning and sobbing and gasping out all sorts of
+petitions. Peter had reached the foot of the great tree. It stood on a
+slight rising, and the crowd all gave back a little. Peter fell on his
+knees, beat his breast, and prayed silently. And with him all knelt a
+long while, each repeating his _mea culpa_. Then the hermit rose. At
+the flash of his eyes, bright as carbuncles, a fire seemed to burn to
+each hearer's deepest soul.
+
+"Listen, Christians of Auvergne!" One could hear a leaf rustle, it was
+so still. "You say your sins are many?" "Yes, yes!" came from a
+thousand voices, all moaning at once. A slight gesture; they were
+silent. "And you say well. God is very angry with you. He sent His
+dear son, Our Lord, to this world more than a thousand years ago. How
+wicked it still is! Who of you is guiltless? Let such go hence. I have
+no word for him. But you," with a lightning gaze about, "have given
+way to lustful passion; and you--have blasphemed the name of God; and
+you--have shed innocent blood. It is so. I see it in all your eyes."
+And now a terrible commotion was shaking the crowd. Strong men were
+crying out in agony; women wailed; there were tears on the most iron
+cheek. Peter went on: "I am not the Holy Father. Come to Clermont, if
+you wish to learn how to be loosed from your sins. But hear my tale
+and consider if the acceptable day of the Lord be not at hand,--the
+day when your sins which are as scarlet shall be washed white as wool.
+Know, good people, that not long since I was in Palestine, in the dear
+home land of our Blessed Lord. Ah, it would tear your hearts too much,
+were I to tell you all that I there saw: how the unbelievers pollute
+churches and holy altars with vile orgies; how the blood of the
+oppressed Christians has run in the streets of Jerusalem, like brooks
+in the springtime; how even the Rock of Calvary and the Church of the
+Holy Sepulchre have been defiled--by deeds which the tongue may not
+utter!" A pause. The crowd was swaying in emotion beyond control.
+Peter held on high a large crucifix, and pointed to the Christ
+thereon: "Look at the body of Our Lord. His wounds bleed afresh; they
+bleed for His children who have forgotten Him, and turned away to
+paths of wickedness, and left His sacred city to unbelievers. O
+generation of vipers, who shall save you from eternal wrath?" The cord
+was strained nigh to breaking. The people were moaning and tossing
+their arms. A great outburst seemed impending. "Come to Clermont. For
+I say unto you that God has not turned away His face utterly. There
+the Holy Father will tell you what you shall do to be saved. Thus long
+has God seen your wickedness and been angry with you. But He has not
+kept His anger forever. Be sober and of good courage, for a great day
+is at hand. When I was in Jerusalem, I communed with the saintly
+Simeon, the patriarch, and wept bitterly over the griefs of the
+Christians there and the arrogancy of the unbelievers. And I declare
+to you that when I knelt one day at the Holy Sepulchre, I heard a
+voice: 'Peter of Amiens, arise! Hasten to proclaim the tribulations of
+My people; the time cometh for My servants to receive help and My holy
+tomb to be delivered!' And I knew it was Our Lord Himself that spoke.
+Therefore I rested not day nor night until I had bidden the Christians
+of the West put forth their might in God's most holy war!"
+
+For a moment stillness; then Peter broke forth again: "Awake, awake,
+put on strength, O arm of the Lord! Awake as in the ancient time, in
+the generations of old! Then shall the redeemed of the Lord return,
+and come singing into Zion; and they shall obtain gladness and joy,
+and sorrow and mourning shall flee away!"
+
+Then there was a strange thing. The people did not cry out, the
+moaning was hushed, all kept motionless; and the hermit stood holding
+up the crucifix, with his hand outstretched in benediction!--
+
+"To Clermont!" was his command; "to Clermont, men of Auvergne! There
+you shall have rest for your souls!"
+
+He went down from the little rising, and the people again began to
+flock about him. But he called for his mule, and when he mounted it,
+made away, though the crowd pressed close, and found holy relics in
+the beast's very hairs. Richard had been stirred as never before in
+his whole life. Was it true that all the world was guilty and sinful
+even as he? He felt himself caught in a mighty eddy, bearing he knew
+not whither; he, one wavelet amid the sea's myriads. Yes, to Clermont
+he would go,--Musa, Mary Kurkuas, honor, life,--he would give them all
+if need be, only to have his part in the war ordained by God.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+HOW RICHARD MET GODFREY OF BOUILLON
+
+
+Under the dead craters of the Monts Dôme in the teeming Limagne basin
+lay Clermont, a sombre, lava-built town, with muddy lanes; and all
+around, the bright, cold, autumn-touched country. Far beyond the walls
+stretched a new city,--tents spread over the meadows even; for no
+hospitable burghers could house the hundreds of prelates and abbots
+come to the council; much less the host of lay nobles and "villains."
+Daily into the Cathedral went the great bishops in blazing copes, and
+the lordly abbots beneath gold-fringed mitres, to the Council where
+presided the Holy Father,--where the truce of God was being proclaimed
+between all Christians from each Wednesday set-of-sun till Monday
+cockcrow, and where Philip of France and his paramour Queen Bertrade
+were laid under the great anathema. But no man gave these decrees much
+heed; for when Richard Longsword rode into Clermont on a November day,
+and pitched his tents far out upon the meadows,--all near space being
+taken,--he wondered at the flash in every eye at that one magic word,
+"Jerusalem!" All had heard Peter; all burned for the miseries of the
+City of Our Lord; knew that their own sins were very great. From
+Pérignat to Clermont, Richard accompanied a great multitude, growing
+as it went. After he had encamped, the roads were still black with
+those coming from the north, from Berri; from the west, from
+Aquitaine; from the east, from Forez. One could hear the chatter of
+the Languedoil, of the Ile de France, and of Champagne--all France was
+coming to Clermont!
+
+Beside Richard encamped an embassy from the Count Raymond of Toulouse,
+headed by a certain Raymond of Agiles, a fat, consequential,
+good-natured priest, his lord's chaplain; a very hard drinker who soon
+struck hands with Longsword,--much to the scandal of Sebastian, who
+did not love tales of lasses and wine-cups. With him was a half-witted
+clerk, one Peter Barthelmy, of whom more hereafter. But Richard cared
+little for their jests. Could even the Holy Father give rest to his
+soul? Could a journey to Jerusalem write again his name in the Book of
+Life?
+
+Richard went to the church of Our Lady of the Gate. Kneeling by the
+transept portal, with strangely carved cherubim above him, he looked
+into the long nave, where only dimly he could see the massy piers and
+arches for the blaze of light from two high windows bright with
+pictured saints. As he entered, a great hush and peace seemed to come
+over him. He turned toward the high altar; the gleaming window above
+seemed a doorway into heaven. He knelt at a little shrine by the
+aisle. He would pray. Lo, of a sudden the choir broke forth from the
+lower gloom:--
+
+    "That great Day of wrath and terror!
+    That last Day of woe and doom,
+    Like a thief that comes at midnight
+    On the sons of men shall come;
+    When the pride and pomp of ages
+    All shall utterly have passed,
+    And they stand in anguish owning
+    That the end is here at last!"
+
+Richard heard, and his heart grew chill. Still the clear voices sang
+on, till the words smote him:--
+
+    "Then to those upon the left hand
+    That most righteous Judge shall say:
+    'Go, you cursèd, to Gehenna
+    And the fire that is for aye.'"
+
+Richard bowed his head and rocked with grief. But when he looked again
+up toward the storied windows and saw the Virgin standing bathed in
+light, her eyes seemed soft and pitiful. Still he listened as the
+music swelled on:--
+
+    "But the righteous, upward soaring,
+    To the heavenly land shall go
+    'Midst the cohorts of the angels
+    Where is joy forevermo':
+    To Jerusalem, exulting,
+    They with shouts shall enter in:
+    That true 'sight of peace' and glory
+    That sets free from grief and sin,
+    Christ, they shall behold forever,
+    Seated at the Father's hand
+    As in Beatific Vision
+    His elect before Him stand."
+
+Richard sprang to his feet. "_Ai!_" were his words, half aloud; "if
+hewing my way to the earthly Jerusalem I may gain sight of the
+heavenly, what joy! what joy!"
+
+A hand touched him gently on the shoulder. He looked about, half
+expecting to see a priest; his eye lit on a cavalier, soberly dressed,
+with his hood pulled over his head. In the gloom of the church Richard
+could only see that he was a man of powerful frame and wore a long
+blond beard.
+
+"Fair knight," said the stranger, in the Languedoil, in a voice low,
+but ringing and penetrating, "you seem mightily moved by the singing;
+do you also wish to win the fairer Holy City by seeking that below? I
+heard your words." There was something in the tone and touch that won
+confidence without asking. And Richard answered:--
+
+"Gallant sir, if God is willing that I should be forgiven by going ten
+score times to Jerusalem, and braving twelve myriad paynims, I would
+gladly venture."
+
+The strange knight smote his breast and cast down his eyes. "We are
+all offenders in the sight of God, and I not the least. Ah! sweet
+friend, I know not how you have sinned. At least, I trust you have not
+done as I, borne arms against Holy Church. What grosser guilt than
+that?"
+
+The two knelt side by side at the little shrine for a long time,
+saying nothing; then both left the church, and together threaded the
+dirty lanes of the town, going southward to the meadows where was
+Richard's encampment. As they stepped into the bright light of day,
+Longsword saw that the stranger was an exceeding handsome man, with
+flashing gray eyes, long fair hair, and, though his limbs were slender
+and delicate, his muscles and frame seemed knit from iron. When they
+passed the city gate, Richard asked the other to come to his tent.
+"You are my elder, my lord; do not think my request presumption."
+
+"And why do you say 'my lord'?" asked the stranger, smiling.
+
+"Can I not see that your bleaunt, though sombre, is of costliest
+_cendal_ silk? that your 'pelisson' is lined with rare marten? that
+the chain at your neck is too heavy for any mean cavalier? And--I cry
+pardon--I see that in your eye which makes me say, 'Here is a mighty
+lord!'"
+
+The knight laughed again, and stroked his beard thoughtfully.
+
+"Good sir," said he, at length, "I see you are a 'sage' man. You
+desire to go to Jerusalem?"
+
+"Yes, by Our Lady!"
+
+"So do I; and I have come no small journey to hear the Holy Father.
+Let us seal friendship. Your name?"
+
+"Richard Longsword, Baron of St. Julien," answered the Norman,
+promptly, thrusting out his hand.
+
+"And mine," replied the other, looking fairly into Longsword's face,
+with a half-curious expression, "is Godfrey of Bouillon."
+
+But Richard had dropped the proffered hand, and bowed very low.
+"Godfrey of Bouillon? Godfrey of Lorraine? O my Lord Duke, what folly
+is mine in thrusting myself upon you--" But Godfrey cut him short.
+
+"Fair sir, do not be dismayed; your surmise is true! God willing, we
+shall ride side by side in more than one brave battle for the Cross;
+and I count every Christian cavalier who will fight with the love of
+Our Lord in his heart to be my good comrade and brother."
+
+"O my lord," began Richard again; and again the elder man stayed him
+with, "And why not? Will God give a higher place in heaven to the
+sinful duke than to the righteous peasant? Are we not told 'he that
+exalteth himself shall be abased'? And why have I, man of sin from my
+birth, cause to walk proudly?"
+
+The last words came so naturally that Richard could only cry out in
+despair: "_Ai_, Lord Duke, and if that be so, and you, who all men say
+are more monk than cavalier, are so evil, what hope then for such as
+I, who have sinned nigh past forgiveness?"
+
+"And what was your sin, fair knight?"
+
+"I slew an innocent boy with his hands upon the altar."
+
+Godfrey crossed himself, but answered very mildly: "You have greatly
+offended, yet not as I. For when you slew only a mortal boy, I
+crucified My Lord afresh by bearing arms against His Holy Church.
+Eleven years since with the Emperor Henry, in an evil hour, I aided
+him to take Rome from the saintly Pope Gregory. For this God let me be
+stricken by a great sickness. I was at death's door. Then His mercy
+spared me. And when I recovered, I swore that I would ride forth to
+the deliverance of the Holy City; in the meantime, under my silken
+robe I wear this," and he showed a coarse haircloth shirt, "as a
+remembrance of my sin and of my vow."
+
+"But you are without state?" asked Richard, wondering; "no vassals--no
+great company?"
+
+Godfrey smiled. "What are the pomps of this world?" said he, crossing
+himself again; "yet in the eyes of men I must maintain them; such is
+the bondage of the ruler. Just now my affairs are such in Lorraine and
+Brabant that were it to be noised abroad that the Duke were gone to
+Clermont, there would be no small stir, and then, perhaps, many would
+conspire to resist me. But now they think me hunting, to return any
+day, and they dare not move in their plots. Yet my heart has burned to
+see the Lord Pope, and hear the word that he must speak. Therefore I
+have come hither, in the guise of a simple knight, riding with all my
+speed, and only one faithful lord with me, who passes for my
+man-at-arms. And I must get the blessing and mandate of the Holy
+Father, and be back to Maestricht ere too many tongues begin wagging
+over my stay." And then with a flash of his keen eyes he turned on
+Richard: "And you, my Lord de St. Julien,--are you not the son of that
+great Baron, William the Norman, who rode the length of Palermo in the
+face of all the Moslems during the siege, and were you not also victor
+in the famous tourney held last year by Count Roger?"
+
+"I am, my Lord Duke; yet how could you know me?"
+
+Godfrey laughed lightly. "I make no boast, fair sir," he answered,
+"but there are very few cavaliers in all Christendom of whom I do not
+know something. For this war for the Cross is no new thing in my
+heart; and I strive to learn all I may of each good knight who may
+ride at my side, when we battle with the paynim; and I rejoice that
+your dwelling in half-Moslem Sicily has not made your hate for the
+unbeliever less strong."
+
+"Ah!" cried Richard, "only lately have I resolved to go to Jerusalem;
+I have fought against it long. To go I must put by the wedding of the
+fairest, purest woman in all the world,--perhaps forever. Yet my sin
+is great; and the blood of my parents and brother, slain by the
+infidels, will not let me rest. But it is very hard."
+
+"Therefore," said Godfrey, solemnly, with the fervor of an enthusiast
+kindling his eyes, "in the sight of God, your deed will have the more
+merit. Be brave, sweet brother. Put by every worldly desire and lust.
+I also have sworn to live as brother to mine own dear wife, till the
+paynims defile the city of the Lord no more. Our Lady grant us both
+the purer, uncarnal love, the glory passing thought, the seats at
+God's right hand!" And the great Duke strode on, his head bowed in
+deep revery, while Richard drew new strength and peace from his mere
+presence. Richard brought Godfrey to his own tent, letting De Carnac
+and the others know little of the story of his guest; and with the
+Duke came Count Renard of Toul, his comrade, a splendid and handsome
+cavalier, who seemed singularly ill-matched with his man-at-arms
+jerkin and plain steel cap. Longsword called Theroulde, and the
+_jongleur_ was at his best that night as he sang the direful battle of
+Roncesvalles, the valor of Roland and Oliver, and the gallant Bishop
+Turpin; and of Ganelon and his foul treason, King Marsillius and his
+impious attack on the armies of Christ; the death of the dreadful
+paynim Valdobrun, profaner of Jerusalem, and a hundred heroes more. As
+the tale ran on, it was a thing to see how the Duke swelled with holy
+rage against the infidel. As Theroulde sang, sitting by the camp-fire,
+the Duke would forget himself, spring from the rugs, and dash his
+scabbard upon the ground, until at last when the _jongleur_ told how
+Roland wound his great horn thrice in anguish, after it was all too
+late and the Frankish army far away, Godfrey could rein himself no
+more: "By the Splendor of God!" was his shout, "would that I had been
+there and my Lorrainers!" Then Theroulde was fain to keep silence till
+the terrible lord (for so he guessed him) could be at peace. Late that
+night they parted. On the morrow, report had it, the Pope would
+address all the Christians at Clermont from a pulpit in the great
+square.
+
+"And then,--and then,"--repeated the Duke; but he said no more, for
+they all knew their own hearts. Richard lay down with a heart lighter
+than it had been for many a dreary day. "Jerusalem! Jerusalem!" The
+name was talisman for every mortal woe.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Long after Richard had fallen asleep, Herbert sat with Theroulde,
+matching good stories before the camp-fire. The man-at-arms lolled
+back at full length by the blaze, his spade-like hands clasped under
+his head, his sides shaking with horse-laughs at Theroulde's jests.
+Suddenly the _jongleur_ cut his merry tale short.
+
+"St. Michael! There is a man lurking in the gloom behind the Baron's
+tent. Hist!"--and Theroulde pointed into the dark. Herbert was on his
+feet, and a javelin in his hand, in a twinkling.
+
+"Where?" he whispered, poising to take aim.
+
+"He is gone," replied the _jongleur_; "the night has eaten him up."
+
+"You are believing your own idle tales," growled the man-at-arms.
+
+"Not so; I swear I saw him, and the light as on a drawn dagger. He was
+a misshaped, dwarfish creature."
+
+Herbert sped the javelin at random into the dark. It crashed on a
+tent-pole. He ran and recovered it.
+
+"No one is there," he muttered; "you dream with open eyes, Theroulde.
+Tell no tale of this to Lord Richard. He has troubles enough."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+HOW RICHARD TOOK THE CROSS
+
+
+With the dawn that twenty-sixth day of November a great multitude was
+pouring through the gates of Clermont. A bleak wind was whistling from
+the north, mist banks hung heavy on the eastern hills, veiling the
+sun; but no one had turned back. A silent crowd, speaking in whispers;
+but all manner of persons were in it--seigneur and peasant, monk and
+bishop, graybeard and child, lord's lady and serf's wife,--all headed
+for the great square. Richard, with Duke Godfrey and Renard of Toul,
+fought their way through the throng; for what counted feudal rank that
+day! They came on a richly dressed lady, who struggled onward,
+dragging a bright-eyed little boy of four.
+
+"Help, kind cavaliers!" came her appeal. "In the press my husband has
+been swept from me."
+
+The three sprang to aid. She was a sweet-faced lady, reminding Richard
+of Mary Kurkuas. "And who may your husband be?" he asked, setting the
+lad on his own firm shoulder.
+
+"He is Sir Tescelinde de Fontaines of Burgundy," answered she, "and I
+am the Lady Alethe. We wished our little Bernard here should say when
+he grew old, 'I heard the Holy Father when he sent the knights to
+Jerusalem.'"
+
+"And he shall see and hear him, by St. Michael!" cried Richard, little
+knowing that his stout shoulder bore him whom the world in threescore
+years would hail as the sainted Bernard of Clairvaux. The boy stared
+around with great sober eyes, looking wisely forth after the manner of
+children.
+
+"Yes," repeated Richard, while Godfrey and Renard cleared a way to the
+very centre of the square, right under the rude pulpit set for the
+occasion. There was a high stone cross standing in front of the
+platform, and Richard seated his burden on one of its long arms. "Now,
+my little lord," cried he, "you shall be under the Pope's own eye, and
+your mother shall sit on the coping below and watch you."
+
+"You are a good man!" declared the child, impulsively, stretching out
+his little fat arms.
+
+"Ah!" replied Richard, half wistfully, as his glance lit on Louis, who
+had struggled to the front, "would that all might say likewise!"
+
+Richard looked about. The ground rose a little around the pulpit; he
+could see a great way,--faces as far as the eye could reach, velvet
+caps and bare heads, women's bright veils and monkish cowls,
+silver-plated helmets of great lords, iron casques of men-at-arms,--who
+might number them? Pennoned lances tossed above the multitude, banners
+from every roof and dark street whipped the keen wind. Each window
+opening on the wide square was crowded with faces.
+
+The Norman did not see a certain, dark-visaged hunchback, who strove
+to thrust himself through the throng to a station beside him. For when
+Godfrey's sharp eyes and frown fell on the rascal, he vanished
+instantly in the press. But Longsword waited, while men climbed the
+trees about and perched like birds on the branches, and still the
+multitude pressed thicker and thicker; more helmets, more lances, more
+bright veils and brilliant scarfs. Would the people come forever? Yet
+all was wondrously silent; no clamor, no rude pressure; each took post
+and waited, and listened to the beating of his own heart.
+
+"The Pope is in the cathedral. He is praying for the special presence
+of the Holy Ghost," went the low whisper from lip to lip. And the
+multitude stood thus a long time, many with heads bowed in prayer. The
+chill wind began to die away as the sun mounted. Richard could see
+rifts in the heavy cloud banks. The shadow over the arena lifted
+little by little. Why was it that every breath seemed alive with
+spirits unseen? that the sigh of the flagging wind seemed the rustle
+of angels' wings? that he, and all others, half expected to see
+bright-robed hosts and a snow-white dove descending from the dark
+cathedral tower? More waiting; little Bernard began to stir on his
+hard seat. He was weary looking at the crowd. His mother touched him.
+"Be quiet, dear child, bow your head, and say your 'Our Father'; the
+Holy Spirit is very near to us just now."
+
+At last--slowly the great central portal of the cathedral opened. They
+could hear the low, sweet strains of the processional streaming out
+from the long nave; the doors swung wider; and forth in slow
+procession came priests and prelates in snow-white linen, two by two,
+the bishops crowned with white mitres, and around them floated a pale
+haze as the faint breeze bore onward the smoke from a score of censers
+swinging in the acolytes' hands, as they marched beside. But before
+all, in a cope where princely gems were blazing, marched the grave and
+stately Adhemar of Monteil, Lord Bishop of Puy, and in his hands, held
+on high, a great crucifix of gold and ivory. And as the white-robed
+company advanced the multitude could hear them singing the noble
+sequence of St. Notker:--
+
+    "The grace of the Holy Ghost be present with us,
+    And make our hearts a dwelling-place to itself;
+    And expel from them all spiritual wickedness!"
+
+While the procession advanced, the people gave way to right and left
+before it; and a great swaying and murmur began to run through them,
+waxing more and more when, at the end, the clear voices sang:--
+
+    "Thyself, by bestowing on the apostles of Christ a gift immortal
+          and unheard of from all ages,
+    Hast made this day glorious."
+
+"Verily the Holy Spirit is not far from us," said Duke Godfrey,
+softly, as the last strains rang out. Still more prelates, more
+priests; forth came Dalmace, archbishop of Narbonne, William, bishop
+of Orange, Matfred of Beziers, Peter, abbot of Aniane, and a hundred
+great churchmen more. Then, last of all, with his cardinals all about
+him, and a heavy cross of crystal carried aloft, came the Vicar of God
+on earth. Richard beheld the glowing whiteness of the bands of his
+pallium, whereon black crosses were embroidered; the jewels flashing
+on the cope and its golden clasp; the gold on his mitre higher than
+all the rest. He could see the face of the pontiff, pale, wrapt,
+spiritual, looking not at the mighty crowd about, that was beginning
+to sink to its knees, but up into the heavens, as though beyond the
+dun clouds he had vision of fairer heavens and fairer earth. Then the
+chanting clerics sang again, and advanced more boldly. And as they
+moved, two knights striding at either side of the Pope raised lances,
+and shook out long banners of white silk, upon each a blood-red cross.
+Loud and joyful now was the singing:--
+
+    "The Royal Banners forward go;
+    The Cross shines forth with mystic glow;
+    Where He in flesh, our flesh who made,
+    Our sentence bore, our ransom paid.
+
+    "O Tree of beauty! Tree of light!
+    O Tree with royal purple dight!
+    Elect on whose triumphal breast,
+    Those holy limbs should find their rest!"
+
+Louder the singing. As the people gave way, the prelates and priests
+stood at either side, while the Pope ascended the pulpit, at his side
+Peter the Hermit. First spoke Peter. The little monk was eloquent as
+never before. He told the familiar tale of the woes of the Jerusalem
+Christians, so that not a soul was untouched by mortal pang. At times
+it seemed the multitude must break forth; but no sound came: only a
+swaying and sobbing as from ten thousand hearts. Then a long silence,
+when he ceased. It was so still, all could hear the gentle wind
+crooning over the tree-tops, and when a little child began to wail,
+its cry was hushed--affrighted at its own clamor.
+
+Then stood forth the Pope. And if it had been silent before, there
+was deeper silence now. The very wind grew still, and every breath was
+bated. Far and wide over that mighty throng the pontiff threw his
+voice, clear as a trumpet, yet musical and soulful. His words were not
+in the stately Latin, but in the sweet familiar Languedoc, and entered
+men's hearts like live coals from off the altar.
+
+"Nation of France: nation whose boast it is you are the elect of God,
+glorious in your faith and love of Holy Church, you I address. For you
+have heard and your souls are torn with the sorrows wrought at
+Jerusalem by that race so hateful to God. You have heard, and I know
+well what moves within your hearts. Shall I repeat the words of this
+holy hermit? Shall I tell how churches are beaten down, or--Christ
+forbid--become temples of the accursed worship? Shall I tell how
+Christians have bathed the very altars in their blood; how your
+brethren have chosen martyrdom, rather than deny Christ's name? O Holy
+Cross of Christ, verily thy dumb wood must cry out, nay, the stones
+break silence if the Christians of the West harden their hearts and
+will not hear; if no sword flashes forth in vengeance, no army hastes
+to succor the Sacred City."
+
+And Urban had gone no further when there was again a swaying,
+throbbing, sobbing in the crowd. For an instant the Pope's voice was
+drowned, not by outcry, but by one vast murmur. He beckoned; there was
+silence, then higher rose his voice.
+
+"O saintly spirits of Charlemagne, and of Louis his pious son,
+scourges of Saracens, why do ye sleep? Awake; awake; tell your
+children of France that holy war is theirs! O souls of the martyrs,
+long at rest, awake, awake; stir the cold hearts of these Christians
+that I may not speak in vain! O Holy Tomb of Our Lord, and thou
+Calvary, where the price for all our sins was paid, speak forth the
+sorrows of Christ's servants to these hard Western hearts. Kindle our
+hearts, O Lord, and grant Thine own spirit, that I may speak as
+becometh Thee and Thy Holy City--Jerusalem!
+
+"Sweet children in Christ, hear the cry of that city; hear the cry of
+those holy fields where trod the Son of God; hear the moan of the
+Christian virgins torn to captivity by paynim hands; hear the cry to
+God of ten thousand souls whose blood smokes to heaven! How long! O
+Lord, how long! When will come vengeance on the oppressor!"--Again the
+multitude were quaking,--a deep roar springing from a myriad throats,
+and hands were on hilts, and pennons shook madly. But Urban dropped
+his voice, and again commanded silence.
+
+"Wherefore has God suffered this? Does He take pleasure in the woes of
+His children? Is He glad when unbelievers pollute His altars, hew in
+pieces His holy bishops, and cry, 'See how helpless is your crucified
+Lord!' Ah, sweet children, look into your own hearts, and search if
+you are meet instruments to do His pleasure. Let us weep, let us weep
+over Jerusalem! Let us weep, let us weep over our own sins, for each
+one of us has more than the hairs of his head; and in the sight of God
+none is worthy even to behold the Holy City from afar; and if not
+worthy of the earthly city, how much less of the heavenly! All, all
+have sinned in God's pure sight. I see cavaliers, sworn defenders of
+Holy Church; your hands are red with Christian blood wantonly shed. I
+see great prelates, touched with the sacred chrism,--unworthy
+shepherds of Christ's sheep; you are stained with pride, hypocrisy,
+lust of power. I see men and women of mean estate; selfishness, lust,
+unholy hate, are strong within you. All, all have sinned!"
+
+And now strong men were kneeling and groaning, "No more!"--were
+stretching out their arms to heaven, and moaning, "Mercy! mercy!" and
+here one man and there another was crying out that he had committed
+some direful deed, calling on all around to pray God with him for
+pardon. But Urban kept on.
+
+"Be of good cheer, sweet children; your sins are great, but greater is
+the mercy of God. For I stand before you clothed with power from on
+high. Mine are the keys of heaven and earth and hell. And I say to
+you, despite your sins, you are forgiven. Shed no bootless tears; for
+deeds, not tears, to-day avail. The heritage of the Lord is wasted;
+the Queen of cities groans in chains--who, who will spring to her
+release?
+
+"Warriors who own the name of Christ, you I address,--you, who have
+slain wickedly in unholy war, rejoice! A holy war awaits! You who have
+sped fellow-Christians to death, rejoice! God will give you to trample
+down the alien! Draw forth the sword of the Maccabees, and go forward.
+To him who lives, God will give the spoils of the heathen for an
+inheritance; him who dies, Christ Jesus will confess before his
+Father. Draw forth the sword, Christians of France! Draw forth, and
+let it flush red in the unbelievers' blood! For this is the Lord's
+doing, and he who enters upon it, casting out all hate for his brother
+from his heart, and with the love of Christ strong within, is purged
+of all sin, be it however great, and his name is written in the book
+of life!"--A mighty din was rising, but Urban's voice swelled above it
+all. "_Soldiers of Hell, become soldiers of the living God!_" was his
+cry, facing straight upon Richard; "lands, fame, home, friends,
+love,--put them all by; remember the wounds of Christ, the moans of
+Jerusalem; for now again Christ says to you, 'He who loveth father and
+mother more than me is not worthy of me; if any man will come after
+me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me--" No
+more; for there rose a thunder as when storm-driven billows break upon
+the beach.
+
+"God wills it!" From Richard's lips it had sprung, all unbidden.
+Godfrey had caught it--Hildebrand's battle-cry. And as if the shout
+had reached high heaven, that instant the dun clouds parted. The sun
+streamed on naked swords and tossing lances innumerable; the flashing
+of the brightness was terrible as celestial light.
+
+"God wills it!"
+
+Every tongue had caught the cry. It swelled forth, unbidden, the
+voicings of the passion in ten thousand breasts. The sun glanced on
+the crystal cross in the Pope's hand: those who saw were dazzled, and
+looked away.
+
+"Yes," cried Urban, across the sea of quivering steel, "God sends His
+own sign from on high. Truly, thus 'God wills it!' To-day is fulfilled
+the Saviour's promise, that where His faithful are He will be. He it
+is that has put these words in your hearts; choose them as battle-cry;
+for on your side will be the God of battles, and at His will you shall
+trample down the unbeliever."
+
+Then Urban raised on high the fire-bathed cross. "See," cried he once
+more, his voice rising above the swelling din, "Christ Himself issues
+from the tomb, and gives to you this cross. It shall be the sign
+lifted among the nations which is to gather together the outcasts of
+Israel. Wear it upon your shoulders, upon your breasts; let it shine
+upon your arms, surety of victory or palm of martyrdom; unceasing
+reminder that as Christ died for you, so ought you to die for Him and
+His glory!"
+
+Again rose the clamor, and until they chanted his death-mass Richard
+forgot not that hour. One wild cry went up, the scope of heaven shook,
+the earth quaked; and now the shout was, "The Cross! the Cross! to
+Jerusalem!" The swords danced more madly, and little Bernard rose from
+his seat, tossed his tiny fists in the air, and joined the mighty cry.
+Louis de Valmont, who had stood opposite Richard all the time, and
+drunk in each word, ran out before all men, flung his mailed arms
+round Longsword's neck and kissed him, while tears streamed down his
+face.
+
+"O sweet brother," cried the Auvergner, all melted, "I too have sinned
+greatly in God's sight. I cannot go to Jerusalem with hate upon my
+soul. I forgive the death of Gilbert; pray that Our Lord may forgive
+me!"
+
+The other men who had nursed unholy wrath one to the other began to
+embrace, and to beg for pardon; and many more kneeling stretched up
+their arms, calling heaven to witness they would shed no more
+Christian blood till the Holy City was redeemed. Urban stood upon the
+platform, silent, and looking out upon the throng with a smile that
+the beholders thought was not of this world. But when the surgings of
+the multitude were a little stayed, the Pope again beckoned, and there
+was great silence. Then Cardinal Gregory came forward, and all knelt
+and beat their breasts, repeating the _Confiteor_.
+
+"I have sinned exceedingly in thought, word, and deed, through my
+fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault," repeated the
+thousands; "therefore I beseech the blessed Mary, ever Virgin, the
+blessed Michael, the archangel, the blessed John the Baptist, the Holy
+Apostles, Peter and Paul, and all the saints to pray to the Lord Our
+God for me."
+
+Then when every casqued head was bowed low, the Cardinal proclaimed in
+a voice which the most distant might hear, "To as many as shall from
+pure love of Christ take the cross to go for the deliverance of
+Jerusalem, the same I do absolve from all their sins, and declare them
+spotless and perfect, in sight of God the Father, God the Son, and God
+the Holy Ghost. Amen!" And the words fell on Richard's soul like water
+on fevered lips. Another great cry, "The Cross! the Cross!" and the
+thousands surged with one impulse toward the pulpit, demanding the
+sacred token at the pontiff's own hands. And nigh foremost was
+Richard; not first, for Bishop Adhemar of Puy, his heart burning with
+holy fire, was already kneeling before the Pope, and Urban was pinning
+a red-cloth cross upon his shoulder. But Richard had sprung upon the
+platform and was next.
+
+The Pope smiled when he saw his mighty frame and sinews of iron--a
+direful foe of the infidels!
+
+"Father, Holy Father, do you not know me?" cried Richard.
+
+"I do not, sweet son," said Urban, pinning fast the cross.
+
+"I am that lad Richard who stood by Pope Gregory's bedside; but I have
+greatly sinned."
+
+"Be of good cheer!" said the pontiff, gently; "you have remembered
+your vow. Your sin, however great, is forgotten of God."
+
+So Richard stood back, while Godfrey of Bouillon knelt to receive the
+cross. At sight of him Urban smiled again, and would have spoken; for
+he recognized the great Duke. But Godfrey whispered, "Not here, Holy
+Father, not here; but soon from Metz to Antwerp I will be calling out
+my vassals to go to Jerusalem." Then Godfrey stepped back, with the
+red badge upon his breast; after him came Renard of Toul; after him
+Louis de Valmont; and then the merry priest Raymond of Agiles, merry
+no longer, but with a grave and consequential cast upon his face. As
+he knelt before the Holy Father, he said he took the cross both in his
+own name and in that of his lord and patron Raymond, sovereign Count
+of St. Gilles and Toulouse, who pledged himself to the war with all
+his southern chivalry. Then there was more shouting and rejoicing, and
+it seemed as if the clamor would never end, nor the train of knights
+and barons cease advancing to kneel before the Pope and receive the
+cross.
+
+Hour after hour sped by, still Urban stood and gave his blessing, and
+a brave and pious word to each stout cavalier who came. The priests
+brought red cloth from the presses in the bishop's palace, and more
+and more. Still not enough; and gayly dressed knights gave up their
+scarlet bleaunts for the Holy Father to tear into the sacred emblem.
+Then at last, when the sun was near its setting and men finally felt a
+bleak wind biting, the Pope spoke again.
+
+"Dear children," said he in closing, "you have done a great thing this
+day. What you have promised may cost you dear in blood and worldly
+estate; yet, remember the warning to him who putteth the hand to the
+plough and looketh back. I bid any who would withdraw, to do it now;
+and he commits no sin." Again the cry, "To Jerusalem! God wills it!"
+and no man stirred. "Then," continued Urban, "let him who hereafter
+shall turn back, be excommunicate and anathema. Anathema upon him who
+shall hinder the soldiers of the Cross! Anathema upon him who shall
+harm their family or estate, while they fight the Lord's battles.
+Gladly would I go with you to win the crown of martyrdom or of
+victory, but the Antipope is still in Italy; the Emperor and the king
+of France still defy Holy Church. Adhemar of Puy I appoint my legate,
+and under his guidance you shall go forth. And now my blessing and
+absolution upon you all. Amen."
+
+So the great multitude scattered far and wide; upon the breast of
+every man a red cross, and in his heart a joy as of another world; for
+it was as if a voice had spoken to each and all out of a cloud, "Thy
+sins which are many are forgiven." Richard strode back to his tent
+with Louis de Valmont beside him; and all the air seemed sweet, and
+their words came fast, as between two long-time friends, while above
+in the crisp night the stars burned like cressets lit by the angels.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+HOW RICHARD RECEIVED GREAT MERCY
+
+
+In later days wise monks wrote that at the moment the great cry went
+up at Clermont, all the Christians of the world from cold Hibernia to
+parching Africa thrilled with joy ineffable, and on all the paynims
+there fell fear and trembling. Be this true or false, from the
+Pyrenees to the Rhine over wide France ran a fire; from Auvergne to
+Aquitaine, to Anjou, to the Ile de France, to Normandy.
+
+There were signs and wonders in the heavens--stars fell from the
+firmament; the clouds pictured armies and knights who wore the red
+cross on their breasts. The shade of mighty Charlemagne was seen
+coming forth in his hoary majesty, with sword pointing toward
+Jerusalem. Not knights only, but women and little children ran after
+those who preached the gospel of steel and fire. Quiet monks forgot
+their abbey kitchens; hermits forsook their solitudes on the
+hills--greater merit to win the pilgrim's absolution! The peasants
+wandered from their fields in masterless companies, roving on
+aimlessly, conscious only that Jerusalem lay toward the sun-rising.
+And bandits left their lairs, confessing their crimes, eager to take
+the cross. Up and down France went Urban and Peter; at Rouen, at
+Tours, at Nimes, there were other Clermonts: each bishop called forth
+his flock. Too often the tales of Eastern gold and of paynim beauties
+were more enticing to the roistering knights, than summons to holy
+warfare. But the sense of sin hung heavy on the land. No avarice drove
+Stephen of Chartres to take the cross, great count that he was with
+more castles than days in the year; nor did Robert of Flanders pour
+out his father's princely treasure in hopes of pelf; nor Robert of
+Normandy pawn his duchy. In the south, Raymond of Toulouse, haughtiest
+lord in France, whom more lances followed than followed even the king,
+set forth for Palestine, determined there to leave his bones. With him
+went his wife, the Princess Elvira of Spain, and at Raymond's back
+were all the chivalry of the south country, of Gascony, Languedoc,
+Limousin, and Auvergne, along with Bishop Adhemar, and the great
+prelates of Apt, Lodève, and Orange. So from the least to the greatest
+all were stirred; and if King Philip, and William the Red, and Emperor
+Henry moved not--what matter? For the might of Christendom lay not in
+its phantom kings, but in its great barons and knights whose good
+swords would hew the way to Jerusalem. Thus the winter sped, and with
+the coming of spring France was ready to pour forth her flood of life!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+So with France. And how with Richard? He had returned to his tent
+after the great day at Clermont with a light heart and a merry laugh.
+Duke Godfrey was with him, and Renard of Toul and Louis de Valmont.
+They had left little Bernard with his father, and Richard saw the lad
+no more, until after many years he heard him preaching as never Peter
+the Hermit preached, and calling on men not to go to Jerusalem, but to
+cast from their hearts their own dark sins. The night was cold, a keen
+wind was again whistling from the western _puys_, and Richard brought
+all his friends with him to his tent, to cement friendship by passing
+the night in his company. Before the roaring camp-fire they sat a long
+time, talking of the brave days in store. Godfrey gulped down eagerly
+all that Louis and Richard had gathered in Sicily of the country and
+manners of warfare of the infidels, and they knew in turn that a great
+captain and master-at-arms was speaking with them. Already Godfrey was
+ordering his campaign.
+
+"And the number of the unbelievers?" he would ask.
+
+"More than the sea-sands," Longsword replied, "and they say they are
+all light cavalry and archers."
+
+"By Our Lady of Antwerp!" cried the Duke, "we must pray then for a
+close country and a hand to hand _mêlée_!"
+
+"Ah!" declared Renard of Toul, "what matter how we fight! Is not the
+Lord on our side, and St. Michael and St. George!"
+
+The Duke laughed merrily.
+
+"You are the same mad Renard as ever," said he. "Is it not written,
+'Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy God?' But," continued he, gayly,
+"in good time let me see the Holy City on high; yet not until I have
+had a good joust, chasing the paynims from that on earth!"
+
+Thus ran the talk, but presently Louis said:--
+
+"And did you, De St. Julien, see in the multitude a certain dwarfish,
+dark-skinned fellow, who stood right back of you all the time the Holy
+Father was speaking, his eyes fastened not on the Lord Pope, but on
+you?"
+
+"I did not; why did you ask?"
+
+"Because, though I was some little way off, I could have sworn that he
+was Zeyneb, the body-servant of Iftikhar Eddauleh, and he seemed as if
+devouring you with his eyes."
+
+"Zeyneb? He who gave his master the iron lance instead of the reed,
+when Iftikhar rode against Musa the Spaniard?"
+
+Louis nodded.
+
+"You are bewitched, fair sir," laughed Richard, gayly; "the rascal was
+long since in Syria or Egypt." And here his face grew dark, as he
+thought of the sack of Cefalu, and that Eleanor might be in the
+clutches of Zeyneb himself that moment. It was well to forgive
+Christian enemies, but to hate infidel foes took on new merit by
+wearing the cross, and Richard was not minded to forget Iftikhar
+Eddauleh.
+
+"On the relics I could swear I saw him!" protested Louis.
+
+"It is true," added Godfrey; "I set eyes on such a knave. Not that I
+set him down as infidel. But I had little liking to have such a fellow
+within arm's length; my ribs nigh itched with a dagger at merely
+seeing him. When he sidled up to us, I gave him a frown that made him
+hide his black head in the crowd."
+
+"Well, fair Duke," said Richard, "rest assured, he has not come to
+hear the Holy Father, if this is Zeyneb, the slave of Iftikhar. Bishop
+Robert wrote something of his coming to France, but entirely doubted
+the tale."
+
+"By St. Michael of Antwerp," declared Godfrey, "what do infidels at
+Clermont?"
+
+Richard shook his head, but Herbert, who heard all, came to him only a
+moment afterwards and led him aside.
+
+"Little lord,--you must wear the ring-shirt."
+
+The Baron resisted. "You grow fearful as an old woman, Herbert.
+Godfrey and Louis dream, when they say a creature of Iftikhar is in
+Clermont."
+
+But Sebastian urged as well.
+
+"Theroulde and Herbert have seen him also. As you love our Lord, do
+not peril your life. Why has Zeyneb come to Clermont, save to do what
+failed at Cefalu?"
+
+"Faugh!" growled Richard, "will not God despise me, if I shiver at
+every gust of danger?"
+
+"As you love my Lady Mary, do this!" pressed Herbert shrewdly, and at
+Mary's name Richard submitted meekly as a lamb. Thus all that evening
+Longsword grumbled at the precaution, and swore he would wear no more
+mail till he came face to face with the unbelievers. But he grumbled
+no longer, for just as the stars told it was past midnight, he was
+waked from sound sleep by a blow that sent him to his feet blinking
+and staggering. And lo, the wall of the tent against which he lay was
+pierced clean through by a dagger that had broken against the Valencia
+shirt; for a bit of the blade lay on the canvas. Herbert and De Carnac
+were swearing loudly that they had not closed an eye all night, but it
+was Louis who darted into the darkness, and came back with a strange
+fellow held in no gentle grip. He dragged the prisoner to the dying
+firelight; they saw his coarse villain's blouse, a spine so bent that
+he was nigh hunchback, a poll of coarse black hair that scarcely came
+up to Richard's elbow, a face not unhandsome, but with black eyes
+very small and teeth sharp and white. One shout greeted him, as he was
+held before the fire.
+
+"Zeyneb! Zeyneb, the slave of Iftikhar Eddauleh!"
+
+The fellow held down his head, and twisted his face as if to defy
+recognition.
+
+"Ha!" cried Renard of Toul, "he has a dagger-sheath in his belt!
+Empty? Ah, the crows will love his bones!"
+
+Richard had found his tongue.
+
+"And does my Lord Iftikhar," asked he in Arabic, "think it
+cavalier-wise to send out assassins like your worthy self, when he
+cannot reach his foe with his own arm? This and the deeds at Cefalu
+put me greatly in his debt--let him be well paid!"
+
+"The arm and eye of the grand prior of the Ismaelians reach to
+farthest Frankland, my Cid," quoth Zeyneb, standing very limp in
+Louis's clutch.
+
+"And the arm shall be soon lopped off," retorted the Auvergner. But at
+that instant his firm hold weakened. Untimely slackening! with a
+lightning twist and turn Zeyneb had slid from De Valmont's clutches,
+as if of oil; gone in the dark before the knights could cry out. The
+night swallowed him as if he were a spectre.
+
+"After! after!" thundered Godfrey. "Fifty Tours deniers to him that
+seizes!"
+
+There was a mighty shout. All the neighboring tents were in uproar. A
+friendly baron loaned bloodhounds; but which of the many trails was
+Zeyneb's who might say? All night they beat the camp; a hundred idle
+knaves were haled before Richard, each one of whom doubtless would
+have been the better for being knocked on the head; but none was the
+dwarf. At dawn Richard went wearily to rest, but criers scoured the
+country, calling on all good Christians to begin the Crusade by
+catching this infidel assassin. Several townspeople told how the
+fugitive had come to Clermont a few days since, pretending he was an
+Eastern Christian exiled by Moslem persecutors. They had given him
+great compassion, and answered his questions as to the whereabouts of
+Richard de St. Julien, whom he said he was seeking. But all the search
+brought nothing.
+
+"Strange," commented Richard, "Iftikhar should use him as agent; his
+crooked back stops all disguise."
+
+"You do not know him, little lord," answered Herbert. "Satan has given
+him a heart as darkly crafty as his black eyes. I have heard his fame
+at Palermo. Undisguised, he is a rat sly enough to creep through a
+hole too small for a beetle."
+
+And Sebastian piously admonished:--
+
+"Dear son, now that you have taken the cross and your sins are
+forgiven, great mercy is shown you. Be very humble, for God has some
+wondrous service in store!"
+
+The admonition Richard treasured in his heart; but he did not so far
+tempt Providence as to put by the Valencia hauberk, and Herbert kept
+guard over him night and day. Also a courier speeded to La Haye with a
+letter bidding Baron Hardouin have a care that Iftikhar did not try to
+repeat his Cefalu raid, and to leave no Syrian dwarf unhanged in his
+barony.
+
+A few days thereafter the great gathering at Clermont scattered; and
+Heaven knew there was much to be done, if the hosts of the Lord were
+not to set forth with scrip and staff merely! The Duke of Bouillon
+parted with Richard and Louis as became Christian brothers-in-arms,
+and went homeward to rouse his vassals. As for De Valmont, he had need
+to go to Champagne; but Longsword rode straight for St. Julien. Every
+peasant he met on the road, when they saw he was a gallant knight,
+begged him to be their leader to Jerusalem. Almost every breast wore
+the red cross; women bore it, and little children. "God wills it! To
+Jerusalem!" That was the one cry. Yet Richard was sad at times; for he
+saw that men acted in ignorance, and that their very zeal would
+destroy them.
+
+As for Sebastian, he had a word of the prophets at all moments in his
+mouth, and saw in everything a manifest sign that the days foretold in
+the Apocalypse were at hand, when "the Beast" and all that served him
+were nigh their end, and the righteous should rule forever.
+
+"Now is fulfilled the word of the Lord!" was his cry. "Fear not, for I
+am with thee. I will bring thy seed from the East and gather thee from
+the West; I will say unto the North, 'Give up,' and to the South,
+'Keep not back; bring my sons from far and my daughters from the ends
+of the earth.'"
+
+Only Richard saw that the shrewd cleric was not lacking in worldly
+wisdom. When they passed two shouting monks, who were showing their
+naked breasts on which they had branded the Cross, and whom many were
+declaring to be saints indeed, Sebastian had only the shake of the
+head.
+
+"They are blind leaders of the blind," was his comment; "they will
+suffer pains enough before they see the Holy City to forget all their
+fiery zeal. The kingdom of heaven is not to be won by tortures
+inflicted for the praise of men."
+
+When they reached St. Julien, there was work for Richard all that
+winter. The Baron convoked his "_Ost_," the fighting-men of the
+seigneury, and, standing upon the great stone before the castle, told
+how for his own sins and the souls of his kinsfolk he had taken the
+cross--"and who would go with him?" Whereupon, as Sebastian declared,
+"A new pentecostal fire spread among the St. Julieners;" and so many
+cried they would make the crusade, that Richard had trouble to make it
+plain, enough must stay behind to care for the aged, the harvests, and
+the castle, and that no family be left to charity. Up and down the
+barony went Sebastian, showing his scars inflicted by paynims, drawing
+all after him. Even the lord abbot was stricken in conscience,
+confessed his lax rule, and wished to go to Jerusalem. But Sebastian
+told him God were better pleased to have him remain and teach the
+brethren fasts and vigils. Yet to the fighting-men the priest had but
+one message, "that now was come the time for the righteous to wash
+their hands in the blood of the ungodly." And Richard was busy on his
+part arranging the seigneury, raising money by sale of rights to pig
+pasture held on certain lands, and more money by allowing a rich Jew,
+who dwelt in the barony and now wished to go to Spain, to buy his
+right of departure; for a rich Jew was a very precious possession to a
+seigneur, who never let him withdraw, with his wealth--for a trifle.
+
+Richard was happier in this work than he had been for many a long day.
+The blood of Gilbert de Valmont no longer hung heavy on his soul.
+Louis de Valmont was his friend. He could look up into heaven and see
+there only peace and mercy. But he was sad when his thoughts ran to
+Mary Kurkuas and the many years that might speed before he could call
+her his bride; for this was no time to think of home and marriage.
+Even a greater sadness came over him, when he thought of Musa. All his
+faith, all the teachings of Holy Church and her ministers, left him
+only the assurance that the Spaniard's soul was doomed to the fire
+unquenchable. This life so short, the after-life so long, and Musa
+thus doomed! Why did God create amongst the unbelievers such high
+manhood, such knightly prowess, and then consign it all to the same
+torments reserved for the utterly wicked? Yet could he doubt his own
+religion--he, the ardent champion of the Cross, whose new-found
+happiness depended on this very belief, that the death of infidels was
+most pleasing in God's sight?
+
+At times Sebastian could see that his mind was still clouded, and
+would say:--
+
+"Dear son, do not hide what makes your face so sad."
+
+"_Ai_, father, I am thinking of Musa, and how I love him, and how
+terrible is the state of his soul."
+
+"Love him not," Sebastian would cry sternly; "as for his soul, it is
+given to be buffeted of Satan, at which all good Christians should
+rejoice."
+
+"But we are bidden to 'love our enemies,' and Musa is no enemy; I
+count him as my brother."
+
+Then Sebastian would frown more fiercely than ever.
+
+"Yes, love 'our' enemies, not those of Holy Church. Give heed lest to
+your former sins you add not a greater--that of sinful pity toward the
+hated of God!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+HOW RICHARD RETURNED TO LA HAYE
+
+
+Long before Assumption Day, the appointed time for setting forth, soon
+as the balmy spring winds blew, all France was marching. Not the great
+lords first,--for worldly wisdom was plentiest under gilded
+helmets,--but the peasants took the road by thousands on thousands.
+Day after day the long procession by St. Julien, serpent-like, trailed
+on,--priests and bandits, petty nobles, old crones on crutches, little
+children on lumbering wagons; for weapons, often only boar spears and
+wood axes. "And is this fortress not Jerusalem?" the children would
+often cry when they saw the castle; and their fathers and mothers
+hardly knew if they ought to tell them nay. Hoary sires crept along on
+their staffs, followed by sons and sons' sons and daughters also. To
+each stranger they would cry: "Come! God wills it! Let us die at
+Jerusalem!" And Richard's heart grew sad, knowing they would indeed
+die, but far from the Holy City. At first he bade the butler and
+cellarer open the castle vats, and supply food and drink to all; but
+those worthies protested that three days of such charity would ruin
+the fief, and Richard was forced to let the pilgrim hordes roll by,
+subsisting on what they carried with them. Full soon their means would
+be at an end; then they must plunder or starve. But Longsword's bounty
+would have been only a drop in their bucket.
+
+Sometimes, however, there came sturdy bands that clamored at the
+castle gate, demanding food.
+
+"Food?" roared old Herbert, one such day; "and have you taken nothing
+in your wallets?"
+
+"No," quoth a hulking peasant, showing an empty pouch; "the priests
+say, 'God who nourishes the sparrows will not let His dear children
+suffer;' so we have gone forth trusting in His bounty to feed us."
+
+"Begone!" cried Sebastian, from behind the portcullis; for the
+pilgrims had begun to threaten. "I also am a priest, and say to you,
+as says the Apostle, 'If any would not work, neither should he eat.'
+God has given you better wits than have sparrows. Sin not by misusing
+them!"
+
+But too often the rascals fell to plunder, and reluctantly Richard
+sallied forth; slew some, and hanged others for a warning. Very grave
+grew Longsword when he heard of the outrages wrought through the bands
+led by Volkmar the priest and Count Emicio in the Rhine cities, for he
+knew this was no way to win Heaven's blessing. "Their sins are great,"
+commented Sebastian. "God is pleased to lead them to destruction." And
+of Peter the Hermit, who headed a like band, as not a few had desired
+Sebastian himself to do, he only prophesied, "He listens to the praise
+of men; God will abase him!" As indeed came true.
+
+So with the peasants. But at last the seigneurs were moving. Richard
+rode from St. Julien with five-and-twenty petty nobles, thrice as many
+full-armored men-at-arms, four hundred stout "villains" on foot; and
+above his head the great banner of his house, St. Julien's white stag
+blazoned on a red field. The baron's heart was gay when he saw the
+long line of casques and lances. But beside them trailed a weeping
+company; old men and women, who went a little way, making a long
+farewell.
+
+"Ah, sweet lord," the pretty maids would cry, "how long will it be,
+ere you ride back with Peter and Anselm and Hugo?" and so with fifty
+more, wailing out the name of husband, brother, or sweetheart. Then
+Richard would bang Trenchefer in a way to hearten the most timorous,
+and swear, "In two years you shall see them all again, and I will make
+every good man-at-arms a knight!" So when the women saw his bold,
+brave face, they took courage. But there were tears and to spare, when
+they came to the last wayside cross, and Herbert went down the line,
+calling gruffly to every man and maid not bound for Jerusalem to drop
+from the ranks. So the lines were closed, and the long files of
+helmets and hauberks went over the mountain side. Many an eye went
+back to the groups of red, blue, and yellow clustered round the cross;
+and many an eye was wet that had been seldom wet before, as they saw
+tottering old Bosso, Sebastian's vicar in the parish, hold up the
+crucifix, and all the bright gowns bend in prayer. But none fell from
+the ranks, no step lagged.
+
+Richard nodded to Theroulde, whose mule was plodding beside Rollo. The
+_jongleur_ clapped his viol to his shoulder; the trumpets blew; the
+kettledrums boomed until the crags echoed; and then once more the
+shout went down the lines as so many times before: "God wills it! To
+Jerusalem!" Whereupon the drums thundered faster, the feet twinkled
+more nimbly. When they came to the pass of the mountains, Richard
+ordered no halt; but he drew rein on Rollo, and let the column swing
+past. Each man cast one glance over his shoulder; louder the viols,
+the trumpets, the drums; again the cry: "God wills it! To Jerusalem!"
+Richard saw the backs of the last rank and turned his gaze toward the
+valley. There it lay--fair as when, nigh a year before, he had seen it
+from that same hillside, crowned with the bursting summer. He could
+see the tower of the great keep, the abbey, the village--all. And in
+that year what had not befallen! His grandfather dead; Raoul de
+Valmont dead; Gilbert de Valmont dead; ah! pity, his father, mother,
+brother--all dead; and his sister worse than dead! And yet the sky
+could be blue, and God sit calm above it, despite the wickedness of
+His children! Richard's shield-strap had slipped; in readjusting it he
+saw his face in the bright steel, clear as a mirror, and he knew lines
+of pain and grim resolve and deathly battle were marked thereon that
+would never in this world be smoothed away. Yet he was the same: the
+same debonair young knight who had laughed when he looked upon this
+valley, and vowed it should all be one love-bower for Mary Kurkuas.
+And now he was the stern Baron of St. Julien, at whose nod five
+hundred fighting-men trembled; who had blood on his hands, and,
+merciful saints, more blood on his soul, even if the sin were
+absolved! Mary, the soft, sweet life in Cefalu, the sunlit dreams of
+one short year ago, of love, of bright tourneys, of victories won
+without a pang--where were they now?
+
+As he turned, he saw Sebastian riding his palfrey beside Rollo. "Ah,
+dear father," said the Norman, half sadly, "this is a pleasant country
+to leave behind. Is Palestine, even with Jerusalem, more fair than
+Auvergne? When we have taken the Holy City, we will return, and I will
+pray the Lord Pope to make St. Julien a bishopric, and you shall be
+the _sanctissimus_ of the country-side!"
+
+Sebastian smiled at this forced banter.
+
+"Dear son," said he, "this is indeed a fair country, as I said when a
+year ago we first saw it from this height. But something in my heart
+says to me: 'Sebastian, God is hearkening to your prayers. Your
+journey in this evil world will some day end. After you have seen the
+Cross victorious on the walls of the earthly Zion, then you shall
+straightway behold the heavenly.' Therefore I shall never see St.
+Julien again."
+
+"These are fancies, father," said the knight, laying his heavy hand
+affectionately on the priest's tonsured head; "you shall live to a yet
+riper age. You shall see the Holy City purged of infidels. Then at
+last it will be no sin to fulfil my dream. Here in St. Julien Mary
+Kurkuas and I will dwell, and you beside us; and if God bless us with
+children, what greater joy for you than to teach them all things, as
+you have taught me, and make them tenfold better (Christ pity me!)
+than their father."
+
+"Yes, sweet lad," replied Sebastian, gently, "that would indeed be
+joy; but the will of Our Lord be done. And now let us be about His
+business." Whereupon he turned his palfrey. Richard cast one glance
+over mountain, valley, tower, and farm-land--a vision never to fade;
+then:--
+
+"Come, Rollo!" he urged, and flew after the column. The music crashed
+ever faster; the marching men raised a mad war-song; Richard's voice
+rose above them all. As they sang, they struck the downward slope, and
+the crags hid St. Julien.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Southward they marched; for the Auvergners went in company with
+Raymond of Toulouse, by the southern route across Italy, though
+Richard would have desired the German route with Godfrey. At Orange
+the Norman met the great Count of Toulouse and St. Gilles,--a tall,
+haughty man, with flowing silver hair and beard; brusque to strangers,
+but underneath the sternness a high-minded Christian soul. With him
+was his handsome and valiant friend, Viscount Gaston of Béarn, a
+winsome cavalier who became Longsword's close friend. At Orange
+Richard rejoined the band with Raymond of Agiles, Toulouse's chaplain,
+and found Louis de Valmont. On that spot was cemented a long-time
+friendship, to be ended only after they had all seen deeds, knight or
+cleric had never dreamt before.
+
+But while the host lay at Orange, Richard's heart was elsewhere;
+presently there came a letter that set him to mount and ride right
+quickly.
+
+"Mary Kurkuas, to her sweet lord Richard: kisses and greetings more
+than words may tell.
+
+"DEAR HEART: I have heard all from Musa, and I may not write how my
+heart is torn for you. The fiends have been many in your soul, have
+tempted you grievously, and you have fallen. Do you think I shrink
+from you, that I bless the saints I am not yet your wife and can
+escape a hateful bond? Sweet life,--love is not made of such feeble
+stuff! You do well to go to Jerusalem, but will you go without one
+word, one look? I have somewhat to say to you, which can only pass
+when face to face. Come to La Haye. Musa tells me I am still as
+beautiful as at Palermo, and I hope in your eyes also this will prove
+true. I think my words, songs, and love will not make you a meaner
+soldier for Christ. To Him you belong first, but after Him to me. Ride
+swiftly, for I sit watching to see Rollo coming down the castle road
+bearing my own true love. So come. Farewell."
+
+Whereupon, when Richard read, all his resolution to go through
+Provence, turning to neither right hand nor left, sped from him as
+dust before the south wind. To his surprise Sebastian did not oppose.
+
+"Dear son," said the churchman, "love is of God. There is a love of
+man to woman; a love of man to the Most High; happy are they to whom
+the higher and lesser are at one."
+
+"But in former days you did not smile on my suit to Mary."
+
+"Verily," said Sebastian, while Herbert made the horses ready, "I saw
+in it the hand of Satan to prevent you from going to the Holy City.
+But now that you have taken the great vow, and I see in your face that
+you are strong, I have no fear. Yet remember, your duty is to God, and
+not to women; when you ride toward Palestine, do not leave your soul
+snared in a silken net in Provence."
+
+"Ah," cried Richard, "you know not what you say. Did you ever have
+love for a pure and beautiful maid?"
+
+Sebastian's face was very grave.
+
+"Many things have befallen in my life, God is lengthening my days. In
+the years of my youth--what may not have happened? But she died--she
+was very young; so was I. I have mastered all earthly lusts, praise be
+to God!"
+
+And this was the only word Richard had ever heard Sebastian speak, of
+what befell him before he entered the monastery, and the long shadows
+of his life's renunciation fell over him. But of more moment was the
+speech Richard had with Herbert, as they rode along.
+
+"I marvel that no mention was made in the letter of the messages I
+sent to La Haye, to warn against that dark-faced devil, Zeyneb."
+
+Herbert fell into a long study, his eyes fixed on the way that was
+gliding by under their merry canter.
+
+"The roads were safe. All the brigands have left their lairs to go to
+Jerusalem--ha!"--this, with a sly grunt and chuckle. "However, if my
+lady writes thus three days since, nothing has befallen."
+
+"True," replied the Baron, spurring Rollo more hotly, "yet as I think
+of it, I begin to misdoubt. Iftikhar Eddauleh is of that accursed
+brotherhood amongst the infidels--the Ismaelians. Their guile reaches
+to the ends of the earth. Twice he has sought my life, and only St.
+Michael saved me. I would I could see that Zeyneb dancing at a rope's
+end."
+
+"The rope or the axe will be his confessor at last!" muttered Herbert;
+then they all rode harder.
+
+When Richard came within sight of the towers of the castle of La Haye,
+not even Rollo's mighty stride made the ground speed swift enough. All
+around stretched the vineyards and orchard bowers of the pleasant
+South Country; the wind blew softly over great fields of blossoms; the
+peasant and wayfarer trudged on peacefully with no sword at his side,
+and feared not raid nor robbers, for safety and ease reigned
+everywhere in fair Provence. When they drew near to the castle, they
+could see a score of bright banners tossing on the rampart, while a
+great crash of music greeted them; for the Baron of La Haye was a
+valiant troubadour, and kept as many _jongleurs_ as grooms. But what
+cared Richard? As he thundered up the way to the drawbridge, he reined
+in Rollo short, was out of the saddle, and his arms were about some
+one in white that had run from the orchard to greet him. And he felt a
+soft breath on his cheeks, soft hands in his hands, soft words in his
+ear; and his own words came so fast, they would scarce come at all.
+Then he knew that all the castle folk were standing by, smiling and
+laughing in friendly manner. Soon Baron Hardouin came down and gave
+him a stately speech, after the best courtesy of the South Country;
+and Richard, holding Mary's hand in his own, looked upon all about,
+and spoke out boldly: "Fair lord and good people, I have no skill in
+speech, but this I say: the Princess Mary Kurkuas is the fairest and
+noblest maiden in all the earth, and to him who says me nay, I will
+make it good upon my body." Whereupon he half drew Trenchefer, but all
+cried out, "Long life to the valiant Baron de St. Julien! long life to
+our fairest princess!" And Richard went into the castle with his head
+in the air, seeing only one face out of the many, and that very close
+to his own.
+
+Only when Hardouin had feasted his guest, and had made him listen to a
+dozen _jongleurs_ and their minstrelsy, Richard found himself alone
+with Mary in the castle orchard, just as the long afternoon was
+spreading out the shadows. They sat on the turf, with a gnarled old
+apple tree rustling above them. All around the bees were humming over
+the roses; the birds were just beginning to carol the evening. Then
+the question was, "And where is Musa?"
+
+Whereupon Mary answered: "He is gone forth hawking; for, said he, 'I
+think Richard will come to-day; and though I am his brother, there are
+hours when even brothers are better loved afar off.'"
+
+"What a noble soul he is," said Richard, his eyes wandering dreamily
+up into the waving canopy of green; "how often I wonder that he has
+never courted you, nor you given him favor. Almost I love him too well
+for jealousy."
+
+"But not I!" cried the Greek, firing; then with a laugh: "See, your
+eyes are open wide, for you are fearful lest I take your words in
+earnest. Ah, dear life, I can love but one; and with you my heart is a
+full cup. Yet to Musa I would give aught else--all but love. Yet fear
+him not. He is the most generous of men. Often as we have been
+together, his talk has been of you,--praising you after his Arab
+fashion, till even I cry out at him, 'Richard Longsword is a wondrous
+knight, yet not so wondrous as you make him!' Then he will laugh and
+say, 'In my eyes there was never Moslem or Christian a greater
+cavalier than my brother.'"
+
+"So he has been at La Haye all the winter?"
+
+"Yes; he sent away your Saracens to Sicily; and I need not tell the
+shifts he had to save their skins, such was the cry against infidels
+in all the country. But here in Provence, where there are so many Jews
+and unbelievers, not to speak of the Cathari and other heretics that
+are so strong, a Moslem knight may dwell without annoy; for I fear my
+uncle--" and she fetched a sigh--"likes his troubadours and courts of
+love too well to leave them for the war of the Holy City."
+
+But at the mention of Jerusalem Richard's brow grew dark.
+
+"Dear heart," said he, "what madness to come to La Haye! How may I
+lift eyes to you, when I belong to the cause of Christ; and what time
+is this for marriage and giving in marriage! And if God grants that I
+return alive from Palestine,--and well I know the dangers, if some do
+not,--how many years for you must it be of weary waiting--years
+plucked out of the joyousness of your own dear life! Ah, sweetest of
+the sweet, I hold your hand now, and see heaven in your eyes. But I
+know you would not have me always thus; we cannot sit beneath the
+trees forever."
+
+"No, my beloved," said the Greek, very softly, "this is no time for
+marriage or giving in marriage; yet--" and she spoke still more
+softly--"shall I not go with you, to nurse the wounded, and give cold
+water to the sick; to lay a cool hand on you--thus--if you are very
+weary or tempted? Are there no noble ladies who go with the army,--the
+Countess of Toulouse, the wife of Baldwin, brother of great Duke
+Godfrey, and many more? And shall I not be one? Listen: my sins too
+are very great; yes,"--for Richard was raising a hand in protest; "I
+am too fond of the pomps and praise of this world, and my heart too
+often will not bow to the will of God. For my own sins and for the
+sins of him I love better than self, I would pray at the tomb of Our
+Lord. Yet I cannot fly out alone--a poor defenceless song-bird,
+amongst all the crows and hawks. Therefore I have sent to you, that
+you might hear me say this, 'Let us be wedded by the priest full soon,
+for the Holy Father has forbidden unprotected maids to go to
+Jerusalem; but let us not be to each other truly as husband or wife
+until the Sacred City is taken, and we can kneel side by side at the
+Holy Sepulchre."
+
+Richard had risen, and as he stood he held Mary's hands in his own,
+and looked straight into her eyes.
+
+[Illustration: "'HOW MAY I LIFT EYES TO YOU WHEN I BELONG TO THE CAUSE
+OF CHRIST?'"]
+
+"Dear life," cried he, "do you know what you say? Peril, toil,
+hardships,--yes, death even, and worse than death,--captivity--all
+these may await! And is your little body strong enough for the long,
+long way to Jerusalem?"
+
+"It is, Richard," said she, looking back into his face with a sweet,
+grave smile; "how I wish I could do something very great, only to show
+my love for you!"
+
+He was bending over to snatch her in his arms; her hair was touching
+his cheek; when Mary shrank back with a frightened scream:--
+
+"Richard!"
+
+And before the other word could pass her lips, a strange misshapen
+form had darted from under the tree. A flash on bright steel, a cry, a
+stroke--but at that stroke Mary snatched at the wrist, caught, held an
+instant.
+
+"The jinns curse you!" the hiss, and Mary felt the wrist whisk like
+air from her hands. Another stroke, Richard half reeled. There was the
+click of steel on steel. A second curse, and the assailant ghost-like
+was gliding amongst the orchard trees. Longsword was still staring,
+trembling, reaching for Trenchefer; but Mary gave a loud cry. And at
+that cry, lo! Musa was swinging from his saddle, and grasping in no
+gentle grip the cloak of the dwarf Zeyneb.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+HOW RICHARD PARTED WITH HIS BROTHER
+
+
+The dwarf was writhing, twisting, biting with long, venomous teeth,
+but the grasp of the Spaniard was as steel. His eye was not on his
+captive, but on Richard.
+
+"_Wallah!_" was his greeting, "are you wounded?"
+
+Richard stood erect, his hand at his side.
+
+"Again you have saved me. The Valencia shirt was proof once more."
+Musa was advancing, dragging Zeyneb, who still struggled, but helpless
+as a mouse in a cat's mouth.
+
+The Spaniard picked up the dagger that lay on the grass, and frowned
+darkly when his eye fell on the edge.
+
+"Poison," was his biting comment. "I did indeed suppose Iftikhar
+Eddauleh could at least trust to clean steel, even if he must place it
+in the claws of such vermin as this!"
+
+And he shook the dwarf till the latter howled with mortal fright.
+Mary, now that the shock was past and the danger sped, was calling out
+to all the saints amid hysteric laughter and crying, and Richard, too,
+felt very strangely--thrice now his life had thus been sought.
+
+Musa's fingers knit round the dwarf's wretched neck, and he seemed to
+find joy in watching the latter's agony.
+
+"Beard of the Prophet!" he repeated, "Iftikhar shall wait long before
+he find another such servant!"
+
+"Guard, hold fast!" admonished Richard. "Surely the fiends aid him; he
+escaped Louis de Valmont's grasp as by magic."
+
+"He will need a stouter spell to-day, by the glory of Allah!" retorted
+Musa. The dwarf at last found tongue.
+
+"Laugh now, my masters, and you, my lady; but you shall all whistle
+otherwise ere you hear the last of poor Zeyneb."
+
+The Spaniard laughed scornfully.
+
+"Aye, truly," declared he, "you are like to live many days, my merry
+sir, after your feat just now."
+
+The dwarf only hung down his head, while all around them swarmed the
+castle folk talking each at once, and making a mighty din. Baron
+Hardouin sent his niece away with her maids, to have her temples
+bathed in strong waters, for snow was no whiter than her cheeks. But
+four sturdy men-at-arms haled Zeyneb within the castle, and then the
+Baron blew out on him his fury. He should be torn by wild horses, fed
+to the bloodhounds, grilled over hot coals; and any other device for
+leaving this world in an agony was told over to him. Zeyneb did not
+stir. After his first howl and rage, he only blinked sharply out of
+his little black eyes and twisted his lips. But when Richard asked the
+Baron if he had received no letter concerning the attempt at Clermont,
+the dwarf broke forth in French.
+
+"He has not, Cid Richard, and with good reason. I met your messenger
+and killed him."
+
+"Killed him!" the word went round the circle with a shiver, through
+braver hearts than those of the maids; for there was an uncanny light
+in the hunchback's eye, that made the boldest chary.
+
+"Assuredly," continued Zeyneb, holding up his hands. "I met him on the
+road, a simple fellow; it was dark; he could not recognize; the dagger
+passed under the fifth rib; he gave one cry."
+
+"_Maledicte!_" exclaimed Sebastian, crossing himself. "Have we here
+the very devil in human guise?"
+
+"Be he man or devil," protested Hardouin, with a great oath, "he shall
+find the pit more joysome than the dungeons of La Haye."
+
+"Pardon," replied Zeyneb, looking about unflinchingly, and speaking
+very good Languedoc. "You will find you have no power at all. You
+cannot slay me--"
+
+"Cannot?" flew from Hardouin.
+
+"Truly," was the calm answer. "All things are in the hand of God.
+Without His will you can do nothing."
+
+"Silence, blasphemer!" thundered Sebastian, smiting the dwarf on the
+mouth. "Who are you to utter God's name?"
+
+"I?" retorted Zeyneb, a little proudly, holding up his head. "I? Know,
+Christian, that we Ismaelians are chosen by God Himself to execute His
+will. Our sovereign here below says to us, 'Do this,' and we do it,
+knowing that no harm can befall, save as it is foreordained by the
+Most High."
+
+"Away! Away to the dungeon!" raged Hardouin; "to-morrow you shall have
+cause to remember your sins!"
+
+Strong hands were on Zeyneb's shoulders, but he almost writhed out of
+them, and stood before Richard.
+
+"_Ya!_ Cid Richard; thrice now have I sought your ending. Well--Allah
+preserves you! Sometimes death is sweeter than life. Would you have me
+tell of what befell at Cefalu? I saw your mother die, your brother,
+your father, your sister--"
+
+"Away!" roared Longsword, "or I shall kill him, and he will escape too
+mercifully."
+
+The men-at-arms tugged Zeyneb down the dark stairs. Herbert had him
+very tightly by the scruff.
+
+"_Ai_, my dear fellow," the veteran was croaking, "tell me why you
+were at La Haye after your adventure at Clermont."
+
+"Because I knew your master would come hither as sure as a dog sniffs
+out a bone. My lord Iftikhar had said to me, 'See that Richard
+Longsword troubles no longer,' and I had bowed and answered, 'Yes,
+master, on my head.' Therefore I came to Auvergne, and when Allah did
+not favor, to Provence."
+
+"Where Allah has mightily favored!" chuckled the man-at-arms.
+
+"_Héh_, fellow," grunted a second guard, "I have seen you before
+lurking about. By the Mass, I wish then I had slit your weasand." And
+the grasp on Zeyneb tightened.
+
+"I owe you no grudge, gentle Franks," quoth the dwarf, as they pushed
+back the door of a cell that was all dust and murk. "Allah requite
+you! Greet Richard Longsword and the right noble Mary Kurkuas; I shall
+meet both, I trust, in Palestine, whither they wish to go."
+
+"Ha!" growled Herbert, driving him in with a mighty kick. "To-morrow,
+to-morrow!--Double fetter! Remember your good deeds, if you have any."
+
+And so they left him; yet Herbert, for all his jests, could not shake
+off the strange horror that smote him when he recalled the dwarf's
+gleaming black eyes, and that direful laugh.
+
+Richard had gone to Mary, who was lying in the ladies' bower, a long,
+brightly tapestried chamber, with here and there a tier of saints or
+knights in stiff, shadeless fresco. The couch lay by the grated window
+that commanded a broad sweep of the fair land. As he entered, one of
+the maids rose from beside her mistress, bearing away the silver bowl
+of lavender water. Mary's long brown hair lay scattered over the
+silken pillows, the sun making dark gold of every tress. She was pale;
+but smiling, and very happy.
+
+Richard knelt and spoke not a word, while he put the soft hair to his
+lips and kissed it. Then he said gently:--
+
+"Ah! sweet life, I feel all unworthy of so great a mercy. And it was
+you that saved me!"
+
+"I!" cried Mary, starting.
+
+"By St. Michael, yes. For the dagger was aimed at my throat, where the
+mail did not guard. Had you not seized, I should long since have
+needed no physician. But it is not this which now gives me fear.
+Zeyneb is a terrible dwarf. To-morrow he shall have cause to mourn his
+sins. But if you go with me to Palestine, you go to certain danger.
+Iftikhar Eddauleh, I learn, is a great man in Syria. Of this Ismaelian
+brotherhood I know very little; but if their daggers can reach even to
+France, what is not their might in the East? I may see a day when no
+ring-shirt may save me. Yet their power I do not fear; for it is no
+great thing to die, were it I only, and absolved of soul. But think,
+if in the chance of war or of plotting, you should fall into the hands
+of Iftikhar! Death once past would be joy for a dear saint like you,
+whom Our Lord would stand ready to welcome; but a living
+death--captivity, life-long, to the emir--dear God, forbid the
+thought! Yet there is danger."
+
+Mary had risen from the couch. She was still very pale; what with her
+flowing hair, and her bare white neck, Richard had never seen her more
+beautiful.
+
+"Richard Longsword," said she, slowly, "I have said I wish to do
+something very great to show how much I love you. Well,--I am a
+soldier's daughter. Manuel Kurkuas was no mean cavalier in his day,
+though you frown on us Greeks. My fathers and fathers' fathers have
+fought back Moslem, and Bulgar, and Persian, and Sclave. I am of their
+blood. And will you fright me with a 'perhaps'? Let Iftikhar Eddauleh
+lay his snares, and whisper to his dagger-men; I think Trenchefer"--with
+a proud glance at the iron figure before her, and the great sword--"and
+he who wields it a sure bulwark."
+
+"Sweetest of the sweet," said Richard, laying his great hands on her
+smooth shoulders, "something tells me there may be great sorrow in
+store. I know not why. God knows I have had grief and chastening
+enough. Yet I still have dread."
+
+"And I," said Mary, gently, lifting her eyes, "know that so long as
+Richard Longsword keeps the pure and spotless knight of Holy Church,
+whatever may befall, I can have no great woe!"
+
+"Ah!" cried the Norman, his eyes meeting hers, "you speak well, pure
+saint. For without you, the fiends will tear me unceasing, and with
+you beside I may indeed look to heaven. You shall go; without you I am
+very full of sin!"
+
+He bent and kissed her. It was the pledge of love, more pure, more
+deep, than ever had thrilled in him before.
+
+"_Ai_, dear heart," he said, holding her from him that he might see
+the evening light on her face, "in Sicily I loved you for your bright
+eyes; but now--I love that in you which is within,--so far within that
+no _jongleur_ may see, to sing its praise."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+That night Baron Hardouin and Herbert slept on the gentle pleasures
+they had prepared for Zeyneb, the dwarf; but in the morning Aimer the
+seneschal came to his lord with a face long as a sculptured saint.
+
+"The paynim dwarf!" was his trembling whisper; "he is gone!"
+
+"Gone!" cried Hardouin, dropping the hawk's hood in his hand.
+
+"Truly, my Baron," continued the worthy, "this morning, as we went to
+the dungeon, behold! Girart, the guard, was stretched on the floor
+dead, as I am a sinful man!"
+
+"Fellow--fellow--" broke out the nobleman, beginning to quake.
+
+"Art-magic, and direct presence of Satan, it must have been," moaned
+the seneschal, wringing his hands. "Girart was ever a sleepy knave;
+yet the infidel had slipped off his fetters. The lock was all pried
+asunder, and Girart's head beaten in, as though by a bit of iron,
+while he snored."
+
+"Mary, ever Virgin!" swore the Baron, crossing himself. "Shall the
+devil go up and down in my own castle? Out, men, boys, varlets, all!
+scour the country! send riders to all the seigneurs about!"
+
+And so they did, more thoroughly than ever in the camp at Clermont;
+but again the dwarf had melted out of human ken. True, when the
+messengers went as far as Marseilles, they heard a vague story that a
+dark-skinned hunchback had embarked on a merchantman of Cyprus; but
+even this tale lacked verification, and the simplest and most
+satisfactory account was that of old Nicole, the gate-keeper's wife,
+who protested by St. Jude that she had seen two horrible red dogs
+creeping around the barriers just as she went to bed,--sure sign of
+the presence of the dreadful devil Cahu, who was on hand to rescue his
+votary.
+
+Only some days after, a groom found scratched on the stones of the
+castle's outer wall this inscription in Arabic: "To Cid Richard: three
+times are not four. There is a dagger that may pierce armor of
+Andalus. Remember." And below this, the rude sign of a poignard
+encircled by a noose.
+
+"The token of the Ismaelians," commented Musa, when he read it. "Allah
+grant that the boast prove as vain as his earlier strokes! Yet I would
+you were going anywhere but to Syria."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Day sped into day. The great host of Raymond of Toulouse was preparing
+to set forth for Italy. The hours of dreaming in the orchard under the
+ivy-hung castle wall at last saw an end. Musa had received by the
+latest ship to Marseilles from the East, a long and flattering letter
+from Afdhal, the vizier of the Fatimite kalif himself. The offer was a
+notable one, a high emirate in the Egyptian service. There would be
+fighting in plenty in Tripoli and Ethiopia, not to mention Syria and
+beyond; for the Cairo government had on foot a great project to break
+the power of the Abbaside rivals at Bagdad and their Seljouk masters
+and guardians. Musa brought the letter to Richard and Mary, as the two
+sat beneath the great trees, each hearing no music save the other's
+voice. And when he had finished, Richard said calmly: "Yes, brother
+mine, now at last you must leave us. Yet, please God, you shall see no
+service in Syria till we have sped our arrow at Jerusalem, for good or
+ill. Our hopes and hearts go with you; but you must go."
+
+Musa bowed his head; then to Mary: "And you, Brightness of the Greeks,
+are you bound irrevocably to go to Palestine?"
+
+"I go with my husband," said Mary, simply, looking straight upon him
+with her frank, dark eyes.
+
+"Then remember this," replied the Spaniard, very gravely, "if at any
+time--and so Allah wills--I can serve you with wit, or sword, or life,
+remember I am Richard Longsword's brother, and, therefore, your own.
+What I said at Palermo, I say once more. And who is so wise that he
+will say: 'Musa the Moslem shall never again give succor to Mary, the
+Star of the Christians'?"
+
+"_Hei_," cried Mary, trying to laugh, a little tearfully, "your face
+is sad as though you saw me in the clutch--" she was about to say, "of
+Iftikhar," but the shadow of the memory of that scene at Palermo, when
+the emir's mad breath smote her cheek, passed before her mind, and she
+was silent.
+
+"Sweet lady," answered the Spaniard, smiling, yet after his melancholy
+way, "I have scant belief in omens. Men say I am reckless in danger,
+as though tempting Allah to write my name in the book of doom. Listen:
+when I was young my father had the astrologers of the king of
+Seville's court cast my horoscope. And they came to him, saying:
+'Lord, your son will be a great cavalier; he shall escape a thousand
+perils; a thousand enemies shall seek his life; he shall mock them
+all. Nevertheless he shall perish, and that because of the passion for
+a maid, whose beauty shall outrun praise by the poet Nawas, whose
+loveliness shall surpass the houris of Paradise; yet even she in her
+guilelessness shall undo him.'"
+
+"But you distrust prophecies!" exclaimed the Greek, blushing.
+
+"Even so," continued the Andalusian, stroking his beard; "yet see. If
+it be true as the astrologers say, I may run to myriad dangers and
+stand scatheless; for where is the maid who shall put madness in me
+saving you," with a soft smile; "and are you not my sister, in whose
+love for my brother I joy?"
+
+"You speak riddles," said Mary, this time casting down her eyes.
+
+"Riddles? There is little profit in the unweaving. Perhaps in Egypt,
+in that warm, enchanted Nile country, in some genii-haunted island of
+the great river where the cataract foams, and the sun makes rainbow
+ever on the mist,--who knows but that I may find my temptress--my
+destruction!"
+
+"Ah!" cried Richard, laughing now, "she must indeed be more than human
+fair, for I think no mortal maid will stir the heart of Musa, son of
+Abdallah, if--" But he paused, and his eyes were on Mary, who clapped
+her hand upon his lips. Musa was humming gently a weird Spanish song,
+then laughed in turn in pure merriment. "See, we almost draw swords,
+because I will not confess myself covetous of Richard's bride!"
+
+"Silence, or I wed neither!" came from Mary; and perforce the two made
+her blush no more.
+
+Then before the sober days that awaited them came, there was the
+wedding. Musa was soon to take ship to Palermo, thence to Egypt; so
+they hastened the bridal, and Baron Hardouin gave them one which was
+long the talk of the country-side. Never before was the sky more blue,
+the air more sweet, the village church bells' pealing merrier. A
+hundred guests from far and near; amongst them Counts Raymond and
+Gaston, ridden over from Orange. A noble procession it was to the
+church, the _jongleurs_ leading in their brightest motley; the bride
+all in violet silk, gold lace and ermine at her fair throat; on her
+hair a great crown of roses red as her own red lips; behind pranced
+Rollo, bearing his lord on an ivory saddle; then all the guests, the
+great ladies crowned with gold; and flowers upon every neck, upon the
+beasts, upon the roadway; till the throng came to the church porch,
+where Sebastian stood to greet them.
+
+In his hands was a book, and on it a little silver ring. Mary stood
+before the priest, and Richard Longsword at her side. Her eyes were
+cast down--"She has neither father nor mother to give her away, ah!
+dear lady," all the women were lamenting. But Baron Hardouin advanced
+to her, took her hand in his, laid it in the hand of the Norman; and
+the latter--the words coming from his very soul--repeated the great
+vow: "Forever I swear it, by God's strength and my strength; in health
+or in sickness, I promise to guard her." Then Sebastian took the ring:
+he said a little prayer over it, and gave to Richard; and Richard
+placed it on three fingers in succession of the little hand that lay
+in his. "In the name of the Father!"--then, "of the Son!"--then, "of
+the Holy Ghost!" And on that third finger the ring should abide till
+life was sped. As it slipped to its place, the women gave a little
+laugh and cry, "Good omen! it glides easily! She will be a peaceful
+bride!" For when the ring stuck fast, there was foreboding of
+shrewings and sorrow.
+
+Then into the church--dim, awesome; two candles on the altar; a cloud
+of incense; a vast company still pressing about with curious
+whisperings. In the gray nave they knelt for the benediction; distant,
+mysterious as from another world, "May God bless you, and show Himself
+favorable unto you, your bodies and your souls." Then they received
+the host at the altar; and Richard, as was appointed, in the sight of
+a thousand, with a great crucifix above and Christ Himself in the
+golden dove beneath the altar, took Mary in his arms, and gave her the
+kiss of peace--the peace of the love that may not die in earth or in
+heaven.
+
+This over, back to the castle, the trumpets making the azure quake;
+banners on every house; flowers rained upon the bride; her black mule
+treading a scarlet carpet. All shouted, "Joy, joy and long life to the
+noble Lady of St. Julien! Joy to the valiant Baron! Joy to both!" So
+there were fêtes and tournaments eight days long, as the custom was.
+Mary and Richard went to their wedding mass, and during the service
+the bride, as did all good brides, they told her, made vows to obey
+her lord, to call him "Monsire," or, better, the good Latin
+"_Domine_." But she straightway disproved this promise, and mocked the
+great De St. Julien to his face.
+
+On the ninth day Musa said farewell. Richard and Mary rode forth with
+him for a long way, to see him well towards Marseilles. Neither he nor
+Richard spoke the word nearest their hearts,--"What will befall the
+soul of my brother?" But they had many things to say, of when the
+Crusade should be over, and Moslem and Christian might be friends at
+least in this world. But that hour seemed very far away.
+
+At last they came to the fork, and the two could go no farther. Musa
+turned to bid farewell. "Remember," said he, in his musical Spanish
+Arabic, "remember the mercy of Allah surpasses all human mercy. We are
+all in the hollow of His hand; Christian and Moslem alike in His
+keeping. By His will we shall meet, and naught shall sever."
+
+"Amen!" said Richard, looking down. They had all dismounted. Without
+speaking, he cast his arms about Musa, and gave him a close embrace.
+And when the two stood apart, the Spaniard's eyes rested on Mary, then
+on Longsword. The Norman smiled and nodded. "Are you not my sister?"
+said Musa, simply. And he laid his hands upon her arms, and kissed her
+forehead, while she resisted not, nor even blushed. Only her long
+lashes were bright, when she answered:--
+
+"Yes, my brother, my heart is very full. I cannot speak all the things
+I feel."
+
+Musa swung into his saddle; the men-at-arms of Hardouin who were to
+escort him to Marseilles cantered after. They saw the Spaniard climb a
+hillock; just at the curve he gave one sweep of the hand--was gone.
+Mary laid her head on Richard's shoulder, and spoke nothing for a long
+time. Then they rode to La Haye together, and neither had heart for
+idle speech.
+
+At the castle gate Sebastian met them, his face--so far as he ever
+suffered it--twisted with a smile.
+
+"Glory to St. Raphael! The unbeliever is departed!"
+
+"Musa is gone," answered Richard, soberly.
+
+"Praises to God! the devil hath reclaimed his own! the lake of
+unquenchable fire--"
+
+But he spoke no more. Richard had knotted his fist and with one buffet
+felled the priest, so that he did not speak for a good while; and when
+he did, Mary observed that never by word or deed did he recall the
+Spaniard.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+HOW IFTIKHAR'S MESSENGER RETURNED
+
+
+It was the twelfth day of the sacred month Ramadan, in the year of the
+flight of the Prophet four hundred and ninety,--according to the
+Christian reckoning in the month of August, one thousand and
+ninety-six,--that Iftikhar Eddauleh sat over his sherbet in the palace
+El Halebah, which is by the Syrian city of Aleppo. Now good Moslems
+were not presumed to enjoy food or drink from rise to set of sun
+during the sacred month, therefore the grand prior of the Ismaelians
+sat shaded on the _liwan_, a raised hall opening off the great court
+of the palace. Here, with the door covered by Indian tapestries, and
+with silken carpets of Kerman deadening the footfalls of each
+soft-stepping Persian slave, the great man could lie upon his purple
+couch, and let his eye rove from the bright, inlaid stones of the
+alabaster walls to the ceiling beams of gilded teak. Without the sun
+beat hot, the parching south wind from the desert swept sand-dust in
+the eyes of man and beast; but within all was cool, darkened, fragrant
+with frankincense from the smouldering brazier.
+
+Iftikhar was in that mood of sleepy indolence to which men wonted to a
+life of restless action are often prone. He was clad only in a loose
+under-mantle of green cotton; and while he dozed a dark-eyed maid of
+Dekkan was bathing his feet with perfumed water from a porcelain
+basin. A second maid stood by the couch, and often, as the master
+languidly held out his cup, refilled it with the sweet rose sherbet
+from a brass cooler of snow. Iftikhar drank again, and again, speaking
+not a word; till at last the first Hindoo, having borne away the bowl,
+stood at his head with a great fan of bright feathers. So far as
+speech or expression was in question, his ministers might have been
+moving statues, so noiseless, so mechanical, was every action.
+
+Presently Iftikhar began communing with himself, as was his wont, half
+aloud. "One year in Syria; _wallah!_ truly if prosperity is not my
+destiny, all the jinns deceive. I have been to Alamont, the 'Vulture's
+Nest,' have seen Hassan ben-Sabah, Lord of the Ismaelians, and all the
+'devoted' have been bidden to obey my word as they would the 'Cid of
+the Mountain.' At my nod ten thousand daggers flash, ten thousand
+riders go forth. Let emir or sultan offend:--he lies down on his bed,
+his memlouks about; he awakes--in paradise; for in all Islam who may
+escape our daggers? _Mashallah!_--let others boast; what may not I,
+Iftikhar, accomplish? I, who was left a foundling in the great Cairo
+mosque El-Azhar, and was reared by the compassionate Imam Abdul Aziz?
+Power, riches, glory--there shall be no bound to my fortune!"
+
+The Egyptian leaped up and began to pace the floor.
+
+"Much yet to do," ran he on; "I have Hassan Sabah's pledge that I
+shall be his successor. Every barrier must be plucked down betwixt the
+Ismaelians and empire over all Islam, such as Harun or Mansur never
+held. 'All is permitted, naught feared,'--such is our watchword,
+taught the initiated at the grand lodge in Cairo. Let him who stands
+in our way be snuffed out like a rushlight,--Barkyarok the
+arch-sultan, the Bagdad kalif, who is Barkyarok's puppet--all--all!"
+
+As the Egyptian spoke, a huge negro, shining with great earrings, and,
+save for a red cincture, clothed only in his ebony, glided from behind
+the curtained door. In his hand was a naked cimeter of startling
+length. Never a word he said, but only pointed with his weapon to the
+passage, then salaamed.
+
+"The dervish Kerbogha?" asked Iftikhar, stopping his pacings.
+
+The negro, who was a mute, only bowed almost to the floor.
+
+"Bid him enter." The giant salaamed a third time, and was gone. An
+instant later a stranger entered. His robe was spotless white, but the
+shoes and belt were red. He was a man just in the turn of life, with a
+powerful military frame, the nose of a hawk, and a hawk's keen eye; a
+grizzled beard, very thick, that swept his breast; his head crowned
+with a peaked felt hat, also white. The sun had long since tanned his
+skin to a rich bronze; there were scars on cheeks, forehead, hands. He
+strode with the springing step of one who loved hardship for
+hardship's sake; and no second glance was needed to tell that power
+and command were second nature.
+
+Iftikhar bowed very ceremoniously, thrusting one hand in his bosom,
+and the stranger doing the like, while the formula was exchanged:
+"Peace be on you." "On you be peace, and the mercy of Allah and His
+blessings."
+
+Then the Egyptian bade the Hindoos bring new water and sherbet. The
+stranger flung himself upon the divan, and words flew fast.
+
+"You have been to Antioch?" asked Iftikhar.
+
+"I have," replied Kerbogha,--for such was the new comer's name.
+"Yaghi-Sian is willing to link hands with us. His pride has been
+humbled mightily since he attacked your friend Redouan, lord of
+Aleppo, and was defeated. Now he sees that only by joining the
+Ismaelians can he hope for success."
+
+"And you promised--?"
+
+"That if the plans of Hassan Sabah fail not, we shall have the puppet
+kalif, Mustazhir, and his master, the arch-sultan Barkyarok, at our
+mercy in two years. Then each prince who is of our party shall divide
+the spoils, and rule every one in his own land, sending some tribute
+to Alamont in sign of fealty to the order. I have engaged, you will
+warn Redouan, that Yaghi-Sian is not to be attacked; and if he refuse,
+let him remember how our daggers found Nizam ul-Mulk, the great
+vizier. To-day I am at Aleppo, to-morrow I go to Mosul, thence to
+Alamont to tell my tale to Hassan Sabah."
+
+Whereupon Iftikhar replied, while the slaves bathed Kerbogha's
+feet:--
+
+"I see all goes well. The Seljouk power declines since the death of
+Malek Shah. Yet Barkyarok is not to be despised; he can still summon
+the Turkish hordes. The 'devoted' cannot do all. The dagger throws
+down many thrones, raises none. To strike kalif and sultan we need
+more--an army--myriads; how gather it? A whisper at Ispahan, 'Kerbogha
+is of the Ismaelians; he moves disguised as a dervish to seduce the
+emirs.' How long then does the arch-sultan delay to send the
+bowstring?"
+
+Kerbogha set down his sherbet cup and laughed dryly.
+
+"_Wallah_, can one always play at backgammon,[1] and win? So in life;
+fortune and skill must go together. Let us play our game, and take
+what Allah sends without a quiver."
+
+"An army, an army; where an army, to break the arch-sultan's might?"
+Iftikhar was repeating, when the curtain was thrust away. The giant
+negro was salaaming again.
+
+"Another stranger?"
+
+The mute nodded.
+
+"Can he be trusted?" the second question from Kerbogha.
+
+A second nod. "Let him come in."
+
+And the curtains gave way for none other than the dwarf Zeyneb,
+travel-stained, with a ragged beard and a very tattered costume. At
+sight of his master and Kerbogha, the dwarf bowed to the rugs, then
+laid his hand on lips and forehead. At last Iftikhar spoke:--
+
+"You come from Frankland?"
+
+"I have been amongst the Franks, lord, as you deigned to command."
+
+"And Richard Longsword, whom my soul hates?" came eagerly.
+
+The dwarf looked his master full in the eye.
+
+"He still lives, and to my knowledge prospers."
+
+"Child of Eblees the Devil, have you failed yet again? at Palermo, at
+Cefalu, and now in France?" And Iftikhar put forth his hand for the
+ivory staff that lay by the divan. "Sluggard, an hundred strokes on
+your bare heels for this!"
+
+[Footnote 1: Arab name: T[=a]wulah.]
+
+The dwarf still did not flinch.
+
+"Master, once at Clermont where the Frankish lords were all gathered
+to prepare for taking Jerusalem, I stabbed at him through the walls of
+his tent; some jinn prompted him to wear a Valencia hauberk. Barely I
+made away. Again in Provence, when he stood by the Star of the Greeks,
+I would have stricken him in her arms; but that chain shirt, enchanted
+doubtless, turned the blow. I was cast into a dungeon, and only
+because Allah granted that I should know how to pick loose fetters,
+and because He shed sleep upon my guard, did I escape being food for
+dogs. Therefore, if I deserve stripes, lay on; yet my small wit could
+do no more. The hand of Allah protects Richard Longsword."
+
+Iftikhar controlled himself by no common effort.
+
+"You have ever been a trusty slave, Zeyneb; no man may contend against
+the Most High. I do wrong to be angry. Depart, and when refreshed,
+return and tell all; of the Star of the Greeks and of the commotions
+amongst the Franks; for of these last the Lord Kerbogha will be glad
+to hear."
+
+But as Zeyneb was bowing himself out of the _liwan_, a low, weird song
+stole from the chambers within; now softly rising as the breeze, now
+mounting shriller, shriller, till the gilded stalactites trembled, and
+the whole hall throbbed with the wailing melody, then fainter, dying
+like the retreating wind. Again and again the three heard the wild
+song rise, throb, fall, and a strange awe spread over them, as if more
+than mortal accents drifted with the note.
+
+"The song of Morgiana," said Iftikhar, dropping his eyes; "she is
+fallen in her trance. My Lord Kerbogha, let us go to her. For her eyes
+now see things hid to all save Allah!"
+
+The three tiptoed down a long, dark way, Zeyneb following as a matter
+of course. At the end was a door where stood a second eunuch, a tall,
+beardless, ebony skeleton, with naked sabre held before him. The black
+knelt while his master passed. Iftikhar knocked thrice at the door; it
+turned on its pivots slowly, noiselessly, by some unseen power. As
+the three stepped within, they were nigh dazzled by the intense white
+light. They were in a court surrounded by a two-storied arcade, the
+delicate columns, the fantastic capitals, fretwork, and panelling, all
+in alabaster and marble. Below, the eye wandered over gilt mosaics,
+winding scroll into scroll, till sight grew mazed and weary. In the
+centre of the court sprang a tall silver pipe, embossed with strange
+figures, discharging itself aloft in a fine cool spray that drifted
+downward on all beneath. Perfume mingled with the spray, and what with
+the blinding light, shot through the mist, and the wandering song
+which ever grew nearer, sense lost itself as amid an enchanter's
+spell. Iftikhar led past the fountain, into the arcade; and in the
+shadows apart from the misty outer air a brazier was smouldering, and
+a heavy fragrance rose with the gray smoke. Still the song, very loud
+now, but no word heard clearly. Iftikhar spoke.
+
+"Morgiana!" And Kerbogha saw sitting in the dark niche, behind the
+brazier, a woman, her head thrown back, drinking in the rising vapor.
+She was dressed only in a violet robe that fell from throat to feet.
+There was a girdle of silver chain-work; no sleeves; arms, neck, face,
+all bare; the skin, not so dark as of most Eastern women, rather a
+fine olive. Black and slightly waving was the long hair that tossed
+heedlessly over the shoulders. In the shadow Kerbogha could only see
+that the face presented a profile of marvellous symmetry, and the
+eyes--wonder of wonders,--now flashing with a half-drunken fire--were
+steel-blue. As Iftikhar spoke, the woman tossed her head, but
+continued the song. They heard her words:--
+
+    "Armies advancing; the vultures appearing,
+        Wheel for their prey.
+    Now the hosts mingle, a thousand blades flashing;
+        Hid is the day
+    By the twittering arrows; as, quaking like aspen,
+        The warring hosts sway!"
+
+"Morgiana!" again Iftikhar commanded. The song sank into wild
+moanings, dimmer, dimmer,--was gone. The strange singer now spoke, yet
+still in wild rhythm:--
+
+"Wherefore, man, do you come to me, the blue-eyed maid of Yemen! See,
+the smoke-drug is strong; let me drink, drink, drink, and tread beyond
+the stars."
+
+"Moon of the Arabs," spoke Iftikhar, softly, as though stepping
+delicately, "I heard your song; the power of the drug is upon you. I
+would have you speak before me and the Lord Kerbogha. Make known to us
+the way of the jinns. Reveal--is it written in the smoke that
+Barkyarok perish? that the Master of the Devoted be hailed Commander
+of the Faithful in Bagdad?"
+
+The eye of the maiden was wandering, now on Zeyneb, now on Kerbogha--a
+long silence, then of a sudden:--
+
+"My sight is dim; I see nothing; the smoke weaves no picture; I cannot
+see the sultan; my ears hear the question, my eyes are blind."
+
+"Wait," whispered Iftikhar to Kerbogha, who, man of war that he was,
+felt the very air awe-laden.
+
+Morgiana bent over the brazier, blew the smouldering leaves; again the
+smoke rose thickly. Twice she breathed it deep; when she raised her
+head, the fire glittered once more in her eyes.
+
+"Behold! behold!" and she half started from the niche.
+
+Iftikhar hung on each word. She continued, first slowly, then faster,
+faster, finally running in half song, half chant; arising the meantime
+with outstretched arms, shaking the flowing tresses as she swayed:--
+
+"Again armies; tens of thousands, horseman and footman, in the armor
+of the Franks, the red cross of Issa upon their breasts; another host;
+Arab, Seljouk; tens of thousands; battle. Allah can number the slain,
+not man; death, death upon every wind!" She swayed still more wildly,
+as if mastered by the vapor.
+
+"One face I see, the Greek, the Greek, Mary Kurkuas. She is
+struggling--in vain; a mighty arm holds her; a great warrior bears
+her. Allah! I know him; I would not tell his name!" But Iftikhar had
+broken forth almost sternly:--
+
+"Speak, speak, woman! Who is the warrior you see against the smoke?"
+The words turned the trend of the spell. Morgiana moved more gently as
+she repeated in quick rhythm:--
+
+        "Now the smoke weaveth in mystical figure;
+        I see the hosts marching,
+        I see the hosts warring,
+        I see the strife swaying
+          Like wrestling swift winds!
+
+    "'Twixt Frankland and Eastland the conflict sore wageth;
+    I see the Greek flower transported beside thee,
+          Thine eyes,--they behold her;
+          Thy arms,--they enfold her;
+          Thy heart is as flame!--"
+
+"_Allah akhbar!_" burst from Iftikhar, starting. And at the cry,
+Morgiana had given another, and fell so suddenly that only a quick
+snatch by Zeyneb saved her from striking the brazier. She was
+speechless, pallid, when they lifted her; Kerbogha would have declared
+her dead. But Iftikhar drew from his bosom a crystal vial, in which
+glowed a liquor red as vermilion. Three drops he laid upon her lips;
+and lo, there was a flush of color, and in a moment the woman was
+sitting upon the rugs and glancing at them with shy, scared eyes.
+Iftikhar beckoned to Kerbogha, who bowed and withdrew; but Zeyneb
+remained. All the glitter and madness had passed from Morgiana's face.
+Zeyneb knelt and kissed her hand, which lay limp within his own.
+
+"You see I have returned safe from my long journey, Moon of Yemen; can
+you wish me no joy?"
+
+The languid eyes lighted a little.
+
+"Allah is merciful; I am very weary." This last to Iftikhar.
+
+"Verily," cried the Egyptian, "you should not make the magic smoke;
+see, you are frail as a lily of Damascus; a sigh of the south wind
+would destroy you. Have I not forbidden it?"
+
+"Lord," replied the lady, raising her eyes, now touched with a soft,
+sweet fire, "the hour came to me to-day. As the bird must fly north
+in springtime, so must I drink the hemp smoke, when the genii bid, or
+die. Ah, lord--I saw in the smoke shapes--terrible shapes--they are
+gone; the shadow still hangs over me; yet I know this--woe, woe, woe,
+awaits,--for you, for Zeyneb, for me. I am sad; my heart is torn."
+
+Iftikhar knelt beside the divan, and looked into her face.
+
+"Life of my own!" said he, half passionately, "why sad? What is the
+desire? A palace--can any be more fair than El Halebah? Jewels,
+robes?--the riches of Aleppo are yours. Servants?--a hundred maids of
+Khorassan and Fars and Ind are your ministers, most beautiful of the
+daughters of men, save as you outshine. The pang? The wish? Your will
+is law to me, and to all the 'devoted' of Syria."
+
+But Morgiana turned away her head.
+
+"Lord," said she, half bitterly, "will palace, and riches, and slaves
+bind up a bruised heart? Is gold a cordial for the soul? Does the
+dagger say, 'I am sovereign physician'?"
+
+"Riddles--" commented Iftikhar, still kneeling.
+
+Morgiana flushed; there was a flash in her eyes now, but not of
+softness or delirium. "It is past," cried she, bending her henna-dyed
+hand across her brow, as if to drive away a vapor. "The vision is
+gone. But I see--O Iftikhar, whom I have loved,--soul of my
+soul,--what do I not see! I see your love for me, true, and pure, and
+strong, when you bought me and Zeyneb, my brother, at the slave market
+in Damascus. And when we were with you in Sicily, and you served
+amongst the Christians, what nest of the wood-thrush more joyous than
+our home at Palermo? As you won honor after honor, and Christian and
+Moslem lauded you, was your gladness greater than mine? Then came the
+day when you listened to the cursed envoys of Hassan Sabah, and sold
+yourself to this fiend's brotherhood, who live by the dagger of
+stealth, and not by the sword of manhood,--that was the first sorrow.
+And then--" she hesitated, but drove on, and her eyes flamed yet
+fiercer--"came that hour when the old Kurkuas and his daughter came
+to Palermo,--and you set eyes on her Greek beauty. I have seen her;
+she is fair, I own it--and your heart grew chill toward me. Me you
+left in the harem, with a few fawning, glozing words, and went about
+sighing, dreaming of the Greek; and my joy was at end. Almost, even
+then, you would have possessed her; but I was crafty beyond you and
+Zeyneb. Remember the hour in the Palace of the Diadem, when Musa the
+Spaniard saw you with your arms--"
+
+"As Allah lives!" thundered Iftikhar, leaping up, "how knew you this?
+No more--witch, sorceress!"
+
+"Rage as you will!" tossed forth Morgiana, throwing back her head; "it
+was I that warned Musa. Ah! you both are weak--weak, though you vaunt
+yourself so strong."
+
+Iftikhar was foaming; his fury was terrible. But Morgiana never
+quivered. "So you fled Sicily after devising murder in vain. Then the
+deed at Cefalu--and that accursed child Eleanor still remains to drive
+me wild with her moans and her sorrow. Again this Zeyneb, worthy
+brother, returns from Frankland. He has failed. I saw Richard
+Longsword's form in the smoke, and the smoke shows only the living.
+But he and Mary Kurkuas will come,--come with the Frankish
+hordes,--and then! Woe to you and woe to me, if your heart remember
+her beauty!"
+
+"And the smoke mist says true, fair sister," quoth Zeyneb, naught
+abashed. "Richard Longsword goes to Jerusalem, and with him Mary
+Kurkuas, wedded, though not yet truly his wife; so I heard from her
+own lips." And he darted a swift glance at his master.
+
+"Lord, lord!" cried Morgiana, suddenly falling on the pavement. "Do
+not listen! forget! forget! Put her from your heart! See! I embrace
+your knees, I kiss your feet. By Allah the Great and His prophet, I
+conjure you. She loves you not. I would die for you with a laugh on my
+lips. Oh, the heart of Zeyneb my brother is black, as his body
+misshapen! Death is woven for us all, if you continue this quest.
+Remember our love, our joy,--the little babe that died in Palermo.
+Have I ever deceived? If you remember Mary the Greek, I say it, 'Woe,
+woe for us all!'"
+
+But the jinns of a headlong passion had mastery of Iftikhar that day.
+He saw Morgiana of Yemen at his feet; but he saw another--that had
+been before his eyes day and night since that hour in Palermo when
+Mary Kurkuas's lips had been so near his own.
+
+"Eblees seize you, woman!" came from his throat; and he spurned her.
+Morgiana said not a word; without a groan she arose, and sat on the
+divan, looking upon him tearlessly. Iftikhar brattled forth a forced
+laugh. "_Ya_, Zeyneb, let us go back to Kerbogha. Your sister is all
+tears and foreboding to-day. We must not let her sit over the hemp
+again." And with that the two left the white court and returned to the
+_liwan_, where the Prince of Mosul awaited them. The two chiefs of the
+Ismaelians listened long to the tales Zeyneb had to tell of the
+assembling of the Franks. Then Iftikhar cried:--
+
+"Glory to Allah! The fish drift into the net!"
+
+"I do not understand, my lord," said the dwarf.
+
+"I know these Christians," the chief replied. "Lions in battle, but
+beast-strength will not win Jerusalem. Under cover of destroying them,
+we can gather a mighty host, unsuspected by Barkyarok. When they are
+blotted out, we take the sultan and kalif unawares! The Most High
+delivers the empire into the hands of the Ismaelians. Is it not so,
+Kerbogha?"
+
+And the prince called Allah to witness that their troubles were at an
+end; that three years should see them masters of all Islam. Only the
+dwarf shook his head, and when questioned, replied, "Lords, you are
+mighty men-of-war; yet this I say, 'You will fail.'"
+
+"And wherefore?" came from Kerbogha.
+
+"Because I have been among the Franks, and there is a fire burning in
+their hearts that a thousand leagues of deserts cannot blast, nor ten
+myriad sword-hands quench, nor all your Ismaelians' daggers."
+
+"You, too, prate evil, like your cursed sister!" cried Iftikhar. Then
+he asked Zeyneb very carefully as to the route likely to be taken by
+the Crusaders, the time of their arrival in Asia, and the like. After
+that he sent for a certain Eybek, one of the trustiest and most
+skilful of the "devoted," and dismissed him with this last command:--
+
+"But Richard Longsword slay not. In my own time will I deal with him,
+man to man. Rather let him live, and eat his pangs as I have eaten
+mine, and know that I have borne away his prize."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+HOW THEY SLEW THE FIRST INFIDEL
+
+
+Richard and Mary made the toilsome journey across Lombardy and
+Dalmatia with trials enough to expiate many sins, before Count
+Raymond's host reached Constantinople. There also Emperor Alexius gave
+the Crusaders chill greeting, and earned many curses. Yet when Richard
+saw the riches of the "City guarded of God," and heard how the first
+hordes, led by Peter the Hermit and Walter Lackpenny, had lighted like
+locusts on its suburbs, and had sacked palace and church as though
+despoiling very infidels, Longsword did not marvel that Alexius
+thought needful to deal warily with later comers. Here for the first
+time he learned the fate of the first peasant hordes,--how, to save
+his city from ruin, Alexius had ferried them across the Bosphorus.
+Left then to the Turks' tender mercies, the Sultan of Nicæa had
+pounced upon them with his light cavalry and cut them short in their
+sins. Peter the Hermit had escaped to Constantinople; his followers
+had perished almost to a man; and so began the great outpouring of
+life-blood in the long agony of the Crusade.
+
+Small wonder Alexius Comnenus saw in his later guests doubtful friends
+or worse! Or that with all his matchless guile he sought pledges from
+them, that their coming might bring blessing rather than destruction
+to his empire; for the blunt Franks openly swore that the schismatic
+Greeks were but one degree better than Moslems. So day followed day of
+intrigue and lie-giving; the Augustus bickering and haggling with
+Raymond, Godfrey, and the other Latin chiefs. In the meantime Richard
+had time to learn the marvels of this great city of the Cæsars. What
+city like it! Palermo had not one tithe its wealth. Its walls might
+mock all the chivalry of France. Where in the West was one building so
+notable as were a score along the Mesa, the great street from the
+"Golden Gate" to the "Sacred Palace"? Everywhere Corinthian columns,
+veined marbles, bronzes that nigh seemed breathing, palaces, churches
+a hundred and more; great _fora_ where swelled a mighty traffic;
+merchants whose shops boasted the luxurious wares of Persia, China,
+Ind; and multitudes on every street--Greek, Bulgar, Russian, Armenian,
+Jew. To Richard the scene was for long an enchanted confusion; and he
+marvelled to see how to Mary the pomp and bustle alike came as the
+common course of life. When he rode at her side through the humming
+city, or felt the light bark spring under the oar, as they shot up the
+Golden Horn or toward Chrysopolis, he was fain to question how any one
+here born and bred could find joy in coarser, wilder Frankland.
+
+Together the two had been in St. Sophia, monarch of churches, had seen
+the great dome swimming on its sea of light above its forty windows;
+had heard the choir sing as angels the praise of "Mary, God-bearer,
+Giver of Victory." And Richard's soul had been almost carried aloft by
+the throb of the stately service. Again in the street, he said: "Dear
+life, I feel as if I were but just plucked down from heaven. What have
+I done that you love me so; that you can so cheerfully leave all this,
+and dwell with me in our rude, bare West?" And Mary, as she rode
+beside him, answered, smiling: "Why? And can one live forever in the
+great church, and eat and drink music? Is all life a rowing from
+Chalcedon to Prinkipo? Ah, Richard, could I be happy to spend my days
+after the manner of these ladies of Constantinople,--watched like cats
+by sleek eunuchs, and kept close that our masters may stroke us? Is it
+better to listen to the music of St. Sophia and to read Sophocles and
+Herodotus; or to ride, hawk on fist, over the merry country with you
+at my side, to feel the wild wind tossing my hair, to sniff the
+breeze in the free woods, and think how sweet a thing is life?"
+
+"Then you are true Frank at heart!" laughed her husband, "despite your
+Greek name and learning."
+
+"I am the wife of Richard de St. Julien," answered she, very
+seriously; "and he is a mighty baron of France."
+
+So they viewed the great city through each other's eyes, and Richard
+grew humble as he saw how much wit heaven had granted those Greeks he
+once despised. At last the negotiating ended; the Emperor came down
+from his dignity; the princes swore him a loose manner of fealty;
+Bohemond of Tarentum, the most covetous of the chiefs, abated his
+demands. On a day never to be forgotten, the imperial galleys bore the
+host across the narrow strait. "Asia!" the cry of each knight as he
+kissed the very soil; at last they were fairly set to go to Jerusalem!
+
+And now the all-reigning desire was to slay infidels. Not many leagues
+away lay a great paynim stronghold, Nicæa, capital of Kilidge Arslan,
+sultan of Roum,--with fighting promised of a right knightly kind.
+Merry the music, and merrier the hearts of the hundred thousands, that
+May season, as the host swept in flashing steel and unsoiled bleaunts
+past old Nicomedia under the blue Bithynian sky, the hills all bright
+and green in springtime glory.
+
+"Sure, Our Lord is with us!" cried Richard. "I feel a giant's
+strength!" But Sebastian plodded on with bowed head. "Boast not," was
+the reply; "for our sins we all may yet be sorely chastened."
+
+"But is not God on our side, father?"
+
+"Yes, truly; but it shall be even as with the band of Gideon. Of
+thirty and two thousand there were left to fall on the Midianites
+three hundred; and to be among these, may we be worthy!"
+
+At this Richard laughed, looking off to the long lines of bright
+hauberks and forests of lances, far as the eye could reach; yet he had
+not laughed, had he known that of the six hundred thousand of
+fighting-men that crossed into Asia, scarce fifty thousand were to see
+with mortal eye the Holy City. But for the moment the skies seemed
+very bright, and the shadows commenced creeping only when forth from
+the forest stole ragged wretches, nigh starving, refugees from Peter
+the Hermit's rout. These told how Kilidge Arslan had slaughtered man,
+woman, and child, when he stormed the camp of Walter Lackpenny. Then,
+when the host advanced a little farther, they came to a wide heap of
+bones, more than could be counted, bleaching in the sun, and the crows
+still a black cloud above; for here had been the first battle and the
+first defeat. Loud rose the oaths and threats of vengeance from
+peasant and baron; the lines advanced in closer array, the music
+lessened, every lance was ready; for now at last they were treading on
+the soil of the infidel.
+
+Richard Longsword rode with the three thousand pioneers that Duke
+Godfrey sent ahead to plant crosses by the wayside as guides to the
+hosts who came after. Thus it befell, the saints granted that he
+should be among the first knights to set eyes on the unbelievers. With
+Prince Tancred, Bohemond's valiant nephew,--who had not forgotten the
+lists at Palermo,--Richard saw a band of horsemen whizzing ahead, and,
+lo, as the Christian riders drew near, the Turks' little crooked bows
+began spitting out barbed arrows, which glanced harmlessly on the
+chain mail, but now and then wounded a horse. "Rash infidels,--singled
+out doubtless by Satan for destruction,"--so Prince Tancred cried when
+he couched his lance; and away went the whole squadron of knights. The
+Seljouks wheeled like lightning, and were off; their bony Tartar
+horses flew madly under the spur, while the men, bending dexterously
+in their saddles, launched their shafts. But destruction was upon
+them; the Christians rode them down one after another; some were
+lanced, some taken; a few escaped, howling in a truly devilish
+fashion, to tell the tale to their fellow-unbelievers. It had been so
+easy for the cavaliers, that they rallied one another on the prowess
+of the day.
+
+"Ha! De St. Julien," Tancred would cry,--"how many paladins have you
+slain?" And Richard would answer, "As many as you, fair lord; but who
+is this grand soldan you have strapped to your stirrup? Will he fetch
+a thousand byzants' ransom?"
+
+They brought the luckless prisoners into camp, and scarce knew what to
+do with them. Shock-headed, small-eyed fellows they were,--all bones,
+teeth, and sinew. None could speak their language. Raymond of Agiles,
+worthy chaplain, stood before them with a crucifix, and discoursed an
+hour long in Latin on the perilous state of their souls, hoping that
+some word of the truth might lodge in their hearts through a miracle
+of grace. But the wretches only blinked out of their little eyes, and
+never moved a muscle nor gave a sign on their stolid faces. Theroulde
+advised that, following Charlemagne's precept, they should be put to
+death.
+
+    "None of the Moslems did remain
+    But had turned Christian, or else was slain!"
+
+prattled he, jauntily; but Sebastian counselled that due time for
+repentance should not be denied them. "Let them be as the men of
+Gibeon," he recommended, "hewers of wood and drawers of water." So the
+poor Turks were suffered to live, and Mary Kurkuas sent one of her
+maids to the tent where they lay bound, with cordials for such as were
+wounded. Many good Christians frowned at this, and Count Pons of
+Balazan hinted to Richard he would do well to rebuke his wife; "it was
+not seemly to have pity on God's enemies." But Richard belched out a
+great oath. "By St. Michael, who saveth from peril, he who bids me
+rebuke the Baroness de St. Julien shall walk up the length of
+Trenchefer!" and Count Pons, who was a discreet man, had to plead no
+desire for a quarrel, remembering the fate of the Valmonts.
+
+Thus tamely the Holy War began; but on the sixth of May the army found
+itself under the walls of Nicæa--an infidel city now, but forever
+sacred to Christians, since here had been framed the great Creed. The
+knights laughed at sight of its lofty battlements, as promising
+doughty fighting, and sat down for the siege, awaiting the coming of
+Raymond from Constantinople. While the siege-engines made the firm
+rock quake with the attack, Richard and the other barons rode forth
+into the country seeking adventure; for Kilidge Arslan was sending
+down his light riders from the hills, and there was steady
+skirmishing. Each morning as Richard went abroad he looked back at the
+face of Mary--the lips smiling, but not the eyes; and each evening
+when Rollo lumbered wearily homeward--perhaps with his lord's target
+battered deeply--there would be laughter, kisses, and merry talk, as
+they sat before the camp-fire, saw the red flames weaving pictures,
+and Longsword told of the brave deeds of the day.
+
+So sped two weeks around Nicæa, and on a Friday Richard sallied forth
+in company with Bohemond and Tancred, who led the scouting party. As
+their troops climbed the foothills that lay south of the city, the
+eagle eyes of Tancred lit upon three men who were stealing from grove
+to grove, as if wishing anything rather than to be seen. Then there
+was a headlong race among the knights to see which would strike first,
+and Rollo tossed out his great hoofs and led them all. Thus Richard
+caught the three just as they were plunging in a thicket, and bade
+them stand and yield. One indeed made a bold break for freedom, but
+just as he dashed among the trees, Tancred's javelin smote him, and
+his fellows held up their hands and howled for quarter. When the two
+were fairly on the way back to camp Richard observed that one was a
+Seljouk, but the other--a brown, black-eyed, wiry-limbed fellow--cried
+out in Arabic when addressed: "Ah, Christ be praised! I am amongst
+Christians; mercy, kind lord, on a fellow-believer,--release these
+bands!" "Christian?" protested Richard, still holding the cord knotted
+round the prisoner's hands.
+
+"I call Our Lord to witness," exclaimed the captive, "I am a baptized
+Christian of Syria, and have endured captivity and persecution for the
+sake of the Gospel;" and at this he cast down his eyes and began to
+sigh.
+
+"Our Lady pity you!" cried all the knights, touched to the quick
+instantly; "and how came you with these two infidels?"
+
+"Ah! noble lords," declared the Arab, a great tear on each cheek, "I
+have been long captive among the unbelievers, the slave of Kilidge
+Arslan. Know that on Sunday the Sultan will fall upon you with all his
+host, and we three are messengers sent to bear the tidings into the
+city through your lines."
+
+"Fellow! fellow!" began Tancred, pricking up his ears, "a Christian,
+and yet the private messenger of the infidels?"
+
+"Yes, Cid," was the ready answer, "I have, alas!"--another great
+sigh--"been false to my faith and apostatized; yet I said in my heart,
+'Let me go with these messengers, and by betraying them to the Franks,
+undo my own sin and gain liberty among Christian people.'"
+
+"By St. Theodore," swore Tancred, "you speak smoothly; if it is as you
+say, you shall not go unrewarded, and Bishop Adhemar shall give you
+full absolution."
+
+"Even so, Cid," replied the Arab, whose hands Richard had set at
+liberty, but who made no effort to fly. "Put to torture this Turk, my
+companion; he will confess all that I have told."
+
+"You are a stout-limbed varlet," commented Bohemond, the sly-eyed
+Prince of Tarentum; "you shall serve with me in my suite as guide and
+interpreter, for language and country you must know well." But the
+Arab only bowed, and answered:--
+
+"My lord is a fountain of generosity, yet it is my desire to seek
+service with the husband of that very noble lady the Princess Mary
+Kurkuas, who it is told is the great emir, Richard Longsword."
+
+"St. Michael," burst out Richard, "I am he! Yet why do you call my
+wife by name?"
+
+The stranger salaamed almost to the dust.
+
+"God is gracious beyond my sins in granting so noble a lord as husband
+of the daughter of my dear master. Know that fifteen years past,
+before the Moslems took Antioch, I was house-servant to Manuel
+Kurkuas, 'domestic' of Syria. Oftentimes have I held the very august
+princess on my knee, and even in her childhood all declared she was of
+beauty passing St. Thecla."
+
+Richard had only to hear one praise Mary Kurkuas to become that man's
+friend straightway. And he put his hand on the hilt of Trenchefer,
+taking oath upon the relics that if the stranger, who called himself
+Hossein, told an honest tale, he should never lack a patron. Only
+Tancred, viewing the Arab with his sea-green eyes, was heard to
+remark, "This fellow invokes the saints glibly, but his faith has more
+profession in it than is to my liking."
+
+However, when they brought the two before Duke Godfrey and threatened
+the Turk with torture, he broke down and told the interpreter a tale
+exactly like Hossein's--that Kilidge Arslan waited in the mountains
+with a great host and would fall on the besiegers the next day. So the
+Arab's credit was high when Richard brought him to the tent of his
+wife. Hossein cast one glance upon her, and fell upon his knees,
+kissing her robe and crying:--
+
+"Praises, praises to St. John of Damascus! I behold the daughter of my
+beloved lord Manuel, and God has verily clothed her as an angel of
+light!"
+
+"Good man," said the Greek, a little confused, "I know you not. When
+have you served my father?"
+
+"O preëminently august lady!" broke forth the Arab again. "Do you not
+remember Hossein, who was in the Cæsar Manuel's palace at Antioch? How
+he told you the tales of his people and sang you the wondrous song of
+Antar, and the stories of the jinns and the spirits of the air?"
+
+"I was indeed in Antioch when my father ruled the city, but I was very
+young. I recall nothing," replied Mary.
+
+"Alas! I had hopes your memory had not failed," declared Hossein,
+still kneeling; "yet it is true, O noblest of the Greeks, you were
+very young. Enough; my devotion can repay the daughter what I owe to
+the father. For the most excellent Cæsar saved me from cruel death at
+the hands of the infidels, my fellow-countrymen."
+
+"You are an honorable man," said the lady, touched at his
+demonstration, "to discharge a debt incurred so long ago.
+Perhaps"--and she ran over all her early girlhood in her memory--"I
+recall something of you, yet my father had many servants. I crave
+pardon if I forget. And how have you fared all this while among the
+Turks?"
+
+Whereupon Hossein flew into the most pitiful tale as to his life of
+captivity and persecution, so that the lady's eyes grew wet, and her
+heart right sore.
+
+"Good Christian," said she, at last, "surely you have endured much for
+your faith. God grant that under like persecution I do not apostatize
+more deeply. And what may I do for you? Have you home, friends, kin?"
+
+"Alas! most august princess, Heaven has taken all away. Let me be your
+slave, your bodyguard, and sleep without your tent by night with a
+naked sword. Perilous times await, and"--here he choked in his
+speech--"the foe shall only touch you by stepping across my poor
+body!"
+
+"You are a noble and pious man," said Mary, smiling. "It shall be as
+you say. I will ask the Baron to make you my guardsman." Whereupon
+Hossein invoked all the saints of the calendar to witness his delight;
+and the princess had her varlets and maids clothe and feed him. When
+Herbert and Theroulde came to look at him, however, they wagged their
+heads; and Sylvana, the nurse, who went wherever her mistress went,
+came boldly to Mary, saying:--
+
+"Save for his pious talk, we all swear this man is infidel. I knew all
+your father's servants at Antioch, and he was not of them."
+
+But Mary answered her sharply:--
+
+"Must one have a white skin to love Our Lord? No man could come before
+me with such a lie. Your memory fails you. The Cæsar had a great
+household. Besides, this Hossein has just revealed all the plots of
+Kilidge Arslan, and my husband says he is to be trusted." The word of
+Richard Longsword was not to be contradicted before his wife, as
+Sylvana knew well; so she held her peace. Only Theroulde arranged with
+Herbert that one of them should always watch their lady's tent along
+with the suspected Hossein.
+
+But the Arab's revelations proved true to the letter. On the next day,
+while Raymond of Toulouse with the rear of the Provençals was making
+his way to camp, three huge bands of Seljouk cavalry swooped down on
+them and on the forces of Duke Godfrey. Then followed a battle of the
+true knightly sort, the Turks trying what they became too wise to
+attempt again,--to ride down the Franks in fair onset, with sheer
+weight of numbers. Long and fierce the struggle; every Christian chief
+proved a paladin. Generalship there was not; every baron and his
+knights fought his own little battle with the hordesmen confronting.
+Then in the end the surviving Seljouks were driven from the field like
+smoke; the heads of their fallen comrades slung into Nicæa by the
+engines, forewarning of what awaited the garrison. There were masses
+for the Christian dead, the first martyrs; _Te Deums_ for the victory.
+Richard Longsword, men cried, had slain as many infidels as Duke
+Godfrey's self. When he stood in his bloody hauberk before Mary that
+night, she cast her arms about him and kissed him, saying: "O sweet
+lord, how beautiful you must be in battle! How God must rejoice in
+your holy service!"
+
+"Dear life," answered Longsword, pressing her to his mailed breast,
+"it is when I think of the pure saint on earth who is praying for me
+that my arm grows strong."
+
+"Then it must be very strong, Richard," said she, with half a laugh,
+half a sob, "for I love you more than words may tell; and my prayers
+are many and all for you."
+
+So they were glad that evening,--at least all who had not lost a
+friend. But when Mary had gone to rest, Herbert talked gravely with
+Richard.
+
+"Little lord," said he, affectionately, "put no trust in this Hossein.
+The saints are on his tongue, yet he stumbled when Sebastian tried to
+make him say the Creed, even in his own Arabic; and Theroulde swears
+that to-night when he thought none watched, he knelt toward Mecca in
+Moslem fashion, as if to pray, and muttered the incantations of their
+Al-Koran."
+
+Richard laughed. "Theroulde smells danger at all times; and Sebastian
+thinks, to speak Arabic is to squint toward perdition. Hossein has
+revealed a secret which has given the infidels the mightiest stroke
+that was theirs since Charlemagne marched to Spain. And yet you accuse
+him of being one of them? Have shame for your suspicions on a
+persecuted fellow-Christian! Treat him as a brother, and pray that
+your own souls be in no greater peril than his."
+
+"Nevertheless--" began Herbert.
+
+"I hear no more," replied his master, abruptly; "I must go to rest. A
+cursed story told by Count Renard's _jongleur_ runs in my head;--how
+Robert the Norman and his father, King William, once fought hand to
+hand, helmets closed, and Robert nigh killed his father ere they knew
+one another. St. Michael, what if Musa and I should meet thus! But I
+must sleep."
+
+Herbert grumbled long to himself, and Theroulde and he renewed their
+vow never to leave Hossein a moment alone to work his own devices.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+HOW DUKE GODFREY SAVED THE DAY
+
+
+The host lay before Nicæa many a weary day before the starved and
+despairing garrison declared for Emperor Alexius and the Franks saw
+the Greek standards floating from the battlements. Loud was the rage
+against this trick that robbed them of the plunder of so fair a city.
+"Back to Constantinople!" howled the men-at-arms and petty nobles.
+"The Greeks are schismatics and scarce better than Moslem!" But the
+judicious presents of Alexius silenced the cries of the chiefs, and
+they in turn controlled their people, though from that hour little
+love was wasted on the Emperor. On the twenty-fifth day of June the
+Army of the Cross struck its tents about Nicæa, and set out for the
+march across Phrygia, through the heart of the dominions of Kilidge
+Arslan.
+
+Soon after starting the host divided; for water and forage would be
+none too plentiful, the guides said, in the plains and mountains
+before, and to keep together might mean ruin. So Duke Godfrey led away
+the larger half of the army with Raymond, Adhemar, and Hugh the Great;
+while the second corps followed Bohemond, Tancred, and Robert of
+Normandy. Being himself Norman, Longsword went with this last
+division, although he would gladly have kept company with the Duke of
+Bouillon. He was ill pleased to see with how little order each host
+marched, and how scant was the effort to keep close enough each to the
+other for help in case of need. Still, for a day or two, all went
+well. They passed through a pleasant rolling country, with abundant
+grass and water. All the villages, to be sure, had been burned by the
+Turks, and scarce a peasant met them. But around them like an
+invisible net the Sultan's light-horsemen hovered, and now and then
+the long line of baggage mules and plodding infantry would be
+attacked, a few beasts hamstrung, a few footmen wounded, before the
+knights could charge out and chase the Seljouks over the hills. On the
+third day, however, the attacks grew more violent. Longsword had been
+sent back by Bohemond to cover the trailing rear-guard, where were the
+staggering sick, the defenceless _jongleurs_, and the women in heavy
+carriages. As the afternoon advanced, he sent a message to the Count
+of Chartres that unless he had speedy succor his St. Julien men could
+not hold back the thickening squadrons; and quick as the
+reënforcements came, there was a sturdy _mêlée_--lance to lance, sword
+to cimeter--before the Turks broke. When at last they were flying,
+Richard pushed the sure-footed Rollo up a hill where any horse saving
+he would have stumbled; and behold, from the hilltop Longsword could
+see a score of heavy dust clouds rising, north, south, east,
+west,--cavalry galloping. When he rode down he met Tancred himself.
+
+"Fair lord," was his report, "the infidels surely plan to attack us in
+force to-morrow. If my eyes are good, there are thousands of Turkish
+horse around us. Kilidge Arslan must have called round him all his
+easternmost hordes, and intends battle. I advise that before nightfall
+a strong escort be sent to Duke Godfrey, bidding him hasten to our
+relief."
+
+"By the Mass!" swore Tancred, his knightly honor touched. "Of all men,
+you, De St. Julien, should be the last to cry 'Rescue!' We are well
+able to scatter Kilidge Arslan's thousands, and Godfrey shall rob us
+of no glory."
+
+So Richard held his peace, though for some strange reason his heart
+was not as gay as it should have been when about to engage in glorious
+battle with the infidel. He accompanied the rear as it toiled into the
+encampment, already plotted by the van. Longsword saw with anxiety
+that, though the camp was protected in the rear by a reedy marsh, and
+on one side by a shallow stream, no palisades were being raised, nor
+any other defences. The weary men set their tents as they might,
+lighted fires, feasted, and were asleep, heavy with the toilsome
+march. Mary Kurkuas stood at the tent door as was her wont, and
+greeted her husband.
+
+"You ran more than your share of peril to-day. The fighting was hard.
+Ah! I was frightened."
+
+"_Ai!_" cried Richard, taking off his heavy helm, "if I never come
+nearer death than to-day, like a stork I shall live to be a thousand.
+But there is a bandage on your wrist--what? blood?" and his face grew
+troubled.
+
+"Yes," answered Mary, smiling now, and holding up the wrist. "While
+you were so valiantly guarding the rear, a squadron of Turks flew out
+of a defile just before us, and ere Prince Bohemond could ride up with
+his knights, had charged very close, shooting arrows."
+
+"Mother of Mercies, you were in danger! But were you frightened?"
+
+"Not till it was all past. For Hossein sprang in front of me, at his
+own peril, and covered me with his target, catching three shafts upon
+it otherwise meant for me. Then the Prince flew up with his band and
+chased the Turks away; and I found that my wrist was bleeding where a
+barb had scratched."
+
+"Ha, Herbert!" cried his master, "will not my lady make a noble
+cavalier? She wins honorable wounds; she shall have lance and hauberk,
+and ride beside me. As for Hossein, what do you say? Be he Moslem or
+Christian, he has shielded your mistress at risk of life." The
+man-at-arms scratched the thin hairs on his crown.
+
+"True; perchance I have wronged him. Yet yesterday we could not
+persuade him to taste a bit of pork, and he has that cast of eye which
+'wise women' call malignant."
+
+"You are all suspicions and jealousy," declared Mary, pouting. "Did I
+let you, I believe you would clap Hossein in fetters."
+
+"I would I saw them on his wrists!" muttered the veteran, as he went
+away to his supper. But Richard and Mary sat a long time before their
+tent, sipping the spiced wine of Lesbos they had brought from
+Constantinople, and watching the stars peep out one by one from the
+deepening sky. The camp buzzed all about, yet dimly, as if each man
+was in love with quiet. It was very warm, and the soft wind bore the
+scent of drying wild-flowers and parching heather, as it crept down
+from the sun-loved uplands. It was a sweet and peaceful hour, one
+which stayed as a pure and holy vision in both their minds for many a
+long, sad day.
+
+"Sweetheart," said Richard, when they grew tired of counting the
+budding stars, "though Prince Tancred and the rest will not hear it,
+there will be a mighty battle to-morrow. I have seen Kilidge Arslan's
+hosts all around us. We shall fight in the morning as never at Nicæa."
+
+"Ah! Richard," answered Mary, still in laughing mood, "you must let me
+ride with you. See!"--and she caught the dagger from his belt--"can I
+not strike as manfully as any dapper little squire, and make the
+infidels flee before me, as ever did your Frank hero, great Roland?"
+
+"Verily," cried her husband, his eyes on her face, "I think if the
+Moslems saw you coming, they would drop every man his sword,--your
+darts would pierce them."
+
+"My darts?" asked she.
+
+"Yes, truly,--these," and he laid his fingers on her eyes.
+
+"No," was the answer, and she shook him off. "Listen: my eyes are my
+sorrow,--first, because they captured the Baron de St. Julien, who
+deserves no such bondage;" then, more gravely, "next, because they
+nigh undid Louis de Valmont; and last--O Richard! still I have mighty
+fear of Iftikhar Eddauleh; he is seeking your life, and God knows
+whether his unholy passion for me is still in his heart! Swear, swear
+to me, Richard, that rather with your own hands you will take my life
+than suffer me to fall into _that_ man's power. He is Moslem, but on
+that account I do not hate him; yet death were better than to be his
+bride!"
+
+Richard was accustomed to these changing flashes of gay and grave; but
+he knew there was no common ring of entreaty in Mary's last words, and
+he answered very soberly:--
+
+"Heart of my heart, I am here in all my strength, with Trenchefer at
+my side, and around are thousands of good Christian knights. When they
+are all slain, and I also, then you may fear Iftikhar Eddauleh. Till
+then, think of likelier things to dread."
+
+Mary was silent, watching the stars for a moment, then replied:--
+
+"You say well, Richard, you are very strong. I am proud of you. Yet I
+have a strange fear that all your strength cannot shield me from
+Iftikhar. But no more of my folly,--perchance I am moonstruck. Let me
+go to the tent, to say one prayer to the Holy Mother to keep you safe
+to-morrow, and then to sleep, to dream how happy we shall be when we
+go back to France."
+
+So he kissed her; and when the flaps of the tent had closed behind her
+and her maids, he called Hossein.
+
+"Good fellow, to-morrow we expect battle. To-day you have been a
+gallant guard of the princess. Remain by her to-morrow; defend her
+with your life. As I live, if you do your duty, reward shall not
+fail."
+
+"Cid," answered the Arab, kissing the Baron's feet, "I hear and obey.
+I swear, on my head, no unfriendly hand shall touch your very noble
+wife."
+
+As Richard looked about, he saw Theroulde standing in the firelight.
+"And you, too, Sir Minstrel," said he, "shall stand guard with Hossein
+over your lady." As he spoke, he thought he heard a low curse, "Eblees
+confound him!" burst from under Hossein's breath. "Ha! What said you,
+Arab?" asked Longsword.
+
+"I was but sighing as I thought of my many sins, Cid," answered the
+fellow, very dutifully.
+
+Richard did not reply, but repeated to himself ere he fell asleep: "It
+is as well Theroulde will be with Mary. Despite everything, I mislike
+this Hossein, for some reason."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Richard slept heavily, and was awakened by a hand on the shoulder. It
+was the St. Julien knight, De Carnac, who commanded the watch of his
+baron's command.
+
+"Up, fair lord!" the warrior was urging, "the Seljouks are closing
+round. Our sentinels are being driven in. I am bidden summon you to
+council with the Prince of Tarentum." And with this Richard staggered
+to his feet and stared around. It was very dark in the tent as he put
+on hauberk and helmet. Without there was hum of many voices, distant
+shouting, baggage cattle chafing and clinking their chains, and
+presently a clear French war-cry, doubly piercing in the night,
+"_Montjoye Saint Denis!_" A moment later a trumpet blared out, then
+another and another.
+
+Richard stepped from the tent; the sky was graying in the east;
+encampment--men, horses, all--were vague black shadows just visible.
+He was buckling fast Trenchefer when the flaps of the next tent
+parted, and forth came a figure--his wife. In the dim twilight he
+could only see the whiteness of her bare throat and the soft, unbound
+hair, waving on forehead and shoulders. She came to him, and embraced
+him without a word. Then at last she said, "Now, dear life, you must
+ride out and fight God's battle, and if I cannot gallop at your side,
+you shall know that my heart and my prayers ride with you; and you
+must be very brave and very strong, and I will wait here and be brave
+also."
+
+"Ah! beautiful," answered he, before he swung into the saddle of the
+waiting Rollo, "God will have pity on me for your dear sake. You know
+no words can tell you all I feel."
+
+"Our Lord be with you!" and with that word upon her lips she kissed
+him; and he mounted, took lance, and rode away, with all the St.
+Julien men saving a few grooms, also Theroulde and Hossein, who were
+to remain by the tents.
+
+With the breath of the last kiss on his lips, and his head held very
+high, Richard Longsword led his troop out of the gray maze of the
+encampment. Battle was before him--a great battle against countless
+infidels, such as he and his peers had often made merry to think of;
+yet Longsword felt no joy that morning. Fear for himself he had none;
+the battle might sweep over him, the war-horns blow his funeral
+mass--what matter? Yet in a way his heart was sad. It would have been
+better had Mary remained at La Haye; better were he to fight for
+himself and the cause of Christ alone. But he knew not why he should
+grieve. That the Seljouks should so prevail over the soldiers of the
+Cross as to menace the encampment, scarce entered his head. Only he
+had been happier, could he have recalled his command to Hossein, taken
+the Arab in his troops, left another to guard the lady. But the fellow
+had twice proved his devotion. Why mistrust? And all such thoughts
+sped from his mind when he saw, dimly ahead, armed cavaliers sitting
+on their tall _destrers_, and Prince Bohemond's voice called:--
+
+"Who rides? De St. Julien?"
+
+"The same, my lord prince; what news?"
+
+"Praise St. Michael, you are here! We need all our wits. The infidels
+are closing round, and dark as it is we can hear the hoof-beats of
+tens of thousands. We must prepare for battle with the dawn."
+
+"And have you taken my advice, my Lord Tancred," asked Richard, "and
+sent messengers to the Duke?"
+
+"Two knights and ten men-at-arms have ridden an hour since," replied
+Tancred, for he was among the horsemen. "Yet I would vow Our Lady two
+gold candlesticks, were I sure they could get through the hordes. You
+may mock me, De St. Julien, if you will, for not heeding your warning
+last evening."
+
+"Mockery is of little profit this morning, my lord," said Richard,
+soberly; "how may I serve you?"
+
+But at this moment came another cavalier, in armor that gleamed in the
+wan light, and behind him a great train.
+
+"Hail, fair Duke Robert!" cried Bohemond; "what news do your outposts
+bring you?"
+
+The son of William the Conqueror swore a deep Norman oath, and
+replied: "In my quarter arrows pelt like hailstones; all the fiends
+are broke loose. They only wait the light to strike us. God grant we
+are all well shriven, for we may sleep with the saints ere another
+morning!"
+
+"Fair lords," said Tancred, "we must go to our posts and array the
+battle. De St. Julien, bid the varlets and footmen place the baggage
+wagons round the camp, to make what barricade they may. After that,
+put your men at my right, for by the Virgin, we shall see stout
+fighting!"
+
+So the council broke up, there being nothing to advise save to fight
+heartily. Richard sent the heralds through the camp and, with cry and
+trumpet, roused the sleeping host, though the alarms of the night
+already had waked many. A great confusion there was: a thousand voices
+shouting at once, women wailing, war-horns blaring, wheels creaking,
+all trebly loud in the murk of the breaking day. Long before the wagon
+barrier, also, was as it should be, a great cry began to swell: "The
+foe! the foe!" and the infantry commenced to bang their shields and
+clatter their pike-staffs, for discipline was none the best. Richard
+rode away with his hundred St. Julien troopers,--men that he could
+trust to the last pinch,--and drew them up beside the personal command
+of Prince Tancred. Prince Bohemond and the Norman Duke had arrayed
+their mailed cavalry in a solid rank, the line stretching far down the
+plain, every man in complete armor, with a good horse between his
+knees. As the light strengthened, Richard could see the long files of
+lances, ten thousand bright pennons whipping the wind, and the new sun
+shone on as many burnished casques and flashing targets--noble sight;
+yet not so strange as that which he beheld when he looked northward
+just east of the little town called Dorylæum. The hills, so far as eye
+could reach, were covered with an innumerable host, thousands on
+thousands, and all on horseback. He could see the gay red and green
+turbans, the bright scarfs and mantles, pennons, banners--past
+counting; and even as the sun lifted above the hills, and sent its
+weird red light over the valley, a mighty roar of tambour, kettledrum,
+and cymbal came rolling from the foe, and a shout from myriad throats,
+wild, beastlike, shrill as the winter wind. With the shout, as if at
+magician's wand, all the hills seemed moving; and the Seljouk hordes
+charged straight upon the Christian lines.
+
+It was a wondrous spectacle; far as the eye might pierce, only
+horsemen, and more horsemen, speeding at headlong gallop. "Christ pity
+us!" more than one bronze-faced cavalier muttered in his beard. And
+some cried, "Charge!" But Tancred held them steady. The hordes swept
+on as one man, nearer, so near that the dust-cloud blew in the
+Christians' faces; and all braced themselves for the shock. But just
+as the crash was about to tremble on the air, lo! the foremost Turks
+had wheeled like lightning, and arrows flew out that darkened the sky
+by their number. And as the first horde rolled off to one flank, still
+shooting, the next, the next, and yet another whirled past, pouring
+forth their volleys.
+
+"Stand fast, Christians!" was Tancred's shout, as the first shafts
+dashed harmlessly on the good mail; and for a moment the Franks sat,
+their steeds immovable, and let the blast of steel beat on them. Yet
+only for a moment; though but one arrow in a hundred struck home, here
+and there men were bleeding, wounded horses plunging. Each instant
+Crusaders were falling; should they sit forever and be shot to death?
+Duke Robert was the first to charge. "_Dex aiè!_" cried his Norman
+knights, and lance in rest they spurred straight in the face of the
+wheeling myriads. Vain courage! A few Seljouks they struck and rode
+over in a twinkling; but the vast horde parted before them like water,
+and rained in arrows and ever more arrows from safe distance. The Duke
+regained his lines, but one-fourth of his men had been stricken, and
+the terrible horse-archers were shooting a more deadly shower than
+ever.
+
+"The foot! the crossbowmen!" was the cry of the raging knights. And
+their archers and arbalisters, coming to the front, tried to return
+the fire as best they could. Many a Seljouk rode no more after their
+volley, but their shafts were as a bucket on a holocaust. Horsemen,
+and yet more horsemen, were rolling in. More and more rapid the arrow
+fire, the sky was dark with flying dust, the ear deafened with the
+thunders of hoofs uncounted, the clash of the kettledrums, the yell
+and howl of the Seljouks. Flesh and blood could stand the strain no
+more. Either the Turks must be routed, or the Franks would perish to
+a man.
+
+"Charge! Charge!" this time the cry went down the line on every lip.
+Two arrows had grazed Rollo, despite his leathern armor. Thrice had
+Richard felt the sting on his ribs, where the mail had turned the
+shaft. Only one desire had he now,--to ride through or over his
+tormenters.
+
+"God wills it! Normandy! Normandy!" came from Duke Robert's cavaliers.
+"_Montjoye Saint Denis!_" rang from the Count of Chartres. "_Biez!_"
+thundered the Auvergners; and the whole steel-mailed line swept upon
+the Seljouks, like an avalanche. And now a crash! They smote the Turks
+with might irresistible; the _destrers_ trampled down the frail Tartar
+horses by thousands. What guard were light targets and cotton turbans
+to the swords of the men of France? For a moment, when Richard reined
+in Rollo, he believed the foe annihilated.
+
+"God wills it!" myriad voices were calling. Yet even as the dust hung
+in the air, the arrows began to beat down again. Like flies the Turks
+had scattered; like flies they returned, new hordes making good all
+loss. And now the Christians were in deadly peril, for their ranks
+were all broken into little handfuls, and the Seljouks swarmed round
+each, trying to trample it down by weight of numbers. Richard led his
+men back from the charge. Trenchefer was very red. How many Turks
+opposed the St. Julieners he could not tell, but by the grace of the
+saints the line was re-formed at last. Prince Bohemond, crafty of
+heart, but a very lion in battle, flew down the line to steady it.
+
+"We have slain a thousand infidels!" the Count of Chartres was crying.
+"One more charge and we have victory!"
+
+"One more such victory and we are crowned martyrs!" Prince Tancred
+made answer. "Robert of Paris is slain, and William, my brother, and a
+hundred good knights more; and we are being shot down like sparrows."
+
+Another onrush of the Seljouks, this time nearer. Richard felt the
+moments creeping by with leaden feet. The possibility of a disaster
+beyond thought stared him in the face. It was one thing to go to death
+in a fair fight with the sword hot in one's hand--another to sit
+passive and feel destruction beating down. Yet he was thinking, not of
+himself, but of another. Prince Tancred, burning to avenge his
+brother's loss, charged out with his own troop. The Seljouks closed
+around him like the sea. Bohemond flew to aid, and rescued his nephew.
+Richard saw Tancred riding back within the lines bareheaded and
+bloody, his lance broken. "Christ keep our souls, the Seljouks have
+our bodies," murmured the Breton Count Rothold, "I will not die here!"
+and he also charged out with his shrill native war-cry, "_Malo!
+Malo!_" In a twinkling the hordes rolled round him; Richard and the
+St. Julieners saved him. But now Robert, the Norman, spurred up to
+Longsword. The Duke's casque was beaten and gory, his long white
+pennon red-dyed, his horse wounded.
+
+"De St. Julien, we are lost unless Godfrey and the rest rescue. The
+first messengers are surely slain. Are your troop still left, and your
+horses unwounded?" The noise of the Turks made his voice nigh
+inaudible, but Richard bowed his head.
+
+"Then for the love of Our Saviour, ride, and bring succor. On you hang
+all our lives!"
+
+"Men of St. Julien," cried Richard, "will you follow me?"
+
+"Through ten thousand devils!" roared back De Carnac and the rest.
+Richard clapped spurs to Rollo.
+
+"Christ guard us!" was his cry; but his glance was toward the
+encampment. He led the Auvergners to the left of the battle, where the
+Seljouk horde seemed thinnest.
+
+And what followed was ever to Richard Longsword as one long wild dream
+whereof the memory lingered; the reality was blotted out. He knew that
+he charged his men against the horde, and, as ever, the Turks gave way
+before them--more victims to be swallowed in their quick-sands. But
+these Franks, having made their charge, did not turn back. The arrow
+fire smote them; yet on and on they spurred, still chasing back the
+foe. And then, when the tribesmen saw that these mad Franks would not
+wheel back to the encampment, from the fatal line around the Turks
+closed in, shield to shield, lance to lance. Richard never knew what
+saint gave strength to his arm that day, and made Trenchefer terrible
+to the unbelievers. Only after a long delirium of hewing and riding,
+he saw the open country before. A look backward--behold, he was upon a
+hill. The Turkish lines stretched away to his left; he had cleared
+their flank, and the battle raged in its mad carnival behind him. He
+looked for his men--how few! They had ridden from camp a hundred;
+scarce fifty were at his back. But the deed was done. They had cleared
+the Seljouks, and now to Duke Godfrey!
+
+"Lord, I am a very sinful man," prayed Richard, as they pushed their
+wounded steeds down the hill southward; "unworthy of this mercy.
+Surely it was through the prayers of a dear saint whose peril is still
+great."
+
+"Ride, men, ride!" he commanded, and gave head to Rollo, whose tough
+hide had turned more than one barb. The great black horse tossed out
+his hoofs and was away. No other St. Julien steed could pace him. He
+left the band behind, and Richard flew toward the long line of tents
+he saw nestling under a distant hill. The mighty steed ran like a
+beast of steel, unwearying, unslacking; hillocks he raced over,
+gullies he cleared with unfailing leap. The wind whistled in
+Longsword's hair--his helmet had gone, the saints knew whither; he
+felt the horse speeding too fast for thought. A few roving stragglers
+from the Seljouk host pricked after him, two or three arrows twittered
+overhead. Rollo dropped them all, their small steeds blown and weary,
+while on the Northern monster ran.
+
+And now he drew near the camp. Men were shouting to him, a great crowd
+of varlets staring. Rollo ran down the streets of tents, a thousand
+eyes upon the thundering black horse and his blood-stained rider.
+
+"The Duke! the Duke!" Richard was shouting, as he drew rein before
+the wide, silken pavilion. A score of knights and squires swarmed
+around. A strong hand was needed to stay Rollo. Richard sprang
+breathless to the ground, and stood face to face with Godfrey, just
+emerging from the tent. "Lord de St. Julien," cried Bouillon, "alone?
+Covered with blood?" But Richard cut him short.
+
+"Rescue, rescue, as you love Christ! Our host is surrounded, and nigh
+perishing; Robert of Paris and Prince William are slain. The Seljouk
+arrows are hail. Rescue, or all is lost."
+
+"By Our Lady of Antwerp!" thundered Godfrey, all action, "blow horns,
+sound trumpets! Horses; arm; mount!"
+
+No need of more! The word flew through the encampment swifter than
+light. Now the Duke's war-horns sounded, now Count Hugh's, now Count
+Raymond's. But Godfrey was foremost. Scarce had Richard quaffed a
+helmet of water, before the Duke stood before him in his silvered
+hauberk, and the fifty picked knights of his bodyguard were in saddle.
+"Give me a horse!" cried Richard. "A horse, my lord duke! for mine has
+ridden hard, and is wounded."
+
+"By the splendor of God," cried Godfrey, "you will have your fill of
+fighting! Bring the best spare _destrer_ and a new helm!"
+
+So Richard was again on horseback; and if he was wounded and weary, he
+did not know it till later on that fateful day. Rollo he left in safe
+hands, and followed the Duke.
+
+"To the east, my lord. Their flank is unguarded," he urged. "You may
+have them all."
+
+And Godfrey rode madly ahead with his bodyguard. After him streamed
+the Christian heavy cavalry, they too thousands upon thousands--the
+finest squadrons ever arrayed in sinful war. Then again for Richard
+the mad delight of the ride! But this time with countless comrades
+about him; and as the host swept up over the eastern hills, the sun
+hung in mid-heaven, and made the arms and shields one tossing sea of
+light. Before and below lay the Seljouk horde and the thin lines of
+the Christians--very close now; for Kilidge Arslan was pressing in to
+pluck his prey. But at the sight one mighty cry rolled from fifty
+thousand throats, "God wills it!" For God had delivered the infidels
+into Duke Godfrey's hands.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+HOW RICHARD WAS AGAIN CHASTENED
+
+
+Forward the great host swept. And if the sight of the onrushing Turks
+had borne terror to the Christians that morning, what terror must have
+sped among the hordesmen that noon. For the whole army of Kilidge
+Arslan was caught in a fatal triangle,--the hills where no cavalry
+might wheel, the lines of Bohemond and Tancred, and the squadrons of
+Godfrey. "God wills it!" again the cry; and every knight in the
+onrushing squadrons was holding his lance steady--no sitting in rank
+now and feeling the beat, beat of the arrows. The Seljouks might not
+scatter, if they would.
+
+A howl of mortal fear was rising from the unbelievers. The tale later
+spread that they saw two Christian knights in armor fiery-bright, who
+rode before the advancing squadrons, whose mail was unpierced by the
+stoutest lance-thrust, who slew with lightnings flashed from their
+flaming swords. The cry grew louder and louder. The Christians knew
+the Turks were calling on Allah and their Prophet to save them,--vain
+hope! for all the host of Michael and his angels were fighting for the
+Cross that day.
+
+As he swept on, Richard saw the hordesmen dash their thousands upon
+Bohemond's thin line,--no arrows now, but striving to crush by mere
+weight of numbers. He saw the wearied Normans and Bretons spur out to
+the charge. And then indeed there was fair battle,--the Christian host
+nigh swallowed in the infidel myriads; but still over all tossed
+Tancred's white silk banner blazoned with its blood-red cross; and
+above the howl of the Seljouks rang the cry which the unbelievers that
+day so learned to dread:--
+
+"God wills it!"
+
+At this moment Godfrey and Raymond, with their fifty thousand mailed
+cavalry, struck the Turkish hordes, and swept them toward the hills
+like dust that scurries before the west wind. "God wills it!" The
+Seljouks were riding for life, the Christian knights trampling them
+down with their huge _destrers_; and sword and battle-axe reaping
+their bloody harvest. "God wills it!" Richard heard the horns of the
+Sultan's picked guard sounding the retreat; and the last resistance
+melted away as the Seljouks fled to a man toward the hills.
+
+As Godfrey and his thousands came on, Bohemond, Tancred, and Robert of
+Normandy charged forth with their wearied knights--not wearied
+now--catching the hordesmen on flank and rear, trampling, slaying,
+pursuing. And when the rescued cavaliers saw Longsword flying at
+Bouillon's side, another great shout went down the line, "Richard
+Longsword! Richard de St. Julien!" Then the Norman held his head very
+proudly, for he thought, "What joy will this be to Mary!"
+
+"On! on!" urged Duke Godfrey, never drawing rein, while the rout and
+chase swept forward. "To the hills after them! Let none escape! God
+and Our Lady are with us!"
+
+"_Dex aiè_," thundered the rescued Normans, and the whole host flew
+faster. Swift were the Seljouk horses; but the shivered hordes,
+crowding together in the narrow valley, were mown as grass before the
+Christian onset. Up among the rocks the pursuit was driven; steeds
+fell, their riders trampled down instantly. The Seljouks gained the
+crags where lay their camp, dismounted, stood at bay. But the Franks
+had dismounted also, and spread around the hills a forest of lances.
+On the front attacked Raymond; on the flanks Robert of Flanders, Duke
+Robert, Godfrey, Hugh, and Tancred; while brave Bishop Adhemar led the
+attack from the rear. Then came the final stand. The Turks fought as
+beasts at bay. But the Christians were raging lions; they stormed the
+camp, broke the spear wall, scattered the bodyguard of Kilidge Arslan
+himself. The Seljouks, like frighted partridges, scampered over rocks
+and craggy peaks, where their heavy-armed foe might not follow. So
+some escaped, but a score of thousands then and there perished; for
+quarter none asked or gave. Foremost in the press had been Richard. He
+long since had cast away his shattered shield; but the hauberk of
+Valencia was bulwark against a dozen deaths. Every time his good arm
+brought low an infidel he was glad; was he not performing to God a
+holy service? When the Seljouks broke once more after the storming of
+the camp, Longsword regained his horse to chase down those who
+hazarded flight in the plain country. The sun was hanging low in the
+heavens now. Old knights were praying Charlemagne's prayer at
+Roncesvalles--that the day might lengthen while they hunted the
+Moslem.
+
+Richard rode with Gaston of Béarn, who had been not the least valiant
+of the many brave that day; and as he rode, again and again he came
+across fugitives, not in the fantastic colors of the Seljouk, but in a
+dress all white with red girdles and sandals. Often as they came on
+such, the pursued would turn and charge Gaston's whole troop with a
+mad fury that Frankish valor could scarce master. Presently, just as
+the shadows began to spread on the hills, Longsword saw before him a
+band of horsemen, clothed in white, in their midst the figure of a
+mighty warrior in gilded mail, upon a tall bay charger, and across
+that rider's saddle it seemed a prisoner in pale dress with fluttering
+red ribbons,--to Richard's mind, a woman. "After! After! A prisoner!"
+cried Gaston, putting his horse at a last burst of speed,--a good
+steed, but he had been ridden hard; and the fugitives still drew
+ahead. Richard clapped spurs to his mount; the beast, one of the best
+of Duke Godfrey, shot past Gaston, and the distance betwixt Richard
+and the strange rider lessened.
+
+Richard could see now that the captive was indeed a woman, that she
+was struggling in the arms of her captor. Once he thought he caught
+her cry, despite the yells of the flying Moslems, who were invoking
+all the jinns to give them speed. He rode past the rearmost fugitive,
+who turned for fight, saw before him a brown-faced Arab, saw the
+cimeter dancing in his face; felt the steel edge glance on his
+helmet--a great rush of blood nigh blinding; a stroke of Trenchefer
+cleaving something--the Arab was gone. Richard dashed away the blood
+with his fist, pressed the spurs harder. The prisoner leaned out and
+shook forth her ribbons--Mother of Mercies! how like the ribbons of
+Mary! And had he never seen that splendid rider before? Again he
+spurred, and slapped his steed with the flat of his sword. Faster and
+faster; the blood once more blinded; once he brushed it away; long
+since his lance had been shattered in pieces, but Trenchefer was
+brazed to his arm. A last burst of speed; he could see the Arab
+warrior struggling with his arms about the captive; one instant more
+and he would breast the strange champion. But even as he pressed the
+spur, the good horse stumbled, plunged, was down, and Richard dashed
+upon the ground. An instant only. He was bruised; but he staggered to
+his feet, Trenchefer still in hand. "_Allah akhbar!_" rang the shout
+of the Arab, a voice he knew full well, yet had heard--where?
+Longsword dragged the kicking _destrer_ from the ground. The good
+horse stood, made a step--he was lamed; walking were pain. And as
+Richard looked, his quarry sped over a hillock, was gone; while he
+stood staring after, scarce knowing that from head to heels he was
+bruised, and that the warm blood was streaming over his face. Only the
+darkening landscape seemed circling round and round, and his ears were
+ringing, yet not with the shout of receding battle. Gaston of Béarn
+had ridden up with his men. "Holy St. Barbara," the viscount was
+crying, "you are sorely hurt, fair friend. Your horse is lamed. Ho!
+Peter, dismount and put my Lord de St. Julien in your saddle. We must
+ride for the camp. Already it is darkening."
+
+"No!" exhorted Richard, "continue the chase. Do not let those Arab
+fiends escape. They have a Christian prisoner, a lady, I swear by the
+four Gospels!"
+
+"A lady!" exclaimed Gaston. "No prisoner! doubtless she is one of
+their tent women, whom the riders are trying to save. How could any
+Christian maid fall into their hands? Fighting we have had to a fill
+to-day, and none more than you, fair knight."
+
+They put Richard upon the man-at-arms's horse. He was so weak now that
+Gaston rode at one side, and a squire at the other, to guard against a
+fall. As they rode back toward the encampment the stars were peeping
+out, and the moon had begun to climb above the hills. There was a thin
+gray haze spreading from the shallow river and marsh. Men talked in
+whispers, save as here and there they passed one lying wounded and
+moaning. All over the plain torches were moving about, priests and
+women seeking the Christian wounded, giving water to the dying, and
+with them camp varlets,--rabbits during the battle, but brave enough
+now,--plundering the fallen Turks, and slaying those who still
+breathed. Richard saw the great spoil of the Seljouk camp borne off in
+triumph: gold-threaded carpets, coin, horses,--many camels, that the
+marvelling victors, who had never seen such ill-shaped bulks before,
+thought the devil himself must have begotten.
+
+Closer to the Christian camp the Frankish dead lay thickly on the
+ground. Raymond of Agiles was making the sign of the cross above each.
+"Blessed are these!" cried he; "already St. Michael leads them before
+Our Father; they have white robes and palms, and raise the anthem
+everlasting."
+
+They rode on, and to them joined the Count of Chartres, shouting:
+"Praised be all angels, De St. Julien! You saved us all; the infidels
+were in the very camp!"
+
+"The camp!" cried Richard, starting from his seat.
+
+"Assuredly; Stephen of Blois and Bohemond strove to drive them out;
+there is a rumor certain women were carried captive. A scared
+horse-boy's tale, I trust! Holy Mother! You are wounded, my Baron! You
+nigh fall from the saddle!"
+
+And Gaston of Béarn and Chartres caught Longsword, as he reeled.
+
+"Unhand me, sirs!" shouted Richard, thrusting them both back roughly;
+"I am unhurt. I must go to the camp!"
+
+And he spurred away headlong, his bruise nowhere, one horrible thought
+mastering all.
+
+Yet as he reached the camp, now very dim in the twilight, a deadly
+sense of weakness and weariness was stealing over him. Food? Save for
+a mouthful of bread while he buckled on his armor, he had tasted none
+that direful day. Water? He had not touched a drop since leaving Duke
+Godfrey's camp. Wounds? He was bleeding in a dozen places. He felt the
+firm earth spinning. Would there never be end to the frightful pound,
+pound of the horse under him? His sight was dimming, ears rang; but,
+summoning all his will, he controlled himself.
+
+"Dear Christ," was his prayer, "do not let me faint until, until"--but
+he could go no farther. When, however, he passed more knights and
+men-at-arms bringing in the spoil, laughing and boasting over their
+valiant deeds, his breast grew lighter. When the infidels had been so
+utterly broken, what was there to fear? The rush of faintness passed,
+he again sat steady in the saddle. And as many as recognized him in
+the dusk raised the cry that swelled as the rest caught it: "Ho! De
+St. Julien! Hail! De St. Julien! Our Lady bless you, fair lord, you
+have saved us all this day!" But the shout that had been music in his
+ears two hours earlier he scarce heard. Prince Tancred passed him,
+called on him to stay; he spurred on, though the poor soldier's horse
+under him nigh dropped of weariness.
+
+In the camp at last. The fires were being rekindled; around each
+little groups, over the loot of the Turkish camps. The wounded were
+groaning on the dry turf, men were bringing in the dead, and here and
+there women wailing. Richard knew the way to his own encampment, as if
+by instinct. And as he rode his blood chilled yet more when he saw
+here and there tents down, their walls torn, pegs wrenched, poles
+shattered, and contents scattered around. Then it was true the
+Seljouks had stormed the camp! Before him he saw the little group of
+pavilions over which the St. Julien banner had waved that
+morning--the banner was gone! His horse stumbled over a body. He
+dismounted. The moon was rising; in the pale light he saw the face of
+one of his own grooms--set in death. Men were standing before the
+tents, some tugging at the cords as if to retighten them, some
+kindling a fire, some in groups, talking in low, scared whispers. In
+the dimness they did not see Richard, as he came up on foot.
+
+"Holy St. Maurice," one was muttering, "may I not be the first to tell
+the tale to my lord!"
+
+"Fellow!" thundered Richard, bursting into the little group, and
+clapped a hand heavy as a millstone on the man-at-arms's shoulder.
+"Rascal! Speak! Speak! What is this? Dumb as a mute? Why no banner?
+The tents in disorder? Where is--" But the words came not, for his dry
+tongue clove fast in his mouth.
+
+No answer. The retainer turned as pale and quaking as if the devil's
+self had accosted him.
+
+"Speak! speak!" raged Richard, making his victim writhe under his iron
+grip. Still nothing. He looked at those around; silent all. He was too
+fearful to be angry.
+
+"Mary! Mary de St. Julien!" cried he, finding the name at last; "if
+you are here,--one word,--or I am in perdition!" Still silence. He saw
+one of the men-at-arms crossing himself; he saw that the pavilion
+where he had left his wife was half overturned; he saw lying across
+the entrance a dead body, and the firelight showed the white dress and
+the red girdle and shoes.
+
+"For the love of Christ!" was his plea, "will no one speak? or must I
+kill you all?" In his frenzy he half drew Trenchefer. And just as all
+gave way, when they saw the moonlight waver on the blade still red,
+there was a step, and a voice--Sebastian's voice--spoke:--
+
+"Sweet son, bow to the will of God. Listen! I have just returned to
+the camp with Herbert and the rest. Mary Kurkuas is not here.
+Theroulde will tell all."
+
+They heard a groan from Richard, that none forgot to his dying day. A
+javelin was lying against a tent-pole; as Theroulde stepped
+reluctantly out from the silent circle, the Baron sent the dart
+whistling past his head.
+
+"Die!--coward! traitor!" then Longsword cursed terribly when the cast
+missed and flew into the dark.
+
+Sebastian had him by the arm.
+
+"Gilbert de Valmont!" whispered he, never trembling when Richard
+raised his fist to strike. "Remember him! Add not one sin to another!
+Listen to Theroulde!"
+
+"Traitor!" stormed Richard, but the priest held him fast. "Why could
+you not die defending your mistress?"
+
+"Hearken, my Lord de St. Julien, then call me traitor and coward if
+you will!" cried the minstrel, brave at last. "And see if there be no
+worse traitors than I? Would God you had listened to the warnings of
+us all against that smooth-tongued Hossein,--as if Christian faith
+could ever lurk beneath so swart a skin."
+
+Richard had steadied himself.
+
+"Go on, my man," he said, very quietly now, yet in a tone that set all
+a-quaking; for they could not comprehend. They only knew a strong
+spirit was in agony.
+
+"Lord," said Theroulde, "if one jot of what I say be other than truth,
+so smite me dead, and let Satan own me forever. As we lay in the camp
+after you had led forth most of the fighting-men, soon we heard the
+rush and roar of battle, and presently some came flying, who said the
+cavaliers were hard pressed, and many slain. And all the time my lady
+sat before the tent upon the rugs we laid for her, resting her chin on
+her hands, and saying nothing. Yet she was not tearful nor pale, at
+which we marvelled, for we knew she thought that every roar and shout
+might betoken your fall, and her mind had only room for that. Then
+after the battle had raged long, and stragglers and wounded began
+coming in with tales that grew ever blacker, I said to Hossein, who
+sat by me, 'Brother, go to the edge of the camp, see if the St. Julien
+banner still towers high, and bring back word to my lady.' For I did
+not intend to quit her side, and was glad to have him gone. So he went
+without delay and was gone a long time, while the din of battle
+continually grew louder and nearer. Yet when he returned, he said, 'I
+went so close to the battle lines that--see! two arrows grazed me!'
+Then to your wife, 'Most august mistress, your lord's banner is not in
+sight; but fear nothing. He is not slain, they tell me, but has ridden
+to summon help from Duke Godfrey.' Then my lady's cheeks began to
+glow, and I imagine she was thinking of your return and the victory."
+
+"For Our Lord's sake, no more of what you imagine!" came from Richard.
+"Tell only what you _know_!"
+
+"Scarce had he returned"--went on Theroulde, his voice
+faltering--"when we heard a frightful clamor from the rear and flank
+of the camp by the river and marsh. Soon grooms and women ran by
+crying, 'The infidels are on us, slaying all!' And sooner than
+thought, we beheld the Seljouk horsemen, sword in hand, dashing among
+the tents, cutting down old man, priest, and woman, without quarter.
+Then I laid hands on a crossbow. 'Hossein,' cried I, 'if you are true
+Christian, die with me for our mistress!' But he only smiled, and
+drawing his cimeter, gave a mighty howl that rose above all other din.
+Ere I could look upon my lady, lo,--there were horsemen by our
+tents--Arabs--not Turks--in white, with red girdles; and Hossein
+shouted in their speech, 'This way, Cid Iftikhar; here is the Star of
+the Greeks!' And I saw Iftikhar Eddauleh himself upon a splendid
+horse, in flashing armor. Then I sped a crossbow bolt through one of
+his riders, cut down a second with my sword, and struck at Hossein,
+thinking to end his treachery. But Iftikhar swung once at me,--I knew
+no more. When I came to myself I found that I was under the wreck of
+the tent. Hours had sped; the battle had drifted away. The emir's
+sword had turned in his hand; the blunt edge smote me. I had a mighty
+blow, but will be none the worse--praise the saints! I looked for my
+lady--gone! All the grooms and varlets are slain, and old Sylvana the
+nurse. Hossein gone--and the devils ride with him! And for me, my Lord
+de St. Julien, if I have been coward or traitor, strike off my head.
+You are my judge."
+
+Richard tore from his neck his heavy gold chain.
+
+"You are a right valiant man, Theroulde, and no boaster. I believe
+your tale," said he, throwing him the gold links; "and now a horse--a
+fresh horse!"
+
+Sebastian still held him.
+
+"Madness!" cried the priest; "it is dark; you have been up since
+before dawn! For what is this horse?"
+
+"To ride after Iftikhar Eddauleh," came from between Richard's teeth;
+"and if I find him not--to slay as many of his cursed race as I may;
+and then to curse God and die!"
+
+While he spoke the moonbeams rested full on his face, and all
+beholding saw that it had aged in one hour; the lines wrought on it by
+the death of Gilbert were still there--and more. Had his hair shone
+white, none would have been amazed. "Christ pity him!" muttered old
+Herbert, the most fervent prayer of the veteran for many a wicked day.
+
+But Sebastian would not let Richard go.
+
+"As you fear God," commanded the priest, "be quiet; do not fling your
+life away!"
+
+"I fear God no longer," was Richard's cry. "I only hate Him!"
+
+Sebastian led him into the tent, with a touch soft and tender as a
+woman's. "Dear lad," he said gently, "God will not be angry unduly
+with you for what you have just said, though its sin is very great.
+You think, 'How can this thing be and God be still good?' Remember the
+words of holy Anselm of Canterbury, 'I ask not to understand that I
+may believe; but I believe that I may learn to understand.'"
+
+"Father," said Richard, with a terrible calmness in his voice, "if for
+my own sins I had been doomed to some great woe, I could say '_mea
+culpa_,--merciful chastisement'; but since the chief suffering will be
+that of as pure a saint as ever breathed this air, I cannot endure
+without a groan. I only know that the hand of God is exceeding heavy
+upon me, and my burden is more than I can bear." Then, to the infinite
+relief of Sebastian and the rest, he let them take off his
+blood-soaked armor and shirt, and stanch the wounds, which were none
+very deep, but so many that he was weak from loss of blood. Presently
+Herbert came in and reported: "Little lord, our men took thirty Turks
+prisoners when the camp was stormed; shall we keep them to put to
+ransom?" Richard was not too feeble to leap from the rugs. "Kill!
+kill!" he foamed out; "if Satan wait long for their souls, let him
+have mine too!"
+
+Herbert smiled grimly and went out of the tent.
+
+"_Ai_," cried Longsword to Sebastian, when the priest forced him to
+lie down once more, "I do well to be cruel,--for there is no sweet
+angel now to teach me mercy. God reward me double beyond present
+griefs, if I slay not my share of the infidels! Therefore let me grow
+pitiless and terrible."
+
+"You should hate and slay the Lord's enemies, dear son," said
+Sebastian, crossing himself; "yet beware lest you fight for your own
+revenge, and not for the glory of God."
+
+"Enough if I slay them!" was the answer. Then Richard took food and
+drink, and toward morning slept.
+
+So ended the day of Dorylæum, the battle where, as the pious
+chronicler puts it, "by the aid of St. James and St. Maurice the
+Christians had a great deliverance from their enemies, and
+twenty-three thousand infidels were sped to perdition; such being the
+singular favor of God."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+HOW THE ARMY CAME TO ANTIOCH
+
+
+To the surprise and joy of Sebastian and Herbert, Richard recovered
+from his wounds with miraculous rapidity. When the host marched again,
+many a voice cheered him. But those who loved him best saw the stony
+hardness of his face, beyond anything that came after the great stroke
+at St. Julien. No ragings and thunders now, but a calm and fearful
+laugh that made men shiver. He led a band of picked knights after the
+Seljouks, no more reckless cavalier in all the host than he. The Turks
+had been utterly routed. Two days' marches from the battle Richard
+found horses ridden dead by their panic-struck masters. Of all the
+prisoners taken Longsword had only one question, "Whither fled
+Iftikhar and his band?" But no prisoner could tell--they were only
+ignorant hordesmen. So Richard rode on, and only God knew what passed
+in his heart.
+
+The army, now in one huge column, commenced the march across Phrygia,
+which journey, of all the unforgetable scenes of that Crusade, those
+who survived it were least likely to forget. Richard remembered the
+tales told by old Manuel Kurkuas, and laid in what provision he could
+for his men. Those of his friends who heeded him did likewise. But the
+multitude--noble and villain, creatures of a day--scarce stuffed their
+wallets, and went forward, little dreaming of the things in store. For
+the march was one long horror. Kilidge Arslan had ridden ahead with a
+band that still remained by him. If he could not stamp out the
+Christians with his hordes, at least he could make famine and thirst
+fight against them. He burned harvests; he devastated cities; the
+wretched inhabitants he hurried into exile,--with Phrygia, Pisidia,
+Cappadocia, to the gates in Mount Taurus, one desert for the bears and
+the wolves to hunger in. As the Crusaders advanced, they saw only
+fields seared and black, roofless houses, with swallows flitting above
+them; and forth from the caves in the hills crept gaunt, starved
+wretches, praying for a bit of bread in the name of Our Lord or Allah.
+The host climbed on the first day the crest of the "Black Mountains,"
+fit presage for the blacker things before; so far as eye could stretch
+there was utter desolation. And on the next they entered the terrible
+valley called Malabyumas, and were there many days, hemmed in by
+precipices and beetling crags, while the great snake of the column
+dragged its slow length along. At first, while there was yet water on
+the hillsides and food in the wallets, the host toiled on with only
+the pitiless summer sun for foe; then, as the little streamlets grew
+rarer, the dry, dark crags pressed closer, and the food was failing,
+the misery began. Misery past imagining! for if it is terrible for one
+mortal to suffer and go out in agony, what is it when hundreds of
+thousands suffer? when horses and mules are falling like flies by the
+roadway; when men and women trudge onward like dogs, with their
+tongues hanging from their mouths; when the sun hangs, from morn till
+evening, a flaring, coppery ball, bright and merciless, drying up all
+the sap of life; while against the blue ether show the countless
+flocks of crows, that whir and caw as they pounce upon the dying ere
+the breath has sped or the living marched away?
+
+The very hugeness of the host hindered its hasting through this land
+of torment. One Sunday five hundred persons fell down and perished
+with thirst, and those who toiled on called them happy; for in heaven
+one never dreams of cool fields and sweet, cold water, yet all the
+time is burned within by fire unquenchable. When a tiny stream was
+reached--what was it among so many? Women fell dying, with their babes
+sucking at their breasts; and the host pressed on, for help there was
+none from man!
+
+The horses, poor brutes, died by scores; knights wept when they saw
+their _destrers_--often better loved than brothers--sink down; saw
+their dear falcons and hunting dogs perish. Yet who could think of
+beasts, where men were staggering with open mouths, gasping for each
+breath of wind to lighten their burning torments? Still the host
+pressed on, though, far back as eye might scan, the carcasses and the
+crows marked out the line of marching.
+
+On and on! and in the midst of the torment there were strange hours of
+ecstasy, of rapture over visions passing human ken. Men raved of
+angels and a heavenly city, and streets of gold and living fountains;
+and the last word of the dying was "Jerusalem!" while the shout that
+went down the parching host when the sun beat fiercest and all the
+watercourses were dust, was, "God wills it! Jerusalem!" So the march
+kept on; and though thousands fell, none turned back, nor would have,
+had the backward track been of less peril than that before.
+
+Richard bore the privations with a steadiness which made good the
+opinion of his followers that his frame was built of iron--not of
+flesh and blood. Yet his heart was cut, as never in this way before,
+to see his men dying before his face, and he unable to aid. Many a
+poor Auvergner called to his lord, and bade him tell some mother or
+wife or sweetheart in far St. Julien that he had struggled hard to
+gain the Holy City, but God had willed otherwise; and the seigneur
+would bear witness that he had been a faithful vassal and true
+Christian.
+
+Rollo, great steed, endured the thirst with a quiet fortitude that let
+him survive when half the cavaliers of the army were bestriding mules
+and oxen. Sebastian, too, bore up, shrewdly remarking, as was his way,
+that his life of fast and abstinence had advantages in this world as
+well as in the world to come. Herbert, too, seemed unconquerable; but
+what with the losses at Dorylæum and the thirst, Richard saw his
+company thinned in a way to make his heart sick, even had this been
+all.
+
+Finally, one day, when the last watercourse was dried up and death
+stared all in the face, certain knights saw their dogs slinking into
+camp, and behold, sand on their coats and mud on paws! Keen eyes
+tracked them; and, hid behind the bleak mountains, the searchers found
+a river, broad, still, stately, sweeping through its narrow gorge.
+Hither rushed all the host, soldier and beast. Had the Seljouks been
+by then, they could have slain their foes to a man, for the Christians
+forgot all save water--water!--sweeter, more precious, than spiced
+wine. They drank till from very surfeit they fell down stricken; and
+three hundred died, slain by the element of life.
+
+This was the end of the great horror. They found new streams; the
+parching valleys began to sprinkle with green; they saw once more
+fields and trees and vineyards. "I, the Lord, will open rivers in high
+places and fountains in the midst of valleys; I will make the
+wilderness a pool of water and the dry land springs of water;" so
+repeated good Bishop Adhemar, the father of the army; and all who
+heard cried "Amen." And the cry was again, "God wills it! To
+Jerusalem!" not despairing now, but rejoicing, confident; for after so
+great a trial to their faith, need the Most High prove them more? Then
+the march quickened, the _jongleurs_ played merrily, there were jests
+and tales around the camp-fires; and they began to hope for one more
+passage-at-arms with the infidel before taking the Holy City--as if
+Heaven had not saved them once already! Yet there was a tone of
+sadness in the host, for the line was much shorter now. Where was he
+who had left no friend on those burning sands or at Dorylæum? Troopers
+were trudging on foot; extra arms and baggage had been thrown to the
+wolves long ago; not a man in the army that had not grown a dusty
+beard. Once when Richard polished his shield so that it shone as a
+mirror, he saw his face upon it. He scarce knew himself, what with the
+stiff beard and the fresh scars of the battle, and those lines drawn
+above the eyes.
+
+"_Héh_," cried he, forcing a jest to Theroulde, who sat by the tent
+mending a crossbow, "how would the fair ladies at Palermo who danced
+with me after the tourney regard me now?"
+
+Theroulde tugged at the hairs on his own chin.
+
+"If we see no razor ere long, fair lord, we may swear by our beards as
+did Charlemagne, were they but whiter, and, as the song has it, of two
+hundred years' growth."
+
+"Verily," answered Richard, making shift to keep a merry face, "I
+think I have lived two hundred years in the past month; and if
+troubles make white hairs, the saints know I am like to become most
+venerable."
+
+Theroulde said no more, and Richard, looking into the shield, thought
+in his heart, "Were Mary to see me now, would she still love me?"
+
+But the answer came, "Though your face were changed black as an
+Ethiopian's, yet she would love you!" Then the further thought, at
+which Richard's soul grew black as night: "Should he never--never in
+this world--set eyes on Mary again? Why had God dealt with him thus?
+Why should she suffer for his sin,--even if it had not been purged at
+Clermont?" Each day Richard's face grew more terrible; men feared him
+and praised his holy zeal against the infidels.
+
+Thus the host came to the pleasant city of Antiochetta. Time would
+fail to tell of all their later troubles: how Tancred and Baldwin,
+brother of Godfrey, took Tarsus and quarrelled over its mastery; how
+Baldwin seized Edessa and founded there a principality; how the great
+army trudged its weary way across Lycaonia and mounted the rugged
+steeps of the "Mountain of the Devil." Many a stout man-at-arms died
+by the way, of sheer weariness; but the host pressed on. "God wills
+it! To Jerusalem!" was still the cry, and the ranks closed up.
+
+Then leaving Marash and descending Taurus, they met new foes: no more
+Turks, but bronzed Arabs on roe-limbed steeds, men armed with cimeters
+of Damascus, and bright with the silks and cottons of Ispahan and
+Bussorah. Richard was a busy scout-master now, for he and the few
+other Christians who came from Sicily alone could speak the Arabic,
+and need not trust to uncertain interpreters. So he rode before the
+host with his forty knights, no spirit madder than he,--a very St.
+George when he fell upon the Moslems.
+
+When they were close to Artesia on their way to invest Antioch,
+several Arab riders fell into Richard's hands, and he put to them the
+inevitable question:--
+
+"Dogs,--can you tell me if Iftikhar Eddauleh, one time emir in Sicily,
+is in Syria, and where did he part company with Kilidge Arslan?"
+
+And the men answered, all trembling:--
+
+"Mercy, O Cid! Your slaves only know that the Emir Iftikhar is great
+among the Ismaelians. Report has it that he has now gone to Alamont to
+see his lord Hassan-Sabah."
+
+"And you know nothing--nothing--" words spoken with awful
+intensity--"of a certain Christian lady, his captive?"
+
+The men saw he had gladly paid them their weight in gold, if they
+could have told aught; but they dared not lie.
+
+"Nothing, lord;--we are of the following of Yaghi-Sian of Antioch, and
+know of the Emir Iftikhar only by name."
+
+"_Fiat voluntas Tua_," muttered Richard, and he sent the prisoners to
+the rear to be further questioned by Duke Godfrey. But he was more
+reckless now in the forays and skirmishes than ever. All men said he
+was seeking death; and Sebastian gave him warning:--
+
+"Son, you are a chosen warrior of Our Lord. His cause is not served by
+throwing your life away. Beware lest, in running into peril, you do
+great sin!"
+
+"Ah, father!" was the response, "what have I left save to slay as many
+infidels as I can and die! Yet you are right; die I must not, until I
+have struck down Iftikhar Eddauleh and avenged--" but he did not speak
+the name.
+
+The next day Richard led his men under the city of Aleppo, and
+scattered some of the best of the light horse of Redouan, the local
+emir. But the walls were high. Report had it there was plunder in the
+palaces without the walls; some of the knights wished to attack. "We
+fight for Christ, not for gold and jewels!" said Richard, sternly,
+and led away.
+
+And now they were in Syria. Before them lay a rolling green country,
+fairer than Sicily even,--a deeper blue, a brighter sun, than in
+Provence. The warm wind bore to them the sniff of the sand-dunes,
+spiced groves, and genii's islands far to southward. They trod a
+strange soil, strange flowers underfoot, strange birds in the air,
+strange leaves on the trees. All the sunshine, however, did not
+brighten Richard Longsword. Gone! Parents, brother, sister,--ah, God!
+wife also, and only knightly honor and revenge left. Let him slay
+Iftikhar and see the cross above Jerusalem, and then! but he fought
+back the black thoughts, as he had many a time before. Day and night
+he rode at the head of his men, who whispered his bones were steel, he
+was so tireless.
+
+Then the host drew close to the great city of Antioch, the first
+Moslem stronghold to resist since the fall of Nicæa. And noble
+adventure awaited when the Norman Duke led the van to force the "Iron
+Bridge" which spanned the Orontes, key to the northern approach of the
+city. Long and stoutly did Yaghi-Sian's horse-archers and infantry
+dispute the passage, but Robert's mad knights swept all before them.
+
+"With an hundred and thirty knights Roger won all Sicily at Ceramis!"
+cried the valorous Duke. "Shall we fail now with St. Michael and Our
+Lady to aid?"
+
+So forward it was; and the Saracens heard the great "_God wills it!_"
+rolling down the Christian line,--that battle-cry which made the fight
+blaze tenfold fiercer, and which infidels so learned to dread. A great
+victory, but something better for Richard. In the press he and De
+Valmont fought side by side; and when a sling-stone laid Louis prone,
+Longsword had stood above him, covering with his shield, and saved the
+Auvergner from the tramplings of friend or foe. Then when they cried
+"Victory!" and the scared infidels raced for their lives to get behind
+the walls, Richard bore Louis to his own tent; for the Auvergner's was
+far to the rear.
+
+"Ah, Richard," said De Valmont, when they had pitched after the
+battle, "you would not have stood above me thus in Sicily."
+
+"No, fair knight," answered Richard, frankly; "but God has seen the
+sins of us both, and we are rewarded."
+
+"Come," cried the Provençal, firing, for he had a good heart under a
+haughty shell; "we swore forgiveness at Clermont; let us swear
+brotherhood, for we know each other now. We both are valiant men; we
+two fought with honor at least, though to my cost,--shall we not be as
+strong in friendship as in hate?"
+
+So Richard took the Auvergner's hand, and gave him the kiss, not of
+peace, but of brotherhood. And when Sebastian, coming by, saw them, he
+smiled:--
+
+"You do well, dear sons, for two friends have the strength of four
+apart, and true affection is of God!"
+
+As soon as Louis was well enough to ride once more, the twain were
+ever together. And the companionship of Louis was an unspeakable boon;
+for to one whom he held his equal, De Valmont was a frank,
+open-hearted, merry-tongued fellow, the very comrade to chase off the
+imps of gloom that had of late encamped round Longsword's soul. But as
+they scoured the country, bringing in forage and seeking news of the
+enemy, Richard always had the same question for any prisoners:--
+
+"Do you know aught of the Emir Iftikhar Eddauleh?" And when they told
+him no, he was most likely to give a nod to Herbert, which meant that
+the captives' heads were forfeit. Louis pitied him from the bottom of
+his soul.
+
+"Dear friend," said the Provençal once, when they waited without Duke
+Godfrey's tent to report a skirmish, "you let this loss of Mary
+Kurkuas eat your heart away. Believe me, I loved her once as much as
+you, and yet--" here he laughed at memory of his own discomfiture--"I
+am still a very merry man. Are you angry?" Richard shook his head.
+"Then hear me out. Your Greek beauty was a very _fée_, as Roland's
+Aude. But hers are not the only bright eyes and red cheeks in the
+world. Cannot the Lord of St. Julien have the best and the
+fairest?--in Sicily, in France, in Syria? Mark what I have done,--my
+heiress in Toulouse could hold her head beside the Greek, and no shame
+to either. Say to yourself, 'The saints are unkind; I will not let
+them make me pout forever. Another cast of the dice, and better
+fortune--'" But here he stopped, for on the face of Richard was, not
+indeed rage, but a darkening of passion that Louis knew he had scarce
+dreamed of. And Richard answered very gently:--
+
+"Sweet knight, we have sworn brotherhood; I know you speak out of the
+goodness of your heart. When you say, 'Once I loved Mary Kurkuas as
+much as you,' and then boast your happiness, and add that she is not
+alone fair, you show but this,--you loved her eyes and her hair, but
+not her true self, as do I. As for what more you say, I only answer
+thus: I have sworn that henceforth I will look in love on no woman, if
+not on her, but will fight as best I can for God and Holy Church, and
+trust that after the sacred city is taken Our Lord will admit me into
+His peace. Till then let me be a good friend, and as merry as I may."
+
+While he spoke, the tent doors flapped aside, and Duke Godfrey himself
+strode forth. There was strength and joy by merely glancing into the
+eyes of that noble man. He put his hand on the shoulder of Richard,
+and said as a father to his son: "Richard de St. Julien, fear not that
+God is unmindful of your sorrow and prayers. We all, who love and
+honor you, have shared your grief, and He who loves you more than we,
+must share the most. Be strong, and either He will give you the desire
+of your heart, or you shall enter into the peace no mortal man may
+know." There was a ring and sweetness in the words of the mighty Duke
+which no priest could fuse into his speech, for Richard knew that
+Godfrey himself had walked through the moil and toil of life, and was
+crowned already victor.
+
+"I will trust in God!" he said, when he left the Duke.
+
+At his tent he sat a long time with Louis over some rare wine they had
+taken that day; called for a backgammon board, and played against
+Louis, winning seven games running. Herbert, who was standing by, was
+glad when he heard his lord give a hearty, unforced laugh--not of the
+fearful kind which had been his custom before. When Richard prayed
+that night, he put forth a new petition: "Master, if I have been
+chastened sufficiently, and it is Thy will, grant that I may see Musa
+once more, for next to one whom clearly Thou willest I should not
+possess, I desire him beyond all the world."
+
+And this prayer he repeated night after night. Louis de Valmont was
+grown a dear friend,--but the Spaniard! Richard never dreamed of
+making the Auvergner a rival. "Musa! Musa!" The longing to see him was
+too deep for words.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+HOW RICHARD REGAINED HIS BROTHER
+
+
+When the Christians sat down before Antioch in the autumn time, the
+delights of the country--the abundance of provisions and drink, the
+dark eyes of the sinful Syrian maids who swarmed to the camp--made the
+Franks intent on everything save warfare. The massy walls mocked all
+storming; and though Bohemond blockaded from the east by the Gate of
+St. Paul, Count Hugh on the north, and Godfrey and Raymond on the
+northeast, the south was open to every wind, and provisions entered
+the city freely. Much ado had Richard to keep discipline amongst his
+own men. "My merry masters," said he once, when even De Carnac
+clamored for a carouse over some skins of heady Laodicean, "whether we
+see the heavenly or the earthly Jerusalem, let us see it with pure
+hearts and pure bodies." And with Trenchefer he slit all the
+wine-skins. So that night, at least, the St. Julieners kept sober.
+
+But the tide soon turned. A miserable winter it was; chill rains; the
+ill-placed camps swimming in water. Swords rusted in a night. There
+was hardly an hour when the heavens did not pour down their floods,
+until scarce a dry back was in the army. And as the floods continued,
+the provisions, once squandered so recklessly, began to fail.
+Longsword rode forth with Bohemond and Robert the Norman to sweep the
+country, and too often met only roving Saracen horse, who gave them
+hard blows and little booty. Then at last came the inevitable
+pursuer,--pestilence! and men began to die by scores; their faith all
+gone, cursing God and the saints, and the folly that drove them from
+lovely France on a fool's own errand. Evil tidings came in daily.
+Sweno the Dane, it was told, who was leading fifteen hundred horsemen
+across Cappadocia, had been overwhelmed by the Seljouks. And other ill
+news flowed fast as the rain torrents. Even the stoutest began to
+think more for their own lives than for ever seeing the Holy City.
+Some fled to Baldwin at Edessa; others to Cilicia. Duke Robert went to
+Laodicea, and only returned when admonished thrice in the name of Our
+Lord. William de Melun, the mightiest battle-axe in the whole army,
+fled away,--the infidels he did not fear, but who was proof against
+famine?
+
+Yet many did not falter; Tancred did not, nor Count Raymond, nor
+Godfrey who, before all others, was the reproachless warrior of his
+Lord. Bishop Adhemar thundered against the vice in the camp, holding
+up the fate of Babylon and of pagan Rome, mother of harlots. Stern
+measures were taken against sins of the flesh. Blasphemers were
+branded with a hot iron. When some of Yaghi-Sian's spies were taken,
+Bohemond had them butchered and cooked, to spread the tale in Antioch
+that the Christians ate their captives, and that those who came after
+be discouraged.
+
+But when Peter the Hermit took flight by stealth, the whole army raged
+in despair.
+
+"If he flee, whom may we trust? Sooner expect a star fall from
+heaven!" was the cry. Tancred pursued after and brought him back.
+"Father," quoth the Prince, "do you well to lead Christians into a
+strait like this,--then valorously depart?"
+
+"Alas!" moaned the one-time prophet, "the flesh is weak, though the
+spirit willing! Would I had never preached the Crusade! When I see the
+sins of the army, I fear lest I am 'that Egyptian,' as St. Paul was
+accused, 'who led forth into the wilderness four thousand men that
+were murderers.'"
+
+"Hark you, father," cried the Prince, with a bitter laugh. "I am a
+warrior and no churchman; but I think it shame for knight or villain
+to call the devil above ground, and then cry because he has a sting in
+his tail! Back you shall go, will you, nill you; and let us have no
+more long chatterings about the sinful sloth of the warriors of France
+until the praters themselves rule their lives by their own gospel."
+
+So they fetched Peter again to Antioch. Before all the army he swore
+an oath on the Scriptures that he would never desert. And to his honor
+be it said, this lapse was his last. In the after days he won yet more
+glory and confidence, despite this showing of human frailty.
+
+Thus the winter wasted. With the spring came better food and more
+fighting. Richard had kept his men in moderate health and spirits;
+first by his iron discipline, second because he remembered a hint
+given by Manuel Kurkuas on Eastern campaigning, and had pitched his
+tents on a plot that was sheltered by a hill from the malarial winds
+of the lowlands. Now rumors began to come into camp that great
+preparations were making among the Moslems for sending a huge host to
+the relief of Antioch. As the sun smiled warmer, the hearts of the
+Crusaders lightened. Their camp beside the green-bowered Orontes was a
+noble sight,--one sea of pennons and bright pavilions,--and all about
+a wide moat and a palisade. The knights rode in their tourneys, and
+tinkled their lutes in praise of some maiden in far and pleasant
+France. But still Yaghi-Sian made Antioch good, and Jerusalem seemed
+very far away.
+
+Richard told himself that even Mary would not know him now,--what with
+the thinness of his cheeks and his beard that almost brushed his
+breast. The first bitterness of his loss was beginning to pass. Mary
+had doubtless become wise, and submitted to her lot. Iftikhar, he
+knew, would give her every sensuous delight. He prayed that she might
+learn to be reconciled. As for himself, there was much work to do. Men
+honored his great sword. Though his seigneury was small, the greater
+lords called him to their council, because he spoke the infidels'
+tongue, because his heart was in the Crusade and not in worldly
+advantage; above all, because in him they saw a born leader. He was
+still the reckless and headlong cavalier whose squadrons could scarce
+keep Rollo in sight when their chief was in the saddle.
+
+"Beware, De St. Julien," said Godfrey, one day, while it was arranged
+that Richard should lead a picked band of forty down toward the port
+of St. Simeon to cut off some Arab skirmishers. "Life is not to be
+thrown down like a cast of dice. Remember Oliver's warning in the
+tale:--
+
+    "'Valor and madness are scarce allied;
+    Better discretion than daring pride.'"
+
+"True," answered Richard, smiling, while his eye wandered vacantly
+over the fine-wrought "life of Moses" pictured on the tapestries
+lining the good Duke's tent. "But were I struck dead as I stand, who
+would feel a pang? My old watch-dogs, Herbert and Sebastian, Theroulde
+the minstrel, Rollo, my horse--who more, my Lord Duke?"
+
+Godfrey touched the young knight's hair gently when he answered: "Fair
+son,--for so I will call you, if you take no offence,--all are put in
+this world for some great and glorious work,--and to us especially is
+granted the task of wresting Christ's own city from the unbelievers.
+You would not shun your task. Is it not as wrong to fling life away as
+to turn the back on the foe in fair battle? And if aught befell you,
+say not that none would mourn. Believe me, we all love and honor you;
+for we see that in your heart burns a rare and mighty love for Christ,
+and your fall were a grievous loss."
+
+"You say well, my lord," said Richard, bowing; "and were I to fall,
+men would mourn 'another stout swordsman and good lance gone'; for I
+am honored for my strong arm. But that might be cut off, yet I were
+still Richard Longsword; then who would care if I died a thousand
+deaths!"
+
+"As Our Lord lives, not so bitterly!" remonstrated the good Duke. But
+Richard only replied as he went out, "I thank your kindness; but if I
+meet the infidels to-day, let the saints judge between us, and we
+shall have a noble battle!"
+
+"By Our Lady," swore Godfrey, when Richard departed, "I have great
+sorrow for that lad; for lad he is, yet with so old a face!"
+
+And Bishop Adhemar, who had stood by after the council broke up,
+replied: "And I too am torn for him. For his sorrow is beyond human
+comfort. Alas! poor baroness! I met her often on the march. May she
+and he alike learn to bow to the will of God!" But Richard had flown
+back amongst his men, and called loudly, "To horse!"
+
+"_Laus Deo! Gloria! Gloria!_" he shouted to Herbert; "as you love me,
+saddle with speed. Scouts bring in that a squad of the emir of
+Emessa's cavalry lurk around the port. I ride to cut them off."
+
+"Horse and away, then!" bawled the man-at-arms. "Yet why so merry?"
+And Richard answered, laughing:--
+
+"I know not, dear fellow; yet I feel as if some angel had said to me,
+'Richard Longsword, some great joy to-day awaits!'"
+
+"And what joy?"
+
+"By St. Maurice, I know not, and care less; most likely I shall slay
+twenty infidels, and be slain by the twenty-first!"
+
+"The saints forbid!"
+
+"The saints forbid nothing. I have said in my heart, 'Ill-fortune,
+enough of you! Begone!'" And the others marvelled at Longsword's merry
+mood. "Forward, and St. Michael with us!" his command. "Forward!
+forward!" came from all the rest, for they sniffed adventure when
+Richard Longsword led.
+
+Richard gave Rollo a little tap on the flank, that sent the huge brute
+racing better than any spur, and they plunged away at a brisk gallop.
+
+Very fair that spring day. Underfoot the wild flowers were springing;
+the turf had a fresh green, and all the silver poplars and oaks were
+putting on young leaves. When the troop watered their steeds by a
+tinkling brook, they saw the water strewn with scattered apple
+blossoms. Everything was sweet, balmy, and kind. Who under such a sun
+could keep sad, and grimace at God and His world? Not Richard
+Longsword. He broke into a gay battle-song of Theroulde's; then the
+others took it up, and they made the myrtles and oleanders quiver with
+their chorus as they rode along.
+
+"Surely the saints are with us this day!" cried Richard, when the last
+catch died on the air. They were skirting the Orontes, now hidden by
+the trees, now riding by its bright current, and watching the swans
+spread their white sails to the soft east wind. But Longsword had not
+forgotten the more serious duty that called him afield.
+
+"You, De Carnac, and two more, dismount. Walk to the crest of this
+hillock, and get a long sweep of the valley," was his order.
+
+Presently the three came back with tidings that there was a company of
+horsemen, Saracens presumably, camped in the meadow just beyond a
+little terebinth grove.
+
+Richard drew up his men with the promptness born of a score of like
+encounters.
+
+"God wills it! At them!" such his shout. And the forty, all as one,
+swept from their covert over the grassy savannah--were round the grove
+and upon the infidels before one could count an hundred. Easy victory;
+for the Moslems, perhaps three score, had many of their horses
+picketed, and were preparing a meal. The false Prophet had beguiled
+them into setting no sentry.
+
+"Strike! Strike!" the Christians were riding them down in a twinkling;
+a dozen were crushed before they could rise from the ground; others
+drew, and made some slight defence; more stood dazed, and while
+calling on Allah were made prisoners. Richard was reining in Rollo,
+and growling that he had not struck a single fair blow, when a cry
+from Herbert startled him.
+
+"By the Mass! Look! Hossein, as I am a sinner!"
+
+And Richard saw before his eyes a white-robed, catlike Arab, swinging
+upon a picketed chestnut charger. No need to glance twice to know the
+traitor--Longsword could have singled his face from ten thousand. But
+as he gazed a flash of the Arab's dagger had cut the lariat;--a
+whistle to the high-bred desert steed, and the splendid creature shot
+away, fleet as a startled hart.
+
+"For the love of God, shoot down the horse!" thundered Richard, making
+Rollo leap under the spur. Herbert levelled, and sent a crossbow bolt.
+Too hasty,--long range, and he missed. And every twinkling was making
+the distance grow long between the rider in the white dress and the
+Christians.
+
+"Chase! Ride!" rang Longsword's command. "A hundred byzants to take
+him alive!" But Rollo himself was soon heading all the forty. Never
+had Richard ridden as now, never had Rollo felt the spur so deep; but
+the speed of Borak, steed of the lightning, was in the mount of
+Hossein. Seldom had Rollo so nearly met his match. Almost before one
+dreamt it, the forty were specks in the rear.
+
+"Faster, faster, dear Rollo!" urged Richard, for his voice was ever
+the keenest spur to the great brute. And Rollo indeed ran faster, but
+the desert steed faster too; and for a long time the distance between
+neither waxed nor waned. Grove, thicket, gully, fallen log (for their
+way lay along none the most beaten road), the kind Powers led them
+past, when a stumble would have dashed rider and steed to certain
+death. Richard pressed Rollo again, and the huge horse putting forth
+all his powers began slowly as a snail, yet steadily, to gain on the
+Arabian. For some moments they raced thus; then the road became
+clearer, shut in on either side by trees that arched down, and slapped
+their green banners in the riders' faces. Who recked? Already Richard
+could see Hossein swaying in the saddle, clearly deliberating whether
+he could slacken to dismount and speed up the hillside. But the
+Arabian was running for dear life now, and though his rider tugged at
+the bit, he hardly swerved. Rollo, black monster, was coming up bound
+upon bound. Richard dropped his lance into rest. He would have Hossein
+at mercy before one could say three _Credos_. Was his hand steady
+enough to pin the Arab through the thigh where flesh was thick, and so
+take him prisoner? For Hossein's life would be precious--for a while.
+
+"Ah, traitor!" cried Longsword in Arabic, "call on Allah now!"
+
+The only answer was a fresh bound from the chestnut charger, a final
+burst of speed that carried him ahead for a moment. Then the steady
+gallop of Rollo told once more--another furlong, and the Ismaelian
+would face his doom.
+
+"_La ilaha ill' Allah!_" broke forth from the fugitive; and half
+involuntarily Richard drew rein, while the prey nigh in his hands flew
+onward. For lo! in the road directly ahead was a company--horse and
+foot, in Oriental dress,--advancing rapidly, not a bowshot away!
+Richard wavered for an instant. He saw a horseman in flashing armor
+and blood-red turban come pricking toward them. Almost ere the thought
+could speed through his mind, Hossein was among the newcomers, and a
+score more came dashing forward to confront the solitary Christian. A
+glance back--not one of his men in sight! Rollo blown and panting!
+Escape up the hillside--impossible!--he in armor, and the Moslems
+nimble as rats!
+
+"God wills it!" Richard's soul cried. "This is the good fortune; to
+ride down the foe, fight valiantly, die gallantly, and then
+peace--rest--peace!" He threw down the lance, and drew forth
+Trenchefer. "The last time you will strike for a Longsword, good
+friend!" quoth he, with a loving eye on the keen blade, "and you shall
+not strike in vain!" Then he pressed Rollo once more, "On again, my
+horse!" And the huge brute caught the hard road under his hoofs and
+went forward at a headlong pace. Richard could see the leading
+warrior, a splendid figure on his steed, coming on with drawn
+cimeter--a noble comrade in death! He would strike him first. And
+Richard made Trenchefer dance high while he flew.
+
+"God wills it! St. Julien and Mary Kurkuas!"
+
+So the woods rang with his battle-shout. He could see the Moslems,
+staring half amazed, as he came on headlong, one against their scores;
+saw bows bend; heard the arrows scream past. The leader he had singled
+as his prey was dashing down the road to meet him. How fair a combat!
+
+"God wills it! St. Julien and Mary Kurkuas!" Richard gave it as his
+last battle-cry, and swung Trenchefer to beat through the Moslem's
+guard; when lo! the strange warrior had dropped cimeter and
+shield--reined short--and from him, as if by echo, there came: "Mary
+Kurkuas! _Allah akhbar_, you are Richard Longsword!" And Richard let
+Trenchefer clatter in the dust. "Musa! my brother!"
+
+Then, all in armor as they were, they flung their mailed arms about
+one another for very joy, and cried, shedding great tears, as do only
+strong men when moved too deep for speech. For a moment the other
+Moslems, as they swarmed about, were ready to run Richard through,
+thinking he had taken their chief captive by some magic art. But Musa
+motioned them aside. When the two again found words, the first
+question from the Spaniard was, "And how is it with the Star of the
+Greeks?" But at this, the face of Richard grew dark.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+HOW IFTIKHAR BORE HOME HIS PRIZE
+
+
+Iftikhar Eddauleh rode over the dusty road from Turmanin to Aleppo
+with only thirty about him of the hundred riders that had followed him
+to Dorylæum. But Zeyneb was at hand, and Eybek, who had gone on the
+secret mission months before; and beside the grand prior moved a
+horse-litter containing a treasure Iftikhar would not have parted with
+had the heads of all his men and his own been at stake. Mary Kurkuas
+was his. The scene when he took her in the Christian camp had been
+terrible; how beautiful she had been, standing at bay, dagger in
+hand--no lioness more dreadful! He had disarmed her without marring
+one spot on a skin that was soft as the rose-petals. How she had cried
+and pleaded! He had been cruel? Yes; the poets all sang love was
+either cruel or sweet; and Iftikhar would be all sweetness now.
+
+As the troops rode past the khan which stands on the Aleppo road,
+about twelve furlongs' journey beyond the gates, Iftikhar drew up his
+horse beside the litter, which Zeyneb was carefully guarding. The
+curtains were closed, but he spoke in his soft, melodious Arabic:
+"Star of the Greeks, if you will,--look forth! For we are approaching
+Aleppo, and now you may set eyes on the palace El Halebah, which, by
+the blessing of Allah, is mine, and therefore yours!"
+
+Mary thrust back the curtains. Her face was very pale now; the red
+spots on either cheek seemed to glow with hidden fire. But her eyes
+were dry and bright--the hour of outward agony had been long since
+passed.
+
+"A beautiful country!" were her words. And it was even so; for,
+bowered in gardens and framed by a sky of purest azure, lay Aleppo,
+whose white walls, white houses, gilded minarets seemed stencilled in
+silhouette against the blue. Crowning the city rose the citadel, high
+above the proudest domes with its sheer brown rock. On it, too, shone
+the gold work of its battlements, and its gaudy banners streaming.
+Iftikhar pointed out the lofty dome of the great mosque Jami-Zakarya,
+whose minaret seemed to climb to the very bow of the heavens; the
+stately Jewish synagogue, the domes of the Christian churches, the
+tall houses of the merchants clustered round the bazaar.
+
+"Beautiful, truly!" said Iftikhar, his eyes not on the stately city,
+but on the face of the Greek; "fair as the two gardens by the river of
+milk prepared for the beloved of Allah! Yet you see but the outward
+husk, O Soul of my Soul! For yours is the palace which Seïf Eddauleh,
+one-time lord of Aleppo, prepared for a maiden like yourself of the
+blood of the Greeks; and what was her joy shall be yours as well.
+See--we are at the gates of El Halebah!"
+
+Mary thrust back the curtains farther, leaned on the cushions of
+brocade of Tostar, and saw the troop swing down a stately avenue of
+poplars. Soon the glittering city and dusty highway were hid from
+view. Between green thickets and leafy arbors she could see the silver
+stream of the Kuweik creeping silently in its flower-banked bed. Soon
+the trees were so dense that the sunlight only filtered down a soft
+haze, and the ground under the horse-hoofs was cool, where the moist
+leaves had fallen. A strange hush seemed to pervade the wood, and
+Iftikhar himself, as if awed, rode on in silence. Several minutes
+thus; and Mary felt a strange thrill, as if a voice had spoken, "You
+enter now into a magic world!" The horses had fallen to a slow walk.
+They could hear bird calling bird far within, among the myrtles and
+laurel hedges. The soft rush of a hidden waterfall crept upon them;
+one could almost feel the fine spray, yet only heard the plashing
+music. Presently, as if by enchantment, four men in bright armor, with
+naked sabres, stood across their way, and a voice rang out, trebly
+loud in the hush of the wood: "Stand! Who dares set foot within the
+precincts of El Halebah?" But Iftikhar had ridden in advance of the
+troops. "By the dirk and the cord!" were his words, when he held up a
+finger where a gem-stone glittered.
+
+"The grand prior! Hail, master!" And the white turbans of the four
+almost touched the turf while they saluted. An instant more, and they
+were gone.
+
+"See!" said Iftikhar, when the seeming apparition had vanished among
+the trees. "Though El Halebah seem unguarded, save by the owls and
+bats, I say to you not a snake could wind under the dead leaves, but
+the eyes of my Ismaelians, keeping watch and ward, would find him.
+Fear nothing, O Rose of the Christians! About you this hour are three
+thousand blades, and over them all must a foe ride ere he lay hand on
+you! You are safe, as though in the bosom of Allah!"
+
+Mary made no reply. The iron had long since entered her soul. Iftikhar
+was to have his day; the Holy Mother knew it was like to prove a long
+one. Yet even in her plight the magic wood had a strange charm for the
+Greek. And at last she asked, "How far about extends the grove of the
+palace?"
+
+"How far?" answered Iftikhar. "One might wander a league and more to
+the north, and find naught save glen and fern-dell and fountains. Seïf
+built it for his fair ones and poets to roam, and think themselves in
+Allah's paradise. The singer Motenabbi found his words too faint to
+sing its praise. Now by the will of the Dispenser of All Things it has
+become the possession of the Ismaelians. Not Redouan, lord of Aleppo,
+himself dare set foot within the groves, save at nod of mine. Here we
+may dream we are upon the Fortunate Islands, a thousand leagues away
+in the Western Sea; and watch the stars go round the pole; and listen
+to the bulbuls and the brooks singing,--singing ever of revel, and
+laughter, and love, so long as mortal life may be."
+
+Mary held her peace; Iftikhar, too, fell to day-dreaming. Of a sudden
+they passed from the wood, and saw before them a wide prairie of
+emerald grass. Beyond this rose a palace--one wide stretch of domes
+and pinnacles, and fantastic colonnades, and beyond the palace spread
+a blue lake, close girded by the forest. In the midst floated a green
+island covered with gay kiosks. A light skiff, blue as the waters, was
+shooting across the glassy surface under a steady oar. As Iftikhar's
+eyes lit upon the rowers in the skiff, he gave a cry:--
+
+"Morgiana!"
+
+"Did you speak to me?" asked Mary.
+
+"No, Soul of my Soul," was the answer. "Yet see the boat; in it glides
+one whom, Allah granting, you shall love right well! At least"--and
+now he muttered under his breath--"either you shall love each other,
+or, as the Most High lives, I know whom I can part with best, and it
+will not be the Greek!"
+
+And now they were at the portal. The brass-cased doors swung open
+without warning; a hundred gaudy flags tossed out upon pinnacles and
+domes; a great crash of music greeted them--trumpet, timbrel, hautboy,
+and cymbal,--and a line of twenty negro eunuchs, naked save for skirts
+of red silk whereon gold lace was flashing, each holding a ponderous
+cimeter. At sight of Iftikhar they knelt and bowed their heads to the
+mosaic pavement. Then a single eunuch stepped forward, tall, spare,
+gorgeously dressed in Susangird damask, the jewels gleaming from ears,
+hands, and shoes; upon his beardless, ebony face a perpetual smile. He
+also knelt at his lord's feet. And Iftikhar questioned:--
+
+"The messenger I sent ahead from Afrin came promptly?"
+
+"He did, O Fountain of our Being; and all is prepared to receive and
+make joyous the Star of the Greeks!"
+
+"You have done well, O Hakem!" replied the emir. Then when two of the
+negroes had lifted Mary from her litter, Iftikhar led her forward.
+"This, mine own, is my good slave, and yours too, by name Hakem, the
+chief of my eunuchs and ruler of my harem." Hakem had risen when his
+lord addressed him, but now at sight of Mary his smile became more
+blooming than ever, and his violet cap swept her feet as he bowed.
+
+"Hakem," continued his master, "except I command otherwise, the
+tiniest word of the Star of the Greeks is your law. Deny her, and the
+stake is ready for your impaling!"
+
+"I hear and obey!" replied Hakem, still smiling, and touching his
+head, to proclaim his willingness to lose it.
+
+"Go before us to the harem!" Iftikhar went on, and with only the
+eunuch and Mary Kurkuas, the emir advanced within the palace. Mary
+saw, as they passed, court after court, fountains, domes, a wealth of
+jewel-mosaic on floor and wall, glass sconces of rainbow-tints hanging
+from golden chains. Then in a cool inner apartment where the sun stole
+dimly through marble tracery in the high ceiling, Iftikhar halted; and
+as he entered three women, dark-eyed, bronze-skinned, but beautiful as
+houris, stood--then knelt before Mary.
+
+"Your slaves," said Iftikhar, pointing to them. "Command them; if they
+fail to please, a word to Hakem, and their lives are snuffed out."
+
+"I thank your kindness, master," said Mary, very softly.
+
+"Master?" exclaimed Iftikhar.
+
+"Assuredly; am I not your slave as much as these women here? Is it not
+your pleasure, rather than my right, that keeps me from their servile
+tasks? Does not my very breath tremble on your nod?" And Mary stood
+before Iftikhar with folded hands, her eyes cast upon the silken rug
+of Kerman.
+
+The emir broke forth with the heat of glowing fire.
+
+"O Flower, whose beauty shames the rose of Khuzistan! Star, whose
+light I have followed these years, seeking, hoping, praying, striving!
+Who the slave, you or I? For your sake have I not sent to the ends of
+the earth? For you have I not prepared this palace, than which is not
+a fairer from Andalus to Turan? What is my life without you? What my
+power among the Ismaelians? My hopes of sovereignty, such as Zubaida,
+beloved of Harun, might have joy to share! For you,--it is all for
+you! Without you the palace is dungeon; the earth, wilderness; the
+fairest of Arabian maidens, jinns of black night."
+
+And in the delirium of the moment he caught her, held her in his arms,
+kissed her once, twice. But her lips were icy. The touch of her form
+chilled him. He shrank away as from a statue of marble.
+
+"Master," said Mary, never resisting, "I am your slave. You have the
+power. I cannot resist; I fear I cannot flee away. You may do with my
+poor body as you list; but me,--Mary the wife of Richard de St.
+Julien, the soul throbbing behind this flesh and blood,--_me_ you can
+never hold in power. No! not, were your three thousand sword-hands
+myriads. For my true self is as far beyond your unholy touch as though
+I sat above the stars! Do with me as you will,--I laugh at you; I mock
+your impure wiles; for till you hold me, soul as well as body, I am
+free--free in the sight of God, though you pour all your passions on
+me! I love you not, and never shall, till the day breaks in the west,
+and the seasons cease to wheel."
+
+As she spoke, her eyes glowed with a fire that lit another fire of
+mingled desire and rage in the eyes of Iftikhar.
+
+"Hearken, Star of the Greeks!" and he again stepped toward her. Mary
+stood calm as a statue; only her eyes shone yet brighter.
+
+"I have heard you often, master; but I will listen."
+
+"I command you, style me no more 'master,'" raged Iftikhar, feeling he
+had conjured up a demon that greater power than his must chain.
+
+"I can style you no otherwise," was the reply; "for so you are. Punish
+my disobedience. I can bear much."
+
+There was a little table at hand; on it stood a rock-crystal goblet
+and a silver cooler filled with snow-water and rose sherbet.
+
+"Mary Kurkuas," said Iftikhar, controlling himself by a great effort,
+and holding up the goblet, "think not I seek the deeds of mad passion
+and violence. My power? The might that flashes in your eyes were a
+myriad times more! Love? Yes, truly; I would have your lips seek
+mine, as two doves flit to the same nest. See! A pledge!--by the great
+angel Israfil, at whose trumpet the dead shall spring for judgment, I
+swear: I will do you no hurt! nothing! I will teach you to love me,
+until Constantinople, and Sicily, and France shall be as a forgotten
+dream, and of your own free will you shall be mine own, till Allah cut
+us asunder."
+
+He held high the goblet.
+
+"To Mary Kurkuas, fairest of women!" he cried, drank, bowed low, and
+was gone, leaving Mary with Hakem the eunuch.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The heavy tapestries in the doorway closed noiselessly. Mary stood
+gazing half stupidly at Hakem and the maids. Then at last the eunuch
+spoke, his imperturbable smile swelling to a fulsome grin.
+
+"O my little birdling, what friends shall we not become! How sweetly
+shall we pass the days together!"
+
+Had his words been hot irons, he could not have affected Mary more. In
+a trice she had sprung toward him, her eyes flashing flame. She was in
+poise and voice the great princess of the house of Kurkuas, born to
+rule. "Toad!" came across her teeth, "did I bid you speak? Out of my
+sight, you and these wenches, or as I live--"
+
+"Mercy, gracious _Citt_, gracious mistress!" began Hakem, throwing up
+his hands and rolling his eyes, for he knew that he faced his match.
+"You are travel-worn; your dress--"
+
+Mary took a step toward him, snatched him by the shoulder, whirled his
+face toward the door in an instant.
+
+"Away!" was her command; "or if Iftikhar did not mock me, the next
+word I have for him is to ask your head!"
+
+Hakem shuffled out of the room like a whipped hound. To the maids Mary
+gave not a word--simply pointed toward the passage. The flash in her
+eyes sufficed. They were gone; and the Greek found herself alone--oh,
+bliss!--alone!
+
+The room was large, high-domed; the walls covered with gold and
+colored enamel in fantastic arabesques. Here and there an inscription
+from one of the poets in silver mosaic. On the silken carpet the feet
+moved noiselessly. The light trickled through the piercings in the
+dome, and spread a restful twilight around. There were divans of
+priceless Chinese silk, an ebony table whereon lay silver and crystal
+cups and coolers, fruit and honey cakes. Upon the divan lay ready a
+dress, silk also, plainly prepared for Iftikhar's new favorite, gold
+lace, jewel embroidery: in France worth a count's ransom; even in
+Constantinople worthy of the Empress herself. It was very still. Mary
+sat upon the divan beside the table and rested her face on her hands.
+She was more weary than one may tell. Despite the care of Iftikhar,
+the journey had been no easy one. And now this was the end! Here was
+the golden cage in which the bright bird was to be kept fast! Mary
+shed no tears now. Iftikhar had given her a pledge. She felt sure he
+would be patient within reason. But in time? Mary knew herself well
+enough and Iftikhar well enough to be sure that both were made of
+mortal stuff. After all, she was his slave--to be sold in the market
+if he chose. She had taken her vows touching Richard Longsword while
+life lasted. But was he not dead to her? Perhaps dead to all the
+world? Did men only die to one another when they stopped eating,
+talking, and sleeping? She could struggle, could put on her majesty,
+could say "No" a score of times; but in the end!--what end could there
+be saving one! So Mary sat in her revery, her thoughts as dark as the
+ebony table beneath her eyes.
+
+Suddenly, as if awaking from a dream, she heard laughter,--laughter
+musical as a little stream, but with a mocking, angry tinge that left
+a sting. Mary lifted her eyes, raised her head. More laughter--louder,
+still musical. The Greek almost started. Could she not even have
+sorrow in peace?
+
+"Have I not bidden you all begone?" was her cry, and at last the tears
+were not far from her eyes; for this defiance was the last drop to her
+cup of sorrow.
+
+"No," came back a voice, clear and melodious as a zithern note; "no,
+you have commanded me nothing."
+
+"Then now I say 'away'--leave me alone!"
+
+"How sweet to see you angry! I will not leave you. See! I enter. I
+wish to look at you face to face."
+
+The curtains at the farther end of the room opened. As they did so a
+score of little bells upon them tinkled, and Mary saw a woman standing
+in the mild half-light. Instantly the Greek rose, and the two looked
+into each other's eyes.
+
+Morgiana was dressed in a manner only possible to one who felt the
+vulgar eye far removed. She wore loose green silk trousers that
+gathered a little below the knee; her feet were hid only by white
+slippers, where the gem-stones were flashing, and white silken
+stockings; arms and neck were bare; a gauzy Indian shawl, white also,
+was wrapped about her; on her girdle shone the gold chain work,
+another gold chain around her neck; the abundant black hair streamed
+loosely over the shoulders from under a jewel-set fillet. The two
+women stood facing one another for a long moment. Then each broke
+forth in one breath, but the Arab first.
+
+"How beautiful you are!--I hate you!"
+
+"How beautiful!--I wish to love you!"
+
+The two sentences blended into one; and instantly Morgiana burst again
+into laughter.
+
+"So this is the Star of the Greeks! I give you joy; you are worthy of
+Iftikhar Eddauleh! _Ya_; were you a peri of the deep, you could not be
+fairer!"
+
+Mary bowed her head. "Lady," was her answer, "who you are I know not;
+but this I know, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,
+and if Iftikhar possesses you, God alone knows why he casts eyes on
+me!"
+
+Yet again Morgiana laughed. "God alone knows?" was her cry; "verily, I
+doubt it. Were He knowing, and yet able to change the world, wicked He
+must be to suffer the deeds of men! You think me a stranger. Well,
+Morgiana the slave of Iftikhar greets Mary the slave of Iftikhar, and
+Morgiana adds that she will kill Mary, as surely as the evening
+follows the morn!"
+
+"Pray God that you may have your wish full soon!" answered the Greek,
+looking down. Her words seemed to have touched a new spring in
+Morgiana. The Arab threw her hands on high.
+
+"Cursed are you, O Greek! Cursed your beauty! Cursed all who look in
+love upon you! Let the jinns of the abyss swallow you! Let Eblees,
+Lord of Darkness, have mastery of you! May your bright eyes be turned
+to blindness, your white skin scorch, your smooth arms wither--" But
+here Mary interrupted, humble no longer now, her own proud fire
+flashing in turn.
+
+"Silence--madwoman! It is you the evil powers will curse! Do I need
+maledictions from you to make my lot less darksome, my cup less
+bitter? Curse Iftikhar Eddauleh, if you will, whose sin and passion
+blast your joy and mine! Curse him, not me!" And at this Morgiana
+broke forth fiercely:--
+
+"No, no, not Iftikhar Eddauleh! Were he tearing me with tortures, yet
+would I bless him. Were he foul as the rebel angels, his kiss were
+honey. Dwelt he in parching Gehennah, to be with him--paradise! No
+word against him, or here and now I slay you!"
+
+Mary made no immediate answer. Morgiana's face was aflame with
+passion; as she spoke she swayed in half frenzy. Under her breath the
+Greek murmured, "She is mad!"
+
+"As Allah lives!" cried Morgiana, her mood veering swift as the flight
+of birds, "I have frightened you! Unjust, cruel, my heart is half ice
+and half fire. I have given you arrows instead of tears. You are
+blameless, wretched, helpless,--what may I do for you?"
+
+And she had caught Mary's hands within her own, and was drawing her
+close and kissing her forehead.
+
+"They do well to call you star and flower of the Greeks! _Mashallah!_
+how could Iftikhar and all the world fail to give all to gain you!
+From Cairo to Samarkand there is none like you!"
+
+Mary did not answer. To her Morgiana was fury, houri, and angel all in
+one moment. She knew not what to think, and so kept peace. But the
+Arab ran on: "I saw you at Palermo. It came to my ears that you were
+very beautiful. I saw you ride to church once with your father. I, of
+course, was veiled and guarded by Hakem; and when my eyes lit on you,
+I said, 'She is not over-praised.' Yet there was a throng, and you
+were not near. But now, face to face, I say, 'Not all the poets from
+Imr ul-Kais to An-Nami could paint in verse your beauty; no, nor all
+the angels who sing about the throne of Allah!'"
+
+"Praise it not," cried Mary, finding her tongue; "it is, as you say,
+cursed,--cursed for me, at least; please God, not for those who have
+loved me! I say naught of Iftikhar; let God judge him, not I!"
+Morgiana bowed her head in turn.
+
+"You say well. Let the Most High judge Iftikhar. And now"--raising her
+eyes--"tell me; shall we be friends?"
+
+Then and there the two kissed one another, cried on each other's
+necks, and swore--so far as spirits like theirs may--to be friends and
+sisters. For the burden of each was great. When they had ceased crying
+and could talk once more, Morgiana led Mary to the divan,
+exclaiming:--
+
+"_Wallah!_ But you are all travel-stained and weary. Where are Hakem
+and the maids?"
+
+"As you love me," protested the Greek, "do not call them. I will not
+see that sleek eunuch's face again. I sent them all away."
+
+"Hakem!" repeated Morgiana, with a sniff; "he is a harmless lizard,
+after you grow accustomed to seeing him trail his nose around. His
+teeth look very sharp, but they must not frighten you. Nevertheless,
+if you will not--" Mary shook her head.
+
+"Then I will play the tiring maid!" cried the Arab; and she laughed
+when she drew the pins from Mary's hair, and let it fall over her
+shoulders, a shining, brown mass.
+
+"_Wallah!_ How beautiful you are!" Morgiana repeated again and again.
+She led Mary into a bath, where the air was heavy with perfumes of
+saffron and date-blossoms, then put on the Greek the Eastern dress
+which had been made ready. Mary's heart was very full when Morgiana
+laid aside the Frankish bleaunt; for in that mantle she had ridden
+beside Richard Longsword over the weary road to Constantinople; he had
+given it to her on their wedding day. But when the Arab wished to draw
+the little silver ring from her finger, the Greek shook her head.
+
+"Silly!" commented Morgiana, "it is not worth a dirhem; I will bring
+you a casket of a hundred--ruby, onyx, beryl--"
+
+"My husband set it there," replied Mary, thrusting back her hair and
+looking full into the Arab's face. "It was to remain there till I
+die." Morgiana tossed up her head. "Your husband? Richard Longsword,
+that boorish Frank, who has a bull's strength with a baboon's wits?
+How dare you love him, when you may have the love of Iftikhar
+Eddauleh!"
+
+"Nevertheless," said Mary, very slowly, never moving her gaze,
+"Richard is my husband. I love him. Do not speak ill of him, or our
+friendship dies the day of birth."
+
+"I have a very cruel heart!" cried Morgiana, kissing the Greek again;
+and the ring was left in its place.
+
+They had completed the toilet. There was a long silvered mirror in the
+room, and Mary saw herself dressed after the fashion of the East, from
+the mother-of-pearl set upon her yellow shoes, to the gold-spangled
+muslin that wound above her flowing hair. "Holy Mother of Pity," she
+whispered, looking down at the little ring, "but for this, I were
+already become an infidel!"
+
+The next moment the voice of Iftikhar demanded entrance, and the two
+women stood before him.
+
+"_Bismillah!_" he exclaimed, smiling, and looking more handsome and
+lordly than ever, "I see two of the houris! You are friends?"
+
+"We are sisters," replied Morgiana, a little defiantly. "I fled out
+upon the lake that I might not meet you when you returned,--but now!"
+and she took Mary by the hand.
+
+"I will wait on you no more to-day," said Iftikhar, bowing in most
+stately fashion. But when he had gone, Morgiana gave a bitter cry:--
+
+"Allah pity me; Allah pity you also! His words were for us both, but
+his eyes on you alone! I have lost him, lost him forever. The Most
+High keep me from some fearful deed!"
+
+"I do not dread you," said Mary, gently.
+
+"No," came the answer, "you need dread nothing. Christian you are, and
+Moslem I; but one God hears us both. Oh, let us pray,--pray for His
+mercy; for lesser help may not avail!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mary slept that night in the same chamber as Morgiana, an airy,
+high-vaulted room, in an upper story of the palace. Through the
+tracery of the lattice came the warm breeze, bearing the narcotic
+scent of those tropic gardens. But Mary was long in falling asleep on
+her soft pallet. In the darkness she heard the trumpet-voiced muezzins
+in the distant Aleppo, calling the midnight _Oola: "Allahu akhbar!_
+_Allahu akhbar! Allahu akhbar!_ I testify there is no God but Allah,
+and Mohammed is the prophet of Allah! Come to prayer! Come to prayer!
+Prayer is better than sleep!"
+
+The words pealed out in the night like voices from another world. Mary
+stirred and kissed the silver ring. "Dear Mother of God! Dear Christ
+who suffered for us all, give me strength to bear all, to resist, to
+endure! Keep my own heart true to Richard Longsword and our love. Save
+me utterly, if that may be, and if not, be merciful and let me die;
+for the temptation will be very great!"
+
+Morgiana started in her sleep; the curtain above her bed rustled.
+"Dear sister," she said softly, "go to sleep. The day has troubles
+enough, without letting them steal peace from the night."
+
+So Mary kissed the ring, folded her hands, and at last was dreaming.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX
+
+HOW THERE WAS FESTIVAL AT ALEPPO
+
+
+After the winter rains were past, and when all the birds were singing
+in the groves about El Halebah, Mary Kurkuas could see that Iftikhar
+Eddauleh was waxing restive in soul; both on her account and on
+account of something which was stirring in that great world which lay
+beyond the palm trees, the lake, and the silver Kuweik. What those
+events without were Mary could scarce guess, for had she been
+transported into another planet, she could not have seen less of what
+passed in the realm of armies, and princes, and battles. The moment
+the enchanted groves of the palace closed about her, all beyond had
+been blotted out; she saw no men save Iftikhar, Zeyneb, and Hakem with
+his fellow-eunuchs, if these last were indeed men. Once she had asked
+Hakem whether the Crusaders had been driven back when they strove to
+cross Asia Minor, and whether the expedition to Jerusalem had been
+abandoned. The sleek creature had only salaamed, and smirked
+deprecatingly.
+
+"O Rose of the Christians, my ears are deaf, my eyes blind to all
+beyond the precincts of El Halebah!" was his sole reply. Zeyneb she
+loathed from the depths of her soul. The dwarf saw her seldom,
+although he affected to seek the company of his foster-sister. Mary
+induced Morgiana to ask him to tell of the outside world, and was met
+by a blank refusal. "Let him twitter once, and Iftikhar would lift his
+head from his shoulders!" As for Iftikhar, when Mary demanded to know
+the success of the Crusade, he replied with one of his flashes of
+mingled authority and passion: "Soul of my Soul! ask me nothing. My
+lips are sealed, save when I speak of the love that burns me and of
+the brightness that blazes from your eyes!" And no appeal could draw
+from him more. Once during the autumn Mary thought she saw from the
+uppermost balcony a squadron of armed horsemen riding furiously from
+Aleppo. That day too she heard one negro eunuch say to a fellow,
+"Allah grant that they come no nearer!" and the other, "As you love
+life, breathe nothing to your own soul! If the _Citt_, Mary, should
+hear!" But this was all. Day sped into day. No change in the
+monotonous ease and routine of the harem. Mary had grown wonted to the
+unending round. She no longer lay awake to hear the muezzins.
+Sometimes she wondered if she would forget her Greek and her French,
+hearing only Arabic, save when she talked with Eleanor.
+
+Eleanor had been held as captive by Iftikhar, not because he had any
+unwonted passion for her, or grudge against her; but she was
+beautiful, and he liked to feel that he held one of the Longswords in
+his harem. The young Norman had long since bowed her head to her fate.
+After a manner she had been kindly treated. Less full of energy and
+unquenchable vigor than the Greek, she had grown content to stay all
+day in the harem, bathing in the perfumed waters, embroidering,
+drinking sherbet. Morgiana, seeing she was not likely to become a
+rival, had patronized and protected her against the insolence of the
+eunuchs. Mary had been greeted by Eleanor rapturously, as if she were
+an angel. As for Morgiana, the "maid of Yemen" was alternately to her
+sister and fury. For days together she would have never a word for
+Mary save an occasional malediction or threat; then without warning
+she would repent in tears, implore forgiveness, become gentle, loving,
+clinging as Eleanor; and so until the next cloud of jealousy came over
+her.
+
+It was one day in the early springtime when the eunuchs spread
+canopies on the palace roof. Here, with the green groves stretching on
+every hand, the three women had idled out the warm, sweet afternoon.
+Mary was aiding Eleanor over her embroidery frame. And now it was
+that Morgiana told what she had never told before--the story of how
+she fell into the hands of Iftikhar. "Know, O sweet sister," said she,
+laying down the guitar on which her long, shapely fingers had been
+wandering, "that I am the daughter of Jaafar bin Shirzâd, who was the
+_Hajib_, that is, Lord Chamberlain, to the Commander of the Faithful,
+Al Muktadi the Abbasside, and that I was born in my father's palace
+which lay by the Tigris in Bagdad. My father had four wives and many
+fair female slaves, fair as moons; but most of all he loved my mother,
+Kharka, who was peerless among the women of Bagdad. She was the
+daughter of Abu Ahmed, emir of the free desert tribes of Yemen. From
+her I gain my name; from her my blue eyes, which are found sometimes
+among the Arabs of the great waste. My mother was brought up after the
+fashion of her people; not pent in harems, guarded by eunuchs, but
+free as youth--would to Allah this were the custom in all Islam! From
+her love of freedom comes my own proneness to rush to unwomanly
+things. At Bagdad my mother pined for her native sand plains, and died
+when I was young, leaving me to my nurse,--mother of my accursed
+foster-brother, Zeyneb. Then came the direful day when my father lost
+his head by demand of Melik Shah, the arch-sultan; and I and all his
+harem were plunged in slavery. I was sixteen when I and Zeyneb stood
+in the slave market at Damascus. At Iftikhar's first sight of me
+unveiled, the love sprang to his eyes as flame leaps on a torch. He
+bought us; and for years he and I were to each other as two souls in
+one body; the thought of him, joy! sight of him, joy! touch of him,
+joy! So he to me. And in love for me he cast all the other women from
+his harem. Then--luckless day!--he went to Sicily to find service
+among the Christians. There at Palermo I was mother of his child;
+merciful Allah! why couldst Thou not spare my little Ali? But he
+died--sorrow passing words! After that I saw that Iftikhar was
+drifting away from me. First he bought other slave women, though still
+he gave me chief place, and love of the lips. Then on a day"--and
+Morgiana's eyes seemed fiery daggers searching Mary's very soul--"I
+heard Hakem, chief eunuch, speak of the beauty of Mary the Greek; then
+I first heard your name, and learned to curse you! Aye, curse you, as
+I have a thousand times since. Since that hour, day by day, despite my
+wiles, and my beauty, and my sorrow, unceasingly he has drifted from
+me farther and farther; and now he has you--your body already, when he
+wills; your soul, too, full soon. And I have lost him; have lost him
+forever!"
+
+Mary raised her head to reply; but Morgiana swept on: "Oh, it is not
+the pain of seeing another mistress of El Halebah; of knowing I am
+second when I should be first; of feeling, 'One whisper from the
+Greek, and at her wish Iftikhar would slay me.' But I love him. To
+possess him, though clothed in rags and loaded with fetters--enough!
+To hear him say, 'I love you,' as once he did, and know that it was
+not tongue but eyes also that spoke--that were my paradise!"
+
+Morgiana bowed her head, and broke into wild sobbing. The Greek put
+her arm about her.
+
+"Dear sister, I, like you, am the slave of Iftikhar Eddauleh--at his
+mercy, his toy, his sport for an idle hour--but never fear that I will
+love him. Till I know Richard Longsword sleeps with the dead--"
+
+Morgiana lifted her face angrily. "Why speak of Richard Longsword? Who
+dares compare him to Iftikhar Eddauleh? Is he not a boorish Frank? And
+Iftikhar?--were it not there is but one Allah, would I not call
+Iftikhar a god!"
+
+"You worship him; yet you are his slave?"
+
+"Yes! what shame? Do I wish to be free? Are not all mortals slaves of
+Allah? And is not Iftikhar to me in the place of Allah? Let men bow
+down to a God; but what God may a woman own save a strong man, whose
+love is her all--her all!"
+
+The words of Morgiana sank to a sob. She flung her face in Mary's lap
+and wept.
+
+"Oh," she cried, "I see well enough how it is with you. I have eyes,
+and wits. On the first days you were here you loathed Iftikhar as if
+he were a snake. But he knows his game. He has drawn his net about
+you. Each day you note his dark Eastern splendor, so unlike the West;
+his speech like music, his professions of love; and each day you say,
+'I hate him.' But you do not say it with the sting of months ago.
+Richard Longsword is becoming very dim before your eyes; Iftikhar
+Eddauleh, very real. The change is slow; yet I am not wrong. By Allah,
+I am not wrong! For I see two fires in your cheek, another on your
+forehead. You do not shudder, as you once did, at thinking, 'All my
+life I must spend in a golden prison like El Halebah.' It will be very
+pleasant. Iftikhar is to become the lord of all Islam, if naught
+fails. The Ismaelians will overthrow Sultan and Kalif, and Iftikhar is
+declared heir of Hassan-Sabah. So much I know, though we hear so
+little. And you will reign with him--Sultana! Empress!"
+
+"As you love me, speak no more!" Mary found voice to beg.
+
+"Love you!" cried Morgiana, in her mood; "do I not hate you with fury
+passing death? Last night, when Iftikhar spoke to you soft and low, I
+could see your eye following his as a weaver's the shuttle. You are
+yielding, yielding; soon--"
+
+But Mary had clapped her hand upon the Arab's mouth. "Love me or hate
+me, do not torture! What can I do?" was her plea. "Day and night I
+call to Our Lady, 'Save me, or let me die.' And I am growing weak,
+weak! I cannot fight the will of Heaven much longer. How easy to defy
+Iftikhar the day he bore me hither! How easy to feel my will each day
+growing more helpless to resist! God is angry with me; some sin that I
+have forgotten, yet that must be very great. Oh, pity me, for I am
+only a weak girl!"
+
+So they comforted one another, those two, whose hearts were too full
+for words. While they yet sat side by side, Iftikhar came upon the
+balcony. Splendid he was, in his jewelled turban, golden belt, and
+dress of _izar_--the gold-embroidered cloth of Mosul. He made a
+profound reverence to Mary, then spoke.
+
+"O Star of the Greeks! I your slave have remembered that perchance
+even the charm of the halls of El Halebah may grow weary. Deign, I
+pray you, to be dressed this evening in such a dress as I have
+commanded Hakem to provide; for to-night all the daughters and maidens
+of Aleppo have been bidden to make free in these gardens, and there
+will be festival, such as Bagdad has seldom seen since the great feast
+of Moktader."
+
+"I thank your lordship, I obey," said Mary, bowing. The emir's face
+lit with pleasure.
+
+"And you, Morgiana," continued Iftikhar, more lightly, "you, with
+Eleanor, of course will not fail me. I would show these beauties of
+Aleppo that here hid in our groves are the fairest eyes in Syria."
+
+"Cid," said Morgiana, haughtily, "if you command me, I will obey;
+otherwise, let me sleep and the rest dance."
+
+"_Ya!_" cried Iftikhar, testily; "you are gloomy as Gann, lord of the
+evil jinns! No doing of mine can please you. _Wallah_, be it as you
+will! The Star of the Greeks is more kind. To-night! I swear the poets
+of Emir Redouan shall sing of the fête the whole year long!" So he was
+gone, and Morgiana turned fiercely on Mary. "Eblees and all his
+'Sheytans' of the Pit pluck you away! What have you done? You said yes
+as though Iftikhar's words were sweet as honey of Lebanon. He will
+conquer you to-night! Are you blind? Not for the maidens of Aleppo,
+but for you, this fête is prepared. To-night he will be master of you,
+soul as well as body. Blind! blind!"
+
+Mary looked into the Arab's face.
+
+"O dear sister," came her words, "you say well. But I am not blind.
+What more can I do? Love him I do not, as you. But I am helpless;
+Iftikhar is lord. Better to have an end. Hate him I do not as I did
+once. Time is kind. I must bow my head, and pray God make me forget
+the past. There is no other way--none. I can fight the battle no
+more."
+
+"Dearest heart," cried the Arab, "it is all true. You can do no more.
+If you were not so pure and lovely, I would have killed you long ago.
+Only do not triumph over me, when you have learned to love Iftikhar
+as do I."
+
+"No, blessed soul," said the Greek, softly; "that may never be."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+That night all the heavens about El Halebah glowed with the light of
+myriad torches; lights on the domes and soaring towers; lights
+flitting among the palm trees; lights tossing behind every myrtle and
+laurel brake; lights twinkling from under the cool colonnades, and
+making the mist of the fountains a shimmering spray of diamonds. There
+were flowers scattered over every walk; flowers festooned about each
+column; the air made heavy with the breath of rose, pink, and violet.
+All about were set innumerable banners, streaming to every wind. Fires
+flashed from the islands upon the lake; and down the enchanted path
+that led through the woods to the Aleppo road there was a cordon of
+flambeaux, making the avenue light as day.
+
+So much saw Mary Kurkuas, peering from her lattice, while the maids
+made her ready and clothed her in robes such as Iftikhar himself had
+never sent her before. At last the emir stood outside her door with
+the petition, "O flower more sweet than the rose, I, your slave, pray
+you, come forth--come forth; the fête is ready; the stars await the
+moon!"
+
+Mary let them wrap round her face the veil of gauze of Baalbec, and
+went to meet Iftikhar. Never had the emir been more darkly handsome;
+his eye flashed with fire out-vying the blaze of the great gems at his
+girdle. He wore a tiara worth thrice the revenues of the king of
+France. The sheath of his long cimeter was of beaten gold. And when
+Mary looked upon him, a strange thrill passed over her--what a man
+this was, who had loved her even against her will!
+
+"Come forth, O Fairest of the daughters of the Christians! And let the
+maidens of Syria blush beneath their darker skin: let them mourn, 'Our
+beauty cannot compare with the loveliness of the Greek who is beloved
+of Iftikhar Eddauleh!'"
+
+So spoke the emir, and a mysterious spell seemed to fall on Mary.
+Under his word and nod she was passive as a little child. Once, once
+only--the vision of Richard Longsword--rough-featured, firm-lipped,
+framed of iron--passed before her eyes,--how dim it all was! How very
+far away! Iftikhar took her hand, and led her through the mazy
+colonnades. And women fair as the dawn brought her a great wreath of
+cool flowers that she hung about her neck; others threw upon the air a
+spray of perfumes of Mazendran, while as the two advanced, the lights
+and torches ever multiplied; they trod onward in a glow of brightness.
+
+"See!" Iftikhar had led her to the balcony of the colonnade, where
+thronged the nobles of the court of Redouan, all in dresses bright as
+the sun, but Iftikhar's brightest. Before them and around stretched a
+wondrous vision. Mary saw the maids and young women of Aleppo, of
+Sultan Redouan's harem and of his grandees, dancing, as was their
+custom, in wide circles hand in hand; their white dresses flying,
+their brown arms twinkling, their violet-black hair streaming to the
+wind. First they danced yet veiled; then as the dances maddened, they
+one after another cast the veils aside, and their dark eyes flashed in
+the torchlight. Round the women in wider circles were others,--three
+thousand men,--also in white, but with each a glittering cuirass and
+cimeter. And as the maidens danced the men broke from their ranks, and
+danced after their kind; crying aloud, and beating their swords
+against their targets. But the crash of the cymbals, the boom of the
+copper kettledrums, the wild wail of the hautboys, the flutes, and the
+tinkling Persian harps, sounded above all. The dancers caught up
+torches, and made the ground spring with whirring light. As the music
+quickened, the dances wound their maze yet faster. And now the
+Ismaelians rushed among the women, mingling with them in the dance;
+plucking away the veils that were still clinging; catching the cymbals
+from the musicians' hands and crashing them yet louder. The whole
+scene seemed fast becoming pandemonium. Mary's eyes throbbed under the
+flashing of the torches; a desire seemed to spring through her to
+sway with the mad music--to join in the madder whirl. But as she
+gazed, Iftikhar lifted his hand, and one of the musicians upon the
+balcony, putting to his lips a tiny flute, blew across the raging sea
+of light one note, clear, piercing, tremulous as the bulbul's call. At
+that note men and maids were stilled, and stood gazing toward the
+colonnade where was Iftikhar Eddauleh with his captive at his side.
+Then Iftikhar stepped to the edge of the parapet, and stood in his
+blazing dress--a very genie in mien and glory. While he stood, lo!
+every knee was bowed. The women also with the Ismaelians swept their
+foreheads to the ground; and while they did obeisance, Iftikhar's
+voice rang out over lawn and grove: "Ye 'devoted' of the Ismaelians;
+and ye women of Aleppo; slaves of the lord of Alamont, of me his
+deputy, and his vassal Redouan--behold! Kneel, tremble, adore! For I
+will show to you the peerless creation of Allah; the Lady of Beauty,
+the Star of the Greeks, who by the grace of the Most High shall, ere
+two years speed, be hailed sovereign princess from the western sea to
+the river of India! Fall down before her! For I say to you: the man or
+maid who shall cross her will or refuse her adoration shall surely
+die! Since under Allah she shall hold the lives of you all in the
+hollow of her hand!"
+
+At the word, the Ismaelians bowed again to the earth; then standing,
+three thousand voices cried, "We swear by Allah the Omnipotent, our
+lives and destinies shall hang upon her grace!"
+
+But Iftikhar called, "Let Masudi of Bozra stand forth!"
+
+A tall, handsome young Syrian stepped forward and stood before the
+balcony, his eyes cast on the ground.
+
+"O man 'devoted' to Allah!" commanded the grand prior, "lay your
+cuirass upon the earth."
+
+The mandate was implicitly obeyed.
+
+"Take your cimeter! Fall upon it!"
+
+Had the emir said, "Drink of this wine," there had not been less
+change in the Syrian's face. Not an eyelash quivered, nor did the lips
+twitch, when he held the keen blade at his breast and dashed himself
+upon the ground. A single spasm of the limbs, a red glow on the green
+sward,--that was all. Through all the great host standing under the
+torchlight there ran not so much as shiver or murmur.
+
+"See, my children!" cried Iftikhar again, "this moment Masudi, your
+brother, sits down with the maids whose bodies are pure musk,--they
+who sit waiting by the stream of honey flowing from the root of the
+tree Tûba. Who else, at my summons, will take the journey thither?"
+
+And the shout came back: "I!" and "I!" and "I!"; so all the three
+thousand cried it, and many sprang eagerly forward.
+
+"No, my children," warned the emir, upraising his hand. "Allah and our
+lord on earth, the Cid Hassan Sabah, have need of you. Full soon shall
+you win all the glory and riches of this world, or the kiss of the
+houris! And now bear the poor dross of Masudi away, and think on his
+bliss."
+
+As the eunuchs bore off the dead, Iftikhar spoke to Mary:--
+
+"O Soul of my Soul, bethink you, here are three thousand of like mind
+to this man; and in the rest of Syria nine thousand more. With such a
+host we shall conquer the world--the world; and over it, you, my own,
+shall be sovereign sultana!"
+
+"O Iftikhar," came from the Greek, "who am I to be thus worshipped!"
+The voice, the throb behind the voice,--the word "Iftikhar," not
+"master"--were they Mary's own? She felt herself snatched in a current
+she might not resist. Drifting, drifting, and she knew whither, yet in
+some strange way did not shrink. Why did the light flash still more
+brightly in Iftikhar's eyes? Why did his dark beauty become more
+splendid?
+
+"Come!" was all he said. And in that word there rang a triumph,
+clearer than if sounded by trumpets. Her hand in his, he led her down
+the steps of the portico, all strewn with white bells of lilies, a
+carpet of blooming snow. At the foot of the stair a car which shone
+like a huge carbuncle; and harnessed to the car two lions, tame as
+oxen, yet tossing their shaggy manes, and their eyes twin coals of
+fire. Mary saw the beasts, but did not shrink. She looked upon the
+emir's face; in it confidence, pride,--and passion beyond words. How
+splendid he was! How one ought to worship this lord of men, to whom
+the lords of the beasts crouched submissive! How he had loved her with
+a love surpassing thought! She entered the car. They put in her hands
+reins of silken white ribbon. But Iftikhar himself stood at the heads
+of the lions, leading as if they were camels. Then he spoke: "Shine
+forth, O Moon, to the beautiful stars! Unveil!" And Mary, her hand
+answering his nod, swept the gauze from her face. In the same flash
+all the palace grounds shone with the red glare of Greek fire, so that
+the flambeaux made shadow; and Mary stood erect in the car, the light
+making her face bright and fair as the white cloud of summer. As she
+stood, she knew a tremor ran through the multitude and through the
+great lords on the portico; and a thousand voices were crying, not by
+forced acclaim, but out of their hearts: "Beauty of Allah! Fairest of
+the daughters of genii or men!" Such, and many more, the cries. Mary
+looked about; eyes past counting were on her. She held her head very
+proudly. Captive or queen, it was her triumph; and to Iftikhar she
+owed it all!
+
+The emir led the lions down the long avenue opened for them by the
+ranks of the Ismaelians, amid the admiring women,--straight toward the
+lake; and as the car moved, the Greek fire sprang from the very water,
+red and blue, fantastic flame-columns, whose brightness blotted out
+the stars. As they advanced, the multitude closed after them; the
+torches on the palace doubled, trebled; every dome and minaret was
+traced in light; the music swayed and throbbed like the sighs of an
+ocean surf. They reached the shore; a second carpet of lilies; a boat,
+long, narrow, bowered in roses; a high canopy of flowers in the bow; a
+single negro eunuch standing like an ebon statue at the stern, poising
+his oar.
+
+"Come!" so again Iftikhar spoke; Mary dismounted. He led her to the
+boat, seated her upon the roses. The multitude upon the shore stood in
+silence, all their praises in their eyes. The music was hushed for an
+instant. Iftikhar nodded to the rower. The oar dipped noiselessly. The
+boat glided from the shore gently as the tread of a spirit. Iftikhar
+sat upon the flower-strewn floor of the skiff, looking up into Mary's
+eyes. This was the end, praise God it was the end; she would do no
+more now! Iftikhar had conquered. Who of mortal stuff would fail to
+bend before such love as his; and he--was he not worth all loving?
+
+Neither said a word for a long time. The distance betwixt quay and
+boat widened slowly. The lights from the gardens spread out shimmering
+paths of fire upon the black waters. The only sound was the distant
+music once more throbbing from the palace, the dim shouts of the
+revellers within the groves, and the drip of the water from the
+noiseless oar. On high above the feathery palms crept the round disk
+of the moon. At last Iftikhar, never taking away his gaze, said: "O
+Mary, my own,--at last, at last,--I have made all good. You are mine
+now--body, soul, forever; for even in Paradise those who love are not
+sundered. For you will I strive to win glory as never man strove; a
+year, two years, and I lead you into Bagdad, first princess of the
+world. Hassan Sabah grows old; his glory passes to me, to you, whose
+slave I am,--and you shall be adored from the rising of the sun to its
+setting."
+
+"Ah! Iftikhar--" but Mary said no more; the emir had interrupted her.
+"Mine are no vain dreams. Kerbogha, lord of Mosul, is gathering all
+the might of Mesopotamia for our service. Amaz, emir of Fars, is with
+us; and the exiled Vizier Muejjed. The Fatimite kalif of Cairo is our
+ally, if all else prosper. Soon--soon--Bakyarok, the arch-sultan, is
+fallen, the phantom kalif of Bagdad vanished away, and the hour for
+the Ismaelians is come."
+
+Again Mary's lips opened; but the emir checked her.
+
+[Illustration: "IFTIKHAR TOOK FROM THE SEAT A LITTLE LUTE, TOUCHED THE
+STRINGS, AND SANG"]
+
+"O my own! why speak of this to-night? Hark, let me sing if I may, as
+Antar the hero sang the praise  of Abla, whose love he won by labors
+greater than mine; hearken."
+
+And Iftikhar took from the seat a little lute, touched the strings,
+and sang, while his rich voice stole softly over the waters:--
+
+    "Moonlight and starlight clear gleaming,
+    Over the slow waters streaming,
+      Glint on the lake's shining breast;
+    Fairer my love's eyes are beaming,
+    Where the dark wavelets lie dreaming,
+      By the soft oar lightly pressed!
+
+    "Now while the shore lights are dying,
+    Now while with swifter stroke plying,
+      Flit we across the dim deep;
+    Let us in rapt delight lying
+    Hear the mild wind gently hying
+      Where th' sprites night watches keep!
+
+    "O that for aye I might, sweeping
+    Where the long willows hang weeping,
+      Feel the musked breeze of the west
+    Over our blessèd bark creeping;
+    Then would I smile in my sleeping
+      By my love's white arms caressed!"
+
+When he raised his eyes to Mary, she could see they were touched by a
+gleam of awful fire; and her own breast and face grew warm, flushed
+with strange heat. The oar of the negro had stopped; the skiff drifted
+on slowly, slowly. Here toward the centre of the lake the water
+stretched beneath the moon, a mirror of black glass.
+
+"Mary, my beautiful!" cried Iftikhar, half rising, and he outstretched
+his arms. And Mary, as if his beck were a magician's, started toward
+him--the end! But as she stirred, her eye glanced downward; the
+moonbeams lit on something gleaming upon her hand--the silver ring of
+Richard Longsword: and a voice sounded, from the very heavens it
+seemed:--
+
+"Mary de St. Julien, what price may a Christian wife give in exchange
+for her soul!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI
+
+HOW MARY REDEEMED HER SOUL
+
+
+Near midnight--Morgiana had gone to her chamber early, but not to
+sleep. The throb of the music, the crash of the cymbals, the shoutings
+and laughter of the thousands,--all these nigh drove her mad. Twice
+had she tried to shut all out by a fierce resolve to hear no more, and
+sleep. Useless; sleep was a thousand leagues away. She had stood by
+her lattice and seen the multitudes swarming down to the illumined
+quay, had heard the praises of Mary Kurkuas ring up to heaven, had
+seen the boat glide into the darkness. And the Arab had cast herself
+on her cushions, and wept and wept, until her tears would no more
+flow. How long a time sped thus, she might not tell. When next she
+knew anything save her grief, she heard a light hand thrusting back
+the curtains from her bed.
+
+"Morgiana." Mary stood holding a little silver lamp. The coronet was
+still flashing on her flowing hair, the dim light shining on her bare
+neck and swan-white shoulders. Never in the eyes of her rival had she
+seemed fairer. Morgiana stirred, stared into Mary's face.
+
+"You have yielded! You are his--his forever! Oh, sorrow, sorrow!" So
+cried the Arab; but the Greek touched her cheek softly.
+
+"Hush, dear sister! I have not yielded. I have defied him; and this
+time there is a gulf sprung between us that only death can close. It
+was an angel from heaven that spoke; I must, I will--escape him! I
+must fly, fly--or it is best to perish!"
+
+"Fly!" cried Morgiana, startled now. "Allah the Compassionate! You are
+mad!" Mary checked her.
+
+"No, not mad; only I know that I cannot sell my soul to Iftikhar
+Eddauleh, though he led me sultana through Bagdad. Listen: I had a
+terrible scene with him in the boat. God knows what I said or did; I
+recall nothing, save as out of a frightful dream. But one thing I
+know, I am the wife of Richard Longsword, and till I know he is
+numbered with the dead, I will lift eyes to no man, nor angel either;
+but to Iftikhar Eddauleh never--till the endless ages end! Dear God--I
+can endure no more. I must--I will--fly!"
+
+"O dearest one," cried Morgiana, troubled greatly, "how may I comfort
+you? say what? do what? Allah pity us both!"
+
+"He will have pity!" burst out the Greek. "Follow me. When Iftikhar
+rowed back to the shore he was in a black rage. I hoped he would
+strike me dead. He did not. The Sultan Redouan and his lords were
+feasting in the palace. Said Iftikhar to the eunuchs at the quay, 'I
+must join the revelling, but lead the accursed woman back to the
+harem; for seven days she shall not see my face, since she likes it so
+ill.' But the eunuchs were reeling with their wine. I wrapped a veil
+about me, and evaded them. Then I wandered through the palace, as did
+the other women come from Aleppo. No one knew me. And as I strayed by
+the great banqueting hall, I saw one whom they styled Aboun Nedjn,
+vizier of Redouan, rise and shout the pledge, 'To the confusion of the
+Christians, and may they soon fight their last before Antioch!' Then I
+turned to one of the women, and said, 'And are the Christians
+besieging Antioch?' and she replied: 'How ignorant! All Aleppo knows
+that they have lain about that city all winter; certain prisoners of
+theirs have been brought to Aleppo; and now the Lord Iftikhar makes
+ready to join the great host which Kerbogha, emir of Mosul, is
+gathering to deliver Antioch and its prince, Yaghi-Sian.' Then I
+listened no more, but fled straight to you. For I must fly this very
+night. Think, Morgiana: at Antioch are the Christians; at Antioch are
+Duke Godfrey, and Raymond, and Tancred; at Antioch, oh, joy! is
+Richard Longsword, whose soul is more dear than my own!"
+
+"But, sweet sister," protested the Arab, "Antioch, I believe, is
+twenty of our Eastern leagues away, perhaps sixty of your Frankish
+miles. How can you make the journey? Alone?"
+
+"To-night!" cried Mary, tearing the gold from her hair. "To-night! All
+the palace is drunken. Even the 'devoted' are in stupid sleep. No
+watch is kept, I saw that well. A late slave boy returning to his
+master in Aleppo--no questions."
+
+"But the dangers of the way! Full of bandits, roving horsemen, the
+scum of both armies--for such must be afield. You on foot! The
+hardships; deathly peril!"
+
+"Light of my heart," exclaimed the Greek, "let the jackals prey on
+me--beasts or more cruel men,--if they be not Iftikhar Eddauleh!"
+
+"Curse him not," blazed the other; "not even you shall speak him ill.
+Fool, that you do not love him!"
+
+Mary was tearing off her silken dress.
+
+"Morgiana," she said very quietly, "you know the presses where the
+eunuchs keep their clothes:--bring me a vest and mantle, and a
+turban,--the coarsest you can find; and heavy shoes, if any fit me.
+St. Theodore," she cried, looking down at the white thongs of her
+sandals, where the gems were shining, "how miserable to have such
+small feet!"
+
+Morgiana obeyed without a word.
+
+"Your skin! Your face white as milk!" she protested, when Mary stood
+in the costume of a serving-page.
+
+The Greek laughed. "Have I not mocked you often for your Persian
+'light of the cheeks' which you keep in that casket? Take your pencils
+and your _kohl_, and make me dark and tanned as a true Syrian! Haste;
+the night is flying!" As she spoke, an iron ball dropped from the
+water-clock in the corner upon a bell. "An hour after midnight. Quick,
+if you love me and love yourself!"
+
+Morgiana did her task with all deftness.
+
+"They will search for you. You will be pursued at dawn!"
+
+"Say to Iftikhar," was the ready answer, "that I have wandered from
+the palace vowing to cast myself in the lake. Let him bid his
+'devoted' seek me there."
+
+"_Wallah!_ You are a terrible maid!" cried the Arabian. "But how
+beautiful a serving-boy!"
+
+"Now," continued Mary, desperately, "shears! my hair!"
+
+"Never," protested the other; "not as I live, shall I touch it. See, I
+will bind it up beneath your turban. But oh, think better; do not go.
+The danger is terrible!"
+
+"Morgiana," was the answer, "my husband is at Antioch. Naught can
+befall me worse than I suffer here. You have been a sweet sister to
+me; and I leave my kiss for Eleanor. May we never meet again!
+Farewell."
+
+They kissed each other. Mary saw Morgiana standing in the dim
+lamplight, her head bowed upon her hands. Then the Greek stole through
+the dimly lighted halls. When she stepped past the nodding eunuchs who
+were standing guard at the harem entrance, she felt a little quiver.
+They gave her never a sign. She wandered across the great entrance
+hall; only two lamps twinkling high up from the stalactites by the
+dome,--weird, ghostly light. She stumbled on some form--a man sleeping
+in his drunkenness; for the law of the Prophet against wine, who had
+observed that night? She saw dimly low gilt and ebony tables beside
+the divans, the food still on them. She caught some cakes of bread and
+thrust them under her girdle, then tasted a cup that had not been
+drained. The wine was sweet, she did not like it. She wandered on.
+Here was the portico, where another guard stared at her stupidly. She
+passed outward, two others passed in; a dying flambeau showed the
+features of Iftikhar and Hakem. Mary trembled, but one of the pillars
+was good shelter. The emir had been over his cups, and his face was
+flushed, his speech thick, rapid. The eunuch as ever was smiling.
+
+"By every evil efreet!" Iftikhar was swearing, "I will make her bend.
+In the boat I thought to win her kiss; she spat upon me! struggled so
+that scarce my strength could keep her from casting us into the lake!
+called the name of her accursed husband! See to her, Hakem. Bring her
+to more tractable state, and I give a thousand dinars; but let her
+spurn me again, and by the Brightness of Allah I will teach her she is
+slave indeed!"
+
+"The Fountain of Omnipotence," replied the eunuch, smoothly, "is too
+kind. Let the Star of the Greeks be given into my full custody. Let
+her learn to bow her head to poor Hakem; and it will go hard, unless
+she is all smiles to Iftikhar Eddauleh."
+
+"_Mashallah!_" cried the emir, "it shall be as you say. Well, I have
+sworn I will see her no more for seven days. Tame her, as you will.
+Sometimes I curse the hour when first I set eyes on her. Why shall I
+not deal with her as with any slave? Why speak of her love, her
+favor?--her body I own, assuredly. As for her soul,--_Wallah!_ to us
+Ismaelians of the upper degree, if man or maid have a soul--it is of
+too strange stuff to be reckoned with. But come, good slave! I have
+drunk too deep to-night. Soon I expect word from Kerbogha that our
+host must move to Antioch; and then I shall have other things in mind
+than flambeaux and the eyes of a maid."
+
+"My lord speaks with the wisdom of Allah!" fawned the eunuch. "I will
+go to our little bird to see that she sleeps secure, and in the
+morning she shall know your will."
+
+They passed within the palace. Mary glided up to the great gate. The
+yawning porters were just closing.
+
+"Eblees possess you!" cried one, holding up a lantern. "Back into the
+palace! Will you wander home to Aleppo at this hour? The city gates
+are barred long ago." But Mary's wits could work fast just now.
+
+"Good brother," said she, jauntily, "I have stayed over-late, I know.
+But if I fail to return, my master makes my back pay with cold
+stripes. And I have a friend on the watch at the gate who will open
+when I call."
+
+"_Mashallah!_ you speak a strange Arabic!" protested the man. "Your
+hands are small as those of the Star of the Greeks that they say our
+lord loves better than El Halebah itself."
+
+"And you too, friend," was her reply, "speak a tongue that makes me
+half believe you Christian! And no man living would liken your hands
+to any save ditcher's spades!"
+
+"By Mohammed's beard!" exclaimed the fellow, good-naturedly, "you have
+a sharp tongue in your little body. Well, go; and let the kind jinns
+fly with you. Though almost I think you are girl, and would cry to you
+'a kiss!'"
+
+"Never to such as you!" the retort. The gate closed behind her. All
+was dark. The last lamps on the great domes were out. Mary stole on in
+silence. There was not the slightest sound of bird, beast, or stirring
+leaf; just light enough to see where amid the trees the avenue led
+away from El Halebah to the outer road. Along that roadway--sixty
+miles due east, so she had reckoned--lay the camp of the
+Christians--and Richard Longsword! She was alone, and free! For a
+while neither weariness nor fear smote her. The ground could not fly
+fast enough under her feet. Again and again she wandered against
+thicket or trunk in the dimness of the trees, but the way led on, and
+she did not lose it. There was a strange gladness in her heart. "To
+Richard! to Richard!" O had she but eagle's wings to lend speed to her
+going! Suddenly the trees stopped. She was at the edge of the palace
+groves. To one side under the starlight she could just see the
+untraced masses of something--Aleppo; to the other side, the east, the
+stars told her, the hill and plain country stretched out scarce
+discernible. Mary turned her face toward the east, and saw the grove
+sink out of sight in the darkness. Then she walked yet faster.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was noon, and the Syrian sun beat down pitilessly. The spring
+foliage and buds seemed wilting under the fiery eye. The little brooks
+on the hillside had already dried to a trickling thread. Everywhere
+the eye lit on reddish sand; red sand-hills and plain country with
+here and there a tree. The road had faded to the merest trail, where a
+few horses had trodden the thin weeds a day or two before. Mary rose
+from the stone by this roadway, where she had been sitting beneath a
+solitary sumac. She had eaten her bread, had lifted the water in her
+hands out of the tiny pool. She was weary--utterly weary. Had she been
+told she had traversed a thousand leagues since setting forth the
+night before, she could well have believed it. Yet reason bespoke that
+she had come less than a score of miles. She was footsore, hungry,
+frightened. The caw of the distant crow bore terror; the whir of the
+wind over the sunny plain half seemed the howl of desert wolves.
+Already her feet trudged on painfully, while her unaccustomed dress
+was dusty and torn. Each moment the utter folly of her flight grew
+upon her. She was alone, a helpless maid in the midst of that often
+harried country which lay between Antioch and Aleppo. Only once had
+she met human kind. During the morning two swarthy-skinned peasants,
+flogging an obstinate ass toward Aleppo, had stopped, and gazed
+curiously at this solitary youth in page's dress, but with the face of
+one of Sultan Redouan's harem beauties.
+
+"Brother," one of the peasants had cried, "do you know that from
+Antioch to Aleppo scarce one house is inhabited? The Christians--may
+Allah bring them to perdition!--have sacked Dana and Sermada, and left
+only the dogs alive. All honest folk have fled nearer to Aleppo or
+southward."
+
+"I thank you, kind sheik," came the answer in an Arabic that made the
+peasant marvel, "but I know my road. Yet are there any Christians now
+at Dana?"
+
+"Praised be the Compassionate! Since the battle at Harenc they keep
+closer to their camps, though Allah that day vouchsafed them victory.
+It is told that Yaghi-Sian is making so many sallies, they are more
+than taxed to repel him, glory be to the Most High!"
+
+"I thank you, good sheik; peace be with you!" And Mary had hastened on
+her way, leaving the peasants to wonder.
+
+One said: "Let us go back. This youth is no common wayfarer. Let us
+question him further."
+
+But the other wisely answered:--
+
+"The day is hot. What is written in the book of doom is written. Leave
+the youth to God! Let us reach Aleppo and rest!"
+
+So they fell again to beating the ass, while Mary dropped them out of
+view. She had been made less weary then, and the dialogue had lent
+wings to her feet. Presently she came to a wretched village: squalid,
+dark, rubble houses with thatched roofs; a few poor fields around,
+with the weeds growing higher than the sprouting corn. She hesitated
+to walk through the single street, but not a soul met her. The doors
+of the houses gaped open; within was scanty household stuff scattered
+over the earthen floors. Every house bore signs of hasty leaving. Two
+or three were mere charred shells, for the torch had been set to their
+thatches. Over in the field a flock of crows and kites were
+wheeling,--some carrion,--but Mary did not go near. Yet, as she walked
+this street, as it seemed of the dead, forth ran snapping and barking
+several gray, blear-eyed dogs. For a moment she quaked lest they tear
+her in pieces. But at the sound of her voice they sank back whining,
+and followed on a long time, sniffing the bread under her girdle, and
+hoping to be fed.
+
+She shook them off at last, half glad, half sorry, to have nothing
+living near her. And now she was sitting by the roadway, looking down
+into the tiny pool and thinking. She took off her shoes and let her
+little white feet trail in the water,--very little and very white,
+never fashioned by the Creator, so she told herself with a sobbing
+laugh, to be bruised by the hard road. Once Musa at Palermo had
+composed verses in praise of her feet; how they were shaped only to
+tread upon flowers, or to whisk in dances, or be bathed with perfumes
+worth an emir's ransom. Holy Mother! and what were they like to walk
+over now! She looked at her hands; as she dipped them in the brook
+nearly all the bronzing of Morgiana had washed away. They too had been
+praised, times past numbering. A learned poet at Constantinople had
+written some polished iambics, likening them to the hands of Artemis,
+virgin huntress on the Arcadian hills. How helpless and worthless
+they were! Mary saw her face in the pool also. Her beauty--despite the
+disguise--her curse; the bane of so many lovers! "Better, better,"
+came the thought, "a thousand times I had been foul as an old hag,
+than to have my beauty lay snares for my soul!" And then the thought
+followed: "No, not better, whatever be my fate; for by my beauty I won
+the love of Richard, and the memory of his love cannot be taken from
+me in a thousand years!" Then, speaking to herself, she said
+resolutely: "Now, my foolish Mary de St. Julien, though your feet are
+so weary, they must prepare to be still more weary. For there is many
+a long league yet before you see the Christian camp at Antioch, and
+set eyes on your dread Frankish lord."
+
+So, telling herself that she was a soldier's daughter and a soldier's
+wife, that the toils of travel would be as nothing to her father's
+campaign with the Patzinaks, she arose to continue the toilsome way.
+But as she stood over the little pool, the water looked more cool and
+tempting than ever. It was tedious to drink from the hands--a cup! Her
+hands went up to her hair, where was the blue muslin turban so
+carefully wound by Morgiana; and underneath it a silken skullcap. She
+unwound the turban, her hair fell in soft brown tresses all over her
+shoulders. As she bent to fill the cap, in the water she saw again her
+face, framed now in the shining hair.
+
+"Allah!" she cried, after the manner of the Arabs, "how beautiful I
+am! how Richard will love me!" And she laughed at her own complacency.
+A sudden shout made her start like a fawn when the hounds are baying;
+then a rush of hoofs, an outcry.
+
+"Iftikhar! He is pursuing!" her thought; and Mary sprang to run up the
+sandy hillside. Not Iftikhar; from behind the little sand-hill to the
+west six horsemen had appeared in a twinkling: all on long-limbed,
+sleek-coated desert steeds. Mary ran as for dear life, scarce knowing
+what she did.
+
+"_Ya! Ya!_" came the shout, in a mongrel Arabic, "a maid; seize!
+capture! a prize!"
+
+It was all over in less time than the telling. Mary never knew how it
+befell. She was standing once more by the roadway; two men,
+dismounted, were holding her. The other four still sat on their
+saddles. All six were devouring her with their eyes, and pelting her
+with questions she had no wits to answer. Her captors, she began to
+judge, were roving Syrian cavalrymen--half warriors, half bandits,
+tall, wiry-limbed, swarthy, sharp-featured. They and their steeds were
+gorgeously decked out with strings of bright silk tassels. They wore
+light steel caps polished bright; at their sides were short cimeters;
+over their shoulders were curved bows and round, brass-studded
+targets. When they opened their bearded lips to chatter, their teeth
+shone sharp and white as of hungry cats. At last Mary found words. The
+blood of the great house of Kurkuas was in her veins. Even in this
+dire strait she knew how to put on pride and high disdain.
+
+"Slaves," was her command, "unhand me! Who are you, so much as to look
+upon my face! By what right will you treat me as is unfit to one of
+your own coarse brood?"
+
+The curve of the lip and the lordly poise for an instant disconcerted
+even the Syrians. But soon one of them answered, with a soldier's
+banter:--
+
+"By the soul of my father, pretty one, I half dream you a sultana.
+Does Allah rain houris in youths' clothes upon the waste land betwixt
+Sermada and Harenc? _Bismillah!_ we do not light every day on a
+partridge plump as you!"
+
+"Let me go, fools," cried the Greek, turning very pale, but more with
+wrath than fear, "or you will find my little finger large enough to
+undo you all."
+
+But at this the six only roared their laughter, and for a moment ogled
+their captive with sinful eyes that made Mary's soul turn sick. She
+made one last appeal, and only her own heart knew what it cost her to
+say the word.
+
+"Act not in folly. Carry me to Aleppo, and deliver me safely to the
+great emir, Iftikhar Eddauleh. He will give you for me my weight in
+gold."
+
+Another laugh, but the six looked at one another.
+
+"Tell me," quoth the earlier speaker, "O Star that falls in the
+Desert, how you come here, if you are possessed by Iftikhar Eddauleh?"
+
+Mary only flushed with new anger.
+
+"Beast, who are you that I should answer? Do as I bid you, or it will
+be to your hurt!"
+
+"Truly, O Yezid," began a second Syrian, "it may be as she says. Let
+us ride to Aleppo."
+
+But Yezid, who seemed the leader of the band, gave a deep curse.
+
+"To Aleppo? We are too little loved by Redouan to risk our heads
+within bowshot of his executioner. Look upon the maid; she is one of
+the Franks, whoever she be. She will fetch a hundred purses in the
+market. Yet I am minded myself to possess her!"
+
+Mary looked at the Syrian; noted his coarse, carnal eye, and the
+impure passion in it, and felt her heart turning to stone.
+
+"Dear God," ran her prayer, "give me strength to bear all; for I am in
+the clutch of demons."
+
+But the other five had raised a great outcry.
+
+"Verily, O Yezid," shouted one, "you are a river of generosity. Six of
+us capture the maid, and you protest that she is yours alone. May
+Allah cut me off from Paradise if I part with my claim to her."
+
+"And who are you, O Zubair," raged back Yezid, his teeth more catlike
+than ever, "to dispute my right? Am I not the chief? When we held the
+rich Jew without water four days since, did I not share the ransom
+equally? And now that we possess this maid, whose form and face fit my
+eye as my sword its sheath--" and as he spoke he laid his hand on
+Mary's bare neck, making the white flesh creep under his foul touch,
+and lifting the soft mass of her telltale hair. The five cut him short
+with one yell. "Never, insatiate one!" And Zubair added: "Let the maid
+be sold, and the money divided. If we may not take her to Aleppo, let
+us swing her across a saddle and spur away to Hamath, where there is a
+good market! As you have said,--a hundred purses for such an houri of
+the Franks. Better profit twenty fold than watching these roads, when
+the Christians have swept the country clean!"
+
+Yezid grinned more savagely than ever; and Mary closed her eyes that
+she might not see his leer.
+
+"I have sworn it," cried he. "This once must you sons of Eblees give
+way. I like the girl well. Not for an hundred purses would I part with
+her. Is she not my captive? shall I not bear her away to the mountains
+where is our camp, and the other women?"
+
+Mary closed her eyes tighter. She knew _then_, if not before, that it
+had been a mad boast indeed when she said to Morgiana, "Naught can
+befall me worse than I suffer here at El Halebah." The evening before
+she had been hailed princess, sovereign of thousands--and now! Her
+eyes she could close; not her ears, and the foul speech of the angry
+Syrians smote them, though her sense grew numb by sheer agony. Louder
+and louder the quarrel. Presently she heard a great shout from Yezid.
+
+"By the Beard of Mohammed! either you shall give the girl up to me, to
+work my will, or my cimeter is in her breast." His clutch tightened,
+and Mary saw through her eyelashes a bright blade held before her.
+"Death at last, the Blessed Mother be praised!" and she closed her
+eyes, and tried to murmur the words of "Our Father." But the voice of
+Zubair grew conciliatory. "Valiant captain, not so angry. You have the
+chief claim, but not the only one. Let us not broil, good comrades
+that we are. True the Prophet--on whom be peace--forbids dice; but
+Allah will be compassionate, and I have some about me. Let us cast for
+the maid. You win and possess her. We,--she goes to Hamath, and the
+sale's money is divided amongst us five!"
+
+Yezid began to growl in his beard, but the shout of the rest silenced
+him. "Let it be as you said!" he muttered. And Mary, opening her eyes,
+now saw Zubair and the chief standing by the rock, and shaking the
+dice in the hollows of their hands. How strange it all looked! On the
+cast of four bits of ivory her own weal or woe was hanging! The
+fortune of her--a Grecian princess, a baroness of France, a Sultana of
+the Ismaelians! Was it not a dream? One cast,--a curse from Zubair. A
+second,--Yezid smiled and smirked toward her. Again Zubair
+cast,--again he cursed; and when Yezid lifted his hand he gave a loud,
+beastly laugh.
+
+"Praises be to Allah! You have all lost. This houri, comes she here
+from the clouds or from Aleppo, is mine. _Ya!_ I can wait no more to
+kiss her!" But just as Mary felt sight and sound reeling when he
+seized her, there was a great howl from the Syrians.
+
+"Flight! To horse! O Allah, save!" And down the eastern road Mary saw,
+not six, but sixty, cavalrymen in headlong gallop; all with white
+robes and turbans, and at the head a rider whose armor was bright as
+the sun.
+
+"Away, my peacock!" shouted Yezid, who, even in that moment, tried to
+swing Mary into his saddle before him. But as the words sped from his
+sinful throat, a shaft of Iftikhar went through his horse's flank, and
+the wounded beast was plunging.
+
+"_Allah akhbar!_" the yell of the Ismaelians as they swept around
+Mary's captors, almost ere the luckless bandits could strike spur; and
+it was Iftikhar's own hand that plucked Mary from the clutch of Yezid.
+
+"Bind fast!" his command. "_Bismillah!_ what were they about to do?"
+
+"This beast had won me at dice. He was to carry me to his den in the
+mountains, he boasted," Mary said, with twitching lips.
+
+"Mercy, O Sea of Compassion!" Yezid was whining; "how should I know
+that I offended my lord?"
+
+"_Ya_," hissed Iftikhar; "strike off the heads of these five here; let
+the jackals eat them. But their chief shall go to Aleppo, where we
+will plunge his head in a sack of quicklime."
+
+Then, with not a word to Mary, he had his men devise a horse-litter,
+placed her in it, and the whole troop headed again for Aleppo.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII
+
+HOW MORGIANA PROFFERED TWO CUPS
+
+
+It was the next morning at El Halebah that Mary found Morgiana in her
+aviary. Here, in a broad chamber at the top of the palace, too high
+for any vulgar eye that chanced across the Kuweik to light on the
+dwellers of this wind-loved spot, the Arabian had her eyry. The high
+openings in the walls were overhung with fine, nigh invisible
+nettings, the floor strewn with white sand; and, despite the height,
+means had been found to keep a little fountain playing in a silver
+basin; and just now two finches were gayly splashing in its tiny pool.
+All around in deep tubs were growing oleanders, myrtle, laurel,
+although the birds made difficult the lives of the blossoms; there
+were hairy ferns, and the scent of sweet thyme was in the air; around
+the arabesqued columns roved dark, cool ivy; in and out through the
+meshes of the netting buzzed the adventurous honey-bee, flying thus
+high in hopes of spoil. Everywhere were the birds--finch, thrush,
+sparrow, ring-dove, and even a nightingale that, despite the drooping
+for his vanished freedom, Morgiana had by some magic art persuaded to
+sing evening after evening, and make the whole room one garden of
+music. As the young Arabian stood, upon her shoulder perched a
+consequential blackcap cocking his saucy head; and a wood-pigeon was
+hovering over her lips trying to carry away the grain there in his
+bill. Morgiana had named all the birds, and they learned to answer to
+their calls. As for fearing her, they would sooner have fluttered at
+their own shadows. Mary pushed back the door, stepped inside, and as
+she did so a whir of wings went through all the plants, for she was
+not so well known to the birds as was their mistress. But after the
+first flash and chirp there was silence once more, save as the doves
+in one corner kept up their coo, coo, around a cherished nest.
+Morgiana opened her lips; the pigeon swept away the grain, and lit
+upon a laurel spray, proud of his booty. Then the Arabian turned to
+her visitor. The Greek was very pale; under her eyes dark circles and
+red, as if she had slept little and cried much. For a moment she did
+not speak. Then Morgiana brushed the blackcap from her shoulder, and
+ran and put her arms about Mary.
+
+"Ah! sweet sister,--so I have you back again! It was as I said, folly,
+impossible madness."
+
+"Yes, madness!" answered the Greek, very bitterly. "I was indeed mad
+to forget that I am naught but a weak woman, made to be admired and
+toyed with, for strong men's holiday. But oh, it was passing sweet at
+first to think, 'I am free--I am going to Richard!'" And at the name
+of the Norman, her eyes again were bright with tears.
+
+"O dearest and best!" cried Morgiana, clasping her closer, "what can I
+say to you, how comfort you? I heard the eunuchs tell of the plight in
+which Iftikhar found you. My blood runs chill as I speak. Allah! There
+are worse things than to be a captive of Iftikhar Eddauleh!"
+
+"You say well, my sister; but how came Iftikhar to follow me? You did
+not betray? You told the tale I gave you?"
+
+"Yes," protested the Arab, with half a laugh. "But in the morning,
+while Iftikhar foamed and the eunuchs dragged the pond, there came on
+me the desire to breathe the hemp smoke, and when the craving comes,
+not all the jinns of the abyss may stop me. And as I reeled over the
+smoke, I saw you in direful peril, clutched by wanton hands, facing a
+fate worse than death! Then I fought with myself. You were gone at
+last! And my evil nature said to me, 'Leave the Greek to her living
+death. Iftikhar is yours alone, you may win back his heart again, and
+be happy--happy!' But, O dearest, when I thought of your agony, I
+could not be silent. I told Iftikhar whither you had fled, and he
+spurred after and saved you."
+
+"Yes," echoed Mary, "he has 'saved' me, as you well say. Not a word
+did he speak to me on the homeward journey. Last night I fell asleep
+the moment my head touched the pillow. Oh, bliss, how sweet that long
+sleep was! And in it I saw Richard Longsword, and he was holding my
+hand, and I could look up into his face. Then I awoke--Hakem, near me,
+saying that by the command of the emir hereafter he was to have my
+ordering! It was passing from heaven to nethermost hell. And here I am
+again! Helpless, passive, for others to work their will upon! while
+twenty leagues away lies Antioch and Richard and perfect joy. Yet I
+thank you, sister,--there is something worse than to be in the hands
+of Iftikhar, but God alone knows if there be anything I may pay you
+for the debt I owe."
+
+"Do you believe in a good God?" said Morgiana, stepping backward and
+looking into the Greek's eyes.
+
+"Do not Christians and Moslems alike believe in Him?" was the
+wondering answer.
+
+"Then," persisted Morgiana, a fierce ring coming into her tone; "why
+does He suffer you to endure such sorrow?"
+
+"He alone knows," was the reply. "It is as I said,--some fearful sin
+that I have committed and forgotten; or else"--and there was a new
+brightness in the eye of the Greek--"I am permitted to endure some
+pain that my husband had otherwise been made to bear."
+
+"O foolish one!" came the retort of the Arabian. "You sin? The soul of
+Allah is not whiter than yours; no, not as white! Richard Longsword is
+strong enough to endure his own pains; yes, and has endured them if
+you are to him as he to you! I will curse God--you may not stay me.
+Unkind, cruel, He is! All-powerful indeed, yet using His power to
+plunge His creatures into misery!"
+
+The Greek shuddered. "Beware! He will strike you dead!" her warning.
+
+"Dead?" echoed Morgiana, lifting her dark bare arms high, as if
+calling down heavenly wrath, and bidding it welcome; "almost I think
+His power ends there! If He had mercy on me, I were dead long ago. But
+no--I go on, living, breathing, talking, laughing,"--and here she did
+indeed laugh, in a terrible manner that made Mary quake.
+
+"Pity me. God is angry enough with us already. Anger Him no more!"
+cried the Greek.
+
+Morgiana laughed again. "_Hei!_" she continued, "let us look at our
+case with both eyes. You are back again at El Halebah. By your flight
+Iftikhar assuredly considers his pledge to you at an end. What do you
+expect?"
+
+"To be treated like any other captive of his 'bow and spear,' as you
+people say. To be at his will, sometimes to be caressed as these birds
+are by you, sometimes neglected; when I grow old or out of favor to
+see new women thrust before me, as, St. Theodore pity me, I have
+supplanted you. I shall in time grow sleepy, fat, and in a poor way
+contented; for such is the manner of the harem. Within four walls and
+a garden I shall live out my life. If God is still angry, I shall
+become very old. At last I shall die--when I shall have been among you
+Moslems so long that I can scarce remember 'Our Father.' Where my soul
+then will go, I know not; it will be worth little; sodden and dried by
+this cageling's life till an ox's were nobler."
+
+"O dearest," cried the Arabian, laughing, but half in tears now, "your
+words are arrows to my soul. You must be free, free--either you or I.
+What would you give to be truly free? Give for rest, peace, joy, an
+end of sorrow, struggle, longing?"
+
+"That waits only beyond the stars," answered the Greek. But she
+started when she saw the wandering glitter in Morgiana's eyes, and
+there was a wild half-rhythm in the Arabian's words when she replied:
+"Why not the stars and beyond? Why not seek out the pathways of the
+moon, the gates of the sun, the enchanted islands of the sweet West,
+and rest, rest, sleep, sleep--pangless, painless, passionless!"
+
+"Morgiana!" exclaimed Mary. The other answered still in half-chant.
+"Yes, there is a way--a way. I will go, will return, and to one of us
+the door is opened,--opened wide!"
+
+Then with a gliding, uneasy step she started away. "Back!" warned
+Morgiana to Mary, who attempted to follow. "I will do myself no harm.
+I return at once." Almost immediately she reëntered, in each hand a
+silver cup, the cups identical, each filled with violet sherbet. She
+set them upon the slab by the fountain. There was no madness in her
+glance now.
+
+"I am thirsty," said the Greek, simply; "may I drink?"
+
+"Drink?" repeated the Arabian, with a strange intonation. "Yes, in
+Allah's name, but first hearken! Many years ago, in Bagdad, a wise old
+woman taught me of an Indian drug, two pellets, small as shrivelled
+peas, in a little wine. Drink, and go to sleep--sleep so sound that
+you waken only when Moukir and Nakir, the death angels, sift soul from
+body. In Palermo, Iftikhar brought to his harem a Moorish girl. It was
+the hour of the beginning of my sorrow. A little made my breast fire,
+and my jealousy was swifter than the falling stars, which are Allah's
+bolts against the rebel efreets. One night when the Moor drank
+sherbet, she tasted nothing, she went to sleep; they found her body
+with a smile on the lips--her soul--? Ask the winds and the upper
+air."
+
+Mary's eyes were fastened on the silver cups; were they brimmed with
+nectar of the old Greek gods that they should charm her so? She heard
+her heart-beats, and bated her breath while Morgiana continued: "You
+wish to be free. So do I. Life is terrible to you; only when you sleep
+is there peace, fair visions, joy. Do you know, I had resolved, when I
+learned Iftikhar was bringing you to Aleppo, that you should drink of
+sherbet from my hands the first night of all; and wake--where even
+Iftikhar's eagle eye could never follow you?"
+
+"Holy Mother! why did you spare me?" came across Mary's teeth.
+
+"Why? Because, when I saw you pure as a lily of the spring, and so
+fair that the rose blushed in redder shame before you, and knew that
+your sorrow passed mine,--I had no will to kill you. Yes, your very
+love for death disarmed my hate. And now?"--she pointed to the cups.
+
+Mary felt herself held captive as her spellbound gaze followed
+Morgiana.
+
+The Arabian knelt by the marble slab; took up the two cups; held them
+forth.
+
+"Mary, Star of the Greeks," said Morgiana, looking straight into the
+Christian's eyes, "you believe in God; that He is good; that He orders
+all things well. Be it so. Then either He ordains that you spend your
+life the slave of Iftikhar, or that you be free. Either He ordains
+that I should possess Iftikhar, and he me--me only, or that I should
+flit far hence, where pang and remembrance of my loss can never
+follow. Therefore I say this. Here are two cups, alike as two drops of
+the spraying fountain. In one,--but I say not which,--I have placed
+the pellet of the Indian drug. The cups I cannot tell apart, save as I
+remember. You shall take the cups. I leave the room. You shall place
+them where you will, only so that I may forget which has received the
+magic pellet. I will then return. You shall drink of one, whichever
+you choose,--I the other. We shall kiss one another three times, lie
+down on the divan, and rest. Whom Allah wills, shall awake beyond the
+stars; whom Allah wills, shall awake in El Halebah! All is left to
+God. There is no taste, no pang; only sleep, sweet as a child on its
+mother's arm. For every day my love for you grows; but every day my
+heart says, 'Except Mary the Christian and Morgiana the Moslem be
+sundered by seven seas, woe--only woe--for both!'" Still the Greek did
+not reply. What were these visions flitting before her eyes? Not the
+birds; not the feathery palm groves waving beneath the palace walls.
+All her past life was there,--her father's stately house in
+Constantinople; the glory of the great city; the wild scenes of the
+escape to Sicily; Richard Longsword plucking her from the Berbers; the
+tourney--De Valmont in his blood; the hour when Richard touched her
+lips with the first kiss; the marriage; the last sight of her husband
+in the morning twilight at Dorylæum. Scene upon scene, a wild, moving
+pageant; yet behind all seemed to hover the shadow of Iftikhar--Iftikhar,
+the cause of sorrow and tears unnumbered. Still Morgiana held out the
+cups. "Taste!" she was saying. "You cannot tell. All is in the hands
+of God,--whether you bow your head to your fate, or to-night the
+moonbeams are your pillow; or whether I am escaped from all my
+heartache; can flit over your couch on unseen wing, and teach you to
+endure, as best you may, till the hour comes when hand in hand we can
+fly up the path of the sun and join in the dance of the winds."
+
+As bidden, Mary touched her finger first in one cup then in the other,
+placing each drop in turn on her lips. The same--she might have
+drained both goblets and known no difference. Truly the issue was with
+God! And still Morgiana proffered.
+
+"Take; we have been dear sisters together. How can I bless Allah when
+I desire to love you so, yet know that your life is misery to me, as
+misery to you? You have many times said you prayed for death."
+
+And then Mary spoke, a wondrous spell binding her:--
+
+"Not so, Morgiana,--unfair. Why should I live and you die? Let me
+drink alone of this blessed drug that makes the heart cease bleeding.
+And you may live--live and be glad with Iftikhar."
+
+Morgiana shook her raven-black hair, and spoke with an awful smile.
+
+"Always is death sweet--I will not shun it, if Allah so wills. All I
+know is, we twain cannot live together; not in this world. Perhaps it
+is the Most High's will that I should go out, and you remain to give
+joy to Iftikhar. We leave all to Him. Then let us drink; and each
+await the other. Therefore--take." Mary had received the cups. "Place
+them where and as you will; I return speedily." And Morgiana was gone.
+The Greek gazed on the magic liquor as though on her lover's face.
+Almost she seemed to feel herself transformed, transfigured; clothed
+with wings white as swans' sails, and soaring upward, upward into
+perfect freedom. She saw her father, her mother,--that fair angel face
+of childish years. She thought of Richard Longsword. There would be no
+time for her, while awaiting the golden morning when her husband could
+look upon her face with naught to dread. Did thus God will? She had
+set the cups on the railing by the windows. "Come back!" was her call
+to Morgiana. The Arab glided straight to the cups; took one; lifted to
+her lips. "Let Allah have pity on one of us!" her words. But as Mary's
+hand stretched out to do the like, she gave a mighty cry. Her goblet
+fell: the other was dashed from Morgiana's hand.
+
+"Dear God! What do we?" cried the Greek. "Spare me this temptation!
+Nor do you commit this wickedness. Never shall we so tempt God. Though
+the grief be a thousand times more great, yet will I trust His mercy.
+I am a Christian, and Our Lord did not hang on the tree in vain to
+make us strong to bear. Death would be sweet. But had we God's wisdom,
+our present pangs would seem nothing, hid in the speeding ages of joy.
+Let us, each after our manner, call on God to show us pity. But never
+shall one of us stand before His face unsummoned, and cry, 'I am too
+weak to bear what Thou appointest!'"
+
+Morgiana's face flushed livid; she staggered back.
+
+"Then let Allah, if He may, have mercy; our need is great!"--such her
+cry from twitching lips. But as the words came, Mary saw the Arab's
+eyes set in a glassy stare; the lithe form fell heavily. Mary caught
+her round the waist, and laid her on the marble floor by the fountain;
+then dashed water in her face, and shouted for help.
+
+Help came--the under-eunuchs, Hakem, Zeyneb; and finally Iftikhar,
+lordly and splendid, in a suit of perfectly plain black armor with two
+white hawks' wings nodding on his helmet, spurred and girded as for a
+foray. The eunuchs brought cordials, strong waters, and pungent
+perfumes. But Iftikhar first knelt by Morgiana's side, drew forth the
+little red vial, and laid the magic, fiery drops upon her tongue. The
+Arab shook herself; her form relaxed; the eyes opened. They bore her
+into a room leading from the aviary, and propped her on the divan
+cushions. Not till then did Iftikhar speak a word. Now one gesture
+sent all save the two women and Zeyneb from the chamber, when the emir
+broke forth:--
+
+"In the name of Allah Omnipotent, what means this, Morgiana? I demand
+it; speak!"
+
+And the Arab answered with her gaze full on Iftikhar.
+
+"Cid, I asked Mary the Greek to drink out of one of two goblets, in
+one of which was a sleeping potion from which the sleeper awakens
+never. She refused, saying it were better to endure than to tempt the
+Most High. That is all."
+
+A flash of terrible rage crossed the emir's face. "Witch! sorceress!
+Have you sought to make the Greek take her life? As the Most High
+lives, you shall be impaled!"
+
+"Peace, master," said Mary, gently. "I have refused her proffer. Be
+assured I will find strength to bear until I see once more my true
+husband, or having endured your unholy will, in God's own time I die."
+
+But at the word the face of Iftikhar was blackened with yet deeper
+fury. "Your husband!" came thickly. "Yes, master," answered the Greek;
+"for, living or dying, Richard de St. Julien is my true husband."
+
+Iftikhar cut her short: "Dying? What if dead?"
+
+A frightful suspicion crossed Mary's mind. It was her face that was
+pallid now. But Iftikhar reassured her with a forced laugh: "_Ya_, how
+easy to tell you, 'Richard, the Frankish barbarian, whose sport is
+slaying guileless boys, has gone to his long account in the fighting
+around Antioch.' But I say to you, he lives, and I go to Antioch to
+seek his life."
+
+The Greek was herself once more. Very steadily she answered: "Master,
+let God judge Richard de St. Julien for slaying Gilbert de Valmont,
+since Zeyneb I see has learned and told the tale. But let God also
+judge Iftikhar Eddauleh, who is mightier with the dagger of his
+underlings than with his own sword, and who finds iron lances as light
+in his hand as those of reed."
+
+The words of the Greek were slingstones whirled in the emir's face. In
+the blindness of his fury he sprang toward her, and struck. The woman
+tottered, recovered; then tore back the muslin from her neck and
+shoulders:--
+
+"Strike!" cried she, "strike again! Are you not master? Are you not
+lord of this body of mine you so lust after? What is a little pain, a
+few blows, beside what I ever bear!"
+
+Iftikhar's muscles grew tense as springing steel when he reined in his
+passion. When he spoke, his voice was low and husky: "Woman, you drive
+me to all bounds. You do well to call me 'master.' Truly I am, as you
+shall own with sorrow, if not with joy. But two evenings past you were
+queen, with the heir of Hassan Sabah your slave. But now--" he was
+silent, but broke forth again--"my pledge to you is at an end. You are
+mine. I will break your will, if I may not win it. You still hold the
+face of Richard Longsword dear?"
+
+"Yes, by every saint!" flashed the defiant Greek.
+
+"Hark, then," was the laugh of hate; "I go soon to Antioch in company
+with the great host Kerbogha of Mosul gathers to rescue Yaghi-Sian
+besieged by the Christians. I go second in command, with the twelve
+thousand 'devoted' of Syria, to whom death is less than sleep, who can
+stanch thirst with the vapor from the sunburned sand, whose steeds
+find food sniffing the desert blast. We will gird round the Franks
+tight as a ring girds the finger. I know the bull valor of your
+Christians. But they shall die as die the flies, or fall one and all
+our prey--prisoners. And Richard Longsword--"
+
+"Look him fairly in the face--as at Dorylæum!" cried the Greek, in hot
+scorn. "As at Dorylæum!"
+
+"And Richard Longsword," continued Iftikhar, still steadily, "as
+surely as the sun moves from east to west, I will slay in battle, or,
+taking alive, you shall see him my captive. Yes; by the brightness of
+Allah! When I go to Antioch, you go also; with your own eyes you shall
+see the fate of those Franks you love. You shall see Richard borne
+asunder on the cimeters of the 'devoted' or haled fettered before me."
+
+He paused, expecting an outburst. None! The Greek was standing
+proudly, her head poised high, eyes very bright.
+
+"And at the end you shall indeed touch the head of your Richard. The
+head,--for you shall hear the crier traverse the city, proclaiming,
+'He who would amuse himself, come to the great square,--the body of
+Richard the Frank is exposed to the dogs!'"
+
+Mary took two steps toward the Ismaelian; her voice was low; she was
+pale, but did not tremble.
+
+"Lord Iftikhar, if God suffered and you placed even now the head of
+Richard Longsword in my arms, rest assured I would kiss it with never
+so much love. For I would know a brave and noble spirit waited on high
+till it were granted me to stand at his side, all his sins washed
+white by God's mercy. But, my Cid, better to think of bearding the
+lion than of celebrating the hunting. For, hear my word; go to
+Antioch, you, the 'devoted,' the hordes of Kerbogha,--go all, and meet
+there men with a love for God in their hearts, a heaven-sped strength
+in their good arms. Not with dagger and stealth shall you meet; but
+man to man, breast to breast, sword to sword,--and Christ shall
+conquer!"
+
+"Silence!" tossed out the emir, losing self-control.
+
+"Well you cry 'silence'! First silence your own dark soul--silence
+reproach for blood spilled wantonly, for tears your deeds have made to
+flow. At heart you Ismaelians believe in no God! Believe then in
+devils; tremble! For many await you! And this you shall find: men can
+die for Christ no less than for Allah! Aye, and can live for Christ;
+by His strength, make you Moslems die! As for me I shall not die; in
+some strange way, by some strange voice, I am warned God will save me
+utterly; and I shall see you blasted, stricken, accursed--and that
+were joy of joys!"
+
+Mary's voice had risen higher, fiercer; her hands outstretched in
+imprecation. Before the wild gust of her passion Iftikhar had shrunk
+back like a timid beast. For a moment the Greek was master, queen as
+never before. Then sudden as the flame had flashed, it died. Mary
+stood with drooping head, silent, statue-like.
+
+"Away! From my sight!" commanded Iftikhar. His captive did not move.
+Hakem had reëntered.
+
+"Take her away," cried his master; "keep her close,--let her lack
+nothing; but as Allah lives, her will shall bow. Let her go to Antioch
+when I go; but I will not see her face again until I can show her
+Richard Longsword dead or my captive. And now--begone!"
+
+Mary followed the eunuch with never a word. But Morgiana, silent long,
+broke forth:--
+
+"Cid--seek no more blood in private quarrel. Keep the Greek. I do not
+pray for her or for me. But for your own sake--for you who are still
+the light of my soul, despite all the wrongs--do not go to Antioch.
+Ruin awaits you there. Even the 'devoted' shall fail. True is _Citt_
+Mary's warning. Allah will fight with the Christians. Leave Kerbogha
+to the decree of doom; leave to doom Richard Longsword. I have said
+it--ruin, woe awaits at Antioch. I have said it, and my warnings never
+fail!"
+
+Iftikhar swore a great oath.
+
+"Then by Allah that liveth and reigneth ever, they shall fail now! Let
+doom decree what it will, to Antioch I go, and to Gehenna speeds
+Richard Longsword!"
+
+He turned on his heel, while she made no reply.
+
+"Zeyneb," quoth he to the ever ready dwarf, "in your head are hid half
+my wits. You are a faithful servant. In my cause you would outwit
+Eblees' self. I declare, by the great name of Allah said thrice, when
+they proclaim Iftikhar the kalif, they shall proclaim Zeyneb the
+vizier."
+
+The dwarf wagged his ears after his wont, to show how highly he prized
+such praise.
+
+"In a few days," continued the grand prior, "I go to join Kerbogha.
+You know all my plans, my secrets. While at Antioch there may come to
+El Halebah from Alamont and our other strongholds messages needing
+instant despatch. You must answer. I give you this signet: seal them
+in Hassan Sabah's own name."
+
+Iftikhar drew from his bosom a tiny silk bag, and took forth a ring
+set with a single emerald, worth an emir's treasure house.
+
+"The ring of Hassan Sabah!" exclaimed the dwarf.
+
+"_Mashallah!_ is it not a talisman?" came the reply. "Graven with the
+sign of the 'dirk and the cord,' no Ismaelian dare refuse anything
+commanded by the bearer, whosoever he be, under pain of forfeit of the
+pearl-walled pavilion of Paradise. Even the bidding of a grand prior,
+except he be present in person to order otherwise, is over-ridden by a
+fisherman wearing this ring. Therefore guard as the apple of your eye.
+Place it in the strong box where I keep my gems; only wear the key
+about your neck."
+
+The dwarf knelt and kissed his master's robe.
+
+"Cid, you overwhelm me with your confidence! How may I requite?"
+
+Iftikhar only laughed carelessly; the dwarf's eye roved round the
+room.
+
+"Morgiana has seen and heard," suddenly he whispered.
+
+The grand prior's answer was a second laugh. Then he added: "Morgiana?
+She would shed half her blood before twittering such a secret. Smell
+out greater dangers, my Zeyneb!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII
+
+HOW EYBEK TURNED GRAY
+
+
+"And how is it with the Star of the Greeks?" repeated Musa, while
+Richard Longsword's face grew gnarled as a mountain oak. At the
+Norman's silence, the Arab also became grave as death, and in a
+whisper that scarce left his throat, he asked:--
+
+"As you are my friend, tell me, was it in the mountains where they say
+you suffered so from thirst? or in the camp where was the plague and
+fever?"
+
+Richard shook his head; then at last came the words:--
+
+"She lives--at least I fear so!"
+
+"Allah the Compassionate!" was the Spaniard's cry, "you 'fear' she
+lives?"
+
+The Norman's casqued head was bent upon the shaggy mane of Rollo; he
+groaned in his agony:--
+
+"Mother of Christ, pity me, if I be not beyond all pity! In the great
+battle at Dorylæum, of which you must have heard, our camp was
+stormed. I was away summoning help from Duke Godfrey. Before the Turks
+were driven out, they made prisoners."
+
+"Prisoners! Allah pity us indeed!" Musa rocked in his saddle, and
+pressed his hands to his head. But Richard drove straight forward,
+having begun his tale. "I continued in the chase of the Seljouks. My
+horse ran ahead of the rest. I saw a squadron of riders clothed in
+white, not Turks, but Arabs. I saw that the leader of the band was
+holding a woman before him on his saddle. I was almost measuring
+swords with him, when my horse failed. I returned to camp torn with
+forebodings, and found--" But here he stopped, even he startled at
+the agony written on the Andalusian's face.
+
+"Tell it all, dear brother," said Musa, raising his head by a mighty
+effort.
+
+"I found that Iftikhar Eddauleh and a band of his infamous Ismaelians
+had led the storming of the camps. He had carried Mary away in his
+flight; and at this moment she is in his harem,--his slave, till God
+may have pity on her innocency and let her die." Then Richard told
+Musa why he had pursued Hossein, and the Spaniard called on his men to
+join in the chase of the fugitive, who had not taken refuge among
+them, but had flown on as swift as his steed could carry. But the
+Ismaelian seemed to have bidden the earth open, and it had swallowed
+him. So after futile search the whole party turned toward Antioch; and
+Musa explained that he came against the Christians with no hostile
+intent, but as commander of the armed escort of the embassy the
+Egyptian Kalif Mustaali was sending the Crusaders. For the Egyptians,
+as Musa explained, had little love for the Turks, since the Turks were
+the foes of Ali, successor of the Prophet, whom the Egyptians
+venerated. Moreover, twenty years before, the Seljouks had plundered
+to the very gates of Cairo. And now that Mustaali had conquered
+Jerusalem and Palestine from the Turks, he would be glad to strike
+hands with the Christians, and grant them free access to the Holy
+City, if only it could remain in his hands. Therefore he had sent a
+pompous embassy of fifteen deputies to proffer the Crusaders honorable
+peace or deadly war. "And do you imagine, O brother," said Richard,
+when he had heard this, and they were riding on together, "that we
+Franks will have anything less than the complete mastery of the Holy
+City, or be turned back by the threats of your kalif?"
+
+"Allah is all-knowing," was the gloomy reply. "I forewarned the Vizier
+Afdhal that nothing would come of this; for have I not seen your
+France with my own eyes? But I can only obey. The smooth speeches I
+leave to the deputies." Then, with a quick turn: "As Allah lives, I
+can think of nothing but of what you have told me. Mary Kurkuas the
+slave of Iftikhar,--of Iftikhar! O Allah, if indeed Thou art
+omnipotent and merciful, why may such things be?"
+
+"Peace, sweet brother," said the Christian, gently. "I am trying to
+learn to bow to the will of God. Do not make my task harder. Mary
+Kurkuas was my wife; but what was she to you?"
+
+"What to me?" The words came across Musa's white teeth so quickly that
+he had spoken ere he could set bridle to his tongue. Then slowly, with
+a soft rhythm and melody attuned so well by his rich voice, he
+answered: "What to me? Shall I say it again; are you not my brother,
+is not Mary the Greek my sister? Are not your joys my joys; your
+sorrows--what sorrows are they not!--mine? Allah pity me; my heart is
+sad, sad. And what have you done to seek for her?" So Richard told as
+well as he might of his questionings of the prisoners, and of the
+report that Iftikhar had gone to Persia, to Alamont the trysting-place
+of the Ismaelians. But Musa shook his head at this.
+
+"Either the man spoke false or was ignorant. I am close to the gossip
+of the court at Cairo. Iftikhar is in Syria. He keeps still, lest he
+rouse Barkyarok; but I think report had it he was dealing with Redouan
+of Aleppo."
+
+"Aleppo?" repeated Richard. "I rode close to the city. But it is
+impossible to gain news. War blocks all roads. These Syrians will lie,
+though there be a dagger at their throats. Had we but captured
+Hossein--"
+
+"Forgive that my coming made him escape you," broke in the Spaniard.
+
+"Forgive?" continued the Norman; "what have I to forgive touching you,
+my brother? Perhaps even Hossein could have told nothing; but
+vengeance is sweet."
+
+"_Wallah_, and it shall not be small!" swore Musa.
+
+So the company rode back to the camp of the Christians; and Richard's
+men were astonished to meet their chief trotting side by side with an
+unbeliever. But he reassured them, and brought the embassy with all
+courtesy before Duke Godfrey, who entreated the Egyptians very
+honorably. Richard, however, took Musa to his own tent, and the two
+spent together an evening long and sweet. Richard told of the fighting
+around Nicæa, of Dorylæum, the desert march, the unfruitful siege; and
+Musa told a story of a campaign in Nubia against negro nomads, and
+showed the gem-hilted cimeter that the Fatimite kalif had himself
+bestowed when the Spaniard returned to Cairo victorious. "And I had
+another reward offered me," continued Musa, smiling. "The kalif said
+to me: 'Cid Musa, you are a gallant emir. As Allah lives you shall be
+my son-in-law; you shall have the hand of Laila my daughter; whose
+beauty is as a fountain bursting under palms.'"
+
+"So you are wedded at last," cried the Norman, and he held up his
+wine-cup. "To Laila, wife of the great Emir Musa, son of Abdallah!"
+was his cry. But the Spaniard checked him with a laugh. "No, I put the
+offer by, though it was not easy to refuse such a gift and yet save my
+head."
+
+"St. Maurice, you refused!"
+
+"I did; a sly eunuch let me see the princess unveiled. To some men she
+is beautiful: eyes that need no _kohl_ to deepen, feet too small for
+silken slippers, her smile that of a lotus-bloom under the sun,--but
+she was not for me."
+
+"Foolish!" cried the Christian, "you sing love ditties ever, but bear
+love for none."
+
+"I am yet young. Wait,--in the book of doom what is written is
+written. Leave me in peace!" was the laughing answer. But neither
+Norman nor Spaniard laughed in heart when they lay down to sleep that
+night. Richard knew that Musa had made a great vow; he could nigh
+guess its tenor, though the Moslem kept his counsel well.
+
+The Egyptian envoys came on a barren embassy; infidels were infidels
+to the Franks, came they from Bagdad or Cairo. When the ambassadors
+hinted that the Crusaders would be welcome at the Holy City if they
+would only enter unarmed, the answer was fiery: "Tell the kalif that
+we do not fear all the power of Asia or of Egypt. Christians alone
+shall guard Jerusalem." So the envoys prepared to journey homeward.
+The Franks were to send with them a counter-embassy, proposing peace
+if Jerusalem were surrendered; but few expected any good to come of
+the mission. Yet, despite the brave words, it was a gloomy council of
+the chiefs that met in Duke Godfrey's tent the night after they had
+rejected the Egyptian terms. Tancred was not there, nor Richard
+Longsword. Godfrey's face was careworn as he sat at the head of the
+table, on his left Raymond, on his right Bohemond.
+
+"Dear brothers," he pleaded, after a long and bitter debate, "we do
+not fight, I remind you, for gold or glory. Therefore do you, my Lord
+Raymond, recall your bitter words against Bohemond--Christ is ill
+served by His servants' wranglings." But Raymond answered haughtily:
+"Fair Duke, I, too, love Our Lord. But now the Prince of Tarentum
+comes demanding that whosoever shall take Antioch shall be lord of the
+city. I sniff his meaning well. His intrigue with Phirous the Armenian
+who wishes to betray the city is well known. Would God we had Antioch!
+But I will not sit by and see one man gather all the fruits of our
+toil when we have labored together as brothers, and poured out blood
+and treasure; will not see the spoils all go to one who hopes to
+prosper by base artifice or womanish stratagem."
+
+Bohemond had bounded to his feet.
+
+"Yes, Count of Toulouse, you do well to say Phirous the Armenian will
+betray Antioch at my bidding, and at none other. Have I put nothing at
+risk in this Crusade? Have I not played my part at Nicæa, Dorylæum,
+the battles around the city? If you have a better device for reducing
+Yaghi-Sian, make use, and win Antioch yourself! They tell that the
+lord of Mosul, the great Kerbogha, is not many days' march away, with
+two hundred thousand men, swept from all Mesopotamia and Persia. Will
+his coming make our task easier? Time presses; to-morrow? Too late,
+perhaps. Promise me that if I win Antioch I shall become its lord, and
+Phirous is ready to yield three towers into our hands."
+
+A deep growl was coming from the other chiefs.
+
+"By Our Lady of Paris and St. Denis," swore Count Hugh of the French
+blood-royal, angrily, "this Prince of Tarentum shall not beard us
+thus. Let half the army watch Antioch, the rest go against Kerbogha.
+God willing, we can crush both."
+
+But good Bishop Adhemar interposed.
+
+"To do so were to betray the cause of God. The host is weakened by war
+and famine. One-half will never suffice to confront Kerbogha; only the
+saints will give the whole the victory. We cannot raise the siege, nor
+endure attack from Kerbogha in our camp. Let us not blame the Lord
+Bohemond. With God's will every prince and baron shall win a fair
+lordship in this Syria; there is room for all."
+
+Silence lasted a moment; then in turn Robert the Norman cried, "By the
+splendor of God, my Lord Bohemond, think well if this Phirous has not
+deceived you!"
+
+"He has not!" attested the southern Norman, hotly.
+
+"Good!" retorted Robert, "he has taken your money and spoken you fair.
+So? You cannot deny. Nevertheless, fair princes, I have a man here
+with a tale to tell."
+
+A dozen voices cried: "What man? What tale? Bring him in!"
+
+Two squires of the Norman Duke led in an Arab, muscular, bright-eyed,
+decently habited. Robert explained that this man had come to him,
+professing to be a native Christian, well disposed to the Crusaders,
+and to have just escaped from the city. Through the interpreter he
+gave his name as Eybek, and answered all the questions flung at him
+with marvellous readiness and consistency. "Yes, he had ready access
+to the circle of Yaghi-Sian, and knew that the city was capable of
+making a very long defence. The emir was looking for help in a very
+few days. If the Christians did not raise the siege at once and march
+away, it would need a miracle from St. George and St. Demetrius to
+save them from the myriads of Kerbogha." Only once, when the fellow
+raised his head--for he had a manner of holding it down--Bohemond
+muttered to Godfrey:--
+
+"Fair Duke, I know not when, yet once--I swear it by the thumb-bone of
+St. Anthony in my hilt--I have seen his face before." But the Duke
+replied:--
+
+"How before, my lord? Not on the Crusade, surely. Perhaps among the
+Arabs of Sicily."
+
+Bohemond shook his head. "Not there." And the examination of Eybek
+went on.
+
+Then the Christian chiefs pressed him closer, and Hugh of Vermandois
+demanded: "But what of Phirous? For the Prince of Tarentum tells us
+this Armenian is high in the favor of Yaghi-Sian, that he is a
+Christian at heart, having been a renegade, and anxious to return to
+the only true faith."
+
+"Noble lord," replied the Oriental, through the interpreter, "if the
+Emir Bohemond believes the tales told him by Phirous, he is less wise
+than I deemed him. Phirous is in the confidence of Yaghi-Sian day and
+night."
+
+"_Ha!_" interposed Duke Godfrey, dropping his jaw, and Bohemond's sly
+face flushed with wrath and incredulity.
+
+"Is it not as I said, fair lords?" cried Robert of Normandy, bringing
+his fist down upon the long oaken table before him. "What has the
+Prince of Tarentum been trying to lead toward, save shame and
+disaster?"
+
+"Insolent!" roared Bohemond, on his feet, with his sword half drawn;
+"you shall answer to me for this, son of the Bastard!"
+
+Then the Norman Duke's blade started also. But above his angry shout
+rang the cry of Bishop Adhemar.
+
+"In the name of Christ, sweet sons, keep peace! Sheathe your swords!
+You, Prince of Tarentum, rejoice if we learn the deceit of Phirous in
+time. You, Robert of Normandy, do not triumph; for Bohemond has only
+sought to advance the victory of Our Lord!"
+
+"Fair lords," commanded Godfrey, sternly, "let us save our swords for
+the unbelievers, and be quiet while we hearken to this Arabian. In
+truth he appears a pious and loyal man."
+
+Then all kept silence while Eybek continued to explain that Phirous
+had been all the time in the counsels of the emir, that there was a
+plot to induce the Christian chiefs to adventure themselves inside the
+walls by pretending to betray a tower. Once inside, an ambush was to
+break out, and the flower of the Christians would be destroyed.
+
+Bohemond raged, and stormed, and tried to browbeat the fellow into
+contradictions. The Prince spoke Arabic and needed no interpreter; but
+the other clung to his tale unshaken. Only men noticed that he hung
+down his head, as if afraid to let the red glare of the cressets fall
+fairly on his face, and that when there was a stir among the lesser
+chieftains as a certain newcomer took his seat at the foot of the
+table he averted his gaze yet more. Presently, baffled and willing to
+own his hopes blasted, the Tarentine turned away.
+
+"St. Michael blot out that Armenian! He has taken my gold and deceived
+me. This Arab's story clings together too well not to be true." And
+the Prince started to leave the tent with a sullen countenance, for he
+had come to the council with swelling hopes.
+
+"The finger of God is manifest in this," commented Godfrey, piously.
+"Had not Duke Robert brought this man before us we would all, with
+Bohemond, have stepped into the pit dug by our enemies."
+
+"Verily," cried Adhemar, "this Eybek is a true friend of Christ; his
+reward shall not fail him."
+
+The Arab bowed low before the bishop and Bouillon, and muttered some
+flowery compliments in his own tongue.
+
+"Lead him away," commanded Duke Robert to his squires. "In the morning
+we will question further." As they obeyed, one took a torch from its
+socket on the tent-pole, and, holding it high, the ruddy light fell
+full on the face of the Arabian. An instant only, but with that
+instant came a cry, a shout.
+
+"Hossein!" and Richard Longsword had bounded from his seat as if an
+arrow dashed from a crossbow. One snatch and the torch was in his
+hand, held close under the Arab's face. The luckless man writhed in a
+clutch firm as steel. Richard held up the light so that every feature
+of his victim lay revealed. "The man!" And at the exclamation, and
+sight of the iron mood written on Longsword's face, Eybek's bronzed
+face turned ashen pale.
+
+There was silence in the council tent for one long minute. Then
+Richard was speaking very calmly:--
+
+"Fair lords, we are all deceived. This man is no Christian escaped
+from Antioch. What he is, those who know the manner of the captivity
+of Mary de St. Julien, my dear wife, can tell. On the day of the
+coming of the Egyptian embassy he was in company with a band of
+infidel horsemen that I dispersed. The tale he has told you touching
+Phirous is doubtless a lie, to cast discredit on the Armenian, and
+bring his scheme to naught, if Yaghi-Sian has not been warned by him
+already." At Longsword's words a howl of wrath went round the council
+table.
+
+"Traitor! Dog of Hell!" Duke Robert was threatening; "he shall know
+what it is to play false with the heir of William the Norman!"
+
+"_Te Deum laudemus!_" Bishop Adhemar was muttering. "Verily we were
+all deceived in him, as we believed ourselves deceived in Phirous; yet
+God has brought the counsels of the crafty to naught; they have fallen
+in the pit they had digged for others!"
+
+And Duke Godfrey added: "The Prince of Tarentum will thank you for
+this, De St. Julien. Let this accursed Arabian be led away and
+fettered."
+
+But Richard held his prey fast. "Fair lords, this is the boon I crave:
+give me the life or death of this fellow. By Our Lady I swear he shall
+not find either road an easy one."
+
+Then twenty voices chorussed, "Yes! yes! away with him!" So Richard
+led, or rather dragged out his victim. Eybek struggled once while they
+traversed the long tent-avenues of the sleeping camp,--and only once;
+for he found that in Longsword's hands he was weaker than a roe in the
+paws of a lion. The Norman did not speak to the captive, or to any in
+his train, until outside his own tents. The ever watchful Herbert,
+standing sentry, hailed him.
+
+"Does Musa sleep?" was all Richard said. And in a moment the Spaniard
+had glided from the tent, and was crouching by the smouldering
+camp-fire.
+
+"Ever awake?" asked Longsword, wondering; and the reply was, "Allah
+will not grant sleep when I think of--" But here the Andalusian's
+ready tongue failed.
+
+"Look!" Richard drew the captive down by the red coals, and whispered
+his name. Then Herbert gave a great shout, which brought Sebastian,
+Theroulde, De Carnac, and more from their tents, and they lit many
+torches.
+
+Now what befell Eybek that night we need not tell. For the ways of
+Herbert and De Carnac were not those of soft ladies, who embroider
+tapestry all day in a rose bower; and the Ismaelian was no sleek
+serving-page, who cried out when the first thorn bush pricked him. But
+before Richard Longsword lay down that night he had heard somewhat of
+Iftikhar Eddauleh, and of another more important than Iftikhar, which
+made his sleep the lighter. At dawn he was outside Godfrey's tent
+awaiting speech with the good Duke. When Bouillon heard what he was
+seeking, the Norman was instantly admitted; and Godfrey marvelled and
+rejoiced at sight of the fire and gladness that shone in Longsword's
+eyes.
+
+"Well met, and ever welcome, fair Baron," was the Lorrainer's
+greeting; "and will you ride to-day with your men toward Urdeh, and
+southward to see if you may sweep in a few droves of beeves and a corn
+convoy?"
+
+"My Lord Duke," quoth Richard, curtly, "I cannot ride to Urdeh to-day
+or to-morrow."
+
+The Lorrainer gave him a shrewd glance.
+
+"Fair son," said he, half affectionately, "you have been dreaming on
+what that captive spy threw out. Do not deny."
+
+"I do not deny, my lord. And now I come to ask you this: Will the
+cause of Christ suffer great hurt if I ride on no more forays for the
+week to come, or for the next, or, if God so will,"--he spoke
+steadily,--"or never?"
+
+The Duke's gaze was more penetrating than before.
+
+"Beware, De St. Julien; you ride to death if you trust the word of
+that Eybek, even under torture. We only know of him this--the Father
+of Lies is no smoother perjurer."
+
+Richard answered with a laugh:--
+
+"Eybek has said to me thrice, 'Cid, as Allah lives, I swear I warn you
+truly,--strike off my head or torture as you will,--know this: you
+ride to death when you ride to Aleppo.'"
+
+"To Aleppo?" demanded Godfrey.
+
+"At Aleppo Iftikhar Eddauleh holds Mary Kurkuas prisoner, and I go to
+Aleppo to seek my wife," was Longsword's half-defiant reply.
+
+"Madman!" The Duke struck his heavy scabbard on the ground to double
+his emphasis.
+
+"'Mad' only as I set the love and joy of one of God's pure saints
+before peril that no cavalier, who is true to his knightly vows, could
+have right to shun."
+
+"How will you go? Antioch resists. We can detach no large force. Your
+own St. Julieners can do nothing."
+
+"My lord," said Richard, steadily, "I shall go alone, save for one
+comrade--my brother, Musa the Egyptian emir,--who will fail me when
+God Himself loves evil. He is Moslem, but I would sooner have him at
+my side than any Christian cavalier from Scotland to Sicily; for what
+human craft and wit and strength can do, that can he."
+
+The Duke, leaning heavily upon his sword, a smile half sad, half
+merry, upon his face, slowly replied: "You are both very young; God
+loves such--whatsoever their faith! You are right, De St. Julien--you
+must go. I will ask Bishop Adhemar to pray for your safe return."
+
+So Richard returned to his tents and made the last preparations, said
+farewell to many, and last of all to Sebastian. The priest's heart, he
+knew, was very full when Richard knelt for the words of blessing, and
+at the end Sebastian gave him the kiss of peace.
+
+"Go forth, dear son," was the word of Sebastian; "fight valiantly for
+Christ; fear not death. But by the grace of God bring the lost lamb
+home. And I--I will wrestle with God, beseeching that Michael and
+Raphael and Gabriel, the warriors of heaven, may spread their broad
+shields over you. And may He who plucked the three children from the
+fire, and Daniel from the paw of the lion, and Peter from the dungeon
+of Herod, deliver you also, and her whom you seek! Amen."
+
+When Sebastian had finished, Richard mounted Rollo. He wore no armor
+save the Valencia hauberk beneath his mantle; but Trenchefer was
+girded to his side. Musa was beside him on a deer-limbed Arabian. They
+crossed the Orontes on the bridge of boats behind the camp of Duke
+Godfrey. The tents and bright river orchards were fading from sight;
+on before lay the sunlit rolling Syrian country. Suddenly the thunder
+of a charger at speed came up behind them. Richard turned inquiringly.
+A moment later the strange rider had dashed abreast--had drawn rein;
+and Longsword rubbed his two eyes, doubting his vision--beside him was
+Godfrey, Duke of Lorraine.
+
+"My lord--" the Norman had begun. The Duke, he saw, was in no armor,
+and bore only his sword. Godfrey galloped along beside Rollo.
+
+"Fair son," said he, smiling, "has the noble lady, Mary the Greek,
+less chance of succor if three cavaliers ride to her aid than if only
+two?"
+
+"Impossible!" cried Longsword, distrusting now his ears; "it is you
+that are mad, my Lord Duke. Your position, your duties, the army!
+Doubtless we ride to death, as you well said."
+
+Godfrey's laugh was merry as that of a boy.
+
+"Then by Our Lady of Antwerp three swords will keep heaven farther
+away than two! Know, De St. Julien, that to my mind nothing stirs in
+the camp for the next two weeks. I grow sluggish as a cow, listening
+to Raymond's and Bohemond's wranglings. Renard will spread in the camp
+that I have led a foray southward, and let men miss me if they will.
+Enough to know my arm and wits can do more for once at Aleppo than at
+Antioch."
+
+"Yet this is utter rashness," urged Richard, in last protest; "to ease
+my own conscience, turn back--for my sake do it!"
+
+"For your sake," was the smiling answer, "I will keep my Marchegai
+neck to neck with Rollo. I am not so old a knight that I have
+forgotten the sniff of an adventure. When I put on the chieftain, I
+could not put off the cavalier."
+
+Richard did not reply. To shake off Godfrey was impossible. Presently
+the Norman in his own turn laughed.
+
+"On, then, to Aleppo! To Aleppo, be it for life or death!" cried Musa;
+and Richard added: "Tremble, Iftikhar,--the three best swords in the
+wide earth seek you!" Then each gave his horse the head.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV
+
+HOW MUSA PRACTISED MAGIC
+
+
+In the city of Aleppo, close by the great Mosque Jami' el-Umawi, there
+stood a warehouse that was more than commonly busy on a certain spring
+morning. This warehouse was of two stories, built of coarse brown
+rubble, and only entered from the narrow, dirty street by a plainly
+arched passageway. Once within, however, the newcomer beheld a large
+court, surrounded on the lower floor by little shops; and on the upper
+floor, the whole length of the four sides of the court, ran a wooden
+gallery, behind which were storerooms and lodgings for the wayfaring
+merchants, who made this spot a sort of hostelry and rendezvous. The
+shops below were humming with busy traffic. Here on one side lay the
+_sook_ of the jewellers, and on the opposite were arrayed the tiny
+stalls of the dealers in copper wares. The court was crammed with
+braying donkeys, bright-robed Syrians, and the ubiquitous _sakkas_,
+the water-bearers, who for a trifle poured a draught from the
+camel-skin sacks on their backs, to any who wished. The _sakkas_ were
+jostled by the sellers of orange-flower water; these in turn by the
+tall, black eunuchs who were clearing the way for a closely veiled
+lady intent on visiting the jewellers; while through the midst of men
+and beasts swept a stately, venerable sheik from the college at the
+mosque, who rained down a curse, devoting to _Hawiyat_, the seventh
+and nethermost hell, the luckless donkey-boy that had brushed a dirty
+hand upon the doctor's red silk scarf over his shoulders.
+
+The worthy jeweller Asad, whose shop was on the right side of the
+court, had long since spread out his array of gemmed rings, silver
+cups, tiring pins, and Indian necklaces, and sat back in his little
+niche nodding sleepily, now and then opening one eye to see if the
+lady who followed the eunuchs was coming to visit him. But the wares
+of his rival Ibrah[=i]m kept her busy, and Asad contentedly closed his
+eye, and nodded once more, saying: "Leave to Ibrah[=i]m her trade.
+To-day his, to-morrow mine. So Allah will prosper us both!" And,
+despite the fact that one of the serving-lads who followed the sheik
+was casting a covetous glance upon the handy treasures, the good Asad
+nearly fell asleep on the mat-covered seat. Presently a question
+roused him.
+
+"Worthy sheik, can you tell me if you possess any Andalusian corals?
+If so, be so gracious as to show them. Not that I would buy--" But
+here Asad, with a keen scent for business, had opened both eyes, and
+was looking at his inquirer. A well-formed, handsomely featured Arab
+was standing before him; the lines of the face young, but the hair and
+beard not a little white. The stranger was dressed decently enough,
+but the long, loose _aba_ over the jacket was worn and soiled with
+dust, as were also the white leather shoes. "A Moslem gentleman of
+good breeding, but perhaps decayed family," was the estimate of the
+jeweller. And he answered slowly:--
+
+"Be welcome in peace! Sit with me upon the rug! Here, boy, run to the
+confectioner's and bring us cups of sherbet." So the stranger put off
+his shoes and crossed his feet on the carpet, facing Asad. The shop
+was so small that a second visitor would barely have found room. Asad
+opened a little chest, and brought forth a tray of coral necklaces,
+which he submitted to his visitor.
+
+"_Bismillah!_" cried the other, "I feel the water hang on my eyelids
+when I see this red coral! My heart goes back to my own country I have
+not seen for many a year."
+
+"Verily," exclaimed the jeweller; "and have you come from Spain? Your
+speech shows you no Syrian."
+
+"It is true; from Spain. Five years since I left my dear home in
+Malaga for Mecca, to visit the city of the Apostle--on whom be peace!
+Allah confound the robbers that stripped me as I returned across the
+desert! I had taken upon myself a vow not to return until I had
+gained sevenfold the thousand dirhems with which I set forth. Being
+nigh penniless, I have wandered far and near,--Medina, Bagdad,
+Ispahan, Bussorah, Damascus, Cairo,--all I have visited, and little by
+little Allah blesses me with gain. Now I am in Aleppo seeking to sell
+some woollen cloaks of Shir[=a]z; but my longing for my own country is
+so great, I said to myself, 'Let me but spend a trifle on some corals
+of Andalusia, to remind me of my dear Malaga!'"
+
+"The Most High favor you!" responded the good jeweller, who knew that
+kind wishes cost nothing. "See,--this necklace--it is worth twenty
+dirhems--yet receive it as a gift,--it is yours for ten." The
+Spaniard's only response was a grunt. Then, after long silence: "Have
+I the treasures of Solomon the Wise? I care little for the coral,--a
+poor necklace; it were dear at three!" It was Asad that grunted now,
+but he only answered: "Have I not three wives and seven children? Will
+you impose on my generosity?" And then both men, knowing perfectly
+well they were on the highroad to a fair bargain, took the cups which
+the boy had brought, and began to converse on quite alien matters. "A
+noble city is this Aleppo," began the Spaniard; "only Cordova and
+Malaga, saving always Bagdad, are finer!" "_Ya!_" cried Asad, "you
+over-praise your Spain. Yet Aleppo is a noble city. Would to Allah we
+had as noble a prince to rule over it!"
+
+"So!" exclaimed the other; "then Redouan is not loved?"
+
+Asad spat far out into the court to prove his disgust.
+
+"On the last day Sultan Redouan's good deeds will weigh less than an
+ant's. Hear--three years since he slew his brothers, Bahram and
+Abouthaleb, as caution against conspiracy. His tyranny drives another
+brother, Dekak of Damascus, into revolt. He makes Yaghi-Sian of
+Antioch his enemy. Aboun Nedj'n, his vizier, is all cruelty and
+beheadings. Last of all, we are delivered over to the clutch of
+Iftikhar, the Ismaelian, whose evil deeds Allah requite!"
+
+"Iftikhar? I have heard the name."
+
+"Cursed be the day of his birth! The sultan cringes to him as to the
+very kalif! He has become possessed of El Halebah, the wonderful
+palace outside the city."
+
+"And he is there now?"
+
+"Yes; though soon he departs. In a few days he will lead off his band
+of Ismaelians to join the host which Kerbogha of Mosul is leading
+against the Christians at Antioch. Eblees pluck them also! There is a
+rumor that if the two overcome the Christians, they turn their arms
+against the kalif and the arch-sultan next. But woe for us! taxes grow
+each day. The gatherers are insatiate. Redouan grinds us at Iftikhar's
+bidding."
+
+"_Wallah_, I am interested; tell more of this Iftikhar."
+
+"Alas, brother, I know little to tell. These Ismaelians keep too
+close. They talk only with their daggers." Asad lifted the necklace;
+the Spaniard eyed it carelessly: "Four dihrems?" suggested he. "I
+wrong my household; yet say six," was the answer. The other shook his
+head. Asad dropped the necklace; then cried, "_Ya!_ Khalid, come
+hither and tell this worthy sheik of Iftikhar Eddauleh!" And at the
+shout a tall, gaunt Arab in a muezzin's flowing robe and ample green
+turban came groping through the crowd, dexterously threading his way,
+though entirely blind. Then there were greetings, and Khalid squeezed
+himself betwixt the others and was seated.
+
+"Blind?" answered he, in reply to a question. "Yes, blind by the
+blessing of Allah. Once I had sight and starved as a beggar. Then one
+day I stole, and the High Kadi put out my eyes. Next, the old muezzin
+at the great mosque died. They desired a blind man to succeed him, for
+the minaret is so high those with eyes can peer into the vizier's
+harem court and squint at his women. So I was chosen, and never since
+have lacked good bread and a warm sleeping-mat,--thanks to the
+Compassionate!"
+
+"But I desired to hear of Iftikhar, the Ismaelian," said the Spaniard,
+smiling.
+
+"Verily," ran on the blind man, "I can tell you a tale concerning him,
+for there is no gossip in all Aleppo that does not blow into my ears.
+They say he has a captive of marvellous beauty--a Christian." "A
+Frank?" was the question. "No, a Greek; more fair than the maids of
+Paradise, who are tall as palm trees. He has her in the palace El
+Halebah, and seeks to win her love, so the eunuchs tell."
+
+"_Mashallah_, I am astonished. Why should he ask her love if once he
+possessed her?"
+
+The blind man blinked slyly.
+
+"A strange tale; I had it all from Wasik, who was one of the eunuchs
+that guarded her. It seems the Ismaelian has once been among the
+Christians (Allah broil all in Gehenna!); there he saw and loved her,
+but she would have none of him. Then war threw her into his hands, and
+he moved earth and heaven to make her favor him. Gifts, dresses,
+fêtes, serving-maids fair as the moon--he gave all, with El Halebah to
+be her dwelling; and she repaid only pouts and high words. At last he
+learns that she still sets great store on her husband, a Frankish emir
+with their host at Antioch."
+
+"Her husband?" asked the Spaniard, carelessly.
+
+"You have heard his name--Richard of the Great Cimeter--a terrible
+emir who slays his captives ruthlessly."
+
+"I have heard of him; go on."
+
+"_Ya!_ Iftikhar prepares his band to go to Antioch, and swears he will
+take this houri with him, that she may see the fate of her dear Franks
+with her own eyes. He vows likewise he will give her Emir Richard's
+head to fondle, since she loves it so."
+
+"Verily he is a bloody man," commented the Spaniard.
+
+"It is so; yet his captive will find she had best put the clouds from
+her face and try to please him. He is a man of will harder than
+Damascus steel."
+
+The Spaniard took up the coral necklace and eyed it critically.
+
+"Five dirhems?" suggested he. "Take it for five, yet count it as a
+gift. Alas, my profit!" sighed Asad.
+
+The other drew the coins from a lank pouch, waited while Asad bit
+each to prove it, placed the coral under the folds of his turban, then
+whispered to the muezzin, "Friend, follow me,"--the same time slipping
+a coin into his closing palm. Asad's eyes shut in a contented cat-nap
+when adieus were over; profit enough gained for one day. Khalid
+followed the stranger into the bustling street.
+
+"Good father," said the stranger, affably, "do you know, this tale of
+the Emir Iftikhar is most interesting. Why? Because it is most
+marvellous any prince should go to such lengths to court favor with a
+mere captive, be she brighter than the sun. But you surely repeat
+gossip on the streets, you do not know the eunuchs, or have access
+yourself to El Halebah?"
+
+Khalid chuckled, "I swear by Mohammed's beard there is not a courtyard
+about Aleppo I may not find and enter, blind though I am. The gate of
+El Halebah is as open to me as to a glutton the way to his mouth, and
+I chatter all day with the eunuchs." His questioner began to rattle
+his money-bag.
+
+"Friend," said the Spaniard, "you appear an honest man. Now swear
+thrice by Allah the Great that you will not betray me, and to-night
+you shall count over fifty dirhems."
+
+"Allah forbid!" cried the muezzin, raising his hands in holy horror.
+"I cannot know what wickedness you desire to make me share."
+
+"And I swear to you I have no attempt against any man's goods, or
+wife, or life, or honor; and you shall count seventy dirhems?"
+
+"I cannot; how can I go before the Most High on the last day with some
+great sin on my soul!"
+
+"_Ya!_ Eighty, then?" A long pause; then Khalid answered very slowly,
+and his seared eyeballs twinkled:--
+
+"Impossible!--yet--a--hundred--"
+
+"They are yours!" was the prompt reply.
+
+"Oh, fearful wickedness! how can I satisfy the Omnipotent? Yet"--and
+the blind eyes rose sanctimoniously toward heaven--"the divine
+compassion is very great. Says not Al Koran, 'Allah is most ready to
+forgive, and merciful'?"
+
+"You will swear, then?" demanded the other, promptly.
+
+"Yes," and Khalid folded his hands piously while he muttered the
+formula; then added, "Now give me the money."
+
+"Softly, brother," was the reply. "Remember well the other words of
+the Apostle, 'violate not your oaths, since you have made Allah a
+witness over you,' The money in due time; now lead me and do as I
+shall bid, or in turn I swear you shall not finger one bit of copper."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Now it befell that on the afternoon of the day when Khalid the blind
+muezzin sold his conscience for a hundred dirhems, Hakem and his
+fellow-eunuch Wasik sat by the outer gate of the great court of El
+Halebah with a _mankalah_ board between them, busy at the battle they
+were waging with the seventy-two shell counters. As they played, their
+talk was all of the languishing state of the Star of the Greeks, and
+how since her attempted flight to Antioch all the temper seemed to
+have burned out of her mettle.
+
+"I protest, dear brother," quoth the worthy Wasik, studying the
+game-board, "doves of her feather cannot perch all day on a divan,
+saying and doing nothing, and not droop and moult in a way very
+grievous to Cid Iftikhar."
+
+"The Cid's commands are very strait--refuse her nothing in reason,
+only make plain to her that he is the master. _Wallah_, I little like
+this manner of bird! To my mind there hatches trouble when a woman
+refuses so much as to rage at you. This very day I said in my heart,
+'Go to, now, Hakem; pick a quarrel with the Star of the Greeks; she
+will be happier after giving a few pecks and claws.' I call the Most
+High to witness--she submitted to all my demands meekly, as though she
+were no eaglet, but a tethered lamb! An evil omen, I say. Allah forbid
+she should die! Iftikhar would make us pay with our heads!"
+
+And Wasik shrugged his shoulders to show agreement with Hakem's last
+desire. Before he replied there was a loud knocking at the gate; the
+lazy porter stopped snoring, and began to shout to some one without.
+
+"For the sake of Allah! O ye charitable!" was the cry from outside,
+evidently of a beggar demanding alms.
+
+"Allah be your help! Go your way!" the porter was replying, and
+adding: "Off, O Khalid, blind son of a stone-blind hound! Must I again
+lay the staff across you!"
+
+But a second voice answered him:--
+
+"Not so, O compassionate fellow-believer; will you drive away a
+stranger whom the excellent Khalid has led here, craving bounty? Allah
+will requite tenfold any mercy. See, I am but just come from Mecca.
+Behold a flask of water from the holy well Zemzem, sovereign remedy
+for the toothache. I ask nothing. Let me but sit awhile in the cool of
+the porch. I am parched with the heat of the way."
+
+Hakem had reputation for being a pious personage.
+
+"Let the worthy pilgrim come in!" he commanded, the porter obeying.
+Wasik had his doubts.
+
+"This is Saturday, the most unlucky day; beware!" he muttered.
+
+But Hakem would have none of him. Behind Khalid there entered a
+tottering fellow, bent with age, gray and unkempt; a patch over one
+eye, his blue kaftan sadly tattered, his turban a faded yellow shawl.
+He swung a huge hempen sack over one shoulder and trailed a heavy
+staff.
+
+"Allah requite you and your house!" was his salutation, as he dropped
+heavily upon the divan under the shaded arcade.
+
+"And you also," replied Hakem, ever generous at his master's expense.
+"Be refreshed. Eat this cool melon and be strengthened."
+
+The pilgrim put aside the plate. "Give to Khalid. Alas! I can eat
+nothing that was not eaten by the Prophet (Allah favor and preserve
+him!); such is the rule of my order of devotees. And who may say the
+Apostle did or did not eat the rind of a melon!" The eunuchs laid
+their heads together.
+
+"A very holy man!" "A most worthy sheik; a true saint; a _welee_!"
+their whispered opinions. So they kissed the old man's hand; called
+him "father"; brought sherbet, dates, and bread. After the stranger
+had eaten and edified them all by his pious conversation, presently
+his one eye began to twinkle very brightly, and he started to unpack
+his sack. Suddenly he drew forth a long iron spike, and plunged it
+down his throat to the very butt; then drew it out, laughing dryly at
+the wide eyes of the eunuchs. "Verily," cried he, "I am versed in
+'high' magic--the noble art handed by the obedient angels and genii to
+devout Moslems. I know the 'great name' of Allah, uttering which bears
+me instantly to the farthest corner of the world; see!" A puff of
+smoke blew from his mouth; a flash of fire followed. Hakem was all
+eyes when the sheik rose, drew from his sack a number of brazen pots,
+placed them on the pavement, blew a spark seemingly from his mouth,
+and the bowls gave forth a blue aromatic smoke. The eunuchs began to
+quake under their ebony skins. The sheik turned toward them.
+
+"My sons--I show great marvels; many should see. Your master--away?
+But are there no 'flowers of beauty' in the harem who would admire the
+one-eyed Sheik Teydemeh, the greatest 'white' magician in all the land
+of Egypt?"
+
+Hakem put his mouth to Wasik's ear. "Bring out Morgiana and the Greek.
+Let them be thickly veiled."
+
+Wasik hesitated. "We are bidden to keep the Greek closely in the
+harem," he remarked.
+
+"We are bidden to see that she does not pine away with naught but
+grief to think of. Bring both forth."
+
+Before the magician had finished unburdening his mysterious sack,
+Wasik led in a lady all buried in silks and muslins. Hardly were her
+dark eyes visible under the veils. "I bring the Greek," whispered
+Wasik to Hakem; "she obeyed me like a dumb ox, but Morgiana is in her
+moods and will go nowhere."
+
+The lady sat upon the soft divan listlessly, hardly so much as
+rustling her dress. The sheik rose, mumbled words doubtless of
+incantation, and commenced reeling cotton ribbons from his lips till
+they littered the floor. Then he drew from his teeth a score of tin
+disks big as silver coins, again poured water into a borrowed cup, and
+gave it to Hakem to drink--behold, the water was become sugar sherbet!
+Then the magician blew on a tiny reed flute a strain so sweet, so
+delicious, Hakem verily thought he heard the maids of Paradise; and as
+he sang the sheik began to juggle with balls, first with one hand,
+tossing three balls; then laying aside the flute he kept six flying,
+all the time dancing and singing in a low quaver in some tongue that
+the eunuch did not understand, but thought he had once heard spoken
+among the Franks of Sicily. Presently the sheik threw up two more
+balls, making eight speed in the place of six; and he danced faster,
+spinning round and round amid the smoking bowls, until he came to a
+stand right before the veiled lady, who was no longer listless now,
+but sat erect, eager, her bright eyes flashing from beneath her veil,
+though Hakem did not see--all his gaze was on those flying balls. The
+sheik halted before her, spinning upon one foot, yet keeping his
+place. Suddenly he broke off his chant in the unknown tongue and sang
+in Arabic with clear, deep voice:--
+
+    "Sweet as the wind when it kisses the rose
+      Is thy breath;
+    Blest, if thine eyes had but once on me smiled,
+      Would be death.
+    Give me the throat of the bulbul to sing
+      Forth thy praise,
+    Then wouldst thou drink the clear notes as they spring
+      All thy days;
+    Nard of far Oman's too mean for thy sweetness,
+      Eagle-wings lag at thy glancing eyes' fleetness;
+    By thy pure beauty, bright gems lack completeness,
+      Lady, ah! fairest!"
+
+And Hakem did not see the rustling nor hear the little sigh under the
+muslin and silk, for the sheik had sped round in his dance once more;
+again chanting in that foreign tongue some incantation, doubtless to
+unseen powers to aid him in his art. Then the wonder-worker halted,
+wiped the foam from his lips, and began new tricks; blowing a little
+earthen bowl from his mouth,--drawing a live rabbit from one of the
+smoking bowls,--and performing many marvels more, till the eunuchs
+showered on him all the small change they had about them, and gave him
+a great basket of dates and figs to carry to the khan where he said he
+lodged.
+
+That night as Hakem, with clear conscience, went to bed, he observed
+to Wasik: "Truly, the visit of the one-eyed juggler was better than
+fifty elixirs for bringing back bloom to the Star of the Greeks!
+Surely, if one such mountebank can cheer her thus, she shall be fed on
+white magic each day. Cid Iftikhar will summon hither every skilful
+conjurer from Damascus to Bagdad."
+
+And Wasik answered: "By the Prophet, it is true. We are to tame _Citt_
+Mary, but not to break her spirit. Give her mind its food as well as
+her body. She is not like our Arab maids, whose Paradise a new
+necklace can girdle!"
+
+So these good servants took counsel.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+That night also Richard and Godfrey took their counsel with Musa the
+Spaniard. Safe hidden in the gloom of a stall that joined the great
+court of the khan, which stood on the Alexandretta road without the
+western gate of Aleppo, they had no fear of eavesdroppers. An irksome
+day it had been for the two Franks. Long since, the sun had burned
+them bronze as many a Moor, and what with their black dyed hair and
+their coarse Oriental dress, none had questioned when Musa, who passed
+himself as a travelling Berber merchant, declared them his
+body-servants. But Godfrey had little Arabic. Richard's accent would
+soon betray. Common prudence forced them to sulk all day in the stall
+of the khan, while Musa went forth to make his discoveries. Now that
+he was back, their tongues flew fast.
+
+"And have you seen her?" That was Richard's first question.
+
+"_Bismillah_, I have; or at least two eyes bright as suns, peering
+from under a great cloud of veils! Recall how I made you think at
+Cefalu I was possessed by 'sheytans,' because of my art-magic!"
+answered Musa, laughing in his noiseless fashion. "_Ya!_ When did old
+Jam[=i]l at Cordova dream, while he taught an idle student his art,
+that by it I would earn six dirhems and a mess of figs? I met a
+mountebank conjurer, bought of him his gear--wretchedly poor tricks
+they were,--and then found a worthy blind muezzin, in a way I will
+tell, to get me entrance into the very court of El Halebah. Enough;
+the good eunuch Hakem thought me a true _welee_, and brought out one
+of his cagelings to see my magic. I was bound to make sure she was
+truly _Citt_ Mary who was pent up in the palace before you and I
+thrust our necks into peril; also I knew the chance of failure was
+less if she were warned. So I sang an incantation--in your Provençal,
+and clapped on to that a verse I composed before her at Palermo. When
+I saw her muslins and silks all a-flutter, I sang my French again, and
+it was more of being ready for a visit in the night than of the
+efreets and jinns that aid a true magician. Therefore I say this: All
+is ready. To-night the Star of the Greeks says farewell to Iftikhar
+or--"
+
+But Musa repeated no alternative.
+
+"And the way of escape?" asked Godfrey. "By St. Nicholas of Ghent,
+this is no bachelor's adventure!"
+
+Musa laughed again.
+
+"Verily, as says Al Koran, 'No soul knoweth what it shall suffer on
+the morrow, but Allah knoweth;' nevertheless, so far as human wit may
+run, much is prepared. Understand, Cid Godfrey, that Iftikhar has sent
+away from El Halebah the greater part of his Ismaelian devotees to
+join the force of Kerbogha. About the palace lie two hundred at most;
+a few stand sentry upon the road from Aleppo, a few more lie in the
+palace; but nearly all have their barrack in the wood beside the
+Kuweik, some distance northward."
+
+"St. George!" swore the Duke, "how discover all this? Can you see
+through walls as through Greek glass?"
+
+Musa laughed again: "Allah grants to every man separate gifts! To me
+to grasp many things with few words and few eyewinks. I am not
+mistaken."
+
+"It is true, did you but know him, my lord; it is true," added
+Richard.
+
+Musa continued: "Round dirhems smooth many paths, even amongst the
+Ismaelians. With the aid of the reprobate muezzin I discovered that
+_Citt_ Mary is held in the westerly wing of the palace, and guarded by
+Hakem and a few other eunuchs. I ate salt with the chief of the watch
+on the Aleppo road--a generous man who will take a hint swiftly! He
+understands I have desire to bear away an Armenian maid belonging to
+Beybars, the chief steward. When I come up the way in company with two
+comrades, he and his men are blind. We go up to the palace; we go
+away; no questions. Beside the highroad to Antioch will be tethered
+our horses. I have bought in the Aleppo market a desert steed swift as
+the darts of the sun. We enter the palace with the armed hand--shame
+indeed if our three blades are no match for the sleepy eunuchs! Once
+possess her, rush for the horses--then, speed,--speed for Antioch,
+trusting Allah and our steeds. For as the Most High lives, there will
+be hot pursuit!"
+
+"There is no better way," commented Richard, drawing up a notch in his
+sword-belt.
+
+"St. Michael and St. George!"--swore Godfrey again--"a noble
+adventure! Joy that I came from Antioch!"
+
+"Joy or sorrow we shall know full soon," was Musa's sober reply. "We
+shall read a marvellous page in the book of doom this night; doubt it
+not!"
+
+"And we set forth--?" continued Richard.
+
+"At once,--the night grows dark for the eye of an owl," answered the
+Spaniard. "Darkness is kind; we must not waste it."
+
+"Lead, then," commanded Godfrey. "The horses are ready; there is food
+in the saddle-bags."
+
+"Follow,--and Allah be our guide!" and the Andalusian took his own
+steed by the bridle.
+
+There was darkness and silence in the court of the great khan. The
+arrow-swift horses of a Persian trader slept in one stall; a tall
+dromedary shook his tether in another. Richard brushed upon a shaggy
+donkey; trod upon a mongrel dog, that started with a sullen howl. From
+one remote stall came a ray of torch-light, and the chatter of
+merchants discussing the profits of the last Oman caravan. A single
+watchman stared at them when they led their beasts through the wide
+gate. The three were under the stars. Musa took the bridle of the
+horse just bought, and the others followed him. Richard trod on as in
+a dream; twice he passed his hand before his eyes as if to brush away
+the blackness that was unbroken save for the star mist.
+
+"To-night! To-night!" he was repeating.
+
+"What, to-night?" asked Godfrey.
+
+"To-night I may touch the hair of Mary Kurkuas. Is not that chance
+worth the hazard of death? But you?"
+
+"I serve Christ best to-night when I serve one so loved by Him as the
+Lady of St. Julien. Let us hasten."
+
+They said little more. The night was dark indeed, but Musa seemed
+bat-eyed. He led across the Kuweik, through the orchards--dim and
+still, until at a tamarisk bush he halted. There they left the horses.
+Richard made sure that the lady's saddle on the fourth horse was
+strapped fast. Musa spoke not a word, but led away swiftly. They were
+entering the wood. Richard was treading at an eager pace, with a
+swelling heart, when suddenly he heard a sound behind him,--looked
+back,--and behold, on all sides, as if called from earth by
+enchantment, were the dim figures of men! And he could see, even in
+the darkness, that the dress of each was white.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV
+
+HOW RICHARD HEARD A SONG
+
+
+Now what befell came so swiftly that in after days Richard could never
+tell it all. Sure it is, that had Trenchefer and Godfrey's sword and
+Musa's cimeter left sheath, there had been another tale. For in the
+twinkling that Richard cast a backward glance, a noose whistled
+through the air and closed about the Norman's shoulders, locking his
+arms helpless. And with the whistling rope came a rush of feet and
+many hands seizing him. One struggle--he could scarce gather wits to
+resist; he was helpless as a birdling before the snake. At the same
+instant came the crash and gasp of two desperate conflicts
+more--Godfrey and Musa likewise seized. As Richard grasped it, the
+Spaniard succumbed as readily as he. But the great Duke was not
+lightly taken. Draw he could not, but his mighty hand tore clear of
+the rope and dashed more than one assailant down before, with ten upon
+him, he was mastered. All was done in less time than the telling.
+Almost before Longsword's soul cried "danger," a torch was flashing in
+his eyes, and a dozen dark Syrian faces pressing close. The torch was
+held high, and flashed before him twice. Blinded by the glare, he saw
+nothing beyond the ring of faces. From the dark shadow came a voice--a
+voice he had heard before: "_Bismillah!_ The Frank, Richard Longsword,
+at last!"
+
+The Norman did not cry out. Native sense told him that help there was
+none, and all the teaching of the stern school wherein he was bred had
+taught him to bear in silence. All stood while Richard saw the torch
+carried to the other knots of white-robed men. Then again the voice:
+"This is the Spaniard, Cid Musa, the son of Abdallah." And now a great
+shout of triumph: "Praised be Allah, destroyer of His enemies! We take
+the Emir Godfrey, chief of the Frankish unbelievers!"
+
+Longsword had no need to be told that this was Zeyneb's voice. He was
+about to break forth with defiance and curses upon the dwarf, when in
+the torchlight he saw a form taller than the others, the plumes of a
+haughty helmet, the flash of gilded steel. The captors gave way to
+right and left as the chieftain--so he clearly was--advanced until
+face to face with Richard.
+
+"Do you know me? I am the one-time commander of Count Roger's guard,
+the Egyptian Iftikhar Eddauleh."
+
+The grand prior had spoken naturally, without bravado.
+
+And Richard answered in like vein:--
+
+"I claimed the honor of your friendship once, my Lord Iftikhar. Fate
+has kept us long asunder."
+
+Iftikhar's plumes nodded.
+
+"And brings us together at last. Doom leads to El Halebah you and the
+valorous Cid Musa and this noble emir, who is strange to me. The night
+advances; let us go."
+
+Before his captive could reply, the Egyptian had faded in the dark. An
+Ismaelian laid his hand on Richard's sword-belt to disarm him.
+Trenchefer clanked. Iftikhar spoke out of the gloom:--
+
+"Leave the sword, Harun. A Frank cavalier loves better to part with
+life than with weapon. _Wallah!_ Let them keep their blades and feel
+them at their sides; but knot fast,--their strength is as seven
+lions!"
+
+They passed a second cord around Richard's arms, drawing back and
+pinioning them tight above the elbows. A heavy hand on either shoulder
+urged him forward. The Norman steeled his muscles, made one effort as
+never before to snap the bands. Useless; even his giant strength
+failed. Unresisting he was led blindly on through the gloom, the
+captors treading rapidly. They were soon in a grove of trees, where
+the matted leafage cut off the least ray of light. The torch, which
+only flared when shaken, sank to a glow dim as a firefly. Underfoot
+Richard could feel dry twigs crack, and he smelt the fresh earthy odor
+of fern brakes and bird-loved thickets. The only sounds were the
+footfalls and the chirp, chirp of the crickets. Then a faint gloaming
+shone where the trees arched and opened: they were again beneath a
+clear sky. The Norman saw the silver band of a stream creeping to the
+Kuweik--barely flashing under the starlight, for moon there was none.
+His guards led forward; under their tread a floating bridge rang
+hollow, and the water gurgled up around the casks.
+
+For one moment Richard pondered whether he could leap into the water,
+and drift down-stream with his arms pinioned. Folly--had he not his
+mail-shirt, and Trenchefer still at his side? A stone would float
+lighter! They had passed the bridge; again were in the woods. Some
+uncanny night bird was flapping from bough to bough; he could hear the
+whir of heavy wings, hoarse cries, blending with the song of the
+crickets. Did not ravens croak when men drew nigh their dooms? Was it
+river mist only that was hanging in cold beads upon his brow? Still
+the white-robed company led onward. Not a word spoken--when might this
+journey end? Richard listened to the beating of his own
+heart--merciful saints, why so loudly? Behind he knew were led Godfrey
+and Musa; they two walking to death, and for his cause! The Mother of
+Mercies knew it had been by none of his willing. Out of the dark was
+creeping that vision dreaded so often,--repelled so often,--which he
+had vainly hoped had faded away forever. Gilbert de Valmont slain
+beside the altar! Richard looked up at the stars shimmering between
+the leaves. "Ere these stars fade in sunlight"--spoke a voice (from
+within or without, what matter?)--"you, Richard de St. Julien, will be
+accounting to God for the soul of that guiltless boy." And though
+Longsword thought of the Pope's pledge of absolution, of all the
+infidels he had himself slain in the name of Christ, of all his
+sufferings in the chastisement at Dorylæum,--all merit seemed turned
+to sin, and the word of Urban weak to unlock the mercy of God in His
+just anger. "_Mea culpa! mea culpa! mea maxima culpa!_" Other prayers
+came not, nor did his heart find room for curses against Iftikhar or
+grief for Mary. He thought of her; but truth to tell he was too numbed
+to dwell on her agony, on the certitude of her lifelong captivity. And
+still the white-robed company led him onward, onward.
+
+The grounds were opening before him. The wood broke away to right and
+left. Richard saw the vague tracery of a wide-stretching
+palace,--colonnades, domes, pinnacles, all one dim maze in the
+starlight. For the first time he spoke to his guards.
+
+"This is El Halebah? Tell me--why are our heads not struck off at
+once?"
+
+"The grand prior wills otherwise," replied Harun, at his side.
+
+"Are we to be put to death speedily, or long reserved?"
+
+The Ismaelian became confidential.
+
+"Cid, you talk as becomes a brave man. I should like to see you with
+your great sword in battle. Who am I, to know the desire of Iftikhar?
+Yet I think this: if Christians may enter Paradise, ere midnight you
+will be sitting at banquet with the maids of pure musk."
+
+"Then why this delay--this endless journey?"
+
+Harun shook his head.
+
+"I am only the grand prior's hands and feet. You will see."
+
+Richard had faced death in battle twenty times and more, and never yet
+had felt a tremor. But riding to battle was not walking to meet the
+doom handed down by Iftikhar Eddauleh. The Norman feared not death,
+but life. Life through the ages of ages! Life shaped for eternal woe,
+eternal weal, by the deeds of a few earthly moments. Hell earned by
+that instant at Valmont! Heaven grasped for in the transfiguration at
+Clermont! And the issue mystery! mystery fathomless! Kept with God,
+the All-merciful; but behind all, ordering all, His awful
+righteousness! Richard knew as well as he knew anything that never in
+earthly body would he see that mist of stars again; he looked up into
+the violet-black dome, and trembled, for he knew he was drawing near
+the Almighty's throne.
+
+They trod up the smooth gravel leading to the palace. The great valves
+of the portals opened noiselessly at some unseen bidding, then closed
+behind. A single flickering lamp went before, as they glided through
+long corridors, or under airy domes, where the wan light struggled up
+to colored vaulting,--gleamed, vanished. The feet touched soft rugs,
+and clicked on marbles. More doors opened. The Norman was led down
+stairways, along stone galleries, where the air was foul and chill.
+Presently there were more lamps ahead, the ceiling was higher. Richard
+sniffed sweet fresh air. They were in a room of no great size; floor,
+walls, vaulting, of gray stone; a stone bench running along the walls;
+one or two niches, where perhaps in daytime a few rays struggled in.
+Bronze lamps swung from chains, casting a wavering, ghostly light, as
+they puffed in the wind that crept through the scanty windows.
+
+Others had preceded the captives into this chamber. Two figures
+advanced to greet them, as the three were halted,--the lofty Iftikhar,
+the dwarf Zeyneb. It was the latter that first spoke. To Musa he paid
+an obsequious salaam.
+
+"The peace of Allah be yours, most noble Cid Musa," his greeting.
+
+"And with you, the strife of Eblees!" replied the Andalusian, whose
+tongue at least was not pinioned.
+
+"O valorous cavaliers!" protested Zeyneb, raising his hands. "What
+misfortune! Bow to the Omnipotent's will; what is doomed is doomed! It
+was doomed that I should behold you, son of Abdallah, creeping about
+Aleppo and El Halebah. Clever disguises,--not my Lord Iftikhar himself
+could have penetrated so admirable a conjurer. How adorably was Hakem
+toyed with! Wallah, I could scarce have bettered it myself!"
+
+Musa repaid with one of his softest smiles.
+
+"Were my wealth that of Ormuz, how could I repay your praise, O Kalif
+of the black-hearted jinns! I equal in guile Zeyneb, the
+crooked-backed toad of the gallant Iftikhar? Forbid it, Allah!"
+
+Zeyneb laughed, not very easily. He wished Musa's tongue were as fast
+as his arms. The dwarf salaamed again.
+
+"No more; I leave you to my Lord Iftikhar. Enough, you know it was
+I--I, Zeyneb the dwarf, the hunchback--who discovered the wiles of
+Musa the great cavalier; who led him and his two valiant Frankish
+comrades into my master's power. And remember, Cid Richard, the word
+on the wall at La Haye: 'Three times is not four. There is a dagger
+that may pierce armor of Andalus.'" A third salaam, then, "The mercy
+of Allah be with you; my lord will tell how many moments are left in
+which to rain curses on your poor slave Zeyneb."
+
+Musa shrugged his shoulders, a gesture more eloquent than any he could
+make with his hands.
+
+"And think not," he answered still sweetly, "my friends or I have
+breath or wind to waste cursing such as you. I thank your courtesy; we
+shall never meet again to requite it."
+
+"Never?" queried Zeyneb, cocking his evil head. "Not on the Judgment
+Day when, says Al Koran, 'Allah shall gather all men together, and
+they shall recognize one another'?"
+
+The Spaniard cut him short.
+
+"Fly! Think not the All Just will so much as raise again your soul,
+even to plunge it into the hell where wait garments of fire. Soul you
+have not, unless base vermin have. When they rise from the dead, so
+will you--no sooner!"
+
+Zeyneb would have ventured reply, but Iftikhar pointed down a passage.
+The dwarf vanished instantly. Musa spat after him. "Purer air, now his
+stench is not by!" his comment.
+
+Iftikhar, who had been silent, turned to his captives.
+
+"My lords," said he, gravely, speaking Provençal, "we meet again at
+last, as I have long desired."
+
+"You are wrong, my emir," interrupted Longsword. "At Dorylæum I sought
+you long and vainly."
+
+"And I think it well," continued the Egyptian, flushing, but not
+raising his voice, "since we shall not soon meet again, that I say a
+few things. This Duke Godfrey, as your friend, shall fare as do you."
+
+"Say it out, fledgling of Satan! Say it out," roared the Duke. "You
+will summon the headsman. By Our Lady of Antwerp, you will find those
+before Antioch who will not forget!"
+
+"Gallantly done, my lord," taunted Richard. "At Palermo you boasted
+you loved to talk with a foe over two sword-blades; Syrian nard
+softens your courage and your arm."
+
+Iftikhar lost control for a moment, and boasted wildly.
+
+"_Ya_! You may well curse, for I have triumphed. As a lion you have
+lived; as a dog you shall die. The grudge is old; the vengeance
+sweetens with the years. Father, brother, mother, sister, I have taken
+from you. Yes, by the splendor of Allah, your bride also! Mary, Star
+of the Greeks, is mine! I will place your head before her. I will say,
+'See, see, Richard, your lord, your husband.' For I have
+conquered--have conquered utterly!"
+
+He paused to gather breath. Richard was silent, repeating to himself
+the proverb that "stillness angers most." The Egyptian recovered his
+control, and went on. "You, Richard Longsword," said he, "you, Cid
+Musa, and you, Duke Godfrey, have come to Aleppo to steal away my
+prize. You fail. You shall, as Allah reigns, count out the price! I
+designed to start for Antioch to-morrow, intent on taking your heads
+to the Star of the Greeks. And I should not have failed. Kerbogha's
+host is but ten leagues from your Christian camp. You know nothing.
+You will be struck as by a bolt from the clear sky. Knight and
+villain, you shall die far from Jerusalem,"--the Egyptian broke off in
+a laugh; for the Duke, steel against his own peril, had turned gray at
+this tale of danger to the army.
+
+"Ah! my Lord Godfrey," went on Iftikhar, "it matters little to you
+whether you end all at Aleppo or at Antioch. For on my faith as a
+cavalier, I swear there shall not one man of all your host escape.
+Already Kerbogha advances beyond Afrin, and not a Christian dreams.
+Your scouting parties are gallantly led, fair Franks!"
+
+"Dear God," prayed Richard, "not for our sakes, but for the love of
+the army of Thy Son, suffer us even now to escape this Thine enemy!"
+But Iftikhar continued: "I speak too long. Enough that I shall bring
+you this night before the tribunal of the Ismaelians, since the dagger
+is only for those whom our judgments cannot otherwise reach. You shall
+stand before our _Daïs_, that is to say the 'masters,' and our
+_Refiks_, that is the 'companions,' and it will be asked you if you
+sought the hurt of any Ismaelian. Make what defence you may. If the
+tribunal decide against you, you are delivered over by the court, and
+the world hears of you no more."
+
+"Spare the mockery," thundered Richard, blazing forth at last. "Slay;
+but summon no judges who are sworn against all mercy!" Iftikhar's
+answer was a gesture toward the passage. "Look!" and Richard leaped
+forward, bound as he was, so fiercely that he nigh flung down the
+three Ismaelians that held him. Two eunuchs were leading Mary Kurkuas
+into the chamber. Longsword had never known a moment like this. Then,
+if never before, he felt the pains of hell. Angry God and angry devil
+might devise nothing worse. Mary was led before him. She was very
+white,--white dress, white hands, white face; and her eyes seemed to
+touch the bare gray room with brightness. They must have told her what
+awaited, else she had never been so calm and still and beautiful. So
+beautiful! Was Mary, Mother of God, sitting upon the Heavenly Throne,
+fairer than she? Blasphemy?--but the thought would come! And she did
+not moan, nor cry in agony. That was Mary's way,--Richard knew
+it,--that she was ready to turn Iftikhar's desires against himself,
+and make her last vision one of strength and of peace. With all the
+pain,--pain too deep for words,--under the influence of her eyes, he
+felt a sweet, holy spell creeping over him, and knew that the
+bitterness of death was past.
+
+The two negroes led her until she stood beside Iftikhar. The Egyptian
+towered over her, splendid as Satan when robed as angel of light. The
+grand prior looked upon her face; and Richard knew he saw all the
+brightness of heaven therein. But a cloud passed across the
+countenance of Iftikhar, as if in that moment of earthly triumph he
+felt there was something passing betwixt his captive and his slave
+which not all the might of the "devoted" could win for his own. The
+Egyptian pointed from Mary to the Norman--his voice very proud.
+
+"Look, Star of the Greeks, my vow is made good. Behold how Allah has
+favored Iftikhar Eddauleh. You indeed see Richard de St. Julien, your
+husband."
+
+Mary was stately as a palm when she answered.
+
+"And do you think, Cid, that you have led me hither to see me kneel at
+your feet, to hear me moan for mercy for these men? I know you
+over-well, Iftikhar Eddauleh. No human power can turn that heart of
+yours when once it is fixed. But God in His own time shall bow you
+utterly. I do not fear for Richard, for these his friends, for myself.
+Life sometimes is nothing so precious that it is worth buying with too
+great a price. For these to whom God says 'Go,' the time will not seem
+long; and for me, to whom He says 'Stay,'--I shall be given strength
+to bear your power or that of other demon. But there is greeting in
+the end with naught to sunder. And to you,--to you,"--her eyes were
+not lamps now; they were fiery swords, piercing the Ismaelian
+through,--"God perhaps lengthens out many days of sin and glory, that
+for every instant on earth there may be an æon hereafter of woe."
+
+Iftikhar's face had turned to blackness. He raised his hand to smite.
+Richard thought to see him fell the Greek to the stones; but his
+uplifted arm lowered, the spasm of madness passed.
+
+"Ask anything, anything but the lives of these men!" cried he, half
+pleading, to turn away the bitterness of her curse; "and as Allah
+lives I will not deny!"
+
+"Take Richard Longsword, and then take all else. For God and His
+angels witness, you spread betwixt you and me a sea ten thousand years
+shall see unbridged!"
+
+"I cannot! I cannot spare!" the words came from Iftikhar as a moan.
+"Let Richard Longsword live, and I shall win you never!"
+
+And Richard was about to cry that life was worthless if Mary humbled
+herself in his behalf. But the Greek spoke for him.
+
+"One boon, Cid Iftikhar. I do not plead for these men. I know my
+husband and Cid Musa would rather die by your cord than see me on my
+knees before you. Kill or spare, you can never win more of me than my
+body, held already. But now let me go; I can do nothing here."
+
+Iftikhar motioned to the blacks to lead her away.
+
+"Richard, my husband," said she, softly, "you and Musa and my Lord
+Godfrey did wrong to come hither; but I love you for it more. God will
+be kind. You will not find it long to wait for me in heaven."
+
+"May Christ pity you, sweet wife!" answered the Norman.
+
+"He will pity, do not fear." That was all she said. She was gone. Her
+wondrous eyes lit the room no more; but a peace was lighted in
+Richard's heart, which naught could take away. Iftikhar turned
+abruptly the moment the Greek had vanished.
+
+"My friends," declared he, with an ill-assumed irony, "I can do
+nothing further to serve you. Before midnight our long accounting is
+ended. Leave to Allah the rest. Others will care for you at the
+tribunal."
+
+Richard held up his head proudly.
+
+"And I, Richard Longsword, standing in the presence of death, do cite
+you, Iftikhar Eddauleh, to stand with me before no less a tribunal
+than the judgment seat of Almighty God. There to answer, not as Moslem
+to Christian, but as man to man, for the blood you have shed wantonly,
+the foul deeds you have plotted, the pure women you have wronged, the
+very saint of God you have brought to agony. At His judgment seat I
+will accuse you, and you shall make answer to Him and all His holy
+angels. So say I!"
+
+"And I!" thundered Godfrey.
+
+"And I!" cried Musa.
+
+They saw the Ismaelian's face flush once more. By an effort he reined
+his curses. Without a word he vanished. Richard turned to his
+comrades.
+
+"Dear friends, this is the last adventure," said he. "Heaven is
+witness I did not pray you to go with me to Aleppo."
+
+"You did not," was the answer of both. And Musa added: "My brother and
+you, fair lord, we are at the end. You are praying to your gentle
+Issa; I to Allah, the One. Yet our hearts are pure; and be you right
+or I, do not think God will lift some to Paradise, and speed some to
+hell, because your mothers taught to call on Christ, and mine to call
+on Allah."'
+
+The Spaniard fixed his sweet and winning gaze upon the great Duke of
+Lorraine, upon Godfrey, the chief of the slayers of the infidels; and
+the Duke answered (only Richard knowing what the words meant from such
+lips):--
+
+"No, by Our Lady of Pity; be you Moslem, be you Christian, Sir
+Musa,--I would that many of the army of the Cross stood so blameless
+as you in the sight of God. For never in all my life have I met more
+spotless cavalier than you have proved. I am proud to call you
+comrade."
+
+One of the white-robed Ismaelians had entered the chamber, and
+uplifted his hand.
+
+"The tribunal waits," he announced. "Come!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Iftikhar Eddauleh left the gallery in the cellars of El Halebah with a
+strange storm raging in his breast. Victory, pride, the sense of
+having at last settled all grudges--in this he exulted. But with it
+all came the knowledge that the death of Richard Longsword meant the
+death of the last hope to make Mary the Greek other than his slave.
+She had truly said,--the Egyptian knew it,--old age might come, æons
+might speed, but henceforth Iftikhar would be only to her as
+malevolent jinn. The grand prior cursed himself for the mad folly that
+had led him to bring Mary and Richard face to face. She had been
+brought to give agony; she had given strength. Iftikhar knew that the
+sight of her presence, the sound of her voice, had stolen away the
+sting of death from the Norman. Likewise he knew that, with all the
+"devoted," with all the glory of his state, he was weaker than the
+will of this unshielded woman, that he could put forth all his might
+to crush that will, and do it in vain. In the eyry apartment of
+Morgiana, he found the four around whom, next to himself, the life of
+El Halebah revolved--Mary, Zeyneb, Morgiana, and Hakem. The Greek was
+standing beside the divan whereon sat the Arabian wife. Her face was
+very pale, her eyes so bright that their fire seemed not of this
+world. She was calm, and her words came soft and slow. But not so
+Morgiana; Iftikhar foresaw the lightnings the moment he entered. He
+was, however, in no mood to quail. Ignoring the others, he strode to
+Morgiana, and began half severely:--
+
+"Moon of the Arabs, it is late. I commanded you to retire early."
+
+Morgiana lifted her blue eyes.
+
+"I have heard. Well?"
+
+"Do you disobey before my face?" retorted the grand prior.
+
+The answer came when Morgiana leaped to her feet.
+
+"Away, away, hound of Eblees! Away, away, begotten of the sheytans!
+Get you gone, or even I shall curse you!"
+
+Iftikhar doubted his ears. Never had Morgiana reviled him thus.
+
+"Silence; my will is law!" And he struck her with his open palm on her
+mouth. Struck once, then recoiled, for a flame of wrath flashed with
+the red flush on Morgiana's face, such as the Egyptian had never seen
+before. Now he saw, and drew back. Morgiana spoke very slowly, sign of
+deepest anger.
+
+"Strike--strike--again! and by the Great Name of Allah, I swear I will
+bide my time, and murder you in your bed."
+
+And Iftikhar, man of passion and blood, felt his own blood creeping
+chill. Half he felt a knife at his throat. His answer died on his
+lips. Morgiana was speaking rapidly now:--
+
+"Look on the Greek, Iftikhar Eddauleh! Look on the Greek. Do you know
+what pain is, and agony, beyond your conceiving? See it there--see it
+there--and tremble! For I say to you, every tear that Mary, the Star
+of the Greeks, shall shed, every drop her torn heart bleeds, is
+reckoned against your name in the great book of Allah. Yes; and you,
+Iftikhar, shall pay the price--the price--the price--through the long
+years of eternity. Therefore tremble, for earth and sea shall be
+confounded ere the All-Just forget one pang, one deed of darkness!"
+
+Iftikhar tore the dagger from his belt. He had words at last now.
+
+"You are mad. I will kill you!"
+
+"Kill me?" Morgiana threw back her black hair, and laughed as would an
+invulnerable jinn. "Kill me? Can you think of nothing worse?" And
+again she laughed.
+
+The Egyptian shrank back a step or two, as she advanced. Suddenly her
+laughter ended, her voice became calm.
+
+"Cid Iftikhar," she said quietly, "you see I am in no mood to receive
+commands to-night. Neither does _Citt_ Mary crave your company. You
+have triumphed, my Cid. Doom favors you. You must not exult
+mercilessly. Be magnanimous; leave us alone this night."
+
+Iftikhar responded almost perforce to this appeal.
+
+"I grant anything in reason, Morgiana. Rage no more, I will leave
+you." And he was gone with a low salaam. Zeyneb made to follow him,
+but his foster-sister recalled.
+
+"Zeyneb," said she, "I wish you to tell us of the state of the
+prisoners. Will Iftikhar return to see the execution?"
+
+The dwarf showed his white teeth. He marvelled that Morgiana should
+question thus with Mary present, but, nothing loth, replied: "He will
+not; he goes to his chamber to sleep. In the morning they bring him
+the heads."
+
+Mary's white cheeks grew whiter, but the Arabian did not hesitate.
+
+"And when will the execution take place?"
+
+Zeyneb grinned again. "The bells on the water-clock say it is the end
+of the fourth hour of the night; at the end of the fifth hour, unless
+the tribunal clears them,"--his grin broadened,--"Harun twists the
+cord."
+
+Morgiana drew up one little foot on the divan, and clasped it with
+both hands.
+
+"_Wallah!_ How admirable has been your trap, foster-brother. Mary had
+told nearly all you had done, before Iftikhar broke in upon us. Woe to
+us, and joy to you! Allah grant we may have our day also. So it was
+you alone that penetrated the disguise of Cid Musa. Allah himself
+might hardly outwit you!"
+
+Zeyneb smiled at the flattery. "I am honored, foster-sister."
+
+"And tell this," demanded she, letting her foot drop to the rugs, "are
+the faithless sentries warned?"
+
+"_Mashallah_, no! They think all is well. In the morning they are
+seized and beheaded. We led the prisoners to the palace by another
+way."
+
+"What escapes you, my Zeyneb!" cried the other, rising and stepping
+toward the doorway. "But tell me this,--are the horses of these three
+adventurers taken?"
+
+Zeyneb gave a start and a curse.
+
+"Blasted am I! Forgotten! Iftikhar left all in my hands. The horses
+are still where they were tethered. They will be taken by morning. I
+will go and send for them at once."
+
+Before he could cry out, Morgiana had dashed to the door and shot the
+bolt.
+
+"_Wallah!_ You rave," howled the dwarf, smitten with fear. "Help,
+Hakem!" For Morgiana, with arms outstretched, stood before the door,
+her face flaming defiance.
+
+"Mary," cried Morgiana, "are you very strong? Pluck that adder Hakem
+round the neck, and hold fast! For the life of Richard Longsword,
+hold!"
+
+Dwarf and eunuch had sprung on Morgiana, but the Greek also. Right
+round the body of the effeminate Hakem Mary cast her white arms,
+caught him, held him; for the strength of an angel was given her, and
+the eunuch's strength was that of a fatted sheep. Meantime Morgiana
+and Zeyneb waged their fiercer battle.
+
+"Mad woman!" raged the dwarf, writhing, struggling, snapping as for
+dear life. "You shall be flogged for this, beheaded, flayed! Release,
+or you die! Release! Let go, or--" But Morgiana wrested him almost
+from his feet as they struggled, and every time he saw the terrible
+purpose in her eyes his heart sank lower. And still they wrestled.
+
+"Help! Rescue!" shrieked the dwarf, feeling himself nigh mastered.
+Even louder howled Hakem, tight held in the vise of Mary's arms.
+
+Shrill above their cry was the laugh of Morgiana. "Aye, shriek! Call
+as you will," sped her boast. "Louder!--louder! Call Iftikhar, the
+eunuchs, the 'devoted.' Far below, none hear. Cry louder--we are alone
+in the tower of the palace. Call! Call! None hears save Allah, and it
+is He who fights for me! Call again! Make the stars pity, and rain
+their aid--naught is nearer!"
+
+Zeyneb wrested one hand free. For a twinkling he brandished a dagger.
+A second twinkling, it flew from his hand across the room.
+
+"_Ya!_" rang the shout of his assailant. "See! I am strong, strong,
+and Allah fights for me,--for Morgiana the blue-eyed maid of Yemen!
+_Bismillah_, it is done!"
+
+And with the word Zeyneb's feet spun from beneath him. He fell heavily
+to the floor; so heavily that despite the rug he was senseless in a
+flash. Morgiana, with a great cry of delight, bounded after his
+dagger, secured it, was at Mary's side. Hakem was struggling
+desperately. He could not shake the Greek's hold, and dared not do her
+harm. The Arabian held the knife edge to his throat.
+
+"Hakem," came her voice, hard as steel on steel, "let your heart say
+the 'Great Prayer,' the _Fat'hah_. You are going to die."
+
+"Spare," pleaded the Greek, beginning to tremble, "spare that God may
+spare us!"
+
+"Dead snakes never bite!" came the answer.
+
+Mary never forgot the terrible glow on Morgiana's face when that deed
+was done, which made the Greek shiver. The body of the eunuch dropped
+from her arms, lay upon the rugs, the blood spurting from the neck.
+The Arabian was kneeling over the prone form of Zeyneb. She thrust
+away the vest, laid a hand on his heart.
+
+"Living!" whispered she, raising her eyes. "I may do wrong, but he is
+my foster-brother, and faithful to Iftikhar."
+
+The Greek was too faint to do anything; but Morgiana rapidly plucked
+the curtain from the doorway, tore into strips, knotted about the
+dwarf's arms and feet. Then she felt in his bosom and drew forth a
+small key.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The three bronze lamps high up in the vault were flickering dimly. The
+shadows of the pillars lay long and dark across the gray slabs of the
+pavement. Upon the floor in irregular semicircle sat a score of
+figures in white mantle and turban, red girdle and shoes. The figures
+were rigid as marble, features moving not, lips speaking not; only the
+dark eyes flashed back the shimmerings of the lamps. In the centre of
+the group, and facing the others, another figure was standing, habited
+like the rest, save that the turban was black, and a great diamond,
+bright as a tiger's eye, twinkled against it. This figure was
+speaking.
+
+"Musa, son of Abdallah, and you, Godfrey and Richard, lords of the
+Franks,"--the words came cold and metallic,--"you have been brought
+before the tribunal of the holy Order of Ismael. You have been accused
+of being the foes and plotting the hurt of the Grand Prior of Syria,
+Iftikhar Eddauleh. Nor have you denied this; you have confessed you
+desired his hurt, you have boasted you desired his death and dishonor.
+And now it behooves to ask, were you acquainted with the lot of those
+who so much as imagine harm to the least 'aspirant,' a _Las[=i]k_ of
+the sacred Ismaelians, far from comparing such to the vice-gerent of
+our Lord Hassan Sabah's self?"
+
+Whereupon Musa, facing the semicircle, with Richard and Godfrey at his
+side, answered in his melodious Arabic:--
+
+"We well understand that he who offends against one of your order
+shall sooner receive mercy from Eblees than from you. Knowing that, we
+went forth; knowing that, we stand here. Our foe is Iftikhar Eddauleh.
+You are his slaves; bought cattle were not his more utterly. Proceed
+to sentence."
+
+Rain beating an iron wall had made deeper dint than his words on that
+array of stony features. A long silence--then the former speaker
+looked upon his colleagues. Slowly he began: "It is the custom, O
+Ismaelians,--and it is here observed,--that those admitted to the
+degrees called _Tessis_ and _Teevil_, the sixth and seventh of our
+holy brotherhood, shall sit in judgment upon those brought within
+danger of the cord. You have heard these men and the accusation. The
+mysteries of our order, the mandate of our Lord Hassan Sabah, are
+known to you. Yet let me repeat the word of the first of the seven
+Imams, the Lord Hossein the martyr, as runs the revered tradition, 'He
+that offendeth the least of you, let him wash away his guilt in his
+own blood.' Therefore I command that whosoever of you may believe
+these men cleared and worthy of liberty, let him speak forth; but
+whosoever thinks they should endure the cord, keep silence. For speech
+is life, and silence is death. I have spoken."
+
+Silence--while the lamps flickered, flickered, and the shadows swung
+on floor and walls; and still the chief stood facing the twenty, who
+moved not, nor gave sound. Then at last--after how long! he spoke,--a
+voice as from the grave.
+
+"There is no word. Let the law be fulfilled. Judgment is pronounced.
+The cord!" The chief seated himself and there was stillness as before,
+until a distant bell pealed out, once, twice, thrice, four
+times,--five! With noiseless step, the tall Harun glided from behind a
+pillar and plucked Musa's elbow.
+
+"Doom!" Harun held up a silken noose, plaited tight, and pointed to
+the floor. "Kneel," he commanded softly; "you are Moslem, I grant you
+this joy, you shall not see your friends die."
+
+Musa turned to the Franks. Their hands were bound, but their eyes
+could greet.
+
+"Sweet friends," said he, smiling as ever in his gentle, melancholy
+way, "we must part. But my hope in Allah is strong. We shall meet
+before His throne!"
+
+"God is with us all!" answered Richard. "He is very pitiful."
+
+But Godfrey did not speak. Longsword knew his thoughts were not of
+Musa, nor of the tribunal, nor even of the shadow of death; but of the
+Christian host surprised by Kerbogha, and of the Holy City left in
+captivity.
+
+"I am ready," said Musa to Harun; and he prepared to kneel.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A tremor, a wind of the spirit, seemed passing over all those
+chiselled faces. Musa and all others heard music,--a song,--quavering,
+sighing, throbbing melody, wafted down the long underground galleries
+from very far away. At first no clear word was borne to them, but the
+sweetest note Richard in his life had heard. Was the great change come
+so nigh that one heard God's white host singing? Musa stood fast.
+Harun was rooted also, the cord hung limp in his hand, all forgotten,
+save the wondrous song. Now at last the burden came dimly:--
+
+    "Genii who rule o'er the tempest and wind,
+    Peris who tread where red coral lies deep,
+    Show forth your haunt that my fleet foot may find
+    Where the cool moss caves 'neath the green waves sleep.
+
+    "Lie they under the sea that by Ormuz darkles,
+    Or the broad blue bay of the Golden Isles?
+    Or where breeze-loved haven in far west sparkles,
+    Alight with the sun's ne'er-vanishing smiles?"
+
+The voice swelled nearer; the rhythm was quicker, measure shorter,
+words stronger. The song became a prayer, a cry.
+
+    "Away! away from the grief and jarring
+    Of this toilsome life and its pang I'd be!
+    Forgetting earth and all strife and warring,
+    Wrap me away to the breast of the sea!
+
+    "Wreathe me chaplets with sea-flowers brightest,
+    With the feath'ry sea-mosses make me dressed!
+    Make my pillow the wind-spray whitest;
+    Rock me to sleep on the storm-waves' crest!"
+
+Was it day that was dawning on each of those stony faces? Why this
+whisper; this rustle of white gowns; this mutter "Allah! Allah!" under
+the snowy turbans? "Truly God's angels come!" Richard's soul cried. He
+thought to see the vaulting open; the heavens fleeing away as unclean.
+What angel could sing of paynim genii and peris? But the voice yet
+approached, ever louder, clearer:--
+
+    "Sing, oh, sing, all ye fair, pure spirits!
+    Spirit I, to your band I'd flee;
+    Blest the soul who for aye inherits
+    To rove with you through your kingdom free!"
+
+Now the song was so near that all eyes ran into the dark for the
+oncoming singer, and every white robe had risen when the last lines
+sounded:--
+
+    "Clearer, clearer the silvery pealing
+    Of enchanted bells steals my heart afar!
+    Soon I'll see, all the mists unsealing,
+    The genii's lord on his pearl-wrought car!"
+
+Silence. They saw a light flash in the low doorway, saw it glisten on
+jewels, an empress's pride. A woman entered, tall as a spear, stately
+as a palm, black tresses flowing as a fair vine, and eyes and face to
+shame the houris. Around her bare throat flashed a great chain of
+emeralds; there were diamonds and rubies on her coronet; gold and gems
+on her bare brown arms; gold and gems on her sandals, that hid not the
+shapely feet. Her robe was one lustrous sea of violet silk, rippling
+about her as she glided, not walked. And as she came, she spread
+abroad a new melody; no words now, but only a humming, a soft,
+witching note, as if bidding all the spirits of the air flit at her
+footsteps to do her behests. Her left hand upraised the lamp; her
+right was held high also, and on one finger flashed something that
+doubled the quivering flame--a ring set with a single emerald.
+
+Onward she came; and right and left the company made way for her. And
+Harun dropped his cord, began to mutter: "_Allah akhbar!_ The maids of
+the Gardens of Fountains have come down to dwell amongst men!" But the
+stranger--spirit or woman, who might say?--came on till she stood
+before the three captives. At the mandate in her eyes all other eyes
+followed her. No more she sang, but spoke, proud as the queen of the
+genii legions.
+
+"Hear! tremble! obey!" She held the emerald higher. At the sight
+thereof there was a new stir, new whispers; the Ismaelians were bowing
+to the pavement. "Behold it! The ring of Hassan Sabah, your lord! I
+say to you, whoever shall disobey the command of the bearer of this
+ring, be his merits never so great, Allah shall cut him off from the
+joys of Paradise! Obey! and the honeyed kiss of the daughters of the
+land of the River of Life is on your lips!"
+
+She swept the flashing ring to and fro before the eyes of the cowering
+twenty.
+
+"Reverence therefore the will of the bearer of the ring," she ran on;
+"obey, were it on the camel-driver's finger; obey the more, since it
+is on mine,--I, at whose word the hosts of the darkness fall
+trembling, at whose nod the troops of the upper winds fly obedient!"
+
+Needless her exhortation. One cry from twenty: "We obey! We are your
+slaves, O lady of Allah's own beauty! O empress of genii and men!" And
+the stranger, scarce pausing, rushed on:--
+
+"See! your judgment is false! See, I am sent by Allah to bring to
+naught your desires! I command--I, the blue-eyed maid of Yemen, whose
+walk is with the stars! Release these captives. Their doom is
+unwritten."
+
+[Illustration: "ALL BLINDLY, HE KNEW THEY WERE MOUNTING STAIRWAYS"]
+
+Richard had beheld all as does the man treading in a dream; who knows
+he dreams, yet cannot waken. Dreaming, he had seen this strange spirit
+enter; dreaming, he heard; dreaming, he saw a quiver, as of
+resistance, pass round that ring of sculptured faces; the eyes bright
+as snakes, and more pitiless, questioned once,--once only. The
+deliverer shot across their company one lightning glance--majesty,
+supremacy, scorn. Still dreaming, Richard saw in her hand a dagger;
+and then--dreamt he still?--he felt the bands upon his arms sever. He
+stood free--and Godfrey and Musa free! But his protectress was
+speaking again:--
+
+"Behold--I say to you, Allah has cast his mantle over these three to
+deliver them. Forget this night. Follow me not; for, as the Most High
+rules, you shall curse disobedience in the quenchless Gehenna! Tremble
+again--you have seen great things--and now, farewell."
+
+Richard felt her hand upon his arm.
+
+"Come," she said softly, "and Allah will yet aid you!"
+
+The chamber of the tribunal, the semicircle of white robes, Harun and
+the cord--all were gone. Richard was still in his dream. He trod
+onward, feeling no floor beneath his feet. The wavering light of his
+protectress went before him. In the narrow galleries they traversed,
+the darkness closed after him. All blindly, he knew they were mounting
+stairways, were gliding through murky passages. Suddenly the air was
+again sweet; Richard saw around him the dim vista of a line of white
+columns, and above, the hazy canopy of a great dome.
+
+The woman halted, again upraised her lamp.
+
+"I see Cid Richard Longsword," said she, "and his good comrades, Cid
+Musa and Cid Godfrey. If Allah favor us, I will now lead you to Mary
+the Greek!"
+
+At these words Richard knew he dreamed no longer; his belief was--God
+had already raised him to heaven.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI
+
+HOW THE ISMAELIANS SAW TRENCHEFER
+
+
+The voice of Musa recalled the Norman to the things of earth. "_Citt_,
+protectress sent from Allah!" the Andalusian was crying, "do my ears
+fail? Is your voice strange? When have I heard it before? In Palermo?"
+
+"In Palermo," reëchoed the stranger, "in Palermo, when by the Most
+High's favor I warned you against Iftikhar Eddauleh." The name of his
+enemy roused all the fires in Richard's breast.
+
+"Lead on!" boasted he, nigh fiercely. "Lead on! and in the name of
+every saint, Trenchefer shall weigh out his price to the Ismaelian
+to-night!"
+
+His voice was rising to a war-cry, when Musa clapped his hand on his
+friend's mouth. The lady had upraised a warning finger; a tremor of
+mingled fear and wrath seemed shaking her.
+
+"Hist, Cid Richard! Are you mad? The palace is full of armed men.
+Safety is leagues away. And I declare to you, that unless you swear by
+the great name of Issa you worship, to do Iftikhar to-night no hurt, I
+will cry aloud, and you perish as surely as by Harun's bowstring."
+
+"Iftikhar?" questioned Richard, in amaze. "Iftikhar? You have given
+freedom to his arch foe, and yet you say to me, 'Spare'?"
+
+"My lord," said the lady, gently, "Mary the Greek shall tell you why I
+do this. Swear, if you would see her face--not die." And, conjured by
+that all-potent name, Richard took a willing oath; Godfrey likewise,
+and Musa after his manner. The lady raised her lamp once more.
+
+"Follow softly," she warned; "many sleep all about us. I must lead you
+the length of the palace."
+
+Then came another journey through the enchanted darkness, lit only by
+the lamp and the gleam of the gems at the strange deliverer's throat.
+They crossed the great hall, treading gently, Richard's hand on the
+hilt of Trenchefer, for nigh he expected to see goblins springing from
+the dark. Once across, the lady halted; opened a door. In the glow of
+the lamps Longsword saw a giant negro prone upon the rug, at his side
+a naked sabre. Trenchefer crept halfway from the sheath, as he turned,
+unfolding his mighty hands. But their guide gave him no heed. The
+black slumbered on.
+
+The door closed. They sped down a long gallery, swift and silent as
+flight in a dream; another door, another guardsman. This time the
+negro was awake, standing at his post.
+
+"Now!" came between Godfrey's teeth; and three swords were ready to
+flash. The lady smiled, sprang before them. At sight of her the sentry
+bowed low.
+
+"Habib," said she, gently, "these are they I said I would bring you.
+Remember--you have for them neither ears nor eyes."
+
+"I am blind and dumb, my _Citt_," was the answer.
+
+She beckoned, the three followed; the guardsman was lost in the gloom.
+"I begged his life of Iftikhar a year since," explained the lady,
+"therefore Habib is grateful."
+
+A second gallery, an open arcade, a sight of the stars twinkling
+between the plumes of the palm trees, and the puff of the sluggish
+southern wind. They came to a new door, where a lamp burned low. The
+door was open. A stairway wound upward lit at intervals by flickering
+sconces. The lady halted.
+
+"Cid Richard," said she, "you shall go up with me, and take your wife;
+let these two remain below in the shadow."
+
+Musa smiled and salaamed; Godfrey laughed in his beard. "You need no
+comrade now, fair knight," said he to Richard.
+
+The Norman's step was on the stairway, as he leaped ahead of the lady.
+At last! At last! That was all he knew. God had indeed "stopped the
+mouths of the lions, had quenched the violence of fire!" Three steps
+Richard had covered with his bound; but at the fourth he was frozen
+fast. A cry, a cry of terror, of despairing pain, sped down the
+stairway:--
+
+"Morgiana! Help me, for the love of God!"
+
+Whose voice? Longsword knew it above ten thousand; and with it flew
+others--curses, howls, cries for help.
+
+"Hakem dead! Zeyneb bound! Rouse Cid Iftikhar! Morgiana,--death to
+Morgiana!"
+
+Louder the din; Richard turned to his protectress half fiercely: "What
+is this? Shall I go up?"
+
+She had covered her face with her hands.
+
+"Allah pity! Allah have mercy!" moaned she, quaking with sobs. "He
+fights against us. Go or stay, we shall soon die."
+
+Now at last leaped forth Trenchefer.
+
+"Follow who will," thundered Richard to Godfrey and Musa, who needed
+no bidding.
+
+Fast sped they; faster, Richard. Had he wings when he mounted the
+stairway? A second cry of utter despair, the rush of more feet.
+Longsword saw the last stair, saw the room, many torches and many
+forms; black eunuchs all, some clutching at a struggling woman, some
+bending over a prostrate form, some standing around Zeyneb, whose
+hands were upraised in malediction.
+
+"Iftikhar! Send for Cid Iftikhar!" he was raging; and every voice
+swelled the babel.
+
+But above them all pealed the thunder of the Norman. What profit
+silence now! "God wills it. St. Julien and Mary Kurkuas!"
+
+Eblees leaping from the cloven rock smote no greater terror than
+Richard bounding upon the blacks. Arms some had, but arms none used;
+for Trenchefer dashed them down as the flail smites, ere one could
+raise or draw. Richard sought Zeyneb; but the dwarf, the only one with
+wits enough to fly, darting through a door, was gone into the
+darkness. "God wills it! St. Julien and Mary Kurkuas."
+
+Richard again flung out his battle-cry; but none stood against him. He
+stared about the room, saw the dead form in the corner, a negro dying
+beside him, a second prone by the head of the staircase, the rest all
+fled,--all save one.
+
+Richard felt his knees smiting together, and a darkening mist veiling
+his eyes. He tried to speak; there came no word. Trenchefer fell
+clanging to the floor. Something was touching him, pressing him. Into
+the ringing in his ears stole one name, his own; out of the mist
+before his eyes floated one face. Then God gave back sight and speech.
+
+"Mine for life and for death!" came from his lips.
+
+"What is death if once you kiss me!" flew the answer.
+
+But neither said more, nor thought more. What soul may have thoughts
+in such an instant! Only Richard knew that never in his whole life had
+Heaven granted him joy like this.
+
+Mary was laying her warm, smooth hands upon his shoulders. Her lips
+were close to his own. She was speaking.
+
+"Richard, the peril is very great. You should have fled the moment
+Morgiana saved you. For my sake you all have committed great sin!"
+
+"And would you not thus have sinned for me?" replied the Norman. Mary
+did not reply. Her own heart told that Richard spoke well. Then she
+said softly:--
+
+"Sweet husband, I will not be frightened. I can fear nothing now. Only
+you must not let Iftikhar possess me again. Holy Mother of God! you
+must not let him regain me!" And Richard, who knew what she meant (for
+when did he not read all in her eyes?), answered, holding out
+Trenchefer:--
+
+"Iftikhar shall not regain you. By the wounds of Christ I swear it.
+Ah, how Our Lord will welcome a sweet angel like you when you fly up
+to the gate of heaven!"
+
+And Mary laughed at his words, for many things had become more
+terrible than death.
+
+"I rejected once the escape of death as a sin," said she, "but I know
+it will be no sin now. What, with you beside, is there left to fear,
+living or dying?"
+
+"Living!" cried the Norman, snatching a cloak to cast about her. "God
+will not suffer the wicked to torture such as you. St. Michael speed
+my arm with all the strength of heaven!"
+
+He had not seen Godfrey and Musa mounting to the chamber, or Morgiana
+following. He had not heard the tenfold din rising in the palace and
+without. But now he heard a howl of fury fit to pass a demon's lips.
+
+"May you scorch forever!" Richard turned. He saw Iftikhar Eddauleh,
+cimeter in hand, springing through the doorway. The Ismaelian was
+without armor; he wore the white robe of his order only. Rage
+unspeakable almost drowned the curses in his throat.
+
+"Die! Die, both of you!" that was his mad cry. Before Richard could
+grasp Trenchefer the Egyptian was on him, had torn Mary from his arms,
+was shortening his weapon to run him through. But Longsword needed no
+weapon. "For Mary's sake!" cried his soul; while one hand caught
+Iftikhar's sword wrist, the other clutched the Ismaelian's body. A
+struggle, a crash, and the grand prior measured length on the carpet.
+Richard bent over him, Trenchefer in hand. One thrust through the
+body, and Iftikhar Eddauleh would have passed from the wrath of man.
+The great sword was rising when Morgiana tore at the Norman's arm.
+"Your oath!" cried she, with livid face; "spare!" Longsword paused.
+"What is he to you, woman?" demanded he, sternly.
+
+"He is to me as Mary the Greek to you," answered the Arabian,
+defiantly. Richard withheld his hand. Iftikhar was staggering to his
+feet, but was weaponless. His conqueror pointed toward the doorway.
+
+"Fair cavalier," said he in Provençal, "get you gone. For sake of my
+oath to this woman, I spare you once. When we next meet, God judge
+betwixt us."
+
+The Egyptian drew himself up proudly.
+
+"Do not deceive yourself, Cid Richard. You will be overwhelmed by
+numbers. Though you spare me, I will not spare you."
+
+Longsword in turn threw back his head.
+
+"Nor do I ask it. We owe each other--nothing. Go!"
+
+And Iftikhar foamed out of the room, gone as suddenly as he had
+entered. There was silence for a moment.
+
+"My friends," said Richard, "let us make haste. Shall we not fly?"
+Morgiana laughed, as so often, very scornfully.
+
+"Verily you Franks are fools. Do you say 'go'? Are you angels with
+swords of fire, that you can blast ten thousand? Hark! fifty approach
+the door by which we entered! All the Ismaelians about El Halebah are
+alarmed. Iftikhar boasts well; we are soon hewn in pieces."
+
+There was indeed a din, hundreds of voices, many torches shaking and
+flitting about the groves, and coming nearer, dogs barking, armor
+clanging. The whole cantonment of the Ismaelians was astir to avenge
+the violation of the palace. Musa had bowed his head.
+
+"Alas! dear brother," said he, after his gentle manner, "clearly Allah
+has written our dooms! We pass from death to death. But we can now die
+sword in hand!"
+
+Then Richard held up Trenchefer, so that the reddened blade glittered
+in the lamplight.
+
+"This is no time to die!" cried he; "let others die! Let us do the
+deeds God has appointed. The life of my wife, the safety of the army
+of Christ, are at stake, and with Our Lord's help we shall make our
+boast over Iftikhar!"
+
+The others looked at him. For the first time Mary saw that mad fire in
+his eyes which once burned the hour when he wrested triumph from death
+at Valmont--a thing terrible to see, but Mary did not quail. In a
+strange way the sight of him told her they were then not to die; for a
+prophet stood before her, a prophet whose evangel would be given that
+night with steel.
+
+Richard surveyed the room. It was square, of no great size, lighted in
+day by a high lantern. On his right descended the stairway to the
+arcade of the palace; before him opened the wide door that led down
+the dark corridor. The door itself was of wood and weak. The winding
+stairway was steep and narrow; one man could make good the ascent
+against a host. But to defend the door was nothing easy. Just beyond
+it the passage widened, making space for numbers. Longsword turned to
+Morgiana. "Is there no other door?" he demanded.
+
+She shook her head. "None that will open." She tore back the Kerman
+tapestry, and revealed a solid door in the wall, barred and bolted
+into the casement. "This door has been sealed for years; the firm wall
+is little stronger. It leads to another stairway, but the former
+masters of El Halebah closed it." Duke Godfrey, who had swept the room
+with a captain's eye, snorted with satisfaction.
+
+"Good!" cried he, "only two entrances to defend. By St. Michael, the
+_jongleurs_ shall have some brave strokes to sing, before we are
+amongst the angels!"
+
+Mary looked from one to the other of her terrible protectors. Musa had
+put off his despair; Richard leaned on Trenchefer, a lion crouching
+for his spring; Godfrey--terror of the paynims--pranced up and down
+the doorway, clattering his great blade, and calling on every Moslem
+devil to draw nigh and be satisfied. Mary knew then, if never before,
+that to her mighty husband and his peers death was a very pleasant
+thing, if only it came in knightly guise. There was redoubled din in
+the passage, more din below the stairway. Richard addressed Musa,
+"Guard the stairs, the Duke and I can care for the door," and he
+sprang to Godfrey's side.
+
+The Greek threw her arms about him, beseeching.
+
+"Dear husband, as you love me,--strike once, and free me from Iftikhar
+forever!" And she held down her head. But Richard laughed, as St.
+George might, crushing his dragon.
+
+"Yes, by the splendor of God,--as I love you!--I will strike not once,
+but many times; and Iftikhar shall never touch you!"
+
+He caught her in his giant arms, pressed her to his breast, put her
+away. "Pray for us!" his words; "your prayers will outweigh
+Trenchefer!" But Mary only stared about in dread, wishing to cry, to
+shout, but her voice was frozen. Morgiana's hand plucked her away.
+
+"Back!" commanded the Arabian; "you can do nothing. They are all in
+Allah's hands. Let us await doom."
+
+Morgiana forced her to a corner of the room, and thrust her upon a
+divan. Mary heard a thunderous command in the voice of Iftikhar, a
+rush of many feet, a clash and crash of targets and sword-blades,--then,
+in mercy, sight and hearing fled.
+
+Down the passage, lit by wavering lamps and flambeaux, charged the
+white-robed Ismaelians, the commands and curses of the grand prior
+speeding them. Not a man but was a trained sword hand, and had been in
+the battle press a score of times. But they never knew before how deep
+the Frankish bear could bite. Side by side--armed only with their
+great blades--Godfrey and Richard met them in the passage. Then came
+the rush, the shock. Godfrey swung to left; to right whirled
+Trenchefer. Left and right, each felling his man; and cimeters dashed
+from hands as stubble, shields were smitten through as if of gauze.
+After the shock came the recoil; new charge and new repulse. The long
+Frankish swords hewed down the Ismaelians before their short cimeters
+could strike. There were three corpses before the door, but the two
+were still standing. Third charge--again flung back! Iftikhar raged at
+his men.
+
+"Scorpions! Lizards! Will you let two men mock you? Is it thus you
+earn Paradise?"
+
+"We may fight men, not jinns!" howled an old _daïs_. Richard
+brandished Trenchefer.
+
+"Come you, Iftikhar Eddauleh! The account is long!"
+
+The grand prior forced himself forward.
+
+"It is long!" foamed he. "Eblees pluck me if it is not paid."
+
+"Back, Cid," pleaded the Ismaelians; "they have the might of the rebel
+efreets!"
+
+"Fools!" thundered Iftikhar, putting all by; "follow, who dares!" His
+eye lit on Morgiana within. "Allah blast me utterly, wench," rang his
+menace, "if you see the dawning."
+
+Morgiana's answer was to tear the ring from her finger, and dash it in
+his face.
+
+"See, see! You have cursed, mocked, triumphed! But I conquer! You
+shall possess the Greek, never, never!"
+
+Iftikhar cut her short by dashing on Richard as a stone from a
+catapult. Twice sword and cimeter clashed; thrice, and the Norman's
+strength dashed through the Ismaelian's guard. Iftikhar fell, but
+Trenchefer had turned in the stroke. He was not maimed. Ere Richard
+could strike again, the "devoted," with a great cry, flew after their
+chief, to drag to safety. Godfrey slew one, but his body became the
+shield. They plucked Iftikhar from danger. He stood, blaspheming
+heaven. There was blood on his shoulder, but he snatched for a weapon.
+
+"_Allah akhbar!_" groaned Morgiana, falling on her face; "he is nigh
+slain!" Richard laughed in derision.
+
+"Slain? He has strength to kill many good men yet; cursed am I, that
+my wrist turned."
+
+"Again! Again!" raged the grand prior; and the "devoted" dashed upon
+the two Franks, but only to be flung back as before. At the narrow
+stairway, many had tried to ascend; none had passed Musa, "Sword of
+Grenada."
+
+Mary was awaking from her oblivion. Still the clatter of swords, the
+howl of the Ismaelians, the loud "Ha! St. Michael!" of the two Franks.
+Never had she loved Richard Longsword as now, when she saw him
+standing beside the great Duke--the two o'ermatching the fifty. Heaven
+was very near, she knew it; but the vision of God's White Throne could
+hardly be more sweet than the thought--"Richard Longsword is doing
+this for me, for me!" And the Norman? How changed from the helpless ox
+the Ismaelians had dragged to slaughter! How the touch of warm breath
+and soft hair on his cheek, by a great mystery, had sped the might of
+the paladins through his veins!
+
+The "devoted" renewed the onset. When Iftikhar sought to lead them,
+they thrust him back. When the Frankish swords proved again too
+strong, they brought lances and javelins. With darts they would crush
+down these destroying jinns. But Godfrey plucked up a low ebony table,
+tore three legs clear, holding the table-top by the fourth before him
+as a shield, and dashed the other three amongst the foe. A javelin
+quivered in the casement; he tore it clear, and sped it clean through
+target and cuirass of a bold Ismaelian. No more darts were flung: to
+supply weapons to this man were madness. Iftikhar urged yet another
+attack; he was met by stolidity and silence.
+
+"Sheytans!" howled he, "are you not 'devoted'? Will you pawn Paradise
+for Gehenna?"
+
+It was Harun the executioner who answered. "My Cid--sweet is Paradise,
+but the journey these promise is too swift. Strike off our heads at
+will,--Allah defends your enemies."
+
+Iftikhar laid down his cimeter, and with outstretched arms approached
+the fateful doorway. The two were awaiting him, blood on their cheeks,
+their hands, their dress. But he knew their strength was still
+terrible; in their grasp were those swords,--those swords he in his
+arrogancy had left them, when he should have disarmed.
+
+Richard bowed and saluted with Trenchefer.
+
+"We are hardly winded, my lord," quoth he, though in truth his breaths
+came fast. "I reproach the saint that ended our adventure together!"
+
+Iftikhar came a step nearer.
+
+"De St. Julien," said he, in a voice that shook, in mere striving for
+calmness, "you are indeed a valiant man; and you also, my Lord
+Godfrey. I honor you, and cry against Allah that we must meet as foes
+not friends. But you are no jinns, though my cowards bellow it. You
+have wounds both. You must soon go down. Ten you may slay, but not
+hundreds. I make you a fair proffer of life and honor"--he dropped his
+voice--"of life, honor, and safety for the army of the Franks."
+
+Godfrey's hand almost dropped the hilt at this last; but he
+answered:--
+
+"I am simply companion to my Lord de St. Julien. In this adventure he
+leads. Make conditions with him."
+
+Iftikhar faced Richard. "Ride free, then," said he; "receive your
+horses. I swear it is not too late for your host to be warned. My
+Ismaelians shall conduct you through the net spread by Kerbogha; but
+on this condition--that you give back to me--" his voice faltered; his
+eye wandered to the corner of the room within--"give back to me alive
+the Star of the Greeks."
+
+Richard felt as though dashed by a thunderbolt. Yield Mary to Iftikhar
+as price of his own life? God knew he never thought on that! But
+should he set her joy and his before the lives of dear comrades, who
+had ridden lightly to the jaws of death in his quarrel? Above all,
+should he peril the army of the Cross because Mary loved peace in
+heaven rather than the pleasures of El Halebah? No words came to his
+lips; he turned appealing eyes to Godfrey, who spoke nothing. But in
+the silence Mary spoke. She had risen, had advanced to the doorway.
+The two enemies--the Egyptian, the Norman--gazed at her as upon a
+treasure for which life were a trivial price.
+
+"Dear husband," her voice came, sweetly as bells across the misty sea,
+"you know what you should say. God will avenge me in His own time, and
+reward me and reward Iftikhar each according to justice. I have borne
+so much, I can bear a little more. You must save yourselves, must warn
+the army. It was a sin to go to Aleppo; now Heaven allows you to ride
+away scatheless. Do not distrust Iftikhar; he violates no oath."
+
+What might Richard say? His wife before him--in all her beauty! To
+save her he would have felt it untold joy to die. He knew that she
+herself loved death more than life in this renewed captivity. And yet
+there she stood, pleading--pleading, as never before, to be left to
+her captivity. What might he do? Mother of God, he was of too frail
+stuff to answer! But the great Duke, whose hand was the heaviest,
+whose heart the purest, in all broad France, made answer for him.
+Very gravely he was replying to Iftikhar.
+
+"My lord, I have faith enough in God to believe that He will not
+suffer His army and His cause to perish, because we withhold this
+price--the agony of one of His angels. Go back to your men, my lord.
+We shall hold them at bay as long as He wills. And rest assured that,
+before they master us, the Lady de St. Julien shall have granted her,
+as she has prayed, a swift death at our swords, rather than a slow one
+in your palace."
+
+"Think better, for the love of Christ, my Duke!" pleaded Mary, making
+to fall on her knees. But Godfrey had spoken; and Richard spoke too
+and very gently:--
+
+"Sweet wife, you will find heaven no darksome place. Please God I
+shall be good enough sometime to see you there." Then he turned to
+Iftikhar, his poise high, his voice hard. "Go back, my lord, uncover
+the pit, unchain the fiends, lead on your devils! Yet know that the
+first foe that crosses this threshold will see my wife's dead body!"
+
+"Dear Son of God!" cried Mary, "will you throw your lives away? Musa,
+you are wise, plead with them."
+
+But the Spaniard, who had been playing a part equal to the others,
+turned at his post by the stairway, and salaamed after his fashion.
+
+"I have heard my brother and Cid Godfrey. Allah indeed pity us, if we
+yield the Star of the Greeks!"
+
+Richard raised Trenchefer.
+
+"Now, Iftikhar Eddauleh!" commanded he, "again--begone! Or, unarmed as
+you are, I kill you!"
+
+The Egyptian knew by his foe's eye it was no idle boast; he knew also
+that prayers were futile upon the three.
+
+"Brave cavaliers," said he, with a bitter smile, "I can do nothing for
+you. Wonderful are your Frankish swords and that of Cid Musa. But you
+shall feel a cimeter that will test their temper, be it never so
+keen."
+
+He was gone, and disappeared behind the band of Ismaelians who eyed
+the Franks from a safe distance down the passage. Mary saw him
+vanish, and turned first to Musa, then to Godfrey, then to Richard,
+and kissed the first two on the forehead, her husband on the lips.
+
+"Dear friends," she said gently, "you add sin to sin for my sake. The
+end cannot be far away. But God is very near, and I fear nothing."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVII
+
+HOW ROLLO CARRIED WEIGHT
+
+
+Iftikhar had vanished. The Ismaelians on guard had retreated down the
+long gallery. Musa from his post declared that only a few sentries
+remained at the foot of the stairs. Morgiana, who had crouched in
+silence on a divan during the combat, arose, and without a word opened
+a cupboard in the side of the wall. She drew forth a silver flagon and
+cups, proffering each of the three combatants a spiced wine that sent
+new life through their weariness. Godfrey relieved Musa at the
+staircase, and the Spaniard, going to the open window, leaned forth to
+espy the next move of Iftikhar. In the starlight he could only see the
+tracery of the forest of palms, and here and there, ghost-like, a
+white dress flitting. The lamps in the chamber were flickering low.
+Morgiana extinguished most, and poured the remaining oil into
+two,--leaving barely enough light to break the gloom in the vaulted
+chamber. It had suddenly become very still through the palace. Almost
+was Richard persuaded that the Egyptian by some magic had departed
+with all his "devoted." In the oppressive silence none tried speech.
+Mary had returned to her post on the divan, and Richard knew she was
+sobbing, though no sound came. Musa stole noiselessly about the room,
+completing his inspection. Once he paused at the sealed door, and
+flung himself against it--adamant had scarce seemed firmer. He came to
+Richard's side and shook his head. "Some new attack is preparing," was
+his whisper; "in what way, Allah alone knows! I see no road to
+escape."
+
+"The sealed door?" asked Longsword.
+
+"The spell of Solomon has turned it to iron. We can escape only over
+the Ismaelians, or on the wings of Roc, the giant bird, whose back
+upbears an army."
+
+"Then over the Ismaelians be it!" quoth the Norman, laughing grimly;
+and he added, "Ah, brother, you know well my proverb: 'Easier go
+through the wall than mount it'!"
+
+But Musa did not laugh in reply.
+
+"Brother mine," said he, "I think you and Cid Godfrey are each mighty
+as Jalut, whom you call 'Goliath.' But Iftikhar says well; you are no
+jinns. In the last charge the Ismaelians nearly passed you, and all
+would have been over."
+
+Richard made an angry gesture.
+
+"Good, then! What is left to fear? I think Trenchefer can still sting
+before his master's fingers loosen." But his voice grew very grave in
+turn,--"Were it not for my wife! But we have chosen!"
+
+"We have chosen, my brother. Trusting in Allah we went to Aleppo;
+trusting in Him let us wait. But we have not struck in vain. Iftikhar
+shall never set eyes on the sorrow of the Star of the Greeks." A cry
+from Godfrey brought Musa to his side.
+
+"Now by St. Nicholas of Ghent!" swore the Duke, in Languedoil. "What
+new devil's devisings? Look, Sir Musa! What do you see in the dark?"
+He pointed from the casement by the stairs, into the night.
+
+Musa strained his eyes. "I see many men; they are bearing bales, I
+think; perhaps of straw and grass. They are approaching the door at
+the stairway." Without a word Godfrey caught a second of the ebony
+tables,--nothing light,--raised it to the sill--cast it down. A great
+howl of pain, and many curses; then the rush of a score of feet. The
+defenders awaited a new attack by the stairs, where Musa's cimeter had
+already sped three; but the Ismaelians did not ascend. They fled back
+into the gloom, and an instant later half a dozen arrows twittered in
+at the window and dashed harmlessly against the wall.
+
+"Cover the lamps!" commanded Godfrey; "they give light to aim."
+Morgiana hid them behind a curtain. But despite the darkness there
+came more arrows, and yet more; in vain hopes to harm by a chance
+shaft.
+
+"They waste bowstrings," muttered the Duke. "Lie close a little
+longer!" As he spoke a short moan came from Mary's divan. Richard
+quitted guard, and was beside her instantly. "Lights!" ordered he. And
+Morgiana brought a lamp, despite the danger. There was an arrow
+pinning the Greek's left arm just below the elbow to the cushion, and
+the blood was flowing. Before her husband could cry out, she plucked
+fourth the shaft with her own hand. There was no tremor, and her lips
+were firm, though very white.
+
+"It is nothing!" said she, looking upward. "Do you forget my wound the
+day before Dorylæum?" But Richard was nigh to weeping when he saw the
+blood.
+
+"Dear God!" cried he, "wilt Thou suffer even this?"
+
+Mary smiled. "Now, by St. Basil, you almost weep, while your own face
+is all wounds."
+
+"And are not seven drops of your blood seven lakes to me?" declared
+Richard. The arrows flew past him, but he stood with his mailed body
+between Mary and the window, until Musa had made a bandage of the
+tapestry and Morgiana could hide the light. Brave were his wife's
+words, and brave her face, but Longsword heard her murmur, "Sweet
+Mother of Jesus--let the next arrow touch my breast, and end there all
+the pain."
+
+"Ah! little wife," said he, when he kissed her, "I do not think God
+will vex you much longer. Surely He will save us soon for earth, or
+for heaven!"
+
+A voice was ringing down the darkened gallery,--Iftikhar's voice. "You
+Franks and Cid Musa: again, I demand, will you yield the Greek and go
+free?"
+
+"We will not!" thundered Godfrey, unhesitatingly.
+
+"_Bismillah!_" came reply. "You have chosen. Behold!"
+
+A kettledrum boomed once, twice; and as a fresh flight of arrows
+dashed into the room, suddenly lights darted across the palace lawn
+below. A cry broke from Godfrey:--
+
+"Fire! They have brought straw to the entrance and will so destroy us.
+Iftikhar is mad thus to ruin his palace!"
+
+Morgiana looked at him quietly.
+
+"He is no more mad than for many a day. You know little his passion
+for Mary. This wing of the palace is partly severed from the rest; but
+Iftikhar will burn all El Halebah to destroy us!"
+
+Already below sprang a crackle, a roar, as the night wind caught the
+flame. In a moment up drifted a puff of smoke, a red glare ever
+brightening.
+
+"The palace is marble," declared Godfrey, leaning over the parapet,
+despite the shafts.
+
+"Enough also of wood and stucco to glow like Gehenna!" replied Musa,
+grimly. "Such is the manner of our palaces."
+
+The smoke blew thicker, the arrows pelted so rapidly that even Godfrey
+was fain to drop behind the casement. There was another rush of feet
+in the gallery. Richard bounded to the door.
+
+"Praised be St. Michael!" shouted he; "there is still food for
+Trenchefer." But the Ismaelians halted at a safe distance; did not
+advance; only stood with swinging cimeters, as if awaiting attack.
+
+"Hear their feet below!" growled Godfrey; "they bring more fuel! Hark
+the roar! The very palace burns."
+
+Musa thrust his head into the scorching smoke eddy.
+
+"You say well, Cid Godfrey; we are in Allah's hands, and shall see Him
+face to face full soon!"
+
+A crash below was followed by a second, a third. Up the stairway shot
+a wavering shaft of flame; the smoke that had been rising to the
+vaulted dome began to sink and stifle. Richard turned to Morgiana.
+
+"Lady," he said, while he leaned on Trenchefer, "God may reward you
+for your deed to-night, but not ourselves. Had not His will been
+otherwise, you would have saved us. You can do nothing more. Fly down
+the gallery."
+
+As if in echo came Iftikhar's voice:--
+
+"Morgiana need not think to escape. Verily her body shall scorch now,
+as her false soul hereafter."
+
+Even at that dread moment Richard shuddered at the passion the
+Egyptian struck forth from Morgiana's eyes; but her only answer was
+the cry:--
+
+"Then shall my curse light on you forever!" And at that curse, no
+blame if Iftikhar trembled.
+
+Thicker the smoke, brighter the glare, higher the flame. They felt the
+pavement under the rugs grow warm. Iftikhar thundered once more:--
+
+"For the last time--choose life and freedom, or the fire!"
+
+Godfrey had leaped beside Richard.
+
+"Ha! This is the end of the hunting. Well, St. George aid us, we will
+not be grilled here, with that gallery open and fifty cimeters ready
+to speed us to heaven!"
+
+Richard cast a look forward,--behind.
+
+"There is nothing else!" said he. But Trenchefer shook in his hands,
+for Mary was standing at his side.
+
+"Dear lord and husband," said she, once more, "you have promised. I
+know your arm is strong. Let us go away together,--far away, far
+away,--to the love and light and peace!"
+
+And she held down her head. But Richard that moment felt his muscles
+hard as bands of steel. Should she die, with him so strong, with the
+might of the saints shed over him as never before? Should she die, and
+by his hand?
+
+"I wait, dear heart," she was saying, "hasten!"
+
+The fire shot up the stairway in one raging, devouring column. But
+Trenchefer did not strike.
+
+"Morgiana!" was Richard's fierce cry, "if the sealed door were
+shivered, is there escape?"
+
+The Arabian had crouched upon the floor.
+
+"Yes!" gasped she, "when Allah sends a miracle."
+
+"And that He shall! _God wills it!_" and Richard sent the Crusader's
+war-cry out into the smoke and fire. The very shout made his might
+fivefold.
+
+Through the smoke he bounded to the sealed portal, dashed against it,
+a lion against his cage. It stood firm; but he felt the bolts give way
+in their fastenings. A marble pendant hung betwixt the windows. He
+wrenched it from its mortar setting, swung it on high, and crashed it
+upon the door. In after days men found this marble in the wreck and
+marvelled at the might of the Christians. At the first blow the wood
+and iron sprang inwards as with a groan. Twice!--the stones in the
+casement crumbled, the pivots started. Thrice!--and before the iron of
+Richard's north-sprung strength the weaker iron of the door gave way.
+
+"God wills it!" Over the storm of fire again he flung the cry.
+Iftikhar had seen--the Ismaelians had seen the attack on the door--the
+miracle! One and all had sped forward,--at the doorway had met Godfrey
+and Musa, and their tireless blades.
+
+A crash below; the firm floors were shivered; flames leaped between.
+But the sealed portal--it was sealed no longer! Richard was back in
+the press at the other door. The marble block was lifted on high, and
+as it sped from his hand it dashed down the tall Harun, who never felt
+his hurt. Trenchefer was again flashing in the Ismaelians' faces. They
+drew back, crying:--
+
+"No deed of man! We may not fight with Allah!" and Iftikhar with them.
+Three steps forward leaped Richard--not a man loved death enough to
+meet him face to face. The floor was quaking beneath them.
+
+"Back, back, for the love of Christ!" rang the shout of Godfrey; for
+Longsword in his pride would have charged them all. It was Musa who
+plucked Mary in his arms, and bounded through the fire. Morgiana flew
+across the flame as though on wings. Godfrey caught Richard by an arm,
+and drew him after. From the new opening Richard glanced backward. Red
+flames roared betwixt him and Iftikhar. The wreck before him held his
+gaze as by enchantment, but the others dragged him away. The smoke was
+eddying after them into the new portal; soon the fire would follow.
+Haste was still their sole safety. Before them were the dimly lighted
+rooms of the palace; and Morgiana led their way.
+
+Well that they had such guidance. The command of Iftikhar sounded
+loudly to cut off the fugitives when they should come forth. But
+Morgiana sped on before them, swift as the flight of a dream, through
+dark galleries and under arcades where the flame glared all around.
+They followed witlessly, not knowing whether she led to life or death.
+Suddenly, as if by magic, the palace and its blazing battlements were
+left behind them, their feet trod soft grass; their nostrils drank in
+the pure air; and above the haze of vapor and sparks glittered the
+fairer haze of the stars. The Arabian led them far on into the wood.
+
+"Where were your horses tethered?" demanded Morgiana, halting.
+
+"At the tamarisk by the road to the palace," answered Musa.
+
+"Good, then," replied she; "follow this shorter path you see in the
+starlight. Mount, spur, and Allah spread the cloak of compassion over
+you. I can do nothing more!"
+
+"St. Maurice!" swore Richard and Godfrey together, "shall we never
+reward you?"
+
+They could see Morgiana's eyes flash in the firelight. "This will be
+reward--never again to hear the name 'Mary'!"
+
+Before they could say more the Arabian had flung her arms about the
+Greek, kissed her once, and vanished in the night.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Despite the danger of pursuit, Morgiana's departure for an instant
+broke the spell of delirium that had possessed the fugitives for the
+hour. They were under the canopy of the forest. They heard the roar of
+the burning, which was dimmed by the dense barrier of the trees. The
+chamber of judgment; the chamber of battle; the struggle for life and
+death; Morgiana, their good angel--all had vanished--whither! For a
+moment the four were silent, drinking deep of the sweet air, their
+hearts stirred by emotion too strong for words. It was the Spaniard
+whose wits returned first.
+
+"_Allah akhbar!_ What is this, down the path?" And his whisper plucked
+back the others to the world of danger. A party of men and horses were
+coming straight toward them from the palace.
+
+"Now, by St. George!" cried the Duke, "we need our prayers! They have
+taken horse to follow."
+
+The hoofs were thundering behind them. Richard felt Mary trembling in
+his arms with mortal dread. To have endured so much and to fail now!
+
+"Holy Mother!" she was crying softly, "are the horses far away?"
+
+But Richard laughed aloud and the others also. Then he trumpeted
+through his hands, and Godfrey and Musa did likewise. Down the road
+they heard a stamping and snapping of tether-ropes. And as they ran
+three great beasts came prancing out of the dark to meet them--Rollo
+puffing with his huge mouth in his master's face. The others were
+mounted in a twinkling; but Richard gazed in vain for the Arabian
+prepared for Mary. There was a crash in the road not forty paces away.
+Over his head flew many arrows. The grip of his arm about Mary
+tightened.
+
+"Little wife," spoke he, in her ear, "will you trust Rollo?"
+
+"I will trust _you_!" came the answer.
+
+No other way; with his right hand Richard gripped the pommel and
+leaped with his burden. And at the press of weight, Rollo gave a long
+leap forward, as close upon them in pursuit swung another, a rider on
+a tall horse; behind him, a mass of dark forms, sparks striking from
+the flying hoofs.
+
+Richard felt his wife shrink closer to him, and above the yell of the
+Ismaelians heard her cry:--
+
+"Carry us safe, dear Rollo, for the love of Christ! The need is
+great!"
+
+Iftikhar was breasting them, on a steed the pride of El Halebah's
+stables. The Ismaelian drew bow, and sent a shaft crashing against
+them. The leathern saddle-flap turned it, and Richard taunted: "Truly
+you love the Greek! Will you strike her?"
+
+"Better dead than yours!" came back, and with it a second arrow,
+against Longsword's shoulder. He reeled, but the Valencia mail was not
+faithless. Tightening his grasp, Richard swung Mary so that his own
+body was between her and the Egyptian. He drew Trenchefer. Rollo
+needed no bridle. At touch of the knee, the beast swerved so suddenly
+that Iftikhar's mount was nigh over-ridden. Before the Egyptian could
+cast away the bow and draw, the Christian sword fell. The Ismaelian
+barely shunned it. Not so his horse; for the good sword cleft through
+the saddle and severed the spine. Iftikhar went down with his falling
+steed, while Rollo tossed out his heels and flew onward.
+
+But a precious moment had sped, brief though the encounter. Almost as
+Iftikhar fell, the Ismaelian band closed upon his conqueror. The dawn
+was strengthening. Richard could see the foe about him--dark Syrians,
+white-robed, with crooked bows, cimeters, and brass-studded targets.
+They raised a mighty yell as they saw the prey they had tracked so
+long locked, seemingly, in their hands. A thousand marks Longsword
+would have pledged for his good target to cast behind Mary; but his
+own body was the living shield. No place this, to swing Trenchefer
+now. Speed, the speed of Rollo,--in that and in Our Lady he trusted.
+
+"_Bismillah!_ Glory to Allah! The Christian jinn is taken!" roared the
+foremost Ismaelians, with their screaming arrows. One shaft home, and
+Rollo was crippled. But he, great brute, was wiser than many men. He
+needed no word, no spur. Close to the ground, after his wont, he
+dropped his muzzle. Then when he felt the reins slack on his neck and
+Richard's fingers gently combing his mane, he struck out in a stretch
+no steed of Fars or Khorassan could outpace. Two bounds, it seemed,
+plucked him out of that circle of death; with the long way clear, and
+the press behind. Through eyes half opened, Mary saw hills, rocks,
+trees, speeding past under the pale light, as though runners in a
+race. They had left the green wood; were on the highroad, flying
+westward. Eastward, behind the howling pack, all the sky was bright,
+but not all the glow was from the dawning. A tower of fire was leaping
+toward heaven. All the groves were traced darkly against the red
+glare, but faded swiftly as Rollo thundered westward.
+
+Arrows, or what she deemed arrows, were whistling past her head. There
+were a score of mad voices close behind: "Shoot! Slay! Strike the
+horse! The grand prior's houri! A great reward!"
+
+Then more arrows; but it was nothing easy to send a shaft from a
+plunging saddle into the dimness, and strike a dragon flying as Rollo
+flew. She heard Iftikhar shout once more--the fall had not harmed him,
+for he was again mounted--"To every man a hundred dirhems, if you
+bring down the horse!"
+
+Her fear had become overmastering now. She was frightened as a little
+child. Her face was very close to her husband's. Despite the pace, she
+spoke.
+
+"Richard, do not forget. You have promised. Strike, before too late."
+
+The other's answer was a glance behind into the half-light. Mother of
+Pity, how close the infidels were! Then he bent forward, and spoke to
+Rollo,--not in Greek, Arabic, or Provençal, but in his own Norman
+French.
+
+"On, my horse; on, my sweet swallow! Will you be run to death like a
+fawn? Shall the paynims say, 'There are no steeds like the steeds of
+the East?' Remember your glory, my Rollo! Remember the lists at
+Palermo! How you outpaced the winds at Dorylæum. And the brave days at
+Antioch, gone by! And will you now fail, swiftest of the _destrers_ of
+France?"
+
+Did the black brute understand? Did he know that he had been born and
+bred, that for those few moments, double-mounted as he was, he should
+speed swifter, ever swifter, beyond range of those shafts whereof one
+must soon strike home?
+
+But the Ismaelians saw, and Iftikhar saw, who cursed his men by every
+sheytan, vowing stake and torment if they failed. Longsword still
+urged:--
+
+"Onward! Onward! the _jongleurs_ sing of Ogier's Broiefort, of Bayard
+the fleet steed of Renaud, but swiftest of all shall they set Rollo
+bearing master and lady, casting shame on the beasts of the Moslems.
+Bravely done, yet faster! Faster, and faster yet! See, the arrows are
+falling short! Hear,--they curse and call on their Prophet vainly for
+aid. On, Rollo; as I feel your stride, I grow proud, yet you can make
+it longer. On, Rollo; another such shaft, our riding is ended! On,
+Rollo; you bear rarer than gold in the saddle now! On, Rollo; God
+loves a good horse's speed. They shall deck you in ribbons, my Rollo,
+and Herbert shall kiss your dear black lips when I tell the tale. All
+the Julieners shall be glad; in old age they shall say, 'No steed now
+like to Rollo, the great horse of our seigneur.'"
+
+And Rollo? Long had been his stride, longer now; swift, swifter now.
+No reed-limbed southern-born he; spaniel-sleek, and spaniel-tender.
+Where the road was rough, his great hoof bit out the rock and sent it
+flying; where smooth, the Ismaelians saw no wings, but they saw his
+flight. Godfrey and Musa led the chase, but not as Rollo. No arrows
+for them; the pursuers knew their prey. The eyes of the Ismaelians'
+steeds were blood-shot, bits foaming; arrow after arrow sped,--fell
+shorter. Mary saw yawning before them a wide gully, cut deep by the
+spring torrent. Life--death--flashed up in an instant. She felt Rollo
+draw his huge limbs together,--a bound, and cleared; a safe recovery;
+the horse ran on. Godfrey passed safely. Musa's charger stumbled, but
+reined up dexterously, recovered, flew on. The Ismaelians struck the
+gully together; two leaders went down, were trampled out in a breath,
+horse and man. The rest still spurred after. But Richard, as he
+counted the ells betwixt him and the black mass of the pursuit, saw
+the patch of dark road widening slowly, but surely. More arrows now;
+when these flew very wide, a single rider shot ahead of the rest. In
+the brightening dawn Richard saw the pursuer prodding with a
+cimeter-point to add to the spur sting.
+
+Again Richard put his head close to his steed's ear. "Faster again, my
+Rollo; faster yet, I say! Only a little more. Iftikhar pricks cruelly
+now, cruelly. When did I that, to give you speed? Ha, we are better
+friends! You are winning a great race--are heading the fleetest steeds
+of Fars, of Khorassan. You are winning! I grow more proud--proud of
+Rollo, king of the _destrers_ of France!"
+
+The answer was a final burst of speed, and Richard knew he had never
+ridden so before. Iftikhar's men vainly strove to keep pace with their
+leader; one after another goaded, dashed forward, dropped from the
+chase. Musa's peerless Arabian, Godfrey's Marchegai ran neck to neck
+behind Rollo, but they bore no double burden. Richard's heart went
+with his eyes when he saw the last effort of the pursuit. For a moment
+the space betwixt pursued and pursuers lessened,--but only for a
+moment. Then the precious stretch of road grew wider, ever wider.
+There came a moment when even the steeds of El Halebah could do no
+more. Iftikhar still led; but he was not mad enough to pursue alone
+three such spirits. Richard heard his last curse of bootless rage.
+There was a last vain flight of arrows: one chance shaft whirled past
+Rollo's ear; the blood was started. That was all. Musa waved his
+cimeter as a parting defiance. The Ismaelians had halted. For the
+first time Mary and Richard had eyes for other things than the flying
+Rollo. They saw and marvelled that the darkness had gone. The sun had
+risen and was hanging a ball of red gold on the eastern horizon.
+Aleppo, El Halebah, and its gardens had vanished, as though but a
+vision of the night. All about were the rolling, arid Syrian fields.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When Iftikhar returned to El Halebah, the fire had utterly destroyed
+the wing of the palace containing the harem. Only through desperate
+efforts by the Ismaelians who had not joined in the pursuit was the
+remainder of the building saved. The grand prior's first act was to
+order search to be made for Morgiana. The "devoted" failed in their
+quest as completely as in the chase of the fugitives. The Arab seemed
+to have bidden the rock open and receive her. Breathing forth his vows
+of vengeance, Iftikhar had retired for the evening, before riding to
+join Kerbogha; but Zeyneb wandered from the half-wrecked palace into
+the gardens. He was alone in one of the remotest glades, when of a
+sudden his arm was plucked, and glancing about he beheld in the
+dimness the face of Morgiana. Where she had hidden, he did not know
+nor did she tell. He tried to shout; she plucked his throat as
+fiercely as on the previous night when she had mastered him.
+
+"_Ya_," he heard her demand; "will you call the 'devoted'? Will you
+deliver me up to Iftikhar?"
+
+"He swears he will have you flayed alive," gasped the dwarf; "why
+should I save you after what you have done to me?"
+
+"Why?" laughed Morgiana. "Listen, Zeyneb. Did Hakem awake after I cut
+his throat? What hindered me to do the like to you."
+
+Zeyneb hung his head. "It is true," he confessed; "you spared me."
+
+"I spared you," she reëchoed, laughing after her unearthly manner,
+"not through love--Allah forbid!--but because you were my
+foster-brother, and faithful to Iftikhar. The Greek is gone--gone
+forever--praised be the Most High! Iftikhar in his mad pride will go
+to Antioch, where--and the omens of the smoke never lie--only woe
+awaits. He casts me away, but I will not leave him. He curses; I will
+never forsake. I am strong, I can yet save."
+
+"Allah!" cried the dwarf--her spell once more over him--"what do you
+desire?"
+
+"That you aid me to go to Antioch. You have means and wits. Then,
+unknown to him, I shall be at Iftikhar's side, to stand betwixt him
+and the danger."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVIII
+
+HOW RICHARD AND MUSA AGAIN PARTED
+
+
+Rollo had dropped to a slower pace; at last had halted. Richard had
+set Mary down on a grassy hummock and gone back to his steed. The
+great beast was reeking with sweat, panting in strong gusts such as
+blow from a smithy's bellows. Richard plucked off his outer
+mantle--long since tattered--and rubbed the steaming flanks and back
+of the brute; while all the time he patted him, and praised him for
+having done a deed right worthy of a Christian _destrer_ pacing the
+steeds of the unbelievers. But it was Mary who rose, and put her fair
+white arms round black Rollo's neck, and her cheek against the white
+spot on his forehead.
+
+"Ah! dear Lord Jesus Christ," said she, "if there be indeed a heaven
+where good horses go, surely our Rollo will be there, a very angel!"
+
+Richard laughed merrily, when he imagined the huge brute duly decked
+with halo and with wings. But Rollo, sensible fellow, who knew that he
+had only done his duty as became an honest horse, sniffed for water,
+found none, and then began to munch the thorny wayside thistles with
+as much relish as might a desert camel. Musa and Godfrey had
+dismounted, and were praising their steeds also. Well they deserved
+it, but neither had borne the burden of Rollo, or run as did he. When
+Richard turned once more to Mary, she gave a great cry.
+
+"Mother of Sorrows," began the knight, "were you wounded?"
+
+"I!" the Greek was saying. "They have nigh slain you! You have a
+hundred wounds!"
+
+In truth Longsword was no pretty sight. For one could not fight and
+ride a night long, and not have bloody cheeks, bloody hands, and a cut
+on the right thigh where a cimeter had brushed away the Valencia mail.
+Richard wiped it off as best he could.
+
+"It is nothing!" protested he, gayly; "ten times have I bled worse,
+and never been the sadder,--at Dorylæum, and time and again about
+Antioch."
+
+"Ah, Richard," said she, "some day it may befall that if not you,
+another will be sadder if you risk your dear life lightly."
+
+"And why not risk it, when I deemed you were worse than dead to me?"
+
+Mary lifted her face. "But I am not dead, sweet husband; for my sake
+do not throw your life away. Above all, swear you will shun to meet
+Iftikhar. He is a terrible man."
+
+But the Norman shook his head. "Dear life--say to me 'Pluck me down
+three stars,' and I will try; but avoid Iftikhar I cannot. God created
+us both; but not a world large enough to hold us both. Yet do not
+fear."
+
+"Ah! Richard," said she, smiling in turn, "you also are a terrible man
+as well as Iftikhar. I tremble when I think I have the love of beings
+so grand, so valorous, as you. I know my love and my pain stand often
+but one step apart. But I have chosen you. And you must play your
+game, and--when God wills--die your death in your own way; while I
+will love and trust you to the end."
+
+Though his face was bleeding, she kissed him.
+
+"I am a cavalier's daughter, and a cavalier's wife," said she, more
+lightly; "red wine and white must be alike to me."
+
+Then Musa and Godfrey came up, courteously asking if the lady was
+well, and heaping praise on Rollo.
+
+"There lies a ravine with a sweet spring, beyond the next hillock,"
+said Musa, who never forgot a road once travelled. "Let us ride
+thither. From its crest we can command a wide view, if any party
+approaches. Let us rest a little--the Star of the Greeks slept none
+too much last night."
+
+Mary pouted at the suggestion that they must wait for her alone. But
+in truth the horses sadly needed a halt. Richard knew Godfrey's heart
+was in the camp at Antioch lying unwarned of the impending danger. But
+even his Marchegai walked wearily as they climbed the little hill. The
+sun was fast mounting upward, promising a clear, hot day. Beyond the
+hillock, as the Spaniard had said, was a deep, cool ravine, an oasis
+in the desert of dry grass and thistle, where a little spring bubbled
+from the limestone, and threaded down a rocky bed. Over all swayed a
+few aged cypresses, an oleander thicket, ferns, and the twining wild
+vine. Here they drank till thirst was ended. Then while the three
+horses nibbled the grass, Richard found bread, and cheese, and broken
+meat in the saddle-bags, and they had their feast. That ended, the men
+saw the eyes of the Greek were very heavy, though she vowed she was
+not weary.
+
+"No fear, dear lady," quoth Musa. "As we watch, not a crow can fly
+within a league without our seeing. It is safest to ride by night. Let
+me stand sentry for a time; then I will rouse Richard, and Lord
+Godfrey shall relieve in turn." So, having resaddled the horses, and
+prepared for instant flight, he took his cimeter and climbed to the
+summit. Godfrey cast himself beneath a cypress, and his snoring soon
+told its story. Mary's eyes were scarcely peeping now.
+
+"Come, my Lord Baron," said she, smiling drowsily; "let your little
+wife fall asleep with her head in your lap."
+
+And lying under the spreading trees, she did as she wished; for how
+could Richard refuse her? She cast a last look into his face.
+
+"How you have changed! How fierce your great beard makes you! You will
+be more marked with scars than your father. Once I thought the only
+man I could love must be a beautiful youth like the Apollo of Scopas
+in our Constantinople home. How different! I ought to fear you, as all
+men fear you. But I do not--do not. For you are--Richard."
+
+The last words had come very slowly; there came no more. There was a
+little flutter of her breast and lips when she turned in her sleep.
+Richard sat a long time; his hands--great clumsy hands--now on her
+hair, now on her forehead, now on her neck. What had he done so
+pleasing to Heaven that he had been possessed of this--of this! The
+events of the past night buzzed about him--the shadow of death in so
+many forms!--how unreal the horrors seemed as they flitted by! He knew
+he ought to lay Mary's head upon the grass and relieve Musa's watch.
+But his eyes also were very heavy. He could not bring himself to
+disturb that crown of hair. The ravine and the trees grew dim. At last
+Richard thought he was back in St. Julien a-hunting, only the dogs
+were pulling down Harun, the Ismaelian, in place of a stag. This also
+passed away; he seemed drifting onward, onward,--until he heard a
+voice close by:--
+
+"_Wallah!_ How beautiful she is, and how she loves him!"
+
+Richard raised his head. Musa was standing beside him; the sunbeams
+were slanting from the west.
+
+"Holy cross!" exclaimed the Norman; "the day is sped. I have slept
+through all. And Duke Godfrey?" Musa smiled.
+
+"Look!" The good Duke was still in the sleep of the righteous.
+
+"You have been sole sentinel. Why did you not wake us?" cried Richard.
+Musa again laughed.
+
+"If I can wield no cudgels of marble, I have a manner of strength.
+Many a night long at Cordova I have counted the hours over my books.
+My fellows said, 'Musa is like Allah; he never sleeps.' No foe in
+sight; no need of haste."
+
+There was a stir on Richard's lap; the long lashes unclosed.
+
+"Have I slept very long?" said the Greek, with a pretty sigh.
+
+"None too long," answered the Spaniard. "I have made bow and arrows,
+and killed two desert partridges. Let us sup and be off."
+
+Godfrey awoke and cursed the devil that made him sleepy. Musa had made
+a fire. They ate with a relish. Then Richard swung his wife into the
+saddle, and Rollo pranced gleefully as he took the road with his
+precious burden. They rode steadily until far into the night, meeting
+no one; then halted, resting on the dry grass until the moon had risen
+and lit the way. As they galloped onward, once or twice they thought
+they heard hoof-beats and saw distant objects moving; but nothing came
+close to threaten. The sun had but just risen when they climbed a
+commanding height east of the Orontes, where the fair valley,
+spreading down to Antioch, lay full in view. Godfrey was leading, when
+Richard saw him rein Marchegai short, and heard a bitter cry. "God
+Himself is leagued against us!"
+
+Below the whole plain was covered with the squadrons of a countless
+host!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+From their hilltop they could view the strange army in its fulness.
+Near by, a squadron of light horsemen were speeding, their arms
+flashing under the brightening sun. Farther on a brown line was
+winding--small as of creeping ants; but Longsword knew he beheld
+footmen on the march, and their numbers were thousands. Perched on a
+knoll in the hills were gay pavilions, and above them glittered a
+sultan's twin banners, silver and gold. Beyond them was a second pair,
+enringed by other tents; beyond these a third, a fourth; and the eye
+grew weary counting the companies. Iftikhar had indeed boasted
+well--Kerbogha and all the might of the East was moving to the succor
+of Antioch. God alone knew if the Christian host would be warned in
+time! The Norman brushed his hand across his eyes, as if to dispel
+this ill-fraught vision. But vision it was not. The innumerable host,
+the marching columns, the sultans' and emirs' encampments, still were
+there.
+
+For a moment all were dumb. Musa spoke first.
+
+"As the Most High lives, this is a magician's work!"
+
+Godfrey only smiled gravely.
+
+"No, fair sir, it is the army of Kerbogha. When I quitted camp, we
+hoped he was still delaying before Edessa. But come he has, and unless
+I greatly fail, there are none in the army that dream he is so near."
+
+"So near, and not discovered?" demanded Longsword. The Duke laughed
+wearily. "Even you, De St. Julien, do not know how feeble has been our
+scouting. From the lowlands about Antioch we can see little of this
+host; only a few advance squadrons that will retire when charged. I
+greatly fear--"
+
+But Richard interposed: "That the Army of the Cross is near surprise,
+as Iftikhar vaunted. But are not Christ and Our Lady still with us?
+Has God ceased to hear prayer?"
+
+The elder knight crossed himself. "It is true, fair sir, our faith is
+very weak. We are still stronger than ten thousand thousand paynims!"
+Then he turned almost fiercely upon Musa. "And you, Sir Infidel, is
+your heart with this army and its purpose? They are of your own faith.
+Do you wish them well?"
+
+Musa shook his head thoughtfully:--
+
+"They fight not for Islam, but for their own dark ends. Can any good
+thing come from Kerbogha, Iftikhar's ally? I serve the kalif of Egypt,
+not the emir of Mosul."
+
+They said no more. What was left to say? The hopes of a day had been
+blasted in an instant. Seemingly the army of the emir lay directly
+across their road to the city. As the hilltop was exposed to view,
+they retired behind to where a tiny brooklet started amid a clump of
+date palms. And well they did, for as they drew rein came a click and
+canter, and a single Arab horseman whirled down the hill slope,
+thinking least of all to meet an enemy. Before any knew it, he was
+face to face with them, had halted with a yell, stared once, turned to
+fly; but Godfrey had touched Marchegai, and he bounded beside the
+Arab, whom the Duke unsaddled before he could draw cimeter. Richard
+ran to him, as also Musa. So they held the prisoner fast, and led him
+to the brooklet, nipping his throat tightly to choke an outcry. Then,
+when the horse also had been taken, and his captors had him on his
+back, Godfrey held a dagger at his throat to give good reason for
+talking softly. The rascal whined piteously to be killed without
+torture; for, he moaned, the Franks were wont to broil prisoners alive
+for eating.
+
+"Stop croaking, frog," commanded Longsword, fiercely. "Only as you
+speak truly, may you keep a whole windpipe;--if not--" The silence was
+the most terrible threat. So the wretch told a story that seemed
+likely enough. He was a light rider serving with Dekak of Damascus.
+Kerbogha's host had advanced from Edessa, constantly swelling in
+numbers. There were twenty-eight emirs from Syria and Mesopotamia with
+him; Kilidge Arslan, burning to avenge the defeat at Dorylæum, the
+former emir of Jerusalem, and many princes more had led their myriads.
+The army had solemnly sworn by the beard of the Prophet to leave not
+one Christian to return to Frankland to tell the tale. They had
+advanced by stealthy marches from Afrin, and were now within a few
+leagues of Antioch itself; but to the prisoner's best knowledge the
+Christians had not discovered them. Then came an astonishing piece of
+news: while Kerbogha had advanced, Antioch had fallen. Two days
+earlier,--so the tale in the Moslem camp ran,--Phirous the Armenian
+had betrayed a tower to Bohemond, and all the city except the citadel
+had fallen to the Crusaders. This was the sum of the fellow's tale,
+and Godfrey liked it little.
+
+"So Bohemond made shift to take the city while he thought me away on
+the southern foray!" growled he, almost bitterly. "_Gratias Deo_,--I
+ought to say. But I know the manner of these knaves that follow us.
+Seven days long they will plunder, kill, and revel, thinking of ten
+thousand things before scouting. They will be snared one and all.
+Kerbogha will surprise the city. It will be their grave,--the grave of
+fools!"
+
+"And why is not the army moving?" demanded Richard.
+
+"We wait for Cid Iftikhar with all his Ismaelians. Men whisper that it
+is he in private council, not Kerbogha, who will rule the war."
+
+Richard smiled grimly.
+
+"Cid Iftikhar has had cause to delay. But tell me: does the line of
+Kerbogha compass the whole city? How may we enter?"
+
+The dagger's edge was cold against the Arab's throat, a goodly check
+to lying, and there was something in Richard's eye that made it
+dangerous to haggle with the truth.
+
+"Cid,--I tell you truly,--it will be a great peril for any Christian
+to try to enter Antioch. But if you ride to the south and then
+westward, touching the river below the city, I think you might pass,
+if Allah favor."
+
+Longsword withdrew the dagger.
+
+"See!" commented he; "the word of a Frank is inviolate. Swear you will
+whisper, not even to the winds, you were met by us; and you are free.
+Only we must keep your horse."
+
+The Arab swore by the "triple-divorcement" (an oath Musa declared
+all-abiding), and rejoiced to struggle to his feet.
+
+"I am secret as the Judgment book, my Cid!" quoth he, in his
+gratitude. Godfrey motioned him away.
+
+"Remember your oath, then, and begone."
+
+The fellow climbed the hillside, blessing Allah he was still alive.
+But those he left had a gloomy council. They were in no state for high
+and brave speech. Presently Richard began in his quiet way, sure token
+of determination: "We cannot remain here. Others may pass, in greater
+numbers. We have captured a fresh horse, and must make over the saddle
+for my wife."
+
+But Musa stood listless, his eyes on the ground.
+
+"We are in Allah's hands, brother," said he, with a despairing wave of
+the hand. "We have done all men might. Useless--fate is wearied with
+saving us. We can do nothing more. If our doom is written, it is
+written."
+
+And Richard saw that the proud spirit of his friend was bowed at last.
+The heart of Musa was sprung from the East; the word "fate" was a
+deadly talisman to him, as to all his race. But the Norman caught him
+roughly by the shoulder.
+
+"Rouse up, Musa, son of Abdallah! Do not anger God by saying, 'He puts
+forth His arm to save us all in vain,--to save from the cord, the
+cimeter, the fire, and the arrow, only to wait for slaughter like
+cows!' We have good swords and strong hearts still! Bowed heads never
+won triumph. Rouse up; your wits are not frozen. When one wills to
+have victory, victory is at hand."
+
+Musa lifted his face; his eyes were again flashing.
+
+"You say well, brother; I am turned coward. Do what you will; I
+follow."
+
+Richard swept his arm around in a circle.
+
+"We cannot recross this barren country; no refuge there. And Antioch
+must be warned. But there is safety for my wife and for you."
+
+"Safety for me and for Musa? What?" Mary, long silent, demanded.
+
+Richard hesitated; then drove on into seemingly reckless words.
+
+"You have wits keener than your cimeter, Musa, and can tell a tale to
+deceive sage Oberon. Take my wife; ride boldly into the camp of
+Kerbogha. Say you are an Arab gentleman with a Greek slave fleeing
+from the Frankish raiders at Alexandretta; that Turkomen bandits met
+your party on the way and scattered it. Dress up the tale--they will
+believe you. Unless you meet Iftikhar or Zeyneb face to face, none
+will doubt. At first chance sail for Egypt, and be safe."
+
+"And you and Cid Godfrey?"
+
+Richard pointed over the hill toward Antioch; then drew back his
+mantle. Upon the ring-shirt was the red cross of the Crusade.
+
+"We are soldiers of Christ, and must warn our brethren."
+
+"_Mashallah!_ You shall attempt nothing," cried the Spaniard. "You
+rebuked me; yet you rush into the arms of death! Your wife!"
+
+And Godfrey added eagerly:--
+
+"Yes, by St. Denis,--my duty calls to Antioch, but not yours. One can
+pass as safely as two. Think of your wife, De St. Julien. If Musa
+prospers at all, he can pass you for a body-servant or the like. I
+alone will go to Antioch."
+
+Richard was very pale, and Mary likewise; but before he could answer,
+she thrust herself between the Norman and his friends.
+
+"You say well, my lord and husband," said she, simply; "you belong
+first to Christ and then to me."
+
+"O sweet lady," broke out Musa, "pray him for your sake, if not for
+his own, to go with us; to forget his madness."
+
+Mary looked from one to the other. Her hands clasped and unclasped
+nervously, but her voice was calm and sweet.
+
+"No, brave Musa, I cannot say to Richard 'turn back,'--though my Lord
+Godfrey says it. Cursed would be my love for him, and his for me, if
+thus he was turned from his vow to Our Lord, and from duty to his
+comrades. I did not love him, to make him slave to my fears and
+desires. Rather I saw him as something higher far than I; like a
+mountain whose shadows would cover me; but whose height I would not
+lessen. For my heart--as your heart and Duke Godfrey's heart--tells me
+his duty is in the city, not with me. And whether he dies--which
+Christ forbid!--or lives to see the victory, I shall know my love has
+been sweeter than all the pain."
+
+Mary stood with her head erect; her eyes bright, but not with tears.
+
+Richard turned to the others, smiling.
+
+"Ah; good friends, how can I be weak when my dear wife is so strong!"
+They did not answer. Then he touched Musa, leading him aside. "I must
+speak with you."
+
+The Andalusian's eyes were wet. He was no ice-bound northerner, to
+nurse his fires deep within, and to wax more stony the more they
+burned.
+
+"Musa," said Richard, very directly, "we have been to each other as
+few brothers and fewer friends. God knows why you have run this peril.
+Yet I believe you care more for the Greek than for any woman, if you
+have loved any, save as a sister."
+
+The Spaniard shrugged his shoulders almost gayly.
+
+"If to any woman I could yield," said he, lightly, "it were to her,
+peerless from Andalus to Ind! Alas, I am clothed in some magic armor
+the darts of the eyes of the houris may not pierce; yet if any eyes
+could pierce, it would be those of Mary de St. Julien."
+
+Richard held his lips close to the other's ear.
+
+"Musa," said he, "I may get into Antioch; but a long road lies still
+to Jerusalem. Where the arrows sing, I must be. And if I fall"--he
+spoke lower--"Mary will be alone. She cannot go to La Haye and be
+wedded to another by her uncle, as would surely be her fate. Not a
+kinsman remains at Constantinople. You must"--he hesitated--"you must
+swear to me that you will love her; that if I die, she shall be your
+wife. For Moslem as you are, no man breathes I would rather see with
+his arms about her than you. You alone can make her forget me; make
+her look forward and laugh in the sunlight."
+
+Why were beads of sweat on the Spaniard's brow? Why came his breath so
+swift and deep? But he answered steadily:--
+
+"Brother mine, you ask a great thing; yet I accept it. If it is
+written by the stars that you fall, I swear I will stand in your place
+to the Star of the Greeks. May she never want love and service while
+life is mine! But till that day I will be to her as a brother, no
+more, no less; and let Allah speed the hour when I can give her back
+spotless to your arms."
+
+They said no more, those two strong men; their clasped hands sealed
+the pledge. Richard walked back to Mary.
+
+"Dear heart," said he, "we Franks have a proverb, 'Hunger drives the
+wolf from the woods.' We cannot stand here forever. Why should we
+grieve? Have I not seen your face two nights and a day; and do I not
+commit you to the noblest friend in all the wide earth? When I enter
+the city, I will show three red shields above the Gate of St. George;
+and if all goes well with you, let Musa contrive to set three lances
+with red pennons before it at an arrow's flight, as sign that your
+tale is credited and you are safe in Kerbogha's camp."
+
+"We will not fail," said Musa, calmly. Richard adjusted the saddle of
+the captured horse so that Mary might ride. No stragglers were at the
+moment in sight. The Norman kissed his friend on both cheeks. He
+pressed the Greek once to his breast. Death was not paler than she;
+but she did not cry.
+
+"You are my cavalier, my saviour, my husband," said she, lifting her
+eyes. "You are your Roland and our Greek Achilles! Dear God, what have
+I done that for an hour you should love me?"
+
+"Our Lady keep you, sweet wife!" was the only answer.
+
+"And you, Richard mine."
+
+That was all that passed. Musa spoke his farewell with his eyes.
+Godfrey bowed ceremoniously to the Spaniard; kissed the lady's hand.
+His honest heart was too deeply moved for words. Richard swung onto
+Rollo without touching stirrup. He did not look back. Marchegai
+cantered beside. The horses whirled their riders over the hillside.
+Soon the view before and behind was hid by the close thickets that
+lined the foothills. Richard rode with his head bent over Rollo's
+black mane, letting the horse thunder at will at the heels of
+Marchegai. The Norman's thoughts? Drowning men, report has it, live a
+long life through in a twinkling. Richard's life was not long; yet not
+once, but many times, he lived it over during that ride--the good
+things, the evil; and the evil were so many! And always before his
+sight was the vision of that face, pale as marble, the eyes fairer
+than stars--that face he had put away because of the love for the
+unseen Christ.
+
+Now of much that passed in that ride Richard remembered little; but he
+followed Godfrey blindly. And a voice seemed to repeat in his ears
+time and again: "Turn back, Richard Longsword, turn back. You can yet
+rejoin Musa and Mary. There is safety in the camp of Kerbogha. You
+are not needed in the threatened city. Leave the army to God. You have
+long since slain enough Moslems to clear your guilt and vow."
+
+But Richard would cross himself and mutter prayers, calling on every
+saint to fight against the assailing devils. As he rode, he saw
+remnants all about of the old pagan world where there had been love of
+sunlight, of flowers, of fair forms, and men had never borne a pain or
+struck a blow for love of the suffering Christ or the single Allah.
+They were on a road, he knew, that led to the Grove of Daphne. He had
+heard Mary tell of the sinful heathen processions that once must have
+traversed this very way,--revellers brimming with unholy mirth, their
+souls devoted to the buffets of Satan.
+
+Once he and Godfrey drew rein at a wayside spring to water the horses.
+Lo, beside the trickling brook was a block of weather-stained marble,
+carved into the fashion of a maiden fair as the dawn. Mother of
+Christ! Was it not enchantment that made that stony face take on the
+likeness of Mary the Greek? What heathen demon made the lips speak to
+him, "Back! back! Do not cast your life away"?
+
+"St. Michael--away, the temptress!" he thundered, and with Trenchefer
+smote the stone, so that the smile and the beauty were dashed forever.
+"_Kyrie eleison! Christe eleison!_" prayed Richard; "Holy St. Julien,
+patron of my house, forbid these fiends to tempt me!"
+
+Yet all the wood seemed full of witchery and the voices of
+devils,--the old pagan devils, Pan, and Apollin, and Dian, and
+Hercules, and countless more,--who whispered ever that Christ and His
+heaven were very far away; that life was sweet, the sun was sweet, and
+sweetest of all a woman's love. But Richard muttered his prayers and
+rode onward; trusting that they might meet the infidels in flesh and
+blood, not sprites of the air whose arrows no ring mail could turn.
+
+At last, after the sun had climbed high, and the horses had dropped to
+a weary pacing, there was a shout behind, --an Arab yell,--the
+clatter of scabbards and targets. Down a leafy way charged a squadron
+of Bedouin light horse, twenty, perhaps, and more. But Rollo and
+Marchegai had a fair start, well out of arrow range; and the
+unbelievers soon learned the speed of Frankish steeds. A long race,
+though not such as that when Iftikhar had led the chase. When at last
+the Bedouins turned back, their beasts all spent, the knights' mounts
+too had little strength to spare. Woods were still on every hand, when
+the two painfully walked beside their horses. As they climbed the
+slopes of Mount Silpius in the early afternoon, on the last stage to
+the city, suddenly from beyond a bend in the trees came the pounding
+of horsemen, fifty at least; and the sound neared fast.
+
+Richard cast a glance at Godfrey.
+
+"My lord," said he, "Rollo is at the end of his speed. We cannot run
+from fresh horses."
+
+The Duke shook his head when he heard the deep pants of Marchegai. "It
+is true," he answered. "I think we had best say 'Our Father,' and look
+to our swords."
+
+But down the forest lane came a clear voice, singing lustily the sweet
+Languedoc:--
+
+    "Merrily under the greenwood flying,
+    _Zu, zu_, away to my Mirabel!
+    Swift! For my lady waits long,--is sighing!
+    _Zu, zu_, more speed to my Mirabel!"
+
+"De Valmont's voice, as I hope for heaven!" cried Richard, dropping
+the bridle. And straight toward them cantered a merry body of
+cavaliers and men-at-arms, Louis's broad pennon leading.
+
+"_Ahois!_ Forward! Infidels!" thundered the Valmonter, couching lance
+as he saw the two awaiting him. But there was a loud laugh when the
+two knights were recognized.
+
+"Holy Mass!" swore Louis; "and were not you, my Lord Godfrey, on the
+foray to Urdeh?"
+
+The Duke shook his head, the instinct of a leader once more
+uppermost.
+
+"I was not," quoth he, curtly, explaining nothing. "And you, De
+Valmont? What means this party so far from the walls?"
+
+"We rode after Sir Philip of Amiens, who rode with a few knights this
+way from the city this morning, and has not returned. We fear they met
+Arabs. It is rumored the Prince Kerbogha is as near as Afrin, and
+advancing!"
+
+"By the Holy Trinity, he _is_ advancing!" shouted the Duke, mounting
+with a leap. "Leave Philip of Amiens to God; he is long since passed
+from your aid. Back to the city with speed, if you wish not for
+martyrdom."
+
+And wearied though Marchegai was, Godfrey made him outpace all the
+rest as they raced toward Antioch. Richard saw the Christian banners
+on the walls as he drew near. Once inside the gates he needed nothing
+to tell him the city had been sacked in a way that bred slight glory
+to the soldiers of the Cross. He left Godfrey to rouse the chiefs, and
+to spread the dread tidings of Kerbogha's approach. His own St.
+Julieners he found in the house of a Moslem merchant they had
+unceremoniously slaughtered. They were so drunken that only Herbert
+and Sebastian were able to receive him. A gloomy tale they gave
+him--the city stormed, then a massacre of the Antiochers,--Christian
+and Moslem alike,--so terrible that even the fiends must have trembled
+to find mortal spirits more bloody than they. After the orgy of
+killing had come days of unholy revellings, drunkenness, and deeds no
+pen may tell. To crown all, the provisions found in the city had been
+so wasted, that starvation was close at hand. Richard in his turn told
+how it had prospered with him at Aleppo. Sebastian sighed when he
+heard of Mary in the custody of Musa.
+
+"Can honey come out of wormwood?" cried he. "God may allow this
+infidel to serve Christians in their peril; yet even then with danger
+to the soul. Ah, dear son, either you must break this friendship with
+the Spaniard of your own will, or rest assured God will break it for
+you. Doubt not--light and darkness cannot lie on the same pillow;
+neither can you serve God and this Mammon whose name is Musa."
+
+"Father," said Richard, "had you stood as I and Musa did, both in the
+presence of death, you would not speak thus."
+
+But the answer was unflinching.
+
+"I declare that had you both died, your soul would have gone to
+heaven, or purgatory, and his to the nethermost hell, to lie bound
+forever with the false prophet and rebel angels."
+
+Richard's thoughts were very dark after Sebastian's words. Was there a
+great gulf sundering him eternally from the Spaniard? But soon he had
+little time for brooding on puzzles for the churchmen. The walls had
+barely been manned on Duke Godfrey's orders, and the foraying parties
+called in, before the hosts of Kerbogha swarmed down the valley,
+seemingly numberless. The Moslem garrison of the citadel made
+desperate sallies. On the day following Richard's return the party led
+by the gallant Roger de Barnville was cut to pieces before the walls.
+Each day the bread-loaves grew dearer and smaller. There was ceaseless
+fighting by sunlight and starlight. Each day the taunts of the Arabs
+were flung in the Crusaders' teeth, "Franks, you are well on the way
+to Jerusalem!" Truly the besiegers were become the besieged. As the
+days crept by the Christians were few who did not expect to view the
+Holy City in heaven before the Holy City on earth.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIX
+
+HOW PETER BARTHELMY HAD A DREAM
+
+
+On Saturday, the fifth day of June, in the Year of Grace one thousand
+and ninety-eight, Kerbogha appeared before Antioch with a countless
+host. On the Saturday following a small loaf of bread sold among the
+Christians for a gold byzant; an egg was worth six deniers; a pound of
+silver was none too much for the head of a horse. Men who had endured
+bitter sieges in the home-land, who had marched across the parching
+deserts of Isauria without a groan, now at last began to confess their
+sins to the priest, and to prepare to die. For help seemed possible
+from none save God--and God was visibly angry with His servants for
+the blood and passion at the city's sack.
+
+On the day after his entrance, Richard Longsword showed three red
+shields on the minaret, and after a little, to his unspeakable joy,
+there were three lances with red pennons set close together before the
+Gate of St. George. Mary and Musa were safe in the camp of Kerbogha,
+and Richard blessed St. Michael and our Lady ever Virgin. Yet for a
+while he was angry with Heaven. If he had entered the city so easily,
+might not Mary have come in at his side? What need of parting? But he
+did not keep these feelings long; and his thankfulness was deep when
+he knew that at least his wife was not seeing gallant seigneurs, even
+the very Count of Flanders, begging in the city streets for a bit of
+bread, nor was herself enduring the awful hunger.
+
+For the famine was the last stroke of the wrath of God upon His
+unworthy people. Thousands had died when the first hordes, led by
+Peter the Hermit and Walter Lackpenny, had been cut off by Kilidge
+Arslan; thousands more at Dorylæum; tens of thousands when they
+tracked the desert and besieged Antioch. But this was the crowning
+agony. When the news came that Kerbogha was approaching, the princes
+had indeed done what they could. Messengers had rushed down to the
+coast to bring up provisions landed by the friendly Italian merchants;
+foraging parties had been sent to sweep the country. But nine months
+long Syria had been harried by the armies. In a few days all the
+Christians were face to face with starvation. Pleasanter far to spend
+their last strength in the daily battles with Kerbogha, who ever
+pressed nearer, than to endure the slow agony in the city. Yet the
+infidels won success upon success. The Moslem garrison of the castle
+made continual sorties; the outlying forts of the Christians were
+defended gallantly, but in vain. Each day drifted into the starving
+city some tale of the pride and confidence of Kerbogha--how when
+squalid Frankish prisoners were haled before him, his _atabegs_ had
+roared at his jest, "Are these shrunken-limbed creatures the men who
+chatter of taking Jerusalem?" and how he had written to the
+arch-sultan: "Eat, drink, be merry! The Franks are in my clutch. The
+wolf is less terrible than he boasted!"
+
+In the city the cry again was, "God wills it!" But the meaning was,
+"God wills we should all perish or become slaves;" and on every hand
+was dumb lethargy or mad blasphemy.
+
+New misfortunes trod upon old. In a sortie Bohemond the crafty and
+brave was wounded; Tancred's and Godfrey's valor ended in repulse. The
+foe pressed closer, damming the last tiny stream of provisions that
+trickled into the doomed city. Boiled grass, roots, leaves, leathern
+shields, and shoes; the corpses of slain Saracens--the Franks had come
+even to this! Richard feasted with Duke Godfrey on a morsel from a
+starved camel. The good Duke sacrificed his last war-horse except
+Marchegai, and then the lord of Lorraine was more pinched for food
+than the meanest villain on his distant lands. As day passed into day
+despair became deeper. Many, once among the bravest, strove to flee in
+the darkness down to the port of St. Simeon and escape by sea. Many
+went boldly to the Moslem camp, and confessed Islam in return for a
+bit of bread. "Rope-dancers," howled the survivors, of those who by
+night lowered themselves from the walls. And Bishop Adhemar talked of
+the fate of Judas Iscariot. But still desertions continued, from the
+great counts of Blois and of Melun down to the humblest.
+
+One day Richard was cut to the quick by having Prince Tancred, who
+kept the walls, send him under guard one of his own St. Julien men,
+who had been caught while trying to desert. Richard had prided himself
+on the loyalty of his band, and his fury was unbounded.
+
+"Ho! Herbert, rig a noose and gibbet. Turn the rascal off as soon as
+Sebastian has shriven him!" rang his command.
+
+To his surprise a murmur burst from the men-at-arms about, and he
+surveyed them angrily.
+
+"What is this, my men? Here is a foul traitor to his seigneur and his
+God! Shall he not die?"
+
+Then a veteran man-at-arms came forward and kissed Richard's feet.
+
+"Lord, we have served in the holy war leal and true. But it is plain
+to all men that God does not wish us to set eyes on Jerusalem! We have
+parents and wives and children in dear France. We have done all that
+good warriors may, now let us go back together. To-night lead us
+yourself along the river road, and let us escape to the port of St.
+Simeon."
+
+No thundercloud was blacker than Richard Longsword's face when he
+answered, hardly keeping self-mastery:--
+
+"And does this fellow speak for you all?"
+
+"For all, lord," cried many voices. "Did you not promise to bring us
+home in safety, to lead us back safe and sound to Nicole, and Berta,
+and Aleïs? Surely we did not take the cross to die here, as starving
+dogs. Let us die with our good swords in our hands as becomes
+Christians, or in our beds, if God wills."
+
+Richard had drawn out Trenchefer, and swept the great blade round. "My
+good vassals," he said in the lordly fashion he could put on so well,
+"you know your seigneur. Know that he is a man who has thus far gone
+share and share to the last crumb with his people, and will. Does not
+my belly pinch? do not I live without bread? But I say this: this man
+shall die and so shall every other die a felon's death who turns
+craven, or I am no Richard, Baron de St. Julien, whose word is never
+to be set at naught."
+
+There was a long silence among all the company that stood in the broad
+court of the Antioch house. They knew well that Richard never made a
+threat in vain. They did not know how great was the pain in the heart
+of their seigneur. There was silence while the body of the deserter
+was launched into eternity.
+
+"Amen! Even so perish all who deny their Lord!" declared Sebastian.
+Richard's heart was very dark when he visited Rollo that day. Thus
+far, by great shifts, he had secured forage. All the other St. Julien
+beasts had perished; men muttered at Longsword for sparing the horse.
+But after that ride from Aleppo he would sooner have butchered
+Herbert.
+
+But was this to be the end of the Crusade? of the outpouring of the
+Holy Spirit at Clermont? of the agony of the march? Better if all had
+ended with the bowstring at Aleppo. No, not better; for Mary was
+saved.
+
+A gloomy council came that afternoon at the Patriarch's palace, under
+Godfrey's presidency; no hope--the Greek Emperor they had awaited was
+reported retreating! The iron men at the council groaned. Guy, brother
+of Bohemond, cried out against God Himself.
+
+"Where is Thy Power, now, Lord God?" rang his despairing blasphemy.
+"If Thou art all-powerful, why dost Thou let these things be? Are we
+not Thy soldiers, and Thy children? Where is the father or the king
+who would suffer his own to perish when he has power to save? If now
+Thou forsakest Thy champions, who will henceforth fight for Thee?"
+
+"Peace!" interrupted Bishop Adhemar; "is not God angry with us enough
+already? Will you rouse Him further by your blasphemies?" And Guy
+retorted madly:--
+
+"Angry, _Sanctissime?_ Look on our faces, my lord bishop. Do they look
+as if we had feasted? There are mothers lying dead in the street this
+moment, with babes sucking at their milkless breasts. I say we have
+nothing more to fear from God. He has shown us His final anger; mercy,
+indeed, if with one great clap He could strike us all dead and end the
+agony. What is to be done, if not to die, one and all, cursing the day
+we put the cross upon our breasts?" And the speaker almost plucked the
+red emblem from his shoulder. Adhemar did not reply, and Raymond of
+Toulouse asked very gravely, turning to Godfrey:--
+
+"Have you sent the heralds to Kerbogha, as the council agreed,
+offering to yield the city and return home, on sole condition that our
+baggage be left to us?"
+
+Godfrey's face was even darker than before when he replied: "Yes, Lord
+Count; there is no need of many words, nor to examine the heralds.
+Kerbogha will listen to only one surrender--submission at
+discretion--after which he will decide which of us he will hale away
+into slavery, which put to death."
+
+The Norman Duke and Gaston of Béarn had risen together.
+
+"Fair princes," cried the latter, "we are at our wits' end. There will
+soon be no strength left in a man of us to strike a blow, and the
+Moslems will take us with bare hands. Dishonor to desert, and we will
+never separate. Yet let us bow to God's will. His favor is not with
+the Crusade. Let us cut our way down to the port, and escape as many
+as can."
+
+"And so say I," called Duke Robert. "And I," came from Hugh of
+Vermandois. "And I," shouted many of the lesser barons. But Tancred,
+bravest of the brave, stood up with flashing eyes. "I speak for
+myself. I reproach no man, seigneur or villain. But while sixty
+companions remain by me, of whatever degree, I will trust God, and
+keep my face toward His city!"
+
+"There spoke a true lover of Christ," cried Adhemar, his honest eyes
+beaming; and Godfrey's haggard face brightened a little. "You are a
+gallant knight, my Lord Prince," said he. "These others will think
+differently when they have slept on their words. Better starve here
+than return to France, if return we can. We have asked Kerbogha's
+terms--we have them. 'The tender mercies of the wicked are cruel,' as
+says Holy Writ. How can we return with all the paynim nations jeering
+at us, crying, 'See! See the boasted Frankish valor!' We can do no
+more to-day; let us meet again to-morrow."
+
+"To-morrow we shall be yet hungrier," muttered Guy of Tarentum, as he
+went out at Longsword's side. "Except a miracle come of God, Kerbogha
+has us." "Except a miracle!" repeated Adhemar. Richard carried home
+the words. Had God turned away His face from His children? Were the
+brave days when the Red Sea swallowed Pharaoh's myriads, when four
+lepers delivered starving Samaria from the Syrian hosts but as
+_jongleurs'_ tales of things long gone by? He told Sebastian what had
+passed among the chieftains, and Sebastian only answered with a
+wandering gaze toward heaven.
+
+"These are the days of God's wrath! Now appears the host foretold in
+the Apocalypse--the four angels loosed from the river Euphrates, come
+forth with their army of horsemen, two hundred thousand, and for an
+hour, and a day, and a month, and a year, shall they slay the third
+part of mankind."
+
+"Father," said Richard, "do you know what the princes say? 'Except a
+miracle, we are delivered to Kerbogha.' Are the days of God's mercy
+spent? Were the Jews more righteous than we, that they should be saved
+by wonders from heaven, and we perish like oxen? I speak not for my
+own sake--though the saints know it is hard to keep a stout heart over
+a nipping belly--but for my men, for the whole host. Pestilence is
+treading behind the famine. This day five thousand have died in
+Antioch--cursing the hour they took the cross and the God who led them
+forth. I say again: How can these things be--God sit silent in yonder
+blue heaven, and still be good?"
+
+Sebastian brushed his bony hand across his face as though driving away
+a mist, and ran on wildly:--
+
+"Kerbogha is the beast foretold in the beginning! The beast and the
+false prophet, which is Mohammed, have deceived those who have the
+mark of the beast; and all such with those that have worshipped his
+image shall share with the beast and the false prophet in the lake of
+fire, burning with brimstone."
+
+"Yes, dear father," said Richard, simply; "but the vengeance of God is
+long delayed!"
+
+Sebastian gave no answer. All that afternoon he went among the dying,
+who lay like dogs in the streets, holding up the crucifix, telling
+them of the martyrs' joys; that death by sickness and famine was no
+less a sacrifice to God than death by the sword.
+
+"Fear not, beloved," were his words to those whose last speech was of
+home and longed-for faces, "you are going to a fair and pleasant
+country, very like dear France, only brighter and richer than France,
+if that may be. There, as far as you can see, is a plain of soft green
+grass, and the sky is always blue; and there is a lovely grove with
+whispering trees laden with fruit of gold; and the fountain of 'life
+and love' sparkling with a thousand jets, and from it flows a river
+broader and fairer than any in the South Country. Here all day long
+you will dance with the angels, clothed in bleaunts of red and green,
+and crowned with flowers as at a great tourney; and all your friends
+will come to you; there shall be love and no parting, health and no
+sickness; nor fear, nor war, nor labor, nor death; and God the Father
+will smile on you from His golden throne, and God the Son will be your
+dear companion."
+
+So many a poor sufferer flickered out with a smile on his wan lips at
+Sebastian's words, while he thought he was catching visions of the
+heavenly country, though there was only before his dying eyes the
+memory of a sunny vineyard or green-bowered castle beside the stately
+Rhone or the circling Loire.
+
+Thus Sebastian spent his day. But Richard heard him repeat many
+times--"A miracle! except we be saved by a miracle!" And toward
+evening the Norman saw his chaplain deep in talk with the half-witted
+priest, Peter Barthelmy, and another Provençal priest named Stephen.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Count Raymond sat at the end of the day in his tent before the castle,
+and facing him was Bishop Adhemar. There was no hope, no courage, left
+in the army at the close of that gloomy day. Bohemond had had to fire
+his followers' barracks to drive them forth to fight on the walls.
+When the alarm trumpets sounded an attack, men only muttered, "Better
+die by the sword than by a month-long death of starving." Gloomy had
+been the dialogue, and at last the Count asked:--
+
+"Dear father, have masses been duly said, and prayers offered Our Lady
+that she will plead with Christ for His people?"
+
+And Adhemar answered: "Prayer day and night. All night long I and the
+Bishop of Orange lay outstretched after the form of the cross,
+beseeching Our Lord. The cry rises to heaven unceasingly. But God
+remembers all our sins; there is no sign save of wrath."
+
+And the good Bishop was stirred when he saw a tear on the bronzed
+cheek of the great Count of the South. "I must go among the men," said
+Raymond; "the saints know I can say little to hearten."
+
+But he was halted by his worthy chaplain, Raymond of Agiles, now grave
+and consequential. "My Lord Count, and you, your Episcopal Grace,"
+began he, importantly, "there has been a notable mercy vouchsafed this
+poor army,--a miracle,--a message sent down from very Heaven!"
+
+"Miracle? Miracle of mercy?" cried the Count, banging his scabbard.
+"These are strange words, my good clerk; we have none such to hope for
+now!"
+
+"Beware," interposed Adhemar, warningly, for he saw that the chaplain
+was flushed and excited. "When men's bodies are weak, the devil finds
+his darts lodge easily. Beware, lest Satan has cast over your eyes a
+mist, and held out false hopes."
+
+But the chaplain would not be denied.
+
+"Noble lords," quoth he, boldly, "here is a man who declares to me,
+'St. Andrew has appeared in a dream, saying, "You shall find the Holy
+Lance that pierced our dear Lord's side, and by this talisman overcome
+the unbelievers!"' Will you not hear his tale?"
+
+"And who is this fellow?" urged Adhemar.
+
+"Who, save the unlettered and humble priest, Peter Barthelmy, whom
+your Episcopal Grace knows well."
+
+Adhemar shook his head hopelessly. "There can be no help in Peter
+Barthelmy. There are in the host ten thousand saintlier than he, and
+wiser, and no vision has come to them."
+
+"Yes, my Lord Bishop," cried the chaplain, eagerly; "but is it not
+written, 'Thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, and
+revealed them unto babes?' Cannot God, who made the dumb ass speak,
+and who appeared unto the child Samuel and not to the wise Eli, make
+His instrument the untaught clerk Peter of Marseilles?"
+
+There was an honest ring in the chaplain's words and a pious faith
+behind them, that made Bishop Adhemar grow humble and cross himself.
+
+"_Mea culpa, Domine_," he muttered, "grant that my pride in my own
+high estate and wisdom should be rebuked by making this unlearned
+priest indeed Thy instrument of deliverance." Then aloud, "Admit this
+man; let us question him, and see if he be of God or Satan." So Count
+Raymond waited, and his chaplain went forth and led in the priest
+Peter Barthelmy.
+
+A rough-featured, heavy-handed peasant's son was this Peter. He had
+gone into holy orders, he scarce knew why; his highest hope had been a
+little village "cure," where he could tell saints' stories to the
+girls, and baptize the new-born babes, and enjoy a pot of wine on
+feast-days, and grow old in peace. But men said that he loved to pray,
+was very humble, also was fond of having long and circumstantial
+dreams. When he found himself before the great Count of the South, and
+Adhemar "the Father of the Army," his speech came thickly, and his
+knees smote together under his cassock. But Adhemar, whose heart was
+compassion to all save infidels, told him not to fear, if he had a
+clean conscience, but to tell them boldly; for they would not despise
+him, even if poor, untaught, and a villain's son. So Peter found his
+tongue, and his tale ran after this wise:--
+
+During the siege of Antioch, one midnight there had been a great
+earthquake, and as Peter called to Heaven in his fear, lo, two men in
+bright garments stood before him in his hut,--one young and more
+beautiful than any born on earth, the other old, with hairs all gray
+and white, his beard long and divided, his eyes black, his countenance
+very terrible, and he bore a transverse cross. Then the elder man had
+said, "What do you?" And Peter, trembling, answered, "And who are you,
+good lord?" Then the other replied: "Arise, and fear not. I am Andrew,
+the Apostle. Gather the Bishop of Puy, and the Count of St. Gilles and
+Toulouse, and say, 'Why does the Bishop neglect to preach and to warn
+and to bless the people?'" Then St. Andrew told Peter he would show
+him the lance with which the pagan centurion, Longinus, pierced the
+side of Christ, and this lance he must give to Count Raymond, for such
+was the will of God. So St. Andrew led Peter through the Saracens into
+Antioch to the Church of St. Peter by the north gate, and opened the
+ground before the steps of the altar and showed him the lance. And
+Peter held in his hand the precious metal, with the water and blood
+still rusted upon it. St. Andrew commanded him to go to the church
+with twelve men, after the city was taken, and dig, and he should find
+it. Then the saint replaced the lance, led Peter back to his own hut,
+and disappeared.
+
+"But why did you conceal this so long?" asked Adhemar; "why did you
+disobey the Holy Saint?"
+
+"Ah, my Lord Bishop," was the answer, "your Grace sees I am a poor,
+stammering wretch. Not once, but four times, has the Holy Saint
+appeared to me, warning and threatening, because I feared to make bold
+and come before the princes and your Grace with my commission." Then
+Peter told how he had tried to escape the commands of the saint, and
+how the saint had pursued him, until his fear of punishment from
+heaven was greater than his fear of the scoffs of man, and thus he had
+come to the Count and Adhemar.
+
+When the priest was finished, the Bishop and Count sent him away, and
+sat for a long time deep in thought; for whether he spoke out of
+malice, or fancy, or inspiration from above, who might say? The
+chaplain, Raymond of Agiles, waited without the tent, and received the
+decision of Adhemar.
+
+"Let him abide until to-morrow. During the night let us pray again
+earnestly, and see if the night and the morning bring any sign that
+the wrath of God is turned away."
+
+So the night came, and a thrill went through all the starving city,
+when it was rumored that the Bishop would go to the Church of St.
+Peter to offer solemn petition for a sign from God, whether He would
+vouchsafe a miracle. And as a hundred thousand despairing eyes watched
+the heavens, about midnight there came a sortie of the Turks from the
+citadel, and there was fighting in the streets. But, lo! just when the
+strife was fiercest, and the Christians almost gave way, there was a
+rushing noise in the upper heavens; Crusaders and Moslem saw a great
+star of glowing fire rush downward, so that the city and the camps of
+Kerbogha were lit bright as day. Then the star burst in three pieces
+over the paynim camp, as if God were raining down fire upon the
+unbeliever, as upon old Sodom; and for the first time in many weary
+days the Christians dared to raise their heads, and cry: "God wills
+it! He will still have mercy!"
+
+The night passed; and in the morning there came the priest Stephen,
+who went before the princes as they sat in council beneath the castle.
+And he in turn told a story that made men cross themselves and mutter
+their _Glorias_. For according to Stephen's tale, he had gone to the
+Church of the Holy Virgin, believing the Turks were broken in, and
+wishing to die in God's house. But when the foe did not come, and all
+his companions slept, a young man with a blond beard, the most
+beautiful form he had ever seen, appeared to him, and a bright cross
+shone above the head, token that this was Our Lord. Then while Stephen
+adored, Christ said to him, "I am the God of Battles; tell me the name
+of the chief of the army." And Stephen replied, "Lord, there is no one
+chief; but Adhemar is most revered." Whereupon Our Lord answered:
+"Tell Bishop Adhemar to bid the people return unto me, and I will
+return unto them. Let the cavaliers invoke my name when they ride into
+battle. And after five days, if my commands are obeyed, I will have
+pity on my people." Then at Christ's side appeared a lady, more
+beautiful than day, who said, "Lord, it is for these folk in Antioch I
+have made intercession for Thy favor." So Our Lord and His Blessed
+Mother vanished, and Stephen could hardly wait for the day to tell his
+story to the army.
+
+Now when the stories of Stephen and Peter Barthelmy had run through
+the host, it was a marvel surpassing to see how the skies were
+brightened; and if a man doubted, he stifled his doubts within his
+breast, as being little less than blasphemy. Richard Longsword in days
+to come was accustomed to wonder what it was that Sebastian had said
+to the two priests, when they talked so earnestly together. But he
+spoke to no man, only gave thanks in silence.
+
+"Let us cast all sin from our hearts," admonished Adhemar in the
+council; "for it is manifest God will not keep His anger forever."
+Then all the princes took a great oath to remain faithful to the Holy
+War; and when the Arabs cried to the sentries on the walls: "Out,
+Franks, out! Show us the Christian valor!" the reply came boldly now:
+"Patience, Sons of Perdition! The devil double-heats his fires against
+your coming!"
+
+So the appointed five days sped, and though many yet died, the very
+famine seemed easier to bear. Every gaunt Frank whetted his sword, and
+if prayer and vigil avail aught, or one cry to God from thousands on
+thousands, it should have availed them. No more blasphemy and
+scoffings now; only one desire: "The lance! the lance! Then rush
+against the infidel!"
+
+"Sebastian," said Richard, "do you know, if the lance is not found,
+the whole host will curse God; perhaps turn infidel for a loaf of
+bread?"
+
+"I know it," came the solemn answer; "but it is sin to doubt."
+
+"Yes, but I am weak in faith. How great is the power of Kerbogha!"
+
+Sebastian's answer was an uplifted hand.
+
+"Would God I could do as did Elisha to his servant, and open your
+eyes; for now, as then, the host of the ungodly lie round the city,
+but behold the mountains are full of horses and chariots of fire to
+deliver the Lord's elect!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XL
+
+HOW THE HOLY LANCE WAS FOUND
+
+
+In the morning the Crusading Chiefs prepared to dig for the Holy
+Lance. Richard was touched when he left his men, to see how, despite
+their murmurings, the honest fellows tried to put on a brave face.
+"Ha, Herbert!" cried De Carnac, "the rats we feasted on last night
+were better than a St. Julien boar." And the man-at-arms forced the
+counter-jest, "After so much rat-flesh I shall lose all taste for
+venison." "Three of our rats," snickered Theroulde, "are better than
+giant Renoart's dinners--five pasties and five capons all for
+himself."
+
+But this was strained merriment. Richard at the council found he was
+appointed to go with Count Raymond, Raymond of Agiles, the Bishop of
+Orange, Pons de Balazan, Ferrard de Thouars, Sebastian, and five more,
+to dig for the lance. Bishop Adhemar, good soul, lay ill, but his
+prayers were with them. The twelve took Peter Barthelmy and went to
+the Church of the Blessed Peter, a gray stone building, domed after
+the Eastern manner. When they came to the threshold they knelt and
+said three _Paternosters_ and a _Credo_; then the Bishop of Orange
+blessed their spades and crowbars, sprinkling each implement with holy
+water. All about the church in the narrow streets stood the people,
+far as the eye could see--gaunt skeletons, the bronzed skin drawn
+tight over the bones, the eyes glittering with the fire of dumb agony.
+When the company entered the church, there went through the multitude
+a half-audible sigh, as all breathed one prayer together; and many
+started to follow the twelve, though none cried out or spoke a word.
+But Count Raymond motioned them back. Then all who were in the
+church--and like all the churches during the siege, it was crowded
+with men and women--were bidden to rise from their knees and go away.
+
+Slowly the church was emptied. Then when the last worshipper was gone,
+the twelve put-to the gates; and all, saving the Count and the Bishop,
+took a spade or crowbar. Peter Barthelmy led them up to the stairs
+leading to the high altar, at its south side. Here the priest turned,
+and pointing to the pavement said, in awestruck whisper, "Here! at
+this spot the holy saint took the lance from the ground, and laid it
+back again, in my dream."
+
+"Amen! and amen!" repeated the Bishop. Then all the rest knelt a
+second time, while he blessed them, making over each the sign of the
+cross. When they arose, they remained standing until he gave the word.
+"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost,
+Amen!"
+
+The pickaxe in the hands of Raymond of Agiles smote first on the
+pavement. There was a crash, as the mosaic pattern shattered. Then the
+others bent to their toil. The costly glass and stone work flew out to
+every side, then the gray cement, then the chill, dark earth, and with
+all the speed and strength that was theirs the twelve slowly pushed
+downward.
+
+It was a strange scene. The windows of the church were very small.
+Over the altar, with its painted and gem-crusted ikons of the saint,
+twinkled a pair of candles; above the heads of the thirteen, far up
+against the dark dome, shone a pair of silver lamps, flickering, with
+a ruddy glare. The shadows hung upon the cold pillars of the old
+basilica. They saw faint images of painted martyrs and angels peering
+down from the frieze and vaulting. Every stroke of their tools rang
+loud, and awakened echoes that died away behind the maze of far-off
+arches.
+
+Digging and still digging, the earth flew fast under their eager
+hands. The Count forgot his proud title and broad baronies, caught a
+spade, and toiled as became a villain bred to the soil. All the time
+they labored the Bishop chanted psalm after psalm, and the sound of
+his voice was a double spur to the work, if spur were needed. But
+after they had labored a great while, and the trench was growing broad
+and deep, every man began to have a half-confessed sinking of heart.
+They laid down their tools, searched the great pile of earth that was
+rising in the aisle; found in it only pebbles and a few bits of broken
+pottery, but no wonder-working lance!
+
+Yet Peter Barthelmy encouraged them.
+
+"Dear lords and brothers," said he, undauntedly, "do not grieve.
+Believe me, the Blessed Andrew went far deeper into the earth than
+have we. You have not dug down yet to the sacred relic."
+
+So, though their arms were growing weary, they fell again to the toil,
+and the Bishop chanted louder than ever:--
+
+"'In my distress I cried unto the Lord, and He heard me.'"
+
+More and more feverish grew the toil. Richard drove his own spade
+down, as if very life depended on each stroke, and who might deny it?
+
+"By St. Michael!" was his oath, "we will find the lance, though we dig
+to Satan and his imps to pluck it up!"
+
+So for a still longer time they wrought, until their hands were sore,
+arms and backs lame, and still only dark earth and sandy pebbles. When
+at last they paused for breath, each one looked in his fellow's face,
+and saw reflected there his own waning hope. But still Peter urged:--
+
+"Be confident, dear friends and lords; deeper yet was the lance when I
+saw it. Do not distrust the saint!"
+
+They toiled still longer, until by noting the shortening of the
+candles on the altar they knew that noon was long past, and the day
+was speeding. None dared utter his doubts. But at last Count Raymond
+declared that he could stay no more; it was his turn to go and command
+the fort before the Gate of St. George. Richard could see the anguish
+on the face of the great lord of the South.
+
+"What shall I say to the people who are waiting without the church?"
+demanded he of Peter Barthelmy; "they will be plunged in despair when
+they know we have failed."
+
+"Ah, Lord Count, do not lose faith in the saint! That were mortal sin!
+Can St. Andrew lie?" replied Peter, between the strokes of his
+mattock.
+
+"St. Andrew cannot lie, but Provençal priests can," was the Count's
+menacing retort. "Think well on your sins, my good clerk. If you have
+been tempted by the devil to deceive us in this--rest assured the
+people will pluck you in pieces."
+
+"I do not fear," said Peter, steadily, with the stolid resignation of
+the peasant born.
+
+"You shall be taught to fear," muttered the Count; then to the others,
+"My Lord Bishop, my other lords, and you good Christians, I say
+farewell;" and he added bitterly,--"and let God have mercy upon our
+souls, for we can hope for nothing more on earth."
+
+The Count was gone. And then for the first time, like the howling of a
+distant gale, they heard a raging and roaring around the basilica,
+creeping in through the thick walls and tiny windows.
+
+"The multitude grows angry," muttered Pons de Balazan. "They have
+waited long." Then he went forth, and tried to calm the impatient
+people, and called in other proper men, to take the places of such of
+the twelve as had grown weary.
+
+But no man took Richard's place. Not his own life, but the lives of a
+hundred thousand, shut up in that starving Antioch, hung on their
+toil. The chance of failure was so frightful, that not even he, whose
+fingers had learned so well to fight, to whom the life of a man was so
+small a matter, dared look that future in the face. Had the rest all
+forsaken, he would have toiled on, spading forth the earth, raising
+the dark mound higher, ever higher.
+
+And all the company wore grim, set faces now, as they wrestled with
+their strengthening despair, except Peter Barthelmy and Sebastian. The
+monk was working with an energy surpassed only by Richard himself.
+Longsword saw that he was still calm, that the light in his usually
+terrible eyes was even mild; and as the two stood side by side in the
+trench, Sebastian said to him: "Why fear, dear son? Are we not in
+God's hands? Can He do wrong, or bring His own word to naught?"
+
+The Norman answered with an angry gesture:--
+
+"Truly our sins must be greater than we dreamed, to be punished
+thus--to be promised deliverance, and have Heaven mock us!"
+
+Sebastian's reply was a finger pointed upward to the painted Christ,
+just behind the two lamps.
+
+"Be not fearful, O ye of little faith!"
+
+Richard fought back the doubts rising in his soul, and flung all his
+strength anew into his work.
+
+The noise without the church was louder now. They could hear shouts,
+curses, threats, rising from a thousand throats.
+
+"Deceiver, the devil has led him to blast us with false hopes!
+Impostor, he dreamed nothing! Out with them; out with them all! The
+whole company is leagued with Satan! Kill the false dreamer first,
+then yield to Kerbogha; he can only slay us!"
+
+These and fifty more like shouts were ringing fiercely. Presently
+there was a crashing and pounding at the gates of the church. "Open,
+open! There is no lance! Slay the deceiver!"
+
+Richard turned to the Bishop, who in sheer weariness had ceased
+chanting. "_Reverendissime_, the people are getting past control. In a
+moment they will break in on us and commit violence at the very altar;
+go and reason with them while there is yet time."
+
+"Open! open! Death to Peter the Provençal!"
+
+The roaring had swelled to thunders now. The strong iron-bound gates
+were yielding under the strokes of mace and battle-axe. Richard flung
+down his spade, and gripped Trenchefer. He would not defend the
+deceiving priest; but no unruly men-at-arms should touch a hair of
+Sebastian, if he also was menaced. But just as the portals began to
+give way, Peter Barthelmy, stripped of girdle and shoes, his hands
+empty, and only his shirt on his back, leaped into the deep black pit.
+Even as the doors flew open, but while the crowd stood awed and
+hesitant at sight of the dim splendor of the nigh empty church,
+Raymond of Agiles fell on his knees and prayed loudly:--
+
+"O Lord God of battles and of mercy, have pity on Thy people. Have
+mercy! Give us the lance, sure token of victory!"
+
+And the moment his words died away, Peter Barthelmy lifted one hand up
+from the pit--and in his hand _the rusted head of a lance_!...
+
+Now what followed no man could tell in due order. For afterward
+Raymond, the chaplain, was sure that he was the first to seize the
+lance from Peter, and kiss it fervently; and Sebastian and the Bishop
+and Richard Longsword each claimed the same for themselves. But all
+the toilers were kneeling ranged behind the Bishop, as he stood in the
+centre of the great aisle, and upheld the relic in sight of the
+multitude thrusting its way in.
+
+"Kneel! Thank God with trembling!" rang the words; "for He has had
+mercy on His army, has remembered His elect! Behold the lance that
+pierced our Saviour's side!"
+
+And at these words a wondrous sobbing ran through the swelling
+company; after the sobbing, a strange, terrible laughter, and after
+the laughter one great shout, that made the dark vaulting echo with
+thunder.
+
+"_Gloria in excelsis Deo! et in terra pax hominibus bonæ voluntatis!_"
+so they sang in the church. But now the tidings had flown on wings
+unseen to the thousands without, and all the streets were rolling on
+the greater doxology: "_Laudemus te; benedicimus te, adoramus te,
+glorificamus te; gratias agimus tibi propter magnam gloriam tuam!_"
+
+When Richard came out of the church, he was met by a cry from
+countless voices: "Hail! Richard de St. Julien! You were one who found
+the Holy Lance! The favor of God and the love of Christ go with you!
+May you ever prosper. You were one of those who saved us all!"
+
+[Illustration: "AND IN HIS HAND THE RUSTED HEAD OF A LANCE"]
+
+"No, sweet friends," said the Norman to those who could hear. "We
+are all saved by the favor of God. I am only like you, a very sinful
+man." And he bowed his head, remembering his misdeeds, and wondering
+why he was chosen to have part in so great a mercy. But the people
+would not listen to him or his fellows. They carried the twelve, and
+Peter Barthelmy at their head, borne on high to the palace of the
+Patriarch; and there the dear Bishop Adhemar was roused from his
+sickness, and cured in a twinkling by the cry that shot on ahead of
+the company, "_Gloria! Gloria!_ The lance! The lance! Let us fall upon
+Kerbogha!"
+
+The cry came to the men on the walls, and to Duke Godfrey, who crossed
+himself and swore seven candlesticks of gold to our Lady of Antwerp.
+The Moslems heard it, and those who were wise said, "Let us pray Allah
+to shield against the Frankish valor, if once it be kindled."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Only one shout now throughout the city. From the weakest and
+hungriest, "Battle!" But Godfrey restrained those who wished to fight
+that very night. "Nothing rash," he urged; and it was determined to
+send an embassy to bid Kerbogha raise the siege or offer fair combat.
+They sent as envoys Peter the Hermit, and one Herluin who knew the
+infidels' speech; also Richard Longsword, because he likewise spoke
+Arabic, and could cast a soldier's eye on the emir's camp. The parley
+sounded, and a gorgeously dressed _atabeg_ met the envoys at the
+Bridge Gate to lead them to Kerbogha. The Moslem made large eyes at
+the little monk with his rope girdle and tattered cassock, the humble
+interpreter, and the ponderous Frankish baron, in threadbare bleaunt
+and clattering a sword no arm from Tunis to Bokhara could wield.
+
+"And is this embassy clothed with power to deal with our commander?"
+demanded the wondering _atabeg_. "The passions of the Lord Kerbogha
+are swift. Do not play with him."
+
+"Friend," said Richard, soberly, "you shall find that we lack not
+authority."
+
+Therefore the three were led into the paynim camp, of which the chief
+part lay north of the river. Here they saw that the might of the East
+had indeed gathered about Kerbogha: wiry Seljouks of Kilidge Arslan,
+brown Arabs from the Southern deserts, graceful Persians, dark-eyed
+Syrians in the white dress of the Ismaelians, gaudily clad Turkoman
+cavaliers from Khorassan and Kerman, Tartar hordesmen from the steppes
+of the far East; all stood about, pointing, whispering, jeering at the
+three Franks. "Were these the terrible men who had won Nicæa and
+Dorylæum, and taken Antioch?" ran the titter. But no one molested
+them, as the _atabeg_ escorted through the avenues of black
+camel's-hair tents, interspersed with the gayer silken pavilions of
+the emirs. Then at last they found themselves before the palace tent
+of Kerbogha. Here they were led at once before the Moslem chief
+himself, who was clothed in gold, silk, and jewels, worth ten baronies
+in France. He was surrounded by the emirs and petty sultans, standing
+close about his throne; on his left hand was Kilidge Arslan the
+Seljouk, and Dekak lord of Damascus; on his right a figure Richard
+knew full well, clothed though he was in gilded, jewel-set armor from
+head to heel, Iftikhar Eddauleh! All around the tent were ranged
+Kerbogha's bodyguard, three thousand picked Turkish horsemen,
+panoplied in flashing steel; while the three envoys were led up a lane
+of giant negro mace-bearers, whose eyes followed the least beck of
+their lord, whose golden girdles and red loin-cloths shone doubly
+bright against their ebony skins. Richard, as he came, saw the stores
+of food and wine laid out for the pleasure of the infidels, while good
+Christians were starving. He saw the camels of the hospital corps of
+Kerbogha, and the host of physicians waiting here with their medicine
+chests, while in Antioch thousands had died of pestilence. Then his
+heart grew hard, and he held his head very high, as he and his
+companions walked down the file of negroes and stood before Kerbogha.
+
+Now the chamberlains who were at the foot of the throne had motioned
+to the Franks to bow down, and kiss the carpet before Kerbogha; but
+the three stood like statues. When the silence was long, Kerbogha
+spoke forth, not veiling impatience.
+
+"Fools, how long will you carry yourselves so arrogantly? It is yours
+to humble yourselves, not play the part of lords. A strange embassy
+this--who are you? What do you seek?"
+
+And Harluin respectfully, but firmly, answered:--
+
+"Lord, we are the envoys of the princes in Antioch; and this venerable
+hermit named Peter will speak for us."
+
+A thousand eyes were on the little monk when he stepped forward. There
+was no sign of fear, his own eyes were very bright; he returned the
+haughty gaze of Kerbogha as if he were himself arbiter of life or
+death. Harluin strove to interpret for him; but Peter had recalled his
+Syriac learned on the pilgrimage, and some angel gave him the gift of
+tongues. Then right in the teeth of Kerbogha and the emirs the
+tattered monk flung his challenge:--
+
+"Your Highness, the assembly of the chiefs shut up in Antioch have
+sent me to you to bid you cease from this siege of the city which the
+mercy of God has restored to us. The blessed Peter, prince of the
+Apostles, has by virtue of the will of God plucked it from you, never
+to return. Now, therefore, take choice: raise the siege of this city
+without delay, or prepare for instant battle. If you will, send any
+number of champions into the lists, and let them meet an equal number
+of our own; but if you will not--know that God is preparing to cut
+your host short in its sins! Nevertheless, our word is still--peace.
+Return to your own country, the Christians will not molest you. We
+will even put up prayers that your hearts may be touched with the
+Gospel and your souls delivered from perdition. Sweet indeed to call
+you brethren, to conclude betwixt Frank and Turk abiding peace!
+Otherwise, let there be war; and let the just God of battles judge
+between us! Surprise us, you cannot; neither will we steal victory.
+But in fair field, man to man, will we meet you,--with few or with
+many,--and teach your haughty mouths the taste of Christian valor!"
+
+When the monk had finished, there ran a low growl and bitter laugh
+amongst the emirs and guardsmen, while Iftikhar laughed loudest of
+them all.
+
+"Ha! noble monk!" he cried in French, "and you, my Lord de St. Julien,
+one would never think such bold words could flow out of such empty
+bellies!"
+
+Richard made him no answer. He saw Kerbogha's right hand twitch, as if
+to sweep it from left to right, the sign for instant decapitation of
+the envoys,--an order that fifty eager negroes would have fulfilled.
+But the general frowned on his guards who started forward, and reined
+in his fury.
+
+"Peter, take back to Antioch the only resolution left to you and your
+starving host, whose feasts are on grass and vermin. Let the beardless
+youth deliver themselves up to me, and I will let them live as my
+slaves, and of my friends and vassals. Let the young girls come
+out,--they shall be kept safe in our harems; they say the Frankish
+maids are fair. As for all those with beards or white hair, it shall
+rest with me to put them all to the edge of the sword, or slay some,
+and load the rest with chains;" and as he spoke he pointed to the leg
+irons and manacles which lay in great heaps all about the pavilion,
+ready for the Christian captives. "Yield now, and to _some_ I may show
+mercy. Let not your babbling priests deceive you. Allah has turned
+against you. Where are your crucified Messiah and your false apostles,
+that they let you perish like gnats? Yield now; the axe is kinder than
+death by starving. To such as become Moslem, Al Koran commands to show
+compassion; for the rest, they must yield themselves into my hands,
+and take what I will. Do not wait until to-morrow; if you are taken
+_then_, cry on your God, who could not save even himself from the
+cross, to save you from my fury!"
+
+When Kerbogha was finished, a great shout went up from the Moslems.
+"_Allah akhbar!_ Away with the infidels!" and there was a rush, as if
+to hew the three in pieces then and there. But the general motioned
+them to keep peace, and Peter, whose daring passed a lion's, flashed
+back his reply:--
+
+"To-morrow, lord of Mosul, you shall judge whether Mohammed, the false
+prophet, can prevail against the crucified Christ."
+
+"Away! They rush on ruin!" shouted Kerbogha. "Back to the city with
+them!"
+
+The little monk cast one last glance of defiance at the figure on the
+throne, and with a slow and steady step the three Christians turned
+their backs on the gorgeous company, unheeding a thousand threats that
+buzzed around their ears. Last of all went Richard, and, as he went, a
+voice called after him in French:--
+
+"Ho! Richard Longsword, stay!"
+
+The Norman halted; he was face to face with Iftikhar Eddauleh. The
+Ismaelian had thrown back his helmet, so that the gilded plates no
+longer concealed his face, which wore a very ugly smile. His teeth
+shone white and sharp as a tiger's, but his poise was lordly as ever.
+
+"I am at your service, my lord!" said the Christian.
+
+Iftikhar dropped his voice to a whisper:--
+
+"You are well fed in Antioch! Your cheeks are thinner than on the day
+you held the lists at Palermo!"
+
+"And I have done many things since then, my lord, as have you," came
+the answer. Iftikhar's eyes seemed hot irons to pierce through his
+enemy, when he replied:--
+
+"Between us two lies so great a hate, that if we were both in Gehenna,
+I think we would forget our pains in joy of seeing the other
+scorching."
+
+"That is well said, my lord. But why detain me? I know all this."
+
+Iftikhar's voice sank yet lower, that none of the great company might
+hear. "You had your day at Aleppo, but to-day is mine. Kerbogha holds
+your host in the hollow of his hand, yet at my word he will let you
+march unhindered to Jerusalem."
+
+"I do not follow you, Cid Iftikhar."
+
+The voice became a mere whisper, but how hoarse! "Deliver up to me
+Mary Kurkuas safely, and I will swear by Allah the Great, that
+Kerbogha raises the siege!"
+
+Richard laughed in his turn now, for it was joy to see his enemy's
+pain. "My lord, you cannot tempt me! Praise God Mary Kurkuas is
+anywhere but in Antioch among our starving host!" But even the Norman
+almost trembled when he saw the storm of blind fury on the Ismaelian's
+face.
+
+"Where, as Allah lives,--where is the Star of the Greeks?" raged
+Iftikhar, his voice unconsciously rising.
+
+"Not all your deaths and torments in the dungeons of El Halebah will
+wring that from me."
+
+"Then by the Apostle of Allah!" foamed Iftikhar; and he clutched at
+the Norman's arm, while seeking his own hilt. Kerbogha cut him
+short:--
+
+"Cid Iftikhar, the Christians are madmen; yet respect the embassy. Let
+this fellow go!"
+
+Iftikhar flung the arm from him.
+
+"Go then, go," rang his threat in Arabic, which a hundred heard.
+"To-morrow we will clear the reckoning. It grows ever longer. Do you
+know," and he showed his white teeth, "I have killed your sister
+Eleanor with my own hand?"
+
+Richard bowed in his stateliest fashion.
+
+"My lord," said he, "my sister was long since worse than dead; I did
+not know she was in El Halebah when I came to Aleppo, or I might have
+rescued. Our Lady is merciful; she has peace. And as for me--ask your
+own heart if I am a harmless foe; remember you fell at Aleppo twice,
+thrice, and by my strength! So let God judge us, and give fair
+battle!"
+
+"Let Him judge!" retorted Iftikhar, turning, and Kerbogha shook out
+his handkerchief, the signal for the breaking up of the assembly.
+
+So the three Christians were led away, and they did not quail when
+wild desert dervishes flourished bare cimeters over their heads, and
+chanted from Al Koran:--
+
+"Strike off their heads and strike off their fingers!
+
+"They shall suffer because they resisted Allah and his apostle!
+
+"Yea, the infidels shall suffer the torment of hell fire!"
+
+While Richard heard Peter muttering softly to himself:--
+
+"Happy shall he be who rewardeth thee, as thou hast served us!
+
+"Happy shall he be that taketh and dasheth thy little ones against the
+stones!"
+
+At last, despite the curses, the three were again safe and sound
+before the Bridge Gate. They entered, and were surrounded by a vast
+crowd demanding the result of the embassy. When Peter wished to tell
+the people of the threats and ragings of Kerbogha, Duke Godfrey, who
+had been the first to hear, feared lest any should be discouraged. So
+Peter merely declared that Kerbogha wished instant battle, and was
+taken before the chiefs. There he and Longsword told of the might and
+splendor and insolence of the Moslems, how Kerbogha had blasphemed the
+name of Christ and breathed forth cruelty against the besieged. Then
+even among the chieftains, despite the miracle of the lance, a few
+faint hearts trembled. But Bishop Adhemar, standing up, lifted his
+eyes to heaven and recited solemnly:--
+
+"This is the word of the Lord concerning Kerbogha, as once against
+Sennacherib, king of Assyria:--
+
+"'Whom hast thou reproached and blasphemed? and against whom hast thou
+exalted thy voice, and lifted up thine eyes on high? even against the
+Holy One of Israel.
+
+"'But I know thy abode, and thy rage against me.
+
+"'Because thy rage against me and thy tumult is come up into mine
+ears, therefore will I put my hook in thy nose, and my bridle in thy
+lips, and I will turn thee back by the way thou camest.
+
+"'For I will defend this city, to save it, for mine own sake and for
+my servant David's sake!'"
+
+When Adhemar had spoken, there was only one thought at the
+council,--battle on the morrow! and the heralds-at-arms went through
+the city, bidding every man prepare to march with the dawn. It was
+very late, but no man sought his bed. Richard was long with Bohemond,
+Tancred, Duke Robert, and Godfrey, telling all that he had seen in the
+Moslem camp: how that despite the numbers and the splendor, discipline
+seemed lax, and the divisions very ill placed.
+
+Even while the chiefs were in council, all Antioch was rejoicing over
+a great boon--another favor of Heaven. A secret magazine of corn had
+been discovered; and a meal of good food was set before every man that
+night, something that was priceless gain to those who were to struggle
+for their lives at cockcrow.
+
+There was no despairing now; no helpless lethargy, no longing for
+"gentle France." One had thought the victory already gained, to go
+among the host and hear everywhere the _Te Deums_ in honor of the Holy
+Lance and the battle-cry,--so cheerful now,--"God wills it! To
+Jerusalem!"
+
+The whole host made ready for battle that night with prayer and
+sacrament. The priests went their rounds through the army, confessing
+each man; and many a hardened sinner, who had taken even the cross
+lightly, had his heart melted when his comrades were exchanging the
+kiss of love, and saying, "God keep us all, dear brothers; who knows
+but that to-morrow night we shall be sitting with the angels!"
+
+It was almost the gray of dawn when Richard went among his men. He
+found them cheerful, arms ready, anxiously awaiting the signal for
+battle.
+
+"My good vassals," said the Norman, "we all stand in the presence of
+God, seigneur and peasant. You have been faithful vassals to me, and I
+have tried to be a kindly and just lord to you. Yet if any man have a
+grievance against me--say on! Let all hear him."
+
+But many voices answered, "You have been a father and elder brother to
+us, lord; may we all die for you if need be!"
+
+"And I for you!" replied the Baron, deeply touched. Then, after a
+pause, "Now, my men, are we prepared--body and soul--for victory on
+earth, or the sight of God the Father?"
+
+"Ready," gruffly replied Herbert; "Sebastian has made us all spotless
+as young lambs."
+
+"You have many sins to confess, brother," slyly hinted Theroulde. "Sad
+if you have forgotten some odd killing, that will rise up for
+judgment!"
+
+"Think of your own lies and cheating," snapped the man-at-arms.
+
+But Sebastian only cried, "Peace! peace!" and told how the meanest
+villain who died fighting on the morrow was sure of a heavenly throne
+and a kingdom greater than that of Philip of France. If their past had
+been wicked, here was an easy penance--given by Bishop Turpin at
+Roncesvalles, "to smite their best against the infidels"; and always
+let them remember that all the angels clapped their hands when an
+unbeliever fell under the sword, and there was joy unspeakable in the
+heart of God.
+
+With a vast company the St. Julieners marched through the Bridge Gate
+at red dawn. "God wills it!" arose the shout from thousands on
+thousands, while the monks and priests upon the walls began to thunder
+forth the great psalm:--
+
+  "Let God arise: let His enemies be scattered!"
+
+There was a terrible gladness in all hearts--they must fight paynims
+unnumbered; defeat was death. But death meant welcome to Christ's
+right hand; victory, the spoiling of Kerbogha.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLI
+
+HOW LIGHT SMOTE DARKNESS
+
+
+Now the full story of the battle of Antioch can be told only by that
+strong angel in whose book are treasured the records of the brave
+deeds done in faith. When that awful book is unsealed, it will be
+known why the spirits of evil beguiled Kerbogha into sitting idly in
+his tent at chess, while the Christian host was issuing from Antioch;
+why the two thousand Turks who held the head of the Iron Bridge
+scattered like smoke at the Crusaders' first bolts, to let the
+starving Franks lead their twelve "battles" across the river, and put
+them in close array confronting the Moslem line. Long, however, before
+the grapple came, Kerbogha and his _atabegs_ had taken the saddle, and
+the Christians saw arrayed against them horse and foot innumerable; a
+wide sea of flashing steel, of bright turbans and surcoats, tossing
+pennons and lances on plunging desert steeds. From the extreme left
+wing with the Holy Lance as special talisman borne by Raymond of
+Agiles where Bishop Adhemar commanded, to the right of the long line
+where Hugh of Vermandois led, there ran a thrill, and each man
+whispered to his neighbor "Now!" and steeled his muscles for the
+shock. No jests and laughter as often before a battle; not a soul now
+had heart for that. But every eye was bright, every lip firm, and the
+breath came quick and deep. There was dead hush when Adhemar in mitre
+and stole went down the line followed by a great company of priests
+bearing smoking censers, and in their midst a high crucifix. And when
+he spoke each casqued head bowed, each knee was bent. At the sight
+even the Moslems seemed to keep silence.
+
+"The peace of God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost be
+in your hearts and keep you. And in the name of the Holy Trinity do
+battle. Amen!"
+
+So sounded the great benediction. When all rose to their feet, and
+were locking close the spear hedge, Richard Longsword, one of the few
+mounted knights who rode as guard around the Holy Lance, heard as it
+were the roaring of a tempest coming down the wind from the host of
+Kerbogha, a wild clangor of _atabals_ and kettledrums, and the clash
+of myriad cymbals, and higher and shriller than all, the yell from the
+mad devotees of Arabia and Khorassan:--
+
+"_La ilaha ill' Allah! La ilaha ill' Allah!_"
+
+The cry pealed from a hundred thousand throats; and the stoutest
+soldier of the Cross felt a shiver and a tingling, though he were
+veteran from many a well-fought field. Now, at last, was the issue
+left to their good swords and God!
+
+But while the Moslem war-shout rent the cloudless dome of morning, an
+answering echo rolled onward from the Christians, and as if the very
+shout were the signal, the long line rushed forward, the thousands
+moving as one.
+
+"God wills it! Death to the unbelievers!"
+
+The lines sprang toward each other like lions of the waste; the broad
+plain country that stretched northward from the river grew narrow
+under their swift feet. Then avalanche smote avalanche, light wrestled
+with darkness!
+
+No horseman's and archer's battle as at Dorylæum; no passage at arms
+between chieftains while the hosts stood by! But man to man they
+fought; the starving Franks looking into swarthy faces, where black
+eyes glanced fire and white teeth flashed hate. So for a moment the
+Turkoman cavalry strove to break through the Christian spear
+hedge,--for few French fought mounted that day. But the blooded
+chargers recoiled from the dense line of lances, and swinging swords,
+and battle-axes, as from a barrier of live fire, and reeled back to
+leave the plain red with dying steeds and stricken riders.
+
+The first blood only. For when Kerbogha saw that his horsemen could
+not ride down the defiant foe at will, he flung forward his archers
+and javelin-men, until the air grew dark with flying death that
+searched out the stoutest armor. Then while the arrows yet screeched,
+and men were falling fast, the Arabians and Turks charged home.
+Charged--but though the spear wall wavered, it was not broken--while
+above the shouts and howls of the infidels beseeching Allah, sounded
+the chanting of the psalm from the priests who stood behind the
+men-at-arms:--
+
+     "Let God arise, let His enemies be scattered; let them also that
+     hate Him, flee before Him!"
+
+So for the second time the Moslems reeled back. And when Kerbogha,
+sitting in the midst of his guard at the rear of the battle, saw it,
+he tore his beard in rising fury, and bade Kilidge Arslan the Seljouk
+lead his squadrons in circuit to fall on the Christians' rear. Now a
+third time the Moslems came forward, slowly now, horse and foot, their
+imams and ulamas crying to them to remember the beauty of the houris,
+the joys of martyrdom, and to hew in pieces the blasphemers of the
+Prophet.
+
+At this Richard, who knew Arabic and the fury of the unbelievers,
+called to his men to lock close about the Holy Lance, for now indeed
+was the fated hour. Then the Christians heard, outrunning the breeze,
+the wild howl of the dervishes, to whom death was more welcome than a
+quiet sleep:--
+
+"Hell and Eblees are behind you! Victory or Paradise before you!
+Forward!"
+
+"Stand fast, men of Auvergne!" rang the Norman's command; and every
+lance was braced when the third shock smote them. No charging,
+recoiling, countercharging, in this supreme wrestle between Christ and
+Mohammed. The dead piled themselves higher, higher. The desert steeds
+were spitted like birds on the Frankish lances. The stoutest spears
+shivered like reeds, and targets were cleft as wicker; but the
+hand-to-hand combat never slackened. Kerbogha was throwing into the
+press all his numbers. Again and again Richard Longsword, with Gaston
+of Béarn, the Count of Die, and Raimbaut of Orange, who fought under
+Adhemar's banner, charged out, and did deeds of valor to be forgotten
+only with the last _jongleur_. Each time, as the foe gave way, the
+hard-pressed Christians set up their _Laus Deo_, dreaming they had the
+victory. But each time the infidels surged back to the onset; pressing
+closer, smiting harder, and drowning the Crusaders' prayer to Our Lady
+with their mad "Allah! Allah!"
+
+Richard, who fought about the Holy Lance, twice saw it reel in the
+hands of Raymond of Agiles, as fifty unbelievers pressed close. But
+the Christian footmen around it were a living wall, and not a dervish
+who put out his hands to grasp the lance turned back alive. Still the
+battle wavered. Rumors came down the line, now that Godfrey on the
+centre was victorious, now that Bohemond was desperately beset by
+Kilidge Arslan. Richard looked to his men; gaps in the lines. Brave
+fellows whom he loved well were moaning or speechless under those red
+heaps. But the infidels were still thronging in. The gaps were closed.
+The fight raged as though the blood spilled were but oil cast into a
+furnace.
+
+And presently as Richard fought around the lance, he saw a stately
+figure in gilded armor that he knew well despite the closed
+helmet,--saw it come pressing through the ranks of the Moslems.
+
+"Ho! Iftikhar Eddauleh," rang the Norman's challenge, as the roar of
+the conflict lulled for a twinkling, "face to face, and man to man!"
+
+The only answer by the Ismaelian was a lowered lance, and Rollo flew
+out to greet the charge. For a moment those standing by gave place.
+They met unhindered. Under the shock each lance flew to splinters, and
+the good steeds were flung on their haunches.
+
+"Again!" burst from the emir, as his cimeter glanced in the sun.
+"Again!" And Richard with Trenchefer rode straight at him, the
+unspeakable hate blinding to all things save his foe. Three times they
+fenced, and the sparks flew at every stroke. With the fourth,
+Trenchefer sheared off the black plumes on the Ismaelian's crest. A
+sweeping blow from Iftikhar answered, but Richard's stout shield
+parried it.
+
+"God wills it! St. Julien and Mary Kurkuas!" shouted the Norman,
+flinging his old battle-cry in the face of his mortal foe. But the
+ruling powers would not let these mad spirits fight longer. Suddenly,
+in a way none could foresee, the line of battle, as it will, swayed in
+a great shock; and here Moslems were thrown back, here forward, and
+comrades were torn asunder. The two were caught in the eddy and
+whirled wide apart, bitterly against their wills.
+
+"The lance! The lance is in danger!" the Christians were shouting; and
+Richard saw the holy standard sink out of sight in the seething vortex
+of battling men and beasts.
+
+"Rescue, rescue, Christian cavaliers!" Bishop Adhemar was moaning; and
+all unarmed as he was, the prelate was about to thrust himself from
+behind the protecting shield wall into the death-press. But Gaston of
+Béarn and Die and Orange, as well as Longsword, were before him.
+Richard saw Gaston snatch the lance out of the clutch of two Turkomans
+who grasped it, and hew down both--a blow for each. Then the lance was
+raised once more, and all Crusaders praised God, and fought more
+stoutly.
+
+So for long the battle raged; no man knowing how it had fared farther
+down the line, having wits only for his own struggle, and fighting
+even that blindly. But suddenly upon the wind black smoke came driving
+down upon the Christians. At first they scarce knew it in the fierce
+delirium. Then the smoke came denser, hotter; dimming their eyes, and
+setting all a-gasping. And almost sooner than the telling, the very
+grass under their feet was in a flame, fanned onward by a breeze that
+dashed the fire in their faces, while the deadly blast swept away from
+the Moslems. Whereupon, for the first time that day, a terrible panic
+fell on the Christians, as even the dead soil seemed thus to rise up
+and war against them. Men cast down their swords to flee,--all the
+horses plunged wildly; while with a shout of triumph, the infidels,
+blessing their Prophet, pressed on to snatch the victory.
+
+But at the very moment when all the world seemed turned to ruin,
+Bishop Adhemar ran down the line up-bearing the crucifix. A hundred
+paynim arrows sped toward him; not one flew true, for some angel
+turned all aside.
+
+"See!" was his cry above the howls of the dervishes. "See, Christians,
+the sufferings of your Lord! Stand fast, if you would prove that
+Christ died not in vain!"
+
+And when the Franks thought of their God upon the tree,--of the Holy
+Agony,--their own agony was forgot. Wounded men, whose life was
+running out in blood, sprang to their feet and fought like Roland's
+peers; those who had turned to flee, looked back, ran again into the
+press through the mad flames, and gave the Moslems blow for blow.
+
+Yet this could not last forever; the limit to what human might could
+do was very near. Denser the smoke, hotter the fire. Barely with all
+his strength could Richard now hold Rollo, and he knew while yet he
+fought, that unless the smoke were turned, the boast of Kerbogha would
+not be vain. A wail of despair was rising from the Christians: "_Kyrie
+eleison! Kyrie eleison!_" and the triumphant "_Allah akhbar!_" of the
+Moslems seemed the sole answer.
+
+Then, even with his sinful and corporeal eyes, each Crusader had proof
+that on his side strove the Lord of Battles! For as the smoke blew
+blinding, with a great gust the wind changed, and the fire that
+Kilidge Arslan had lit for his foes' destruction turned to his own.
+Strong and fresh from the west came a piping sea-breeze, and the smoke
+swept in one heavy cloud into the faces of the infidels! So sudden the
+deliverance, that the Franks stood speechless, marvelling at this
+great act of God. And while thus they stood, Bishop Adhemar pointed
+with his staff toward the northern hills.
+
+"Behold, Christians! Three knights clothed in white armor, the succor
+promised by God! The martyrs George, Demetrius, and Theodore fight for
+us! Forward, all who love Our Lord!"
+
+Forward and ever forward. No faltering now, for it was the Moslems
+that were howling to the Prophet to save them from the smoke and the
+flame, and were shrinking back in panic. Down the line the Christian
+trumpets were sounding the charge, and the news flew fast that Godfrey
+and Tancred were sweeping all before them, while Hugh and Bohemond
+held their own.
+
+Then a marvellous madness seized the host of Adhemar. It was midday;
+they were starving; they had fought for life since dawn, but each man
+felt his feet wings when crossing that fire-seared plain.
+
+"God wills it! Death to the infidels!"
+
+At the cry even the dervishes gave way. The onrush of the Christians
+made the unbelievers scatter to the four winds; the fleet
+desert-steeds of the horsemen, caught in the press and panic,
+struggled vainly to escape and lead the flight. The Franks were upon
+them! the Franks had been granted victory by Allah! It was fate! Let
+who could shun his doom!
+
+"And the stars in their courses fought against Sisera!" cried
+Sebastian, swinging his mace at the head of the St. Julien men as they
+joined in the onset. Then suddenly as had changed the wind, the
+Christians hardened their ranks to endure again the shock; for,
+brushing aside their fleeing comrades, came the white-robed
+"devoted,"--the Ismaelians, held by Iftikhar as a last reserve,--sent
+forth to snatch victory out of the jaws of defeat; twelve thousand
+wild spirits whose one longing was to slay Christians, and hasten to
+the embraces of the black-eyed maids of Paradise. Fair upon the
+Frankish line, broken and disorganized even by victory, Iftikhar flung
+his thunderbolt. Over the dead and over the living charged the
+Ismaelians. With them went again the battle-shout raised by so many
+Moslem armies, never in vain:--
+
+"_La ilaha ill' Allah! La ilaha ill' Allah!_"
+
+"Bear up, Christians! This is the last charge!" urged Gaston of Béarn,
+but more than brave words were needed to turn that blast. The
+"devoted" smote the Frankish spear hedge, and for the first time that
+day broke through it. The Holy Lance went down under twenty slain;
+the Christian war-cry was drowned by the howl of the Ismaelians:
+"_Allah akhbar!_ Victory! Victory!" As out of a dream, Richard saw
+that the battle had swept round him, with only hostile faces on every
+side. But he had no time to think of peril; for he was face to face
+again with Iftikhar Eddauleh himself, and at the sight he sent Rollo
+straight against the grand prior.
+
+"Again! Cid Iftikhar, let God judge between us!" he cried. But the
+Ismaelian avoided the shock, swerving to one side, and answered:
+"Fool! Allah has already judged! Take him prisoner, slaves! Pluck him
+from his horse!"
+
+Nothing easy; for though twenty of the "devoted" leaped to the ground
+to do as bidden, they found nothing sweet in the taste of Trenchefer.
+Richard put the face of Mary Kurkuas before his eyes while he fought:
+should he never see her more? The thought made his arm strong as
+forged steel. But just as the Ismaelians were crying to their lord
+that the terrible Frank could never be taken alive, and begging to use
+their swords, a blow of a mace crushed Longsword's right shoulder. His
+arm sank at his side, and Trenchefer nigh dropped from the numbed
+fingers. He saved the sword with his left hand, casting away the
+shield.
+
+"Yours! Seize! Bind!" exhorted Iftikhar. Yet even now there was a
+struggle, for Rollo that loved his master well made his great hoofs
+fly as he plunged and reared, and Richard's left arm dealt no weak
+blow.
+
+"Cowards!" thundered the grand prior; "let me curb in the horse!" But
+while he pressed nearer, a terrible howl of dread went up from the
+"devoted" themselves.
+
+"Allah save us! All is lost! The Christians conquer!"
+
+And as Iftikhar and Richard looked about them they saw the "battles"
+of Tancred and Godfrey, that had not endured the Ismaelian's charge,
+bearing down in serried line to drive this last Moslem squadron from
+the field.
+
+"Turn, Iftikhar Eddauleh!" Louis de Valmont's voice was ringing,
+"turn, and fight!" But Iftikhar only gave a bitter curse, and spurred
+away among his men. Adhemar's division had been shattered, not
+dispersed. The Christians were pressing in on all sides. The cry was
+spreading that Kilidge Arslan was in flight. The Franks saw Iftikhar
+re-forming his "devoted"--much less than twelve thousand now, though
+none had fled away; they half heard the imprecation he called upon
+them if they rode in vain. They formed, they charged; each rider a
+demon upon a steed possessed. They cast away their lives with an awful
+gladness. But the Christian spear wall was as iron, though pressed by
+springing steel. There was no other charge. Where the Ismaelians
+struck, they fought; where they fought, they died; and where they
+died, no other Moslems leaped to take their place. The thunderbolt had
+fallen--the storm had passed!
+
+And now praised be God the Son, and Mary ever Blessed! The infidels
+were become as stubble to Prince Tancred's sword, and to Bohemond,
+Hugh, and Godfrey. Loud and victorious sounded now the chant, ever
+repeated:--
+
+  "Let God arise; let His enemies be scattered!"
+
+And scattered they were! "How is it, Lord?" said the chronicler; "how
+dare men say that it was not Thy doings that the great host of
+Kerbogha melted like the spring snows before us, when we were weak
+with famine, and one where they were three? How, save by Thy help, did
+our poor jaded steeds fly like eagles after their Arabs, and overtake
+those chargers swifter than the lightnings? How, save by Thy grace,
+did Prince Tancred ride alone against an hundred, and see them flee as
+leaves before the gale?" How? The whole army knew, for the age of
+doubting had not come.
+
+"Not unto us, Lord; not unto us! But unto Thy name be the glory!" was
+the prayer of Adhemar, as he stood with his priests about him, while
+far to the eastward and northward drifted the rout and pursuing. For
+there was no valor in the Moslems now. Their chiefs fled swiftest of
+all; one way Kerbogha, another Dekak of Damascus, another Kilidge
+Arslan. And their camp with a treasure worth half the wealth of
+France, and swarming with eunuchs and harem women, had become a spoil
+to the servants of God and His Christ. The thought however was not of
+spoil, but of pursuit and vengeance. Loudest of all among the priests
+sounded the voice of Sebastian, urging on the warriors.
+
+"The heathen are sunk down into the pit that they made; in the net
+which they made is their own foot taken! Pursue--follow after; tarry
+not; for this is the acceptable day of the Lord--the day when one of
+you shall chase a thousand; when you shall smite the infidels as
+Israel smote Amalek--man and woman, infant and suckling, ox and sheep,
+camel and ass! Destroy, let not one escape!"
+
+Fierce and unflagging the pursuit. Tancred mounted his footmen as
+swiftly as they could capture horses, and hunted the fleeing Moslems
+over plain and mountain. Here and there the despairing Turks and
+Arabians turned like beasts at bay when the terrible Franks crashed on
+them. But there was no strength left in a Moslem's arm. Doom--doom
+against the servants of the Prophet had been decreed by the stars--not
+the might of all Islam could turn back the stroke of fate. Here and
+there the raging Christians came on foes who cast down the useless
+weapons, and stretching out their hands, cried in a tongue which all
+knew: "Quarter! Mercy!" But they had better pleaded with stones; for
+that day there was none of mercy. The battle had begun with the
+morning; the shadows were lengthening on the hills when Tancred turned
+back his pursuers near Harin, halfway to Aleppo, and rode back toward
+Antioch, still galloping, for fear his comrades had squandered all the
+spoil.
+
+Long before the last chase was ended, Richard Longsword had been borne
+to the city. Despite his crushed shoulder and lifeless arm, he had
+urged on Rollo to the pursuit, almost hoping that he would meet
+Iftikhar once more; though how, all maimed, he could have fought the
+Ismaelian, St. Michael only knew. He saw the last struggle around the
+encampment of Kerbogha, where the camp-followers tried to defend the
+palisade and were destroyed by firing the barrier; he saw the
+Christians dragging out the spoil,--rarest silk and webs of Ind, and
+unpriced gems; fifteen thousand sumpter camels; howling slave girls;
+shivering servants. He knew that the great battle, the battle against
+the infidel he and his fellows had dreamed of so long, had been
+fought, and won; and that the tale of the victory would fly from
+Britain to Tartary. And yet he half felt a sense of sadness: he had
+met Iftikhar Eddauleh face to face, and yet the Ismaelian lived. They
+told him that when the last charge failed Iftikhar had turned his
+steed's head and ridden away, joining Kerbogha and the fleeing emirs
+and _atabegs_. Then Richard breathed a deep curse; for he knew, though
+no clear reason came, that the grand prior, coward though his flight
+had proven him, would in some way work great ill either to himself or
+those he loved. He bade the St. Julieners search the camp to find if
+Mary Kurkuas and Musa had been present at the battle. No trace; he was
+at once saddened and relieved. Then, just as the first procession of
+triumph, laden with dainties and rich wines from the camp for the
+starving city-folk, was preparing to enter Antioch, the Norman felt of
+a sudden the firm earth whirling, and as his sight dimmed, the din in
+his ears drowned all the _Glorias_ and _Te Deums_ of the rejoicing
+multitude. Herbert saw him reel on Rollo's back, and caught him just
+as he dropped to the earth. Sebastian loosed his casque--found it full
+of blood; a dervish's blade had cleft to the bone. His shoulder was
+crushed; from ten more spots he was bleeding. The St. Julieners laid
+their baron on a litter of lances and bore him to the city. Nor did
+Richard know aught more for many days.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLII
+
+HOW MORGIANA WOUND HER LAST SPELL
+
+
+Wrong had been done Iftikhar, when the Franks boasted he had fled
+headlong with Kerbogha and his coward _atabegs_. Had all his peers in
+the Moslem host fought as he, there might have been fewer Christian
+_Glorias_. Where death was thickest he had sought it. Under his
+cimeter had sped many a Frankish life. At the end he had led the final
+charge of his "devoted," maddest rider in all that headlong band. But
+doom had been against him; the Ismaelians had died where they could
+not conquer. Iftikhar, escaping fifty deaths, had thrown himself into
+a band of flying Turkomans, beseeching, threatening, adjuring, to make
+them turn for a last stand. One howl met his prayer.
+
+"Fate is against us! Flee! Flee! Allah aids the Franks!"
+
+He struck the fugitives with his cimeter; they fled more swiftly. He
+thrust his beast across their path; the good Arabian was nigh swept
+down in the vortex of the panic. Panic everywhere, the Franks flying
+after, each Christian a raging jinn whose joy was slaying.
+
+Then at last Iftikhar knew he could do no more, and he turned the head
+of his wounded steed to ride on the Christian lances. But just as he
+was casting shield away, that death might light more quickly, the hand
+of a strange rider plucked his saddle rein, and before the grand prior
+could strike at the unknown, Zeyneb's voice sounded in his ears above
+the "_Montjoye!_" of the onrushing French:
+
+"What, Cid? You ride to death?"
+
+"Unhand!" thundered Iftikhar, "all is lost! I know how to die!"
+
+But Zeyneb with a wondrous strength had tugged at the bits and swung
+the charger's head; and close by, the Egyptian saw another rider,
+unarmored, in a flowing dress,--but the face was turned from him.
+
+"You are mad, lord!" cried Zeyneb. "Do not cast yourself away. Fate
+will change, Allah willing!"
+
+Then, as Iftikhar struggled to turn, a squadron of flying Persian
+light horse struck them, and swept the three riders away perforce in
+its flight.
+
+"Faster, faster!" the Persians were shrieking; "the Franks! Their
+horses are vultures! their strength as of monsters!"
+
+Iftikhar cursed while he strove vainly to escape them and ride against
+the pursuers.
+
+"Fools, sons of pigs and Jews!" roared he; "see, scarce ten men
+follow, and you an hundred. Turn; ride them down!"
+
+"They are ten sheytans," yelled the rest, spurring harder. "Speed,
+brothers, speed!"
+
+Iftikhar glanced back. Behind him flew De Valmont and Tancred, who
+knew him by his armor, and taunted:--
+
+"Face to face, Cid Iftikhar; did you fly thus at Palermo?"
+
+But the Persians pricked their beasts to a headlong gallop; the Franks
+rode down some, and slew them; the rest made their escape. When the
+Christians left the chase in the evening, Iftikhar found himself with
+a wounded and weary steed upon the bare Syrian hill slope, with only
+Zeyneb for escort. The strangely dressed rider he had noticed,
+followed half an arrow flight behind; but the Egyptian gave little
+heed. Hardly had he drawn rein before another squadron of breathless
+riders joined him, their horses' flanks in blood and foam. Their chief
+was Kerbogha, master that morning of two hundred thousand sword-hands,
+master that night of scarce fifty. Iftikhar bowed his casque in gloomy
+salutation, but the lord of Mosul did not return it.
+
+"Cid Iftikhar," came his words, cold as ice, "we have played our
+chess-game with fortune. Mated! and we play no more! Forget that I
+have known you!"
+
+"I do not understand, my lord!" protested Iftikhar, his color rising.
+
+"Clearer, then," and Kerbogha peered backward, lest the Frankish
+banners tossed again in the gloaming. "We went to Antioch first to
+crush the Franks, but also to gather, unhindered and unsuspected, an
+army to grind Barkyarok and the Kalif. We gathered the army. Where it
+is now, demand of the winds and the blood-red plain! Our plot is
+ended. Barkyarok will suspect. Let Hassan Sabah gain his empire in his
+own way. I must save myself by forswearing the Ismaelians and be all
+loyalty to the arch-sultan. As for you, let Allah save or slay, you
+are neither friend nor foe to me. Go your way; forget me, as I forget
+you!"
+
+"But our oaths--our pledge of comradeship till death!" urged Iftikhar,
+in rising wrath.
+
+"Death? A hundred thousand dead Moslems have wiped out the bond.
+Cursed be the day I listened to your plots!"
+
+"Then answer sword to sword!" raged the Egyptian, in frenzy, and ready
+to join mortal grapple. But a shout from the emir's escort sent
+Kerbogha fleeing away, without so much as replying.
+
+"The Franks! They follow! Flight, flight!"
+
+A false alarm, but the lord of Mosul and his fifty had vanished in the
+thickening twilight; his speed such that the hoof-beats were soon
+faint in the distance. Iftikhar looked about him. The night was sowing
+the stars. The young moon was shining with its feathery crescent. Far
+and wide stretched the desolate hills, fast fading into one black
+waste. Lost! the battle lost! the hope of empire lost! the vengeance
+on Richard lost! the love of Mary Kurkuas lost! He had only a wounded
+horse, his cimeter, and his arms. That morning twelve thousand men
+would have died for him at his nod. Yes, and had died! It was the
+stroke of doom, the doom that had been written a million years, before
+Allah called the heavens out of smoke, the earth out of darkness; and
+there was no escaping. The Christians had turned back to Antioch, but
+Iftikhar knew where to find them. He could ride back on his tracks,
+enter their camp, slay seven men before dying himself, and give the
+lie to the taunts of De Valmont and Tancred. So doing he would save
+one last treasure--his honor.
+
+"Zeyneb!" he said sternly, "go your way. You are at the end of your
+service. I must ride to Antioch."
+
+"And why to Antioch, Cid?"
+
+"To win back the honor you stole from me."
+
+Iftikhar had leaped to the ground to tighten his girths, when the
+strange rider came beside him and dismounted. As he rose from his
+task, he saw a veiled woman facing him; and while he started and
+trembled, she swept the veil from her face. Morgiana standing in the
+moonlight!
+
+For an instant not a word passed. Then Iftikhar spoke: "Morgiana,
+surely Eblees will gain you at last, since he sends you here." His
+voice was shaking with towering passion.
+
+"I have come to save you, my Cid," answered she.
+
+"To save me?" burst from the Egyptian. "To save me? To drag down to
+Gehenna rather; to speed me to endless torture!"
+
+She turned her face away. "Not that," she pleaded, "not that. Have I
+not loved you, and been ever faithful?"
+
+He sprang at her, caught her by the throat.
+
+"You have indeed _loved me_! Hearken: through your love for me you
+strengthened the Greek to resist me; through your love for me you
+saved Richard and his comrades, and plucked the Greek from me; through
+your love the accursed Norman and Duke Godfrey were able to escape, to
+warn their army, when ready to drop unresisting into the net spread by
+Kerbogha. This siege, this battle, this loss of myriads, is your
+handiwork; is _yours_,--and for it you shall die. Would to Allah I had
+killed you long ago!"
+
+He had drawn his cimeter, and brandished above her. She raised her
+eyes and looked at him unflinching.
+
+"_Wallah!_" cried he, wavering, "there is magic in your eyes. The
+sheytans aid you! Yet you shall die!"
+
+Morgiana's face was not pale now; all the blood had returned; her eyes
+were brighter than red coals. She wrested her neck from his grasp, and
+caught his sword-hand, held it fast, with a strange, giant-like
+strength that frighted him.
+
+"Strike!" cried she; "but as Allah lives and judges, first hear. Where
+are your twelve thousand? I have seen them all dead. Your hopes of
+power? Sped to the upper air. And the Greek? Allah knoweth. All these
+lost, but not I. No, by the All-Great you shall not strike until you
+hear me; for I am strong--stronger than you. I have been cursed, but
+have not replied; been hated, but paid in love; been wronged, but
+remained faithful. Now hope goes to ruin; war, love, friends,--all is
+lost,--saving I. But me you shall not lose. Either on earth you shall
+keep me near, to joy in your joys, to sorrow in your sorrows; or
+dying, my spirit shall be yet closer, to follow your path in heaven,
+earth, or hell--bittering every sweet, trebling every woe, haunting,
+goading, torturing, until you curse tenfold the hour you forgot the
+love of Morgiana, maid of Yemen!"
+
+And when Morgiana had spoken, she cast Iftikhar's hand from her, and
+bowed her head, as if waiting the stroke. But the Ismaelian's arm had
+fallen. He stood as in a trance, for before his storm-driven soul
+passed the vision of that Morgiana of other days, before the babe died
+and he set eyes on the Greek,--those days when he boasted he asked no
+Paradise, for the kiss of the fairest houri was already his. His
+sword-arm trembled. The woman said not a word, but raised her eyes
+again, not burning, but mild and tender he saw them now, lit with soft
+radiance in the dim moonlight. He felt the mad fury chained as by some
+resistless spell. Presently he spoke, the words dragged as it were
+from the depths of his soul:--
+
+"Some jinn is aiding you! Live then this once. I shall be cursed again
+for sparing."
+
+Morgiana's only answer was to kneel and kiss his feet. Then she rose
+and stood with bent head and folded arms waiting his wishes. But
+Zeyneb had flitted between.
+
+"Cid," he said abruptly, "there are horsemen approaching, very likely
+Christians; the gallop is that of heavy northern horses. Let us ride."
+
+"Ride?" asked the dazed Iftikhar, "whither?" And he looked at
+Morgiana. His iron will was broken; he was content to let her lead
+him. She had already remounted.
+
+"Toward Emesa, my Cid," she said directly.
+
+"And what is there?" asked he, still dazed.
+
+"The road to Egypt. You have still a name and a fame. All is not lost
+while Allah gives life. You are still young. The Egyptian kalif will
+rejoice to welcome such a warrior to his service."
+
+"_Mashallah!_" cried Iftikhar, raising his hands, "when did you devise
+all this for me?"
+
+"Many days since, lord. For in the hemp smoke it was written Kerbogha
+and the 'devoted' should fail."
+
+"And you have been hidden at El Halebah?"
+
+"No," she replied, "I have been closer than you dreamed, in your tents
+before Antioch, concealed by Zeyneb, to be near you when the need
+should be great. When the Christians stormed the camp I was taken by
+Duke Godfrey. In gratitude he set me free, and gave me a horse. I
+found Zeyneb and followed after you, that you might not cast your life
+away."
+
+He went up to her as she sat on the saddle, put his arms about her,
+kissed her many times. And upon that Syrian hillside, under the stars,
+Morgiana found her moment of Paradise. He said nothing; but the
+Arabian laughed as she looked up at the sky.
+
+"Praised be Allah, All-merciful," she cried. "The old is sped, the new
+is waiting. Mary the Greek is gone--will be forgotten. May I never
+hear word of her again!"
+
+"I have been blind to the love of this woman," muttered Iftikhar,
+bounding into the saddle; "I have been blind, and Heaven restores
+sight. Yet if Mary the Greek is to be forgotten, may she never again
+cross my path. But this is left to Allah."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIII
+
+HOW THE ARMY SAW JERUSALEM
+
+
+Of the weary days passed by Richard Longsword while his wound was
+healing, of how Sebastian and Herbert bled him, poulticed him with
+poppy leaves, and physicked him with sage, there is no time to tell.
+Neither is there space to relate the lesser misfortunes that befell
+the Crusaders, after the greatest misfortune at the hands of Kerbogha
+had been escaped through Heaven's mercy. For in the days that the army
+waited in Antioch a great plague fell upon it, which swept away all
+the weak and aged the famine had spared. Chief amongst those taken was
+Bishop Adhemar, who was not permitted in this mortal body to see the
+triumph of the cause he loved so well. There were quarrels and
+desertions amongst the chiefs. Hugh of Vermandois went away to
+Constantinople and returned no more. Raymond of Toulouse, and
+Bohemond, who took Antioch for his own principality, were at strife
+unceasing,--once passing the lie before the very altar. Thus the
+season was wasted, and the host frittered away its time around
+Antioch. Richard recovered and grew mightily impatient. To Jerusalem
+he must go, or the blood of Gilbert de Valmont must rest upon his
+soul. Long since the desire of knightly adventure had been fully
+sated. But his northern determination was unshaken as ever. His heart
+was always running ahead of the loitering host. To sweeten his delay,
+a letter had come through a Jew merchant from Tyre. Musa's tale had
+been received in Kerbogha's camp; he had been kindly entreated, but he
+had at once obtained transport to Tyre, whence he expected a ship for
+Egypt. Mary was well. In Egypt she would await the end of the war.
+Then, however Allah might rule the issue, Richard would be free to
+return homeward, and could receive back Mary safe and spotless from
+his brother's care.
+
+So Richard took courage, and counted the days till once more he could
+see the pleasant hills of Auvergne, the teeming valley; and dreamed of
+the hours when he would sit in the castle halls, with Mary at his
+side, and how they would fleet the days under the ancient trees beside
+the green-banked fosse, forever, forever. But those blessed days could
+not come till the Holy City was ransomed; and no spirit was gladder
+than Longsword's when the host started southward in the long-awaited
+springtime.
+
+At last the army had begun its final march, not an emir drawing sword
+against it; for the fear of Frankish valor had spread over all Islam.
+None of the host had desire for besieging any city save Jerusalem, and
+when they sat down before Archas they met only discomfiture. But while
+before Archas, Peter Barthelmy, puffed with pride, vowed he would
+silence those who ventured--after safe lapse of time--to doubt the
+miracle of the holy lance. Waxing confident, and boasting new visions
+from St. Andrew, he offered himself for the ordeal. In the presence of
+the whole host he passed down a lane of blazing fagots. None denied
+that he left the flames alive; but a few days later he was dead.
+"Impostor," cried the Northern French, who said the fire smote him, as
+being a deceiver. But the Provençals called him a martyr, having
+passed through the flames unhurt, but trampled down by his enemies in
+the throng when he came forth from the fire. As for Sebastian, he
+would only cock one eye, when asked of the miracle of the lance, and
+keep silence. Once Theroulde said to his face:--
+
+"Father, were you a sinful man, I should say you were itching to
+peddle forth a good story."
+
+But the story Sebastian never told.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Soon enough poor Barthelmy's fate was forgotten. For the host was now
+treading a soil made sacred by the steps of prophets and apostles and
+holy men of old. The Franks forgot weary feet, the long journey and
+all its pains, when the march wound under the rocky spurs of Lebanon,
+and by the green Sidonian country. From Tyre they saw the blue sea,
+behind whose distant sky-line they knew beloved France was lying. They
+traversed the plain of Acre, climbed Carmel's towering crest. And now
+the swiftest marching seemed feeble. Jerusalem was nigh--Jerusalem,
+the city of God, goal of every hope, for whose deliverance myriads had
+laid down their lives. The toilsome way through Illyria, the
+passage-at-arms at Dorylæum, the march of agony through "Burning
+Phrygia," the starving, the death grapple in battle, and the
+pestilence at Antioch--all forgotten now! "God wills it! To
+Jerusalem!" was the cry that made the eager steps press onward from
+sun to sun; and men found the summer nights too long that held them
+back. A strange ecstasy possessed the army. Without warning whole
+companies would break out into singing, clashing their arms and
+running forward with holy gladness.
+
+"God is with us! The saints are with us! Jerusalem is at hand!" was
+the shout that flew from lip to lip, as the host passed Sharon, and
+prepared to strike off from the coast road for the final burst of
+speed across the Judean plains to the Holy City. Richard rode on, as
+in an unearthly dream. Half he thought to see legions of angels and
+hoary prophets rise from behind each hilltop. When he set eyes on a
+great boulder, a thrill passed at the thought, "Jesus Christ doubtless
+has looked on this." Almost sacrilege it was for Rollo to pound the
+dusty road; blessed dust--had it not felt the mortal tread of fifty
+holy ones, now reigning in eternal light?
+
+So the march hastened. When the dusty columns tramped through Lydda,
+every man beat his breast, and said his _Pater noster_, in memory of
+St. George the warrior, who there had won his martyr's crown. At Ramla
+they halted to adore the very ground where Samuel the Prophet of God
+had been born.
+
+And now at the end of a day's march they were only sixteen short
+miles from Jerusalem, and the leaders held a council. For some who
+even to the last were faint-hearted wished to march past Jerusalem and
+strike Egypt, since it was said water and provisions were failing
+about the Holy City. But Godfrey, standing in the assembly, said after
+his pure, trustful manner:--
+
+"We came to Palestine, not to smite the Egyptian kalif, but to free
+the tomb of Christ. Bitterly reduced as we are in numbers, let us only
+go straight on. Will God, who plucked us out of the clutch of Kilidge
+Arslan and Kerbogha, suffer us to fail at the last? Up tents!
+weariness, away! and forward this very night!"
+
+Then all the braver spirits cried with one voice: "We will not fail!
+God wills it!" So the order spread through the camp, though hardly yet
+pitched, to march forward at speed; and when the army heard it they
+blessed God, and each man strode his swiftest to be the first to set
+eyes on Jerusalem.
+
+It was the evening of the ninth of June in the year of grace one
+thousand and ninety-nine; three years and a half since the great cry
+had swelled around Urban at Clermont, that the Christian army set out
+for this last march to the Holy City. The Christian army--alas! not
+the army that had ridden forth from France,--that had arrayed itself
+so splendidly on the plains of Nicæa! For of the hundred thousands,
+there were scarce fifty thousand left; and of these, twelve thousand
+alone were in full state for battle. The bones of the martyrs lined
+the long road from the Bosphorus to Judea. Many had fallen behind,
+sick; many had turned back craven. But the head of an army dies
+hardest; of the twelve thousand warriors that pricked their weary
+steeds across the arid Syrian land, not one but was a man of iron with
+a soul of steel. Bohemond and Hugh and Stephen of Blois had deserted;
+but Robert the Norman was there, with Raymond of Toulouse, Tancred,
+and Godfrey, bravest of the brave.
+
+A little after nightfall they struck camp, with the bright eastern
+stars twinkling above them. As they marched, they saw before them all
+the plains and mountains ablaze, where the commandant of Jerusalem
+was burning the outlying villages, to desolate the country against
+their coming. Richard Longsword, who rode with Tancred and a picked
+corps sent ahead to seize Bethlehem, heard the tales of the despairing
+native Christians who came straggling in to greet their deliverers.
+They blessed the saints in their uncouth Syriac for the help they had
+awaited so long, and bade the Franks be speedy with vengeance; for the
+Egyptian governor was breathing out cruelty against the servants of
+Christ.
+
+"And who may this commandant be?" demanded the Norman of an old
+peasant who spoke a little Greek.
+
+"Iftikhar Eddauleh, once of the cursed Ismaelians, lord," answered the
+fugitive, whimpering when he glanced toward his blazing vineyard. "Oh!
+press on, for the love of Christ! The Egyptians have driven my son and
+my daughter like sheep inside of Jerusalem, to hold as hostages. They
+say that the emir even threatens to destroy the tomb of Our Lord in
+his mad ragings!"
+
+Richard thundered out a terrible oath.
+
+"Now, by the Trinity and Holy Cross, God do so to me if Iftikhar
+Eddauleh long escape the devil! He, emir of Jerusalem! Praised be
+every saint, we shall yet stand face to face!"
+
+And under the starlight Rollo, as if knowing that the last stretch of
+the weary road had come, ran onward with his long, unflagging gallop.
+It was very dark; but the red glare of the villages was sure beacon.
+Once Rollo stumbled and barely recovered. Longsword dropped his
+companions one by one. A single thought possessed him now,--over those
+dark, low-lying hills, barely traced under the stars, lay
+Jerusalem--City of God on earth! And in Jerusalem waited his mortal
+foe, and the vengeance he had wooed so long! Vengeance, sweet as the
+kiss of Mary Kurkuas; sweeter, if so might be. In his revery, as he
+galloped, he saw neither hills, nor stars, nor road; he dreamed only
+of Trenchefer carving its way through the Ismaelian.
+
+Vengeance, the clearing of his vow, return to France, to love--all
+these just on before! Richard was lost in the vision. Suddenly the
+click and thunder of a steed at headlong pace shook him from the
+revery. What rider this, that gained on Rollo? A voice through the
+darkness:--
+
+"Ho! friend; why so fast? Your company!"
+
+It was the voice of Godfrey. Richard had reined instinctively. The
+Duke was beside him.
+
+"By St. George, fair lord," cried the Norman, "where is your own
+corps? Why ride you here alone?"
+
+Godfrey laughed under his helmet.
+
+"Could I leave Tancred the glory and the boast, 'I first set eyes on
+the Holy City'? Under cover of the dark I left Baldwin du Bourg to
+bring up my men, and spurred forward. I knew that with me would ride
+one whose right arm is none the weakest."
+
+"Forward, then!" returned Richard; "I have joy in your company, my
+lord."
+
+"Please God, we shall meet a few infidels and avenge the burned
+villages," muttered Godfrey, as they flew on. "Ten paynims to one
+Christian are fair odds with Jerusalem so nigh!"
+
+But the wish was unrealized. They rode for a while in silence; met no
+more fugitives, nor any of the garrison. Presently the horses fell to
+a walk. The light of the burning hamlets died away. Very dark--only in
+the farthest east there was a dim redness. No smouldering farmhouse, a
+light brightening slowly, slowly. A soft warm southern wind was
+creeping across the plain. To the left the twain just saw black cedars
+massed in a dark ravine. There was an awe and hush on all the earth.
+Behind came the clink of arms, the click of men and steeds; but from
+Tancred's company drifted no murmur. Who craved speech at such an
+hour? Slower the steps of the horses. A hill slope extended before--a
+blank form in the dark. The wind seemed to hush as they advanced.
+Richard knew that never in all life had awe possessed him more
+utterly. He heard the water trickling in a hidden brooklet. Out of a
+tamarisk whirred a wild partridge. How great the noise! Did Rollo
+know he trod down holy ground, his great feet fell so softly? The sky
+grew brighter--rocks, trees, hillocks springing to being; the
+blackness was gray, the gray was tinged with red, the stars were
+fading.
+
+Godfrey whispered softly to Richard:--
+
+"From what the pilgrims say, we now climb the Mount of Olives. Before
+us lies the chapel of the Ascension, beyond--Jerusalem! Let us kneel
+and pray that God make us worthy to behold His Holy City."
+
+The two knights dismounted, fell on their knees, their hearts almost
+too full even for silent prayer. "So many agonies, so bitter loss, so
+many days! At last! At last!" This was all Richard Longsword knew. He
+tried to confess his sins; to say _mea culpa_, but his one thought was
+of thanksgiving. With Godfrey he rose and led Rollo by the bridle
+upward. They ascended slowly, reverently, counting each rock and
+nestling olive tree. And with their mounting, mounted the light. Now
+Richard looked back--a wide, dim landscape faded away into the rosy
+east, peaks and plain, more peaks all desolate, and farthest of all a
+little steel-gray shimmer, where he knew the Dead Sea lay. Still the
+light strengthened, making all the landscape red gold; the naked chalk
+rock to the west lit with living fire. Behind hasted the whole
+van--footmen running abreast of the horsemen, priests outstripping the
+warriors, and one priest speeding before all--Sebastian. He overtook
+the two knights, breathless with his speed; but the new light not
+brighter than the light in his eyes. He said nothing. The three
+pressed forward. Four and twenty hours, barely halting, all had
+advanced, but who was weary?
+
+Suddenly the host behind broke forth chanting as they toiled
+upward,--the psalm tenfold louder in the morning stillness:--
+
+    "Great is the Lord, and greatly to be praised
+    In the city of our God, in the mountain of His holiness.
+    Beautiful for situation, the joy of the whole earth,
+    Is Mount Zion, on the sides of the north,
+    The city of the great King."
+
+The chant went up to heaven and seemed to call forth more light from
+the glowing east. Suddenly every voice hushed,--silence as never
+before. For all thoughts went deeper than word or cry. The last mist
+stole upward, a thin gray haze; the sun-ball hung behind the highest
+peak of Moab. His tip crept above it; Longsword glanced back. A cry
+from Sebastian recalled him.
+
+"Jerusalem!"
+
+It came as a great cry and sigh in one from the priest. He had cast
+himself on the bare summit and kissed the holy rock.
+
+Richard and Godfrey looked westward, and bathed in the dawn--_they saw
+the Holy City_. They saw gray walls and a dim brown country, naked
+almost of tree or shrub, and white houses peering above frowning
+battlements. Dominating over all they saw the dome of the mosque on
+the Sacred Rock,--token of the enemies of Christ. What mattered it
+now?
+
+"Jerusalem! Jerusalem!" the cry was passing down the line, and made
+the climbing easy as though on eagle's wings.
+
+"Jerusalem! Jerusalem!" Richard saw strong men falling on their faces,
+as had he. And his and every other's cheek was wet, for tears would
+come,--no shame when they looked upon the city of their risen Lord!
+Gray stones and brown cliffs, thorns and thistles, dust and drought,
+naked plains, burned by blasting heat; so be it! This their goal, the
+object of an untold agony! Could human hearts be filled so full and
+not break? Godfrey flung his arms about Richard, and their iron lips
+exchanged the kiss of awful gladness. Words they had none, save that
+one word. They named the Holy City a thousand times: "Jerusalem!
+Jerusalem!" And men prayed God then and there to die, for already
+their souls were wrapt to heaven. Tancred the haughty, who had just
+come up, saw at his side a simple man-at-arms, a plodding peasant's
+son; but the great Prince had forgotten all, save that for both one
+Saviour died.
+
+"My brother! My brother in Christ!" Tancred was pleading, as he gave
+the kiss of love, "Pray for me! pray for me! I am a very sinful man!"
+
+They remained thus upon the mountain, weeping and laughing and
+stretching forth their hands, till the sun had risen far above the
+mountains. Had the Egyptians sallied forth to smite, scarce a sword
+would have flashed, so dear seemed martyrdom. But at length the hour
+of transfiguration was past. Godfrey had risen for the last time from
+his knees. He mounted and pointed with his good sword to the minarets
+and the clusters of spears upon the lowering battlements.
+
+"Forward, Christians!" rang the command; "the infidels still hold the
+City of God! Forward! there is yet one fight to be won in Our Lord's
+dear name!"
+
+Then another cry thundered from the army, each blade leaping from
+scabbard:--
+
+"God wills it! God wills it!" And the unbelievers must have seen the
+Mount of Olives a sea of flashing steel, while the bulwarks of Zion
+rang with the shouting.
+
+"Yes," Richard heard from Sebastian, bowing low his head, "this truly
+is the will of God! The hour of my deliverance from this evil world is
+nigh."
+
+The ranks closed, and as the host marched down the slopes of Olivet,
+the priests sang, advancing:--
+
+    "Blessed City, heavenly Salem,
+      Vision dear of Peace and Love,
+    Who of living stones art builded,
+      Art the joy of Heaven above,
+    And with angel cohorts circled,
+      As a bride to earth doth move!"
+
+Then the whole army rolled out the mighty _Gloria_:--
+
+    "Laud and honor to the Father!
+      Laud and honor to the Son!
+    Laud and honor to the Spirit!
+      Ever Three and ever One!
+    Con-substantial, Co-eternal!
+      While unending ages run!"
+
+So the cliffs echoed back the singing, the Christian host moved
+onward, driving the last squadrons of the Egyptians inside the walls,
+and sending divisions southward to raise Tancred's standard over
+Bethlehem. All that day the Crusaders streamed over the heights of
+Emmaus, raising the song of Isaiah:--
+
+     "Awake, awake, O Jerusalem: break forth into joy: put on thy
+     beautiful garments: for the Lord hath comforted His people: He
+     hath redeemed Zion."
+
+But Richard had driven Rollo close to the Gate of St. Stephen, mocking
+a cloud of infidel arrows, and on the walls directing the garrison, he
+had seen a figure in gilded armor he would have known among ten
+thousand. That night, if his vows against Iftikhar Eddauleh had been
+strong, they were threefold stronger now.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIV
+
+HOW MORGIANA BROUGHT WARNING
+
+
+How, as related in his letter, Musa had entered the camp of Kerbogha,
+made his guileful tale believed, and escaped safely with Mary Kurkuas
+to Tyre, we have no need to tell. When the Spaniard was landed at that
+city, he dreamed unwisely that his troubles were at an end. An easy
+voyage to Damietta, an easy journey to Cairo, and at Cairo a spacious
+palace awaited him as emir in service to the Fatimite Mustaali. There
+the Greek could spend the time in quiet and luxury until the Crusade
+had run its course. But, again, Musa was to learn that the book of
+doom contains many things contrary to the wish of man. While at Tyre a
+letter came from the omnipotent grand vizier, Al Afdhal, ordering him
+to hasten at once to Jerusalem and assume the post of second in
+command. A high honor; and the vizier added that the Spaniard had been
+given this signal trust, both because all in Cairo had learned to put
+confidence in his valor and discretion, and because the Christians
+would be sure to reach the city soon, where the defenders should be
+familiar with their warfare.
+
+Musa spent half a day in vain maledictions over this letter. By
+refusing the kalif's daughter he had put his neck in peril once; to
+decline this second honor would be to invite the bowstring. Hardly
+could he bring himself to lay his dilemma before the Greek. She had
+been lodged with all honor in the harem of the Egyptian governor of
+the city, for Musa had passed her before the world as his own
+Christian slave. When the Spaniard came to her, he professed himself
+willing to throw over his position in Egypt and fly to Tunis, if she
+bade him. But Mary only smiled and shook her head. "Dear friend," said
+she, "you shall go to no more pains on my behalf. The Holy Mother
+knows I spend many an evening crying when I think of all the brave
+men, just and base, who have died or run perils for my sinful sake."
+
+"Then what am I to do?" protested the Spaniard, with one of his
+eloquent gestures. "Go to Jerusalem?"
+
+Mary was silent for a long time; then said directly:--
+
+"Ah, Musa, I am Christian bred, but were all Moslems like you, I could
+hate none. Leave that to the priests, like Sebastian! If you go to
+Jerusalem and the Christians attack, as attack they will, you will
+defend the city, will fight to the last?"
+
+Musa nodded soberly. "Would to Allah I could do anything else! But
+Jerusalem is scarce less sacred to my people than to yours. To us it
+is '_El Kuds_,' the 'Sanctuary of Allah'; and even _I_"--and he smote
+his breast--"must die in the breach or on the walls before an armed
+Frank enter!"
+
+Mary looked at him, and saw by his face more than by the words that he
+would indeed die if put to the last gasp.
+
+"Musa," she said softly, throwing that grave light into her eyes which
+had made Richard cry he saw all heaven therein, "you speak truly. God
+keep you safe; but, Christian or Moslem, you must follow the path that
+duty opens. You must go to Jerusalem, for so your Allah clearly
+wills!"
+
+"And," protested the Spaniard, "I shall send you to Cairo? You will be
+lonely in the great harem of my palace, with only servants and eunuchs
+to wait on you. For I must conform to the customs of my country, and
+let no lady in my care wander forth."
+
+Mary shook her head in violent dissent.
+
+"Why should I not go with you to Jerusalem? If the city falls, will
+not my husband be at hand to receive me? If the defence is made
+good,"--she stared hard at the pavement,--"I know my Richard Longsword
+will not live to see defeat; and then--"
+
+She broke short; her eyes were bright with tears.
+
+"_Wallah!_ what may I say to comfort you?" cried the Andalusian, in
+distress. But Mary sprang from the divan and stood before him, eye
+meeting eye.
+
+"Musa," she said quietly, "I am a woman, and Heaven gives me a few
+wits. I know well what Richard said to you that moment he drew you
+aside before we were parted near Antioch."
+
+The Spaniard reddened and stirred uneasily. As if by sympathy, the
+Greek flushed also; but she continued:--
+
+"Dear Musa, we can best speak plainly one to another. Whether you have
+ever borne love for woman as Richard has borne love for me, I greatly
+doubt. Strange man, once I was angry, even while I blessed you, that
+when so many professed love, your only word was friendship. But all
+that is past now. I am the wedded wife of your dearest comrade. If he
+die, save Baron Hardouin in Provence, I have no other friend in the
+wide earth but you. If Richard dies, and Heaven is kind, I shall not
+live long. But people cannot die when they wish. If my husband is
+taken away, it is right that you should possess me. I cannot give you
+the deepest love; nor expect it from you. But so long as you live, I
+shall be content--for, saving Richard Longsword, you are the purest,
+noblest--Christian or Moslem--who treads God's earth."
+
+Mary outstretched her hand to the Spaniard, who did not take it, but
+knelt and kissed the hem of her dress.
+
+"Star of the Greeks," he said, smiling after his soft, melancholy way,
+"how good that we can look into one another's eyes and see 'trust'
+written therein. May the All-Merciful put far the day that will make
+you other than my brother's wife! But you shall go to Jerusalem."
+
+Mary pressed her hands to her forehead.
+
+"Holy Mother," she cried, "is it mercy to send Richard and Musa both
+to Jerusalem, where one must surely die!"
+
+The Spaniard shrugged his shoulders. "If the Most-High watch over my
+brother, waste no tears in fear for me. I shall live or die, as is
+fated, and the day of death is fixed, be a man on battle-field or on
+his bed."
+
+"Your destiny is cruel," declared the Greek. But Musa answered,
+"Destiny is the will of Allah, and even the hard things from Him are
+sent in mercy."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+So Mary fared by easy journeys to Jerusalem, and not to Cairo. In the
+Holy City they said the lieutenant-commandant kept a lady in his
+harem, but that wakened no comment. Musa had means and rank to secure
+a comfortable house on the north of the city, by the Gate of Herod; to
+fit it with all needful luxury, to provide Nubian eunuchs and Syrian
+serving-maids. The Greek had learned at Aleppo to be content with the
+close harem life, and Musa went to all lengths to please her. When he
+could spare time, he read and sang to her all day long; played chess
+and backgammon; matched her in contests of verse; repeated his
+jugglery tricks. He provided books in plenty--the Arabian histories;
+Macoudi's "Prairies of Gold," the great geography; and Greek
+manuscripts--Homer, Sophocles, Plato, and more. The Spaniard loved to
+sit at Mary's feet, hearing her read in her own rich native accent the
+hexameters that throbbed with the wrath of Achilles, and all the other
+stories of the old pagan world so long departed. Mary took all his
+attention with a kind of mute wonder, having long since ceased to
+marvel at his devotion. "Am I not utterly in his power?" she would say
+to herself. "Could he not take me forever from Richard Longsword by
+his mere wish?" So she would be silent, admiring the friendship that
+could go to lengths like this. For though they constantly talked of
+the Norman, Musa never breathed a word that was not to Richard's
+praise--of his valor, purity, steadfastness, and lofty purpose,
+telling Mary often that she was wedded to the noblest cavalier in
+Frankland or Islam.
+
+So for Mary at Jerusalem, as for Richard at Antioch, the slow winter
+crept by. And in the spring came the news that the Christian host was
+coming southward by forced marches. Musa's face was sad when he
+brought Mary the tidings, though it was only what each had expected.
+But neither was prepared for the sudden thunderbolt that crashed upon
+them just as the Christians broke camp before Archas. A messenger came
+into the city from Cairo, bringing word that Iftikhar Eddauleh, the
+one-time Ismaelian chief, had landed at Alexandria, been received with
+high favor by the kalif and vizier, appointed to the chief command at
+Jerusalem, and was on his way thither with heavy reënforcements for
+the garrison. Musa--ran the vizier's orders--was to retain his post as
+second; and with two such officers, so well schooled in the
+Christians' mode of warfare, the kalif made no doubt of a successful
+defence.
+
+No opportunity for drawing back now. A new embassy was being sent to
+the Franks to try to halt their march by a peace at the last moment.
+But Musa feared to intrust it with a letter for Richard, as the
+members were all appointed by Iftikhar himself, who arrived in
+Jerusalem almost as soon as the first messenger. The Spaniard
+presented himself to his chief at the Castle of David, the mighty
+stronghold on the western wall of the city. When the two cavaliers met
+face to face, without a word to Musa, Iftikhar ordered every guard and
+slave out of his presence, and the twain stood staring hard at one
+another for a long time in silence. Presently Musa said simply:--
+
+"Cid Iftikhar, we have been personal enemies, and owe each other many
+a grudge; but this is no time nor place for private broils. I am your
+lieutenant, ready to die in defence of _El Kuds_. Command me in
+anything touching my duty as a soldier, and I obey to the last."
+
+Iftikhar's face was very stern when he answered:--
+
+"You say well, my Lord Musa. At a convenient time Allah grant that I
+may reckon with you. Only with Richard the Norman have I an account
+that is longer. But to-day let us toil as one man for the defence of
+Jerusalem; for, as the All-Just reigns, we have no light task before
+us!"
+
+"Then," asked the Spaniard, "until the city is saved we are at truce?"
+
+"At truce," assented Iftikhar, nodding. But he would not accept Musa's
+proffered hand. And when the Spaniard went back to Mary he cautioned
+her gravely to remain close in the harem. Likewise he sent many of his
+servants out of the city, retaining only those most trusty;
+admonishing all not to breathe on the streets or to their gossips that
+a Grecian lady was lodged in his palace.
+
+But now came a series of days, each more terrible for Mary than the
+one before. Musa would have told her little, but he found that keeping
+back the news made her grieve yet more; therefore he related all. As
+the Franks advanced, Iftikhar had sent out his squadrons and laid
+waste the country for leagues about, filling up the wells, scarce
+leaving one house standing, that the Christians might find no comfort
+or provision. On this work Musa had ridden, though he loved it little.
+
+At last the Christians were at hand; and Mary, looking from her harem
+balcony, saw the hills covered with the familiar Frankish armor and
+the white-stoled priests and the forest of tossing lances. But though
+the eunuchs and city folk cowered and whimpered, Mary knew the
+Egyptian garrison was made of stouter stuff,--not blind fanatics, like
+the Ismaelians, but men who would defend the walls to the last.
+
+On the next day Mary was fain to lie in her chamber, stopping her
+ears, and pleading with every saint; for the Christians were
+assaulting. Then at evening came silence. Musa returned, dust-covered,
+his cheek bleeding where an arrow grazed, but safe; and Mary knew the
+onslaught had failed. With her own hands she stripped off the weary
+Spaniard's armor.
+
+"The Christians rush on ruin," was his bitter tale. "With only one
+ladder they tried to scale. With a second they might have mastered.
+They endured our rain of bolts, stones, and Greek fire as if pelted by
+dry leaves. They have perished by hundreds. Well that Allah is
+all-wise; He alone knows the need of this war!"
+
+"And Richard?" asked Mary, scarce venturing the word.
+
+"I saw him all reckless, in his open steel cap! My heart turned to ice
+when he began to climb the ladder with Trenchefer in his teeth. He
+laughed at our arrows. A stone overturned the ladder; he fell, then
+rose unhurt from under a heap of slain, and was about to mount once
+more when a priest--Sebastian, doubtless--dragged him out of view."
+
+Mary blessed the saints for this mercy, and was constant in prayer;
+for women could only pray while strong men had the easier deeds of
+fighting and dying. While the Christians were building their siege
+engines, there were no more assaults. But this only postponed the days
+of evil. Mary could see that Musa was laboring under extreme
+excitement. In her presence he affected his old-time gayety and
+playful melancholy. But once she caught him in an unguarded moment,
+gazing upon her so fixedly, that had he been Iftikhar, she would have
+thrilled with danger; and once she overheard him in his chamber crying
+aloud to Allah as if beseeching deliverance from some great
+temptation, and from the evil jinns that were tearing his breast.
+
+"Dear Musa," said Mary, "what is it that makes you grow so sad?"
+
+But the only answer was the gentle laugh, and the remark,
+"_Wallah_,--and with your Christians pressing us night and day, and
+all preparing for the death grip, will you marvel I am not always
+merry?"
+
+"True," she replied; "but I know it is not the siege that darkens
+you."
+
+Musa said nothing. In fact she saw him seldom. The wretched Jerusalem
+Christians were kept at forced labor on the walls, and sight of their
+piteous state made Mary hate all Moslems save the Spaniard. Presently
+rumor had it the Franks had completed their engines. Mary saw the
+great procession around the city, after the fashion of the Israelites
+around Jericho,--the priests, the knights, the men-at-arms, a great
+company that marched from the valley of Rephaim, beside Calvary, to
+the Mount of Olives, where they halted for exhortings to brave deeds,
+by the chieftains and priests. The hymns and brave words Mary did not
+hear; but she did hear the blasphemies of the Moslems, as from the
+walls they held up crosses in the sight of all the Christians, heaping
+filth upon them, and shouting, "Look, Franks, look; behold the blessed
+cross!" But the Greek knew deep down in her heart that they blasphemed
+to their own destruction; and Musa half shared her thought, when that
+night he parted from her to go upon the walls.
+
+"Star of the Greeks," he said, salaaming, "the Christians' engines are
+ready, and their host in array to attack with the morning. Allah alone
+knows what we shall see by another sunset. Keep close within the
+harem. I cannot return until about this time to-morrow evening."
+
+And he was gone, leaving Mary to pass a sleepless night with awaking
+to a wretchedness she had never felt before. Not dread for herself
+this time. Richard would be face to face with death--and Musa! What if
+_both_ should be cut down! Then let Iftikhar Eddauleh or any other
+demon in mortal guise possess her; this world would be one blackness,
+and trifles would matter little. She tossed on her pillow till
+daybreak, then rose to greater misery. What mockery to pray; to cry to
+God and the saints! If they were all righteous, why had they created
+in her that stubborn will which would not bow to their decree? Under
+her lattice in the narrow dirty streets the corps of the garrison were
+rushing to and fro. She could see the ebon Ethiopians clashing their
+huge targets and sabres as they ran toward the walls, while the
+war-horns and kettledrums blared and boomed unceasingly.
+
+"This way, true believers!" came the shout. "The Franks are advancing.
+He who speeds one Christian to hell blots out ten thousand sins!" But
+over the din of arms sounded the cry of the muezzins from the Mosque
+el-Aksa, and all the other lesser fanes, calling the people to prayer.
+Looking up at a minaret close by, Mary could see the pigeons still
+nesting under the balcony; and when the waves of clangor hushed an
+instant, she could hear the coo, coo, of mate to mate, as if the brown
+earth were calm and peaceful as the azure dome.
+
+So the day commenced. As the sun climbed higher, the rock on which
+Jerusalem was founded trembled under the crash of bursting war. Mary,
+sitting upon the house roof, could hear all the tumult in the city
+streets, and see the garrison massing on the battlements by the Gate
+of Herod.
+
+How long a day! The eunuchs, timorous as their mistress, gave her
+little heed. But a few grapes and figs were all the food the Greek
+cared to touch. About the third hour of the morning she knew the
+conflict was joined. From that time till sunset the roar of assault
+and defence went up to heaven as one continuous thunder. The shouts of
+Christian and Moslem; the crash of mangonel and catapult; the hurtling
+of myriad arrows and stones,--all these made a raging babel that spoke
+but a single word--"Death!" For Mary, it was one long-drawn terror.
+Long since had she, with her woman's heart, ceased to care whether the
+blessed Christ or Allah reigned within the bulwarks of the Holy City.
+She only knew that her husband and a man who had become dearer to her
+than a brother were in the midst of that chaos. Again and again she
+heard a mighty crash from the battlements, sounding above the unending
+din, that told of a triumph won by besiegers or besieged. Twice her
+heart leaped to her throat, as shrieking men flew down the street,
+calling on Allah to "have mercy; the city was taken." And twice again
+others passed, bawling out their _Bismillahs_, telling how the Franks
+had been utterly crushed. It was noon, and still the thunders grew
+louder. The third hour after noon; were the heavens of adamant that
+they did not crack asunder at the roaring? The fourth hour, and under
+the balcony galloped an Egyptian officer.
+
+"_Allah akhbar!_ Rejoice, O Moslems! The Christians have been repulsed
+on all hands!" he was proclaiming; "they will never assault again. The
+Lord Iftikhar has made a sally from the breach, and all their engines
+are burning!"
+
+"Victory for the true faith! _Allah akhbar!_" shouted the squadrons
+that raged after him. "To the gates! a sally! cut off the Franks ere
+they can flee to the hills!"
+
+Mary bowed her head. The Franks repulsed, defeated, scattered; the
+Crusade lost, and Richard Longsword,--never, the Greek knew well,
+would her husband turn back from a stricken field to breathe out his
+fiery spirit on his bed. But the clangor of arms and shouting did not
+die away. The sun was dropping lower now, but the battle seemed
+blazing hotter than when the day was young. In the street women and
+city-folk ran this way and that. From their cries Mary knew not what
+to think. To remain longer on the housetop she could not, though Musa
+commanded a thousand times. She must know the worst or die. The
+cowering maids and eunuchs gave her never a thought. She cast a veil
+about her face and rushed down into the street. The way was plain
+before her. In a great press of soldiers, citizens, and shrieking
+women, she was swept on toward the Gate of Herod, scarce knowing
+whither she went. As she moved on blindly, jostled and thrust about by
+rude hands, she knew that the din was lessening, the thunder from the
+walls intermitting. Now, as she looked toward the battlements, she
+could see the engineers making fast the machines, the archers running
+from the towers. Through the gate was pouring a cavalry corps, the
+horses bleeding and panting, the men battered and bleeding also. Many
+bore shivered lances; many brandished red blades; many toiled wearily
+on foot. It needed none to tell her that the sally had failed, else
+why did the great gate clash to in a twinkling the instant the last
+rider passed under? And in through the closing portal rang the good
+French war-cry, almost at the riders' heels, "_Montjoie St. Denis!_"
+So the Franks had been repulsed, but not scattered. The leaguer had
+not been raised. There must be other days of horror.
+
+"St. Theodore guide me!" prayed Mary to herself, "I must be back
+instantly. Musa would be justly angry if he found me in this throng."
+And she turned from the gate, thankful, yet fearful. What had befallen
+Richard and Musa that day of blood? The multitude surged backward,
+carrying her toward the inner city. In the rude press the veil was
+swept from her face. She knew that soldiers were pointing at her, and
+passing the word "Look--a houri!" But she heeded little, only forced
+her way up the narrow street to regain the house. The throng made
+space for her, for they knew she was an emir's lady, and many improper
+deeds were forgiven on a day like this. She reached the friendly
+portal; reëntered the harem. The cowering maids and eunuchs stared at
+her dishevelled hair and dress, but hardly knew that she had been
+gone. Mary returned to her post on the housetop, and from the shouting
+in the street below learned that the Christian attack on the walls had
+been entirely repulsed, but that Iftikhar had lost many men in the
+sally. Just after sunset came a cavalryman with a note scribbled on a
+bit of dirty vellum.
+
+     "Musa to the ever adorable Star of the Greeks. Allah has kept
+     Richard Longsword safe through battle. I also am well. I think
+     the Christian machines so wrecked by our Greek fire, no assaults
+     will take place for many days. I will come to you before
+     midnight. Farewell."
+
+A brief letter, but it made the dying light on the western clouds very
+golden to Mary Kurkuas. So Richard lived, and Musa also. What
+thoughtfulness of the Spaniard to imagine her fears and send
+reassurance! The buzzing streets grew calmer. She heard the muezzins
+calling the evening "_maghreb_ prayer" over the city. The eunuchs had
+so far awakened from their terror as to be able to bring her a few
+sweet cakes and some spiced wine. The Greek felt little weariness,
+despite her sleepless night. She would await Musa, hear from him the
+story of the battle, and how he knew Richard was well. With a quieting
+heart she left the roof balcony, ordered a lamp in her harem chamber,
+opened the book-closet and began to unroll her Pindar. She was just
+losing herself in the rhythm and splendor of a "Nemean" when a eunuch
+interrupted with his salaam.
+
+"A woman to see the _Citt_ Mary,--who will not be denied." Before Mary
+could answer, the curtain had been thrust aside, and she saw in the
+dim glint of the lamp the face of Morgiana!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLV
+
+HOW RICHARD HAD SPEECH WITH MUSA
+
+
+In the days that the Christians lay about Jerusalem, after the first
+assault had failed, Richard learned to know every ring on that gilded
+coat of armor which shielded the commandant of Jerusalem. Iftikhar had
+borne a charmed life those four and twenty days of the siege; a
+thousand bolts had left him unscathed; his voice and example had been
+better than five hundred bowmen at a point of peril. Along with
+Iftikhar, Richard noted a second mailed figure upon the walls, more
+slender than the emir, nimble in his sombre black mail as a greyhound;
+and his presence also fired the Egyptians to fight like demons.
+Longsword bore about in his heart two resolves, to lay Iftikhar
+Eddauleh on his back (of this he was trebly resolved) and to discover
+who this black-armored warrior might be. Had he never seen that
+graceful figure make those valorous strokes before? So Longsword
+nursed his hate and his curiosity, and threw all his energy day and
+night into the siege works.
+
+In the days that came it pleased Heaven to put a last test upon the
+faith and steadfastness of the army. Not even in burning Phrygia had
+they parched more with thirst. Midsummer, a Syrian sun, a country
+always nearly arid, and all the pools stopped by Iftikhar, ere he
+retired within the city;--no wonder there was misery!
+
+"O for one cooling drop from some mountain stream of France!" Had the
+army joined in one prayer, it would have been this. For a skinful of
+fetid water, brought far, fetched three deniers, and when the
+multitude struggled around the one fountain Siloam, often as the
+scanty pool bubbled, what was it among so many? To secure water to
+keep the breath in Rollo, Richard went nigh to the bottom of a
+lightened purse; and still the heavens would cloud and darken and
+clear away, bringing no rain, but only the pitiless heat.
+
+In Phrygia, and even at Antioch, men had been able to endure with
+grace. But now, with victory all but in their grasp, with the Tomb of
+Christ under their very eyes, how could mortal strength brook such
+delay? Yet the work on the siege engines never slackened. A rumor that
+a relieving army was coming from Egypt made them all speed. Out of the
+bare country Northern determination and Northern wit found timbers and
+water and munitions. They built catapults to cast arrows, mangonels to
+fling rocks. Gaston of Béarn directed the erecting of three huge
+movable towers for mounting the ramparts. There were prayers and vows
+and exhortations; then on Thursday, the fourteenth of July, came the
+attack--the repulse.
+
+It must have been because Mary Kurkuas's prayers availed with God that
+Richard did not perish that day. If ever man sought destruction, it
+was he. When he saw the stoutest barons shrinking back, and all the
+siege towers shattered or fixed fast, he knew a sinking of heart, a
+blind rage of despair as never before. Then from the Gates of Herod
+and St. Stephen poured the Egyptians in their sally to burn the siege
+towers. Longsword was in the thickest of the human whirlpool. When he
+saw the garrison reeling back, and Iftikhar Eddauleh trying vainly to
+rally, he pressed in mad bravado under the very Gate of Herod, casting
+his war-cry in the infidels' teeth. But while a hundred javelins from
+the walls spun round him, of a sudden he heard a name--his own name,
+shouted from the battlements; and the blast of darts was checked as if
+by magic. The chieftain in the sombre armor had sprung upon the crest
+of the rampart, had doffed his casque, and was gesturing with his
+cimeter.
+
+"Musa!" cried the Norman, falling back a step, scarce knowing what to
+hope or dread.
+
+The Spaniard, while ten thousand stared at him, friend and foe, bowed
+and flourished in salutation, then, snatching up a light javelin,
+whirled it down into the earth at Longsword's feet.
+
+"Death to the infidel!" the Christian crossbowmen at Richard's heels
+were crying as they levelled. But the Norman checked them with the
+threat:--
+
+"Die yourselves if a bolt flies!"
+
+Then he drew the dart from the ground, and removed a scrap of
+parchment wrapped round the butt.
+
+"Be before the Gate of Herod two hours after sunset. Bear the shield
+with the St. Julien stag, and the sentinels will not shoot. Your wife
+is in the city and is well."
+
+And while Richard read, the Spaniard had saluted the wondering
+Christians once more and vanished behind the rampart. The Norman
+walked away with a heart at once very light and very heavy. Musa in
+Jerusalem, Mary in Jerusalem, Iftikhar in Jerusalem! A great battle
+waged all day, and to all seeming lost,--the Crusade a failure! He
+heard men, who all those awful years had never blenched, whispering
+among themselves whether they could make their way to Joppa and escape
+to France, since God had turned His face away. As he passed through
+the camp, Tancred and Gaston both spoke to him, asking whether in duty
+to their men they ought to press the siege longer. Should they wait,
+the great Egyptian army would come, and not a Christian would escape.
+But Richard, with his vow and the blood of Gilbert de Valmont on his
+soul, replied:--
+
+"Fair lords, answer each to your own conscience; as for me, I will see
+the Cross upon the walls of Jerusalem to-morrow, or die. There is no
+other way."
+
+And both of these chieftains, who had been hoping against hope,
+answered stoutly:--
+
+"Our Lady bless you, De St. Julien! You say well; there is no other
+way for those who love Christ!"
+
+So Richard waited outside the Gate of Herod during the soft gloaming,
+while the night grew silent, and when, after the searchers for the
+dead and dying had gone their rounds, naught was heard save the
+whistling of the scorching wind as it beat against the walls and
+towers, laden with the dust and blight from the desert. No soldiers'
+laughter and chatter from the camp that night; no merriment upon the
+battlements. The Christians were numbed by their defeat; the Moslems
+knew the storm had not passed.
+
+Then, when it had grown very dark, he heard a bird-call from the
+gateway,--a second,--and when he answered, a figure unarmed and in a
+sombre caftan drew from the blackness. The Norman and the Spaniard
+embraced many times in profoundest joy.
+
+They sat together on the timber of a shattered catapult, and told each
+other the tale of the many things befallen since they parted on the
+hill before Antioch.
+
+"And Mary?" Richard would ask time and again.
+
+"She is more beautiful than the light, after the tempest passes and
+the rainbow comes. We talk of you daily, and of her joy and yours when
+the Crusade is ended."
+
+Richard groaned from the bottom of his soul.
+
+"Would God," he cried, "my own fate were woe or weal to me, and not to
+another. It must have been sinful to keep her love after I took the
+cross. For how can I have joy in heaven, if"--and he crossed
+himself--"I am ever worthy to pass thither, thinking that Mary is in
+tears?"
+
+Musa pressed his hand tighter.
+
+"You are sad to-night. Why not? I know the stake you set on the
+Crusade, yet bow to the will of Allah. What is destined is destined by
+Him; what is destined by Him is right. Cannot even a Christian say
+that? You have done all that mortal man can; the task is too hard.
+Your vow is cleared. Return to France. Mary shall go with you. Have
+joy in St. Julien, and think of Musa, your brother, kindly."
+
+But Richard had leaped to his feet.
+
+"No, as God lives and reigns!" he cried, "I will not bow. We have
+endured a great defeat. You know all; I betray no trust. Our towers
+are nigh wrecked, our throats are burned with drought, half our
+fighting-men are wounded, you have two warriors in the city to one in
+our camp. But know this, brother mine that you are: we Franks differ
+from you Moslems. For in the face of disaster you cry 'Doom,' and bend
+your necks; but we hold our heads proudly and cry 'On, once more!' And
+so we master very doom; for there is no doom to strong men who forget
+that black word 'fate'!"
+
+Musa put his hand affectionately around the Norman's ponderous
+shoulders.
+
+"Verily, O Richard, I think if the rebel jinns were to gather a
+squadron of Franks about them, they could shake even the throne of
+Allah!"
+
+"I am in no jest," replied Richard, and his tone told that he spoke
+true. But Musa said, doubting:--
+
+"I cannot believe you can attack again before the Egyptian army comes.
+It is right to fight so long as there is hope. Allah never commands
+men to invite death."
+
+"Then answer this," demanded the Christian, hotly; "if you lay in my
+tent, would you turn back and hear all France say, 'This is one of the
+cavaliers who rode to Jerusalem, found the paynim arrows bitter, and
+rode away'? By the splendor of God, you would die ten thousand deaths
+before! You dare not deny; I know you well."
+
+"No, my brother," said Musa, very simply, "I do not deny. But for
+Mary's sake do not throw your life away."
+
+The Norman laughed bitterly.
+
+"By your 'doom' I perish as soon over my cups at St. Julien as on the
+siege tower at Jerusalem. God knows what comes to-morrow. Tell
+Iftikhar Eddauleh that I ask no greater favor from Heaven than to meet
+him once more face to face. Yet after his craven flight at Antioch I
+wonder he has courage to bear himself so valiantly on the walls."
+
+"I will tell him; and believe me, he was no coward, as I hear, at
+Antioch. From his own lips to-day I learned he wishes nothing better
+than to meet you."
+
+"And you will guard Mary from him?--ever?"
+
+"While Allah grants me breath."
+
+"You are a true brother, Musa, son of Abdallah!" cried the Norman,
+pressing the other's hand in a grasp that brought pain even to those
+fingers of steel. "Sometimes I think you are a better friend to me
+than I to myself."
+
+"And no message for Mary?" asked the Spaniard, softly.
+
+Richard drew his hand across his face. He did not speak for a long
+while. Then the words came very slowly:--
+
+"Either to-morrow at this time we are masters of the city, or you can
+know that I am discharged forever of all vows and warfare. Does Mary
+know what we said together, at parting at Antioch?"
+
+"She knows. And she accepts."
+
+"That is well. Tell her I can leave only this message: 'I have from
+the hour I left her carried myself as became a Christian cavalier. I
+have prayed for grace to live and grace to die. I know that after the
+first pain is past she will wonder why she ever had love for the rude
+Frankish baron, when she has the favor of the most gallant emir, the
+most courtly prince, the purest-hearted man, Christian or Moslem.' For
+though you cannot yearn for her with the fire that burns in me, I can
+trust you never to let her grow hungry for love."
+
+"Yes: but--" Musa laughed a little nervously--"but if the city is
+taken? What of me? Will you lead me in fetters back to St. Julien?"
+
+Richard saw the implication.
+
+"No, by St. George," he protested, "you shall not die! I will go to
+every friend, and I have many, and beseech them if we conquer to spare
+you."
+
+Musa only laughed again.
+
+"And where you would scorn to live, I must hold back?"
+
+Both were silent; for they saw the inevitable issue. Then Musa spoke
+again: "Again I say it, what is doomed, is doomed. We are in the Most
+High's hands. So long as you bear your St. Julien shield I shall know
+you, and if we meet no blows shall pass. But wear a closed helmet. I
+quaked when I saw you mocking the arrows in your open casque."
+
+Both were standing. There was nothing more to say. Richard's heart was
+very sad, but Musa comforted.
+
+"No fears--is not Allah over us both? Will He not dispose all
+aright,--to-night,--to-morrow,--forever,--though we may not see the
+path?"
+
+The two men embraced; and, without another word, Richard saw the form
+of Musa vanish into the darkness.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Of all the councils of the chiefs, none at Antioch was so gloomy as
+the one held the night after that day of battle and defeat. Duke
+Robert the Norman spoke for all when he cried in his agony:--
+
+"Miserable men are we! God judges us unworthy to enter His Holy City!"
+
+"Have we endured all this pain in vain?" answered Godfrey. "Unworthy
+we are, but do we not fight for the glory of Christ?"
+
+"We have fought stoutly as mortal men may!" groaned the son of William
+the Bastard. "Twice repulsed, half our men slain, our towers wrecked.
+Where are my brave cavaliers from Rouen and Harfleur? Dead--dead; all
+who were not happy and died on the march!"
+
+Then silence, while the red torches in Godfrey's tent flickered.
+Robert the Norman bowed his head and wept, sobbed even as a child.
+
+But Robert, Count of Flanders, broke out madly:--
+
+"By St. Nicholas of Ghent, why sit we here as speechless oxen? Let us
+either curse God and the false monks who led us on this devil's dance,
+and every man speed back to his own seigneury, if so Satan aid him; or
+let us have an end of croaks and groans, bear our hurts with set
+teeth, and have Jerusalem, though we pluck down the wall with our
+naked hands." But not an answer or token followed his outburst; and
+after a pause he added bitterly: "Yes, fair lords; my cousin of
+Normandy speaks well; we are unworthy to deliver the Holy City. Let us
+go back to dear France, and think of our sins." Still silence; and
+then, with an ominous tread, Gaston of Béarn entered, in full armor
+and with drawn sword.
+
+"Good brothers," quoth he, gazing about a little blankly, and meeting
+only blank helplessness, "I, who hold the lines while you counsel,
+have only one word--speed. The rumor passes that the siege is to be
+raised, the Crusade abandoned. Half the army is ready to fly. Breathe
+it once, and the shout will be, 'For France!'--and the host scatters
+like sheep toward Joppa; while those more devoutly minded will cast
+their naked breasts on the Moslems' spears to earn martyrdom in place
+of victory."
+
+Godfrey roused himself by a great effort.
+
+"As God lives," he protested, "we cannot suffer the Crusade to fail.
+We cannot say to all the widows and orphans of France, 'Your husband,
+your father, died like headstrong fools.'"
+
+"We have wrought all that the paladins of Charlemagne wrought, and
+more," tossed back Robert the Norman, hopelessly.
+
+A voice lower down amongst the lesser chiefs interrupted:
+
+"You are wrong, my lord of Normandy."
+
+The Conqueror's son rose in his dignity.
+
+"Wrong? Who speaks? I will not have my honor questioned."
+
+The others saw Richard Longsword rising also. His face was very set
+and stern, he held his head proudly.
+
+"I say it, 'You are wrong.' No man has done all that the paladins of
+old have done until, like them, he stops prating of the anger of God,
+and dies with his face toward the paynim and twenty slain around. Take
+heed, my lords, lest we think too much of our unworthiness, too little
+of the captivity of the Tomb of Our Lord; and how in freeing it the
+price of all our sins is paid. I did not come to council to learn how
+to lead my men to Joppa, but how we were one and all to mount the
+breach, or perish in the moat."
+
+There was a ring in Richard's voice hard as the beaten anvil; and,
+before Robert could reply, more than one voice cried: "So say I! And
+I! Never can we slink back, and look in the eyes of the women of
+France!"
+
+"I cry pardon, fair lords," said Longsword. "I am a young knight to
+instruct my betters." But Godfrey answered him:--
+
+"There is none of us too great to listen to brave words like these;"
+and Tancred, leaping up, added: "Yes, by God's help I will make it
+good on my body against any who cry 'backward,' till the city be won.
+Away with all these bats of darkness that are lighting on our heads!
+How does the night advance?"
+
+"By the stars, midnight," answered Gaston, just entered.
+
+"Good," ran on the Prince, sweeping all before him. "Pass the word
+through the host that we assault at dawn. Let every spare hand work to
+repair the towers. Let the rest sleep. We can make shift to move my
+Lord Godfrey's tower. If we have suffered without the walls, rest
+assured the infidels have splintered some bones within." The ebb tide
+had turned. The flood ran swiftly now.
+
+"God wills it! Attack with the morning!" the two Roberts were crying,
+as loud as the rest. And others shouted:--
+
+"An end to divisions. Let us have one leader! Let us proclaim Godfrey
+king. To-morrow we will crown him in Jerusalem!"
+
+But the pure-hearted Duke beckoned for silence, and answered: "God
+forbid, dear brothers, that I should be styled 'sire,' and wear crown
+of gold, where my Saviour was spit upon and crowned with thorns. We
+have one work now--to storm the city."
+
+"The infidels are attacking the machines!" thundered Raimbaud of
+Orange, from the tent door. "To the rescue, fair lords!"
+
+"Rescue! Rescue!" cried all, flying forth with drawn swords. And while
+Raymond and Tancred went to beat back the sally, Richard found himself
+close to Godfrey. "Our Lady bless you, De St. Julien," said Bouillon,
+grasping Richard's hand. "It was only a word you said; but a word in
+season will raise or pluck down kingdoms. How shall I reward you? I
+was near despair when I saw the gloom settling ever blacker over the
+council."
+
+"Only this, fair Duke, that I may be in the front of the assault."
+
+"Rashest of the rash! Some day the saints will grow weary of
+protecting you, and you will be slain."
+
+"What matter, if all else is well?"
+
+So Richard hastened off into the night, found his own encampment in
+the maze of tents, and told his men there was to be no retreat--that
+with the morning the storm would be renewed.
+
+"And will you follow your seigneur, now as ever?" was his question to
+the fifty gaunt, mailed figures (all of his five hundred that were
+left) that grouped before the dying camp-fire.
+
+"Through all hell,--though each Moslem were a thousand devils!"
+answered De Carnac; and every St. Julien man roared forth "Amen!"
+
+"Good!" returned their lord. "And by St. Michael, you shall have
+chance to prove your vow!"
+
+Then, having heard that the sortie was repulsed, Richard went to his
+own tent. He found Sebastian sitting by the doorway. As the young
+Baron entered, the priest without a word arose and kissed him gently
+on either cheek. And even in the dim firelight Richard could see a
+wonderful glow of peace and joy upon the face of the ascetic. "Dear
+father," said he, wondering, "what happiness has come, that you seem
+so glad? And why is it thus you kiss me?"
+
+Whereupon Sebastian put his arm about Richard's neck, stroking his
+hair with the other hand, and at last said very softly, "I have had a
+vision."
+
+"A vision?" And Richard smiled amid the darkness, for Sebastian's
+visions came every other night. But the priest only continued,
+guessing his thought: "No, your lips need not twitch. For this vision
+was of a manner different from any that I have ever seen before. As I
+lay here, of a sudden I woke, and saw the dim camp-fire and stars
+glitter as I see now, and heard the chatter and groaning of the men.
+But of a sudden a youth, clothed in a whiteness passing snow, bright
+and with wings, stood by me, and said most gently, 'Sebastian.' And I
+answered: 'Yes, Lord. What may I do in Thy service?' And he replied:
+'Be of good cheer. God hath seen thy good works, and how thou hast
+crucified the flesh and all carnal lusts, and knowest how thou hast
+wrestled in prayer. Now rejoice; the end of thy toil in this evil
+world draws nigh. But before thou shalt see with the eyes of the
+spirit the heavenly Jerusalem and the blessed host, with thy mortal
+eyes thou shalt see the Cross triumphant on the walls of the earthly
+Jerusalem. And this hour comes quickly.' Then while I lay in bliss
+unspeakable he had vanished." Richard was very grave.
+
+"Dear father, you do not long for heaven so much that you would leave
+me?"
+
+But Sebastian answered softly: "It shall be as God wills. You will be
+comforted. It is written, 'He giveth His beloved sleep'--sleep after
+the toil and the pain and the crushing of sinful self. And then to
+wake and see our dear Lord's blessed face! You would not grudge me
+that?"
+
+"No, dear father," said Richard, submissively; "but yet I pray God
+will ordain otherwise." Sebastian only kissed him again, lay down on
+the hard earth, and was soon in quiet sleep. Longsword went to his
+men, told them to sleep also, for they must rise with dawn. But as for
+himself his eyes were not heavy, despite the terrible day. As Herbert
+lay dozing, he heard from his master's tent the ominous click, click,
+of a whetstone. "The 'little lord' is sharpening Trenchefer," muttered
+the man-at-arms. "The devil help the Moslems who stand in his path
+to-morrow. The devil help Iftikhar Eddauleh if the two come face to
+face."
+
+Richard sat in the dark, the great sword across his lap, handling it
+lovingly, smoothing each rust-speck that touched his finger's nail,
+making the long blade razor-keen. And had a lamp flashed on his face,
+his features would have showed harder than his blade. His heart was at
+peace--at peace with an awful gladness. Father, mother, sister,
+brother, were all to be avenged on the morrow when he fronted Iftikhar
+Eddauleh. That some saint would aid him to meet the Egyptian he did
+not doubt. And then? But Richard never so much as wondered what would
+befall, after Trenchefer had smitten once and fairly on that gilded
+mail.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVI
+
+HOW IFTIKHAR CEASED FROM TROUBLING
+
+
+When the Arabian's eyes lit upon Mary, Morgiana gave a little cry, ran
+to the Greek, and caught her in her arms. For a moment the two were so
+wrapt in the joy of meeting that all else was forgot. But quick as the
+first flood of gladness passed, Morgiana broke forth with the eager
+demand:--
+
+"Musa? Musa? where is the Spanish emir?"
+
+"Upon the walls, where are all the chieftains," was the wondering
+Greek's answer.
+
+"_Wallah!_ and when will he return?" ran on Morgiana, beginning to
+tremble as Mary held her, as though in some mastering dread.
+
+"I do not know; at any time,--now,--or not till midnight. Dear
+God--what has befallen? what may I do? You are turning pale, and your
+hands are cold!"
+
+"Allah have mercy on us both, unless Musa comes! Iftikhar has
+discovered you!" cried Morgiana, calming herself with a mighty effort.
+And now it was the Greek's turn to tremble.
+
+"Iftikhar?"--the word came across her pallid lips faint as a dying
+groan. "How? When? Speak, as you love me--"
+
+Morgiana thrust back the dark hair that had fallen over her eyes, and
+drew herself up half scornfully.
+
+"Foolish woman! Is there not sorrow enough, that you need make more?
+Why did you wander into the streets at sundown? Why did you let the
+veil slip from your face? Zeyneb, my foster-brother, whom the sheytans
+love and the angels hate, looked on you,--followed you,--saw you
+enter the house, and sped straight to Iftikhar! Speak--speak--" and
+the Arabian plucked at Mary's arm fiercely, while in her eyes was
+again the mad gleam of old. "Why should I not curse you? you who have
+wronged me, utterly! When I was just winning back Iftikhar's love, and
+all the evil past was being forgot!--now--now I have lost him once
+more. And you--you are my ruin. As Allah lives I will curse you, and
+your lily-white beauty!"
+
+Mary was indeed white as the lily, or whiter, if that may be; but she
+caught both of Morgiana's wrists and held fast. Under the calm
+influence shed from her eyes the Arabian's wandering gaze grew steady.
+
+"Enough!"--she cut the other short--"you did not come hither only for
+maledictions. How have you learned? What will Iftikhar do?"
+
+"Learned?"--Morgiana threw back her head and laughed. "I heard Zeyneb
+repeating all to Iftikhar. Do? I only saw the Egyptian's face--the
+passion, the longing, the hate. He will come to seize you without
+delay. Not even Musa can save you. Is not Iftikhar lord of Jerusalem?
+I wonder he is not here already, finding I have fled his harem at the
+Castle of David."
+
+But Mary remained calm.
+
+"Tell me, my sister, what am I to do? You are all wits. Better death
+by fire than one touch from Iftikhar."
+
+"The Christian camp," pleaded the Arabian. "There are friends, your
+husband, safety. Oh, were but Musa here, you could be sent without the
+walls ere it is too late."
+
+"By the water-clock it lacks midnight an hour," said Mary, quietly.
+"The Spaniard may be here any moment. But I cannot dream that
+Iftikhar, at a time like this,--with the very city at stake,--will
+forget all, quit his duty on the walls, to tear a defenceless maid
+away to his harem."
+
+Morgiana laughed again, very bitterly. "Fool you are, in very truth!
+Iftikhar cares more for the lashes of your eyes than for a thousand
+Jerusalems,--for a thousand of his own lives. You will be at his mercy
+before daybreak, though the Christian cavaliers sack the city."
+
+There was the clatter of hoofs on the pavement, a shouting, a clang of
+armor and arms. Mary gave a great sigh of relief. "Musa; he has come
+from the walls with his guard." But Morgiana blasted the hope with one
+cry: "Hear! The Egyptian's voice!" And Mary reeled as she stood; for
+she heard a voice she knew right well thundering, "Guard the house
+about, and down with the door." Then came the resounding knock of a
+cimeter-hilt on the portal. The Greek sprang to the lattice over the
+street. In the narrow way below were fifty Soudanese negroes, with
+ruddy torches, tossing their spiked flails and spears; while beating
+at the door was a lordly figure in gilded armor--Iftikhar himself.
+
+Morgiana saw Mary trying to speak to her; at least the lips moved. The
+blows on the portal redoubled.
+
+"Open, open, or I kill you all!" rang Iftikhar's command, sounding
+above his own strokes. The eunuchs and maids of the household ran
+chattering and screaming from the lower rooms, as if they might find
+protection beside their mistress.
+
+"There is no hope," said Morgiana, sullenly, holding down her face;
+"we have both played our game, and we have lost."
+
+And the Arabian, all the fire and steel gone out of her, fell to her
+knees, cast her mantle over her head, shaking with sobs and groans.
+Mary trod proudly toward the head of the stairway leading to the lower
+court. Over her head hung a great bronze candelabra. She knew the
+light fell full upon her; she was sure she was never more beautiful
+than at that instant, when her face was bloodless as Parian marble.
+One resolve was in her heart--to let Iftikhar gather no sweets by her
+vain agony and tears. She was the great Greek princess, with the blood
+of Cæsars in her veins, never more conscious of her dignity and pride.
+
+The weak house door had shivered. There was a heavy step in the court
+below, a voice commanding: "I will enter alone. Let the rest stand
+guard." Mary saw Iftikhar at the foot of the stairs; his gilded mail
+twinkling, his naked cimeter in hand, his black-plumed casque thrust
+back so that the face was bare. How splendid, almost how beautiful,
+he was, striding on in the pride of his power! But when he saw the
+white face and burning eyes of the Greek looking down upon him, even
+his wild spirit was reined for an instant. And while he halted on the
+first stair, Mary spoke, in tones cold as the winter wind.
+
+"You come as ever, my Lord Iftikhar, unbidden, and with a naked sword.
+Are the cavaliers who saw your back at Antioch hidden in this house,
+that you must burst in to beard them?"
+
+The sting of her words was as salt on a wound. The answer was a curse
+upon jinns and angels who should stand between him and his prey. His
+feet flew up the stairway, but the Greek remained steadfast.
+
+"You see, Cid Iftikhar, I am weak, and with empty hands. But without
+the walls is Richard Longsword, who will speak to you in my behalf.
+This is your night, my lord; but in the morning--"
+
+"Leave the morning to the rebel jinns!" rang the Egyptian's cry.
+"To-night, to-night,--I possess you. To-night! To the castle with all
+speed!" He snatched her in his impure arms. He crushed her to his
+breast, and pressed on her cold cheeks burning kisses. Mary neither
+struggled nor moaned. What she said in her heart was heard only by
+God. In his delirium Iftikhar saw neither Morgiana nor any other. He
+leaped down the stairs three at a bound,--his captive in his arms.
+
+"_Allah akhbar!_" went his shout through the lower court. "I have won;
+the stars fight for me. Mine, to do with as I will!" And he kissed her
+again on lips and neck. Then of a sudden he stopped motionless, as
+though a charmer had made him stone, for outside in the street was
+sounding an angry command to the Soudanese to make way--the voice of
+Musa.
+
+The grasp of the Egyptian on his prey never weakened, though his
+weapon was out once more. Yet Mary, in his grasp, for the first time
+began to struggle,--helpless as bird in the snare,--but her call sped
+out into the street shrilly: "Rescue! Rescue, for the love of God!"
+
+For reply she saw the Soudanese by the door dashed to one side like
+shapes of wood, and across the threshold strode Musa, in no armor, but
+his cimeter also in hand. A glance, and the Spaniard knew all. He took
+one step toward Iftikhar, as if to cross swords without passing a
+word. Then, with point outstretched, he spoke, but mildly, as if in
+grave irony.
+
+"Cid, is this the manner of Egyptian emirs in keeping truce?"
+Iftikhar's only response was to make his grip of Mary's arm so
+vise-like that she cried out with pain.
+
+Musa spoke again, still gently. "Cid, this is my own house, my own
+harem. For what cause is it surrounded by your negroes, and violated?"
+
+Iftikhar pointed toward the door with his cimeter. "I made truce with
+you," he retorted defiantly, "not with _her_." And he glared madly at
+the Greek. "Away, or the Soudanese strike off your head!"
+
+The Spaniard calmly let his weapon sink to the pavement, and smiled as
+he leaned upon it. "Good emir, we have our hands busy--as Allah
+knows--to defend _El Kuds_. Do we well to nurse private lusts and
+hates, while the jewel of Islam trembles in the balance?"
+
+"Off!" came the hot reply. "Off, or you die this instant!"
+
+Musa lifted his eyes from the floor, and gave the Egyptian glance for
+glance. "I do well to tremble!" was his answer, the voice higher now,
+with a ring of harshness. "I do well to tremble! Remember the tourney
+at Palermo, my lord emir! Was it Iftikhar Eddauleh who crowned his
+turban with the prize?" And he stood on guard across the door.
+"Remember a night like this at Monreale."
+
+The face of Iftikhar was black with his fury. For an instant there was
+a grating in his throat, thickening every word. "_Ya!_ Dogs from
+Nubia, smite this mutineer down! Hew him down, or I hang you all!"
+
+The Soudanese stared at him, rolling the whites of their great eyes,
+but not a spiked flail rose, not a foot crossed the threshold.
+
+"Are you, too, rebels?" howled the Egyptian, his breath coming fast.
+
+Musa had turned to the fifty.
+
+"Hear you, Moslems. In an hour like this, with the Sacred City at
+stake, shall your emir or another dip hands in a private quarrel? What
+do I, save defend my own house, and my own harem? Have I not wrought
+on the walls manfully as Iftikhar? Dare any deny it?"
+
+A shout came from the Soudanese:--
+
+"You say well. You have been the sword and shield of Jerusalem, no
+less than the emir!"
+
+"Hounds of Eblees! Will you not hew him down?" raged Iftikhar.
+
+A gray-headed negro, captain of the fifty, fell on his knees before
+the Egyptian. "Cid, command, and we follow through the Christian camp;
+but we are the slaves of Kalif Mustaali, Commander of the Faithful,
+not yours for private feud. We cannot obey."
+
+"Traitors!" the veins in Iftikhar's forehead were swollen now. "Know
+that this is no slave of Musa, son of Abdallah, but the wife of
+Richard Longsword, a chief of the Franks. You aid the infidels in
+saving!" But the Soudanese did not stir.
+
+"And where reads Al Koran," retorted Musa, "'Thou shalt possess
+thyself of thine enemy's wedded wife'? For the sake of peace and El
+Islam leave the Greek till the siege be ended."
+
+"For the sake of El Islam suffer me to depart with her unhindered."
+Iftikhar cast the woman across his left arm as though a toy, and
+swinging his blade, sprang toward the portal.
+
+"Make way!" rang his last warning.
+
+"Then let Allah judge the wrong!"
+
+Musa was before the entrance, his cimeter waving. Iftikhar knew well
+he had no light combat in store. He cast Mary from him as he might a
+stone, and sprang to his work.
+
+"I am not balked, as at Monreale!" he hissed from his teeth.
+
+"No, _Bismillah_! I can kill you now!" flew the answer.
+
+The steels rang sharp, stroke on stroke. Musa was without armor; but
+he had torn his cloak from his shoulders and covered his left arm. The
+cimeters were of equal length, and every time they clashed there
+flashed fire. Musa sprang aside from the doorway at the first blow,
+and worked his way into the middle of the court, where the light was
+stronger and there was ample space. This was no duel with long swords,
+as between Richard and Louis, where sledge-hammer strength was victor.
+The Spaniard's blade was both sword and shield. Again and again the
+Egyptian gave a sweeping stroke, a lunge, and felt his "Damascus"
+parried by the turn of a wrist, or to pierce only the air. Well that
+he wore armor! Time and again Musa's weapon clashed on his hauberk,
+making the chain mail ring and its wearer reel. Click, click, sang the
+blades, and so the two fought on.
+
+"_Allah!_" the Soudanese would cry every time the Spaniard seemed
+ended by some downright stroke. Yet he never bled, but paid blow for
+blow. It was a marvel to see them. What Musa lost for lack of arms,
+was half returned in nimbleness. The Egyptian twice staggered in his
+armor, twice recovered. Musa had pricked him upon the neck, and the
+blood was running over the gilded shirt. But the fury of a thousand
+jinns was in his arm; still he fought.
+
+Mary stood against the pillar by the upper stair, watching the combat
+as if through a mist. Deeds and words had flown too fast for catching.
+She was nigh asking herself: "Why this stamping? Why this ring of
+steel? What is this to me?" She saw Iftikhar shoot his point squarely
+toward the Spaniard's breast. Before the horror could be felt, Musa
+had doubled like a snake. The blade flew over him. At his
+counter-stroke there was more blood on the Egyptian's cheek. For an
+instant he winced, then rushed to the attack with redoubled fury.
+Twice more around the court they fought. And then there was a strange
+thing: for Morgiana, with hair flying and eyes bright as meteors, sped
+down the stairs. One moment she stood, as if terror froze her; then
+with a fearful moan ran straight toward the fighters. "As Allah lives,
+you shall not slay Iftikhar!" she shrieked, and snatched Musa behind,
+holding fast by the girdle. Only for an instant, for the Spaniard
+dashed her from him with a fist. But she was back, snatched again, and
+clung, despite the blows, while all the time Iftikhar pressed harder.
+
+"Die you, die we, but not Iftikhar!" she screamed once more. Another
+twinkling, and the emir would have driven home. But in that twinkling
+the Greek found strength and wit. The Mother of God doubtless sped
+down the strength by which she tore loose Morgiana's hold. The Arabian
+writhed in her tight embrace; struggled with feet, nails, teeth, like
+a frenzied tigress at bay. "Allah! Allah!" came her moan; "you shall
+not, you must not, hold me! Let us all die, but not Iftikhar! Not he!
+None, none shall kill him!"
+
+Mary trembled at the horror graven on Morgiana's face; but her arms
+held strong as steel.
+
+"Release! Release!" pleaded Morgiana, piteously now; "he is my all, my
+all. Not Allah's self shall kill him!"
+
+But Mary shut her eyes and held tighter. The Arabian might smite,
+bite, tear; she could not shake that hold. Only the terrible monotony
+of the combat seemed unending. Click--click--went the blades; the two
+were still fighting. How much longer could she hold fast? A cry of
+terror from Morgiana made her fingers weaken. The Arabian slipped from
+them at a bound.
+
+"Allah! He reels!"
+
+Morgiana had flown to pluck the Spaniard's girdle. Too late! The Greek
+saw Iftikhar tottering as the tall pine totters at its fall. And just
+as Morgiana touched Musa, his long blade swept down the Egyptian's
+guard, and caught the neck just above the mail. There was a thundering
+shout from the Soudanese. Iftikhar slipped, made one faint effort to
+lift his point; slipped once more; fell with clash of armor; and with
+a fearful cry his wild spirit sped--whither? God is not judged.
+
+There was silence,--silence in which they heard the slow night wind
+creeping by in the street. Iftikhar had stretched his length. He lay
+without stir or groan. Morgiana had recoiled from Musa as if from the
+death angel. Mary saw her standing motionless as the stucco pillar,
+looking upon the face of the dead. The Spaniard, steaming and panting,
+pressed his red blade into the sheath, and caught at a pillar, saying
+never a word. Then when the stillness had grown long, Morgiana gave a
+little cry and sigh, more of surprise than of dread, and stepped
+softly until she stood close beside the dead. Iftikhar's casque had
+fallen from his head; his face was fixed in an awful smile; he looked
+straight upward with glassy eyes and opened teeth. When Morgiana gazed
+down upon him, she was still once more. Then came a scream of agony.
+She fell upon her knees; she lifted that motionless head. Though the
+blood flowed from the great wound all over her delicate hands, she
+tore loose the hauberk, and laid the head in her lap, staring hungrily
+for some sign.
+
+"Iftikhar! Iftikhar!" she cried, as if perforce to make the deaf ears
+hear. "Do you not see? Do you not know? It is I, Morgiana, your
+blue-eyed maid of Yemen, who have toiled for you, grieved for you,
+joyed for you,--yes, will die for you! Speak! Speak one word, and say
+you are still here!"
+
+She raised her head as if to listen for the voice that would never
+come.
+
+"O Iftikhar, soul of my soul, light of my eyes, joy of my joy! have
+you not one word for me,--for me who have clung fast to you these many
+years through all? Speak, though it be but to curse me! Speak, though
+it be of love for the Greek! You will not, cannot, go out now and
+leave me here alone,--alone, alone!"
+
+No answer. Mary heard her own heart-beats, the crooning of the wind in
+the streets, the deep breaths of Musa.
+
+Suddenly Morgiana let the limp head fall, and leaped to her feet,
+blood-stains on dress and hands and face.
+
+"Dead!" she cried; "dead!" casting toward Mary a look so terrible that
+the Greek drew back. "Dead! Gone forever! Forever, forever!" And
+Morgiana's voice died away as if far off into the coming ages. Then
+once more she fell upon the dead form, kissed the speechless lips,
+and cooed into the deaf ear, saying sweet and pleasant things as in
+the lovers' days of long ago. But all the soft words ended in a cry of
+agony. Again she rose and faced Musa and the Greek.
+
+"In Allah's name be you cursed! You for your strength, and you for
+your beauty! For the beauty that stole Iftikhar from me,--that led him
+to ruin, to death,--cursed, ten thousand times! May the jinns of evil
+crush you! May all Gehenna's fires wither you! May the Most High
+forget you from His mercy--" Mary was sobbing now:--
+
+"Sweet sister, pity me," was her plea. "What have I done? Forget the
+Egyptian. How has he paid back your great love for him? He was
+unworthy of such love." But Morgiana only tossed her blood-stained
+arms on high.
+
+"Fool, fool; am I not a woman? Did I love him by my reason? Worthy or
+unworthy, I _have_ loved him. Enough!"
+
+She tore at her bosom; drew forth a tiny silver vial. It was at her
+lips before Musa could seize it.
+
+"Poison!" shouted he.
+
+The face of the Arabian turned livid; her eyes wandered. "He is mine;
+mine! Beyond the stars, where no Christian may come with her beauty!
+Beyond the stars, where is Paradise and rest!"
+
+She fell upon Iftikhar's dead form; one paroxysm, one groan; her hand
+was resting on the emir's face, her lips close to his. Musa laid his
+hand above her heart, drew it back and said nothing. Then again a long
+silence, while he examined the silver vial.
+
+"Strychnine," he said softly; "the Egyptians often use it. Swifter
+than a falling star."
+
+Mary buried her face in her hands, and swayed while she sobbed in her
+fathomless grief. "Holy St. Theodore, have mercy; Mother of God, have
+mercy; Jesus Christ, have mercy! It is my fault--mine! I cannot bear
+it!"
+
+"Yours? Never, Star of the Greeks," protested Musa. "How was it you
+that led Iftikhar to his madness, and put frenzy in this woman's
+heart?"
+
+But Mary wiped her eyes, and told all that had befallen. How she had
+gone into the streets; how Zeyneb had seen, had told Iftikhar, and
+sent him to his death. Before the Spaniard could reply, another
+strange step was on the threshold. It was that of a Nubian in scarlet
+surcoat, giant tall,--Ammar, third in command.
+
+"In Allah's name," was his demand as he entered, and recoiled in his
+horror at the sight, "what means this rumor on the streets? Where is
+the Cid Iftikhar Eddauleh?"
+
+"His body?--there!" answered the Andalusian, pointing downward. "Allah
+accounts with his soul."
+
+"_Mashallah!_" and Ammar nigh drew his cimeter, "you have slain the
+emir, commandant of the city!"
+
+"He rushed on ruin, good comrade. It was a private quarrel, and he is
+wrong. Ask of these guardsmen, is it so."
+
+"It is so! _Wallah_, the emir was mad. It is so!" came voices from the
+doorway. Ammar's face was lowering when he demanded:--
+
+"Yet how will you answer to Al Afdhal, the vizier?"
+
+Musa drew himself to full height haughtily.
+
+"Victory covers all pasts. Let me fling back the Christians and Al
+Afdhal will forget to question. If defeated"--Musa swept his hand in a
+wide gesture--"I will not be here to make reply. And now you, O Ammar,
+are my lieutenant, and I commandant this night of Jerusalem. Leave
+Iftikhar Eddauleh to Allah, and get you to the ramparts, for there is
+work in store." The clatter of a horseman in the streets cut him
+short; a breathless messenger was entering. "_Allah akhbar!_" gasped
+the courier, "I am from the Gate of St. Stephen. We have sallied forth
+to burn the Franks' siege towers. All the unbelieving jinns aid them.
+The towers are repaired. We were driven back with loss. They attack at
+dawn."
+
+"Fellow, fellow," began Musa, while Ammar dropped his jaw in surprise,
+"no tales, as you love your head! With my own eyes I saw those towers
+in ruins--they can never be fought again."
+
+"In Allah's great name I do not lie," flew back the answer; "and the
+Christians have just flung the corpse of an Egyptian inside the city
+on a mangonel, with letters saying they send us the courier from Al
+Afdhal, who promises aid, but that they will be in Jerusalem ere he
+can set forth from Egypt."
+
+The Spaniard cast about a lightning glance of high command; never was
+Iftikhar more lordly. "Then for El Islam we shall win glory or
+martyrdom by another sun. Lead to the walls, Cid Ammar, I follow
+instantly. Call all the city-folk to repair the breach. Hurry the
+Greek fire and oil caldrons from the citadel. We must each have a
+thousand hands betwixt now and morning. But on your lives say nothing
+of Iftikhar."
+
+"Allah! Allah! Death to the Franks! Death!" roared the Soudanese,
+vanishing down the dark street as suddenly as they had come. But Ammar
+halted. "Cid," said he, gravely, "you are indeed commandant, but if
+the news flies out at this last grapple that Iftikhar lies dead,
+needless to tell how every sword-hand will weaken. The name of
+Iftikhar is worth a thousand in the death-grip. What is to be done?"
+Musa had bent over the corpses, and was unbuckling the Egyptian's
+gilded armor.
+
+"See," declared he, holding up the gem-set baldric, "I will put on the
+emir's mail. I have his height; none will miss his shoulders. With the
+casque drawn down, all but those in the secret will know nothing. I
+can again put on my own sombre armor, and appear elsewhere on the
+wall. The host will think they have both commanders. Ere the truth is
+known the city is saved."
+
+"Allah! You have the craft of Solomon! So be it!"
+
+"Breathe not a word of this to any. Bid the Soudanese keep silence.
+Deny the rumor. Haste five spare mangonels over to the west wall; nine
+to the northern. Illumine the Franks with Greek fire, shoot arrows and
+stones incessantly. I will be on the Stork Tower at the northwest
+bastion without delay; do you look to the western city."
+
+Ammar salaamed; was gone. Musa had finished stripping and putting on
+Iftikhar's armor. Save for the plumed helm that he held in his hand,
+who could say he was not the Egyptian?
+
+"Take these corpses away," was his command to the eunuchs; "anoint and
+embalm them carefully. They must have honorable burial." Then he
+turned to Mary.
+
+"Star of the Greeks, I must go upon the walls again. Hard indeed it is
+to leave you. But be comforted, Richard is well. I have talked with
+him. Our speech was all of you."
+
+Mary was ready to weep once more, but held back the tears. Sweet and
+strong was her face when she answered:--
+
+"Dear Musa, I know all that lies at stake this night and coming day. I
+can bear much. I am ready for whatever God may send. Once I called you
+my own cavalier at Palermo. Be such still. May the God who loves us
+all--Christian, Moslem--be with you and Richard Longsword."
+
+She took the helmet from his arms. He knelt; with her own hands she
+fitted it after he had caught her hands, and kissed each one. Then he
+rose, clothed head to foot in the gilded mail.
+
+"God go with you, my cavalier," said the Greek. "I may not say, 'send
+victory.' Farewell."
+
+The stately plumes swept the pavement when the Spaniard salaamed.
+"Fear nothing, lady," was all he replied; "remember the arm of the
+Most High is under all. His will over all. What is to us most ill, is
+to Him most good. Farewell."
+
+He bowed again,--vanished from the doorway,--was swallowed up in the
+black night. Mary heard him mount; heard his horse's hoofs dim away in
+the distance. All the slow wind brought was a far-off murmur and
+rumble of many toilers on the walls. And Mary went up the staircase to
+seek her chamber and to pray.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVII
+
+HOW TRENCHEFER WAS BROKEN
+
+
+Again high noon. The Syrian sun beat pitilessly, but Richard and his
+peers thought little of sun or star that Friday as they toiled on the
+levers and ropes of the great _beffroi_, the siege tower of Godfrey.
+From daybreak they had been urging the ponderous fabric across rock
+and ravine, though its three tall stories of rough-hewn timber quaked
+and tottered on the rollers, though its facing of undressed hides had
+turned a hundred blazing arrows. Half the day they had wrought, while
+their crossbowmen vainly strove to quench the showers of missiles the
+Nubians rained upon them. Now, with the tower five hundred feet from
+its goal, lo! all the sally-ports and the broad gates of Herod and of
+St. Stephen were flung wide, and forth sallied the garrison,--ebon
+devils whose only whiteness was their teeth.
+
+"At them, Christians! Forward, in Our Lady's name!" rang the cry of
+Duke Godfrey. Then all around the tower had surged the battle, the
+infidels calling "Fire!" and the Christians struggling to save it; but
+in the end the Moslems were flung back, thinned and saddened by
+Frankish bolts and blades. Richard, in one moment of the succeeding
+calm, breathed a prayer of praise to Heaven, "_Gloria!_ _Gloria!_ At
+last! At last!" for he knew that the final hour was drawing nigh. And
+in the lead of the Nubians, and last of them to turn back, had he not
+seen that figure in gilded mail he had singled for his vengeance? At
+the thought of that vengeance even the vision of Mary grew dim, and
+the weight of his own sins was forgotten. Therefore of all the mad
+spirits, that day of glory and of wrath, none was madder than he, and
+none strained the pulleys harder.
+
+Four hundred feet still to cover; four hundred leagues seemingly were
+traversed easier! For while the great tower lumbered on, groaning as a
+dragon at his death, the unbelievers set new engines on the walls and
+smote the Christians, even as God smote Sodom and Gomorrah. After the
+arrow hail came the catapult darts of two ells long, and stones of a
+man's own weight blew down as snow from the housetops. After the darts
+and the stones came things more terrible--glass vessels spitting fire;
+whereupon all the ground had turned to flame, and from the tower rose
+smoke and the crashing of timbers.
+
+"Greek fire! Hell loosened! Save who can!" went up the wail of the
+Christians. But the great Bouillon, treading amid the flames as
+through a gentle rain, called above the din: "Christ is still with us!
+Forward in His Name!" Then all courage returned. They brought vinegar
+and quenched the burning earth. The _beffroi_ shook off the fire and
+crept onward.
+
+Three hundred feet now! The tower was swayed each instant by the shock
+of the Moslem enginery--darts, stones, fire; it withstood them all.
+Around the gilded crucifix, fixed high above the summit, a thousand
+screeching arrows of the infidels had sped. It stood unscathed against
+the calm blue sky, as amid a realm of eternal peace; and the
+Christians, looking upon the image of their Lord, rejoiced and pressed
+forward.
+
+Then again the sally-ports were opened; a second sortie more furious
+than the last. This time the champion in gilded mail laid about him
+among the Christians as if Satan's self were raging against God's
+saints. Richard pressed hard toward him to cross swords; but the
+strife held them asunder. Gaston of Béarn measured strength with the
+arch-infidel, and all the Franks groaned when they saw the Viscount
+fall. But his vassals sprang over him, and locked their shields around
+him, making the Moslem champion give back. Godfrey, who was cast with
+Richard for a moment, asked, "And is this not Iftikhar Eddauleh?" The
+answer was a nod of the head, but he heard behind the closed helm
+which Longsword, contrary to wont, was wearing, the words muttered,
+"Father, mother, sister, brother," and knew the Egyptian would need
+all his might that day.
+
+So for a second time they fought, and for a second time, though two
+Moslems sallied forth to one of the Christians, the defence found
+Frankish steel too keen. Their chief strove to rally them, but in
+vain. Only his sweeping blows thrust back the hardy knights, who
+followed the unbelievers to the very drawbridge. The gates clanged in
+the face of the assault, and again from battlement and flanking tower
+pelted the storm of death. But the _beffroi_ still crept on.
+
+Two hundred feet. Tower and wall were so close that the Christian
+bowmen on the summit could begin to shed a counter rain of missiles
+upon the infidels to quench that dashing from their enginery. Richard,
+toiling at the lever, saw a man-at-arms, who was working a catapult,
+fall, stricken through by a heavy bolt. The Egyptians raised a yell of
+triumph from the walls; the machine stood useless. Instantly out of
+the press around the tower rushed a priest--Sebastian! no armor save
+the holy armor of his white stole. The paynim shafts buzzed over him;
+to flies he would have paid greater heed. Richard saw the man of
+fasting and prayer lay the great arrow, draw home the huge bow, press
+the lever. There was a howl of rage on the walls,--the tall Ammar had
+fallen under the shaft. Richard ran to the priest's side.
+
+"Back, father!" shouted he, "you rush on death!"
+
+The priest left his toil to kneel beside a stricken bowman. None save
+the dying heard his voice; but he pointed to the glittering Christ on
+the sky-raised crucifix. There was a smile on the face when Sebastian
+laid the head of the dead gently down. The priest looked Richard
+calmly in the eye, though an arrow flew between them while he spoke.
+
+"I must be about my Father's business," was all he said. Without more
+words he was back at the catapult, bending, levelling, shooting more
+than one infidel at every bolt. High above the clangor swelled his
+voice at each triumph. "Die, Canaanite! die, Amorite! Thou art my
+battle-axe and weapons of war! With thee will I break in pieces the
+nations! I will break in pieces captains and rulers!"
+
+Richard knew he was in God's hands and left him. The Christian
+enginery was at last beginning to tell. Under their missiles he saw
+the battlements crumbling; dared he hope he saw the firm curtain-wall
+totter? Richard knew it was long past noon. When last had he touched
+food or drink or tasted sleep? But when he thought of the deeds to be
+done ere sunset, and saw that figure in gilded mail upon the walls, he
+dwelt no more on thirst or slumber.
+
+One hundred feet; every finger's length bought with ten lives, but the
+price was not in vain. Men were beginning to count the moments before
+they could set foot on the rampart. Yet at this point a terrible rumor
+flew through the army. "The vinegar fails! We cannot master the fire!"
+And as if bad news was borne by the fleeting winds, the Moslems
+instantly rained down more flame-pots, then still more, when nothing
+quenched them. In a twinkling the rock below the walls seemed burning,
+the rawhide facing of the tower scorched, a great cry of agony rose
+heavenward from the Franks.
+
+"The devil fights against us!" howled many. But, as before, the word
+of Godfrey was better than ten thousand fresh sword-hands. "Stand by!
+Christ is greater than the devil!" he commanded. And Renard of Toul
+cried, "Forward, cavaliers; now is the time to die!" But Godfrey
+answered him, "Now is the time in Christ's strength to live." When the
+news came that Raymond's and Tancred's attacks had failed, his only
+shout was, "Praised then be St. Michael, for to us is left the
+victory!"
+
+Then it was the Franks bore witness to their faith; for even the
+Moslems trembled when they saw those terrible knights of the West
+standing amid the hail of darts, while the firm soil belched flame,
+the tower was wrapped in smoke,--beating the fires with their swords,
+casting on earth with their hands, wrestling at the levers, though the
+levers themselves were burning, and still forcing the _beffroi_
+onward, onward!
+
+For men were past hoping, fearing, suffering, now. In the sweet
+delirium their lives went out without a pang, though their bodies were
+flaming. And the last sight of the dying was the great crucifix and
+the Christ thereon, emblem of sacrifice before which lesser sacrifice
+was counted nothing. Not a Christian engine was working; the most were
+fast turning to ashes. But the tower, while it blazed, toiled forward.
+The burning grass at Antioch had been nothing beside this valley of
+death; but the wall was becoming very near. For the thousandth time
+Richard was straining at his lever, when Godfrey came to him.
+
+"All is lost, De St. Julien!" came the hoarse whisper.
+
+"Lost? And why lost, my lord?" said Richard, with a dreadful calmness.
+
+"Hist! Look on the ground before; it slopes downward to the moat. The
+engineers have blundered. When the tower is tilted its crest will be
+below the battlement; we cannot mount upon the wall."
+
+Richard stared upward through the smoke.
+
+"We can beat down the battlement; it is yielding."
+
+"Are you St. George?" cried the Duke; "every mangonel burns."
+
+Longsword pointed to the left. "All burning save one!" his answer.
+There was one mangonel so close under the walls that when all its crew
+were shot dead no others had ventured to man it.
+
+"As Christ died," came from Godfrey, "put that at the foot of the
+walls; find a breach in ten _credos_ or the fire triumphs."
+
+The men of St. Julien followed their seigneur. At last they knew they
+should fulfil their vow. The garrison, when it saw them, turned on
+their company all manner of fire and death. But the Auvergners who
+lived never counted their dead. By main force they tugged the mangonel
+up beside the _beffroi_, trampled out the flame for an instant. A
+flying stone shivered Longsword's shield; Herbert thrust his own on
+Richard's arm, a plain shield with only the red cross of the Crusade.
+De Carnac fell while they set the rock of half a mule's weight in
+place; their seigneur pressed up the huge counterpoise; drew the rope.
+The long arm swept creaking into the air; every war-cry died while the
+huge missile sped. The rock smote the battlement where the first
+attacks had weakened it. The upper face of the curtain wall crumbled
+inward. Out of the wreck a murk of dust was rising. For fifty feet the
+battlement had been beaten down far lower than was the summit of the
+tower.
+
+"Forward again! For the love of Christ! Forward!" Godfrey's voice; and
+it swelled into the sound of ocean waves as ten thousand throats
+reëchoed it. The Moslems were uplifting a howl of wild despair. Did
+they fight men or sheytans, whose home was flame? But Richard saw the
+champion of the gilded mail still on the ramparts. The tower was now
+springing toward the wall as if a spirit of life had entered, so many
+were the eager hands. The infidel fires were spent. The Christian
+bowmen were shooting so pitilessly, not an Egyptian catapult was
+working. Up the dizzy ladder on the rear face of the tower Longsword
+clambered in spite of armor. The drawbridge at the crest the stones
+had long since dashed to flinders; what matter? For Heaven suffered
+two long beams from one of the defenders' engines to fall outward. The
+Crusaders caught them, laid them side by side,--a bridge with width of
+half an ell,--a dizzy height below, but beyond, Jerusalem!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Men tell that it was the end of the third hour of that Friday
+afternoon,--at the very moment Jesus Christ cried, on the Cross, "It
+is finished!"--that the tower of Godfrey was brought beside the walls;
+and the cavaliers, who had faced death so many times that day,
+gathered on its summit, to enter the Holy City. To right and left the
+walls had been swept bare of defenders by the bowmen. The cry passed
+that a warrior in arms of white stood on the Mount of Olives, waving
+his shield to urge on God's soldiers,--St. George, patron of holy
+victory. But though the other Moslems were fled away, there was one
+who remained steadfast. As Longsword gained the crest of the tower, he
+saw at the head of the narrow bridge that figure in gilded mail, with
+sword bared, helmet closed, twenty Christian bolts glancing off his
+panoply while he awaited the first to cross. And every Frankish voice
+cried, "Iftikhar, emir of Jerusalem!"
+
+Already upon the crest were standing the great Duke himself and Renard
+of Toul, Baldwin du Bourg, and many more. Yet for an instant none
+started--for it seemed tempting God to tread that bridge with fifty
+feet to the rock-hewn moat below, then meet the thrust of that
+cimeter. At Godfrey's call the bowmen threw over the Moslem a cloud of
+arrows; but the gilded mail was proof. Still he stood,--then with the
+courtliest flourish to his foes, drew back three steps from the head
+of the perilous bridge, leaving a foothold for his challenger. Again
+he stood guard, and all the Christians shouted, "A gallant knight,
+though infidel!" while the Duke bade the bowmen spare him; so notable
+a cavalier must die at a cavalier's own hands. There was an eager rush
+of those who would cross first, and smite the first blow,--Longsword
+eagerest of all. But a stranger knight leaped before him. The Frank
+sped over the dizzy path; stood upon the shattered wall. Once the
+swords met; but at the second blow the Christian dashed backward into
+the empty air--they heard the clang of his armor in the moat below.
+
+"My prey!" pleaded Richard. But to his bitter wrath again, De Valmont
+had leaped before him, crossed the bridge, and all men kept silent
+while the Auvergner put forth all might and skill. Then of a sudden
+they saw the Moslem's thin blade lash under Louis's heavy weapon,
+smite full upon the side, and De Valmont went backward also. As he
+tumbled, a projecting beam broke his fall. In the moat they saw his
+stirrings, and cried out, "Still alive!" Men sought him, exclaiming,
+"Miracle!" But a great awe had come on the Christians. Who was this
+that could smite Sir Louis at ten passes? Godfrey thrust himself
+forward.
+
+"Make way, fair knights! I, myself, will meet this paladin!" But
+Richard held him, as he touched the bridge.
+
+"This is my own foe, my lord; your promise!"
+
+Godfrey turned, and Richard shook the lightnings out of Trenchefer, as
+he ran across the narrow way. With him went a great prayer half
+uttered by the whole host,--"_Dominus tecum!_" as every man saw him
+standing with his feet on the brink of death, his face toward the
+infidel.
+
+Richard showed naught but calmness. He trod the perilous path quickly
+as though he sought his bride. Trenchefer felt light as a rush to his
+strong right arm. The wall, the moat, the death below, he never saw;
+his eyes were only for that gilded mail--the mail of Iftikhar. This
+was the moment for which he had wept, had prayed! Behind that hated
+armor he saw forms never again to be met on earth--mother, father,
+sister, brother. He thought of the pains of his wife, and his own long
+sorrow. He was proud of the splendor, the valor, of the Moslem,--the
+greater glory in the victory. God had indeed willed that he should hew
+the last of the way to Jerusalem.
+
+[Illustration: "THE INFIDEL GAVE WAY"]
+
+Scarce had he taken stand on the shattered parapet before the infidel
+was paying him blow for blow. At the third fence Longsword knew he had
+met his match, for no mean cavalier with a cimeter's light blade could
+turn a downright stroke of Trenchefer. At the fourth Richard took one
+step back--another would have sent him beyond love and hate. But his
+rage rose in him; at the fifth the infidel gave way. A great stillness
+was around; the sun was sinking in unclouded brightness; the
+Egyptians, cowering behind their battlements, bated their prayers to
+Allah as they gazed; the Christians forgot to invoke Our Lady.
+Richard, finding that a few smith's blows were profitless, fell to a
+slow and steady foil and fence; putting forth all his art, and every
+pass and feint that had never failed before. But he marvelled as he
+fought, seeing his subtlest strokes turned by that thin blade, which
+he deemed to have brushed away in a twinkling. Had he never before
+fenced with that cunning hand? The Moslem's shield now shattered;
+Longsword swept his blade low and parried; in a flash the other passed
+his cimeter from right hand to left, and the weapon dashed full upon
+the Norman's shoulder, ere he could raise Trenchefer. But the Valencia
+"ring-mail"--Musa's gift--was yet proof. Ere the Moslem could strike
+twice, Richard recovered, cast away his own shield, and pressed
+closer.
+
+At a sweeping stroke of Trenchefer he slipped, and all the Franks
+moaned. But the infidel--gallant as his foe--did not press home the
+chance. Richard stood again, and struck as never before. "Paladins
+both!" rang from the Christians. Now at last men knew Longsword fought
+for life, not for vengeance only. Again the Franks began to tremble.
+
+"The Egyptians rally; new companies mount the walls!" thundered Duke
+Godfrey; "beat them back or all is lost!"
+
+The crossbowmen stood to their task like good men and true. They swept
+away the Nubians clustering on the battlements, but others swarmed
+after. A moment more, and not one but a hundred blades would close the
+perilous bridge.
+
+"Across with a rush; sweep the champion down!" cried many Christians.
+But the great Duke answered, "Either in knightly fashion or not at
+all, let us take Jerusalem." His word was scarce spoken before one
+vast shout made the tower rock with the quaking earth, "_Gloria tibi,
+Domine!_" Trenchefer had sprung aloft; the cimeter flew to parry; the
+Norman's blade turned flatwise, but no mortal arm could have borne up
+against that stroke. The Christian drove home upon the shoulder,
+beating in the armor, though he might not pierce. The Moslem's weapon
+flew from his hand; he staggered, fell upon the walls, while past him
+and his victor leaped the exulting Franks.
+
+Richard stood erect, but panting, while the brothers Lethalde and
+Engelbert of Tournai leaped upon the upper battlement, and with them
+Baldwin du Bourg and Reimbault Creton, mighty cavaliers all. A cry
+went up that would drown every other din that day of strife, "_God
+wills it!_" flung to the bending heavens. The Egyptians upon the
+walls fought at bay--how vainly! Richard knew the great day had come;
+the Holy City was won, his arch foe smitten; the journey, the agony,
+the pouring of the wine of life, had not been vain. God had remembered
+the toils of His people. Then, as he looked, he saw Sebastian in his
+white robe, leaping across the bridge. But just as his foot touched
+the crumbled wall, a chance arrow from some despairing Nubian caught
+him fairly on the breast. He fell, the white stole fast turning red.
+Richard caught him in his arms.
+
+"Father," he pleaded, "dearest father, you will not die; see, the
+victory!"
+
+Sebastian's lips were moving. Richard bent low--a woman's name,
+"Philippa." "Philippa?" the name of the priest's boy love? Who might
+say? But at this instant Sebastian started from Richard's arms, and
+pointed upward. "Look!" and Longsword beheld Godfrey setting the great
+crucifix from the tower upright upon the battlement of the Holy City.
+Sebastian's face glowed with an awful smile. He had seen it, Gregory's
+vision--_the Cross triumphant on the walls of Jerusalem_.
+
+"Now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace," came the thin voice,
+"according to Thy word, for mine eyes have seen--" but the rest was
+heard by the angels about the Throne.
+
+Richard gently lowered the head, stood, and stared about. Already the
+slaughter was begun on the walls and in the streets. From the Gate of
+St. Stephen thundered the battle-axes of Tancred and his host, whose
+strength swelled with the victory. Two thoughts were foremost in
+Longsword's mind,--"Mary; the Spaniard." He had not seen Musa on the
+walls. What had befallen? They were crying, "No quarter, slay!" He
+must act quickly. Suddenly his eye passed from Sebastian to the form
+of his victim. Holy Mother! the infidel stirred,--he was not dead! The
+casque was slipping back from the Moslem's face. The wounded man half
+raised himself, put forth a hand, and pushed away the helmet. Not for
+ten kingdoms would Richard have looked upon that face; but he could
+not turn away. And when the casque fell, Longsword beheld the face of
+Musa, son of Abdallah.
+
+Those passing across the bridge heard a cry of pain that followed them
+to their dying bed. They saw Richard Longsword uplift Trenchefer with
+both his arms, and dash it upon the rock. Midway the great blade of
+the Vikings snapped asunder, and almost with a mortal groan.
+
+"Dear God," called Richard, "is it thus at last the price of Gilbert's
+blood is paid!"
+
+Then they beheld that man, who had wrestled with fire and death from
+dawn, cast his own helmet away, snatch the infidel in his arms,
+soothing and whispering like a woman, while his tears ran freely, as
+those of a little child.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVIII
+
+HOW RICHARD SAW THE SUN RISE
+
+
+How the Holy City was sacked by the men of the West; how the infidels
+paid for unbelief and blasphemy with their own blood; how the blood in
+the porch of the mosque of Omar plashed up to the bridles of the
+horses,--these things this book will not tell. For its story is of the
+deeds of men--not of demons, as their foes cried--nor of avenging
+angels, as their own hearts boasted. Neither is there need to tell how
+Zeyneb's life went out under a Frankish sword, nor how Herbert and
+Theroulde found Mary at the house by the Gate of Herod. It was theirs
+to save her from death or worse, at the hands of the raging victors,
+who deemed all in the city Moslem, that night of rapine and sin.
+Through Saint Stephen's gate they brought her forth, while in Sion,
+the upper city, the last Egyptians yet stood at bay, and Tancred and
+Raymond were leading to the final slaughter. Mary said not a word,
+while the St. Julieners led her through the sack and ruin, and through
+a thousand scenes at which her pure heart sickened. But when they had
+passed the wrecked portal, and the hill of Olivet lay before them,
+clothed in the gold and purple of the evening light, she said softly
+to Herbert: "And is my dear Lord Richard well?" For though they had
+said as much at first, yet their looks were so grave she was ill at
+ease. Then Herbert answered, "Blessed be St. Michael, sweet lady, he
+is well, though death plucked at him a hundred times." Then Mary
+asked--half guessing the reply--"And know you anything of his friend,
+the Spaniard Musa?" But the veteran glanced at Theroulde, and the
+_jongleur_ answered: "Dearest mistress, he lies sorely wounded in our
+baron's tent--grief to tell, though he is Moslem!" Then the Greek
+bowed her head, and with no more speech they led her to the camp. At
+the tent door Richard came to meet her, treading softly, and neither
+spoke when he clasped her to his breast. He led her within where Musa
+was lying upon a pallet of mantles and saddle-cloths. Mary knelt
+beside him, touched him. He did not speak or move, though still alive.
+
+"He will die?" she whispered, raising her eyes.
+
+"He will die," answered her husband, very softly. "His armor is not
+pierced, but all his shoulder has been beaten down. Not all the
+physicians of his Cordova may heal." Then he took Mary by the hand,
+and they sat beside the bed. In whispers he told of all that had
+befallen that day, and learned from her how it befell that Musa wore
+the armor of Iftikhar. And Mary bowed her head once more, saying it
+was her own blind folly that sent Musa to his fate. But Richard
+stroked her tenderly, though his own heart was over full; then made
+her lie down, promising to waken her if the Spaniard came to himself.
+So a little past midnight Richard touched her, and she saw that the
+tent was lighted by lamps brought from the city, and there were silken
+cushions under Musa's head. The Andalusian was speaking.
+
+"The Star of the Greeks? Is she here?"
+
+"I am here, Musa, dear brother of my husband!" said the lady, at his
+side. "Speak, and say you will master death as you mastered Iftikhar
+Eddauleh; that you will forgive this rash disobedience of mine which
+brought you all this woe!"
+
+Musa's face wore one of its old, soft, melancholy smiles.
+
+"Ah! Rose of Byzantium," said he, half whimsically, "do you think I am
+so great I can hurl back doom? I grow too proud with the praise.
+Forgive you? Forgive what--that you loved Richard Longsword, and
+wished to know it was well with him? No more of that. I forgive, if
+aught needs forgiving. As for dying, as well to be sped by Trenchefer
+as by any blade. It was written by Allah upon the canopy of the stars,
+and Allah does all things well."
+
+"Ah, would God I could die in your stead, my brother, my brother,"
+began Richard, while those terrible tears out of manliest grief would
+come.
+
+"And the Star of the Greeks, what says she?" began Musa, again
+smiling. But he checked, when he saw the gust of sorrow sweeping
+across Mary's face. Then in a darker tone, he added, "No more of this,
+as you love me; no more, as I love you--love you both." His gaze was
+not on Richard, but on his wife. And the woman's heart first caught
+the strange stress of his voice and the light in his dimming eyes.
+
+"Love _me_?" her words with a start.
+
+Musa half raised his head from the pillows.
+
+"Why shall I not say it now?" came the reply, almost proudly. "Loved
+you? I have ever loved you, truly as ever man loved, from the hour I
+saw your face, and heard your voice, when we plucked you from the
+Berbers." Then to Richard, "Dear brother, feel in my breast." And the
+Norman drew forth a soiled and folded bit of scarlet ribbon. "Do you
+remember, Star of the Greeks, the day you gave me this--when I held
+the lists against Iftikhar at Palermo? It has been at my lips each
+night since before I fell asleep. For I have loved you--have loved
+you--long." The words came very slowly now, for the flood of life was
+ebbing fast. But the Norman broke out:--
+
+"Dear God, and all these years, my brother, you have not breathed
+this! I made mockery of your monkish state, and you smiled on, doing
+all to bring us two together and to give us joy!"
+
+"Assuredly, can the outlaw kite make a nest for the lark? Had I loved
+her as little as Iftikhar loved her, I would have served brute passion
+alone; have made my love only of her beauty and her kisses. But I knew
+while she knelt to your Christ and I to my Allah, we could never love
+soul with soul. Therefore my joy was this, to see her grow more
+beautiful as your bride, brother that you are, though not in blood."
+
+"And was it so easy to do all this that I never dreamed it? that I
+marvelled to myself, 'Why is Musa so devoted, yet so true to Richard,
+my husband?'" asked Mary, with quivering lips. The breath of the
+Spaniard was coming still more slowly, but he answered, smiling:
+"After I had you utterly in my power--after the parting at Antioch--I
+swore a great oath I would never, save when dying, confess I saw you
+as other than a sister while Richard lived. It was hard; I was
+tempted; often the power of Eblees and his jinns was strong. But I
+fought them away with Allah's might. I have mastered, I have kept my
+vow. She is yours again, my brother, your own pure wife."
+
+"Holy Mother," cried Mary, in her pain, "had I known this three days
+since, how would God have tortured me! God knows, while I never had an
+untrue thought touching Richard,"--and she looked fairly upon her
+husband,--"yet, Christian or Moslem, had Musa said the word, how would
+my breast have been torn!"
+
+"Yes, and no shame," the Norman was interrupting, "for what I marvel
+at is this,--how you and Musa could look upon each other's face one
+day, and yet keep love for me."
+
+But Musa whispered: "Leave the secret to Allah, Most High. I am near
+the ending now. You of the West have conquered. You have indeed wrung
+victory from very doom, your vow is cleared. The next Genoese ship
+bears you homeward to St. Julien, to the castle and the mountains of
+fair Auvergne. You will not forget, under that sweet French sky, the
+Spaniard, whose body lies beneath the dust of that Jerusalem he died
+to save, though all in vain?"
+
+"Till they chant my death mass--never!" whispered Richard; but Mary
+made no reply. "It is a long way from _El Kuds_," Musa's pallid lips
+ran on, "to the orange groves and shining vegas, by the Guadalquiver
+and the Darro. But the pathway to the throne of Allah can be trodden
+while an arrow flies. Do not believe the priests, my brother, nor the
+imams of Islam, who say, 'only Christian,' 'only Moslem,' can meet
+before the Most High's face. Whether your Christ were Son of the
+Eternal or earth-sprung prophet, I know not. If to be true Christian
+is to wear the pure heart of Mary de St. Julien, then in truth the son
+of Mary the Virgin was the son of the All-Merciful. But this is hid.
+We shall meet--you, and you, and I--in some blessed spot where the
+word is 'love,' not 'war.'" His breath failed him; Mary took his head
+upon her lap and stroked his temples with her soft, white hands.
+Richard did not speak. Presently the Spaniard spoke again, a whisper,
+as of the far retreating wind:--
+
+"Yes, I have been faithful to my love,--my brother,--my promise."
+
+Mary glanced toward Richard, and he nodded gently. She bent over Musa
+and kissed him twice upon the lips. A smile broke upon the Spaniard's
+face. There came a faint sigh and a folding of the hands, as if to
+rest. Mary raised her head.
+
+"He is not here," she whispered; and Richard answered softly, "Sweet
+wife, that was the fairest deed of all your life."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Just as the dawn was glowing, Richard stood before his tent on Olivet,
+and at his side Mary de St. Julien, his wife. It was very still,
+peaceful as a summer Sabbath of La Haye in far Provence. They clasped
+hands as they listened to a distant chant and singing. The priests
+were raising the matin hymn from the rock of Sion, where infidel
+muezzins had called on the single Allah for so many sinful years. They
+saw the east change from crimson to red fire, the redness brighten to
+golden flame; then all the ridge of Moab glowed in light, as on that
+morning when the host first stood before Jerusalem. The last mists
+crept from the hills--thin blue clouds that faded away in the burning
+azure. And last of all the sun mounted upward slowly, his glory
+trailing far, as though reluctant for his daily race. They saw coming
+from the city a company of priests, white-stoled, and bearing in
+their midst a bier, Sebastian going to that rest which shall know
+waking only at God's last trumpet.
+
+"Let us pray," said Mary, gently, "for the souls of all the brave men
+and true who have died. Let us pray for the soul of Musa."
+
+So they knelt, while the chant of the priests drew ever nearer. When
+they rose, the disk of fire had leaped above the topmost peak, and was
+touching each dome, each battlement, of the Holy City with living
+light. They saw the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, the Rock of Calvary.
+The slow breeze crept through the scattered olive trees that crowned
+the Mount of the Agony. It was silent,--for a moment the priests had
+ceased chanting, and the sun went on his upward way, shedding over
+Mary's face an aureole as of gold. Richard put his arm about his wife,
+and looked deep into her eyes. And in those eyes he saw a strength, a
+love, a sweetness, not there that first hour they sped madness through
+his frame, when he curbed in Rollo with half-boyish might.
+
+"Mary," said he, softly, in his Norman French, "my own true lady wife,
+it is five years since we first looked on each other--long years. But
+there are many left, please God. Will you go back to France with me,
+that by your aid and prayers I may prove a just lord to the lands of
+St. Julien?"
+
+"I will go to the earth's ends with you, dear lord and husband," said
+she; and she also spoke in French. Then she pressed him closer. "Ah,
+sweet life, the night is sped; the sun fast rises. All the past is
+gone--Musa, Sebastian, Iftikhar, Morgiana,--and we--we only--are left
+to each other. I will forget I was born a Greek. I will speak your own
+sweet French, and be your loving wife; and we shall grow old together,
+ever loving one another, and the dear God more. And Musa--" but
+Richard had his word:--
+
+"We will bear his name upon our hearts; and if so be I am suffered to
+stand before the throne of light, there will my brother be also. For
+on the earth there did not tread a soul more loved by God"--he
+hesitated--"and the Lord Christ, than he."
+
+Then he kissed Mary once more, holding her head back in his strong
+arms, that the brightness might transfigure all her beauty. The
+procession of priests was very near, its leader, Raymond of Agiles.
+The two knelt once more, that they might receive the good priests'
+blessing and proffer new prayers for the sainted dead. And while they
+knelt, the company burst forth into singing, until the rock of Olivet
+gave back the sound:--
+
+    "Laud and honor to the Father!
+      Laud and honor to the Son!
+    Laud and honor to the Spirit!
+      Ever Three and ever One;
+    Con-substantial, co-eternal,
+      While unending ages run!"
+
+
+
+
+A FRIEND OF CAESAR
+
+A TALE OF THE FALL OF THE ROMAN REPUBLIC
+
+By WILLIAM STEARNS DAVIS
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+12mo. Cloth. $1.50
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+     "As a story ... there can be no question of its success ... while
+     the beautiful love of Cornelia and Drusus lies at the sound sweet
+     heart of the story, to say so is to give a most meagre idea of
+     the large sustained interest of the whole.... There are many
+     incidents so vivid, so brilliant, that they fix themselves in the
+     memory."--NANCY HUSTON BANKS in _The Bookman_.
+
+     "Full of beautiful pictures and noble characters."
+
+     --_The Public Ledger_, Phila.
+
+
+     "Mr. Davis has done his work with a seriousness and dignity that
+     indicate remarkable maturity of mind and of purpose. The plot of
+     his story is stirring, as a portrayal of the times when Julius
+     Cæsar was rising into power could hardly fail to make it; but the
+     characters have not been allowed to degenerate into mere puppets
+     for carrying on the vigorous action. The author's conception of
+     well-known historical characters is extremely interesting. It is
+     no less delightful than surprising to be given a glimpse of the
+     good side of the many-sided Cleopatra. The greatest praise that
+     is due to Mr. Davis, however, is for his skilful management of
+     the historical setting of his book. He is evidently at home in
+     the times of which he writes. Every detail is characteristic, yet
+     his story is not forced to yield place to dissertations upon
+     Roman history and antiquities. He has succeeded in a remarkable
+     degree in making that ancient world live, and in bringing it into
+     close, vital relations with our own times."--Smith College
+     Monthly.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
+
+66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of God Wills It!, by William Stearns Davis
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 41549 ***