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diff --git a/41549-8.txt b/41549-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 6aea8e0..0000000 --- a/41549-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,21361 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of God Wills It!, by William Stearns Davis - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: God Wills It! - A Tale of the First Crusade. - -Author: William Stearns Davis - -Illustrator: Louis Betts - -Release Date: December 4, 2012 [EBook #41549] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GOD WILLS IT! *** - - - - -Produced by sp1nd and the Online Distributed Proofreading -Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from -images generously made available by The Internet Archive) - - - - - -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 CĘSAR" - - 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 Cęsar 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 Cęsar 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 mźlée." - -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 Cęsar 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 Cęsar. 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 -"preėminently august" Cęsar 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 Cęsar 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 Cęsar, -were all looking upon them. The Lady Margaret was turning a warning -face upon Richard, but the Cęsar 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." - -Cęsar 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 Cęsar. "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 Cęsar'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 Cęsar 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. - -"_Māshallah!_ 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 Cęsar's estates." - -"No," was his answer; "I hear that through Venetian merchants, Cęsar -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 Cęsar 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--Cęsar 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 Cęsar 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 Cęsar 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 -Cęsar'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 Cęsar 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 Cęsar 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 Provenēal 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 Provenēal-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 Provenēal. -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 Provenēal 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 Provenēals 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 Provenēal, 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 Provenēal; "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 Provenēal 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 _mźlée_ 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 Cęsar -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 Cęsar, 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 Cęsar, "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 Cęsar 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 Ęschylus; 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 Provenēal 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 Provenēal 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 Provenēal 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 Cęsar, 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 _mźlées_ and bull valor. The Cęsar 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 -Provenēal 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 Provenēal'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 Provenēal, 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 Provenēals, 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 Cęsar 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 Provenēal 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 Provenēal, 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 Provenēal, 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 Provenēal, 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 Provenēal -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 Provenēal 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 _mźlée_, 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, Provenēal, 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 -Provenēals 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 Provenēal 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 Provenēal 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 Provenēal 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 Cęsar 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 Cęsar 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 Cęsar, 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 Cęsar, -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 Cęsar -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 _arričre-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 reėchoed. 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 _mźlée_. - -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 reėcho, 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 Provenēal'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 Dōme 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 cursčd, 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, Lodčve, 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 _mźlée_!" - -"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 fźtes 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 Nicęa 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 Cęsars. 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, Nicęa, 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 Nicęa--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 Nicęa, 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 preėminently august lady!" broke forth the Arab again. "Do you not -remember Hossein, who was in the Cęsar 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 Cęsar 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 Cęsar 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 Provenēals 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 Nicęa 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 Nicęa 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 Nicęa, 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 -reėnforcements came, there was a sturdy _mźlée_--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 Nicęa." - -"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 Dorylęum. 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 aič!_" 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 aič_," 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 Dorylęum, 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 Dorylęum 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 Dorylęum? 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 Nicęa. 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 Provenēal, 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 Provenēal 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 Dorylęum. 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 Seļf 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. Seļf -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 Shirzād, 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 fźte 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 fźte 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 fźte 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 Tūba. 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 blessčd 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 reėntered, 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 Dorylęum. 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 Dorylęum!" cried the Greek, in hot -scorn. "As at Dorylęum!" - -"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 reėntered. - -"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 Dorylęum, 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 Nicęa, of Dorylęum, 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 Nicęa, Dorylęum, -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, -fźtes, 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 Provenēal, -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 Dorylęum,--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 Provenēal, "we meet again at -last, as I have long desired." - -"You are wrong, my emir," interrupted Longsword. "At Dorylęum 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 _Daļs_, 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 ęon 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, ęons -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," reėchoed 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 Provenēal, "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 _daļs_. 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 Dorylęum?" 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 Provenēal, 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 Dorylęum. 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 reėchoed, 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 Dorylęum, 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 Dorylęum, 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 Dorylęum; 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 Aleļs? 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 Provenēal 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 Provenēal 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 Provenēal!" - -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 bonę 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 Nicęa and -Dorylęum, 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 Dorylęum; 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 Provenēals 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 Dorylęum, 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 Nicęa! 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 reėnforcements 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; reėntered 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 Cęsars 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 -reėchoed 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 - Cęsar 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 THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GOD WILLS IT! *** - -***** This file should be named 41549-8.txt or 41549-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/1/5/4/41549/ - -Produced by sp1nd and the Online Distributed Proofreading -Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from -images generously made available by The Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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