present you are in favour with Sinan, who believes you to be the brothers of the lady Rosamund, not her lovers; but from the moment he learns the truth your doom is sealed. Now what the Frank Lozelle knows, that the Al-je-bal may know at any time–and will know, if these should meet.
“Meanwhile, you are free; so to-morrow, while you ride about the garden, as you will do, take note of the tall rock that stands without, and how to reach it from any point, even in the dark. To-morrow, also, when the moon is up, they will lead you to the narrow bridge, to ride your horses to and fro there, that they may learn not to fear it in that light. When you have stabled them go into the gardens and come hither unobserved, as the place being so far away you can do. The guards will let you pass, thinking only that you desire to drink a cup of wine with some fair friend, as is the custom of our guests. Enter this cave–here is the key,” and she handed it to Wulf, “and if I be not there, await me. Then I will tell you my plan, if I have any, but until then I must scheme and think. Now it grows late–go.”
“And you, Masouda,” said Godwin, doubtfully; “how will you escape this place?”
“By a road you do not know of, for I am mistress of the secrets of this city. Still, I thank you for your thought of me. Go, I say, and lock the door behind you.”
So they went in silence, doing as she bade them, and walked back through the gardens, that now seemed empty enough, to the stable-entrance of the guest-house, where the guards admitted them without question.
That night the brethren slept together in one bed, fearing that if they lay separate they might be searched in their sleep and not awake. Indeed, it seemed to them that, as before, they heard footsteps and voices in the darkness.
Next morning, when they had breakfasted, they loitered awhile, hoping to win speech with Rosamund, or sight of her, or at the least that Masouda would come to them; but they saw no Rosamund, and no Masouda came. At length an officer appeared, and beckoned to them to follow him. So they followed, and were led through the halls and passages to the terrace of justice, where Sinan, clad in his black robe, sat as before beneath a canopy m the midst of the sun-lit marble floor. There, too, beside him, also beneath the canopy and gorgeously apparelled, sat Rosamund. They strove to advance and speak with her, but guards came between them, pointing out a place where they must stand a few yards away. Only Wulf said in a loud voice, in English:
“Tell us, Rosamund, is it well with you?” Lifting her pale face, she smiled and nodded.
Then, at the bidding of Sinan, Masouda commanded them to be silent, saying that it was not lawful for them to speak to the Lord of the Mountain, or his Companion, unless they were first bidden so to do. So, having learnt what they wished to know, they were silent.
Now some of the dais drew near the canopy, and consulted with their master on what seemed to be a great matter, for their faces were troubled. Presently he gave an order, whereon they resumed their seats and messengers left the terrace. When they appeared again, in their company were three noble-looking Saracens, who were accompanied by a retinue of servants and wore green turbans, showing that they were descendants of the Prophet. These men, who seemed weary with long travel, marched up the terrace with a proud mien, not looking at the dais or any one until they saw the brethren standing side by side, at whom they stared a little. Next they caught sight of Rosamund sitting in the shadow of the canopy, and bowed to her, but of the Al-je-bal they took no notice.
“Who are you, and what is your pleasure?” asked Sinan, after he had eyed them awhile. “I am the ruler of this country. These are my ministers,” and he pointed to the dais, “and here is my sceptre,” and he touched the bloodred dagger broidered on his robe of black.
Now that Sinan had declared himself the embassy bowed to him, courteously enough. Then their spokesman answered him.
“That sceptre we know; it has been seen afar. Twice already we have cut down its bearers even in the tent of our master. Lord of Murder, we acknowledge the emblem of murder, and we bow to you whose title is the Great Murderer. As for our mission, it is this. We are the ambassadors of Salah-ed-din, Commander of the Faithful, Sultan of the East; in these papers signed with his signet are our credentials, if you would read them.”
“So,” answered Sinan, “I have heard of that chief. What is his will with me?”
“This, Al-je-bal. A Frank in your pay, and a traitor, has betrayed to you a certain lady, niece of Salah-ed-din, the princess of Baalbec, whose father was a Frankish noble named D’Arcy, and who herself is named Rose of the World. The Sultan, Salah-ed-din, having been informed of this matter by his servant, the prince Hassan, who escaped from your soldiers, demands that this lady, his niece, be delivered to him forthwith, and with her the head of the Frank Lozelle.”
“The head of the Frank Lozelle he may have if he will after to-morrow night. The lady I keep,” snarled Sinan.
“What then?”
“Then, Al-je-bal, in the name of Salah-ed-din, we declare war on you–war till this high place of yours is pulled stone from stone; war till your tribe be dead, till the last man, woman, and child be slain, until your carcass is tossed to the crows to feed on.”
Now Sinan rose in fury and rent at his beard.
“Go back,” he said, “and tell that dog you name a sultan, that low as he is, the humble-born son of Ayoub, I, Al-je-bal, do him an honour that he does not observe. My queen is dead, and two days from now, when my month of mourning is expired, I shall take to wife his niece, the princess of Baalbec, who sits here beside me, my bride-elect.”
At these words Rosamund, who had been listening intently, started like one who has been stung by a snake, put her hands before her face and groaned.
“Princess,” said the ambassador, who was watching her, “you seem to understand our language; is this your will, to mate your noble blood with that of the heretic chief of the Assassins ?”
“Nay, nay!” she cried. “It is no will of mine, who am a helpless prisoner and by faith a Christian. If my uncle Salah-ed-din is indeed as great as I have heard, then let him show his power and deliver me, and with me these my brethren, the knights Sir Godwin and Sir Wulf.”
“So you speak Arabic,” said Sinan. “Good; our loving converse will be easier, and for the rest–well, the whims of women change. Now, you messengers of Salah-ed-din, begone, lest I send you on a longer journey, and tell your master that if he dares to lift his standards against my walls my fedais shall speak with him. By day and by night, not for one moment shall he be safe. Poison shall lurk in his cup and a dagger in his bed. Let him kill a hundred of them, and another hundred shall appear. His most trusted guards shall be his executioners. The women in his harem shall bring him to his doom–ay, death shall be in the very air he breathes. If he would escape it, therefore, let him hide himself within the walls of his city of Damascus, or amuse himself with wars against the mad Cross-worshippers, and leave me to live in peace with this lady whom I have chosen.”
“Great words, worthy of the Great Assassin,” said the ambassador.
“Great words in truth, which shall be followed by great deeds. What chance has this lord of yours against a nation sworn to obey to the death? You smile? Then come hither you–and you.” And he summoned two of his dais by name.
They rose and bowed before him.
“Now, my worthy servants,” he said, “show these heretic dogs how you obey, that their master may learn the power of your master. You are old and weary of life. Begone, and await me in Paradise.”
The old men bowed again, trembling a little. Then, straightening themselves, without a word they ran side by side and leapt into the abyss.
“Has Salah-ed-din servants such as these?” asked Sinan in the silence that followed.” Well, what they have done, all would do, if I bid them slay him. Back, now; and, if you will, take these Franks with you, who are my guests, that they may bear witness of what you have seen, and of the state in which you left their sister. Translate to the knights, woman.”
So Masouda translated. Then Godwin answered through her.
“We understand little of this matter, who are ignorant of your tongue, but, O Al-je-bal, ere we leave your sheltering roof we have a quarrel to settle with the man Lozelle. After that, with your permission, we will go, but not before.”
Now Rosamund sighed as if in relief, and Sinan answered:
“As you will; so be it,” adding, “Give these envoys food and drink before they go.”
But their spokesman answered: “We partake not of the bread and salt of murderers, lest we should become of their fellowship. Al-je-bal, we depart, but within a week we appear again in the company of ten thousand spears, and on one of them shall your head be set. Your safe-conduct guards us till the sunset. After that, do your worst, as we do ours. High Princess, our counsel to you is that you slay yourself and so gain immortal honour.”
Then, bowing to her one by one, they turned and marched down the terrace followed by their servants.
Now Sinan waved his hand and the court broke up, Rosamund leaving it first, accompanied by Masouda and escorted by guards, after which the brethren were commanded to depart also.
So they went, talking earnestly of all these things, but save in God finding no hope at all.
Chapter Fourteen: The Combat on the Bridge
“Saladin will come,” said Wulf the hopeful, and from the high place where they stood he pointed to the plain beneath, across which a band of horsemen moved at full gallop. “Look; yonder goes his embassy.”
“Ay,” answered Godwin, “he will come, but, I fear me, too late.”
“Yes, brother, unless we go to meet him. Masouda has promised.”
“Masouda,” sighed Godwin. “Ah! to think that so much should hang upon the faithfulness of one woman.”
“It does not hang on her,” said Wulf; “it hangs on Fate, who writes with her finger. Come, let us ride.”
So, followed by their escort, they rode in the gardens, taking note, without seeming to do so, of the position of the tall rock, and of how it could be approached from every side. Then they went in again and waited for some sign or word of Rosamund, but in vain. That night there was no feast, and their meal was brought to them in the guest-house. While they sat at it Masouda appeared for a moment to tell them that they had leave to ride the bridge in the moonlight, and that their escort would await them at a certain hour.
The brethren asked if their sister Rosamund was not coming to dine with them. Masouda answered that as the queen-elect of the Al-je-bal it was not lawful that she should eat with any other men, even her brothers. Then as she passed out, stumbling as though by accident, she brushed against Godwin, and muttered:
“Remember, to-night,” and was gone.
When the moon had been up an hour the officer of their escort appeared, and led them to their horses, which were waiting, and they rode away to the castle bridge. As they approached it they saw Lozelle departing on his great black stallion, which was in a lather of foam. It seemed that he also had made trial of that perilous path, for the people, of whom there were many gathered there, clapped their hands and shouted, “Well ridden, Frank! well ridden!”
Now, Godwin leading on Flame, they faced the bridge and walked their horses over it. Nor did these hang back, although they snorted a little at the black gulf on either side. Next they returned at a trot, then over again, and yet again at a canter and a gallop, sometimes together and sometimes singly. Lastly, Wulf made Godwin halt in the middle of the bridge and galloped down upon him at speed, till within a lance’s length. Then suddenly he checked his horse, and while his audience shouted, wheeled it around on its hind legs, its forehoofs beating the air, and galloped back again, followed by Godwin.
“All went well,” Wulf said as they rode to the castle, “and nobler or more gentle horses were never crossed by men. I have good hopes for to-morrow night.”
“Ay, brother, but I had no sword in my hand. Be not over confident, for Lozelle is desperate and a skilled fighter, as I know who have stood face to face with him. More over, his black stallion is well trained, and has more weight than ours. Also, yonder is a fearsome place on which to ride a course, and one of which none but that devil Sinan would have thought.”
“I shall do my best,” answered Wulf, “and if I fall, why, then, act upon your own counsel. At least, let him not kill both of us.”
Having stabled their horses the brethren wandered into the garden, and, avoiding the cup-bearing women and the men they plied with their drugged drink, drew by a roundabout road to the tall rock. Then, finding themselves alone, they unlocked the door, and slipping through it, locked it again on the further side and groped their way to the moonlit mouth of the cave. Here they stood awhile studying the descent of the gulf as best they could in that light, till suddenly Godwin, feeling a hand upon his shoulder, started round to find himself face to face with Masouda.
“How did you come?” he asked.
“By a road in which is your only hope,” she answered. “Now, Sir Godwin, waste no words, for my time is short, but if you think that you can trust me– and this is for you to judge–give me the Signet which hangs about your neck. If not, go back to the castle and do your best to save the lady Rosamund and yourselves.”
Thrusting down his hand between his mail shirt and his breast, Godwin drew out the ancient ring, carved with the mysterious signs and veined with the emblem of the dagger, and handed it to Masouda.
“You trust indeed,” she said with a little laugh, as, after scanning it closely by the light of the moon and touching her forehead with it, she hid it in her bosom.
“Yes, lady,” he answered, “I trust you, though why you should risk so much for us I do not know.”
“Why? Well, perhaps for hate’s sake, for Sinan does not rule by love; perhaps because, being of a wild blood, I am willing to set my life at hazard, who care not if I win or die; perhaps because you saved me from the lioness. What is it to you, Sir Godwin, why a certain woman-spy of the Assassins, whom in your own land you would spit on, chooses to do this or that?”
She ceased and stood before him with heaving breast and flashing eyes, a mysterious white figure in the moonlight, most beautiful to see.
Godwin felt his heart stir and the blood flow to his brow, but before he could speak Wulf broke in, saying:
“You bade us spare words, lady Masouda, so tell us what we must do.”
“This,” she answered, becoming calm again. “Tomorrow night about this hour you fight Lozelle upon the narrow way. That is certain, for all the city talks of it, and, whatever chances, Al-je-bal will not deprive them of the spectacle of this fray to the death. Well, you may fall, though that man at heart is a coward, which you are not, for here courage alone will avail nothing, but rather skill and horsemanship and trick of war. If so, then Sir Godwin fights him, and of this business none can tell the end. Should both of you go down, then I will do my best to save your lady and take her to Salah-ed-din, with whom she will be safe, or if I cannot save her I will find her a means to save herself by death.”
“You swear that?” said Wulf.
“I have said it; it is enough,” she answered impatiently.
“Then I face the bridge and the knave Lozelle with a light heart,” said Wulf again, and Masouda went on.
“Now if you conquer, Sir Wulf, or if your fall and your brother conquers, both of you–or one of you, as it may happen–must gallop back at full speed toward the stable gate that lies more than a mile from the castle bridge. Mounted as you are, no horse can keep pace with you, nor must you stop at the gate, but ride on, ride like the wind till you reach this place. The gardens will be empty of feasters and of cup-bearers, who with every soul within the city will have gathered on the walls and on the house-tops to see the fray. There is but one fear–by then a guard may be set before this mound, seeing that Salah-ed-din has declared war upon Al-je-bal, and though yonder road is known to few, it is a road, and sentries may watch here. If so, you must cut them down or be cut down, and bring your story to an end. Sir Godwin, here is another key that you may use if you are alone. Take it.”
He did so, and she continued:
“Now if both of you, or one of you, win through to this cave, enter with your horses, lock the door, bar it, and wait. It may be I will join you here with the princess But if I do not come by the dawn and you are not discovered and overwhelmed–which should not be, seeing that one man can hold that door against many–then know that the worst has happened, and fly to Salah-ed-din and tell him of this road, by which he may take vengeance upon his foe Sinan. Only then, I pray you, doubt not that I have done my best, who if I fail must die- most horribly. Now, farewell, until we meet again or–do not meet again. Go; you know the road.”
They turned to obey, but when they had gone a few paces Godwin looked round and saw Masouda watching them. The moonlight shone full upon her face, and by it he saw also that tears were running from her dark and tender eyes. Back he came again, and with him Wulf, for that sight drew them. Down he bent before her till his knee touched the ground, and, taking her hand, he kissed it, and said in his gentle voice:
“Henceforth through life, through death, we serve two ladies,” and what he did Wulf did also.
“Mayhap,” she answered sadly; “two ladies–but one love.”
Then they went, and, creeping through the bushes to the path, wandered about awhile among the revellers and came to the guest-house safely.
Once more it was night, and high above the mountain fortress of Masyaf shone the full summer moon, lighting crag and tower as with some vast silver lamp. Forth from the guest-house gate rode the brethren, side by side upon their splendid steeds, and the moon-rays sparkled on their coats of mail, their polished bucklers, blazoned with the cognizance of a grinning skull, their close-fitting helms, and the points of the long, tough lances that had been given them. Round them rode their escort, while in front and behind went a mob of people.
The nation of the Assassins had thrown off its gloom this night, for the while it was no longer oppressed even by the fear of attack from Saladin, its mighty foe. To death it was accustomed; death was its watchword; death in many dreadful forms its daily bread. From the walls of Masyaf, day by day, fedais went out to murder this great one, or that great one, at the bidding of their lord Sinan.
For the most part they came not back again; they waited week by week, month by month, year by year, till the moment was ripe, then gave the poisoned cup or drove home the dagger, and escaped or were slain. Death waited them abroad, and if they failed, death waited them at home. Their dreadful caliph was himself a sword of death. At his will they hurled themselves from towers or from precipices; to satisfy his policy they sacrificed their wives and children. And their reward–in life, the drugged cup and voluptuous dreams; after it, as they believed, a still more voluptuous paradise.
All forms of human agony and doom were known to this people; but now they were promised an unfamiliar sight, that of Frankish knights slaying each other in single combat beneath the silent moon, tilting at full gallop upon a narrow place where many might hesitate to walk, and– oh, joy!–falling perchance, horse and rider together, into the depths below. So they were happy, for to them this was a night of festival, to be followed by a morrow of still greater festival, when their sultan and their god took to himself this stranger beauty as a wife. Doubtless, too, he would soon weary of her, and they would be called together to see her cast from some topmost tower and hear her frail bones break on the cruel rocks below, or–as had happened to the last queen–to watch her writhe out her life in the pangs of poison upon a charge of sorcery. It was indeed a night of festival, a night filled full of promise of rich joys to come.
On rode the brethren, with stern, impassive faces, but wondering in their hearts whether they would live to see another dawn. The shouting crowd surged round them, breaking through the circle of their guards. A hand was thrust up to Godwin; in it was a letter, which he took and read by the bright moonlight. It was written in English, and brief:
“I cannot speak with you. God be with you both, my brothers, God and the spirit of my father. Strike home, Wulf, strike home, Godwin, and fear not for me who will guard myself. Conquer or die, and in life or death, await me. To-morrow, in the flesh, or in the spirit, we will talk– Rosamund.”
Godwin handed the paper to Wulf, and, as he did so, saw that the guards had caught its bearer, a withered, grey-haired woman. They asked her some questions, but she shook her head. Then they cast her down, trampled the life out of her beneath their horses’ hoofs, and went on laughing. The mob laughed also.
“Tear that paper up,” said Godwin. Wulf did so, saying:
“Our Rosamund has a brave heart. Well, we are of the same blood, and will not fail her.”
Now they were come to the open space in front of the narrow bridge, where, tier on tier, the multitude were ranged, kept back from its centre by lines of guards. On the flat roofed houses also they were crowded thick as swarming bees, on the circling walls, and on the battlements that protected the far end of the bridge, and the houses of the outer city. Before the bridge was a low gateway, and upon its roof sat the Al-je-bal, clad in his scarlet robe of festival, and by his side, the moonlight gleaming on her jewels, Rosamund. In front, draped in a rich garment, a dagger of gems in her dark hair, stood the interpreter or “mouth” Masouda, and behind were dais and guards.
The brethren rode to the space before the arch and halted, saluting with their pennoned spears. Then from the further side advanced another procession, which, opening, revealed the knight Lozelle riding on his great black horse, and a huge man and a fierce he seemed in his armour.
“What!” he shouted, glowering at them. “Am I to fight one against two? Is this your chivalry?”
“Nay, nay, Sir Traitor,” answered Wulf. “Nay, nay betrayer of Christian maids to the power of the heathen dog; you have fought Godwin, now it is the turn of Wulf. Kill Wulf and Godwin remains. Kill Godwin and God remains. Knave, you look your last upon the moon.”
Lozelle heard, and seemed to go mad with rage, or fear, or both.
“Lord Sinan,” he shouted in Arabic, “this is murder. Am I, who have done you so much service, to be butchered for your pleasure by the lovers of that woman, whom you would honour with the name of wife?”
Sinan heard, and stared at him with dull, angry eyes.
“Ay, you may stare, “went on the maddened Lozelle, “but it is true–they are her lovers, not her brothers. Would men take so much pains for a sister’s sake, think you? Would they swim into this net of yours for a sister’s sake?”
Sinan held up his hand for silence.
“Let the lots be cast,” he said, “for whatever these men are, this fight must go on, and it shall be fair.”
So a dai, standing by himself, cast lots upon the ground, and having read them, announced that Lozelle must run the first course from the further side of the bridge. Then one took his bridle to lead him across. As he passed the brethren he grinned in their faces and said:
“At least this is sure, you also look your last upon the moon. I am avenged already. The bait that hooked me is a meal for yonder pike, and he will kill you both before her eyes to whet his appetite.”
But the brethren answered nothing.
The black horse of Lozelle grew dim in the distance of the moonlit bridge, and vanished beneath the farther archway that led to the outer city. Then a herald cried, Masouda translating his words, which another herald echoed from beyond the gulf.
“Thrice will the trumpets blow. At the third blast of the trumpets the knights shall charge and meet in the centre of the bridge. Thenceforward they may fight as it pleases them, ahorse, or afoot, with lance, with sword, or with dagger, but to the vanquished no mercy will be shown. If he be brought living from the bridge, living he shall be cast into the gulf. Hear the decree of the Al-je-bal!”
Then Wulf’s horse was led forward to the entrance of the bridge, and from the further side was led forward the horse of Lozelle.
“Good luck, brother,” said Godwin, as he passed him. “Would that I rode this course instead of you.”
“Your turn may come, brother,” answered the grim Wulf, as he set his lance in rest.
Now from some neighbouring tower pealed out the first long blast of trumpets, and dead silence fell on all the multitude. Grooms came forward to look to girth and bridle and stirrup strap, but Wulf waved them back.
“I mind my own harness,” he said.
The second blast blew, and he loosened the great sword in its scabbard, that sword which had flamed in his forbear’s hand upon the turrets of Jerusalem.
“Your gift,” he cried back to Rosamund, and her answer came clear and sweet:
“Bear it like your fathers, Wulf. Bear it as it was last borne in the hall at Steeple.”
Then there was another silence–a silence long and deep. Wulf looked at the white and narrow ribbon of the bridge, looked at the black gulf on either side, looked at the blue sky above, in which floated the great globe of the golden moon. Then he leant forward and patted Smoke upon the neck.
For the third time the trumpets blew, and from either end of that bridge, two hundred paces long, the knights flashed towards each other like living bolts of steel. The multitude rose to watch; even Sinan rose. Only Rosamund sat still, gripping the cushions with her hands. Hollow rang the hoofs of the horses upon the stonework, swifter and swifter they flew, lower and lower bent the knights upon their saddles. Now they were near, and now they met. The spears seemed to shiver, the horses to hustle together on the narrow way and overhang its edge, then on came the black horse towards the inner city, and on sped Smoke towards the further gulf.
“They have passed! They have passed!” roared the multitude.
Look! Lozelle approached, reeling in his saddle, as well he might, for the helm was torn from his head and blood ran from his skull where the lance had grazed it.
“Too high, Wulf; too high,” said Godwin sadly. “But oh! if those laces had but held!”
Soldiers caught the horse and turned it.
“Another helm!” cried Lozelle.
“Nay,” answered Sinan; “yonder knight has lost his shield. New lances–that is all.”
So they gave him a fresh lance, and, presently, at the blast of the trumpets again the horses were seen speeding together over the narrow way. They met, and lo! Lozelle, torn from his saddle, but still clinging to the reins, was flung backwards, far backwards, to fall on the stonework of the bridge. Down, too, beneath the mighty shock went his black horse, a huddled heap, and lay there struggling.
“Wulf will fall over him!” cried Rosamund. But Smoke did not fall; the stallion gathered itself together–the moonlight shone so clear that every watcher saw it–and since stop it could not, leapt straight over the fallen black horse–ay, and over the rider beyond–and sped on in its stride. Then the black found its feet again and galloped forward to the further gate, and Lozelle also found his feet and turned to run.
“Stand! Stand, coward!” yelled ten thousand voices, and, hearing them, he drew his sword and stood.
Within three great strides Wulf dragged his charger to its haunches, then wheeled it round.
“Charge him!” shouted the multitude; but Wulf remained seated, as though unwilling to attack a horseless man. Next he sprang from his saddle, and accompanied by the horse Smoke, which followed him as a dog follows its master, walked slowly towards Lozelle, as he walked casting away his lance and drawing the great, cross-hilted sword.
Again the silence fell, and through it rang the cry of Godwin:
“A D ‘Arcy! A D ‘Arcy!”
“A D’Arcy! A D’Arcy!” came back Wulf’s answer from the bridge, and his voice echoed thin and hollow in the spaces of the gulf. Yet they rejoiced to hear it, for it told them that he was sound and strong.
Wulf had no shield and Lozelle had no helm–the fight was even. They crouched opposite each other, the swords flashed aloft in the moonlight; from far away came the distant clank of steel, a soft, continual clamour of iron on iron. A blow fell on Wulf’s mail, who had nought wherewith to guard himself, and he staggered back. Another blow, another, and another, and back, still back he reeled–back to the edge of the bridge, back till he struck against the horse that stood behind him, and, resting there a moment, as it seemed, regained his balance.
Then there was a change. Look, he rushed forward, wielding the great blade in both hands. The stroke lit upon Lozelle’s shield and seemed to shear it in two, for in that stillness all could hear the clang of its upper half as it fell upon the stones. Beneath the weight of it he staggered, sank to his knee, gained his feet again, and in his turn gave back. Yes, now it was Lozelle who rocked and reeled. Ay, by St. Chad! Lozelle who went down beneath that mighty blow which missed the head but fell upon his shoulder, and lay there like a log, till presently the moonlight shone upon his mailed hand stretched upward in a prayer for mercy. From house-top and terrace wall, from soaring gates and battlements, the multitude of the people of the Assassins gathered on either side the gulf broke into a roar that beat up the mountain sides like a voice of thunder. And the roar shaped itself to these words:
“Kill him! kill him! kill him!”
Sinan held up his hand, and a sudden silence fell. Then he, too, screamed in his thin voice:
“Kill him! He is conquered!”
But the great Wulf only leaned upon the cross-handle of his brand, and looked at the fallen foe. Presently he seemed to speak with him; then Lozelle lifted the blade that lay beside him and gave it to him in token of surrender. Wulf handled it awhile, shook it on high in triumph, and whirled it about his head till it shone in the moonlight. Next, with a shout he cast it from him far into the gulf, where it was seen for a moment, an arc of gleaming light, and the next was gone.
Now, taking no more heed of the conquered knight, Wulf turned and began to walk towards his horse.
Scarcely was his back towards him when Lozelle was on his feet again, a dagger in his hand.
“Look behind you!” yelled Godwin; but the spectators, pleased that the fight was not yet done, broke into a roar of cheers. Wulf heard and swung round. As he faced Lozelle the dagger struck him on the breast, and well must it have been for him that his mail was good. To use his sword he had neither space nor time, but ere the next stroke could fall Wulf’s arms were about Lozelle, and the fight for life begun.
To and fro they reeled and staggered, whirling round and round, till none could tell which of them was Wulf or which his foe. Now they were on the edge of the abyss, and, in that last dread strain for mastery, seemed to stand there still as stone. Then one man began to bend down. See! his head hung over. Further and further he bent, but his arms could not be loosened.
“They will both go!” cried the multitude in their joy.
Look! A dagger flashed. Once, twice, thrice it gleamed, and those wrestlers fell apart, while from deep down in the gulf came the thud of a fallen body.
“Which–oh, which?” cried Rosamund from her battlement.
“Sir Hugh Lozelle,” answered Godwin in a solemn voice.
Then the head of Rosamund fell forward on her breast, and for a while she seemed to sleep.
Wulf went to his horse, turned it about on the bridge, and throwing his arm around its neck, rested for a space. Then he mounted and walked slowly towards the inner gate. Pushing through the guard and officers, Godwin rode out to meet him.
“Bravely done, brother,” he said, when they came face to face. “Say, are you hurt?”
“Bruised and shaken–no more,” answered Wulf.
“A good beginning, truly. Now for the rest,” said Godwin. Then he glanced over his shoulder, and added, “See, they are leading Rosamund away, but Sinan remains, to speak with you doubtless, for Masouda beckons.”
“What shall we do?” asked Wulf. “Make a plan, brother, for my head swims.”
“Hear what he has to say. Then, as your horse is not wounded either, ride for it when I give the signal as Masouda bade us. There is no other way. Pretend that you are wounded.”
So, Godwin leading, while the multitude roared a welcome to the conquering Wulf who had borne himself so bravely for their pleasure, they rode to the mouth of the bridge and halted in the little space before the archway. There Al-je-bal spoke by Masouda.
“A noble fray,” he said. “I did not think that Franks could fight so well; Say, Sir Knight, will you feast with me in my palace?”
“I thank you, lord,” answered Wulf, “but I must rest while my brother tends my hurts,” and he pointed to blood upon his mail. “To-morrow, if it pleases you.”
Sinan stared at them and stroked his beard, while they trembled, waiting for the word of fate.
It came.
“Good. So be it. To-morrow I wed the lady Rose of Roses, and you two–her brothers–shall give her to me, as is fitting,” and he sneered. “Then also you shall receive the reward of valour–a great reward, I promise you.”
While he spoke Godwin, staring upward, had noted a little wandering cloud floating across the moon. Slowly it covered it, and the place grew dim.
“Now,” he whispered, and bowing to the Al-je-bal, they pushed their horses through the open gate where the mob closed in on them, thus for a little while holding back the escort from following on their heels. They spoke to Flame and Smoke, and the good horses plunged onward side by side, separating the crowd as the prows of boats separate the water. In ten paces it grew thin, in thirty it was behind them, for all folk were gathered about the archway where they could see, and none beyond. Forward they cantered, till the broad road turned to the left, and in that faint light they were hidden.
“Away!” said Godwin, shaking his reins.
Forward leapt the horses at speed. Again Godwin turned, taking that road which ran round the city wall and through the gardens, leaving the guest-castle to the left, whereas their escort followed that whereby they had come, which passed along the main street of the inner town, thinking that they were ahead of them. Three minutes more and they were in the lonely gardens, in which that night no women wandered and no neophytes dreamed in the pavilions.
“Wulf,” said Godwin, as they swept forward, skimming the turf like swallows, “draw your sword and be ready. Remember the secret cave may be guarded, and, if so, we must kill or be killed.”
Wulf nodded, and next instant two long blades flashed in the moonlight, for the little cloud had passed away. Within a hundred paces of them rose the tall rock, but between it and the mound were two mounted guards. These heard the beating of horses’ hoofs, and wheeling about, stared to see two armed knights sweeping down upon them like a whirlwind. They called to them to stop, hesitating, then rode forward a few paces, as though wondering whether this were not a vision.
In a moment the brethren were on them. The soldiers lifted their lances, but ere they could thrust the sword of Godwin had caught one between neck and shoulder and sunk to his breast bone, while the sword of Wulf, used as a spear, had pierced the other through and through, so that those men fell dead by the door of the mound, never knowing who had slain them.
The brethren pulled upon their bridles and spoke to Flame and Smoke, halting them within a score of yards. Then they wheeled round and sprang from their saddles. One of the dead guards still held his horses’s reins, and the other beast stood by snorting. Godwin caught it before it stirred, then, holding all four of them, threw the key to Wulf and bade him unlock the door. Soon it was done, although he staggered at the task; then he held the horses, while one by one Godwin led them in, and that without trouble, for the beasts thought that this was but a cave-hewn stable of a kind to which they were accustomed.
“What of the dead men?” said Wulf.
“They had best keep us company,” answered Godwin, and, running out, he carried in first one and then the other.
“Swift!” he said, as he threw down the second corpse. “Shut the door. I caught sight of horsemen riding through the trees. Nay, they saw nothing.”
So they locked the massive door and barred it, and with beating hearts waited in the dark, expecting every moment to hear soldiers battering at its timbers. But no sound came; the searchers, if such they were, had passed on to seek elsewhere.
Now while Wulf made shift to fasten up the horses near the mouth of the cave, Godwin gathered stones as large as he could lift, and piled them up against the door, till they knew that it would take many men an hour or more to break through.
For this door was banded with iron and set fast in the living rock.
Chapter Fifteen: The Flight to Emesa
Then came the weariest time of waiting the brethren had ever known, or were to know, although at first they did not feel it so long and heavy. Water trickled from the walls of this cave, and Wulf, who was parched with thirst, gathered it in his hands and drank till he was satisfied. Then he let it run upon his head to cool its aching; and Godwin bathed such of his brother’s hurts and bruises as could be come at, for he did not dare to remove the hauberk, and so gave him comfort.
When this was done, and he had looked to the saddles and trappings of the horses, Wulf told of all that had passed between him and Lozelle on the bridge. How at the first onset his spear had caught in the links of and torn away the head-piece of his foe, who, if the lacings had not burst, would have been hurled to death, while that of Lozelle struck his buckler fair and shattered on it, rending it from his arm. How they pushed past each other, and for a moment the fore hoofs of Smoke hung over the abyss, so that he thought he was surely sped: How at the next course Lozelle’s spear passed beneath his arm, while his, striking full upon Sir Hugh’s breast, brought down the black horse and his rider as though a thunderbolt had smitten them, and how Smoke, that could not check its furious pace, leapt over them, as a horse leaps a-hunting: How he would not ride down Lozelle, but dismounted to finish the fray in knightly fashion, and, being shieldless, received the full weight of the great sword upon his mail, so that he staggered back and would have fallen had he not struck against the horse.
Then he told of the blows that followed, and of his last that wounded Lozelle, shearing through his mail and felling him as an ox is felled by the butcher: How also, when he sprang forward to kill him, this mighty and brutal man had prayed for mercy, prayed it in the name of Christ and of their own mother, whom as a child he knew in Essex: How he could not slaughter him, being helpless, but turned away, saying that he left him to be dealt with by Al-je-bal, whereupon this traitorous dog sprang up and strove to knife him. He told also of their last fearful struggle, and how, shaken as he was by the blow upon his back, although the point of the dagger had not pierced his mail, he strove with Lozelle, man to man; till at length his youth, great natural strength, and the skill he had in wrestling, learnt in many a village bout at home, enabled him to prevail, and, while they hung together on the perilous edge of the gulf, to free his right hand, draw his poniard, and make an end.
“Yet,” added Wulf, “never shall I forget the look of that man’s eyes as he fell backwards, or the whistling scream which came from his pierced throat.”
“At least there is a rogue the less in the world, although he was a brave one in his own knavish fashion,” answered Godwin. “Moreover, my brother,” he added, placing his arm about Wulf’s neck, “I am glad it fell to you to fight him, for at the last grip your might overcame, where I, who am not so strong, should have failed. Further, I think you did well to show mercy, as a good knight should; that thereby you have gained great honour, and that if his spirit can see through the darkness, our dead uncle is proud of you now, as I am, my brother.”
“I thank you,” replied Wulf simply; “but, in this hour of torment, who can think of such things as honour gained?”
Then, lest he should grow stiff, who was sorely bruised beneath his mail, they began to walk up and down the cave from where the horses stood to where the two dead Assassins lay by the door, the faint light gleaming upon their stern, dark features. III company they seemed in that silent, lonely place.
The time crept on; the moon sank towards the mountains.
“What if they do not come?” asked Wulf.
“Let us wait to think of it till dawn,” answered Godwin.
Again they walked the length of the cave and back.
“How can they come, the door being barred?” asked Wulf.
“How did Masouda come and go?” answered Godwin. “Oh, question me no more; it is in the hand of God.”
“Look,” said Wulf, in a whisper. “Who stand yonder at the end of the cave–there by the dead men?”
“Their spirits, perchance,” answered Godwin, drawing his sword and leaning forward. Then he looked, and true enough there stood two figures faintly outlined in the gloom. They glided towards them, and now the level moonlight shone upon their white robes and gleamed in the gems they wore.
“I cannot see them,” said a voice. “Oh, those dead soldiers–what do they portend ? “
“At least yonder stand their horses,” answered another voice.
Now the brethren guessed the truth, and, like men in a dream, stepped forward from the shadow of the wall.
“Rosamund!” they said.
“Oh Godwin! oh Wulf!” she cried in answer. “Oh, Jesu, I thank Thee, I thank Thee–Thee, and this brave woman!” and, casting her arms about Masouda, she kissed her on the face.
Masouda pushed her back, and said, in a voice that was almost harsh: “It is not fitting, Princess, that your pure lips should touch the cheek of a woman of the Assassins.”
But Rosamund would not be repulsed.
“It is most fitting,” she sobbed, “that I should give you thanks who but for you must also have become ‘a woman of the Assassins,’ or an inhabitant of the House of Death.”
Then Masouda kissed her back, and, thrusting her away into the arms of Wulf, said roughly:
“So, pilgrims Peter and John, your patron saints have brought you through so far; and, John, you fight right well. Nay, do not stop for our story, if you wish us to live to tell it. What! You have the soldiers’ horses with your own? Well done! I did not credit you with so much wit. Now, Sir Wulf, can you walk? Yes; so much the better; it will save you a rough ride, for this place is steep, though not so steep as one you know of. Now set the princess upon Flame, for no cat is surer-footed than that horse, as you may remember, Peter. I who know the path will lead it. John, take you the other two; Peter, do you follow last of all with Smoke, and, if they hang back, prick them with your sword. Come, Flame, be not afraid, Flame. Where I go, you can come,” and Masouda thrust her way through the bushes and over the edge of the cliff, talking to the snorting horse and patting its neck.
A minute more, and they were scrambling down a mountain ridge so steep that it seemed as though they must fall and be dashed to pieces at the bottom. Yet they fell not, for, made as it had been to meet such hours of need, this road was safer than it appeared, with ridges cut in the rock at the worst places.
Down they went, and down, till at length, panting, but safe, they stood at the bottom of the darksome gulf where only the starlight shone, for here the rays of the low moon could not reach.
“Mount,” said Masouda. “Princess, stay you on Flame; he is the surest and the swiftest. Sir Wulf, keep your own horse Smoke; your brother and I will ride those of the soldiers. Though not very swift, doubtless they are good beasts, and accustomed to such roads.” Then she leapt to the saddle as a woman born in the desert can, and pushed her horse in front.
For a mile or more Masouda led them along the rocky bottom of the gulf, where because of the stones they could only travel at a foot pace, till they came to a deep cleft on the left hand, up which they began to ride. By now the moon was quite behind the mountains, and such faint light as came from the stars began to be obscured with drifting clouds. Still, they stumbled on till they reached a little glade where water ran and grass grew.
“Halt,” said Masouda. “Here we must wait till dawn for in this darkness the horses cannot keep their footing on the stones. Moreover, all about us lie precipices, over one of which we might fall.”
“But they will pursue us,” pleaded Rosamund.
“Not until they have light to see by,” answered Masouda, “or at least we must take the risk, for to go forward would be madness. Sit down and rest a while, and let the horses drink a little and eat a mouthful of grass, holding their reins in our hands, for we and they may need all our strength before to-morrow’s sun is set. Sir Wulf, say, are you much hurt?”
“But very little,” he answered in a cheerful voice; “a few bruises beneath my mail–that is all, for Lozelle’s sword was heavy. Tell us, I pray you, what happened after we rode away from the castle bridge.”
“This, knights. The princess here, being overcome, was escorted by the slaves back to her chambers, but Sinan bade me stay with him awhile that he might speak to you through me. Do you know what was in his mind? To have you killed at once, both of you, whom Lozelle had told him were this lady’s lovers, and not her brothers. Only he feared that there might be trouble with the people, who were pleased with the fighting, so held his hand. Then he bade you to the supper, whence you would not have returned; but when Sir Wulf said that he was hurt, I whispered to him that what he wished to do could best be done on the morrow at the wedding-feast when he was in his own halls, surrounded by his guards.
” ‘Ay,’ he answered, ‘these brethren shall fight with them until they are driven into the gulf. It will be a goodly sight for me and my queen to see.’ “
“Oh! horrible, horrible!” said Rosamund; while Godwin muttered:
“I swear that I would have fought, not with his guards, but with Sinan only.”
“So he suffered you to go, and I left him also. Before I went he spoke to me, bidding me bring the princess to him privately within two hours after we had supped, as he wished to speak to her alone about the ceremony of her marriage on the morrow, and to make her gifts. I answered aloud that his commands should be obeyed, and hurried to the guest-castle. There I found your lady recovered from her faintness, but mad with fear, and forced her to eat and drink.
“The rest is short. Before the two hours were gone a messenger came, saying that the Al-je-bal bade me do what he had commanded.
” ‘Return,’ I answered; ‘the princess adorns herself. We follow presently alone, as it is commanded.’
“Then I threw this cloak about her and bade her be brave, and, if we failed, to choose whether she would take Sinan or death for lord. Next, I took the ring you had, the Signet of the dead Al-je-bal, who gave it to your kinsman, and held it before the slaves, who bowed and let me pass. We came to the guards, and to them again I showed the ring. They bowed also, but when they saw that we turned down the passage to the left and not to the right, as we should have done to come to the doors of the inner palace, they would have stopped us.
” ‘Acknowledge the Signet,’ I answered. ‘Dogs, what is it to you which road the Signet takes?’ Then they also let us pass.
“Now, following the passage, we were out of the guest house and in the gardens, and I led her to what is called the prison tower, whence runs the secret way. Here were more guards whom I bade open in the name of Sinan.
They said: ‘We obey not. This place is shut save to the Signet itself.’
” ‘Behold it!’ I answered. The officer looked and said: ‘It is the very Signet, sure enough, and there is no other.’
Yet he paused, studying the black stone veined with the red dagger and the ancient writing on it.
” ‘Are you, then, weary of life?’ I asked. ‘Fool, the Al-je-bal himself would keep a tryst within this house, which he enters secretly from the palace. Woe to you if he does not find his lady there!’
” ‘It is the Signet that he must have sent, sure enough,’ the captain said again, ‘to disobey which is death.’
‘Yes, open, open,’ whispered his companions.
“So they opened, though doubtfully, and we entered, and I barred the door behind us. Then, to be short, through the darkness of the tower basement, guiding ourselves by the wall, we crept to the entrance of that way of which I know the secret. Ay, and along all its length and through the rock door of escape at the end of which I set so that none can turn it, save skilled masons with their tools, and into the cave where we found you. It was no great matter, having the Signet, although without the Signet it had not been possible to-night, when every gate is guarded.”
“No great matter!” gasped Rosamund. “Oh, Godwin and Wulf! if you could know how she thought of and made ready everything; if you could have seen how all those cruel men glared at us, searching out our very souls! If you could have heard how high she answered them, waving that ring before their eyes and bidding them to obey its presence, or to die!”
“Which they surely have done by now,” broke in Masouda quietly, “though I do not pity them, who were wicked. Nay; thank me not; I have done what I promised to do, neither less nor more, and–I love danger and a high stake. Tell us your story, Sir Godwin.”
So, seated there on the grass in the darkness, he told them of their mad ride and of the slaying of the guards, while Rosamund raised her hands and thanked Heaven for its mercies, and that they were without those accursed walls.
“You may be within them again before sunset,” said Masouda grimly.
“Yes,” answered Wulf, “but not alive. Now what plan have you? To ride for the coast towns?”
“No,” replied Masouda; “at least not straight, since to do so we must pass through the country of the Assassins, who by this day’s light will be warned to watch for us. We must ride through the desert mountain lands to Emesa, many miles away, and cross the Orontes there, then down into Baalbec, and so back to Beirut.”
“Emesa?” said Godwin. “Why Saladin holds that place, and of Baalbec the lady Rosamund is princess.”
“Which is best?” asked Masouda shortly. “That she should fall into the hands of Salah-ed-din, or back into those of the master of the Assassins? Choose which you wish.”
“I choose Salah-ed-din,” broke in Rosamund, “for at least he is my uncle, and will do me no wrong.” Nor, knowing the case, did the others gainsay her.
Now at length the summer day began to break, and while it was still too dark to travel, Godwin and Rosamund let the horses graze, holding them by their bridles. Masouda, also, taking off the hauberk of Wulf, doctored his bruises as best she could with the crushed leaves of a bush that grew by the stream, having first washed them with water, and though the time was short, eased him much. Then, so soon as the dawn was grey, having drunk their fill and, as they had nothing else, eaten some watercress that grew in the stream, they tightened their saddle girths and started. Scarcely had they gone a hundred yards when, from the gulf beneath, that was hidden in grey mists, they heard the sound of horse’s hoofs and men’s voices.
“Push on,” said Masouda, “Al-je-bal is on our tracks.”
Upwards they climbed through the gathering light, skirting the edge of dreadful precipices which in the gloom it would have been impossible to pass, till at length they reached a great table land, that ran to the foot of some mountains a dozen miles or more away. Among those mountains soared two peaks, set close together. To these Masouda pointed, saying that their road ran between them, and that beyond lay the valley of the Orontes. While she spoke, far behind them they heard the sound of men shouting, although they could see nothing because of the dense mist.
“Push on,” said Masouda; “there is no time to spare,” and they went forward, but only at a hand gallop, for the ground was still rough and the light uncertain.
When they had covered some six miles of the distance between them and the mountain pass, the sun rose suddenly and sucked up the mist. This was what they saw. Before them lay a flat, sandy plain; behind, the stony ground that they had traversed, and riding over it, two miles from them, some twenty men of the Assassins.
“They cannot catch us,” said Wulf; but Masouda pointed to the right, where the mist still hung, and said:
“Yonder I see spears.”
Presently it thinned, and there a league away they saw a great body of mounted soldiers–perhaps there were four hundred.
“Look,” she said; “they have come round during the night, as I feared they would. Now we must cross the path before them or be taken,” and she struck her horse fiercely with a stick she had cut at the stream. Half a mile further on a shout from the great body of men to their right, which was answered by another shout from those behind, told them that they were seen.
“On!” said Masouda. “The race will be close.” So they began to gallop their best.
Two miles were done, but although that behind was far off, the great cloud of dust to their right grew ever nearer till it seemed as though it must reach the mouth of the mountain pass before them. Then Godwin spoke:
“Wulf and Rosamund ride on. Your horses are swift and can outpace them. At the crest of the mountain pass wait a while to breathe the beasts, and see if we come. If not, ride on again, and God be with you.”
“Ay,” said Masouda, “ride and head for the Emesa bridge–it can be seen from far–and there yield yourselves to the officers of Salah-ed-din.”
They hung back, but in a stern voice Godwin repeated:
“Ride, I command you both.”
“For Rosamund’s sake, so be it,” answered Wulf.
Then he called to Smoke and Flame, and they stretched themselves out upon the sand and passed thence swifter than swallows. Soon Godwin and Masouda, toiling behind, saw them enter the mouth of the pass.
“Good,” she said. “Except those of their own breed, there are no horses in Syria that can catch those two. They will come to Emesa, have no fear.”
“Who was the man who brought them to us?” asked Godwin, as they galloped side by side, their eyes fixed upon the ever-nearing cloud of dust, in which the spear points sparkled.
“My father’s brother–my uncle, as I called him,” she answered. “He is a sheik of the desert, who owns the ancient breed that cannot be bought for gold.”
“Then you are not of the Assassins, Masouda?”
“No; I may tell you, now that the end seems near. My father was an Arab, my mother a noble Frank, a French woman, whom he found starving in the desert after a fight, and took to his tent and made his wife. The Assassins fell upon us and killed him and her, and captured me as a child of twelve. Afterwards, when I grew older, being beautiful in those days, I was taken to the harem of Sinan, and, although in secret I had been bred up a Christian by my mother, they swore me of his accursed faith. Now you will understand why I hate him so sorely who murdered my father and my mother, and made me what I am; why I hold myself so vile also. Yes, I have been forced to serve as his spy or be killed, who, although he believed me his faithful slave, desired first to be avenged upon him.”
“I do not hold you vile,” panted Godwin, as he spurred his labouring steed. “I hold you most noble.”
“I rejoice to hear it before we die,” she answered, looking him in the eyes in such a fashion that he dropped his head before her burning gaze, “who hold you dear, Sir Godwin, for whose sake I have dared these things, although I am nought to you. Nay, speak not; the lady Rosamund has told me all that story–except its answer.”
Now they were off the sand over which they had been racing side by side, and beginning to breast the mountain slope, nor was Godwin sorry that the clatter of their horses’ hoofs upon the stones prevented further speech between them. So far they had outpaced the Assassins, who had a longer and a rougher road to travel; but the great cloud of dust was not seven hundred yards away, and in front of it, shaking their spears, rode some of the best mounted of their soldiers.
“These horses still have strength; they are better than I thought them,” cried Masouda. “They will not gain on us across the mountains, but afterwards–“
For the next league they spoke no more, who must keep their horses from falling as they toiled up the steep path. At length they reached the crest, and there, on the very top of it, saw Wulf and Rosamund standing by Flame and Smoke.
“They rest,” Godwin said, then he shouted, “Mount! mount! The foe is close.”
So they climbed to their saddles again, and, all four of them together began to descend the long slope that stretched to the plain two leagues beneath. Far off across this plain ran a broad silver streak, beyond which from that height they could see the walls of a city.
“The Orontes!” cried Masouda. “Cross that, and we are safe.” But Godwin looked first at his horse, then at Masouda, and shook his head.
Well might he do so, for, stout-hearted as they were, the beasts were much distressed that had galloped so far without drawing rein. Down the steep road they plunged, panting; indeed at times it was hard to keep them on their feet.
“They will reach the plain–no more,” said Godwin, and Masouda nodded.
The descent was almost done, and not a mile behind them the white-robed Assassins streamed endlessly. Godwin plied his spurs and Masouda her whip, although with little hope, for they knew that the end was near. Down the last declivity they rushed, till suddenly, as they reached its foot, Masouda’s horse reeled, stopped, and sank to the ground, while Godwin’s pulled up beside it.
“Ride on!” he cried to Rosamund and Wulf in front; but they would not. He stormed at them, but they replied: “Nay, we will die together.”
Masouda looked at the horses Flame and Smoke, which seemed but little troubled.
“So be it,” she said; “they have carried double before, and must again. Mount in front of the lady, Sir Godwin; and, Sir Wulf, give me your hand, and you will learn what this breed can do.”
So they mounted. Forward started Flame and Smoke with a long, swinging gallop, while from the Assassins above, who thought that they held them, went up a shout of rage and wonder.
“Their horses are also tired, and we may beat them yet,” called the dauntless Masouda. But Godwin and Wulf looked sadly at the ten miles of plain between them and the river bank.
On they went, and on. A quarter of it was done. Half of it was done, but now the first of the fedai hung upon their flanks not two hundred yards behind. Little by little this distance lessened. At length they were scarcely fifty yards away, and one of them flung a spear. In her terror Rosamund sobbed aloud.
“Spur the horses, knights,” cried Masouda, and for the first time they spurred them.
At the sting of the steel Flame and Smoke sprang forward as though they had but just left their stable door, and the gap between pursuers and pursued widened. Two more miles were done, and scarce seven furlongs from them they saw the broad mouth of the bridge, while the towers of Emesa beyond seemed so close that in this clear air they could discern the watchmen outlined against the sky. Then they descended a little valley, and lost sight of bridge and town.
At the rise of the opposing slope the strength of Flame and Smoke at last began to fail beneath their double burdens. They panted and trembled; and, save in short rushes, no longer answered to the spur. The Assassins saw, and came on with wild shouts. Nearer and nearer they drew, and the sound of their horses hoofs beating on the sand was like the sound of thunder. Now once more they were fifty yards away, and now but thirty, and again the spears began to flash, though none struck them.
Masouda screamed to the horses in Arabic, and gallantly did they struggle, plunging up the hill with slow, convulsive bounds. Godwin and Wulf looked at each other, then, at a signal, checked their speed, leapt to earth, and, turning, drew their swords.
“On!” they cried, and lightened of their weight, once more the reeling horses plunged forward.
The Assassins were upon them. Wulf struck a mighty blow and emptied the saddle of the first, then was swept to earth. As he fell from behind him he heard a scream of joy, and struggling to his knees, looked round. Lo! from over the crest of the rise rushed squadron upon squadron of turbaned cavalry, who, as they came, set their lances in rest, and shouted:
“Salah-el-din! Salah-ed-din!”
The Assassins saw also, and turned to fly–too late!
“A horse! A horse!” screamed Godwin in Arabic; and presently– how he never knew–found himself mounted and charging with the Saracens.
To Wulf, too, a horse was brought, but he could not struggle to its saddle. Thrice he strove, then fell backwards and lay upon the sand, waving his sword and shouting where he lay, while Masouda stood by him, a dagger in her hand, and with her Rosamund upon her knees.
Now the pursuers were the pursued, and dreadful was the reckoning that they must pay. Their horses were outworn and could not fly at speed. Some of the fedai were cut down upon them. Some dismounted, and gathering themselves in little groups, fought bravely till they were slain, while a few were taken prisoners. Of all that great troup of men not a score won back alive to Masyaf to make report to their master of how the chase of his lost bride had ended.
A while later and Wulf from his seat upon the ground saw Godwin riding back towards him, his red sword in his hand. With him rode a sturdy, bright-eyed man gorgeously apparelled, at the sight of whom Rosamund sprang to her feet; then, as he dismounted, ran forward and with a little cry cast her arms about him.
“Hassan! Prince Hassan! Is it indeed you? Oh, God be praised!” she gasped, then, had not Masouda caught her, would have fallen.
The Emir looked at her, her long hair loose, her face stained, her veil torn, but still clad in the silk and gleaming gems with which she had been decked as the bride-elect of Al-je-bal. Then low to the earth he bent his knee, while the grave Saracens watched, and taking the hem of her garment, he kissed it.
“Allah be praised indeed!” he said. “I, His unworthy servant, thank Him from my heart, who never thought to see you living more. Soldiers, salute. Before you stands the lady Rose of the World, princess of Baalbec and niece of your lord, Salah-ed-din, Commander of the Faithful.”
Then in stately salutation to this dishevelled, outworn, but still queenly woman, uprose hand, and spear, and scimitar, while Wulf cried from where he lay:
“Why, it is our merchant of the drugged wine–none other! Oh! Sir Saracen, does not the memory of that chapman’s trick shame you now?”
The emir Hassan heard and grew red, muttering in his beard:
“Like you, Sir Wulf, I am the slave of Fate, and must obey. Be not bitter against me till you know all.”
“I am not bitter,” answered Wulf, “but I always pay for my drink, and we will settle that score yet, as I have sworn.”
“Hush!” broke in Rosamund. “Although he stole me, he is also my deliverer and friend through many a peril, and, had it not been for him, by now–” and she shuddered.
“I do not know all the story, but, Princess, it seems that you should thank not me, but these goodly cousins of yours and those splendid horses,” and Hassan pointed to Smoke and Flame, which stood by quivering, with hollow flanks and drooping heads.
“There is another whom I must thank also, this noble woman, as you will call her also when you hear the story,” said Rosamund, flinging her arm about the neck of Masouda.
“My master will reward her,” said Hassan. “But oh! lady, what must you think of me who seemed to desert you so basely? Yet I reasoned well. In the castle of that son of Satan, Sinan,” and he spat upon the ground, “I could not have aided you, for there he would only have butchered me. But by escaping I thought that I might help, so I bribed the Frankish knave with the priceless Star of my House,” and he touched the great jewel that he wore in his turban, “and with what money I had, to loose my bonds, and while he pouched the gold I stabbed him with his own knife and fled. But this morning I reached yonder city in command of ten thousand men, charged to rescue you if I could; if not, to avenge you, for the ambassadors of Salah-ed-din informed me of your plight. An hour ago the watchmen on the towers reported that they saw two horses galloping across the plain beneath a double burden, pursued by soldiers whom from their robes they took to be Assassins. So, as I have a quarrel with the Assassins, I crossed the bridge, formed up five hundred men in a hollow, and waited, never guessing that it was you who fled. You know the rest–and the Assassins know it also, for,” he added grimly, “you have been well avenged.”
“Follow it up,” said Wulf, “and the vengeance shall be better, for I will show you the secret way into Masyaf–or, if I cannot, Godwin will–and there you may hurl Sinan from his own towers.”
Hassan shook his head and answered:
“I should like it well, for with this magician my master also has an ancient quarrel. But he has other feuds upon his hands,” and he looked meaningly at Wulf and Godwin, “and my orders were to rescue the princess and no more. Well, she has been rescued, and some hundreds of heads have paid the price of all that she has suffered. Also, that secret way of yours will be safe enough by now. So there I let the matter bide, glad enough that it has ended thus. Only I warn you all–and myself also–to walk warily, since, if I know aught of him, Sinan’s fedais will henceforth dog the steps of every one of us, striving to bring us to our ends by murder. Now here come litters; enter them, all of you, and be borne to the city, who have ridden far enough to-day. Fear not for your horses; they shall be led in gently and saved alive, if skill and care can save them. I go to count the slain, and will join you presently in the citadel.”
So the bearers came and lifted up Wulf, and helped Godwin from his horse–for now that all was over he could scarcely stand–and with him Rosamund and Masouda. Placing them in the litters, they carried them, escorted by cavalry, across the bridge of the Orontes into the city of Emesa, where they lodged them in the citadel.
Here also, after giving them a drink of barley gruel, and rubbing their backs and legs with ointment, they led the horses Smoke and Flame, slowly and with great trouble, for these could hardly stir, and laid them down on thick beds of straw, tempting them with food, which after awhile they ate. The four–Rosamund, Masouda, Godwin, and Wulf– ate also of some soup with wine in it, and after the hurts of Wulf had been tended by a skilled doctor, went to their beds, whence they did not rise again for two days.
Chapter Sixteen: The Sultan Saladin
In the third morning Godwin awoke to see the ray of sunrise streaming through the latticed window.
They fell upon another bed near-by where Wulf still lay sleeping, a bandage on his head that had beer hurt in the last charge against the Assassins, and other bandages about his arms and body, which were much bruised in the fight upon the dreadful bridge.
Wondrous was it to Godwin to watch him Iying there sleeping healthily, notwithstanding his injuries, and to think of what they had gone through together with so little harm; to think, also, of how they had rescued Rosamund out of the very mouth of that earthly hell of which he could see the peaks through the open window-place–out of the very hands of that fiend, its ruler. Reckoning the tale day by day, he reflected on their adventures since they landed at Beirut, and saw how Heaven had guided their every step.
In face of the warnings that were given them, to visit the Al-je-bal in his stronghold had seemed a madness. Yet there, where none could have thought that she would be, they had found Rosamund. There they had been avenged upon the false knight Sir Hugh Lozelle, who had betrayed her, first to Saladin, then to Sinan, and sent him down to death and judgment; and thence they had rescued Rosamund.
Oh, how wise they had been to obey the dying words of their uncle, Sir Andrew, who doubtless was given foresight at the end! God and His saints had helped them, who could not have helped themselves, and His minister had been Masouda. But for Masouda, Rosamund would by now be lost or dead, and they, if their lives were still left to them, would be wanderers in the great land of Syria, seeking for one who never could be found.
Why had Masouda done these things, again and again putting her own life upon the hazard to save theirs and the honour of another woman? As he asked himself the question Godwin felt the red blood rise to his face. Because she hated Sinan, who had murdered her parents and degraded her, she said; and doubtless that had to do with the matter. But it was no longer possible to hide the truth. She loved him, and had loved him from the first hour when they met. He had always suspected it–in that wild trial of the horses upon the mountain side, when she sat with her arms about him and her face pressed against his face; when she kissed his feet after he had saved her from the lion, and many another time.
But as they followed Wulf and Rosamund up the mountain pass while the host of the Assassins thundered at their heels, and in broken gasps she had told him of her sad history, then it was that he grew sure. Then, too, he had said that he held her not vile, but noble, as indeed he did; and, thinking their death upon them, she had answered that she held him dear, and looked on him as a woman looks upon her only love–a message in her eyes that no man could fail to read. Yet if this were so, why had Masouda saved Rosamund, the lady to whom she knew well that he was sworn? Reared among those cruel folk who could wade to their desire through blood and think it honour, would she not have left her rival to her doom, seeing that oaths do not hold beyond the grave?
An answer came into the heart of Godwin, at the very thought of which he turned pale and trembled. His brother was also sworn to Rosamund, and she in her soul must be sworn to one of them. Was it not to Wulf, Wulf who was handsomer and more strong than he, to Wulf, the conqueror of Lozelle? Had Rosamund told Masouda this? Nay, surely not.
Yet women can read each other’s hearts, piercing veils through which no man may see, and perchance Masouda had read the heart of Rosamund. She stood behind her during the dreadful duel at the gate, and watched her face when Wulf’s death seemed sure; she might have heard words that broke in agony from her lips in those moments of torment.
Oh, without doubt it was so, and Masouda had protected Rosamund because she knew that her love was for Wulf and not for him. The thought was very bitter, and in its pain Godwin groaned aloud, while a fierce jealousy of the brave and handsome knight who slept at his side, dreaming, doubtless, of the fame that he had won and the reward by which it would be crowned, gripped his vitals like the icy hand of death. Then Godwin remembered the oath that they two had sworn far away in the Priory at Stangate, and the love passing the love of woman which he bore towards this brother, and the duty of a Christian warrior whereto he was vowed, and hiding his face in his pillow he prayed for strength.
It would seem that it came to him–at least, when he lifted his head again the jealousy was gone, and only the great grief remained. Fear remained also–for what of Masouda? How should he deal with her? He was certain that this was no fancy which would pass–until her life passed with it, and, beautiful as she was, and noble as she was, he did not wish her love. He could find no answer to these questions, save this–that things must go on as they were decreed. For himself, he, Godwin, would
strive to do his duty, to keep his hands clean, and await the end, whatever that might be.
Wulf woke up, stretched his arms, exclaimed because that action hurt him, grumbled at the brightness of the light upon his eyes, and said that he was very hungry. Then he arose, and with the help of Godwin, dressed himself, but not in his armour. Here, with the yellow-coated soldiers of Saladin, grave-faced and watchful, pacing before their door– for night and day they were trebly guarded lest Assassins should creep in–there was no need for mail. In the fortress of Masyaf, indeed, where they were also guarded, it had been otherwise. Wulf heard the step of the sentries on the cemented pavement without, and shook his great shoulders as though he shivered.
“That sound makes my backbone cold,” he said. “For a moment, as my eyes opened, I thought that we were back again in the guest chambers of Al-je-bal, where folk crept round us as we slept and murderers marched to and fro outside the curtains, fingering their knife-points. Well, whatever there is to come, thank the Saints, that is done with. I tell you, brother, I have had enough of mountains, and narrow bridges, and Assassins. Henceforth, I desire to live upon a flat with never a hill in sight, amidst honest folk as stupid as their own sheep, who go to church on Sundays and get drunk, not with hachich, but on brown ale, brought to them by no white-robed sorceress, but by a draggle-tailed wench in a tavern, with her musty bedstraw still sticking in her hair. Give me the Saltings of Essex with the east winds blowing over them, and the primroses abloom upon the bank, and the lanes fetlock deep in mud, and for your share you may take all the scented gardens of Sinan and the cups and jewels of his ladies, with the fightings and adventures of the golden East thrown in.”
“I never sought these things, and we are a long way from Essex,” answered Godwin shortly.
“No,” said Wulf, “but they seem to seek you. What news of Masouda? Have you seen her while I slept, which has been long?”
“I have seen no one except the apothecary who tended you, the slaves who brought us food, and last evening the prince Hassan, who came to see how we fared. He told me that, like yourself, Rosamund and Masouda slept.”
“I am glad to hear it,” answered Wulf, “for certainly their rest was earned. By St. Chad! what a woman is this Masouda! A heart of fire and nerves of steel! Beautiful, too–most beautiful; and the best horsewoman that ever sat a steed. Had it not been for her–By Heaven! when I think of it I feel as though I loved her–don’t you?”
“No,” said Godwin, still more shortly.
“Ah, well, I daresay she can love enough for two who does nothing by halves, and, all things considered,” he added, with one of his great laughs, “I am glad it is I of whom she thinks so little–yes, I who adore her as though she were my patron saint. Hark! the guards challenge,” and, forgetting where he was, he snatched at his sword.
Then the door opened, and through it appeared the emir Hassan, who saluted them in the name of Allah, searching them with his quiet eyes.
“Few would judge, to look at you, Sir Knights,” he said with a smile, “that you have been the guests of the Old Man of the Mountain, and left his house so hastily by the back door. Three days more and you will be as lusty as when we met beyond the seas upon the wharf by a certain creek. Oh, you are brave men, both of you, though you be infidels, from which error may the Prophet guide you; brave men, the flower of knighthood. Ay, I, Hassan, who have known many Frankish knights, say it from my heart,” and, placing his hand to his turban, he bowed before them in admiration that was not feigned.
“We thank you, Prince, for your praise,” said Godwin gravely, but Wulf stepped forward, took his hand, and shook it.
“That was an ill trick, Prince, which you played us yonder in England,” he said, “and one that brought as good a warrior as ever drew a sword–our uncle Sir Andrew D’Arcy–to an end sad as it was glorious. Still, you obeyed your master, and because of all that has happened since, I forgive you, and call you friend, although should we ever meet in battle I still hope to pay you for that drugged wine.”
Here Hassan bowed, and said softly:
“I admit that the debt is owing; also that none sorrow more for the death of the noble lord D’Arcy than I, your servant, who, by the will of God, brought it upon him. When we meet, Sir Wulf, in war–and that, I think, will be an ill hour for me–strike, and strike home; I shall not complain. Meanwhile, we are friends, and in very truth all that I have is yours. But now I come to tell you that the princess Rose of the World–Allah bless her footsteps!–is recovered from her fatigues, and desires that you should breakfast with her in an hour’s time. Also the doctor waits to tend your bruises, and slaves to lead you to the bath and clothe you. Nay, leave your hauberk; here the faith of Salah-ed-din and of his servants is your best armour.”
“Still, I think that we will take them,” said Godwin, “for faith is a poor defence against the daggers of these Assassins, who dwell not so far away.”
“True,” answered Hassan; “I had forgotten.” So thus they departed.
An hour later they were led to the hall, where presently came Rosamund, and with her Masouda and Hassan.
She was dressed in the rich robes of an Eastern lady, but the gems with which she had been adorned as the bride elect of Al-je-bal were gone; and when she lifted her veil the brethren saw that though her face was still somewhat pallid, her strength had come back to her, and the terror had left her eyes. She greeted them with sweet and gentle words, thanking first Godwin and then Wulf for all that they had done, and turning to Masouda, who stood by, stately, and watchful, thanked her also. Then they sat down, and ate with light hearts and a good appetite.
Before their meal was finished, the guard at the door announced that messengers had arrived from the Sultan. They entered, grey-haired men clad in the robes of secretaries, whom Hassan hastened to greet. When they were seated and had spoken with him awhile, one of them drew forth a letter, which Hassan, touching his forehead with it in token of respect, gave to Rosamund. She broke its seal, and, seeing that it was in Arabic, handed it to her cousin, saying:
“Do you read it, Godwin, who are more learned than I.”
So he read aloud, translating the letter sentence by sentence. This was its purport:
“Salah-ed-din, Commander of the Faithful, the Strong-to-aid, to his niece beloved, Rose of the World, princess of Baalbec:–
“Our servant, the emir Hassan, has sent us tidings of your rescue from the power of the accursed lord of the Mountain, Sinan, and that you are now safe in our city of Emesa, guarded by many thousands of our soldiers, and with you a woman named Masouda, and your kinsmen, the two Frankish knights, by whose skill in arms and courage you were saved. Now this is to command you to come to our court at Damascus so soon as you may be fit to travel, knowing that here you will be received with love and honour. Also I invite your kinsmen to accompany you, since I knew their father, and would welcome knights who have done such great deeds, and the woman Masouda with them. Or, if they prefer it, all three of them may return to their own lands and peoples.
“Hasten, my niece, lady Rose of the World, hasten, for my spirit seeks you, and my eyes desire to look upon you. In the name of Allah, greeting.”
“You have heard,” said Rosamund, as Godwin finished reading the scroll. “Now, my cousins, what will you do?”
“What else but go with you, whom we have come so far to seek?” answered Wulf, and Godwin nodded his head in assent.
“And you, Masouda? “
“I, lady? Oh, I go also, since were I to return yonder,” and she nodded towards the mountains, “my greeting would be one that I do not wish.”
“Do you note their words, prince Hassan?” asked Rosamund.
“I expected no other,” he answered with a bow. ” Only, knights, you must give me a promise, for even in the midst of my army such is needful from men who can fly like birds out of the fortress of Masyaf and from the knives of the Assassins–who are mounted, moreover, on the swiftest horses in Syria that have been trained to carry a double burden,” and he looked at them meaningly. “It is that upon this journey you will not attempt to escape with the princess, whom you have followed from over-sea to rescue her out of the hand of Salah-ed-din.”
Godwin drew from his tunic the cross which Rosamund had left him in the hall at Steeple, and saying: “I swear upon this holy symbol that during our journey to Damascus I will attempt no escape with or without my cousin Rosamund,” he kissed it.
“And I swear the same upon my sword,” added Wulf, laying his hand upon the silver hilt of the great blade which had been his forefather’s.
“A security that I like better,” said Hassan with a smile, “but in truth, knights, your word is enough for me.” Then he looked at Masouda and went on, still smiling: “Nay it is useless; for women who have dwelt yonder oaths have no meaning. Lady, we must be content to watch you, since my lord has bidden you to his city, which, fair and brave as you are, to be plain, I would not have done.”
Then he turned to speak to the secretaries, and Godwin, who was noting all, saw Masouda’s dark eyes follow him and in them a very strange light.
“Good,” they seemed to say; “as you have written, so shall you read.”
That same afternoon they started for Damascus, a great army of horsemen. In its midst, guarded by a thousand spears, Rosamund was borne in a litter. In front of her rode Hassan, with his yellow-robed bodyguard; at her side, Masouda; and behind–for, notwithstanding his hurts, Wulf would not be carried–the brethren, mounted upon ambling palfreys. After them, led by slaves, came the chargers, Flame and Smoke, recovered now, but still walking somewhat stiffly, and then rank upon rank of turbaned Saracens. Through the open curtains of her litter Rosamund beckoned to the brethren, who pushed alongside of her.
“Look,” she said, pointing with her hand.
They looked, and there, bathed in the glory of the sinking sun, saw the mountains crowned far, far away with the impregnable city and fortress of Masyaf, and below it the slopes down which they had ridden for their lives. Nearer to them flashed the river bordered by the town of Emesa. Set at intervals along its walls were spears, looking like filaments against the flaming, sunset sky, and on each of them a black dot, which was the head of an Assassin, while from the turrets above, the golden banner of Saladin fluttered in the evening wind. Remembering all that she had undergone in that fearful home of devil-worshippers, and the fate from which she had been snatched, Rosamund shuddered.
“It burns like a city in hell,” she said, staring at Masyaf, environed by that lurid evening light and canopied with black, smoke-like clouds. “Oh! such I think will be its doom.”
“I trust so,” answered Wulf fervently. “At least, in this world and the next we have done with it.”
“Yes,” added Godwin in his thoughtful voice; “still, out of that evil place we won good, for there we found Rosamund, and there, my brother, you conquered in such a fray as you can never hope to fight again, gaining great glory, and perhaps much more.”
Then reining in his horse, Godwin fell back behind the litter, while Wulf wondered, and Rosamund watched him with dreaming eyes.
That evening they camped in the desert, and next morning, surrounded by wandering tribes of Bedouins mounted on their camels, marched on again, sleeping that night in the ancient fortress of Baalbec, whereof the garrison and people, having been warned by runners of the rank and titles of Rosamund came out to do her homage as their lady.
Hearing of it, she left her litter, and mounting a splendid horse which they had sent her as a present, rode to meet them, the brethren, in full armour and once more bestriding Flame and Smoke, beside her, and a guard of Saladin’s own Mameluks behind. Solemn, turbaned men, who had been commanded so to do by messengers from the Sultan, brought her the keys of the gates on a cushion, minstrels and soldiers marched before her, whilst crowding the walls and running alongside came the citizens in their thousands. Thus she went on, through the open gates, past the towering columns of ruined temples once a home of the worship of heathen gods, through courts and vaults to the citadel surrounded by its gardens that in dead ages had been the Acropolis of forgotten Roman emperors.
Here in the portico Rosamund turned her horse, and received the salutations of the multitude as though she also were one of the world’s rulers. Indeed, it seemed to the brethren watching her as she sat upon the great white horse and surveyed the shouting, bending crowd with flashing eyes, splendid in her bearing and beautiful to see, a prince at her stirrup and an army at her back, that none of those who had trod that path before her could have seemed greater or more glorious in the hour of their pride than did this English girl, who by the whim of Fate had suddenly been set so high. Truly by blood and nature she was fitted to be a queen. Yet as Rosamund sat thus the pride passed from her face, and her eyes fell.
“Of what are you thinking?” asked Godwin at her side.
“That I would we were back among the summer fields at Steeple,” she answered, “for those who are lifted high fall low. Prince Hassan, give the captains and people my thanks and bid them be gone. I would rest.”
Thus for the first and last time did Rosamund behold her ancient fief of Baalbec, which her grandsire, the great Ayoub, had ruled before her.
That night there was feasting in the mighty, immemorial halls, and singing and minstrelsy and the dancing of fair women and the giving of gifts. For Baalbec, where birth and beauty were ever welcome, did honour to its lady, the favoured niece of the mighty Salah-ed-din. Yet there were some who murmured that she would bring no good fortune to the Sultan or this his city, who was not all of the blood of Ayoub, but half a Frank, and a Cross worshipper, though even these praised her beauty and her royal bearing. The brethren they praised also, although these were unbelievers, and the tale of how Wulf had fought the traitor knight upon the Narrow Way, and of how they had led their kinswoman from the haunted fortress of Masyaf, was passed from mouth to mouth. At dawn the next day, on orders received from the Sultan, they left Baalbec, escorted by the army and many of the notables of the town. That afternoon they drew rein upon the heights which overlook the city of Damascus, Bride of the Earth, set amidst its seven streams and ringed about with gardens, one of the most beautiful and perhaps the most ancient city in the world. Then they rode down to the bounteous plain, and as night fell, having passed the encircling gardens, were escorted through the gates of Damascus, outside of which most of the army halted and encamped.
Along the narrow streets, bordered by yellow, flat-roofed houses, they rode slowly, looking now at the motley, many-coloured crowds, who watched them with grave interest, and now at the stately buildings, domed mosques and towering minarets, which everywhere stood out against the deep blue of the evening sky. Thus at length they came to an open space planted like a garden, beyond which was seen a huge and fantastic castle that Hassan told them was the palace of Salah-ed-din. In its courtyard they were parted, Rosamund being led away by officers of state, whilst the brethren were taken to chambers that had been prepared, where, after they had bathed, they were served with food. Scarcely had they eaten it when Hassan appeared, and bade them follow him. Passing down various passages and across a court they came to some guarded doors, where the soldiers demanded that they should give up their swords and daggers.
“It is not needful,” said Hassan, and they let them go by. Next came more passages and a curtain, beyond which they found themselves in a small, domed room, lit by hanging silver lamps and paved in tesselated marbles, strewn with rich rugs and furnished with cushioned couches.
At a sign from Hassan the brethren stood still in the centre of this room, and looked about them wondering. The place was empty and very silent; they felt afraid–of what they knew not. Presently curtains upon its further side opened and through them came a man turbaned and wrapped in a dark robe, who stood awhile in the shadow, gazing at them beneath the lamps.
The man was not very tall, and slight in build, yet about him was much majesty, although his garb was such as the humblest might have worn. He came forward, lifting his head, and they saw that his features were small and finely cut; that he was bearded, and beneath his broad brow shone thoughtful yet at times piercing eyes which were brown in hue. Now the prince Hassan sank to his knees and touched the marble with his forehead, and, guessing that they were in the presence of the mighty monarch Saladin, the brethren saluted in their western fashion. Presently the Sultan spoke in a low, even voice to Hassan, to whom he motioned that he should rise, saying:
“I can see that you trust these knights, Emir,” and he pointed to their great swords.
“Sire,” was the answer, “I trust them as I trust myself. They are brave and honourable men, although they be infidels.”
The Sultan stroked his beard.
“Ay,” he said, “infidels. It is a pity, yet doubtless they worship God after their own fashion. Noble to look on also, like their father, whom I remember well, and, if all I hear is true, brave indeed. Sir Knights, do you understand my language?”
“Sufficiently to speak it, lord,” answered Godwin, “who have learned it since childhood, yet ill enough.”
“Good. Then tell me, as soldiers to a soldier, what do you seek from Salah-ed-din?”
“Our cousin, the lady Rosamund, who, by your command, lord, was stolen from our home in England.”
“Knights, she is your cousin, that I know, as surely as I know that she is my niece. Tell me now, is she aught more to you?” and he searched them with those piercing eyes.
Godwin looked at Wulf, who said in English:
“Speak the whole truth, brother. From that man nothing can be hid.”
Then Godwin answered:
“Sire, we love her, and are affianced to her.”
The Sultan stared at them in surprise.
“What! Both of you?” he asked.
“Yes, both.”
“And does she love you both?”
“Yes,” replied Godwin, “both, or so she says.”
Saladin stroked his beard and considered them, while Hassan smiled a little.
“Then, knights,” he said presently, “tell me,which of you does she love best?”
“That, sire, is known to her alone. When the time comes, she will say, and not before.”
“I perceive,” said Saladin, “that behind this riddle hides a story. If it is your good pleasure, be seated, and set it out to