"_The Saracens!_"
Just as the second day of the Great Tourney had opened in the Valley of
the Sepulcher upon the plains below the city of Nimmr, a band of swart
men in soiled thobs and carrying long matchlocks topped the summit of
the pass upon the north side of the valley and looked down upon the
City of the Sepulcher and the castle of King Bohun.
They had followed upward along what may once have been a trail, but
for so long a time had it been unused, or so infrequently had it been
used that it was scarce distinguishable from the surrounding brush; but
below them now Ibn Jad saw at a short distance a better marked road
and, beyond, what appeared to him a fortress. Beyond that again he
glimpsed the battlements of Bohun's castle.
What he saw in the foreground was the barbican guarding the approach to
the castle and the city, both of which were situated in much the same
relative position as were the barbican and castle upon the south side
of the valley where Prince Gobred guarded the city of Nimmr and the
valley beyond it against the daily expected assault of the Saracens.
Seeking cover, Ibn Jad and his Beduins crept down toward the barbican
where an old knight and a few men-at-arms kept perfunctory ward. Hiding
in the mountain brush the 'Aarab saw two strangely apparelled blacks
hunting just outside the great gateway. They were armed with cross
bows and arrows and their prey was rabbits. For years they had seen no
stranger come down this ancient road, and for years they had hunted
between the gate and the summit of the mountains, though farther than
this they were not permitted to wander. Nor had they any great desire
to do so, for, though they were descendants of Gallas who lived just
beyond this mountain top, they thought that they were Englishmen and
that a horde of Saracens awaited to annihilate them should they venture
too far afield.
Today they hunted as they had often hunted when they chanced to be
placed in the guard at the outer barbican. They moved silently forward,
warily awaiting the break of a rabbit. They did not see the dark-faced
men in the brush.
Ibn Jad saw that the great gateway was open and that the gate that
closed it raised and lowered vertically. It was raised now. Great was
the laxity of the old knight and the men-at-arms, but King Bohun was
away and there was none to reprove them.
Ibn Jad motioned those nearest him to follow and crept slowly closer to
the gateway.
What of the old knight and the other watchers? The former was partaking
of a late breakfast just within one of the great towers of the barbican
and the latter were taking advantage of the laxity of his discipline to
catch a few more winks of sleep as they stretched beneath the shade of
some trees within the ballium.
Ibn Jad won to within a few yards of the gateway and waited for the
others to reach his side. When they were all there he whispered to them
and then trotted on silent sandals toward the gate, his matchlock ready
in his hands. Behind him came his fellows. They were all within the
ballium before the men-at-arms were aware that there was an enemy this
side of Palestine.
With cross-bow and battle-axe the men-at-arms sprang to defend the
gate. Their cries of "The Saracens! The Saracens!" brought the old sir
knight and the hunters running toward the ballium.
Below, at the castle of King Bohun, the men at the gates and the other
retainers who had been left while Bohun sallied forth to the Great
Tourney heard strange noises from the direction of the outer barbican.
The shouts of men floated down to them and strange, sharp sounds that
were like thunder and yet unlike it. Such sounds they had never heard
before, nor any of their forbears. They rallied at the outer castle
gate and the knights with them consulted as to what was best to be
done.
Being brave knights there seemed but one thing open for them. If those
at the far outer barbican had been attacked they must hasten to their
defense. Summoning all but four of the knights and men-at-arms at his
disposal the marshal of the castle mounted and rode forth toward the
outer gate.
Half way there they were espied by Ibn Jad and his men who, having
overcome the poorly armed soldiers at the gate, were advancing down
the road toward the castle. At sight of these reinforcements Ibn Jad
hastened to secrete his followers and himself in the bushes that lined
the roadway. So it fell that the marshal rode by them and did not see
them and, when they had passed, Ibn Jad and his followers came out of
the bushes and continued down the winding mountain road toward the
castle of King Bohun.
The men at the castle gate, now fully upon the alert, stood ready with
the portcullis raised as the marshal instructed them, so that in the
event that those who had ridden out should be hard pressed upon their
return by an enemy at their rear they could still find sanctuary within
the ballium. The plan was, in such event, to lower the portcullis
behind the men of the Sepulcher and in the faces of the pursuing
Saracens, for that an enemy must be such was a forgone conclusion--had
not they and their ancestors waited for near seven and a half
centuries now for this momentarily expected assault? They wondered if
it really had come at last.
While they discussed the question Ibn Jad watched them from a
concealing clump of bushes a few yards away.
The wily Beduin knew the purpose of that portcullis and he was trying
to plan best how he might enter the enclosure beyond before it could
be dropped before his face. At last he found a plan and smiled. He
beckoned three men to come close and into their ears he whispered that
which he had in mind.
There were four men-at-arms ready to drop the portcullis at the
psychological moment and all four of them stood in plain sight of
Ibn Jad and the three that were beside him. Carefully, cautiously,
noiselessly the four 'Aarab raised their ancient matchlocks and took
careful aim.
"Now!" whispered Ibn Jad and four matchlocks belched forth flame and
black powder and slugs of lead.
The four men-at-arms dropped to the stone flagging and Ibn Jad and all
his followers raced forward and stood within the ballium of the castle
of King Bohun. Before them, across the ballium, was another gate and a
broad moat, but the drawbridge was lowered, the portcullis raised and
the gateway unguarded.
The marshal and his followers had ridden unhindered into the ballium of
the outer barbican and there they had found all its defenders lying in
their own blood, even to the little squire of the old knight who should
have watched the gate and did not.
One of the men-at-arms still lived and in his dying breath he gasped
the terrible truth. The Saracens had come at last!
"Where are they?" demanded the marshal.
"Didst thou not see them, sir?" asked the dying man. "They marched down
the road toward the castle."
"Impossible!" cried the marshal. "We didst but ride along that very
road and saw no one."
"They marched down toward the castle," gasped the man.
The marshal knit his brows. "Were there many?" he demanded.
"There are few," replied the man-at-arms. "It was but the advance guard
of the armies of the sultan."
Just then the volley that laid low the four warders at the castle gate
crashed upon the ears of the marshal and his men.
"'Ods blud!" he cried.
"They must have hid themselves in the bush as we passed," exclaimed a
knight at the marshal's side, "for of a surety they be there and we be
here and there be but one road between."
"There be but four men at the castle gate," said the marshal, "and I
did bid them keep the 'cullis up til we returned. God pity me! I have
given over the Sepulcher to the Saracens. Slay me, Sir Morley!"
"Nay, man! We need every lance and sword and cross-bow that we may
command. This be no time to think of taking thy life when thou canst
give it to Our Lord Jesus in defense of His Sepulcher against the
infidels!"
"Thou art right, Morley," cried the marshal. "Remain you here, then,
with six men and hold this gate. I shall return with the others and
give battle at the castle!"
But when the marshal came again to the castle gate he found the
portcullis down and a dark-faced, bearded Saracen glaring at him
through the iron bars. The marshal at once ordered the cross-bowmen
to shoot the fellow down, but as they raised their weapons to their
shoulder there was a loud explosion that almost deafened them and flame
leaped from a strange thing that the Saracen held against his shoulder
and pointed at them. One of the cross-bowmen screamed and lunged
forward upon his face and the others turned and fled.
They were brave men in the face of dangers that were natural and to
be expected, but in the presence of the supernatural, the weird, the
uncanny, they reacted as most men do, and what could have been more
weird than death leaping in flame and with a great noise through space
to strike their fellow down?
But Sir Bulland, the marshal, was a knight of the Sepulcher. He might
wish to run away fully as much as the simple and lowly men-at-arms, but
there was something that held him there that was more potent than fear
of death. It is called Honor.
Sir Bulland could not run away and so he sat there on his great horse
and challenged the Saracens to mortal combat; challenged them to send
their doughtiest sir knight to meet him and thus decide who should hold
the gate.
But the 'Aarab already held it. Furthermore they did not understand
him. In addition to all this they were without honor as Sir Bulland
knew it, and perhaps as any one other than a Beduin knows it, and would
but have laughed at his silly suggestion.
One thing they did know--two things they knew--that he was a Nasrany
and that he was unarmed. They did not count his great lance and his
sword as weapons, for he could not reach them with either. So one of
them took careful aim and shot Sir Bulland through his chain mail where
it covered his noble and chivalrous heart.
Ibn Jad had the run of the castle of King Bohun and he was sure that
he had discovered the fabled City of Nimmr that the sahar had told him
of. He herded together the women and children and the few men that
remained and held them under guard. For a while he was minded to slay
them, since they were but Nasrany, but he was so pleased at having
found and taken the treasure city that he let them live--for the time
at least.
At his command his followers ransacked the castle in search of the
treasure. Nor were they disappointed, for the riches of Bohun were
great. There was gold in the hills of the Valley of the Sepulcher and
there were precious stones to be found there, also. For seven and
a half centuries the slaves of the Sepulcher and of Nimmr had been
washing gold from the creek beds and salvaging precious stones from the
same source. The real value of such was not to the men of the Sepulcher
and Nimmr what it would be to men of the outer world. They but esteemed
these things as trinkets, yet they liked them and saved them and even
bartered for them on occasion, but they did not place them in vaults
under lock and key. Why should they in a land where such things were
not stolen? Their women and their horses they guarded, but not their
gold or their jewels.
And so Ibn Jad gathered a great sack full of treasure, enough to
satisfy his wildest imaginings of cupidity. He gathered all that he
could find in the castle of King Bohun, more than he had hoped to find
in this fabled city; and then a strange thing happened. Having more
wealth than he possibly could use he wanted more. No, not so strange
after all, for Ibn Jad was human.
He spent the night with his followers in the castle of King Bohun and
during the night he planned, for he had seen a wide valley stretching
far away to other mountains and at the base of those mountains he had
seen that which appeared to be a city. "Perhaps," thought Ibn Jad, "it
is a richer city than this. I shall start on the morrow to see."