They were almost within sight of Alexandria before they found what they
were seeking. Then, just at the last possible moment, they sighted a
large cluster of the black tents of the Bedouins. "Await me here," said
El Sareuk urgently. "I shall collogue with these men and see whether I
cannot raise us an army." He galloped away to the encampment.
Shortly there was a bustle and stir therein, and many small energetic
men of the Bedouin tribe came running toward the central tent, into
which El Sareuk had vanished. The Bedouins were a cheerful and healthy
lot, inured to hardship, habituated to a rough nomadic life. They
were short and lean, and often looked fragile, but they were fiery,
intractable fighters when aroused.
When some time had passed, Ramizail said, "He will win them. You'll see
they'll be wild with desire to help us, and to avenge the soiled honor
of Islam. That's the tack he's using--how Mufaddal has betrayed the
dignity and integrity of the Moslem world by this fiendish trick of the
pest ship, and how these Bedouins can expunge the stain by following us
against his forces."
"Can you do soothsaying without the help of Mihrjan?" asked Godwin
curiously. There was a great deal he did not know even yet about this
strange tall child of Solomon's line.
"Oh, no. I'm just well acquainted with my uncle's ways of
thinking and speaking and acting. I've seen him whip a crowd of
assorted Saracens--Turks and Mamelukes and Arabs and Soldarii and
Turcomans--into such a frenzy of fanatical zeal that they attacked a
force nine times as large as their own, and cut it to ribbons. He's an
old spell-binder."
And it turned out as she predicted, for quite soon El Sareuk came
riding toward them at the head of a gang of horsemen, some half a
hundred in all, waving their swords and bows over their heads. Godwin
knew instinctively what to do. He rose in his stirrups and threw up
his tremendous broadsword and howled in Arabic. "Death to all who
defile the name and honor of Islam!" Although he was a good Christian
knight this war-slogan did not seem inappropriate to him in the least;
and it pleased and flattered the Bedouins no end, for El Sareuk had
told them of this mighty-chested warrior who had dedicated himself to
wrong-righting and oppression-ending, leaving the Crusade to travel for
this purpose in company with an Arab prince and half-caste girl. They
answered his hail with lusty yells and riding up to him and Ramizail
they pressed upon them all manner of foods, roast lamb in palm leaves,
legs of fowl, delicacies of every sort, goats' milk for Godwin and
asses' milk for the woman. Greedily they ate and drank as they rode
west, and finished the last crumb as they sighted the outskirts of
Alexandria.
"We'll ride straight in," said Godwin, now grim and businesslike.
"They're expecting us, so watch out for surprises. Their sorcerers have
told them we're coming, I'll wager my left eye upon it. We'll find out
which wharf the plague ship's moored to, and burn her to the water's
edge. Then we'll seek out this Mufaddal swine, and pin him by his ears
to an ant's nest!"
His band gave an ululating shout, and the horses were booted into a
gallop.
It was then about two hours before sunset.
They rode down one of the principal streets, a rather dirty, narrow
thoroughfare, overhung by the houses on either side. Above the roofs
to their left they could see the pinnacle of Pompey's Pillar, the
towering column of red granite which had stood in Alexandria for eight
centuries. "'Twould be moored in the West Harbor, I think," said El
Sareuk, who knew the city to some extent. He nudged his horse slightly
into the lead and preceded the force through the heart of the place.
Few signs of life were in evidence. The air was hushed, even the wind
off the sea had drawn back to avoid this silent city, and an atmosphere
of expectancy held the blindly staring buildings. Only an occasional
fellah or more substantial citizen would appear now and again, stare
for a moment at the intent horsemen, and disappear from sight like a
startled wild thing. Godwin tugged at his beard. They were not, as he
had predicted, wholly unexpected. Word had somehow flown through the
streets and bazaars of their coming, and of the imminent brawl. Perhaps
magic was at work, too, though he felt and saw nothing to indicate it.
They approached the docks, catching glimpses of them at intervals in
the houses, and Godwin grew even more tense and watchful. Then, as he
and Ramizail and the chief of the Bedouins all abreast, with El Sareuk
four hand-breadths in advance, galloped round a turn, the attack was
launched upon them.
* * * * *
From the roof of a house on the corner a great net, like those used by
fishermen, was flung out, weighted and tossed by experienced hands;
it fell upon the four of them, an entangling, encumbering, maddening
enemy, knocking Ramizail out of the saddle, tipping Godwin's helmet
over his eyes, snaring all their drawn weapons and seeming to writhe
about them as though it were a sentient creature. Godwin shouted, "Use
your blades!" and began hacking away at the cords with his broadsword.
It was not the razor-keen instrument that El Sareuk's scimitar was,
however, and the old Saracen had to release him after cutting free
himself. Ramizail was dodging on hands and knees between the legs of
the terrified horses. The Bedouin leader yelled, "leave the beasts;"
and Godwin realized that they must. It would take minutes to slice the
net sufficiently to unscramble the steeds. He slid off his Spanish
charger, picked up Ramizail by the waist, dodged under a reaching fold
of the net and gained the free ground.
Men were attacking from the mouth of every alley, Turks in Persian
armor with three-foot scimitars and little round shields, mercenary
Turcomans with stout short bows and fists full of arrows, Mamelukes
in yellow tunics carrying battle-axes. The Bedouins pirouetted their
horses to meet them. Some of the enemy were mounted, many on foot.
Battle-cries arose, and this was the strangest thing about the fight,
for both sides lifted the same cry, the howling chant of Islam:
"_Ul-ul-ul-ul-ul-ul-allah akbar! Allah il-al-lahu! Ul-ul-ul-ul-allah
akbar!_"
Godwin, still carrying Ramizail, parried a vicious thrust by a
Seljuk Turk and swung his broadsword. A wave of terrible and utter
happiness swept through him. For this had Godwin of England been
born and trained. His blade smashed down through helmet and skull to
clunk dully on the neckpiece of the Turk's armor. Then he had jerked
it free and turned and driven it squarely into the back of a foeman
who was duelling with the dismounted El Sareuk. Again he whipped it
out, whirled it above his head and smashed its broad flat against the
bearded and grimacing face of a Turcoman. Blood and brains exploded
like seeds and pulp from a shattered pumpkin. Godwin roared gleefully.
Having cleared the space around him, he set Ramizail on her feet and
said, "Stand back to back with me, sweet. My halidom! This is something
like it!"
She slammed her back against his. An etched-bladed knife was in her
capable hand, and she had the look of a ravening demon.
El Sareuk, wiping his dripping scimitar on the _djelabie_ of a fallen
opponent, said, "Where's Yellow-eyes?" for he had grown very fond of
Godwin's battle-scarred old peregrine.
"I don't know. Trust her to come safe through this!" And in a moment,
as Godwin engaged in swordplay with two Moslems, the falcon did indeed
slant down from the sky, to beat her wings fiercely in the eyes of one
of the enemy who was trying to slash at Ramizail under Godwin's arm.
"Thou beauty!" said Godwin, dividing the blinded gentleman neatly at
the waist. "Thou cleaver of storm-clouds! Always art thou here when
Godwin has need of thee!" Only to his falcon and his horse did Godwin
speak in this affectionate fashion. It sometimes made Ramizail jealous.
Many of their Bedouin allies had fallen to the arrows and swords of
the attackers. Now men appeared on the nearest roofs, armed with huge
slings and round stones. Mufaddal evidently desired to take prisoners,
and knowing that Godwin's forces would fight to the last man, had
chosen this way of stunning some of them. A flight of stones laid out
three-quarters of the remaining force, including El Sareuk; Godwin took
a couple on his shield--he was the prime target--and wished he had an
arbalest; he'd bring 'em down from those aeries! Then a rock caught him
at the base of the skull, and he groaned and buckled over and struck
the ground with a crash. Yellow-eyes fluttered up and hung over him,
screeching. Ramizail bent above him, crying out with horror. Then big
rough hands were on her, her knife was twitched away, and she was
hauled off, keening like a banshee, to the house of Mufaddal al Mamun.