After they had journeyed a long time, the welcome cry of “land” was
heard from the mast-head, and soon afterwards those on deck had a
distinct view of the shore and the wharfs of Tyre. But at this moment
the skipper came up to the king and said:
“Sire, we are all lost. There is no wind to carry us past this place.
They have sighted us already in the town, and will soon send out their
pirate ships to chase us.”
“Come, nephew,” said Ylyas, “throw the cowardly dog overboard to drink
brotherhood with the fishes. Have we not swords enough to defend
ourselves from the Moors?”
“Sir,” replied the skipper, “the heathen will throw Greek fire on
board. Neither sword nor shield can do aught against that. The ship
will be burnt, and all the men either burnt therewith or drowned.”
No one knew what to advise, so all stood silent about the king.
Suddenly a voice was heard from the mast-head:
“All arms below! Bring up the merchandise, and let the sails be reefed,
lest the enemy guess that we thought of flight.”
“Hey-day! It is Alberich,” said Ortnit; “how could I have forgotten
him?”
He looked up and saw the king of the dwarfs slipping rapidly down the
mast to the deck. In another moment he was at his side.
“You forgot both the ring and me,” said Alberich, “but a father does
not so soon forget his son. Now hasten and see that my commands are
carried out.”
Much ashamed of himself, Ortnit gave the necessary orders. All weapons
of offence were stowed away below, and the costly wares Zacharis had
provided were spread temptingly on deck. Meanwhile the dwarf climbed
the mast again, and, as soon as he was aloft, shouted to the Moors:
“See here—we are peaceful merchants bringing wares from Italy. Give us
free convoy into the harbour of Tyre.”
Ylyas stared up open-mouthed at the top of the mast. The flag was
flying there as usual, and no one was to be seen. What voice was that
he had heard?
“Is the devil on board?” he asked, crossing himself, “or is it a good
spirit? Whom did you speak to, nephew? Who called from the top-mast
even now?”
“A good spirit,” replied Ortnit, “a little dwarf who will, help us out
of our difficulty. You shall see him with your own eyes.”
With these words he slipped his magic ring on his uncle’s finger, and
the latter was much astonished to see the small childish figure
descending the mast, still more when Ortnit gave him a hasty sketch of
all that had taken place.
The Tyrian galleys had by this time come up with the ship. Their
commander, who introduced himself as constable of the city, inquired
whether the object of the strangers in coming to those seas was really
to trade with them. Satisfied that they were what they appeared to be,
because of the number and splendour of their wares, he at last gave
them leave to enter the harbour, and even to land if they desired to do
so. In the course of that afternoon the townsfolk bought many rich
Italian stuffs at a very low price.
In the evening the two princes held counsel together as to what was now
to be done. Ylyas advised that a sudden onslaught should be made on the
castle, and that everybody there, young or old, should be put to the
sword. Before Ortnit could answer, Alberich broke into the conversation
by saying that such conduct would not be fair, that no one who desired
fame and glory would take his enemy unawares; but for fear any herald
sent to the infidels should be murdered by them, he undertook to bear
the message of defiance himself.
Alberich hastened to Muntabure by unfrequented roads. Arrived there, he
saw King Machorell standing on the ramparts enjoying the cool evening
air.
“Listen to me, Moorish king,” cried the dwarf from the castle moat,
“and mark what I tell you. My master, King Ortnit, desires that you
will give him your daughter to be his wife, and queen of Lombardy. If
you refuse your consent, he bids me declare war on you at once, and
warn you that he will attack Tyre before daybreak to-morrow. After
conquering it he will come on to Muntabure, punish you for your evil
deeds, and marry your daughter.”
“So, Goblin,” cried Machorell angrily, “you want to arrange a marriage,
do you? You will find both your own head and your master’s adorning the
battlements of my castle before long, if you persist in your foolish
scheme. But where are you? I cannot see you.”
“Down below you in the moat,” was the answer.
The king flung a heavy stone down upon the place where he supposed
Alberich to be, but missed his mark. He called out his guards and made
them search the whole neighbourhood, but they returned at nightfall
baffled and disappointed.
That evening Ortnit made an onslaught on the city, and found it totally
unprepared for any attack. However, the Tyrians soon got under arms and
made a gallant defence; all in vain. Ortnit was victorious after a hard
struggle in which many of his faithful followers were slain.
When he returned from pursuing the Tyrians, Ortnit went to the place
where his uncle had fought, and found him lying on the ground
surrounded by his people. Was he dead or only wounded? The king bent
over him anxiously, and loosed his helmet to see if he were yet alive.
His heart had not quite ceased to beat. As Ortnit was raising him in
his arms, he happened to touch him with Alberich’s ring, and in a
moment Ylyas was on his feet, whole and sound, as though he had never
been wounded. It was well for Ortnit that it was so, for in another
instant he and his men were attacked by the train-bands of the city,
who had rallied once more. At length they also were beaten back with
immense loss, and Tyre was really in his hands. Those of the citizens
that were left swore fealty to the king of Lombardy, who then gave
orders to attend to the wants of the wounded, both friends and foes. He
allowed his followers a few days’ rest before leading them against
Muntabure.