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. Ill 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 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.”
“Aye,” 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 _fedaï_ 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-ed-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 _fedaï_ 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 _fedaïs_ will henceforth dog the steps of everyone 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.