HOW EYBEK TURNED GRAY
"And how is it with the Star of the Greeks?" repeated Musa, while
Richard Longsword's face grew gnarled as a mountain oak. At the
Norman's silence, the Arab also became grave as death, and in a
whisper that scarce left his throat, he asked:--
"As you are my friend, tell me, was it in the mountains where they say
you suffered so from thirst? or in the camp where was the plague and
fever?"
Richard shook his head; then at last came the words:--
"She lives--at least I fear so!"
"Allah the Compassionate!" was the Spaniard's cry, "you 'fear' she
lives?"
The Norman's casqued head was bent upon the shaggy mane of Rollo; he
groaned in his agony:--
"Mother of Christ, pity me, if I be not beyond all pity! In the great
battle at Dorylæum, of which you must have heard, our camp was
stormed. I was away summoning help from Duke Godfrey. Before the Turks
were driven out, they made prisoners."
"Prisoners! Allah pity us indeed!" Musa rocked in his saddle, and
pressed his hands to his head. But Richard drove straight forward,
having begun his tale. "I continued in the chase of the Seljouks. My
horse ran ahead of the rest. I saw a squadron of riders clothed in
white, not Turks, but Arabs. I saw that the leader of the band was
holding a woman before him on his saddle. I was almost measuring
swords with him, when my horse failed. I returned to camp torn with
forebodings, and found--" But here he stopped, even he startled at
the agony written on the Andalusian's face.
"Tell it all, dear brother," said Musa, raising his head by a mighty
effort.
"I found that Iftikhar Eddauleh and a band of his infamous Ismaelians
had led the storming of the camps. He had carried Mary away in his
flight; and at this moment she is in his harem,--his slave, till God
may have pity on her innocency and let her die." Then Richard told
Musa why he had pursued Hossein, and the Spaniard called on his men to
join in the chase of the fugitive, who had not taken refuge among
them, but had flown on as swift as his steed could carry. But the
Ismaelian seemed to have bidden the earth open, and it had swallowed
him. So after futile search the whole party turned toward Antioch; and
Musa explained that he came against the Christians with no hostile
intent, but as commander of the armed escort of the embassy the
Egyptian Kalif Mustaali was sending the Crusaders. For the Egyptians,
as Musa explained, had little love for the Turks, since the Turks were
the foes of Ali, successor of the Prophet, whom the Egyptians
venerated. Moreover, twenty years before, the Seljouks had plundered
to the very gates of Cairo. And now that Mustaali had conquered
Jerusalem and Palestine from the Turks, he would be glad to strike
hands with the Christians, and grant them free access to the Holy
City, if only it could remain in his hands. Therefore he had sent a
pompous embassy of fifteen deputies to proffer the Crusaders honorable
peace or deadly war. "And do you imagine, O brother," said Richard,
when he had heard this, and they were riding on together, "that we
Franks will have anything less than the complete mastery of the Holy
City, or be turned back by the threats of your kalif?"
"Allah is all-knowing," was the gloomy reply. "I forewarned the Vizier
Afdhal that nothing would come of this; for have I not seen your
France with my own eyes? But I can only obey. The smooth speeches I
leave to the deputies." Then, with a quick turn: "As Allah lives, I
can think of nothing but of what you have told me. Mary Kurkuas the
slave of Iftikhar,--of Iftikhar! O Allah, if indeed Thou art
omnipotent and merciful, why may such things be?"
"Peace, sweet brother," said the Christian, gently. "I am trying to
learn to bow to the will of God. Do not make my task harder. Mary
Kurkuas was my wife; but what was she to you?"
"What to me?" The words came across Musa's white teeth so quickly that
he had spoken ere he could set bridle to his tongue. Then slowly, with
a soft rhythm and melody attuned so well by his rich voice, he
answered: "What to me? Shall I say it again; are you not my brother,
is not Mary the Greek my sister? Are not your joys my joys; your
sorrows--what sorrows are they not!--mine? Allah pity me; my heart is
sad, sad. And what have you done to seek for her?" So Richard told as
well as he might of his questionings of the prisoners, and of the
report that Iftikhar had gone to Persia, to Alamont the trysting-place
of the Ismaelians. But Musa shook his head at this.
"Either the man spoke false or was ignorant. I am close to the gossip
of the court at Cairo. Iftikhar is in Syria. He keeps still, lest he
rouse Barkyarok; but I think report had it he was dealing with Redouan
of Aleppo."
"Aleppo?" repeated Richard. "I rode close to the city. But it is
impossible to gain news. War blocks all roads. These Syrians will lie,
though there be a dagger at their throats. Had we but captured
Hossein--"
"Forgive that my coming made him escape you," broke in the Spaniard.
"Forgive?" continued the Norman; "what have I to forgive touching you,
my brother? Perhaps even Hossein could have told nothing; but
vengeance is sweet."
"_Wallah_, and it shall not be small!" swore Musa.
So the company rode back to the camp of the Christians; and Richard's
men were astonished to meet their chief trotting side by side with an
unbeliever. But he reassured them, and brought the embassy with all
courtesy before Duke Godfrey, who entreated the Egyptians very
honorably. Richard, however, took Musa to his own tent, and the two
spent together an evening long and sweet. Richard told of the fighting
around Nicæa, of Dorylæum, the desert march, the unfruitful siege; and
Musa told a story of a campaign in Nubia against negro nomads, and
showed the gem-hilted cimeter that the Fatimite kalif had himself
bestowed when the Spaniard returned to Cairo victorious. "And I had
another reward offered me," continued Musa, smiling. "The kalif said
to me: 'Cid Musa, you are a gallant emir. As Allah lives you shall be
my son-in-law; you shall have the hand of Laila my daughter; whose
beauty is as a fountain bursting under palms.'"
"So you are wedded at last," cried the Norman, and he held up his
wine-cup. "To Laila, wife of the great Emir Musa, son of Abdallah!"
was his cry. But the Spaniard checked him with a laugh. "No, I put the
offer by, though it was not easy to refuse such a gift and yet save my
head."
"St. Maurice, you refused!"
"I did; a sly eunuch let me see the princess unveiled. To some men she
is beautiful: eyes that need no _kohl_ to deepen, feet too small for
silken slippers, her smile that of a lotus-bloom under the sun,--but
she was not for me."
"Foolish!" cried the Christian, "you sing love ditties ever, but bear
love for none."
"I am yet young. Wait,--in the book of doom what is written is
written. Leave me in peace!" was the laughing answer. But neither
Norman nor Spaniard laughed in heart when they lay down to sleep that
night. Richard knew that Musa had made a great vow; he could nigh
guess its tenor, though the Moslem kept his counsel well.
The Egyptian envoys came on a barren embassy; infidels were infidels
to the Franks, came they from Bagdad or Cairo. When the ambassadors
hinted that the Crusaders would be welcome at the Holy City if they
would only enter unarmed, the answer was fiery: "Tell the kalif that
we do not fear all the power of Asia or of Egypt. Christians alone
shall guard Jerusalem." So the envoys prepared to journey homeward.
The Franks were to send with them a counter-embassy, proposing peace
if Jerusalem were surrendered; but few expected any good to come of
the mission. Yet, despite the brave words, it was a gloomy council of
the chiefs that met in Duke Godfrey's tent the night after they had
rejected the Egyptian terms. Tancred was not there, nor Richard
Longsword. Godfrey's face was careworn as he sat at the head of the
table, on his left Raymond, on his right Bohemond.
"Dear brothers," he pleaded, after a long and bitter debate, "we do
not fight, I remind you, for gold or glory. Therefore do you, my Lord
Raymond, recall your bitter words against Bohemond--Christ is ill
served by His servants' wranglings." But Raymond answered haughtily:
"Fair Duke, I, too, love Our Lord. But now the Prince of Tarentum
comes demanding that whosoever shall take Antioch shall be lord of the
city. I sniff his meaning well. His intrigue with Phirous the Armenian
who wishes to betray the city is well known. Would God we had Antioch!
But I will not sit by and see one man gather all the fruits of our
toil when we have labored together as brothers, and poured out blood
and treasure; will not see the spoils all go to one who hopes to
prosper by base artifice or womanish stratagem."
Bohemond had bounded to his feet.
"Yes, Count of Toulouse, you do well to say Phirous the Armenian will
betray Antioch at my bidding, and at none other. Have I put nothing at
risk in this Crusade? Have I not played my part at Nicæa, Dorylæum,
the battles around the city? If you have a better device for reducing
Yaghi-Sian, make use, and win Antioch yourself! They tell that the
lord of Mosul, the great Kerbogha, is not many days' march away, with
two hundred thousand men, swept from all Mesopotamia and Persia. Will
his coming make our task easier? Time presses; to-morrow? Too late,
perhaps. Promise me that if I win Antioch I shall become its lord, and
Phirous is ready to yield three towers into our hands."
A deep growl was coming from the other chiefs.
"By Our Lady of Paris and St. Denis," swore Count Hugh of the French
blood-royal, angrily, "this Prince of Tarentum shall not beard us
thus. Let half the army watch Antioch, the rest go against Kerbogha.
God willing, we can crush both."
But good Bishop Adhemar interposed.
"To do so were to betray the cause of God. The host is weakened by war
and famine. One-half will never suffice to confront Kerbogha; only the
saints will give the whole the victory. We cannot raise the siege, nor
endure attack from Kerbogha in our camp. Let us not blame the Lord
Bohemond. With God's will every prince and baron shall win a fair
lordship in this Syria; there is room for all."
Silence lasted a moment; then in turn Robert the Norman cried, "By the
splendor of God, my Lord Bohemond, think well if this Phirous has not
deceived you!"
"He has not!" attested the southern Norman, hotly.
"Good!" retorted Robert, "he has taken your money and spoken you fair.
So? You cannot deny. Nevertheless, fair princes, I have a man here
with a tale to tell."
A dozen voices cried: "What man? What tale? Bring him in!"
Two squires of the Norman Duke led in an Arab, muscular, bright-eyed,
decently habited. Robert explained that this man had come to him,
professing to be a native Christian, well disposed to the Crusaders,
and to have just escaped from the city. Through the interpreter he
gave his name as Eybek, and answered all the questions flung at him
with marvellous readiness and consistency. "Yes, he had ready access
to the circle of Yaghi-Sian, and knew that the city was capable of
making a very long defence. The emir was looking for help in a very
few days. If the Christians did not raise the siege at once and march
away, it would need a miracle from St. George and St. Demetrius to
save them from the myriads of Kerbogha." Only once, when the fellow
raised his head--for he had a manner of holding it down--Bohemond
muttered to Godfrey:--
"Fair Duke, I know not when, yet once--I swear it by the thumb-bone of
St. Anthony in my hilt--I have seen his face before." But the Duke
replied:--
"How before, my lord? Not on the Crusade, surely. Perhaps among the
Arabs of Sicily."
Bohemond shook his head. "Not there." And the examination of Eybek
went on.
Then the Christian chiefs pressed him closer, and Hugh of Vermandois
demanded: "But what of Phirous? For the Prince of Tarentum tells us
this Armenian is high in the favor of Yaghi-Sian, that he is a
Christian at heart, having been a renegade, and anxious to return to
the only true faith."
"Noble lord," replied the Oriental, through the interpreter, "if the
Emir Bohemond believes the tales told him by Phirous, he is less wise
than I deemed him. Phirous is in the confidence of Yaghi-Sian day and
night."
"_Ha!_" interposed Duke Godfrey, dropping his jaw, and Bohemond's sly
face flushed with wrath and incredulity.
"Is it not as I said, fair lords?" cried Robert of Normandy, bringing
his fist down upon the long oaken table before him. "What has the
Prince of Tarentum been trying to lead toward, save shame and
disaster?"
"Insolent!" roared Bohemond, on his feet, with his sword half drawn;
"you shall answer to me for this, son of the Bastard!"
Then the Norman Duke's blade started also. But above his angry shout
rang the cry of Bishop Adhemar.
"In the name of Christ, sweet sons, keep peace! Sheathe your swords!
You, Prince of Tarentum, rejoice if we learn the deceit of Phirous in
time. You, Robert of Normandy, do not triumph; for Bohemond has only
sought to advance the victory of Our Lord!"
"Fair lords," commanded Godfrey, sternly, "let us save our swords for
the unbelievers, and be quiet while we hearken to this Arabian. In
truth he appears a pious and loyal man."
Then all kept silence while Eybek continued to explain that Phirous
had been all the time in the counsels of the emir, that there was a
plot to induce the Christian chiefs to adventure themselves inside the
walls by pretending to betray a tower. Once inside, an ambush was to
break out, and the flower of the Christians would be destroyed.
Bohemond raged, and stormed, and tried to browbeat the fellow into
contradictions. The Prince spoke Arabic and needed no interpreter; but
the other clung to his tale unshaken. Only men noticed that he hung
down his head, as if afraid to let the red glare of the cressets fall
fairly on his face, and that when there was a stir among the lesser
chieftains as a certain newcomer took his seat at the foot of the
table he averted his gaze yet more. Presently, baffled and willing to
own his hopes blasted, the Tarentine turned away.
"St. Michael blot out that Armenian! He has taken my gold and deceived
me. This Arab's story clings together too well not to be true." And
the Prince started to leave the tent with a sullen countenance, for he
had come to the council with swelling hopes.
"The finger of God is manifest in this," commented Godfrey, piously.
"Had not Duke Robert brought this man before us we would all, with
Bohemond, have stepped into the pit dug by our enemies."
"Verily," cried Adhemar, "this Eybek is a true friend of Christ; his
reward shall not fail him."
The Arab bowed low before the bishop and Bouillon, and muttered some
flowery compliments in his own tongue.
"Lead him away," commanded Duke Robert to his squires. "In the morning
we will question further." As they obeyed, one took a torch from its
socket on the tent-pole, and, holding it high, the ruddy light fell
full on the face of the Arabian. An instant only, but with that
instant came a cry, a shout.
"Hossein!" and Richard Longsword had bounded from his seat as if an
arrow dashed from a crossbow. One snatch and the torch was in his
hand, held close under the Arab's face. The luckless man writhed in a
clutch firm as steel. Richard held up the light so that every feature
of his victim lay revealed. "The man!" And at the exclamation, and
sight of the iron mood written on Longsword's face, Eybek's bronzed
face turned ashen pale.
There was silence in the council tent for one long minute. Then
Richard was speaking very calmly:--
"Fair lords, we are all deceived. This man is no Christian escaped
from Antioch. What he is, those who know the manner of the captivity
of Mary de St. Julien, my dear wife, can tell. On the day of the
coming of the Egyptian embassy he was in company with a band of
infidel horsemen that I dispersed. The tale he has told you touching
Phirous is doubtless a lie, to cast discredit on the Armenian, and
bring his scheme to naught, if Yaghi-Sian has not been warned by him
already." At Longsword's words a howl of wrath went round the council
table.
"Traitor! Dog of Hell!" Duke Robert was threatening; "he shall know
what it is to play false with the heir of William the Norman!"
"_Te Deum laudemus!_" Bishop Adhemar was muttering. "Verily we were
all deceived in him, as we believed ourselves deceived in Phirous; yet
God has brought the counsels of the crafty to naught; they have fallen
in the pit they had digged for others!"
And Duke Godfrey added: "The Prince of Tarentum will thank you for
this, De St. Julien. Let this accursed Arabian be led away and
fettered."
But Richard held his prey fast. "Fair lords, this is the boon I crave:
give me the life or death of this fellow. By Our Lady I swear he shall
not find either road an easy one."
Then twenty voices chorussed, "Yes! yes! away with him!" So Richard
led, or rather dragged out his victim. Eybek struggled once while they
traversed the long tent-avenues of the sleeping camp,--and only once;
for he found that in Longsword's hands he was weaker than a roe in the
paws of a lion. The Norman did not speak to the captive, or to any in
his train, until outside his own tents. The ever watchful Herbert,
standing sentry, hailed him.
"Does Musa sleep?" was all Richard said. And in a moment the Spaniard
had glided from the tent, and was crouching by the smouldering
camp-fire.
"Ever awake?" asked Longsword, wondering; and the reply was, "Allah
will not grant sleep when I think of--" But here the Andalusian's
ready tongue failed.
"Look!" Richard drew the captive down by the red coals, and whispered
his name. Then Herbert gave a great shout, which brought Sebastian,
Theroulde, De Carnac, and more from their tents, and they lit many
torches.
Now what befell Eybek that night we need not tell. For the ways of
Herbert and De Carnac were not those of soft ladies, who embroider
tapestry all day in a rose bower; and the Ismaelian was no sleek
serving-page, who cried out when the first thorn bush pricked him. But
before Richard Longsword lay down that night he had heard somewhat of
Iftikhar Eddauleh, and of another more important than Iftikhar, which
made his sleep the lighter. At dawn he was outside Godfrey's tent
awaiting speech with the good Duke. When Bouillon heard what he was
seeking, the Norman was instantly admitted; and Godfrey marvelled and
rejoiced at sight of the fire and gladness that shone in Longsword's
eyes.
"Well met, and ever welcome, fair Baron," was the Lorrainer's
greeting; "and will you ride to-day with your men toward Urdeh, and
southward to see if you may sweep in a few droves of beeves and a corn
convoy?"
"My Lord Duke," quoth Richard, curtly, "I cannot ride to Urdeh to-day
or to-morrow."
The Lorrainer gave him a shrewd glance.
"Fair son," said he, half affectionately, "you have been dreaming on
what that captive spy threw out. Do not deny."
"I do not deny, my lord. And now I come to ask you this: Will the
cause of Christ suffer great hurt if I ride on no more forays for the
week to come, or for the next, or, if God so will,"--he spoke
steadily,--"or never?"
The Duke's gaze was more penetrating than before.
"Beware, De St. Julien; you ride to death if you trust the word of
that Eybek, even under torture. We only know of him this--the Father
of Lies is no smoother perjurer."
Richard answered with a laugh:--
"Eybek has said to me thrice, 'Cid, as Allah lives, I swear I warn you
truly,--strike off my head or torture as you will,--know this: you
ride to death when you ride to Aleppo.'"
"To Aleppo?" demanded Godfrey.
"At Aleppo Iftikhar Eddauleh holds Mary Kurkuas prisoner, and I go to
Aleppo to seek my wife," was Longsword's half-defiant reply.
"Madman!" The Duke struck his heavy scabbard on the ground to double
his emphasis.
"'Mad' only as I set the love and joy of one of God's pure saints
before peril that no cavalier, who is true to his knightly vows, could
have right to shun."
"How will you go? Antioch resists. We can detach no large force. Your
own St. Julieners can do nothing."
"My lord," said Richard, steadily, "I shall go alone, save for one
comrade--my brother, Musa the Egyptian emir,--who will fail me when
God Himself loves evil. He is Moslem, but I would sooner have him at
my side than any Christian cavalier from Scotland to Sicily; for what
human craft and wit and strength can do, that can he."
The Duke, leaning heavily upon his sword, a smile half sad, half
merry, upon his face, slowly replied: "You are both very young; God
loves such--whatsoever their faith! You are right, De St. Julien--you
must go. I will ask Bishop Adhemar to pray for your safe return."
So Richard returned to his tents and made the last preparations, said
farewell to many, and last of all to Sebastian. The priest's heart, he
knew, was very full when Richard knelt for the words of blessing, and
at the end Sebastian gave him the kiss of peace.
"Go forth, dear son," was the word of Sebastian; "fight valiantly for
Christ; fear not death. But by the grace of God bring the lost lamb
home. And I--I will wrestle with God, beseeching that Michael and
Raphael and Gabriel, the warriors of heaven, may spread their broad
shields over you. And may He who plucked the three children from the
fire, and Daniel from the paw of the lion, and Peter from the dungeon
of Herod, deliver you also, and her whom you seek! Amen."
When Sebastian had finished, Richard mounted Rollo. He wore no armor
save the Valencia hauberk beneath his mantle; but Trenchefer was
girded to his side. Musa was beside him on a deer-limbed Arabian. They
crossed the Orontes on the bridge of boats behind the camp of Duke
Godfrey. The tents and bright river orchards were fading from sight;
on before lay the sunlit rolling Syrian country. Suddenly the thunder
of a charger at speed came up behind them. Richard turned inquiringly.
A moment later the strange rider had dashed abreast--had drawn rein;
and Longsword rubbed his two eyes, doubting his vision--beside him was
Godfrey, Duke of Lorraine.
"My lord--" the Norman had begun. The Duke, he saw, was in no armor,
and bore only his sword. Godfrey galloped along beside Rollo.
"Fair son," said he, smiling, "has the noble lady, Mary the Greek,
less chance of succor if three cavaliers ride to her aid than if only
two?"
"Impossible!" cried Longsword, distrusting now his ears; "it is you
that are mad, my Lord Duke. Your position, your duties, the army!
Doubtless we ride to death, as you well said."
Godfrey's laugh was merry as that of a boy.
"Then by Our Lady of Antwerp three swords will keep heaven farther
away than two! Know, De St. Julien, that to my mind nothing stirs in
the camp for the next two weeks. I grow sluggish as a cow, listening
to Raymond's and Bohemond's wranglings. Renard will spread in the camp
that I have led a foray southward, and let men miss me if they will.
Enough to know my arm and wits can do more for once at Aleppo than at
Antioch."
"Yet this is utter rashness," urged Richard, in last protest; "to ease
my own conscience, turn back--for my sake do it!"
"For your sake," was the smiling answer, "I will keep my Marchegai
neck to neck with Rollo. I am not so old a knight that I have
forgotten the sniff of an adventure. When I put on the chieftain, I
could not put off the cavalier."
Richard did not reply. To shake off Godfrey was impossible. Presently
the Norman in his own turn laughed.
"On, then, to Aleppo! To Aleppo, be it for life or death!" cried Musa;
and Richard added: "Tremble, Iftikhar,--the three best swords in the
wide earth seek you!" Then each gave his horse the head.