HOW THE ISMAELIANS SAW TRENCHEFER
The voice of Musa recalled the Norman to the things of earth. "_Citt_,
protectress sent from Allah!" the Andalusian was crying, "do my ears
fail? Is your voice strange? When have I heard it before? In Palermo?"
"In Palermo," reëchoed the stranger, "in Palermo, when by the Most
High's favor I warned you against Iftikhar Eddauleh." The name of his
enemy roused all the fires in Richard's breast.
"Lead on!" boasted he, nigh fiercely. "Lead on! and in the name of
every saint, Trenchefer shall weigh out his price to the Ismaelian
to-night!"
His voice was rising to a war-cry, when Musa clapped his hand on his
friend's mouth. The lady had upraised a warning finger; a tremor of
mingled fear and wrath seemed shaking her.
"Hist, Cid Richard! Are you mad? The palace is full of armed men.
Safety is leagues away. And I declare to you, that unless you swear by
the great name of Issa you worship, to do Iftikhar to-night no hurt, I
will cry aloud, and you perish as surely as by Harun's bowstring."
"Iftikhar?" questioned Richard, in amaze. "Iftikhar? You have given
freedom to his arch foe, and yet you say to me, 'Spare'?"
"My lord," said the lady, gently, "Mary the Greek shall tell you why I
do this. Swear, if you would see her face--not die." And, conjured by
that all-potent name, Richard took a willing oath; Godfrey likewise,
and Musa after his manner. The lady raised her lamp once more.
"Follow softly," she warned; "many sleep all about us. I must lead you
the length of the palace."
Then came another journey through the enchanted darkness, lit only by
the lamp and the gleam of the gems at the strange deliverer's throat.
They crossed the great hall, treading gently, Richard's hand on the
hilt of Trenchefer, for nigh he expected to see goblins springing from
the dark. Once across, the lady halted; opened a door. In the glow of
the lamps Longsword saw a giant negro prone upon the rug, at his side
a naked sabre. Trenchefer crept halfway from the sheath, as he turned,
unfolding his mighty hands. But their guide gave him no heed. The
black slumbered on.
The door closed. They sped down a long gallery, swift and silent as
flight in a dream; another door, another guardsman. This time the
negro was awake, standing at his post.
"Now!" came between Godfrey's teeth; and three swords were ready to
flash. The lady smiled, sprang before them. At sight of her the sentry
bowed low.
"Habib," said she, gently, "these are they I said I would bring you.
Remember--you have for them neither ears nor eyes."
"I am blind and dumb, my _Citt_," was the answer.
She beckoned, the three followed; the guardsman was lost in the gloom.
"I begged his life of Iftikhar a year since," explained the lady,
"therefore Habib is grateful."
A second gallery, an open arcade, a sight of the stars twinkling
between the plumes of the palm trees, and the puff of the sluggish
southern wind. They came to a new door, where a lamp burned low. The
door was open. A stairway wound upward lit at intervals by flickering
sconces. The lady halted.
"Cid Richard," said she, "you shall go up with me, and take your wife;
let these two remain below in the shadow."
Musa smiled and salaamed; Godfrey laughed in his beard. "You need no
comrade now, fair knight," said he to Richard.
The Norman's step was on the stairway, as he leaped ahead of the lady.
At last! At last! That was all he knew. God had indeed "stopped the
mouths of the lions, had quenched the violence of fire!" Three steps
Richard had covered with his bound; but at the fourth he was frozen
fast. A cry, a cry of terror, of despairing pain, sped down the
stairway:--
"Morgiana! Help me, for the love of God!"
Whose voice? Longsword knew it above ten thousand; and with it flew
others--curses, howls, cries for help.
"Hakem dead! Zeyneb bound! Rouse Cid Iftikhar! Morgiana,--death to
Morgiana!"
Louder the din; Richard turned to his protectress half fiercely: "What
is this? Shall I go up?"
She had covered her face with her hands.
"Allah pity! Allah have mercy!" moaned she, quaking with sobs. "He
fights against us. Go or stay, we shall soon die."
Now at last leaped forth Trenchefer.
"Follow who will," thundered Richard to Godfrey and Musa, who needed
no bidding.
Fast sped they; faster, Richard. Had he wings when he mounted the
stairway? A second cry of utter despair, the rush of more feet.
Longsword saw the last stair, saw the room, many torches and many
forms; black eunuchs all, some clutching at a struggling woman, some
bending over a prostrate form, some standing around Zeyneb, whose
hands were upraised in malediction.
"Iftikhar! Send for Cid Iftikhar!" he was raging; and every voice
swelled the babel.
But above them all pealed the thunder of the Norman. What profit
silence now! "God wills it. St. Julien and Mary Kurkuas!"
Eblees leaping from the cloven rock smote no greater terror than
Richard bounding upon the blacks. Arms some had, but arms none used;
for Trenchefer dashed them down as the flail smites, ere one could
raise or draw. Richard sought Zeyneb; but the dwarf, the only one with
wits enough to fly, darting through a door, was gone into the
darkness. "God wills it! St. Julien and Mary Kurkuas."
Richard again flung out his battle-cry; but none stood against him. He
stared about the room, saw the dead form in the corner, a negro dying
beside him, a second prone by the head of the staircase, the rest all
fled,--all save one.
Richard felt his knees smiting together, and a darkening mist veiling
his eyes. He tried to speak; there came no word. Trenchefer fell
clanging to the floor. Something was touching him, pressing him. Into
the ringing in his ears stole one name, his own; out of the mist
before his eyes floated one face. Then God gave back sight and speech.
"Mine for life and for death!" came from his lips.
"What is death if once you kiss me!" flew the answer.
But neither said more, nor thought more. What soul may have thoughts
in such an instant! Only Richard knew that never in his whole life had
Heaven granted him joy like this.
Mary was laying her warm, smooth hands upon his shoulders. Her lips
were close to his own. She was speaking.
"Richard, the peril is very great. You should have fled the moment
Morgiana saved you. For my sake you all have committed great sin!"
"And would you not thus have sinned for me?" replied the Norman. Mary
did not reply. Her own heart told that Richard spoke well. Then she
said softly:--
"Sweet husband, I will not be frightened. I can fear nothing now. Only
you must not let Iftikhar possess me again. Holy Mother of God! you
must not let him regain me!" And Richard, who knew what she meant (for
when did he not read all in her eyes?), answered, holding out
Trenchefer:--
"Iftikhar shall not regain you. By the wounds of Christ I swear it.
Ah, how Our Lord will welcome a sweet angel like you when you fly up
to the gate of heaven!"
And Mary laughed at his words, for many things had become more
terrible than death.
"I rejected once the escape of death as a sin," said she, "but I know
it will be no sin now. What, with you beside, is there left to fear,
living or dying?"
"Living!" cried the Norman, snatching a cloak to cast about her. "God
will not suffer the wicked to torture such as you. St. Michael speed
my arm with all the strength of heaven!"
He had not seen Godfrey and Musa mounting to the chamber, or Morgiana
following. He had not heard the tenfold din rising in the palace and
without. But now he heard a howl of fury fit to pass a demon's lips.
"May you scorch forever!" Richard turned. He saw Iftikhar Eddauleh,
cimeter in hand, springing through the doorway. The Ismaelian was
without armor; he wore the white robe of his order only. Rage
unspeakable almost drowned the curses in his throat.
"Die! Die, both of you!" that was his mad cry. Before Richard could
grasp Trenchefer the Egyptian was on him, had torn Mary from his arms,
was shortening his weapon to run him through. But Longsword needed no
weapon. "For Mary's sake!" cried his soul; while one hand caught
Iftikhar's sword wrist, the other clutched the Ismaelian's body. A
struggle, a crash, and the grand prior measured length on the carpet.
Richard bent over him, Trenchefer in hand. One thrust through the
body, and Iftikhar Eddauleh would have passed from the wrath of man.
The great sword was rising when Morgiana tore at the Norman's arm.
"Your oath!" cried she, with livid face; "spare!" Longsword paused.
"What is he to you, woman?" demanded he, sternly.
"He is to me as Mary the Greek to you," answered the Arabian,
defiantly. Richard withheld his hand. Iftikhar was staggering to his
feet, but was weaponless. His conqueror pointed toward the doorway.
"Fair cavalier," said he in Provençal, "get you gone. For sake of my
oath to this woman, I spare you once. When we next meet, God judge
betwixt us."
The Egyptian drew himself up proudly.
"Do not deceive yourself, Cid Richard. You will be overwhelmed by
numbers. Though you spare me, I will not spare you."
Longsword in turn threw back his head.
"Nor do I ask it. We owe each other--nothing. Go!"
And Iftikhar foamed out of the room, gone as suddenly as he had
entered. There was silence for a moment.
"My friends," said Richard, "let us make haste. Shall we not fly?"
Morgiana laughed, as so often, very scornfully.
"Verily you Franks are fools. Do you say 'go'? Are you angels with
swords of fire, that you can blast ten thousand? Hark! fifty approach
the door by which we entered! All the Ismaelians about El Halebah are
alarmed. Iftikhar boasts well; we are soon hewn in pieces."
There was indeed a din, hundreds of voices, many torches shaking and
flitting about the groves, and coming nearer, dogs barking, armor
clanging. The whole cantonment of the Ismaelians was astir to avenge
the violation of the palace. Musa had bowed his head.
"Alas! dear brother," said he, after his gentle manner, "clearly Allah
has written our dooms! We pass from death to death. But we can now die
sword in hand!"
Then Richard held up Trenchefer, so that the reddened blade glittered
in the lamplight.
"This is no time to die!" cried he; "let others die! Let us do the
deeds God has appointed. The life of my wife, the safety of the army
of Christ, are at stake, and with Our Lord's help we shall make our
boast over Iftikhar!"
The others looked at him. For the first time Mary saw that mad fire in
his eyes which once burned the hour when he wrested triumph from death
at Valmont--a thing terrible to see, but Mary did not quail. In a
strange way the sight of him told her they were then not to die; for a
prophet stood before her, a prophet whose evangel would be given that
night with steel.
Richard surveyed the room. It was square, of no great size, lighted in
day by a high lantern. On his right descended the stairway to the
arcade of the palace; before him opened the wide door that led down
the dark corridor. The door itself was of wood and weak. The winding
stairway was steep and narrow; one man could make good the ascent
against a host. But to defend the door was nothing easy. Just beyond
it the passage widened, making space for numbers. Longsword turned to
Morgiana. "Is there no other door?" he demanded.
She shook her head. "None that will open." She tore back the Kerman
tapestry, and revealed a solid door in the wall, barred and bolted
into the casement. "This door has been sealed for years; the firm wall
is little stronger. It leads to another stairway, but the former
masters of El Halebah closed it." Duke Godfrey, who had swept the room
with a captain's eye, snorted with satisfaction.
"Good!" cried he, "only two entrances to defend. By St. Michael, the
_jongleurs_ shall have some brave strokes to sing, before we are
amongst the angels!"
Mary looked from one to the other of her terrible protectors. Musa had
put off his despair; Richard leaned on Trenchefer, a lion crouching
for his spring; Godfrey--terror of the paynims--pranced up and down
the doorway, clattering his great blade, and calling on every Moslem
devil to draw nigh and be satisfied. Mary knew then, if never before,
that to her mighty husband and his peers death was a very pleasant
thing, if only it came in knightly guise. There was redoubled din in
the passage, more din below the stairway. Richard addressed Musa,
"Guard the stairs, the Duke and I can care for the door," and he
sprang to Godfrey's side.
The Greek threw her arms about him, beseeching.
"Dear husband, as you love me,--strike once, and free me from Iftikhar
forever!" And she held down her head. But Richard laughed, as St.
George might, crushing his dragon.
"Yes, by the splendor of God,--as I love you!--I will strike not once,
but many times; and Iftikhar shall never touch you!"
He caught her in his giant arms, pressed her to his breast, put her
away. "Pray for us!" his words; "your prayers will outweigh
Trenchefer!" But Mary only stared about in dread, wishing to cry, to
shout, but her voice was frozen. Morgiana's hand plucked her away.
"Back!" commanded the Arabian; "you can do nothing. They are all in
Allah's hands. Let us await doom."
Morgiana forced her to a corner of the room, and thrust her upon a
divan. Mary heard a thunderous command in the voice of Iftikhar, a
rush of many feet, a clash and crash of targets and sword-blades,--then,
in mercy, sight and hearing fled.
Down the passage, lit by wavering lamps and flambeaux, charged the
white-robed Ismaelians, the commands and curses of the grand prior
speeding them. Not a man but was a trained sword hand, and had been in
the battle press a score of times. But they never knew before how deep
the Frankish bear could bite. Side by side--armed only with their
great blades--Godfrey and Richard met them in the passage. Then came
the rush, the shock. Godfrey swung to left; to right whirled
Trenchefer. Left and right, each felling his man; and cimeters dashed
from hands as stubble, shields were smitten through as if of gauze.
After the shock came the recoil; new charge and new repulse. The long
Frankish swords hewed down the Ismaelians before their short cimeters
could strike. There were three corpses before the door, but the two
were still standing. Third charge--again flung back! Iftikhar raged at
his men.
"Scorpions! Lizards! Will you let two men mock you? Is it thus you
earn Paradise?"
"We may fight men, not jinns!" howled an old _daïs_. Richard
brandished Trenchefer.
"Come you, Iftikhar Eddauleh! The account is long!"
The grand prior forced himself forward.
"It is long!" foamed he. "Eblees pluck me if it is not paid."
"Back, Cid," pleaded the Ismaelians; "they have the might of the rebel
efreets!"
"Fools!" thundered Iftikhar, putting all by; "follow, who dares!" His
eye lit on Morgiana within. "Allah blast me utterly, wench," rang his
menace, "if you see the dawning."
Morgiana's answer was to tear the ring from her finger, and dash it in
his face.
"See, see! You have cursed, mocked, triumphed! But I conquer! You
shall possess the Greek, never, never!"
Iftikhar cut her short by dashing on Richard as a stone from a
catapult. Twice sword and cimeter clashed; thrice, and the Norman's
strength dashed through the Ismaelian's guard. Iftikhar fell, but
Trenchefer had turned in the stroke. He was not maimed. Ere Richard
could strike again, the "devoted," with a great cry, flew after their
chief, to drag to safety. Godfrey slew one, but his body became the
shield. They plucked Iftikhar from danger. He stood, blaspheming
heaven. There was blood on his shoulder, but he snatched for a weapon.
"_Allah akhbar!_" groaned Morgiana, falling on her face; "he is nigh
slain!" Richard laughed in derision.
"Slain? He has strength to kill many good men yet; cursed am I, that
my wrist turned."
"Again! Again!" raged the grand prior; and the "devoted" dashed upon
the two Franks, but only to be flung back as before. At the narrow
stairway, many had tried to ascend; none had passed Musa, "Sword of
Grenada."
Mary was awaking from her oblivion. Still the clatter of swords, the
howl of the Ismaelians, the loud "Ha! St. Michael!" of the two Franks.
Never had she loved Richard Longsword as now, when she saw him
standing beside the great Duke--the two o'ermatching the fifty. Heaven
was very near, she knew it; but the vision of God's White Throne could
hardly be more sweet than the thought--"Richard Longsword is doing
this for me, for me!" And the Norman? How changed from the helpless ox
the Ismaelians had dragged to slaughter! How the touch of warm breath
and soft hair on his cheek, by a great mystery, had sped the might of
the paladins through his veins!
The "devoted" renewed the onset. When Iftikhar sought to lead them,
they thrust him back. When the Frankish swords proved again too
strong, they brought lances and javelins. With darts they would crush
down these destroying jinns. But Godfrey plucked up a low ebony table,
tore three legs clear, holding the table-top by the fourth before him
as a shield, and dashed the other three amongst the foe. A javelin
quivered in the casement; he tore it clear, and sped it clean through
target and cuirass of a bold Ismaelian. No more darts were flung: to
supply weapons to this man were madness. Iftikhar urged yet another
attack; he was met by stolidity and silence.
"Sheytans!" howled he, "are you not 'devoted'? Will you pawn Paradise
for Gehenna?"
It was Harun the executioner who answered. "My Cid--sweet is Paradise,
but the journey these promise is too swift. Strike off our heads at
will,--Allah defends your enemies."
Iftikhar laid down his cimeter, and with outstretched arms approached
the fateful doorway. The two were awaiting him, blood on their cheeks,
their hands, their dress. But he knew their strength was still
terrible; in their grasp were those swords,--those swords he in his
arrogancy had left them, when he should have disarmed.
Richard bowed and saluted with Trenchefer.
"We are hardly winded, my lord," quoth he, though in truth his breaths
came fast. "I reproach the saint that ended our adventure together!"
Iftikhar came a step nearer.
"De St. Julien," said he, in a voice that shook, in mere striving for
calmness, "you are indeed a valiant man; and you also, my Lord
Godfrey. I honor you, and cry against Allah that we must meet as foes
not friends. But you are no jinns, though my cowards bellow it. You
have wounds both. You must soon go down. Ten you may slay, but not
hundreds. I make you a fair proffer of life and honor"--he dropped his
voice--"of life, honor, and safety for the army of the Franks."
Godfrey's hand almost dropped the hilt at this last; but he
answered:--
"I am simply companion to my Lord de St. Julien. In this adventure he
leads. Make conditions with him."
Iftikhar faced Richard. "Ride free, then," said he; "receive your
horses. I swear it is not too late for your host to be warned. My
Ismaelians shall conduct you through the net spread by Kerbogha; but
on this condition--that you give back to me--" his voice faltered; his
eye wandered to the corner of the room within--"give back to me alive
the Star of the Greeks."
Richard felt as though dashed by a thunderbolt. Yield Mary to Iftikhar
as price of his own life? God knew he never thought on that! But
should he set her joy and his before the lives of dear comrades, who
had ridden lightly to the jaws of death in his quarrel? Above all,
should he peril the army of the Cross because Mary loved peace in
heaven rather than the pleasures of El Halebah? No words came to his
lips; he turned appealing eyes to Godfrey, who spoke nothing. But in
the silence Mary spoke. She had risen, had advanced to the doorway.
The two enemies--the Egyptian, the Norman--gazed at her as upon a
treasure for which life were a trivial price.
"Dear husband," her voice came, sweetly as bells across the misty sea,
"you know what you should say. God will avenge me in His own time, and
reward me and reward Iftikhar each according to justice. I have borne
so much, I can bear a little more. You must save yourselves, must warn
the army. It was a sin to go to Aleppo; now Heaven allows you to ride
away scatheless. Do not distrust Iftikhar; he violates no oath."
What might Richard say? His wife before him--in all her beauty! To
save her he would have felt it untold joy to die. He knew that she
herself loved death more than life in this renewed captivity. And yet
there she stood, pleading--pleading, as never before, to be left to
her captivity. What might he do? Mother of God, he was of too frail
stuff to answer! But the great Duke, whose hand was the heaviest,
whose heart the purest, in all broad France, made answer for him.
Very gravely he was replying to Iftikhar.
"My lord, I have faith enough in God to believe that He will not
suffer His army and His cause to perish, because we withhold this
price--the agony of one of His angels. Go back to your men, my lord.
We shall hold them at bay as long as He wills. And rest assured that,
before they master us, the Lady de St. Julien shall have granted her,
as she has prayed, a swift death at our swords, rather than a slow one
in your palace."
"Think better, for the love of Christ, my Duke!" pleaded Mary, making
to fall on her knees. But Godfrey had spoken; and Richard spoke too
and very gently:--
"Sweet wife, you will find heaven no darksome place. Please God I
shall be good enough sometime to see you there." Then he turned to
Iftikhar, his poise high, his voice hard. "Go back, my lord, uncover
the pit, unchain the fiends, lead on your devils! Yet know that the
first foe that crosses this threshold will see my wife's dead body!"
"Dear Son of God!" cried Mary, "will you throw your lives away? Musa,
you are wise, plead with them."
But the Spaniard, who had been playing a part equal to the others,
turned at his post by the stairway, and salaamed after his fashion.
"I have heard my brother and Cid Godfrey. Allah indeed pity us, if we
yield the Star of the Greeks!"
Richard raised Trenchefer.
"Now, Iftikhar Eddauleh!" commanded he, "again--begone! Or, unarmed as
you are, I kill you!"
The Egyptian knew by his foe's eye it was no idle boast; he knew also
that prayers were futile upon the three.
"Brave cavaliers," said he, with a bitter smile, "I can do nothing for
you. Wonderful are your Frankish swords and that of Cid Musa. But you
shall feel a cimeter that will test their temper, be it never so
keen."
He was gone, and disappeared behind the band of Ismaelians who eyed
the Franks from a safe distance down the passage. Mary saw him
vanish, and turned first to Musa, then to Godfrey, then to Richard,
and kissed the first two on the forehead, her husband on the lips.
"Dear friends," she said gently, "you add sin to sin for my sake. The
end cannot be far away. But God is very near, and I fear nothing."