HOW RICHARD HAD SPEECH WITH MUSA
In the days that the Christians lay about Jerusalem, after the first
assault had failed, Richard learned to know every ring on that gilded
coat of armor which shielded the commandant of Jerusalem. Iftikhar had
borne a charmed life those four and twenty days of the siege; a
thousand bolts had left him unscathed; his voice and example had been
better than five hundred bowmen at a point of peril. Along with
Iftikhar, Richard noted a second mailed figure upon the walls, more
slender than the emir, nimble in his sombre black mail as a greyhound;
and his presence also fired the Egyptians to fight like demons.
Longsword bore about in his heart two resolves, to lay Iftikhar
Eddauleh on his back (of this he was trebly resolved) and to discover
who this black-armored warrior might be. Had he never seen that
graceful figure make those valorous strokes before? So Longsword
nursed his hate and his curiosity, and threw all his energy day and
night into the siege works.
In the days that came it pleased Heaven to put a last test upon the
faith and steadfastness of the army. Not even in burning Phrygia had
they parched more with thirst. Midsummer, a Syrian sun, a country
always nearly arid, and all the pools stopped by Iftikhar, ere he
retired within the city;--no wonder there was misery!
"O for one cooling drop from some mountain stream of France!" Had the
army joined in one prayer, it would have been this. For a skinful of
fetid water, brought far, fetched three deniers, and when the
multitude struggled around the one fountain Siloam, often as the
scanty pool bubbled, what was it among so many? To secure water to
keep the breath in Rollo, Richard went nigh to the bottom of a
lightened purse; and still the heavens would cloud and darken and
clear away, bringing no rain, but only the pitiless heat.
In Phrygia, and even at Antioch, men had been able to endure with
grace. But now, with victory all but in their grasp, with the Tomb of
Christ under their very eyes, how could mortal strength brook such
delay? Yet the work on the siege engines never slackened. A rumor that
a relieving army was coming from Egypt made them all speed. Out of the
bare country Northern determination and Northern wit found timbers and
water and munitions. They built catapults to cast arrows, mangonels to
fling rocks. Gaston of Béarn directed the erecting of three huge
movable towers for mounting the ramparts. There were prayers and vows
and exhortations; then on Thursday, the fourteenth of July, came the
attack--the repulse.
It must have been because Mary Kurkuas's prayers availed with God that
Richard did not perish that day. If ever man sought destruction, it
was he. When he saw the stoutest barons shrinking back, and all the
siege towers shattered or fixed fast, he knew a sinking of heart, a
blind rage of despair as never before. Then from the Gates of Herod
and St. Stephen poured the Egyptians in their sally to burn the siege
towers. Longsword was in the thickest of the human whirlpool. When he
saw the garrison reeling back, and Iftikhar Eddauleh trying vainly to
rally, he pressed in mad bravado under the very Gate of Herod, casting
his war-cry in the infidels' teeth. But while a hundred javelins from
the walls spun round him, of a sudden he heard a name--his own name,
shouted from the battlements; and the blast of darts was checked as if
by magic. The chieftain in the sombre armor had sprung upon the crest
of the rampart, had doffed his casque, and was gesturing with his
cimeter.
"Musa!" cried the Norman, falling back a step, scarce knowing what to
hope or dread.
The Spaniard, while ten thousand stared at him, friend and foe, bowed
and flourished in salutation, then, snatching up a light javelin,
whirled it down into the earth at Longsword's feet.
"Death to the infidel!" the Christian crossbowmen at Richard's heels
were crying as they levelled. But the Norman checked them with the
threat:--
"Die yourselves if a bolt flies!"
Then he drew the dart from the ground, and removed a scrap of
parchment wrapped round the butt.
"Be before the Gate of Herod two hours after sunset. Bear the shield
with the St. Julien stag, and the sentinels will not shoot. Your wife
is in the city and is well."
And while Richard read, the Spaniard had saluted the wondering
Christians once more and vanished behind the rampart. The Norman
walked away with a heart at once very light and very heavy. Musa in
Jerusalem, Mary in Jerusalem, Iftikhar in Jerusalem! A great battle
waged all day, and to all seeming lost,--the Crusade a failure! He
heard men, who all those awful years had never blenched, whispering
among themselves whether they could make their way to Joppa and escape
to France, since God had turned His face away. As he passed through
the camp, Tancred and Gaston both spoke to him, asking whether in duty
to their men they ought to press the siege longer. Should they wait,
the great Egyptian army would come, and not a Christian would escape.
But Richard, with his vow and the blood of Gilbert de Valmont on his
soul, replied:--
"Fair lords, answer each to your own conscience; as for me, I will see
the Cross upon the walls of Jerusalem to-morrow, or die. There is no
other way."
And both of these chieftains, who had been hoping against hope,
answered stoutly:--
"Our Lady bless you, De St. Julien! You say well; there is no other
way for those who love Christ!"
So Richard waited outside the Gate of Herod during the soft gloaming,
while the night grew silent, and when, after the searchers for the
dead and dying had gone their rounds, naught was heard save the
whistling of the scorching wind as it beat against the walls and
towers, laden with the dust and blight from the desert. No soldiers'
laughter and chatter from the camp that night; no merriment upon the
battlements. The Christians were numbed by their defeat; the Moslems
knew the storm had not passed.
Then, when it had grown very dark, he heard a bird-call from the
gateway,--a second,--and when he answered, a figure unarmed and in a
sombre caftan drew from the blackness. The Norman and the Spaniard
embraced many times in profoundest joy.
They sat together on the timber of a shattered catapult, and told each
other the tale of the many things befallen since they parted on the
hill before Antioch.
"And Mary?" Richard would ask time and again.
"She is more beautiful than the light, after the tempest passes and
the rainbow comes. We talk of you daily, and of her joy and yours when
the Crusade is ended."
Richard groaned from the bottom of his soul.
"Would God," he cried, "my own fate were woe or weal to me, and not to
another. It must have been sinful to keep her love after I took the
cross. For how can I have joy in heaven, if"--and he crossed
himself--"I am ever worthy to pass thither, thinking that Mary is in
tears?"
Musa pressed his hand tighter.
"You are sad to-night. Why not? I know the stake you set on the
Crusade, yet bow to the will of Allah. What is destined is destined by
Him; what is destined by Him is right. Cannot even a Christian say
that? You have done all that mortal man can; the task is too hard.
Your vow is cleared. Return to France. Mary shall go with you. Have
joy in St. Julien, and think of Musa, your brother, kindly."
But Richard had leaped to his feet.
"No, as God lives and reigns!" he cried, "I will not bow. We have
endured a great defeat. You know all; I betray no trust. Our towers
are nigh wrecked, our throats are burned with drought, half our
fighting-men are wounded, you have two warriors in the city to one in
our camp. But know this, brother mine that you are: we Franks differ
from you Moslems. For in the face of disaster you cry 'Doom,' and bend
your necks; but we hold our heads proudly and cry 'On, once more!' And
so we master very doom; for there is no doom to strong men who forget
that black word 'fate'!"
Musa put his hand affectionately around the Norman's ponderous
shoulders.
"Verily, O Richard, I think if the rebel jinns were to gather a
squadron of Franks about them, they could shake even the throne of
Allah!"
"I am in no jest," replied Richard, and his tone told that he spoke
true. But Musa said, doubting:--
"I cannot believe you can attack again before the Egyptian army comes.
It is right to fight so long as there is hope. Allah never commands
men to invite death."
"Then answer this," demanded the Christian, hotly; "if you lay in my
tent, would you turn back and hear all France say, 'This is one of the
cavaliers who rode to Jerusalem, found the paynim arrows bitter, and
rode away'? By the splendor of God, you would die ten thousand deaths
before! You dare not deny; I know you well."
"No, my brother," said Musa, very simply, "I do not deny. But for
Mary's sake do not throw your life away."
The Norman laughed bitterly.
"By your 'doom' I perish as soon over my cups at St. Julien as on the
siege tower at Jerusalem. God knows what comes to-morrow. Tell
Iftikhar Eddauleh that I ask no greater favor from Heaven than to meet
him once more face to face. Yet after his craven flight at Antioch I
wonder he has courage to bear himself so valiantly on the walls."
"I will tell him; and believe me, he was no coward, as I hear, at
Antioch. From his own lips to-day I learned he wishes nothing better
than to meet you."
"And you will guard Mary from him?--ever?"
"While Allah grants me breath."
"You are a true brother, Musa, son of Abdallah!" cried the Norman,
pressing the other's hand in a grasp that brought pain even to those
fingers of steel. "Sometimes I think you are a better friend to me
than I to myself."
"And no message for Mary?" asked the Spaniard, softly.
Richard drew his hand across his face. He did not speak for a long
while. Then the words came very slowly:--
"Either to-morrow at this time we are masters of the city, or you can
know that I am discharged forever of all vows and warfare. Does Mary
know what we said together, at parting at Antioch?"
"She knows. And she accepts."
"That is well. Tell her I can leave only this message: 'I have from
the hour I left her carried myself as became a Christian cavalier. I
have prayed for grace to live and grace to die. I know that after the
first pain is past she will wonder why she ever had love for the rude
Frankish baron, when she has the favor of the most gallant emir, the
most courtly prince, the purest-hearted man, Christian or Moslem.' For
though you cannot yearn for her with the fire that burns in me, I can
trust you never to let her grow hungry for love."
"Yes: but--" Musa laughed a little nervously--"but if the city is
taken? What of me? Will you lead me in fetters back to St. Julien?"
Richard saw the implication.
"No, by St. George," he protested, "you shall not die! I will go to
every friend, and I have many, and beseech them if we conquer to spare
you."
Musa only laughed again.
"And where you would scorn to live, I must hold back?"
Both were silent; for they saw the inevitable issue. Then Musa spoke
again: "Again I say it, what is doomed, is doomed. We are in the Most
High's hands. So long as you bear your St. Julien shield I shall know
you, and if we meet no blows shall pass. But wear a closed helmet. I
quaked when I saw you mocking the arrows in your open casque."
Both were standing. There was nothing more to say. Richard's heart was
very sad, but Musa comforted.
"No fears--is not Allah over us both? Will He not dispose all
aright,--to-night,--to-morrow,--forever,--though we may not see the
path?"
The two men embraced; and, without another word, Richard saw the form
of Musa vanish into the darkness.
* * * * *
Of all the councils of the chiefs, none at Antioch was so gloomy as
the one held the night after that day of battle and defeat. Duke
Robert the Norman spoke for all when he cried in his agony:--
"Miserable men are we! God judges us unworthy to enter His Holy City!"
"Have we endured all this pain in vain?" answered Godfrey. "Unworthy
we are, but do we not fight for the glory of Christ?"
"We have fought stoutly as mortal men may!" groaned the son of William
the Bastard. "Twice repulsed, half our men slain, our towers wrecked.
Where are my brave cavaliers from Rouen and Harfleur? Dead--dead; all
who were not happy and died on the march!"
Then silence, while the red torches in Godfrey's tent flickered.
Robert the Norman bowed his head and wept, sobbed even as a child.
But Robert, Count of Flanders, broke out madly:--
"By St. Nicholas of Ghent, why sit we here as speechless oxen? Let us
either curse God and the false monks who led us on this devil's dance,
and every man speed back to his own seigneury, if so Satan aid him; or
let us have an end of croaks and groans, bear our hurts with set
teeth, and have Jerusalem, though we pluck down the wall with our
naked hands." But not an answer or token followed his outburst; and
after a pause he added bitterly: "Yes, fair lords; my cousin of
Normandy speaks well; we are unworthy to deliver the Holy City. Let us
go back to dear France, and think of our sins." Still silence; and
then, with an ominous tread, Gaston of Béarn entered, in full armor
and with drawn sword.
"Good brothers," quoth he, gazing about a little blankly, and meeting
only blank helplessness, "I, who hold the lines while you counsel,
have only one word--speed. The rumor passes that the siege is to be
raised, the Crusade abandoned. Half the army is ready to fly. Breathe
it once, and the shout will be, 'For France!'--and the host scatters
like sheep toward Joppa; while those more devoutly minded will cast
their naked breasts on the Moslems' spears to earn martyrdom in place
of victory."
Godfrey roused himself by a great effort.
"As God lives," he protested, "we cannot suffer the Crusade to fail.
We cannot say to all the widows and orphans of France, 'Your husband,
your father, died like headstrong fools.'"
"We have wrought all that the paladins of Charlemagne wrought, and
more," tossed back Robert the Norman, hopelessly.
A voice lower down amongst the lesser chiefs interrupted:
"You are wrong, my lord of Normandy."
The Conqueror's son rose in his dignity.
"Wrong? Who speaks? I will not have my honor questioned."
The others saw Richard Longsword rising also. His face was very set
and stern, he held his head proudly.
"I say it, 'You are wrong.' No man has done all that the paladins of
old have done until, like them, he stops prating of the anger of God,
and dies with his face toward the paynim and twenty slain around. Take
heed, my lords, lest we think too much of our unworthiness, too little
of the captivity of the Tomb of Our Lord; and how in freeing it the
price of all our sins is paid. I did not come to council to learn how
to lead my men to Joppa, but how we were one and all to mount the
breach, or perish in the moat."
There was a ring in Richard's voice hard as the beaten anvil; and,
before Robert could reply, more than one voice cried: "So say I! And
I! Never can we slink back, and look in the eyes of the women of
France!"
"I cry pardon, fair lords," said Longsword. "I am a young knight to
instruct my betters." But Godfrey answered him:--
"There is none of us too great to listen to brave words like these;"
and Tancred, leaping up, added: "Yes, by God's help I will make it
good on my body against any who cry 'backward,' till the city be won.
Away with all these bats of darkness that are lighting on our heads!
How does the night advance?"
"By the stars, midnight," answered Gaston, just entered.
"Good," ran on the Prince, sweeping all before him. "Pass the word
through the host that we assault at dawn. Let every spare hand work to
repair the towers. Let the rest sleep. We can make shift to move my
Lord Godfrey's tower. If we have suffered without the walls, rest
assured the infidels have splintered some bones within." The ebb tide
had turned. The flood ran swiftly now.
"God wills it! Attack with the morning!" the two Roberts were crying,
as loud as the rest. And others shouted:--
"An end to divisions. Let us have one leader! Let us proclaim Godfrey
king. To-morrow we will crown him in Jerusalem!"
But the pure-hearted Duke beckoned for silence, and answered: "God
forbid, dear brothers, that I should be styled 'sire,' and wear crown
of gold, where my Saviour was spit upon and crowned with thorns. We
have one work now--to storm the city."
"The infidels are attacking the machines!" thundered Raimbaud of
Orange, from the tent door. "To the rescue, fair lords!"
"Rescue! Rescue!" cried all, flying forth with drawn swords. And while
Raymond and Tancred went to beat back the sally, Richard found himself
close to Godfrey. "Our Lady bless you, De St. Julien," said Bouillon,
grasping Richard's hand. "It was only a word you said; but a word in
season will raise or pluck down kingdoms. How shall I reward you? I
was near despair when I saw the gloom settling ever blacker over the
council."
"Only this, fair Duke, that I may be in the front of the assault."
"Rashest of the rash! Some day the saints will grow weary of
protecting you, and you will be slain."
"What matter, if all else is well?"
So Richard hastened off into the night, found his own encampment in
the maze of tents, and told his men there was to be no retreat--that
with the morning the storm would be renewed.
"And will you follow your seigneur, now as ever?" was his question to
the fifty gaunt, mailed figures (all of his five hundred that were
left) that grouped before the dying camp-fire.
"Through all hell,--though each Moslem were a thousand devils!"
answered De Carnac; and every St. Julien man roared forth "Amen!"
"Good!" returned their lord. "And by St. Michael, you shall have
chance to prove your vow!"
Then, having heard that the sortie was repulsed, Richard went to his
own tent. He found Sebastian sitting by the doorway. As the young
Baron entered, the priest without a word arose and kissed him gently
on either cheek. And even in the dim firelight Richard could see a
wonderful glow of peace and joy upon the face of the ascetic. "Dear
father," said he, wondering, "what happiness has come, that you seem
so glad? And why is it thus you kiss me?"
Whereupon Sebastian put his arm about Richard's neck, stroking his
hair with the other hand, and at last said very softly, "I have had a
vision."
"A vision?" And Richard smiled amid the darkness, for Sebastian's
visions came every other night. But the priest only continued,
guessing his thought: "No, your lips need not twitch. For this vision
was of a manner different from any that I have ever seen before. As I
lay here, of a sudden I woke, and saw the dim camp-fire and stars
glitter as I see now, and heard the chatter and groaning of the men.
But of a sudden a youth, clothed in a whiteness passing snow, bright
and with wings, stood by me, and said most gently, 'Sebastian.' And I
answered: 'Yes, Lord. What may I do in Thy service?' And he replied:
'Be of good cheer. God hath seen thy good works, and how thou hast
crucified the flesh and all carnal lusts, and knowest how thou hast
wrestled in prayer. Now rejoice; the end of thy toil in this evil
world draws nigh. But before thou shalt see with the eyes of the
spirit the heavenly Jerusalem and the blessed host, with thy mortal
eyes thou shalt see the Cross triumphant on the walls of the earthly
Jerusalem. And this hour comes quickly.' Then while I lay in bliss
unspeakable he had vanished." Richard was very grave.
"Dear father, you do not long for heaven so much that you would leave
me?"
But Sebastian answered softly: "It shall be as God wills. You will be
comforted. It is written, 'He giveth His beloved sleep'--sleep after
the toil and the pain and the crushing of sinful self. And then to
wake and see our dear Lord's blessed face! You would not grudge me
that?"
"No, dear father," said Richard, submissively; "but yet I pray God
will ordain otherwise." Sebastian only kissed him again, lay down on
the hard earth, and was soon in quiet sleep. Longsword went to his
men, told them to sleep also, for they must rise with dawn. But as for
himself his eyes were not heavy, despite the terrible day. As Herbert
lay dozing, he heard from his master's tent the ominous click, click,
of a whetstone. "The 'little lord' is sharpening Trenchefer," muttered
the man-at-arms. "The devil help the Moslems who stand in his path
to-morrow. The devil help Iftikhar Eddauleh if the two come face to
face."
Richard sat in the dark, the great sword across his lap, handling it
lovingly, smoothing each rust-speck that touched his finger's nail,
making the long blade razor-keen. And had a lamp flashed on his face,
his features would have showed harder than his blade. His heart was at
peace--at peace with an awful gladness. Father, mother, sister,
brother, were all to be avenged on the morrow when he fronted Iftikhar
Eddauleh. That some saint would aid him to meet the Egyptian he did
not doubt. And then? But Richard never so much as wondered what would
befall, after Trenchefer had smitten once and fairly on that gilded
mail.