God Wills It! A Tale of the First Crusade

The Spaniard took up the coral necklace and eyed it critically.

"Five dirhems?" suggested he. "Take it for five, yet count it as a gift. Alas, my profit!" sighed Asad.

The other drew the coins from a lank pouch, waited while Asad bit each to prove it, placed the coral under the folds of his turban, then whispered to the muezzin, "Friend, follow me,"—the same time slipping a coin into his closing palm. Asad's eyes shut in a contented cat-nap when adieus were over; profit enough gained for one day. Khalid followed the stranger into the bustling street.

"Good father," said the stranger, affably, "do you know, this tale of the Emir Iftikhar is most interesting. Why? Because it is most marvellous any prince should go to such lengths to court favor with a mere captive, be she brighter than the sun. But you surely repeat gossip on the streets, you do not know the eunuchs, or have access yourself to El Halebah?"

Khalid chuckled, "I swear by Mohammed's beard there is not a courtyard about Aleppo I may not find and enter, blind though I am. The gate of El Halebah is as open to me as to a glutton the way to his mouth, and I chatter all day with the eunuchs." His questioner began to rattle his money-bag.

"Friend," said the Spaniard, "you appear an honest man. Now swear thrice by Allah the Great that you will not betray me, and to-night you shall count over fifty dirhems."

"Allah forbid!" cried the muezzin, raising his hands in holy horror. "I cannot know what wickedness you desire to make me share."

"And I swear to you I have no attempt against any man's goods, or wife, or life, or honor; and you shall count seventy dirhems?"

"I cannot; how can I go before the Most High on the last day with some great sin on my soul!"

"Ya! Eighty, then?" A long pause; then Khalid answered very slowly, and his seared eyeballs twinkled:—

"Impossible!—yet—a—hundred—"

"They are yours!" was the prompt reply.

"Oh, fearful wickedness! how can I satisfy the Omnipotent? Yet"—and the blind eyes rose sanctimoniously toward heaven—"the divine compassion is very great. Says not Al Koran, 'Allah is most ready to forgive, and merciful'?"

"You will swear, then?" demanded the other, promptly.

"Yes," and Khalid folded his hands piously while he muttered the formula; then added, "Now give me the money."

"Softly, brother," was the reply. "Remember well the other words of the Apostle, 'violate not your oaths, since you have made Allah a witness over you,' The money in due time; now lead me and do as I shall bid, or in turn I swear you shall not finger one bit of copper."

Now it befell that on the afternoon of the day when Khalid the blind muezzin sold his conscience for a hundred dirhems, Hakem and his fellow-eunuch Wasik sat by the outer gate of the great court of El Halebah with a mankalah board between them, busy at the battle they were waging with the seventy-two shell counters. As they played, their talk was all of the languishing state of the Star of the Greeks, and how since her attempted flight to Antioch all the temper seemed to have burned out of her mettle.

"I protest, dear brother," quoth the worthy Wasik, studying the game-board, "doves of her feather cannot perch all day on a divan, saying and doing nothing, and not droop and moult in a way very grievous to Cid Iftikhar."

"The Cid's commands are very strait—refuse her nothing in reason, only make plain to her that he is the master. Wallah, I little like this manner of bird! To my mind there hatches trouble when a woman refuses so much as to rage at you. This very day I said in my heart, 'Go to, now, Hakem; pick a quarrel with the Star of the Greeks; she will be happier after giving a few pecks and claws.' I call the Most High to witness—she submitted to all my demands meekly, as though she were no eaglet, but a tethered lamb! An evil omen, I say. Allah forbid she should die! Iftikhar would make us pay with our heads!"

And Wasik shrugged his shoulders to show agreement with Hakem's last desire. Before he replied there was a loud knocking at the gate; the lazy porter stopped snoring, and began to shout to some one without.

"For the sake of Allah! O ye charitable!" was the cry from outside, evidently of a beggar demanding alms.

"Allah be your help! Go your way!" the porter was replying, and adding: "Off, O Khalid, blind son of a stone-blind hound! Must I again lay the staff across you!"

But a second voice answered him:—

"Not so, O compassionate fellow-believer; will you drive away a stranger whom the excellent Khalid has led here, craving bounty? Allah will requite tenfold any mercy. See, I am but just come from Mecca. Behold a flask of water from the holy well Zemzem, sovereign remedy for the toothache. I ask nothing. Let me but sit awhile in the cool of the porch. I am parched with the heat of the way."

Hakem had reputation for being a pious personage.

"Let the worthy pilgrim come in!" he commanded, the porter obeying. Wasik had his doubts.

"This is Saturday, the most unlucky day; beware!" he muttered.

But Hakem would have none of him. Behind Khalid there entered a tottering fellow, bent with age, gray and unkempt; a patch over one eye, his blue kaftan sadly tattered, his turban a faded yellow shawl. He swung a huge hempen sack over one shoulder and trailed a heavy staff.

"Allah requite you and your house!" was his salutation, as he dropped heavily upon the divan under the shaded arcade.

"And you also," replied Hakem, ever generous at his master's expense. "Be refreshed. Eat this cool melon and be strengthened."

The pilgrim put aside the plate. "Give to Khalid. Alas! I can eat nothing that was not eaten by the Prophet (Allah favor and preserve him!); such is the rule of my order of devotees. And who may say the Apostle did or did not eat the rind of a melon!" The eunuchs laid their heads together.

"A very holy man!" "A most worthy sheik; a true saint; a welee!" their whispered opinions. So they kissed the old man's hand; called him "father"; brought sherbet, dates, and bread. After the stranger had eaten and edified them all by his pious conversation, presently his one eye began to twinkle very brightly, and he started to unpack his sack. Suddenly he drew forth a long iron spike, and plunged it down his throat to the very butt; then drew it out, laughing dryly at the wide eyes of the eunuchs. "Verily," cried he, "I am versed in 'high' magic—the noble art handed by the obedient angels and genii to devout Moslems. I know the 'great name' of Allah, uttering which bears me instantly to the farthest corner of the world; see!" A puff of smoke blew from his mouth; a flash of fire followed. Hakem was all eyes when the sheik rose, drew from his sack a number of brazen pots, placed them on the pavement, blew a spark seemingly from his mouth, and the bowls gave forth a blue aromatic smoke. The eunuchs began to quake under their ebony skins. The sheik turned toward them.

"My sons—I show great marvels; many should see. Your master—away? But are there no 'flowers of beauty' in the harem who would admire the one-eyed Sheik Teydemeh, the greatest 'white' magician in all the land of Egypt?"

Hakem put his mouth to Wasik's ear. "Bring out Morgiana and the Greek. Let them be thickly veiled."

Wasik hesitated. "We are bidden to keep the Greek closely in the harem," he remarked.

"We are bidden to see that she does not pine away with naught but grief to think of. Bring both forth."

Before the magician had finished unburdening his mysterious sack, Wasik led in a lady all buried in silks and muslins. Hardly were her dark eyes visible under the veils. "I bring the Greek," whispered Wasik to Hakem; "she obeyed me like a dumb ox, but Morgiana is in her moods and will go nowhere."

The lady sat upon the soft divan listlessly, hardly so much as rustling her dress. The sheik rose, mumbled words doubtless of incantation, and commenced reeling cotton ribbons from his lips till they littered the floor. Then he drew from his teeth a score of tin disks big as silver coins, again poured water into a borrowed cup, and gave it to Hakem to drink—behold, the water was become sugar sherbet! Then the magician blew on a tiny reed flute a strain so sweet, so delicious, Hakem verily thought he heard the maids of Paradise; and as he sang the sheik began to juggle with balls, first with one hand, tossing three balls; then laying aside the flute he kept six flying, all the time dancing and singing in a low quaver in some tongue that the eunuch did not understand, but thought he had once heard spoken among the Franks of Sicily. Presently the sheik threw up two more balls, making eight speed in the place of six; and he danced faster, spinning round and round amid the smoking bowls, until he came to a stand right before the veiled lady, who was no longer listless now, but sat erect, eager, her bright eyes flashing from beneath her veil, though Hakem did not see—all his gaze was on those flying balls. The sheik halted before her, spinning upon one foot, yet keeping his place. Suddenly he broke off his chant in the unknown tongue and sang in Arabic with clear, deep voice:—

"Sweet as the wind when it kisses the roseIs thy breath;Blest, if thine eyes had but once on me smiled,Would be death.Give me the throat of the bulbul to singForth thy praise,Then wouldst thou drink the clear notes as they springAll thy days;Nard of far Oman's too mean for thy sweetness,Eagle-wings lag at thy glancing eyes' fleetness;By thy pure beauty, bright gems lack completeness,Lady, ah! fairest!"

And Hakem did not see the rustling nor hear the little sigh under the muslin and silk, for the sheik had sped round in his dance once more; again chanting in that foreign tongue some incantation, doubtless to unseen powers to aid him in his art. Then the wonder-worker halted, wiped the foam from his lips, and began new tricks; blowing a little earthen bowl from his mouth,—drawing a live rabbit from one of the smoking bowls,—and performing many marvels more, till the eunuchs showered on him all the small change they had about them, and gave him a great basket of dates and figs to carry to the khan where he said he lodged.

That night as Hakem, with clear conscience, went to bed, he observed to Wasik: "Truly, the visit of the one-eyed juggler was better than fifty elixirs for bringing back bloom to the Star of the Greeks! Surely, if one such mountebank can cheer her thus, she shall be fed on white magic each day. Cid Iftikhar will summon hither every skilful conjurer from Damascus to Bagdad."

And Wasik answered: "By the Prophet, it is true. We are to tame Citt Mary, but not to break her spirit. Give her mind its food as well as her body. She is not like our Arab maids, whose Paradise a new necklace can girdle!"

So these good servants took counsel.

That night also Richard and Godfrey took their counsel with Musa the Spaniard. Safe hidden in the gloom of a stall that joined the great court of the khan, which stood on the Alexandretta road without the western gate of Aleppo, they had no fear of eavesdroppers. An irksome day it had been for the two Franks. Long since, the sun had burned them bronze as many a Moor, and what with their black dyed hair and their coarse Oriental dress, none had questioned when Musa, who passed himself as a travelling Berber merchant, declared them his body-servants. But Godfrey had little Arabic. Richard's accent would soon betray. Common prudence forced them to sulk all day in the stall of the khan, while Musa went forth to make his discoveries. Now that he was back, their tongues flew fast.

"And have you seen her?" That was Richard's first question.

"Bismillah, I have; or at least two eyes bright as suns, peering from under a great cloud of veils! Recall how I made you think at Cefalu I was possessed by 'sheytans,' because of my art-magic!" answered Musa, laughing in his noiseless fashion. "Ya! When did old Jamī]l at Cordova dream, while he taught an idle student his art, that by it I would earn six dirhems and a mess of figs? I met a mountebank conjurer, bought of him his gear—wretchedly poor tricks they were,—and then found a worthy blind muezzin, in a way I will tell, to get me entrance into the very court of El Halebah. Enough; the good eunuch Hakem thought me a true welee, and brought out one of his cagelings to see my magic. I was bound to make sure she was truly Citt Mary who was pent up in the palace before you and I thrust our necks into peril; also I knew the chance of failure was less if she were warned. So I sang an incantation—in your Provençal, and clapped on to that a verse I composed before her at Palermo. When I saw her muslins and silks all a-flutter, I sang my French again, and it was more of being ready for a visit in the night than of the efreets and jinns that aid a true magician. Therefore I say this: All is ready. To-night the Star of the Greeks says farewell to Iftikhar or—"

But Musa repeated no alternative.

"And the way of escape?" asked Godfrey. "By St. Nicholas of Ghent, this is no bachelor's adventure!"

Musa laughed again.

"Verily, as says Al Koran, 'No soul knoweth what it shall suffer on the morrow, but Allah knoweth;' nevertheless, so far as human wit may run, much is prepared. Understand, Cid Godfrey, that Iftikhar has sent away from El Halebah the greater part of his Ismaelian devotees to join the force of Kerbogha. About the palace lie two hundred at most; a few stand sentry upon the road from Aleppo, a few more lie in the palace; but nearly all have their barrack in the wood beside the Kuweik, some distance northward."

"St. George!" swore the Duke, "how discover all this? Can you see through walls as through Greek glass?"

Musa laughed again: "Allah grants to every man separate gifts! To me to grasp many things with few words and few eyewinks. I am not mistaken."

"It is true, did you but know him, my lord; it is true," added Richard.

Musa continued: "Round dirhems smooth many paths, even amongst the Ismaelians. With the aid of the reprobate muezzin I discovered that Citt Mary is held in the westerly wing of the palace, and guarded by Hakem and a few other eunuchs. I ate salt with the chief of the watch on the Aleppo road—a generous man who will take a hint swiftly! He understands I have desire to bear away an Armenian maid belonging to Beybars, the chief steward. When I come up the way in company with two comrades, he and his men are blind. We go up to the palace; we go away; no questions. Beside the highroad to Antioch will be tethered our horses. I have bought in the Aleppo market a desert steed swift as the darts of the sun. We enter the palace with the armed hand—shame indeed if our three blades are no match for the sleepy eunuchs! Once possess her, rush for the horses—then, speed,—speed for Antioch, trusting Allah and our steeds. For as the Most High lives, there will be hot pursuit!"

"There is no better way," commented Richard, drawing up a notch in his sword-belt.

"St. Michael and St. George!"—swore Godfrey again—"a noble adventure! Joy that I came from Antioch!"

"Joy or sorrow we shall know full soon," was Musa's sober reply. "We shall read a marvellous page in the book of doom this night; doubt it not!"

"And we set forth—?" continued Richard.

"At once,—the night grows dark for the eye of an owl," answered the Spaniard. "Darkness is kind; we must not waste it."

"Lead, then," commanded Godfrey. "The horses are ready; there is food in the saddle-bags."

"Follow,—and Allah be our guide!" and the Andalusian took his own steed by the bridle.

There was darkness and silence in the court of the great khan. The arrow-swift horses of a Persian trader slept in one stall; a tall dromedary shook his tether in another. Richard brushed upon a shaggy donkey; trod upon a mongrel dog, that started with a sullen howl. From one remote stall came a ray of torch-light, and the chatter of merchants discussing the profits of the last Oman caravan. A single watchman stared at them when they led their beasts through the wide gate. The three were under the stars. Musa took the bridle of the horse just bought, and the others followed him. Richard trod on as in a dream; twice he passed his hand before his eyes as if to brush away the blackness that was unbroken save for the star mist.

"To-night! To-night!" he was repeating.

"What, to-night?" asked Godfrey.

"To-night I may touch the hair of Mary Kurkuas. Is not that chance worth the hazard of death? But you?"

"I serve Christ best to-night when I serve one so loved by Him as the Lady of St. Julien. Let us hasten."

They said little more. The night was dark indeed, but Musa seemed bat-eyed. He led across the Kuweik, through the orchards—dim and still, until at a tamarisk bush he halted. There they left the horses. Richard made sure that the lady's saddle on the fourth horse was strapped fast. Musa spoke not a word, but led away swiftly. They were entering the wood. Richard was treading at an eager pace, with a swelling heart, when suddenly he heard a sound behind him,—looked back,—and behold, on all sides, as if called from earth by enchantment, were the dim figures of men! And he could see, even in the darkness, that the dress of each was white.

CHAPTER XXXV

HOW RICHARD HEARD A SONG

Now what befell came so swiftly that in after days Richard could never tell it all. Sure it is, that had Trenchefer and Godfrey's sword and Musa's cimeter left sheath, there had been another tale. For in the twinkling that Richard cast a backward glance, a noose whistled through the air and closed about the Norman's shoulders, locking his arms helpless. And with the whistling rope came a rush of feet and many hands seizing him. One struggle—he could scarce gather wits to resist; he was helpless as a birdling before the snake. At the same instant came the crash and gasp of two desperate conflicts more—Godfrey and Musa likewise seized. As Richard grasped it, the Spaniard succumbed as readily as he. But the great Duke was not lightly taken. Draw he could not, but his mighty hand tore clear of the rope and dashed more than one assailant down before, with ten upon him, he was mastered. All was done in less time than the telling. Almost before Longsword's soul cried "danger," a torch was flashing in his eyes, and a dozen dark Syrian faces pressing close. The torch was held high, and flashed before him twice. Blinded by the glare, he saw nothing beyond the ring of faces. From the dark shadow came a voice—a voice he had heard before: "Bismillah! The Frank, Richard Longsword, at last!"

The Norman did not cry out. Native sense told him that help there was none, and all the teaching of the stern school wherein he was bred had taught him to bear in silence. All stood while Richard saw the torch carried to the other knots of white-robed men. Then again the voice: "This is the Spaniard, Cid Musa, the son of Abdallah." And now a great shout of triumph: "Praised be Allah, destroyer of His enemies! We take the Emir Godfrey, chief of the Frankish unbelievers!"

Longsword had no need to be told that this was Zeyneb's voice. He was about to break forth with defiance and curses upon the dwarf, when in the torchlight he saw a form taller than the others, the plumes of a haughty helmet, the flash of gilded steel. The captors gave way to right and left as the chieftain—so he clearly was—advanced until face to face with Richard.

"Do you know me? I am the one-time commander of Count Roger's guard, the Egyptian Iftikhar Eddauleh."

The grand prior had spoken naturally, without bravado.

And Richard answered in like vein:—

"I claimed the honor of your friendship once, my Lord Iftikhar. Fate has kept us long asunder."

Iftikhar's plumes nodded.

"And brings us together at last. Doom leads to El Halebah you and the valorous Cid Musa and this noble emir, who is strange to me. The night advances; let us go."

Before his captive could reply, the Egyptian had faded in the dark. An Ismaelian laid his hand on Richard's sword-belt to disarm him. Trenchefer clanked. Iftikhar spoke out of the gloom:—

"Leave the sword, Harun. A Frank cavalier loves better to part with life than with weapon. Wallah! Let them keep their blades and feel them at their sides; but knot fast,—their strength is as seven lions!"

They passed a second cord around Richard's arms, drawing back and pinioning them tight above the elbows. A heavy hand on either shoulder urged him forward. The Norman steeled his muscles, made one effort as never before to snap the bands. Useless; even his giant strength failed. Unresisting he was led blindly on through the gloom, the captors treading rapidly. They were soon in a grove of trees, where the matted leafage cut off the least ray of light. The torch, which only flared when shaken, sank to a glow dim as a firefly. Underfoot Richard could feel dry twigs crack, and he smelt the fresh earthy odor of fern brakes and bird-loved thickets. The only sounds were the footfalls and the chirp, chirp of the crickets. Then a faint gloaming shone where the trees arched and opened: they were again beneath a clear sky. The Norman saw the silver band of a stream creeping to the Kuweik—barely flashing under the starlight, for moon there was none. His guards led forward; under their tread a floating bridge rang hollow, and the water gurgled up around the casks.

For one moment Richard pondered whether he could leap into the water, and drift down-stream with his arms pinioned. Folly—had he not his mail-shirt, and Trenchefer still at his side? A stone would float lighter! They had passed the bridge; again were in the woods. Some uncanny night bird was flapping from bough to bough; he could hear the whir of heavy wings, hoarse cries, blending with the song of the crickets. Did not ravens croak when men drew nigh their dooms? Was it river mist only that was hanging in cold beads upon his brow? Still the white-robed company led onward. Not a word spoken—when might this journey end? Richard listened to the beating of his own heart—merciful saints, why so loudly? Behind he knew were led Godfrey and Musa; they two walking to death, and for his cause! The Mother of Mercies knew it had been by none of his willing. Out of the dark was creeping that vision dreaded so often,—repelled so often,—which he had vainly hoped had faded away forever. Gilbert de Valmont slain beside the altar! Richard looked up at the stars shimmering between the leaves. "Ere these stars fade in sunlight"—spoke a voice (from within or without, what matter?)—"you, Richard de St. Julien, will be accounting to God for the soul of that guiltless boy." And though Longsword thought of the Pope's pledge of absolution, of all the infidels he had himself slain in the name of Christ, of all his sufferings in the chastisement at Dorylæum,—all merit seemed turned to sin, and the word of Urban weak to unlock the mercy of God in His just anger. "Mea culpa! mea culpa! mea maxima culpa!" Other prayers came not, nor did his heart find room for curses against Iftikhar or grief for Mary. He thought of her; but truth to tell he was too numbed to dwell on her agony, on the certitude of her lifelong captivity. And still the white-robed company led him onward, onward.

The grounds were opening before him. The wood broke away to right and left. Richard saw the vague tracery of a wide-stretching palace,—colonnades, domes, pinnacles, all one dim maze in the starlight. For the first time he spoke to his guards.

"This is El Halebah? Tell me—why are our heads not struck off at once?"

"The grand prior wills otherwise," replied Harun, at his side.

"Are we to be put to death speedily, or long reserved?"

The Ismaelian became confidential.

"Cid, you talk as becomes a brave man. I should like to see you with your great sword in battle. Who am I, to know the desire of Iftikhar? Yet I think this: if Christians may enter Paradise, ere midnight you will be sitting at banquet with the maids of pure musk."

"Then why this delay—this endless journey?"

Harun shook his head.

"I am only the grand prior's hands and feet. You will see."

Richard had faced death in battle twenty times and more, and never yet had felt a tremor. But riding to battle was not walking to meet the doom handed down by Iftikhar Eddauleh. The Norman feared not death, but life. Life through the ages of ages! Life shaped for eternal woe, eternal weal, by the deeds of a few earthly moments. Hell earned by that instant at Valmont! Heaven grasped for in the transfiguration at Clermont! And the issue mystery! mystery fathomless! Kept with God, the All-merciful; but behind all, ordering all, His awful righteousness! Richard knew as well as he knew anything that never in earthly body would he see that mist of stars again; he looked up into the violet-black dome, and trembled, for he knew he was drawing near the Almighty's throne.