God Wills It! A Tale of the First Crusade

Silence—while the lamps flickered, flickered, and the shadows swung on floor and walls; and still the chief stood facing the twenty, who moved not, nor gave sound. Then at last—after how long! he spoke,—a voice as from the grave.

"There is no word. Let the law be fulfilled. Judgment is pronounced. The cord!" The chief seated himself and there was stillness as before, until a distant bell pealed out, once, twice, thrice, four times,—five! With noiseless step, the tall Harun glided from behind a pillar and plucked Musa's elbow.

"Doom!" Harun held up a silken noose, plaited tight, and pointed to the floor. "Kneel," he commanded softly; "you are Moslem, I grant you this joy, you shall not see your friends die."

Musa turned to the Franks. Their hands were bound, but their eyes could greet.

"Sweet friends," said he, smiling as ever in his gentle, melancholy way, "we must part. But my hope in Allah is strong. We shall meet before His throne!"

"God is with us all!" answered Richard. "He is very pitiful."

But Godfrey did not speak. Longsword knew his thoughts were not of Musa, nor of the tribunal, nor even of the shadow of death; but of the Christian host surprised by Kerbogha, and of the Holy City left in captivity.

"I am ready," said Musa to Harun; and he prepared to kneel.

A tremor, a wind of the spirit, seemed passing over all those chiselled faces. Musa and all others heard music,—a song,—quavering, sighing, throbbing melody, wafted down the long underground galleries from very far away. At first no clear word was borne to them, but the sweetest note Richard in his life had heard. Was the great change come so nigh that one heard God's white host singing? Musa stood fast. Harun was rooted also, the cord hung limp in his hand, all forgotten, save the wondrous song. Now at last the burden came dimly:—

"Genii who rule o'er the tempest and wind,Peris who tread where red coral lies deep,Show forth your haunt that my fleet foot may findWhere the cool moss caves 'neath the green waves sleep."Lie they under the sea that by Ormuz darkles,Or the broad blue bay of the Golden Isles?Or where breeze-loved haven in far west sparkles,Alight with the sun's ne'er-vanishing smiles?"

The voice swelled nearer; the rhythm was quicker, measure shorter, words stronger. The song became a prayer, a cry.

"Away! away from the grief and jarringOf this toilsome life and its pang I'd be!Forgetting earth and all strife and warring,Wrap me away to the breast of the sea!"Wreathe me chaplets with sea-flowers brightest,With the feath'ry sea-mosses make me dressed!Make my pillow the wind-spray whitest;Rock me to sleep on the storm-waves' crest!"

Was it day that was dawning on each of those stony faces? Why this whisper; this rustle of white gowns; this mutter "Allah! Allah!" under the snowy turbans? "Truly God's angels come!" Richard's soul cried. He thought to see the vaulting open; the heavens fleeing away as unclean. What angel could sing of paynim genii and peris? But the voice yet approached, ever louder, clearer:—

"Sing, oh, sing, all ye fair, pure spirits!Spirit I, to your band I'd flee;Blest the soul who for aye inheritsTo rove with you through your kingdom free!"

Now the song was so near that all eyes ran into the dark for the oncoming singer, and every white robe had risen when the last lines sounded:—

"Clearer, clearer the silvery pealingOf enchanted bells steals my heart afar!Soon I'll see, all the mists unsealing,The genii's lord on his pearl-wrought car!"

Silence. They saw a light flash in the low doorway, saw it glisten on jewels, an empress's pride. A woman entered, tall as a spear, stately as a palm, black tresses flowing as a fair vine, and eyes and face to shame the houris. Around her bare throat flashed a great chain of emeralds; there were diamonds and rubies on her coronet; gold and gems on her bare brown arms; gold and gems on her sandals, that hid not the shapely feet. Her robe was one lustrous sea of violet silk, rippling about her as she glided, not walked. And as she came, she spread abroad a new melody; no words now, but only a humming, a soft, witching note, as if bidding all the spirits of the air flit at her footsteps to do her behests. Her left hand upraised the lamp; her right was held high also, and on one finger flashed something that doubled the quivering flame—a ring set with a single emerald.

Onward she came; and right and left the company made way for her. And Harun dropped his cord, began to mutter: "Allah akhbar! The maids of the Gardens of Fountains have come down to dwell amongst men!" But the stranger—spirit or woman, who might say?—came on till she stood before the three captives. At the mandate in her eyes all other eyes followed her. No more she sang, but spoke, proud as the queen of the genii legions.

"Hear! tremble! obey!" She held the emerald higher. At the sight thereof there was a new stir, new whispers; the Ismaelians were bowing to the pavement. "Behold it! The ring of Hassan Sabah, your lord! I say to you, whoever shall disobey the command of the bearer of this ring, be his merits never so great, Allah shall cut him off from the joys of Paradise! Obey! and the honeyed kiss of the daughters of the land of the River of Life is on your lips!"

She swept the flashing ring to and fro before the eyes of the cowering twenty.

"Reverence therefore the will of the bearer of the ring," she ran on; "obey, were it on the camel-driver's finger; obey the more, since it is on mine,—I, at whose word the hosts of the darkness fall trembling, at whose nod the troops of the upper winds fly obedient!"

Needless her exhortation. One cry from twenty: "We obey! We are your slaves, O lady of Allah's own beauty! O empress of genii and men!" And the stranger, scarce pausing, rushed on:—

"See! your judgment is false! See, I am sent by Allah to bring to naught your desires! I command—I, the blue-eyed maid of Yemen, whose walk is with the stars! Release these captives. Their doom is unwritten."

Richard had beheld all as does the man treading in a dream; who knows he dreams, yet cannot waken. Dreaming, he had seen this strange spirit enter; dreaming, he heard; dreaming, he saw a quiver, as of resistance, pass round that ring of sculptured faces; the eyes bright as snakes, and more pitiless, questioned once,—once only. The deliverer shot across their company one lightning glance—majesty, supremacy, scorn. Still dreaming, Richard saw in her hand a dagger; and then—dreamt he still?—he felt the bands upon his arms sever. He stood free—and Godfrey and Musa free! But his protectress was speaking again:—

"Behold—I say to you, Allah has cast his mantle over these three to deliver them. Forget this night. Follow me not; for, as the Most High rules, you shall curse disobedience in the quenchless Gehenna! Tremble again—you have seen great things—and now, farewell."

Richard felt her hand upon his arm.

"Come," she said softly, "and Allah will yet aid you!"

The chamber of the tribunal, the semicircle of white robes, Harun and the cord—all were gone. Richard was still in his dream. He trod onward, feeling no floor beneath his feet. The wavering light of his protectress went before him. In the narrow galleries they traversed, the darkness closed after him. All blindly, he knew they were mounting stairways, were gliding through murky passages. Suddenly the air was again sweet; Richard saw around him the dim vista of a line of white columns, and above, the hazy canopy of a great dome.

The woman halted, again upraised her lamp.

"I see Cid Richard Longsword," said she, "and his good comrades, Cid Musa and Cid Godfrey. If Allah favor us, I will now lead you to Mary the Greek!"

At these words Richard knew he dreamed no longer; his belief was—God had already raised him to heaven.

CHAPTER XXXVI

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!