God Wills It! Part 4

A stone wall,--all the fugitives cleared it saving the last, behind whom was strapped a young man, fast prisoner. As Longsword flew, he saw this rider miss the leap, crash downward. In a twinkling all the pursued, save the guard of the lady, wheeled, charged back. But Richard had reached the wall, pa.s.sed with a bound, and for a long instant it was foil and fence, his life dancing on three cimeter points at his breast. Then, sudden as a thunderclap, there was a new blade opposed to the Berbers,--the erstwhile captive had burst his bands, leaped from under the kicking charger, disarmed his guard, and was in the midst of the fray, giving blow for blow. But at sight of him, all three pirates forsook the Norman, and rained their blows upon the prisoner.

"_Allah!_ Hew him down, though we die for it!" was the shout of their chief. The captive parried all three as one; ere the second stroke, Richard had sped the first raider past sword-play. His new ally beat down a second with a sweeping blow. The third cried "Mercy!"--but neither gave him heed. The released prisoner, a light-skinned young Moslem of Spain, wiry as a hound, nimble as a cat, had caught the rein of a fallen Berber, and swung himself into the dead man's saddle, touching no stirrup, almost ere Richard could admire.

"As the Most High lives," cried the Spaniard, as if rescue were mere incident, "after the lady! The s.h.i.+p is near!" And ride they did, though the black horse was far ahead now, despite his burden.

"Ride, Frank, ride!" shouted the other, leaning over his steed's neck, and seeming to lend speed by very touch and voice. "Allah smite us, if she is taken!"

Over the foothills, across the rolling country, the feet of their horses springing like on-rus.h.i.+ng winds, raced the twain. They saw blue water before an orange grove, and not far away the pirate's refuge,--the s.h.i.+p. And still the black horse held them in chase, though losing slowly. Richard flung the target from his back, to make greater speed. He could see the lady struggling on her uneasy pillion.

Her captor with one hand gripped her fast; with the other, smote and prodded with his cimeter. The flecks of blood were on the black steed's flanks. The lady plucked at the Berber's throat with strength born of despair.

"Rescue, rescue, for the love of Christ!" rang her cry; and as if in answer, the great charger began to plunge in his gallop, nigh casting his double mount. The Berber wrestled him down, with a mighty strain on the reins; but in the instant Richard had gained apace. "Ai! St.

Michael!" he thundered, his good sword swung almost in stroke. But at the shout there was a wild yell from beyond the orange trees, and as he swept on he saw a score or more pirates rus.h.i.+ng with drawn swords to greet them,--and through the grove the tacklings of the s.h.i.+p.

Straight toward the midst of the Berbers sped the black horse: a moment,--the lady would be lost indeed!

"Rescue for the love of Christ!" again her wail in reply to the triumphant howl of her captor. The Norman's hand was on his shoulder; down he plucked the white falcon, unhooded, tossed in air,--one circle she cut, then sped straight in the flying raider's eyes.

Vainly he strove to buffet away with a fist; the instant the grip on the reins relaxed, the black horse was plunging, rearing, and Longsword was abreast. With one long stroke he smote the Berber from the saddle; the lady reeled also, strapped fast. But the Norman, proud in his might, calmed the black horse with one hand on the bits; drew his blade once across the thong, releasing the captive. The pirate tumbled to earth with never a groan.

Barely in time--the twenty were all about them now; but Richard Longsword fought as twenty, the Spaniard as twenty more. "A houri! A great prize! A great ransom!" howled the raiders, seeking their prey; but they ran on doom. For the Norman mounted, and in his armor dashed them down with his heavy sword; and those whom the Spaniard's cimeter bit never cried more. Yet with all the death twinkling about, Richard held his steed and mailed breast betwixt the foe and the lady. Even while he fought, her clear Greek voice encouraged. "Holy Mother, that was a well-struck blow! Oh, were I but a man with a sword!"

How long the mounted two could have beat back the unmounted twenty only the wise saints know; for just as Richard's hauberk had turned the third javelin, and his eyes danced with stars when his helmet dinted, a new cry rang from behind.

"Forward, brothers! Slay! death!" And a bolt from Herbert's crossbow crashed through a pirate's target,--herald of the advent of the man-at-arms and fifteen riders more; at sight whereof the pirates--guessing at last that it was all over with their comrades who had gone inland--fled like partridges through the grove, over the white sands; and before Herbert could rein in his steaming beast, they heard the blocks creaking, as feverish hands made sail and warped the s.h.i.+p to sea. Not all thus to escape; for the Normans nipped several, whom they tugged away, strapped to the saddle-bows, after having searched them for jewels down to their shoes.

Richard looked about him. The lady, agile as a _fee_, had alighted, and was standing, clinging with both hands to an orange tree, panting for breath,--as did all. The Spaniard had dismounted also, and stood leaning against the saddle.

While waiting breath for speech, Longsword surveyed the rescued, finding in both need of more than one glance. The costume of the Moor had been sadly dealt with, but his silken vest and the shawl at his girdle were of the finest silk, and set off a most shapely frame. He was tall, wiry, supple as a blooded charger; and no dress would have concealed a face so intelligent, ingenuous, winsome, that, as Richard looked thereon, he had but a single thought,--"I would know more of this man." The countenance was a fine oval, the forehead not high but prominent; the eye, brilliant, deep, and dark; the small mouth, shaded by a black curly beard; the skin not swarthy, yet tinged with pale brown, a gentle bronzing of the sun-loved vegas. But these are parts only, and the whole--how much fairer was it than any part! For the face thrilled with eager, active intelligence, and the eyes seemed but open windows to a soul,--a soul perchance to admire, to reverence, to love. And as Richard beheld him, he felt a magic current of fellow-feeling drawing him to the Spaniard, ere they had spoken ten syllables.

Yet not all the Norman's gaze was for the Moslem--far from it. The lady no longer wore her yellow veil: the red ribbons were in tatters round her throat; her blue mantle had many a rent; but of these, who would think? She stood with her brown hair all dishevelled to the winds, and underneath the flying tresses one could see those bright eyes--dark, bright, and very merry; a high, white forehead, small red lips, and features that seemed smoothed and rounded like some marble image of the old pagans, which Sebastian had called "a snare of Satan." But this was no snare; for these cheeks were moulded with a soft texture and bloom like a pale rose; not quite fair, like Norman maidens, but just tinted enough to show the breath of the sun. All this Richard saw, and was not awestruck nor abashed, as in the presence of many handsome dames; but simply delighted, and, as chance would have it, the lady herself broke silence.

"By St. Theodore, Sir Frank," quoth she, holding out both hands to Richard, "will you say again to my face that you can do nothing brave?" And here she laughed so merrily, that the Norman was laughing too when he replied, having taken the hands:--

"Ah! dear lady, it is the white falcon you should thank, if any praise be due."

"And no praise for the falcon's trainer?" quoth she, still laughing; then with a sudden turn, while the tears almost stood in her eyes, "_Eu!_ Brave, n.o.ble sir, what may I do to repay! Kneel, fall at your feet, kiss them?"--and half she made to do so, but Richard shrank back, as if horrified.

"St. Michael forbid!" cried he; "rather this, let me kneel and kiss your hand, blessing Our Lady she has suffered me to save you!"

"But the peril was very great!" protested the lady, while Richard did as he wished, and kissed a hand very small and white.

"But the joy of peril is greater in such a cause!" he flashed back, rising. There was a shadow flitting across that bright face.

"My father?" the question came slowly. "He is--safe?"

"I saw him released; have no fear. I swore to him I would save you."

And the flush of pleasure was Richard's tenfold payment.

"Let us go to him," said the Norman, as he bade one of the men-at-arms arrange a pillion and ride back with the Greek toward the scene of the first battle.

"Ah! may all the dear saints bless you and your good men--I would give my life for my father!" said she.

So while the lady rode ahead, Richard galloped stirrup to stirrup with the Spaniard. He had needed no words to tell him that the Moslem was a notable cavalier, and the Spaniard had dispelled all doubts by a frank declaration of his name and position.

"Know, O Frank, that you have this day won the eternal grat.i.tude of Musa, son of Abdallah, the late Vizier of Al'mu'tamed, King of Cordova, though I am better known as 'the Sword of Granada,' for in that city have I spent much of my life."

And the Christian bowed his casqued head in humblest reverence, asking:--

"Then truly have I saved that famous knight, who, they say, held the lists at Toledo, during the truce, against the Cid Campeador and all his cavaliers?"

"I had that fortune," said the Spaniard, smiling, and returning the bow; "but," and he spoke lightly, "I would not have you, Sir Frank, regard me in an awesome fas.h.i.+on; for, believe me, after striking the blows I saw you give to-day, you may, I think, break lances with the best, and owe deference to none."

"Ah, my lord," cried Richard, "it has been a great privilege for a simple 'bachelor' like myself to be of service to so great a warrior."

The Moslem laughed, and made reply: "No, I will not be 'lorded' by you. I think I know an equal and a friend when I set eyes on him. To you my name is Musa; and yours--?"

"Richard Longsword," was the answer.

"Then, O Richard, we know one another and are brothers."

Then and there, while the horses were at a merry pace, the two young men leaned over their saddles and caught one another's hands. And at that moment was stricken a friends.h.i.+p that was destined to bind with hooks of steel through more than one fateful year. As if to cement the tie, Longsword pa.s.sed the flask at his belt to the Spaniard.

"Drink, friend, for you have seen enough this day to chill your veins, even if your prophet forbids wine."

"I am but a lax Moslem," replied Musa, with another of his soft smiles. And taking the flask, he clapped it to his lips. "'Wine of Paradise'!" cried he, when he took it away. "Ah, an hour since I expected that I would be soon drinking from the cups of the houris in the real Paradise, or more likely"--with a sly wag of the head--"scorching in no gentle fire!"

"Then the raiders sought your life, not your ransom?" asked the Norman.

"a.s.suredly; do not think I have lain so hidden here at Cefalu because, like a dervish or one of your monks, I enjoy solitude. I fled Spain because my blood is too princely to make my presence safe to Yusuf, the Almoravide, who has come from Africa to save us Spanish Moslems from conquest by the Christians, and who has conquered us himself.

When Granada fell and its treasures were scattered as booty to his rude Berber officers, and when Seville and all Andalusia were in his hands, imprudently I spoke of the days of our great Kalifs. The words were remembered by enemies and duly reported. Presently I heard that Yusuf suspected me of leading a revolt in Cordova against his rule, and that he keenly desired my head. I will not tell how I escaped to my Cid Campeador at Valencia, and thence to King Alfonso of Castile.

But the Almoravide's arms are long. Nowhere in Spain would I be safe.

So I came to Sicily, where I have relatives, hoping by lying close to elude his agents; but in vain, as has just been proved!"

"So," asked Richard, "this raid was on your account?"

"Of course," replied Musa; "I was surprised at the country house of Hajib this morning, and taken before I could kill more than two of the pirates. In their chief I recognized a corsair long in the service of Yusuf. They aimed to bear me in chains to Cordova, that the Almoravide might gloat over me alive, ere calling the headsman. You saw how they rained their blows at me, when they saw rescue at hand."

"The saints be praised, I saved you!" exclaimed the Norman. "You were indeed in the very jaws of death."

"Aye," was the careless answer, "and I owe you all thanks; yet this is not the first time I have imagined I would see no more mornings."

"Ah, my lord, you are a great cavalier!" cried Richard, enthusiastically.

The Spaniard shook his hand in warning.

"I am not 'lord' to you, brother! If Allah favors our friends.h.i.+p, what brave adventures shall we not have together!"

Longsword made no reply. The Moor had captivated him: he felt that he could ride through a thousand men-at-arms with such a friend at his side. Presently they drew rein under a wide-spreading, venerable chestnut tree that bowed over the highway. Here were gathered the Baron and most of his men: here was my lord bishop sitting on the ground upon a saddle, still groaning and rubbing his bruised s.h.i.+ns, while two scared priests were s.h.i.+vering beside him, and muttering a _gratias Deo_ for their deliverance from the infidel. The old Greek was also there, resting on a saddle-bag; but when the young Norman galloped up he made s.h.i.+ft to rise; and his daughter, who had already left her pillion, hastened to say:--