God Wills It! Part 62

"_Ya_," he heard her demand; "will you call the 'devoted'? Will you deliver me up to Iftikhar?"

"He swears he will have you flayed alive," gasped the dwarf; "why should I save you after what you have done to me?"

"Why?" laughed Morgiana. "Listen, Zeyneb. Did Hakem awake after I cut his throat? What hindered me to do the like to you."

Zeyneb hung his head. "It is true," he confessed; "you spared me."

"I spared you," she reechoed, laughing after her unearthly manner, "not through love--Allah forbid!--but because you were my foster-brother, and faithful to Iftikhar. The Greek is gone--gone forever--praised be the Most High! Iftikhar in his mad pride will go to Antioch, where--and the omens of the smoke never lie--only woe awaits. He casts me away, but I will not leave him. He curses; I will never forsake. I am strong, I can yet save."

"Allah!" cried the dwarf--her spell once more over him--"what do you desire?"

"That you aid me to go to Antioch. You have means and wits. Then, unknown to him, I shall be at Iftikhar's side, to stand betwixt him and the danger."

CHAPTER x.x.xVIII

HOW RICHARD AND MUSA AGAIN PARTED

Rollo had dropped to a slower pace; at last had halted. Richard had set Mary down on a gra.s.sy hummock and gone back to his steed. The great beast was reeking with sweat, panting in strong gusts such as blow from a smithy's bellows. Richard plucked off his outer mantle--long since tattered--and rubbed the steaming flanks and back of the brute; while all the time he patted him, and praised him for having done a deed right worthy of a Christian _destrer_ pacing the steeds of the unbelievers. But it was Mary who rose, and put her fair white arms round black Rollo's neck, and her cheek against the white spot on his forehead.

"Ah! dear Lord Jesus Christ," said she, "if there be indeed a heaven where good horses go, surely our Rollo will be there, a very angel!"

Richard laughed merrily, when he imagined the huge brute duly decked with halo and with wings. But Rollo, sensible fellow, who knew that he had only done his duty as became an honest horse, sniffed for water, found none, and then began to munch the th.o.r.n.y wayside thistles with as much relish as might a desert camel. Musa and G.o.dfrey had dismounted, and were praising their steeds also. Well they deserved it, but neither had borne the burden of Rollo, or run as did he. When Richard turned once more to Mary, she gave a great cry.

"Mother of Sorrows," began the knight, "were you wounded?"

"I!" the Greek was saying. "They have nigh slain you! You have a hundred wounds!"

In truth Longsword was no pretty sight. For one could not fight and ride a night long, and not have b.l.o.o.d.y cheeks, b.l.o.o.d.y hands, and a cut on the right thigh where a cimeter had brushed away the Valencia mail.

Richard wiped it off as best he could.

"It is nothing!" protested he, gayly; "ten times have I bled worse, and never been the sadder,--at Dorylaeum, and time and again about Antioch."

"Ah, Richard," said she, "some day it may befall that if not you, another will be sadder if you risk your dear life lightly."

"And why not risk it, when I deemed you were worse than dead to me?"

Mary lifted her face. "But I am not dead, sweet husband; for my sake do not throw your life away. Above all, swear you will shun to meet Iftikhar. He is a terrible man."

But the Norman shook his head. "Dear life--say to me 'Pluck me down three stars,' and I will try; but avoid Iftikhar I cannot. G.o.d created us both; but not a world large enough to hold us both. Yet do not fear."

"Ah! Richard," said she, smiling in turn, "you also are a terrible man as well as Iftikhar. I tremble when I think I have the love of beings so grand, so valorous, as you. I know my love and my pain stand often but one step apart. But I have chosen you. And you must play your game, and--when G.o.d wills--die your death in your own way; while I will love and trust you to the end."

Though his face was bleeding, she kissed him.

"I am a cavalier's daughter, and a cavalier's wife," said she, more lightly; "red wine and white must be alike to me."

Then Musa and G.o.dfrey came up, courteously asking if the lady was well, and heaping praise on Rollo.

"There lies a ravine with a sweet spring, beyond the next hillock,"

said Musa, who never forgot a road once travelled. "Let us ride thither. From its crest we can command a wide view, if any party approaches. Let us rest a little--the Star of the Greeks slept none too much last night."

Mary pouted at the suggestion that they must wait for her alone. But in truth the horses sadly needed a halt. Richard knew G.o.dfrey's heart was in the camp at Antioch lying unwarned of the impending danger. But even his Marchegai walked wearily as they climbed the little hill. The sun was fast mounting upward, promising a clear, hot day. Beyond the hillock, as the Spaniard had said, was a deep, cool ravine, an oasis in the desert of dry gra.s.s and thistle, where a little spring bubbled from the limestone, and threaded down a rocky bed. Over all swayed a few aged cypresses, an oleander thicket, ferns, and the twining wild vine. Here they drank till thirst was ended. Then while the three horses nibbled the gra.s.s, Richard found bread, and cheese, and broken meat in the saddle-bags, and they had their feast. That ended, the men saw the eyes of the Greek were very heavy, though she vowed she was not weary.

"No fear, dear lady," quoth Musa. "As we watch, not a crow can fly within a league without our seeing. It is safest to ride by night. Let me stand sentry for a time; then I will rouse Richard, and Lord G.o.dfrey shall relieve in turn." So, having resaddled the horses, and prepared for instant flight, he took his cimeter and climbed to the summit. G.o.dfrey cast himself beneath a cypress, and his snoring soon told its story. Mary's eyes were scarcely peeping now.

"Come, my Lord Baron," said she, smiling drowsily; "let your little wife fall asleep with her head in your lap."

And lying under the spreading trees, she did as she wished; for how could Richard refuse her? She cast a last look into his face.

"How you have changed! How fierce your great beard makes you! You will be more marked with scars than your father. Once I thought the only man I could love must be a beautiful youth like the Apollo of Scopas in our Constantinople home. How different! I ought to fear you, as all men fear you. But I do not--do not. For you are--Richard."

The last words had come very slowly; there came no more. There was a little flutter of her breast and lips when she turned in her sleep.

Richard sat a long time; his hands--great clumsy hands--now on her hair, now on her forehead, now on her neck. What had he done so pleasing to Heaven that he had been possessed of this--of this! The events of the past night buzzed about him--the shadow of death in so many forms!--how unreal the horrors seemed as they flitted by! He knew he ought to lay Mary's head upon the gra.s.s and relieve Musa's watch.

But his eyes also were very heavy. He could not bring himself to disturb that crown of hair. The ravine and the trees grew dim. At last Richard thought he was back in St. Julien a-hunting, only the dogs were pulling down Harun, the Ismaelian, in place of a stag. This also pa.s.sed away; he seemed drifting onward, onward,--until he heard a voice close by:--

"_Wallah!_ How beautiful she is, and how she loves him!"

Richard raised his head. Musa was standing beside him; the sunbeams were slanting from the west.

"Holy cross!" exclaimed the Norman; "the day is sped. I have slept through all. And Duke G.o.dfrey?" Musa smiled.

"Look!" The good Duke was still in the sleep of the righteous.

"You have been sole sentinel. Why did you not wake us?" cried Richard.

Musa again laughed.

"If I can wield no cudgels of marble, I have a manner of strength.

Many a night long at Cordova I have counted the hours over my books.

My fellows said, 'Musa is like Allah; he never sleeps.' No foe in sight; no need of haste."

There was a stir on Richard's lap; the long lashes unclosed.

"Have I slept very long?" said the Greek, with a pretty sigh.

"None too long," answered the Spaniard. "I have made bow and arrows, and killed two desert partridges. Let us sup and be off."

G.o.dfrey awoke and cursed the devil that made him sleepy. Musa had made a fire. They ate with a relish. Then Richard swung his wife into the saddle, and Rollo pranced gleefully as he took the road with his precious burden. They rode steadily until far into the night, meeting no one; then halted, resting on the dry gra.s.s until the moon had risen and lit the way. As they galloped onward, once or twice they thought they heard hoof-beats and saw distant objects moving; but nothing came close to threaten. The sun had but just risen when they climbed a commanding height east of the Orontes, where the fair valley, spreading down to Antioch, lay full in view. G.o.dfrey was leading, when Richard saw him rein Marchegai short, and heard a bitter cry. "G.o.d Himself is leagued against us!"

Below the whole plain was covered with the squadrons of a countless host!

From their hilltop they could view the strange army in its fulness.

Near by, a squadron of light hors.e.m.e.n were speeding, their arms flas.h.i.+ng under the brightening sun. Farther on a brown line was winding--small as of creeping ants; but Longsword knew he beheld footmen on the march, and their numbers were thousands. Perched on a knoll in the hills were gay pavilions, and above them glittered a sultan's twin banners, silver and gold. Beyond them was a second pair, enringed by other tents; beyond these a third, a fourth; and the eye grew weary counting the companies. Iftikhar had indeed boasted well--Kerbogha and all the might of the East was moving to the succor of Antioch. G.o.d alone knew if the Christian host would be warned in time! The Norman brushed his hand across his eyes, as if to dispel this ill-fraught vision. But vision it was not. The innumerable host, the marching columns, the sultans' and emirs' encampments, still were there.