"But in former days you did not smile on my suit to Mary."

"Verily," said Sebastian, while Herbert made the horses ready, "I saw in it the hand of Satan to prevent you from going to the Holy City.

But now that you have taken the great vow, and I see in your face that you are strong, I have no fear. Yet remember, your duty is to G.o.d, and not to women; when you ride toward Palestine, do not leave your soul snared in a silken net in Provence."

"Ah," cried Richard, "you know not what you say. Did you ever have love for a pure and beautiful maid?"

Sebastian's face was very grave.

"Many things have befallen in my life, G.o.d is lengthening my days. In the years of my youth--what may not have happened? But she died--she was very young; so was I. I have mastered all earthly l.u.s.ts, praise be to G.o.d!"

And this was the only word Richard had ever heard Sebastian speak, of what befell him before he entered the monastery, and the long shadows of his life's renunciation fell over him. But of more moment was the speech Richard had with Herbert, as they rode along.

"I marvel that no mention was made in the letter of the messages I sent to La Haye, to warn against that dark-faced devil, Zeyneb."

Herbert fell into a long study, his eyes fixed on the way that was gliding by under their merry canter.

"The roads were safe. All the brigands have left their lairs to go to Jerusalem--ha!"--this, with a sly grunt and chuckle. "However, if my lady writes thus three days since, nothing has befallen."

"True," replied the Baron, spurring Rollo more hotly, "yet as I think of it, I begin to mis...o...b... Iftikhar Eddauleh is of that accursed brotherhood amongst the infidels--the Ismaelians. Their guile reaches to the ends of the earth. Twice he has sought my life, and only St.

Michael saved me. I would I could see that Zeyneb dancing at a rope's end."

"The rope or the axe will be his confessor at last!" muttered Herbert; then they all rode harder.

When Richard came within sight of the towers of the castle of La Haye, not even Rollo's mighty stride made the ground speed swift enough. All around stretched the vineyards and orchard bowers of the pleasant South Country; the wind blew softly over great fields of blossoms; the peasant and wayfarer trudged on peacefully with no sword at his side, and feared not raid nor robbers, for safety and ease reigned everywhere in fair Provence. When they drew near to the castle, they could see a score of bright banners tossing on the rampart, while a great crash of music greeted them; for the Baron of La Haye was a valiant troubadour, and kept as many _jongleurs_ as grooms. But what cared Richard? As he thundered up the way to the drawbridge, he reined in Rollo short, was out of the saddle, and his arms were about some one in white that had run from the orchard to greet him. And he felt a soft breath on his cheeks, soft hands in his hands, soft words in his ear; and his own words came so fast, they would scarce come at all.

Then he knew that all the castle folk were standing by, smiling and laughing in friendly manner. Soon Baron Hardouin came down and gave him a stately speech, after the best courtesy of the South Country; and Richard, holding Mary's hand in his own, looked upon all about, and spoke out boldly: "Fair lord and good people, I have no skill in speech, but this I say: the Princess Mary Kurkuas is the fairest and n.o.blest maiden in all the earth, and to him who says me nay, I will make it good upon my body." Whereupon he half drew Trenchefer, but all cried out, "Long life to the valiant Baron de St. Julien! long life to our fairest princess!" And Richard went into the castle with his head in the air, seeing only one face out of the many, and that very close to his own.

Only when Hardouin had feasted his guest, and had made him listen to a dozen _jongleurs_ and their minstrelsy, Richard found himself alone with Mary in the castle orchard, just as the long afternoon was spreading out the shadows. They sat on the turf, with a gnarled old apple tree rustling above them. All around the bees were humming over the roses; the birds were just beginning to carol the evening. Then the question was, "And where is Musa?"

Whereupon Mary answered: "He is gone forth hawking; for, said he, 'I think Richard will come to-day; and though I am his brother, there are hours when even brothers are better loved afar off.'"

"What a n.o.ble soul he is," said Richard, his eyes wandering dreamily up into the waving canopy of green; "how often I wonder that he has never courted you, nor you given him favor. Almost I love him too well for jealousy."

"But not I!" cried the Greek, firing; then with a laugh: "See, your eyes are open wide, for you are fearful lest I take your words in earnest. Ah, dear life, I can love but one; and with you my heart is a full cup. Yet to Musa I would give aught else--all but love. Yet fear him not. He is the most generous of men. Often as we have been together, his talk has been of you,--praising you after his Arab fashion, till even I cry out at him, 'Richard Longsword is a wondrous knight, yet not so wondrous as you make him!' Then he will laugh and say, 'In my eyes there was never Moslem or Christian a greater cavalier than my brother.'"

"So he has been at La Haye all the winter?"

"Yes; he sent away your Saracens to Sicily; and I need not tell the shifts he had to save their skins, such was the cry against infidels in all the country. But here in Provence, where there are so many Jews and unbelievers, not to speak of the Cathari and other heretics that are so strong, a Moslem knight may dwell without annoy; for I fear my uncle--" and she fetched a sigh--"likes his troubadours and courts of love too well to leave them for the war of the Holy City."

But at the mention of Jerusalem Richard's brow grew dark.

"Dear heart," said he, "what madness to come to La Haye! How may I lift eyes to you, when I belong to the cause of Christ; and what time is this for marriage and giving in marriage! And if G.o.d grants that I return alive from Palestine,--and well I know the dangers, if some do not,--how many years for you must it be of weary waiting--years plucked out of the joyousness of your own dear life! Ah, sweetest of the sweet, I hold your hand now, and see heaven in your eyes. But I know you would not have me always thus; we cannot sit beneath the trees forever."

"No, my beloved," said the Greek, very softly, "this is no time for marriage or giving in marriage; yet--" and she spoke still more softly--"shall I not go with you, to nurse the wounded, and give cold water to the sick; to lay a cool hand on you--thus--if you are very weary or tempted? Are there no n.o.ble ladies who go with the army,--the Countess of Toulouse, the wife of Baldwin, brother of great Duke G.o.dfrey, and many more? And shall I not be one? Listen: my sins too are very great; yes,"--for Richard was raising a hand in protest; "I am too fond of the pomps and praise of this world, and my heart too often will not bow to the will of G.o.d. For my own sins and for the sins of him I love better than self, I would pray at the tomb of Our Lord. Yet I cannot fly out alone--a poor defenceless song-bird, amongst all the crows and hawks. Therefore I have sent to you, that you might hear me say this, 'Let us be wedded by the priest full soon, for the Holy Father has forbidden unprotected maids to go to Jerusalem; but let us not be to each other truly as husband or wife until the Sacred City is taken, and we can kneel side by side at the Holy Sepulchre."

Richard had risen, and as he stood he held Mary's hands in his own, and looked straight into her eyes.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "'HOW MAY I LIFT EYES TO YOU WHEN I BELONG TO THE CAUSE OF CHRIST?'"]

"Dear life," cried he, "do you know what you say? Peril, toil, hardships,--yes, death even, and worse than death,--captivity--all these may await! And is your little body strong enough for the long, long way to Jerusalem?"

"It is, Richard," said she, looking back into his face with a sweet, grave smile; "how I wish I could do something very great, only to show my love for you!"

He was bending over to s.n.a.t.c.h her in his arms; her hair was touching his cheek; when Mary shrank back with a frightened scream:--

"Richard!"

And before the other word could pa.s.s her lips, a strange misshapen form had darted from under the tree. A flash on bright steel, a cry, a stroke--but at that stroke Mary s.n.a.t.c.hed at the wrist, caught, held an instant.

"The jinns curse you!" the hiss, and Mary felt the wrist whisk like air from her hands. Another stroke, Richard half reeled. There was the click of steel on steel. A second curse, and the a.s.sailant ghost-like was gliding amongst the orchard trees. Longsword was still staring, trembling, reaching for Trenchefer; but Mary gave a loud cry. And at that cry, lo! Musa was swinging from his saddle, and grasping in no gentle grip the cloak of the dwarf Zeyneb.

CHAPTER XXII

HOW RICHARD PARTED WITH HIS BROTHER

The dwarf was writhing, twisting, biting with long, venomous teeth, but the grasp of the Spaniard was as steel. His eye was not on his captive, but on Richard.

"_Wallah!_" was his greeting, "are you wounded?"

Richard stood erect, his hand at his side.

"Again you have saved me. The Valencia shirt was proof once more."

Musa was advancing, dragging Zeyneb, who still struggled, but helpless as a mouse in a cat's mouth.

The Spaniard picked up the dagger that lay on the gra.s.s, and frowned darkly when his eye fell on the edge.

"Poison," was his biting comment. "I did indeed suppose Iftikhar Eddauleh could at least trust to clean steel, even if he must place it in the claws of such vermin as this!"

And he shook the dwarf till the latter howled with mortal fright.

Mary, now that the shock was past and the danger sped, was calling out to all the saints amid hysteric laughter and crying, and Richard, too, felt very strangely--thrice now his life had thus been sought.

Musa's fingers knit round the dwarf's wretched neck, and he seemed to find joy in watching the latter's agony.

"Beard of the Prophet!" he repeated, "Iftikhar shall wait long before he find another such servant!"

"Guard, hold fast!" admonished Richard. "Surely the fiends aid him; he escaped Louis de Valmont's grasp as by magic."

"He will need a stouter spell to-day, by the glory of Allah!" retorted Musa. The dwarf at last found tongue.

"Laugh now, my masters, and you, my lady; but you shall all whistle otherwise ere you hear the last of poor Zeyneb."

The Spaniard laughed scornfully.

"Aye, truly," declared he, "you are like to live many days, my merry sir, after your feat just now."

The dwarf only hung down his head, while all around them swarmed the castle folk talking each at once, and making a mighty din. Baron Hardouin sent his niece away with her maids, to have her temples bathed in strong waters, for snow was no whiter than her cheeks. But four st.u.r.dy men-at-arms haled Zeyneb within the castle, and then the Baron blew out on him his fury. He should be torn by wild horses, fed to the bloodhounds, grilled over hot coals; and any other device for leaving this world in an agony was told over to him. Zeyneb did not stir. After his first howl and rage, he only blinked sharply out of his little black eyes and twisted his lips. But when Richard asked the Baron if he had received no letter concerning the attempt at Clermont, the dwarf broke forth in French.