For a moment all were dumb. Musa spoke first.

"As the Most High lives, this is a magician's work!"

G.o.dfrey only smiled gravely.

"No, fair sir, it is the army of Kerbogha. When I quitted camp, we hoped he was still delaying before Edessa. But come he has, and unless I greatly fail, there are none in the army that dream he is so near."

"So near, and not discovered?" demanded Longsword. The Duke laughed wearily. "Even you, De St. Julien, do not know how feeble has been our scouting. From the lowlands about Antioch we can see little of this host; only a few advance squadrons that will retire when charged. I greatly fear--"

But Richard interposed: "That the Army of the Cross is near surprise, as Iftikhar vaunted. But are not Christ and Our Lady still with us?

Has G.o.d ceased to hear prayer?"

The elder knight crossed himself. "It is true, fair sir, our faith is very weak. We are still stronger than ten thousand thousand paynims!"

Then he turned almost fiercely upon Musa. "And you, Sir Infidel, is your heart with this army and its purpose? They are of your own faith.

Do you wish them well?"

Musa shook his head thoughtfully:--

"They fight not for Islam, but for their own dark ends. Can any good thing come from Kerbogha, Iftikhar's ally? I serve the kalif of Egypt, not the emir of Mosul."

They said no more. What was left to say? The hopes of a day had been blasted in an instant. Seemingly the army of the emir lay directly across their road to the city. As the hilltop was exposed to view, they retired behind to where a tiny brooklet started amid a clump of date palms. And well they did, for as they drew rein came a click and canter, and a single Arab horseman whirled down the hill slope, thinking least of all to meet an enemy. Before any knew it, he was face to face with them, had halted with a yell, stared once, turned to fly; but G.o.dfrey had touched Marchegai, and he bounded beside the Arab, whom the Duke unsaddled before he could draw cimeter. Richard ran to him, as also Musa. So they held the prisoner fast, and led him to the brooklet, nipping his throat tightly to choke an outcry. Then, when the horse also had been taken, and his captors had him on his back, G.o.dfrey held a dagger at his throat to give good reason for talking softly. The rascal whined piteously to be killed without torture; for, he moaned, the Franks were wont to broil prisoners alive for eating.

"Stop croaking, frog," commanded Longsword, fiercely. "Only as you speak truly, may you keep a whole windpipe;--if not--" The silence was the most terrible threat. So the wretch told a story that seemed likely enough. He was a light rider serving with Dekak of Damascus.

Kerbogha's host had advanced from Edessa, constantly swelling in numbers. There were twenty-eight emirs from Syria and Mesopotamia with him; Kilidge Arslan, burning to avenge the defeat at Dorylaeum, the former emir of Jerusalem, and many princes more had led their myriads.

The army had solemnly sworn by the beard of the Prophet to leave not one Christian to return to Frankland to tell the tale. They had advanced by stealthy marches from Afrin, and were now within a few leagues of Antioch itself; but to the prisoner's best knowledge the Christians had not discovered them. Then came an astonishing piece of news: while Kerbogha had advanced, Antioch had fallen. Two days earlier,--so the tale in the Moslem camp ran,--Phirous the Armenian had betrayed a tower to Bohemond, and all the city except the citadel had fallen to the Crusaders. This was the sum of the fellow's tale, and G.o.dfrey liked it little.

"So Bohemond made shift to take the city while he thought me away on the southern foray!" growled he, almost bitterly. "_Gratias Deo_,--I ought to say. But I know the manner of these knaves that follow us.

Seven days long they will plunder, kill, and revel, thinking of ten thousand things before scouting. They will be snared one and all.

Kerbogha will surprise the city. It will be their grave,--the grave of fools!"

"And why is not the army moving?" demanded Richard.

"We wait for Cid Iftikhar with all his Ismaelians. Men whisper that it is he in private council, not Kerbogha, who will rule the war."

Richard smiled grimly.

"Cid Iftikhar has had cause to delay. But tell me: does the line of Kerbogha compa.s.s the whole city? How may we enter?"

The dagger's edge was cold against the Arab's throat, a goodly check to lying, and there was something in Richard's eye that made it dangerous to haggle with the truth.

"Cid,--I tell you truly,--it will be a great peril for any Christian to try to enter Antioch. But if you ride to the south and then westward, touching the river below the city, I think you might pa.s.s, if Allah favor."

Longsword withdrew the dagger.

"See!" commented he; "the word of a Frank is inviolate. Swear you will whisper, not even to the winds, you were met by us; and you are free.

Only we must keep your horse."

The Arab swore by the "triple-divorcement" (an oath Musa declared all-abiding), and rejoiced to struggle to his feet.

"I am secret as the Judgment book, my Cid!" quoth he, in his grat.i.tude. G.o.dfrey motioned him away.

"Remember your oath, then, and begone."

The fellow climbed the hillside, blessing Allah he was still alive.

But those he left had a gloomy council. They were in no state for high and brave speech. Presently Richard began in his quiet way, sure token of determination: "We cannot remain here. Others may pa.s.s, in greater numbers. We have captured a fresh horse, and must make over the saddle for my wife."

But Musa stood listless, his eyes on the ground.

"We are in Allah's hands, brother," said he, with a despairing wave of the hand. "We have done all men might. Useless--fate is wearied with saving us. We can do nothing more. If our doom is written, it is written."

And Richard saw that the proud spirit of his friend was bowed at last.

The heart of Musa was sprung from the East; the word "fate" was a deadly talisman to him, as to all his race. But the Norman caught him roughly by the shoulder.

"Rouse up, Musa, son of Abdallah! Do not anger G.o.d by saying, 'He puts forth His arm to save us all in vain,--to save from the cord, the cimeter, the fire, and the arrow, only to wait for slaughter like cows!' We have good swords and strong hearts still! Bowed heads never won triumph. Rouse up; your wits are not frozen. When one wills to have victory, victory is at hand."

Musa lifted his face; his eyes were again flashing.

"You say well, brother; I am turned coward. Do what you will; I follow."

Richard swept his arm around in a circle.

"We cannot recross this barren country; no refuge there. And Antioch must be warned. But there is safety for my wife and for you."

"Safety for me and for Musa? What?" Mary, long silent, demanded.

Richard hesitated; then drove on into seemingly reckless words.

"You have wits keener than your cimeter, Musa, and can tell a tale to deceive sage Oberon. Take my wife; ride boldly into the camp of Kerbogha. Say you are an Arab gentleman with a Greek slave fleeing from the Frankish raiders at Alexandretta; that Turkomen bandits met your party on the way and scattered it. Dress up the tale--they will believe you. Unless you meet Iftikhar or Zeyneb face to face, none will doubt. At first chance sail for Egypt, and be safe."

"And you and Cid G.o.dfrey?"

Richard pointed over the hill toward Antioch; then drew back his mantle. Upon the ring-shirt was the red cross of the Crusade.

"We are soldiers of Christ, and must warn our brethren."

"_Mashallah!_ You shall attempt nothing," cried the Spaniard. "You rebuked me; yet you rush into the arms of death! Your wife!"

And G.o.dfrey added eagerly:--

"Yes, by St. Denis,--my duty calls to Antioch, but not yours. One can pa.s.s as safely as two. Think of your wife, De St. Julien. If Musa prospers at all, he can pa.s.s you for a body-servant or the like. I alone will go to Antioch."

Richard was very pale, and Mary likewise; but before he could answer, she thrust herself between the Norman and his friends.

"You say well, my lord and husband," said she, simply; "you belong first to Christ and then to me."

"O sweet lady," broke out Musa, "pray him for your sake, if not for his own, to go with us; to forget his madness."

Mary looked from one to the other. Her hands clasped and unclasped nervously, but her voice was calm and sweet.