"Good!" returned their lord. "And by St. Michael, you shall have chance to prove your vow!"

Then, having heard that the sortie was repulsed, Richard went to his own tent. He found Sebastian sitting by the doorway. As the young Baron entered, the priest without a word arose and kissed him gently on either cheek. And even in the dim firelight Richard could see a wonderful glow of peace and joy upon the face of the ascetic. "Dear father," said he, wondering, "what happiness has come, that you seem so glad? And why is it thus you kiss me?"

Whereupon Sebastian put his arm about Richard's neck, stroking his hair with the other hand, and at last said very softly, "I have had a vision."

"A vision?" And Richard smiled amid the darkness, for Sebastian's visions came every other night. But the priest only continued, guessing his thought: "No, your lips need not twitch. For this vision was of a manner different from any that I have ever seen before. As I lay here, of a sudden I woke, and saw the dim camp-fire and stars glitter as I see now, and heard the chatter and groaning of the men.

But of a sudden a youth, clothed in a whiteness pa.s.sing snow, bright and with wings, stood by me, and said most gently, 'Sebastian.' And I answered: 'Yes, Lord. What may I do in Thy service?' And he replied: 'Be of good cheer. G.o.d hath seen thy good works, and how thou hast crucified the flesh and all carnal l.u.s.ts, and knowest how thou hast wrestled in prayer. Now rejoice; the end of thy toil in this evil world draws nigh. But before thou shalt see with the eyes of the spirit the heavenly Jerusalem and the blessed host, with thy mortal eyes thou shalt see the Cross triumphant on the walls of the earthly Jerusalem. And this hour comes quickly.' Then while I lay in bliss unspeakable he had vanished." Richard was very grave.

"Dear father, you do not long for heaven so much that you would leave me?"

But Sebastian answered softly: "It shall be as G.o.d wills. You will be comforted. It is written, 'He giveth His beloved sleep'--sleep after the toil and the pain and the crushing of sinful self. And then to wake and see our dear Lord's blessed face! You would not grudge me that?"

"No, dear father," said Richard, submissively; "but yet I pray G.o.d will ordain otherwise." Sebastian only kissed him again, lay down on the hard earth, and was soon in quiet sleep. Longsword went to his men, told them to sleep also, for they must rise with dawn. But as for himself his eyes were not heavy, despite the terrible day. As Herbert lay dozing, he heard from his master's tent the ominous click, click, of a whetstone. "The 'little lord' is sharpening Trenchefer," muttered the man-at-arms. "The devil help the Moslems who stand in his path to-morrow. The devil help Iftikhar Eddauleh if the two come face to face."

Richard sat in the dark, the great sword across his lap, handling it lovingly, smoothing each rust-speck that touched his finger's nail, making the long blade razor-keen. And had a lamp flashed on his face, his features would have showed harder than his blade. His heart was at peace--at peace with an awful gladness. Father, mother, sister, brother, were all to be avenged on the morrow when he fronted Iftikhar Eddauleh. That some saint would aid him to meet the Egyptian he did not doubt. And then? But Richard never so much as wondered what would befall, after Trenchefer had smitten once and fairly on that gilded mail.

CHAPTER XLVI

HOW IFTIKHAR CEASED FROM TROUBLING

When the Arabian's eyes lit upon Mary, Morgiana gave a little cry, ran to the Greek, and caught her in her arms. For a moment the two were so wrapt in the joy of meeting that all else was forgot. But quick as the first flood of gladness pa.s.sed, Morgiana broke forth with the eager demand:--

"Musa? Musa? where is the Spanish emir?"

"Upon the walls, where are all the chieftains," was the wondering Greek's answer.

"_Wallah!_ and when will he return?" ran on Morgiana, beginning to tremble as Mary held her, as though in some mastering dread.

"I do not know; at any time,--now,--or not till midnight. Dear G.o.d--what has befallen? what may I do? You are turning pale, and your hands are cold!"

"Allah have mercy on us both, unless Musa comes! Iftikhar has discovered you!" cried Morgiana, calming herself with a mighty effort.

And now it was the Greek's turn to tremble.

"Iftikhar?"--the word came across her pallid lips faint as a dying groan. "How? When? Speak, as you love me--"

Morgiana thrust back the dark hair that had fallen over her eyes, and drew herself up half scornfully.

"Foolish woman! Is there not sorrow enough, that you need make more?

Why did you wander into the streets at sundown? Why did you let the veil slip from your face? Zeyneb, my foster-brother, whom the sheytans love and the angels hate, looked on you,--followed you,--saw you enter the house, and sped straight to Iftikhar! Speak--speak--" and the Arabian plucked at Mary's arm fiercely, while in her eyes was again the mad gleam of old. "Why should I not curse you? you who have wronged me, utterly! When I was just winning back Iftikhar's love, and all the evil past was being forgot!--now--now I have lost him once more. And you--you are my ruin. As Allah lives I will curse you, and your lily-white beauty!"

Mary was indeed white as the lily, or whiter, if that may be; but she caught both of Morgiana's wrists and held fast. Under the calm influence shed from her eyes the Arabian's wandering gaze grew steady.

"Enough!"--she cut the other short--"you did not come hither only for maledictions. How have you learned? What will Iftikhar do?"

"Learned?"--Morgiana threw back her head and laughed. "I heard Zeyneb repeating all to Iftikhar. Do? I only saw the Egyptian's face--the pa.s.sion, the longing, the hate. He will come to seize you without delay. Not even Musa can save you. Is not Iftikhar lord of Jerusalem?

I wonder he is not here already, finding I have fled his harem at the Castle of David."

But Mary remained calm.

"Tell me, my sister, what am I to do? You are all wits. Better death by fire than one touch from Iftikhar."

"The Christian camp," pleaded the Arabian. "There are friends, your husband, safety. Oh, were but Musa here, you could be sent without the walls ere it is too late."

"By the water-clock it lacks midnight an hour," said Mary, quietly.

"The Spaniard may be here any moment. But I cannot dream that Iftikhar, at a time like this,--with the very city at stake,--will forget all, quit his duty on the walls, to tear a defenceless maid away to his harem."

Morgiana laughed again, very bitterly. "Fool you are, in very truth!

Iftikhar cares more for the lashes of your eyes than for a thousand Jerusalems,--for a thousand of his own lives. You will be at his mercy before daybreak, though the Christian cavaliers sack the city."

There was the clatter of hoofs on the pavement, a shouting, a clang of armor and arms. Mary gave a great sigh of relief. "Musa; he has come from the walls with his guard." But Morgiana blasted the hope with one cry: "Hear! The Egyptian's voice!" And Mary reeled as she stood; for she heard a voice she knew right well thundering, "Guard the house about, and down with the door." Then came the resounding knock of a cimeter-hilt on the portal. The Greek sprang to the lattice over the street. In the narrow way below were fifty Soudanese negroes, with ruddy torches, tossing their spiked flails and spears; while beating at the door was a lordly figure in gilded armor--Iftikhar himself.

Morgiana saw Mary trying to speak to her; at least the lips moved. The blows on the portal redoubled.

"Open, open, or I kill you all!" rang Iftikhar's command, sounding above his own strokes. The eunuchs and maids of the household ran chattering and screaming from the lower rooms, as if they might find protection beside their mistress.

"There is no hope," said Morgiana, sullenly, holding down her face; "we have both played our game, and we have lost."

And the Arabian, all the fire and steel gone out of her, fell to her knees, cast her mantle over her head, shaking with sobs and groans.

Mary trod proudly toward the head of the stairway leading to the lower court. Over her head hung a great bronze candelabra. She knew the light fell full upon her; she was sure she was never more beautiful than at that instant, when her face was bloodless as Parian marble.

One resolve was in her heart--to let Iftikhar gather no sweets by her vain agony and tears. She was the great Greek princess, with the blood of Caesars in her veins, never more conscious of her dignity and pride.

The weak house door had shivered. There was a heavy step in the court below, a voice commanding: "I will enter alone. Let the rest stand guard." Mary saw Iftikhar at the foot of the stairs; his gilded mail twinkling, his naked cimeter in hand, his black-plumed casque thrust back so that the face was bare. How splendid, almost how beautiful, he was, striding on in the pride of his power! But when he saw the white face and burning eyes of the Greek looking down upon him, even his wild spirit was reined for an instant. And while he halted on the first stair, Mary spoke, in tones cold as the winter wind.

"You come as ever, my Lord Iftikhar, unbidden, and with a naked sword.

Are the cavaliers who saw your back at Antioch hidden in this house, that you must burst in to beard them?"

The sting of her words was as salt on a wound. The answer was a curse upon jinns and angels who should stand between him and his prey. His feet flew up the stairway, but the Greek remained steadfast.

"You see, Cid Iftikhar, I am weak, and with empty hands. But without the walls is Richard Longsword, who will speak to you in my behalf.

This is your night, my lord; but in the morning--"

"Leave the morning to the rebel jinns!" rang the Egyptian's cry.

"To-night, to-night,--I possess you. To-night! To the castle with all speed!" He s.n.a.t.c.hed her in his impure arms. He crushed her to his breast, and pressed on her cold cheeks burning kisses. Mary neither struggled nor moaned. What she said in her heart was heard only by G.o.d. In his delirium Iftikhar saw neither Morgiana nor any other. He leaped down the stairs three at a bound,--his captive in his arms.

"_Allah akhbar!_" went his shout through the lower court. "I have won; the stars fight for me. Mine, to do with as I will!" And he kissed her again on lips and neck. Then of a sudden he stopped motionless, as though a charmer had made him stone, for outside in the street was sounding an angry command to the Soudanese to make way--the voice of Musa.

The grasp of the Egyptian on his prey never weakened, though his weapon was out once more. Yet Mary, in his grasp, for the first time began to struggle,--helpless as bird in the snare,--but her call sped out into the street shrilly: "Rescue! Rescue, for the love of G.o.d!"

For reply she saw the Soudanese by the door dashed to one side like shapes of wood, and across the threshold strode Musa, in no armor, but his cimeter also in hand. A glance, and the Spaniard knew all. He took one step toward Iftikhar, as if to cross swords without pa.s.sing a word. Then, with point outstretched, he spoke, but mildly, as if in grave irony.

"Cid, is this the manner of Egyptian emirs in keeping truce?"

Iftikhar's only response was to make his grip of Mary's arm so vise-like that she cried out with pain.

Musa spoke again, still gently. "Cid, this is my own house, my own harem. For what cause is it surrounded by your negroes, and violated?"