God Wills It! Part 64

"No, brave Musa, I cannot say to Richard 'turn back,'--though my Lord G.o.dfrey says it. Cursed would be my love for him, and his for me, if thus he was turned from his vow to Our Lord, and from duty to his comrades. I did not love him, to make him slave to my fears and desires. Rather I saw him as something higher far than I; like a mountain whose shadows would cover me; but whose height I would not lessen. For my heart--as your heart and Duke G.o.dfrey's heart--tells me his duty is in the city, not with me. And whether he dies--which Christ forbid!--or lives to see the victory, I shall know my love has been sweeter than all the pain."

Mary stood with her head erect; her eyes bright, but not with tears.

Richard turned to the others, smiling.

"Ah; good friends, how can I be weak when my dear wife is so strong!"

They did not answer. Then he touched Musa, leading him aside. "I must speak with you."

The Andalusian's eyes were wet. He was no ice-bound northerner, to nurse his fires deep within, and to wax more stony the more they burned.

"Musa," said Richard, very directly, "we have been to each other as few brothers and fewer friends. G.o.d knows why you have run this peril.

Yet I believe you care more for the Greek than for any woman, if you have loved any, save as a sister."

The Spaniard shrugged his shoulders almost gayly.

"If to any woman I could yield," said he, lightly, "it were to her, peerless from Andalus to Ind! Alas, I am clothed in some magic armor the darts of the eyes of the houris may not pierce; yet if any eyes could pierce, it would be those of Mary de St. Julien."

Richard held his lips close to the other's ear.

"Musa," said he, "I may get into Antioch; but a long road lies still to Jerusalem. Where the arrows sing, I must be. And if I fall"--he spoke lower--"Mary will be alone. She cannot go to La Haye and be wedded to another by her uncle, as would surely be her fate. Not a kinsman remains at Constantinople. You must"--he hesitated--"you must swear to me that you will love her; that if I die, she shall be your wife. For Moslem as you are, no man breathes I would rather see with his arms about her than you. You alone can make her forget me; make her look forward and laugh in the sunlight."

Why were beads of sweat on the Spaniard's brow? Why came his breath so swift and deep? But he answered steadily:--

"Brother mine, you ask a great thing; yet I accept it. If it is written by the stars that you fall, I swear I will stand in your place to the Star of the Greeks. May she never want love and service while life is mine! But till that day I will be to her as a brother, no more, no less; and let Allah speed the hour when I can give her back spotless to your arms."

They said no more, those two strong men; their clasped hands sealed the pledge. Richard walked back to Mary.

"Dear heart," said he, "we Franks have a proverb, 'Hunger drives the wolf from the woods.' We cannot stand here forever. Why should we grieve? Have I not seen your face two nights and a day; and do I not commit you to the n.o.blest friend in all the wide earth? When I enter the city, I will show three red s.h.i.+elds above the Gate of St. George; and if all goes well with you, let Musa contrive to set three lances with red pennons before it at an arrow's flight, as sign that your tale is credited and you are safe in Kerbogha's camp."

"We will not fail," said Musa, calmly. Richard adjusted the saddle of the captured horse so that Mary might ride. No stragglers were at the moment in sight. The Norman kissed his friend on both cheeks. He pressed the Greek once to his breast. Death was not paler than she; but she did not cry.

"You are my cavalier, my saviour, my husband," said she, lifting her eyes. "You are your Roland and our Greek Achilles! Dear G.o.d, what have I done that for an hour you should love me?"

"Our Lady keep you, sweet wife!" was the only answer.

"And you, Richard mine."

That was all that pa.s.sed. Musa spoke his farewell with his eyes.

G.o.dfrey bowed ceremoniously to the Spaniard; kissed the lady's hand.

His honest heart was too deeply moved for words. Richard swung onto Rollo without touching stirrup. He did not look back. Marchegai cantered beside. The horses whirled their riders over the hillside.

Soon the view before and behind was hid by the close thickets that lined the foothills. Richard rode with his head bent over Rollo's black mane, letting the horse thunder at will at the heels of Marchegai. The Norman's thoughts? Drowning men, report has it, live a long life through in a twinkling. Richard's life was not long; yet not once, but many times, he lived it over during that ride--the good things, the evil; and the evil were so many! And always before his sight was the vision of that face, pale as marble, the eyes fairer than stars--that face he had put away because of the love for the unseen Christ.

Now of much that pa.s.sed in that ride Richard remembered little; but he followed G.o.dfrey blindly. And a voice seemed to repeat in his ears time and again: "Turn back, Richard Longsword, turn back. You can yet rejoin Musa and Mary. There is safety in the camp of Kerbogha. You are not needed in the threatened city. Leave the army to G.o.d. You have long since slain enough Moslems to clear your guilt and vow."

But Richard would cross himself and mutter prayers, calling on every saint to fight against the a.s.sailing devils. As he rode, he saw remnants all about of the old pagan world where there had been love of sunlight, of flowers, of fair forms, and men had never borne a pain or struck a blow for love of the suffering Christ or the single Allah.

They were on a road, he knew, that led to the Grove of Daphne. He had heard Mary tell of the sinful heathen processions that once must have traversed this very way,--revellers br.i.m.m.i.n.g with unholy mirth, their souls devoted to the buffets of Satan.

Once he and G.o.dfrey drew rein at a wayside spring to water the horses.

Lo, beside the trickling brook was a block of weather-stained marble, carved into the fas.h.i.+on of a maiden fair as the dawn. Mother of Christ! Was it not enchantment that made that stony face take on the likeness of Mary the Greek? What heathen demon made the lips speak to him, "Back! back! Do not cast your life away"?

"St. Michael--away, the temptress!" he thundered, and with Trenchefer smote the stone, so that the smile and the beauty were dashed forever.

"_Kyrie eleison! Christe eleison!_" prayed Richard; "Holy St. Julien, patron of my house, forbid these fiends to tempt me!"

Yet all the wood seemed full of witchery and the voices of devils,--the old pagan devils, Pan, and Apollin, and Dian, and Hercules, and countless more,--who whispered ever that Christ and His heaven were very far away; that life was sweet, the sun was sweet, and sweetest of all a woman's love. But Richard muttered his prayers and rode onward; trusting that they might meet the infidels in flesh and blood, not sprites of the air whose arrows no ring mail could turn.

At last, after the sun had climbed high, and the horses had dropped to a weary pacing, there was a shout behind, --an Arab yell,--the clatter of scabbards and targets. Down a leafy way charged a squadron of Bedouin light horse, twenty, perhaps, and more. But Rollo and Marchegai had a fair start, well out of arrow range; and the unbelievers soon learned the speed of Frankish steeds. A long race, though not such as that when Iftikhar had led the chase. When at last the Bedouins turned back, their beasts all spent, the knights' mounts too had little strength to spare. Woods were still on every hand, when the two painfully walked beside their horses. As they climbed the slopes of Mount Silpius in the early afternoon, on the last stage to the city, suddenly from beyond a bend in the trees came the pounding of hors.e.m.e.n, fifty at least; and the sound neared fast.

Richard cast a glance at G.o.dfrey.

"My lord," said he, "Rollo is at the end of his speed. We cannot run from fresh horses."

The Duke shook his head when he heard the deep pants of Marchegai. "It is true," he answered. "I think we had best say 'Our Father,' and look to our swords."

But down the forest lane came a clear voice, singing l.u.s.tily the sweet Languedoc:--

"Merrily under the greenwood flying, _Zu, zu_, away to my Mirabel!

Swift! For my lady waits long,--is sighing!

_Zu, zu_, more speed to my Mirabel!"

"De Valmont's voice, as I hope for heaven!" cried Richard, dropping the bridle. And straight toward them cantered a merry body of cavaliers and men-at-arms, Louis's broad pennon leading.

"_Ahois!_ Forward! Infidels!" thundered the Valmonter, couching lance as he saw the two awaiting him. But there was a loud laugh when the two knights were recognized.

"Holy Ma.s.s!" swore Louis; "and were not you, my Lord G.o.dfrey, on the foray to Urdeh?"

The Duke shook his head, the instinct of a leader once more uppermost.

"I was not," quoth he, curtly, explaining nothing. "And you, De Valmont? What means this party so far from the walls?"

"We rode after Sir Philip of Amiens, who rode with a few knights this way from the city this morning, and has not returned. We fear they met Arabs. It is rumored the Prince Kerbogha is as near as Afrin, and advancing!"

"By the Holy Trinity, he _is_ advancing!" shouted the Duke, mounting with a leap. "Leave Philip of Amiens to G.o.d; he is long since pa.s.sed from your aid. Back to the city with speed, if you wish not for martyrdom."

And wearied though Marchegai was, G.o.dfrey made him outpace all the rest as they raced toward Antioch. Richard saw the Christian banners on the walls as he drew near. Once inside the gates he needed nothing to tell him the city had been sacked in a way that bred slight glory to the soldiers of the Cross. He left G.o.dfrey to rouse the chiefs, and to spread the dread tidings of Kerbogha's approach. His own St.

Julieners he found in the house of a Moslem merchant they had unceremoniously slaughtered. They were so drunken that only Herbert and Sebastian were able to receive him. A gloomy tale they gave him--the city stormed, then a ma.s.sacre of the Antiochers,--Christian and Moslem alike,--so terrible that even the fiends must have trembled to find mortal spirits more b.l.o.o.d.y than they. After the orgy of killing had come days of unholy revellings, drunkenness, and deeds no pen may tell. To crown all, the provisions found in the city had been so wasted, that starvation was close at hand. Richard in his turn told how it had prospered with him at Aleppo. Sebastian sighed when he heard of Mary in the custody of Musa.

"Can honey come out of wormwood?" cried he. "G.o.d may allow this infidel to serve Christians in their peril; yet even then with danger to the soul. Ah, dear son, either you must break this friends.h.i.+p with the Spaniard of your own will, or rest a.s.sured G.o.d will break it for you. Doubt not--light and darkness cannot lie on the same pillow; neither can you serve G.o.d and this Mammon whose name is Musa."

"Father," said Richard, "had you stood as I and Musa did, both in the presence of death, you would not speak thus."

But the answer was unflinching.

"I declare that had you both died, your soul would have gone to heaven, or purgatory, and his to the nethermost h.e.l.l, to lie bound forever with the false prophet and rebel angels."

Richard's thoughts were very dark after Sebastian's words. Was there a great gulf sundering him eternally from the Spaniard? But soon he had little time for brooding on puzzles for the churchmen. The walls had barely been manned on Duke G.o.dfrey's orders, and the foraying parties called in, before the hosts of Kerbogha swarmed down the valley, seemingly numberless. The Moslem garrison of the citadel made desperate sallies. On the day following Richard's return the party led by the gallant Roger de Barnville was cut to pieces before the walls.

Each day the bread-loaves grew dearer and smaller. There was ceaseless fighting by sunlight and starlight. Each day the taunts of the Arabs were flung in the Crusaders' teeth, "Franks, you are well on the way to Jerusalem!" Truly the besiegers were become the besieged. As the days crept by the Christians were few who did not expect to view the Holy City in heaven before the Holy City on earth.