The Brethren Part 15

"Are you master here, traitor, or am I?" asked Ha.s.san in cold contempt. "Let them follow if they will, and I for one shall rejoice to meet foes so brave in open battle, and there give them their revenge. Ali," he added, addressing the man who had been disguised as a merchant's underling, and who had drugged the men in the barn as his master had drugged those in the hall, and opened the moat gate to the band, "Ali, stamp upon the torch and guard that Frank till we reach the boat lest the fool should raise the country on us with his fires. Now, Princess, are you satisfied?"

"Ay, having your word," she answered. "One moment, I pray you. I would leave a token to my knights."

Then, while they watched her with wondering eyes, she unfastened the gold cross and chain that hung upon her bosom, and slipping the cross from the chain, went to where G.o.dwin lay, and placed it on his breast. Next, with a swift movement, she wound the chain about the silver hilt of Sir Andrew's sword, and pa.s.sing to Wulf, with one strong thrust, drove the point between the oak boards of the table, so that it stood before him--at once a cross, a brand of battle, and a lady's token.

"His grandsire bore it," she said in Arabic, "when he leapt on to the walls of Jerusalem. It is my last gift to him." But the Saracens muttered and turned pale at these words of evil omen.

Then taking the hand of Ha.s.san, who stood searching her white, inscrutable face, with never a word or a backward look, she swept down the length of the long hall, and out into the night beyond.

"It would have been well to take my counsel and fire the place, or at least to cut the throats of all within it," said the man Nicholas to his guard Ali as they followed with the rest. "If I know aught of these brethren, cross and sword will soon be hard upon our track, and men's lives must pay the price of such soft folly." And he s.h.i.+vered as though in fear.

"It may be so, Spy," answered the Saracen, looking at him with sombre, contemptuous eyes. "It may be that your life will pay the price."

Wulf was dreaming, dreaming that he stood on his head upon a wooden plank, as once he had seen a juggler do, which turned round one way while he turned round the other, till at length some one shouted at him, and he tumbled off the board and hurt himself. Then he awoke to hear a voice shouting surely enough--the voice of Matthew, the chaplain of Steeple Church.

"Awake!" said the voice. "In G.o.d's name, I conjure you, awake!"

"What is it?" he said, lifting his head sleepily, and becoming conscious of a dull pain across his forehead.

"It is that death and the devil have been here, Sir Wulf."

"Well, they are often near together. But I thirst. Give me water."

A serving-woman, pallid, dishevelled, heavy-eyed, who was stumbling to and fro, lighting torches and tapers, for it was still dark, brought it to him in a leathern jack, from which he drank deeply.

"That is better," he said. Then his eye fell upon the b.l.o.o.d.y sword set point downwards in the wood of the table before him, and he exclaimed, "Mother of G.o.d! what is that? My uncle's silver-hilted sword, red with blood, and Rosamund's gold chain upon the hilt! Priest, where is the lady Rosamund?"

"Gone," answered the chaplain in a voice that sounded like a groan. "The women woke and found her gone, and Sir Andrew lies dead or dying in the solar--but now I have shriven him--and oh!

we have all been drugged. Look at them!" and he waved his hand towards the rec.u.mbent forms. "I say that the devil has been here."

Wulf sprang to his feet with an oath.

"The devil? Ah! I have it now. You mean the Cyprian chapman Georgios. He who sold wine."

"He who sold drugged wine," echoed the chaplain, "and has stolen away the lady Rosamund."

Then Wulf seemed to go mad.

"Stolen Rosamund over our sleeping carcases! Stolen Rosamund with never a blow struck by us to save her! O, Christ, that such a thing should be! O, Christ, that I should live to hear it!" And he, the mighty man, the knight of skill and strength, broke down and wept like a very child. But not for long, for presently he shouted in a voice of thunder:

"Awake, ye drunkards! Awake, and learn what has chanced to us.

Your lady Rosamund has been raped away while we were lost in sleep!"

At the sound of that great voice a tall form arose from the floor, and staggered towards him, holding a gold cross in its hand.

"What awful words are those my brother?" asked G.o.dwin, who, pale and dull-eyed, rocked to and fro before him. Then he, too, saw the red sword and stared, first at it and next at the gold cross in his hand. "My uncle's sword, Rosamund's chain, Rosamund's cross! Where, then, is Rosamund?"

"Gone! gone! gone!" cried Wulf. "Tell him, priest."

So the chaplain told him all he knew.

"Thus have we kept our oaths," went on Wulf. "Oh, what can we do now, save die for very shame?"

"Nay," answered G.o.dwin, dreamingly; "we can live on to save her.

See, these are her tokens--the cross for me, the blood-stained sword for you, and about its hilt the chain, a symbol of her slavery. Now both of us must bear the cross; both of us must wield the sword, and both of us must cut the chain, or if we fail, then die."

"You rave," said Wulf; "and little wonder. Here, drink water.

Would that we had never touched aught else, as she did, and desired that we should do. What said you of my uncle, priest?

Dead, or only dying? Nay, answer not, let us see. Come, brother."

Now together they ran, or rather reeled, torch in hand, along the pa.s.sage.

Wulf saw the bloodstains on the floor and laughed savagely.

"The old man made a good fight," he said, "while, like drunken brutes, we slept."

They were there, and before them, beneath the white, shroud-like cloak, lay Sir Andrew, the steel helm on his head, and his face beneath it even whiter than the cloak.

At the sound of their footsteps he opened his eyes. "At length, at length," he muttered. "Oh, how many years have I waited for you? Nay, be silent, for I do not know how long my strength will last, but listen--kneel down and listen."

So they knelt on either side of him, and in quick, fierce words he told them all--of the drugging, of the fight, of the long parley carried on to give the palmer knave time to climb to the window; of his cowardly blow, and of what chanced afterwards.

Then his strength seemed to fail him, but they poured drink down his throat, and it came back again.

"Take horse swiftly," he gasped, pausing now and again to rest, "and rouse the countryside. There is still a chance. Nay, seven hours have gone by; there is no chance. Their plans were too well laid; by now they will be at sea. So hear me. Go to Palestine.

There is money for your faring in my chest, but go alone, with no company, for in time of peace these would betray you. G.o.dwin, draw off this ring from my finger, and with it as a token, find out Jebal, the black sheik of the Mountain Tribe at Masyaf on Lebanon. Bid him remember the vow he made to Andrew D'Arcy, the English knight. If any can aid you, it will be Jebal, who hates the Houses of Nur-ed-din and of Ayoub. So, I charge you, let nothing--I say nothing--turn you aside from seeking him.

"Afterwards act as G.o.d shall guide you. If they still live, kill that traitor Nicholas and Hugh Lozelle, but, save in open war, spare the Emir Ha.s.san, who did but do his duty as an Eastern reads it, and shown some mercy, for he could have slain or burnt us all. This riddle has been hard for me; yet now, in my dying hour, I seem to see its answer. I think that Saladin did not dream in vain. Keep brave hearts, for I think also that at Masyaf you will find friends, and that things will yet go well, and our sorrows bear good fruit.

"What is that you said? She left you my father's sword, Wulf?

Then wield it bravely, winning honour for our name. She left you the cross, G.o.dwin? Wear it worthily, winning glory for the Lord, and salvation to your soul. Remember what you have sworn.

Whate'er befall, bear no bitterness to one another. Be true to one another, and to her, your lady, so that when at the last you make your report to me before high Heaven, I may have no cause to be ashamed of you, my nephews, G.o.dwin and Wulf."

For a moment the dying man was silent, until his face lit up as with a great gladness, and he cried in a loud, clear voice, "Beloved wife, I hear you! O, G.o.d, I come!"

Then though his eyes stayed open, and the smile still rested on his face, his jaw fell.

Thus died Sir Andrew D'Arcy.

Still kneeling on either side of him, the brethren watched the end, and, as his spirit pa.s.sed, bowed their heads in prayer.

"We have seen a great death," said G.o.dwin presently. "Let us learn a lesson from it, that when our time comes we may die like him."

"Ay," answered Wulf, springing to his feet, "but first let us take vengeance for it. Why, what is this? Rosamund's writing! Read it, G.o.dwin."

G.o.dwin took the parchment and read:

"Follow me to Saladin. In that hope I live on."

"Surely we will follow you, Rosamund," he cried aloud. "Follow you through life to death or victory."