God Wills It! Part 58

Longsword saw the last stair, saw the room, many torches and many forms; black eunuchs all, some clutching at a struggling woman, some bending over a prostrate form, some standing around Zeyneb, whose hands were upraised in malediction.

"Iftikhar! Send for Cid Iftikhar!" he was raging; and every voice swelled the babel.

But above them all pealed the thunder of the Norman. What profit silence now! "G.o.d wills it. St. Julien and Mary Kurkuas!"

Eblees leaping from the cloven rock smote no greater terror than Richard bounding upon the blacks. Arms some had, but arms none used; for Trenchefer dashed them down as the flail smites, ere one could raise or draw. Richard sought Zeyneb; but the dwarf, the only one with wits enough to fly, darting through a door, was gone into the darkness. "G.o.d wills it! St. Julien and Mary Kurkuas."

Richard again flung out his battle-cry; but none stood against him. He stared about the room, saw the dead form in the corner, a negro dying beside him, a second p.r.o.ne by the head of the staircase, the rest all fled,--all save one.

Richard felt his knees smiting together, and a darkening mist veiling his eyes. He tried to speak; there came no word. Trenchefer fell clanging to the floor. Something was touching him, pressing him. Into the ringing in his ears stole one name, his own; out of the mist before his eyes floated one face. Then G.o.d gave back sight and speech.

"Mine for life and for death!" came from his lips.

"What is death if once you kiss me!" flew the answer.

But neither said more, nor thought more. What soul may have thoughts in such an instant! Only Richard knew that never in his whole life had Heaven granted him joy like this.

Mary was laying her warm, smooth hands upon his shoulders. Her lips were close to his own. She was speaking.

"Richard, the peril is very great. You should have fled the moment Morgiana saved you. For my sake you all have committed great sin!"

"And would you not thus have sinned for me?" replied the Norman. Mary did not reply. Her own heart told that Richard spoke well. Then she said softly:--

"Sweet husband, I will not be frightened. I can fear nothing now. Only you must not let Iftikhar possess me again. Holy Mother of G.o.d! you must not let him regain me!" And Richard, who knew what she meant (for when did he not read all in her eyes?), answered, holding out Trenchefer:--

"Iftikhar shall not regain you. By the wounds of Christ I swear it.

Ah, how Our Lord will welcome a sweet angel like you when you fly up to the gate of heaven!"

And Mary laughed at his words, for many things had become more terrible than death.

"I rejected once the escape of death as a sin," said she, "but I know it will be no sin now. What, with you beside, is there left to fear, living or dying?"

"Living!" cried the Norman, s.n.a.t.c.hing a cloak to cast about her. "G.o.d will not suffer the wicked to torture such as you. St. Michael speed my arm with all the strength of heaven!"

He had not seen G.o.dfrey and Musa mounting to the chamber, or Morgiana following. He had not heard the tenfold din rising in the palace and without. But now he heard a howl of fury fit to pa.s.s a demon's lips.

"May you scorch forever!" Richard turned. He saw Iftikhar Eddauleh, cimeter in hand, springing through the doorway. The Ismaelian was without armor; he wore the white robe of his order only. Rage unspeakable almost drowned the curses in his throat.

"Die! Die, both of you!" that was his mad cry. Before Richard could grasp Trenchefer the Egyptian was on him, had torn Mary from his arms, was shortening his weapon to run him through. But Longsword needed no weapon. "For Mary's sake!" cried his soul; while one hand caught Iftikhar's sword wrist, the other clutched the Ismaelian's body. A struggle, a crash, and the grand prior measured length on the carpet.

Richard bent over him, Trenchefer in hand. One thrust through the body, and Iftikhar Eddauleh would have pa.s.sed from the wrath of man.

The great sword was rising when Morgiana tore at the Norman's arm.

"Your oath!" cried she, with livid face; "spare!" Longsword paused.

"What is he to you, woman?" demanded he, sternly.

"He is to me as Mary the Greek to you," answered the Arabian, defiantly. Richard withheld his hand. Iftikhar was staggering to his feet, but was weaponless. His conqueror pointed toward the doorway.

"Fair cavalier," said he in Provencal, "get you gone. For sake of my oath to this woman, I spare you once. When we next meet, G.o.d judge betwixt us."

The Egyptian drew himself up proudly.

"Do not deceive yourself, Cid Richard. You will be overwhelmed by numbers. Though you spare me, I will not spare you."

Longsword in turn threw back his head.

"Nor do I ask it. We owe each other--nothing. Go!"

And Iftikhar foamed out of the room, gone as suddenly as he had entered. There was silence for a moment.

"My friends," said Richard, "let us make haste. Shall we not fly?"

Morgiana laughed, as so often, very scornfully.

"Verily you Franks are fools. Do you say 'go'? Are you angels with swords of fire, that you can blast ten thousand? Hark! fifty approach the door by which we entered! All the Ismaelians about El Halebah are alarmed. Iftikhar boasts well; we are soon hewn in pieces."

There was indeed a din, hundreds of voices, many torches shaking and flitting about the groves, and coming nearer, dogs barking, armor clanging. The whole cantonment of the Ismaelians was astir to avenge the violation of the palace. Musa had bowed his head.

"Alas! dear brother," said he, after his gentle manner, "clearly Allah has written our dooms! We pa.s.s from death to death. But we can now die sword in hand!"

Then Richard held up Trenchefer, so that the reddened blade glittered in the lamplight.

"This is no time to die!" cried he; "let others die! Let us do the deeds G.o.d has appointed. The life of my wife, the safety of the army of Christ, are at stake, and with Our Lord's help we shall make our boast over Iftikhar!"

The others looked at him. For the first time Mary saw that mad fire in his eyes which once burned the hour when he wrested triumph from death at Valmont--a thing terrible to see, but Mary did not quail. In a strange way the sight of him told her they were then not to die; for a prophet stood before her, a prophet whose evangel would be given that night with steel.

Richard surveyed the room. It was square, of no great size, lighted in day by a high lantern. On his right descended the stairway to the arcade of the palace; before him opened the wide door that led down the dark corridor. The door itself was of wood and weak. The winding stairway was steep and narrow; one man could make good the ascent against a host. But to defend the door was nothing easy. Just beyond it the pa.s.sage widened, making s.p.a.ce for numbers. Longsword turned to Morgiana. "Is there no other door?" he demanded.

She shook her head. "None that will open." She tore back the Kerman tapestry, and revealed a solid door in the wall, barred and bolted into the cas.e.m.e.nt. "This door has been sealed for years; the firm wall is little stronger. It leads to another stairway, but the former masters of El Halebah closed it." Duke G.o.dfrey, who had swept the room with a captain's eye, snorted with satisfaction.

"Good!" cried he, "only two entrances to defend. By St. Michael, the _jongleurs_ shall have some brave strokes to sing, before we are amongst the angels!"

Mary looked from one to the other of her terrible protectors. Musa had put off his despair; Richard leaned on Trenchefer, a lion crouching for his spring; G.o.dfrey--terror of the paynims--pranced up and down the doorway, clattering his great blade, and calling on every Moslem devil to draw nigh and be satisfied. Mary knew then, if never before, that to her mighty husband and his peers death was a very pleasant thing, if only it came in knightly guise. There was redoubled din in the pa.s.sage, more din below the stairway. Richard addressed Musa, "Guard the stairs, the Duke and I can care for the door," and he sprang to G.o.dfrey's side.

The Greek threw her arms about him, beseeching.

"Dear husband, as you love me,--strike once, and free me from Iftikhar forever!" And she held down her head. But Richard laughed, as St.

George might, crus.h.i.+ng his dragon.

"Yes, by the splendor of G.o.d,--as I love you!--I will strike not once, but many times; and Iftikhar shall never touch you!"

He caught her in his giant arms, pressed her to his breast, put her away. "Pray for us!" his words; "your prayers will outweigh Trenchefer!" But Mary only stared about in dread, wis.h.i.+ng to cry, to shout, but her voice was frozen. Morgiana's hand plucked her away.

"Back!" commanded the Arabian; "you can do nothing. They are all in Allah's hands. Let us await doom."

Morgiana forced her to a corner of the room, and thrust her upon a divan. Mary heard a thunderous command in the voice of Iftikhar, a rush of many feet, a clash and crash of targets and sword-blades,--then, in mercy, sight and hearing fled.

Down the pa.s.sage, lit by wavering lamps and flambeaux, charged the white-robed Ismaelians, the commands and curses of the grand prior speeding them. Not a man but was a trained sword hand, and had been in the battle press a score of times. But they never knew before how deep the Frankish bear could bite. Side by side--armed only with their great blades--G.o.dfrey and Richard met them in the pa.s.sage. Then came the rush, the shock. G.o.dfrey swung to left; to right whirled Trenchefer. Left and right, each felling his man; and cimeters dashed from hands as stubble, s.h.i.+elds were smitten through as if of gauze.

After the shock came the recoil; new charge and new repulse. The long Frankish swords hewed down the Ismaelians before their short cimeters could strike. There were three corpses before the door, but the two were still standing. Third charge--again flung back! Iftikhar raged at his men.

"Scorpions! Lizards! Will you let two men mock you? Is it thus you earn Paradise?"