Part 16 (2/2)
These lands, together with their own, the brethren placed in the hands of Prior John of Stangate, in the presence of witnesses, to administer for them subject to the provisions of the will, taking a t.i.the of the rents and profits for his pains. The priceless jewels also that had been sent by Saladin were given into his keeping, and a receipt with a list of the same signed in duplicate, deposited with a clerk at Southminster. This, indeed, was necessary, seeing that none save the brethren and the Prior knew of these jewels, of which, being of so great a value, it was not safe to speak. Their affairs arranged, having first made their wills in favour of each other with remainder to their heirs-at-law, since it was scarcely to be hoped that both of them would return alive from such a quest, they received the Communion, and with it his blessing from the hands of the Prior John. Then early one morning, before any were astir, they rode quietly away to London.
On the top of Steeple Hill, sending forward the servant who led the mule laden with their baggage--that same mule which had been left by the spy Nicholas--the brethren turned their horses' heads to look in farewell on their home. There to the north of them lay the Blackwater, and to the west the parish of Mayland, towards which the laden barges crept along the stream of Steeple Creek.
Below was the wide, flat, plain outlined with trees, and in it, marked by the plantation where the Saracens had hid, the Hall and church of Steeple, the home in which they had grown from childhood to youth, and from youth to man's estate in the company of the fair, lost Rosamund, who was the love of both, and whom both went forth to seek. That past was all behind them, and in front a dark and troublous future, of which they could not read the mystery nor guess the end.
Would they ever look on Steeple Hall again? Were they who stood there about to match their strength and courage against all the might of Saladin, doomed to fail or gloriously to succeed?
Through the darkness that shrouded their forward path shone one bright star of love--but for which of them did that star s.h.i.+ne, or was it perchance for neither? They knew not. How could they know aught save that the venture seemed very desperate. Indeed, the few to whom they had spoken of it thought them mad. Yet they remembered the last words of Sir Andrew, bidding them keep a high heart, since he believed that things would yet go well. It seemed to them, in truth, that they were not quite alone--as though his brave spirit companioned them on their search, guiding their feet, with ghostly counsel which they could not hear.
They remembered also their oaths to him, to one another, and to Rosamund; and in silent token that they would keep them to the death, pressed each other's hands. Then, turning their horses southwards, they rode forward with light hearts, not caring what befell, if only at the last, living or dead, Rosamund and her father should, in his own words, find no cause to be ashamed of them.
Through the hot haze of a July morning a dromon, as certain merchant vessels of that time were called, might have been seen drifting before a light breeze into St. George's Bay at Beirut, on the coast of Syria. Cyprus, whence she had sailed last, was not a hundred miles away, yet she had taken six days to do the journey, not on account of storms--of which there were none at this time of year, but through lack of wind to move her. Still, her captain and the motley crowd of pa.s.sengers--for the most part Eastern merchants and their servants, together with a number of pilgrims of all nations--thanked G.o.d for so prosperous a voyage--for in those times he who crossed the seas without s.h.i.+pwreck was very fortunate.
Among these pa.s.sengers were G.o.dwin and Wulf, travelling, as their uncle had bidden them, unattended by squires or by servants. Upon the s.h.i.+p they pa.s.sed themselves off as brothers named Peter and John of Lincoln, a town of which they knew something, having stayed there on their way to the Scottish wars; simple gentlemen of small estate, making a pilgrimage to the Holy Land in penitence for their sins and for the repose of the souls of their father and mother. At this tale their fellow-pa.s.sengers, with whom they had sailed from Genoa, to which place they travelled overland, shrugged their shoulders. For these brethren looked what they were, knights of high degree; and considering their great stature, long swords, and the coats of mail they always wore beneath their gambesons, none believed them but plain gentlefolk bent on a pious errand. Indeed, they nicknamed them Sir Peter and Sir John, and as such they were known throughout the voyage.
The brethren were seated together in a little place apart in the bow of the s.h.i.+p, and engaged, G.o.dwin in reading from an Arabic translation of the Gospels made by some Egyptian monk, and Wulf in following it with little ease in the Latin version. Of the former tongue, indeed, they had acquired much in their youth, since they learned it from Sir Andrew with Rosamund, although they could not talk it as she did, who had been taught to lisp it as an infant by her mother. Knowing, too, that much might hang upon a knowledge of this tongue, they occupied their long journey in studying it from such books as they could get; also in speaking it with a priest, who had spent many years in the East, and instructed them for a fee, and with certain Syrian merchants and sailors.
”Shut the book, brother,” said Wulf; ”there is Lebanon at last,”
and he pointed to the great line of mountains revealing themselves dimly through their wrappings of mist. ”Glad I am to see them, who have had enough of these crooked scrolls and learnings.”
”Ay,” said G.o.dwin, ”the Promised Land.”
”And the Land of Promise for us,” answered his brother. ”Well, thank G.o.d that the time has come to act, though how we are to set about it is more than I can say.”
”Doubtless time will show. As our uncle bade, we will seek out this Sheik Jebal---”
”Hus.h.!.+” said Wulf, for just then some merchants, and with them a number of pilgrims, their travel-worn faces full of rapture at the thought that the terrors of the voyage were done, and that they were about to set foot upon the ground their Lord had trodden, crowded forward to the bow to obtain their first view of it, and there burst into prayers and songs of thanksgiving.
Indeed, one of these men--a trader known as Thomas of Ipswich--was, they found, standing close to them, and seemed as though he listened to their talk.
The brethren mingled with them while this same Thomas of Ipswich, who had visited the place before, or so it seemed, pointed out the beauties of the city, of the fertile country by which it was surrounded, and of the distant cedar-clad mountains where, as he said, Hiram, King of Tyre, had cut the timber for Solomon's Temple.
”Have you been on them?” asked Wulf.
”Ay, following my business,” he answered, ”so far.” And he showed them a great snow-capped peak to the north. ”Few ever go further.”
”Why not?” asked G.o.dwin.
”Because there begins the territory of the Sheik Al-je-bal”--and he looked at them meaningly--”whom,” he added, ”neither Christian nor Saracen visit without an invitation, which is seldom given.”
Again they inquired why not.
”Because,” answered the trader, still watching them, ”most men love their lives, and that man is the lord of death and magic.
Strange things are to be seen in his castle, and about it lie wonderful gardens inhabited by lovely women that are evil spirits, who bring the souls of men to ruin. Also, this Old Man of the Mountain is a great murderer, of whom even all the princes of the East are terrified, for he speaks a word to his fedais--or servants--who are initiated, and they go forth and bring to death any whom he hates. Young men, I like you well, and I say to you, be warned. In this Syria there are many wonders to be seen; leave those of Masyaf and its fearful lord alone if you desire to look again upon--the towers of Lincoln.”
”Fear not; we will,” answered G.o.dwin, ”who come to seek holy places--not haunts of devils.”
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