Part 20 (2/2)
Now the widow Masouda was saying in her usual somewhat hard voice:
”No; I did not pay him. At the last he would take no money; but, having pa.s.sed it, neither would he break his word to knights who ride so well and boldly. So I made a bargain with him on behalf of both of you, which I expect that you will keep, since my good faith is pledged, and this Arab is a chief and my kinsman. It is this, that if you and these horses should live, and the time comes when you have no more need of them, you will cause it to be cried in the market-place of whatever town is nearest to you, by the voice of the public crier, that for six days they stand to be returned to him who lent them. Then if he comes not they can be sold, which must not be sold or given away to any one without this proclamation. Do you consent?”
”Ay,” answered both of them, but Wulf added: ”Only we should like to know why the Arab, Son-of-the-Sand, who is your kinsman, trusts his glorious horses to us in this fas.h.i.+on.”
”Your breakfast is served, my guests,” answered Masouda in tones that rang like the clash of metal, so steely were they. Whereon Wulf shook his head and followed her into the eating-room, which was now empty again as it had been on the afternoon of their arrival.
Most of that day they spent with their horses. In the evening, this time unaccompanied by Masouda, they rode out for a little way, though rather doubtfully, since they were not sure that these beasts which seemed to be almost human would not take the bits between their teeth and rush with them back to the desert whence they came. But although from time to time they looked about them for their master, the Arab, whinnying as they looked, this they did not do, or show vice of any kind; indeed, two Iadies' palfreys could not have been more quiet. So the brethren brought them home again, groomed, fed and fondled them, while they p.r.i.c.ked their ears, sniffing them all over, as though they knew that these were their new lords and wished to make friends of them.
The morrow was a Sunday, and, attended by Masouda's slave, without whom she would not suffer them to walk in the town, the brethren went to ma.s.s in the big church which once had been a mosque, wearing pilgrim's robes over their mail.
”Do you not accompany us, who are of the faith?” asked Wulf.
”Nay,” answered Masouda, ”I am in no mood to make confession.
This day I count my beads at home.”
So they went alone, and mingling with a crowd of humble persons at the back of the church, which was large and dim, watched the knights and priests of various nations struggling for precedence of place beneath the dome. Also they heard the bishop of the town preach a sermon from which they learnt much. He spoke at length of the great coming war with Saladin, whom he named Anti-Christ.
Moreover, he prayed them all to compose their differences and prepare for that awful struggle, lest in the end the Cross of their Master should be trampled under foot of the Saracen, His soldiers slain, His fanes desecrated, and His people slaughtered or driven into the sea--words of warning that were received in heavy silence.
”Four full days have gone by. Let us ask our hostess if she has any news for us,” said Wulf as they walked back to the inn.
”Ay, we will ask her,” answered G.o.dwin.
As it chanced, there was no need, for when they entered their chamber they found Masouda standing in the centre of it, apparently lost in thought.
”I have come to speak with you,” she said, looking up. ”Do you still wish to visit the Sheik Al-je-bal?”
They answered ”Yes.”
”Good. I have leave for you to go; but I counsel you not to go, since it is dangerous. Let us be open with one another. I know your object. I knew it an hour before ever you set foot upon this sh.o.r.e, and that is why you were brought to my house. You would seek the help of the lord Sinan against Salah-ed-din, from whom you hope to rescue a certain great lady of his blood who is your kinswoman and whom both of you--desire in marriage. You see, I have learned that also. Well, this land is full of spies, who travel to and from Europe and make report of all things to those who pay them enough. For instance--I can say it, as you will not see him again--the trader Thomas, with whom you stayed in this house, is such a spy. To him your story has been pa.s.sed on by other spies in England, and he pa.s.sed it on to me.”
”Are then you a spy also, as the porter called you?” asked Wulf outright.
”I am what I am,” she answered coldly. ”Perhaps I also have sworn oaths and serve as you serve. Who my master is or why I do so is naught to you. But I like you well, and we have ridden together-- a wild ride. Therefore I warn you, though perhaps I should not say so much, that the lord Al-je-bal is one who takes payment for what he gives, and that this business may cost you your lives.”
”You warned us against Saladin also,” said G.o.dwin, ”so what is left to us if we may dare a visit to neither?”
She shrugged her shoulders. ”To take service under one of the great Frankish lords and wait a chance that will never come. Or, better still, to sew some c.o.c.kle sh.e.l.ls into your hats, go home as holy men who have made the pilgrimage, marry the richest wives that you can find, and forget Masouda the widow, and Al-je-bal and Salah-ed-din and the lady about whom he has dreamed a dream.
Only then,” she added in a changed voice, ”remember, you must leave the horses Flame and Smoke behind you.”
”We wish to ride those horses,” said Wulf lightly, and G.o.dwin turned on her with anger in his eyes.
”You seem to know our story,” he said, ”and the mission to which we are sworn. What sort of knights do you think us, then, that you offer us counsel which is fitter for those spies from whom you learn your tidings? You talk of our lives. Well, we hold our lives in trust, and when they are asked of us we will yield them up, having done all that we may do.”
”Well spoken,” answered Masouda. ”Ill should I have thought of you had you said otherwise. But why would you go to Al-je-bal?”
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