Part 22 (1/2)
When Rosamund rose from them she felt that the s.h.i.+p was moving, and, desiring to look her last on Ess.e.x land, went out again upon the p.o.o.p, where Ha.s.san and Sir Hugh placed themselves, one upon either side of her. Then it was that she saw the tower of St.
Peter's-on-the-Wall and her cousins seated on horseback in front of it, the light of the risen sun s.h.i.+ning upon their mail. Also she saw Wulf spur his horse into the sea, and faintly heard his great cry of ”Fear not! We follow, we follow!”
A thought came to her, and she sprang towards the bulwark; but they were watching and held her, so that all that she could do was to throw up her arms in token.
Now the wind caught the sail and the s.h.i.+p went forward swiftly, so that soon she lost sight of them. Then in her grief and rage Rosamund turned upon Sir Hugh Lozelle and beat him with bitter words till he shrank before her.
”Coward and traitor!” she said. ”So it was you who planned this, knowing every secret of our home, where often you were a guest!
You who for Paynim gold have murdered my father, not daring to show your face before his sword, but hanging like a thief upon the coast, ready to receive what braver men had stolen. Oh! may G.o.d avenge his blood and me on you, false knight--false to Him and me and faith and honour--as avenge He will! Heard you not what my kinsman called to me? 'We follow. We follow!' Yes, they follow, and their swords--those swords you feared to look on--shall yet pierce your heart and give up your soul to your master Satan,” and she paused, trembling with her righteous wrath, while Ha.s.san stared at her and muttered:
”By Allah, a princess indeed! So have I seen Salah-ed-din look in his rage. Yes, and she has his very eyes.”
But Sir Hugh answered in a thick voice.
”Let them follow--one or both. I fear them not and out there my foot will not slip in the snow.”
”Then I say that it shall slip in the sand or on a rock,” she answered, and turning, fled to the cabin and cast herself down and wept till she thought that her heart would break.
Well might Rosamund weep whose beloved sire was slain, who was torn from her home to find herself in the power of a man she hated. Yet there was hope for her. Ha.s.san, Eastern trickster as he might be, was her friend; and her uncle, Saladin, at least, would never wish that she should be shamed. Most like he knew nothing of this man Lozelle, except as one of those Christian traitors who were ever ready to betray the Cross for gold. But Saladin was far away and her home lay behind her, and her cousins and lovers were eating out their hearts upon that fading sh.o.r.e.
And she--one woman alone--was on this s.h.i.+p with the evil man Lozelle, who thus had kept his promise, and there were none save Easterns to protect her, none save them--and G.o.d, Who had permitted that such things should be.
The s.h.i.+p swayed, she grew sick and faint. Ha.s.san brought her food with his own hands, but she loathed it who only desired to die. The day turned to night, the night turned to day again, and always Ha.s.san brought her food and strove to comfort her, till at length she remembered no more.
Then came a long, long sleep, and in the sleep dreams of her father standing with his face to the foe and sweeping them down with his long sword as a sickle sweeps corn--of her father felled by the pilgrim knave, dying upon the floor of his own house, and saying ”G.o.d will guard you. His will be done.” Dreams of G.o.dwin and Wulf also fighting to save her, plighting their troths and swearing their oaths, and between the dreams blackness.
Rosamund awoke to feel the sun streaming warmly through the shutter of her cabin, and to see a woman who held a cup in her hand, watching her--a stout woman of middle age with a not unkindly face. She looked about her and remembered all. So she was still in the s.h.i.+p.
”Whence come you?” she asked the woman.
”From France, lady. This s.h.i.+p put in at Ma.r.s.eilles, and there I was hired to nurse one who lay sick, which suited me very well, as I wished to go to Jerusalem to seek my husband, and good money was offered me. Still, had I known that they were all Saracens on this s.h.i.+p, I am not sure that I should have come--that is, except the captain, Sir Hugh, and the palmer Nicholas; though what they, or you either, are doing in such company I cannot guess.”
”What is your name?” asked Rosamund idly.
”Marie--Marie Bouchet. My husband is a fishmonger, or was, until one of those crusading priests got hold of him and took him off to kill Paynims and save his soul, much against my will. Well, I promised him that if he did not return in five years I would come to look for him. So here I am, but where he may be is another matter.”
”It is brave of you to go,” said Rosamund, then added by an afterthought, ”How long is it since we left Ma.r.s.eilles?”
Marie counted on her fat fingers, and answered:
”Five--nearly six weeks. You have been wandering in your mind all that time, talking of many strange things, and we have called at three ports. I forget their names, but the last one was an island with a beautiful harbour. Now, in about twenty days, if all goes well, we should reach another island called Cyprus. But you must not talk so much, you must sleep. The Saracen called Ha.s.san, who is a clever doctor, told me so.”
So Rosamund slept, and from that time forward, floating on the calm Mediterranean sea, her strength began to come back again rapidly, who was young and strong in body and const.i.tution.
Three days later she was helped to the deck, where the first man she saw was Ha.s.san, who came forward to greet her with many Eastern salutations and joy written on his dark, wrinkled face.
”I give thanks to Allah for your sake and my own,” he said. ”For yours that you still live whom I thought would die, and for myself that had you died your life would have been required at my hands by Salah-ed-din, my master.”
”If so, he should have blamed Azrael, not you,” answered Rosamund, smiling; then suddenly turned cold, for before her was Sir Hugh Lozelle, who also thanked Heaven that she had recovered.
She listened to him coldly, and presently he went away, but soon was at her side again. Indeed, she could never be free of him, for whenever she appeared on deck he was there, nor could he be repelled, since neither silence nor rebuff would stir him. Always he sat near, talking in his false, hateful voice, and devouring her with the greedy eyes which she could feel fixed upon her face. With him often was his jackal, the false palmer Nicholas, who crawled about her like a snake and strove to flatter her, but to this man she would never speak a word.
At last she could bear it no longer, and when her health had returned to her, summoned Ha.s.san to her cabin.