Part 33 (1/2)

”I mind my own harness,” he said.

The second blast blew, and he loosened the great sword in its scabbard, that sword which had flamed in his forbear's hand upon the turrets of Jerusalem.

”Your gift,” he cried back to Rosamund, and her answer came clear and sweet:

”Bear it like your fathers, Wulf. Bear it as it was last borne in the hall at Steeple.”

Then there was another silence--a silence long and deep. Wulf looked at the white and narrow ribbon of the bridge, looked at the black gulf on either side, looked at the blue sky above, in which floated the great globe of the golden moon. Then he leant forward and patted Smoke upon the neck.

For the third time the trumpets blew, and from either end of that bridge, two hundred paces long, the knights flashed towards each other like living bolts of steel. The mult.i.tude rose to watch; even Sinan rose. Only Rosamund sat still, gripping the cus.h.i.+ons with her hands. Hollow rang the hoofs of the horses upon the stonework, swifter and swifter they flew, lower and lower bent the knights upon their saddles. Now they were near, and now they met. The spears seemed to s.h.i.+ver, the horses to hustle together on the narrow way and overhang its edge, then on came the black horse towards the inner city, and on sped Smoke towards the further gulf.

”They have pa.s.sed! They have pa.s.sed!” roared the mult.i.tude.

Look! Lozelle approached, reeling in his saddle, as well he might, for the helm was torn from his head and blood ran from his skull where the lance had grazed it.

”Too high, Wulf; too high,” said G.o.dwin sadly. ”But oh! if those laces had but held!”

Soldiers caught the horse and turned it.

”Another helm!” cried Lozelle.

”Nay,” answered Sinan; ”yonder knight has lost his s.h.i.+eld. New lances--that is all.”

So they gave him a fresh lance, and, presently, at the blast of the trumpets again the horses were seen speeding together over the narrow way. They met, and lo! Lozelle, torn from his saddle, but still clinging to the reins, was flung backwards, far backwards, to fall on the stonework of the bridge. Down, too, beneath the mighty shock went his black horse, a huddled heap, and lay there struggling.

”Wulf will fall over him!” cried Rosamund. But Smoke did not fall; the stallion gathered itself together--the moonlight shone so clear that every watcher saw it--and since stop it could not, leapt straight over the fallen black horse--ay, and over the rider beyond--and sped on in its stride. Then the black found its feet again and galloped forward to the further gate, and Lozelle also found his feet and turned to run.

”Stand! Stand, coward!” yelled ten thousand voices, and, hearing them, he drew his sword and stood.

Within three great strides Wulf dragged his charger to its haunches, then wheeled it round.

”Charge him!” shouted the mult.i.tude; but Wulf remained seated, as though unwilling to attack a horseless man. Next he sprang from his saddle, and accompanied by the horse Smoke, which followed him as a dog follows its master, walked slowly towards Lozelle, as he walked casting away his lance and drawing the great, cross-hilted sword.

Again the silence fell, and through it rang the cry of G.o.dwin:

”A D'Arcy! A D'Arcy!”

”A D'Arcy! A D'Arcy!” came back Wulf's answer from the bridge, and his voice echoed thin and hollow in the s.p.a.ces of the gulf.

Yet they rejoiced to hear it, for it told them that he was sound and strong.

Wulf had no s.h.i.+eld and Lozelle had no helm--the fight was even.

They crouched opposite each other, the swords flashed aloft in the moonlight; from far away came the distant clank of steel, a soft, continual clamour of iron on iron. A blow fell on Wulf's mail, who had nought wherewith to guard himself, and he staggered back. Another blow, another, and another, and back, still back he reeled--back to the edge of the bridge, back till he struck against the horse that stood behind him, and, resting there a moment, as it seemed, regained his balance.

Then there was a change. Look, he rushed forward, wielding the great blade in both hands. The stroke lit upon Lozelle's s.h.i.+eld and seemed to shear it in two, for in that stillness all could hear the clang of its upper half as it fell upon the stones.

Beneath the weight of it he staggered, sank to his knee, gained his feet again, and in his turn gave back. Yes, now it was Lozelle who rocked and reeled. Ay, by St. Chad! Lozelle who went down beneath that mighty blow which missed the head but fell upon his shoulder, and lay there like a log, till presently the moonlight shone upon his mailed hand stretched upward in a prayer for mercy. From house-top and terrace wall, from soaring gates and battlements, the mult.i.tude of the people of the a.s.sa.s.sins gathered on either side the gulf broke into a roar that beat up the mountain sides like a voice of thunder. And the roar shaped itself to these words:

”Kill him! kill him! kill him!”

Sinan held up his hand, and a sudden silence fell. Then he, too, screamed in his thin voice: