Part 47 (1/2)
”The love-sick are never free,” she answered.
”I have no right to love the woman who loves my brother; to her are due my friends.h.i.+p and my reverence--no more.”
”She has not declared that she loves your brother; we may guess wrongly in this matter. They are your words--not mine.”
”And we may guess rightly. What then?”
”Then,” answered Masouda, ”there are many knightly Orders, or monasteries, for those who desire such places--as you do in your heart. Nay, talk no more of all these things that may or may not be. Back to your tent, Sir G.o.dwin, where I will send Abdullah to you to receive the jewel. So, farewell, farewell.”
He took her outstretched hand, hesitated a moment, then lifted it to his lips, and went. It was cold as that of a corpse, and fell against her side again like the hand of a corpse. Masouda shrank back among the flowers of the garden as though to hide herself from him and all the world. When he had gone a few paces, eight or ten perhaps, G.o.dwin turned and glanced behind him, and at that moment there came a great blaze of lightning. In its fierce and fiery glare he saw Masouda standing with outstretched arms, pale, upturned face, closed eyes, and parted lips. Illumined by the ghastly sheen of the levin her face looked like that of one new dead, and the tall red lilies which climbed up her dark, pall-like robe to her throat--yes, they looked like streams of fresh-shed blood.
G.o.dwin shuddered a little and went his way, but as she slid thence into the black, embracing night, Masouda said to herself:
”Had I played a little more upon his gentleness and pity, I think that he would have offered me his heart--after Rosamund had done with it and in payment for my services. Nay, not his heart, for he has none on earth, but his hand and loyalty. And, being honourable, he would have kept his promise, and I, who have pa.s.sed through the harem of Al-je-bal, might yet have become the lady D'Arcy, and so lived out my life and nursed his babes. Nay, Sir G.o.dwin; when you love me--not before; and you will never love me--until I am dead.”
s.n.a.t.c.hing a bloom of the lilies into her hand, the hand that he had kissed, Masouda pressed it convulsively against her breast, till the red juice ran from the crushed flower and stained her like a wound. Then she glided away, and was lost in the storm and the darkness.
Chapter Twenty: The Luck of the Star of Ha.s.san
An hour later the captain Abdullah might have been seen walking carelessly towards the tent where the brethren slept. Also, had there been any who cared to watch, something else might have been seen in that low moonlight, for now the storm and the heavy rain which followed it had pa.s.sed. Namely, the fat shape of the eunuch Mesrour, slipping after him wrapped in a dark camel-hair cloak, such as was commonly worn by camp followers, and taking shelter cunningly behind every rock and shrub and rise of the ground.
Hidden among some picketed dromedaries, he saw Abdullah enter the tent of the brethren, then, waiting till a cloud crossed the moon, Mesrour ran to it unseen, and throwing himself down on its shadowed side, lay there like a drunken man, and listened with all his ears. But the thick canvas was heavy with wet, nor would the ropes and the trench that was dug around permit him, who did not love to lie in the water, to place his head against it. Also, those within spoke low, and he could only hear single words, such as ”garden,” ”the star,” ”princess.”
So important did these seem to him, however, that at length Mesrour crept under the cords, and although he shuddered at its cold, drew his body into the trench of water, and with the sharp point of his knife cut a little slit in the taut canvas. To this he set his eye, only to find that it served him nothing, for there was no light in the tent. Still, men were there who talked in the darkness.
”Good,” said a voice--it was that of one of the brethren, but which he could not tell, for even to those who knew them best they seemed to be the same. ”Good; then it is settled. To-morrow, at the hour arranged, you bring the princess to the place agreed upon, disguised as you have said. In payment for this service I hand you the Luck of Ha.s.san which you covet. Take it; here it is, and swear to do your part, since otherwise it will bring no luck to you, for I will kill you the first time we meet--yes, and the other also.”
”I swear it by Allah and his prophet,” answered Abdullah in a hoa.r.s.e, trembling voice.
”It is enough; see that you keep the oath. And now away; it is not safe that you should tarry here.”
Then came the sound of a man leaving the tent. Pa.s.sing round it cautiously, he halted, and opening his hand, looked at its contents to make sure that no trick had been played upon him in the darkness. Mesrour screwed his head round to look also, and saw the light gleam faintly on the surface of the splendid jewel, which he, too, desired so eagerly. In so doing his foot struck a stone, and instantly Abdullah glanced down to see a dead or drunken man lying almost at his feet. With a swift movement he hid the jewel and started to walk away. Then bethinking him that it would be well to make sure that this fellow was dead or sleeping, he turned and kicked the prostrate Mesrour upon the back and with all his strength. Indeed, he did this thrice, putting the eunuch to the greatest agony.
”I thought I saw him move,” Abdullah muttered after the third kick; ”it is best to make sure,” and he drew his knife.
Now, had not terror paralysed him, Mesrour would have cried out, but fortunately for himself, before he found his voice Abdullah had buried the knife three inches deep in his fat thigh. With an effort Mesrour bore this also, knowing that if he showed signs of life the next stroke would be in his heart. Then, satisfied that this fellow, whoever he might be, was either a corpse or insensible, Abdullah drew out the knife, wiped it on his victim's robe, and departed.
Not long afterwards Mesrour departed also, towards the Sultan's house, bellowing with rage and pain and vowing vengeance.
It was not long delayed.
That very night Abdullah was seized and put to the question. In his suffering he confessed that he had been to the tent of the brethren and received from one of them the jewel which was found upon him, as a bribe to bring the princess to a certain garden outside the camp. But he named the wrong garden. Further, when they asked which of the brethren it was who bribed him, he said he did not know, as their voices were alike, and their tent was in darkness; moreover, that he believed there was only one man in it--at least he heard or saw no other. He added that he was summoned to the tent by an Arab man whom he had never seen before, but who told him that if he wished for what he most desired and good fortune, he was to be there at a certain hour after sunset. Then he fainted, and was put back in prison till the morning by the command of Saladin.
When the morning came Abdullah was dead, who desired no more torments with doom at the end of them, having made s.h.i.+ft to strangle himself with his robe. But first he had scrawled upon the wall with a piece of charcoal:
”May that accursed Star of Ha.s.san which tempted me bring better luck to others, and may h.e.l.l receive the soul of Mesrour.”
Thus died Abdullah, as faithful as he could be in such sore straits, since he had betrayed neither Masouda nor his son, both of whom were in the plot, and said that only one of the brethren was present in the tent, whereas he knew well that the two of them were there and which of these spoke and gave him the jewel.
Very early that morning the brethren, who were lying wakeful, heard sounds without their tent, and looking out saw that it was surrounded by Mameluks.