Part 54 (2/2)

”Ay,” repeated Rosamund, ”then I--must judge.”

The siege went on; from terror to terror it went on. The mangonels hurled their stones unceasingly, the arrows flew in clouds so that none could stand upon the walls. Thousands of the cavalry of Saladin hovered round St. Stephen's Gate, while the engines poured fire and bolts upon the doomed town, and the Saracen miners worked their way beneath the barbican and the wall. The soldiers within could not sally because of the mult.i.tude of the watching hors.e.m.e.n; they could not show themselves, since he who did so was at once destroyed by a thousand darts, and they could not build up the breaches of the crumbling wall. As day was added to day, the despair grew ever deeper. In every street might be met long processions of monks bearing crosses and chanting penitential psalms and prayers, while in the house-doors women wailed to Christ for mercy, and held to their b.r.e.a.s.t.s the children which must so soon be given to death, or torn from them to deck some Mussulman harem.

The commander Balian called the knights together in council, and showed them that Jerusalem was doomed.

”Then,” said one of the leaders, ”let us sally out and die fighting in the midst of foes.”

”Ay,” added Heraclius, ”and leave our children and our women to death and dishonour. Then that surrender is better, since there is no hope of succour.”

”Nay,” answered Balian, ”we will not surrender. While G.o.d lives, there is hope.”

”He lived on the day of Hattin, and suffered it,” said Heraclius; and the council broke up, having decided nothing.

That afternoon Balian stood once more before Saladin and implored him to spare the city.

Saladin led him to the door of the tent and pointed to his yellow banners floating here and there upon the wall, and to one that at this moment rose upon the breach itself.

”Why should I spare what I have already conquered, and what I have sworn to destroy?” he asked. ”When I offered you mercy you would have none of it. Why do you ask it now?”

Then Balian answered him in those words that will ring through history forever.

”For this reason, Sultan. Before G.o.d, if die we must, we will first slaughter our women and our little children, leaving you neither male nor female to enslave. We will burn the city and its wealth; we will grind the holy Rock to powder and make of the mosque el-Aksa, and the other sacred places, a heap of ruins. We will cut the throats of the five thousand followers of the Prophet who are in our power, and then, every man of us who can bear arms, we will sally out into the midst of you and fight on till we fall. So I think Jerusalem shall cost you dear.”

The Sultan stared at him and stroked his beard.

”Eighty thousand lives,” he muttered; ”eighty thousand lives, besides those of my soldiers whom you will slay. A great slaughter--and the holy city destroyed forever. Oh! it was of such a ma.s.sacre as this that once I dreamed.”

Then Saladin sat still and thought a while, his head bowed upon his breast.

Chapter Twenty-Three: Saint Rosamund

From the day when he saw Saladin G.o.dwin began to grow strong again, and as his health came back, so he fell to thinking.

Rosamund was lost to him and Masouda was dead, and at times he wished that he were dead also. What more had he to do with his life, which had been so full of sorrow, struggle and bloodshed?

Go back to England to live there upon his lands, and wait until old age and death overtook him? The prospect would have pleased many, but it did not please G.o.dwin, who felt that his days were not given to him for this purpose, and that while he lived he must also labour.

As he sat thinking thus, and was very unhappy, the aged bishop Egbert, who had nursed him so well, entered his tent, and, noting his face, asked:

”What ails you, my son?”

”Would you wish to hear?” said G.o.dwin.

”Am I not your confessor, with a right to hear?” answered the gentle old man. ”Show me your trouble.”

So G.o.dwin began at the beginning and told it all--how as a lad he had secretly desired to enter the Church; how the old prior of the abbey at Stangate counselled him that he was too young to judge; how then the love of Rosamund had entered into his life with his manhood, and he had thought no more of religion. He told him also of the dream that he had dreamed when he lay wounded after the fight on Death Creek; of the vows which he and Wulf had vowed at the time of their knighting, and of how by degrees he had learned that Rosamund's love was not for him. Lastly, he told him of Masouda, but of her Egbert, who had shriven her, knew already.

The bishop listened in silence till he had finished. Then he looked up, saying:

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