Part 12 (1/2)

”By the shades of Allah, I do,” said the man, his eyes fixed with fear.

”Have mercy, have mercy! Away from this house, you bad spirits,” cried Azraele. ”May the sunbeams strike you and the darkness bury you. Go torment the Christians. May your wings break on the top of our crescents as you float over them. Ha, how their eyes s.h.i.+ne! Spirit of Allah, cover us, that they may not see us with their eyes of fire.”

The great, strong man trembled like a child. His superst.i.tious fear had taken all strength out of his heart.

”Do you hear how they murmur? Say a prayer quickly aloud and stop your ears, so you shall not hear what they say.”

At this moment the frightful storm broke in a window pane and the wind rus.h.i.+ng in shook the curtains and made the lights flicker.

”Ah, do you see him?” cried Azraele. ”Be still, don't look, don't open your eyes. Cover your face. Asafiel, the angel of Death is here. Don't you feel his cold breath? Hush, cover yourself up, perhaps he does not notice you.”

Corsar clung to Azraele and covered his face with his hands.

”What do you want?” called Azraele, as if she were speaking with a visible spirit. ”Whom have you come for, black shade, your eyes glowing with blue fire? There is n.o.body here but me. Corsar has not come. Come later, come an hour later. Away with you, black creature!

May Allah crush you!”

Corsar did not dare open his eyes.

”Away with you, I say.”

At this moment the lightning struck one of the bastions and shook the mountains to their foundations. When the sound of thunder ceased, a light fall of rain began on the roof; the roar of the storm grew more and more distant; was heard dully near by and howled mournfully in the distant woods.

”He has gone,” whispered Azraele, in a barely audible tone. ”He promised to be back in an hour. Corsar, you can live just one hour.”

”One hour!” repeated Corsar, with dulled senses. ”Oh, Azraele, where can you hide me?”

”That is quite impossible. Asafiel is relentless. One hour more and then he will carry you off.”

”Bargain with him. If he must have dead men, I will have a hundred slaves beheaded. Promise him blood, treasure, prayers, burning villages, everything. Only beg him to spare my life.”

”It is of no use. In my dreams I saw your sword broken in two. Your days are numbered. There is only one way of escape for you--one way of baffling this bloodthirsty angel. Some one of the dead must exchange names with you and Asafiel when he comes for you must drag him off in your stead.”

”That is right. That is right,” stammered the strong man in fear.

”Find me such a dead man who will exchange names with me. You know the incantations. Go call up somebody from his grave; promise him everything, fellah or rajah, I will give him my name and take his. Go, hurry.”

”You must go yourself. Throw your cloak around you. Leave your weapons here; spirits are afraid of sharp iron. We will go down into the churchyard under the castle walls, set fire to amber and borax over a tripod, plunge the magic staff into the most recent grave and so compel its inmate to appear before you. When the spirit has appeared you must take three steps toward him and call out three times bravely, 'Die for me!' Then the spirit will vanish and Asafiel will not call for you.”

”But you will be near me,” said the timid Corsar.

”I will be at your side. Now hurry. An hour is a short time.”

Corsar threw on his cloak and repeated the beginning of a prayer the end of which he could not recall.

”Be careful not to wake the guards,” said Azraele, cautiously, ”if a human being should by chance hear us the power of the enchantment would be broken, for they might utter a prayer that would contradict ours. We will saddle our own horses and go down by the secret path. We must not say a word on the way and you must not look behind.”

The Bey was ready. He put on his furlined cloak he was so cold.