by Harold Lamb
"Nay," Robert smiled, "the feathers of your shaft tickled my ear. And that is close enough."
"Close, quotha!" the bowman sneered. "Why, lookee, my rogue-with Iny yew bow I'd split thee thy forehead fair and featly at fifty paces."
His jaw dropped, and he fell back a pace. "St. Dunstan be my aid! Thou art the knight himself in paynim garb. Aye, that yellow hair-"
He scratched his head, looking from Robert to Abdullah suspiciously.
"And I would have slain thee in quittance of my revenge."
"Your revenge, bowman?"
"Ah. Three lives I seek of the Saracens that fell upon our company, to wit: One for the blind priest, good Father Evagrius, that they carried off to torture; another for the maid Ellen that they seized and bound upon a horse-may they sup in purgatory, may their tongues rot out and the kites beak their eyes!"
"And the third?"
"I vowed to St. Dunstan to feather me a shaft in the losel that smote me a dour ding upon the sconce."
Will Bunsley rubbed a lump on his skull ruefully.
"Aye, a knavish clout it were on this my mazzard."
"Tell me the story of the affray."
Robert sheathed his sword slowly. He had thought all the pilgrims slain, but here was news of two taken captive.
"Affray, quotha!"
The archer shook his head.
"Nay, 'twas a shambles and we the sheep."
The surprise, he explained, had been complete, for the pilgrims thought themselves safe on the Montserrat lands. The raiders must have been concealed in the gullies near the river, and they rode into the camp plying their bows on all sides. Those who stood up to them were shot down before sword or pike could be used, and Bunsley had barely time to string his bow before he saw the patriarch and the girl snatched up and placed on one of the horses.
He sent a shaft into one of the riders and ran after the captives, who were led away at once. Before he reached them he had been struck down by a club or mace from behind, and when he came to his senses the slaughter was over. After washing his head in the river he was able to catch a riderless pony that was circling the camp.
Without delaying Bunsley had set forth on the trail taken by the raiders. This was before the coming of the Montserrat men, and he pushed up into the mountains, becoming weary and confused on the descent, until he dismounted and sought some sleep, being awakened by the tread of Abdullah's horse. The Moslem bow he had picked up when he left the camp.
"And if thou be'st true man, thou wilt seek out the infidel dogs and prevail upon them to release the maid and priest. If not, then for love of the Cross thou didst wear, bear me company until we come up with them."
"You would not go far, bowman."
Robert liked the stubborn courage of the yeoman, yet knew that Bunsley would not live to see the sun set if he kept on as he planned.
"Turn back and seek service with the Montserrat, who bath an eye for a man who pulls a good bow."
"Nay, I'll seek no service with him. Ah, he is too glib with promises and too sparing of deeds. 'Tis a good lass and loves me well."
Bunsley heaved a deep sigh.
"What says the redbeard?" asked Abdullah.
Robert explained, and the minstrel studied the archer curiously.
"Take me with thee, lord," Bunsley begged doggedly, "and, God willing, I'll cry a greeting to the lass and strike a blow for her ere she be lost to Christian folk."
The girl, he added eagerly, was no more than a child when, a year and more ago, she had listened to the preaching of the monk de Courcon in Blois, where Bunsley happened to be stationed. She was Ellen d'Ibelin, daughter of a knight, and she had had schooling with the nuns.
At Blois she took the Cross with many youths and children, for the monk declared that Jerusalem might be delivered by the children. Will Bunsley fell under the spell of the crusade preacher-also he confessed to a mighty fondness for the girl-and adventured with the pilgrims through many barren and hostile lands to Byzantium.
"And 'tis gold I seek," cried Robert. "Nor will I turn me aside for any maid, captive though she be."
It irked him that the men from Khar should have borne off prisoners from the lands of the Croises, and he spoke bitterly, for his warning to Hugo and to the pilgrims had gone unheeded. Having formed a purpose, he would not swerve from it. Moreover the red archer was the last man he wished to take with him on his venture. It was impossible to disguise that rawboned figure and stentorian voice; yet to leave Will Bunsley to follow the trail alone-
"I'll tend the horses, good my lord," insisted the yeoman, "and draw thee wine at every inn, aye, and keep watch o'nights for slit-throats-"
"Ho!" Robert chuckled. "Fare with us then, an' you will. If my companion-"
But Abdullah gave his assent without ado. The redbeard, he said, could go as he was, and they would claim that he was Robert's captive. So should the Emir Arslan have more honor. Bunsley's appearance would be enough to make the Arab, through whose country they must pass, think him a simpleton, afflicted by Allah.
Clearly Robert explained to the yeoman the hardships they would face, first in the desert, then in the heart of Moslem power. But Will Bunsley merely grinned-although he grimaced when told he must cast aside his weapons to play the part of captive.
"Ha, for the land of gold-and the fair damsels of paynimry. How sayeth the song?"
He chanted in a tuneful roar-
Robert hearkened with relish to an English voice, yet felt grave misgiving at taking the archer, thinking that the man could not survive for many days. Before long, however, Will Bunsley of Northumberland proved to be a man of many surprises.
Although Abdullah pushed forward at a furious pace, the archer kept up with his nag, grumbling and groaning, but never allowing the two wanderers out of sight. The heat and the scanty fare stretched the skin taut on his bones, and he came to look like a scarlet skeleton, so that when they stopped at a village, the men of the desert thronged to stare at the red Frank captive in astonishment.
Robert noticed that the minstrel rode in a strange fashion with a longer stirrup than the Arabs and with his weight eased well forward. He picked his course by the stars-for they covered most of their way at night. Robert had a habit of watching the constellations and judged by the position of the Great Bear that they were working steadily east. The Milky Way-which Abdullah called the Path of the Wild Geese-was directly overhead as they dropped down into a country of baked clay, where the tents of the desert tribes were no longer to be seen.
Here when the moon waned they crossed by swimming a sluggish, reed-bordered river that Abdullah called the Frat and Robert thought was the Euphrates. It was well for the knight that long years in the saddle had hardened him for such a journey. Abdullah seemed to be made of iron, and Will Bunsley, ever on the lookout for traces of the raiders whom they followed, moaned and cursed with the weariness of the saddle and the plaguing of midges and huge flies.
Ahdullah had bartered in a Kurd village another pony for the archer and Bunsley changed saddle from one to the other, complaining bitterly that it was a sin to ask one man to do the work of two nags. Yet the hope of coming up with the men from Khar kept him from falling behind. Once they passed around a hamlet of merchants on the river that had been sacked and burned by the raiders, and Robert waxed thoughtful at seeing that the riders from Khar took spoil from Moslem and Christian alike. But in those days upon the desert floor he gave little heed to aught but the necessity for keeping pace with the minstrel, who rode recklessly through the night, and while the two Nazarenes slept, utterly wearied in the midday hours, played softly upon his lute and sang in a guttural speech that Robert had never heard before.
And this flight across a strange and barren land did much to ease the bitterness that had been in Robert. They hunted where they could and avoided the villages, and daily covered stretches that the crusader would not have thought possible. So the three rode from Palestine, one seeking the price of his life, another searching
for a captive girl, and the third intent on keeping a rendezvous with his master, whose name he would not reveal.
Unexpectedly, late one afternoon, they came to a muddy stream swift running between low, sandy banks-the boundary line of Khar, Abdullah said; and, pointing to clusters of skin tents on the far bank where some hundred horses were turned loose to graze, he added-
"The riders from Khar."
Chapter V
The Redbeard
It was too late to go back out of sight, for watchers on the other bank had seen them, and their horses were too weary to escape pursuit. Hesitation would have been fatal, and Robert urged his horse into the river, to be followed promptly by the minstrel.
Once they had climbed out on the sand drifts they were surrounded by dark-skinned warriors in silvered helmets-lean, slow-moving men who swaggered in crimson and white kaftans and polished hauberks, who took in every detail of the newcomers' steeds and trappings at a single glance and bared their teeth at Bunsley-who returned their scowls with interest.
"Kankalis, these," whispered Abdullah meaningly, "hillmen, Turkomans, and the best of the light cavalry of the master of Khar-our companions on the road to the Iron Gates, 0 Arslan. Be wily in talk, 0 Egyptian, and think before each word. Do not try to aid the redbeard if they seek him out for sport for their long knives."
Two mounted warriors who had been posted at the river pushed in between the strangers and the crowd, heedless of the insults hurled at them by those who were jostled by the ponies. Commanding Robert to follow, they conducted the three to a large tent where sat the leader of the band-an old man with a beak of a nose, his sword girdled high on his middle. He knelt on a silk carpet, casting knuckle-bones idly, and though he appeared scarcely to notice the strangers he looked them over carefully.
Abdullah related the tale agreed upon, that he, a minstrel wandering from Khar, had fallen in with an emir out of Cairo who journeyed to the court of the Throne of Gold, and with him one Nazarene, a captive taken in the valley of the Orontes. Inalzig Khan, as the leader of the Kankalis was called, did not see fit to ask them to sit as yet, although they had dismounted.
"Where are your followers, 0 valiant lion," he demanded of Robert ironically.
"Ask the kites and the wolves. They were slain in affrays with the Nazarenes and the Bedawans."
"Allah, can it be so? What do you seek of me?"
"Guidance and protection through the Iron Gates."
The khan bared long teeth in a mocking smile.
"Nay, you know not the Gates. Who can protect a stranger who lacks the right to enter?"
Knowing that a display of temper was expected of him, at this, Robert touched his sword-hilt.
"By the ninety and nine holy names, does a son of the Seljuks and a great-grandson of a caliph take grass between his teeth to bespeak a gatekeeper?"
Months of dwelling with the nobles of Cairo enabled him to imitate the mincing temper of a high-born Egyptian; with his mustache and head shaven and his bare feet blackened by the sun of the plains, he had little to fear. Yet Inalzig was not satisfied, although his tone became more courteous.
"Upon what mission do you ride to the shah, 0 Cairene?"
Abdullah threw in carelessly, as if explaining to a friend-" None leave the Sialak, the Gates, or enter to the great city except they go or come upon an order of Muhammad Shah on whom be peace-the Emperor of Khar and the shield of Islam."
"Does the jackal ask of the wolf, 'Why are ye here?"' Robert took his cue. "I will speak of my mission to the governor of the great city, and to you, Inalzig Khan, I say-" he thought swiftly-"that the Sultans of Cairo and Damietta have withstood the Nazarenes and send word of their deeds to Muhammad Shah."
The Kankali nodded without emotion, and made room for the twain on the carpet.
"Hamaian-contentment be upon you, 0 emir. I care naught for such matters, being sent on a foray to fetch a quota of maidens and spoil from the accursed Nazarenes and the desert tribes. If you can pass the Gates you will have fair greeting in Bokhara, the city of which I spoke. For the shah draws his sword and mounts for war."
"With whom?" demanded Abdullah with sudden interest.
"Ma'shallah-have I been within the walls of Bokhara this last year, that I should know? Some tribe of unbelievers from the north dares to withstand the emperor."
Will Bunsley had been staring about eagerly at the piles of wicker baskets holding the fruits of the foray, and certain tents set apart for the captives, without seeing any sign of the girl or the priest.
"It is my wish," remarked the chief of the Kankalis, leaning back on his cushions, "that the infidel be stripped and bound and stretched out for some of my men to try the edge of their scimitars. Is it not written that he who causes the death of an unbeliever will not fail of paradise?"
A glance from Abdullah warned Robert that this request was not to be lightly refused. The khan had halted his men for a day's rest, and a curious throng had gathered about the archer, who had forgotten to mumble and gape as usual.
"It would bring ill fortune upon us to slay him, 0 captain of many," objected Robert, heedless of the minstrel's concern.
"How?"
"He is djinn-infested. The devil of madness is in him."
Inalzig signed for a slave to bring wine cups and shook his head indifferently.
"I am no servant of the priests and herder of the afflicted of Allah. The Frank could not pass the Gates, so why weary two horses in bearing him thither?"
"Do you see the color of his hair and skin?"
"Aye, red as heart of fire."
"When a man is blind, what is the color of his eyes?"
"White."*
"True. Allah bath set his seal on the eyes. Now when the devil entered this man, his skin turned red. Verily, it is a strange devil. The infidel, being mad, believes that he can overthrow any warrior with all weapons. Yah ahmak, the simpleton will bring mirth to your heart."
"Allah!"
The Kankali smiled and sipped at his cup.
"Let us see what he does. Nay, do not give him a bow-" as Robert reached for one in a corner of the tent-"for the might send the shaft this way. Let him try his skill with a spear, a stabbing-spear."
Robert glanced at Bunsley and risked speaking to the archer.
"Canst withstand one of these fellows with a quarterstaff?"
"Aye, by all the saints, that can I, lord brother."
The yeoman grinned cheerfully.
"Last Martinmas I won a silver shilling for a bout-"
"The Moslem will have a long stabbing spear, and he will not stop at the first blood. You stand in dire peril, Master Will, and it will go hard if you do not prevail."
The archer declared that he would hold his own with anything on two legs at brawling or dicing and desired nothing better than to crack the skulls of his tormentors.
"The fool," Robert explained to the Kankali, "will think that a stout stick is a spear, so let him have one. Yet if he is victor, will you permit him to ride with me unharmed?"
"Verily," laughed the warrior, who was studying Robert curiously. "Have you also a devil that you speak the language of the infidel?"
"He dwelt at their court for a year and more," put in Abdullah quickly, "and learned much of their ways. For this was he chosen to ride to the shah with his story."
Saying that it was all one to him and that he fancied there were three fools instead of one at his tent, Inalzig called for one of his men to stand forth with a spear. A thin warrior with a huge, knotted turban stepped into the cleared space, carrying a five-foot weapon. Will Bunsley cast about until he found a spare tent pole of teak as long as he was tall and as large around as his two thumbs joined together.
Tossing up the staff, he caught it in the fingers of one hand and twirled it around his head. Then, setting his long legs, he gripped the quarterstaff with both hands widely separated, well in front of him. To the onlookers this seemed the merest bombast, and the eyes of the Kankali glittered as he adv
anced on the archer and thrust at Bunsley's ribs, meaning to wound the red man a few times before killing him. Instead the yeoman warded the blow by lowering one end of his pole. Again the Kankali thrust with no better result.
Angered by the gibes of his companions, the Spearman shortened his grasp and feinted, minded to end the matter out of hand. But Will halted him abruptly by bringing up one arm and jabbing wickedly at the throat. Choking, the Kankali staggered back and the yeoman smote him on either ear so quickly that the two thuds sounded as one.
Blood flowed down the warrior's jaw, and he rocked dizzily, then crumpled down on the sand.
"The fool is strong in the arm," observed Inalzig. "Now we will try his skill."
He barked an order, and a stocky warrior sprang out from the growing throng of watchers. The khan tossed him a javelin-a throwinn spear no more than a yard long with a small, barbed point.
"Send him to jehannum or taste a hundred lashes."
Robert, who had watched English yeomen practicing with the quarterstaff in Antioch, had known that Will could make a long spear look ridiculous, but a javelin was not to be warded so easily. Nor could he come to the archer's aid, for such a move would mean drawn weapons and a swift end for them both.
But Will, watching his adversary keenly, yelped cheerfully.
"So-ho, here be a dog with sharp teeth, so give heed, Master Robert, to some pretty work."
Leaping about in front of the Kankali, he whirled the quarterstaff in the man's eyes until the warrior decided that the Frank was not going to attack, and launched the javelin. Will, having waited for just this, dodged alertly, and the short spear did no more than glance from one shoulder, cutting it to the bone.
The warrior snarled and drew a curved dagger. Rushing in, he slashed at the archer's ribs, only to drop like a log and lie where he had fallen. Will had stepped aside and slid one hand down to the other, swinging lustily with the full weight of the staff upon the Kankali's skull.