by Harold Lamb
"Now, St. Dunstan send that he be the one that cracked my pate in the battle," he remarked.
To the Moslems his skill with the staff savored of the marvelous, for they were men who used none but edged weapons. Even the khan was stirred to interest and asked if the red man could do tricks with anything but a stick.
"Put a bow into his hands and set the best of your archers against him," suggested Robert.
After some hesitation Inalzig agreed and had one of the short Turkish bows brought out for Will, who took it with misgivings, saying that it might do to use from a horse's back but was no thing to tickle the fancy of a Northumberland lad. He selected his arrows with care, choosing the longest he could find.
Thus equipped he outdid the best of the Kankalis, who withdrew from the contest with as much dignity as they could muster, explaining loudly that the Frank was surely djinn-infested. Indeed Will was strutting about with a lop-sided grin, for he had more than his share of vanity. Inalzig had fallen into a rage and nursed his wine-cup sullenly until Abdullah, who had followed the archery with mild interest, arose and declared that he had come from a country where men used bows otherwise.
"Then put the fool to shame, 0 minstrel," grunted the chief.
"Nay," responded the minstrel, "I lack his skill, yet have I learned a trick that your men know not."
Taking a small turban cloth, he walked to the nearest tree. Rolling the cotton strip tightly, he wrapped it around the bole of the tree so that a strip some two fingers in breadth showed white against the dark trunk.
Then, calling for a saddled pony, he chose a short, powerful bow and a quiver with six arrows. Mounting and riding off, he wheeled the pony some two hundred paces from his mark and set it to a gallop. One after the other he loosed three shafts rapidly as he rode, gripping the ends of the arrows between thumb and forefinger.
Abreast the tree Abdullah swiftly unstrung the bow and used the flying cord on his pony as a whip. Then, stringing it taut again, he emptied his quiver as he drew away from the mark. It was no easy feat to loose the shafts over the pony's rump, and the Kankalis raised a shout of gratification when it was seen that all but one of Abdullah's arrows had struck the bole of the tree, and three were within the cotton band.
"Such nimble finger work is not our way," remarked Will, studying the hits made by the minstrel, "for we pull a long bow and draw each shaft to the head. Yet no man can say Will Bunsley gave ground to him in honest yeoman sport."
The warriors crowded closer when they saw that the Frank would attempt to equal the minstrel's feat. They had been weaned from boyhood with bows in their hands, but like Abdullah were accustomed to shoot from the saddle.
Will signed for the bow Abdullah used to be brought him, and again selected a half dozen arrows. Instead of standing, he knelt this time about a hundred yards from the trees and stuck the heads of the arrows lightly in the sand in a half-circle under his right hand. After testing the pull of the new bow, he thumbed the silk string and fitted an arrow, holding it in place between his first and second fingers which gripped the string. He let it fly and caught up another deftly. His long arms worked smoothly, and he set his jaw stubbornly.
It seemed to Robert that two arrows were in the air at once as his eye followed the first to the mark before looking for the second. When the last shaft was sped he shouted approval. Although Will had not tried his skill from a saddle, he had bettered Abdullah's hits. All the arrows were in the tree and four in the white band.
"Good!" grunted Inalzig. "The fool may live if he can; and it will be your turn, 0 emir, to think of a trick when we stand at the Gates."
Chapter VI
The Word on the Rocks
Robert frequently pondered the warning of the khan as they made their way at a rapid pace through the wooded uplands that lay beyond the river. And he had other things to think about.
To Will's chagrin there was no sign of the maid or the priest in the raiding party; nor would Abdullah give them any word of the fate of the cap tives. The minstrel fell into a moody silence, broken only by his harsh songs sometimes at evening when they lay at ease in the tent openings and listened to the gambling and gossip of the Kankalis.
Abdullah became impatient at any delay-though these were few, because each day brought Inalzig fresh tidings of impending warfare and the chief was anxious to reach his destination, Bokhara, as quickly as possible.
"The maid and the monk live yet," he assured Robert, "and it may fortune that you will see them again. But who can foretell what the turn in the road will bring? By the host of the dead! Only fools prophesy before the event!"
He studied the face of the young warrior as a wise man might read a book, sheet by sheet. And the finely wrought lips and candid gray eyes made him shake his head.
"Nay, you pray as a Moslem, and you walk as one-a little slowly-and you sit the saddle like a Seljuk and an emir, but your eyes and mouth say otherwise. Why, by the white horse of Kaidu, do your thoughts dwell on a Christian child, scarce a woman?"
Robert merely nodded at Will Bunsley, who jogged ahead on his nag, heedless of the inevitable dust cloud and the midges that swarmed about his eyes
"Ha, the redbeard!" Abdullah smiled. "A skilled bowman and a man without fear. Yet he rides on a vain quest with room in his skull for no more than the idea that brought him forth. Allah, do we draw rein again?"
He shaded his eyes to gaze where Inalzig had halted the head of the column to let a string of camels pass. They were racing Bactrians, and the riders jeered at the weary ponies of the Kankalis. Robert, who had an eye for weapons and the men who bore them, observed that the camel riders wore splendid, silvered mail under black khalats, that their targets were bossed with gold and their voluminous turbans crested with peacock feathers.
"Warriors of the Caliphs of Baghdad," muttered Abdullah under his mustache. "Mark the white camel of the leader. Ha, it will be a great war if the caliphs are sending men to the shah. Verily the Moslems are gathering their might, like a leopard crouching to spring."
On other days they sighted detachments of furtive hillmen, who kept well away from Inalzig's standard, and horsemen mounted on splendid Arabs, who raised the shrill ululation of the Saracens at sight of friends. These were heading through the villages, tending in the same direction as Inalzig, which was toward a line of blue summits that rose each day a little higher upon the horizon, with one great peak bearing a snowcap standing upon the travelers' right hand.*
"To the Iron Gates," Abdullah nodded. "All who ride to Khar from the West must pass the Gates and give surety to the warders of their purpose. These arrays are no more than the outlying detachments, bound for the main armies at the great cities."
"I had thought them a mighty force," observed Robert.
Abdullah smiled.
"The puppy thought the jackal was a wolf! Nay, the master of the Throne of Gold hath five times a hundred thousand riders to his command."
This, Robert fancied a jest, for such numbers were incredible. In Palestine the host of the crusaders amounted to no more than fifteen thousand.
"If the red archer," quoth Abdullah, his eyes gleaming, "would see vengeance at work, he has come in good time. Aye, he shall see what will fill his eyes. And you, 0 young warrior, will taste the mead of a man." With that he urged his horse up close to the heels of a pair of Kankalis until the dust nearly choked them and hid the rest of the detachment somewhat from view. Thrusting out his hand suddenly, the minstrel gripped Robert's fingers and when he drew away something hard and cold was in the knight's hand. Realizing that he was not to attract attention to himself, Robert did not look down for a moment. When he did so, he recognized within his fingers the chain of rubies that Abdullah had carried, carved in the semblance of roses.
"Place it within thy girdle," whispered the minstrel, "and show it only at the Sialak. The talsmin will pass you through."
He glanced about and reined closer.
"You will have need of all your wit if you live
to reach Bokhara. Remember that no Kharesmian has proof against you, and you are fairly safe if you do not betray yourself-so beware of tricks. Remember, too, that it is ever best to face forward and to shun no risk. The Moslems are a folk of many tribes and quarrels-and that is their bane. If a man mocks you, cut him down; if a spy is sent, laugh at him. By all the gods, I have not brought you so far, to find you a weakling! "
Robert reflected that a good Moslem does not swear by more than one god.
"And you?" he asked.
"Whatever happens, I will seek you out in Bokhara. Yah bunnayi-O little son, tomorrow we climb the Sialak."
In the minstrel's dark eyes was something like concern for the youth who, towering half a head above him, he addressed as his little son. Yet when these words had passed he withdrew into his cloak of silence and sat for hours on his saddlecloth without turning hand to his lute or lifting his voice in song. And that night the heat of the plains was tempered just a bit by a long breeze from the north.
Robert sniffed it as he lay outstretched on his cloak, studying the canopy of stars, and though he thought surely it must be fancy, the breeze seemed to bear with it the tang of the salt sea and wet rocks.
They made a long stretch the next day and Bunsley complained that the Moslems hemmed him in as if he were part of the treasure of loot they were guarding. Other caravans made way for Inalzig's standard, and all through the day they drew nearer to a line of peaks that had lifted from the skyline two sunrises before.
The wind whipped and buffeted them as they ate their rice and dates and mutton that evening in the very shadow of bare slopes that flung back the red glory of the sunset. Robert had studied the line of mountains carefully, to pick out the pass that might let them through; he had seen cavalcades of hurrying riders sweep up to one point in the foothills and immediately pass from view.
When the last shaft of red light vanished from the tallest of the peaksthe one streaked with tiny spots of something that gave back the glitter of the sun-darkness settled like a cloak upon the serais where the caravans had halted for the night. The smoke of the dung fires was not to be seen, and the glow of the flames spread upon bearded faces and lines of picketed beasts.
This was the signal for Inalzig to order his men to saddle again, and four of them came and grinned at the two Franks before ranging them selves on either side. They went forward at a trot until a line of camels, grunting protest at the night march, slowed them to a hand pace.
So strong was the illusion of darkness that Robert felt that they were entering the breast of the hills. High rock walls closed in on them presently. By the echo of the hoofs on stones he judged that the cliffs were sheer and immense. When torches appeared ahead of him, he found that he could not begin to see the top of the canyon walls.
At places great boulders encroached on the narrow pass, leaving no more than a bridle way. The muffled voices and the uproar of the camels ahead sent the echoes leaping from side to side, to diminish to whispers drowned by the gusts of wind.
"Master Robert," quoth Will, "did the minstrel say that we would fall in with a company of dead lords, and ride with King Caesar and roguish Alexander-ha, St. Dunstan aid us!"
The echoes caught up his words and shouted them to the sky-
"Alexander-Alexander-aid us-aid!"
"Methinks this is the place."
Will lowered his voice to a whisper. And-
"Methinks this is-the place-the place!"
The windborne whisper passed overhead. Will fell to pattering what prayers he could muster on the moment, mixed with lusty curses on the paynims who had led him into such a stronghold of demons. The cliffs repeated back his mutterings and garbled the curses with the prayers so that presently he fell into a gloomy silence. The way twisted interminably, and they had to edge past the camels, which had been halted at one side while their riders, apparently, went forward. The ponies shied at the smell of the gaunt beasts, and presently the word came back to dismount.
As he pressed after the torches that flared and smoked in the gusts of air, Robert noticed that he was splashing through cold water. Reaching down one hand, he discovered that a cut on his forefinger smarted keenly; and, tasting the water, he found it salt.
Will merely shook his head when this was called to his attention.
"Aye, tall brother," he pointed out, "where water is salt, there a sea must be. What sea lies within the desert-save the Styx? Nay, we will sup wi' Satan and bed down wi' the ghosts this night. Seest thou yonder writing? How reads it?"
Glancing where the yeoman's finger pointed, Robert noticed first the portion of a ruined wall stretching athwart the pass, then a row of charac ters carved in the side of the cliff some distance over his head. The words were not Latin or Arabic, and he could make nothing of them; but a stalwart Kankali at his heels noticed his interest and enlightened him.
"'Tis but one word, 0 Cairene, and that is-
"'victory."'
"How old is the word?"
"Am I a prophet, that I should know? Some say it was carved so by the men of the hero Iskander, in the elder days, when news came to him of the death of his foe the lord of Parthia.* But now leave your horse and climb, for these are the Gates."
Robert looked ahead and found that Will was already scrambling up what seemed to be a solid wall of rock, in reality a mass of boulders, up which the Kankalis were swarming. Whether the rocks had been piled there or had fallen from above, Robert cared little. So steep was the ascent that he was forced to use hands and knees, and water trickled down on his shoulders as he pulled himself up to where a line of men were standing with torches.
This proved to be the crest of the natural rampart, and the knight saw that a score of bowmen placed here could hold back an army. The wind smote him full force and staggered him. A spearman reached out an arm and steadied him, thrusting him beside Will, facing the leader of the guards.
On the other side the boulders fell away to the dark surface of water, and Robert suspected that the stream flowing down the gorge had been penned back by the wall of rocks, forming a pool on the upper side. He was surprised to observe a number of women ranged beside the defenders of the pass-veiled women, variously garbed, but all slender and long-haired, unmistakably youthful. He noticed, too, that the Kankalis had passed on save for Inalzig, who stood beside the captain of the warders.
Abdullah was not to be seen, although Will stared about hopefully.
"Would I had a good yew staff at hand!" the archer sighed. "Aye, to make the sign of the cross, and so-ha, look below!"
Near the surface of the water they saw a white face surrounded by a mesh of dark hair, and-in the glow of the torches-the silk-clad limbs of a woman moving gently with the currents of the pool. A moment more and she sank out of sight, but Will stared wide-eyed at the spot.
"You are from Egypt?" a courteous voice questioned the knight. "And alone-yet sent by the lords of Cairo? Verily, riders are coming from the far ends of the earth to the Throne of Gold. A strange sword!"
The speaker was a handsome Moslem, who made a respectful salaam and studied Robert with unwilling admiration.
"I had it from an unbeliever-who died," responded the knight quietly.
"And from the lords who sent you, 0 emir-have you a token or a written word?"
"The word is-victory. The swords of the faithful have scattered the host of the Franks, and the day of the unbeliever in Jerusalem is at an end."
"Ma'shallah! So, too, will the Protector of the Faith, the King of the Age, of Time and the Tide, smite the other infidels who dared to mount for war upon the northern border. And your token, 0 captain of men?"
Robert drew the chain of rubies from his girdle, and the chief of the guards glanced at Inalzig curiously. Others craned their heads to look at the miniature roses threaded on gold.
"Where had you that?" Demanded the Kankali, frowning.
"From one who brooks no questioning of his messengers, and who has a whip for a churlish slave," hazar
ded the knight, aware that this was a reasonably good characterization of any Moslem noble.
"Upon whom be peace," assented the officer. "Well do I know the ruby chain that is a token given by the King of kings, the Shah of shahs, the favored of Allah, the sword arm of the faithful, Alai ud-deen Mohammad, master of Khar. Aye, this token he gives to the anis-al-jalis, the favorites, the cup companions of his hours of pleasure."
He bowed profoundly.
"And the ruby chain admits whoever bears it to the Gates, but no more than one. Yet it is passing strange, 0 favored of the shah, that you, who have not passed this way going from Bokhara, should have the chain when you enter the inner country of Khar."
Robert glanced at the chain with some interest and returned it to his girdle. Then he turned suddenly on the Moslem.
"0 brother to a parrot, 0 pack-saddle of an ass-"
He had learned a fair flood of forcible insults during his captivity, and he called upon his memory for a full minute while the spearmen gaped, and the officer began to look doubtful.
"Another question," he ended, "and I will open thy breast to see if water or blood be in thy veins."
So indeed might a noble of Cairo have spoken to one who stood in his way, and it was clear to the warders that the Emir Arslan would like nothing better than to make good his words with sword-strokes. Inalzig's eyes blazed, and unseen by Robert he made a sign to men who stood back by the cliff.
"If the Caliphs themselves rode out of Baghdad to join the shah," he snarled, "the keeper of the Gate would cast them into the pool if they gave not a good account of themselves as Moslems. Look yonder!"
Robert did not turn, but Will Bunsley yelped like a hound viewing its quarry.
"Now praise be to all the saints and martyrs! Here be the demoiselle of Ibelin and Father Evagrius!"
Running to the ledge of rock that served as a pathway back from the buttress on which they stood, he tried to cast himself on his knees and seize the edge of the girl's robe to kiss. A spear-butt planted in his ribs by an alert guard sent him sprawling.
Ellen d'Ibelin stood between two warriors with drawn swords. Her torn hood and bedraggled smock had been replaced with rich silks and white cotton, bound about her waist by a velvet vest. A circlet of silver held in her black locks above the ears, and a transparent veil covered her face below the eyes. But eyes and hair and the poise of her young head were unmistakable.