Swords From the Desert

by Harold Lamb

  In high good humor was my lord Menas, and the eunuch vanished with his staff. Arbogastes plucked at my robe, signing that we should go from the presence of the Domastikos, So, with a salutation we went, unattended.

  And at the first turning of the stair I heard a shuffling of feet and whispers in the recess behind the lamp. I feared an arrow and so turned to peer into the gloom, which was a passage and not an alcove as Arbogastes had said. Verily, this was a house of many surprises and of hidden things.

  I saw the eunuch, two spears' lengths down the passage, and behind him another man. This was a warrior, wide of shoulder and dark of face, in mail from toe to helmet-his surcoat so stiff with dust and streaked with rain that the device was dim.

  Yet I had seen that device before. The man was a Frank and a captain of warriors.

  I had faced him once when the Franks pillaged a village near Edessa. They had taken horses and cattle from the village, and had slain else all living things, the women, and the sick, and sucking babes.

  There had been no Arab warriors at that village nor any battle. The Franks who plundered it were filled with the lust to slay. Yet I have seen others who nursed wounded Arabs-

  The Frankish baron who burned that village had been Richard de Brienne. And the captain of his men-at-arms was this same mailed swordsman who waited behind the eunuch until we should have passed.

  So much I saw in a glance, before the eunuch stretched out his long sleeve and the Frank bent his head to hide his face.

  "What is it?" asked Arbogastes impatiently.

  "A slave in a red robe," I made answer.

  But memory had stirred in me. It was this slayer, the Sieur de Brienne who had bestowed the gray horse on the girl Irene. But why had his captain come with hidden face to the house of the Lord Menas?

  That night I slept in the barrack of the Tatar archers, and in the palace grounds the next day there was not sign or portent of the Frank. I asked Arbogastes if an embassy had come to the city from the barons of Frankistan, and he laughed.

  "Oho, they will come with their ships to the sea wall, not before."

  He told me also that the Greek prince, Alexius, with the fleet had truly a just claim to the throne, because the father of this prince lay blinded and in chains in the prisons of Murtzuple. The father had been emperor for two years, and before his time, poison and the knife had shrouded three Greek emperors. As to whether Murtzuple or Alexius had the best claim to the throne Arbogastes neither knew nor cared. Nor did the Tatars or the Northmen or the Genoese mercenaries care.

  "My lord Menas hath bought the captain of the Northmen and the Lord of Ships," he added. "He hath rolled out casks of Chian wines, and whole sheep roast in the courtyards. We fare well, and by that same token there is work laid up for us."

  So thought the warriors who crowded around the wine casks. Some, when their tongues were loosed, said my lord Menas wished to gather a great array so that when the Franks were driven off he could say that it was his doing. But others-and these were the Genoese who sipped their wine instead of gulping it-whispered that the Domastikos meant to overthrow the emperor suddenly and then seize the crown.

  The barbarians from the north of Frankistan said nothing at all, though they drank more than any-dipping their horns into the kegs of mead. They grunted together and sang without mirth-tall men in rusted chain mail who walked with pride, and yet drowsily.

  They had been paid to fight for Menas. They were faithful to the gold that bought them.

  I wondered what had driven them from their country to serve a Greek. The Tatars yearned for spoil, and the Genoese hated the Venetians. Like dog and wolf was the feud between these twain.

  But no man knew the mind of my lord Menas.

  The following night it was that I heard the voice of the Frank who was the follower of Richard de Brienne. It was late, and the singing of the Northmen had waked me from sleep. The feel of before-dawn was in the air, and I rose to walk through the corridors. I meant to go to the balcony from which we had seen the ships. I wished to see what the galleys of the Franks were about, because they had withdrawn from sight the night before now. And I went warily through the long corridors and up the marble stair where drowsy slaves stood beside the oil. The armed sentries of my lord Menas were not to be seen, yet. I had heard the corridors were guarded.

  Before long I had lost the way and entered a dark chamber. Here I ceased to go forward and paused to listen. Close to my ear a man's voice spoke and another answered clearly.

  One was the voice of my lord Menas, the other the strange Frank-hoarse and growling with much argument and wine. They seemed to be in agreement, though their words I understood not.

  The chamber was empty, and the voices echoed in its stone walls. I heard another sound and leaped to one side.

  Near at hand the air moved, and feet thumped on the hard mosaics. In the light from the passage behind me, I beheld the figure of a man and the gleam of a knife that struck at me, the blade ripping through my cloak. The man groaned loud, and fell. In the same instant that he stabbed, my sword cut him under the ribs and grated against the spine.

  Like a slit waterskin he tumbled down and ceased to move. I drew back from the blood on the floor and looked at the wall. Aye, there was a niche, as if made for a statue, and beside it a square of fretwork, bronze by the feel of it. My fingers passed through it and felt the breath of cool air. This was surely a whispering chamber, and at the other end-what? The opening in the wall ran perhaps to the sleeping -place of the Domastikos. By chance, hearing the voices, I had stood before it, and the guardian of the chamber-he may well have been a deaf mute-had sprung out at me from the niche.

  Then it was that I had assurance of the truth of this. A wide portal in the mosaic chamber flung open, light streamed in, and two Greek spearmen stood beside me. Two black savages entered, bearing torches, and behind them came my lord Menas with mincing gait.

  Verily, from the other end of the gallery, he had heard the leap and the groan of his slave, and now he glanced at me from under lowered lids.

  "Thy blade is bloodied, 0 Khalil," he said softly. "Wipe it, and sheath it."

  The spears of the Greek warriors were close to me, yet I delayed not to wipe clean the scimitar on the tunic edge of the dead slave, and sheath it, and uprise with folded arms.

  "And now, Khalil-what is this?"

  "Upon thee, my lord, greeting of the dawn! I sought my way to the balcony, for sight of the ships. At this spot the slave leaped and struck with his knife-here-" I lifted my cloak. "No word passed, nor could I see him. So I slew him, and will take therefore no blame."

  The Domastikos glanced at the grating, and at my bare feet-for it is our custom to remove our slippers at the entrance of a dwelling. Holding a linen, musk-scented, to his nostrils, he bent over the dead man.

  "A good blow, Khalil. I see thou art a man of the sword."

  I had slain his guard by the whispering gallery, and it would have availed me not to plead that I had not overheard the words that passed at the other end. Nor could I read the eyes of the Greek, though I watched for him to make a sign to his spearmen.

  "Eh, Khalil, the fault lies not with thee!" And he smiled.

  Aye, he smiled, and his nostrils quivered just a little when he withdrew the cloth, and still he showed no anger.

  The eyes of a leopard glow, and its muscles twitch-even to the tailwhen it settles itself to leap. A mask was upon the face and eyes of the Greek lord, and I was assured that he had not pardoned me, and would exact my life-not for the death of the slave but because I had chanced into the listening gallery when he held speech with the Frank.

  With his men or his treasure I might have made free, and have been pardoned. But not with his secret-not at this hour. I think he had wished to order the spearmen to advance upon me, and had decided otherwise. A sword well handled is a match for two long spears, and Menas was neither impatient nor a fool.

  "My lord," I made response, when he waited, "may God re
quite thee for thy mercy. It is true that I have meant no harm to thy men, being ignorant of the customs of this, thy palace."

  "Thou art, as Arbogastes maintained, a bold man," he said idly, gathering his cloak about him. "I have a mind to such. Go then, and await my command."

  Who may alter what is ordained? Who may look upon the writing that is not to be altered? I had not plotted against the Domastikos, yet he sought my life as surely as a trodden snake strikes. And this was because his pal ace was a pit of traps and a breeding place of suspicion. Within it I might no longer dwell, and I walked forth before he could send an order to the guards at the outer gates concerning me.

  In all Constantinople there was no sanctuary for me, save one.

  And so it came to pass that when Arbogastes sought his post of duty that morning because he had been at his wine in the past night-he found me sitting on the bank of the canal, by the bridge that led to the house of the barbarian girl.

  He glittered and shone, indeed, like a peacock. From somewhere he had got himself a bronze breastplate with eagles upon it, and he was busily counting different coins from his right hand to his left.

  Then he counted them back again and shook his thick head.

  "By all the devils, one hand tallies not with the other! And by the beard of Ali, this ducat hath been shaved of half its gold." He blinked and glared from reddened eyes. "The dog cheated me!" He said he had been throwing dice at the tavern nearby, and regretted leaving it, being muddled in his head about his gains and losses.

  "Eh, Arbogastes," I said to him, "I had thought thee an al-comes in this new armor. Verily, thou hast the figure of a swordsman."

  He ceased his counting to simper and swell his chest. Indeed he had the figure of a fighter if naught else.

  "And the dog cheated thee?" I went on.

  "YA11ah, he did! My dice were clipped and loaded. I won two casts in three, and he robbed me of my gains, the son of a bath tender!"

  "That is evil. Nay, then, I shall keep thy post, and thou shalt return to the Greek and gain back thy winnings. Only come at dusk to take my place."

  Arbogastes felt of his lean purse and blinked. He had upon him the thirst that is bred of spirits, not wine alone, and saw no reason why I should not watch in his stead. No men of Menas's household would enter the garden of the patriarch.

  "Be wary as to the wench," he grunted. "I go!"

  "Then say naught in the tavern of my watch in this place, or ill may befall thee, Arbogastes."

  He nodded-he could see that.

  So throughout the morning and until the sun began to sink past the dome of the church, I sat, sleeping a little, but rousing when the monks or the slaves of Irene came near the bridge. The girl I did not see, but the gray horse was led out and fed, and I knew that she was within.

  Then came Arbogastes, with lurching step and darkened face.

  "Ho, brother," he cried, "the gates of plunder are open! Hearken to the bells! Come, and let us take what we may."

  His purple cloak was gone, and his wallet likewise. In truth Arbogastes looked more like a wight plundered than a plunderer.

  "Eh, what has happened?" I asked.

  "The Franks have happened-may they taste of Eblis! So the tale runs in the bazaar. They drifted across from the Scutari shore this morning, with their horses in the palanders and the men-at-arms in the barges, all of them lashed to the oared galleys. They sounded trumpet and horn and made a landing near Galata, leaping into shallow water with their spears on their wrists, and leading forth their chargers from the great ships. The fools have taken Galata and set up a camp on the mainland."

  "And what of the Greeks?"

  Arbogastes curled his beard, which reeked more of musk than ever. The wine in his veins was singing a song, and he looked on the bare garden as if it were paradise.

  "Murtzuple is a wolf, and a wolf, 0 my brother, is not easily penned. He bath drawn back his hosts, behind the city wall. The Franks will break their spears on the wall, and when that has happened they will taste grief because they are separated from their ships and their brothers, the Venetians. Come, Khalil, this will be a night of nights!"

  The wine in him did not bind his tongue; it was not fitting to leave him thus in a place of prayer. And it did not suit me to forsake the garden then.

  "Where be the men of the Domastikos?"

  "Allah, am I an oracle that I should know?" The Persian scowled and yawned. "I think they will muster in the registan of Tiodore* at dawn."

  "Then go thou and sleep. I shall keep thy ward."

  "Nay, I must fare to the palace of the Domashitish-" he hiccoughed and blinked owlishly-"of the Domtishok, our master. 'Tis the hour for my waiting upon him with word of the Frank wench."

  "If that thou doest," I said, "thou wilt be slain and the skin taken from thy body and stuffed with straw and hung out upon the sea-wall." I had seen such bodies, blown hither and yon by the wind, and torn by crows' beaks.

  "Nay, why should Iny lord do that to me?"

  Now I had no wish to tell the stupid Persian what had befallen me in the palace.

  "Why did he choose thee in the beginning, instead of one of his servants? Why did he show favor to a bullock like thee? Because when thy task is done, and the girl is taken to him, he can then slit thy throat-lest any of the Nazarene priests remember having seen thee sitting at her gate."

  There was much truth in this, but Arbogastes saw it not.

  "No buffalo am I!" he growled. "I am a swordsman, a bahator."

  "Do you wish to be skinned?"

  Nay-

  "Then go and sleep. But first tell me the password."

  Arbogastes seemed not to hear, and he began to snore on his feet. I shook his shoulder.

  "The word-what is the password of the Greeks?"

  The wine and the drowsiness were heavy upon him and he only grunted until suddenly he found words.

  "Another cup!"

  Eh, there was little good in seeking the word of him. He staggered away up the path, and I sat down to think. The ache of hunger was in me, but I could not go to the Nazarene church and beg for food like a slave.

  It was then, a little after dusk, when all the monks had gone into the church, whither they were summoned by a great bell, that the barbarian girl Irene came and sat down by me.

  Between her hands she had brought dates and a pomegranate and barley cakes, and when I had twice refused them, she leaned closer to look into my eyes.

  "I have given Khutb, the gray courser, to eat, and why not thee, 0 Badawan?"

  So I began to eat slowly, and she leaned chin on hands to watch the gleam of the new moon behind the barrier of cypresses, and listen to the clong-clang of the bell.

  "The Greeks yonder," she said after awhile, "pray for the overthrow of the Franks. But the Franks will take the city, and then there will be a new emperor."

  I thought of Menas, who had talked with a captain of the iron men.

  "There be fifteen thousand Franks and some few Venetians without-there be two hundred thousand Greeks and mercenaries within these walls."

  "Are they one at heart? What happened today?"

  I told her and she became thoughtful. Twice a hundred thousand men behind such walls are not easily overcome, and it was ever the fault of the iron men to venture onward foolishly.

  "My father was castellan of Edessa," she said. "More than one onset and onfray have I seen. I do not think these treacherous Greeks will stand before the lances of the Crosses on open ground. I would well to be upon the walls-"

  Perhaps she was lonely, perhaps excited by hope of the morrow, because she told me how she longed for the coming of the Crosses. The Lord Richard de Brienne had joined the iron men, she had heard, and she was to become his wife.

  This paladin of the Franks had tarried once at Edessa-for her father kept open hall and was well content with company and song of minstrels. At that time Irene had been no more than a stripling; eager to follow the hawk, and to ride forth with her father, who
was one of the wisest of the Franks.

  The Lord Richard had looked twice upon her and had asked her for his wife, and the father of Irene had said that a year must pass before she was of age for marriage.

  So the warrior of the Cross had fared forth after plighting his word to the damosel, and straightaway Irene forgot dogs and hawks and the loves of childhood for love of him-and she had waited more than the year, for her father was slain, and his followers and servants and his feudal hall were lost to her. For that is the law of Frankistan.

  Aye, four years passed, and she heard of the deeds of her lord in Syria and Jerusalem yet saw him not. Edessa had fallen to my people and the Nazarene priests had sent her to the protection of the patriarch of Constantinople. She had brought with her the gray horse, Khutb, the betrothal gift of the Lord Richard.

  All this was clear, not by her words alone, but by her voice and the eagerness in her. In this barbarian girl there was no deceit.

  "How is he to be known, this Ricard," I asked.

  "He is prouder than other men and his eyes shine when he speaks. His hair is black and his skin is dark, and he is taller even than thee, 0 Khalil."

  How was I to learn aught from this? It seemed to her that Richard of Brienne was verily a saint in chain mail, guileless as a boy, grave and courteous to all who met with him. His blue eyes were without fear-

  "What device bears he on his shield?"

  "No device, save a red cross. If ye seek him, 0 Badawan-" she tossed her head valiantly-"look for him in the heart of the onset. Wilt thou draw sword against him, for the gray horse?"

  "It may have been written," I said, and upon the words I heard a scraping near at hand, as of a scabbard tip or spear butt.

  In another moment I felt assured that a man was breathing heavily within an arrow's flight.