Swords From the Desert

by Harold Lamb

  "Nay, Khalil, like a hawk swooping low, thou hast seen many things, but not this. The Emperor Murtzuple fled from the other side of the city when we entered the Galata gate."

  "Aye, my lord. And then Menas harangued the mob and had himself acclaimed master of the Greeks, here, in this forum. Thy swords and the faint hearts of his followers, and-" I thought of the few moments delay when Menas had looked upon Irene and had lingered until the path of safety was closed-"his own lust defeated his scheme."

  "Wise Khalil!" The young barbarian smiled, leaning on his sheathed sword. "This is a rare day, and thou art a rare paynim. For thy shielding of this damosel ask of me any gift that I may in honor grant."

  It was boldly and clearly spoken. Yet I could not without shame ask of him my liberty for the small service I had done this Nazarene maid. My soul warmed when I thought of Khutb, but how could a captive claim such a steed? I dared not look at the gray horse.

  So I bent my head and he spoke again.

  "One thing more thou mayest do in service to this maid. But wait-"

  He pondered a moment and swung away, to walk between his men who called upon him loudly and with laughter after the barbarian fashion. Irene followed him with her gaze, as if a little bewildered.

  Verily, four years may alter a man, and it may have been that she found my lord Richard somewhat different than she had supposed. At their betrothal she had spent with him no more than seven days. Yet beyond any doubt, she loved this youthful paladin of the Franks.

  Of a sudden a thought seared my brain like an arrow. Richard of Brienne had sent his captain secretly to Menas before the siege. The twain had talked together for long hours, and then the captain had been sent forth again secretly.

  "0 one without wit!" I cried upon myself. I beheld at last the full of Menas's treachery. He had agreed to betray the city, for a price no doubt. He had agreed with the Franks how they should set about the siege.

  And then, mistaking both the strength of the city and the hardihood of his own men, he had sought to seize the throne and drive out the invaders, after Murtzuple had fled. In truth, he had not known which way to turn when the iron men rode into the square. He had played the part of a snake with two heads and had been well scotched.

  For a space the young peer of the Franks talked with the defeated usurper, apart from the ranks, and then the Lord Richard came back and gave some orders to the archer. How should I know what was in his mind? My shoulder ached and my soul was sick.

  "Eh, Khalil," he said, "knowest thou the statue of the giant woman?"

  "It is in the Forum of Constantine."

  "Aye, go thither with this, my follower," he nodded at the archer. "Show him the way. He will lead thee to the sheriff* of the Montserrat Franks. Tell to this sheriff thy story, all of it, and come back with them to this place."

  "I am thy captive." And then a demon of anger plagued me, for the pain in my shoulder. "Nay, send thy kapitan, the man who plotted with the Domastikos!"

  If the Lord Richard had few words, he had a clear mind, and quick.

  "Point out this kapitan!"

  I looked through his followers and again; but the powerful Frank who had come secretly to the house of Menas was not among them.

  "He is not here. Yet I knew him beyond a doubt, having seen him at the sack of the village where thou wert pleased to carry off the gray horse."

  "So thou didst hear this man of mine talk with Menas-when?"

  The word was like a lash, and I told the barbarian lord what I had seen in the palace of the Greek, thinking that he was playing with me idly. In truth, before this I had thought to be slain. This Richard was not a man of mercy.

  And verily his brow became dark and he stirred not for a space, except to knot his fingers on his belt.

  "What a coil!" he said under his breath. "May God have mercy on his soul!" And he bade me sternly speak not again of such matters. "What now?" he cried when I still tarried.

  "My sword," I explained.

  The city burned, and the plunderers were like hungering wolves. If I went unarmed through the bazaar and the alleys, I should be set upon by vagabonds. I had seen the Greek captain of cavalry die, and if my fate was near me, it were better to die here under the Frank's sword than to be torn into pieces.

  Aye, if Richard were playing with me, as he had with Menas, there was no good in a few hours more of life. He motioned to the archer, who picked up my scimitar and thrust it out toward me. Then the young barbarian did a courteous thing. He spoke quickly to the warrior, who shifted the sword so that it lay with its point in one hand, its hilt across the other arm, toward me.

  "May it be remembered, on thy behalf!" I cried, taking it, and bowing. And then I dared his anger again. "This maiden-wilt thou have her in thy care henceforth?"

  Whereupon the barbarian Irene looked from under her lashes at the youth, as a maid will when she judges matters for herself in veiled fashion. As for Richard, his eyes glowed upon me strangely.

  "Never harm shall come to her, while I live."

  With the archer stalking beside me, staring at every tumult, I made my way through the throngs. Doubt was heavy upon me, because I was being sent to a strange chieftain of the Franks, and because I was very weary.

  By the smell in the alleys I knew we were passing through the Jews' quarter. It was the custom of the Greek tanners to carry the filthy water from the tanneries in carts and dump it under the noses of the Jews. Here the houses leaned close together overhead, and it was a place of gloom under the smoke-veiled sky. I turned aside and sought the square as my lord Richard had directed.

  We had passed a few Franks, riding through the streets in groups, and some had halted us, until the archer talked with them and we were permitted to go on.

  This archer had a green hood close drawn over his head, and a fat face red as fire and eyes that seemed to be asleep, but for all that he did not cease watching me. When we came to a throng in the square he pushed through, making way with both elbows, and pulling me with him.

  The crowd had gathered around an old man and a girl. The old man was a Greek merchant of the poorer sort, and by the tears on his cheeks it was clear that the girl was his daughter. She had flung herself on the ground, and her face was smudged and stained as if she had been rubbing dirt upon it. Her garments were soiled and disordered, as if she had thrown them on in haste.

  Two horsemen and a dozen warriors were about her, and these were Franks. The taller of the two riders was richly clad in a fur-edged mantle, with a gold chain at his throat. His shoulders were heavy, and his lips, and his eyes were a faded blue.

  I knew that he was an officer of some kind because he had a small baton tipped with a gold crown in his belt-but I did not think he had been in the fighting that day.

  He was looking at the Greek girl, and at two of his men who were pulling her up by the arms, trying to make her stand on her feet. To him the archer went, and they talked, glancing at me.

  Then this sheriff spoke impatiently to the two warriors, and the old Greek wailed. Someone laughed, because the sheriff had given order to strip the garments from the young girl.

  She struggled without weeping, and it was clear that the dirt had been put upon her face to hide her beauty, for she was lithe of limb and erect of stature, and her terrified eyes were like dark pearls. When even her sandals had been wrenched from her, the tall Frank leaned down and took her chin between thumb and forefinger, to scrutinize her face.

  Again he gave an order, and this time the Frankish warriors hung back and muttered. It speaks ill of a leader when he asks of his men a deed that shames them. At length one of them sought on the ground and picked up a long cord. With this he bound the wrists of the silent girl, and tied the free end of the cord to the tail of the sheriff's horse. As he did so, my guard, the archer, spat.

  "That will teach the wanton to come to her feet at call," so said the Frank. And he spoke in Arabic, to me. "What seekest thou, dog?"

  Before this never a ma
n had named a chieftain of the Ibna al Yamen so, and lived. I drew the edge of the khalat over my forehead and looked upon the ground.

  "Thy tongue shall feel the dagger, an thou answer not," he went on, his lips drawing back upon his teeth. "I have dealt with thy saracin folk before now-"

  "Lord," I cried, lest he add worse to my shame, "I was sent to lead this archer to thee, and to tell thee a tale-"

  "Who sent thee?"

  "The Sieur de Brienne."

  At this he fell silent, and I told him of the maiden Irene, and of the fight in the square.

  "Is that all the tale?" He rubbed his long chin and eyed me as if I were the bait of a trap. Verily it was a strange thing that I should have been sent to this man. The gray-haired Greek, thinking this a favorable instant, flung himself on his knees and embraced the sheriff's stirrup, and moaned when he was kicked back upon the ground.

  Nay, before then I had seen men of the breed of this Frank-wazirs and khayias-who had been given the staff of authority and had become swollen with the pride of their office.

  "Thou liest, Khalil-the dalnosel Irene abides at Edessa. She is poor enough in goods and gear by now-is she fair to look upon? Has she beauty?"

  "Aye, Lord."

  His eyes searched me, and he felt of chin and lips.

  "Well, we shall see this morsel for ourselves. I mind, she was betrothed to me four years ago-to me, Richard, Sieur de Brienne, now constable to Montserrat."

  Eh, before then I had ached, but now my soul burned. I led the way back to the Forum of Theodosius with laggard step, followed by the archer, and by the constable, who was Richard of Brienne. And he was followed perforce by the Greek girl, who shook her hair about her cheeks to hide her sorrow.

  Presently he bethought him of her, and bade the archer cut her loose. She fled into the shadows and the very vagabonds of the refuse piles gave her their cloaks.

  But my lord of Brienne told me that I was dull of ear and wit-that the Frank who had fought with me was the knight Richard d'Alencon, who was such another young fool. So said the constable, and I thought that surely there had been a feud between the twain.

  Four years had wrought a change in this Frank. He was handsome still, but his blue eyes were seamed, and his pride had altered into arrogance. He still held his heavy shoulders well, yet he talked with me, a saracin, of the beauties of the young Irene and how he had ceased to think of her since the death of her father, who had been a power in Edessa.

  "And the gray colt-Khutb-has she it still?"

  "Aye, Lord."

  Then it was that utter misery came upon me. This boar of a Frank who wore raking spurs would ride Khutb. This also was to come upon my head.

  Fool! Thrice fool, to listen to the talk of a dreaming maid and to think to find her youthful paladin in the flesh as she had pictured him. Surely Richard d'Alencon had seemed to me to be her betrothed, and as for the constable-only sorrow and the death of her dreams would come to her at his hand.

  A thought came to me, and I knew at once it was good. It is always good to end suspense, and a man may not journey past the spot where his grave is dug.

  Coining close to the mailed knee of the constable, I spoke softly:

  "Lord, there is another tale to be told. Nay, this is our way-"

  Taking the rein of the charger, I turned aside into the Jews' alley where the smoke was now ruddy-hued afar where flames glowed. The archer kept abreast me, but the squire and the men-at-arms strung out behind, picking their way through the heaps of garbage.

  "Lord, I dwelt in the palace of al-comes Menas, the Domastikos. There I saw thy man, thy kapitan."

  What had passed between the man of the constable and Menas I did not know, nor do I know now. Nevertheless, beyond all doubt the bargain held treachery in it.

  I heard the Sieur de Brienne catch his breath, and felt his hand move on his belt as he leaned lower to peer at me. The sun had set and the glow of fire was like a smoking torch afar.

  "It was agreed between thy kapitan and the Lord Menas, for a sum in gold-" I laughed up in his face. "Menas is a captive and he has a woman's tongue for secrets!"

  The hand of the constable gripped the short iron mace at his belt and swung it high, high above my head. He cursed and wrenched himself around in the saddle for the blow.

  And my hand that had been upon the hilt of my scimitar rose, and my curved blade passed upward and outward beneath his beard. He gave neither cry nor moan, but fell forward against the charger's neck as I drew my sword clear and turned to face the archer.

  Eh, that archer must have been heavy with sleep. His back was toward me and he was breathing like a bullock. It was no time for wondering. I thrust the dying constable from the saddle, and leaped into his seat, drawing tight the rein.

  The charger reared, and from behind came the shout of the constable's men, who had not seen in that dim light the blow that slew him, but who had heard the clang of his fall, and had seen me mount to the saddle.

  But the horse sprang forward, and I guided him aside into another alley. A bolt from a crossbow whipped over me, and the shouting grew until it dwindled and died behind me. The squire and the men-at-arms had stopped, perforce, to attend their lord.

  With a sword at my hip and a horse between my thighs I considered what next to do.

  Time pressed. I sought the registan, where I had left the young Richard. Looking back over my shoulder I beheld the giant statue of the white woman, with its face rose-hued from the reflection of flames. Aye, and a veil of smoke about its head.

  Constantinople was burning. And the voice of the city was as a woman's voice, shrill with the ululation of fear. Vagabonds and grandees, slaves and masters fled from they knew not what. Cursing the fleeing, groups of Venetian sailors with axes struggled to get nearer to the flames, to cut away some of the wooden buildings in its path. I saw a slave stab his master to death, and a soldier of Menas, who had cast aside helmet and red cloak, grapple with the slave for the purse of the dead man.

  I saw a few with a pack mounted on an ass, beating the ass in vain to make it go somewhither, and a throng of Frankish men-at-arms mocked him as they cooked supper and tended their hurts.

  At the Forum of Theodosius were many men, but neither the knight Richard nor the barbarian girl. A tanner, with a club upon one shoulder and a sack on the other, bade me look for them at the palace of Menas.

  "Ho, paynim! There is blood on thy horse. Hail to the new emperorDeath!"

  He staggered and laughed and wandered away. There was a howling as of wolves that pull down living meat. Eh, these were two-legged wolves that held the streets this night. No man knew who had gained the upper hand in the city; some said that the Franks had fled and there were two emperors.

  But in the courtyard of the Domastikos I saw hundreds of horses feeding quietly, tended by men-at-arms, and other Franks grouped around the pots and the fires that were barely cold from the morning meal of the dead Northmen.

  I dismounted and let loose the charger in the courtyard. My mind was made up. True is it written, "Not an arrow is sped but its destination is marked upon it." The constable of the Franks had found his grave in the dark alley, and I-it seemed to me the hour of my fate was at hand. What availed a jackal's flight?

  The inner court of the palace was deserted, except by the marble women whose hands upheld the roof; only two archers stood at the door beyond the whispering gallery. The niches upon the stairs were empty, the curtains pulled down.

  But in the gallery of the fountain the young Richard stood, his hands thrust through his belt, his helm unlaced and put aside. A boy squire held his shield in readiness to his hand.

  I looked for Irene and beheld her not. It was written that I should not set eyes on her again. In a chair by the ebony table sat my lord Menas, the henna-red standing forth on his pallid skin, his fingers groping at his throat. And apart from him swaggered a great figure in muddied surcoat and rusted mail.

  And this was the captain of the dead Richard of
Brienne.

  "Where is the constable?" the young Richard cried. "Came he with thee?"

  I made the salaam of greeting and answered thus:

  "He came not, nor will he ever come. He lies dead in the alleys behind the tanneries."

  Menas and the other looked upon me as if a djinn had risen from the fountain and confronted them, and the Montserrat captain cried out angrily. The youth listened to him and turned to me.

  "The Sieur de Brienne was not in the assault. He had command of the Montserrat and Bavarian companies that held our camp. No one among them has been wounded."

  "Wai," I said, "I saw him fall with a sword through his throat. His fate was at hand and no man may increase the number of his days."

  Suspicion flamed in the bearded face of the Montserrat captain, and he shook his head savagely. He glowered at Menas, and his hand jerked to his sword. The young knight laughed and stepped between them.

  "Nay, Barthelemi-I summoned thee to meet thy master. Go, now, and bury him. And-mark me, Barthelemi-I know you came hither to plot with this Greek prince. That was a traitor's mission. For the fair name and honor of thy master, seal thy lips. And go!"

  The man called Barthelemi looked long upon the youth, then turned on his heel and left as if indeed his lips had been sealed. At once the knight spoke to Menas, and the Greek started up from his seat.

  "Domastikos, my men have come to me with tidings. The Montserrat companies and the Bavarians hold the center of the city. They should have kept to their post, our camp in the plain. Thy men also were drawn up and waiting, yet not for my onset. I know the man Barthelemi came to thee and there was an agreement made-and now I say to thee this." He stepped to the side of the gallery and drew back with his own hand the curtain that had shut out the red glare of flames, the tumult of the streets and the gleaming lights of the Venetian galleys along the sea wall. "It is the hour, Menas, when the dregs of treachery are bitter. What passed between thee and our allies, I know not. But the hour is past when your Greeks and the Italians of Montserrat could have seized the city."

  Menas half smiled, as if the words of the young Frank had no meaning in his ears.