Swords From the West (59 page)

As the minstrel sang on, he felt a restlessness in his veins. A craving to wander, as he had often done with his comrades, beyond the border and try his strength against foes.

"Faith!" he cried, spurring on the big bay. "We loiter apace."

Abdullah put aside his lute and brought up the black stallion, bridle to bridle.

"Aforetime," he observed, "I made that song for my master, who is master of all men."

Robert did not ask him who this might be, because at that moment they heard rising from the depths behind and below them a hum of human voices.

"Te Deum laudamus. We praise Thee, 0 Lord-we praise and magnify Thee forever."

It was the chant of the pilgrims, who were visible only as a thin line of dust moving into the maw of the Orontes, where the network of gorges was shadowed by the early sunset in royal purple, the pinnacles crowned with red and gold. The two men paused to look back.

"See, how Allah hath hung in the sky the crimson banners of death," remarked Abdullah. "And we-who knows what days are before us?"

Chapter II

A Year and a Day

The glory of the sunset had dwindled when the two riders halted without the barbican gate of the castle of Montserrat. In the western sky the afterglow ran the length of the horizon, forming the semblance of a dullred river flowing above the earth.

Light glimmered from the upper embrasures of the black donjon. The wall behind the moat shut out the courtyard from the travelers' sight; but they heard voices and the clinking of bowls on wooden tables and a snatch of song.

Robert, who was mightily hungry, struck the bars of the peephole with his mailed fist. In the hall of the main keel he knew that Hugo, his liege lord, Marquis of Montserrat and master of Antioch, sat at table with a goodly company. And the castellan was eager to greet his peers, who thought him dead after an absence of two years in Egypt, and to satisfy his hunger.

"Ho, the gate!" he shouted. "Open in the name of Montserrat."

But the face of the warder that peered through the barred opening in the portal did not withdraw.

"Thy name! And thy companion's name! Small thanks would be ours, I trow, if we unbarred to a Saracen after sundown."

"Sir Robert, castellan of Antioch, am I-Longu'-espee, Longsword, forsooth. And he with me is a paynim minstrel with a song for the marquis. What now?"

Robert's mustache twitched in a grin of amusement as he heard an exclamation, followed by whispered voices. Other faces pressed to the bars to scrutinize him in the dim light.

"Out upon thee for a lying wight," growled one. "Sir Robert was racked, carted, and buried by the accursed mamelukes."

Behind the gate was heard the grinding clink of a crossbow, wound up to speed a shaft. Robert turned to Abdullah.

"Minstrel, are you resolved to enter this hold? Methinks they give but an ill welcome to wayfarers-though Hugo loves well a good tale and a tuneful voice. Forget not that I stand in no way your protector, and what befalls is e'en your hazard."

"So be it."

"'s death! " Robert kicked the gate impatiently. "Set wide the gate and make an end of words. Fetch a cresset, varlets, or I'll set the pack of you aswim in the moat."

Someone remarked that this sounded rarely like the Longsword, and a torch was brought while they examined the visitors. Then the bars were let down slowly, and Robert pushed inside, followed by Abdullah.

A bearded captain of the warders crossed himself with a muttered-"Mary preserve us-'tis he!"

The men who were lowering the drawbridge glanced at each other and whispered behind their hands, and it was several moments before the castellan and his companion dismounted in the courtyard and were greeted by a staring squire.

Word of their arrival had passed to the main hall before them. A slim poursuivant who bowed low at the door seemed to share the general hesitation in announcing them, and Robert was fain to chuckle again at the bewilderment of those who greeted him. At the end of the lofty hall candles gleamed on the table set on a dais for the master of the castle and his guests, and here a man stood up to peer over the candles as the knight strode forward between the long tables of the henchmen and commoners.

"Madre a dios!"

His broad, olive face paled, and he grasped the arm of his chair.

"If ye be a spirit, why-why, know then that I have mourned you right hardily, having given to the shave-pates a ten shekels, aye, and thirty soldi for clank of bell and patter of prayer for this your soul. If ye be Sir Robert, lad, i' the flesh, why-"

"That am I, and sharp-set with hunger into the bargain."

"Ha, that would be the Longu'-espee. Why boil me, lad, but we heard that you were cut down at the gate of Damietta. Aye, a Templar saw you carried within, and shortly thereafter your bare body hung out on the wall headless, to despite your comrades."

Hugo shook his head doubtfully-a craggy head, yet covered with curled ringlets, oiled after the fashion of his native Italy. His broad, stooped body was clad in silk, covered with a damask mantle, fur-trimmed, that fell below the toes of his velvet shoes, which were turned up in the latest style and held by silver chains running from his girdle. His nearsighted eyes blinked at Abdullah, and Robert made known the minstrel.

"A fair greeting have we," quoth the marquis, fingering his chin, "for trouvere and dechanteur, for makers and tellers of tales. But a noose and a fire beneath for spies. Bid him to the lower board."

He turned to his companions.

"Messires, give greeting to this Englishman who is well come, having cheated the Saracens yet another time-though I vow to St. Bacchus my spleen rose to my gullet when he fronted us."

After removing his bascinet and handing his shield to a squire-atarms, Robert hooked his sword over a chair and seated himself to wash his hands in a silver bowl offered by a serving knave. Hugo divided his attention between his footgear and his guest impatiently until Robert had stayed his hunger.

"016, knaves-wine of Cyprus for our guests. Come, lad, the tale! Messer Guiblo-" he nodded at a thin, handsome Venetian whose rich velvets were the envy of the poorer liegemen-"made search for you in the camp of the king, and all reports had you dead."

He bent forward to lean on the table addressing the other guests.

"Know, messers, that Sir Robert, called Longu'-espee, did once save for us our city of Antioch, being rarely skilled at the making of stone-casters and fire-throwers, aye, at counterwalls and curtains, chat-castels and all the engines of siege."

Besides the Venetian, Guiblo, a young Provencal, sat at the side of the marquis. Hugo spoke of him as the Sieur de la Marra, a Hospitaler. On the far side of the knight of the Marra was a dark-faced Lombard whom Robert knew as Hugo's seneschal. Other warriors and a scattering of Venetian merchants he did not know. No other Englishmen sat at the table. But Robert had noticed a woman who had the chair on the right of the marquis.

"The Madonna del Bengli -" Hugo followed his glance-"honors our poor dwelling of Montserrat for sake of the hunting and hawking in the hills."

Robert rose and bowed courteously, wondering why such a woman should come over the valley of the Orontes for the sake of a little sport. She was a Venetian undoubtedly, and, he learned later, the cousin of the man Guiblo. Certainly she was beautiful and aware of it, for her bronzered hair was scented and coiled skillfully on her bare shoulders; her white skin gave no evidence of the sun's touch.

"Equally honored are we," she added lightly, "in such a visitor and his grace of Montserrat in such a vassal."

Her curving lips accented the word vassal, and she turned to stare at Robert out of clear blue eyes. Guiblo leaned back to pick his teeth and exchange a word with the seneschal. Robert was little skilled in the manners of a court, or in play of words, yet it struck him that his welcome at Montserrat lacked of heartiness.

"By Venus, her girdle," lisped the young knight of the Hospital, whose cheeks were warmed by wine, "would we had a Provencal to make song out of Longu'-espee's tale. Nay, his name is already known from Antioch to Ascalon. Didst bind the infidel jailers with their own fetters, Sir Robert-or win the heart and abetment of some fair Saracen maid, as the fashion is?"

"Not so," made answer Robert bluntly. "Your Grace, I bring but two words. One a warning, one a request."

Hugo set down his cup.

"Then let us have the warning."

"A hundred Saracens armed and mounted for war passed through your border within the day."

"Now by the slipper of our fair madonna, that could not be. Our watchers on the borderland have seen no foray pass. Nay-"

"I saw the tracks, across the river."

The marquis pursed his lips and shook his head, then signed for a servant to fill the Longsword's cup.

"I pray you, Messer Englishman," put in Guiblo incredulously, "how could you discern from tracks in the sand what manner of men passed over? "

"How? The hoofs were small-blooded Arabs or Turkomans. They were unshod and so from the desert. To my thinking no pack-animals were among them, and so each horse had its rider."

Mistress Bengli raised slim fingers in polite surprise, and by so doing displayed gleaming sapphire and turquoise rings, rarely fashioned.

"Truly we have a magician with us. Do they not say that the Egyptians are masters of the black arts?"

"Some band of villagers," scoffed Hugo, "chanced to wander along the river. And now your boon. Hawk or horse, or-a fair maid of Circassia for your beguilement; 'tis granted ere asked."

"My life it is," Robert smiled, "I seek at your hand."

"Misericarde-how?"

"At the Damietta wall I was struck down by a mameluke's mace. It is true they pulled my body within the gates; but the hurt mended, and in time I could mount a horse. Being captive, they held me for ransom, yet could no letter be sent in the turmoil until truce was made between Saracens and Croises. Then did the paynim emirs grant me a year and a day to journey to my overlord and raise the payment for the freedom of my body."

Some of the Venetians looked skeptical, for seldom did the enemy put trust in the crusaders to this extent. Yet they were aware that the Longsword had before this kept his promises to the Moslems.

"Well," observed Hugo, "you are here, and you are free. The Cairenes cannot lay hand on you now. On my life, I was not aware that you had a tongue to trick those unshriven dogs."

"I gave my word to return to their camp if the ransom is not in their hands within a year and a day."

"Oho, a prayer and a gold candlestick to the cathedral at Antioch will eke shrive you of a pledge to infidels. So say the monks."

Robert shook his head gravely. "My word was passed."

"But, fool, the mamelukes would tie you to horses and split you. You have emptied too many of their saddles and wrought them woe too often for them to forego the pleasure of torturing you."

He glanced sidewise at the set face of the youth and emptied his goblet, then laid his hand on the shoulder of the woman.

"Do you, make shift to alter the mind of our stubborn vassal; perchance he will listen to reason from other lips than ours-"

Seeing that Robert frowned, he thought for a moment. "What then is the sum of your ransom?"

"Two thousand broad pieces of gold."

"Horns of the fiend! 'Tis the release of a baron of the realm."

A smile touched the lips of the knight.

"My lord, having fought against Longsword, it chances that the Saracens do hold me to be greater than I am."

The demand of the vassal was a just one. By the feudal laws Robert was bound to serve in the wars of Montserrat, and to come mounted and fully armed at the summons of his lord. For this service, instead of a fief and lands, Hugo had appointed him castellan of Antioch, granting him the payment and perquisites of his office-for though the Englishman was young for such responsibility he had shown his ability to handle the defense of a stronghold against siege. If Hugo had been taken captive, Robert would have been obliged to raise his share of the marquis' ransom. So he had sworn when he placed his hands between the knees of Hugo, and his lord was equally bound.

The marquis flung himself back in his chair with an oath, and Mistress Bengli studied the jewels on her fingers, a slight frown creasing her smooth forehead.

"Two thousand byzants!" he muttered. "It passes reason-to raise such a sum for a mere punctilio, a splitting of hairs. Mort de ma vie! Shall we mortgage our souls to swell the wallets of filthy unbelievers. Eh?"

The woman close to his ear spoke softly, and the Italian shrugged.

"You went to Egypt on no mission of mine, Longsword; and, now I think of it, you are cursed with wandering. Let the matter stand for the nonce, and we will talk of it at a better time."

"Not so, Lord," objected Robert at once. "If you cannot advance to me the entire sum, I must make shift to find a share of it, and perchance sell my office of castellan."

"Pardon, messire," put in the Venetian, Guiblo, "you are no longer castellan, for the king hath appointed another."

"Who?"

"Aye, now it comes to Iny mind," laughed the marquis, "our new monarch out of France bath brought with him a vassal who bath rendered loyal service to the State. Believing you dead, he did appoint Messer Guiblo here castellan."

The thin Venetian bowed.

"I regret the mischance suffered by the youth, and I would that he had seen fit to endeavor to advise his liege of his situation while in Egypt."

"I give you thanks for your courtesy," responded Robert, frowning; and Guiblo's eyes narrowed.

The Englishman had not kept his disappointment out of his voice. True, he could not quarrel with the turn matters had taken. The king whose standard he had followed, Baldwin, had died in the last years when Jerusalem had been lost, and the baron who had been chosen to succeed him was a favorite of the French king. But now, unless the marquis aided him, as he was bound to do, Robert would have no means of raising his ransom in Palestine. And not a man present at the table doubted that the Englishman would keep his promise to return to Damietta and his captors if the sum were not raised.