More Bywords Part 9

"Barely a league, sir."

It was hard to believe that the s.p.a.ce, so endless underground, was so short above, and Walter was utterly incredulous, till, climbing the side of the ravine so high as to be above the trees, Sigbert showed him the familiar landmarks known in hunting excursions with his father. He was all eagerness; but Sigbert insisted on waiting till past midnight before moving, that the men might have time to regain their vigour by sleep, and also that there might be time for the Saracens to fall into the deepest of all slumbers in full security.

The moon was low in the West when Sigbert roused the party, having calculated that it would light them on the way, but would be set by the time the attack was to be made.

For Mabel's security it was arranged that a small and most unwilling guard should remain with her, near enough to be able to perceive how matters went; and if there appeared to be defeat and danger for her brother, there would probably be full time to reach Tiberias even on foot.

However, the men of the party had little fear that flight would be needed, for, though perhaps no one would have thought of the scheme for himself, there was a general sense that what Sigbert devised was prudent, and that he would not imperil his young lord and lady upon a desperate venture.

Keeping well and compactly together, the little band moved on, along arid, rocky paths, starting now and then at the howls of the jackals which gradually gathered into a pack, and began to follow, as if-- some one whispered--they scented prey, "On whom?" was the question.

On a cliff looking down on the Arab camp, and above it on the dark ma.s.s of the castle, where, in the watch-tower, Sigbert had left a lamp burning, they halted just as the half-moon was dipping below the heights towards the Mediterranean. Here the Lady Mabel and her guard were to wait until they heard the sounds which to their practised ears would show how the fight went.

The Arab shout of victory they knew only too well, and it was to be the signal of flight towards Tiberias; but if success was with the a.s.sailants, the war-cry 'Deus vult,' and 'St. Hubert for Hundberg,'

were to be followed by the hymn of victory as the token that it was safe to descend.

All was dark, save for the magnificent stars of an Eastern night, as Mabel, her nurse, and the five men, commanded by the wounded Roger, stood silently praying while listening intently to the m.u.f.fled tramp of their own people, descending on the blacker ma.s.s denoting the Saracen tents.

The sounds of feet died away, only the jackal's whine and moan, were heard. Then suddenly came a flash of lights in different directions, and shouts here, there, everywhere, cries, yells, darkness, an undistinguishable medley of noise, the shrill shriek of the Moslem, and the exulting war-cry of the Christian ringing farther and farther off, in the long valley leading towards the Jordan fords.

Dawn began to break--overthrown tents could be seen. Mabel had time to wonder whether she was forgotten, when the hymn began to sound, pealing on her ears up the pa.s.s, and she had not had time for more than an earnest thanksgiving, and a few steps down the rocky pathway, before a horse's tread was heard, and a man-at-arms came towards her leading a slender, beautiful Arab horse. "All well! the young lord and all. The Saracens, surprised, fled without ever guessing the number of their foes. The Sheik made prisoner in his tent. Ay, and a greater still, the Emir Hussein Bey, who had arrived to take possession of the castle only that very evening.

What a ransom he would pay! Horses and all were taken, the spoil of the country round, and Master Sigbert had sent this palfrey for Lady Mabel to ride down."

Perhaps Sigbert, in all his haste and occupation, had been able to discern that the gentle little mare was not likely to display the Arab steed's perilous attachment to a master, for Mabel was safely mounted, and ere sunrise was greeted by her joyous and victorious brother. "Is not this n.o.ble, sister? Down went the Pagan dogs before my good sword! There are a score of them dragged off to the dead man's hollow for the jackals and vultures; but I kept one fellow uppermost to show you the gash I made! Come and see."

Roger here observed that the horse might grow restive at the carcase, and Mabel was excused the sight, though Walter continued to relate his exploits, and demand whether he had not won his spurs by so grand a ruse and victory.

"Truly I think Sigbert has," said his sister. "It was all his doing."

"Sigbert, an English churl! What are you thinking of, Mabel?"

"I am thinking to whom the honour is due."

"You are a mere child, sister, or you would know better. Sigbert is a very fair squire; but what is a squire's business but to put his master in the way of honour? Do not talk such folly."

Mabel was silenced, and after being conducted across the bare trampled ground among the tents of the Arabs, she re-entered the castle, where in the court groups of disarmed Arabs stood, their bournouses pulled over their brows, their long lances heaped in a corner, grim and disconsolate at their discomfiture and captivity.

A repast of stewed kid, fruit, and sherbet was prepared for her and her brother from the spoil, after which both were weary enough to throw themselves on their cushions for a long sound sleep.

Mabel slept the longer, and when she awoke, she found that the sun was setting, and that supper was nearly ready.

Walter met her just as she had arranged her dress, to bid nurse make ready her bales, for they were to start at dawn on the morrow for Tiberias. It was quite possible that the enemy might return in force to deliver their Emir. A small garrison, freshly provisioned, could hold out the castle until relief could be sent; but it would be best to conduct the two important prisoners direct to the King, to say nothing of Walter's desire to present them and to display these testimonies of his prowess before the Court of Jerusalem.

The Emir was a tall, slim, courteous Arab, with the exquisite manners of the desert. Both he and the Sheik were invited to the meal. Both looked startled and shocked at the entrance of the fair- haired damsel, and the Sheik crouched in a corner, with a savage glare in his eye like a freshly caught wild beast, though the Emir sat cross-legged on the couch eating, and talking in the LINGUA FRANCA, which was almost a native tongue, to the son and daughter of the Crusader. From him Walter learnt that King Fulk was probably at Tiberias, and this quickened the eagerness of all for a start. It took place in the earliest morning, so as to avoid the heat of the day. How different from the departure in the dark underground pa.s.sage!

Horses enough had been captured to afford the Emir and the Sheik each his own beautiful steed (the more readily that the creatures could hardly have been ridden by any one else), and their parole was trusted not to attempt to escape. Walter, Mabel, Sigbert, and Roger were also mounted, and a.s.ses were found in the camp for the nurse, and the men who had been hurt in the night's surprise.

The only mischance on the way was that in the noontide halt, just as the shimmer of the Lake of Galilee met their eyes, under a huge terebinth-tree, growing on a rock, when all, except Sigbert, had composed themselves to a siesta, there was a sudden sound of loud and angry altercation, and, as the sleepers started up, the Emir was seen grasping the bridle of the horse on which the Sheik sat downcast and abject under the storm of fierce indignant words hurled at him for thus degrading his tribe and all Islam by breaking his plighted word to the Christian.

This was in Arabic, and the Emir further insisted on his prostrating himself to ask pardon, while he himself in LINGUA FRANCA explained that the man was of a low and savage tribe of Bedouins, who knew not how to keep faith.

Walter broke out in loud threats, declaring that the traitor dog ought to be hung up at once on the tree, or dragged along with hands tied behind him; but Sigbert contented himself with placing a man at each side of his horse's head, as they proceeded on their way to the strongly fortified town of the ancient Herods, perched at the head of the dark gray Lake of Galilee, shut in by mountain peaks. The second part of the journey was necessarily begun in glowing heat, for it was most undesirable to have to spend a night in the open country, and it was needful to push on to a fortified hospice or monastery of St. John, which formed a half-way house.

Weary, dusty, athirst, they came in sight of it in the evening; and Walter and Roger rode forward to request admittance. The porter begged them to wait when he heard that the party included women and Saracen prisoners; and Walter began to storm. However, a few moments more brought a tall old Knight Hospitalier to the gate, and he made no difficulties as to lodging the Saracens in a building at the end of the Court, where they could be well guarded; and Mabel and her nurse were received in a part of the precincts appropriated to female pilgrims.

It was a bare and empty place, a round turret over the gateway, with a stone floor, and a few mats rolled up in the corner, mats which former pilgrims had not left in an inviting condition.

However, the notions of comfort of the twelfth century were not exacting. Water to wash away the dust of travel was brought to the door, and was followed by a substantial meal on roasted kid and thin cakes of bread. Sigbert came up with permission for the women to attend compline, though only strictly veiled; and Mabel knelt in the little cool cryptlike chapel, almost like the late place of her escape, and returned thanks for the deliverance from their recent peril.

Then, fresh mats and cushions having been supplied, the damsel and her nurse slept profoundly, and were only roused by a bell for a ma.s.s in the darkness just before dawn, after which they again set forth, the commander of the Hospice himself, and three or four knights, accompanying them, and conversing familiarly with the Emir on the current interests of Palestine.

About half-way onward, the glint and glitter of spears was seen amid a cloud of dust on the hill-path opposite. The troop drew together on their guard, though, as the Hospitalier observed, from the side of Tiberias an enemy could scarcely come. A scout was sent forward to reconnoitre; but, even before he came spurring joyously back, the golden crosses of Jerusalem had been recognised, and confirmed his tidings that it was the rearguard of the army, commanded by King Fulk himself, on the way to the relief of the Castle of Gebel-Aroun.

In a brief half-hour more, young Walter de Hundberg, with his sister by his side, was kneeling before an alert, slender, wiry figure in plain chamois leather, with a worn sunburnt face and keen blue eyes-- Fulk of Anjou--who had resigned his French county to lead the crusading cause in Palestine.

"Stand up, fair youth, and tell thy tale, and how thou hast forestalled our succour."

Walter told his tale of the blockaded castle, the underground pa.s.sage, and the dexterous surprise of the besiegers, ending by presenting, not ungracefully, his captives to the pleasure of the King.

"Why, this is well done!" exclaimed Fulk. "Thou art a youth of promise, and wilt well be a prop to our grandson's English throne.

Thou shalt take knighthood from mine own hand as thy prowess well deserveth. And thou, fair damsel, here is one whom we could scarce hold back from rushing with single hand to deliver his betrothed.

Sir Raymond of Courtwood, you are balked of winning thy lady at the sword's point, but thou wilt scarce rejoice the less."

A dark-eyed, slender young knight, in bright armour, drew towards Mabel, and she let him take her hand; but she was intent on something else, and exclaimed--

"Oh, sir, Sir King, let me speak one word! The guerdon should not be only my brother's. The device that served us was--our squire's."

The Baron of Courtwood uttered a fierce exclamation. Walter muttered, "Mabel, do not be such a meddling fool"; but the King asked, "And who may this same squire be?"

"An old English churl," said Walter impatiently. "My father took him as his squire for want of a better."

"And he has been like a father to us," added Mabel

"Silence, sister! It is not for you to speak!" petulantly cried Walter. "Not that the Baron of Courtwood need be jealous," added he, laughing somewhat rudely. "Where is the fellow? Stand forth, Sigbert."

Travel and heat-soiled, sunburnt, gray, and ragged, armour rusted, leathern garment stained, the rugged figure came forward, footsore and lame, for he had given up his horse to an exhausted man-at-arms.

A laugh went round at the bare idea of the young lady's preferring such a form to the splendid young knight, her destined bridegroom.

"Is this the esquire who hath done such good service, according to the young lady?" asked the King.

"Ay, sir," returned Walter; "he is true and faithful enough, though nothing to be proud of in looks; and he served us well in my sally and attack."

"It was his--" Mabel tried to say, but Sigbert hushed her.

"Let be, let be, my sweet lady; it was but my bounden duty."

"What's that? Speak out what pa.s.ses there," demanded young Courtwood, half-jealously still.