Truly they seemed a strange and motley set of men. Considering them as the young and stately widow Masouda moved from one to the other, talking to each in turn while she attended to their wants, it came into Godwin’s mind that they might be spies meeting there to gain or exchange information, or even to make report to their hostess, in whose pay perhaps they were. Still if so, of this they showed no sign. Indeed, for the most part they spoke2 in French, which all of them understood, on general matters, such as the heat of the weather, the price of transport animals or merchandise, and the cities whither they purposed to travel.
The trader Thomas, it appeared, had intended to start for Jerusalem that morning with his goods. But the riding mule3 he had bought proved to be lame5 from a prick6 in the hoof7, nor were all his hired camels come down from the mountains, so that he must wait a few days, or so he said.
Under these circumstances, he offered the brethren his company in their ramblings about the town. This they thought it wise not to refuse, although they felt little confidence in the man, believing that it was he who had found out their story and true names and revealed them to Masouda, either through talkativeness or with a purpose.
However these things might be, this Thomas proved of service to them, since, although he was but just landed, he seemed to know all that had passed in Syria since he left it, and all that was passing then. Thus he told them how Guy of Lusignan had just made himself king in Jerusalem on the death of the child Baldwin, and how Raymond of Tripoli refused to acknowledge him and was about to be besieged9 in Tiberias. How Saladin also was gathering10 a great host at Damascus to make war upon the Christians11, and many other things, false and true.
In his company, then, and sometimes in that of the other guests— none of whom showed any curiosity concerning them, though whether this was from good manners or for other reasons they could not be sure—the brethren passed the hours profitably enough.
It was on the third morning of their stay that their hostess Masouda, with whom as yet they had no further private talk, asked them if they had not said that they wished to buy horses. On their answering “Yes,” she added that she had told a certain man to bring two for them to look at, which were now in the stable beyond the garden. Thither12 they went, accompanied by Masouda, to find a grave Arab, wrapped in a garment of camel’s hair and carrying a spear in his hand, standing13 at the door of the cave which served the purpose of a stable, as is common in the East where the heat is so great. As they advanced towards him, Masouda said:
“If you like the horses, leave me to bargain, and seem to understand nothing of my talk.”
The Arab, who took no notice of them, saluted14 Masouda, and said to her in Arabic:
“Is it then for Franks that I have been ordered to bring the two priceless ones?”
“What is that to you, my Uncle, Son of the Sand?” she asked. “Let them be led forth15 that I may know whether they are those for which I sent.”
The man turned and called into the door of the cave.
“Flame, come hither!” As he spoke, there was a sound of hoofs16, and through the low archway leapt the most beautiful horse that ever their eyes had seen. It was grey in colour, with flowing mane and tail, and on its forehead was a black star; not over tall, but with a barrel-like shape of great strength, small-headed, large-eyed; wide-nostriled, big-boned, but fine beneath the knee, and round-hoofed. Out it sprang snorting; then seeing its master, the Arab, checked itself and stood still by him as though it had been turned to stone.
“Come hither, Smoke,” called the Arab again, and another horse appeared and ranged itself by the first. In size and shape it was the same, but the colour was coal-black and the star upon its forehead white. Also the eye was more fiery17.
“These are the horses,” said the Arab, Masouda translating. “They are twins, seven years old and never backed until they were rising six, cast at a birth by the swiftest mare18 in Syria, and of a pedigree that can be counted for a hundred years.”
“Horses indeed!” said Wulf. “Horses indeed! But what is the price of them?”
Masouda repeated the question in Arabic, whereon the man replied in the same tongue with a slight shrug19 of the shoulders.
“Be not foolish. You know this is no question of price, for they are beyond price. Say what you will.”
“He says,” said Masouda, “that it is a hundred gold pieces for the pair. Can you pay as much?”
The brethren looked at each other. The sum was large.
“Such horses have saved men’s lives ere now,” added Masouda, “and I do not think that I can ask him to take less, seeing that, did he but know it, in Jerusalem they could be sold for thrice as much. But if you wish, I could lend you money, since doubtless you have jewels or other articles of value you could give as security—that ring in your breast, for instance, Peter.”
“We have the gold itself,” answered Wulf, who would have paid to his last piece for those horses.
“They buy,” said Masouda.
“They buy, but can they ride?” asked the Arab. “These horses are not for children or pilgrims. Unless they can ride well they shall not have them—no, not even if you ask it of me.”
Godwin said that he thought so—at least, they would try. Then the Arab, leaving the horses standing there, went into the stable, and with the help of two of the inn servants, brought out bridles20 and saddles unlike any they had seen. They were but thickly-quilted pads stretching far back upon the horses’ loins, with strong hide girths strapped21 with wool and chased stirrups fashioned like half hoofs. The bits also were only snaffles without curbs22.
When all was ready and the stirrups had been let down to the length they desired, the Arab motioned to them to mount. As they prepared to do so, however, he spoke some word, and suddenly those meek23, quiet horses were turned into two devils, which reared up on their hind24 legs and threatened them with their teeth and their front hoofs, that were shod with thin plates of iron. Godwin stood wondering, but Wulf, who was angry at the trick, got behind the horses, and watching his chance, put his hands upon the flanks of the stallion named Smoke, and with one spring leapt into the saddle. Masouda smiled, and even the Arab muttered “Good,” while Smoke, feeling himself backed, came to the ground again and became quiet as a sheep. Then the Arab spoke to the horse Flame, and Godwin was allowed to vault25 into the saddle also.
“Where shall we go?” he asked.
Masouda said they would show them, and, accompanied by her and the Arab, they walked the horses until they were quite clear of the town, to find themselves on a road that had the sea to the left, and to the right a stretch of flat land, some of it cultivated, above which rose the steep and stony26 sides of hills. Here on this road the brethren trotted27 and cantered the horses to and fro, till they began to be at home in their strange saddles who from childhood had ridden barebacked in the Essex marshes28, and to learn what pressure on the bit was needed to check or turn them. When they came back to where the pair stood, Masouda said that if they were not afraid the seller wished to show them that the horses were both strong and swift.
“We fear no ride that he dares to take himself,” answered Wulf angrily, whereon the Arab smiled grimly and said something in a low voice to Masouda. Then, placing his hand upon Smoke’s flank, he leapt up behind Wulf, the horse never stirring.
“Say, Peter, are you minded to take a companion for this ride?” asked Masouda; and as she spoke a strange look came into her eyes, a wild look that was new to the brethren.
“Surely,” answered Godwin, “but where is the companion?”
Her reply was to do as the Arab had done, and seating herself straddle-legged behind Godwin, to clasp him around the middle.
“Truly you look a pretty pilgrim now, brother,” said Wulf, laughing aloud, while even the grave Arab smiled and Godwin muttered between his teeth the old proverb “Woman on croup, devil on bow.” But aloud he said, “I am indeed honoured; yet, friend Masouda, if harm should come of this, do not blame me.”
“No harm will come—to you, friend Peter; and I have been so long cooped in an inn that I, who am desert-born, wish for a gallop29 on the mountains with a good horse beneath me and a brave knight30 in front. Listen, you brethren; you say you do not fear; then leave your bridles loose, and where’er we go and whate’er we meet seek not to check or turn the horses Flame and Smoke. Now, Son of the Sand, we will test these nags31 of which you sing so loud a song. Away, and let the ride be fast and far!”
“On your head be it then, daughter,” answered the old Arab. “Pray Allah that these Franks can sit a horse!”
Then his sombre eyes seemed to take fire, and gripping the encircling saddle girth, he uttered some word of command, at which the stallions threw up their heads and began to move at a long, swinging gallop towards the mountains a mile away. At first they went over cultivated land off which the crops had been already cut, taking two or three ditches and a low wall in their stride so smoothly32 that the brethren felt as though they were seated upon swallows. Then came a space of sandy sward, half a mile or more, where their pace quickened, after which they began to breast the long slope of a hill, picking their way amongst its stones like cats.
Ever steeper it grew, till in places it was so sheer that Godwin must clutch the mane of Flame, and Masouda must cling close to Godwin’s middle to save themselves from slipping off behind. Yet, notwithstanding the double weights they bore, those gallant33 steeds never seemed to falter34 or to tire. At one spot they plunged35 through a mountain stream. Godwin noted37 that not fifty yards to their right this stream fell over a little precipice38 cutting its way between cliffs which were full eighteen feet from bank to bank, and thought to himself that had they struck it lower down, that ride must have ended. Beyond the stream lay a hundred yards or so of level ground, and above it still steeper country, up which they pushed their way through bushes, till at length they came to the top of the mountain and saw the plain they had left lying two miles or more below them.
“These horses climb hills like goats,” Wulf said; “but one thing is certain: we must lead them down.”
Now on the top of the mountain was a stretch of land almost flat and stoneless, over which they cantered forward, gathering speed as the horses recovered their wind till the pace grew fast. Suddenly the stallions threw themselves on to their haunches and stopped, as well they might, for they were on the verge39 of a chasm40, at whose far foot a river brawled41 in foam42. For a moment they stood; then, at some word from the Arab, wheeled round, and, bearing to the left, began to gallop back across the tableland, until they approached the edge of the mountainside, where the brethren thought that they would stop.
But Masouda cried to the Arab, and the Arab cried to the horses, and Wulf cried to Godwin in the English tongue, “Show no fear, brother. Where they go, we can go.”
“Pray God that the girths may hold,” answered Godwin, leaning back against the breast of Masouda behind him. As he spoke they began to descend43 the hill, slowly at first, afterwards faster and yet more fast, till they rushed downwards44 like a whirlwind.
How did those horses keep their footing? They never knew, and certainly none that were bred in England could have done so. Yet never falling, never stumbling even, on they sped, taking great rocks in their stride, till at length they reached the level piece of land above the stream, or rather above the cleft45 full eighteen feet in width at the foot of which that stream ran. Godwin saw and turned cold. Were these folk mad that they would put double-laden46 horses at such a jump? If they hung back, if they missed their stride, if they caught hoof or sprang short, swift death was their portion.
But the old Arab seated behind Wulf only shouted aloud, and Masouda only tightened47 her round arms about Godwin’s middle and laughed in his ear. The horses heard the shout, and seeming to see what was before them, stretched out their long necks and rushed forward over the flat ground.
Now they were on the edge of the terrible place, and, like a man in a dream, Godwin noted the sharp, sheer lips of the cliff, the gulf48 between them, and the white foam of the stream a score of yards beneath. Then he felt the brave horse Flame gather itself together and next instant fly into the air like a bird. Also—and was this dream indeed, or even as they sped over that horrible pit did he feel a woman’s lips pressed upon his cheek? He was not sure. Who could have been at such a time, with death beneath them? Perchance it was the wind that kissed him, or a lock of her loose hair which struck across his face.
Indeed, at the moment he thought of other things than women’s lips—those of the black and yawning gulf, for instance.
They swooped49 through the air, the white foam vanished, they were safe. No; the hind feet of Flame had missed their footing, they fell, they were lost. A struggle. How tight those arms clung about him. How close that face was pressed against his own. Lo! it was over. They were speeding down the hill, and alongside of the grey horse Flame raced the black horse Smoke. Wulf on its back, with eyes that seemed to be starting from his head, was shouting, “A D’Arcy! A D’Arcy!” and behind him, turban gone, and white burnous floating like a pennon on the air, the grim-visaged Arab, who also shouted.
Swifter and yet swifter. Did ever horses gallop so fast? Swifter and yet swifter, till the air sang past them and the ground seemed to fly away beneath. The slope was done. They were on the flat; the flat was past, they were in the fields; the fields were left behind; and, behold50! side by side, with hanging heads and panting flanks, the horses Smoke and Flame stood still upon the road, their sweating hides dyed red in the light of the sinking sun.
The grip loosened from about Godwin’s middle. It had been close; on Masouda’s round and naked arms were the prints of the steel shirt beneath his tunic51, for she slipped to the ground and stood looking at them. Then she smiled one of her slow, thrilling smiles, gasped52 and said: “You ride well, pilgrim Peter, and pilgrim John rides well also, and these are good horses; and, oh! that ride was worth the riding, even though death had been its end. Son of the Sand, my Uncle, what say you?”
“That I grow old for such gallops—two on one horse, with nothing to win.”
“Nothing to win?” said Masouda. “I am not so sure!” and she looked at Godwin. “Well, you have sold your horses to pilgrims who can ride, and they have proved them, and I have had a change from my cooking in the inn, to which I must now get me back again.”
Wulf wiped the sweat from his brow, shook his head, and muttered:
“I always heard the East was full of madmen and devils; now I know that it is true.”
But Godwin said nothing.
They led the horses back to the inn, where the brethren groomed53 them down under the direction of the Arab, that the gallant beasts might get used to them, which, after carrying them upon that fearful ride, they did readily enough. Then they fed them with chopped barley54, ear and straw together, and gave them water to drink that had stood in the sun all day to warm, in which the Arab mixed flour and some white wine.
Next morning at the dawn they rose to see how Flame and Smoke fared after that journey. Entering the stable, they heard the sound of a man weeping, and hidden in the shadow, saw by the low light of the morning that it was the old Arab, who stood with his back to them, an arm around the neck of each horse, which he kissed from time to time. Moreover, he talked aloud in his own tongue to them, calling them his children, and saying that rather would he sell his wife and his sister to the Franks.
“But,” he added, “she has spoken—why, I know not—and I must obey. Well, at least they are gallant men and worthy55 of such steeds. Half I hoped that you and the three of us and my niece Masouda, the woman with the secret face and eyes that have looked on fear, might perish in the cleft of the stream; but it was not willed of Allah. So farewell, Flame, and farewell, Smoke, children of the desert, who are swifter than arrows, for never more shall I ride you in battle. Well, at least I have others of your matchless blood.”
Then Godwin touched Wulf on the shoulder, and they crept away from the stable without the Arab knowing that they had been there, for it seemed shameful56 to pry57 upon his grief. When they reached their room again Godwin asked Wulf:
“Why does this man sell us those noble steeds?”
“Because his niece Masouda has bid him so to do,” he answered.
“And why has she bidden him?”
“Ah!” replied Wulf. “He called her ‘the woman with the secret face and eyes that have looked on fear,’ didn’t he? Well, for reasons that have to do with his family perhaps, or with her secrets, or us, with whom she plays some game of which we know neither the beginning nor the end. But, Brother Godwin, you are wiser than I. Why do you ask me these riddles58? For my part, I do not wish to trouble my head about them. All I know is that the game is a brave one, and I mean to go through with it, especially as I believe that this playing will lead us to Rosamund.”
“May it lead us nowhere worse,” answered Godwin with something like a groan59, for he remembered that dream of his which he dreamed in mid-air between the edges of black rock with the bubbling foam beneath.
But to Wulf he said nothing of this dream.
When the sun was fully60 up they prepared to go out again, taking with them the gold to pay the Arab; but on opening the door of their room they met Masouda, apparently61 about to knock upon it.
“Whither go you, friends Peter and John, and so early?” she asked, looking at them with a smile upon her beautiful face that was so thrilling and seemed to hide so much mystery.
Godwin thought to himself that it was like another smile, that on the face of the woman-headed, stone sphinx which they had seen set up in the market place of Beirut.
“To visit our horses and pay your uncle, the Arab, his money,” answered Wulf.
“Indeed! I thought I saw you do the first an hour ago, and as for the second, it is useless; Son of the Sand has gone.”
“Gone! With the horses?”
“
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