He asked it of Wulf, but Masouda rose without a word and fetched the water, in which she mingled2 wine. Godwin drank of it and his faintness left him, so that he was able to stand up and move his arms and legs.
“Why,” he said, “it is nothing; I was only shaken. That lioness did not hurt me at all.”
“But you hurt the lioness,” said Wulf, with a laugh. “By St. Chad a good thrust!” and he pointed3 to the long sword driven up to the hilt in the brute’s breast. “Why, I swear I could not have made a better myself.”
“I think it was the lion that thrust,” answered Godwin. “I only held the sword straight. Drag it out, brother, I am still too weak.”
So Wulf set his foot upon the breast of the lion and tugged4 and tugged until at length he loosened the sword, saying as he strained at it:
“Oh! what an Essex hog5 am I, who slept through it all, never waking until Masouda seized me by the hair, and I opened my eyes to see you upon the ground with this yellow beast crouched6 on the top of you like a hen on a nest egg. I thought that it was alive and smote7 it with my sword, which, had I been fully8 awake, I doubt if I should have found the courage to do. Look,” and he pushed the lioness’s head with his foot, whereon it twisted round in such a fashion that they perceived for the first time that it only hung to the shoulders by a thread of skin.
“I am glad you did not strike a little harder,” said Godwin, “or I should now be in two pieces and drowned in my own blood, instead of in that of this dead brute,” and he looked ruefully at his burnous and hauberk, that were soaked with gore9.
“Yes,” said Wulf, “I never thought of that. Who would, in such a hurry?”
“Lady Masouda,” asked Godwin, “when last I saw you you were hanging from those jaws10. Say, are you hurt?”
“Nay11,” she answered, “for I wear mail like you, and the teeth glanced on it so that she held me by the cloak only. Come, let us skin the beast, and take its pelt12 as a present to the lord Al-je-bal.”
“Good,” said Godwin, “and I give you the claws for a necklace.”
“Be sure that I will wear them,” she answered, and helped Wulf to flay13 the lioness while he sat by resting. When it was done Wulf went to the little cave and walked into it, to come out again with a bound.
“Why!” he said, “there are more of them in there. I saw their eyes and heard them snarl14. Now, give me a burning branch and I will show you, brother, that you are not the only one who can fight a lion.”
“Let be, you foolish man,” broke in Masouda. “Doubtless those are her cubs15, and if you kill them, her mate will follow us for miles; but if they are left safe he will stay to feed them. Come, let us begone from this place as swiftly as we can.”
So having shown them the skin of the lion, that they might know it was but a dead thing, at the sight of which they snorted and trembled, they packed it upon one of the mules16 and rode off slowly into a valley some five miles away, where was water but no trees. Here, since Godwin needed rest, they stopped all that day and the night which followed, seeing no more of lions, though they watched for them sharply enough. The next morning, having slept well, he was himself again, and they started forward through a broken country towards a deep cleft17, on either side of which stood a tall mountain.
“This is Al-je-bal’s gateway18,” said Masouda, “and tonight we should sleep in the gate, whence one day’s ride brings us to his city.”
So on they rode till at length, perched upon the sides of the cleft, they saw a castle, a great building, with high walls, to which they came at sunset. It seemed that they were expected in this place, for men hastened to meet them, who greeted Masouda and eyed the brethren curiously19, especially after they had heard of the adventure with the lion. These took them, not into the castle, but to a kind of hostelry at its back, where they were furnished with food and slept the night.
Next morning they went on again to a hilly country with beautiful and fertile valleys. Through this they rode for two hours, passing on their way several villages, where sombre-eyed people were labouring in the fields. From each village, as they drew near to it, horsemen would gallop20 out and challenge them, whereon Masouda rode forward and spoke21 with the leader alone. Then he would touch his forehead with his hand and bow his head and they rode on unmolested.
“See,” she said, when they had thus been stopped for the fourth time, “what chance you had of winning through to Masyaf unguarded. Why, I tell you, brethren, that you would have been dead before ever you passed the gates of the first castle.”
Now they rode up a long slope, and at its crest22 paused to look upon a marvellous scene. Below them stretched a vast plain, full of villages, cornfields, olive-groves, and vineyards. In the centre of this plain, some fifteen miles away, rose a great mountain, which seemed to be walled all about. Within the wall was a city of which the white, flat-roofed houses climbed the slopes of the mountain, and on its crest a level space of land covered with trees and a great, many-towered castle surrounded by more houses.
“Behold the home of Al-je-bal, Lord of the Mountain,” said Masouda, “where we must sleep to-night. Now, brethren, listen to me. Few strangers who enter that castle come thence living. There is still time; I can pass you back as I passed you hither. Will you go on?”
“We will go on,” they answered with one breath.
“Why? What have you to gain? You seek a certain maiden23. Why seek her here whom you say has been taken to Salah-ed-din? Because the Al-je-bal in bygone days swore to befriend one of your blood. But that Al-je-bal is dead, and another of his line rules who took no such oath. How do you know that he will befriend you—how that he will not enslave or kill you? I have power in this land, why or how does not matter, and I can protect you against all that dwell in it—as I swear I will, for did not one of you save my life?” and she glanced at Godwin, “except my lord Sinan, against whom I have no power, for I am his slave.”
“He is the enemy of Saladin, and may help us for his hate’s sake.”
“Yes, he is the enemy of Salah-ed-din now more than ever. He may help you or he may not. Also,” she added with meaning, “you may not wish the help he offers. Oh!” and there was a note of entreaty24 in her voice, “think, think! For the last time, I pray you think!”
“We have thought,” answered Godwin solemnly; “and, whatever chances, we will obey the command of the dead.”
She heard and bowed her head in assent25, then said, looking up again:
“So be it. You are not easily turned from your purpose, and I like that spirit well. But hear my counsel. While you are in this city speak no Arabic and pretend to understand none. Also drink nothing but water, which is good here, for the lord Sinan sets strange wines before his guests, that, if they pass the lips, produce visions and a kind of waking madness in which you might do deeds whereof you were afterwards ashamed. Or you might swear oaths that would sit heavy on your souls, and yet could not be broken except at the cost of life.”
“Fear not,” answered Wulf. “Water shall be our drink, who have had enough of drugged wines,” for he remembered the Christmas feast in the Hall at Steeple.
“You, Sir Godwin,” went on Masouda, “have about your neck a certain ring which you were mad enough to show to me, a stranger—a ring with writing on it which none can read save the great men that in this land are called the daïss. Well, as it chances, the secret is safe with me; but be wise; say nothing of that ring and let no eye see it.”
“Why not?” asked Godwin. “It is the token of our dead uncle to the Al-je-bal.”
She looked round her cautiously and replied:
“Because it is, or was once, the great Signet, and a day may come when it will save your lives. Doubtless when the lord who is dead thought it gone forever he caused another to be fashioned, so like that I who have had both in my hand could not tell the two apart. To him who holds that ring all gates are open; but to let it be known that you have its double means death. Do you understand?”
They nodded, and Masouda continued:
“Lastly—though you may think that this seems much to ask—trust me always, even if I seem to play you false, who for your sakes,” and she sighed, “have broken oaths and spoken words for which the punishment is to die by torment26. Nay, thank me not, for I do only what I must who am a slave—a slave.”
“A slave to whom?” asked Godwin, staring at her.
“To the Lord of all the Mountains,” she answered, with a smile that was sweet yet very sad; and without another word spurred on her horse.
“What does she mean,” asked Godwin of Wulf, when she was out of hearing, “seeing that if she speaks truth, for our sakes, in warning us against him, Masouda is breaking her fealty27 to this lord?”
“I do not know, brother, and I do not seek to know. All her talk may be a part of a plot to blind us, or it may not. Let well alone and trust in fortune, say I.”
“A good counsel,” answered Godwin, and they rode forward in silence.
They crossed the plain, and towards evening came to the wall of the outer city, halting in front of its great gateway. Here, as at the first castle, a band of solemn-looking mounted men came out to meet them, and, having spoken a few words with Masouda, led them over the drawbridge that spanned the first rock-cut moat, and through triple gates of iron into the city. Then they passed up a street very steep and narrow, from the roofs and windows of the houses on either side of which hundreds of people—many of whom seemed to be engaged at their evening prayer—watched them go by. At the head of this street they reached another fortified28 gateway, on the turrets29 of which, so motionless that at first they took them to be statues cut in stone, stood guards wrapped in long white robes. After parley30, this also was opened to them, and again they rode through triple doors.
Then they saw all the wonder of that place, for between the outer city where they stood and the castle, with its inner town which was built around and beneath it yawned a vast gulf31 over ninety feet in depth. Across this gulf, built of blocks of stone, quite unrailed, and not more than three paces wide, ran a causeway some two hundred yards in length, which causeway was supported upon arches reared up at intervals32 from the bottom of the gulf.
“Ride on and have no fear,” said Masouda. “Your horses are trained to heights, and the mules and mine will follow.”
So Godwin, showing nothing in his face of the doubt that he felt in his heart, patted Flame upon the neck, and, after hanging back a little, the horse started lifting its hoofs33 high and glancing from side to side at the terrible gulf beneath. Where Flame went Smoke knew that it could go, and came on bravely, but snorting a little, while the mules, that did not fear heights so long as the ground was firm beneath their feet, followed. Only Masouda’s horse was terrified, backed, and strove to wheel round, till she drove the spur into it, when of a sudden it started and came over at a gallop.
At length they were across, and, passing under another gateway which had broad terraces on either side of it, rode up the long street beyond and entered a great courtyard, around which stood the castle, a vast and frowning fortress34. Here a white-robed officer came forward, greeting them with a low bow, and with him servants who assisted them to dismount. These men took the horses to a range of stables on one side of the courtyard, whither the brethren followed to see their beasts groomed
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