"What is this doing of yours?" demanded Tancred, very grave. "You rode with a pointed lance—no reed."
The Egyptian drew himself up very proudly.
"By the soul of my father!" swore he, outstretching his hand to Musa, "all men saw we were riding madly, and paying little heed to what was thrust in our hands. Just as we struck, I saw the steel—too late. A pointed lance must have been hidden in the reeds. Allah be praised, you are not slain!"
"This is not easy to believe," began Tancred. Musa cut him short:—
"I accept his oath—I am not disabled. Ride again!"
He cantered to his stand at the head of the lists. Tancred returned to the Count.
"Where is Zeyneb, the emir's dwarf?" demanded Roger.
"By Our Lady," cried the Prince, with a glance—"gone!"
"After him!" thundered Roger. "His was felony or foolishness, best paid by hanging. Lay him by the heels!"
Men-at-arms rushed away; but in neither the multitude nor the city found they Zeyneb.
The two rode once more—met; broke fairly. Men heard their voices for an instant raised high—curse and defiance, doubtless. Who might say? A second time—all eyes following. Mary saw the Spaniard swing nimbly in his saddle. The emir's lance overshot harmlessly; his own snapped fairly on the target. Another mighty shout—Musa had won!
"Again I wish you glory!" said Mary, as she fixed a second diamond aigrette on the cap of the kneeling Spaniard. "May God ever guard you as now, and let you shed glory on your friends!" But this last was in a tone few around might hear.
"And I protest," replied Musa, no louder, "I crave no honor greater than that of serving you."
Mary blushed. She knew the Andalusian meant all he said; yet she was not afraid, as she had been if Iftikhar or De Valmont had so spoken. A page served Musa courteously, bringing him a basin of perfumed water, towels of sweet white linen, and a goblet of cool Aquillan wine. Then he sat with the Count and his party during the noon interval, protesting that Iftikhar had given him but a slight bruise which needed no stanching, though Mary feared otherwise. Very tolerantly he listened to the tale of Gerland, militant Bishop of Girgenti, how in his diocese he had turned his cathedral into a castle—the unbelievers being so many. The squires brought fruit and cakes and wine. The Greek monks—Cosman and Eugenius—whom Count Roger patronized for their poesy, sang a new hymn in honor of the Blessed Trinity; an Arab rival presented a tale in verse of the Count's late raid to Malta, and so the hour passed. The multitude scattered a little, but did not disperse. The best wine had been kept till the last. What were blunted swords or riding with reed lances, beside a duel betwixt gallant knights under their lady's very eye; swords whetted, and life—perchance soul—at stake!
Mary found her heart beating fast. The moments crept slowly. People, she knew, were staring at her,—pointing, whispering her name. Sweet no doubt to feel that scarce a young knight but would nigh give his right hand for a gracious speech from her, hardly a woman but would almost pawn hope of heaven to sit in her place! But when the pure heart of the Greek turned to her dying father and the gallant gentlemen who were hazarding body and soul on her account,—even the bright sun shone darkly.
Richard Longsword had watched the tourney from a lodge at the northern end of the lists beside his fidgeting father and grave-faced mother, trying to enjoy the contests and to forget himself in the tale Theroulde told, while they waited, of the redoubtable paynim knight Chernubles, who could toss four mules' loads like a truss of straw. Herbert growled advice in his ear. Sebastian said never a word, but Richard knew he had lain all that night before the altar, outstretched like a cross while invoking heavenly legions to speed his "spiritual son." Only when Musa and Iftikhar contended, Longsword forgot himself; thrilled at his friend's peril, rejoiced at his victory, and swore a deep, if silent, oath that the emir should not go scatheless on so poor excusings.
The interval ended at last—praised be all saints! The heedless chatter of the ladies, the braying laughs of the men-at-arms, were a little chilled. Slowly a great hush spread across the lists. Richard kissed father and mother, wrung Herbert's great scarred paw, and vanished in a tent at the northern end of the close. Here waited Sebastian and friendly Bishop Robert of Evroult, who brought the Host and heard Longsword's confession and shrived him. Richard vowed two tall candlesticks of good red gold to Our Lady of the Victory, if all went well; made testaments, if the day went ill. "Dominus absolvat," the Bishop had said ere the young man rose from his knees. But Sebastian was murmuring in his heart, "Oh, if he were but to ride for the love of Christ and His Holy City, and not for unchristian hate and love of the eyes of a sinful maid!"
Then Musa came to the tent, thrusting all the Cefalu squires aside, and himself put on the Norman's hauberk, drew the chainwork coif over the head for shield of throat and cheeks, clapped on the silvered helm, and made fast the leather laces, till Richard was hid save for the flashing of his eyes.
When all was ready they led him out, and Theroulde strode before, proud to play the knight's pursuivant. From the end of the lists the jongleur sounded his challenge:—
"Ho, Louis de Valmont! Ho, Louis de Valmont! My master awaits you! Here stands the good knight, Sir Richard of Cefalu, armed for fair battle, ready to make good on his body against cavalier or villain who denies that Louis de Valmont is base-born, unknightly, unworthy to wear his spurs of gold!"
Whereupon, from the other end of the arena, advanced a second pursuivant, Bernier by name, a dapper Provençal in a fantastic blue cloak, answering shrilly:—
"Ho, bold man! Who are you that mock Sir Louis de Valmont? He has no lance save for his peers."
Then Theroulde threw back, still advancing:—
"So tell your master to be well shriven, for my Lord Richard of Cefalu swears he will number him among the saints ere sunset!"
And Bernier paid in return:—
"Foolish crow cawing folly, you are! Not the saints, but the very devil, shall be Richard Longsword's company this night!"
But Theroulde was undaunted, and boasted haughtily:—
"My master's sword is trenchant as Roland's 'Durindana'; his strength that of all the paladins in one. He is terrible as King Oberon with all his magic host!"
So they bandied their vauntings, and the crowd roared in mirth at each sally, until two trumpets pealed forth, one from either end of the lists, and out from the tents came the combatants in full armor, a herald at each bridle. Louis de Valmont was a notable figure, mailed. He bestrode a high-stepping white destrer, with huge crupper, hair like silk, eyes like fire, ears carefully cropped away after the French fashion. The high saddle glittered with gilding and chased work; the brass knob of the kite-shaped shield on the left arm shone, and the steel covering flashed as though of flame. Louis wore a hauberk enamelled red, with black wire embroidered into the sleeves; but the red crest of his tall helm was brighter than all the rest.
No less bravely panoplied in his white hauberk sat Longsword, but no skill of his could give grace to the awkward gait and uncouth form of Rollo. A great wave of jeering laughter swept down the benches as the black monster passed.
"Ho, steed of Cefalu! Are you an unhorned ox?"
"Defend us, saints! This horse is sired by Satan!"
"His limbs are iron, they drag so heavily!"
These and a hundred more shouts flew out. Men did not see Richard's muscles grow hard as steel, and his face set like rock, when he caught their mockery; for every insult to the horse was the like to the master. But the vows that rose then from his heart boded little good to Louis de Valmont; for they were sparks from the anvil of a mighty spirit. Neither did he know—as Mary Kurkuas knew—that the most battle-scarred knights in the Count's pavilion jeered not, but muttered darkly; and Prince Tancred whispered to Roger: "They are wrong when they say De Valmont has the better chance. I know a horse and a man at sight,—and here are both."
They brought the two knights to the barrier opposite