"Then truly have I saved that famous knight, who, they say, held the lists at Toledo, during the truce, against the Cid Campeador and all his cavaliers?"
"I had that fortune," said the Spaniard, smiling, and returning the bow; "but," and he spoke lightly, "I would not have you, Sir Frank, regard me in an awesome fashion; for, believe me, after striking the blows I saw you give to-day, you may, I think, break lances with the best, and owe deference to none."
"Ah, my lord," cried Richard, "it has been a great privilege for a simple 'bachelor' like myself to be of service to so great a warrior."
The Moslem laughed, and made reply: "No, I will not be 'lorded' by you. I think I know an equal and a friend when I set eyes on him. To you my name is Musa; and yours—?"
"Richard Longsword," was the answer.
"Then, O Richard, we know one another and are brothers."
Then and there, while the horses were at a merry pace, the two young men leaned over their saddles and caught one another's hands. And at that moment was stricken a friendship that was destined to bind with hooks of steel through more than one fateful year. As if to cement the tie, Longsword passed the flask at his belt to the Spaniard.
"Drink, friend, for you have seen enough this day to chill your veins, even if your prophet forbids wine."
"I am but a lax Moslem," replied Musa, with another of his soft smiles. And taking the flask, he clapped it to his lips. "'Wine of Paradise'!" cried he, when he took it away. "Ah, an hour since I expected that I would be soon drinking from the cups of the houris in the real Paradise, or more likely"—with a sly wag of the head—"scorching in no gentle fire!"
"Then the raiders sought your life, not your ransom?" asked the Norman.
"Assuredly; do not think I have lain so hidden here at Cefalu because, like a dervish or one of your monks, I enjoy solitude. I fled Spain because my blood is too princely to make my presence safe to Yusuf, the Almoravide, who has come from Africa to save us Spanish Moslems from conquest by the Christians, and who has conquered us himself. When Granada fell and its treasures were scattered as booty to his rude Berber officers, and when Seville and all Andalusia were in his hands, imprudently I spoke of the days of our great Kalifs. The words were remembered by enemies and duly reported. Presently I heard that Yusuf suspected me of leading a revolt in Cordova against his rule, and that he keenly desired my head. I will not tell how I escaped to my Cid Campeador at Valencia, and thence to King Alfonso of Castile. But the Almoravide's arms are long. Nowhere in Spain would I be safe. So I came to Sicily, where I have relatives, hoping by lying close to elude his agents; but in vain, as has just been proved!"
"So," asked Richard, "this raid was on your account?"
"Of course," replied Musa; "I was surprised at the country house of Hajib this morning, and taken before I could kill more than two of the pirates. In their chief I recognized a corsair long in the service of Yusuf. They aimed to bear me in chains to Cordova, that the Almoravide might gloat over me alive, ere calling the headsman. You saw how they rained their blows at me, when they saw rescue at hand."
"The saints be praised, I saved you!" exclaimed the Norman. "You were indeed in the very jaws of death."
"Aye," was the careless answer, "and I owe you all thanks; yet this is not the first time I have imagined I would see no more mornings."
"Ah, my lord, you are a great cavalier!" cried Richard, enthusiastically.
The Spaniard shook his hand in warning.
"I am not 'lord' to you, brother! If Allah favors our friendship, what brave adventures shall we not have together!"
Longsword made no reply. The Moor had captivated him: he felt that he could ride through a thousand men-at-arms with such a friend at his side. Presently they drew rein under a wide-spreading, venerable chestnut tree that bowed over the highway. Here were gathered the Baron and most of his men: here was my lord bishop sitting on the ground upon a saddle, still groaning and rubbing his bruised shins, while two scared priests were shivering beside him, and muttering a gratias Deo for their deliverance from the infidel. The old Greek was also there, resting on a saddle-bag; but when the young Norman galloped up he made shift to rise; and his daughter, who had already left her pillion, hastened to say:—
"This, my father, is that brave Frankish nobleman to whom we owe so much," and then to Longsword: "And this is my father, the Cæsar Manuel Kurkuas, late of Constantinople, but who now is exile, and travelling to Palermo."
The old Kurkuas, despite his lameness, bowed in the stately fashion of that ceremonious courtesy which was his inheritance.
"Lord Richard," said he, in his sonorous native tongue, for he already knew the Norman's name, "the blessings of a father be yours; and if at any time, by word or deed, I may repay you, your wish shall be my highest law."
But the daughter broke out, a little hotly:—
"Oh! father, not in so solemn and courtly a manner thank him! We are not in 'His Divine Majesty's' palace, by the Golden Horn. Take him by the hand as I have done; tell him that we are his friends forever, and that if we go back to Constantinople, we will take him with us, and share with him all the riches and honor that would belong to a real Kurkuas."
The old man listened to her flow of eager words, half pleased, half alarmed; then, with a deprecatory shrug, exclaimed:—
"Pardon a thousand times, my lord, if I am too old to speak all that lies at heart, save in a cold and formal way. Yet pardon, also, my daughter; for she has so unbridled a tongue that if you come to know her, strong must your friendship be, or she will drive you from her by sheer witless chatter."
Whereupon, before Richard could reply, the lady returned to the charge. "Yes, truly, I am half of Frankish blood myself. And I think it better to speak from my heart and declare 'I love you' and 'I hate you,' than to move my lips softly and politely and say things that mean nothing."
The Greek shrugged again, as if accustomed to such outbursts. "You have lost your veil," he said gently, raising his eyes.
"Assuredly," was the answer; "nor do Frankish ladies wear them." Then, turning to Richard, "Tell me, Sir Norman, do you see anything about me to be ashamed of, that I must veil my face?"
The remark was advanced so naturally, in such perfectly good faith, that Longsword, without the least premeditation, answered as readily as if to his sister:—
"I see no reason why you should veil, my lady."
"Then do not speak of it again, dear father," said she.
The mules of the bishop's party, which had been taken when the pirates fell upon them, had been recovered, and the bishop began to stop groaning over his bruises. The Baron remarked that, although the baggage had been retaken, it was too late to repack and make the journey that day. One and all, they must go back to Cefalu and enjoy the hospitality of the castle. The bishop demurred, when he saw that the Moslem Musa was bidden to share the feast; but he was very hungry, and reflected that Christ and Mohammed were impiously good comrades in Sicily. He and the priests with the Greek and his daughter mounted the mules and started away, just as Herbert rode up with the tidings that the Berbers' ship had long since put to sea. As for the great black horse that had nigh carried Mary away from her rescuers, the grateful prelate bestowed him upon Richard. "He was an unruly beast," declared the bishop, "furiosus, impetuosus, perditus equus, in whom a devil beyond all doubt had entered; and if the Baron's son desired him, he was welcome, though he feared, instead of a gift, he was bestowing a cursing." But Richard beheld the huge crupper and chest of the great beast, watched his mighty stride, and reflected that such a destrer would bear quite as safely in battle as one with the prized white coat and greyhound feet. Therefore he thanked the bishop and led the horse away.
So they fared back to the castle, while the Cefalu people gave them cheers and flowers as they passed along the way; but the fairest welcome was on Lady Margaret's face when they all pounded over the drawbridge.
CHAPTER III
HOW RICHARD WON A BROTHER
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