The Sword and the Rose. V. J. Banis

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      “And getting warmer,” he said with a chuckle, drawing her nearer.

      * * * *

      He left just at dawn the following day. Elaine did not awaken and he was loath to disturb her. He left Krouba in the care of his servant and set out while the camp was just beginning to stir.

      He journeyed for that entire day and into the second. Syria’s burning sun had again begun to descend to the horizon when he paced the sandy deserts which lie near the Dead Sea. There the waves of the Jordan pour themselves into an inland sea from which the waters do not escape.

      He had toiled among cliffs and rock walls, and leaving those rocky regions had come to that great plain where in ancient days the accursed cities provoked the dreadful vengeance of the Almighty.

      The effort, the dangers, the thrust of his journey were forgotten in a burst of emotion as he viewed these scenes, long familiar to his imagination but now looked upon for the first time. There was the once fair and fertile valley of Siddim, now a parched and blighted waste, condemned to eternal sterility.

      The sun shone upon this scene of desolation with almost intolerable splendor. All life seemed to have hidden itself from the burning rays but for his own solitary figure moving through the shifting sand at a slow pace and his horse, whom he was now leading.

      He admitted again what he had already had ample occasion to realize, that the dress of the crusaders and the accoutrements of their horses were ill suited to the country through which they traveled.

      He had donned full armor for the journey, not knowing what he might encounter. In the fashion of the day he wore not only a shirt and an undertunic, but a hauberk—a coat of linked mail—with mail gauntlets. As if this were not enough weight, there was in addition the triangular shield which hung round his neck and a barrel helmet of steel; under the helmet he wore a coif-de-mailles—a hood and collar of mail. His lower limbs too were sheathed in flexible mail, as were his feet.

      Over all this he wore an embroidered surcoat, the purpose of which was to protect his armor from the burning rays of the sun.

      As for weaponry, on one side he wore a stout quillon dagger and on the other a long, broad, single-edged falchion, its handle forming a cross. He carried a long, steel-headed lance, with one end resting on his stirrup and at the tip a little pennoncel to dally with whatever faint breeze might pass his way.

      Nor was his horse clothed less weightily; he wore a heavy saddle hung with mail, covered in front with a peytrel of leather and mail and behind with a padded crupper to cover the loins. A mace hung from the saddlebow; the reins were secured by chainwork while the chamfroy over his face was in fact a steel plate, with openings for the eyes and nostrils and having in its middle a sharp spike which gave the beast the appearance of the famed unicorns, which some claimed to have seen here in Araby.

      Many crusaders had died in the burning climate, their end no doubt hastened by the weight of their armor. But to Kenneth it was only an inconvenience.

      The Good Lord he had come here to serve had cast his limbs in a mold of uncommon strength and endowed him with a constitution as strong as his limbs, which he took as a sure sign that he was to take up sword in His cause.

      Traveling as he did alone, he had had time to ponder some matters that were much on his mind of late. Since coming to the Holy Land, his slender purse had melted away. Many of his fellow crusaders, as he well knew, made it a policy to replenish their wealth at the expense of the Palestinians, but he had exacted no gifts from the natives nor held any prisoners for ransom, both of which practices were common. The small party he had brought with him from Scotland had gradually dwindled. This alone did not particularly alarm him, as he was accustomed to think of his good sword as his safest escort and his own thought as his best companion.

      Still it behooved him to face the fact that his straits were dire, and aside from spiritual privileges he saw no rewards that would come to himself as a result of this campaign. He had come without permission of his father, who had more than one reason to be offended, and so he could probably expect little welcome when he returned to Scotland.

      Nature had begun to make demands for refreshment and repose, so he was glad when he saw two or three palm trees in the distance which he was sure marked the well he had been told to watch for. His good horse too, who had plodded forward with steady endurance, now lifted his head, expanded his nostrils, and quickened his pace.

      Rest was not to be gained so easily however. As he gazed at the distant cluster of trees it seemed to him as if something was moving among them. The distant form separated itself from the trees and began to move toward him with a speed that soon indicated a mounted horseman. His turban, long spear and green caftan, which floated behind him in the wind, revealed that he was a Saracen cavalier.

      “In the desert no man meets a friend,” as an Eastern proverb has it. The Saracen, flying as if borne on the wings of an eagle, did not come as a friend. Kenneth mounted his horse, disengaging the lance from his saddle and, seizing it with his right hand, placed it in rest with its point half-elevated. He gathered up his reins in his left hand, put spurs to his horse and prepared to meet the charge of the stranger.

      The Arabs are born horsemen, and this one was no exception. He came on at a speedy gallop, managing the horse more with his seat and the suggestions of his body than by use of the reins. He wore at his arm a lightweight round buckler—or shield—of rhinoceros skin, ornamented with silver loops, and he swung this as if he meant to defend himself with it against the knight’s formidable lance. He carried his own long spear not couched, as was Kenneth’s, but grasped by the middle in his right hand, and brandished it at arm’s length above his head.

      He approached at a full gallop as if he expected Kenneth to put his own horse to the gallop to encounter him. But Kenneth was well acquainted by this time with the wiles of these Saracen warriors, and had no intention of exhausting his good horse unnecessarily. He made a dead halt, confident that should the Saracen advance to the actual shock, his weight and that of his horse would give him the advantage.

      Apparently the approaching Arab thought the same thing; when he had approached within two spear lengths, he wheeled his horse nimbly to the left and rode twice around the knight while Kenneth, wheeling, but presenting always his face to him, prevented any attack at an unguarded point. At last, reining in his horse, the Arab retreated to a distance of a hundred yards.

      A second time he swooped down upon Kenneth, and a second time thought the better of a close struggle, and retreated to a distance.

      Kenneth could see that this elusive warfare might serve in time to wear him out or at least make him careless and when the Arab approached the third time, Kenneth seized the mace hanging at his saddlebow and hurled it against the head of his enemy.

      The Saracen, who had the look of a man of rank, saw the danger almost too late and although he raised his light buckler to the defense, it did not prevent a grazing blow on his turban, which brought him off his horse.

      Kenneth had little opportunity to take the advantage, however, for before he could have even dismounted the Saracen had called his horse to his side and leapt astride him again, without even using the stirrups.

      On the other hand, Kenneth had recovered his mace and the Arab, remembering how he had used it, was cautious to stay out of reach of that weapon and some distance from the knight.

      Now the Arab produced a short bow and, once more galloping in a circle around the knight, shot several arrows at him that, had it not been for his heavy armor, would have produced as many wounds.

      Kenneth СКАЧАТЬ