Swords From the Desert Page 4

  Men say that the water of the seas is black, and that is a lie. It is both gray and green, but to one who stands looking out upon it, when the sun dips toward the sea, it hath the seeming of darkness-yet not beneath the sun. There is gold beneath the sun. And this shining gold of the port lighted the street of the metalworkers and the scheming face of Abou Asaid of Damascus, who sells daggers and sword blades.

  "Hearken, my lord Khalil," said the weapon seller, "there is talk in the city."

  "There is always talk," I made response.

  But he stretched forth his hand and pulled together the leather curtains of his stall, so that he could look out and see who passed by, without being seen or heard.

  "It hath reached my ears," he said again, "from the seamen of the harbor, that a fleet comes from Venice."

  "Thine ears be overlong," I made answer then, "and thou art little the richer for it, 0 Abou Asaid. What is Venice?"

  "If thine ears, 0 Iny lord Khalil," he reproached me, "were inclined more to politics and less to the step of strange women, thou wert the wiser. Nay, Venice is the city of the Greater Sea whence come the hosts of the iron men, the Franks who have invaded the lands of the Muslimin. They are the barbarians, the faith-breakers, the slayers.

  "They are fearless men. Their swords have two edges and are straight and heavy. A blow from such a sword breaks the rings of mail and the bones beneath. I have met them in Palestine.

  "May they eat shame! This is a new host, and the fleet is vast indeed. The galliots bearing the warriors are as many as the sands of Yamen; the fighting galleys are beyond counting, and the store ships stretch from sky to sky."

  Twice, thrice, even four times had these hosts of the Franks descended upon the barren coast of Palestine by land and sea-so my father and his father had said. At this time there was peace between Muslimin and Nazarene in Palestine. So I wondered why this host had set forth from Venice, and why it was coming to Constantinople.

  "There are great lords upon this fleet," Abou Asaid resumed. "Nazarene lords from far Frankistan, and the king of the Venetians. He is an old man."

  "It will be a fine sight," I said then, "these kings and their clans and their horses."

  Abou Asaid looked out through the rift of his curtains and ran his finger through his beard.

  "The Emperor of Constantinople will not think it a fine sight," he explained under his breath. "He is a Greek."

  "Yet he is a Nazarene." So I said, to get at the kernel in the shell of the weapon seller's words. And, indeed, Abou Asaid disgorged the thing that had been troubling him.

  "The fleet of the Franks is coming to take Constantinople."

  Now I had seen the emperor of Constantinople. Because I had come to the city on a mission, I had been allowed within the palace. The mission had been to escort a princess, the daughter of the emperor out of Roum, to Scutari and into Constantinople. Other Nazarene lords had been in the escort, and though they called me a saracin, which is a robber, we had not quarreled on the way. And to hear my tales of other lands, the emperor, who was called Murtzuple, summoned me into his presence.

  His palace had walls of beaten gold and azure, and its marble floors were carpeted. Upon the walls, done in mosaics, were pictures of the wars of his ancestors. There were many walls.

  And this Murtzuple himself had a bold bearing. He is a dark man with a sallow skin and restless eyes. Generous he is, for he gave to me a silk robe of honor and a horse of his own stable-a white horse of a Frankish breed, too heavy in the leg for my choice. And brave he is-though according to the custom of his fathers I was searched for weapons by eunuchs, and held by the arms and the cloak when I stood before him.

  Two Frankish warriors he had on his right hand and three on his left, who leaned on their shields, fully armed. Not a rat could have run upon this emperor without being cut down. Yet it was in my mind that Murtzuple had no liking of this shielding by the suspicion-rid eunuchs and the lords of his court.

  Except the Seljuk Sultan of Egypt and the Great Khan of Cathay there is no prince in the world so dignified and so treasure-burdened as this emperor who sat in the throne of the caesars.

  And in all my journeys I had not seen a city so wealthy, with such massive walls as this city upon the Golden Horn.

  "Surely that is a lie," I said to the weapon seller, when I had thought over his words, "because there is peace between the Nazarenes. And this is one of their holy cities."

  Abou Asaid smiled and all the lines came out on his face.

  "Little know ye, 0 Khalil, son of Abd'Ullah, the Badawan. Of well-sired horses and edged weapons and girls who walk with antelope grace-of such matters thou art conversant, beyond doubt. By the breath of Ali, have I not sold daggers to the Greeks fourfold in the last days? Eh, they labor at building stone casters on the walls. But I have heard what I have heard!"

  And at last he made clear to me why he had called me into his stall.

  There would be war, he said, between the Greeks of the city and the Franks from over the black water. We would both profit by it if I were to go again to the palace of the Blachernae, where the Emperor Murtzuple sat in council, and swear that I was ready to serve him with a hundred men. Already I had some slight favor with the Greek emperor, and Abou Asaid would drum up the hundred men from the scoundrels of Galata and arm them himself.

  The emperor, Abou Asaid explained truthfully, was already served by men-at-arms from Genoa and the island of England that lies beyond the Gates. These barbarians from England were named Saxons; and in his host were also warriors from the far north-tall men with watery-blue eyes and yellow hair, and Tatars from the steppes of the East. They were men of all faiths and many Muslimin.

  I was a saracin in the eyes of the Greeks. But the lords who had come with me from Roum had told in the city how I was a chieftain's son who had fought in the battles of Granada and Palestine. And Abou Asaid had praised me as a swordsman unmatched and an Arab without fear. And that was a lie, but the praise was pleasing.

  "The emperor can reward greatly," he ended. "Thou hast of him already a journey-gift. What then will be his service grant?"

  "Aye, what?"

  "Why, a score of fair-faced slaves-precious stones to fill thy cupped hands-perhaps a province or a ship."

  It was Abou Asaid's thought that he would share this wealth with me.

  Indeed, I had no mind to the venture. Among my people there is a saying that a sword once drawn is not to be sheathed without honor. What part had an Arab in the quarrels of the Franks? I held myself as something better than the barbarian Tatars and Saxons. As for Abou Asaid, he was a merchant, with a purse to be filled.

  "Consider, 0 my lord Khalil," he cried when he read no agreement in my eyes. "This Greek hath a fair mind to thee. Nay, he hath honored thee with a horse of his stables, so that when thou goest forth, there is a canopy held over thee and a trumpeter to go before, in token thou art an honored guest of Murtzuple. In gratitude-"

  "Make an end of words. I will not set foot upon this path."

  The gifts of the emperor had been for service rendered, and as for hospitality-he had let me stand before him with my arms held.

  "Then consider this, 0 son of Abd 'Ullah. If the barbarian Franks take the city, they will care not at all for horse or canopy-or trumpeter. They will cut thee down for a saracin, and thy days will be ended without honor."

  A horse had passed the stall where we sat. Such a horse as would have brought joy to Omar the Mighty-a gray desert-bred, slender of limb, with arched neck and eyes of fire.

  This gray beauty picked his way through the narrow street of the metalworkers, and daintily as a favorite slave of a great prince who goes where he wills. And the rider of the kohlani was a girl-child, who was surely no slave.

  No man sat before her, and she herself sat not upon one side, after the fashion of the Frankish woman. One knee was crooked over the low saddle peak, and her face was toward the kohlani's head.

  Her face I did not see through the cr
ack in the curtain, but her long hair was the hue of gold. About her brow was a narrow silver filet, and she looked not to one side or the other.

  "Upon thee the salute, and long years of life! " I bade farewell to Abou Asaid, the father of plots, and sought my horse.

  As usual, my Greek trumpeter and his mates who held the canopy were taking their ease in some nearby wine shop and I called them not. There is a time for ceremony and a time for solitude.

  I mounted the white stallion with a highbacked Frankish saddle, covered with cloth of gold, and reined after the splendid gray horse. I had seen that the rider was not veiled, so she could not be a Muslimin. Only one servant-and he a craggy fellow on an ignoble nag-followed her; her blue cloak and vestment bore no precious stones. She could not be the daughter of a wealthy sire. And yet the kohlani racer would bring a chieftain's ransom.

  I wished well to see the horse near at hand and the face of his rider.

  Girl and servant paced up the street of the metalworkers and turned into a muddy alley where the wooden houses nearly came together overhead-a place of foul odors, with children naked in the mud and women that screamed like the harridans they were.

  From the alley the gray horse climbed to an open place, paved with flagstones, and began to trot. As if the way were familiar, he threaded a path among scattered marble columns and made toward a great square structure of stone.

  There was a gate in this half-ruined wall, and through the gate went the horse and the girl with a rush, as of a dart loosed from the hand. Within the gate it was dark, but in a moment we came out upon the grass of a long enclosure. Here the glow of sunset lighted the sky with its first bright stars.

  It was Al-Maidan, the Place of Horses.* At this place the Greeks held races and watched combats between beasts. Tiers of stone balconies looked down on the grass plain, but at this hour the seats were empty.

  I pushed past the servant, who turned with an oath when he heard the rush of my stallion. I loosed the rein and spoke to the white horse, who stretched his great limbs in a ponderous gallop. Eh, the Franks chose their horses for weight, not for pace.

  Ahead of me the gray kohlani skimmed over the racecourse like a hawk unhooded. I gained not at all. And yet the girl heard the beat of the stallion's hoofs and reined in, turning the gray horse sharply to meet me. I drew in the ring-bit and pulled the stallion back on his heels a spear's length from her.

  In her hand was neither whip nor dagger. The cloud of her light hair was about her glowing face, and her eyes were those of a child who knew no fear.

  Nay, she flinched not when she saw my helmet with the pointed peak and long nasal and chain drop, my black cloak and high-girdled scimitar, and the round shield upon my shoulder. Armed was I, and had come upon her unawares. An arrow's flight away the servant was beating on his nag with his stick.

  "Praise be to the Maker," I cried in my Arab speech, "of such a horse, and so fair a woman."

  For a second she looked into my eyes, and the blood warmed in my veins.

  "Who art thou?" she asked at once, and though she seemed to understand my speech her words were in the Greek tongue. At the same instant she motioned back the vagabond who was coming at me with a stick. He hung back, grumbling.

  "I am Khalil the Badawan."

  It was well for the pair of them that she held off the barbarian with his staff, for if he had touched me with the stick I must have slain him, and I had no mind to do that. She was a maiden of quick understanding and surely a Frank. Her eyes were gray-not the dark ox-eyes of Greek women. Even though she were the child of a noble-born sire, I could not dismount to speak to a barbarian Nazarene.

  "I have heard of thee, Khalil." All at once she smiled, and it was pleasing. "Thou art a prince-of boasters. Men say thou dost ride in the quarters of the city behind a Greek trumpeter."

  Eh, there was a sting in the sweetness of this barbarian girl.

  "I ride in the fashion ordained by thine emperor," said I. "And at the court of this emperor I told the tales that were besought of me, but no man in this city of the Greeks hath heard my tongue boast of thy noble men and knights overthrown by this, my sword."

  "Yet even now a woman hears and likes it not," she cried at once, tossing her head. "Nor do I owe ought of fealty to the Greek or his lineage."

  It had not come into my mind to speak to this maiden. I had come to see the kohlani racer. Yet it stirred my interest when she maintained that she was no servant of Murtzuple. Why should a young barbarian girl dwell in Constantinople the Great, without kinsmen to guard her?

  "This horse," said I, "is of royal descent. How came he to thy hand?"

  Her eyes flashed and she smiled again.

  "By the sword, my lord Khalil," she cried in her clear voice. "He was taken from the paynims of Palestine by a great and very bold man, who gave him to me."

  "By whom?" I asked.

  She made answer with pride.

  "By Richard, Sieur de Brienne."

  "Ricard," I said after her, and thought that I had heard the name spoken before.

  But surely there were many knights of that name who had sewn the Nazarene cross upon their khalats and had sought death or honor in Palestine. It was clear that this paladin of the Franks had brought the gray racer to Constantinople as a gift to the maiden. And I did not think that he was father or brother to her. When I looked again into her eyes, I did not think he was her lover, because her pride was that of a child in a hero.

  "Take care not to overfeed the gray horse," I said when I had feasted my eyes upon him. "And keep a guard at his stable. There are more thieves than rats in this city, and there are many rats."

  "Try to take him!" she laughed up at me.

  "From thy Ricard, I would take the horse," I said, "but not from a child."

  It came to my mind that if there should be a battle between the Greeks and the Franks, the girl would be carried off by someone or other, and the gray horse might fall to me-

  "Thou art a bold warrior, 0 Khalil," she made answer, after a moment, "yet I do not think thee the boaster men proclaim thee."

  "Y Allah!" I cried. "Thou art a bold barbarian. Upon thee be the peace. I have seen the horse, and I go!"

  "Bethink thee, Lord Khalil," she said as I turned my rein, "the city will be a place of peril for paynimry within the week. Wilt thou not leave the walls before the Franks come with their power?"

  Indeed, until now, that had been my thought. But in the siege and the tumult there would be an opportunity to win the kohlani, and I decided to await this opportunity.

  "What is ordained may not be altered," I said to her. "Look well to the horse!"

  My people have a saying: "When God's earth is so wide, why dwell within walls?"

  Of this saying Abou Asaid reminded me when I came to his stall the following day to watch for the gray horse and the barbarian girl. He had sold most of his daggers and javelins to Greeks at high prices, and was bundling up his own belongings to fly from the city with the next karwan. He said that most of the Muslimin were leaving, for dread of the Franks, and he besought me earnestly to go with him.

  From Abou Asaid I learned the name of the barbarian girl. It was Irene. Every day she had passed through the street of the metalworkers on the gray horse, and her face had become known, being beautiful. She lived alone in the city in a small stone house close to the church of the Greek patriarch.

  The barbarian Irene was under the protection of the patriarch, so that the Nazarenes did not molest her. In the stone house with her were also an old woman and a man slave-the one I had seen accompanying her. Abou Asaid did not know where the gray horse was kept.

  "On thy head be the folly!" he said in farewell. "At any hour the emperor may give order to close the gates. Come away while ye may!"

  "The horse is to my liking."

  "Oh Khalil, are there not maids enough in Yamen, that thou should'st cast eyes upon an infidel?"

  Then a sudden thought struck him, and he demanded that I go with some
of his lads and seize the maiden, and the horse, too, if I willed, and he would send his pack animals and servants by way of the stone house and halt there, under pretense of shifting the loads. Thereupon-so said he-I should bring forth the barbarian captive, veiled, and place her among his family. At once the karwan would move on with a great tumult and pass through the gate. At Tanais or Sarai such a beautiful Frank would fetch three to four hundred gold bezants.

  So planned Abou Asaid, promising that a hundred gold pieces should be mine, in addition to the horse. There was great confusion and running about in the city, and all this might easily be done.

  Abou Asaid was only a seller of goods, and desired greatly the aid of my sword on the journey.

  "And if we be stopped at the gate?" I asked, to try him.

  "Have I not eyes and ears, 0 son of Abd 'Ullah? Four days ago I went to the Domastikos of the imperial palace, after paying silver to his officers. To him I gave gold in a purse and when he had weighed the purse he gave me a talsmin. Look!"

  Abou Asaid drew from his cloak a little staff, like a mace. Only there was a crown on the head of the staff, a gilded crown, and letters.

  "With this token from the high lord I may pass with my goods and family and servants through any gate, save the palace itself. Who, then, would stop us?"

  "Many," I made response, "if I rode the gray racer. Surely he is known from Galata to the Seven Towers!"

  Abou Asaid combed his beard.

  "I will give thee half the price of the girl Irene. Leave, then, the horse."

  "Nay," I said, and again, "nay!"

  When did a son of my clan soil his honor by taking the payment of a slave dealer? I could not drag the barbarian girl from her house like a pigeon from the toils. And Abou Asaid lacked heart to make the attempt himself.

  He lifted his hands, shook his head and hurried forth to berate his boys at the packs. So he ceased to make plots for me, nor did I ever see him again. Yet I remembered the little mace with the writing upon it.

  Instead of going with Abou Asaid, I went to look at the stone house where the gray horse was kept. It was on the side of the little river, facing Galata. And it was inside the brick wall of the place called a monastic.