>From noon till near sundown the long harassed line, broken now into fragments, struggled forward across the rough, stony plain, the burning heat beating upon their armour till the air danced about it as it does before a fire.Towards evening men and horses became exhausted, and the soldiers cried to their captains to lead them to water.But in that place there was no water.The rearguard fell behind, worn out with constant attacks that must be repelled in the burning heat, so that there was a great gap between it and the king who marched in the centre.Messages reached them to push on, but they could not, and at length camp was pitched in the desert near a place called Marescalcia, and upon this camp Raymond and his vanguard were forced back.As Godwin and Wulf rode up, they saw him come in bringing his wounded with him, and heard him pray the king to push on and at all hazards to cut his way through to the lake, where they might drink--ay, and heard the king say that he could not, since the soldiers would march no more that day.Then Raymond wrung his hands in despair and rode back to his men, crying aloud:
"Alas ! alas! Oh! Lord God, alas! We are dead, and Thy Kingdom is lost."That night none slept, for all were athirst, and who can sleep with a burning throat? Now also Godwin and Wulf were no longer laughed at because of the water-skins they carried on their horses.Rather did great nobles come to them, and almost on their knees crave for the boon of a single cup.Having watered their horses sparingly from a bowl, they gave what they could, till at length only two skins remained, and one of these was spilt by a thief, who crept up and slashed it with his knife that he might drink while the water ran to waste.After this the brethren drew their swords and watched, swearing that they would kill any man who so much as touched the skin which was left.All that long night through there arose a confused clamour from the camp, of which the burden seemed to be, "Water! Give us water!" while from without came the shouts of the Saracens calling upon Allah.Here, too, the hot ground was covered with scrub dried to tinder by the summer drought, and to this the Saracens set fire so that the smoke rolled down on the Christian host and choked them, and the place became a hell.
Day dawned at last; and the army was formed up in order of battle, its two wings being thrown forward.Thus they struggled on, those of them that were not too weak to stir, who were slaughtered as they lay.Nor as yet did the Saracens attack them, since they knew that the sun was stronger than all their spears.
On they laboured towards the northern wells, till about mid-day the battle began with a flight of arrows so thick that for awhile it hid the heavens.
After this came charge and counter-charge, attack and repulse, and always above the noise of war that dreadful cry for water.
What chanced Godwin and Wulf never knew, for the smoke and dust blinded them so that they could see but a little way.At length there was a last furious charge, and the knights with whom they were clove the dense mass of Saracens like a serpent of steel, leaving a broad trail of dead behind them.When they pulled rein and wiped the sweat from their eyes it was to find themselves with thousands of others upon the top of a steep hill, of which the sides were thick with dry grass and bush that already was being fired.
"The Rood! The Rood! Rally round the Rood!" said a voice, and looking behind them they saw the black and jewelled fragment of the true Cross set upon a rock, and by it the bishop of Acre.
Then the smoke of the burning grass rose up and hid it from their sight.
Now began one of the most hideous fights that is told of in the history of the world.Again and again the Saracens attacked in thousands, and again and again they were driven back by the desperate valour of the Franks, who fought on, their jaws agape with thirst.A blackbearded man stumbled up to the brethren, his tongue protruding from his lips, and they knew him for the Master of the Templars.
"For the love of Christ, give me to drink," he said, recognizing them as the knights at whom he had mocked as water-carriers.
They gave him of the little they had left, and while they and their horses drank the rest themselves, saw him rush down the hill refreshed, shaking his red sword.Then came a pause, and they heard the voice of the bishop of Nazareth, who had clung to them all this while, saying, as though to himself:
"And here it was that the Saviour preached the Sermon on the Mount.Yes, He preached the words of peace upon this very spot.
Oh! it cannot be that He will desert us--it cannot be."While the Saracens held off, the soldiers began to put up the king's pavilion, and with it other tents, around the rock on which stood the Cross.
"Do they mean to camp here?" asked Wulf bitterly.
"Peace," answered Godwin; "they hope to make a wall about the Rood.But it is of no avail, for this is the place of my dream."Wulf shrugged his shoulders."At least, let us die well," he said.
Then the last attack began.Up the hillside rose dense volumes of smoke, and with the smoke came the Saracens.Thrice they were driven back; thrice they came on.At the fourth onset few of the Franks could fight more, for thirst had conquered them on this waterless hill of Hattin.They lay down upon the dry grass with gaping jaws and protruding tongues, and let themselves be slam or taken prisoners.A great company of Saracen horsemen broke through the ring and rushed at the scarlet tent.It rocked to and fro, then down it fell in a red heap, entangling the king in its folds.
