"What always happens, I suppose--a pleasant time at first; then, if they can be put to no other use, a choice between the faith and the cup.Or, perhaps, as they seem men of rank, they may be imprisoned in the dungeon tower and held to ransom.Yes, yes; it was cruel of Masouda to trick them so, who may be but travellers after all, desiring to see our city."Just then the curtain was drawn, and through it entered Masouda herself.She was dressed in a white robe that had a dagger worked in red over the left breast, and her long black hair fell upon her shoulders, although it was half hid by the veil, open in front, which hung from her head.Never had they seen her look so beautiful as she seemed thus.
"Greetings, brothers Peter and John.Is this fit work for pilgrims?" she said in French, pointing to the long swords which they were sharpening.
"Ay," answered Wulf, as they rose and bowed to her, "for pilgrims to this--holy city."The women who were cleaning the mail bowed also, for it seemed that here Masouda was a person of importance.She took the hauberks from their hands.
"III cleansed," she said sharply."I think that you girls talk better than you work.Nay, they must serve.Help these lords to don them.Fools, that is the shirt of the grey-eyed knight.Give it me; I will be his squire," and she snatched the hauberk from their hands, whereat, when her back was turned, they glanced at one another.
"Now," she said, when they were fully armed and had donned their mantles, "you brethren look as pilgrims should.Listen, I have a message for you.The Master" --and she bowed her head, as did the women, guessing of whom she spoke--"will receive you in an hour's time, till when, if it please you, we can walk in the gardens, which are worth your seeing."So they went out with her, and as they passed towards the curtain she whispered:
"For your lives' sake, remember all that I have told you--above everything, about the wine and the ring, for if you dream the drink-dream you will be searched.Speak no word to me save of common matters."In the passage beyond the curtain white-robed guards were standing, armed with spears, who turned and followed them without a word.First they went to the stables to visit Flame and Smoke, which whinnied as they drew near.These they found well-fed and tended--indeed, a company of grooms were gathered round them, discussing their points and beauty, who saluted as the owners of such steeds approached.Leaving the stable, they passed through an archway into the famous gardens, which were said to be the most beautiful in all the East.Beautiful they were indeed, planted with trees, shrubs, and flowers such as are seldom seen, while between fern-clad rocks flowed rills which fell over deep cliffs in waterfalls of foam.In places the shade of cedars lay so dense that the brightness of day was changed to twilight, but in others the ground was open and carpeted with flowers which filled the air with perfume.Everywhere grew roses, myrtles, and trees laden with rich fruits, while from all sides came the sound of cooing doves and the voices of many bright-winged birds which flashed from palm to palm.
On they walked, down the sand-strewn paths for a mile or more, accompanied by Masouda and the guard.At length, passing through a brake of whispering, reed-like plants, of a sudden they came to a low wall, and saw, yawning black and wide at their very feet, that vast cleft which they had crossed before they entered the castle.
"It encircles the inner city, the fortress, and its grounds,"said Masouda; "and who lives to-day that could throw a bridge across it? Now come back."So, following the gulf round, they returned to the castle by another path, and were ushered into an ante-room, where stood a watch of twelve men.Here Masouda left them in the midst of the men, who stared at them with stony eyes.Presently she returned, and beckoned to them to follow her.Walking down a long passage they came to curtains, in front of which were two sentries, who drew these curtains as they approached.Then, side by side, they entered a great hall, long as Stangate Abbey church, and passed through a number of people, all crouched upon the ground.Beyond these the hall narrowed as a chancel does.
Here sat and stood more people, fierce-eyed, turbaned men, who wore great knives in their girdles.These, as they learned afterwards, were called the fedai, the sworn assassins, who lived but to do the command of their lord the great Assassin.At the end of this chancel were more curtains, beyond which was a guarded door.It opened, and on its further side they found themselves in full sunlight on an unwalled terrace, surrounded by the mighty gulf into which it was built out.On the right and left edges of this terrace sat old and bearded men, twelve in number, their heads bowed humbly and their eyes fixed upon the ground.These were the dais or councillors.
At the head of the terrace, under an open and beautifully carved pavilion of wood, stood two gigantic soldiers, having the red dagger blazoned on their white robes.Between them was a black cushion, and on the cushion a black heap.At first, staring out of the bright sunlight at this heap in the shadow, the brethren wondered what it might be.Then they caught sight of the glitter of eyes, and knew that the heap was a man who wore a black turban on his head and a black, bell-shaped robe clasped at the breast with a red jewel.The weight of the man had sunk him down deep into the soft cushion, so that there was nothing of him to be seen save the folds of the bell-shaped cloak, the red jewel, and the head.He looked like a coiled-up snake; the dark and glittering eyes also were those of a snake.Of his features, in the deep shade of the canopy and of the wide black turban, they could see nothing.
The aspect of this figure was so terrible and inhuman that the brethren trembled at the sight of him.They were men and he was a man, but between that huddled, beady-eyed heap and those two tall Western warriors, clad in their gleaming mail and coloured cloaks, helm on brow, buckler on arm, and long sword at side, the contrast was that of death and life.
