Read Swords From the Desert Online

Authors: Harold Lamb

Tags: #Crusades, #Historical, #Action & Adventure, #General, #Fantasy, #Suspense, #Adventure Fiction, #Historical Fiction, #Fiction, #Short Stories

Swords From the Desert (8 page)

From the hall we entered a corridor with an arched roof, where Arbogastes' leather boots rang heavily. Here he motioned me to silence, and we bowed the head to several noblemen who were talking together in low voices, glancing impatiently at bare cedar doors at the far end.

But the Persian bowed his way through the guests, knocked upon the portal four times and nudged me in the ribs when we passed through the cedar doors between two Tatars who stood with drawn sabers.

"That behind us is the whispering gallery," he breathed in my ear. "An opening runs from the ceiling to the wall near my lord's couch, and ofttimes he amuses himself listening to the talk of those who think themselves alone in the gallery. Remember it."

It was not easy, the path to the Lord Menas. We climbed a winding stair, and at each turn there was a lamp in a recess, and in the darkness behind the lamp a curtain that moved and fell again when we had passed.

"Archers," Arbogastes whispered again. "Look at the carpet."

The carpet was leather, from which fresh blood might be wiped in a moment. At the head of the stair a Greek eunuch met us and stared insolently at me. From chin to toe he wore a plain red robe, and the square cap on his shaven head was cloth of gold.

With his staff he led us out upon a gallery where the floor was veined marble and a fountain cast rose scent into the air. Beyond the fountain was a dais, and here on a couch lay the Lord Menas.

"What word, 0 bladder of a mule?" he asked of Arbogastes softly.

He was a young man, beautiful indeed. The veins showed blue on his skin, his eyes were clear and bright. His yellow hair curled about his neck in oiled locks and there was henna-red upon his cheeks. His lips curved willfully, like a spoiled woman's. A single sapphire of great size gleamed on his bare throat and his crimson tunic was edged with ermine.

"The bird is in the cage, your Magnificence. And in the city-"

"I know the city. Why did you leave the garden before dark?"

"At the gate I was set upon by some rogues." Arbogastes had wit enough to dispense with needless lies when the Domastikos listened. "This Arab lord helped me put them to flight. He is a notable swordsman, though a Muslimin."

Menas spoke Arabic as well as Arbogastes, and now he looked at me suddenly.

"What seek ye of me, 0 son of the black tents?"

"Wai, my lord, it is no time for the Muslimin to go alone in the streets. I seek protection."

"How many men hast thou, 0 Khalil?"

"I have one sword, Iny lord."

"Wilt use it on my behalf?"

"At need."

"For what price?"

"For no price. Naught have I to sell or buy."

Hereupon he looked upon the fountain for a moment, pinching the skin of his cheek between two fingers.

"It needs no soothsayer, my Badawan, to tell that thou hast a need. All men have needs-some slack purses, some desires. What is thine?"

"A horse, my lord," I made answer truthfully. "Aye, a wonder of a horse."

And I told him of the gray courser, in the hands of the barbarian girl. The young exquisite deigned to smile.

"By the good saints Sergius and Bacchus, this Arab covets the colt, not the filly. Why not go with Arbogastes and take it?"

"Whither? The gates are closed."

"True." He still smiled, as though contemplating something that pleased him. "And, after all, a saracin might not easily presume to ride off with the horse in the patriarch's garden. What then?"

I made bold to tell him of my plan.

"When thy men make away with the barbarian girl, then I will bridle and lead out the gray courser, as if bearing him to thee."

"And so, must I lose a racer worth a few hundred denarii in the Hippodrome?"

Now when a youth has his heart set upon a woman, and at the same time dreams of making himself an emperor, he is not apt to haggle at a horse. I had seen that which I had seen-the bearded Maga Ducas, or Lord of Ships, stalking impatiently in the anteroom. Aye, and the captain of the yellow-haired barbarian mercenaries as well.

Truly this youth held a high place in the Greek court, if he dared to keep such men of war gnawing their beards in his hall. And he had ambition, or they would not have waited upon him.

So I weighed my words accordingly, knowing well that unless I bargained with him, his men-at-arms would take the gray horse for him or for themselves. Such Greeks and barbarians have no true love of a fine horse, yet they would have sold him for a price.

"I have a white charger from the stable of the emperor himself, my lord," I ventured, "and this royal beast I shall give to the hand of thy captain, when I take the gray racer."

He looked at me sharply, considering the advantages of Murtzuple's charger, and nodded.

"Agreed," he said in Greek.

Thus he spoke with the desire to test me, but the thought came to me not to reveal my knowledge of the Greek, that I had from the galley slaves of the Gates.

"This Arab," spoke up Arbogastes, "understandeth not the noble language of your Mightiness."

"Be it agreed, 0 Khalil," the Lord Menas said again in my speech, and I bent my head.

"Between us it is agreed, my lord," I reminded him, "yet forget not that I have agreed to stand at thy back and draw my sword in defense of thy person-that only, and not to be thy servant, at command, as is this Persian."

"Body of Bacchus, thou art a man of many conditions and few promises. A true rarity, I vow, in Constantinople-"

There was a sudden commotion of running feet near at hand, yet unseen, a long shout and a clamor of voices. Menas listened, but his soft voice went on:

"And so thy boldness is forgiven thee. Abide with Arbogastes and await my further word."

He had been toying with a silver ball, and now he let it drop into a bronze basin that hung beside the couch. At once a boy slave slipped from the shadows behind the couch, and another from beyond the fountain. They ran to the heavy velvet curtain that hid one side of the chamber and drew it back. There was no wall. We looked out upon a tiled balcony overhanging an arm of the sea.

It was the hour of sunset, and a red pathway lay upon the sea-a pathway that led from the city to the tiny sails of many ships coming out of the west.

"The Franks!" cried Arbogastes.

"It is the Venetian fleet," assented my lord Menas, picking up his silver ball. Suddenly he laughed. "A fleet of gallant fools."

Again the half smile curved his lips, and he touched the glowing sapphire, speaking in Greek to the red eunuch.

"They spent their wealth on followers and accoutrements; they reached Venice with empty purses and bold words. They had pledged eighty-five thousand marks of silver to the Doge for his fleet, and war galleys to clear the seas and provisions for a year-to take them to Palestine. Lacking the half of this sum, they pawned their lives for the remainder-or would have done so, had not the Doge persuaded them to capture Zara for the Venetians instead.

"So the paladins, the men of iron, stormed Zara and gave its spoil to the accursed Venetian merchants. Then came to them an upstart-Alex- ius-who claimed the throne of Constantinople, and these mummers turned aside again to play the part of rescuers, forsooth. They have come to conquer the Greek empire for Alexius, so to pay their passage to the Holy Land. They would be masters of the city of the caesars, and enlist here a mighty host to set free the city of Christ from Moslem bondage. Fools, to go against Constantinople the Great, that never has been taken by mortal man. Aye, their lives are in pawn!"

In high good humor was my lord Menas, and the eunuch vanished with his staff. Arbogastes plucked at my robe, signing that we should go from the presence of the Domastikos, So, with a salutation we went, unattended.

And at the first turning of the stair I heard a shuffling of feet and whispers in the recess behind the lamp. I feared an arrow and so turned to peer into the gloom, which was a passage and not an alcove as Arbogastes had said. Verily, this was a house of many surprises and of hidden things.

I saw the eunuch, two spears' lengths down the passage, and behind him another man. This was a warrior, wide of shoulder and dark of face, in mail from toe to helmet-his surcoat so stiff with dust and streaked with rain that the device was dim.

Yet I had seen that device before. The man was a Frank and a captain of warriors.

I had faced him once when the Franks pillaged a village near Edessa. They had taken horses and cattle from the village, and had slain else all living things, the women, and the sick, and sucking babes.

There had been no Arab warriors at that village nor any battle. The Franks who plundered it were filled with the lust to slay. Yet I have seen others who nursed wounded Arabs-

The Frankish baron who burned that village had been Richard de Brienne. And the captain of his men-at-arms was this same mailed swordsman who waited behind the eunuch until we should have passed.

So much I saw in a glance, before the eunuch stretched out his long sleeve and the Frank bent his head to hide his face.

"What is it?" asked Arbogastes impatiently.

"A slave in a red robe," I made answer.

But memory had stirred in me. It was this slayer, the Sieur de Brienne who had bestowed the gray horse on the girl Irene. But why had his captain come with hidden face to the house of the Lord Menas?

That night I slept in the barrack of the Tatar archers, and in the palace grounds the next day there was not sign or portent of the Frank. I asked Arbogastes if an embassy had come to the city from the barons of Frankistan, and he laughed.

"Oho, they will come with their ships to the sea wall, not before."

He told me also that the Greek prince, Alexius, with the fleet had truly a just claim to the throne, because the father of this prince lay blinded and in chains in the prisons of Murtzuple. The father had been emperor for two years, and before his time, poison and the knife had shrouded three Greek emperors. As to whether Murtzuple or Alexius had the best claim to the throne Arbogastes neither knew nor cared. Nor did the Tatars or the Northmen or the Genoese mercenaries care.

"My lord Menas hath bought the captain of the Northmen and the Lord of Ships," he added. "He hath rolled out casks of Chian wines, and whole sheep roast in the courtyards. We fare well, and by that same token there is work laid up for us."

So thought the warriors who crowded around the wine casks. Some, when their tongues were loosed, said my lord Menas wished to gather a great array so that when the Franks were driven off he could say that it was his doing. But others-and these were the Genoese who sipped their wine instead of gulping it-whispered that the Domastikos meant to overthrow the emperor suddenly and then seize the crown.

The barbarians from the north of Frankistan said nothing at all, though they drank more than any-dipping their horns into the kegs of mead. They grunted together and sang without mirth-tall men in rusted chain mail who walked with pride, and yet drowsily.

They had been paid to fight for Menas. They were faithful to the gold that bought them.

I wondered what had driven them from their country to serve a Greek. The Tatars yearned for spoil, and the Genoese hated the Venetians. Like dog and wolf was the feud between these twain.

But no man knew the mind of my lord Menas.

The following night it was that I heard the voice of the Frank who was the follower of Richard de Brienne. It was late, and the singing of the Northmen had waked me from sleep. The feel of before-dawn was in the air, and I rose to walk through the corridors. I meant to go to the balcony from which we had seen the ships. I wished to see what the galleys of the Franks were about, because they had withdrawn from sight the night before now. And I went warily through the long corridors and up the marble stair where drowsy slaves stood beside the oil. The armed sentries of my lord Menas were not to be seen, yet. I had heard the corridors were guarded.

Before long I had lost the way and entered a dark chamber. Here I ceased to go forward and paused to listen. Close to my ear a man's voice spoke and another answered clearly.

One was the voice of my lord Menas, the other the strange Frank-hoarse and growling with much argument and wine. They seemed to be in agreement, though their words I understood not.

The chamber was empty, and the voices echoed in its stone walls. I heard another sound and leaped to one side.

Near at hand the air moved, and feet thumped on the hard mosaics. In the light from the passage behind me, I beheld the figure of a man and the gleam of a knife that struck at me, the blade ripping through my cloak. The man groaned loud, and fell. In the same instant that he stabbed, my sword cut him under the ribs and grated against the spine.

Like a slit waterskin he tumbled down and ceased to move. I drew back from the blood on the floor and looked at the wall. Aye, there was a niche, as if made for a statue, and beside it a square of fretwork, bronze by the feel of it. My fingers passed through it and felt the breath of cool air. This was surely a whispering chamber, and at the other end-what? The opening in the wall ran perhaps to the sleeping -place of the Domastikos. By chance, hearing the voices, I had stood before it, and the guardian of the chamber-he may well have been a deaf mute-had sprung out at me from the niche.

Then it was that I had assurance of the truth of this. A wide portal in the mosaic chamber flung open, light streamed in, and two Greek spearmen stood beside me. Two black savages entered, bearing torches, and behind them came my lord Menas with mincing gait.

Verily, from the other end of the gallery, he had heard the leap and the groan of his slave, and now he glanced at me from under lowered lids.

"Thy blade is bloodied, 0 Khalil," he said softly. "Wipe it, and sheath it."

The spears of the Greek warriors were close to me, yet I delayed not to wipe clean the scimitar on the tunic edge of the dead slave, and sheath it, and uprise with folded arms.

"And now, Khalil-what is this?"

"Upon thee, my lord, greeting of the dawn! I sought my way to the balcony, for sight of the ships. At this spot the slave leaped and struck with his knife-here-" I lifted my cloak. "No word passed, nor could I see him. So I slew him, and will take therefore no blame."

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