“Nay, and that thou well mightst,” returned the Clare, “for the history of mankind does not furnish the idea of so daring and desperate a band as these assassins of Mt. Lebanon.”
“Heaven save us!” exclaimed Eva, her lips white with fear. “From what terrible fate have I been delivered! That vile Sir Francis declared that he had snatched me from the hostile Arabs, and would bring me safe to Acre, and that it was in pity for my fatigue he turned aside to a castle of christian natives. It makes me shudder, even now, to think that I have been in the presence of the man whose very name hath made me tremble, when beyond the sea, in merrie England.”
“Nay, love,” said her father, tenderly, “the Sheik owed thee no malice, and might have rescued thee, had not Sir Francis been his tributary.”
“They exact, then, toll and custom?” said Courtenay, inquiringly.
“Thou sayest well exact,” replied the knight. “Didst not mark the battle-axe of the rude seneschal? ’Tis said the Danish weapon once belonged to the founder of the band, and each dagger stuck in the oaken helve, inscribed with a sentence in a different dialect, is significantly pointed against the prince or ruler who shall dare withhold tribute from their chief. One of my ancestors, I reck not whom, once resided in the vicinity of Croyland, and received from the venerable abbot the parchment which thou sawest me use with such marvellous effect. My ancestor fought in the first crusade under the Atheling, and, unlike most of his companions, returned in safety, whence a tradition arose in the family that the scroll was a charm.
“On my setting out for the holy wars, I placed the heirloom in my aumonière, and had nearly forgotten its existence, when a startling circumstance recalled it to memory. My plan for the redemption of Palestine (for I have not been without ambition) was the organization of troops collected from the mixed races which are now an important part of the population. I was warned at the outset that tribute would be demanded by the chief of the assassins, but I steadily resisted every tax-gatherer who presented his claims, till I awoke one morning in my tent, surrounded by my faithful guard, and found a dagger stuck in the ground not two fingers’ breadth from my head. I examined the inscription upon the weapon and found it the same with that upon the scroll, and forthwith determined to form the acquaintance of this rival chief. He respected my passport and showed me the wonders of his habitation, which heaven grant I may never see again. So perfect is the discipline of his followers, so invincible their faith, that every word of their chief is a law. He led me up a lofty tower, at each battlement of which stood two Fedavis. At a sign from him, two of these devotees flung themselves from the tower, breaking their bones, and scattering their brains upon the rock below. ‘If you wish it,’ said the chief, ‘all these men shall do the same.’ But I had seen enough, and I resolved from that hour never to tempt the enmity of the Old Man of the Mountain.
“I have ransomed yon traitor, at heavy cost, for I would that Edward should know and punish his baseness. You are now beyond the reach of danger. I may not enter Acre—the reasons shall be told ere long. Farewell, my daughter, sweet image of thy sainted mother; guard my secret safely till we meet again. Adieu.”
He dashed the rowels into his steed, and was soon lost among the hills.
CHAPTER VII.