CHAPTER XV
THE FOREST OF ZIN
Hear it not, ye stars!
And thou, pale moon, turn paler at the sound!
—Young: Night Thoughts.
It was still daylight when I recovered consciousness. The setting sun was just dipping below the western horizon, and the cathedral light of the forest of Zin was slowly changing with lengthening shadows to the darkness of the coming night. Save for the whir of some heavy bird, flying to roost or the cry of a number of crows far overhead, there was no sound.
The gay coloured ribbons of the boar spear, lying among the dead leaves, brought me back to a slight realization of my position. I abruptly tried to rise. But, when I attempted to move, the trees began to glide around like giant feathers in a motionless atmosphere, and I became aware of an aching head and burning pain in the back. I lay quiet examining the branches overhead.
A little red squirrel, frightened by my sudden movement, leaped from the ground near by and clattered up the trunk of the nearest tree, being careful to put the tree between me and him in his flight. He reappeared high up among the branches, where he rested ready to run, watching me curiously. Was that the trunk of a fallen tree or a man? He concluded that I was an enemy and awoke the echoes with his chattering warning cry, in which there was something of rage. When I again struggled weakly to arise, he fell silent, hid behind a crotch and, from his safe retreat, watched with one little prick ear and one little round eye cautiously exposed.
This time I managed to get to my knees, although the world swayed before my eyes. A spring bubbled coolly among the leaves near-by. I dragged myself to it and, like the rejected soldiers of Joshua, drank with my nose in the water. Greatly refreshed, I rolled over on my back and again tried to think. The little watchman in the tree shifted his position so as to bring his one little eye to bear again. My head was becoming clearer.
Let me see, what had happened to me? Somebody or something had struck me on the head. I put my hand to my aching brow and found my hair matted with dried blood. There was a bad cut just above my forehead. How had I been so injured? Had the swordsman reached me? The swordsman with the long black cloak and the Greek cross upon his breast—what had he done. Ah, yes, I knew. With a rush the whole picture came back.
Solonika had been stolen by the Order of the Cross!
It must have happened only a moment ago. My enemy still fronted me and might even now be waiting to continue, or rather begin, the fight. I came to a sudden sitting posture, but the woods were deserted. The rider had long since made good his escape. My own animal, too, was gone and I wondered if he could find his way back to Framkor stables and give warning of my predicament.