“I can try,” smiled Ahmed. “We are taught the arts of warfare in the monastery.”
“You surprise me. I thought the priests passed their time in the worship of Allah.”
“And in preparing to defend the Faith, good Dirrag. Yet I do not know how well I can wield a cimeter in actual combat. Naked steel differs from a wooden foil. And the men of Raab outnumber us.”
“There are a dozen of them, at least. But you and I are of the tribe of Ugg. If we cannot win the fight we may at least honor our kinsmen by taking three lives to our one.”
“It is worth the trial,” returned Ahmed, cheerfully, and he drew the cimeter from its leathern sheath and eyed the blade curiously.
“The spear first, my lord,” said Dirrag. “After that the sword play. These men of Raab are not skillful, but they are brave.” And he proceeded to instruct Ahmed in the conduct of the coming encounter.
The horsemen were now so near that their shouts could be plainly heard. They were racing on at full speed, waving their spears in the air as they rode.
“See!” exclaimed Ahmed, after a glance over his shoulder. “We are being surrounded.”
Dirrag looked and growled again; but there was a more cheerful note to his voice this time.
“A caravan!” he exclaimed. “They are yet far off, but they have dromedaries and are swiftly approaching. If we can escape the first attack of the assassins we may be rescued yet.”