And before he could raise to parry, Richard saw the other's blade swing straight upon him. One flash—one thought of Mary Kurkuas—crash! The great mace of Sebastian had dashed the sword aside, and De Carnac smote the man-at-arms so that he toppled with a dull cry. Richard saw John of the Iron Arm at his feet.
"Seize! Bind!" he shouted; "let him be as Baron Gaston said." And he strode straight on toward the altar. Lady Ide caught at his hands.
"As you hope in God," she pleaded, "do not harm my son! Revere the altar!"
And Richard, with all the fiends in his heart, smote her so that she fell without a moan. He saw the boy clinging to a box on the altar—sacred relics doubtless. In one hand the lad held up a brazen crucifix, and stretched it forth—defence against the slayer.
"Pity, pity, for the love of Christ!" he was pleading. He was only a young lad.
Sebastian tore at Richard's arm.
"As you love Our Lord!" cried the churchman, "spare him!" Richard glared round the room.
"Some of you strike down this boy!" was his command to all about. De Carnac, mad sinner, started forward, gave a glance at the relic box and crucifix, recoiled, crossing himself. "Deliver us from evil!" he was muttering.
"You, Abul Kadir," cried Richard to a grinning Saracen. "Pluck the boy away! Hew him down!"
But the Moslem, though his fingers twitched round his hilt, did not stir. "Away, away!" pleaded Sebastian, dragging at the Norman's arm. "Our Lady spare this wickedness!"