"Strike! Strike!" the Christians were riding them down in a twinkling; a dozen were crushed before they could rise from the ground; others drew, and made some slight defence; more stood dazed, and while calling on Allah were made prisoners. Richard was reining in Rollo, and growling that he had not struck a single fair blow, when a cry from Herbert startled him.
"By the Mass! Look! Hossein, as I am a sinner!"
And Richard saw before his eyes a white-robed, catlike Arab, swinging upon a picketed chestnut charger. No need to glance twice to know the traitor—Longsword could have singled his face from ten thousand. But as he gazed a flash of the Arab's dagger had cut the lariat;—a whistle to the high-bred desert steed, and the splendid creature shot away, fleet as a startled hart.
"For the love of God, shoot down the horse!" thundered Richard, making Rollo leap under the spur. Herbert levelled, and sent a crossbow bolt. Too hasty,—long range, and he missed. And every twinkling was making the distance grow long between the rider in the white dress and the Christians.
"Chase! Ride!" rang Longsword's command. "A hundred byzants to take him alive!" But Rollo himself was soon heading all the forty. Never had Richard ridden as now, never had Rollo felt the spur so deep; but the speed of Borak, steed of the lightning, was in the mount of Hossein. Seldom had Rollo so nearly met his match. Almost before one dreamt it, the forty were specks in the rear.
"Faster, faster, dear Rollo!" urged Richard, for his voice was ever the keenest spur to the great brute. And Rollo indeed ran faster, but the desert steed faster too; and for a long time the distance between neither waxed nor waned. Grove, thicket, gully, fallen log (for their way lay along none the most beaten road), the kind Powers led them past, when a stumble would have dashed rider and steed to certain death. Richard pressed Rollo again, and the huge horse putting forth all his powers began slowly as a snail, yet steadily, to gain on the Arabian. For some moments they raced thus; then the road became clearer, shut in on either side by trees that arched down, and slapped their green banners in the riders' faces. Who recked? Already Richard could see Hossein swaying in the saddle, clearly deliberating whether he could slacken to dismount and speed up the hillside. But the Arabian was running for dear life now, and though his rider tugged at the bit, he hardly swerved. Rollo, black monster, was coming up bound upon bound. Richard dropped his lance into rest. He would have Hossein at mercy before one could say three Credos. Was his hand steady enough to pin the Arab through the thigh where flesh was thick, and so take him prisoner? For Hossein's life would be precious—for a while.
"Ah, traitor!" cried Longsword in Arabic, "call on Allah now!"
The only answer was a fresh bound from the chestnut charger, a final burst of speed that carried him ahead for a moment. Then the steady gallop of Rollo told once more—another furlong, and the Ismaelian would face his doom.
"La ilaha ill' Allah!" broke forth from the fugitive; and half involuntarily Richard drew rein, while the prey nigh in his hands flew onward. For lo! in the road directly ahead was a company—horse and foot, in Oriental dress,—advancing rapidly, not a bowshot away! Richard wavered for an instant. He saw a horseman in flashing armor and blood-red turban come pricking toward them. Almost ere the thought could speed through his mind, Hossein was among the newcomers, and a score more came dashing forward to confront the solitary Christian. A glance back—not one of his men in sight! Rollo blown and panting! Escape up the hillside—impossible!—he in armor, and the Moslems nimble as rats!
"God wills it!" Richard's soul cried. "This is the good fortune; to ride down the foe, fight valiantly, die gallantly, and then peace—rest—peace!" He threw down the lance, and drew forth Trenchefer. "The last time you will strike for a Longsword, good friend!" quoth he, with a loving eye on the keen blade, "and you shall not strike in vain!" Then he pressed Rollo once more, "On again, my horse!" And the huge brute caught the hard road under his hoofs and went forward at a headlong pace. Richard could see the leading warrior, a splendid figure on his steed, coming on with drawn cimeter—a noble comrade in death! He would strike him first. And Richard made Trenchefer dance high while he flew.