"Morgiana." Mary stood holding a little silver lamp. The coronet was still flashing on her flowing hair, the dim light shining on her bare neck and swan-white shoulders. Never in the eyes of her rival had she seemed fairer. Morgiana stirred, stared into Mary's face.
"You have yielded! You are his—his forever! Oh, sorrow, sorrow!" So cried the Arab; but the Greek touched her cheek softly.
"Hush, dear sister! I have not yielded. I have defied him; and this time there is a gulf sprung between us that only death can close. It was an angel from heaven that spoke; I must, I will—escape him! I must fly, fly—or it is best to perish!"
"Fly!" cried Morgiana, startled now. "Allah the Compassionate! You are mad!" Mary checked her.
"No, not mad; only I know that I cannot sell my soul to Iftikhar Eddauleh, though he led me sultana through Bagdad. Listen: I had a terrible scene with him in the boat. God knows what I said or did; I recall nothing, save as out of a frightful dream. But one thing I know, I am the wife of Richard Longsword, and till I know he is numbered with the dead, I will lift eyes to no man, nor angel either; but to Iftikhar Eddauleh never—till the endless ages end! Dear God—I can endure no more. I must—I will—fly!"
"O dearest one," cried Morgiana, troubled greatly, "how may I comfort you? say what? do what? Allah pity us both!"
"He will have pity!" burst out the Greek. "Follow me. When Iftikhar rowed back to the shore he was in a black rage. I hoped he would strike me dead. He did not. The Sultan Redouan and his lords were feasting in the palace. Said Iftikhar to the eunuchs at the quay, 'I must join the revelling, but lead the accursed woman back to the harem; for seven days she shall not see my face, since she likes it so ill.' But the eunuchs were reeling with their wine. I wrapped a veil about me, and evaded them. Then I wandered through the palace, as did the other women come from Aleppo. No one knew me. And as I strayed by the great banqueting hall, I saw one whom they styled Aboun Nedjn, vizier of Redouan, rise and shout the pledge, 'To the confusion of the Christians, and may they soon fight their last before Antioch!' Then I turned to one of the women, and said, 'And are the Christians besieging Antioch?' and she replied: 'How ignorant! All Aleppo knows that they have lain about that city all winter; certain prisoners of theirs have been brought to Aleppo; and now the Lord Iftikhar makes ready to join the great host which Kerbogha, emir of Mosul, is gathering to deliver Antioch and its prince, Yaghi-Sian.' Then I listened no more, but fled straight to you. For I must fly this very night. Think, Morgiana: at Antioch are the Christians; at Antioch are Duke Godfrey, and Raymond, and Tancred; at Antioch, oh, joy! is Richard Longsword, whose soul is more dear than my own!"
"But, sweet sister," protested the Arab, "Antioch, I believe, is twenty of our Eastern leagues away, perhaps sixty of your Frankish miles. How can you make the journey? Alone?"
"To-night!" cried Mary, tearing the gold from her hair. "To-night! All the palace is drunken. Even the 'devoted' are in stupid sleep. No watch is kept, I saw that well. A late slave boy returning to his master in Aleppo—no questions."
"But the dangers of the way! Full of bandits, roving horsemen, the scum of both armies—for such must be afield. You on foot! The hardships; deathly peril!"