"A strange tale; I had it all from Wasik, who was one of the eunuchs that guarded her. It seems the Ismaelian has once been among the Christians (Allah broil all in Gehenna!); there he saw and loved her, but she would have none of him. Then war threw her into his hands, and he moved earth and heaven to make her favor him. Gifts, dresses, fêtes, serving-maids fair as the moon—he gave all, with El Halebah to be her dwelling; and she repaid only pouts and high words. At last he learns that she still sets great store on her husband, a Frankish emir with their host at Antioch."
"Her husband?" asked the Spaniard, carelessly.
"You have heard his name—Richard of the Great Cimeter—a terrible emir who slays his captives ruthlessly."
"I have heard of him; go on."
"Ya! Iftikhar prepares his band to go to Antioch, and swears he will take this houri with him, that she may see the fate of her dear Franks with her own eyes. He vows likewise he will give her Emir Richard's head to fondle, since she loves it so."
"Verily he is a bloody man," commented the Spaniard.
"It is so; yet his captive will find she had best put the clouds from her face and try to please him. He is a man of will harder than Damascus steel."
The Spaniard took up the coral necklace and eyed it critically.
"Five dirhems?" suggested he. "Take it for five, yet count it as a gift. Alas, my profit!" sighed Asad.
The other drew the coins from a lank pouch, waited while Asad bit each to prove it, placed the coral under the folds of his turban, then whispered to the muezzin, "Friend, follow me,"—the same time slipping a coin into his closing palm. Asad's eyes shut in a contented cat-nap when adieus were over; profit enough gained for one day. Khalid followed the stranger into the bustling street.