"Hakem dead! Zeyneb bound! Rouse Cid Iftikhar! Morgiana,—death to Morgiana!"
Louder the din; Richard turned to his protectress half fiercely: "What is this? Shall I go up?"
She had covered her face with her hands.
"Allah pity! Allah have mercy!" moaned she, quaking with sobs. "He fights against us. Go or stay, we shall soon die."
Now at last leaped forth Trenchefer.
"Follow who will," thundered Richard to Godfrey and Musa, who needed no bidding.
Fast sped they; faster, Richard. Had he wings when he mounted the stairway? A second cry of utter despair, the rush of more feet. Longsword saw the last stair, saw the room, many torches and many forms; black eunuchs all, some clutching at a struggling woman, some bending over a prostrate form, some standing around Zeyneb, whose hands were upraised in malediction.
"Iftikhar! Send for Cid Iftikhar!" he was raging; and every voice swelled the babel.
But above them all pealed the thunder of the Norman. What profit silence now! "God wills it. St. Julien and Mary Kurkuas!"
Eblees leaping from the cloven rock smote no greater terror than Richard bounding upon the blacks. Arms some had, but arms none used; for Trenchefer dashed them down as the flail smites, ere one could raise or draw. Richard sought Zeyneb; but the dwarf, the only one with wits enough to fly, darting through a door, was gone into the darkness. "God wills it! St. Julien and Mary Kurkuas."