The dagger's edge was cold against the Arab's throat, a goodly check to lying, and there was something in Richard's eye that made it dangerous to haggle with the truth.
"Cid,—I tell you truly,—it will be a great peril for any Christian to try to enter Antioch. But if you ride to the south and then westward, touching the river below the city, I think you might pass, if Allah favor."
Longsword withdrew the dagger.
"See!" commented he; "the word of a Frank is inviolate. Swear you will whisper, not even to the winds, you were met by us; and you are free. Only we must keep your horse."
The Arab swore by the "triple-divorcement" (an oath Musa declared all-abiding), and rejoiced to struggle to his feet.
"I am secret as the Judgment book, my Cid!" quoth he, in his gratitude. Godfrey motioned him away.
"Remember your oath, then, and begone."
The fellow climbed the hillside, blessing Allah he was still alive. But those he left had a gloomy council. They were in no state for high and brave speech. Presently Richard began in his quiet way, sure token of determination: "We cannot remain here. Others may pass, in greater numbers. We have captured a fresh horse, and must make over the saddle for my wife."
But Musa stood listless, his eyes on the ground.
"We are in Allah's hands, brother," said he, with a despairing wave of the hand. "We have done all men might. Useless—fate is wearied with saving us. We can do nothing more. If our doom is written, it is written."