And Richard saw that the proud spirit of his friend was bowed at last. The heart of Musa was sprung from the East; the word "fate" was a deadly talisman to him, as to all his race. But the Norman caught him roughly by the shoulder.
"Rouse up, Musa, son of Abdallah! Do not anger God by saying, 'He puts forth His arm to save us all in vain,—to save from the cord, the cimeter, the fire, and the arrow, only to wait for slaughter like cows!' We have good swords and strong hearts still! Bowed heads never won triumph. Rouse up; your wits are not frozen. When one wills to have victory, victory is at hand."
Musa lifted his face; his eyes were again flashing.
"You say well, brother; I am turned coward. Do what you will; I follow."
Richard swept his arm around in a circle.
"We cannot recross this barren country; no refuge there. And Antioch must be warned. But there is safety for my wife and for you."
"Safety for me and for Musa? What?" Mary, long silent, demanded.
Richard hesitated; then drove on into seemingly reckless words.
"You have wits keener than your cimeter, Musa, and can tell a tale to deceive sage Oberon. Take my wife; ride boldly into the camp of Kerbogha. Say you are an Arab gentleman with a Greek slave fleeing from the Frankish raiders at Alexandretta; that Turkomen bandits met your party on the way and scattered it. Dress up the tale—they will believe you. Unless you meet Iftikhar or Zeyneb face to face, none will doubt. At first chance sail for Egypt, and be safe."
"And you and Cid Godfrey?"