"Brother mine, you ask a great thing; yet I accept it. If it is written by the stars that you fall, I swear I will stand in your place to the Star of the Greeks. May she never want love and service while life is mine! But till that day I will be to her as a brother, no more, no less; and let Allah speed the hour when I can give her back spotless to your arms."
They said no more, those two strong men; their clasped hands sealed the pledge. Richard walked back to Mary.
"Dear heart," said he, "we Franks have a proverb, 'Hunger drives the wolf from the woods.' We cannot stand here forever. Why should we grieve? Have I not seen your face two nights and a day; and do I not commit you to the noblest friend in all the wide earth? When I enter the city, I will show three red shields above the Gate of St. George; and if all goes well with you, let Musa contrive to set three lances with red pennons before it at an arrow's flight, as sign that your tale is credited and you are safe in Kerbogha's camp."
"We will not fail," said Musa, calmly. Richard adjusted the saddle of the captured horse so that Mary might ride. No stragglers were at the moment in sight. The Norman kissed his friend on both cheeks. He pressed the Greek once to his breast. Death was not paler than she; but she did not cry.
"You are my cavalier, my saviour, my husband," said she, lifting her eyes. "You are your Roland and our Greek Achilles! Dear God, what have I done that for an hour you should love me?"
"Our Lady keep you, sweet wife!" was the only answer.
"And you, Richard mine."
That was all that passed. Musa spoke his farewell with his eyes. Godfrey bowed ceremoniously to the Spaniard; kissed the lady's hand. His honest heart was too deeply moved for words. Richard swung onto Rollo without touching stirrup. He did not look back. Marchegai cantered beside. The horses whirled their riders over the hillside. Soon the view before and behind was hid by the close thickets that lined the foothills. Richard rode with his head bent over Rollo's black mane, letting the horse thunder at will at the heels of Marchegai. The Norman's thoughts? Drowning men, report has it, live a long life through in a twinkling. Richard's life was not long; yet not once, but many times, he lived it over during that ride—the good things, the evil; and the evil were so many! And always before his sight was the vision of that face, pale as marble, the eyes fairer than stars—that face he had put away because of the love for the unseen Christ.
Now of much that passed in that ride Richard remembered little; but he followed Godfrey blindly. And a voice seemed to repeat in his ears time and again: "Turn back, Richard Longsword, turn back. You can yet rejoin Musa and Mary. There is safety in the camp of Kerbogha. You are not needed in the threatened city. Leave the army to God. You have long since slain enough Moslems to clear your guilt and vow."
But Richard would cross himself and mutter prayers, calling on every saint to fight against the assailing devils. As he rode, he saw remnants all about of the old pagan world where there had been love of sunlight, of flowers, of fair forms, and men had never borne a pain or struck a blow for love of the suffering Christ or the single Allah. They were on a road, he knew, that led to the Grove of Daphne. He had heard Mary tell of the sinful heathen processions that once must have traversed this very way,—revellers brimming with unholy mirth, their souls devoted to the buffets of Satan.