The chant went up to heaven and seemed to call forth more light from the glowing east. Suddenly every voice hushed,—silence as never before. For all thoughts went deeper than word or cry. The last mist stole upward, a thin gray haze; the sun-ball hung behind the highest peak of Moab. His tip crept above it; Longsword glanced back. A cry from Sebastian recalled him.
"Jerusalem!"
It came as a great cry and sigh in one from the priest. He had cast himself on the bare summit and kissed the holy rock.
Richard and Godfrey looked westward, and bathed in the dawn—they saw the Holy City. They saw gray walls and a dim brown country, naked almost of tree or shrub, and white houses peering above frowning battlements. Dominating over all they saw the dome of the mosque on the Sacred Rock,—token of the enemies of Christ. What mattered it now?
"Jerusalem! Jerusalem!" the cry was passing down the line, and made the climbing easy as though on eagle's wings.
"Jerusalem! Jerusalem!" Richard saw strong men falling on their faces, as had he. And his and every other's cheek was wet, for tears would come,—no shame when they looked upon the city of their risen Lord! Gray stones and brown cliffs, thorns and thistles, dust and drought, naked plains, burned by blasting heat; so be it! This their goal, the object of an untold agony! Could human hearts be filled so full and not break? Godfrey flung his arms about Richard, and their iron lips exchanged the kiss of awful gladness. Words they had none, save that one word. They named the Holy City a thousand times: "Jerusalem! Jerusalem!" And men prayed God then and there to die, for already their souls were wrapt to heaven. Tancred the haughty, who had just come up, saw at his side a simple man-at-arms, a plodding peasant's son; but the great Prince had forgotten all, save that for both one Saviour died.
"My brother! My brother in Christ!" Tancred was pleading, as he gave the kiss of love, "Pray for me! pray for me! I am a very sinful man!"
They remained thus upon the mountain, weeping and laughing and stretching forth their hands, till the sun had risen far above the mountains. Had the Egyptians sallied forth to smite, scarce a sword would have flashed, so dear seemed martyrdom. But at length the hour of transfiguration was past. Godfrey had risen for the last time from his knees. He mounted and pointed with his good sword to the minarets and the clusters of spears upon the lowering battlements.
"Forward, Christians!" rang the command; "the infidels still hold the City of God! Forward! there is yet one fight to be won in Our Lord's dear name!"
Then another cry thundered from the army, each blade leaping from scabbard:—