"God Wills It!" A Tale of the First Crusade.

by William Stearns Davis

"Dear Musa," said Mary, "what is it that makes you grow so sad?"

But the only answer was the gentle laugh, and the remark, "Wallah,—and with your Christians pressing us night and day, and all preparing for the death grip, will you marvel I am not always merry?"

"True," she replied; "but I know it is not the siege that darkens you."

Musa said nothing. In fact she saw him seldom. The wretched Jerusalem Christians were kept at forced labor on the walls, and sight of their piteous state made Mary hate all Moslems save the Spaniard. Presently rumor had it the Franks had completed their engines. Mary saw the great procession around the city, after the fashion of the Israelites around Jericho,—the priests, the knights, the men-at-arms, a great company that marched from the valley of Rephaim, beside Calvary, to the Mount of Olives, where they halted for exhortings to brave deeds, by the chieftains and priests. The hymns and brave words Mary did not hear; but she did hear the blasphemies of the Moslems, as from the walls they held up crosses in the sight of all the Christians, heaping filth upon them, and shouting, "Look, Franks, look; behold the blessed cross!" But the Greek knew deep down in her heart that they blasphemed to their own destruction; and Musa half shared her thought, when that night he parted from her to go upon the walls.

"Star of the Greeks," he said, salaaming, "the Christians' engines are ready, and their host in array to attack with the morning. Allah alone knows what we shall see by another sunset. Keep close within the harem. I cannot return until about this time to-morrow evening."

And he was gone, leaving Mary to pass a sleepless night with awaking to a wretchedness she had never felt before. Not dread for herself this time. Richard would be face to face with death—and Musa! What if both should be cut down! Then let Iftikhar Eddauleh or any other demon in mortal guise possess her; this world would be one blackness, and trifles would matter little. She tossed on her pillow till daybreak, then rose to greater misery. What mockery to pray; to cry to God and the saints! If they were all righteous, why had they created in her that stubborn will which would not bow to their decree? Under her lattice in the narrow dirty streets the corps of the garrison were rushing to and fro. She could see the ebon Ethiopians clashing their huge targets and sabres as they ran toward the walls, while the war-horns and kettledrums blared and boomed unceasingly.

"This way, true believers!" came the shout. "The Franks are advancing. He who speeds one Christian to hell blots out ten thousand sins!" But over the din of arms sounded the cry of the muezzins from the Mosque el-Aksa, and all the other lesser fanes, calling the people to prayer. Looking up at a minaret close by, Mary could see the pigeons still nesting under the balcony; and when the waves of clangor hushed an instant, she could hear the coo, coo, of mate to mate, as if the brown earth were calm and peaceful as the azure dome.

So the day commenced. As the sun climbed higher, the rock on which Jerusalem was founded trembled under the crash of bursting war. Mary, sitting upon the house roof, could hear all the tumult in the city streets, and see the garrison massing on the battlements by the Gate of Herod.

How long a day! The eunuchs, timorous as their mistress, gave her little heed. But a few grapes and figs were all the food the Greek cared to touch. About the third hour of the morning she knew the conflict was joined. From that time till sunset the roar of assault and defence went up to heaven as one continuous thunder. The shouts of Christian and Moslem; the crash of mangonel and catapult; the hurtling of myriad arrows and stones,—all these made a raging babel that spoke but a single word—"Death!" For Mary, it was one long-drawn terror. Long since had she, with her woman's heart, ceased to care whether the blessed Christ or Allah reigned within the bulwarks of the Holy City. She only knew that her husband and a man who had become dearer to her than a brother were in the midst of that chaos. Again and again she heard a mighty crash from the battlements, sounding above the unending din, that told of a triumph won by besiegers or besieged. Twice her heart leaped to her throat, as shrieking men flew down the street, calling on Allah to "have mercy; the city was taken." And twice again others passed, bawling out their Bismillahs, telling how the Franks had been utterly crushed. It was noon, and still the thunders grew louder. The third hour after noon; were the heavens of adamant that they did not crack asunder at the roaring? The fourth hour, and under the balcony galloped an Egyptian officer.

"Allah akhbar! Rejoice, O Moslems! The Christians have been repulsed on all hands!" he was proclaiming; "they will never assault again. The Lord Iftikhar has made a sally from the breach, and all their engines are burning!"