"Truly, emir," was the answer, "they say there is no rider like him in all the South Country."
The Egyptian grinned again, a little angrily.
"Wallah! Let him go. I will reach Monreale soon enough. Not even Louis de Valmont shall cross my path save when I choose; neither he nor any other."
"You wax bold, my lord. And may I ask why you speak thus? Surely, it is no wound to your honor or mine that he chances to-day to outride us both."
Iftikhar laughed aloud, was silent a moment, then broke forth.
"Verily, Cid Richard, why ride we all, you, I, De Valmont, to Monreale! Ya! do you still ask why I say I 'let none cross me'?"
Richard's hand started towards his hilt.
"My Lord Iftikhar, we all seek the good favor of that incomparable lady, Mary Kurkuas."
The Egyptian's hand was on his cimeter also. "You speak well," came back his haughty answer; "but I speak to a young cavalier like yourself this word of warning—do not carry your passion too far. As for De Valmont, let him know this, good lance that he is: I am as sure a saddle as he, and I am more." Iftikhar leaned, as he rode, and half whispered to Richard, "Do you know the brotherhood of the Ismaelians?"
"The secret confederacy among Moslems, whose god is the dagger?"