The Life And Death Of Richard Yea And Nay Volume 91, Maurice Hewlett [beautiful books to read .TXT] 📗

Shall

Come Up And Go Down, And After That Come Up No More. Also, Let The Sheik

Depart In Peace And With All Speed, Lest I Repent And Put Him Suddenly

To Death. As For The Fair Woman, She Must Remain Among My Ladies, And

Become My Dutiful Wife, As A Ransom Price.'

 

The Abbot, As One Thunderstruck, Raised His Hands On High. 'O Sack Of

Sin!' He Groaned, 'O Dross For The Melting-Pot! O Unspeakable

Sacrifice!' But Jehane, Gravely Smiling, Checked Him. 'Why, Lord Abbot,

Is Any Sacrifice Too Great For King Richard?' She Asked, Gently

Reproving Him. 'Nay, Go, My Father; I Shall Do Very Well. I Am Not At

All Afraid. Now Do What I Shall Tell You. Kiss The Hand Of My Lord

Richard From Me When You See Him, Bidding Him Remember The Vows We Made

To Each Other On The Day At Fontevrault When He Took Up The Cross, And

Again Before The Lifted Host At Cahors. And To My Lady Queen Berengère

Say This, That From This Day Forth I Am Wife Of A Man, And Stand Not

Between Her Bed And The King, As God Knows I Have Never Meant To Stand.

Kiss Me Now, My Father, And Pray Diligently For Me.' He Tells Us That He

Did, And Records The Day Long Ago When He Had First Kissed The Poor Girl

In The Chapel Of The Dark Tower, The Day When, As She Hoped, She Had

Taught Her Great Lover To Tread Upon Her Heart.

 

At This Time A Great Black, The Chief Of The Eunuchs, Came And Touched

Her On The Shoulder. 'Whither Now, Friend?' Said Jehane. He Pointed The

Way, Being A Deaf-Mute. 'Lead,' Said She; 'I Will Follow.' And So She

Did.

 

She Turned No More Her Head, Nor Did She Go With It Lowered, But Carried

It Cheerfully, As If Her Business Was Good. The Black Led Her By Many

Winding Ways To A Garden Filled With Orange-Trees, And Across This To A

Bronze Door. There Stood Two More Blacks On Guard, With Naked Swords In

Their Hands. The Eunuch Struck Twice On The Lintel. The Door Was Opened

From Within, And They Entered. An Old Lady Dressed In Black Came To Meet

Them; To Her The Eunuch Handed Jehane, Made A Reverence, And Retired.

They Shut The Bronze Doors. What More? After The Bath, And Putting On Of

Habits More Sumptuous Than She Had Ever Heard Tell Of, She Was Taken By

Slaves Into The Hall Of Felicity. There, Among The Heavy-Eyed Languid

Women, Jehane Sat Herself Staidly Down, And Suckled Her Child.

Volume 91 Book 2 (The Book Of Nay) Chapter 8 (Of The Going Up And Going Down Of The Marquess) Pg 148

 

The Marquess Of Montferrat Travelled Splendidly From Acre To Sidon With

Six Galleys In His Convoy. So Many, Indeed, Did Not Suffice Him; For At

Sidon He Took Off His Favourite Wife With Her Women, Eunuchs And

Janissaries, And Thus With Twelve Ships Came To Tripolis. Thence By The

Aleppo Road He Went To Karak Of The Knights, Thence Again, After A Rest

Of Two Days, He Started--He, The Knights And Esquires Of His Body In

Cloth Of Gold, With Scarlet Housings For The Mules, Litters For His

Womenkind; With His Poets, His Jongleurs, His Priest, His Turcopoles And

Favourites; All This Gaudy Company, For The Great Ascent Of

Mont-Ferrand.

 

His Mind Was To Impress The Old Man Of Musse, But It Fell Out Otherwise.

The Old Man Was Not Easily Impressed, Because He Was So Accustomed To

Impressing. You Do Not Prophesy To Prophets, Or Shake Priests With

Miracles. When He Reached The Top Of Mont-Ferrand He Was Met By A Grave

Old Sheik, Who Informed Him Quietly That He Must Remain There. The

Marquess Was Very Angry, The Sheik Very Grave. The Marquess Stormed, And

Talked Of Armed Hosts. 'Look Up, My Lord,' Said The Sheik. The

Mountain-Ridges Were Lined With Bowmen; In The Hanging-Woods He Saw The

Gleam Of Spears; Between Them And The Sky, On All Sides As Far As One

Could See, Gloomed The Frozen Peaks. The Marquess Felt A Sinking. He

Arose Chastened On The Morrow, And Negotiations Were Resumed On The

Altered Footing. Finally, He Begged For But Three Persons, Without Whose

Company He Said He Could Not Do. He Must Have His Chaplain, His Fool,

And His Barber. Impossible, The Sheik Said; Adding That If They Were So

Necessary To The Marquess He Might 'For The Present' Remain With Them At

Mont-Ferrand. In That Case, However, He Would Not See The Lord Of The

Assassins.

 

'But That, Very Honourable Sir,' Said The Marquess, With Ill-Concealed

Impatience, 'Is The Simple Object Of My Journey.'

 

'So It Was Reported,' The Sheik Observed. 'It Is For You To Consider.

For My Own Part I Should Say That These Persons Cannot Be Indispensable

For A Short Visit.'

 

'I Can Give His Lordship A Week,' Said The Marquess.

 

'My Master,' Replied The Sheik, 'May Give You An Hour, But Considers

That Half That Time Should Be Ample. To Be Sure, There Is The Waiting

For Audience, Which Is Always Wearisome.'

 

'My Friend,' The Marquess Said, Opening His Eyes, 'I Am The King-Elect

Of Jerusalem.'

 

'I Know Nothing Of Such Things,' Replied The Sheik. 'I Think We Had

Better Go Down.' Three Only Went Down: The Sheik, The Marquess, And

Giafar Ibn Mulk.

Volume 91 Book 2 (The Book Of Nay) Chapter 8 (Of The Going Up And Going Down Of The Marquess) Pg 149

When At Last They Were In The Garden-Valley, And Better Still Had

Reached The Third Of The Halls Of Degree, They Were Met By The Chief Of

The Eunuchs, Who Told Them His Master Was In The Harem, And Could Not Be

Disturbed. The Marquess, Who So Far Had Been All Smiles And Interest,

Was Now Greatly Annoyed; But There Was No Help For That. In The Blue

Court He Must Needs Wait For Nearly Three Hours. By The Time He Was

Ushered Into The Milky Light Of The Audience Chamber He Was Faint With

Rage And Apprehension; He Was Dazzled, He Stumbled Over The Blood-Red

Carpet, Arrived Fainting At The Throne. There He Stayed, Tongue-Cloven,

While The Colourless Lord Of Assassins Blinked Inscrutably Upon Him,

With Eyes So Narrow That He Could Not Tell Whether He So Much As Saw

Him; And The Adepts, Rigid By The Tribune-Wall, Stared At Their Own

Knees.

 

'What Do You Need Of Me, Marquess Of Montferrat? 'Asked The Old Hierarch

In His Most Remote Voice. The Marquess Gulped Some Dignity Into Himself.

 

'Excellent Sir,' He Said, 'I Seek The Amity Of One King To Another,

Alliance In A Common Good Cause, The Giving And Receiving Of Benefits,

And Similar Courtesies.'

 

These Propositions Were Written Down On Tablets, And Carefully

Scrutinized By The Old Man Of Musse, Who Said At Last--

 

'Let Us Take These Considerations In Order. Of What Kings Do You

Propound The Amity?'

 

'Of Yourself, Sir,' Replied The Marquess, 'And Of Myself.'

 

'I Am Not A King,' Said Sinan, 'And Had Not Heard That You Were One

Either.'

 

'I Am King-Elect Of Jerusalem,' The Marquess Replied With Stiffness.

The Old Man Raised His Wrinkled Forehead.

 

'Well,' He Said, 'Let Us Get On. What Is Your Common Good Cause?'

 

'Eh, Eh,' Said The Marquess, Brightening, 'It Is The Cause Of Righteous

Punishment. I Strike At Your Enemy The Soldan Through His Friend King

Richard.' The Old Man Pondered Him.

 

'Do You Strike, Marquess?' He Asked At Length.

 

'Sir,' The Marquess Made Haste To Answer, 'Your Question Is Just. It So

Happens That I Cannot Strike King Richard Because I Cannot Reach Him. I

Admit It: I Am Quite Frank. But You Can Strike Him, I Believe. In So

Doing, Let Me Observe, You Will Deal A Mortal Blow At Saladin, Who Loves

Him, And Makes Treaties With Him To Your Detriment And The Scandal Of

Christendom.'

 

'Do You Speak Of The Scandal Of Christendom?' Asked Sinan, Twinkling.

 

'Alas, I Must,' Said The Marquess, Very Mournful.

 

'The Cause Is Near To Your Heart, I See, Marquess.'

 

'It Is In It,' Replied The Marquess. The Old Man Considered Him Afresh;

Then Inquired Where The Melek Might Be Found.

 

The Marquess Told Him. 'We Believe He Is At Ascalon, Separate From The

Duke Of Burgundy.'

 

'Giafar Ibn Mulk And Cogia Hassan,' Said The Old Man, As If Talking In

Volume 91 Book 2 (The Book Of Nay) Chapter 8 (Of The Going Up And Going Down Of The Marquess) Pg 150

His Sleep, 'Come Hither.' The Two Young Men Rose From The Wall And Fell

Upon Their Faces Before The Throne. Their Master Spoke To Them In The

Tone Of One Ordering A Meal.

 

Return With The Marquess To The Coast By The Way Of Emesa And Baalbek;

And When You Are Within Sight Of Sidon, Strike. One Of You Will Be

Burned Alive. I Think It Will Be Giafar. Let The Other Return Speedily

With A Token. The Audience Is Finished.'

 

The Old Man Closed His Eyes. At A Touch From Another The Two Prostrate

Assassins Crept Up And Kissed His Foot, Then Rose, Waiting For The

Marquess. He, Pale As Death, Saw, Felt, Heard Nothing. At Another Sign A

Man Put His Hand On Either Shoulder.

 

'Ha, Jesus-God!' Grunted The Marquess, As The Sweat Dripped Off Him.

 

'Stop Bleating, Silly Sheep, You Will Awaken The Master,' Said Giafar In

A Quick Whisper. They Led Him Away, And The Old Man Slept In Peace.

 

 

The Marquess Saw Nothing Of His People At Mont-Ferrand, For (To Begin

With) They Were Not There, And (Secondly) He Was Led Another Way. By The

Desolate Crag Of Masyaf, Where A Fortress, Hung (As It Seems) In

Mid-Air, Watches The Valleys Like A Little Cloud; Through Fields Of

Snow, By Terraces Cut In The Ice Where The Sheer Rises And Drops A

Thousand Feet Either Way; So To Emesa, A Mountain Village Huddled In

Perpetual Shadows; Thence Down To Baalbek, And By Foaming River-Gorges

Into The Sun And Sight Of The Dimpling Sea: Thus They Led The Doomed

Italian. He By This Time Knew The End Was Coming, And Had Braced Himself

To Meet It Stolidly.

 

The Towers Of Sidon Rose Chastely White Above The Violet; They Saw The

Golden Sands Rimmed With Foam; They Saw The Ships. Going Down A Lane,

Luxuriant With Flowers And Scented Shrubs, Where Steep Cactus Hedges

Shut Out The Furrowed Fields And Olive Gardens, And The Cicalas Made

Hissing Music, Giafar Ibn Mulk Broke The Silence Of The Three Men.

 

'Is It Time?' He Asked Of