The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, January 29, 1905, Page 3

{ THE SAN FRANCISCO SUNDAY CALL. lcoked glorious men as, followed by their escort of sworthy, turbaned Mamelukes, they rode proudly side by side, the sunlight glinting on their mail. Opposite to her house they halt- ed awhile, and, knowing that Rosa- mund watched, although they could not see her, drew their swords and lift- ed them in salute. Then sheathing * them again, they rode forward in si- lence, and soon were lost to sight. Little did Rosamund guess how dif- ferent they would appear when they three met again. Indeed, she scarcely dared to hope that they would ever meet, for she knew well that even if the war went in favor of the Chris- tians she would be hurried away to some Liace where they would never find her. She knew well also that from Damascus her rescue was impos- sible, and that although Saladin loved them, as he loved all who were honest and brave, he would receive them no more as friends, for fear lest they should rob him of her, whom he hoped in some way unforeseen would enable him to end his days in peace. Moreover, the struggle between Cross and Crescent would be fierce and to the death, and she wés sure that where was the closest fighting, there in the midst of it would be found God- win and Wulf. Well might it chance, therefore, that her eyes had looked their last upon them. Oh! she was great. Gold was hers, and gems more than she could count, and few were the weeks that did not bring her added wealth or gifts. She had palaces to dwell in—alone; gardens to wander in—alone; eunuchs and slaves to rule over—alone. But never a friend had she, save the woman of the Assassins, to whom she clung be- cause she, Masouda, had saved her from Sinan, and who clung to her, why, . Rosamund could not be sure, for there was a veil between their hearts. They were gone—they were gone! Even the sound of their horses’ hoofs had died away, and she was desolate as a child lost in a cityful of folk. Oh! and her heart was filled with fears for them, and most of all for one of them. If he should not come back into it, what would her life be? She bowed her head and wept; then, hearlng a Bsound behind her, turned to see that Masouda was weeping also. “Why do you weep?”’ she asked. ““The maid should co her mistress,” enswered Masouda, with a hard laugh; “but, lady, why do you weep? At least you are beloved, and, come what may, nothing can take that from you. You are not of less value than the good horse between the rider's knees, or the faithful dog that runs at his side.” A thought rose in Rosamund’s mind —a new and terrible thought. The eyes of the two women met, and those of Rosamund asked, “Which?” Be- tween them stood a table inlald with ivory and pearl, thereon the dust from the street had gathered through the open lattice. Masouda leaned over, and with her forefinger wrote a single Arabic letter in the dust upon the ta- ble, then passed her hand across it. Rosamund’s breast heaved twice or - thrice, and was still. Then she asked: “Why did not you who are free go with him?” “Because he prayed me to bide here and watch over the lady whom he loved ) to the death—I watch.” Slow souda spoke, and the heavy words seemed like blood dropping from a death wound. Then she sank for- ward into the arms of Rosamund. CHAPTER XVIIL The Battle of Hattin. a day had gone by since the n bid farewell to Rosamund at Damascus. Now, cvne burning July night, they sat upon their horses, the moonlight gleaming on their mail, look- ing out from a rocky mountain top ac that gray and -arid plain which stretches from near Nazareth to the lip of the hills at whese foot lie Tiber- ras and the Sea of Galilee. Beneath them, camped round the fountain of Seffurieh, were spread the hosts of the Franks to which they did sentinel; thir- teen hundred knights, twenty thousand foot, and hordes of Turcopoles—that is, natives of the country, armed after the fashion of the Saracens. Two miles away to the southeast glimmered the white houses of Naz- areth, set in the lap of the mountains— Nazare the holy city, where for thir- ty years lived and toiled the Savior world. Doubtless, thought God- win, his °t had often trod that mcun- tain whereon they stood, and in the watered vales below his hands had sped the plow or reaped the corn. Long, long had his voice been silent, yet in Godwin's ears it still seemed to speak in the murmur of the vast camp, and to echo from the slcpes of the Galilean hills, and the words it said were: *“I bring not peace, but a sword.” To-morrow they were to advance, S0 rumor said, across yonder desert plain and give battle to Saladin, who lay with all his power by Hattin, above Tiberias. Godwin and his brother thought that it ‘was a madness; for they had seen the might of the Sara- cens and ridden across that thirsty plain beneath the sumger sun. But who were they, two wahdering unat- tended knights, that they should dare to lift up their voices against those of the lords of the land, skilled from their birth in desert warfare? Yet Godwin's heart was troubled and fear took hold of him, not for himself, but for all the countless army that lay asleep yonder, and for the cause of Christendom, which staked its last throw upon this battle. “I go to watch yonder; bide you here,” he said to Wulf, and turning the head of Flame, rode some sixty yards over a shoulder of the rock to the fur- ther edge of the mountain which looked toward the mnorth. Here he could see npeither the camp, nor Wulf, nor any living thing, but in- deed was utterly alone, Dis- mounting, and bidding the horse stand, which it would do like a dog, he walked forward a few steps to where there was a rock and, kneeling down, began to pray with all the stréngth of his pure, warrior heart, “O Lord,” he prayed, “who once wast inan and a dweller in these mountains and knowest what is in man, hear me. I am afraid for all the thousands who sleep round Naz- areth, not for myself, who care noth- ing ior my life, but for all those, thy servants and my brethren. Yes, and for- the cross upon which thou didst hapg and for the ith itself through- out the East. *“Ch! give me light! Oh! let me hear and see, that I may warn them, unless my fears are vain!” And he beat his hands against his brow, praying, ever praying, as he had never prayed before that wisdom and vision might be given to his soul. It seemed to Godwin that a sleep fell on him-—at least, his mind grew clouded and confused. Then. it ¢leared again, slowly, as stirred water ‘-clears, till it was bright and still; yet another mind to that which was his gervant day by day which never ¢ould see or hear those things he saw and heard in that strange hour. Lo! he heard the spirits pass, whispering as they went; whispering, and, as it seemed to him, weeping also for some great woe which was to be; weeping yonder over Nazareth. Then like cur- tains the veils ‘were lifted from his eyes and as they swung aside he saw further and yet further. He saw the King of the Franks in his tent -beneath, and about him the council of his captains, among them the fierce-eved master of the Tem- lars, and a man whom he had seen n Jerusalem where they had been dwelling, and knew for Count Ray- mond of Tripoli, the Lord of Tiberias. They" were reasoning together, till, presently, in a rage, the master of the Templars drew his sword and dashed it down upon the table. Another veil was lifted, and lo! he saw the camp of Saladin, the mighty, endless camp, with its ten thousand teuts, among which . the -Saracens cried to Allah through all the watches of the night. He saw the royal pavi- lion, and in it the Sultan walked to and fro alorie—nonetof his emirs, not even his son, were with him. He was lost in thought, and Godwin-read his thought. It was: “Behind me the Jordan and the Sea of Galilee, into which, if my flanks were turned, I should be driven, I and all my host. In front the terri- tories of the Franks, where I have no friend; and by Nazareth their great army. Allah alone can help me. If thev sit still and force me to advance across the desert and attack them be- fore my army melts away, then I am lost. If they advance upon me round the Mountain Tabor and by the wa- tered land, I may be lost. But if—oh! if Allah should make them mad, and they should strike straight across the desert—then, then they are lost, and the reign of the Cross in Syria is for- ever at an end. I will wait here. I will wait here—" 5 Look! near to the pavilion of Saladin stood another tent, closely guarded, and in it on a cushioned bed lay two women. One was Rosamund, and she slept sound; and the other was Masou- da, and she was waking, for her eyes met his in the darkness. The last veil was withdrawn, and now Godwin saw a sight at which his soul shivered. A fire-blackened plain, and above it a frowning mountain, and that mountain thick, thick with dead, thousands and thousands and thou- sands of dead, among which the hyenas wandered and the night-birds screamed. He could see their faces; many of them he knew again as those of living men whom he had met in Jerusalem and elsewhere, or had seen with the army. He could hear also the moanings of the few who were yet alive. About that field—yes, and In the camp of Saladin, where lay more dead —his body seemed to wander searching for something, he knew not what, till it came to him that it was the corpse of Wulf for which he sought and found it not—nay, nor his own either. Then once more he heard the spirits pass— a very great company, for to them were gathered all those dead—heard them pass away, wailing, ever more faintly wailing, for the lost cause of Christ. Godwin awoke from his trembling, mounted his horse, and rode back to Wulf. Beneath, as be- fore, lay the sleeping camp, yonder stretched the brown desert, and there sat Wulf watching both. “Tell me,” asked Godwin, “how long is h.slnce I left you?” dream ome few minutes—twenty, per- haps,” answered his brother. “A short while to have seen so much. Then Wulf looked at him cu- riously and asked: ““What have you seen?” “If 1 told you, Wulf, you not believe.” “Tell me, and I will say.” So Godwin told him all, and at the end asked him, “What think you?” Wulf considered awhile, and an- swered: G “Well, brother, you have touched no wine to-day, so yeu are not drunk, and you have done nothing foolish, so ‘would you are not mad. Therefore it would seem that the saints have been talking to you, or, at least, so I should think of any man whom I be- lieved to be as good as you are. Yet it is folk like you that see visions, and those visions are not always true, for sometimes, I believe, the devil is their showman. Our watch is ended, for I hear the horses of the knights who come to relieve us. Listen; this is my counsel. In the camp yonder is our friend, with whom we traveled from Jerusalem, Egbert, the Bishop of Naz- areth, who marches with the host. Let us go to him and lay this matter before him, for he is a holy man and learned; no false, self-seeking priest.” Godwin nodded in assent, and pres- when the other knights had come and they had made their report to them, they rode off together to the tent of Egbert, and, leaving their horses in charge of a servant, en- tered. Egbert was an Englishman who had spent more than thirty years of his life in the East, whereof the suns had tanned his wrinkled face to the hue of bronze, that seemed the darker in contrast with his blue eves and snow-white hair and beard. Enter- ing the tent, they found him at his prayers before a little image of the Virgin, and stood with bowed heads until he had finished. Presently he arose, and, greeting them with a blessing, asked them what they needed. “Your counsel, holy father,” an- swered Wulf., tale.” So, having seen that the tent flap was closed and that none lingered near, Godwin told him his dream. The old man listened patiently, nor did he seem surprised at this strange story, since in those days men saw— or thought that they saw—many such visions, which were accepted by church as true. ‘When he had finished Godwin asked of him as he had asked of Wulf: “What think vou, holy father? Is this a dream, or is it a message? And if so, from whom comes the message?’ “Godwin D'Arcy,” he answered, “in my youth I knew your father. It was I who shrove him when he lay dying of his wounds, and a nobler soul never passed from earth to heaven. After you had left Damascus, when you were the guest of Saladin, we dwelt together in the same lodging in Jerusalem, and together we traveled here, during all which time I learned to know you also as the worthy son of a worthy sire— no dissolute knight, but a true servant of the church. It well may be that to such a one as you foresight has been given, that through you those who rule us may be warned, and all Christ- endom saved from great sorrow and disgrace. Come, let us go to the King and tell this story, for he still sits-in council yonder.” So they rode out together and rode to the royal @ent. Here the Bishop was admitted, leaving them without. Pres- ently he returned and beckoned to them, and as they passed the guards whispered to them: 7 “A strange council, sirs, and a fate- i “Godwin, set out your Already it was near midnight, but still the great pavilion was crowded with Barons and chief captains who stood in groups, or sat round a narrow table made of boards placed upon tres- it At the head of the table sat the King, Guy of Lusignan, a weak-faced man, clad in splendid armor. On his right was the white-haired Count Ray- mond of Tripoli, and on his left the black-bearded, frowning master of the Templars, clad in his white mantle on the left breast of which the red cross was blazoned. Words had been run- ning high, their faces showed it, but ~ just then a silence reigned as though the disputants were weary, and the King leaned back in his chalr, pass- ing his hand to and fro across his forehead. He looked up, and seeing the Bishop, asked peevishly. “What is it now? Oh! I remem- ber, some tale from those tall twin knights. Well, bring them forward and speak it out, for we have no time to lose,” So the three of them came forward and at Godwin’s prayer the Bishop Egbert told of the vision that had come to him not more than an hour ago while he kept watch upon the mountain top. At first one or two of the Barons seemed disposed to laugh, but when they looked at Godwin's the . high and spiritual face their laughter died away, for it did not seem won- derful to them that such a man should see visions. Indeed, as the tale of the rocky hill and the dead who were stretched ypon,it went on they grew white with fear and whitest of them all was the King, Guy of Lusignan. “Is all this true, Sir Godwin?” he asked when the Bishop had finished. “It is true, my lord King,” an- swered Godwin. ; . “His word is not enough,” broke in the master of the Templars. “Let him swear to it on the Holy Rood, know- ing that if he lies it will blast his soul to all eternity.” And the council mut- tered, “Aye, let him swear/” Now there was an annex to the tent, rudely furnished as a chapel, and at the end of this annex a tall, veiled ob- ject. Rufinus, the Bishop of Acre, who was clad in the armor of a knight, went to the object and, draw- ing the" veil, revealed a broken, blackened cross, set around with jew- els, that stood about. the height of a man above the ground, for all its low- er part was gone. At the sight of it Godwin and every man present there fell upon his knees, for since St. Helena found it, over seven centuries before, this had been accounted the most precious relic in all Christendom; the very wood upon which the Savior suffered, as, in- deed, it may have been. Milllons had worshiped it, tens of thousands had ated for it, and now, In the hour of this great struggle betweenChrist and the false prophet it was brought from its shrine that the host which escort- ed it might prove invincible in battle. Soldiers who fought around the very cross could not be defeated, they said, for, if need Were, legions of angels would come to aid them. Godwin and Wulf stared at the the relic with wonder, fear and adoration. There were the nail marks, there was the place where the scroll of Pilate had been affixed above the holy hcad -—almost could they seem to see that form divine, and dying. “Now,” broke in the voice of the master of the Templars, “let Sir God- win d’Arcy swear to the truth of his tale upon this Rood.” Rising from his knees, Godwin ad- vanced to the cross and, laying his hand upon the wood, said: 'Upon the very Rood I swear that not much more than an hour ago I saw the vision that has been told to the king’s highness and to all; that I be- lieve this vision was sent to me in an- swer to my prayer to preserve our host and the holy city hxn the power of the Saracen, and that®it is a true fore- shadowing of what will come about should we-advance upon the Sultan. I can say no more. I swear, knowing that l;f' I lle eternal damnation‘is my doom.! The Bishop drew back the covering over the cross, and in silence the coun- cil took their seats again about the table. Now the King was very pale, and fearful; iudeed a gloom lay upon all of them. “It would seem,” he said, “that here a messenger has been sent to us from heaven. Dare we disobey his mes- sage?” The Grand Templar lifted his rugged, frowning face. “A messenger from heaven, sald you, King? To me he seems more like a messenger from Saladin.’ Tell us, Sir Godwin, were not you and your broth- er once the Sultan’s guests at Damas- cus?” ‘That i{s so, my lord Templar. left before the war was declared. “And,” went on the Master, you not officers of the Sultan's body- guard?” Now all looked intently at Godwin, who hesitated a little, foreseeing how his answer wonld be read, whereon Whulf spoke in his loud voice: “Aye, we acted as such for a while, and—doubtless you have heard the story—saved Saladin’s life when he was attacked by the Assassins.” “Oh!” sald the Templar with bitter sarcasm, “you saved Saladin’s life, did you? I can well,believe it. You, being Christians, who above everything should desire the death of Saladin, saved his life! Now, Sir Knights, an- swer me one more question—'" “Sir Templar, with my tongue or with my sword?” broke In Wulf, but the King held up his hand and bade him be sileat. We “A truce to your tavern ruffling, young sir, and answer,” went on the Templar. “Or, rather, do you answer, Sir Godwin. Is your cousin, Rosa- mund, the daughter of Sir Andrew d’Arcy, a niece of Saladin, and has she been created by him Princess of Baal- bec, and is she at this moment in, his city of Damascus?” ' “She is his niece,” answered Godwin quietly; “she is the Princess of Baal- bee, but at this moment she is not in Damascus.” “How do you know that, Sir G“— win?"™ “I know it because in the vision .of which you have been told I saw her sleeping in a tent In the camp of Saladin.” Now the council began to laugh, but Godwin, with a set, white face, went on: “Aye, my lord Templar, and near that very blazoned tent I saw scores of the Templars and of the Hospitallers lying dead. Remember it when .the hour comes and you see them also.” Now the laughter died away and a murmur of fear ran round the board, mixed with such words as “Wizardry.” “He has learnt it from the Paynims.” “A black sorcerer, withont doubt.” Only the Templar, who feared neither man nor spirit, laughed, and gave him the lie with his eyes. “You do not believe me,” said God- the Count of Tripoli—aye, and draw your sword and dash it down in front of him upon this very,table.” Now again the council stared and muttered, for they, too, had scen this thing; but the Master answered: “He may have learnt it otherwise than from an angel. Folk have been in and out of this tent. My lord King, have we more time - to waste upon these visions of a knight of whom all we know for certain is, that like his brother, he has been in the service of Saladin, which they left, he says, in order to fight against him in this war? It may be so; it is not for us to judge: though were the times different I would inform against Sir Godwin D'Arcy as a sorcerer, and one who has been in traitorous communication with our common foe.” “And I would thrust the lie down your throat with my-sword's point!” shouted Wulf. But Godwin only shrugged his shoul- ders and sald nothing, and the Master went on, taking no heed. “King, we wait your word, and it must be spoken soon, for in four hours 1t will be dawn. Do we march against Saladin like bold, Christian men, or do we bide here like cowards?” Then Count Raymond of Tripoli rose, and said: “Before you answer, King, hear me, 1f it be for the last time, who am old in war and know the Saracens. My town of Tiberias is sacked; my vassals have beea put to the sword by thou- If the Count Raymond 'and these brethren think the words unwise, let them leave us and remain here under guard until the issue be known.” Now followed a great silence, for all there knew that the words were fate- ful, in the midst of which Count Ray- mond said: “Nay, I go with you,” while Godwin echoed, “And we go also to show whether or not we are the spies of Sal- adin.” Of these speeches none of them seemed to take heed, for all were lost in their own thoughts. One by one they rose, bowed to the King, and left the tefit to give their commands gnd rest awhile before it was time to ride. God- win and Wulf went also, and With them the Bishop of Nazareth, who wrung his hands and seemed ill at ease. But Wulf comforted him, say- in, “Grieve no more, father; let us think of the joy of battle, not of the sorrow by which it may be followed.” “I tind no joy in battles,” answered the holy Egbert. When they had slept awhile, Godwin and Wulf rose and fed their horses. After they had washed and groomed them, they tested and did on their armor, then took them down to th€ spring to drink their fill, as their mas- ters did. Also Wulf, who was cun- ning in war, brought with him four large wineskins which he had provided against this hour, and filling them with pure water, fastened two of them with throngs behind the saddle of Godwin and two behind his own. Further he filled the water bottles at their saddle bows, saying: “At least we will be among the last to die of thirst.” . Then they went back and watched the host break its camp, which it did with no light heart, for many bf them knew of the danger in which they stood; moreover, the tale of Godwin's vision had been spread abroad. Not knowing where to go, they and Eg- bert, the Bishop of Nazareth—who was unarmed and rode upon a mule, for stay behind he would not—jolned themselves to the great bodv of knights who had followed the King. As they did so, the Templars, five hun- dred strong, came up, a fierce and gallant band, and the Master, who was at thelr head, saw the brethren and called out, pointing to the wineskins which were hung behind their sad- dles: “What do these water carriers here among brave knights who trust in God alone?” Wulf would have answered, but Godwin bade him be silent, saying: “Fall back; we will find less ill- omened company.” So they stood on one side and bowed themselves as the cross went by, guarded by the mailed Bishop of Acre. Then came Reginald of Chan- tillon, Saladin’s enemy, the cause of all this woe, who saw them and cried: " “Sir knights, whatever they may #ay, I know you for brave men, for I hove heard tke tule of your doings among the Assassins. There is room for you among my suite—follow me.” 'As well him as another,” said Godwin. ‘Let us go where We are led.” So they followed him. By the time that the army reached Xenna, where once the water was made wine, the July sun was already hot and the spring was so soon drunk dry that many men could get no wa- ter. On they pushed into the desert lands below, which lay between them and Tiberias, and were bordered on the right and left by hills. Now -clouds of dust were seen moving across the plains and in the heart of them bodies of Saracen horsemen, which continually attacked the van- guard under Count Raymond and as continually retreated before they " could be crushed, slaying many with sands; my wife Is imprisoned in her citadel, and soon must yield, if she be not rescued. Yet I say to you, and to the Barons here assémbled better so than that you should advance across the desert to attack Saladin. Leave Tiberias to its fate and my wife with it, and save your army, which is the last hope of the Christians of the East. Christ has no more soldiers in these dands, Jerusalem has no other shield. The army of the Sultan is larger than yours; his cavalry are more skilled. ‘Turn his flank—or, better still, bide here and wait his attack, and victory will be to the soldiers of the cross. Advance and the vision of that knight at whom you scoft will come true, and the cause of Christendom’ be lost in Syria. 1 have spoken, and for the last tim “Like his friend, the Knight of Vis- ion,” sneered the Grand Master, “the Count Raymond is an old ally of Sal- adin. Will you take such coward coun- cil? On—on! and smite these heathen dogs, or be forever shamed. On, in the name of the cross! The cross is with ye,” answered Raymond, “for the last time.” = Then there arose a tumult through which every man shouted to his fellow, some saying one thing and some an- other, while the King sat at the head their spears and arrows. Also these came round behind them and charged the rear guard, where marched the Templars and the light armed troops named Turcopoles and the band of Reginald Chantillon, with which rode the brethren. From noon till near sundown the long harassed line, broken now into fragments, struggled* forward across the rough, stony plain, the burning heat beating upon their armor till the alr danced around it as it does before a fire. Toward evening men and horses became exhausted and the sol- dlers cried to their captains to lead them to water. But in that place there was no water. The rearguard fell behind, worn out with constant attacks that must be re- pelled in the burning heat, so that there was a great gap between it and the King, who marched in the center. Messages reached them to push on, but they could not, and at length camp was pitched in the desert near a place called Marescalcia, and upon this camp Ray- mond and his vanguard were forced back. As Codwin and Wulf rode up, they saw him come in_bringing his wounded with him, and heard him pray the King to push on and at all hazards to cut his way through to the lake, where they might drink—aye, and heard the King say that he could not, since the soldiers would march no more that day. Then Raymond wrung his hands in despair and rode back to his men, crying aloud: “Alas! al O Lord God, alas! We are dead, and thy kingdom is, lost.” That night none slept, for all were athirst, and who can sleep with a burn- ing throat? Now also Godwin. and ‘Wulf were no longer laughed at be- cause of the water skins they carried on their horses. Rather did great no- bles come to them, and almost on their knees crave for the boon of a single cup. Having watered their horses sparingly from a bowl, they gave what they could, till at length only two skins remained, and one of these was spilt by a thief, who crept up and slashed it with his knife that he might drink while the water ran to waste. After this the brethren drew their swcrds and watched, swearing that they would kill any man who so much as touched the skin which was left. All that long night through there arose a confused clamour’ from the camp, of which the burden seemed to be, “Water! Give us water!” while from without came the shouts of the Saracens calling upon Aliah. Here, too, the hot ground was covered with scrub dried to tinder by the summer drought, and to this the Saracens set fire so that the smoke rolled down on the ' Christian host and choked them, and the place became a hell. Day dawmed at last, and the army was formed up in order of battle, its two wings being thrown forward. Thus they struggled on, those of them that were not too. weak to stir, who were slaughtered as they lay. Nor as yet did the Saracens attack them, since they knew that the sun was stronger than all their spears. On they labored toward the northern wells, till about midday the battle began with a flight of arrows so thick that for a while they hid the heavens. After this came charge and counter- charge, attack and repulse, and al- ways above the noise of war that dreadful cry for water. What chanced Godwin and Wulf never knew, for the smoke and dust blinded them so that they could see but a little way. At length there was a last furious charge, and the knights with whom they were clove the dense mass of Saracens like a serpent of steel, leav- ing a broad trail of dead behind them. ‘When they pulled rein and wiped the sweat from their eyes it was to find themselves with thousands of others upon the top of a steep hill, of which the sides were thick with dry grass and bush that already was being fired. “The Rood! The Rood! Rally round win, “nor will you believe me when I ‘of the board, his face hidden in his the Rood!" said & voice, and looking say that while I was on guard on yon- "der hilltop I saw vou wrangling with « ds. Presently he lifted it, and said: “I command that we march at dawn. behind them they saw the black and Jeweled fragment of the true cross set upon a rock, and by it the Bishop of Acre, Then the smoke of the burning grass rose up and hid it from their sight. Now began one of the most hideous fights that is told of in the history of the world. Again and again the Sara- cens attacked in thousands, and again and again they were driven back by the desperate valor of the Franks, who fought on, their jaws agape Wwith thirst. A blackbearded man stumbled Up to the brethren, his tongue pro- truding from his lips, and they knew him for the Master of the Tempiars. “For the love of Christ, give me to drink,” he said, recognizing them as the knights at whom he had mocked as watercarriers. They gave him of the little they had left, and while they and their horses drank the rest themselves, saw him rush down the hill refreshed, shaking his red sword. Then came a pause, and they heard the voice of the Bishop of Nazareth, who had clung to them all th_!‘s while saying, as though to himself: * “And here it was that the Savior preached the sermon on the mount. Yes, ‘he preached the words of peace upon ‘this spot. Oh! it cannot be that he will desert us—it cannot be.” While the Saracens held off, the sol- dlers began to put up the King’s pavi- lion, and with it other tents, around the rock on which stood the cross. “Do you mean to camp here?” asked ‘Wulf bitterly. “Peace,” answered Godwin; "they hope to make a wall about the Rood. But it is of no avail, for this is the place of my dream.” Wulf shrugged his shoulders. “At least, let us die well,” he said. Then the last attack began. Up the hillside rose dense volumes of smoke, and with the smoke came the Sara- cens. Thrice they were driven back; thrice they came on. At the fourth onsgt few of the Franks could fight more, for thirst had conquered them on this waterless hill of Hattin. They lay down upon the dry grass with gaping jaws and protruding tongues, and let themselves be slain or taken prisoners. A great company of Saracen horsemen broke through the rang and rushed at the scarlet tent. It rocked to and fro, then down it fell in a red heap, entangling the King in its folds. At the foot of the cross, Rufinus, the Bishop of Acre, still fought on bravely. Suddenly an arrow struck him in the throat, and throwing his arms wide, he fell to earth. Then the Saracens hurled themselves upon the Rood, tore it from its place, and with mockery, and spittings bore it down the hill toward their camp, as ants may be seen carrying a little stick into their nest, while all who were left alive of the Christian army stared upward, as though they await- ed some miracle from heaven. But no angels appeared in the brazen sky, and knowing that God had deserted them, they groaned aloud in their shame and wretchedness. “Come,” said Godwin to Wulf in a strange, quiet voice. ‘““We have seen enough. It is time to die. Look! yonder below us are the Mamelukes, our old regiment, and among them Saladin, for I see his banner. Having had water, we and our horses are still fresh and strong. Now, let us make an end of which they will tell in Essex yonder. Charge for the flag of Saladin!” - ‘Wulf nodded, and side by side they eped down the hill. Scimitars flashed at them, arrows struck upon their mall, and the shields blazoned with the death’s-head D'Arcy crest. Through ,it all they, went unscathed, and while the army of the Saracens stared, at the foot of the Horn of Hat- tin turned their horses’ heads straight for the royal standard of Saladin. On they struggled, felling or riding down a foe at every stride. On, still on, although Flame and Smoke bled frcm a score of wounds. They were among the Mamelukes, where their line was thin. By heaven! they were through them and riding straight at the well known figure of the Suitan, mounted on his white horse, with his young son and his emir, the Prince Hassan, at his side. “Saladin for you, Hassan “for me,” shouted Wulf. Then they met and all the host of Islam cried out in dismay as they saw the Commander of the Faithful and his horse borne to the earth before the last despairing charge of these mad Christian knights. Another instant and the Sultan was on his feet again and a score of scimitars were striking - at Godwin. His horse Flame sank down dying, but he sprang from the saddle, swinging his long sword. Now Saladin recognized the crest upon his buckler and cried out: Yield you, Sir Godwin! You have done well—yield you!™ But Godwin, who would not yleld, answered: “When I am dead—not before.” Thereupon Saladin spoke a word and while certain of the Mamelukes en- gaged Godwin in front, keeping out of reach of that red and terrible sword, others crept up behind and, springing on him, seized his arms and dragged him to the ground, where they bound him fast. Meanwhile Wulf had fared otherwise, for it was his horse Smoke, ‘ready stabbed to the vitals, that fell as he plunged on Prifice Hassan. Yet he also arose but little hurt and cried out: “Thus, Hassan, old foe and friend, we meet at last in war. Come, pay the debt you owe me for that drugged wine, man to man and sword to sword.” “Indeed, it is your due, Sir ‘Wulf,” answered the Prince, laughing. “CGuards, touch not this brave knight who has dared so much to reach me. Sultan, I ask a boon of you. Between Sir Wulf and me there is an anclent quarrel that can only be washed away in blood. Let it be decided here and now and let this be your decree—that if I fajl in fair fight, none shall set upon my conqueror and no vengeance shall be taken for my blood.” “Good,” said Saladin. “Then Sir Wulf shall be my prisoner and no more, as his brother is already. I owe it to the men who saved my life when we were friends. ve the Frank drink that the fight may be fair.” So they gave Wulf a cup of which he drank and when he had done it was handed to Godwin. For even the Mamelukes knew and loved these brethren who had been their officerg and praised the fierce charge that they had dared to make alone, Hassan sprang to the ground, say- ing: “Your horse is dead, Sir Wulf, so we must fight afoot.” ; “Generous as ever,” laughed Wulf. “Even the poisoned wine was a gift.” “If so, for the last time, I fear me,” answered Hassan with a smile. Then they faced each other, and oh! the scene was strange. Up on the slopes of Hattin the fight still raged. There amidst the smoke and fires of the burning grass little companies of soldiers stood back to back while the Saracens wheeled round them, thrust- ing and cutting at them till they fell. Here and there knights charged singly or in groups, and so came to death and capture. Upon the plain hundreds of foot soldiers were being slaughtered, while their officers were taken prison- ers. Toward the camp of Saladin a company advanced with sounds of triumph, carrying aloft a black stump which was the holy Rood, while oth- ers drove or led mobs of prisoners, among them the king and his chosen knights. The wilderness was red with blood, the air was rent with shouts of vie- tory and ‘cries of agony or despair. And there, in the midst of it all, ringed around with grave, courteous Saracens, stood the émir, clad above his mail in his white robe and jeweled turban, facing the' great Christian knight, with harness hacked and red-