"My father's brother--my uncle, as I called him," she answered.
"He is a sheik of the desert, who owns the ancient breed that cannot be bought for gold.""Then you are not of the Assassins, Masouda?""No; I may tell you, now that the end seems near.My father was an Arab, my mother a noble Frank, a French woman, whom he found starving in the desert after a fight, and took to his tent and made his wife.The Assassins fell upon us and killed him and her, and captured me as a child of twelve.Afterwards, when I grew older, being beautiful in those days, I was taken to the harem of Sinan, and, although in secret I had been bred up a Christian by my mother, they swore me of his accursed faith.Now you will understand why I hate him so sorely who murdered my father and my mother, and made me what I am; why I hold myself so vile also.
Yes, I have been forced to serve as his spy or be killed, who, although he believed me his faithful slave, desired first to be avenged upon him.""I do not hold you vile," panted Godwin, as he spurred his labouring steed."I hold you most noble.""I rejoice to hear it before we die," she answered, looking him in the eyes in such a fashion that he dropped his head before her burning gaze, "who hold you dear, Sir Godwin, for whose sake Ihave dared these things, although I am nought to you.Nay, speak not; the lady Rosamund has told me all that story--except its answer."Now they were off the sand over which they had been racing side by side, and beginning to breast the mountain slope, nor was Godwin sorry that the clatter of their horses' hoofs upon the stones prevented further speech between them.So far they had outpaced the Assassins, who had a longer and a rougher road to travel; but the great cloud of dust was not seven hundred yards away, and in front of it, shaking their spears, rode some of the best mounted of their soldiers.
"These horses still have strength; they are better than I thought them," cried Masouda."They will not gain on us across the mountains, but afterwards--"For the next league they spoke no more, who must keep their horses from falling as they toiled up the steep path.At length they reached the crest, and there, on the very top of it, saw Wulf and Rosamund standing by Flame and Smoke.
"They rest," Godwin said, then he shouted, "Mount! mount! The foe is close."So they climbed to their saddles again, and, all four of them together began to descend the long slope that stretched to the plain two leagues beneath.Far off across this plain ran a broad silver streak, beyond which from that height they could see the walls of a city.
"The Orontes!" cried Masouda."Cross that, and we are safe." But Godwin looked first at his horse, then at Masouda, and shook his head.
Well might he do so, for, stout-hearted as they were, the beasts were much distressed that had galloped so far without drawing rein.Down the steep road they plunged, panting; indeed at times it was hard to keep them on their feet.
"They will reach the plain--no more," said Godwin, and Masouda nodded.
The descent was almost done, and not a mile behind them the white-robed Assassins streamed endlessly.Godwin plied his spurs and Masouda her whip, although with little hope, for they knew that the end was near.Down the last declivity they rushed, till suddenly, as they reached its foot, Masouda's horse reeled, stopped, and sank to the ground, while Godwin's pulled up beside it.
"Ride on!" he cried to Rosamund and Wulf in front; but they would not.He stormed at them, but they replied: "Nay, we will die together."Masouda looked at the horses Flame and Smoke, which seemed but little troubled.
"So be it," she said; "they have carried double before, and must again.Mount in front of the lady, Sir Godwin; and, Sir Wulf, give me your hand, and you will learn what this breed can do."So they mounted.Forward started Flame and Smoke with a long, swinging gallop, while from the Assassins above, who thought that they held them, went up a shout of rage and wonder.
"Their horses are also tired, and we may beat them yet," called the dauntless Masouda.But Godwin and Wulf looked sadly at the ten miles of plain between them and the river bank.
On they went, and on.A quarter of it was done.Half of it was done, but now the first of the fedai hung upon their flanks not two hundred yards behind.Little by little this distance lessened.At length they were scarcely fifty yards away, and one of them flung a spear.In her terror Rosamund sobbed aloud.
"Spur the horses, knights," cried Masouda, and for the first time they spurred them.
At the sting of the steel Flame and Smoke sprang forward as though they had but just left their stable door, and the gap between pursuers and pursued widened.Two more miles were done, and scarce seven furlongs from them they saw the broad mouth of the bridge, while the towers of Emesa beyond seemed so close that in this clear air they could discern the watchmen outlined against the sky.Then they descended a little valley, and lost sight of bridge and town.
At the rise of the opposing slope the strength of Flame and Smoke at last began to fail beneath their double burdens.They panted and trembled; and, save in short rushes, no longer answered to the spur.The Assassins saw, and came on with wild shouts.Nearer and nearer they drew, and the sound of their horses hoofs beating on the sand was like the sound of thunder.Now once more they were fifty yards away, and now but thirty, and again the spears began to flash, though none struck them.
Masouda screamed to the horses in Arabic, and gallantly did they struggle, plunging up the hill with slow, convulsive bounds.
Godwin and Wulf looked at each other, then, at a signal, checked their speed, leapt to earth, and, turning, drew their swords.
"On!" they cried, and lightened of their weight, once more the reeling horses plunged forward.
