"Thou art better than a minstrel for pleasure," cried Sir Richard. "I'll tell the world I am! Ho, ho! Thou wilt be a gift from heaven in the castle of the prince. I'll tell the world I am!"
When Blake had satisfied his hunger, Sir Richard ordered Michel to prepare horses. "We ride down to the castle, Sir James," he explained. "No longer art thou my prisoner, but my friend and guest. That I should have received thee so scurvily shall ever be to my discredit."
Mounted upon prancing chargers and followed at a respectful distance by Michel, the two rode down the winding mountain road. Sir Richard now carried his shield and lance, a pennon fluttering bravely in the wind from just below the tip of the latter, the sun glancing from the metal of his hauberk, a smile upon his brave face as he chattered with his erstwhile prisoner. To Blake he seemed a gorgeous picture ridden from out the pages of a story book. Yet, belying his martial appearance, there was a childlike simplicity about the man that won Blake's liking from the first, for there was that about him that made it impossible for one to conceive him as the perpetrator of a dishonorable act.
His ready acceptance of Blake's statements about himself bespoke a credulity that seemed incompatible with the high intelligence reflected by his noble countenance, and the American preferred to attribute it to a combination of unsophistication and an innate integrity which could not conceive of perfidy in others.
As the road rounded the shoulder of a hill, Blake saw another barbican barring the way and, beyond, the towers and battlements of an ancient castle. At a command from Sir Richard the warders of the gate opened to them and the three rode through into the ballium. This space between the outer and inner walls appeared unkept and neglected. Several old trees flourished within it and beneath the shade of one of these, close to the outer gateway, lolled several men-at-arms, two of whom were engaged in a game that resembled draughts.
At the foot of the inner wall was a wide moat, the waters of which reflected the gray stones of the wall and the ancient vines that, growing upon its inner side, topped it to form a leaf coping that occasionally hung low upon the outer side.
Directly opposite the barbican was the great gateway in the inner wall and here a drawbridge spanned the moat and a heavy portcullis barred the way into the great court of the castle; but at a word from Sir Richard the gate lifted and, clattering across the drawbridge, they rode within.
Before Blake's astonished eyes loomed a mighty castle of rough-hewn stone, while to the right and left, within the great court, spread broad gardens not illy kept, in which were gathered a company of men and women who might have just stepped from Arthur's court.
At sight of Sir Richard and his companion the nearer members of the company regarded Blake with interest and evident surprise. Several called greetings and questions to Sir Richard as the two men dismounted and turned their horses over to Michel.
"Ho, Richard!" cried one. "What bringest thou—a Saracen?"
"Nay," replied Richard. "A fair sir knight who would do his devoir to the prince. Where be he?"
"Yonder," and they pointed toward the far end of the court where a large company was assembled.
"Come, Sir James!" directed Richard, and led him down the courtyard, the knights and ladies following closely, asking questions, commenting with a frankness that brought a flush to Blake's face. The women openly praised his features and his image while the men, perhaps prompted by jealousy, made unflattering remarks about his soiled and torn apparel and its, to them, ridiculous cut; and indeed the contrast was great between their gorgeous dalmaticas of villosa or cyclas, their close-fitting tights, their colored caps and Blake's drab shirt, whipcord breeches and cordovan boots, now soiled, torn and scratched.
The women were quite as richly dressed as the men, wearing clinging mantles of rich stuff, their hair and shoulders covered with dainty wimples of various colors and often elaborately embroidered.
None of these men, nor any of those in the assemblage they were approaching wore armor, but Blake had seen an armored knight at the outer gateway and another at the inner and he judged that only when engaged in military duties did they wear this heavy and uncomfortable dress.
When they reached the party at the end of the court, Sir Richard elbowed his way among them to the center of the group where stood a tall man of imposing appearance, chatting with those about him. As Sir Richard and Blake halted before him the company fell silent.
"My lord prince," said Richard, bowing, "I bring thee Sir James, a worthy Knight Templar who hath come under the protection of God through the lines of the enemy to the gates of el Nimmr."
The tall man eyed Blake searchingly and he had not the appearance of great credulity.
"Thou sayest that thou comest from the Temple of Solomon in the Kingdom of Jerusalem ?" he demanded.
"Sir Richard must have misunderstood me," replied Blake.
"Then thou art no Knight Templar?"
"Yes, but I am not from Jerusalem ."
"Perchance he is one of those doughty sir knights that guard the pilgrims' way to the Holy Land ," suggested a young woman standing near the prince.
Blake glanced quickly at the speaker and as their eyes met, hers fell, but not before he had seen that they were very beautiful eyes set in an equally beautiful, oval face.
"More like it haps he be a Saracen spy sent among us by the sultan," snapped a dark man who stood beside the girl.
The latter raised her eyes to the prince. "He looketh not like a Saracen, my father," she said.
"What knowest thou of the appearance of a Saracen, child?" demanded the prince. "Hast seen so many?" The party laughed and the girl pouted.
"Verily an' I hast seen full as many a Saracen as has Sir Malud or thyself, my lord prince," she snapped, haughtily. "Let Sir Malud describe a Saracen."
The dark young man flushed angrily. "At least," he said, "my lord prince, I knowest an English knight when I seest one, and if here be an English knight then Sir Malud be a Saracen!"
"Enough," said the prince and then, turning to Blake: "If thou art not from Jerusalem where art thou from?"
" New York ," replied the American.
"Ha," whispered Sir Malud to the girl, "didst I not tell you?"
"Tell me what—that he is from New York ? Where is that?" she demanded.
"Some stronghold of the infidel," asserted Malud.
" New York ?" repeated the prince. "Be that in the Holy Land ?"
"It is sometimes called New Jerusalem," explained Blake.
"And thou comest to Nimmr through the lines of the enemy? Tell me, sir knight, had they many men-at-arms? And how were their forces disposed? Be they close upon the Valley of the Sepulcher? Thinkest thou they plan an early attack? Come, tell me all—thou canst be of great service."
"I have come for days through the forest and seen no living man," said Blake. "No enemy surrounds you."
"What?" cried the prince.
"Didst I not tell thee?" demanded Malud. "He is an enemy spy. He wouldst lead us into the belief that we are safe that the forces of the sultan may find us off our guard and take Nimmr and the Valley."
"Ods blud! Methinks thou beest right, Sur Malud," cried the prince. "No enemy indeed! Why else then hast the knights of Nimmr lain here seven and a half centuries if there be no horde of infidels surrounding our stronghold?"
"Search me," said Blake.
"Eh, what?" demanded the prince.
"He hath a quaint manner of speech, my lord prince," explained Richard, "but I do not think him an enemy of England . Myself will vouch for him and you will take him into your service, my lord prince."
"Wouldst enter my service, sir?" demanded the prince.