T WAS too late to go back out of sight, for watchers on the other bank had seen them, and their horses were too weary to escape pursuit. Hesitation would have been fatal, and Robert urged his horse into the river, to be followed promptly by the minstrel.
Once they had climbed out on the sand drifts they were surrounded by dark-skinned warriors in silvered helmets—lean, slow-moving men who swaggered in crimson and white kaftans and polished hauberks, who took in every detail of the newcomers' steeds and trappings at a single glance and bared their teeth at Bunsley—who returned their scowls with interest.
“Kankalis, these,” whispered Abdullah meaningly, “hillmen, Turkomans and the best of the light cavalry of the master of Khar—our companions on the road to the Iron Gates, O Arslan. Be wily in talk, O Egyptian, and think before each word. Do not try to aid the redbeard if they seek him out for sport for their long knives.”
Two mounted warriors who had been posted at the river pushed in between the strangers and the crowd, heedless of the insults hurled at them by those who were jostled by the ponies. Commanding Robert to follow, they conducted the three to a large tent where sat the leader of the band—an old man with a beak of a nose, his sword girdled high on his middle. He knelt on a silk carpet, casting knuckle-bones idly, and though he appeared scarcely to notice the strangers he looked them over carefully.
Abdullah related the tale agreed upon, that he, a minstrel wandering from Khar, had fallen in with an ameer out of Cairo who journeyed to the court of the Throne of Gold, and with him one Nazarene, a captive taken in the valley of the Orontes. Inalzig Khan, as the leader of the Kankalis was called, did not see fit to ask them to sit as yet, although they had dismounted.
“Where are your followers, O valiant lion,” he demanded of Robert ironically.
“Ask the kites and the wolves. They were slain in affrays with the Nazarenes and the Bedawans.”
“Allah, can it be so? What do you seek of me?”
“Guidance and protection through the Iron Gates.”
The khan bared long teeth in a mocking smile.
“Nay, you know not the Gates. Who can protect a stranger who lacks the right to enter?”
Knowing that a display of temper was expected of him, at this, Robert touched his sword-hilt.
“By the ninety and nine holy names, does a son of the Seljuks and a great-grandson of a caliph take grass between his teeth to bespeak a gatekeeper?”
Months of dwelling with the nobles of Cairo enabled him to imitate the mincing temper of a high-born Egyptian; with his mustache and head shaven and his bare feet blackened by the sun of the plains, he had little to fear. Yet Inalzig was not satisfied, although his tone became more courteous.
“Upon what mission do you ride to the Shah, O Cairene?”
Abdullah threw in carelessly, as if explaining to a friend—
“None leave the Sialak, the Gates, or enter to the great city except they go or come upon an order of Muhammad Shah—on whom be peace—the Emperor of Khar and the shield of Islam.”
“Does the jackal ask of the wolf, 'Why are ye here?'” Robert took his cue. “I will speak of my mission to the governor of the great city, and to you, Inalzig Khan, I say—” he thought swiftly—“that the Sultans of Cairo and Damietta have withstood the Nazarenes and send word of their deeds to Muhammad Shah.”
The Kankali nodded without emotion, and made room for the twain on the carpet.
“Hamaian—contentment be upon you, O ameer. I care naught for such matters, being sent on a foray to fetch a quota of maidens and spoil from the accursed Nazarenes and the desert tribes. If you can pass the Gates you will have fair greeting in Bokhara, the city of which I spoke. For the Shah draws his sword and mounts for war.”
“With whom?” demanded Abdullah with sudden interest.
“Mashallah—have I been within the walls of Bokhara this last year, that I should know? Some tribe of unbelievers from the north dares to withstand the emperor.”
Will Bunsley had been staring about eagerly at the piles of wicker baskets holding the fruits of the foray, and certain tents set apart for the captives, without seeing any sign of the girl or the priest.
“It is my wish,” remarked the chief of the Kankalis, leaning back on his cushions, “that the infidel be stripped and bound and stretched out for some of my men to try the edge of their simitars. Is it not written that he who causes the death of an unbeliever will not fail of paradise?”