Tarzan, Lord of the Jungle · Chapter 9 (2/2)

“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 carriage 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 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, an’ 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.”

“ ’Od’s blud! Methinks thou beest right, Sir 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 an’ you will take him into your service, my lord prince.”

“Wouldst enter my service, sir?” demanded the prince.

Blake glanced at Sir Malud and looked dubious⁠—then his eyes wandered to those of the girl. “I’ll tell the world I would!” he said.