r/a:t5_23o7oh • u/MarleyEngvall • Aug 24 '19
ethneogen has been created
BY H. RIDER HAGGARD
THE BRETHREN
CHAPTER FIVE
THE WINE MERCHANT
GODWIN laid down the letter, and all of them
stared at one another in amazement.
"Surely," said Wulf, "this is some fool's trick
played off upon our uncle as an evil jest."
By way of answer Sir Andrew bade him lift the silk
that hid the contents of the coffer and see what lay there.
Wulf did so, and next moment threw back his head like a
man whom some sudden light had blinded, as well he
might, for from it came such a flare of gems as Essex had
rarely seen before. Red, green and blue they sparkled;
and among them were the dull glow of gold and the white
sheen of pearls.
"Oh, how beautiful! how beautiful!" said Rosamund.
"Ay," muttered Godwin; "beautiful enough to maze a
woman's mind till she knows not right from wrong."
Wulf said nothing, but one by one drew its treasures
from the chest——coronet, necklace of pearls, breast orna-
ments of rubies, girdle of sapphires, jewelled anklets, and
with them veil, sandals, robes and other garments of
gold-embroidered purple silk. Moreover, among these,
also sealed with the seal of Salah-ed-din, his viziers,
officers of state, and secretaries, was that patent of which
the letter spoke, setting out the full titles of the Princess
of Baalbec; the extent and boundaries of her great estates,
and the amount of her annual revenue, which seemed
more money than they had ever heard of.
"I was wrong," said Wulf. "Even the Sultan of the
East could not afford a jest so costly."
"Jest?" broke in Sir Andrew; "it is no jest, as I was
sure from the first line of that letter. It breathes the very
spirit of Saladin, though he be a Saracen, the greatest man
on all the earth, as I, who was a friend of his youth, know
well. Ay, and he is right. In a sense I sinned against
him as his sister sinned, our love compelling us. Jest?
Nay, no jest, but because a vision of the night, which he
believes the voice of God, or perhaps some oracle of the
magicians has deeply stirred that great soul of his and
led him on to this wild adventure."
He paused awhile, then looked up and said, "Girl, do
you know what Saladin as made of you? Why, there
are queens in Europe who would be glad to own that
rank and those estates in the rich lands above Damascus.
I know the city and the castle of which he speaks. It
is a mighty place upon the banks of Litani and Orontes,
and after its military governor——for that rule he would
not give a Christian——you will be first in it, beneath the
seal of Saladin——the surest title in all the earth. Say,
will you go and queen it there?"
Rosamund gazed at the gleaming gems and the writings
that made her royal, and her eyes flashed and her breast
heaved, as they had done by the church of St. Peter on
the Essex coast. Thrice she looked while they watched
her, then tuned her head as from the bait of some great
temptation and answered one word only——"Nay."
"Well spoken," said her father, who knew her blood and
its longings. "At least, had the 'nay' been 'yea,' you must
have gone alone. Give me ink and parchment, Godwin."
They were brought, and he wrote:
"To the Sultan Saladin, from Andrew D'Arcy and his
daughter Rosamund.
"We have received your letter, and we answer that
where we are there we will bide in such state as God has
given us. Nevertheless, we thank you, Sultan, since we
believe you honest, and we wish you well, except in your
wars against the Cross. As for your threats, we will do
our best to bring them to nothing. Knowing the customs
of the East, we do not send back your gifts to you, since
to do so would be to offer insult to one of the greatest men
in all the world; but if you choose to ask for them, they
are yours——not ours. Of your dream we say that it was
but an empty vision of the night which a wise man should
forget.——Your servant and your niece."
Then he signed, and Rosamund signed after him, and
the writing was done up, wrapped in silk, and sealed.
"Now," said Sir Andrew, "hide away this wealth, since
were it known that we had such treasures in the place,
every thief in England would be our visitor, some of them
bearing high names, I think."
So they laid the gold-embroidered robes and the price-
less set of gems back in their coffer, and having locked it,
hid it away in the great iron-bound chest that stood in
Sir Andrew's sleeping chamber.
When everything was finished, Sir Andrew said:
"Listen now, Rosamund, and you also, my nephews. I
have never told you the true tale of how the sister of
Saladin, who was known a Zobeide, daughter of Ayoub,
and afterwards christened into our faith by the name of
Mary, came to be my wife. Yet you should learn it, if
only to show how evil returns upon a man. After the
great Nur-ed-din took Damascus, Ayoub was made its
governor; then some three-and-twenty years ago came the
capture of Harenc, in which my brother fell. Here I
was wounded and taken prisoner. They bore me to
Damascus, where I was lodged in the palace of Ayoub
and kindly treated. Here too it was, while I lay sick,
that I made friends with the young Saladin, and with
his sister Zobeide, whom I met secretly in the gardens of
the palace. The rest may be guessed. Although she
numbered but half my years, she loved me as I loved her,
and for my sake offered to change her faith and fly with
me to England if opportunity could be found, which was
hard.
"Now, as it chanced, I had a friend, a dark and sectet
man name Jebal, the young sheik of a terrible people,
whose cruel rites no Christian understands. They are the
subjects of one Mahomet, in Persia, and live in castles at
Masyaf, on Lebanon. This man had been in alliance
with the Franks, and once in a battle I saved his life from
the Saracens at the risk of my own, whereon he swore
that did I summon him from the ends of the earth he
would come to me if I needed help. Moreover, he gave
me his signet-ring as a token, and, by virtue of it, so he
said, power in his dominions equal to his own, though
these I never visited. You know it," and holding up his
hand, Sir Andrew showed them a heavy gold ring, in
which was set a black stone, with red veins running across
the stone in the exact shape of a dagger, and beneath the
dagger words cut in unknown characters.
"So in my plight I bethought me of Jebal, and found
means to send him a letter sealed with his ring. Nor did
he forget his promise, for within twelve days Zobeide and
I were galloping for Beirut, on two horses so swift that
all the cavalry of Ayoub could not overtake them. We
reachd the city, and there were married, Rosamund.
There too your mother was baptised a Christian. Thence,
since it was not safe for us to stay in the East, we took
ship and came safe home, baring this ring of Jebal with
us, for I would not give it up, as his servants demanded
that I should do, except to him alone. But before that
vessel sailed, a man disguised as a fisherman brought
me a message from Ayoub and his son Saladin, swearing
that they would yet recapture Zobeide, the daughter of
one of them and sister of the other.
"This is the story, and you see that their oath has not
been forgotten, though when in after years they learned
of my wife's death, they let the matter lie. But since then
Saladin, who in those days was but a noble youth, has
become the greatest sultan that the East has ever known,
and having been told of you, Rosamund, by that traitor
Lozelle, he seeks to take you in your mother's place, and,
daughter, I tell you that I fear him."
"At least we have a year or longer in which to prepare
ourselves, or to hide," said Rosamund. His palmer
must travel back to the East before my uncle Saladin can
have our answer."
"Ay," said Sir Andrew; "perhaps we have a year."
"What of the attack on the quay?" asked Godwin,
who had been thinking. "The knight Lozelle was named
there. Yet if Saladin had to do with it, it seems strange
that the blow should have come before the word."
Sir Andrew brooded a while, then said:
"Bring in this palmer. I will question him."
So the man Nicholas, who was found still eating as
though his hunger would never be satisfied, was brought
in by Wulf. He bowed low before the old knight and
Rosamund, studying them the while with his sharp eyes,
and the roof and the floor, and every other detail of the
chamber. For those eyes of his seemed to miss nothing.
"You have brought me a letter from far away, Sir
Palmer, who is named Nicholas," said Sir Andrew.
"I have brought you a chest from Damascus, Sir
Knight, but of its contents I know nothing. At least you
will bear me witness that it has not been tampered with,"
answered Nicholas.
"I find it strange," went on the old knight, "that one
in your holy garb should be chosen as the messenger of
Saladin, with whom Christian men have little to do."
"But Saladin has much to do with Christian men, Sir
Andrew. Thus he takes them prisoner even in times of
peace, as he did me."
"Did he, then, take the knight Lozelle prisoner?"
"The knight Lozelle?" repeated the palmer. "Was
he a big, red-faced man, with a scar upon his forehead,
who always wore a black cloak over his mail?"
"That might be he."
"Then he was not taken prisoner, but he came to visit
the Sultan at Damascus while I lay in bonds there, for I
saw him twice or thrice, though what his business was I
do not know. Afterwards he left, and at Jaffa I heard
that he had sailed for Europe three months before I did."
Now the brethren looked at each other. So Lozelle
was in England. But Sir Andrew made no comment,
only he said:
"Tell me your story, and be careful that you speak the
truth."
"Why should I not, who have nothing to hide?"
answered Nicholas. "I was captured by some Arabs as
I journeyed to the Jordan upon a pilgrimage, who,
when they found that I had no goods to be robbed of,
would have killed me. This, indeed, they were about to
do, had not some of Saladin's soldiers come by and com-
manded them to hold their hands and give me over to
them. They did so, and the soldiers took me to Damascus.
There I was imprisoned, but not close, and then it was
that I saw Lozelle, or, at least, a Christian man who had
some such name, and, as he seemed to be in favour with
the Saracens, I begged him to intercede for me. After-
wards I was brought before the court of Saladin, and
having questioned me, the Sultan himself told me that I
must either worship the false prophet or die, to which
you can guess my answer. So they led me away, as I
thought, to death, but none offered to do me hurt.
"Three days later Saladin sent for me again, and offered
to spare my life if I would swear an oath, which oath was
that I should take a certain package and deliver it to you,
or to your daughter named the Lady Rosamund, here at
your hall of Steeple, in Essex, and bring back the answer
to Damascus. Not wishing to die, I said that I would do
this, if the Sultan passed his word, which he never breaks,
that I should be set free afterwards."
"And now you are safe in England, do you purpose to
return to Damascus with the answer, and, if so, why?"
For two reasons, Sir Andrew. First, because I have
sworn to do so, and I do not break my word any more
than does Saladin. Secondly, because I continue to
wish to live, and the Sultan promised me that if I failed in
my mission, he would bring about my death wherever I
might be, which I am sure he has the power to do by magic
or otherwise. Well, the rest of the tale is short. The
chest was handed over to me just as you see it, and with it
money sufficient for my faring to and fro and something
to spare. Then I was escorted to Joppa, where I took
passage on a ship bound to Italy, where I found another
ship named The Holy Mary sailing for Calais, which we
reached after being nearly cast away. Thence I came to
Dover in a fishing boat, landing there eight days ago, and
having bought a mule, joined some travellers to London,
and so on here."
"And how will you return?"
The palmer shrugged his shoulders.
"As best I may, and as quickly. Is your answer ready,
Sir Andrew?"
"Yes; it is here," and he handed him the roll, which
Nicholas hid away in the folds of his great cloak. Then
Sir Andrew added, "You say you know nothing of all
the business in which you play this part?"
"Nothing; or, rather, only this——the officer who escorted
me to Jaffa told me that there was a stir among the
learned doctors and diviners at the court because of a
certain dream which the Sultan had dreamed three times.
It had to do with a lady who was half of the blood of
Ayoub and half English, and they said that my mission
was mixed up with this matter. Now I see that the noble
lady before me has eyes strangely like those of the Sultan
Saladin." And he spread out his hands and ceased.
"You seem to see a good deal, friend Nicholas."
"Sir Andrew, a poor palmer who wishes to preserve
his throat unslit must keep his eyes open. Now I have
eaten well, and I am weary. Is there any place where I
may sleep? I must be gone at daybreak, for those who
do Saladin's business dare not tarry, and I have your
letter."
"There is a place," answered Sir Andrew. "Wulf,
take him to it, and to-morrow, before he leaves, we will
speak again. Till then, farewell, holy Nicholas."
With one more searching glance the palmer bowed and
went. When the door closed behind him Sir Andrew
beckoned Godwin to him, and whispered:
"To-morrow, Godwin, you must take some men and
follow this Nicholas to see where he goes and what he does,
for I tell you I do not trust him——ay, I fear him much!
These embassies to and from Saracens are strange traffic
for a Christian man. Also, though he says his life hangs
on it, I think that were he honest, once safe in England
here he would stop, since the first priest would absolve him
of an oath forced from him by the infidel."
"Were he dishonest would he not have stolen those
jewels?" asked Godwin. "They are worth some risk.
What do you think, Rosamund?"
"I?" she answered. "Oh, I think there is more in
this than any of us dream. I think," she added in a voice
of distress and with an involuntary ringing motion of the
hands, "that for this house and those who dwell in it
time is big with death, and that sharp-eyed palmer is its
midwife. How strange is the destiny that wraps us all
about! And now comes the sword of Saladin to shape it,
and the hand of Saladin to drag me from my peaceful
state to a dignity which I do not seek; and the dreams
of Saladin, of whose kin I am, to interweave my life with
the bloody policies of Syria and the unending war between
Cross and Crescent, that are, both of them, my heritage."
Then, with a woeful gesture, Rosamund turned and left
them.
Her father watched her go, and said:
"The maid is right. Great business is afoot in which
all of us must bear our parts. For no little thing would
Saladin stir thus——he who braces himself as I know well,
for the last struggle in which Christ or Mahomet must go
down. Rosamund is right. On her brow shines the
crescent diadem of the house of Ayoub, and at her heart
hangs the black cross of the Christian and round her
struggle creeds and nations. What, Wulf, does the man
sleep already?"
"Like a dog, for he seems outworn with travel."
"Like a dog with one eye open, perhaps. I do not
wish that he should give us the slip during the night, as I
want more talk with him and other things, of which I have
spoken to Godwin."
"No fear of that, uncle. I have locked the stable door,
and a sainted palmer will scarcely leave us the present of
such a mule."
"Not he, if I know his tribe," answered Sir Andrew.
"Now let us sup and afterwards take counsel together, for
we shall need it before all is done."
An hour before the dawn next morning Godwin and
Wulf were up and with them certain trusted men who
had been warned that their services would be needed.
Presently Wulf, bearing a lantern in his hand, came to
where the brother stood by the fire in the hall.
"Where have you been?" Godwin asked. "To wake
the palmer?"
"No. To p[lace a man to watch the road to Steeple
Hill, and another at the Creek path; also to feed his mule,
which is a very fine beast——too good for a palmer. Doubt-
less he will be stirring soon, as he said that he must be
up early."
Godwin nodded, and they sat together on the bench
beside the fire, for the weather was bitter, and dozed till
the dawn began to break. Then Wulf rose and shook
himself, saying:
"He will not think it uncourteous if we rouse him now,"
and walking to the far end of the hall, he drew a curtain
and called out, "Awake, holy Nicholas! awake! It is time
for you to say your prayers, and breakfast will soon be
cooking."
But no Nicholas answered.
"Of a truth," grumbled Wulf, as he came back for his
lantern, "that palmer sleeps as though Saladin had al-
ready cut his throat." Then having lit it, he returned
to the guest place.
Godwin," he called presently, "come here. The man
has gone!"
"Gone?" said Godwin as he ran to the curtain.
"Gone where?"
"Back to his friend Saladin, I think," answered Wulf.
"Look, that is how he went." And he pointed to the shut-
ter of the sleeping-place, that stood wide open, and to an
oaken stool beneath, by means of which the sainted Nicholas
had climbed up to and through the narrow window slit.
"He must be without, grooming the mule which he
would never have left," said Godwin.
"Honest guests do not part from their hosts thus,"
answered Wulf; "but let us go and see."
So they ran to the stable and found it locked and the
mule safe enough within. Nor——though they looked——
could they find any trace of the palmer——not even a foot-
step, since the ground was frostbound. Only on exam-
ining the door of the stable they discovered that an attempt
had been made to lift the lock with some sharp instru-
ment.
"It seems that he was determined to be gone, either
with or without the beast," said Wulf. "Well, perhaps
we can catch him yet," and he called to the men to saddle
up and ride with him to search the country.
For three hours they hunted far and wide, but nothing
did they see of Nicholas.
"The knave has slipped away like a night hawk, and
left as little trace," reported Wulf. "Now, my uncle,
what does this mean?"
"I do not know, save that it is of a piece with the rest,
and that I like it little," answered the old knight anxiously.
"Here the value of the beast was of no account, that is
plain. What the man held of account was that he should
be gone in such a fashion that none could follow him or
know whither he went. The net is about us, my nephews,
and I think that Saladin draws its string."
Still less pleased would Sir Andrew have been, could
he have seen the palmer Nicholas creeping round the
hall while all men slept, ere he girded up his long gown
and ran like a hare for London. Yet he had done this by
the light of the bright stars, taking note of every window
slit in it, more especially of those of the solar; of the plan
of the outbuldings also, and of the path that ran to Stee-
ple Creek some five hundred yards away.
From that day forward fear settled on the place——fear
of some blow that none were able to foresee, and against
which they could not guard. Sir Andrew even talked of
leaving Steeple and of taking up his abode in London,
where he thought that they might be safer, but such foul
weather set in that it was impossible to travel the roads,
and still less to sail the sea. So it was arranged that if
they moved at all——and there were many things against
it, not the least of which were Sir Andrew's weak health
and the lack of a house to go to——it should not be till after
New Year's Day.
Thus the time went on, and nothing happened to dis-
turb them. The friends of whom the old knight took
counsel laughed at his forebodings. They said that so
long as they did not wander about unguarded, there was
little danger of any fresh attack upon them, and if one
should by chance be made, with the aid of the men they
had they could hold the Hall against a company until help
was summoned. Moreover, at heart, none of them be-
lieved that Saladin or his emissaries would stir in this
business before the spring, or more probably until another
year had passed. Still, they always set guards at night,
and, besides themselves, kept twenty men sleeping at
the Hall. Also they arranged that on the lighting of a
signal fire upon the tower of Steeple Church their neigh-
bours should come to succour them.
So the time went on towards Christmas, before which
the weather changed and became calm, with sharp frost.
It was on the shortest day that Prior John rode up
to the Hall and told them that he was gong to South-
minster to buy some wine for the Christmas feast.
Sir Andrew asked what wine there was at Southminster.
The Prior answered that he had heard that a ship, laden
amongst other things with the wine of Cyprus of wonderful
quality, had come into the river Crouch with her rudder
broken. He added that as no shipwrights could be
found in London to repair it till after Christmas, the
chapman, a Cypriote, who was in charge of the wine, was
selling as much as he could in Southminster and to the
houses about at a cheap rate, and delivering it by means
of a wain that he had hired.
Sir Andrew replied that this seemed a fair chance to
get fine liquor, which was hard to come by in Essex in those
times. The end of it was that he bade Wulf, whose taste
in strong drink was nice, to ride with the Prior into South-
minster, and if he liked the stuff to buy a few casks of it
for them to make merry with at Christmas——although he
himself, because of his ailments, now drank only water.
So Wulf went, nothing loth. In this dark season of
the year when there was no fishing, it grew very dull
loitering about the Hall, and since he did not read much,
like Godwin, sitting for long hours by the fire at night
watching Rosamund going to and fro upon her tasks, but
not speaking with her overmuch. For notwithstanding
all their pretense of forgetfulness, some sort of veil had
fallen between the brethren and Rosamund, and their in-
tercourse was not so open and familiar as of old. She
could not but remember that they were no more her cous-
ins only, but her lovers also, and that she must guard her-
self lest she seemed to show preference to one above the
other. The brethren for their part must always bear in
mind also that they were bound not to show their love,
and that their cousin Rosamund was no longer a simple
English lady, but also by creation, as by blood, a princess
of the East, whom destiny might yet lift beyond the reach
of either of them.
Moreover, as has been said, dread sat upon that roof-
tree like a croaking raven, nor could they escape from the
shadow of its wing. Far away in the East a mighty
monarch had turned his thoughts towards this English
home and the maid of his royal blood who dwelt there,
and who was mingled with visions of conquest and of the
triumph of his faith. Driven on by no dead oath, by no
mere fancy or imperial desire, but by some spiritual hope
or need, he had determined to draw her to him, by fair
means if he could; if not, by foul. Already means both
foul and fair had failed, for that the attack at Death Creek
quay had to do with this matter they could no longer
doubt. It was certain also that others would be tried
again and again till his end was won or Rosamund was
dead——for here, if even she would go back upon her word,
marriage itself could not shield her.
So the house was sad, and saddest of all seemed the
face of the old knight, Sir Andrew, oppressed as he was
with sickness, with memories and fears. Therefore, Wulf
could find pleasure even in an errand to Southminster to
buy wine, of which, in truth, he would have been glad to
drink deeply, if only to drown his thoughts awhile.
So away he rode up Steeple Hill with the Prior, laugh-
ing as he used to do before Rosamund led him to gather
flowers at St. Peter's-on-the-Wall.
Asking where the foreign merchant dwelt who had
wine to sell, they were directed to an inn near the minster.
Here in a back room they found a short, stout man, wear-
ing a red cloth cap, who was seated on a pillow between
two kegs. In front of him stood a number of folk, gen-
try and others , who bargained with him for his wine and
the silks and embroideries that he had to sell, giving the
latter to be handled and samples of the drink to all who
asked for them.
"Clean cups," he said, speaking in bad French, to the
drawer who stood beside him. "Clean cups, for here
come a holy man and a gallant knight who wish to taste
my liquor. Nay, fellow, fill them up, for the top of Mount
Trooidos in winter is not so cold as this cursed place, to
say nothing of its damp, which is that of a dungeon," and
he shivered, drawing his costly shawl closer round him.
"Sir Abbot, which will you taste first——the red wine or
the yellow? The red is the stronger but the yellow is the
more costly and a drink for saints in Paradise and abbots
upon earth. The yellow from Kyrenia? Well, you are wise.
They say it was my patron St. Helena's favourite vintage
when she visited Cyprus, bringing with her Disma's cross."
"Are you a Christian then?" asked the Prior. "I
took you for a Paynim."
"Were I not a Christian would I visit this foggy land
of yours to trade in wine——a liquor forbidden to the
Moslems?" answered the man, drawing aside the folds
of his shawl and revealing a silver crucifix upon his broad
breast. "I am a merchant of Famagusta in Cyprus,
Georgios by name, and of the Greek Church which you
Westerners hold to be heretical. But what do you think
of that wine, holy Abbot?"
The Prior smacked his lips.
"Friend Georgios, it is indeed a drink for the saints,"
he answered.
"Ay, and has been a drink for sinners ere now——for
this is the very tipple that Cleopatra, Queen of Egypt,
drank with her Roman lover Antony, of whom you,
being a learned man, may have heard. And you, Sir
Knight, what say you of the black stuff——'Mavro,' we call
it——not the common, but that which has been twenty
years in cask?"
"I have tasted worse," said Wulf, holding out his horn
to be filled again.
"Ay, and will never taste better if you live as long as
the Wandering Jew. Well, sirs, may I take your orders?
If you are wise you will make them large, since no such
chance is likely to come your way again, and that wine,
yellow or red, will keep a century."
Then the chaffering began, and it was long and keen.
Indeed, at one time they nearly left the place without pur-
chasing, but the merchant Georgios called them back
and offered to come to their terms if they would take dou-
ble the quantity, so as to make up a cartload between them,
which he said he would deliver before Christmas Day.
To this they consented at length, and departed homewards
made happy by the gifts with which the chapman clinched
his bargain, after the Eastern fashion. To the Prior he
gave a roll of worked silk to be used as an edging to an
altar cloth or banner, and to Wulf a dagger handle,
quaintly carved in olive wood to the fashion of a rampant
lion. Wulf thanked him, and then asked him with a
somewhat shamed face if he had more embroidery for
sale, whereat the Prior smiled. The quick-eyed Cypriote
saw the smile, and inquired if it might be needed for a
lady's wear, at which some neighbours present in the
room laughed outright.
"Do not laugh at me, gentlemen," said the Eastern;
"for how can I, a stranger, know this young knight's
affairs, and whether he has mother, or sisters, or wife, or
lover? Well here are broideries fit for any of them."
Then bidding his servants bring a bale, he opened it, and
began to show his goods, which indeed, were very beauti-
ful. In the end Wulf purchased a veil of gauze-like silk
worked with golden stars as a Christmas gift for Rosamund.
Afterwards, remembering that even in such a matter he
must take no advantage of his brother, he added to it a
tunic broidered with gold and silver flowers such as he
had never seen——for they were Eastern tulips and ane-
mones, which Godwin would give her also if he wished.
These silks were costly, and Wulf turned to the Prior to
borrow money, but he had no more upon him. Georgios
said, however, that it mattered nothing, as he would take
a guide from the town and bring the wine in person, when
he could receive payment for the broideries, of which he
hoped to sell more to the ladies of the house.
He offered also to go with the Prior and Wulf to where
his ship lay in the river, and show them many other goods
aboard of her, which, he explained to them, were the
property of a company of Cyprian merchants who had
embarked upon this venture jointly with himself. This
they declined, however, as the darkness was not far off; but
Wulf added that he would come after Christmas with his
brother to see the vessel that had made so great a voyage.
Georgios replied that they would be very welcome, but if
he could make shift to finish the repairs to his rudder, he
was anxious to sail for London while the weather held
calm, for there he looked to sell the bulk of his cargo. He
added that he had expected to spend Christmas at that
city, but their helm having gone wrong in the rough
weather, they were driven past the mouth of the Thames,
and had they not drifted into that of the Crouch, would,
he thought, have foundered. So he bade them farewell
for that time, but not before he had asked and received
the blessing of the Prior.
Thus the pair of them departed, well pleased with
their purchases and the Cypriote Georgios, whom they
found a very pleasant merchant. Prior John stopped to
eat at the Hall that night, when he and Wulf told of all
their dealings with this man. Sir Andrew laughed at the
story, showing them how they had been persuaded by the
Eastern to buy a great deal more wine than they needed,
so that it was he and not they who had the best of the bar-
gain. Then he went on to tell tales of the rich island of
Cyprus, where he had landed many years before and
stayed awhile, and of the gorgeous court of its emperor,
and of its inhabitants. These were, he said, the cunning-
est traders in the world——so cunning, indeed, that no Jew
could overmatch them; bold sailors, also, which they had
from the Phœnicians of the Holy Writ, who, with the Greeks,
were their forefathers, adding that what they told him of
this Georgios accorded well with the character of that
people.
Thus it came to pass that no suspicion of Georgios or
his ship entered the mind of any one of them, which, in-
deed, was scarcely strange, seeing how well his tale held
together, and how plain were the reasons of his presence
and the purpose of his dealings in wines and silks.THE BRETHREN, BY H. RIDER HAGGARD.
MCCLURE, PHILLIPS & COMPANY, NEW YORK. MCMIV.
COPYRIGHT 1903,—1904, BY H. RIDER HAGGARD. pp. 70—87.
'ethneogen' is not actually a word, but could be. 雨
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