The Christian dead were buried; the
Moslems yet dotted the plain with prostrate corpses, whose unclosed
and glassy eyes met the gazer in every direction.
Of these the Crusaders reckoned little, nor did the ghastly
spectacle at all disturb their rest. They sorrowed, indeed, for
their own comrades; but when the parting prayers were breathed over
their desert graves, they dismissed even them from their thoughts.
"They have given their lives in a noble cause, and the saints will
take good care of them and make their beds in Paradise," was the
general sentiment.
And now the fire was rekindled, the wine skins passed round, the
venison steaks again placed on the glowing embers, and they
refreshed the inner man, with appetites sharpened by their
desperate exertions in the late struggle.
Close by the side of the young knight sat their deliverer, whose
followers mingled with the Englishmen around at one or other of the
fires they had kindled.
"A health," said the young knight--"a health to our deliverer. Had
he not come so opportunely to our rescue, we were now supping in
Paradise.
"What name shall I give to our honoured guest?"
"Men call me the Knight of the Holy Sepulchre, but it is too proud
a title to be borne by mortal man.
Pages:
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276