Adventure Magazine, April 10, 1924 — page 9: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

The Making of the Morning Star 7 of these rogues, I say—call hence your varlets or it will be the worse for them.” At this the throng parted, and an old priest rode up on a white donkey led by a young girl. Flinging back the hood of her gown, she looked up angrily at Robert. ‘““Messire! Unsay what you have said, and that without ado.” She took the charger’s rein in a gloved hand, and stamped a slender foot angrily and a little awkwardly, for it was clad in an Armenian red leather boot several sizes too large. Robert glimpsed a white face pinched by hunger and eyes shadowed by ripples of hair dark as a raven’s wing. “This is our patriarch, Sir Lout,” went on the maid in a clear voice, “and Father Evagrius is blind. Climb down from your big horse and kneel and ask his pardon and blessing.” “Nay, Ellen,” put in the patriarch, “it is not seemly that a stranger and a man-at- arms should knee “2 “T say he shall! Nay, he is no sergeant- at-arms but a spurred lordling. His com- panion is a black-browed Moslem, and surely that is not seemly.” Against the crowd of grease- and vermin- ridden men the slight figure of the maid stood out in bold relief. The pulse throbbed in her delicate throat, and the circles darkened under her eyes that blazed with the tensity of long suffering. Abdullah glaneed from her to Robert with some amusement. “Father Evagrius,” observed the knight, “if you are verily the leader of this com- pany you do ill to turn your back on the castle of Montserrat. The river is scarce a safe abiding-place.” ‘““Messire,”’ responded the maid Ellen quickly, “the lord of Montserrat hath seen fit to order us away from his hold to the river.” “How? His Grace, the marquis——’’. “—-doth lack of courtesy, even as you. Perchance he feared lest the ribalds trample his coverts or disturb the sleep of his hunting-hounds.”’ “Demoiselle,” explained Robert calmly, “T am the vassal of Hugo of Montserrat, and even now I seek his hold, above in the bor- der mountain chain. And I do maintain that he would not send a Christian company into hazard of their lives.” “Sir Stiff-and-Stuffy, I do maintain that your Hugo hath turned us off.” While Robert~stared at her, perplexed, yet finding an unexpected pleasure in meet- ing the glance of a girl of his own race after years spent without sight of a woman, he heard the gentle voice of the priest. “The good marquis hath given his word that he will protect us against all foes upon his marches. And the Orontes, where we will pass the night, doth he within his border.” “Then are you safe,” nodded Robert. “Montserrat, having given his pledge, will keep it.” “And now, Sir Vassal,”’ added the girl Ellen, ‘do you kneel to the patriarch. Ah, he is a very saint, and his spirit dwells near to the throne of God—Whom you miscalled a@ moment ago.” Robert, looking down upon her youthful rage—the maid scarce numbered more than fifteen years—tried in vain to stifle a hearty laugh. At this she flushed from throat to eyes and slipped off the hawking gauntlet upon her hand. Standing on her toes, she struck him swiftly across the lips. The force of the blow knocked the glove from her grasp. Robert swung down from his stirrup and picked it up. When he stepped toward her she did not draw back, but clenched thin hands and stood her ground. Her followers, who had time to take in Robert’s spread of shoulder and the length of his sword, made no move to molest him—though he paid no heed to them. “T give you back your glove, demoiselle,”’ he said, smiling at her boldness. “And I would that you and the good father would turn back with me to Montserrat.” “You mock us! Never—we would never go with you.” “By the saints! I meant no ill to you or the blind priest,’”’ denied the knight avely. “Come, Ellen,” said Evagrius, “‘you have delayed our march, and I feel that the sun is sinking near the earth. A week from this hour we shall bathe in the Jordan, and you shall see the Mount of Olives.” His lined face was lighted by inward re- joicing as he felt for the donkey’s halter. But the girl bent her head, and Robert heard her sob as she moved away. Frowning, he watched them pass into the dust cloud. Why, he wondered, had the maid wept? Surely there was pride in her, and gentle- ness, for she tended the helpless Evagrius. COMmiCOookkSs.CG©