The chain mail that he wore was heavy, hot and uncomfortable, and Tarzan had not gone far before he discarded it. He had his knife and his rope. These he always kept with him, but he left the sword with the armor and with a sigh of relief continued on his way.
Ibn Jad, as he had come across the valley from the City of the Sepulcher toward the city that he had seen upon the opposite side, had been perturbed by the great clouds of dust that had been raised by the Knights of the Sepulcher and the pursuing Nimmrians.
Seeing a forest close upon his right hand he had thought it wiser to seek its concealing shadows until he could learn more concerning that which caused so great a dust cloud, which he saw was rapidly approaching.
Within the forest it was cool and here Ibn Jad and his followers rested.
“Let us remain here,” suggested Abd el-Aziz, “until evening, when we may approach the city under cover of darkness.”
Ibn Jad approved the plan and so they camped just within the forest and waited. They watched the dust cloud pass and continue on toward the City of the Sepulcher.
“Billah, it is well we did escape that village before yon host returned,” said Ibn Jad.
They saw a horseman enter the forest, or pass to the south of it—they could not know which—but they were not interested in single horsemen, or in any horseman, so they did not investigate. He seemed to be either carrying another person upon his horse with him, or some great bundle. At a distance they could not see which.
“Perhaps,” said Abd el-Aziz, “we shall find greater treasure in the city to the south.”
“And perhaps the beautiful woman of whom the sahar spoke,” added Ibn Jad, “for she was not within the city we left this morning.”
“There were some there that were beautiful,” said Fahd.
“The one I seek is more beautiful than an houri,” said Ibn Jad.
When they took up their march again just before dark they moved cautiously just within the edge of the forest. They had covered a mile, perhaps, when those in the lead heard voices ahead. Ibn Jad sent one to investigate.
The man was soon back. His eyes were bright with excitement. “Ibn Jad,” he whispered, “thou needst seek no farther—the houri is just ahead!”
Following the suggestion of the scout Ibn Jad, followed by his companions, went deeper into the woods and approached Blake and Guinalda from the west. When Sir Galahad broke loose and Blake drew his forty-five Ibn Jad knew that they could remain in concealment no longer. He called Fahd to him.
“Many of the Nasranys speak the language thou didst learn among the soldiers of the North,” he said. “Speak thou therefore to this one in the same tongue, telling him we are friends and that we are lost.”
When Fahd saw the Princess Guinalda his eyes narrowed and he trembled almost as might a man with ague. Never in his life had Fahd seen so beautiful a woman, never had he dreamed that an houri might be so lovely.
“Do not fire upon us,” he called to Blake from the concealment of some bushes. “We are friends. We are lost.”
“Who are you?” demanded Blake, surprised to hear French spoken in the Valley of the Sepulcher.
“We be poor men from the desert country,” replied Fahd. “We are lost. Help us to find our way and the blessings of Allah shall be upon thee.”
“Come out and let me see you,” said Blake. “If you are friendly you need not fear me. I’ve had all the trouble I’m looking for.”
Fahd and Ibn Jad stepped out into view and at sight of them Guinalda voiced a little scream and seized Blake’s arm. “The Saracens!” she gasped.
“I guess they’re Saracens all right,” said Blake, “but you needn’t worry—they won’t hurt you.”
“Not harm a crusader?” she demanded incredulously.
“These fellows never heard of a crusader.”
“Melikes not the way they look at me,” whispered Guinalda.
“Well, neither do I, but perhaps they mean no harm.”
With many smiles the Arabs gathered around the two and through Fahd Ibn Jad repeated his protestations of friendship and his delight at meeting one who could direct him from the valley. He asked many questions about the City of Nimmr; and all the while his followers pressed closer to Blake.
Of a sudden the smiles vanished from their faces as, at a signal from their sheik, four stalwart Beduins leaped upon the American and bore him to the ground, snatching his gun from him, while simultaneously two others seized the Princess Guinalda.
In a moment Blake was securely bound and the Arab were debating what disposition to make of him. Several wanted to slit his throat, but Ibn Jad counseled against it since they were in a valley filled with the man’s friends and should the fortunes of war decide to throw some of the Beduins into the hands of the enemy such would fare better if they spared this one’s life.
Blake threatened, promised, begged that they give Guinalda her liberty, but Fahd only laughed at him and spit upon him. For a time it seemed almost certain that they were going to kill Blake, as one of the Beduins stood over him with a keen khusa in his hand, awaiting the word from Ibn Jad.
It was then that Guinalda tore free from those who held her and threw herself upon Blake to shield his body from the blade with her own.
“Thou shalt not slay him!” she cried. “Take my life an’ thou must have Christian blood, but spare him.”
“They cannot understand you, Guinalda,” said Blake. “Perhaps they will not kill me, but that does not matter. You must escape them.”
“Oh, they must not kill thee—they shall not! Canst ever forgive me the cruel words I spoke? I did not mean them. My pride was hurt that thou shouldst say of me what Malud told me thou didst say and so I spoke to hurt thee
