Sherkan looked at this
cavalier and behold, he was their chief. He was clad in a tunic
of blue satin and a close-ringed shirt of mail; his face was as
the full moon at its rising and he had no hair on his cheeks. In
his hand he held a sword of Indian steel, and he was mounted on a
black horse with a white star, like a dirhem, on his forehead. He
spurred into the midst of the field and signing to the Muslims,
cried out with fluent speech in the Arabic tongue, saying, "Ho,
Sherkan! Ho, son of Omar ben Ennuman, thou that stormest the
citadels and layest waste the lands, up and out to joust and
battle with him who halves the field with thee! Thou art prince
of thy people and I am prince of mine; and whoso hath the upper
hand, the other's men shall come under his sway." Hardly had he
made an end of speaking, when out came Sherkan, with a heart full
of wrath, and spurring his horse into the midst of the field,
drove like an angry lion at the Frank, who awaited him with calm
and steadfastness and met him as a champion should. Then they
fell to cutting and thrusting, nor did they cease to wheel and
turn and give and take, as they were two mountains clashing
together or two seas breaking one against the other, till the day
departed and the night brought on the darkness, when they drew
apart and returned, each to his people. As soon as Sherkan
reached his comrades, he said to them, "Never in my life saw I
the like of this cavalier; and he has one fashion I never yet
beheld in any.
Pages:
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63