Adventure Magazine, April 10, 1924 — page 63: 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’. 61 ‘ “These be words, and lying words!” he cried. ‘Do ye believe, ye who have be- held my deeds?” Some of the warriors looked about rest- lessly, and all eyes sought Nur-Anim. The mullah could have cast his influence for either man, and he chose to favor the wazir. “Ye have heard the word of the Shah!” He lifted the rolled parchment. “T obey the word.” Robert tightened his rein and urged his horse slowly along the line of the Bokhar- ians, glancing into each face. And now he beheld only sullen fanaticism and hatred. He had been tricked and cast aside when they believed his work was done. The anger that he held in check swept over him. “OQ fools! I could have let the Mongols into the city. Who will lead you when I am gone?” He ripped the signet ring from his finger and hurled it at Nur-Anim. “Greet Muhammed with this, and do you find honor in it if you can.” “Take the dog of a Nazarene!” Robert wheeled his horse and headed for the Persians who closed in on him. One man he threw from the saddle, and his charger shouldered another out of the way. Vainly he sought to win through the press to reach the three who awaited him in the house of the fountain. A warrior struck him on the head with a mace, and he fell under his rearing horse. A red mist gath- ered before his eyes, and powerful hands forced him to his feet. His wrists were bound behind him, and a cord was slipped over his head. The cord tightened, and he stumbled forward. When his sight cleared he saw that he was being led out of the righistan beside Os- man’s litter, and the wazir was leaning on his elbow the better to feast his eyes on his prisoner. “Is thy memory so short, O Nazarene? Not three days ago you put yourself before me. You took from me the treasure, the diamond sheen, the houri out of paradise. Didst thou believe I had forgotten? Nay, I will take again the treasure that is more than gold—my eyes will take delight in the face that is fairer than diamonds. Ha, you will live to see that—dog of an unbeliever.” At the gate of his palace he paused to Stare a moment longer at his captive. “Put upon him the chain that may not be loosened and the weight that may not be set down.” In the courtyard Robert was seized by slaves who riveted upon his wrists fetters to which chains where attached. These chains in turn supported a round ball of iron half as heavy as a man—a spiked ball, stained with dried blood. ‘“‘This is the morning star, Nazarene,” Os- man smiled, “for when you awake from sleep it lies near you, and when you would go forth it stirs not. Many who have looked upon it long have cursed the sun’ and prayed for death.” The slaves urged him toward a Fe door of the tower. To obey, he was forced to pick up the weight and carry it, for the chains were too short to allow“aim to stand upright. He went forward, and the door closed on him, leaving him in darkness. But for a moment before the door was shut he heard the distant mutter of great drums and the clash of the Mongol cymbals. CHAPTER XIV For those who watch the highway and for those who sit by the car pet of sickness, the sands run slowly from the hour-glass, and the water lingers in the wheel of the water clock. ym day the muezzin did not call from the minarets at the noon hour. Will Bunsley and Ellen had grown accustomed to hearing the cry to prayer when the sun was at its highest point, and they looked up at the white spires without seeing turbaned figures in the tiny platforms that stood against the blue of the sky. It was a cloudless day, and no wind stirred the spray of the fountain in the gar- den. Ellen hung about the path, making pretense of gathering flowers, but really listening with all her ears to the sounds in the street beyond the wall, to be ready to unbar the door the moment she heard Rob- ert’s ringing— “Gate hol” She noticed that the noises of the street had changed. There was a steady mutter of voices and a shuffling of feet. The cries of children and the quarreling of loiterers were lacking. And no word came of Robert. “Lady,” quoth Will Bunsley, arranging his collection of arrows in sundry quivers, “the foe doth make a bruit with drum and horn, so methinks Sir Robert is yet upon _the vy wall. ? COMmiGoooksEeo S|