Swords From the Desert by Harold Lamb

Author:Harold Lamb
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Crusades, Historical, Action & Adventure, General, Fantasy, Suspense, Adventure Fiction, Historical Fiction, Fiction, Short Stories
ISBN: 9780803225169
Publisher: U of Nebraska Press
Published: 2009-09-14T22:00:00+00:00

Nisa, resting on a slender arm, cuddled down to listen, and the slave girl clapped her hands soundlessly.

Not once did the songmaker seem to remember the armed henchmen at his back, nor did he once falter for a word.

The slave girl was sighing with admiration, but Nisa chose to laugh-a soft trill that provoked and mocked, not less melodiously than Kushal's song. Kushal's eyes lighted at the sound.

"Open the casement," Nisa ordered her woman, and when this was done, she turned at once to look back at me. "Verily, Lord Daril, thy companion resembles a peacock in splendor and in self-conceit, and his voice is as harsh as a peacock's."

Now Kushal's improvised song had been put in a Persian measure, and was not to be compared to his native chants, but often I had seen a minstrel rewarded with a jeweled bracelet for less than that, by a pleased patron. Of course, Nisa being a woman, a reward was the last thing he expected.

"Throw him a coin," Nisa whispered quite distinctly to her maid. "Nay, not gold-silver."

Naturally the slave girl giggled and, after a moment's search, a silver dirham was tossed from the casement by the maid. Kushal's face darkened and he sat rigid in the saddle, his eyes fastened upon Nisa's face.

"Close the casement," she whispered, glancing from beneath long lashes at the motionless minstrel.

Although I was not ill pleased to behold Kushal's pride touched, I had seen enough of the girl's pranks.

"Thou hast my leave to depart," she said idly, and slipped from the couch to accompany me to the curtain, which was strange.

Here we met the bearded steward in argument with one of the warriors of the courtyard, and they both looked unhappy when they saw their mistress.

"What is upon you?" she asked at once.

The armed retainer squirmed and held out a closed fist.

"Ai, hanim, a message from the lord who sang, he of the white horse."

"What, then?"

"These words, 'The gift of Kushal Kattack, who has many times bestowed a diamond for a glimpse of a fair face."'

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