He knew
they were glowing with pride because of their triumphs over the
Crusaders in Palestine. He knew they were blazing with anger because
their brother Moors had been slaughtered and tortured in Spain. He saw
ahead of him the rack, the thumb-screw, and the boot; the long years
in a slimy dungeon--at the best the executioner's scimitar. He simply
dared not go.
The books were brought ashore again. The ship sailed without Lull.
"The ship has gone," said a friend to Lull. He quivered under a
torture of shame greater than the agony of the rack. He was wrung with
bitter shame that he who had for all these years prepared for this
Crusade should now have shown the white feather. He was, indeed, a
craven knight of Christ.
His agony of spirit threw him into a high fever that kept him in his
bed.
Soon after he heard that another ship was sailing for Africa.
In spite of the protestations of his friends Lull insisted that they
should carry him to the ship. They did so; but as the hour of sailing
drew on his friends were sure that he was so weak that he would die
on the sea before he could reach Africa. So--this time in spite of all
his pleading--they carried him ashore again. But he could not rest and
his agony of mind made his fever worse.
Pages:
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44