The house was low and white, and stood at the end of a small garden in
which there were palms, and spring flowers growing in straight lines
between small hewn stones, laid so as to leave little trenches of earth
between them. There was a hard path, newly swept, leading to the square
door of the house, and on the doorpost were clearly written certain
characters in Hebrew.
Gilbert knocked on the door, not loudly, with the hilt of his dagger,
but no one answered; and again louder, but there was no sound from
within. Then he shook the door, trying whether it would open of itself
by a push; but it was fast, and the two windows of the house that
looked out on each side of the door were barred also.
"They think that some great force is with us, and are afraid," said the
Jewish boy. "Speak to them, sir, for they do not understand my tongue."
And the interpreter explained what he said. Then Gilbert spoke in
English, for he supposed that Curboil's men must be Englishmen, but the
Jewish boy knew that the words should sound otherwise.
"In Greek, sir! Speak to them in Greek, for they are all Greeks. That
is why they are afraid. All Greeks are afraid."
The interpreter began to speak in Greek, clear and loud, but no sound
came. Yet when Gilbert put his ear to the door he thought that he heard
something like a child's moaning. It had a sound of pain in it, and his
blood rose at the thought that some weak creature was being hurt. So he
took little Alric's leathern belt, such as grooms wear, and bound it
round his hand to guard the flesh, and he struck the door where the
leaves joined in the middle, once and twice and three times, and it
began to open inward, so that they could see the iron bolt bent half
double.
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