And now, as it were by enchantment, wild armed men seemed to arise from
every part of the city. From every mass of ruin, from every crumbling
temple and mouldering mansion, from every catacomb and cellar, from
behind every column and every obelisk, upstarted some desperate warrior
with a bloody weapon. The massacre of the Seljuks was universal. The
horsemen dashed wildly about the ruined streets, pursued by crowds of
footmen; sometimes, formed in small companies, the Seljuks charged and
fought desperately; but, however stout might be their resistance to the
open foe, it was impossible to withstand their secret enemies. They had
no place of refuge, no power of gaining even a moment's breathing time.
If they retreated to a wall it instantly bristled with spears; if they
endeavoured to form, in a court, they sank under the falling masses
which were showered upon them. Strange shouts of denunciation blended
with the harsh braying of horns, and the clang and clash of cymbals and
tambours sounded in every quarter of the city.
'If we could only mount the walls, Ibrahim, and leap into the desert!'
exclaimed Hassan Subah to one of his few remaining comrades; ''tis our
only chance. We die here like dogs! Could I but meet Alroy!'
Three of the Seljuks dashed swiftly across the open ground in front,
followed by several Hebrew horsemen.
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