Abul Malek and his sons returned alone to their mountains, but when they reined in at the door of their castle the father spat venomously at the belfried roof of the monastery beneath and vowed that he would yet work his will upon it.

Now that the Law forbade him to make way with his enemies by force, he canvassed his brain for other means of effecting their downfall; but every day the monks went on with their peaceful tasks, unmindful of his hatred, and their impious religion spread about the countryside.  Abul Malek’s venom passed them by; they gazed upon him with gentle eyes in which there was no spleen, although in him they recognized a bitter foe.

As time wore on his hatred of their religion became centered upon the monks themselves, and he undertook by crafty means to annoy them.  Men said these Christian priests were good; that their lives were spent in prayer, in meditation, and in works of charity among the poor; tales came to the Moor of their spiritual existence, of their fleshly renunciation; but at these he scoffed.  He refused to credit them.

“Pah!” he would cry, tugging at his midnight beard; “how can these men be aught but liars, when they live and preach a falsehood?  Their creed is impious, and they are hypocrites.  They are not superior beings, they are flesh like you or me.  They have our passions and our faults, but a thousand times multiplied, for they walk in darkness and dwell in hypocrisy.  Beneath their cassocks is black infamy; their hearts are full of evil—­aye, of lust and of every unclean thing.  Being false to the true God, they are false to themselves and to the religion they profess; and I will prove it.”  Thus ran his reasoning.

In order to make good his boast Abul Malek began to study the monks carefully, one after another.  He tried temptation.  A certain gross-bellied fellow he plied with wine.  He flattered and fawned upon the simple friar; he led him into his cellars, striving to poison the good man’s body as well as his mind; but the visitor partook in moderation, and preached the gospel of Christ so earnestly that the Saracen fled from his presence, bathing himself in clean water to be rid of the pollution.

Next he laid a trap for the Abbot himself.  He selected the fairest of his slaves, a well-rounded woman of great physical charm, and bribed her with a girdle of sequins.  She sought out the Abbot and professed a hunger for his creed.  Bound thus by secrecy to the pious man, she lured him by every means at her command.  But the Abbot had room for no passion save the love of Christ, and her wiles were powerless against this armor.

Abul Malek was patient; he renewed his vow to hold the false religion up to ridicule and laughter, thinking, by encompassing the downfall of a single advocate, thus to prove his contention and checkmate its ever-widening influence.  He became obsessed by this idea; he schemed and he contrived; he used to the utmost the powers of his Oriental mind.  From his vantage-point above the cloister he heard the monks droning at their Latin; his somber glances followed them at their daily tasks.  Like a spider he spun his web, and when one victim broke through it he craftily repaired its fabric, luring another into its meshes.