Title: The Talisman
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Author: Sir Walter Scott
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The Talisman
Sir Walter Scott
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Table of Contents
The Talisman .......................................................................................................................................................1
Sir Walter Scott ........................................................................................................................................1
INTRODUCTION TO THE TALISMAN. ..............................................................................................1
APPENDIX TO INTRODUCTION........................................................................................................4
CHAPTER I. ............................................................................................................................................8
CHAPTER II. .........................................................................................................................................12
CHAPTER III........................................................................................................................................19
CHAPTER IV........................................................................................................................................31
CHAPTER V.........................................................................................................................................37
CHAPTER VI........................................................................................................................................40
CHAPTER VII. ......................................................................................................................................46
CHAPTER VIII.....................................................................................................................................53
CHAPTER IX........................................................................................................................................60
CHAPTER X.........................................................................................................................................68
CHAPTER XI........................................................................................................................................73
CHAPTER XII. ......................................................................................................................................84
CHAPTER XIII.....................................................................................................................................88
CHAPTER XIV.....................................................................................................................................93
CHAPTER XV......................................................................................................................................98
CHAPTER XVI...................................................................................................................................103
CHAPTER XVII. .................................................................................................................................106
CHAPTER XVIII. ................................................................................................................................112
CHAPTER XIX...................................................................................................................................120
CHAPTER XX....................................................................................................................................127
CHAPTER XXI...................................................................................................................................135
CHAPTER XXII. .................................................................................................................................140
CHAPTER XXIII. ................................................................................................................................146
CHAPTER XXIV................................................................................................................................152
CHAPTER XXV. .................................................................................................................................159
CHAPTER XXVI................................................................................................................................164
CHAPTER XXVII. ..............................................................................................................................171
CHAPTER XXVIII. .............................................................................................................................181
The Talisman
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The Talisman
Sir Walter Scott
Introduction
Chapter I
Chapter II
Chapter III
Chapter IV
Chapter V
Chapter VI
Chapter VII
Chapter VIII
Chapter IX
Chapter X
Chapter XI
Chapter XII
Chapter XIII
Chapter XIV
Chapter XV
Chapter XVI
Chapter XVII
Chapter XVIII
Chapter XIX
Chapter XX
Chapter XXI
Chapter XXII
Chapter XXIII
Chapter XXIV
Chapter XXV
Chapter XXVI
Chapter XXVII
INTRODUCTION TO THE TALISMAN.
The "Betrothed" did not greatly please one or two friends, who thought that it did not well correspond to the
general title of "The Crusaders." They urged, therefore, that, without direct allusion to the manners of the
Eastern tribes, and to the romantic conflicts of the period, the title of a "Tale of the Crusaders" would
resemble the playbill, which is said to have announced the tragedy of Hamlet, the character of the Prince of
Denmark being left out. On the other hand, I felt the difficulty of giving a vivid picture of a part of the world
with which I was almost totally unacquainted, unless by early recollections of the Arabian Nights'
Entertainments; and not only did I labour under the incapacity of ignorancein which, as far as regards
Eastern manners, I was as thickly wrapped as an Egyptian in his fogbut my contemporaries were, many of
them, as much enlightened upon the subject as if they had been inhabitants of the favoured land of Goshen.
The love of travelling had pervaded all ranks, and carried the subjects of Britain into all quarters of the world.
Greece, so attractive by its remains of art, by its struggles for freedom against a Mohammedan tyrant, by its
very name, where every fountain had its classical legendPalestine, endeared to the imagination by yet
more sacred remembranceshad been of late surveyed by British eyes, and described by recent travellers.
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Had I, therefore, attempted the difficult task of substituting manners of my own invention, instead of the
genuine costume of the East, almost every traveller I met who had extended his route beyond what was
anciently called "The Grand Tour," had acquired a right, by ocular inspection, to chastise me for my
presumption. Every member of the Travellers' Club who could pretend to have thrown his shoe over Edom
was, by having done so, constituted my lawful critic and corrector. It occurred, therefore, that where the
author of Anastasius, as well as he of Hadji Baba, had described the manners and vices of the Eastern nations,
not only with fidelity, but with the humour of Le Sage and the ludicrous power of Fielding himself, one who
was a perfect stranger to the subject must necessarily produce an unfavourable contrast. The Poet Laureate
also, in the charming tale of "Thalaba," had shown how extensive might be the researches of a person of
acquirements and talent, by dint of investigation alone, into the ancient doctrines, history, and manners of the
Eastern countries, in which we are probably to look for the cradle of mankind; Moore, in his "Lalla Rookh,"
had successfully trod the same path; in which, too, Byron, joining ocular experience to extensive reading, had
written some of his most attractive poems. In a word, the Eastern themes had been already so successfully
handled by those who were acknowledged to be masters of their craft, that I was diffident of making the
attempt.
These were powerful objections; nor did they lose force when they became the subject of anxious reflection,
although they did not finally prevail. The arguments on the other side were, that though I had no hope of
rivalling the contemporaries whom I have mentioned, yet it occurred to me as possible to acquit myself of the
task I was engaged in without entering into competition with them.
The period relating more immediately to the Crusades which I at last fixed upon was that at which the warlike
character of Richard I., wild and generous, a pattern of chivalry, with all its extravagant virtues, and its no
less absurd errors, was opposed to that of Saladin, in which the Christian and English monarch showed all the
cruelty and violence of an Eastern sultan, and Saladin, on the other hand, displayed the deep policy and
prudence of a European sovereign, whilst each contended which should excel the other in the knightly
qualities of bravery and generosity. This singular contrast afforded, as the author conceived, materials for a
work of fiction possessing peculiar interest. One of the inferior characters introduced was a supposed relation
of Richard Coeur de Liona violation of the truth of history which gave offence to Mr. Mills, the author of
the "History of Chivalry and the Crusades," who was not, it may be presumed, aware that romantic fiction
naturally includes the power of such invention, which is indeed one of the requisites of the art.
Prince David of Scotland, who was actually in the host, and was the hero of some very romantic adventures
on his way home, was also pressed into my service, and constitutes one of my DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
It is true I had already brought upon the field him of the lion heart. But it was in a more private capacity than
he was here to be exhibited in the Talismanthen as a disguised knight, now in the avowed character of a
conquering monarch; so that I doubted not a name so dear to Englishmen as that of King Richard I. might
contribute to their amusement for more than once.
I had access to all which antiquity believed, whether of reality or fable, on the subject of that magnificent
warrior, who was the proudest boast of Europe and their chivalry, and with whose dreadful name the
Saracens, according to a historian of their own country, were wont to rebuke their startled horses. "Do you
think," said they, "that King Richard is on the track, that you stray so wildly from it?" The most curious
register of the history of King Richard is an ancient romance, translated originally from the Norman; and at
first certainly having a pretence to be termed a work of chivalry, but latterly becoming stuffed with the most
astonishing and monstrous fables. There is perhaps no metrical romance upon record where, along with
curious and genuine history, are mingled more absurd and exaggerated incidents. We have placed in the
Appendix to this Introduction the passage of the romance in which Richard figures as an ogre, or literal
cannibal.
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A principal incident in the story is that from which the title is derived. Of all people who ever lived, the
Persians were perhaps most remarkable for their unshaken credulity in amulets, spells, periapts, and similar
charms, framed, it was said, under the influence of particular planets, and bestowing high medical powers, as
well as the means of advancing men's fortunes in various manners. A story of this kind, relating to a Crusader
of eminence, is often told in the west of Scotland, and the relic alluded to is still in existence, and even yet
held in veneration.
Sir Simon Lockhart of Lee and Gartland made a considerable figure in the reigns of Robert the Bruce and of
his son David. He was one of the chief of that band of Scottish chivalry who accompanied James, the Good
Lord Douglas, on his expedition to the Holy Land with the heart of King Robert Bruce. Douglas, impatient to
get at the Saracens, entered into war with those of Spain, and was killed there. Lockhart proceeded to the
Holy Land with such Scottish knights as had escaped the fate of their leader and assisted for some time in the
wars against the Saracens.
The following adventure is said by tradition to have befallen him:
He made prisoner in battle an Emir of considerable wealth and consequence. The aged mother of the captive
came to the Christian camp, to redeem her son from his state of captivity. Lockhart is said to have fixed the
price at which his prisoner should ransom himself; and the lady, pulling out a large embroidered purse,
proceeded to tell down the ransom, like a mother who pays little respect to gold in comparison of her son's
liberty. In this operation, a pebble inserted in a coin, some say of the Lower Empire, fell out of the purse, and
the Saracen matron testified so much haste to recover it as gave the Scottish knight a high idea of its value,
when compared with gold or silver. "I will not consent," he said, "to grant your son's liberty, unless that
amulet be added to his ransom." The lady not only consented to this, but explained to Sir Simon Lockhart the
mode in which the talisman was to be used, and the uses to which it might be put. The water in which it was
dipped operated as a styptic, as a febrifuge, and possessed other properties as a medical talisman.
Sir Simon Lockhart, after much experience of the wonders which it wrought, brought it to his own country,
and left it to his heirs, by whom, and by Clydesdale in general, it was, and is still, distinguished by the name
of the Leepenny, from the name of his native seat of Lee.
The most remarkable part of its history, perhaps, was that it so especially escaped condemnation when the
Church of Scotland chose to impeach many other cures which savoured of the miraculous, as occasioned by
sorcery, and censured the appeal to them, "excepting only that to the amulet, called the Leepenny, to which
it had pleased God to annex certain healing virtues which the Church did not presume to condemn." It still, as
has been said, exists, and its powers are sometimes resorted to. Of late, they have been chiefly restricted to
the cure of persons bitten by mad dogs; and as the illness in such cases frequently arises from imagination,
there can be no reason for doubting that water which has been poured on the Leepenny furnishes a
congenial cure.
Such is the tradition concerning the talisman, which the author has taken the liberty to vary in applying it to
his own purposes.
Considerable liberties have also been taken with the truth of history, both with respect to Conrade of
Montserrat's life, as well as his death. That Conrade, however, was reckoned the enemy of Richard is agreed
both in history and romance. The general opinion of the terms upon which they stood may be guessed from
the proposal of the Saracens that the Marquis of Montserrat should be invested with certain parts of Syria,
which they were to yield to the Christians. Richard, according to the romance which bears his name, "could
no longer repress his fury. The Marquis he said, was a traitor, who had robbed the Knights Hospitallers of
sixty thousand pounds, the present of his father Henry; that he was a renegade, whose treachery had
occasioned the loss of Acre; and he concluded by a solemn oath, that he would cause him to be drawn to
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pieces by wild horses, if he should ever venture to pollute the Christian camp by his presence. Philip
attempted to intercede in favour of the Marquis, and throwing down his glove, offered to become a pledge for
his fidelity to the Christians; but his offer was rejected, and he was obliged to give way to Richard's
impetuosity."HISTORY OF CHIVALRY.
Conrade of Montserrat makes a considerable figure in those wars, and was at length put to death by one of the
followers of the Scheik, or Old Man of the Mountain; nor did Richard remain free of the suspicion of having
instigated his death.
It may be said, in general, that most of the incidents introduced in the following tale are fictitious, and that
reality, where it exists, is only retained in the characters of the piece.
ABBOTSFORD, 1st July, 1832
*
APPENDIX TO INTRODUCTION.
While warring in the Holy Land, Richard was seized with an ague.
The best leeches of the camp were unable to effect the cure of the King's disease; but the prayers of the army
were more successful. He became convalescent, and the first symptom of his recovery was a violent longing
for pork. But pork was not likely to be plentiful in a country whose inhabitants had an abhorrence for swine's
flesh; and
"Though his men should be hanged,
They ne might, in that countrey,
For gold, ne silver, ne no money,
No pork find, take, ne get,
That King Richard might aught of eat.
An old knight with Richard biding,
When he heard of that tiding,
That the kingis wants were swyche,
To the steward he spake privyliche
"Our lord the king sore is sick, I wis,
After porck he alonged is;
Ye may none find to selle;
No man be hardy him so to telle!
If he did he might die.
Now behoves to done as I shall say,
Tho' he wete nought of that.
Take a Saracen, young and fat;
In haste let the thief be slain,
Opened, and his skin off flayn;
And sodden full hastily,
With powder and with spicery,
And with saffron of good colour.
When the king feels thereof savour,
Out of ague if he be went,
He shall have thereto good talent.
When he has a good taste,
And eaten well a good repast,
And supped of the BREWIS [Broth] a sup,
Slept after and swet a drop,
Through Goddis help and my counsail,
Soon he shall be fresh and hail.'
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The sooth to say, at wordes few,
Slain and sodden was the heathen shrew.
Before the king it was forth brought:
Quod his men, 'Lord, we have pork sought;
Eates and sups of the brewis SOOTE,[Sweet]
Thorough grace of God it shall be your boot.'
Before King Richard carff a knight,
He ate faster than he carve might.
The king ate the flesh and GNEW [Gnawed] the bones,
And drank well after for the nonce.
And when he had eaten enough,
His folk hem turned away, and LOUGH.[Laughed]
He lay still and drew in his arm;
His chamberlain him wrapped warm.
He lay and slept, and swet a stound,
And became whole and sound.
King Richard clad him and arose,
And walked abouten in the close."
An attack of the Saracens was repelled by Richard in person, the consequence of which is told in the
following lines :
"When King Richard had rested a whyle,
A knight his arms 'gan unlace,
Him to comfort and solace.
Him was brought a sop in wine.
'The head of that ilke swine,
That I of ate!' (the cook he bade,)
'For feeble I am, and faint and mad.
Of mine evil now I am fear;
Serve me therewith at my soupere!'
Quod the cook, 'That head I ne have.'
Then said the king, 'So God me save,
But I see the head of that swine,
For sooth, thou shalt lesen thine!'
The cook saw none other might be;
He fet the head and let him see.
He fell on knees, and made a cry
'Lo, here the head! my Lord, mercy!'"
The cook had certainly some reason to fear that his master would be struck with horror at the recollection of
the dreadful banquet to which he owed his recovery; but his fears were soon dissipated.
"The swarte vis [Black face] when the king seeth,
His black beard and white teeth,
How his lippes grinned wide,
'What devil is this?' the king cried,
And 'gan to laugh as he were wode.
'What! is Saracen's flesh thus good?
That never erst I nought wist!
By God's death and his uprist,
Shall we never die for default,
While we may in any assault,
Slee Saracens, the flesh may take,
And seethen and roasten and do hem bake,
[And] Gnawen her flesh to the bones!
Now I have it proved once,
For hunger ere I be wo,
I and my folk shall eat mo!"'
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The besieged now offered to surrender, upon conditions of safety to the inhabitants; while all the public
treasure, military machines, and arms were delivered to the victors, together with the further ransom of one
hundred thousand bezants. After this capitulation, the following extraordinary scene took place. We shall give
it in the words of the humorous and amiable George Ellis, the collector and the editor of these Romances:
"Though the garrison had faithfully performed the other articles of their contract, they were unable to restore
the cross, which was not in their possession, and were therefore treated by the Christians with great cruelty.
Daily reports of their sufferings were carried to Saladin; and as many of them were persons of the highest
distinction, that monarch, at the solicitation of their friends, dispatched an embassy to King Richard with
magnificent presents, which he offered for the ransom of the captives. The ambassadors were persons the
most respectable from their age, their rank, and their eloquence. They delivered their message in terms of the
utmost humility; and without arraigning the justice of the conqueror in his severe treatment of their
countrymen, only solicited a period to that severity, laying at his feet the treasures with which they were
entrusted, and pledging themselves and their master for the payment of any further sums which he might
demand as the price of mercy.
"King Richard spake with wordes mild.
'The gold to take, God me shield!
Among you partes [Divide] every charge.
I brought in shippes and in barge,
More gold and silver with me,
Than has your lord, and swilke three.
To his treasure have I no need!
But for my love I you bid,
To meat with me that ye dwell;
And afterward I shall you tell.
Thorough counsel I shall you answer,
What BODE [Message] ye shall to your lord bear.
"The invitation was gratefully accepted. Richard, in the meantime, gave secret orders to his marshal that he
should repair to the prison, select a certain number of the most distinguished captives, and, after carefully
noting their names on a roll of parchment, cause their heads to be instantly struck off; that these heads should
be delivered to the cook, with instructions to clear away the hair, and, after boiling them in a cauldron, to
distribute them on several platters, one to each guest, observing to fasten on the forehead of each the piece of
parchment expressing the name and family of the victim.
"'An hot head bring me beforn,
As I were well apayed withall,
Eat thereof fast I shall;
As it were a tender chick,
To see how the others will like.'
"This horrible order was punctually executed. At noon the guests were summoned to wash by the music of
the waits. The king took his seat attended by the principal officers of his court, at the high table, and the rest
of the company were marshalled at a long table below him. On the cloth were placed portions of salt at the
usual distances, but neither bread, wine, nor water. The ambassadors, rather surprised at this omission, but
still free from apprehension, awaited in silence the arrival of the dinner, which was announced by the sound
of pipes, trumpets, and tabours; and beheld, with horror and dismay, the unnatural banquet introduced by the
steward and his officers. Yet their sentiments of disgust and abhorrence, and even their fears, were for a time
suspended by their curiosity. Their eyes were fixed on the king, who, without the slightest change of
countenance, swallowed the morsels as fast as they could be supplied by the knight who carved them.
"Every man then poked other;
They said, 'This is the devil's brother,
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That slays our men, and thus hem eats!'
"Their attention was then involuntarily fixed on the smoking heads before them. They traced in the swollen
and distorted features the resemblance of a friend or near relation, and received from the fatal scroll which
accompanied each dish the sad assurance that this resemblance was not imaginary. They sat in torpid silence,
anticipating their own fate in that of their countrymen; while their ferocious entertainer, with fury in his eyes,
but with courtesy on his lips, insulted them by frequent invitations to merriment. At length this first course
was removed, and its place supplied by venison, cranes, and other dainties, accompanied by the richest wines.
The king then apologized to them for what had passed, which he attributed to his ignorance of their taste; and
assured them of his religious respect for their characters as ambassadors, and of his readiness to grant them a
safeconduct for their return. This boon was all that they now wished to claim; and
"King Richard spake to an old man,
'Wendes home to your Soudan!
His melancholy that ye abate;
And sayes that ye came too late.
Too slowly was your time yguessed;
Ere ye came, the flesh was dressed,
That men shoulden serve with me,
Thus at noon, and my meynie.
Say him, it shall him nought avail,
Though he forbar us our vitail,
Bread, wine, fish, flesh, salmon, and conger;
Of us none shall die with hunger,
While we may wenden to fight,
And slay the Saracens downright,
Wash the flesh, and roast the head.
With OO [One] Saracen I may well feed
Well a nine or a ten
Of my good Christian men.
King Richard shall warrant,
There is no flesh so nourissant
Unto an English man,
Partridge, plover, heron, ne swan,
Cow ne ox, sheep ne swine,
As the head of a Sarazyn.
There he is fat, and thereto tender,
And my men be lean and slender.
While any Saracen quick be,
Livand now in this Syrie,
For meat will we nothing care.
Abouten fast we shall rare,
And every day we shall eat
All as many as we may get.
To England will we nought gon,
Till they be eaten every one.'"
ELLIS'S SPECIMENS OF EARLY ENGLISH METRICEL ROMANCES.
The reader may be curious to know owing to what circumstances so extraordinary an invention as that which
imputed cannibalism to the King of England should have found its way into his history. Mr. James, to whom
we owe so much that is curious, seems to have traced the origin of this extraordinary rumour.
"With the army of the cross also was a multitude of men," the same author declares, "who made it a
profession to be without money. They walked barefoot, carried no arms, and even preceded the beasts of
burden in their march, living upon roots and herbs, and presenting a spectacle both disgusting and pitiable.
"A Norman, who, according to all accounts, was of noble birth, but who, having lost his horse, continued to
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follow as a foot soldier, took the strange resolution of putting himself at the head of this race of vagabonds,
who willingly received him as their king. Amongst the Saracens these men became well known under the
name of THAFURS (which Guibert translates TRUDENTES), and were beheld with great horror from the
general persuasion that they fed on the dead bodies of their enemies; a report which was occasionally
justified, and which the king of the Thafurs took care to encourage. This respectable monarch was frequently
in the habit of stopping his followers, one by one, in a narrow defile, and of causing them to be searched
carefully, lest the possession of the least sum of money should render them unworthy of the name of his
subjects. If even two sous were found upon any one, he was instantly expelled the society of his tribe, the
king bidding him contemptuously buy arms and fight.
"This troop, so far from being cumbersome to the army, was infinitely serviceable, carrying burdens, bringing
in forage, provisions, and tribute; working the machines in the sieges; and, above all, spreading consternation
among the Turks, who feared death from the lances of the knights less than that further consummation they
heard of under the teeth of the Thafurs." [James's "History of Chivalry."]
It is easy to conceive that an ignorant minstrel, finding the taste and ferocity of the Thafurs commemorated in
the historical accounts of the Holy Wars, has ascribed their practices and propensities to the Monarch of
England, whose ferocity was considered as an object of exaggeration as legitimate as his valour.
ABBOTSFORD, 1st July, 1832.
*
TALES OF THE CRUSADERS. TALE II.THE TALISMAN.
*
CHAPTER I.
They, too, retired
To the wilderness, but 'twas with arms. PARADISE REGAINED.
The burning sun of Syria had not yet attained its highest point in the horizon, when a knight of the Red Cross,
who had left his distant northern home and joined the host of the Crusaders in Palestine, was pacing slowly
along the sandy deserts which lie in the vicinity of the Dead Sea, or, as it is called, the Lake Asphaltites,
where the waves of the Jordan pour themselves into an inland sea, from which there is no discharge of waters.
The warlike pilgrim had toiled among cliffs and precipices during the earlier part of the morning. More lately,
issuing from those rocky and dangerous defiles, he had entered upon that great plain, where the accursed
cities provoked, in ancient days, the direct and dreadful vengeance of the Omnipotent.
The toil, the thirst, the dangers of the way, were forgotten, as the traveller recalled the fearful catastrophe
which had converted into an arid and dismal wilderness the fair and fertile valley of Siddim, once well
watered, even as the Garden of the Lord, now a parched and blighted waste, condemned to eternal sterility.
Crossing himself, as he viewed the dark mass of rolling waters, in colour as in duality unlike those of any
other lake, the traveller shuddered as he remembered that beneath these sluggish waves lay the once proud
cities of the plain, whose grave was dug by the thunder of the heavens, or the eruption of subterraneous fire,
and whose remains were hid, even by that sea which holds no living fish in its bosom, bears no skiff on its
surface, and, as if its own dreadful bed were the only fit receptacle for its sullen waters, sends not, like other
lakes, a tribute to the ocean. The whole land around, as in the days of Moses, was "brimstone and salt; it is
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not sown, nor beareth, nor any grass groweth thereon." The land as well as the lake might be termed dead, as
producing nothing having resemblance to vegetation, and even the very air was entirely devoid of its ordinary
winged inhabitants, deterred probably by the odour of bitumen and sulphur which the burning sun exhaled
from the waters of the lake in steaming clouds, frequently assuming the appearance of waterspouts. Masses of
the slimy and sulphureous substance called naphtha, which floated idly on the sluggish and sullen waves,
supplied those rolling clouds with new vapours, and afforded awful testimony to the truth of the Mosaic
history.
Upon this scene of desolation the sun shone with almost intolerable splendour, and all living nature seemed to
have hidden itself from the rays, excepting the solitary figure which moved through the flitting sand at a
foot's pace, and appeared the sole breathing thing on the wide surface of the plain. The dress of the rider and
the accoutrements of his horse were peculiarly unfit for the traveller in such a country. A coat of linked mail,
with long sleeves, plated gauntlets, and a steel breastplate, had not been esteemed a sufficient weight of
armour; there were also his triangular shield suspended round his neck, and his barred helmet of steel, over
which he had a hood and collar of mail, which was drawn around the warrior's shoulders and throat, and
filled up the vacancy between the hauberk and the headpiece. His lower limbs were sheathed, like his body,
in flexible mail, securing the legs and thighs, while the feet rested in plated shoes, which corresponded with
the gauntlets. A long, broad, straightshaped, doubleedged falchion, with a handle formed like a cross,
corresponded with a stout poniard on the other side. The knight also bore, secured to his saddle, with one end
resting on his stirrup, the long steelheaded lance, his own proper weapon, which, as he rode, projected
backwards, and displayed its little pennoncelle, to dally with the faint breeze, or drop in the dead calm. To
this cumbrous equipment must be added a surcoat of embroidered cloth, much frayed and worn, which was
thus far useful that it excluded the burning rays of the sun from the armour, which they would otherwise have
rendered intolerable to the wearer. The surcoat bore, in several places, the arms of the owner, although much
defaced. These seemed to be a couchant leopard, with the motto, "I sleep; wake me not." An outline of the
same device might be traced on his shield, though many a blow had almost effaced the painting. The flat top
of his cumbrous cylindrical helmet was unadorned with any crest. In retaining their own unwieldy defensive
armour, the Northern Crusaders seemed to set at defiance the nature of the climate and country to which they
had come to war.
The accoutrements of the horse were scarcely less massive and unwieldy than those of the rider. The animal
had a heavy saddle plated with steel, uniting in front with a species of breastplate, and behind with defensive
armour made to cover the loins. Then there was a steel axe, or hammer, called a maceof arms, and which
hung to the saddlebow. The reins were secured by chainwork, and the frontstall of the bridle was a steel
plate, with apertures for the eyes and nostrils, having in the midst a short, sharp pike, projecting from the
forehead of the horse like the horn of the fabulous unicorn.
But habit had made the endurance of this load of panoply a second nature, both to the knight and his gallant
charger. Numbers, indeed, of the Western warriors who hurried to Palestine died ere they became inured to
the burning climate; but there were others to whom that climate became innocent and even friendly, and
among this fortunate number was the solitary horseman who now traversed the border of the Dead Sea.
Nature, which cast his limbs in a mould of uncommon strength, fitted to wear his linked hauberk with as
much ease as if the meshes had been formed of cobwebs, had endowed him with a constitution as strong as
his limbs, and which bade defiance to almost all changes of climate, as well as to fatigue and privations of
every kind. His disposition seemed, in some degree, to partake of the qualities of his bodily frame; and as the
one possessed great strength and endurance, united with the power of violent exertion, the other, under a calm
and undisturbed semblance, had much of the fiery and enthusiastic love of glory which constituted the
principal attribute of the renowned Norman line, and had rendered them sovereigns in every corner of Europe
where they had drawn their adventurous swords.
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It was not, however, to all the race that fortune proposed such tempting rewards; and those obtained by the
solitary knight during two years' campaign in Palestine had been only temporal fame, and, as he was taught to
believe, spiritual privileges. Meantime, his slender stock of money had melted away, the rather that he did not
pursue any of the ordinary modes by which the followers of the Crusade condescended to recruit their
diminished resources at the expense of the people of Palestinehe exacted no gifts from the wretched
natives for sparing their possessions when engaged in warfare with the Saracens, and he had not availed
himself of any opportunity of enriching himself by the ransom of prisoners of consequence. The small train
which had followed him from his native country had been gradually diminished, as the means of maintaining
them disappeared, and his only remaining squire was at present on a sickbed, and unable to attend his
master, who travelled, as we have seen, singly and alone. This was of little consequence to the Crusader, who
was accustomed to consider his good sword as his safest escort, and devout thoughts as his best companion.
Nature had, however, her demands for refreshment and repose even on the iron frame and patient disposition
of the Knight of the Sleeping Leopard; and at noon, when the Dead Sea lay at some distance on his right, he
joyfully hailed the sight of two or three palmtrees, which arose beside the well which was assigned for his
midday station. His good horse, too, which had plodded forward with the steady endurance of his master,
now lifted his head, expanded his nostrils, and quickened his pace, as if he snuffed afar off the living waters
which marked the place of repose and refreshment. But labour and danger were doomed to intervene ere the
horse or horseman reached the desired spot.
As the Knight of the Couchant Leopard continued to fix his eyes attentively on the yet distant cluster of
palmtrees, it seemed to him as if some object was moving among them. The distant form separated itself
from the trees, which partly hid its motions, and advanced towards the knight with a speed which soon
showed a mounted horseman, whom his turban, long spear, and green caftan floating in the wind, on his
nearer approach showed to be a Saracen cavalier. "In the desert," saith an Eastern proverb, "no man meets a
friend." The Crusades was totally indifferent whether the infidel, who now approached on his gallant barb as
if borne on the wings of an eagle, came as friend or foeperhaps, as a vowed champion of the Cross, he
might rather have preferred the latter. He disengaged his lance from his saddle, seized it with the right hand,
placed it in rest with its point half elevated, gathered up the reins in the left, waked his horse's mettle with the
spur, and prepared to encounter the stranger with the calm selfconfidence belonging to the victor in many
contests.
The Saracen came on at the speedy gallop of an Arab horseman, managing his steed more by his limbs and
the inflection of his body than by any use of the reins, which hung loose in his left hand; so that he was
enabled to wield the light, round buckler of the skin of the rhinoceros, ornamented with silver loops, which he
wore on his arm, swinging it as if he meant to oppose its slender circle to the formidable thrust of the Western
lance. His own long spear was not couched or levelled like that of his antagonist, but grasped by the middle
with his right hand, and brandished at arm'slength above his head. As the cavalier approached his enemy at
full career, he seemed to expect that the Knight of the Leopard should put his horse to the gallop to encounter
him. But the Christian knight, well acquainted with the customs of Eastern warriors, did not mean to exhaust
his good horse by any unnecessary exertion; and, on the contrary, made a dead halt, confident that if the
enemy advanced to the actual shock, his own weight, and that of his powerful charger, would give him
sufficient advantage, without the additional momentum of rapid motion. Equally sensible and apprehensive
of such a probable result, the Saracen cavalier, when he had approached towards the Christian within twice
the length of his lance, wheeled his steed to the left with inimitable dexterity, and rode twice around his
antagonist, who, turning without quitting his ground, and presenting his front constantly to his enemy,
frustrated his attempts to attack him on an unguarded point; so that the Saracen, wheeling his horse, was fain
to retreat to the distance of a hundred yards. A second time, like a hawk attacking a heron, the heathen
renewed the charge, and a second time was fain to retreat without coming to a close struggle. A third time he
approached in the same manner, when the Christian knight, desirous to terminate this illusory warfare, in
which he might at length have been worn out by the activity of his foeman, suddenly seized the mace which
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hung at his saddlebow, and, with a strong hand and unerring aim, hurled it against the head of the Emir, for
such and not less his enemy appeared. The Saracen was just aware of the formidable missile in time to
interpose his light buckler betwixt the mace and his head; but the violence of the blow forced the buckler
down on his turban, and though that defence also contributed to deaden its violence, the Saracen was beaten
from his horse. Ere the Christian could avail himself of this mishap, his nimble foeman sprung from the
ground, and, calling on his steed, which instantly returned to his side, he leaped into his seat without touching
the stirrup, and regained all the advantage of which the Knight of the Leopard hoped to deprive him. But the
latter had in the meanwhile recovered his mace, and the Eastern cavalier, who remembered the strength and
dexterity with which his antagonist had aimed it, seemed to keep cautiously out of reach of that weapon of
which he had so lately felt the force, while he showed his purpose of waging a distant warfare with missile
weapons of his own. Planting his long spear in the sand at a distance from the scene of combat, he strung,
with great address, a short bow, which he carried at his back; and putting his horse to the gallop, once more
described two or three circles of a wider extent than formerly, in the course of which he discharged six
arrows at the Christian with such unerring skill that the goodness of his harness alone saved him from being
wounded in as many places. The seventh shaft apparently found a less perfect part of the armour, and the
Christian dropped heavily from his horse. But what was the surprise of the Saracen, when, dismounting to
examine the condition of his prostrate enemy, he found himself suddenly within the grasp of the European,
who had had recourse to this artifice to bring his enemy within his reach! Even in this deadly grapple the
Saracen was saved by his agility and presence of mind. He unloosed the swordbelt, in which the Knight of
the Leopard had fixed his hold, and, thus eluding his fatal grasp, mounted his horse, which seemed to watch
his motions with the intelligence of a human being, and again rode off. But in the last encounter the Saracen
had lost his sword and his quiver of arrows, both of which were attached to the girdle which he was obliged
to abandon. He had also lost his turban in the struggle.
These disadvantages seemed to incline the Moslem to a truce. He approached the Christian with his right
hand extended, but no longer in a menacing attitude.
"There is truce betwixt our nations," he said, in the lingua franca commonly used for the purpose of
communication with the Crusaders; "wherefore should there be war betwixt thee and me? Let there be peace
betwixt us."
"I am well contented," answered he of the Couchant Leopard; "but what security dost thou offer that thou wilt
observe the truce?"
"The word of a follower of the Prophet was never broken," answered the Emir. "It is thou, brave Nazarene,
from whom I should demand security, did I not know that treason seldom dwells with courage."
The Crusader felt that the confidence of the Moslem made him ashamed of his own doubts.
"By the cross of my sword," he said, laying his hand on the weapon as he spoke, "I will be true companion to
thee, Saracen, while our fortune wills that we remain in company together."
"By Mohammed, Prophet of God, and by Allah, God of the Prophet," replied his late foeman, "there is not
treachery in my heart towards thee. And now wend we to yonder fountain, for the hour of rest is at hand, and
the stream had hardly touched my lip when I was called to battle by thy approach."
The Knight of the Couchant Leopard yielded a ready and courteous assent; and the late foes, without an angry
look or gesture of doubt, rode side by side to the little cluster of palmtrees.
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CHAPTER II.
Times of danger have always, and in a peculiar degree, their seasons of goodwill and security; and this was
particularly so in the ancient feudal ages, in which, as the manners of the period had assigned war to be the
chief and most worthy occupation of mankind, the intervals of peace, or rather of truce, were highly relished
by those warriors to whom they were seldom granted, and endeared by the very circumstances which
rendered them transitory. It is not worth while preserving any permanent enmity against a foe whom a
champion has fought with today, and may again stand in bloody opposition to on the next morning. The
time and situation afforded so much room for the ebullition of violent passions, that men, unless when
peculiarly opposed to each other, or provoked by the recollection of private and individual wrongs, cheerfully
enjoyed in each other's society the brief intervals of pacific intercourse which a warlike life admitted.
The distinction of religions, nay, the fanatical zeal which animated the followers of the Cross and of the
Crescent against each other, was much softened by a feeling so natural to generous combatants, and
especially cherished by the spirit of chivalry. This last strong impulse had extended itself gradually from the
Christians to their mortal enemies the Saracens, both of Spain and of Palestine. The latter were, indeed, no
longer the fanatical savages who had burst from the centre of Arabian deserts, with the sabre in one hand and
the Koran in the other, to inflict death or the faith of Mohammed, or, at the best, slavery and tribute, upon all
who dared to oppose the belief of the prophet of Mecca. These alternatives indeed had been offered to the
unwarlike Greeks and Syrians; but in contending with the Western Christians, animated by a zeal as fiery as
their own, and possessed of as unconquerable courage, address, and success in arms, the Saracens gradually
caught a part of their manners, and especially of those chivalrous observances which were so well calculated
to charm the minds of a proud and conquering people. They had their tournaments and games of chivalry;
they had even their knights, or some rank analogous; and above all, the Saracens observed their plighted faith
with an accuracy which might sometimes put to shame those who owned a better religion. Their truces,
whether national or betwixt individuals, were faithfully observed; and thus it was that war, in itself perhaps
the greatest of evils, yet gave occasion for display of good faith, generosity, clemency, and even kindly
affections, which less frequently occur in more tranquil periods, where the passions of men, experiencing
wrongs or entertaining quarrels which cannot be brought to instant decision, are apt to smoulder for a length
of time in the bosoms of those who are so unhappy as to be their prey.
It was under the influence of these milder feelings which soften the horrors of warfare that the Christian and
Saracen, who had so lately done their best for each other's mutual destruction, rode at a slow pace towards the
fountain of palmtrees to which the Knight of the Couchant Leopard had been tending, when interrupted in
midpassage by his fleet and dangerous adversary. Each was wrapt for some time in his own reflections, and
took breath after an encounter which had threatened to be fatal to one or both; and their good horses seemed
no less to enjoy the interval of repose.
That of the Saracen, however, though he had been forced into much the more violent and extended sphere of
motion, appeared to have suffered less from fatigue than the charger of the European knight. The sweat hung
still clammy on the limbs of the latter, when those of the noble Arab were completely dried by the interval of
tranquil exercise, all saving the foamflakes which were still visible on his bridle and housings. The loose
soil on which he trod so much augmented the distress of the Christian's horse, heavily loaded by his own
armour and the weight of his rider, that the latter jumped from his saddle, and led his charger along the deep
dust of the loamy soil, which was burnt in the sun into a substance more impalpable than the finest sand, and
thus gave the faithful horse refreshment at the expense of his own additional toil; for, ironsheathed as he
was, he sunk over the mailed shoes at every step which he placed on a surface so light and unresisting.
"You are right," said the Saracenand it was the first word that either had spoken since their truce was
concluded; "your strong horse deserves your care. But what do you in the desert with an animal which sinks
over the fetlock at every step as if he would plant each foot deep as the root of a datetree?"
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"Thou speakest rightly, Saracen," said the Christian knight, not delighted at the tone with which the infidel
criticized his favourite steed"rightly, according to thy knowledge and observation. But my good horse hath
ere now borne me, in mine own land, over as wide a lake as thou seest yonder spread out behind us, yet not
wet one hair above his hoof."
The Saracen looked at him with as much surprise as his manners permitted him to testify, which was only
expressed by a slight approach to a disdainful smile, that hardly curled perceptibly the broad, thick moustache
which enveloped his upper lip.
"It is justly spoken," he said, instantly composing himself to his usual serene gravity; "List to a Frank, and
hear a fable."
"Thou art not courteous, misbeliever," replied the Crusader, "to doubt the word of a dubbed knight; and were
it not that thou speakest in ignorance, and not in malice, our truce had its ending ere it is well begun. Thinkest
thou I tell thee an untruth when I say that I, one of five hundred horsemen, armed in complete mail, have
riddenay, and ridden for miles, upon water as solid as the crystal, and ten times less brittle?"
"What wouldst thou tell me?" answered the Moslem. "Yonder inland sea thou dost point at is peculiar in this,
that, by the especial curse of God, it suffereth nothing to sink in its waves, but wafts them away, and casts
them on its margin; but neither the Dead Sea, nor any of the seven oceans which environ the earth, will
endure on their surface the pressure of a horse's foot, more than the Red Sea endured to sustain the advance
of Pharaoh and his host."
"You speak truth after your knowledge, Saracen," said the Christian knight; "and yet, trust me, I fable not,
according to mine. Heat, in this climate, converts the soil into something almost as unstable as water; and in
my land cold often converts the water itself into a substance as hard as rock. Let us speak of this no longer,
for the thoughts of the calm, clear, blue refulgence of a winter's lake, glimmering to stars and moonbeam,
aggravate the horrors of this fiery desert, where, methinks, the very air which we breathe is like the vapour of
a fiery furnace seven times heated."
The Saracen looked on him with some attention, as if to discover in what sense he was to understand words
which, to him, must have appeared either to contain something of mystery or of imposition. At length he
seemed determined in what manner to receive the language of his new companion.
"You are," he said, "of a nation that loves to laugh, and you make sport with yourselves, and with others, by
telling what is impossible, and reporting what never chanced. Thou art one of the knights of France, who hold
it for glee and pastime to GAB, as they term it, of exploits that are beyond human power. [Gaber. This French
word signified a sort of sport much used among the French chivalry, which consisted in vying with each other
in making the most romantic gasconades. The verb and the meaning are retained in Scottish.] I were wrong to
challenge, for the time, the privilege of thy speech, since boasting is more natural to thee than truth."
"I am not of their land, neither of their fashion," said the Knight, "which is, as thou well sayest, to GAB of
that which they dare not undertakeor, undertaking, cannot perfect. But in this I have imitated their folly,
brave Saracen, that in talking to thee of what thou canst not comprehend, I have, even in speaking most
simple truth, fully incurred the character of a braggart in thy eyes; so, I pray you, let my words pass."
They had now arrived at the knot of palmtrees and the fountain which welled out from beneath their shade
in sparkling profusion.
We have spoken of a moment of truce in the midst of war; and this, a spot of beauty in the midst of a sterile
desert, was scarce less dear to the imagination. It was a scene which, perhaps, would elsewhere have deserved
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little notice; but as the single speck, in a boundless horizon, which promised the refreshment of shade and
living water, these blessings, held cheap where they are common, rendered the fountain and its
neighbourhood a little paradise. Some generous or charitable hand, ere yet the evil days of Palestine began,
had walled in and arched over the fountain, to preserve it from being absorbed in the earth, or choked by the
flitting clouds of dust with which the least breath of wind covered the desert. The arch was now broken, and
partly ruinous; but it still so far projected over and covered in the fountain that it excluded the sun in a great
measure from its waters, which, hardly touched by a straggling beam, while all around was blazing, lay in a
steady repose, alike delightful to the eye and the imagination. Stealing from under the arch, they were first
received in a marble basin, much defaced indeed, but still cheering the eye, by showing that the place was
anciently considered as a station, that the hand of man had been there and that man's accommodation had
been in some measure attended to. The thirsty and weary traveller was reminded by these signs that others
had suffered similar difficulties, reposed in the same spot, and, doubtless, found their way in safety to a more
fertile country. Again, the scarce visible current which escaped from the basin served to nourish the few trees
which surrounded the fountain, and where it sunk into the ground and disappeared, its refreshing presence
was acknowledged by a carpet of velvet verdure.
In this delightful spot the two warriors halted, and each, after his own fashion, proceeded to relieve his horse
from saddle, bit, and rein, and permitted the animals to drink at the basin, ere they refreshed themselves from
the fountain head, which arose under the vault. They then suffered the steeds to go loose, confident that their
interest, as well as their domesticated habits, would prevent their straying from the pure water and fresh
grass.
Christian and Saracen next sat down together on the turf, and produced each the small allowance of store
which they carried for their own refreshment. Yet, ere they severally proceeded to their scanty meal, they
eyed each other with that curiosity which the close and doubtful conflict in which they had been so lately
engaged was calculated to inspire. Each was desirous to measure the strength, and form some estimate of the
character, of an adversary so formidable; and each was compelled to acknowledge that, had he fallen in the
conflict, it had been by a noble hand.
The champions formed a striking contrast to each other in person and features, and might have formed no
inaccurate representatives of their different nations. The Frank seemed a powerful man, built after the ancient
Gothic cast of form, with light brown hair, which, on the removal of his helmet, was seen to curl thick and
profusely over his head. His features had acquired, from the hot climate, a hue much darker than those parts
of his neck which were less frequently exposed to view, or than was warranted by his full and wellopened
blue eye, the colour of his hair, and of the moustaches which thickly shaded his upper lip, while his chin was
carefully divested of beard, after the Norman fashion. His nose was Grecian and well formed; his mouth
rather large in proportion, but filled with wellset, strong, and beautifully white teeth; his head small, and set
upon the neck with much grace. His age could not exceed thirty, but if the effects of toil and climate were
allowed for, might be three or four years under that period. His form was tall, powerful, and athletic, like that
of a man whose strength might, in later life, become unwieldy, but which was hitherto united with lightness
and activity. His hands, when he withdrew the mailed gloves, were long, fair, and wellproportioned; the
wristbones peculiarly large and strong; and the arms remarkably wellshaped and brawny. A military
hardihood and careless frankness of expression characterized his language and his motions; and his voice had
the tone of one more accustomed to command than to obey, and who was in the habit of expressing his
sentiments aloud and boldly, whenever he was called upon to announce them.
The Saracen Emir formed a marked and striking contrast with the Western Crusader. His stature was indeed
above the middle size, but he was at least three inches shorter than the European, whose size approached the
gigantic. His slender limbs and long, spare hands and arms, though well proportioned to his person, and
suited to the style of his countenance, did not at first aspect promise the display of vigour and elasticity which
the Emir had lately exhibited. But on looking more closely, his limbs, where exposed to view, seemed
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divested of all that was fleshy or cumbersome; so that nothing being left but bone, brawn, and sinew, it was a
frame fitted for exertion and fatigue, far beyond that of a bulky champion, whose strength and size are
counterbalanced by weight, and who is exhausted by his own exertions. The countenance of the Saracen
naturally bore a general national resemblance to the Eastern tribe from whom he descended, and was as
unlike as possible to the exaggerated terms in which the minstrels of the day were wont to represent the
infidel champions, and the fabulous description which a sister art still presents as the Saracen's Head upon
signposts. His features were small, wellformed, and delicate, though deeply embrowned by the Eastern sun,
and terminated by a flowing and curled black beard, which seemed trimmed with peculiar care. The nose was
straight and regular, the eyes keen, deepset, black, and glowing, and his teeth equalled in beauty the ivory of
his deserts. The person and proportions of the Saracen, in short, stretched on the turf near to his powerful
antagonist, might have been compared to his sheeny and crescentformed sabre, with its narrow and light but
bright and keen Damascus blade, contrasted with the long and ponderous Gothic warsword which was flung
unbuckled on the same sod. The Emir was in the very flower of his age, and might perhaps have been termed
eminently beautiful, but for the narrowness of his forehead and something of too much thinness and
sharpness of feature, or at least what might have seemed such in a European estimate of beauty.
The manners of the Eastern warrior were grave, graceful, and decorous; indicating, however, in some
particulars, the habitual restraint which men of warm and choleric tempers often set as a guard upon their
native impetuosity of disposition, and at the same time a sense of his own dignity, which seemed to impose a
certain formality of behaviour in him who entertained it.
This haughty feeling of superiority was perhaps equally entertained by his new European acquaintance, but
the effect was different; and the same feeling, which dictated to the Christian knight a bold, blunt, and
somewhat careless bearing, as one too conscious of his own importance to be anxious about the opinions of
others, appeared to prescribe to the Saracen a style of courtesy more studiously and formally observant of
ceremony. Both were courteous; but the courtesy of the Christian seemed to flow rather from a good
humoured sense of what was due to others; that of the Moslem, from a high feeling of what was to be
expected from himself.
The provision which each had made for his refreshment was simple, but the meal of the Saracen was
abstemious. A handful of dates and a morsel of coarse barleybread sufficed to relieve the hunger of the
latter, whose education had habituated them to the fare of the desert, although, since their Syrian conquests,
the Arabian simplicity of life frequently gave place to the most unbounded profusion of luxury. A few
draughts from the lovely fountain by which they reposed completed his meal. That of the Christian, though
coarse, was more genial. Dried hog's flesh, the abomination of the Moslemah, was the chief part of his repast;
and his drink, derived from a leathern bottle, contained something better than pure element. He fed with more
display of appetite, and drank with more appearance of satisfaction, than the Saracen judged it becoming to
show in the performance of a mere bodily function; and, doubtless, the secret contempt which each
entertained for the other, as the follower of a false religion, was considerably increased by the marked
difference of their diet and manners. But each had found the weight of his opponent's arm, and the mutual
respect which the bold struggle had created was sufficient to subdue other and inferior considerations. Yet the
Saracen could not help remarking the circumstances which displeased him in the Christian's conduct and
manners; and, after he had witnessed for some time in silence the keen appetite which protracted the knight's
banquet long after his own was concluded, he thus addressed him:
"Valiant Nazarene, is it fitting that one who can fight like a man should feed like a dog or a wolf? Even a
misbelieving Jew would shudder at the food which you seem to eat with as much relish as if it were fruit from
the trees of Paradise."
"Valiant Saracen," answered the Christian, looking up with some surprise at the accusation thus unexpectedly
brought, "know thou that I exercise my Christian freedom in using that which is forbidden to the Jews, being,
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as they esteem themselves, under the bondage of the old law of Moses. We, Saracen, be it known to thee,
have a better warrant for what we doAve Maria!be we thankful." And, as if in defiance of his
companion's scruples, he concluded a short Latin grace with a long draught from the leathern bottle.
"That, too, you call a part of your liberty," said the Saracen; "and as you feed like the brutes, so you degrade
yourself to the bestial condition by drinking a poisonous liquor which even they refuse!"
"Know, foolish Saracen," replied the Christian, without hesitation, "that thou blasphemest the gifts of God,
even with the blasphemy of thy father Ishmael. The juice of the grape is given to him that will use it wisely,
as that which cheers the heart of man after toil, refreshes him in sickness, and comforts him in sorrow. He
who so enjoyeth it may thank God for his wine cup as for his daily bread; and he who abuseth the gift of
Heaven is not a greater fool in his intoxication than thou in thine abstinence."
The keen eye of the Saracen kindled at this sarcasm, and his hand sought the hilt of his poniard. It was but a
momentary thought, however, and died away in the recollection of the powerful champion with whom he had
to deal, and the desperate grapple, the impression of which still throbbed in his limbs and veins; and he
contented himself with pursuing the contest in colloquy, as more convenient for the time.
"Thy words" he said, "O Nazarene, might create anger, did not thy ignorance raise compassion. Seest thou
not, O thou more blind than any who asks alms at the door of the Mosque, that the liberty thou dost boast of
is restrained even in that which is dearest to man's happiness and to his household; and that thy law, if thou
dost practise it, binds thee in marriage to one single mate, be she sick or healthy, be she fruitful or barren,
bring she comfort and joy, or clamour and strife, to thy table and to thy bed? This, Nazarene, I do indeed call
slavery; whereas, to the faithful, hath the Prophet assigned upon earth the patriarchal privileges of Abraham
our father, and of Solomon, the wisest of mankind, having given us here a succession of beauty at our
pleasure, and beyond the grave the blackeyed houris of Paradise."
"Now, by His name that I most reverence in heaven," said the Christian, "and by hers whom I most worship
on earth, thou art but a blinded and a bewildered infidel! That diamond signet which thou wearest on thy
finger, thou holdest it, doubtless, as of inestimable value?"
"Balsora and Bagdad cannot show the like," replied the Saracen; "but what avails it to our purpose?"
"Much," replied the Frank," as thou shalt thyself confess. Take my waraxe and dash the stone into twenty
shivers: would each fragment be as valuable as the original gem, or would they, all collected, bear the tenth
part of its estimation?"
"That is a child's question," answered the Saracen; "the fragments of such a stone would not equal the entire
jewel in the degree of hundreds to one."
"Saracen," replied the Christian warrior, "the love which a true knight binds on one only, fair and faithful, is
the gem entire; the affection thou flingest among thy enslaved wives and half wedded slaves is worthless,
comparatively, as the sparkling shivers of the broken diamond."
"Now, by the Holy Caaba," said the Emir, "thou art a madman who hugs his chain of iron as if it were of
gold! Look more closely. This ring of mine would lose half its beauty were not the signet encircled and
enchased with these lesser brilliants, which grace it and set it off. The central diamond is man, firm and
entire, his value depending on himself alone; and this circle of lesser jewels are women, borrowing his lustre,
which he deals out to them as best suits his pleasure or his convenience. Take the central stone from the
signet, and the diamond itself remains as valuable as ever, while the lesser gems are comparatively of little
value. And this is the true reading of thy parable; for what sayeth the poet Mansour: 'It is the favour of man
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which giveth beauty and comeliness to woman, as the stream glitters no longer when the sun ceaseth to
shine.'"
"Saracen," replied the Crusader, "thou speakest like one who never saw a woman worthy the affection of a
soldier. Believe me, couldst thou look upon those of Europe, to whom, after Heaven, we of the order of
knighthood vow fealty and devotion, thou wouldst loathe for ever the poor sensual slaves who form thy
haram. The beauty of our fair ones gives point to our spears and edge to our swords; their words are our law;
and as soon will a lamp shed lustre when unkindled, as a knight distinguish himself by feats of arms, having
no mistress of his affection."
"I have heard of this frenzy among the warriors of the West," said the Emir, "and have ever accounted it one
of the accompanying symptoms of that insanity which brings you hither to obtain possession of an empty
sepulchre. But yet, methinks, so highly have the Franks whom I have met with extolled the beauty of their
women, I could be well contented to behold with mine own eyes those charms which can transform such
brave warriors into the tools of their pleasure."
"Brave Saracen," said the Knight, "if I were not on a pilgrimage to the Holy Sepulchre, it should be my pride
to conduct you, on assurance of safety, to the camp of Richard of England, than whom none knows better
how to do honour to a noble foe; and though I be poor and unattended yet have I interest to secure for thee, or
any such as thou seemest, not safety only, but respect and esteem. There shouldst thou see several of the
fairest beauties of France and Britain form a small circle, the brilliancy of which exceeds tenthousandfold
the lustre of mines of diamonds such as thine."
"Now, by the cornerstone of the Caaba!" said the Saracen, "I will accept thy invitation as freely as it is
given, if thou wilt postpone thy present intent; and, credit me, brave Nazarene, it were better for thyself to
turn back thy horse's head towards the camp of thy people, for to travel towards Jerusalem without a passport
is but a wilful castingaway of thy life."
"I have a pass," answered the Knight, producing a parchment, "Under Saladin's hand and signet."
The Saracen bent his head to the dust as he recognized the seal and handwriting of the renowned Soldan of
Egypt and Syria; and having kissed the paper with profound respect, he pressed it to his forehead, then
returned it to the Christian, saying, "Rash Frank, thou hast sinned against thine own blood and mine, for not
showing this to me when we met."
"You came with levelled spear," said the Knight. "Had a troop of Saracens so assailed me, it might have
stood with my honour to have shown the Soldan's pass, but never to one man."
"And yet one man," said the Saracen haughtily, "was enough to interrupt your journey."
"True, brave Moslem," replied the Christian; "but there are few such as thou art. Such falcons fly not in
flocks; or, if they do, they pounce not in numbers upon one."
"Thou dost us but justice," said the Saracen, evidently gratified by the compliment, as he had been touched by
the implied scorn of the European's previous boast; "from us thou shouldst have had no wrong. But well was
it for me that I failed to slay thee, with the safeguard of the king of kings upon thy person. Certain it were,
that the cord or the sabre had justly avenged such guilt."
"I am glad to hear that its influence shall be availing to me," said the Knight; "for I have heard that the road is
infested with robbertribes, who regard nothing in comparison of an opportunity of plunder.
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"The truth has been told to thee, brave Christian," said the Saracen; "but I swear to thee, by the turban of the
Prophet, that shouldst thou miscarry in any haunt of such villains, I will myself undertake thy revenge with
five thousand horse. I will slay every male of them, and send their women into such distant captivity that the
name of their tribe shall never again be heard within five hundred miles of Damascus. I will sow with salt the
foundations of their village, and there shall never live thing dwell there, even from that time forward."
"I had rather the trouble which you design for yourself were in revenge of some other more important person
than of me, noble Emir," replied the Knight; "but my vow is recorded in heaven, for good or for evil, and I
must be indebted to you for pointing me out the way to my restingplace for this evening."
"That," said the Saracen, "must be under the black covering of my father's tent."
"This night," answered the Christian, "I must pass in prayer and penitence with a holy man, Theodorick of
Engaddi, who dwells amongst these wilds, and spends his life in the service of God."
"I will at least see you safe thither," said the Saracen.
"That would be pleasant convoy for me," said the Christian; "yet might endanger the future security of the
good father; for the cruel hand of your people has been red with the blood of the servants of the Lord, and
therefore do we come hither in plate and mail, with sword and lance, to open the road to the Holy Sepulchre,
and protect the chosen saints and anchorites who yet dwell in this land of promise and of miracle."
"Nazarene," said the Moslem, "in this the Greeks and Syrians have much belied us, seeing we do but after the
word of Abubeker Alwakel, the successor of the Prophet, and, after him, the first commander of true
believers. 'Go forth,' he said, 'Yezed Ben Sophian,' when he sent that renowned general to take Syria from the
infidels; 'quit yourselves like men in battle, but slay neither the aged, the infirm, the women, nor the children.
Waste not the land, neither destroy corn and fruittrees; they are the gifts of Allah. Keep faith when you have
made any covenant, even if it be to your own harm. If ye find holy men labouring with their hands, and
serving God in the desert, hurt them not, neither destroy their dwellings. But when you find them with shaven
crowns, they are of the synagogue of Satan! Smite with the sabre, slay, cease not till they become believers or
tributaries.' As the Caliph, companion of the Prophet, hath told us, so have we done, and those whom our
justice has smitten are but the priests of Satan. But unto the good men who, without stirring up nation against
nation, worship sincerely in the faith of Issa Ben Mariam, we are a shadow and a shield; and such being he
whom you seek, even though the light of the Prophet hath not reached him, from me he will only have love,
favour, and regard."
"The anchorite whom I would now visit," said the warlike pilgrim, "is, I have heard, no priest; but were he of
that anointed and sacred order, I would prove with my good lance, against paynim and infidel"
"Let us not defy each other, brother," interrupted the Saracen; "we shall find, either of us, enough of Franks
or of Moslemah on whom to exercise both sword and lance. This Theodorick is protected both by Turk and
Arab; and, though one of strange conditions at intervals, yet, on the whole, he bears himself so well as the
follower of his own prophet, that he merits the protection of him who was sent"
"Now, by Our Lady, Saracen," exclaimed the Christian, "if thou darest name in the same breath the
cameldriver of Mecca with "
An electrical shock of passion thrilled through the form of the Emir; but it was only momentary, and the
calmness of his reply had both dignity and reason in it, when he said, "Slander not him whom thou knowest
notthe rather that we venerate the founder of thy religion, while we condemn the doctrine which your
priests have spun from it. I will myself guide thee to the cavern of the hermit, which, methinks, without my
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help, thou wouldst find it a hard matter to reach. And, on the way, let us leave to mollahs and to monks to
dispute about the divinity of our faith, and speak on themes which belong to youthful warriorsupon battles,
upon beautiful women, upon sharp swords, and upon bright armour."
CHAPTER III.
The warriors arose from their place of brief rest and simple refreshment, and courteously aided each other
while they carefully replaced and adjusted the harness from which they had relieved for the time their trusty
steeds. Each seemed familiar with an employment which at that time was a part of necessary and, indeed, of
indispensable duty. Each also seemed to possess, as far as the difference betwixt the animal and rational
species admitted, the confidence and affection of the horse which was the constant companion of his travels
and his warfare. With the Saracen this familiar intimacy was a part of his early habits; for, in the tents of the
Eastern military tribes, the horse of the soldier ranks next to, and almost equal in importance with, his wife
and his family; and with the European warrior, circumstances, and indeed necessity, rendered his warhorse
scarcely less than his brother in arms. The steeds, therefore, suffered themselves quietly to be taken from
their food and liberty, and neighed and snuffled fondly around their masters, while they were adjusting their
accoutrements for further travel and additional toil. And each warrior, as he prosecuted his own task, or
assisted with courtesy his companion, looked with observant curiosity at the equipments of his
fellowtraveller, and noted particularly what struck him as peculiar in the fashion in which he arranged his
riding accoutrements.
Ere they remounted to resume their journey, the Christian Knight again moistened his lips and dipped his
hands in the living fountain, and said to his pagan associate of the journey, "I would I knew the name of this
delicious fountain, that I might hold it in my grateful remembrance; for never did water slake more
deliciously a more oppressive thirst than I have this day experienced."
"It is called in the Arabic language," answered the Saracen, "by a name which signifies the Diamond of the
Desert."
"And well is it so named," replied the Christian. "My native valley hath a thousand springs, but not to one of
them shall I attach hereafter such precious recollection as to this solitary fount, which bestows its liquid
treasures where they are not only delightful, but nearly indispensable."
"You say truth," said the Saracen; "for the curse is still on yonder sea of death, and neither man nor beast
drinks of its waves, nor of the river which feeds without filling it, until this inhospitable desert be passed."
They mounted, and pursued their journey across the sandy waste. The ardour of noon was now past, and a
light breeze somewhat alleviated the terrors of the desert, though not without bearing on its wings an
impalpable dust, which the Saracen little heeded, though his heavilyarmed companion felt it as such an
annoyance that he hung his iron casque at his saddlebow, and substituted the light ridingcap, termed in the
language of the time a MORTIER, from its resemblance in shape to an ordinary mortar. They rode together
for some time in silence, the Saracen performing the part of director and guide of the journey, which he did
by observing minute marks and bearings of the distant rocks, to a ridge of which they were gradually
approaching. For a little time he seemed absorbed in the task, as a pilot when navigating a vessel through a
difficult channel; but they had not proceeded half a league when he seemed secure of his route, and disposed,
with more frankness than was usual to his nation, to enter into conversation.
"You have asked the name," he said, "of a mute fountain, which hath the semblance, but not the reality, of a
living thing. Let me be pardoned to ask the name of the companion with whom I have this day encountered,
both in danger and in repose, and which I cannot fancy unknown even here among the deserts of Palestine?"
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"It is not yet worth publishing," said the Christian. "Know, however, that among the soldiers of the Cross I
am called KennethKenneth of the Couching Leopard; at home I have other titles, but they would sound
harsh in an Eastern ear. Brave Saracen, let me ask which of the tribes of Arabia claims your descent, and by
what name you are known?"
"Sir Kenneth," said the Moslem, "I joy that your name is such as my lips can easily utter. For me, I am no
Arab, yet derive my descent from a line neither less wild nor less warlike. Know, Sir Knight of the Leopard,
that I am Sheerkohf, the Lion of the Mountain, and that Kurdistan, from which I derive my descent, holds no
family more noble than that of Seljook."
"I have heard," answered the Christian, "that your great Soldan claims his blood from the same source?"
"Thanks to the Prophet that hath so far honoured our mountains as to send from their bosom him whose word
is victory," answered the paynim. "I am but as a worm before the King of Egypt and Syria, and yet in my own
land something my name may avail. Stranger, with how many men didst thou come on this warfare?"
"By my faith," said Sir Kenneth, "with aid of friends and kinsmen, I was hardly pinched to furnish forth ten
wellappointed lances, with maybe some fifty more men, archers and varlets included. Some have deserted
my unlucky pennonsome have fallen in battleseveral have died of diseaseand one trusty armour
bearer, for whose life I am now doing my pilgrimage, lies on the bed of sickness."
"Christian," said Sheerkohf, "here I have five arrows in my quiver, each feathered from the wing of an eagle.
When I send one of them to my tents, a thousand warriors mount on horseback when I send another, an
equal force will arisefor the five, I can command five thousand men; and if I send my bow, ten thousand
mounted riders will shake the desert. And with thy fifty followers thou hast come to invade a land in which I
am one of the meanest!"
"Now, by the rood, Saracen," retorted the Western warrior, "thou shouldst know, ere thou vauntest thyself,
that one steel glove can crush a whole handful of hornets."
"Ay, but it must first enclose them within its grasp," said the Saracen, with a smile which might have
endangered their new alliance, had he not changed the subject by adding, "And is bravery so much esteemed
amongst the Christian princes that thou, thus void of means and of men, canst offer, as thou didst of late, to
be my protector and security in the camp of thy brethren?"
"Know, Saracen," said the Christian, "since such is thy style, that the name of a knight, and the blood of a
gentleman, entitle him to place himself on the same rank with sovereigns even of the first degree, in so far as
regards all but regal authority and dominion. Were Richard of England himself to wound the honour of a
knight as poor as I am, he could not, by the law of chivalry, deny him the combat."
"Methinks I should like to look upon so strange a scene," said the Emir, "in which a leathern belt and a pair of
spurs put the poorest on a level with the most powerful."
"You must add free blood and a fearless heart," said the Christian; "then, perhaps, you will not have spoken
untruly of the dignity of knighthood."
"And mix you as boldly amongst the females of your chiefs and leaders?" asked the Saracen.
"God forbid," said the Knight of the Leopard, "that the poorest knight in Christendom should not be free, in
all honourable service, to devote his hand and sword, the fame of his actions, and the fixed devotion of his
heart, to the fairest princess who ever wore coronet on her brow!"
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"But a little while since," said the Saracen, "and you described love as the highest treasure of the heartthine
hath undoubtedly been high and nobly bestowed?"
"Stranger," answered the Christian, blushing deeply as he spoke, "we tell not rashly where it is we have
bestowed our choicest treasures. It is enough for thee to know that, as thou sayest, my love is highly and
nobly bestowedmost highlymost nobly; but if thou wouldst hear of love and broken lances, venture
thyself, as thou sayest, to the camp of the Crusaders, and thou wilt find exercise for thine ears, and, if thou
wilt, for thy hands too."
The Eastern warrior, raising himself in his stirrups, and shaking aloft his lance, replied, " Hardly, I fear, shall
I find one with a crossed shoulder who will exchange with me the cast of the jerrid."
"I will not promise for that," replied the Knight; "though there be in the camp certain Spaniards, who have
right good skill in your Eastern game of hurling the javelin."
"Dogs, and sons of dogs!" ejaculated the Saracen; "what have these Spaniards to do to come hither to combat
the true believers, who, in their own land, are their lords and taskmasters? with them I would mix in no
warlike pastime."
"Let not the knights of Leon or Asturias hear you speak thus of them," said the Knight of the Leopard. " But,"
added he, smiling at the recollection of the morning's combat, "if, instead of a reed, you were inclined to
stand the cast of a battleaxe, there are enough of Western warriors who would gratify your longing."
"By the beard of my father, sir," said the Saracen, with an approach to laughter, "the game is too rough for
mere sport. I will never shun them in battle, but my head" (pressing his hand to his brow) "will not, for a
while, permit me to seek them in sport."
"I would you saw the axe of King Richard," answered the Western warrior, "to which that which hangs at my
saddlebow weighs but as a feather."
"We hear much of that island sovereign," said the Saracen. "Art thou one of his subjects?"
"One of his followers I am, for this expedition," answered the Knight, "and honoured in the service; but not
born his subject, although a native of the island in which he reigns."
"How mean you? " said the Eastern soldier; "have you then two kings in one poor island?"
"As thou sayest," said the Scot, for such was Sir Kenneth by birth. "It is even so; and yet, although the
inhabitants of the two extremities of that island are engaged in frequent war, the country can, as thou seest,
furnish forth such a body of menat arms as may go far to shake the unholy hold which your master hath
laid on the cities of Zion."
"By the beard of Saladin, Nazarene, but that it is a thoughtless and boyish folly, I could laugh at the
simplicity of your great Sultan, who comes hither to make conquests of deserts and rocks, and dispute the
possession of them with those who have tenfold numbers at command, while he leaves a part of his narrow
islet, in which he was born a sovereign, to the dominion of another sceptre than his. Surely, Sir Kenneth, you
and the other good men of your country should have submitted yourselves to the dominion of this King
Richard ere you left your native land, divided against itself, to set forth on this expedition?"
Hasty and fierce was Kenneth's answer. "No, by the bright light of Heaven! If the King of England had not
set forth to the Crusade till he was sovereign of Scotland, the Crescent might, for me, and all truehearted
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Page No 24
Scots, glimmer for ever on the walls of Zion."
Thus far he had proceeded, when, suddenly recollecting himself, he muttered, "MEA CULPA! MEA
CULPA! what have I, a soldier of the Cross, to do with recollection of war betwixt Christian nations!"
The rapid expression of feeling corrected by the dictates of duty did not escape the Moslem, who, if he did
not entirely understand all which it conveyed, saw enough to convince him with the assurance that Christians,
as well as Moslemah, had private feelings of personal pique, and national quarrels, which were not entirely
reconcilable. But the Saracens were a race, polished, perhaps, to the utmost extent which their religion
permitted, and particularly capable of entertaining high ideas of courtesy and politeness; and such sentiments
prevented his taking any notice of the inconsistency of Sir Kenneth's feelings in the opposite characters of a
Scot and a Crusader.
Meanwhile, as they advanced, the scene began to change around them. They were now turning to the
eastward, and had reached the range of steep and barren hills which binds in that quarter the naked plain, and
varies the surface of the country, without changing its sterile character. Sharp, rocky eminences began to rise
around them, and, in a short time, deep declivities and ascents, both formidable in height and difficult from
the narrowness of the path, offered to the travellers obstacles of a different kind from those with which they
had recently contended.
Dark caverns and chasms amongst the rocksthose grottoes so often alluded to in Scriptureyawned
fearfully on either side as they proceeded, and the Scottish knight was informed by the Emir that these were
often the refuge of beasts of prey, or of men still more ferocious, who, driven to desperation by the constant
war, and the oppression exercised by the soldiery, as well of the Cross as of the Crescent, had become
robbers, and spared neither rank nor religion, neither sex nor age, in their depredations.
The Scottish knight listened with indifference to the accounts of ravages committed by wild beasts or wicked
men, secure as he felt himself in his own valour and personal strength; but he was struck with mysterious
dread when he recollected that he was now in the awful wilderness of the forty days' fast, and the scene of the
actual personal temptation, wherewith the Evil Principle was permitted to assail the Son of Man. He
withdrew his attention gradually from the light and worldly conversation of the infidel warrior beside him,
and, however acceptable his gay and gallant bravery would have rendered him as a companion elsewhere, Sir
Kenneth felt as if, in those wildernesses the waste and dry places in which the foul spirits were wont to
wander when expelled the mortals whose forms they possessed, a barefooted friar would have been a better
associate than the gay but unbelieving paynim.
These feelings embarrassed him the rather that the Saracen's spirits appeared to rise with the journey, and
because the farther he penetrated into the gloomy recesses of the mountains, the lighter became his
conversation, and when he found that unanswered, the louder grew his song. Sir Kenneth knew enough of the
Eastern languages to be assured that he chanted sonnets of love, containing all the glowing praises of beauty
in which the Oriental poets are so fond of luxuriating, and which, therefore, were peculiarly unfitted for a
serious or devotional strain of thought, the feeling best becoming the Wilderness of the Temptation. With
inconsistency enough, the Saracen also sung lays in praise of wine, the liquid ruby of the Persian poets; and
his gaiety at length became so unsuitable to the Christian knight's contrary train of sentiments, as, but for the
promise of amity which they had exchanged, would most likely have made Sir Kenneth take measures to
change his note. As it was, the Crusader felt as if he had by his side some gay, licentious fiend, who
endeavoured to ensnare his soul, and endanger his immortal salvation, by inspiring loose thoughts of earthly
pleasure, and thus polluting his devotion, at a time when his faith as a Christian and his vow as a pilgrim
called on him for a serious and penitential state of mind. We was thus greatly perplexed, and undecided how
to act; and it was in a tone of hasty displeasure that, at length breaking silence, he interrupted the lay of the
celebrated Rudpiki, in which he prefers the mole on his mistress's bosom to all the wealth of Bokhara and
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Samarcand.
"Saracen," said the Crusader sternly, "blinded as thou art, and plunged amidst the errors of a false law, thou
shouldst yet comprehend that there are some places more holy than others, and that there are some scenes
also in which the Evil One hath more than ordinary power over sinful mortals. I will not tell thee for what
awful reason this placethese rocksthese caverns with their gloomy arches, leading as it were to the
central abyssare held an especial haunt of Satan and his angels. It is enough that I have been long warned
to beware of this place by wise and holy men, to whom the qualities of the unholy region are well known.
Wherefore, Saracen, forbear thy foolish and illtimed levity, and turn thy thoughts to things more suited to
the spot although, alas for thee! thy best prayers are but as blasphemy and sin."
The Saracen listened with some surprise, and then replied, with goodhumour and gaiety, only so far
repressed as courtesy required, "Good Sir Kenneth, methinks you deal unequally by your companion, or else
ceremony is but indifferently taught amongst your Western tribes. I took no offence when I saw you gorge
hog's flesh and drink wine, and permitted you to enjoy a treat which you called your Christian liberty, only
pitying in my heart your foul pastimes. Wherefore, then, shouldst thou take scandal, because I cheer, to the
best of my power, a gloomy road with a cheerful verse? What saith the poet, 'Song is like the dews of heaven
on the bosom of the desert; it cools the path of the traveller.'"
"Friend Saracen," said the Christian, "I blame not the love of minstrelsy and of the GAI SCIENCE; albeit, we
yield unto it even too much room in our thoughts when they should be bent on better things. But prayers and
holy psalms are better fitting than LAIS of love, or of winecups, when men walk in this Valley of the
Shadow of Death, full of fiends and demons, whom the prayers of holy men have driven forth from the
haunts of humanity to wander amidst scenes as accursed as themselves."
"Speak not thus of the Genii, Christian," answered the Saracen, "for know thou speakest to one whose line
and nation drew their origin from the immortal race which your sect fear and blaspheme."
"I well thought," answered the Crusader, "that your blinded race had their descent from the foul fiend,
without whose aid you would never have been able to maintain this blessed land of Palestine against so many
valiant soldiers of God. I speak not thus of thee in particular, Saracen, but generally of thy people and
religion. Strange is it to me, however, not that you should have the descent from the Evil One, but that you
should boast of it."
"From whom should the bravest boast of descending, saving from him that is bravest?" said the Saracen;
"from whom should the proudest trace their line so well as from the Dark Spirit, which would rather fall
headlong by force than bend the knee by his will? Eblis may be hated, stranger, but he must be feared; and
such as Eblis are his descendants of Kurdistan."
Tales of magic and of necromancy were the learning of the period, and Sir Kenneth heard his companion's
confession of diabolical descent without any disbelief, and without much wonder; yet not without a secret
shudder at finding himself in this fearful place, in the company of one who avouched himself to belong to
such a lineage. Naturally insusceptible, however, of fear, he crossed himself, and stoutly demanded of the
Saracen an account of the pedigree which he had boasted. The latter readily complied.
"Know, brave stranger," he said, "that when the cruel Zohauk, one of the descendants of Giamschid, held the
throne of Persia, he formed a league with the Powers of Darkness, amidst the secret vaults of Istakhar, vaults
which the hands of the elementary spirits had hewn out of the living rock long before Adam himself had an
existence. Here he fed, with daily oblations of human blood, two devouring serpents, which had become,
according to the poets, a part of himself, and to sustain whom he levied a tax of daily human sacrifices, till
the exhausted patience of his subjects caused some to raise up the scimitar of resistance, like the valiant
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CHAPTER III. 23
Page No 26
Blacksmith and the victorious Feridoun, by whom the tyrant was at length dethroned, and imprisoned for ever
in the dismal caverns of the mountain Damavend. But ere that deliverance had taken place, and whilst the
power of the bloodthirsty tyrant was at its height, the band of ravening slaves whom he had sent forth to
purvey victims for his daily sacrifice brought to the vaults of the palace of Istakhar seven sisters so beautiful
that they seemed seven houris. These seven maidens were the daughters of a sage, who had no treasures save
those beauties and his own wisdom. The last was not sufficient to foresee this misfortune, the former seemed
ineffectual to prevent it. The eldest exceeded not her twentieth year, the youngest had scarce attained her
thirteenth; and so like were they to each other that they could not have been distinguished but for the
difference of height, in which they gradually rose in easy gradation above each other, like the ascent which
leads to the gates of Paradise. So lovely were these seven sisters when they stood in the darksome vault,
disrobed of all clothing saving a cymar of white silk, that their charms moved the hearts of those who were
not mortal. Thunder muttered, the earth shook, the wall of the vault was rent, and at the chasm entered one
dressed like a hunter, with bow and shafts, and followed by six others, his brethren. They were tall men, and,
though dark, yet comely to behold; but their eyes had more the glare of those of the dead than the light which
lives under the eyelids of the living. 'Zeineb,' said the leader of the bandand as he spoke he took the eldest
sister by the hand, and his voice was soft, low, and melancholy'I am Cothrob, king of the subterranean
world, and supreme chief of Ginnistan. I and my brethren are of those who, created out of the pure
elementary fire, disdained, even at the command of Omnipotence, to do homage to a clod of earth, because it
was called Man. Thou mayest have heard of us as cruel, unrelenting, and persecuting. It is false. We are by
nature kind and generous; only vengeful when insulted, only cruel when affronted. We are true to those who
trust us; and we have heard the invocations of thy father, the sage Mithrasp, who wisely worships not alone
the Origin of Good, but that which is called the Source of Evil. You and your sisters are on the eve of death;
but let each give to us one hair from your fair tresses, in token of fealty, and we will carry you many miles
from hence to a place of safety, where you may bid defiance to Zohauk and his ministers.' The fear of instant
death, saith the poet, is like the rod of the prophet Haroun, which devoured all other rods when transformed
into snakes before the King of Pharaoh; and the daughters of the Persian sage were less apt than others to be
afraid of the addresses of a spirit. They gave the tribute which Cothrob demanded, and in an instant the sisters
were transported to an enchanted castle on the mountains of Tugrut, in Kurdistan, and were never again seen
by mortal eye. But in process of time seven youths, distinguished in the war and in the chase, appeared in the
environs of the castle of the demons. They were darker, taller, fiercer, and more resolute than any of the
scattered inhabitants of the valleys of Kurdistan; and they took to themselves wives, and became fathers of
the seven tribes of the Kurdmans, whose valour is known throughout the universe."
The Christian knight heard with wonder the wild tale, of which Kurdistan still possesses the traces, and, after
a moment's thought, replied, "Verily, Sir Knight, you have spoken well your genealogy may be dreaded
and hated, but it cannot be contemned. Neither do I any longer wonder at your obstinacy in a false faith,
since, doubtless, it is part of the fiendish disposition which hath descended from your ancestors, those
infernal huntsmen, as you have described them, to love falsehood rather than truth; and I no longer marvel
that your spirits become high and exalted, and vent themselves in verse and in tunes, when you approach to
the places encumbered by the haunting of evil spirits, which must excite in you that joyous feeling which
others experience when approaching the land of their human ancestry."
"By my father's beard, I think thou hast the right," said the Saracen, rather amused than offended by the
freedom with which the Christian had uttered his reflections; "for, though the Prophet (blessed be his name!)
hath sown amongst us the seed of a better faith than our ancestors learned in the ghostly halls of Tugrut, yet
we are not willing, like other Moslemah, to pass hasty doom on the lofty and powerful elementary spirits
from whom we claim our origin. These Genii, according to our belief and hope, are not altogether reprobate,
but are still in the way of probation, and may hereafter be punished or rewarded. Leave we this to the mollahs
and the imaums. Enough that with us the reverence for these spirits is not altogether effaced by what we have
learned from the Koran, and that many of us still sing, in memorial of our fathers' more ancient faith, such
verses as these."
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So saying, he proceeded to chant verses, very ancient in the language and structure, which some have thought
derive their source from the worshippers of Arimanes, the Evil Principle.
AHRIMAN.
Dark Ahriman, whom Irak still Holds origin of woe and ill! When, bending at thy shrine, We view the world
with troubled eye, Where see we 'neath the extended sky, An empire matching thine!
If the Benigner Power can yield A fountain in the desert field, Where weary pilgrims drink; Thine are the
waves that lash the rock, Thine the tornado's deadly shock, Where countless navies sink!
Or if he bid the soil dispense Balsams to cheer the sinking sense, How few can they deliver From lingering
pains, or pang intense, Red Fever, spotted Pestilence, The arrows of thy quiver!
Chief in Man's bosom sits thy sway, And frequent, while in words we pray Before another throne, Whate'er
of specious form be there, The secret meaning of the prayer Is, Ahriman, thine own.
Say, hast thou feeling, sense, and form, Thunder thy voice, thy garments storm, As Eastern Magi say; With
sentient soul of hate and wrath, And wings to sweep thy deadly path, And fangs to tear thy prey?
Or art thou mix'd in Nature's source, An everoperating force, Converting good to ill; An evil principle
innate, Contending with our better fate, And, oh! victorious still?
Howe'er it be, dispute is vain. On all without thou hold'st thy reign, Nor less on all within; Each mortal
passion's fierce career, Love, hate, ambition, joy, and fear, Thou goadest into sin.
Whene'er a sunny gleam appears, To brighten up our vale of tears, Thou art not distant far; 'Mid such brief
solace of our lives, Thou whett'st our very banquetknives To tools of death and war.
Thus, from the moment of our birth, Long as we linger on the earth, Thou rulest the fate of men; Thine are
the pangs of life's last hour, Andwho dare answer?is thy power, Dark Spirit! ended THEN?
[The worthy and learned clergyman by whom this species of hymn has been translated desires, that, for fear
of misconception, we should warn the reader to recollect that it is composed by a heathen, to whom the real
causes of moral and physical evil are unknown, and who views their predominance in the system of the
universe as all must view that appalling fact who have not the benefit of the Christian revelation. On our own
part, we beg to add, that we understand the style of the translator is more paraphrastic than can be approved
by those who are acquainted with the singularly curious original. The translator seems to have despaired of
rendering into English verse the flights of Oriental poetry; and, possibly, like many learned and ingenious
men, finding it impossible to discover the sense of the original, he may have tacitly substituted his own.]
These verses may perhaps have been the not unnatural effusion of some halfenlightened philosopher, who,
in the fabled deity, Arimanes, saw but the prevalence of moral and physical evil; but in the ears of Sir
Kenneth of the Leopard they had a different effect, and, sung as they were by one who had just boasted
himself a descendant of demons, sounded very like an address of worship to the archfiend himself. He
weighed within himself whether, on hearing such blasphemy in the very desert where Satan had stood
rebuked for demanding homage, taking an abrupt leave of the Saracen was sufficient to testify his
abhorrence; or whether he was not rather constrained by his vow as a Crusader to defy the infidel to combat
on the spot, and leave him food for the beasts of the wilderness, when his attention was suddenly caught by
an unexpected apparition.
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The light was now verging low, yet served the knight still to discern that they two were no longer alone in the
desert, but were closely watched by a figure of great height and very thin, which skipped over rocks and
bushes with so much agility as, added to the wild and hirsute appearance of the individual, reminded him of
the fauns and silvans, whose images he had seen in the ancient temples of Rome. As the singlehearted
Scottishman had never for a moment doubted these gods of the ancient Gentiles to be actually devils, so he
now hesitated not to believe that the blasphemous hymn of the Saracen had raised up an infernal spirit.
"But what recks it?" said stout Sir Kenneth to himself; "down with the fiend and his worshippers!"
He did not, however, think it necessary to give the same warning of defiance to two enemies as he would
unquestionably have afforded to one. His hand was upon his mace, and perhaps the unwary Saracen would
have been paid for his Persian poetry by having his brains dashed out on the spot, without any reason
assigned for it; but the Scottish Knight was spared from committing what would have been a sore blot in his
shield of arms. The apparition, on which his eyes had been fixed for some time, had at first appeared to dog
their path by concealing itself behind rocks and shrubs, using those advantages of the ground with great
address, and surmounting its irregularities with surprising agility. At length, just as the Saracen paused in his
song, the figure, which was that of a tall man clothed in goatskins, sprung into the midst of the path, and
seized a rein of the Saracen's bridle in either hand, confronting thus and bearing back the noble horse, which,
unable to endure the manner in which this sudden assailant pressed the longarmed bit, and the severe curb,
which, according to the Eastern fashion, was a solid ring of iron, reared upright, and finally fell backwards on
his master, who, however, avoided the peril of the fall by lightly throwing himself to one side.
The assailant then shifted his grasp from the bridle of the horse to the throat of the rider, flung himself above
the struggling Saracen, and, despite of his youth and activity kept him undermost, wreathing his long arms
above those of his prisoner, who called out angrily, and yet halflaughing at the same time
"Hamakofoolunloose methis passes thy privilegeunloose me, or I will use my dagger."
"Thy dagger!infidel dog!" said the figure in the goatskins, "hold it in thy gripe if thou canst!" and in an
instant he wrenched the Saracen's weapon out of its owner's hand, and brandished it over his head.
"Help, Nazarene!" cried Sheerkohf, now seriously alarmed; "help, or the Hamako will slay me."
"Slay thee!" replied the dweller of the desert; "and well hast thou merited death, for singing thy blasphemous
hymns, not only to the praise of thy false prophet, who is the foul fiend's harbinger, but to that of the Author
of Evil himself."
The Christian Knight had hitherto looked on as one stupefied, so strangely had this rencontre contradicted, in
its progress and event, all that he had previously conjectured. He felt, however, at length, that it touched his
honour to interfere in behalf of his discomfited companion, and therefore addressed himself to the victorious
figure in the goatskins.
"Whosoe'er thou art," he said, "and whether of good or of evil, know that I am sworn for the time to be true
companion to the Saracen whom thou holdest under thee; therefore, I pray thee to let him arise, else I will do
battle with thee in his behalf."
"And a proper quarrel it were," answered the Hamako, "for a Crusader to do battle infor the sake of an
unbaptized dog, to combat one of his own holy faith! Art thou come forth to the wilderness to fight for the
Crescent against the Cross? A goodly soldier of God art thou to listen to those who sing the praises of Satan!"
Yet, while he spoke thus, he arose himself, and, suffering the Saracen to rise also, returned him his cangiar, or
poniard.
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"Thou seest to what a point of peril thy presumption hath brought thee," continued he of the goatskins, now
addressing Sheerkohf, "and by what weak means thy practised skill and boasted agility can be foiled, when
such is Heaven's pleasure. Wherefore, beware, O Ilderim! for know that, were there not a twinkle in the star
of thy nativity which promises for thee something that is good and gracious in Heaven's good time, we two
had not parted till I had torn asunder the throat which so lately trilled forth blasphemies."
"Hamako," said the Saracen, without any appearance of resenting the violent language and yet more violent
assault to which he had been subjected, "I pray thee, good Hamako, to beware how thou dost again urge thy
privilege over far; for though, as a good Moslem, I respect those whom Heaven hath deprived of ordinary
reason, in order to endow them with the spirit of prophecy, yet I like not other men's hands on the bridle of
my horse, neither upon my own person. Speak, therefore, what thou wilt, secure of any resentment from me;
but gather so much sense as to apprehend that if thou shalt again proffer me any violence, I will strike thy
shagged head from thy meagre shoulders.and to thee, friend Kenneth," he added, as he remounted his
steed, "I must needs say, that in a companion through the desert, I love friendly deeds better than fair words.
Of the last thou hast given me enough; but it had been better to have aided me more speedily in my struggle
with this Hamako, who had wellnigh taken my life in his frenzy,"
"By my faith," said the Knight, "I did somewhat failwas somewhat tardy in rendering thee instant help; but
the strangeness of the assailant, the suddenness of the sceneit was as if thy wild and wicked lay had raised
the devil among usand such was my confusion, that two or three minutes elapsed ere I could take to my
weapon."
"Thou art but a cold and considerate friend," said the Saracen; "and, had the Hamako been one grain more
frantic, thy companion had been slain by thy side, to thy eternal dishonour, without thy stirring a finger in his
aid, although thou satest by, mounted, and in arms."
"By my word, Saracen," said the Christian, "if thou wilt have it in plain terms, I thought that strange figure
was the devil; and being of thy lineage, I knew not what family secret you might be communicating to each
other, as you lay lovingly rolling together on the sand."
"Thy gibe is no answer, brother Kenneth," said the Saracen; "for know, that had my assailant been in very
deed the Prince of Darkness, thou wert bound not the less to enter into combat with him in thy comrade's
behalf. Know, also, that whatever there may be of foul or of fiendish about the Hamako belongs more to your
lineage than to minethis Hamako being, in truth, the anchorite whom thou art come hither to visit."
"This!" said Sir Kenneth, looking at the athletic yet wasted figure before him"this! Thou mockest,
Saracenthis cannot be the venerable Theodorick!"
"Ask himself, if thou wilt not believe me," answered Sheerkohf; and ere the words had left his mouth, the
hermit gave evidence in his own behalf.
"I am Theodorick of Engaddi," he said"I am the walker of the desertI am friend of the Cross, and flail of
all infidels, heretics, and devilworshippers. Avoid ye, avoid ye! Down with Mahound, Termagaunt, and all
their adherents!"So saying, he pulled from under his shaggy garment a sort of flail or jointed club, bound
with iron, which he brandished round his head with singular dexterity,
"Thou seest thy saint," said the Saracen, laughing, for the first time, at the unmitigated astonishment with
which Sir Kenneth looked on the wild gestures and heard the wayward muttering of Theodorick, who, after
swinging his flail in every direction, apparently quite reckless whether it encountered the head of either of his
companions, finally showed his own strength, and the soundness of the weapon, by striking into fragments a
large stone which lay near him.
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"This is a madman," said Sir Kenneth.
"Not the worse saint," returned the Moslem, speaking according to the wellknown Eastern belief, that
madmen are under the influence of immediate inspiration. "Know, Christian, that when one eye is
extinguished, the other becomes more keen; when one hand is cut off, the other becomes more powerful; so,
when our reason in human things is disturbed or destroyed, our view heavenward becomes more acute and
perfect."
Here the voice of the Saracen was drowned in that of the hermit, who began to hollo aloud in a wild, chanting
tone, "I am Theodorick of EngaddiI am the torchbrand of the desertI am the flail of the infidels! The
lion and the leopard shall be my comrades, and draw nigh to my cell for shelter; neither shall the goat be
afraid of their fangs. I am the torch and the lantern Kyrie Eleison!"
He closed his song by a short race, and ended that again by three forward bounds, which would have done
him great credit in a gymnastic academy, but became his character of hermit so indifferently that the Scottish
Knight was altogether confounded and bewildered.
The Saracen seemed to understand him better. "You see," he said, "that he expects us to follow him to his
cell, which, indeed, is our only place of refuge for the night. You are the leopard, from the portrait on your
shield; I am the lion, as my name imports; and by the goat, alluding to his garb of goatskins, he means
himself. We must keep him in sight, however, for he is as fleet as a dromedary."
In fact, the task was a difficult one, for though the reverend guide stopped from time to time, and waved his
hand, as if to encourage them to come on, yet, well acquainted with all the winding dells and passes of the
desert, and gifted with uncommon activity, which, perhaps, an unsettled state of mind kept in constant
exercise, he led the knights through chasms and along footpaths where even the lightarmed Saracen, with
his well trained barb, was in considerable risk, and where the iron sheathed European and his
overburdened steed found themselves in such imminent peril as the rider would gladly have exchanged for
the dangers of a general action. Glad he was when, at length, after this wild race, he beheld the holy man who
had led it standing in front of a cavern, with a large torch in his hand, composed of a piece of wood dipped in
bitumen, which cast a broad and flickering light, and emitted a strong sulphureous smell.
Undeterred by the stifling vapour, the knight threw himself from his horse and entered the cavern, which
afforded small appearance of accommodation. The cell was divided into two parts, in the outward of which
were an altar of stone and a crucifix made of reeds: this served the anchorite for his chapel. On one side of
this outward cave the Christian knight, though not without scruple, arising from religious reverence to the
objects around, fastened up his horse, and arranged him for the night, in imitation of the Saracen, who gave
him to understand that such was the custom of the place. The hermit, meanwhile, was busied putting his inner
apartment in order to receive his guests, and there they soon joined him. At the bottom of the outer cave, a
small aperture, closed with a door of rough plank, led into the sleeping apartment of the hermit, which was
more commodious. The floor had been brought to a rough level by the labour of the inhabitant, and then
strewed with white sand, which he daily sprinkled with water from a small fountain which bubbled out of the
rock in one corner, affording in that stifling climate, refreshment alike to the ear and the taste. Mattresses,
wrought of twisted flags, lay by the side of the cell; the sides, like the floor, had been roughly brought to
shape, and several herbs and flowers were hung around them. Two waxen torches, which the hermit lighted,
gave a cheerful air to the place, which was rendered agreeable by its fragrance and coolness.
There were implements of labour in one corner of the apartment, in another was a niche for a rude statue of
the Virgin. A table and two chairs showed that they must be the handiwork of the anchorite, being different in
their form from Oriental accommodations. The former was covered, not only with reeds and pulse, but also
with dried flesh, which Theodorick assiduously placed in such arrangement as should invite the appetite of
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CHAPTER III. 28
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his guests. This appearance of courtesy, though mute, and expressed by gestures only, seemed to Sir Kenneth
something entirely irreconcilable with his former wild and violent demeanour. The movements of the hermit
were now become composed, and apparently it was only a sense of religious humiliation which prevented his
features, emaciated as they were by his austere mode of life, from being majestic and noble. He trod his cell
as one who seemed born to rule over men, but who had abdicated his empire to become the servant of
Heaven. Still, it must be allowed that his gigantic size, the length of his unshaven locks and beard, and the
fire of a deepset and wild eye were rather attributes of a soldier than of a recluse.
Even the Saracen seemed to regard the anchorite with some veneration, while he was thus employed, and he
whispered in a low tone to Sir Kenneth, "The Hamako is now in his better mind, but he will not speak until
we have eatensuch is his vow."
It was in silence, accordingly, that Theodorick motioned to the Scot to take his place on one of the low chairs,
while Sheerkohf placed himself, after the custom of his nation, upon a cushion of mats. The hermit then held
up both hands, as if blessing the refreshment which he had placed before his guests, and they proceeded to eat
in silence as profound as his own. To the Saracen this gravity was natural; and the Christian imitated his
taciturnity, while he employed his thoughts on the singularity of his own situation, and the contrast betwixt
the wild, furious gesticulations, loud cries, and fierce actions of Theodorick, when they first met him, and the
demure, solemn, decorous assiduity with which he now performed the duties of hospitality.
When their meal was ended, the hermit, who had not himself eaten a morsel, removed the fragments from the
table, and placing before the Saracen a pitcher of sherbet, assigned to the Scot a flask of wine.
"Drink," he said, "my children"they were the first words he had spoken"the gifts of God are to be
enjoyed, when the Giver is remembered."
Having said this, he retired to theoutward cell, probably for performance of his devotions, and left his guests
together in the inner apartment; when Sir Kenneth endeavoured, by various questions, to draw from
Sheerkohf what that Emir knew concerning his host. He was interested by more than mere curiosity in these
inquiries. Difficult as it was to reconcile the outrageous demeanour of the recluse at his first appearance with
his present humble and placid behaviour, it seemed yet more impossible to think it consistent with the high
consideration in which, according to what Sir Kenneth had learned, this hermit was held by the most
enlightened divines of the Christian world. Theodorick, the hermit of Engaddi, had, in that character, been the
correspondent of popes and councils; to whom his letters, full of eloquent fervour, had described the miseries
imposed by the unbelievers upon the Latin Christians in the Holy Land, in colours scarce inferior to those
employed at the Council of Clermont by the Hermit Peter, when he preached the first Crusade. To find, in a
person so reverend and so much revered, the frantic gestures of a mad fakir, induced the Christian knight to
pause ere he could resolve to communicate to him certain important matters, which he had in charge from
some of the leaders of the Crusade.
It had been a main object of Sir Kenneth's pilgrimage, attempted by a route so unusual, to make such
communications; but what he had that night seen induced him to pause and reflect ere he proceeded to the
execution of his commission. From the Emir he could not extract much information, but the general tenor
was as follows:That, as he had heard, the hermit had been once a brave and valiant soldier, wise in council
and fortunate in battle, which last he could easily believe from the great strength and agility which he had
often seen him display; that he had appeared at Jerusalem in the character not of a pilgrim, but in that of one
who had devoted himself to dwell for the remainder of his life in the Holy Land. Shortly afterwards, he fixed
his residence amid the scenes of desolation where they now found him, respected by the Latins for his austere
devotion, and by the Turks and Arabs on account of the symptoms of insanity which he displayed, and which
they ascribed to inspiration. It was from them he had the name of Hamako, which expresses such a character
in the Turkish language. Sheerkohf himself seemed at a loss how to rank their host. He had been, he said, a
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wise man, and could often for many hours together speak lessons of virtue or wisdom, without the slightest
appearance of inaccuracy. At other times he was wild and violent, but never before had he seen him so
mischievously disposed as he had that day appeared to be. His rage was chiefly provoked by any affront to
his religion; and there was a story of some wandering Arabs, who had insulted his worship and defaced his
altar, and whom he had on that account attacked and slain with the short flail which he carried with him in
lieu of all other weapons. This incident had made a great noise, and it was as much the fear of the hermit's
iron flail as regard for his character as a Hamako which caused the roving tribes to respect his dwelling and
his chapel. His fame had spread so far that Saladin had issued particular orders that he should be spared and
protected. He himself, and other Moslem lords of rank, had visited the cell more than once, partly from
curiosity, partly that they expected from a man so learned as the Christian Hamako some insight into the
secrets of futurity. "He had," continued the Saracen, "a rashid, or observatory, of great height, contrived to
view the heavenly bodies, and particularly the planetary systemby whose movements and influences, as
both Christian and Moslem believed, the course of human events was regulated, and might be predicted."
This was the substance of the Emir Sheerkohf's information, and it left Sir Kenneth in doubt whether the
character of insanity arose from the occasional excessive fervour of the hermit's zeal, or whether it was not
altogether fictitious, and assumed for the sake of the immunities which it afforded. Yet it seemed that the
infidels had carried their complaisance towards him to an uncommon length, considering the fanaticism of
the followers of Mohammed, in the midst of whom he was living, though the professed enemy of their faith.
He thought also there was more intimacy of acquaintance betwixt the hermit and the Saracen than the words
of the latter had induced him to anticipate; and it had not escaped him that the former had called the latter by
a name different from that which he himself had assumed. All these considerations authorized caution, if not
suspicion. He determined to observe his host closely, and not to be overhasty in communicating with him on
the important charge entrusted to him.
"Beware, Saracen," he said; "methinks our host's imagination wanders as well on the subject of names as
upon other matters. Thy name is Sheerkohf, and he called thee but now by another."
"My name, when in the tent of my father," replied the Kurdman, "was Ilderim, and by this I am still
distinguished by many. In the field, and to soldiers, I am known as the Lion of the Mountain, being the name
my good sword hath won for me. But hush, the Hamako comesit is to warn us to rest. I know his custom;
none must watch him at his vigils."
The anchorite accordingly entered, and folding his arms on his bosom as he stood before them, said with a
solemn voice, "Blessed be His name, who hath appointed the quiet night to follow the busy day, and the calm
sleep to refresh the wearied limbs and to compose the troubled spirit!"
Both warriors replied "Amen!" and, arising from the table, prepared to betake themselves to the couches,
which their host indicated by waving his hand, as, making a reverence to each, he again withdrew from the
apartment.
The Knight of the Leopard then disarmed himself of his heavy panoply, his Saracen companion kindly
assisting him to undo his buckler and clasps, until he remained in the close dress of chamois leather, which
knights and menatarms used to wear under their harness. The Saracen, if he had admired the strength of his
adversary when sheathed in steel, was now no less struck with the accuracy of proportion displayed in his
nervous and well compacted figure. The knight, on the other hand, as, in exchange of courtesy, he assisted
the Saracen to disrobe himself of his upper garments, that he might sleep with more convenience, was, on his
side, at a loss to conceive how such slender proportions and slimness of figure could be reconciled with the
vigour he had displayed in personal contest.
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Each warrior prayed ere he addressed himself to his place of rest. The Moslem turned towards his KEBLAH,
the point to which the prayer of each follower of the Prophet was to be addressed, and murmured his heathen
orisons; while the Christian, withdrawing from the contamination of the infidel's neighbourhood, placed his
huge crosshandled sword upright, and kneeling before it as the sign of salvation, told his rosary with a
devotion which was enhanced by the recollection of the scenes through which he had passed, and the dangers
from which he had been rescued, in the course of the day. Both warriors, worn by toil and travel, were soon
fast asleep, each on his separate pallet.
CHAPTER IV.
Kenneth the Scot was uncertain how long his senses had been lost in profound repose, when he was roused to
recollection by a sense of oppression on his chest, which at first suggested a flirting dream of struggling with
a powerful opponent, and at length recalled him fully to his senses. He was about to demand who was there,
when, opening his eyes, he beheld the figure of the anchorite, wild and savagelooking as we have described
him, standing by his bedside, and pressing his right hand upon his breast, while he held a small silver lamp in
the other.
"Be silent," said the hermit, as the prostrate knight looked up in surprise; "I have that to say to you which
yonder infidel must not hear."
These words he spoke in the French language, and not in the lingua franca, or compound of Eastern and
European dialects, which had hitherto been used amongst them.
"Arise," he continued, "put on thy mantle; speak not, but tread lightly, and follow me."
Sir Kenneth arose, and took his sword.
"It needs not," answered the anchorite, in a whisper; "we are going where spiritual arms avail much, and
fleshly weapons are but as the reed and the decayed gourd."
The knight deposited his sword by the bedside as before, and, armed only with his dagger, from which in this
perilous country he never parted, prepared to attend his mysterious host.
The hermit then moved slowly forwards, and was followed by the knight, still under some uncertainty
whether the dark form which glided on before to show him the path was not, in fact, the creation of a
disturbed dream. They passed, like shadows, into the outer apartment, without disturbing the paynim Emir,
who lay still buried in repose. Before the cross and altar, in the outward room, a lamp was still burning, a
missal was displayed, and on the floor lay a discipline, or penitential scourge of small cord and wire, the
lashes of which were recently stained with blooda token, no doubt, of the severe penance of the recluse.
Here Theodorick kneeled down, and pointed to the knight to take his place beside him upon the sharp flints,
which seemed placed for the purpose of rendering the posture of reverential devotion as uneasy as possible.
He read many prayers of the Catholic Church, and chanted, in a low but earnest voice, three of the penitential
psalms. These last he intermixed with sighs, and tears, and convulsive throbs, which bore witness how deeply
he felt the divine poetry which he recited. The Scottish knight assisted with profound sincerity at these acts of
devotion, his opinion of his host beginning, in the meantime, to be so much changed, that he doubted
whether, from the severity of his penance and the ardour of his prayers, he ought not to regard him as a saint;
and when they arose from the ground, he stood with reverence before him, as a pupil before an honoured
master. The hermit was, on his side, silent and abstracted for the space of a few minutes.
"Look into yonder recess, my son," he said, pointing to the farther corner of the cell; "there thou wilt find a
veilbring it hither."
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The knight obeyed, and in a small aperture cut out of the wall, and secured with a door of wicker, he found
the veil inquired for. When he brought it to the light, he discovered that it was torn, and soiled in some places
with some dark substance. The anchorite looked at it with a deep but smothered emotion, and ere he could
speak to the Scottish knight, was compelled to vent his feelings in a convulsive groan.
"Thou art now about to look upon the richest treasure that the earth possesses," he at length said; "woe is me,
that my eyes are unworthy to be lifted towards it! Alas! I am but the vile and despised sign, which points out
to the wearied traveller a harbour of rest and security, but must itself remain for ever without doors. In vain
have I fled to the very depths of the rocks, and the very bosom of the thirsty desert. Mine enemy hath found
meeven he whom I have denied has pursued me to my fortresses."
He paused again for a moment, and turning to the Scottish knight, said, in a firmer tone of voice, "You bring
me a greeting from Richard of England?"
"I come from the Council of Christian Princes," said the knight; "but the King of England being indisposed, I
am not honoured with his Majesty's commands."
"Your token?" demanded the recluse.
Sir Kenneth hesitated. Former suspicions, and the marks of insanity which the hermit had formerly exhibited,
rushed suddenly on his thoughts; but how suspect a man whose manners were so saintly? "My password," he
said at length, "is thisKings begged of a beggar."
"It is right," said the hermit, while he paused. "I know you well; but the sentinel upon his postand mine is
an important onechallenges friend as well as foe,"
He then moved forward with the lamp, leading the way into the room which they had left. The Saracen lay on
his couch, still fast asleep. The hermit paused by his side, and looked down on him.
"He sleeps," he said, "in darkness, and must not be awakened."
The attitude of the Emir did indeed convey the idea of profound repose. One arm, flung across his body, as he
lay with his face half turned to the wall, concealed, with its loose and long sleeve, the greater part of his face;
but the high forehead was yet visible. Its nerves, which during his waking hours were so uncommonly active,
were now motionless, as if the face had been composed of dark marble, and his long silken eyelashes closed
over his piercing and hawklike eyes. The open and relaxed hand, and the deep, regular, and soft breathing, all
gave tokens of the most profound repose. The slumberer formed a singular group along with the tall forms of
the hermit in his shaggy dress of goatskins, bearing the lamp, and the knight in his close leathern coatthe
former with an austere expression of ascetic gloom, the latter with anxious curiosity deeply impressed on his
manly features.
"He sleeps soundly," said the hermit, in the same low tone as before; and repeating the words, though he had
changed the meaning from that which is literal to a metaphorical sense"he sleeps in darkness, but there
shall be for him a dayspring.O Ilderim, thy waking thoughts are yet as vain and wild as those which are
wheeling their giddy dance through thy sleeping brain; but the trumpet shall be heard, and the dream shall be
dissolved."
So saying, and making the knight a sign to follow him, the hermit went towards the altar, and passing behind
it, pressed a spring, which, opening without noise, showed a small iron door wrought in the side of the
cavern, so as to be almost imperceptible, unless upon the most severe scrutiny. The hermit, ere he ventured
fully to open the door, dropped some oil on the hinges, which the lamp supplied. A small staircase, hewn in
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the rock, was discovered, when the iron door was at length completely opened.
"Take the veil which I hold," said the hermit, in a melancholy tone, "and blind mine eyes; For I may not look
on the treasure which thou art presently to behold, without sin and presumption."
Without reply, the knight hastily muffled the recluse's head in the veil, and the latter began to ascend the
staircase as one too much accustomed to the way to require the use of light, while at the same time he held
the lamp to the Scot, who followed him for many steps up the narrow ascent. At length they rested in a small
vault of irregular form, in one nook of which the staircase terminated, while in another corner a
corresponding stair was seen to continue the ascent. In a third angle was a Gothic door, very rudely
ornamented with the usual attributes of clustered columns and carving, and defended by a wicket, strongly
guarded with iron, and studded with large nails. To this last point the hermit directed his steps, which seemed
to falter as he approached it.
"Put off thy shoes," he said to his attendant; "the ground on which thou standest is holy. Banish from thy
innermost heart each profane and carnal thought, for to harbour such while in this place were a deadly
impiety."
The knight laid aside his shoes as he was commanded, and the hermit stood in the meanwhile as if
communing with his soul in secret prayer, and when he again moved, commanded the knight to knock at the
wicket three times. He did so. The door opened spontaneouslyat least Sir Kenneth beheld no oneand his
senses were at once assailed by a stream of the purest light, and by a strong and almost oppressive sense of
the richest perfumes. He stepped two or three paces back, and it was the space of a minute ere he recovered
the dazzling and overpowering effects of the sudden change from darkness to light.
When he entered the apartment in which this brilliant lustre was displayed, he perceived that the light
proceeded from a combination of silver lamps, fed with purest oil, and sending forth the richest odours,
hanging by silver chains from the roof of a small Gothic chapel, hewn, like most part of the hermit's singular
mansion, out of the sound and solid rock. But whereas, in every other place which Sir Kenneth had seen, the
labour employed upon the rock had been of the simplest and coarsest description, it had in this chapel
employed the invention and the chisels of the most able architects. The groined roofs rose from six columns
on each side, carved with the rarest skill; and the manner in which the crossings of the concave arches were
bound together, as it were, with appropriate ornaments, were all in the finest tone of the architecture of the
age. Corresponding to the line of pillars, there were on each side six richlywrought niches, each of which
contained the image of one of the twelve apostles.
At the upper and eastern end of the chapel stood the altar, behind which a very rich curtain of Persian silk,
embroidered deeply with gold, covered a recess, containing, unquestionably, some image or relic of no
ordinary sanctity, in honour of which this singular place of worship had been erected, Under the persuasion
that this must be the case, the knight advanced to the shrine, and kneeling down before it, repeated his
devotions with fervency, during which his attention was disturbed by the curtain being suddenly raised, or
rather pulled aside, how or by whom he saw not; but in the niche which was thus disclosed he beheld a
cabinet of silver and ebony, with a double foldingdoor, the whole formed into the miniature resemblance of
a Gothic church.
As he gazed with anxious curiosity on the shrine, the two foldingdoors also flew open, discovering a large
piece of wood, on which were blazoned the words, VERA CRUX; at the same time a choir of female voices
sung GLORIA PATRI. The instant the strain had ceased, the shrine was closed, and the curtain again drawn,
and the knight who knelt at the altar might now continue his devotions undisturbed, in honour of the holy
relic which had been just disclosed to his view. He did this under the profound impression of one who had
witnessed, with his own eyes, an awful evidence of the truth of his religion; and it was some time ere,
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concluding his orisons, he arose, and ventured to look around him for the hermit, who had guided him to this
sacred and mysterious spot. He beheld him, his head still muffled in the veil which he had himself wrapped
around it, crouching, like a rated hound, upon the threshold of the chapel; but, apparently, without venturing
to cross itthe holiest reverence, the most penitential remorse, was expressed by his posture, which seemed
that of a man borne down and crushed to the earth by the burden of his inward feelings. It seemed to the Scot
that only the sense of the deepest penitence, remorse, and humiliation could have thus prostrated a frame so
strong and a spirit so fiery.
He approached him as if to speak; but the recluse anticipated his purpose, murmuring in stifled tones, from
beneath the fold in which his head was muffled, and which sounded like a voice proceeding from the
cerements of a corpse,"Abide, abidehappy thou that mayestthe vision is not yet ended." So saying, he
reared himself from the ground, drew back from the threshold on which he had hitherto lain prostrate, and
closed the door of the chapel, which, secured by a spring bolt within, the snap of which resounded through
the place, appeared so much like a part of the living rock from which the cavern was hewn, that Kenneth
could hardly discern where the aperture had been. He was now alone in the lighted chapel which contained
the relic to which he had lately rendered his homage, without other arms than his dagger, or other companion
than his pious thoughts and dauntless courage.
Uncertain what was next to happen, but resolved to abide the course of events, Sir Kenneth paced the solitary
chapel till about the time of the earliest cockcrowing. At this dead season, when night and morning met
together, he heard, but from what quarter he could not discover, the sound of such a small silver bell as is
rung at the elevation of the host in the ceremony, or sacrifice, as it has been called, of the mass. The hour and
the place rendered the sound fearfully solemn, and, bold as he was, the knight withdrew himself into the
farther nook of the chapel, at the end opposite to the altar, in order to observe, without interruption, the
consequences of this unexpected signal.
He did not wait long ere the silken curtain was again withdrawn, and the relic again presented to his view. As
he sunk reverentially on his knee, he heard the sound of the lauds, or earliest office of the Catholic Church,
sung by female voices, which united together in the performance as they had done in the former service. The
knight was soon aware that the voices were no longer stationary in the distance, but approached the chapel
and became louder, when a door, imperceptible when closed, like that by which he had himself entered,
opened on the other side of the vault, and gave the tones of the choir more room to swell along the ribbed
arches of the roof.
The knight fixed his eyes on the opening with breathless anxiety, and, continuing to kneel in the attitude of
devotion which the place and scene required, expected the consequence of these preparations. A procession
appeared about to issue from the door. First, four beautiful boys, whose arms, necks, and legs were bare,
showing the bronze complexion of the East, and contrasting with the snowwhite tunics which they wore,
entered the chapel by two and two. The first pair bore censers, which they swung from side to side, adding
double fragrance to the odours with which the chapel already was impregnated. The second pair scattered
flowers.
After these followed, in due and majestic order, the females who composed the choirsix, who from their
black scapularies, and black veils over their white garments, appeared to be professed nuns of the order of
Mount Carmel; and as many whose veils, being white, argued them to be novices, or occasional inhabitants in
the cloister, who were not as yet bound to it by vows. The former held in their hands large rosaries, while the
younger and lighter figures who followed carried each a chaplet of red and white roses. They moved in
procession around the chapel, without appearing to take the slightest notice of Kenneth, although passing so
near him that their robes almost touched him, while they continued to sing. The knight doubted not that he
was in one of those cloisters where the noble Christian maidens had formerly openly devoted themselves to
the services of the church. Most of them had been suppressed since the Mohammedans had reconquered
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Palestine, but many, purchasing connivance by presents, or receiving it from the clemency or contempt of the
victors, still continued to observe in private the ritual to which their vows had consecrated them. Yet, though
Kenneth knew this to be the case, the solemnity of the place and hour, the surprise at the sudden appearance
of these votaresses, and the visionary manner in which they moved past him, had such influence on his
imagination that he could scarce conceive that the fair procession which he beheld was formed of creatures of
this world, so much did they resemble a choir of supernatural beings, rendering homage to the universal
object of adoration.
Such was the knight's first idea, as the procession passed him, scarce moving, save just sufficiently to
continue their progress; so that, seen by the shadowy and religious light which the lamps shed through the
clouds of incense which darkened the apartment, they appeared rather to glide than to walk.
But as a second time, in surrounding the chapel, they passed the spot on which he kneeled, one of the
whitestoled maidens, as she glided by him, detached from the chaplet which she carried a rosebud, which
dropped from her fingers, perhaps unconsciously, on the foot of Sir Kenneth. The knight started as if a dart
had suddenly struck his person; for, when the mind is wound up to a high pitch of feeling and expectation, the
slightest incident, if unexpected, gives fire to the train which imagination has already laid. But he suppressed
his emotion, recollecting how easily an incident so indifferent might have happened, and that it was only the
uniform monotony of the movement of the choristers which made the incident in the slightest degree
remarkable.
Still, while the procession, for the third time, surrounded the chapel, the thoughts and the eyes of Kenneth
followed exclusively the one among the novices who had dropped the rosebud. Her step, her face, her form
were so completely assimilated to the rest of the choristers that it was impossible to perceive the least marks
of individuality; and yet Kenneth's heart throbbed like a bird that would burst from its cage, as if to assure
him, by its sympathetic suggestions, that the female who held the right file on the second rank of the novices
was dearer to him, not only than all the rest that were present, but than the whole sex besides. The romantic
passion of love, as it was cherished, and indeed enjoined, by the rules of chivalry, associated well with the no
less romantic feelings of devotion; and they might be said much more to enhance than to counteract each
other. It was, therefore, with a glow of expectation that had something even of a religious character that Sir
Kenneth, his sensations thrilling from his heart to the ends of his fingers, expected some second sign of the
presence of one who, he strongly fancied, had already bestowed on him the first. Short as the space was
during which the procession again completed a third perambulation of the chapel, it seemed an eternity to
Kenneth. At length the form which he had watched with such devoted attention drew nigh. There was no
difference betwixt that shrouded figure and the others, with whom it moved in concert and in unison, until,
just as she passed for the third time the kneeling Crusader, a part of a little and wellproportioned hand, so
beautifully formed as to give the highest idea of the perfect proportions of the form to which it belonged,
stole through the folds of the gauze, like a moonbeam through the fleecy cloud of a summer night, and again
a rosebud lay at the feet of the Knight of the Leopard.
This second intimation could not be accidentalit could not be fortuitous, the resemblance of that
halfseen but beautiful female hand with one which his lips had once touched, and, while they touched it, had
internally sworn allegiance to the lovely owner. Had further proof been wanting, there was the glimmer of
that matchless ruby ring on that snowwhite finger, whose invaluable worth Kenneth would yet have prized
less than the slightest sign which that finger could have made; and, veiled too, as she was, he might see, by
chance or by favour, a stray curl of the dark tresses, each hair of which was dearer to him a hundred times
than a chain of massive gold. It was the lady of his love! But that she should he herein the savage and
sequestered desertamong vestals, who rendered themselves habitants of wilds and of caverns, that they
might perform in secret those Christian rites which they dared not assist in openly; that this should be so, in
truth and in reality, seemed too incredibleit must be a dreama delusive trance of the imagination. While
these thoughts passed through the mind of Kenneth, the same passage, by which the procession had entered
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the chapel, received them on their return. The young sacristans, the sable nuns, vanished successively through
the open door. At length she from whom he had received this double intimation passed also; yet, in passing,
turned her head, slightly indeed, but perceptibly, towards the place where he remained fixed as an image. He
marked the last wave of her veilit was goneand a darkness sunk upon his soul, scarce less palpable than
that which almost immediately enveloped his external sense; for the last chorister had no sooner crossed the
threshold of the door than it shut with a loud sound, and at the same instant the voices of the choir were
silent, the lights of the chapel were at once extinguished, and Sir Kenneth remained solitary and in total
darkness. But to Kenneth, solitude, and darkness, and the uncertainty of his mysterious situation were as
nothinghe thought not of themcared not for themcared for nought in the world save the flitting vision
which had just glided past him, and the tokens of her favour which she had bestowed. To grope on the floor
for the buds which she had droppedto press them to his lips, to his bosom, now alternately, now
togetherto rivet his lips to the cold stones on which, as near as he could judge, she had so lately
steppedto play all the extravagances which strong affection suggests and vindicates to those who yield
themselves up to it, were but the tokens of passionate love common to all ages. But it was peculiar to the
times of chivalry that, in his wildest rapture, the knight imagined of no attempt to follow or to trace the object
of such romantic attachment; that he thought of her as of a deity, who, having deigned to show herself for an
instant to her devoted worshipper, had again returned to the darkness of her sanctuaryor as an influential
planet, which, having darted in some auspicious minute one favourable ray, wrapped itself again in its veil of
mist. The motions of the lady of his love were to him those of a superior being, who was to move without
watch or control, rejoice him by her appearance, or depress him by her absence, animate him by her kindness,
or drive him to despair by her crueltyall at her own free will, and without other importunity or
remonstrance than that expressed by the most devoted services of the heart and sword of the champion,
whose sole object in life was to fulfil her commands, and, by the splendour of his own achievements, to exalt
her fame.
Such were the rules of chivalry, and of the love which was its ruling principle. But Sir Kenneth's attachment
was rendered romantic by other and still more peculiar circumstances. He had never even heard the sound of
his lady's voice, though he had often beheld her beauty with rapture. She moved in a circle which his rank of
knighthood permitted him indeed to approach, but not to mingle with; and highly as he stood distinguished
for warlike skill and enterprise, still the poor Scottish soldier was compelled to worship his divinity at a
distance almost as great as divides the Persian from the sun which he adores. But when was the pride of
woman too lofty to overlook the passionate devotion of a lover, however inferior in degree? Her eye had been
on him in the tournament, her ear had heard his praises in the report of the battles which were daily fought;
and while count, duke, and lord contended for her grace, it flowed, unwillingly perhaps at first, or even
unconsciously, towards the poor Knight of the Leopard, who, to support his rank, had little besides his sword.
When she looked, and when she listened, the lady saw and heard enough to encourage her in a partiality
which had at first crept on her unawares. If a knight's personal beauty was praised, even the most prudish
dames of the military court of England would make an exception in favour of the Scottish Kenneth; and it
oftentimes happened that, notwithstanding the very considerable largesses which princes and peers bestowed
on the minstrels, an impartial spirit of independence would seize the poet, and the harp was swept to the
heroism of one who had neither palfreys nor garments to bestow in guerdon of his applause.
The moments when she listened to the praises of her lover became gradually more and more dear to the
highborn Edith, relieving the flattery with which her ear was weary, and presenting to her a subject of secret
contemplation, more worthy, as he seemed by general report, than those who surpassed him in rank and in the
gifts of fortune. As her attention became constantly, though cautiously, fixed on Sir Kenneth, she grew more
and more convinced of his personal devotion to herself and more and more certain in her mind that in
Kenneth of Scotland she beheld the fated knight doomed to share with her through weal and woeand the
prospect looked gloomy and dangerousthe passionate attachment to which the poets of the age ascribed
such universal dominion, and which its manners and morals placed nearly on the same rank with devotion
itself.
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Let us not disguise the truth from our readers. When Edith became aware of the state of her own sentiments,
chivalrous as were her sentiments, becoming a maiden not distant from the throne of Englandgratified as
her pride must have been with the mute though unceasing homage rendered to her by the knight whom she
had distinguished, there were moments when the feelings of the woman, loving and beloved, murmured
against the restraints of state and form by which she was surrounded, and when she almost blamed the
timidity of her lover, who seemed resolved not to infringe them. The etiquette, to use a modern phrase, of
birth and rank, had drawn around her a magical circle, beyond which Sir Kenneth might indeed bow and
gaze, but within which he could no more pass than an evoked spirit can transgress the boundaries prescribed
by the rod of a powerful enchanter. The thought involuntarily pressed on her that she herself must venture,
were it but the point of her fairy foot, beyond the prescribed boundary, if she ever hoped to give a lover so
reserved and bashful an opportunity of so slight a favour as but to salute her shoetie. There was an
examplethe noted precedent of the "King's daughter of Hungary," who thus generously encouraged the
"squire of low degree;" and Edith, though of kingly blood, was no king's daughter, any more than her lover
was of low degree fortune had put no such extreme barrier in obstacle to their affections. Something,
however, within the maiden's bosomthat modest pride which throws fetters even on love itself forbade her,
notwithstanding the superiority of her condition, to make those advances, which, in every case, delicacy
assigns to the other sex; above all, Sir Kenneth was a knight so gentle and honourable, so highly
accomplished, as her imagination at least suggested, together with the strictest feelings of what was due to
himself and to her, that however constrained her attitude might be while receiving his adorations, like the
image of some deity, who is neither supposed to feel nor to reply to the homage of its votaries, still the idol
feared that to step prematurely from her pedestal would be to degrade herself in the eyes of her devoted
worshipper.
Yet the devout adorer of an actual idol can even discover signs of approbation in the rigid and immovable
features of a marble image; and it is no wonder that something, which could be as favourably interpreted,
glanced from the bright eye of the lovely Edith, whose beauty, indeed, consisted rather more in that very
power of expression, than an absolute regularity of contour or brilliancy of complexion. Some slight marks of
distinction had escaped from her, notwithstanding her own jealous vigilance, else how could Sir Kenneth
have so readily and so undoubtingly recognized the lovely hand, of which scarce two fingers were visible
from under the veil, or how could he have rested so thoroughly assured that two flowers, successively
dropped on the spot, were intended as a recognition on the part of his lady love? By what train of
observationby what secret signs, looks, or gesturesby what instinctive freemasonry of love, this degree
of intelligence came to subsist between Edith and her lover, we cannot attempt to trace; for we are old, and
such slight vestiges of affection, quickly discovered by younger eyes, defy the power of ours. Enough that
such affection did subsist between parties who had never even spoken to one anotherthough, on the side of
Edith, it was checked by a deep sense of the difficulties and dangers which must necessarily attend the further
progress of their attachment; and upon that of the knight by a thousand doubts and fears lest he had
overestimated the slight tokens of the lady's notice, varied, as they necessarily were, by long intervals of
apparent coldness, during which either the fear of exciting the observation of others, and thus drawing danger
upon her lover, or that of sinking in his esteem by seeming too willing to be won, made her behave with
indifference, and as if unobservant of his presence.
This narrative, tedious perhaps, but which the story renders necessary, may serve to explain the state of
intelligence, if it deserves so strong a name, betwixt the lovers, when Edith's unexpected appearance in the
chapel produced so powerful an effect on the feelings of her knight.
CHAPTER V.
Their necromantic forms in vain
Haunt us on the tented plain;
We bid these spectre shapes avaunt,
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Ashtaroth and Termagaunt. WARTON.
The most profound silence, the deepest darkness, continued to brood for more than an hour over the chapel in
which we left the Knight of the Leopard still kneeling, alternately expressing thanks to Heaven and gratitude
to his lady for the boon which had been vouchsafed to him. His own safety, his own destiny, for which he
was at all times little anxious, had not now the weight of a grain of dust in his reflections. He was in the
neighbourhood of Lady Edith; he had received tokens of her grace; he was in a place hallowed by relics of
the most awful sanctity. A Christian soldier, a devoted lover, could fear nothing, think of nothing, but his
duty to Heaven and his devoir to his lady.
At the lapse of the space of time which we have noticed, a shrill whistle, like that with which a falconer calls
his hawk, was heard to ring sharply through the vaulted chapel. it was a sound ill suited to the place, and
reminded Sir Kenneth how necessary it was he should be upon his guard. He started from his knee, and laid
his hand upon his poniard. A creaking sound, as of a screw or pulleys, succeeded, and a light streaming
upwards, as from an opening in the floor, showed that a trapdoor had been raised or depressed. In less than a
minute a long, skinny arm, partly naked, partly clothed in a sleeve of red samite, arose out of the aperture,
holding a lamp as high as it could stretch upwards, and the figure to which the arm belonged ascended step by
step to the level of the chapel floor. The form and face of the being who thus presented himself were those of
a frightful dwarf, with a large head, a cap fantastically adorned with three peacock feathers, a dress of red
samite, the richness of which rendered his ugliness more conspicuous, distinguished by gold bracelets and
armlets, and a white silk sash, in which he wore a goldhilted dagger. This singular figure had in his left hand
a kind of broom. So soon as he had stepped from the aperture through which he arose, he stood still, and, as if
to show himself more distinctly, moved the lamp which he held slowly over his face and person, successively
illuminating his wild and fantastic features, and his misshapen but nervous limbs. Though disproportioned in
person, the dwarf was not so distorted as to argue any want of strength or activity. While Sir Kenneth gazed
on this disagreeable object, the popular creed occurred to his remembrance concerning the gnomes or earthly
spirits which make their abode in the caverns of the earth; and so much did this figure correspond with ideas
he had formed of their appearance, that he looked on it with disgust, mingled not indeed with fear, but that
sort of awe which the presence of a supernatural creature may infuse into the most steady bosom.
The dwarf again whistled, and summoned from beneath a companion. This second figure ascended in the
same manner as the first; but it was a female arm in this second instance which upheld the lamp from the
subterranean vault out of which these presentments arose, and it was a female form, much resembling the first
in shape and proportions, which slowly emerged from the floor. Her dress was also of red samite,
fantastically cut and flounced, as if she had been dressed for some exhibition of mimes or jugglers; and with
the same minuteness which her predecessor had exhibited, she passed the lamp over her face and person,
which seemed to rival the male's in ugliness. But with all this most unfavourable exterior, there was one trait
in the features of both which argued alertness and intelligence in the most uncommon degree. This arose from
the brilliancy of their eyes, which, deepset beneath black and shaggy brows, gleamed with a lustre which,
like that in the eye of the toad, seemed to make some amends for the extreme ugliness of countenance and
person.
Sir Kenneth remained as if spellbound, while this unlovely pair, moving round the chapel close to each other,
appeared to perform the duty of sweeping it, like menials; but as they used only one hand, the floor was not
much benefited by the exercise, which they plied with such oddity of gestures and manner as befitted their
bizarre and fantastic appearance. When they approached near to the knight in the course of their occupation,
they ceased to use their brooms; and placing themselves side by side, directly opposite to Sir Kenneth, they
again slowly shifted the lights which they held, so as to allow him distinctly to survey features which were
not rendered more agreeable by being brought nearer, and to observe the extreme quickness and keenness
with which their black and glittering eyes flashed back the light of the lamps. They then turned the gleam of
both lights upon the knight, and having accurately surveyed him, turned their faces to each other, and set up a
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loud, yelling laugh, which resounded in his ears. The sound was so ghastly that Sir Kenneth started at hearing
it, and hastily demanded, in the name of God, who they were who profaned that holy place with such antic
gestures and elritch exclamations.
"I am the dwarf Nectabanus," said the abortionseeming male, in a voice corresponding to his figure, and
resembling the voice of the nightcrow more than any sound which is heard by daylight.
"And I am Guenevra, his lady and his love," replied the female, in tones which, being shriller, were yet
wilder than those of her companion.
"Wherefore are you here?" again demanded the knight, scarcely yet assured that they were human beings
which he saw before him.
"I am," replied the male dwarf, with much assumed gravity and dignity, "the twelfth Imaum. I am
Mohammed Mohadi, the guide and the conductor of the faithful. A hundred horses stand ready saddled for
me and my train at the Holy City, and as many at the City of Refuge. I am he who shall bear witness, and this
is one of my houris."
"Thou liest!" answered the female, interrupting her companion, in tones yet shriller than his own; "I am none
of thy houris, and thou art no such infidel trash as the Mohammed of whom thou speakest. May my curse rest
upon his coffin! I tell thee, thou ass of Issachar, thou art King Arthur of Britain, whom the fairies stole away
from the field of Avalon; and I am Dame Guenevra, famed for her beauty."
"But in truth, noble sir," said the male, "we are distressed princes, dwelling under the wing of King Guy of
Jerusalem, until he was driven out from his own nest by the foul infidels Heaven's bolts consume them!"
"Hush," said a voice from the side upon which the knight had entered"hush, fools, and begone; your
ministry is ended."
The dwarfs had no sooner heard the command than, gibbering in discordant whispers to each other, they blew
out their lights at once, and left the knight in utter darkness, which, when the pattering of their retiring feet
had died away, was soon accompanied by its fittest companion, total silence.
The knight felt the departure of these unfortunate creatures a relief. He could not, from their language,
manners, and appearance, doubt that they belonged to the degraded class of beings whom deformity of person
and weakness of intellect recommended to the painful situation of appendages to great families, where their
personal appearance and imbecility were food for merriment to the household. Superior in no respect to the
ideas and manners of his time, the Scottish knight might, at another period, have been much amused by the
mummery of these poor effigies of humanity; but now their appearance, gesticulations, and language broke
the train of deep and solemn feeling with which he was impressed, and he rejoiced in the disappearance of the
unhappy objects.
A few minutes after they had retired, the door at which he had entered opened slowly, and remaining ajar,
discovered a faint light arising from a lantern placed upon the threshold. Its doubtful and wavering gleam
showed a dark form reclined beside the entrance, but without its precincts, which, on approaching it more
nearly, he recognized to be the hermit, crouching in the same humble posture in which he had at first laid
himself down, and which, doubtless, he had retained during the whole time of his guest's continuing in the
chapel.
"All is over," said the hermit, as he heard the knight approaching, "and the most wretched of earthly sinners,
with him who should think himself most honoured and most happy among the race of humanity, must retire
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from this place. Take the light, and guide me down the descent, for I must not uncover my eyes until I am far
from this hallowed spot."
The Scottish knight obeyed in silence, for a solemn and yet ecstatic sense of what he had seen had silenced
even the eager workings of curiosity. He led the way, with considerable accuracy, through the various secret
passages and stairs by which they had ascended, until at length they found themselves in the outward cell of
the hermit's cavern.
"The condemned criminal is restored to his dungeon, reprieved from one miserable day to another, until his
awful Judge shall at length appoint the welldeserved sentence to be carried into execution."
As the hermit spoke these words, he laid aside the veil with which his eyes had been bound, and looked at it
with a suppressed and hollow sigh. No sooner had he restored it to the crypt from which he had caused the
Scot to bring it, than he said hastily and sternly to his companion; "Begone, begoneto rest, to rest. You
may sleepyou can sleepI neither can nor may."
Respecting the profound agitation with which this was spoken, the knight retired into the inner cell; but
casting back his eye as he left the exterior grotto, he beheld the anchorite stripping his shoulders with frantic
haste of their shaggy mantle, and ere he could shut the frail door which separated the two compartments of
the cavern, he heard the clang of the scourge and the groans of the penitent under his selfinflicted penance.
A cold shudder came over the knight as he reflected what could be the foulness of the sin, what the depth of
the remorse, which, apparently, such severe penance could neither cleanse nor assuage. He told his beads
devoutly, and flung himself on his rude couch, after a glance at the still sleeping Moslem, and, wearied by the
various scenes of the day and the night, soon slept as sound as infancy. Upon his awaking in the morning, he
held certain conferences with the hermit upon matters of importance, and the result of their intercourse
induced him to remain for two days longer in the grotto. He was regular, as became a pilgrim, in his
devotional exercises, but was not again admitted to the chapel in which he had seen such wonders.
CHAPTER VI.
Now change the sceneand let the trumpets sound,
For we must rouse the lion from his lair. OLD PLAY.
The scene must change, as our programme has announced, from the mountain wilderness of Jordan to the
camp of King Richard of England, then stationed betwixt Jean d'Acre and Ascalon, and containing that army
with which he of the lion heart had promised himself a triumphant march to Jerusalem, and in which he
would probably have succeeded, if not hindered by the jealousies of the Christian princes engaged in the
same enterprise, and the offence taken by them at the uncurbed haughtiness of the English monarch, and
Richard's unveiled contempt for his brother sovereigns, who, his equals in rank, were yet far his inferiors in
courage, hardihood, and military talents. Such discords, and particularly those betwixt Richard and Philip of
France, created disputes and obstacles which impeded every active measure proposed by the heroic though
impetuous Richard, while the ranks of the Crusaders were daily thinned, not only by the desertion of
individuals, but of entire bands, headed by their respective feudal leaders, who withdrew from a contest in
which they had ceased to hope for success.
The effects of the climate became, as usual, fatal to soldiers from the north, and the more so that the dissolute
license of the Crusaders, forming a singular contrast to the principles and purpose of their taking up arms,
rendered them more easy victims to the insalubrious influence of burning heat and chilling dews. To these
discouraging causes of loss was to be added the sword of the enemy. Saladin, than whom no greater name is
recorded in Eastern history, had learned, to his fatal experience, that his lightarmed followers were little
able to meet in close encounter with the ironclad Franks, and had been taught, at the same time, to
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apprehend and dread the adventurous character of his antagonist Richard. But if his armies were more than
once routed with great slaughter, his numbers gave the Saracen the advantage in those lighter skirmishes, of
which many were inevitable.
As the army of his assailants decreased, the enterprises of the Sultan became more numerous and more bold
in this species of petty warfare. The camp of the Crusaders was surrounded, and almost besieged, by clouds
of light cavalry, resembling swarms of wasps, easily crushed when they are once grasped, but furnished with
wings to elude superior strength, and stings to inflict harm and mischief. There was perpetual warfare of posts
and foragers, in which many valuable lives were lost, without any corresponding object being gained;
convoys were intercepted, and communications were cut off. The Crusaders had to purchase the means of
sustaining life, by life itself; and water, like that of the well of Bethlehem, longed for by King David, one of
its ancient monarchs, was then, as before, only obtained by the expenditure of blood.
These evils were in a great measure counterbalanced by the stern resolution and restless activity of King
Richard, who, with some of his best knights, was ever on horseback, ready to repair to any point where
danger occurred, and often not only bringing unexpected succour to the Christians, but discomfiting the
infidels when they seemed most secure of victory. But even the iron frame of Coeur de Lion could not
support without injury the alternations of the unwholesome climate, joined to ceaseless exertions of body and
mind. He became afflicted with one of those slow and wasting fevers peculiar to Asia, and in despite of his
great strength and still greater courage, grew first unfit to mount on horseback, and then unable to attend the
councils of war which were from time to time held by the Crusaders. It was difficult to say whether this state
of personal inactivity was rendered more galling or more endurable to the English monarch by the resolution
of the council to engage in a truce of thirty days with the Sultan Saladin; for on the one hand, if he was
incensed at the delay which this interposed to the progress of the great enterprise, he was, on the other,
somewhat consoled by knowing that others were not acquiring laurels while he remained inactive upon a
sickbed,
That, however, which Coeur de Lion could least excuse was the general inactivity which prevailed in the
camp of the Crusaders so soon as his illness assumed a serious aspect; and the reports which he extracted
from his unwilling attendants gave him to understand that the hopes of the host had abated in proportion to
his illness, and that the interval of truce was employed, not in recruiting their numbers, reanimating their
courage, fostering their spirit of conquest, and preparing for a speedy and determined advance upon the Holy
City, which was the object of their expedition, but in securing the camp occupied by their diminished
followers with trenches, palisades, and other fortifications, as if preparing rather to repel an attack from a
powerful enemy so soon as hostilities should recommence, than to assume the proud character of conquerors
and assailants.
The English king chafed under these reports, like the imprisoned lion viewing his prey from the iron barriers
of his cage. Naturally rash and impetuous, the irritability of his temper preyed on itself. He was dreaded by
his attendants and even the medical assistants feared to assume the necessary authority which a physician, to
do justice to his patient, must needs exercise over him. One faithful baron, who, perhaps, from the congenial
nature of his disposition, was devoutly attached to the King's person, dared alone to come between the dragon
and his wrath, and quietly, but firmly, maintained a control which no other dared assume over the dangerous
invalid, and which Thomas de Multon only exercised because he esteemed his sovereign's life and honour
more than he did the degree of favour which he might lose, or even the risk which he might incur, in nursing
a patient so intractable, and whose displeasure was so perilous.
Sir Thomas was the Lord of Gilsland, in Cumberland, and in an age when surnames and titles were not
distinctly attached, as now, to the individuals who bore them, he was called by the Normans the Lord de
Vaux; and in English by the Saxons, who clung to their native language, and were proud of the share of
Saxon blood in this renowned warrior's veins, he was termed Thomas, or, more familiarly, Thom of the Gills,
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or Narrow Valleys, from which his extensive domains derived their wellknown appellation.
This chief had been exercised in almost all the wars, whether waged betwixt England and Scotland, or
amongst the various domestic factions which then tore the former country asunder, and in all had been
distinguished, as well from his military conduct as his personal prowess. He was, in other respects, a rude
soldier, blunt and careless in his bearing, and taciturnnay, almost sullenin his habits of society, and
seeming, at least, to disclaim all knowledge of policy and of courtly art. There were men, however, who
pretended to look deeply into character, who asserted that the Lord de Vaux was not less shrewd and aspiring
than he was blunt and bold, and who thought that, while he assimilated himself to the king's own character of
blunt hardihood, it was, in some degree at least, with an eye to establish his favour, and to gratify his own
hopes of deeplaid ambition. But no one cared to thwart his schemes, if such he had, by rivalling him in the
dangerous occupation of daily attendance on the sickbed of a patient whose disease was pronounced
infectious, and more especially when it was remembered that the patient was Coeur de Lion, suffering under
all the furious impatience of a soldier withheld from battle, and a sovereign sequestered from authority; and
the common soldiers, at least in the English army, were generally of opinion that De Vaux attended on the
King like comrade upon comrade, in the honest and disinterested frankness of military friendship contracted
between the partakers of daily dangers.
It was on the decline of a Syrian day that Richard lay on his couch of sickness, loathing it as much in mind as
his illness made it irksome to his body. His bright blue eye, which at all times shone with uncommon
keenness and splendour, had its vivacity augmented by fever and mental impatience, and glanced from
among his curled and unshorn locks of yellow hair as fitfully and as vividly as the last gleams of the sun
shoot through the clouds of an approaching thunderstorm, which still, however, are gilded by its beams. His
manly features showed the progress of wasting illness, and his beard, neglected and untrimmed, had
overgrown both lips and chin. Casting himself from side to side, now clutching towards him the coverings,
which at the next moment he flung as impatiently from him, his tossed couch and impatient gestures showed
at once the energy and the reckless impatience of a disposition whose natural sphere was that of the most
active exertion.
Beside his couch stood Thomas de Vaux, in face, attitude, and manner the strongest possible contrast to the
suffering monarch. His stature approached the gigantic, and his hair in thickness might have resembled that
of Samson, though only after the Israelitish champion's locks had passed under the shears of the Philistines,
for those of De Vaux were cut short, that they might be enclosed under his helmet. The light of his broad,
large hazel eye resembled that of the autumn morn; and it was only perturbed for a moment, when from time
to time it was attracted by Richard's vehement marks of agitation and restlessness. His features, though
massive like his person, might have been handsome before they were defaced with scars; his upper lip, after
the fashion of the Normans, was covered with thick moustaches, which grew so long and luxuriantly as to
mingle with his hair, and, like his hair, were dark brown, slightly brindled with grey. His frame seemed of
that kind which most readily defies both toil and climate, for he was thinflanked, broad chested,
longarmed, deepbreathed, and stronglimbed. He had not laid aside his buffcoat, which displayed the
cross cut on the shoulder, for more than three nights, enjoying but such momentary repose as the warder of a
sick monarch's couch might by snatches indulge. This Baron rarely changed his posture, except to administer
to Richard the medicine or refreshments which none of his less favoured attendants could persuade the
impatient monarch to take; and there was something affecting in the kindly yet awkward manner in which he
discharged offices so strangely contrasted with his blunt and soldierly habits and manners.
The pavilion in which these personages were, had, as became the time, as well as the personal character of
Richard, more of a warlike than a sumptuous or royal character. Weapons offensive and defensive, several of
them of strange and newlyinvented construction, were scattered about the tented apartment, or disposed
upon the pillars which supported it. Skins of animals slain in the chase were stretched on the ground, or
extended along the sides of the pavilion; and upon a heap of these silvan spoils lay three ALANS, as they
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were then called (wolf greyhounds, that is), of the largest size, and as white as snow. Their faces, marked
with many a scar from clutch and fang, showed their share in collecting the trophies upon which they
reposed; and their eyes, fixed from time to time with an expressive stretch and yawn upon the bed of Richard,
evinced how much they marvelled at and regretted the unwonted inactivity which they were compelled to
share. These were but the accompaniments of the soldier and huntsman; but on a small table close by the bed
was placed a shield of wrought steel, of triangular form, bearing the three lions passant first assumed by the
chivalrous monarch, and before it the golden circlet, resembling much a ducal coronet, only that it was higher
in front than behind, which, with the purple velvet and embroidered tiara that lined it, formed then the
emblem of England's sovereignty. Beside it, as if prompt for defending the regal symbol, lay a mighty curtal
axe, which would have wearied the arm of any other than Coeur de Lion.
In an outer partition of the pavilion waited two or three officers of the royal household, depressed, anxious
for their master's health, and not less so for their own safety, in case of his decease. Their gloomy
apprehensions spread themselves to the warders without, who paced about in downcast and silent
contemplation, or, resting on their halberds, stood motionless on their post, rather like armed trophies than
living warriors.
"So thou hast no better news to bring me from without, Sir Thomas!" said the King, after a long and
perturbed silence, spent in the feverish agitation which we have endeavoured to describe. "All our knights
turned women, and our ladies become devotees, and neither, a spark of valour nor of gallantry to enlighten a
camp which contains the choicest of Europe's chivalryha!"
"The truce, my lord," said De Vaux, with the same patience with which he had twenty times repeated the
explanation"the truce prevents us bearing ourselves as men of action; and for the ladies, I am no great
reveller, as is well known to your Majesty, and seldom exchange steel and buff for velvet and goldbut thus
far I know, that our choicest beauties are waiting upon the Queen's Majesty and the Princess, to a pilgrimage
to the convent of Engaddi, to accomplish their vows for your Highness's deliverance from this trouble."
"And is it thus," said Richard, with the impatience of indisposition, "that royal matrons and maidens should
risk themselves, where the dogs who defile the land have as little truth to man as they have faith towards
God?"
"Nay, my lord," said De Vaux, "they have Saladin's word for their safety."
"True, true!" replied Richard; "and I did the heathen Soldan injusticeI owe him reparation for it. Would
God I were but fit to offer it him upon my body between the two hostsChristendom and heathenesse both
looking on!"
As Richard spoke, he thrust his right arm out of bed naked to the shoulder, and painfully raising himself in
his couch, shook his clenched hand, as if it grasped sword or battleaxe, and was then brandished over the
jewelled turban of the Soldan. It was not without a gentle degree of violence, which the King would scarce
have endured from another, that De Vaux, in his character of sicknurse, compelled his royal master to
replace himself in the couch, and covered his sinewy arm, neck, and shoulders with the care which a mother
bestows upon an impatient child.
"Thou art a rough nurse, though a willing one, De Vaux," said the King, laughing with a bitter expression,
while he submitted to the strength which he was unable to resist; "methinks a coif would become thy
lowering features as well as a child's biggin would beseem mine. We should be a babe and nurse to frighten
girls with."
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"We have frightened men in our time, my liege," said De Vaux; "and, I trust, may live to frighten them again.
What is a fever fit, that we should not endure it patiently, in order to get rid of it easily?"
"Feverfit!" exclaimed Richard impetuously; "thou mayest think, and justly, that it is a feverfit with me; but
what is it with all the other Christian princeswith Philip of France, with that dull Austrian, with him of
Montserrat, with the Hospitallers, with the Templarswhat is it with all them? I will tell thee. It is a cold
palsy, a dead lethargy, a disease that deprives them of speech and action, a canker that has eaten into the heart
of all that is noble, and chivalrous, and virtuous among themthat has made them false to the noblest vow
ever knights were sworn to has made them indifferent to their fame, and forgetful of their God!"
"For the love of Heaven, my liege," said De Vaux, "take it less violentlyyou will be heard without doors,
where such speeches are but too current already among the common soldiery, and engender discord and
contention in the Christian host. Bethink you that your illness mars the mainspring of their enterprise; a
mangonel will work without screw and lever better than the Christian host without King Richard."
"Thou flatterest me, De Vaux," said Richard, and not insensible to the power of praise, he reclined his head
on the pillow with a more deliberate attempt to repose than he had yet exhibited. But Thomas de Vaux was no
courtier; the phrase which had offered had risen spontaneously to his lips, and he knew not how to pursue the
pleasing theme so as to soothe and prolong the vein which he had excited. He was silent, therefore, until,
relapsing into his moody contemplations, the King demanded of him sharply, "Despardieux! This is smoothly
said to soothe a sick man; but does a league of monarchs, an assemblage or nobles, a convocation of all the
chivalry of Europe, droop with the sickness of one man, though he chances to be King of England? Why
should Richard's illness, or Richard's death, check the march of thirty thousand men as brave as himself?
When the master stag is struck down, the herd do not disperse upon his fall; when the falcon strikes the
leading crane, another takes the guidance of the phalanx. Why do not the powers assemble and choose some
one to whom they may entrust the guidance of the host?"
"Forsooth, and if it please your Majesty," said De Vaux, "I hear consultations have been held among the royal
leaders for some such purpose."
"Ha!" exclaimed Richard, his jealousy awakened, giving his mental irritation another direction, "am I forgot
by my allies ere I have taken the last sacrament? Do they hold me dead already? But no, no, they are right.
And whom do they select as leader of the Christian host?"
"Rank and dignity," said De Vaux, "point to the King of France."
"Oh, ay," answered the English monarch, "Philip of France and NavarreDenis Mountjoiehis most
Christian Majesty! Mouth filling words these! There is but one risk that he might mistake the words EN
ARRIERE for EN AVANT, and lead us back to Paris, instead of marching to Jerusalem. His politic head has
learned by this time that there is more to be gotten by oppressing his feudatories, and pillaging his allies, than
fighting with the Turks for the Holy Sepulchre."
"They might choose the Archduke of Austria," said De Vaux.
"What! because he is big and burly like thyself, Thomasnearly as thickheaded, but without thy
indifference to danger and carelessness of offence? I tell thee that Austria has in all that mass of flesh no
bolder animation than is afforded by the peevishness of a wasp and the courage of a wren. Out upon him! He
a leader of chivalry to deeds of glory! Give him a flagon of Rhenish to drink with his besmirched
baarenhauters and lance knechts."
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"There is the Grand Master of the Templars," continued the baron, not sorry to keep his master's attention
engaged on other topics than his own illness, though at the expense of the characters of prince and potentate.
"There is the Grand Master of the Templars," he continued, "undaunted, skilful, brave in battle, and sage in
council, having no separate kingdoms of his own to divert his exertions from the recovery of the Holy
Landwhat thinks your Majesty of the Master as a general leader of the Christian host?"
"Ha, BeauSeant?" answered the King. "Oh, no exception can be taken to Brother Giles Amaury; he
understands the ordering of a battle, and the fighting in front when it begins. But, Sir Thomas, were it fair to
take the Holy Land from the heathen Saladin, so full of all the virtues which may distinguish unchristened
man, and give it to Giles Amaury, a worse pagan than himself, an idolater, a devilworshipper, a
necromancer, who practises crimes the most dark and unnatural in the vaults and secret places of abomination
and darkness?"
"The Grand Master of the Hospitallers of St. John of Jerusalem is not tainted by fame, either with heresy or
magic," said Thomas de Vaux.
"But is he not a sordid miser?" said Richard hastily; "has he not been suspecteday, more than
suspectedof selling to the infidels those advantages which they would never have won by fair force? Tush,
man, better give the army to be made merchandise of by Venetian skippers and Lombardy pedlars, than trust
it to the Grand Master of St. John."
"Well, then, I will venture but another guess," said the Baron de Vaux. "What say you to the gallant Marquis
of Montserrat, so wise, so elegant, such a good manatarms?"
"Wise?cunning, you would say," replied Richard; "elegant in a lady's chamber, if you will. Oh, ay,
Conrade of Montserratwho knows not the popinjay? Politic and versatile, he will change you his purposes
as often as the trimmings of his doublet, and you shall never be able to guess the hue of his inmost vestments
from their outward colours. A manatarms? Ay, a fine figure on horseback, and can bear him well in the
tiltyard, and at the barriers, when swords are blunted at point and edge, and spears are tipped with trenchers
of wood instead of steel pikes. Wert thou not with me when I said to that same gay Marquis, 'Here we be,
three good Christians, and on yonder plain there pricks a band of some threescore Saracenswhat say you to
charge them briskly? There are but twenty unbelieving miscreants to each true knight."
"I recollect the Marquis replied," said De Vaux, "that his limbs were of flesh, not of iron, and that he would
rather bear the heart of a man than of a beast, though that beast were the lion, But I see how it iswe shall
end where we began, without hope of praying at the Sepulchre until Heaven shall restore King Richard to
health."
At this grave remark Richard burst out into a hearty fit of laughter, the first which he had for some time
indulged in. "Why what a thing is conscience," he said, "that through its means even such a thickwitted
northern lord as thou canst bring thy sovereign to confess his folly! It is true that, did they not propose
themselves as fit to hold my leadingstaff, little should I care for plucking the silken trappings off the
puppets thou hast shown me in succession. What concerns it me what fine tinsel robes they swagger in,
unless when they are named as rivals in the glorious enterprise to which I have vowed myself? Yes, De Vaux,
I confess my weakness, and the wilfulness of my ambition. The Christian camp contains, doubtless, many a
better knight than Richard of England, and it would be wise and worthy to assign to the best of them the
leading of the host. But," continued the warlike monarch, raising himself in his bed, and shaking the cover
from his head, while his eyes sparkled as they were wont to do on the eve of battle, "were such a knight to
plant the banner of the Cross on the Temple of Jerusalem while I was unable to bear my share in the noble
task, he should, so soon as I was fit to lay lance in rest, undergo my challenge to mortal combat, for having
diminished my fame, and pressed in before to the object of my enterprise. But hark, what trumpets are those
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at a distance?"
"Those of King Philip, as I guess, my liege," said the stout Englishman.
"Thou art dull of ear, Thomas," said the King, endeavouring to start up; "hearest thou not that clash and
clang? By Heaven, the Turks are in the campI hear their LELIES." [The warcries of the Moslemah.]
He again endeavoured to get out of bed, and De Vaux was obliged to exercise his own great strength, and
also to summon the assistance of the chamberlains from the inner tent, to restrain him.
"Thou art a false traitor, De Vaux," said the incensed monarch, when, breathless and exhausted with
struggling, he was compelled to submit to superior strength, and to repose in quiet on his couch. "I would I
wereI would I were but strong enough to dash thy brains out with my battleaxe!"
"I would you had the strength, my liege," said De Vaux, "and would even take the risk of its being so
employed. The odds would be great in favour of Christendom were Thomas Multon dead and Coeur de Lion
himself again."
"Mine honest faithful servant," said Richard, extending his hand, which the baron reverentially saluted,
"forgive thy master's impatience of mood. It is this burning fever which chides thee, and not thy kind master,
Richard of England. But go, I prithee, and bring me word what strangers are in the camp, for these sounds are
not of Christendom."
De Vaux left the pavilion on the errand assigned, and in his absence, which he had resolved should be brief,
he charged the chamberlains, pages, and attendants to redouble their attention on their sovereign, with threats
of holding them to responsibility, which rather added to than diminished their timid anxiety in the discharge
of their duty; for next, perhaps, to the ire of the monarch himself, they dreaded that of the stern and
inexorable Lord of Gilsland. [Sir Thomas Multon of Gilsland.]
CHAPTER VII.
There never was a time on the march parts yet,
When Scottish with English met,
But it was marvel if the red blood ran not
As the rain does in the street. BATTLE OF OTTERBOURNE.
A considerable band of Scottish warriors had joined the Crusaders, and had naturally placed themselves
under the command of the English monarch, being, like his native troops, most of them of Saxon and Norman
descent, speaking the same languages, possessed, some of them, of English as well as Scottish demesnes, and
allied in some cases by blood and intermarriage. The period also preceded that when the grasping ambition of
Edward I. gave a deadly and envenomed character to the wars betwixt the two nationsthe English fighting
for the subjugation of Scotland, and the Scottish, with all the stern determination and obstinacy which has
ever characterized their nation, for the defence of their independence, by the most violent means, under the
most disadvantageous circumstances, and at the most extreme hazard. As yet, wars betwixt the two nations,
though fierce and frequent, had been conducted on principles of fair hostility, and admitted of those softening
shades by which courtesy and the respect for open and generous foemen qualify and mitigate the horrors of
war. In time of peace, therefore, and especially when both, as at present, were engaged in war, waged in
behalf of a common cause, and rendered dear to them by their ideas of religion, the adventurers of both
countries frequently fought side by side, their national emulation serving only to stimulate them to excel each
other in their efforts against the common enemy.
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The frank and martial character of Richard, who made no distinction betwixt his own subjects and those of
William of Scotland, excepting as they bore themselves in the field of battle, tended much to conciliate the
troops of both nations. But upon his illness, and the disadvantageous circumstances in which the Crusaders
were placed, the national disunion between the various bands united in the Crusade, began to display itself,
just as old wounds break out afresh in the human body when under the influence of disease or debility.
The Scottish and English, equally jealous and highspirited, and apt to take offencethe former the more so,
because the poorer and the weaker nationbegan to fill up by internal dissension the period when the truce
forbade them to wreak their united vengeance on the Saracens. Like the contending Roman chiefs of old, the
Scottish would admit no superiority, and their southern neighbours would brook no equality. There were
charges and recriminations, and both the common soldiery and their leaders and commanders, who had been
good comrades in time of victory, lowered on each other in the period of adversity, as if their union had not
been then more essential than ever, not only to the success of their common cause, but to their joint safety.
The same disunion had begun to show itself betwixt the French and English, the Italians and the Germans,
and even between the Danes and Swedes; but it is only that which divided the two nations whom one island
bred, and who seemed more animated against each other for the very reason, that our narrative is principally
concerned with.
Of all the English nobles who had followed their King to Palestine, De Vaux was most prejudiced against the
Scottish. They were his near neighbours, with whom he had been engaged during his whole life in private or
public warfare, and on whom he had inflicted many calamities, while he had sustained at their hands not a
few. His love and devotion to the King was like the vivid affection of the old English mastiff to his master,
leaving him churlish and inaccessible to all others even towards those to whom he was indifferentand
rough and dangerous to any against whom he entertained a prejudice. De Vaux had never observed without
jealousy and displeasure his King exhibit any mark of courtesy or favour to the wicked, deceitful, and
ferocious race born on the other side of a river, or an imaginary line drawn through waste and wilderness; and
he even doubted the success of a Crusade in which they were suffered to bear arms, holding them in his secret
soul little better than the Saracens whom he came to combat. It may be added that, as being himself a blunt
and downright Englishman, unaccustomed to conceal the slightest movement either of love or of dislike, he
accounted the fair spoken courtesy which the Scots had learned, either from imitation of their frequent
allies, the French, or which might have arisen from their own proud and reserved character, as a false and
astucious mark of the most dangerous designs against their neighbours, over whom he believed, with genuine
English confidence, they could, by fair manhood, never obtain any advantage.
Yet, though De Vaux entertained these sentiments concerning his Northern neighbours, and extended them,
with little mitigation, even to such as had assumed the Cross, his respect for the King, and a sense of the duty
imposed by his vow as a Crusader, prevented him from displaying them otherwise than by regularly shunning
all intercourse with his Scottish brethrenatarms as far as possible, by observing a sullen taciturnity when
compelled to meet them occasionally, and by looking scornfully upon them when they encountered on the
march and in camp. The Scottish barons and knights were not men to bear his scorn unobserved or unreplied
to; and it came to that pass that he was regarded as the determined and active enemy of a nation, whom, after
all, he only disliked, and in some sort despised. Nay, it was remarked by close observers that, if he had not
towards them the charity of Scripture, which suffereth long, and judges kindly, he was by no means deficient
in the subordinate and limited virtue, which alleviates and relieves the wants of others. The wealth of Thomas
of Gilsland procured supplies of provisions and medicines, and some of these usually flowed by secret
channels into the quarters of the Scottishhis surly benevolence proceeding on the principle that, next to a
man's friend, his foe was of most importance to him, passing over all the intermediate relations as too
indifferent to merit even a thought. This explanation is necessary, in order that the reader may fully
understand what we are now to detail.
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Thomas de Vaux had not made many steps beyond the entrance of the royal pavilion when he was aware of
what the far more acute ear of the English monarchno mean proficient in the art of minstrelsyhad
instantly discovered, that the musical strains, namely, which had reached their ears, were produced by the
pipes, shalms, and kettledrums of the Saracens; and at the bottom of an avenue of tents, which formed a
broad access to the pavilion of Richard, he could see a crowd of idle soldiers assembled around the spot from
which the music was heard, almost in the centre of the camp; and he saw, with great surprise, mingled amid
the helmets of various forms worn by the Crusaders of different nations, white turbans and long pikes,
announcing the presence of armed Saracens, and the huge deformed heads of several camels or dromedaries,
overlooking the multitude by aid of their long, disproportioned necks.
Wondering, and displeased at a sight so unexpected and singular for it was customary to leave all flags of
truce and other communications from the enemy at an appointed place without the barriersthe baron
looked eagerly round for some one of whom he might inquire the cause of this alarming novelty.
The first person whom he met advancing to him he set down at once, by his grave and haughty step, as a
Spaniard or a Scot; and presently after muttered to himself, "And a Scot it ishe of the Leopard. I have seen
him fight indifferently well, for one of his country."
Loath to ask even a passing question, he was about to pass Sir Kenneth, with that sullen and lowering port
which seems to say, "I know thee, but I will hold no communication with thee." But his purpose was defeated
by the Northern Knight, who moved forward directly to him, and accosting him with formal courtesy, said,
"My Lord de Vaux of Gilsland, I have in charge to speak with you."
"Ha!" returned the English baron, "with me? But say your pleasure, so it be shortly spokenI am on the
King's errand."
"Mine touches King Richard yet more nearly," answered Sir Kenneth; "I bring him, I trust, health."
The Lord of Gilsland measured the Scot with incredulous eyes, and replied, "Thou art no leech, I think, Sir
Scot; I had as soon thought of your bringing the King of England wealth."
Sir Kenneth, though displeased with the manner of the baron's reply, answered calmly, "Health to Richard is
glory and wealth to Christendom.But my time presses; I pray you, may I see the King?"
"Surely not, fair sir," said the baron, "until your errand be told more distinctly. The sick chambers of princes
open not to all who inquire, like a northern hostelry."
"My lord," said Kenneth, "the cross which I wear in common with yourself, and the importance of what I
have to tell, must, for the present, cause me to pass over a bearing which else I were unapt to endure. In plain
language, then, I bring with me a Moorish physician, who undertakes to work a cure on King Richard."
"A Moorish physician!" said De Vaux; "and who will warrant that he brings not poisons instead of
remedies?"
"His own life, my lordhis head, which he offers as a guarantee."
"I have known many a resolute ruffian," said De Vaux, "who valued his own life as little as it deserved, and
would troop to the gallows as merrily as if the hangman were his partner in a dance."
"But thus it is, my lord," replied the Scot. "Saladin, to whom none will deny the credit of a generous and
valiant enemy, hath sent this leech hither with an honourable retinue and guard, befitting the high estimation
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in which El Hakim [The Physician] is held by the Soldan, and with fruits and refreshments for the King's
private chamber, and such message as may pass betwixt honourable enemies, praying him to be recovered of
his fever, that he may be the fitter to receive a visit from the Soldan, with his naked scimitar in his hand, and
a hundred thousand cavaliers at his back. Will it please you, who are of the King's secret council, to cause
these camels to be discharged of their burdens, and some order taken as to the reception of the learned
physician?"
"Wonderful!" said De Vaux, as speaking to himself."And who will vouch for the honour of Saladin, in a
case when bad faith would rid him at once of his most powerful adversary?"
"I myself," replied Sir Kenneth, "will be his guarantee, with honour, life, and fortune."
"Strange!" again ejaculated De Vaux; "the North vouches for the Souththe Scot for the Turk! May I crave
of you, Sir Knight, how you became concerned in this affair?"
"I have been absent on a pilgrimage, in the course of which," replied Sir Kenneth "I had a message to
discharge towards the holy hermit of Engaddi."
"May I not be entrusted with it, Sir Kenneth, and with the answer of the holy man?"
"It may not be, my lord," answered the Scot.
"I am of the secret council of England," said the Englishman haughtily.
"To which land I owe no allegiance," said Kenneth. "Though I have voluntarily followed in this war the
personal fortunes of England's sovereign, I was dispatched by the General Council of the kings, princes, and
supreme leaders of the army of the Blessed Cross, and to them only I render my errand."
"Ha! sayest thou?" said the proud Baron de Vaux. "But know, messenger of the kings and princes as thou
mayest be, no leech shall approach the sickbed of Richard of England without the consent of him of
Gilsland; and they will come on evil errand who dare to intrude themselves against it."
He was turning loftily away, when the Scot, placing himself closer, and more opposite to him, asked, in a
calm voice, yet not without expressing his share of pride, whether the Lord of Gilsland esteemed him a
gentleman and a good knight.
"All Scots are ennobled by their birthright," answered Thomas de Vaux, something ironically; but sensible of
his own injustice, and perceiving that Kenneth's colour rose, he added, "For a good knight it were sin to doubt
you, in one at least who has seen you well and bravely discharge your devoir."
"Well, then," said the Scottish knight, satisfied with the frankness of the last admission, "and let me swear to
you, Thomas of Gilsland, that, as I am true Scottish man, which I hold a privilege equal to my ancient gentry,
and as sure as I am a belted knight, and come hither to acquire LOS [Loslaus, praise, or renown] and fame
in this mortal life, and forgiveness of my sins in that which is to comeso truly, and by the blessed Cross
which I wear, do I protest unto you that I desire but the safety of Richard Coeur de Lion, in recommending
the ministry of this Moslem physician."
The Englishman was struck with the solemnity of the obtestation, and answered with more cordiality than he
had yet exhibited, "Tell me, Sir Knight of the Leopard, granting (which I do not doubt) that thou art thyself
satisfied in this matter, shall I do well, in a land where the art of poisoning is as general as that of cooking, to
bring this unknown physician to practise with his drugs on a health so valuable to Christendom?"
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"My lord," replied the Scot, "thus only can I replythat my squire, the only one of my retinue whom war
and disease had left in attendance on me, has been of late suffering dangerously under this same fever, which,
in valiant King Richard, has disabled the principal limb of our holy enterprise. This leech, this El Hakim, hath
ministered remedies to him not two hours since, and already he hath fallen into a refreshing sleep. That he
can cure the disorder, which has proved so fatal, I nothing doubt; that he hath the purpose to do it is, I think,
warranted by his mission from the royal Soldan, who is truehearted and loyal, so far as a blinded infidel
may be called so; and for his eventual success, the certainty of reward in case of succeeding, and punishment
in case of voluntary failure, may be a sufficient guarantee."
The Englishman listened with downcast looks, as one who doubted, yet was not unwilling to receive
conviction. At length he looked up and said, "May I see your sick squire, fair sir?"
The Scottish knight hesitated and coloured, yet answered at last, "Willingly, my Lord of Gilsland. But you
must remember, when you see my poor quarter, that the nobles and knights of Scotland feed not so high,
sleep not so soft, and care not for the magnificence of lodgment which is Proper to their southern neighbours.
I am POORLY lodged, my Lord of Gilsland," he added, with a haughty emphasis on the word, while, with
some unwillingness, he led the way to his temporary place of abode.
Whatever were the prejudices of De Vaux against the nation of his new acquaintance, and though we
undertake not to deny that some of these were excited by its proverbial poverty, he had too much nobleness
of disposition to enjoy the mortification of a brave individual thus compelled to make known wants which his
pride would gladly have concealed.
"Shame to the soldier of the Cross," he said, "who thinks of worldly splendour, or of luxurious
accommodation, when pressing forward to the conquest of the Holy City. Fare as hard as we may, we shall
yet be better than the host of martyrs and of saints, who, having trod these scenes before us, now hold golden
lamps and evergreen palms."
This was the most metaphorical speech which Thomas of Gilsland was ever known to utter, the rather,
perhaps (as will sometimes happen), that it did not entirely express his own sentiments, being somewhat a
lover of good cheer and splendid accommodation. By this time they reached the place of the camp where the
Knight of the Leopard had assumed his abode.
Appearances here did indeed promise no breach of the laws of mortification, to which the Crusaders,
according to the opinion expressed by him of Gilsland, ought to subject themselves. A space of ground, large
enough to accommodate perhaps thirty tents, according to the Crusaders' rules of castrametation, was partly
vacantbecause, in ostentation, the knight had demanded ground to the extent of his original
retinuepartly occupied by a few miserable huts, hastily constructed of boughs, and covered with
palmleaves. These habitations seemed entirely deserted, and several of them were ruinous. The central hut,
which represented the pavilion of the leader, was distinguished by his swallowtailed pennon, placed on the
point of a spear, from which its long folds dropped motionless to the ground, as if sickening under the
scorching rays of the Asiatic sun. But no pages or squiresnot even a solitary warderwas placed by the
emblem of feudal power and knightly degree. If its reputation defended it not from insult, it had no other
guard.
Sir Kenneth cast a melancholy look around him, but suppessing his feelings, entered the hut, making a sign to
the Baron of Gilsland to follow. He also cast around a glance of examination, which implied pity not
altogether unmingled with contempt, to which, perhaps, it is as nearly akin as it is said to be to love. He then
stooped his lofty crest, and entered a lowly hut, which his bulky form seemed almost entirely to fill.
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The interior of the hut was chiefly occupied by two beds. One was empty, but composed of collected leaves,
and spread with an antelope's hide. It seemed, from the articles of armour laid beside it, and from a crucifix of
silver, carefully and reverentially disposed at the head, to be the couch of the knight himself. The other
contained the invalid, of whom Sir Kenneth had spoken, a strongbuilt and harshfeatured man, past, as his
looks betokened, the middle age of life. His couch was trimmed more softly than his master's, and it was
plain that the more courtly garments of the latter, the loose robe in which the knights showed themselves on
pacific occasions, and the other little spare articles of dress and adornment, had been applied by Sir Kenneth
to the accommodation of his sick domestic. In an outward part of the hut, which yet was within the range of
the English baron's eye, a boy, rudely attired with buskins of deer's hide, a blue cap or bonnet, and a doublet,
whose original finery was much tarnished, sat on his knees by a chafingdish filled with charcoal, cooking
upon a plate of iron the cakes of barley bread, which were then, and still are, a favourite food with the
Scottish people. Part of an antelope was suspended against one of the main props of the hut. Nor was it
difficult to know how it had been procured; for a large stag greyhound, nobler in size and appearance than
those even which guarded King Richard's sick bed, lay eyeing the process of baking the cake. The sagacious
animal, on their first entrance, uttered a stifled growl, which sounded from his deep chest like distant thunder.
But he saw his master, and acknowledged his presence by wagging his tail and couching his head, abstaining
from more tumultuous or noisy greeting, as if his noble instinct had taught him the propriety of silence in a
sick man's chamber.
Beside the couch sat on a cushion, also composed of skins, the Moorish physician of whom Sir Kenneth had
spoken, crosslegged, after the Eastern fashion. The imperfect light showed little of him, save that the lower
part of his face was covered with a long, black beard, which descended over his breast; that he wore a high
TOLPACH, a Tartar cap of the lamb's wool manufactured at Astracan, bearing the same dusky colour; and
that his ample caftan, or Turkish robe, was also of a dark hue. Two piercing eyes, which gleamed with
unusual lustre, were the only lineaments of his visage that could be discerned amid the darkness in which he
was enveloped.
The English lord stood silent with a sort of reverential awe; for notwithstanding the roughness of his general
bearing, a scene of distress and poverty, firmly endured without complaint or murmur, would at any time
have claimed more reverence from Thomas de Vaux than would all the splendid formalities of a royal
presence chamber, unless that presencechamber were King Richard's own. Nothing was for a time heard
but the heavy and regular breathings of the invalid, who seemed in profound repose.
"He hath not slept for six nights before," said Sir Kenneth, "as I am assured by the youth, his attendant."
"Noble Scot," said Thomas de Vaux, grasping the Scottish knight's hand, with a pressure which had more of
cordiality than he permitted his words to utter, "this gear must be amended. Your esquire is but too evil fed
and looked to."
In the latter part of this speech he naturally raised his voice to its usual decided tone, The sick man was
disturbed in his slumbers.
"My master," he said, murmuring as in a dream, "noble Sir Kenneth, taste not, to you as to me, the waters of
the Clyde cold and refreshing after the brackish springs of Palestine?"
"He dreams of his native land, and is happy in his slumbers," whispered Sir Kenneth to De Vaux; but had
scarce uttered the words, when the physician, arising from the place which he had taken near the couch of the
sick, and laying the hand of the patient, whose pulse he had been carefully watching, quietly upon the couch,
came to the two knights, and taking them each by the arm, while he intimated to them to remain silent, led
them to the front of the hut.
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"In the name of Issa Ben Mariam," he said, "whom we honour as you, though not with the same blinded
superstition, disturb not the effect of the blessed medicine of which he hath partaken. To awaken him now is
death or deprivation of reason; but return at the hour when the muezzin calls from the minaret to evening
prayer in the mosque, and if left undisturbed until then, I promise you this same Frankish soldier shall be
able, without prejudice to his health, to hold some brief converse with you on any matters on which either,
and especially his master, may have to question him."
The knights retreated before the authoritative commands of the leech, who seemed fully to comprehend the
importance of the Eastern proverb that the sick chamber of the patient is the kingdom of the physician.
They paused, and remained standing together at the door of the hutSir Kenneth with the air of one who
expected his visitor to say farewell, and De Vaux as if he had something on his mind which prevented him
from doing so. The hound, however, had pressed out of the tent after them, and now thrust his long, rough
countenance into the hand of his master, as if modestly soliciting some mark of his kindness. He had no
sooner received the notice which he desired, in the shape of a kind word and slight caress, than, eager to
acknowledge his gratitude and joy for his master's return, he flew off at full speed, galloping in full career,
and with outstretched tail, here and there, about and around, crossways and endlong, through the decayed
huts and the esplanade we have described, but never transgressing those precincts which his sagacity knew
were protected by his master's pennon. After a few gambols of this kind, the dog, coming close up to his
master, laid at once aside his frolicsome mood, relapsed into his usual gravity and slowness of gesture and
deportment, and looked as if he were ashamed that anything should have moved him to depart so far out of
his sober selfcontrol.
Both knights looked on with pleasure; for Sir Kenneth was justly proud of his noble hound, and the northern
English baron was, of course, an admirer of the chase, and a judge of the animal's merits.
"A right able dog," he said. "I think, fair sir, King Richard hath not an ALAN which may match him, if he be
as stanch as he is swift. But let me pray youspeaking in all honour and kindness have you not heard the
proclamation that no one under the rank of earl shall keep hunting dogs within King Richard's camp without
the royal license, which, I think, Sir Kenneth, hath not been issued to you? I speak as Master of the Horse."
"And I answer as a free Scottish knight," said Kenneth sternly. "For the present I follow the banner of
England, but I cannot remember that I have ever subjected myself to the forestlaws of that kingdom, nor
have I such respect for them as would incline me to do so. When the trumpet sounds to arms, my foot is in
the stirrup as soon as anywhen it clangs for the charge, my lance has not yet been the last laid in the rest.
But for my hours of liberty or of idleness King Richard has no title to bar my recreation."
"Nevertheless," said De Vaux, "it is a folly to disobey the King's ordinance; so, with your good leave, I, as
having authority in that matter, will send you a protection for my friend here."
"I thank you," said the Scot coldly; "but he knows my allotted quarters, and within these I can protect him
myself.And yet," he said, suddenly changing his manner, "this is but a cold return for a wellmeant
kindness. I thank you, my lord, most heartily. The King's equerries or prickers might find Roswal at
disadvantage, and do him some injury, which I should not, perhaps, be slow in returning, and so ill might
come of it. You have seen so much of my housekeeping, my lord," he added, with a smile, "that I need not
shame to say that Roswal is our principal purveyor, and well I hope our Lion Richard will not be like the lion
in the minstrel fable, that went ahunting, and kept the whole booty to himself. I cannot think he would
grudge a poor gentleman, who follows him faithfully, his hour of sport and his morsel of game, more
especially when other food is hard enough to come by."
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"By my faith, you do the King no more than justice; and yet," said the baron, "there is something in these
words, vert and venison, that turns the very brains of our Norman princes."
"We have heard of late," said the Scot, "by minstrels and pilgrims, that your outlawed yeomen have formed
great bands in the shires of York and Nottingham, having at their head a most stout archer, called Robin
Hood, with his lieutenant, Little John. Methinks it were better that Richard relaxed his forest code in
England, than endeavour to enforce it in the Holy Land."
"Wild work, Sir Kenneth," replied De Vaux, shrugging his shoulders, as one who would avoid a perilous or
unpleasing topic "a mad world, sir. I must now bid you adieu, having presently to return to the King's
pavilion. At vespers I will again, with your leave, visit your quarters, and speak with this same infidel
physician. I would, in the meantime, were it no offence, willingly send you what would somewhat mend your
cheer."
"I thank you, sir," said Sir Kenneth, "but it needs not. Roswal hath already stocked my larder for two weeks,
since the sun of Palestine, if it brings diseases, serves also to dry venison."
The two warriors parted much better friends than they had met; but ere they separated, Thomas de Vaux
informed himself at more length of the circumstances attending the mission of the Eastern physician, and
received from the Scottish knight the credentials which he had brought to King Richard on the part of
Saladin.
CHAPTER VIII.
A wise physician, skilled our wounds to heal,
Is more than armies to the common weal. POPE'S ILLIAD.
"This is a strange tale, Sir Thomas," said the sick monarch, when he had heard the report of the trusty Baron
of Gilsland. "Art thou sure this Scottish man is a tall man and true?"
"I cannot say, my lord," replied the jealous Borderer. "I live a little too near the Scots to gather much truth
among them, having found them ever fair and false. But this man's bearing is that of a true man, were he a
devil as well as a Scot; that I must needs say for him in conscience."
"And for his carriage as a knight, how sayest thou, De Vaux?" demanded the King.
"It is your Majesty's business more than mine to note men's bearings; and I warrant you have noted the
manner in which this man of the Leopard hath borne himself. He hath been full well spoken of."
"And justly, Thomas," said the King. "We have ourselves witnessed him. It is indeed our purpose in placing
ourselves ever in the front of battle, to see how our liegemen and followers acquit themselves, and not from a
desire to accumulate vainglory to ourselves, as some have supposed. We know the vanity of the praise of
man, which is but a vapour, and buckle on our armour for other purposes than to win it."
De Vaux was alarmed when he heard the King make a declaration so inconsistent with his nature, and
believed at first that nothing short of the approach of death could have brought him to speak in depreciating
terms of military renown, which was the very breath of his nostrils. But recollecting he had met the royal
confessor in the outer pavilion, he was shrewd enough to place this temporary selfabasement to the effect of
the reverend man's lesson, and suffered the King to proceed without reply.
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"Yes," continued Richard, "I have indeed marked the manner in which this knight does his devoir. My
leadingstaff were not worth a fool's bauble had he escaped my notice; and he had ere now tasted of our
bounty, but that I have also marked his overweening and audacious presumption."
"My liege," said the Baron of Gilsland, observing the King's countenance change, "I fear I have transgressed
your pleasure in lending some countenance to his transgression." "How, De Multon, thou?" said the King,
contracting his brows, and speaking in a tone of angry surprise. "Thou countenance his insolence? It cannot
be."
"Nay, your Majesty will pardon me to remind you that I have by mine office right to grant liberty to men of
gentle blood to keep them a hound or two within camp, just to cherish the noble art of venerie ; and besides, it
were a sin to have maimed or harmed a thing so noble as this gentleman's dog.
"Has he, then, a dog so handsome?" said the King.
"A most perfect creature of Heaven," said the baron, who was an enthusiast in fieldsports"of the noblest
Northern breeddeep in the chest, strong in the sternblack colour, and brindled on the breast and legs, not
spotted with white, but just shaded into greystrength to pull down a bull, swiftness to cote an antelope."
The King laughed at his enthusiasm. "Well, thou hast given him leave to keep the hound, so there is an end of
it. Be not, however, liberal of your licenses among those knights adventurers who have no prince or leader to
depend upon; they are ungovernable, and leave no game in Palestine.But to this piece of learned
heathenessesayest thou the Scot met him in the desert?"
"No, my liege; the Scot's tale runs thus. He was dispatched to the old hermit of Engaddi, of whom men talk
so much"
"'Sdeath and hell!" said Richard, starting up. "By whom dispatched, and for what? Who dared send any one
thither, when our Queen was in the Convent of Engaddi, upon her pilgrimage for our recovery?"
"The Council of the Crusade sent him, my lord," answered the Baron de Vaux; "for what purpose, he declined
to account to me. I think it is scarce known in the camp that your royal consort is on a pilgrimage; and even
the princes may not have been aware, as the Queen has been sequestered from company since your love
prohibited her attendance in case of infection."
"Well, it shall be looked into," said Richard. "So this Scottish man, this envoy, met with a wandering
physician at the grotto of Engaddiha?"
"Not so my liege," replied De Vaux? "but he met, I think, near that place, with a Saracen Emir with whom he
had some MELEE in the way of proof of valour, and finding him worthy to bear brave men company, they
went together, as errant knights are wont, to the grotto of Engaddi."
Here De Vaux stopped, for he was not one of those who can tell a long story in a sentence.
"And did they there meet the physician?" demanded the King impatiently.
"No, my liege," replied De Vaux; "but the Saracen, learning your Majesty's grievous illness, undertook that
Saladin should send his own physician to you, and with many assurances of his eminent skill; and he came to
the grotto accordingly, after the Scottish knight had tarried a day for him and more. He is attended as if he
were a prince, with drums and atabals, and servants on horse and foot, and brings with him letters of credence
from Saladin."
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"Have they been examined by Giacomo Loredani?"
"I showed them to the interpreter ere bringing them hither, and behold their contents in English."
Richard took a scroll, in which were inscribed these words: The blessing of Allah and his Prophet
Mohammed ["Out upon the hound!" said Richard, spitting in contempt, by way of interjection], Saladin, king
of kings, Saldan of Egypt and of Syria, the light and refuge of the earth, to the great Melech Ric, Richard of
England, greeting. Whereas, we have been informed that the hand of sickness hath been heavy upon thee, our
royal brother, and that thou hast with thee only such Nazarene and Jewish mediciners as work without the
blessing of Allah and our holy Prophet ["Confusion on his head!" again muttered the English monarch], we
have therefore sent to tend and wait upon thee at this time the physician to our own person, Adonbec el
Hakim, before whose face the angel Azrael [The Angel of Death.] spreads his wings and departs from the
sick chamber; who knows the virtues of herbs and stones, the path of the sun, moon, and stars, and can save
man from all that is not written on his forehead. And this we do, praying you heartily to honour and make use
of his skill; not only that we may do service to thy worth and valour, which is the glory of all the nations of
Frangistan, but that we may bring the controversy which is at present between us to an end, either by
honourable agreement, or by open trial thereof with our weapons, in a fair fieldseeing that it neither
becomes thy place and courage to die the death of a slave who hath been overwrought by his taskmaster, nor
befits it our fame that a brave adversary be snatched from our weapon by such a disease. And, therefore, may
the holy"
"Hold, hold," said Richard, " I will have no more of his dog of a prophet! It makes me sick to think the
valiant and worthy Soldan should believe in a dead dog. Yes, I will see his physician. I will put myself into
the charge of this HakimI will repay the noble Soldan his generosityI will meet Saladin in the field, as
he so worthily proposes, and he shall have no cause to term Richard of England ungrateful. I will strike him
to the earth with my battleaxeI will convert him to Holy Church with such blows as he has rarely
endured. He shall recant his errors before my good crosshandled sword, and I will have him baptized on the
battlefield, from my own helmet, though the cleansing waters were mixed with the blood of us
both.Haste, De Vaux, why dost thou delay a conclusion so pleasing? Fetch the Hakim hither."
"My lord," said the baron, who perhaps saw some accession of fever in this overflow of confidence, "bethink
you, the Soldan is a pagan, and that you are his most formidable enemy"
"For which reason he is the more bound to do me service in this matter, lest a paltry fever end the quarrel
betwixt two such kings. I tell thee he loves me as I love himas noble adversaries ever love each other. By
my honour, it were sin to doubt his good faith!"
"Nevertheless, my lord, it were well to wait the issue of these medicines upon the Scottish squire," said the
Lord of Gilsland. "My own life depends upon it, for worthy were I to die like a dog did I proceed rashly in
this matter, and make shipwreck of the weal of Christendom."
"I never knew thee before hesitate for fear of life," said Richard upbraidingly.
"Nor would I now, my liege," replied the stouthearted baron, "save that yours lies at pledge as well as my
own."
"Well, thou suspicious mortal," answered Richard, "begone then, and watch the progress of this remedy. I
could almost wish it might either cure or kill me, for I am weary of lying here like an ox dying of the murrain,
when tambours are beating, horses stamping, and trumpets sounding without."
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The baron hastily departed, resolved, however, to communicate his errand to some churchman, as he felt
something burdened in conscience at the idea of his master being attended by an unbeliever.
The Archbishop of Tyre was the first to whom he confided his doubts, knowing his interest with his master,
Richard, who both loved and honoured that sagacious prelate. The bishop heard the doubts which De Vaux
stated, with that acuteness of intelligence which distinguishes the Roman Catholic clergy. The religious
scruples of De Vaux he treated with as much lightness as propriety permitted him to exhibit on such a subject
to a layman.
"Mediciners," he said, "like the medicines which they employed, were often useful, though the one were by
birth or manners the vilest of humanity, as the others are, in many cases, extracted from the basest materials.
Men may use the assistance of pagans and infidels," he continued, "in their need, and there is reason to think
that one cause of their being permitted to remain on earth is that they might minister to the convenience of
true Christians. Thus we lawfully make slaves of heathen captives. Again," proceeded the prelate, "there is no
doubt that the primitive Christians used the services of the unconverted heathen. Thus in the ship of
Alexandria, in which the blessed Apostle Paul sailed to Italy, the sailors were doubtless pagans; yet what said
the holy saint when their ministry was needful? 'NISI HI IN NAVI MANSERINT, VOS SALVI FIERI
NON POTESTIS' Unless these men abide in the ship, ye cannot be saved. Again, Jews are infidels to
Christianity, as well as Mohammedans. But there are few physicians in the camp excepting Jews, and such
are employed without scandal or scruple. Therefore, Mohammedans may be used for their service in that
capacityQUOD ERAT DEMONSTRANDUM."
This reasoning entirely removed the scruples of Thomas de Vaux, who was particularly moved by the Latin
quotation, as he did not understand a word of it.
But the bishop proceeded with far less fluency when he considered the possibility of the Saracen's acting with
bad faith; and here he came not to a speedy decision. The baron showed him the letters of credence. He read
and reread them, and compared the original with the translation.
"It is a dish choicely cooked," he said, "to the palate of King Richard, and I cannot but have my suspicions of
the wily Saracen. They are curious in the art of poisons, and can so temper them that they shall be weeks in
acting upon the party, during which time the perpetrator has leisure to escape. They can impregnate cloth and
leather, nay, even paper and parchment, with the most subtle venom. Our Lady forgive me! And wherefore,
knowing this, hold I these letters of credence so close to my face? Take them, Sir Thomastake them
speedily!"
Here he gave them at arm'slength, and with some appearance of haste, to the baron. "But come, my Lord de
Vaux," he continued, "wend we to the tent of this sick squire, where we shall learn whether this Hakim hath
really the art of curing which he professeth, ere we consider whether there be safety in permitting him to
exercise his art upon King Richard.Yet, hold! let me first take my pouncetbox, for these fevers spread
like an infection. I would advise you to use dried rosemary steeped in vinegar, my lord. I, too, know
something of the healing art."
"I thank your reverend lordship," replied Thomas of Gilsland; "but had I been accessible to the fever, I had
caught it long since by the bed of my master."
The Bishop of Tyre blushed, for he had rather avoided the presence of the sick monarch; and he bid the baron
lead on.
As they paused before the wretched hut in which Kenneth of the Leopard and his follower abode, the bishop
said to De Vaux, "Now, of a surety, my lord, these Scottish Knights have worse care of their followers than
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we of our dogs. Here is a knight, valiant, they say, in battle, and thought fitting to be graced with charges of
weight in time of truce, whose esquire of the body is lodged worse than in the worst dogkennel in England.
What say you of your neighbours?"
"That a master doth well enough for his servant when he lodgeth him in no worse dwelling than his own,"
said De Vaux, and entered the hut.
The bishop followed, not without evident reluctance; for though he lacked not courage in some respects, yet it
was tempered with a strong and lively regard for his own safety. He recollected, however, the necessity there
was for judging personally of the skill of the Arabian physician, and entered the hut with a stateliness of
manner calculated, as he thought, to impose respect on the stranger.
The prelate was, indeed, a striking and commanding figure. In his youth he had been eminently handsome,
and even in age was unwilling to appear less so. His episcopal dress was of the richest fashion, trimmed with
costly fur, and surrounded by a cope of curious needlework. The rings on his fingers were worth a goodly
barony, and the hood which he wore, though now unclasped and thrown back for heat, had studs of pure gold
to fasten it around his throat and under his chin when he so inclined. His long beard, now silvered with age,
descended over his breast. One of two youthful acolytes who attended him created an artificial shade,
peculiar then to the East, by bearing over his head an umbrella of palmetto leaves, while the other refreshed
his reverend master by agitating a fan of peacockfeathers.
When the Bishop of Tyre entered the hut of the Scottish knight, the master was absent, and the Moorish
physician, whom he had come to see, sat in the very posture in which De Vaux had left him several hours
before, crosslegged upon a mat made of twisted leaves, by the side of the patient, who appeared in deep
slumber, and whose pulse he felt from time to time. The bishop remained standing before him in silence for
two or three minutes, as if expecting some honourable salutation, or at least that the Saracen would seem
struck with the dignity of his appearance. But Adonbec el Hakim took no notice of him beyond a passing
glance, and when the prelate at length saluted him in the lingua franca current in the country, he only replied
by the ordinary Oriental greeting, "SALAM ALICUMPeace be with you."
"Art thou a physician, infidel?" said the bishop, somewhat mortified at this cold reception. "I would speak
with thee on that art."
"If thou knewest aught of medicine," answered El Hakim, "thou wouldst be aware that physicians hold no
counsel or debate in the sick chamber of their patient. Hear," he added, as the low growling of the staghound
was heard from the inner hut, "even the dog might teach thee reason, Ulemat. His instinct teaches him to
suppress his barking in the sick man's hearing. Come without the tent," said he, rising and leading the way, "if
thou hast ought to say with me."
Notwithstanding the plainness of the Saracen leech's dress, and his inferiority of size when contrasted with
the tall prelate and gigantic English baron, there was something striking in his manner and countenance,
which prevented the Bishop of Tyre from expressing strongly the displeasure he felt at this unceremonious
rebuke. When without the hut, he gazed upon Adonbec in silence for several minutes before he could fix on
the best manner to renew the conversation. No locks were seen under the high bonnet of the Arabian, which
hid also part of a brow that seemed lofty and expanded, smooth, and free from wrinkles, as were his cheeks,
where they were seen under the shade of his long beard. We have elsewhere noticed the piercing quality of
his dark eyes.
The prelate, struck with his apparent youth, at length broke a pause, which the other seemed in no haste to
interrupt, by demanding of the Arabian how old he was?
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"The years of ordinary men," said the Saracen, "are counted by their wrinkles; those of sages by their studies.
I dare not call myself older than a hundred revolutions of the Hegira." [Meaning that his attainments were
those which might have been made in a hundred years.]
The Baron of Gilsland, who took this for a literal assertion that he was a century old, looked doubtfully upon
the prelate, who, though he better understood the meaning of El Hakim, answered his glance by mysteriously
shaking his head. He resumed an air of importance when he again authoritatively demanded what evidence
Adonbec could produce of his medical proficiency.
"Ye have the word of the mighty Saladin," said the sage, touching his cap in sign of reverence"a word
which was never broken towards friend or foe. What, Nazarene, wouldst thou demand more?"
"I would have ocular proof of thy skill," said the baron, "and without it thou approachest not to the couch of
King Richard."
"The praise of the physician," said the Arabian, "is in the recovery of his patient. Behold this sergeant, whose
blood has been dried up by the fever which has whitened your camp with skeletons, and against which the art
of Your Nazarene leeches hath been like a silken doublet against a lance of steel. Look at his fingers and
arms, wasted like the claws and shanks of the crane. Death had this morning his clutch on him; but had
Azrael been on one side of the couch, I being on the other, his soul should not have been left from his body.
Disturb me not with further questions, but await the critical minute, and behold in silent wonder the
marvellous event."
The physician had then recourse to his astrolabe, the oracle of Eastern science, and watching with grave
precision until the precise time of the evening prayer had arrived, he sunk on his knees, with his face turned
to Mecca, and recited the petitions which close the Moslemah's day of toil. The bishop and the English baron
looked on each other, meanwhile, with symptoms of contempt and indignation, but neither judged it fit to
interrupt El Hakim in his devotions, unholy as they considered them to be.
The Arab arose from the earth, on which he had prostrated himself, and walking into the hut where the patient
lay extended, he drew a sponge from a small silver box, dipped perhaps in some aromatic distillation, for
when he put it to the sleeper's nose, he sneezed, awoke, and looked wildly around. He was a ghastly spectacle
as he sat up almost naked on his couch, the bones and cartilages as visible through the surface of his skin as if
they had never been clothed with flesh. His face was long, and furrowed with wrinkles; but his eye, though it
wandered at first, became gradually more settled. He seemed to be aware of the presence of his dignified
visitors, for he attempted feebly to pull the covering from his head in token of reverence, as he inquired, in a
subdued and submissive voice, for his master.
"Do you know us, vassal?" said the Lord of Gilsland.
"Not perfectly, my lord," replied the squire faintly. "My sleep has been long and full of dreams. Yet I know
that you are a great English lord, as seemeth by the red cross, and this a holy prelate, whose blessing I crave
on me a poor sinner."
"Thou hast itBENEDICTIO DOMINI SIT VOBISCUM," said the prelate, making the sign of the cross,
but without approaching nearer to the patient's bed.
"Your eyes witness," said the Arabian, "the fever hath been subdued. He speaks with calmness and
recollectionhis pulse beats composedly as yourstry its pulsations yourself"
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The prelate declined the experiment; but Thomas of Gilsland, more determined on making the trial, did so,
and satisfied himself that the fever was indeed gone.
"This is most wonderful," said the knight, looking to the bishop; "the man is assuredly cured. I must conduct
this mediciner presently to King Richard's tent. What thinks your reverence?"
"Stay, let me finish one cure ere I commence another," said the Arab; "I will pass with you when I have given
my patient the second cup of this most holy elixir."
So saying he pulled out a silver cup, and filling it with water from a gourd which stood by the bedside, he
next drew forth a small silken bag made of network, twisted with silver, the contents of which the bystanders
could not discover, and immersing it in the cup, continued to watch it in silence during the space of five
minutes. It seemed to the spectators as if some effervescence took place during the operation; but if so, it
instantly subsided.
"Drink," said the physician to the sick man"sleep, and awaken free from malady."
"And with this simpleseeming draught thou wilt undertake to cure a monarch?" said the Bishop of Tyre.
"I have cured a beggar, as you may behold," replied the sage. "Are the Kings of Frangistan made of other clay
than the meanest of their subjects?"
"Let us have him presently to the King," said the Baron of Gilsland. "He hath shown that he possesses the
secret which may restore his health. If he fails to exercise it, I will put himself past the power of medicine."
As they were about to leave the hut, the sick man, raising his voice as much as his weakness permitted,
exclaimed, "Reverend father, noble knight, and you, kind leech, if you would have me sleep and recover, tell
me in charity what is become of my dear master?"
"He is upon a distant expedition, friend," replied the prelate "on an honourable embassy, which may detain
him for some days."
"Nay," said the Baron of Gilsland, "why deceive the poor fellow? Friend, thy master has returned to the
camp, and you will presently see him."
The invalid held up, as if in thankfulness, his wasted hands to Heaven, and resisting no longer the
soporiferous operation of the elixir, sunk down in a gentle sleep.
"You are a better physician than I, Sir Thomas," said the prelate"a soothing falsehood is fitter for a
sickroom than an unpleasing truth."
"How mean you, my reverend lord?" said De Vaux hastily. "Think you I would tell a falsehood to save the
lives of a dozen such as he?"
"You said," replied the bishop, with manifest symptoms of alarm "you said the esquire's master was
returnedhe, I mean, of the Couchant Leopard."
"And he IS returned," said De Vaux. "I spoke with him but a few hours since. This learned leech came in his
company."
"Holy Virgin! why told you not of his return to me?" said the bishop, in evident perturbation.
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"Did I not say that this same Knight of the Leopard had returned in company with the physician? I thought I
had," replied De Vaux carelessly. "But what signified his return to the skill of the physician, or the cure of his
Majesty?"
"Much, Sir Thomasit signified much," said the bishop, clenching his hands, pressing his foot against the
earth, and giving signs of impatience, as if in an involuntary manner. "But where can he be gone now, this
same knight? God be with ushere may be some fatal errors!"
"Yonder serf in the outer space," said De Vaux, not without wonder at the bishop's emotion, "can probably
tell us whither his master has gone."
The lad was summoned, and in a language nearly incomprehensible to them, gave them at length to
understand that an officer had summoned his master to the royal tent some time before their arrival at that of
his master. The anxiety of the bishop appeared to rise to the highest, and became evident to De Vaux, though,
neither an acute observer nor of a suspicious temper. But with his anxiety seemed to increase his wish to keep
it subdued and unobserved. He took a hasty leave of De Vaux, who looked after him with astonishment, and
after shrugging his shoulders in silent wonder, proceeded to conduct the Arabian physician to the tent of King
Richard.
CHAPTER IX.
This is the prince of leeches; fever, plague,
Cold rheum, and hot podagra, do but look on him,
And quit their grasp upon the tortured sinews. ANONYMOUS.
The Baron of Gilsland walked with slow step and an anxious countenance towards the royal pavilion. He had
much diffidence of his own capacity, except in a field of battle, and conscious of no very acute intellect, was
usually contented to wonder at circumstances which a man of livelier imagination would have endeavoured to
investigate and understand, or at least would have made the subject of speculation. But it seemed very
extraordinary, even to him, that the attention of the bishop should have been at once abstracted from all
reflection on the marvellous cure which they had witnessed, and upon the probability it afforded of Richard
being restored to health, by what seemed a very trivial piece of information announcing the motions of a
beggardly Scottish knight, than whom Thomas of Gilsland knew nothing within the circle of gentle blood
more unimportant or contemptible; and despite his usual habit of passively beholding passing events, the
baron's spirit toiled with unwonted attempts to form conjectures on the cause.
At length the idea occurred at once to him that the whole might be a conspiracy against King Richard, formed
within the camp of the allies, and to which the bishop, who was by some represented as a politic and
unscrupulous person, was not unlikely to have been accessory. It was true that, in his own opinion, there
existed no character so perfect as that of his master; for Richard being the flower of chivalry, and the chief of
Christian leaders, and obeying in all points the commands of Holy Church, De Vaux's ideas of perfection
went no further. Still, he knew that, however unworthily, it had been always his master's fate to draw as much
reproach and dislike as honour and attachment from the display of his great qualities; and that in the very
camp, and amongst those princes bound by oath to the Crusade, were many who would have sacrificed all
hope of victory over the Saracens to the pleasure of ruining, or at least of humbling, Richard of England.
"Wherefore," said the baron to himself, "it is in no sense impossible that this El Hakim, with this his cure, or
seeming cure, wrought on the body of the Scottish squire, may mean nothing but a trick, to which he of the
Leopard may be accessory, and wherein the Bishop of Tyre, prelate as he is, may have some share."
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This hypothesis, indeed, could not be so easily reconciled with the alarm manifested by the bishop on
learning that, contrary to his expectation, the Scottish knight had suddenly returned to the Crusaders' camp.
But De Vaux was influenced only by his general prejudices, which dictated to him the assured belief that a
wily Italian priest, a falsehearted Scot, and an infidel physician, formed a set of ingredients from which all
evil, and no good, was likely to be extracted. He resolved, however, to lay his scruples bluntly before the
King, of whose judgment he had nearly as high an opinion as of his valour.
Meantime, events had taken place very contrary to the suppositions which Thomas de Vaux had entertained.
Scarce had he left the royal pavilion, when, betwixt the impatience of the fever, and that which was natural to
his disposition, Richard began to murmur at his delay, and express an earnest desire for his return. He had
seen enough to try to reason himself out of this irritation, which greatly increased his bodily malady. He
wearied his attendants by demanding from them amusements, and the breviary of the priest, the romance of
the clerk, even the harp of his favourite minstrel, were had recourse to in vain. At length, some two hours
before sundown, and long, therefore, ere he could expect a satisfactory account of the process of the cure
which the Moor or Arabian had undertaken, he sent, as we have already heard, a messenger commanding the
attendance of the Knight of the Leopard, determined to soothe his impatience by obtaining from Sir Kenneth
a more particular account of the cause of his absence from the camp, and the circumstances of his meeting
with this celebrated physician.
The Scottish knight, thus summoned, entered the royal presence as one who was no stranger to such scenes.
He was scarcely known to the King of England, even by sight, although, tenacious of his rank, as devout in
the adoration of the lady of his secret heart, he had never been absent on those occasions when the
munificence and hospitality of England opened the Court of its monarch to all who held a certain rank in
chivalry. The King gazed fixedly on Sir Kenneth approaching his bedside, while the knight bent his knee for
a moment, then arose, and stood before him in a posture of deference, but not of subservience or humility, as
became an officer in the presence of his sovereign.
"Thy name," said the King, "is Kenneth of the Leopardfrom whom hadst thou degree of knighthood?"
"I took it from the sword of William the Lion, King of Scotland," replied the Scot.
"A weapon," said the King, "well worthy to confer honour; nor has it been laid on an undeserving shoulder.
We have seen thee bear thyself knightly and valiantly in press of battle, when most need there was; and thou
hadst not been yet to learn that thy deserts were known to us, but that thy presumption in other points has
been such that thy services can challenge no better reward than that of pardon for thy transgression. What
sayest thouha?"
Kenneth attempted to speak, but was unable to express himself distinctly; the consciousness of his too
ambitious love, and the keen, falcon glance with which Coeur de Lion seemed to penetrate his inmost soul,
combining to disconcert him.
"And yet," said the King, "although soldiers should obey command, and vassals be respectful towards their
superiors, we might forgive a brave knight greater offence than the keeping a simple hound, though it were
contrary to our express public ordinance."
Richard kept his eye fixed on the Scot's face, beheld and beholding, smiling inwardly at the relief produced
by the turn he had given to his general accusation.
"So please you, my lord," said the Scot, "your majesty must be good to us poor gentlemen of Scotland in this
matter. We are far from home, scant of revenues, and cannot support ourselves as your wealthy nobles, who
have credit of the Lombards. The Saracens shall feel our blows the harder that we eat a piece of dried venison
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from time to time with our herbs and barleycakes."
"It skills not asking my leave," said Richard, "since Thomas de Vaux, who doth, like all around me, that
which is fittest in his own eyes, hath already given thee permission for hunting and hawking."
"For hunting only, and please you," said the Scot. "But if it please your Majesty to indulge me with the
privilege of hawking also, and you list to trust me with a falcon on fist, I trust I could supply your royal mess
with some choice waterfowl."
"I dread me, if thou hadst but the falcon," said the King, "thou wouldst scarce wait for the permission. I wot
well it is said abroad that we of the line of Anjou resent offence against our forestlaws as highly as we
would do treason against our crown. To brave and worthy men, however, we could pardon either
misdemeanour.But enough of this. I desire to know of you, Sir Knight, wherefore, and by whose authority,
you took this recent journey to the wilderness of the Dead Sea and Engaddi?"
"By order," replied the knight, "of the Council of Princes of the Holy Crusade."
"And how dared any one to give such an order, when Inot the least, surely, in the leaguewas
unacquainted with it?"
"It was not my part, please your highness," said the Scot, "to inquire into such particulars. I am a soldier of
the Cross serving, doubtless, for the present, under your highness's banner, and proud of the permission to
do so, but still one who hath taken on him the holy symbol for the rights of Christianity and the recovery of
the Holy Sepulchre, and bound, therefore, to obey without question the orders of the princes and chiefs by
whom the blessed enterprise is directed. That indisposition should seclude, I trust for but a short time, your
highness from their councils, in which you hold so potential a voice, I must lament with all Christendom; but,
as a soldier, I must obey those on whom the lawful right of command devolves, or set but an evil example in
the Christian camp."
"Thou sayest well," said King Richard; "and the blame rests not with thee, but with those with whom, when it
shall please Heaven to raise me from this accursed bed of pain and inactivity, I hope to reckon roundly. What
was the purport of thy message"
"Methinks, and please your highness," replied Sir Kenneth, "that were best asked of those who sent me, and
who can render the reasons of mine errand; whereas I can only tell its outward form and purport."
"Palter not with me, Sir Scotit were ill for thy safety," said the irritable monarch.
"My safety, my lord," replied the knight firmly, "I cast behind me as a regardless thing when I vowed myself
to this enterprise, looking rather to my immortal welfare than to that which concerns my earthly body."
"By the mass," said King Richard, "thou art a brave fellow! Hark thee, Sir Knight, I love the Scottish people;
they are hardy, though dogged and stubborn, and, I think, true men in the main, though the necessity of state
has sometimes constrained them to be dissemblers. I deserve some love at their hand, for I have voluntarily
done what they could not by arms have extorted from me any more than from my predecessors, I have
reestablished the fortresses of Roxburgh and Berwick, which lay in pledge to England; I have restored your
ancient boundaries; and, finally, I have renounced a claim to homage upon the crown of England, which I
thought unjustly forced on you. I have endeavoured to make honourable and independent friends, where
former kings of England attempted only to compel unwilling and rebellious vassals."
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"All this you have done, my Lord King," said Sir Kenneth, bowing "all this you have done, by your royal
treaty with our sovereign at Canterbury. Therefore have you me, and many better Scottish men, making war
against the infidels, under your banners, who would else have been ravaging your frontiers in England. If
their numbers are now few, it is because their lives have been freely waged and wasted."
"I grant it true," said the King; "and for the good offices I have done your land I require you to remember
that, as a principal member of the Christian league, I have a right to know the negotiations of my
confederates. Do me, therefore, the justice to tell me what I have a title to be acquainted with, and which I am
certain to know more truly from you than from others."
"My lord," said the Scot, "thus conjured, I will speak the truth; for I well believe that your purposes towards
the principal object of our expedition are singlehearted and honest, and it is more than I dare warrant for
others of the Holy League. Be pleased, therefore, to know my charge was to propose, through the medium of
the hermit of Engaddia holy man, respected and protected by Saladin himself"
"A continuation of the truce, I doubt not," said Richard, hastily interrupting him.
"No, by Saint Andrew, my liege," said the Scottish knight; "but the establishment of a lasting peace, and the
withdrawing our armies from Palestine."
"Saint George!" said Richard, in astonishment. "Ill as I have justly thought of them, I could not have dreamed
they would have humbled themselves to such dishonour. Speak, Sir Kenneth, with what will did you carry
such a message?"
"With right good will, my lord," said Kenneth; "because, when we had lost our noble leader, under whose
guidance alone I hoped for victory, I saw none who could succeed him likely to lead us to conquest, and I
accounted it well in such circumstances to avoid defeat."
"And on what conditions was this hopeful peace to be contracted?" said King Richard, painfully suppressing
the passion with which his heart was almost bursting.
"These were not entrusted to me, my lord," answered the Knight of the Couchant Leopard. "I delivered them
sealed to the hermit."
"And for what hold you this reverend hermitfor fool, madman, traitor, or saint?" said Richard.
"His folly, sire," replied the shrewd Scottish man, "I hold to be assumed to win favour and reverence from the
Paynimrie, who regard madmen as the inspired of Heavenat least it seemed to me as exhibited only
occasionally, and not as mixing, like natural folly, with the general tenor of his mind."
"Shrewdly replied," said the monarch, throwing himself back on his couch, from which he had halfraised
himself. "Now of his penitence?"
"His penitence," continued Kenneth, "appears to me sincere, and the fruits of remorse for some dreadful
crime, for which he seems, in his own opinion, condemned to reprobation."
"And for his policy?" said King Richard.
"Methinks, my lord," said the Scottish knight, "he despairs of the security of Palestine, as of his own
salvation, by any means short of a miracleat least, since the arm of Richard of England hath ceased to
strike for it."
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"And, therefore, the coward policy of this hermit is like that of these miserable princes, who, forgetful of their
knighthood and their faith, are only resolved and determined when the question is retreat, and rather than go
forward against an armed Saracen, would trample in their flight over a dying ally!"
"Might I so far presume, my Lord King," said the Scottish knight, "this discourse but heats your disease, the
enemy from which Christendom dreads more evil than from armed hosts of infidels."
The countenance of King Richard was, indeed, more flushed, and his action became more feverishly
vehement, as, with clenched hand, extended arm, and flashing eyes, he seemed at once to suffer under bodily
pain, and at the same time under vexation of mind, while his high spirit led him to speak on, as if in contempt
of both.
"You can flatter, Sir Knight," he said, "but you escape me not. I must know more from you than you have yet
told me. Saw you my royal consort when at Engaddi?"
"To my knowledgeno, my lord," replied Sir Kenneth, with considerable perturbation, for he remembered
the midnight procession in the chapel of the rocks.
"I ask you," said the King, in a sterner voice," whether you were not in the chapel of the Carmelite nuns at
Engaddi, and there saw Berengaria, Queen of England, and the ladies of her Court, who went thither on
pilgrimage?"
"My lord," said Sir Kenneth, "I will speak the truth as in the confessional. In a subterranean chapel, to which
the anchorite conducted me, I beheld a choir of ladies do homage to a relic of the highest sanctity; but as I
saw not their faces, nor heard their voices, unless in the hymns which they chanted, I cannot tell whether the
Queen of England was of the bevy."
"And was there no one of these ladies known to you?"
Sir Kenneth stood silent.
"I ask you," said Richard, raising himself on his elbow, "as a knight and a gentlemanand I shall know by
your answer how you value either characterdid you, or did you not, know any lady amongst that band of
worshippers?"
"My lord," said Kenneth, not without much hesitation, "I might guess."
"And I also may guess," said the King, frowning sternly; "but it is enough. Leopard as you are, Sir Knight,
beware tempting the lion's paw. Hark yeto become enamoured of the moon would be but an act of folly;
but to leap from the battlements of a lofty tower, in the wild hope of coming within her sphere, were self
destructive madness."
At this moment some bustling was heard in the outer apartment, and the King, hastily changing to his more
natural manner, said, "Enoughbegonespeed to De Vaux, and send him hither with the Arabian
physician. My life for the faith of the Soldan! Would he but abjure his false law, I would aid him with my
sword to drive this scum of French and Austrians from his dominions, and think Palestine as well ruled by
him as when her kings were anointed by the decree of Heaven itself."
The Knight of the Leopard retired, and presently afterwards the chamberlain announced a deputation From
the Council, who had come to wait on the Majesty of England.
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"It is well they allow that I am living yet," was his reply. "Who are the reverend ambassadors?"
"The Grand Master of the Templars and the Marquis of Montserrat."
"Our brother of France loves not sickbeds," said Richard; "yet, had Philip been ill, I had stood by his couch
long since. Jocelyn, lay me the couch more fairlyit is tumbled like a stormy sea. Reach me yonder steel
mirrorpass a comb through my hair and beard. They look, indeed, liker a lion's mane than a Christian
man's locks. Bring water."
"My lord," said the trembling chamberlain, "the leeches say that cold water may be fatal."
"To the foul fiend with the leeches!" replied the monarch; "if they cannot cure me, think you I will allow
them to torment me? There, then," he said, after having made his ablutions, "admit the worshipful envoys;
they will now, I think, scarcely see that disease has made Richard negligent of his person."
The celebrated Master of the Templars was a tall, thin, warworn man, with a slow yet penetrating eye, and a
brow on which a thousand dark intrigues had stamped a portion of their obscurity. At the head of that singular
body, to whom their order was everything, and their individuality nothingseeking the advancement of its
power, even at the hazard of that very religion which the fraternity were originally associated to
protectaccused of heresy and witchcraft, although by their character Christian priestssuspected of secret
league with the Soldan, though by oath devoted to the protection of the Holy Temple, or its recoverythe
whole order, and the whole personal character of its commander, or Grand Master, was a riddle, at the
exposition of which most men shuddered. The Grand Master was dressed in his white robes of solemnity, and
he bore the ABACUS, a mystic staff of office, the peculiar form of which has given rise to such singular
conjectures and commentaries, leading to suspicions that this celebrated fraternity of Christian knights were
embodied under the foulest symbols of paganism.
Conrade of Montserrat had a much more pleasing exterior than the dark and mysterious priestsoldier by
whom he was accompanied. He was a handsome man, of middle age, or something past that term, bold in the
field, sagacious in council, gay and gallant in times of festivity; but, on the other hand, he was generally
accused of versatility, of a narrow and selfish ambition, of a desire to extend his own principality, without
regard to the weal of the Latin kingdom of Palestine, and of seeking his own interest, by private negotiations
with Saladin, to the prejudice of the Christian leaguers.
When the usual salutations had been made by these dignitaries, and courteously returned by King Richard,
the Marquis of Montserrat commenced an explanation of the motives of their visit, sent, as he said they were,
by the anxious kings and princes who composed the Council of the Crusaders, "to inquire into the health of
their magnanimous ally, the valiant King of England."
"We know the importance in which the princes of the Council hold our health," replied the English King;
"and are well aware how much they must have suffered by suppressing all curiosity concerning it for fourteen
days, for fear, doubtless, of aggravating our disorder, by showing their anxiety regarding the event."
The flow of the Marquis's eloquence being checked, and he himself thrown into some confusion by this reply,
his more austere companion took up the thread of the conversation, and with as much dry and brief gravity as
was consistent with the presence which he addressed, informed the King that they came from the Council, to
pray, in the name of Christendom, "that he would not suffer his health to be tampered with by an infidel
physician, said to be dispatched by Saladin, until the Council had taken measures to remove or confirm the
suspicion which they at present conceived did attach itself to the mission of such a person."
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"Grand Master of the Holy and Valiant Order of Knights Templars, and you, most noble Marquis of
Montserrat," replied Richard, "if it please you to retire into the adjoining pavilion, you shall presently see
what account we make of the tender remonstrances of our royal and princely colleagues in this religious
warfare."
The Marquis and Grand Master retired accordingly; nor had they been many minutes in the outward pavilion
when the Eastern physician arrived, accompanied by the Baron of Gilsland and Kenneth of Scotland. The
baron, however, was a little later of entering the tent than the other two, stopping, perchance, to issue some
orders to the warders without.
As the Arabian physician entered, he made his obeisance, after the Oriental fashion, to the Marquis and
Grand Master, whose dignity was apparent, both from their appearance and their bearing. The Grand Master
returned the salutation with an expression of disdainful coldness, the Marquis with the popular courtesy
which he habitually practised to men of every rank and nation. There was a pause, for the Scottish knight,
waiting for the arrival of De Vaux, presumed not, of his own authority, to enter the tent of the King of
England; and during this interval the Grand Master sternly demanded of the Moslem, "Infidel, hast thou the
courage to practise thine art upon the person of an anointed sovereign of the Christian host?"
"The sun of Allah," answered the sage, "shines on the Nazarene as well as on the true believer, and His
servant dare make no distinction betwixt them when called on to exercise the art of healing."
"Misbelieving Hakim," said the Grand Master, "or whatsoever they call thee for an unbaptized slave of
darkness, dost thou well know that thou shalt be torn asunder by wild horses should King Richard die under
thy charge?"
"That were hard justice," answered the physician, "seeing that I can but use human means, and that the issue
is written in the book of light."
"Nay, reverend and valiant Grand Master," said the Marquis of Montserrat, "consider that this learned man is
not acquainted with our Christian order, adopted in the fear of God, and for the safety of His anointed.Be it
known to thee, grave physician, whose skill we doubt not, that your wisest course is to repair to the presence
of the illustrious Council of our Holy League, and there to give account and reckoning to such wise and
learned leeches as they shall nominate, concerning your means of process and cure of this illustrious patient;
so shall you escape all the danger which, rashly taking such a high matter upon your sole answer, you may
else most likely incur."
"My lords," said El Hakim, "I understand you well. But knowledge hath its champions as well as your
military artnay, hath sometimes had its martyrs as well as religion. I have the command of my sovereign,
the Soldan Saladin, to heal this Nazarene King, and, with the blessing of the Prophet, I will obey his
commands. If I fail, ye wear swords thirsting for the blood of the faithful, and I proffer my body to your
weapons. But I will not reason with one uncircumcised upon the virtue of the medicines of which I have
obtained knowledge through the grace of the Prophet, and I play you interpose no delay between me and my
office."
"Who talks of delay?" said the Baron de Vaux, hastily entering the tent; "we have had but too much already. I
salute you, my Lord of Montserrat, and you, valiant Grand Master. But I must presently pass with this learned
physician to the bedside of my master."
"My lord," said the Marquis, in NormanFrench, or the language of Ouie, as it was then called, "are you well
advised that we came to expostulate, on the part of the Council of the Monarchs and Princes of the Crusade,
against the risk of permitting an infidel and Eastern physician to tamper with a health so valuable as that of
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your master, King Richard?"
"Noble Lord Marquis," replied the Englishman bluntly, "I can neither use many words, nor do I delight in
listening to them; moreover, I am much more ready to believe what my eyes have seen than what my ears
have heard. I am satisfied that this heathen can cure the sickness of King Richard, and I believe and trust he
will labour to do so. Time is precious. If Mohammedmay God's curse be on him! stood at the door of the
tent, with such fair purpose as this Adonbec el Hakim entertains, I would hold it sin to delay him for a
minute. So, give ye God'en, my lords."
"Nay, but," said Conrade of Montserrat, "the King himself said we should be present when this same
physician dealt upon him."
The baron whispered the chamberlain, probably to know whether the Marquis spoke truly, and then replied,
"My lords, if you will hold your patience, you are welcome to enter with us; but if you interrupt, by action or
threat, this accomplished physician in his duty, be it known that, without respect to your high quality, I will
enforce your absence from Richard's tent; for know, I am so well satisfied of the virtue of this man's
medicines, that were Richard himself to refuse them, by our Lady of Lanercost, I think I could find in my
heart to force him to take the means of his cure whether he would or no.Move onward, El Hakim."
The last word was spoken in the lingua franca, and instantly obeyed by the physician. The Grand Master
looked grimly on the unceremonious old soldier, but, on exchanging a glance with the Marquis, smoothed his
frowning brow as well as he could, and both followed De Vaux and the Arabian into the inner tent, where
Richard lay expecting them, with that impatience with which the sick man watches the step of his physician.
Sir Kenneth, whose attendance seemed neither asked nor prohibited, felt himself, by the circumstances in
which he stood, entitled to follow these high dignitaries; but, conscious of his inferior power and rank,
remained aloof during the scene which took place.
Richard, when they entered his apartment, immediately exclaimed, "So ho! a goodly fellowship come to see
Richard take his leap in the dark. My noble allies, I greet you as the representatives of our assembled league;
Richard will again be amongst you in his former fashion, or ye shall bear to the grave what is left of
him.De Vaux, lives he or dies he, thou hast the thanks of thy prince. There is yet anotherbut this fever
hath wasted my eyesight. What, the bold Scot, who would climb heaven without a ladder! He is welcome
too.Come, Sir Hakim, to the work, to the work!"
The physician, who had already informed himself of the various symptoms of the King's illness, now felt his
pulse for a long time, and with deep attention, while all around stood silent, and in breathless expectation.
The sage next filled a cup with spring water, and dipped into it the small red purse, which, as formerly, he
took from his bosom. When he seemed to think it sufficiently medicated, he was about to offer it to the
sovereign, who prevented him by saying, "Hold an instant. Thou hast felt my pulselet me lay my finger on
thine. I too, as becomes a good knight, know something of thine art."
The Arabian yielded his hand without hesitation, and his long, slender dark fingers were for an instant
enclosed, and almost buried, in the large enfoldment of King Richard's hand.
"His blood beats calm as an infant's," said the King; "so throbs not theirs who poison princes. De Vaux,
whether we live or die, dismiss this Hakim with honour and safety.Commend us, friend, to the noble
Saladin. Should I die, it is without doubt of his faith; should I live, it will be to thank him as a warrior would
desire to be thanked."
He then raised himself in bed, took the cup in his hand, and turning to the Marquis and the Grand
Master"Mark what I say, and let my royal brethren pledge me in Cyprus wine, 'To the immortal honour of
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the first Crusader who shall strike lance or sword on the gate of Jerusalem; and to the shame and eternal
infamy of whomsoever shall turn back from the plough on which he hath laid his hand!'"
He drained the cup to the bottom, resigned it to the Arabian, and sunk back, as if exhausted, upon the
cushions which mere arranged to receive him. The physician then, with silent but expressive signs, directed
that all should leave the tent excepting himself and De Vaux, whom no remonstrance could induce to
withdraw. The apartment was cleared accordingly.
CHAPTER X.
And now I will unclasp a secret book,
And, to your quickconceiving discontent,
I'll read you matter deep and dangerous. HENRY IV., PART I.
The Marquis of Montserrat and the Grand Master of the Knights Templars stood together in the front of the
royal pavilion, within which this singular scene had passed, and beheld a strong guard of bills and bows
drawn out to form a circle around it, and keep at distance all which might disturb the sleeping monarch. The
soldiers wore the downcast, silent, and sullen looks with which they trail their arms at a funeral, and stepped
with such caution that you could not hear a buckler ring or a sword clatter, though so many men in armour
were moving around the tent. They lowered their weapons in deep reverence as the dignitaries passed through
their files, but with the same profound silence.
"There is a, change of cheer among these island dogs," said the Grand Master to Conrade, when they had
passed Richard's guards. "What hoarse tumult and revel used to be before this pavilion! nought but
pitching the bar, hurling the ball, wrestling, roaring of songs, clattering of wine pots, and quaffing of flagons
among these burly yeomen, as if they were holding some country wake, with a Maypole in the midst of them
instead of a royal standard."
"Mastiffs are a faithful race," said Conrade; "and the King their Master has won their love by being ready to
wrestle, brawl, or revel amongst the foremost of them, whenever the humour seized him."
"He is totally compounded of humours," said the Grand Master. "Marked you the pledge he gave us! instead
of a prayer, over his gracecup yonder."
"He would have felt it a, gracecup, and a wellspiced one too," said the Marquis, "were Saladin like any
other Turk that ever wore turban, or turned him to Mecca at call of the muezzin. But he affects faith, and
honour, and generosity, as if it were for an unbaptized dog like him to practise the virtuous bearing of a
Christian knight. It is said he hath applied to Richard to be admitted within the pale of chivalry."
"By Saint Bernard!" exclaimed the Grand Master, "it were time then to throw off our belts and spurs, Sir
Conrade, deface our armorial bearings, and renounce our burgonets, if the highest honour of Christianity
were conferred on an unchristened Turk of tenpence."
"You rate the Soldan cheap," replied the Marquis; "yet though he be a likely man, I have seen a better
heathen sold for forty pence at the bagnio."
They were now near their horses, which stood at some distance from the royal tent, prancing among the
gallant train of esquires and pages by whom they were attended, when Conrade, after a moment's pause,
proposed that they should enjoy the coolness of the evening breeze which had arisen, and, dismissing their
steeds and attendants, walk homewards to their own quarters through the lines of the extended Christian
camp. The Grand Master assented, and they proceeded to walk together accordingly, avoiding, as if by
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mutual consent, the more inhabited parts of the canvas city, and tracing the broad esplanade which lay
between the tents and the external defences, Where they could converse in private, and unmarked, save by the
sentinels as they passed them.
They spoke for a time upon the military points and preparations for defence; but this sort of discourse, in
which neither seemed to take interest, at length died away, and there was a long pause, which terminated by
the Marquis of Montserrat stopping short, like a man who has formed a sudden resolution, and gazing for
some moments on the dark, inflexible countenance of the Grand Master, he at length addressed him thus:
"Might it consist with your valour and sanctity, reverend Sir Giles Amaury, I would pray you for once to lay
aside the dark visor which you wear, and to converse with a friend barefaced."
The Templar half smiled.
"There are lightcoloured masks," he said, "as well as dark visors, and the one conceals the natural features
as completely as the other."
"Be it so," said the Marquis, putting his hand to his chin, and withdrawing it with the action of one who
unmasks himself; "there lies my disguise. And now, what think you, as touching the interests of your own
order, of the prospects of this Crusade?"
"This is tearing the veil from my thoughts rather than exposing your own," said the Grand Master; "yet I will
reply with a parable told to me by a santon of the desert. 'A certain farmer prayed to Heaven for rain, and
murmured when it fell not at his need. To punish his impatience, Allah,' said the santon, 'sent the Euphrates
upon his farm, and he was destroyed, with all his possessions, even by the granting of his own wishes.'"
"Most truly spoken," said the Marquis Conrade. "Would that the ocean had swallowed up nineteen parts of
the armaments of these Western princes! What remained would better have served the purpose of the
Christian nobles of Palestine, the wretched remnant of the Latin kingdom of Jerusalem. Left to ourselves, we
might have bent to the storm; or, moderately supported with money and troops, we might have compelled
Saladin to respect our valour, and grant us peace and protection on easy terms. But from the extremity of
danger with which this powerful Crusade threatens the Soldan, we cannot suppose, should it pass over, that
the Saracen will suffer any one of us to hold possessions or principalities in Syria, far less permit the
existence of the Christian military fraternities, from whom they have experienced so much mischief."
"Ay, but," said the Templar, "these adventurous Crusaders may succeed, and again plant the Cross on the
bulwarks of Zion."
"And what will that advantage either the Order of the Templars, or Conrade of Montserrat?" said the
Marquis.
"You it may advantage," replied the Grand Master. "Conrade of Montserrat might become Conrade King of
Jerusalem."
"That sounds like something," said the Marquis, "and yet it rings but hollow. Godfrey of Bouillon might well
choose the crown of thorns for his emblem. Grand Master, I will confess to you I have caught some
attachment to the Eastern form of governmenta pure and simple monarchy should consist but of king and
subjects. Such is the simple and primitive structurea shepherd and his flock. All this internal chain of
feudal dependance is artificial and sophisticated; and I would rather hold the baton of my poor marquisate
with a firm gripe, and wield it after my pleasure, than the sceptre of a monarch, to be in effect restrained and
curbed by the will of as many proud feudal barons as hold land under the Assizes of Jerusalem. [The Assises
de Jerusalem were the digest of feudal law, composed by Godfrey of Boulogne, for the government of the
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Latin kingdom of Palestine, when reconquered from the Saracens. "It was composed with advice of the
patriarch and barons, the clergy and laity, and is," says the historian Gibbon, "a precious monument of
feudatory jurisprudence, founded upon those principles of freedom which were essential to the system."] A
king should tread freely, Grand Master, and should not be controlled by here a ditch, and there a fencehere a
feudal privilege, and there a mailclad baron with his sword in his hand to maintain it. To sum the whole, I
am aware that Guy de Lusignan's claims to the throne would be preferred to mine, if Richard recovers, and
has aught to say in the choice."
"Enough," said the Grand Master; "thou hast indeed convinced me of thy sincerity. Others may hold the same
opinions, but few, save Conrade of Montserrat, dared frankly avow that he desires not the restitution of the
kingdom of Jerusalem, but rather prefers being master of a portion of its fragmentslike the barbarous
islanders, who labour not for the deliverance of a goodly vessel from the billows, expecting rather to enrich
themselves at the expense of the wreck."
"Thou wilt not betray my counsel?" said Conrade, looking sharply and suspiciously. "Know, for certain, that
my tongue shall never wrong my head, nor my hand forsake the defence of either. Impeach me if thou
wiltI am prepared to defend myself in the lists against the best Templar who ever laid lance in rest."
"Yet thou start'st somewhat suddenly for so bold a steed," said the Grand Master. "However, I swear to thee
by the Holy Temple, which our Order is sworn to defend, that I will keep counsel with thee as a true
comrade."
"By which Temple?" said the Marquis of Montserrat, whose love of sarcasm often outran his policy and
discretion; "swearest thou by that on the hill of Zion, which was built by King Solomon, or by that
symbolical, emblematical edifice, which is said to be spoken of in the councils held in the vaults of your
Preceptories, as something which infers the aggrandizement of thy valiant and venerable Order?"
The Templar scowled upon him with an eye of death, but answered calmly, "By whatever Temple I swear, be
assured, Lord Marquis, my oath is sacred. I would I knew how to bind THEE by one of equal obligation."
"I will swear truth to thee," said the Marquis, laughing, "by the earl's coronet, which I hope to convert, ere
these wars are over, into something better. It feels cold on my brow, that same slight coronal; a duke's cap of
maintenance were a better protection against such a nightbreeze as now blows, and a king's crown more
preferable still, being lined with comfortable ermine and velvet. In a word, our interests bind us together; for
think not, Lord Grand Master, that, were these allied princes to regain Jerusalem, and place a king of their
own choosing there, they would suffer your Order, any more than my poor marquisate, to retain the
independence which we now hold. No, by Our Lady! In such case, the proud Knights of Saint John must
again spread plasters and dress plague sores in the hospitals; and you, most puissant and venerable Knights of
the Temple, must return to your condition of simple menatarms, sleep three on a pallet, and mount two
upon one horse, as your present seal still expresses to have been your ancient most simple custom."
"The rank, privileges, and opulence of our Order prevent so much degradation as you threaten," said the
Templar haughtily.
"These are your bane," said Conrade of Montserrat; "and you, as well as I, reverend Grand Master, know that,
were the allied princes to be successful in Palestine, it would be their first point of policy to abate the
independence of your Order, which, but for the protection of our holy father the Pope, and the necessity of
employing your valour in the conquest of Palestine, you would long since have experienced. Give them
complete success, and you will be flung aside, as the splinters of a broken lance are tossed out of the
tiltyard,"
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"There may be truth in what you say," said the Templar, darkly smiling. "But what were our hopes should the
allies withdraw their forces, and leave Palestine in the grasp of Saladin?"
"Great and assured," replied Conrade. "The Soldan would give large provinces to maintain at his behest a
body of well appointed Frankish lances. In Egypt, in Persia, a hundred such auxiliaries, joined to his own
light cavalry, would turn the battle against the most fearful odds. This dependence would be but for a
timeperhaps during the life of this enterprising Soldan; but in the East empires arise like mushrooms.
Suppose him dead, and us strengthened with a constant succession of fiery and adventurous spirits from
Europe, what might we not hope to achieve, uncontrolled by these monarchs, whose dignity throws us at
present into the shadeand, were they to remain here, and succeed in this expedition, would willingly
consign us for ever to degradation and dependence?"
"You say well, my Lord Marquis," said the Grand Master, "and your words find an echo in my bosom. Yet
must we be cautiousPhilip of France is wise as well as valiant."
"True, and will be therefore the more easily diverted from an expedition to which, in a moment of
enthusiasm, or urged by his nobles, he rashly bound himself. He is jealous of King Richard, his natural
enemy, and longs to return to prosecute plans of ambition nearer to Paris than Palestine. Any fair pretence
will serve him for withdrawing from a scene in which he is aware he is wasting the force of his kingdom."
"And the Duke of Austria?" said the Templar.
"Oh, touching the Duke," returned Conrade, "his selfconceit and folly lead him to the same conclusions as
do Philip's policy and wisdom. He conceives himself, God help the while, ungratefully treated, because men's
mouthseven those of his own MINNE SINGERS [The German minstrels were so termed.]are filled
with the praises of King Richard, whom he fears and hates, and in whose harm he would rejoice, like those
unbred, dastardly curs, who, if the foremost of the pack is hurt by the gripe of the wolf, are much more likely
to assail the sufferer from behind than to come to his assistance. But wherefore tell I this to thee, save to show
that I am in sincerity in desiring that this league be broken up, and the country freed of these great monarchs
with their hosts? And thou well knowest, and hast thyself seen, how all the princes of influence and power,
one alone excepted, are eager to enter into treaty with the Soldan."
"I acknowledge it," said the Templar; "he were blind that had not seen this in their last deliberations. But lift
yet thy mask an inch higher, and tell me thy real reason for pressing upon the Council that Northern
Englishman, or Scot, or whatever you call yonder Knight of the Leopard, to carry their proposals for a
treaty?"
"There was a policy in it," replied the Italian. "His character of native of Britain was sufficient to meet what
Saladin required, who knew him to belong to the band of Richard; while his character of Scot, and certain
other personal grudges which I wot of, rendered it most unlikely that our envoy should, on his return, hold
any communication with the sickbed of Richard, to whom his presence was ever unacceptable."
"Oh, too finespun policy," said the Grand Master; "trust me, that Italian spiders' webs will never bind this
unshorn Samson of the Islewell if you can do it with new cords, and those of the toughest. See you not that
the envoy whom you have selected so carefully hath brought us, in this physician, the means of restoring the
lionhearted, bullnecked Englishman to prosecute his Crusading enterprise. And so soon as he is able once
more to rush on, which of the princes dare hold back? They must follow him for very shame, although they
would march under the banner of Satan as soon."
"Be content," said Conrade of Montserrat; "ere this physician, if he work by anything short of miraculous
agency, can accomplish Richard's cure, it may be possible to put some open rupture betwixt the
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Frenchmanat least the Austrianand his allies of England, so that the breach shall be irreconcilable; and
Richard may arise from his bed, perhaps to command his own native troops, but never again, by his sole
energy, to wield the force of the whole Crusade."
"Thou art a willing archer," said the Templar; "but, Conrade of Montserrat, thy bow is overslack to carry an
arrow to the mark."
He then stopped short, cast a suspicious glance to see that no one overheard him, and taking Conrade by the
hand, pressed it eagerly as he looked the Italian in the face, and repeated slowly, "Richard arise from his bed,
sayest thou? Conrade, he must never arise!"
The Marquis of Montserrat started. "What! spoke you of Richard of Englandof Coeur de Lionthe
champion of Christendom?"
His cheek turned pale and his knees trembled as he spoke. The Templar looked at him, with his iron visage
contorted into a smile of contempt.
"Knowest thou what thou look'st like, Sir Conrade, at this moment? Not like the politic and valiant Marquis
of Montserrat not like him who would direct the Council of Princes and determine the fate of empiresbut
like a novice, who, stumbling upon a conjuration in his master's book of gramarye, has raised the devil when
he least thought of it, and now stands terrified at the spirit which appears before him."
"I grant you," said Conrade, recovering himself, "thatunless some other sure road could be
discoveredthou hast hinted at that which leads most direct to our purpose. But, blessed Mary! we shall
become the curse of all Europe, the malediction of every one, from the Pope on his throne to the very beggar
at the church gate, who, ragged and leprous, in the last extremity of human wretchedness, shall bless himself
that he is neither Giles Amaury nor Conrade of Montserrat."
"If thou takest it thus," said the Grand Master, with the same composure which characterized him all through
this remarkable dialogue, "let us hold there has nothing passed between usthat we have spoken in our
sleephave awakened, and the vision is gone."
"It never can depart," answered Conrade.
"Visions of ducal crowns and kingly diadems are, indeed, somewhat tenacious of their place in the
imagination," replied the Grand Master.
"Well," answered Conrade, "let me but first try to break peace between Austria and England."
They parted. Conrade remained standing still upon the spot, and watching the flowing white cloak of the
Templar as he stalked slowly away, and gradually disappeared amid the fastsinking darkness of the Oriental
night. Proud, ambitious, unscrupulous, and politic, the Marquis of Montserrat was yet not cruel by nature. He
was a voluptuary and an epicurean, and, like many who profess this character, was averse, even upon selfish
motives, from inflicting pain or witnessing acts of cruelty; and he retained also a general sense of respect for
his own reputation, which sometimes supplies the want of the better principle by which reputation is to be
maintained.
"I have," he said, as his eyes still watched the point at which he had seen the last slight wave of the Templar's
mantle"I have, in truth, raised the devil with a vengeance! Who would have thought this stern, ascetic
Grand Master, whose whole fortune and misfortune is merged in that of his order, would be willing to do
more for its advancement than I who labour for my own interest? To check this wild Crusade was my motive,
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indeed, but I durst not think on the ready mode which this determined priest has dared to suggest. Yet it is the
surestperhaps even the safest."
Such were the Marquis's meditations, when his muttered soliloquy was broken by a voice from a little
distance, which proclaimed with the emphatic tone of a herald, "Remember the Holy Sepulchre!"
The exhortation was echoed from post to post, for it was the duty of the sentinels to raise this cry from time
to time upon their periodical watch, that the host of the Crusaders might always have in their remembrance
the purpose of their being in arms. But though Conrade was familiar with the custom, and had heard the
warning voice on all former occasions as a matter of habit, yet it came at the present moment so strongly in
contact with his own train of thought, that it seemed a voice from Heaven warning him against the iniquity
which his heart meditated. He looked around anxiously, as if, like the patriarch of old, though from very
different circumstances, he was expecting some ram caught in a thicket some substitution for the sacrifice
which his comrade proposed to offer, not to the Supreme Being, but to the Moloch of their own ambition. As
he looked, the broad folds of the ensign of England, heavily distending itself to the failing night breeze,
caught his eye. It was displayed upon an artificial mound, nearly in the midst of the camp, which perhaps of
old some Hebrew chief or champion had chosen as a memorial of his place of rest. If so, the name was now
forgotten, and the Crusaders had christened it Saint George's Mount, because from that commanding height
the banner of England was supereminently displayed, as if an emblem of sovereignty over the many
distinguished, noble, and even royal ensigns, which floated in lower situations.
A quick intellect like that of Conrade catches ideas from the glance of a moment. A single look on the
standard seemed to dispel the uncertainty of mind which had affected him. He walked to his pavilion with the
hasty and determined step of one who has adopted a plan which he is resolved to achieve, dismissed the
almost princely train who waited to attend him, and, as he committed himself to his couch, muttered his
amended resolution, that the milder means are to be tried before the more desperate are resorted to.
"Tomorrow," he said, "I sit at the board of the Archduke of Austria. We will see what can be done to
advance our purpose before prosecuting the dark suggestions of this Templar."
CHAPTER XI.
One thing is certain in our Northern land
Allow that birth or valour, wealth or wit,
Give each precedence to their possessor,
Envy, that follows on such eminence,
As comes the lymehound on the roebuck's trace,
Shall pull them down each one. SIR DAVID LINDSAY.
Leopold, Grand Duke of Austria, was the first possessor of that noble country to whom the princely rank
belonged. He had been raised to the ducal sway in the German Empire on account of his near relationship to
the Emperor, Henry the Stern, and held under his government the finest provinces which are watered by the
Danube. His character has been stained in history on account of one action of violence and perfidy, which
arose out of these very transactions in the Holy Land; and yet the shame of having made Richard a prisoner
when he returned through his dominions; unattended and in disguise, was not one which flowed from
Leopold's natural disposition. We was rather a weak and a vain than an ambitious or tyrannical prince. His
mental powers resembled the qualities of his person. He was tall, strong, and handsome, with a complexion in
which red and white were strongly contrasted, and had long flowing locks of fair hair. But there was an
awkwardness in his gait which seemed as if his size was not animated by energy sufficient to put in motion
such a mass; and in the same manner, wearing the richest dresses, it always seemed as if they became him
not. As a prince, he appeared too little familiar with his own dignity; and being often at a loss how to assert
his authority when the occasion demanded it, he frequently thought himself obliged to recover, by acts and
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expressions of illtimed violence, the ground which might have been easily and gracefully maintained by a
little more presence of mind in the beginning of the controversy.
Not only were these deficiencies visible to others, but the Archduke himself could not but sometimes
entertain a painful consciousness that he was not altogether fit to maintain and assert the high rank which he
had acquired; and to this was joined the strong, and sometimes the just, suspicion that others esteemed him
lightly accordingly.
When he first joined the Crusade, with a most princely attendance, Leopold had desired much to enjoy the
friendship and intimacy of Richard, and had made such advances towards cultivating his regard as the King
of England ought, in policy, to have received and answered. But the Archduke, though not deficient in
bravery, was so infinitely inferior to Coeur de Lion in that ardour of mind which wooed danger as a bride,
that the King very soon held him in a certain degree of contempt. Richard, also, as a Norman prince, a people
with whom temperance was habitual, despised the inclination of the German for the pleasures of the table,
and particularly his liberal indulgence in the use of wine. For these, and other personal reasons, the King of
England very soon looked upon the Austrian Prince with feelings of contempt, which he was at no pains to
conceal or modify, and which, therefore, were speedily remarked, and returned with deep hatred, by the
suspicious Leopold. The discord between them was fanned by the secret and politic arts of Philip of France,
one of the most sagacious monarchs of the time, who, dreading the fiery and overbearing character of
Richard, considering him as his natural rival, and feeling offended, moreover, at the dictatorial manner in
which he, a vassal of France for his Continental domains, conducted himself towards his liege lord,
endeavoured to strengthen his own party, and weaken that of Richard, by uniting the Crusading princes of
inferior degree in resistance to what he termed the usurping authority of the King of England. Such was the
state of politics and opinions entertained by the Archduke of Austria, when Conrade of Montserrat resolved
upon employing his jealousy of England as the means of dissolving, or loosening at least, the league of the
Crusaders.
The time which he chose for his visit was noon; and the pretence, to present the Archduke with some choice
Cyprus wine which had lately fallen into his hands, and discuss its comparative merits with those of Hungary
and of the Rhine. An intimation of his purpose was, of course, answered by a courteous invitation to partake
of the Archducal meal, and every effort was used to render it fitting the splendour of a sovereign prince. Yet
the refined taste of the Italian saw more cumbrous profusion than elegance or splendour in the display of
provisions under which the board groaned.
The Germans, though still possessing the martial and frank character of their ancestorswho subdued the
Roman Empirehad retained withal no slight tinge of their barbarism. The practices and principles of
chivalry were not carried to such a nice pitch amongst them as amongst the French and English knights, nor
were they strict observers of the prescribed rules of society, which among those nations were supposed to
express the height of civilization. Sitting at the table of the Archduke, Conrade was at once stunned and
amused with the clang of Teutonic sounds assaulting his ears on all sides, notwithstanding the solemnity of a
princely banquet. Their dress seemed equally fantastic to him, many of the Austrian nobles retaining their
long beards, and almost all of them wearing short jerkins of various colours, cut, and flourished, and fringed
in a manner not common in Western Europe.
Numbers of dependants, old and young, attended in the pavilion, mingled at times in the conversation,
received from their masters the relics of the entertainment, and devoured them as they stood behind the backs
of the company. Jesters, dwarfs, and minstrels were there in unusual numbers, and more noisy and intrusive
than they were permitted to be in better regulated society. As they were allowed to share freely in the wine,
which flowed round in large quantities, their licensed tumult was the more excessive.
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All this while, and in the midst of a clamour and confusion which would better have become a German tavern
during a fair than the tent of a sovereign prince, the Archduke was waited upon with a minuteness of form
and observance which showed how anxious he was to maintain rigidly the state and character to which his
elevation had entitled him. He was served on the knee, and only by pages of noble blood, fed upon plate of
silver, and drank his Tokay and Rhenish wines from a cup of gold. His ducal mantle was splendidly adorned
with ermine, his coronet might have equalled in value a royal crown, and his feet, cased in velvet shoes (the
length of which, peaks included, might be two feet), rested upon a footstool of solid silver. But it served
partly to intimate the character of the man, that, although desirous to show attention to the Marquis of
Montserrat, whom he had courteously placed at his right hand, he gave much more of his attention to his
SPRUCHSPRECHERthat is, his man of conversation, or SAYER OFSAYINGS who stood behind
the Duke's right shoulder.
This personage was well attired in a cloak and doublet of black velvet, the last of which was decorated with
various silver and gold coins stitched upon it, in memory of the munificent princes who had conferred them,
and bearing a short staff to which also bunches of silver coins were attached by rings, which he jingled by
way of attracting attention when he was about to say anything which he judged worthy of it. This person's
capacity in the household of the Archduke was somewhat betwixt that of a minstrel and a counsellor. He was
by turns a flatterer, a poet, and an orator; and those who desired to be well with the Duke generally studied to
gain the goodwill of the SPRUCHSPRECHER.
Lest too much of this officer's wisdom should become tiresome, the Duke's other shoulder was occupied by
his HOFFNARR, or courtjester, called Jonas Schwanker, who made almost as much noise with his fool's
cap, bells, and bauble, as did the orator, or man of talk, with his jingling baton.
These two personages threw out grave and comic nonsense alternately; while their master, laughing or
applauding them himself, yet carefully watched the countenance of his noble guest, to discern what
impressions so accomplished a cavalier received from this display of Austrian eloquence and wit. It is hard to
say whether the man of wisdom or the man of folly contributed most to the amusement of the party, or stood
highest in the estimation of their princely master; but the sallies of both seemed excellently well received.
Sometimes they became rivals for the conversation, and clanged their flappers in emulation of each other
with a most alarming contention; but, in general, they seemed on such good terms, and so accustomed to
support each other's play, that the SPRUCHSPRECHER often condescended to follow up the jester's
witticisms with an explanation, to render them more obvious to the capacity of the audience, so that his
wisdom became a sort of commentary on the buffoon's folly. And sometimes, in requital, the HOFFNARR,
with a pithy jest, wound up the conclusion of the orator's tedious harangue.
Whatever his real sentiments might be, Conrade took especial care that his countenance should express
nothing but satisfaction with what he heard, and smiled or applauded as zealously, to all appearance, as the
Archduke himself at the solemn folly of the SPRUCHSPRECHER and the gibbering wit of the fool. In fact,
he watched carefully until the one or other should introduce some topic favourable to the purpose which was
uppermost in his mind.
It was not long ere the King of England was brought on the carpet by the jester, who had been accustomed to
consider Dickon of the Broom (which irreverent epithet he substituted for Richard Plantagenet) as a subject
of mirth, acceptable and inexhaustible. The orator, indeed, was silent, and it was only when applied to by
Conrade that he observed, "The GENISTA, or broomplant, was an emblem of humility; and it would be
well when those who wore it would remember the warning."
The allusion to the illustrious badge of Plantagenet was thus rendered sufficiently manifest, and Jonas
Schwanker observed that they who humbled themselves had been exalted with a vengeance. "Honour unto
whom honour is due," answered the Marquis of Montserrat. "We have all had some part in these marches and
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battles, and methinks other princes might share a little in the renown which Richard of England engrosses
amongst minstrels and MINNESINGERS. Has no one of the joyeuse science here present a song in praise of
the royal Archduke of Austria, our princely entertainer?"
Three minstrels emulously stepped forward with voice and harp. Two were silenced with difficulty by the
SPRUCHSPRECHER, who seemed to act as master of the revels, and a hearing was at length procured for
the poet preferred, who sung, in high German, stanzas which may be thus translated:
"What brave chief shall head the forces, Where the redcross legions gather? Best of horsemen, best of
horses, Highest head and fairest feather."
Here the orator, jingling his staff, interrupted the bard to intimate to the partywhat they might not have
inferred from the descriptionthat their royal host was the party indicated, and a fullcrowned goblet went
round to the acclamation, HOCH LEBE DER HERZOG LEOPOLD! Another stanza followed:
"Ask not Austria why, 'midst princes, Still her banner rises highest; Ask as well the strongwing'd eagle,
Why to heaven he soars the highest."
"The eagle," said the expounder of dark sayings, "is the cognizance of our noble lord the Archdukeof his
royal Grace, I would sayand the eagle flies the highest and nearest to the sun of all the feathered creation."
"The lion hath taken a spring above the eagle," said Conrade carelessly.
The Archduke reddened, and fixed his eyes on the speaker, while the SPRUCHSPRECHER answered, after
a minute's consideration, "The Lord Marquis will pardon mea lion cannot fly above an eagle, because no
lion hath got wings."
"Except the lion of Saint Mark," responded the jester.
"That is the Venetian's banner," said the Duke; "but assuredly that amphibious race, half nobles, half
merchants, will not dare to place their rank in comparison with ours."
"Nay, it was not of the Venetian lion that I spoke," said the Marquis of Montserrat, "but of the three lions
passant of England. Formerly, it is said, they were leopards; but now they are become lions at all points, and
must take precedence of beast, fish, or fowl, or woe worth the gainstander."
"Mean you seriously, my lord?" said the Austrian, now considerably flushed with wine. "Think you that
Richard of England asserts any preeminence over the free sovereigns who have been his voluntary allies in
this Crusade?"
"I know not but from circumstances," answered Conrade. "Yonder hangs his banner alone in the midst of our
camp, as if he were king and generalissimo of our whole Christian army."
"And do you endure this so patiently, and speak of it so coldly?" said the Archduke.
"Nay, my lord," answered Conrade, "it cannot concern the poor Marquis of Montserrat to contend against an
injury patiently submitted to by such potent princes as Philip of France and Leopold of Austria. What
dishonour you are pleased to submit to cannot be a disgrace to me."
Leopold closed his fist, and struck on the table with violence.
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"I have told Philip of this," he said. "I have often told him that it was our duty to protect the inferior princes
against the usurpation of this islander; but he answers me ever with cold respects of their relations together as
suzerain and vassal, and that it were impolitic in him to make an open breach at this time and period."
"The world knows that Philip is wise," said Conrade, "and will judge his submission to be policy. Yours, my
lord, you can yourself alone account for; but I doubt not you have deep reasons for submitting to English
domination."
"I submit!" said Leopold indignantly"I, the Archduke of Austria, so important and vital a limb of the Holy
Roman Empire I submit myself to this king of half an island, this grandson of a Norman bastard! No, by
Heaven! The camp and all Christendom shall see that I know how to right myself, and whether I yield ground
one inch to the English bandog.Up, my lieges and merry men; up and follow me! We willand that
without losing one instantplace the eagle of Austria where she shall float as high as ever floated the
cognizance of king or kaiser."
With that he started from his seat, and amidst the tumultuous cheering of his guests and followers, made for
the door of the pavilion, and seized his own banner, which stood pitched before it.
"Nay, my lord," said Conrade, affecting to interfere, "it will blemish your wisdom to make an affray in the
camp at this hour; and perhaps it is better to submit to the usurpation of England a little longer than to"
"Not an hour, not a moment longer," vociferated the Duke; and with the banner in his hand, and followed by
his shouting guests and attendants, marched hastily to the central mount, from which the banner of England
floated, and laid his hand on the standard spear, as if to pluck it from the ground.
"My master, my dear master!" said Jonas Schwanker, throwing his arms about the Duke, "take heedlions
have teeth"
"And eagles have claws," said the Duke, not relinquishing his hold on the bannerstaff, yet hesitating to pull
it from the ground.
The speaker of sentences, notwithstanding such was his occupation, had nevertheless some intervals of sound
sense. He clashed his staff loudly, and Leopold, as if by habit, turned his head towards his man of counsel.
"The eagle is king among the fowls of the air," said the SPRUCH SPRECHER, "as is the lion among the
beasts of the fieldeach has his dominion, separated as wide as England and Germany. Do thou, noble
eagle, no dishonour to the princely lion, but let your banners remain floating in peace side by side."
Leopold withdrew his hand from the bannerspear, and looked round for Conrade of Montserrat, but he saw
him not; for the Marquis, so soon as he saw the mischief afoot, had withdrawn himself from the crowd,
taking care, in the first place, to express before several neutral persons his regret that the Archduke should
have chosen the hours after dinner to avenge any wrong of which he might think he had a right to complain.
Not seeing his guest, to whom he wished more particularly to have addressed himself, the Archduke said
aloud that, having no wish to breed dissension in the army of the Cross, he did but vindicate his own
privileges and right to stand upon an equality with the King of England, without desiring, as he might have
done, to advance his banner which he derived from emperors, his progenitorsabove that of a mere
descendant of the Counts of Anjou; and in the meantime he commanded a cask of wine to be brought hither
and pierced, for regaling the bystanders, who, with tuck of drum and sound of music, quaffed many a carouse
round the Austrian standard.
This disorderly scene was not acted without a degree of noise, which alarmed the whole camp.
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The critical hour had arrived at which the physician, according to the rules of his art, had predicted that his
royal patient might be awakened with safety, and the sponge had been applied for that purpose; and the leech
had not made many observations ere he assured the Baron of Gilsland that the fever had entirely left his
sovereign, and that, such was the happy strength of his constitution, it would not be even necessary, as in
most cases, to give a second dose of the powerful medicine. Richard himself seemed to be of the same
opinion, for, sitting up and rubbing his eyes, he demanded of De Vaux what present sum of money was in the
royal coffers.
The baron could not exactly inform him of the amount.
"It matters not," said Richard; "be it greater or smaller, bestow it all on this learned leech, who hath, I trust,
given me back again to the service of the Crusade. If it be less than a thousand byzants, let him have jewels to
make it up."
"I sell not the wisdom with which Allah has endowed me," answered the Arabian physician; "and be it known
to you, great Prince, that the divine medicine of which you have partaken would lose its effects in my
unworthy hands did I exchange its virtues either for gold or diamonds."
"The Physician refuseth a gratuity!" said De Vaux to himself. "This is more extraordinary than his being a
hundred years old."
"Thomas de Vaux," said Richard, "thou knowest no courage but what belongs to the sword, no bounty and
virtue but what are used in chivalry. I tell thee that this Moor, in his independence, might set an example to
them who account themselves the flower of knighthood."
"It is reward enough for me," said the Moor, folding his arms on his bosom, and maintaining an attitude at
once respectful and dignified, "that so great a king as the Melech Ric [Richard was thus called by the Eastern
nations.] should thus speak of his servant.But now let me pray you again to compose yourself on your
couch; for though I think there needs no further repetition of the divine draught, yet injury might ensue from
any too early exertion ere pour strength be entirely restored."
"I must obey thee, Hakim," said the King; "yet believe me, my bosom feels so free from the wasting fire
which for so many days hath scorched it, that I care not how soon I expose it to a brave man's lance.But
hark! what mean these shouts, and that distant music, in the camp? Go, Thomas de Vaux, and make inquiry."
"It is the Archduke Leopold," said De Vaux, returning after a minute's absence, "who makes with his
potcompanions some procession through the camp."
"The drunken fool!" exclaimed King Richard; "can he not keep his brutal inebriety within the veil of his
pavilion, that he must needs show his shame to all Christendom?What say you, Sir Marquis?" he added,
addressing himself to Conrade of Montserrat, who at that moment entered the tent.
"Thus much, honoured Prince," answered the Marquis, "that I delight to see your Majesty so well, and so far
recovered; and that is a long speech for any one to make who has partaken of the Duke of Austria's
hospitality."
"What! you have been dining with the Teutonic wineskin!" said the monarch. "And what frolic has he found
out to cause all this disturbance? Truly, Sir Conrade, I have still held you so good a reveller that I wonder at
your quitting the game."
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De Vaux, who had got a little behind the King, now exerted himself by look and sign to make the Marquis
understand that he should say nothing to Richard of what was passing without. But Conrade understood not,
or heeded not, the prohibition.
"What the Archduke does," he said, "is of little consequence to any one, least of all to himself, since he
probably knows not what he is acting; yet, to say truth, it is a gambol I should not like to share in, since he is
pulling down the banner of England from Saint George's Mount, in the centre of the camp yonder, and
displaying his own in its stead."
"WHAT sayest thou?" exclaimed the King, in a tone which might have waked the dead.
"Nay," said the Marquis, "let it not chafe your Highness that a fool should act according to his folly"
"Speak not to me," said Richard, springing from his couch, and casting on his clothes with a dispatch which
seemed marvellous "Speak not to me, Lord Marquis!De Multon, I command thee speak not a word to
mehe that breathes but a syllable is no friend to Richard Plantagenet.Hakim, be silent, I charge thee!"
All this while the King was hastily clothing himself, and, with the last word, snatched his sword from the
pillar of the tent, and without any other weapon, or calling any attendance, he rushed out of his pavilion.
Conrade, holding up his hands as if in astonishment, seemed willing to enter into conversation with De Vaux;
but Sir Thomas pushed rudely past him, and calling to one of the royal equerries, said hastily, "Fly to Lord
Salisbury's quarters, and let him get his men together and follow me instantly to Saint George's Mount. Tell
him the King's fever has left his blood and settled in his brain."
Imperfectly heard, and still more imperfectly comprehended, by the startled attendant whom De Vaux
addressed thus hastily, the equerry and his fellowservants of the royal chamber rushed hastily into the tents
of the neighbouring nobility, and quickly spread an alarm, as general as the cause seemed vague, through the
whole British forces. The English soldiers, waked in alarm from that noonday rest which the heat of the
climate had taught them to enjoy as a luxury, hastily asked each other the cause of the tumult, and without
waiting an answer, supplied by the force of their own fancy the want of information. Some said the Saracens
were in the camp, some that the King's life was attempted, some that he had died of the fever the preceding
night, many that he was assassinated by the Duke of Austria. The nobles and officers, at an equal loss with
the common men? to ascertain the real cause of the disorder, laboured only to get their followers under arms
and under authority, lest their rashness should occasion some great misfortune to the Crusading army. The
English trumpets sounded loud, shrill, and continuously. The alarmcry of "Bows and bills, bows and bills!"
was heard from quarter to quarter, again and again shouted, and again and again answered by the presence of
the ready warriors, and their national invocation, "Saint George for merry England!"
The alarm went through the nearest quarter of the camp, and men of all the various nations assembled, where,
perhaps, every people in Christendom had their representatives, flew to arms, and drew together under
circumstances of general confusion, of which they knew neither the cause nor the object. It was, however,
lucky, amid a scene so threatening, that the Earl of Salisbury, while he hurried after De Vaux's summons with
a few only of the readiest English menatarms, directed the rest of the English host to be drawn up and kept
under arms, to advance to Richard's succour if necessity should require, but in fit array and under due
command, and not with the tumultuary haste which their own alarm and zeal for the King's safety might have
dictated.
In the meanwhile, without regarding for one instant the shouts, the cries, the tumult which began to thicken
around him, Richard, with his dress in the last disorder, and his sheathed blade under his arm, pursued his
way with the utmost speed, followed only by De Vaux and one or two household servants, to Saint George's
Mount.
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He outsped even the alarm which his impetuosity only had excited, and passed the quarter of his own gallant
troops of Normandy, Poitou, Gascony, and Anjou before the disturbance had reached them, although the
noise accompanying the German revel had induced many of the soldiery to get on foot to listen. The handful
of Scots were also quartered in the vicinity, nor had they been disturbed by the uproar. But the King's person
and his haste were both remarked by the Knight of the Leopard, who, aware that danger must be afoot, and
hastening to share in it, snatched his shield and sword, and united himself to De Vaux, who with some
difficulty kept pace with his impatient and fiery master. De Vaux answered a look of curiosity, which the
Scottish knight directed towards him, with a shrug of his broad shoulders, and they continued, side by side, to
pursue Richard's steps.
The King was soon at the foot of Saint George's Mount, the sides as well as platform of which were now
surrounded and crowded, partly by those belonging to the Duke of Austria's retinue, who were celebrating,
with shouts of jubilee, the act which they considered as an assertion of national honour; partly by bystanders
of different nations, whom dislike to the English, or mere curiosity, had assembled together to witness the
end of these extraordinary proceedings. Through this disorderly troop Richard burst his way, like a goodly
ship under full sail, which cleaves her forcible passage through the rolling billows, and heeds not that they
unite after her passage and roar upon her stern.
The summit of the eminence was a small level space, on which were pitched the rival banners, surrounded
still by the Archduke's friends and retinue. In the midst of the circle was Leopold himself, still contemplating
with selfsatisfaction the deed he had done, and still listening to the shouts of applause which his partisans
bestowed with no sparing breath. While he was in this state of selfgratulation, Richard burst into the circle,
attended, indeed, only by two men, but in his own headlong energies an irresistible host.
"Who has dared," he said, laying his hands upon the Austrian standard, and speaking in a voice like the sound
which precedes an earthquake"Who has dared to place this paltry rag beside the banner of England?"
The Archduke wanted not personal courage, and it was impossible he could hear this question without reply.
Yet so much was he troubled and surprised by the unexpected arrival of Richard, and affected by the general
awe inspired by his ardent and unyielding character, that the demand was twice repeated, in a tone which
seemed to challenge heaven and earth, ere the Archduke replied, with such firmness as he could command,
"It was I, Leopold of Austria."
"Then shall Leopold of Austria," replied Richard, "presentry see the rate at which his banner and his
pretensions are held by Richard of England."
So saying, he pulled up the standardspear, splintered it to pieces, threw the banner itself on the ground, and
placed his foot upon it.
"Thus," said he," I trample on the banner of Austria. Is there a knight among your Teutonic chivalry dare
impeach my deed?"
There was a momentary silence; but there are no braver men than the Germans.
"I," and "I," and "I," was heard from several knights of the Duke"s followers; and he himself added his voice
to those which accepted the King of England's defiance.
"Why do we daily thus?" said the Earl Wallenrode, a gigantic warrior from the frontiers of Hungary.
"Brethren and noble gentlemen, this man's foot is on the honour of your countrylet us rescue it from
violation, and down with the pride of England!"
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So saying, he drew his sword, and struck at the King a blow which might have proved fatal, had not the Scot
intercepted and caught it upon his shield.
"I have sworn," said King Richardand his voice was heard above all the tumult, which now waxed wild
and loud"never to strike one whose shoulder bears the cross; therefore live, Wallenrode but live to
remember Richard of England."
As he spoke, he grasped the tall Hungarian round the waist, and, unmatched in wrestling, as in other military
exercises, hurled him backwards with such violence that the mass flew as if discharged from a military
engine, not only through the ring of spectators who witnessed the extraordinary scene, but over the edge of
the mount itself, down the steep side of which Wallenrode rolled headlong, until, pitching at length upon his
shoulder, he dislocatcd the bone, and lay like one dead. This almost supernatural display of strength did not
encourage either the Duke or any of his followers to renew a personal contest so inauspiciously commenced.
Those who stood farthest back did, indeed, clash their swords, and cry out, "Cut the island mastiff to pieces!"
but those who were nearer veiled, perhaps, their personal fears under an affected regard for order, and cried,
for the most part, "Peace! Peace! the peace of the Crossthe peace of Holy Church and our Father the
Pope!"
These various cries of the assailants, contradicting each other, showed their irresolution; while Richard, his
foot still on the archducal banner, glared round him with an eye that seemed to seek an enemy, and from
which the angry nobles shrunk appalled, as from the threatened grasp of a lion. De Vaux and the Knight of
the Leopard kept their places beside him; and though the swords which they held were still sheathed, it was
plain that they were prompt to protect Richard's person to the very last, and their size and remarkable strength
plainly showed the defence would be a desperate one.
Salisbury and his attendants were also now drawing near, with bills and partisans brandished, and bows
already bended.
At this moment King Philip of France, attended by one or two of his nobles, came on the platform to inquire
the cause of the disturbance, and made gestures of surprise at finding the King of England raised from his
sickbed, and confronting their common ally, the Duke of Austria, in such a menacing and insulting posture.
Richard himself blushed at being discovered by Philip, whose sagacity he respected as much as he disliked
his person, in an attitude neither becoming his character as a monarch, nor as a Crusader; and it was observed
that he withdrew his foot, as if accidentally, from the dishonoured banner, and exchanged his look of violent
emotion for one of affected composure and indifference. Leopold also struggled to attain some degree of
calmness, mortified as he was by having been seen by Philip in the act of passively submitting to the insults
of the fiery King of England.
Possessed of many of those royal qualities for which he was termed by his subjects the August, Philip might
be termed the Ulysses, as Richard was indisputably the Achilles, of the Crusade. The King of France was
sagacious, wise, deliberate in council, steady and calm in action, seeing clearly, and steadily pursuing, the
measures most for the interest of his kingdom dignified and royal in his deportment, brave in person, but a
politician rather than a warrior. The Crusade would have been no choice of his own; but the spirit was
contagious, and the expedition was enforced upon him by the church, and by the unanimous wish of his
nobility. In any other situation, or in a milder age, his character might have stood higher than that of the
adventurous Coeur de Lion. But in the Crusade, itself an undertaking wholly irrational, sound reason was the
quality of all others least estimated, and the chivalric valour which both the age and the enterprise demanded
was considered as debased if mingled with the least touch of discretion. So that the merit of Philip, compared
with that of his haughty rival, showed like the clear but minute flame of a lamp placed near the glare of a
huge, blazing torch, which, not possessing half the utility, makes ten times more impression on the eye. Philip
felt his inferiority in public opinion with the pain natural to a highspirited prince; and it cannot be wondered
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at if he took suck opportunities as offered for placing his own character in more advantageous contrast with
that of his rival. The present seemed one of those occasions in which prudence and calmness might
reasonably expect to triumph over obstinacy and impetuous violence.
"What means this unseemly broil betwixt the sworn brethren of the Crossthe royal Majesty of England and
the princely Duke Leopold? How is it possible that those who are the chiefs and pillars of this holy
expedition"
"A truce with thy remonstrance, France," said Richard, enraged inwardly at finding himself placed on a sort
of equality with Leopold, yet not knowing how to resent it. "This duke, or prince, or pillar, if you will, hath
been insolent, and I have chastised himthat is all. Here is a coil, forsooth, because of spurning a hound!"
"Majesty of France," said the Duke, "I appeal to you and every sovereign prince against the foul indignity
which I have sustained. This King of England hath pulled down my bannertorn and trampled on it."
"Because he had the audacity to plant it beside mine," said Richard.
"My rank as thine equal entitled me," replied the Duke, emboldened by the presence of Philip.
"Assert such equality for thy person," said King Richard, "and, by Saint George, I will treat thy person as I
did thy broidered kerchief there, fit but for the meanest use to which kerchief may be put."
"Nay, but patience, brother of England," said Philip, "and I will presently show Austria that he is wrong in
this matter.Do not think, noble Duke," he continued, "that, in permitting the standard of England to occupy
the highest point in our camp, we, the independent sovereigns of the Crusade, acknowledge any inferiority to
the royal Richard. It were inconsistent to think so, since even the Oriflamme itselfthe great banner of
France, to which the royal Richard himself, in respect of his French possessions, is but a vassalholds for
the present an inferior place to the Lions of England. But as sworn brethren of the Cross, military pilgrims,
who, laying aside the pomp and pride of this world, are hewing with our swords the way to the Holy
Sepulchre, I myself, and the other princes, have renounced to King Richard, from respect to his high renown
and great feats of arms, that precedence which elsewhere, and upon other motives, would not have been
yielded. I am satisfied that, when your royal grace of Austria shall have considered this, you will express
sorrow for having placed your banner on this spot, and that the royal Majesty of England will then give
satisfaction for the insult he has offered."
The SPRUCHSPRECHER and the jester had both retired to a safe distance when matters seemed coming to
blows; but returned when words, their own commodity, seemed again about to become the order of the day.
The man of proverbs was so delighted with Philip's politic speech that he clashed his baton at the conclusion,
by way of emphasis, and forgot the presence in which he was, so far as to say aloud that he himself had never
said a wiser thing in his life.
"It may be so," whispered Jonas Schwanker, "but we shall be whipped if you speak so loud."
"The Duke answered sullenly that he would refer his quarrel to the General Council of the Crusadea
motion which Philip highly applauded, as qualified to take away a scandal most harmful to Christendom.
Richard, retaining the same careless attitude, listened to Philip until his oratory seemed exhausted, and then
said aloud, "I am drowsythis fever hangs about me still. Brother of France, thou art acquainted with my
humour, and that I have at all times but few words to spare. Know, therefore, at once, I will submit a matter
touching the honour of England neither to Prince, Pope, nor Council. Here stands my bannerwhatsoever
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pennon shall be reared within three butts' length of itay, were it the Oriflamme, of which you were, I think,
but now speakingshall be treated as that dishonoured rag; nor will I yield other satisfaction than that which
these poor limbs can render in the lists to any bold challengeay, were it against five champions instead of
one."
"Now," said the jester, whispering his companion, "that is as complete a piece of folly as if I myself had said
it; but yet, I think, there may be in this matter a greater fool than Richard yet."
"And who may that be?" asked the man of wisdom.
"Philip," said the jester, "or our own Royal Duke, should either accept the challenge. But oh, most sage
SPRUCHSPECHER, what excellent kings wouldst thou and I have made, since those on whose heads these
crowns have fallen can play the proverbmonger and the fool as completely as ourselves!"
While these worthies plied their offices apart, Philip answered calmly to the almost injurious defiance of
Richard, "I came not hither to awaken fresh quarrels, contrary to the oath we have sworn, and the holy cause
in which we have engaged. I part from my brother of England as brothers should part, and the only strife
between the Lions of England and the Lilies of France shall be which shall be carried deepest into the ranks
of the infidels."
"It is a bargain, my royal brother," said Richard, stretching out his hand with all the frankness which
belonged to his rash but generous disposition; "and soon may we have the opportunity to try this gallant and
fraternal wager."
"Let this noble Duke also partake in the friendship of this happy moment," said Philip; and the Duke
approached halfsullenly, halfwilling to enter into some accommodation.
"I think not of fools, nor of their folly," said Richard carelessly; and the Archduke, turning his back on him,
withdrew from the ground.
Richard looked after him as he retired.
"There is a sort of glowworm courage," he said, "that shows only by night. I must not leave this banner
unguarded in darkness; by daylight the look of the Lions will alone defend it. Here, Thomas of Gilsland, I
give thee the charge of the standardwatch over the honour of England."
"Her safety is yet more dear to me," said De Vaux, "and the life of Richard is the safety of England. I must
have your Highness back to your tent, and that without further tarriance."
"Thou art a rough and peremptory nurse, De Vaux," said the king, smiling; and then added, addressing Sir
Kenneth, "Valiant Scot, I owe thee a boon, and I will pay it richly. There stands the banner of England!
Watch it as novice does his armour on the night before he is dubbed. Stir not from it three spears' length, and
defend it with thy body against injury or insult. Sound thy bugle if thou art assailed by more than three at
once. Dost thou undertake the charge?"
"Willingly," said Kenneth; "and will discharge it upon penalty of my head. I will but arm me, and return
hither instantly."
The Kings of France and England then took formal leave of each other, hiding, under an appearance of
courtesy, the grounds of complaint which either had against the otherRichard against Philip, for what he
deemed an officious interference betwixt him and Austria, and Philip against Coeur de Lion, for the
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disrespectful manner in which his mediation had been received. Those whom this disturbance had assembled
now drew off in different directions, leaving the contested mount in the same solitude which had subsisted till
interrupted by the Austrian bravado. Men judged of the events of the day according to their partialities, and
while the English charged the Austrian with having afforded the first ground of quarrel, those of other nations
concurred in casting the greater blame upon the insular haughtiness and assuming character of Richard.
"Thou seest," said the Marquis of Montserrat to the Grand Master of the Templars, "that subtle courses are
more effective than violence. I have unloosed the bonds which held together this bunch of sceptres and
lancesthou wilt see them shortly fall asunder."
"I would have called thy plan a good one," said the Templar, "had there been but one man of courage among
yonder coldblooded Austrians to sever the bonds of which you speak with his sword. A knot that is
unloosed may again be fastened, but not so the cord which has been cut to pieces."
CHAPTER XII.
'Tis woman that seduces all mankind. GAY.
In the days of chivalry, a dangerous post or a perilous adventure was a reward frequently assigned to military
bravery as a compensation for its former trials; just as, in ascending a precipice, the surmounting one crag
only lifts the climber to points yet more dangerous.
It was midnight, and the moon rode clear and high in heaven, when Kenneth of Scotland stood upon his
watch on Saint George's Mount, beside the banner of England, a solitary sentinel, to protect the emblem of
that nation against the insults which might be meditated among the thousands whom Richard's pride had
made his enemies. High thoughts rolled, one after each other, upon the mind of the warrior. It seemed to him
as if he had gained some favour in the eyes of the chivalrous monarch, who till now had not seemed to
distinguish him among the crowds of brave men whom his renown had assembled under his banner, and Sir
Kenneth little recked that the display of royal regard consisted in placing him upon a post so perilous. The
devotion of his ambitious and high placed affection inflamed his military enthusiasm. Hopeless as that
attachment was in almost any conceivable circumstances, those which had lately occurred had, in some
degree, diminished the distance between Edith and himself. He upon whom Richard had conferred the
distinction of guarding his banner was no longer an adventurer of slight note, but placed within the regard of
a princess, although he was as far as ever from her level. An unknown and obscure fate could not now be his.
If he was surprised and slain on the post which had been assigned him, his deathand he resolved it should
be gloriousmust deserve the praises as well as call down the vengeance of Coeur de Lion, and be followed
by the regrets, and even the tears, of the highborn beauties of the English Court. He had now no longer
reason to fear that he should die as a fool dieth.
Sir Kenneth had full leisure to enjoy these and similar high souled thoughts, fostered by that wild spirit of
chivalry, which, amid its most extravagant and fantastic flights, was still pure from all selfish
alloygenerous, devoted, and perhaps only thus far censurable, that it proposed objects and courses of
action inconsistent with the frailties and imperfections of man. All nature around him slept in calm
moonshine or in deep shadow. The long rows of tents and pavilions, glimmering or darkening as they lay in
the moonlight or in the shade, were still and silent as the streets of a deserted city. Beside the bannerstaff lay
the large staghound already mentioned, the sole companion of Kenneth's watch, on whose vigilance he
trusted for early warning of the approach of any hostile footstep. The noble animal seemed to understand the
purpose of their watch; for he looked from time to time at the rich folds of the heavy pennon, and, when the
cry of the sentinels came from the distant lines and defences of the camp, he answered them with one deep
and reiterated bark, as if to affirm that he too was vigilant in his duty. From time to time, also, he lowered his
lofty head, and wagged his tail, as his master passed and repassed him in the short turns which he took upon
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his post; or, when the knight stood silent and abstracted leaning on his lance, and looking up towards heaven,
his faithful attendant ventured sometimes, in the phrase of romance, "to disturb his thoughts," and awaken
him from his reverie, by thrusting his large rough snout into the knight's gauntleted hand, to solicit a
transitory caress.
Thus passed two hours of the knight's watch without anything remarkable occurring. At length, and upon a
sudden, the gallant staghound bayed furiously, and seemed about to dash forward where the shadow lay the
darkest, yet waited, as if in the slips, till he should know the pleasure of his master.
"Who goes there?" said Sir Kenneth, aware that there was something creeping forward on the shadowy side
of the mount.
"In the name of Merlin and Maugis," answered a hoarse, disagreeable voice, "tie up your fourfooted demon
there, or I come not at you."
"And who art thou that would approach my post?" said Sir Kenneth, bending his eyes as keenly as he could
on some object, which he could just observe at the bottom of the ascent, without being able to distinguish its
form. "BewareI am here for death and life."
"Take up thy longfanged Sathanas," said the voice, "or I will conjure him with a bolt from my arblast."
At the same time was heard the sound of a spring or check, as when a crossbow is bent.
"Unbend thy arblast, and come into the moonlight," said the Scot, "or, by Saint Andrew, I will pin thee to the
earth, be what or whom thou wilt!"
As he spoke he poised his long lance by the middle, and, fixing his eye upon the object, which seemed to
move, he brandished the weapon, as if meditating to cast it from his handa use of the weapon sometimes,
though rarely, resorted to when a missile was necessary. But Sir Kenneth was ashamed of his purpose, and
grounded his weapon, when there stepped from the shadow into the moonlight, like an actor entering upon
the stage, a stunted, decrepit creature, whom, by his fantastic dress and deformity, he recognized, even at
some distance, for the male of the two dwarfs whom he had seen in the chapel at Engaddi. Recollecting, at
the same moment, the other and far different visions of that extraordinary night, he gave his dog a signal,
which he instantly understood, and, returning to the standard, laid himself down beside it with a stifled growl.
The little, distorted miniature of humanity, assured of his safety from an enemy so formidable, came panting
up the ascent, which the shortness of his legs rendered laborious, and, when he arrived on the platform at the
top, shifted to his left hand the little crossbow, which was just such a toy as children at that period were
permitted to shoot small birds with, and, assuming an attitude of great dignity, gracefully extended his right
hand to Sir Kenneth, in an attitude as if he expected he would salute it. But such a result not following, he
demanded, in a sharp and angry tone of voice, "Soldier, wherefore renderest thou not to Nectabanus the
homage due to his dignity? Or is it possible that thou canst have forgotten him?"
"Great Nectabanus," answered the knight, willing to soothe the creature's humour, "that were difficult for any
one who has ever looked upon thee. Pardon me, however, that, being a soldier upon my post, with my lance
in my hand, I may not give to one of thy puissance the advantage of coming within my guard, or of mastering
my weapon. Suffice it that I reverence thy dignity, and submit myself to thee as humbly as a manatarms in
my place may."
"It shall suffice," said Nectabanus, "so that you presently attend me to the presence of those who have sent
me hither to summon you."
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"Great sir," replied the knight, "neither in this can I gratify thee, for my orders are to abide by this banner till
daybreak so I Pray you to hold me excused in that matter also."
So saying, he resumed his walk upon the platform; but the dwarf did not suffer him so easily to escape from
his importunity.
"Look you," he said, placing himself before Sir Kenneth, so as to interrupt his way, "either obey me, Sir
Knight, as in duty bound, or I will lay the command upon thee, in the name of one whose beauty could call
down the genii from their sphere, and whose grandeur could command the immortal race when they had
descended."
A wild and improbable conjecture arose in the knight's mind, but he repelled it. It was impossible, he thought,
that the lady of his love should have sent him such a message by such a messenger; yet his voice trembled as
he said, "Go to, Nectabanus. Tell me at once, and as a true man, whether this sublime lady of whom thou
speakest be other than the houri with whose assistance I beheld thee sweeping the chapel at Engaddi?"
"How! presumptuous Knight," replied the dwarf, "think'st thou the mistress of our own royal affections, the
sharer of our greatness, and the partner of our comeliness, would demean herself by laying charge on such a
vassal as thou? No; highly as thou art honoured, thou hast not yet deserved the notice of Queen Guenevra, the
lovely bride of Arthur, from whose high seat even princes seem but pigmies. But look thou here, and as thou
knowest or disownest this token, so obey or refuse her commands who hath deigned to impose them on thee."
So saying, he placed in the knight's hand a ruby ring, which, even in the moonlight, he had no difficulty to
recognize as that which usually graced the finger of the highborn lady to whose service he had devoted
himself. Could he have doubted the truth of the token, he would have been convinced by the small knot of
carnationcoloured ribbon which was fastened to the ring. This was his lady's favourite colour, and more than
once had he himself, assuming it for that of his own liveries, caused the carnation to triumph over all other
hues in the lists and in the battle.
Sir Kenneth was struck nearly mute by seeing such a token in such hands.
"In the name of all that is sacred, from whom didst thou receive this witness?" said the knight. "Bring, if thou
canst, thy wavering understanding to a right settlement for a minute or two, and tell me the person by whom
thou art sent, and the real purpose of thy message, and take heed what thou sayest, for this is no subject for
buffoonery."
"Fond and foolish Knight," said the dwarf, "wouldst thou know more of this matter than that thou art
honoured with commands from a princess, delivered to thee by a king? We list not to parley with thee further
than to command thee, in the name and by the power of that ring, to follow us to her who is the owner of the
ring. Every minute that thou tarriest is a crime against thy allegiance."
"Good Nectabanus, bethink thyself," said the knight. "Can my lady know where and upon what duty I am this
night engaged? Is she aware that my lifepshaw, why should I speak of lifebut that my honour depends
on my guarding this banner till daybreak; and can it be her wish that I should leave it even to pay homage to
her? It is impossiblethe princess is pleased to be merry with her servant in sending him such a message;
and I must think so the rather that she hath chosen such a messenger."
"Oh, keep your belief," said Nectabanus, turning round as if to leave the platform; "it is little to me whether
you be traitor or true man to this royal ladyso fare thee well."
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"Stay, stayI entreat you stay," said Sir Kenneth. "Answer me but one question: is the lady who sent thee
near to this place?"
"What signifies it?" said the dwarf. "Ought fidelity to reckon furlongs, or miles, or leagueslike the poor
courier, who is paid for his labour by the distance which he traverses? Nevertheless, thou soul of suspicion, I
tell thee, the fair owner of the ring now sent to so unworthy a vassal, in whom there is neither truth nor
courage, is not more distant from this place than this arblast can send a bolt."
The knight gazed again on that ring, as if to ascertain that there was no possible falsehood in the token. "Tell
me," he said to the dwarf, "is my presence required for any length of time?"
"Time!" answered Nectabanus, in his flighty manner; "what call you time? I see it notI feel it notit is but
a shadowy name a succession of breathings measured forth by night by the clank of a bell, by day by a
shadow crossing along a dialstone. Knowest thou not a true knight's time should only be reckoned by the
deeds that he performs in behalf of God and his lady?"
"The words of truth, though in the mouth of folly," said the knight. "And doth my lady really summon me to
some deed of action, in her name and for her sake?and may it not be postponed for even the few hours till
daybreak?"
"She requires thy presence instantly," said the dwarf, "and without the loss of so much time as would be told
by ten grains of the sandglass. Hearken, thou coldblooded and suspicious knight, these are her very
wordsTell him that the hand which dropped roses can bestow laurels."
This allusion to their meeting in the chapel of Engaddi sent a thousand recollections through Sir Kenneth's
brain, and convinced him that the message delivered by the dwarf was genuine. The rosebuds, withered as
they were, were still treasured under his cuirass, and nearest to his heart. He paused, and could not resolve to
forego an opportunity, the only one which might ever offer, to gain grace in her eyes whom he had installed
as sovereign of his affections. The dwarf, in the meantime, augmented his confusion by insisting either that
he must return the ring or instantly attend him.
"Hold, hold, yet a moment hold," said the knight, and proceeded to mutter to himself, "Am I either the subject
or slave of King Richard, more than as a free knight sworn to the service of the Crusade? And whom have I
come hither to honour with lance and sword? Our holy cause and my transcendent lady!"
"The ring! the ring!" exclaimed the dwarf impatiently; "false and slothful knight, return the ring, which thou
art unworthy to touch or to look upon."
"A moment, a moment, good Nectabanus," said Sir Kenneth; "disturb not my thoughts.What if the
Saracens were just now to attack our lines? Should I stay here like a sworn vassal of England, watching that
her king's pride suffered no humiliation; or should I speed to the breach, and fight for the Cross? To the
breach, assuredly; and next to the cause of God come the commands of my liege lady. And yet, Coeur de
Lion's behestmy own promise! Nectabanus, I conjure thee once more to say, are you to conduct me far
from hence?"
"But to yonder pavilion; and, since you must needs know," replied Nectabanus, "the moon is glimmering on
the gilded ball which crowns its roof, and which is worth a king's ransom."
"I can return in an instant," said the knight, shutting his eyes desperately to all further consequences, "I can
hear from thence the bay of my dog if any one approaches the standard. I will throw myself at my lady's feet,
and pray her leave to return to conclude my watch.Here, Roswal" (calling his hound, and throwing down
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his mantle by the side of the standardspear), "watch thou here, and let no one approach."
The majestic dog looked in his master's face, as if to be sure that he understood his charge, then sat down
beside the mantle, with ears erect and head raised, like a sentinel, understanding perfectly the purpose for
which he was stationed there.
"Come now, good Nectabanus," said the knight, "let us hasten to obey the commands thou hast brought."
"Haste he that will," said the dwarf sullenly; "thou hast not been in haste to obey my summons, nor can I
walk fast enough to follow your long stridesyou do not walk like a man, but bound like an ostrich in the
desert."
There were but two ways of conquering the obstinacy of Nectabanus, who, as he spoke, diminished his walk
into a snail's pace. For bribes Sir Kenneth had no meansfor soothing no time; so in his impatience he
snatched the dwarf up from the ground, and bearing him along, notwithstanding his entreaties and his fear,
reached nearly to the pavilion pointed out as that of the Queen. In approaching it, however, the Scot observed
there was a small guard of soldiers sitting on the ground, who had been concealed from him by the
intervening tents. Wondering that the clash of his own armour had not yet attracted their attention, and
supposing that his motions might, on the present occasion, require to be conducted with secrecy, he placed
the little panting guide upon the ground to recover his breath, and point out what was next to be done,
Nectabanus was both frightened and angry; but he had felt himself as completely in the power of the robust
knight as an owl in the claws of an eagle, and therefore cared not to provoke him to any further display of his
strength.
He made no complaints, therefore, of the usage he had received; but, turning amongst the labyrinth of tents,
he led the knight in silence to the opposite side of the pavilion, which thus screened them from the
observation of the warders, who seemed either too negligent or too sleepy to discharge their duty with much
accuracy. Arrived there, the dwarf raised the under part of the canvas from the ground, and made signs to Sir
Kenneth that he should introduce himself to the inside of the tent, by creeping under it. The knight hesitated.
There seemed an indecorum in thus privately introducing himself into a pavilion pitched, doubtless, for the
accommodation of noble ladies; but he recalled to remembrance the assured tokens which the dwarf had
exhibited, and concluded that it was not for him to dispute his lady's pleasure.
He stooped accordingly, crept beneath the canvas enclosure of the tent, and heard the dwarf whisper from
without, "Remain here until I call thee."
CHAPTER XIII.
You talk of Gaiety and Innocence!
The moment when the fatal fruit was eaten,
They parted ne'er to meet again; and Malice
Has ever since been playmate to light Gaiety,
From the first moment when the smiling infant
Destroys the flower or butterfly he toys with,
To the last chuckle of the dying miser,
Who on his deathbed laughs his last to hear
His wealthy neighbour has become a bankrupt. OLD PLAY.
Sir Kenneth was left for some minutes alone and in darkness. Here was another interruption which must
prolong his absence from his post, and he began almost to repent the facility with which he had been induced
to quit it. But to return without seeing the Lady Edith was now not to be thought of. He had committed a
breach of military discipline, and was determined at least to prove the reality of the seductive expectations
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which had tempted him to do so. Meanwhile his situation was unpleasant. There was no light to show him
into what sort of apartment he had been led the Lady Edith was in immediate attendance on the Queen of
Englandand the discovery of his having introduced himself thus furtively into the royal pavilion might,
were it discovered; lead to much and dangerous suspicion. While he gave way to these unpleasant reflections,
and began almost to wish that he could achieve his retreat unobserved, he heard a noise of female voices,
laughing, whispering, and speaking, in an adjoining apartment, from which, as the sounds gave him reason to
judge, he could only be separated by a canvas partition. Lamps were burning, as he might perceive by the
shadowy light which extended itself even to his side of the veil which divided the tent, and he could see
shades of several figures sitting and moving in the adjoining apartment. It cannot be termed discourtesy in Sir
Kenneth that, situated as he was, he overheard a conversation in which he found himself deeply interested.
"Call hercall her, for Our Lady's sake," said the voice of one of these laughing invisibles. "Nectabanus,
thou shalt be made ambassador to Prester John's court, to show them how wisely thou canst discharge thee of
a mission."
The shrill tone of the dwarf was heard, yet so much subdued that Sir Kenneth could not understand what he
said, except that he spoke something of the means of merriment given to the guard.
"But how shall we rid us of the spirit which Nectabanus hath raised, my maidens?"
"Hear me, royal madam," said another voice. "If the sage and princely Nectabanus be not overjealous of his
most transcendent bride and empress, let us send her to get us rid of this insolent knighterrant, who can be
so easily persuaded that highborn dames may need the use of his insolent and overweening valour."
"It were but justice, methinks," replied another, "that the Princess Guenever should dismiss, by her courtesy,
him whom her husband's wisdom has been able to entice hither."
Struck to the heart with shame and resentment at what he had heard, Sir Kenneth was about to attempt his
escape from the tent at all hazards, when what followed arrested his purpose.
"Nay, truly," said the first speaker, "our cousin Edith must first learn how this vaunted wight hath conducted
himself, and we must reserve the power of giving her ocular proof that he hath failed in his duty. It may be a
lesson will do good upon her; for, credit me, Calista, I have sometimes thought she has let this Northern
adventurer sit nearer her heart than prudence would sanction."
One of the other voices was then heard to mutter something of the Lady Edith's prudence and wisdom.
"Prudence, wench!" was the reply. "It is mere pride, and the desire to be thought more rigid than any of us.
Nay, I will not quit my advantage. You know well that when she has us at fault no one can, in a civil way, lay
your error before you more precisely than can my Lady Edith. But here she comes."
A figure, as if entering the apartment, cast upon the partition a shade, which glided along slowly until it
mixed with those which already clouded it. Despite of the bitter disappointment which he had
experienceddespite the insult and injury with which it seemed he had been visited by the malice, or, at
best, by the idle humour of Queen Berengaria (for he already concluded that she who spoke loudest, and in a
commanding tone, was the wife of Richard), the knight felt something so soothing to his feelings in learning
that Edith had been no partner to the fraud practised on him, and so interesting to his curiosity in the scene
which was about to take place, that, instead of prosecuting his more prudent purpose of an instant retreat, he
looked anxiously, on the contrary, for some rent or crevice by means of which be might be made eye as well
as ear witness to what was to go forward.
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"Surely," said he to himself, "the Queen, who hath been pleased for an idle frolic to endanger my reputation,
and perhaps my life, cannot complain if I avail myself of the chance which fortune seems willing to afford
me to obtain knowledge of her further intentions."
It seemed, in the meanwhile, as if Edith were waiting for the commands of the Queen, and as if the other
were reluctant to speak for fear of being unable to command her laughter and that of her companions; for Sir
Kenneth could only distinguish a sound as of suppressed tittering and merriment.
"Your Majesty," said Edith at last, "seems in a merry mood, though, methinks, the hour of night prompts a
sleepy one. I was well disposed bedward when I had your Majesty's commands to attend you."
"I will not long delay you, cousin, from your repose," said the Queen, "though I fear you will sleep less
soundly when I tell you your wager is lost."
"Nay, royal madam," said Edith, "this, surely, is dwelling on a jest which has rather been worn out, I laid no
wager, however it was your Majesty's pleasure to suppose, or to insist, that I did so."
"Nay, now, despite our pilgrimage, Satan is strong with you, my gentle cousin, and prompts thee to leasing.
Can you deny that you gaged your ruby ring against my golden bracelet that yonder Knight of the Libbard, or
how call you him, could not be seduced from his post?"
"Your Majesty is too great for me to gainsay you," replied Edith, "but these ladies can, if they will, bear me
witness that it was your Highness who proposed such a wager, and took the ring from my finger, even while I
was declaring that I did not think it maidenly to gage anything on such a subject."
"Nay, but, my Lady Edith," said another voice, "you must needs grant, under your favour, that you expressed
yourself very confident of the valour of that same Knight of the Leopard."
"And if I did, minion," said Edith angrily, "is that a good reason why thou shouldst put in thy word to flatter
her Majesty's humour? I spoke of that knight but as all men speak who have seen him in the field, and had no
more interest in defending than thou in detracting from him. In a camp, what can women speak of save
soldiers and deeds of arms?"
"The noble Lady Edith," said a third voice, "hath never forgiven Calista and me, since we told your Majesty
that she dropped two rosebuds in the chapel."
"If your Majesty," said Edith, in a tone which Sir Kenneth could judge to be that of respectful remonstrance,
"have no other commands for me than to hear the gibes of your waitingwomen, I must crave your
permission to withdraw."
"Silence, Florise," said the Queen, "and let not our indulgence lead you to forget the difference betwixt
yourself and the kinswoman of England.But you, my dear cousin," she continued, resuming her tone of
raillery, "how can you, who are so good natured, begrudge us poor wretches a few minutes' laughing, when
we have had so many days devoted to weeping and gnashing of teeth?"
"Great be your mirth, royal lady," said Edith; "yet would I be content not to smile for the rest of my life,
rather than"
She stopped, apparently out of respect; but Sir Kenneth could hear that she was in much agitation.
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"Forgive me," said Berengaria, a thoughtless but goodhumoured princess of the House of Navarre; "but
what is the great offence, after all? A young knight has been wiled hitherhas stolen, or has been stolen,
from his post, which no one will disturb in his absencefor the sake of a fair lady; for, to do your champion
justice, sweet one, the wisdom of Nectabanus could conjure him hither in no name but yours."
"Gracious Heaven! your Majesty does not say so?" said Edith, in a voice of alarm quite different from the
agitation she had previously evinced,"you cannot say so consistently with respect for your own honour and
for mine, your husband's kinswoman! Say you were jesting with me, my royal mistress, and forgive me that I
could, even for a moment, think it possible you could be in earnest!"
"The Lady Edith," said the Queen, in a displeased tone of voice, "regrets the ring we have won of her. We
will restore the pledge to you, gentle cousin; only you must not grudge us in turn a little triumph over the
wisdom which has been so often spread over us, as a banner over a host."
"A triumph!" exclaimed Edith indignantly"a triumph! The triumph will be with the infidel, when he hears
that the Queen of England can make the reputation of her husband's kinswoman the subject of a light frolic."
"You are angry, fair cousin, at losing your favourite ring," said the Queen. "Come, since you grudge to pay
your wager, we will renounce our right; it was your name and that pledge brought him hither, and we care not
for the bait after the fish is caught."
"Madam," replied Edith impatiently, "you know well that your Grace could not wish for anything of mine but
it becomes instantly yours. But I would give a bushel of rubies ere ring or name of mine had been used to
bring a brave man into a fault, and perhaps to disgrace and punishment."
"Oh, it is for the safety of our true knight that we fear!" said the Queen. "You rate our power too low, fair
cousin, when you speak of a life being lost for a frolic of ours. O Lady Edith, others have influence on the
iron breasts of warriors as well as youthe heart even of a lion is made of flesh, not of stone; and, believe
me, I have interest enough with Richard to save this knight, in whose fate Lady Edith is so deeply concerned,
from the penalty of disobeying his royal commands."
"For the love of the blessed Cross, most royal lady," said Edith and Sir Kenneth, with feelings which it
were hard to unravel, heard her prostrate herself at the Queen's feet"for the love of our blessed Lady, and
of every holy saint in the calendar, beware what you do! You know not King Richardyou have been but
shortly wedded to him. Your breath might as well combat the west wind when it is wildest, as your words
persuade my royal kinsman to pardon a military offence. Oh, for God's sake, dismiss this gentleman, if
indeed you have lured him hither! I could almost be content to rest with the shame of having invited him, did
I know that he was returned again where his duty calls him!"
"Arise, cousin, arise," said Queen Berengaria, "and be assured all will be better than you think. Rise, dear
Edith. I am sorry I have played my foolery with a knight in whom you take such deep interest. Nay, wring not
thy hands; I will believe thou carest not for himbelieve anything rather than see thee look so wretchedly
miserable. I tell thee I will take the blame on myself with King Richard in behalf of thy fair Northern friend
thine acquaintance, I would say, since thou own'st him not as a friend. Nay, look not so reproachfully. We
will send Nectabanus to dismiss this Knight of the Standard to his post; and we ourselves will grace him on
some future day, to make amends for his wildgoose chase. He is, I warrant, but lying perdu in some
neighbouring tent."
"By my crown of lilies, and my sceptre of a specially good water reed," said Nectabanus, "your Majesty is
mistaken, He is nearer at hand than you wothe lieth ensconced there behind that canvas partition."
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"And within hearing of each word we have said!" exclaimed the Queen, in her turn violently surprised and
agitated. "Out, monster of folly and malignity!"
As she uttered these words, Nectabanus fled from the pavilion with a yell of such a nature as leaves it still
doubtful whether Berengaria had confined her rebuke to words, or added some more emphatic expression of
her displeasure.
"What can now be done?" said the Queen to Edith, in a whisper of undisguised uneasiness.
"That which must," said Edith firmly. "We must see this gentleman and place ourselves in his mercy."
So saying, she began hastily to undo a curtain, which at one place covered an entrance or communication.
"For Heaven's sake, forbearconsider," said the Queen"my apartmentour dressthe hourmy
honour!"
But ere she could detail her remonstrances, the curtain fell, and there was no division any longer betwixt the
armed knight and the party of ladies. The warmth of an Eastern night occasioned the undress of Queen
Berengaria and her household to be rather more simple and unstudied than their station, and the presence of a
male spectator of rank, required. This the Queen remembered, and with a loud shriek fled from the apartment
where Sir Kenneth was disclosed to view in a compartment of the ample pavilion, now no longer separated
from that in which they stood. The grief and agitation of the Lady Edith, as well as the deep interest she felt
in a hasty explanation with the Scottish knight, perhaps occasioned her forgetting that her locks were more
dishevelled and her person less heedfully covered than was the wont of high born damsels, in an age which
was not, after all, the most prudish or scrupulous period of the ancient time. A thin, loose garment of
pinkcoloured silk made the principal part of her vestments, with Oriental slippers, into which she had hastily
thrust her bare feet, and a scarf hurriedly and loosely thrown about her shoulders. Her head had no other
covering than the veil of rich and dishevelled locks falling round it on every side, that half hid a countenance
which a mingled sense of modesty and of resentment, and other deep and agitated feelings, had covered with
crimson.
But although Edith felt her situation with all that delicacy which is her sex's greatest charm, it did not seem
that for a moment she placed her own bashfulness in comparison with the duty which, as she thought, she
owed to him who had been led into error and danger on her account. She drew, indeed, her scarf more closely
over her neck and bosom, and she hastily laid from her hand a lamp which shed too much lustre over her
figure; but, while Sir Kenneth stood motionless on the same spot in which he was first discovered, she rather
stepped towards than retired from him, as she exclaimed, "Hasten to your post, valiant knight!you are
deceived in being trained hitherask no questions."
"I need ask none," said the knight, sinking upon one knee, with the reverential devotion of a saint at the altar,
and bending his eyes on the ground, lest his looks should increase the lady's embarrassment.
"Have you heard all?" said Edith impatiently. "Gracious saints! then wherefore wait you here, when each
minute that passes is loaded with dishonour!"
"I have heard that I am dishonoured, lady, and I have heard it from you," answered Kenneth. "What reck I
how soon punishment follows? I have but one petition to you; and then I seek, among the sabres of the
infidels, whether dishonour may not be washed out with blood."
"Do not so, neither," said the lady. "Be wisedally not here; all may yet be well, if you will but use
dispatch."
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"I wait but for your forgiveness," said the knight, still kneeling, "for my presumption in believing that my
poor services could have been required or valued by you."
"I do forgive youoh, I have nothing to forgive! have been the means of injuring you. But oh, begone! I will
forgiveI will value youthat is, as I value every brave Crusaderif you will but begone!"
"Receive, first, this precious yet fatal pledge," said the knight, tendering the ring to Edith, who now showed
gestures of impatience.
"Oh, no, no " she said, declining to receive it. "Keep itkeep it as a mark of my regardmy regret, I would
say. Oh, begone, if not for your own sake, for mine!"
Almost recompensed for the loss even of honour, which her voice had denounced to him, by the interest
which she seemed to testify in his safety, Sir Kenneth rose from his knee, and, casting a momentary glance on
Edith, bowed low, and seemed about to withdraw. At the same instant, that maidenly bashfulness, which the
energy of Edith's feelings had till then triumphed over, became conqueror in its turn, and she hastened from
the apartment, extinguishing her lamp as she went, and leaving, in Sir Kenneth's thoughts, both mental and
natural gloom behind her.
She must be obeyed, was the first distinct idea which waked him from his reverie, and he hastened to the
place by which he had entered the pavilion. To pass under the canvas in the manner he had entered required
time and attention, and he made a readier aperture by slitting the canvas wall with his poniard. When in the
free air, he felt rather stupefied and overpowered by a conflict of sensations, than able to ascertain what was
the real import of the whole. He was obliged to spur himself to action by recollecting that the commands of
the Lady Edith had required haste. Even then, engaged as he was amongst tentropes and tents, he was
compelled to move with caution until he should regain the path or avenue, aside from which the dwarf had
led him, in order to escape the observation of the guards before the Queen's pavilion; and he was obliged also
to move slowly, and with precaution, to avoid giving an alarm, either by falling or by the clashing of his
armour. A thin cloud had obscured the moon, too, at the very instant of his leaving the tent, and Sir Kenneth
had to struggle with this inconvenience at a moment when the dizziness of his head and the fullness of his
heart scarce left him powers of intelligence sufficient to direct his motions.
But at once sounds came upon his ear which instantly recalled him to the full energy of his faculties. These
proceeded from the Mount of Saint George. He heard first a single, fierce, angry, and savage bark, which was
immediately followed by a yell of agony. No deer ever bounded with a wilder start at the voice of Roswal
than did Sir Kenneth at what he feared was the deathcry of that noble hound, from whom no ordinary injury
could have extracted even the slightest acknowledgment of pain. He surmounted the space which divided him
from the avenue, and, having attained it, began to run towards the mount, although loaded with his mail,
faster than most men could have accompanied him even if unarmed, relaxed not his pace for the steep sides
of the artificial mound, and in a few minutes stood on the platform upon its summit.
The moon broke forth at this moment, and showed him that the Standard of England was vanished, that the
spear on which it had floated lay broken on the ground, and beside it was his faithful hound, apparently in the
agonies of death.
CHAPTER XIV.
All my long arrear of honour lost,
Heap'd up in youth, and hoarded up for age.
Hath Honour's fountain then suck'd up the stream?
He hathand hooting boys may barefoot pass,
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And gather pebbles from the naked ford! DON SEBASTIAN.
After a torrent of afflicting sensations, by which he was at first almost stunned and confounded, Sir Kenneth's
first thought was to look for the authors of this violation of the English banner; but in no direction could he
see traces of them. His next, which to some persons, but scarce to any who have made intimate acquaintances
among the canine race, may appear strange, was to examine the condition of his faithful Roswal, mortally
wounded, as it seemed, in discharging the duty which his master had been seduced to abandon. He caressed
the dying animal, who, faithful to the last, seemed to forget his own pain in the satisfaction he received from
his master's presence, and continued wagging his tail and licking his hand, even while by low moanings he
expressed that his agony was increased by the attempts which Sir Kenneth made to withdraw from the wound
the fragment of the lance or javelin with which it had been inflicted; then redoubled his feeble endearments,
as if fearing he had offended his master by showing a sense of the pain to which his interference had
subjected him. There was something in the display of the dying creature's attachment which mixed as a bitter
ingredient with the sense of disgrace and desolation by which Sir Kenneth was oppressed. His only friend
seemed removed from him, just when he had incurred the contempt and hatred of all besides. The knight's
strength of mind gave way to a burst of agonized distress, and he groaned and wept aloud.
While he thus indulged his grief, a clear and solemn voice, close beside him, pronounced these words in the
sonorous tone of the readers of the mosque, and in the lingua franca mutually understood by Christians and
Saracens:
"Adversity is like the period of the former and of the latter raincold, comfortless, unfriendly to man and to
animal; yet from that season have their birth the flower and the fruit, the date, the rose, and the pomegranate."
Sir Kenneth of the Leopard turned towards the speaker, and beheld the Arabian physician, who, approaching
unheard, had seated himself a little behind him crosslegged, and uttered with gravity, yet not without a tone
of sympathy, the moral sentences of consolation with which the Koran and its commentators supplied him;
for, in the East, wisdom is held to consist less in a display of the sage's own inventive talents, than in his
ready memory and happy application of and reference to "that which is written."
Ashamed at being surprised in a womanlike expression of sorrow, Sir Kenneth dashed his tears indignantly
aside, and again busied himself with his dying favourite.
"The poet hath said," continued the Arab, without noticing the knight's averted looks and sullen deportment,
"the ox for the field, and the camel for the desert. Were not the hand of the leech fitter than that of the soldier
to cure wounds, though less able to inflict them?"
"This patient, Hakim, is beyond thy help," said Sir Kenneth; "and, besides, he is, by thy law, an unclean
animal."
"Where Allah hath deigned to bestow life, and a sense of pain and pleasure," said the physician, "it were
sinful pride should the sage, whom He has enlightened, refuse to prolong existence or assuage agony. To the
sage, the cure of a miserable groom, of a poor dog and of a conquering monarch, are events of little
distinction. Let me examine this wounded animal."
Sir Kenneth acceded in silence, and the physician inspected and handled Roswal's wound with as much care
and attention as if he had been a human being. He then took forth a case of instruments, and, by the judicious
and skilful application of pincers, withdrew from the wounded shoulder the fragment of the weapon, and
stopped with styptics and bandages the effusion of blood which followed; the creature all the while suffering
him patiently to perform these kind offices, as if he had been aware of his kind intentions.
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"The animal may be cured," said El Hakim, addressing himself to Sir Kenneth, "if you will permit me to
carry him to my tent, and treat him with the care which the nobleness of his nature deserves. For know, that
thy servant Adonbec is no less skilful in the race and pedigree and distinctions of good dogs and of noble
steeds than in the diseases which afflict the human race."
"Take him with you," said the knight. "I bestow him on you freely, if he recovers. I owe thee a reward for
attendance on my squire, and have nothing else to pay it with. For myself, I will never again wind bugle or
halloo to hound!"
The Arabian made no reply, but gave a signal with a clapping of his hands, which was instantly answered by
the appearance of two black slaves. He gave them his orders in Arabic, received the answer that "to hear was
to obey," when, taking the animal in their arms, they removed him, without much resistance on his part; for
though his eyes turned to his master, he was too weak to struggle.
"Fare thee well, Roswal, then," said Sir Kenneth"fare thee well, my last and only friendthou art too
noble a possession to be retained by one such as I must in future call myself!I would," he said, as the
slaves retired, "that, dying as he is, I could exchange conditions with that noble animal!"
"It is written," answered the Arabian, although the exclamation had not been addressed to him, "that all
creatures are fashioned for the service of man; and the master of the earth speaketh folly when he would
exchange, in his impatience, his hopes here and to come for the servile condition of an inferior being."
"A dog who dies in discharging his duty," said the knight sternly, "is better than a man who survives the
desertion of it. Leave me, Hakim; thou hast, on this side of miracle, the most wonderful science which man
ever possessed, but the wounds of the spirit are beyond thy power."
"Not if the patient will explain his calamity, and be guided by the physician," said Adonbec el Hakim.
"Know, then," said Sir Kenneth, "since thou art so importunate, that last night the Banner of England was
displayed from this moundI was its appointed guardianmorning is now breaking there lies the broken
bannerspear, the standard itself is lost, and here sit I a living man!"
"How!" said El Hakim, examining him; "thy armour is wholethere is no blood on thy weapons, and report
speaks thee one unlikely to return thus from fight. Thou hast been trained from thy post ay, trained by the
rosy cheek and black eye of one of those houris, to whom you Nazarenes vow rather such service as is due to
Allah, than such love as may lawfully be rendered to forms of clay like our own. It has been thus assuredly;
for so hath man ever fallen, even since the days of Sultan Adam."
"And if it were so, physician," said Sir Kenneth sullenly, "what remedy?"
"Knowledge is the parent of power," said El Hakim, "as valour supplies strength. Listen to me. Man is not as
a tree, bound to one spot of earth; nor is he framed to cling to one bare rock, like the scarce animated
shellfish. Thine own Christian writings command thee, when persecuted in one city, to flee to another; and
we Moslem also know that Mohammed, the Prophet of Allah, driven forth from the holy city of Mecca, found
his refuge and his helpmates at Medina."
"And what does this concern me?" said the Scot.
"Much," answered the physician. "Even the sage flies the tempest which he cannot control. Use thy speed,
therefore, and fly from the vengeance of Richard to the shadow of Saladin's victorious banner."
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"I might indeed hide my dishonour," said Sir Kenneth ironically, "in a camp of infidel heathens, where the
very phrase is unknown. But had I not better partake more fully in their reproach? Does not thy advice stretch
so far as to recommend me to take the turban? Methinks I want but apostasy to consummate my infamy."
"Blaspheme not, Nazarene," said the physician sternly. "Saladin makes no converts to the law of the Prophet,
save those on whom its precepts shall work conviction. Open thine eyes to the light, and the great Soldan,
whose liberality is as boundless as his power, may bestow on thee a kingdom; remain blinded if thou will,
and, being one whose second life is doomed to misery, Saladin will yet, for this span of present time, make
thee rich and happy. But fear not that thy brows shall be bound with the turban, save at thine own free
choice."
"My choice were rather," said the knight, "that my writhen features should blacken, as they are like to do, in
this evening's setting sun."
"Yet thou art not wise, Nazarene," said El Hakim, "to reject this fair offer; for I have power with Saladin, and
can raise thee high in his grace. Look you, my sonthis Crusade, as you call your wild enterprise, is like a
large dromond [The largest sort of vessels then known were termed dromond's, or dromedaries.] parting
asunder in the waves. Thou thyself hast borne terms of truce from the kings and princes, whose force is here
assembled, to the mighty Soldan, and knewest not, perchance, the full tenor of thine own errand."
"I knew not, and I care not," said the knight impatiently. "What avails it to me that I have been of late the
envoy of princes, when, ere night, I shall be a gibbeted and dishonoured corse?"
"Nay, I speak that it may not be so with thee," said the physician. "Saladin is courted on all sides. The
combined princes of this league formed against him have made such proposals of composition and peace, as,
in other circumstances, it might have become his honour to have granted to them. Others have made private
offers, on their own separate account, to disjoin their forces from the camp of the Kings of Frangistan, and
even to lend their arms to the defence of the standard of the Prophet. But Saladin will not be served by such
treacherous and interested defection. The king of kings will treat only with the Lion King. Saladin will hold
treaty with none but the Melech Ric, and with him he will treat like a prince, or fight like a champion. To
Richard he will yield such conditions of his free liberality as the swords of all Europe could never compel
from him by force or terror. He will permit a free pilgrimage to Jerusalem, and all the places where the
Nazarenes list to worship; nay, he will so far share even his empire with his brother Richard, that be will
allow Christian garrisons in the six strongest cities of Palestine, and one in Jerusalem itself, and suffer them
to be under the immediate command of the officers of Richard, who, he consents, shall bear the name of King
Guardian of Jerusalem. Yet further, strange and incredible as you may think it, know, Sir Knightfor to
your honour I can commit even that almost incredible secretknow that Saladin will put a sacred seal on this
happy union betwixt the bravest and noblest of Frangistan and Asia, by raising to the rank of his royal spouse
a Christian damsel, allied in blood to King Richard, and known by the name of the Lady Edith of
Plantagenet." [This may appear so extraordinary and improbable a proposition that it is necessary to say such
a one was actually made. The historians, however, substitute the widowed Queen of Naples, sister of Richard,
for the bride, and Saladin's brother for the bridegroom. They appear to have been ignorant of the existence of
Edith of Plantagenet.See MILL'S History of the Crusades, vol. ii., p. 61.]
"Ha!sayest thou?" exclaimed Sir Kenneth, who, listening with indifference and apathy to the preceding
part of El Hakim's speech, was touched by this last communication, as the thrill of a nerve, unexpectedly
jarred, will awaken the sensation of agony, even in the torpor of palsy. Then, moderating his tone, by dint of
much effort he restrained his indignation, and, veiling it under the appearance of contemptuous doubt, he
prosecuted the conversation, in order to get as much knowledge as possible of the plot, as he deemed it,
against the honour and happiness of her whom he loved not the less that his passion had ruined, apparently,
his fortunes, at once, and his honour."And what Christian," he said, With tolerable calmness, "would
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sanction a union so unnatural as that of a Christian maiden with an unbelieving Saracen?"
"Thou art but an ignorant, bigoted Nazarene," said the Hakim. "Seest thou not how the Mohammedan princes
daily intermarry with the noble Nazarene maidens in Spain, without scandal either to Moor or Christian? And
the noble Soldan will, in his full confidence in the blood of Richard, permit the English maid the freedom
which your Frankish manners have assigned to women. He will allow her the free exercise of her religion,
seeing that, in very truth, it signifies but little to which faith females are addicted; and he will assign her such
place and rank over all the women of his zenana, that she shall be in every respect his sole and absolute
queen."
"What!" said Sir Kenneth, "darest thou think, Moslem, that Richard would give his kinswomana
highborn and virtuous princessto be, at best, the foremost concubine in the haram of a misbeliever?
Know, Hakim, the meanest free Christian noble would scorn, on his child's behalf, such splendid ignominy."
"Thou errest," said the Hakim. "Philip of France, and Henry of Champagne, and others of Richard's principal
allies, have heard the proposal without starting, and have promised, as far as they may, to forward an alliance
that may end these wasteful wars; and the wise archpriest of Tyre hath undertaken to break the proposal to
Richard, not doubting that he shall be able to bring the plan to good issue. The Soldan's wisdom hath as yet
kept his proposition secret from others, such as he of Montserrat, and the Master of the Templars, because he
knows they seek to thrive by Richard's death or disgrace, not by his life or honour. Up, therefore, Sir Knight,
and to horse. I will give thee a scroll which shall advance thee highly with the Soldan; and deem not that you
are leaving your country, or her cause, or her religion, since the interest of the two monarchs will speedily be
the same. To Saladin thy counsel will be most acceptable, since thou canst make him aware of much
concerning the marriages of the Christians, the treatment of their wives, and other points of their laws and
usages, which, in the course of such treaty, it much concerns him that he should know. The right hand of the
Soldan grasps the treasures of the East, and it is the fountain or generosity. Or, if thou desirest it, Saladin,
when allied with England, can have but little difficulty to obtain from Richard, not only thy pardon and
restoration to favour, but an honourable command in the troops which may be left of the King of England's
host, to maintain their joint government in Palestine. Up, then, and mountthere lies a plain path before
thee."
"Hakim," said the Scottish knight, "thou art a man of peace; also thou hast saved the life of Richard of
Englandand, moreover, of my own poor esquire, Strauchan. I have, therefore, heard to an end a matter
which, being propounded by another Moslem than thyself, I would have cut short with a blow of my dagger!
Hakim, in return for thy kindness, I advise thee to see that the Saracen who shall propose to Richard a union
betwixt the blood of Plantagenet and that of his accursed race do put on a helmet which is capable to endure
such a blow of a battleaxe as that which struck down the gate of Acre. Certes, he will be otherwise placed
beyond the reach even of thy skill."
"Thou art, then, wilfully determined not to fly to the Saracen host?" said the physician. "Yet, remember, thou
stayest to certain destruction; and the writings of thy law, as well as ours, prohibit man from breaking into the
tabernacle of his own life."
"God forbid!" replied the Scot, crossing himself; "but we are also forbidden to avoid the punishment which
our crimes have deserved. And since so poor are thy thoughts of fidelity, Hakim, it grudges me that I have
bestowed my good hound on thee, for, should he live, he will have a master ignorant of his value."
"A gift that is begrudged is already recalled," said El Hakim; "only we physicians are sworn not to send away
a patient uncured. If the dog recover, he is once more yours."
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"Go to, Hakim," answered Sir Kenneth; "men speak not of hawk and hound when there is but an hour of
daybreaking betwixt them and death. Leave me to recollect my sins, and reconcile myself to Heaven."
"I leave thee in thine obstinacy," said the physician; "the mist hides the precipice from those who are doomed
to fall over it."
He withdrew slowly, turning from time to time his head, as if to observe whether the devoted knight might
not recall him either by word or signal. At last his turbaned figure was lost among the labyrinth of tents
which lay extended beneath, whitening in the pale light of the dawning, before which the moonbeam had now
faded away.
But although the physician Adonbec's words had not made that impression upon Kenneth which the sage
desired, they had inspired the Scot with a motive for desiring life, which, dishonoured as he conceived
himself to be, he was before willing to part from as from a sullied vestment no longer becoming his wear.
Much that had passed betwixt himself and the hermit, besides what he had observed between the anchorite
and Sheerkohf (or Ilderim), he now recalled to recollection, and tended to confirm what the Hakim had told
him of the secret article of the treaty.
"The reverend impostor!" he exclaimed to himself; "the hoary hypocrite! He spoke of the unbelieving
husband converted by the believing wife; and what do I know but that the traitor exhibited to the Saracen,
accursed of God, the beauties of Edith Plantagenet, that the hound might judge if the princely Christian lady
were fit to be admitted into the haram of a misbeliever? If I had yonder infidel Ilderim, or whatsoever he is
called, again in the gripe with which I once held him fast as ever hound held hare, never again should HE at
least come on errand disgraceful to the honour of Christian king or noble and virtuous maiden. But Imy
hours are fast dwindling into minutesyet, while I have life and breath, something must be done, and
speedily."
He paused for a few minutes, threw from him his helmet, then strode down the hill, and took the road to King
Richard's pavilion.
CHAPTER XV.
The feather'd songster, chanticleer,
Had wound his buglehorn,
And told the early villager
The coming of the morn.
King Edward saw the ruddy streaks
Of light eclipse the grey,
And heard the raven's croaking throat
Proclaim the fated day.
"Thou'rt right," he said, "for, by the God
That sits enthron'd on high,
Charles Baldwin, and his fellows twain,
This day shall surely die." CHATTERTON.
On the evening on which Sir Kenneth assumed his post, Richard, after the stormy event which disturbed its
tranquillity, had retired to rest in the plenitude of confidence inspired by his unbounded courage and the
superiority which he had displayed in carrying the point he aimed at in presence of the whole Christian host
and its leaders, many of whom, he was aware, regarded in their secret souls the disgrace of the Austrian Duke
as a triumph over themselves; so that his pride felt gratified, that in prostrating one enemy he had mortified a
hundred.
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Another monarch would have doubled his guards on the evening after such a scene, and kept at least a part of
his troops under arms. But Coeur de Lion dismissed, upon the occasion, even his ordinary watch, and
assigned to his soldiers a donative of wine to cerebrate his recovery, and to drink to the Banner of Saint
George; and his quarter of the camp would have assumed a character totally devoid of vigilance and military
preparation, but that Sir Thomas de Vaux, the Earl of Salisbury, and other nobles, took precautions to
preserve order and discipline among the revellers.
The physician attended the King from his retiring to bed till midnight was past, and twice administered
medicine to him during that period, always previously observing the quarter of heaven occupied by the full
moon, whose influences he declared to be most sovereign, or most baleful, to the effect of his drugs. It was
three hours after midnight ere El Hakim withdrew from the royal tent, to one which had been pitched for
himself and his retinue. In his way thither he visited the tent of Sir Kenneth of the Leopard, in order to see the
condition of his first patient in the Christian camp, old Strauchan, as the knight's esquire was named.
Inquiring there for Sir Kenneth himself, El Hakim learned on what duty he was employed, and probably this
information led him to Saint George's Mount, where he found him whom he sought in the disastrous
circumstances alluded to in the last chapter.
It was about the hour of sunrise, when a slow, armed tread was heard approaching the King's pavilion; and
ere De Vaux, who slumbered beside his master's bed as lightly as ever sleep sat upon the eyes of a
watchdog, had time to do more than arise and say, "Who comes?" the Knight of the Leopard entered the
tent, with a deep and devoted gloom seated upon his manly features.
"Whence this bold intrusion, Sir Knight?" said De Vaux sternly, yet in a tone which respected his master's
slumbers.
"Hold! De Vaux," said Richard, awaking on the instant; "Sir Kenneth cometh like a good soldier to render an
account of his guard. To such the general's tent is ever accessible." Then rising from his slumbering posture,
and leaning on his elbow, he fixed his large bright eye upon the warrior"Speak, Sir Scot; thou comest to
tell me of a vigilant, safe, and honourable watch, dost thou not? The rustling of the folds of the Banner of
England were enough to guard it, even without the body of such a knight as men hold thee."
"As men will hold me no more," said Sir Kenneth. "My watch hath neither been vigilant, safe, nor
honourable. The Banner of England has been carried off."
"And thou alive to tell it!" said Richard, in a tone of derisive incredulity. "Away, it cannot be. There is not
even a scratch on thy face. Why dost thou stand thus mute? Speak the truth it is ill jesting with a king; yet I
will forgive thee if thou hast lied."
"Lied, Sir King!" returned the unfortunate knight, with fierce emphasis, and one glance of fire from his eye,
bright and transient as the flash from the cold and stony flint. "But this also must be endured. I have spoken
the truth."
"By God and by Saint George!" said the King, bursting into fury, which, however, he instantly checked. "De
Vaux, go view the spot. This fever has disturbed his brain. This cannot be. The man's courage is proof. It
CANNOT be! Go speedilyor send, if thou wilt not go."
The King was interrupted by Sir Henry Neville, who came, breathless, to say that the banner was gone, and
the knight who guarded it overpowered, and most probably murdered, as there was a pool of blood where the
bannerspear lay shivered.
"But whom do I see here?" said Neville, his eyes suddenly resting upon Sir Kenneth.
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"A traitor," said the King, starting to his feet, and seizing the curtalaxe, which was ever near his bed"a
traitor! whom thou shalt see die a traitor's death." And he drew back the weapon as in act to strike.
Colourless, but firm as a marble statue, the Scot stood before him, with his bare head uncovered by any
protection, his eyes cast down to the earth, his lips scarcely moving, yet muttering probably in prayer.
Opposite to him, and within the due reach for a blow, stood King Richard, his large person wrapt in the folds
of his camiscia, or ample gown of linen, except where the violence of his action had flung the covering from
his right arm, shoulder, and a part of his breast, leaving to view a specimen of a frame which might have
merited his Saxon predecessor's epithet of Ironside. He stood for an instant, prompt to strike; then sinking the
head of the weapon towards the ground, he exclaimed, "But there was blood, Nevillethere was blood upon
the place. Hark thee, Sir Scotbrave thou wert once, for I have seen thee fight. Say thou hast slain two of
the thieves in defence of the Standardsay but onesay thou hast struck but a good blow in our behalf, and
get thee out of the camp with thy life and thy infamy!"
"You have called me liar, my Lord King," replied Kenneth firmly; "and therein, at least, you have done me
wrong. Know that there was no blood shed in defence of the Standard save that of a poor hound, which, more
faithful than his master, defended the charge which he deserted."
"Now, by Saint George!" said Richard, again heaving up his arm. But De Vaux threw himself between the
King and the object of his vengeance, and spoke with the blunt truth of his character, "My liege, this must not
behere, nor by your hand. It is enough of folly for one night and day to have entrusted your banner to a
Scot. Said I not they were ever fair and false?" [Such were the terms in which the English used to speak of
their poor northern neighbours, forgetting that their own encroachments upon the independence of Scotland
obliged the weaker nation to defend themselves by policy as well as force. The disgrace must be divided
between Edward I. and Edward III., who enforced their domination over a free country, and the Scots, who
were compelled to take compulsory oaths, without any purpose of keeping them.]
"Thou didst, De Vaux; thou wast right, and I confess it," said Richard. "I should have known him betterI
should have remembered how the fox William deceived me touching this Crusade."
"My lord," said Sir Kenneth, "William of Scotland never deceived; but circumstances prevented his bringing
his forces."
"Peace, shameless!" said the King; "thou sulliest the name of a prince, even by speaking it.And yet, De
Vaux, it is strange," he added, "to see the bearing of the man. Coward or traitor he must be, yet he abode the
blow of Richard Plantagenet as our arm had been raised to lay knighthood on his shoulder. Had he shown the
slightest sign of fear, had but a joint trembled or an eyelid quivered, I had shattered his head like a crystal
goblet. But I cannot strike where there is neither fear nor resistance."
There was a pause.
"My lord," said Kenneth
"Ha!" replied Richard, interrupting him, "hast thou found thy speech? Ask grace from Heaven, but none from
me; for England is dishonoured through thy fault, and wert thou mine own and only brother, there is no
pardon for thy fault."
"I speak not to demand grace of mortal man," said the Scot; "it is in your Grace's pleasure to give or refuse
me time for Christian shriftif man denies it, may God grant me the absolution which I would otherwise ask
of His church! But whether I die on the instant, or half an hour hence, I equally beseech your Grace for one
moment's opportunity to speak that to your royal person which highly concerns your fame as a Christian
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king."
"Say on," said the King, making no doubt that he was about to hear some confession concerning the loss of
the Banner.
"What I have to speak," said Sir Kenneth, "touches the royalty of England, and must be said to no ears but
thine own."
"Begone with yourselves, sirs," said the King to Neville and De Vaux.
The first obeyed, but the latter would not stir from the King's presence.
"If you said I was in the right," replied De Vaux to his sovereign, "I will be treated as one should be who hath
been found to be rightthat is, I will have my own will. I leave you not with this false Scot."
"How! De Vaux," said Richard angrily, and stamping slightly, "darest thou not venture our person with one
traitor?"
"It is in vain you frown and stamp, my lord," said De Vaux; "I venture not a sick man with a sound one, a
naked man with one armed in proof."
"It matters not," said the Scottish knight; "I seek no excuse to put off time. I will speak in presence of the
Lord of Gilsland. He is good lord and true."
"But half an hour since," said De Vaux, with a groan, implying a mixture of sorrow and vexation, "and I had
said as much for thee!"
"There is treason around you, King of England," continued Sir Kenneth.
"It may well be as thou sayest," replied Richard; "I have a pregnant example."
"Treason that will injure thee more deeply than the loss of a hundred banners in a pitched field. Thethe"
Sir Kenneth hesitated, and at length continued, in a lower tone, "The Lady Edith"
"Ha!" said the King, drawing himself suddenly into a state of haughty attention, and fixing his eye firmly on
the supposed criminal; "what of her? what of her? What has she to do with this matter?"
"My lord," said the Scot, "there is a scheme on foot to disgrace your royal lineage, by bestowing the hand of
the Lady Edith on the Saracen Soldan, and thereby to purchase a peace most dishonourable to Christendom,
by an alliance most shameful to England."
This communication had precisely the contrary effect from that which Sir Kenneth expected. Richard
Plantagenet was one of those who, in Iago's words, would not serve God because it was the devil who bade
him; advice or information often affected him less according to its real import, than through the tinge which it
took from the supposed character and views of those by whom it was communicated. Unfortunately, the
mention of his relative's name renewed his recollection of what he had considered as extreme presumption in
the Knight of the Leopard, even when he stood high in the roll of chivalry, but which, in his present
condition, appeared an insult sufficient to drive the fiery monarch into a frenzy of passion.
"Silence," he said, "infamous and audacious! By Heaven, I will have thy tongue torn out with hot pincers, for
mentioning the very name of a noble Christian damsel! Know, degenerate traitor, that I was already aware to
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what height thou hadst dared to raise thine eyes, and endured it, though it were insolence, even when thou
hadst cheated usfor thou art all a deceitinto holding thee as of some name and fame. But now, with lips
blistered with the confession of thine own dishonourthat thou shouldst NOW dare to name our noble
kinswoman as one in whose fate thou hast part or interest! What is it to thee if she marry Saracen or
Christian? What is it to thee if, in a camp where princes turn cowards by day and robbers by nightwhere
brave knights turn to paltry deserters and traitorswhat is it, I say, to thee, or any one, if I should please to
ally myself to truth and to valour, in the person of Saladin?"
"Little to me, indeed, to whom all the world will soon be as nothing," answered Sir Kenneth boldly; "but
were I now stretched on the rack, I would tell thee that what I have said is much to thine own conscience and
thine own fame. I tell thee, Sir King, that if thou dost but in thought entertain the purpose of wedding thy
kinswoman, the Lady Edith"
"Name her notand for an instant think not of her," said the King, again straining the curtalaxe in his gripe,
until the muscles started above his brawny arm, like cordage formed by the ivy around the limb of an oak.
"Not namenot think of her!" answered Sir Kenneth, his spirits, stunned as they were by selfdepression,
beginning to recover their elasticity from this species of controversy. "Now, by the Cross, on which I place
my hope, her name shall be the last word in my mouth, her image the last thought in my mind. Try thy
boasted strength on this bare brow, and see if thou canst prevent my purpose."
"He will drive me mad!" said Richard, who, in his despite, was once more staggered in his purpose by the
dauntless determination of the criminal.
Ere Thomas of Gilsland could reply, some bustle was heard without, and the arrival of the Queen was
announced from the outer part of the pavilion.
"Detain herdetain her, Neville," cried the King; "this is no sight for women.Fie, that I have suffered
such a paltry traitor to chafe me thus!Away with him, De Vaux," he whispered, "through the back entrance
of our tent; coop him up close, and answer for his safe custody with your life. And hark yehe is presently
to dielet him have a ghostly fatherwe would not kill soul and body. And stayhark theewe will not
have him dishonouredhe shall die knightlike, in his belt and spurs; for if his treachery be as black as hell,
his boldness may match that of the devil himself."
De Vaux, right glad, if the truth may be guessed, that the scene ended without Richard's descending to the
unkingly act of himself slaying an unresisting prisoner, made haste to remove Sir Kenneth by a private issue
to a separate tent, where he was disarmed, and put in fetters for security. De Vaux looked on with a steady
and melancholy attention, while the provost's officers, to whom Sir Kenneth was now committed, took these
severe precautions.
When they were ended, he said solemnly to the unhappy criminal, "It is King Richard's pleasure that you die
undegradedwithout mutilation of your body, Or Shame to your armsand that your head be severed from
the trunk by the sword of the executioner."
"It is kind," said the knight, in a low and rather submissive tone of voice, as one who received an unexpected
favour; "my family will not then hear the worst of the tale. Oh, my father my father!"
This muttered invocation did not escape the blunt but kindly natured Englishman, and he brushed the back
of his large hand over his rough features ere he could proceed.
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"It is Richard of England's further pleasure," he said at length, "that you have speech with a holy man; and I
have met on the passage hither with a Carmelite friar, who may fit you for your passage. He waits without,
until you are in a frame of mind to receive him."
"Let it be instantly," said the knight. "In this also Richard is kind. I cannot be more fit to see the good father
at any time than now; for life and I have taken farewell, as two travellers who have arrived at the crossway,
where their roads separate."
"It is well," said De Vaux slowly and solemnly; "for it irks me somewhat to say that which sums my message.
It is King Richard's pleasure that you prepare for instant death."
"God's pleasure and the King's be done," replied the knight patiently. "I neither contest the justice of the
sentence, nor desire delay of the execution."
De Vaux began to leave the tent, but very slowlypaused at the door, and looked back at the Scot, from
whose aspect thoughts of the world seemed banished, as if he was composing himself into deep devotion. The
feelings of the stout English baron were in general none of the most acute, and yet, on the present occasion,
his sympathy overpowered him in an unusual manner. He came hastily back to the bundle of reeds on which
the captive lay, took one of his fettered hands, and said, with as much softness as his rough voice was capable
of expressing, "Sir Kenneth, thou art yet youngthou hast a father. My Ralph, whom I left training his little
galloway nag on the banks of the Irthing, may one day attain thy years, and, but for last night, would to God I
saw his youth bear such promise as thine! Can nothing be said or done in thy behalf?"
"Nothing," was the melancholy answer. "I have deserted my chargethe banner entrusted to me is lost.
When the headsman and block are prepared, the head and trunk are ready to part company."
"Nay, then, God have mercy!" said De Vaux. "Yet would I rather than my best horse I had taken that watch
myself. There is mystery in it, young man, as a plain man may descry, though he cannot see through it.
Cowardice? Pshaw! No coward ever fought as I have seen thee do. Treachery? I cannot think traitors die in
their treason so calmly. Thou hast been trained from thy post by some deep guilesome welldevised
stratagemthe cry of some distressed maiden has caught thine ear, or the laughful look of some merry one
has taken thine eye. Never blush for it; we have all been led aside by such gear. Come, I pray thee, make a
clean conscience of it to me, instead of the priest. Richard is merciful when his mood is abated. Hast thou
nothing to entrust to me?"
The unfortunate knight turned his face from the kind warrior, and answered, "NOTHING."
And De Vaux, who had exhausted his topics of persuasion, arose and left the tent, with folded arms, and in
melancholy deeper than he thought the occasion meritedeven angry with himself to find that so simple a
matter as the death of a Scottish man could affect him so nearly.
"Yet," as he said to himself, "though the roughfooted knaves be our enemies in Cumberland, in Palestine
one almost considers them as brethren."
CHAPTER XVI.
'Tis not her sense, for sure in that
There's nothing more than common;
And all her wit is only chat,
Like any other woman. SONG.
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The highborn Berengaria, daughter of Sanchez, King of Navarre, and the QueenConsort of the heroic
Richard, was accounted one of the most beautiful women of the period. Her form was slight, though
exquisitely moulded. She was graced with a complexion not common in her country, a profusion of fair hair,
and features so extremely juvenile as to make her look several years younger than she really was, though in
reality she was not above oneand twenty. Perhaps it was under the consciousness of this extremely
juvenile appearance that she affected, or at least practised, a little childish petulance and wilfulness of
manner, not unbefitting, she might suppose, a youthful bride, whose rank and age gave her a right to have her
fantasies indulged and attended to. She was by nature perfectly goodhumoured, and if her due share of
admiration and homage (in her opinion a very large one) was duly resigned to her, no one could possess
better temper or a more friendly disposition; but then, like all despots, the more power that was voluntarily
yielded to her, the more she desired to extend her sway. Sometimes, even when all her ambition was
gratified, she chose to be a little out of health, and a little out of spirits; and physicians had to toil their wits to
invent names for imaginary maladies, while her ladies racked their imagination for new games, new
headgear, and new courtscandal, to pass away those unpleasant hours, during which their own situation
was scarce to be greatly envied. Their most frequent resource for diverting this malady was some trick or
piece of mischief practised upon each other; and the good Queen, in the buoyancy of her reviving spirits, was,
to speak truth, rather too indifferent whether the frolics thus practised were entirely befitting her own dignity,
or whether the pain which those suffered upon whom they were inflicted was not beyond the proportion of
pleasure which she herself derived from them. She was confident in her husband's favour, in her high rank,
and in her supposed power to make good whatever such pranks might cost others. In a word, she gambolled
with the freedom of a young lioness, who is unconscious of the weight of her own paws when laid on those
whom she sports with.
The Queen Berengaria loved her husband passionately, but she feared the loftiness and roughness of his
character; and as she felt herself not to be his match in intellect, was not much pleased to see that he would
often talk with Edith Plantagenet in preference to herself, simply because he found more amusement in her
conversation, a more comprehensive understanding, and a more noble cast of thoughts and sentiments, than
his beautiful consort exhibited. Berengaria did not hate Edith on this account, far less meditate her any harm;
for, allowing for some selfishness, her character was, on the whole, innocent and generous. But the ladies of
her train, sharpsighted in such matters, had for some time discovered that a poignant jest at the expense of the
Lady Edith was a specific for relieving her Grace of England's low spirits, and the discovery saved their
imagination much toil.
There was something ungenerous in this, because the Lady Edith was understood to be an orphan; and though
she was called Plantagenet, and the fair Maid of Anjou, and admitted by Richard to certain privileges only
granted to the royal family, and held her place in the circle accordingly, yet few knew, and none acquainted
with the Court of England ventured to ask, in what exact degree of relationship she stood to Coeur de Lion.
She had come with Eleanor, the celebrated Queen Mother of England, and joined Richard at Messina, as one
of the ladies destined to attend on Berengaria, whose nuptials then approached. Richard treated his
kinswoman with much respectful observance, and the Queen made her her most constant attendant, and, even
in despite of the petty jealousy which we have observed, treated her, generally, with suitable respect.
The ladies of the household had, for a long time, no further advantage over Edith than might be afforded by
an opportunity of censuring a less artfully disposed head attire or an unbecoming robe; for the lady was
judged to be inferior in these mysteries. The silent devotion of the Scottish knight did not, indeed, pass
unnoticed; his liveries, his cognizances, his feats of arms, his mottoes and devices, were nearly watched, and
occasionally made the subject of a passing jest. But then came the pilgrimage of the Queen and her ladies to
Engaddi, a journey which the Queen had undertaken under a vow for the recovery of her husband's health,
and which she had been encouraged to carry into effect by the Archbishop of Tyre for a political purpose. It
was then, and in the chapel at that holy place, connected from above with a Carmelite nunnery, from beneath
with the cell of the anchorite, that one of the Queen's attendants remarked that secret sign of intelligence
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which Edith had made to her lover, and failed not instantly to communicate it to her Majesty. The Queen
returned from her pilgrimage enriched with this admirable recipe against dullness or ennui; and her train was
at the same time augmented by a present of two wretched dwarfs from the dethroned Queen of Jerusalem, as
deformed and as crazy (the excellence of that unhappy species) as any Queen could have desired. One of
Berengaria's idle amusements had been to try the effect of the sudden appearance of such ghastly and
fantastic forms on the nerves of the Knight when left alone in the chapel; but the jest had been lost by the
composure of the Scot and the interference of the anchorite. She had now tried another, of which the
consequences promised to be more serious.
The ladies again met after Sir Kenneth had retired from the tent, and the Queen, at first little moved by
Edith's angry expostulations, only replied to her by upbraiding her prudery, and by indulging her wit at the
expense of the garb, nation, and, above all the poverty of the Knight of the Leopard, in which she displayed a
good deal of playful malice, mingled with some humour, until Edith was compelled to carry her anxiety to
her separate apartment. But when, in the morning, a female whom Edith had entrusted to make inquiry
brought word that the Standard was missing, and its champion vanished, she burst into the Queen's
apartment, and implored her to rise and proceed to the King's tent without delay, and use her powerful
mediation to prevent the evil consequences of her jest.
The Queen, frightened in her turn, cast, as is usual, the blame of her own folly on those around her, and
endeavoured to comfort Edith's grief, and appease her displeasure, by a thousand inconsistent arguments. She
was sure no harm had chancedthe knight was sleeping, she fancied, after his nightwatch. What though,
for fear of the King's displeasure, he had deserted with the Standardit was but a piece of silk, and he but a
needy adventurer; or if he was put under warding for a time, she would soon get the King to pardon himit
was but waiting to let Richard's mood pass away.
Thus she continued talking thick and fast, and heaping together all sorts of inconsistencies, with the vain
expectation of persuading both Edith and herself that no harm could come of a frolic which in her heart she
now bitterly repented. But while Edith in vain strove to intercept this torrent of idle talk, she caught the eye of
one of the ladies who entered the Queen's apartment. There was death in her look of affright and horror, and
Edith, at the first glance of her countenance, had sunk at once on the earth, had not strong necessity and her
own elevation of character enabled her to maintain at least external composure.
"Madam," she said to the Queen, "lose not another word in speaking, but save lifeif, indeed," she added,
her voice choking as she said it, "life may yet be saved."
"It may, it may," answered the Lady Calista. "I have just heard that he has been brought before the King. It is
not yet over but," she added, bursting into a vehement flood of weeping, in which personal apprehensions
had some share, "it will soon, unless some course be taken."
"I will vow a golden candlestick to the Holy Sepulchre, a shrine of silver to our Lady of Engaddi, a pall,
worth one hundred byzants, to Saint Thomas of Orthez," said the Queen in extremity.
"Up, up, madam!" said Edith; "call on the saints if you list, but be your own best saint."
"Indeed, madam," said the terrified attendant, "the Lady Edith speaks truth. Up, madam, and let us to King
Richard's tent and beg the poor gentleman's life."
"I will goI will go instantly," said the Queen, rising and trembling excessively; while her women, in as
great confusion as herself, were unable to render her those duties which were indispensable to her levee.
Calm, composed, only pale as death, Edith ministered to the Queen with her own hand, and alone supplied
the deficiencies of her numerous attendants.
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"How you wait, wenches!" said the Queen, not able even then to forget frivolous distinctions. "Suffer ye the
Lady Edith to do the duties of your attendance? Seest thou, Edith, they can do nothing; I shall never be attired
in time. We will send for the Archbishop of Tyre, and employ him as a mediator."
"Oh, no, no!" exclaimed Edith. "Go yourself madam; you have done the evil, do you confer the remedy."
"I will goI will go," said the Queen; "but if Richard be in his mood, I dare not speak to himhe will kill
me!"
"Yet go, gracious madam," said the Lady Calista, who best knew her mistress's temper; "not a lion, in his
fury, could look upon such a face and form, and retain so much as an angry thought, far less a lovetrue
knight like the royal Richard, to whom your slightest word would be a command."
"Dost thou think so, Calista?" said the Queen. "Ah, thou little knowest yet I will go. But see you here, what
means this? You have bedizened me in green, a colour he detests. Lo you! let me have a blue robe,
andsearch for the ruby carcanet, which was part of the King of Cyprus's ransom; it is either in the steel
casket, or somewhere else."
"This, and a man's life at stake!" said Edith indignantly; "it passes human patience. Remain at your ease,
madam; I will go to King Richard. I am a party interested. I will know if the honour of a poor maiden of his
blood is to be so far tampered with that her name shall be abused to train a brave gentleman from his duty,
bring him within the compass of death and infamy, and make, at the same time, the glory of England a
laughingstock to the whole Christian army."
At this unexpected burst of passion, Berengaria listened with an almost stupefied look of fear and wonder.
But as Edith was about to leave the tent, she exclaimed, though faintly, "Stop her, stop her!"
"You must indeed stop, noble Lady Edith," said Calista, taking her arm gently; "and you, royal madam, I am
sure, will go, and without further dallying. If the Lady Edith goes alone to the King, he will be dreadfully
incensed, nor will it be one life that will stay his fury."
"I will goI will go," said the Queen, yielding to necessity; and Edith reluctantly halted to wait her
movements.
They were now as speedy as she could have desired. The Queen hastily wrapped herself in a large loose
mantle, which covered all inaccuracies of the toilet. In this guise, attended by Edith and her women, and
preceded and followed by a few officers and menatarms, she hastened to the tent of her lionlike husband.
CHAPTER XVII.
Were every hair upon his head a life,
And every life were to be supplicated
By numbers equal to those hairs quadrupled,
Life after life should out like waning stars
Before the daybreakor as festive lamps,
Which have lent lustre to the midnight revel,
Each after each are quench'd when guests depart! OLD PLAY
The entrance of Queen Berengaria into the interior of Richard's pavilion was withstoodin the most
respectful and reverential manner indeed, but still withstoodby the chamberlains who watched in the outer
tent. She could hear the stern command of the King from within, prohibiting their entrance.
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"You see," said the Queen, appealing to Edith, as if she had exhausted all means of intercession in her power;
"I knew itthe King will not receive us."
At the same time, they heard Richard speak to some one within: "Go, speed thine office quickly, sirrah, for
in that consists thy mercyten byzants if thou dealest on him at one blow. And hark thee, villain, observe if
his cheek loses colour, or his eye falters; mark me the smallest twitch of the features, or wink of the eyelid. I
love to know how brave souls meet death."
"If he sees my blade waved aloft without shrinking, he is the first ever did so," answered a harsh, deep voice,
which a sense of unusual awe had softened into a sound much lower than its usual coarse tones.
Edith could remain silent no longer. "If your Grace," she said to the Queen, "make not your own way, I make
it for you; or if not for your Majesty, for myself at least.Chamberlain, the Queen demands to see King
Richardthe wife to speak with her husband."
"Noble lady," said the officer, lowering his wand of office, "it grieves me to gainsay you, but his Majesty is
busied on matters of life and death."
"And we seek also to speak; with him on matters of life and death," said Edith. "I will make entrance for your
Grace." And putting aside the chamberlain with one hand, she laid hold on the curtain with the other.
"I dare not gainsay her Majesty's pleasure," said the chamberlain, yielding to the vehemence of the fair
petitioner; and as he gave way, the Queen found herself obliged to enter the apartment of Richard.
The Monarch was lying on his couch, and at some distance, as awaiting his further commands, stood a man
whose profession it was not difficult to conjecture. He was clothed in a jerkin of red cloth, which reached
scantly below the shoulders, leaving the arms bare from about half way above the elbow; and as an upper
garment, he wore, when about as at present to betake himself to his dreadful office, a coat or tabard without
sleeves, something like that of a herald, made of dressed bull's hide, and stained in the front with many a
broad spot and speckle of dull crimson. The jerkin, and the tabard over it, reached the knee; and the nether
stocks, or covering of the legs, were of the same leather which composed the tabard. A cap of rough shag
served to hide the upper part of a visage which, like that of a screech owl, seemed desirous to conceal itself
from light, the lower part of the face being obscured by a huge red beard, mingling with shaggy locks of the
same colour. What features were seen were stern and misanthropical. The man's figure was short, strongly
made, with a neck like a bull, very broad shoulders, arms of great and disproportioned length, a huge square
trunk, and thick bandy legs. This truculent official leant on a sword, the blade of which was nearly four feet
and a half in length, while the handle of twenty inches, surrounded by a ring of lead plummets to
counterpoise the weight of such a blade, rose considerably above the man's head as he rested his arm upon its
hilt, waiting for King Richard's further directions.
On the sudden entrance of the ladies, Richard, who was then lying on his couch with his face towards the
entrance, and resting on his elbow as he spoke to his grisly attendant, flung himself hastily, as if displeased
and surprised, to the other side, turning his back to the Queen and the females of her train, and drawing
around him the covering of his couch, which, by his own choice, or more probably the flattering selection of
his chamberlains, consisted of two large lions' skins, dressed in Venice with such admirable skill that they
seemed softer than the hide of the deer.
Berengaria, such as we have described her, knew wellwhat woman knows not?her own road to victory.
After a hurried glance of undisguised and unaffected terror at the ghastly companion of her husband's secret
counsels, she rushed at once to the side of Richard's couch, dropped on her knees, flung her mantle from her
shoulders, showing, as they hung down at their full length, her beautiful golden tresses, and while her
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countenance seemed like the sun bursting through a cloud, yet bearing on its pallid front traces that its
splendours have been obscured, she seized upon the right hand of the King, which, as he assumed his wonted
posture, had been employed in dragging the covering of his couch, and gradually pulling it to her with a force
which was resisted, though but faintly, she possessed herself of that arm, the prop of Christendom and the
dread of Heathenesse, and imprisoning its strength in both her little fairy hands, she bent upon it her brow,
and united to it her lips.
"What needs this, Berengaria?" said Richard, his head still averted, but his hand remaining under her control.
"Send away that man, his look kills me!" muttered Berengaria.
"Begone, sirrah," said Richard, still without looking round, "What wait'st thou for? art thou fit to look on
these ladies?"
"Your Highness's pleasure touching the head," said the man.
"Out with thee, dog!" answered Richard"a Christian burial!" The man disappeared, after casting a look
upon the beautiful Queen, in her deranged dress and natural loveliness, with a smile of admiration more
hideous in its expression than even his usual scowl of cynical hatred against humanity.
"And now, foolish wench, what wishest thou?" said Richard, turning slowly and half reluctantly round to his
royal suppliant.
But it was not in nature for any one, far less an admirer of beauty like Richard, to whom it stood only in the
second rank to glory, to look without emotion on the countenance and the tremor of a creature so beautiful as
Berengaria, or to feel, without sympathy, that her lips, her brow, were on his hand, and that it was wetted by
her tears. By degrees, he turned on her his manly countenance, with the softest expression of which his large
blue eye, which so often gleamed with insufferable light, was capable. Caressing her fair head, and mingling
his large fingers in her beautiful and dishevelled locks, he raised and tenderly kissed the cherub countenance
which seemed desirous to hide itself in his hand. The robust form, the broad, noble brow and majestic looks,
the naked arm and shoulder, the lions' skins among which he lay, and the fair, fragile feminine creature that
kneeled by his side, might have served for a model of Hercules reconciling himself, after a quarrel, to his
wife Dejanira.
"And, once more, what seeks the lady of my heart in her knight's pavilion at this early and unwonted hour?"
"Pardon, my most gracious liegepardon!" said the Queen, whose fears began again to unfit her for the duty
of intercessor.
"Pardonfor what?" asked the King.
"First, for entering your royal presence too boldly and unadvisedly"
She stopped.
THOU too boldly!the sun might as well ask pardon because his rays entered the windows of some wretch's
dungeon. But I was busied with work unfit for thee to witness, my gentle one; and I was unwilling, besides,
that thou shouldst risk thy precious health where sickness had been so lately rife."
"But thou art now well?" said the Queen, still delaying the communication which she feared to make.
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"Well enough to break a lance on the bold crest of that champion who shall refuse to acknowledge thee the
fairest dame in Christendom."
"Thou wilt not then refuse me one boononly oneonly a poor life?"
"Ha!proceed," said King Richard, bending his brows.
"This unhappy Scottish knight" murmured the Queen.
"Speak not of him, madam," exclaimed Richard sternly; "he dies his doom is fixed."
"Nay, my royal liege and love, 'tis but a silken banner neglected. Berengaria will give thee another broidered
with her own hand, and rich as ever dallied with the wind. Every pearl I have shall go to bedeck it, and with
every pearl I will drop a tear of thankfulness to my generous knight."
"Thou knowest not what thou sayest," said the King, interrupting her in anger. "Pearls! can all the pearls of
the East atone for a speck upon England's honourall the tears that ever woman's eye wept wash away a
stain on Richard's fame? Go to, madam, know your place, and your time, and your sphere. At present we
have duties in which you cannot be our partner."
"Thou hearest, Edith," whispered the Queen; "we shall but incense him."
"Be it so," said Edith, stepping forward."My lord, I, your poor kinswoman, crave you for justice rather
than mercy; and to the cry of justice the ears of a monarch should be open at every time, place, and
circumstance."
"Ha! our cousin Edith?" said Richard, rising and sitting upright on the side of his couch, covered with his
long camiscia. "She speaks ever kinglike, and kinglike will I answer her, so she bring no request unworthy
herself or me."
The beauty of Edith was of a more intellectual and less voluptuous cast than that of the Queen; but
impatience and anxiety had given her countenance a glow which it sometimes wanted, and her mien had a
character of energetic dignity that imposed silence for a moment even on Richard himself, who, to judge by
his looks, would willingly have interrupted her.
"My lord," she said, "this good knight, whose blood you are about to spill, hath done, in his time, service to
Christendom. He has fallen from his duty through a snare set for him in mere folly and idleness of spirit. A
message sent to him in the name of one whowhy should I not speak it?it was in my owninduced him
for an instant to leave his post. And what knight in the Christian camp might not have thus far transgressed at
command of a maiden, who, poor howsoever in other qualities, hath yet the blood of Plantagenet in her
veins?"
"And you saw him, then, cousin?" replied the King, biting his lips to keep down his passion.
"I did, my liege," said Edith. "It is no time to explain wherefore. I am here neither to exculpate myself nor to
blame others."
"And where did you do him such a grace?"
"In the tent of her Majesty the Queen."
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"Of our royal consort!" said Richard. "Now by Heaven, by Saint George of England, and every other saint
that treads its crystal floor, this is too audacious! I have noticed and overlooked this warrior's insolent
admiration of one so far above him, and I grudged him not that one of my blood should shed from her high
born sphere such influence as the sun bestows on the world beneath. But, heaven and earth! that you should
have admitted him to an audience by night, in the very tent of our royal consort!and dare to offer this as an
excuse for his disobedience and desertion! By my father's soul, Edith, thou shalt rue this thy life long in a
monastery!"
"My liege," said Edith, "your greatness licenses tyranny. My honour, Lord King, is as little touched as yours,
and my Lady the Queen can prove it if she think fit. But I have already said I am not here to excuse myself or
inculpate others. I ask you but to extend to one, whose fault was committed under strong temptation, that
mercy, which even you yourself, Lord King, must one day supplicate at a higher tribunal, and for faults,
perhaps, less venial."
"Can this be Edith Plantagenet?" said the King bitterly"Edith Plantagenet, the wise and the noble? Or is it
some lovesick woman who cares not for her own fame in comparison of the life of her paramour? Now, by
King Henry's soul! little hinders but I order thy minion's skull to be brought from the gibbet, and fixed as a
perpetual ornament by the crucifix in thy cell!"
"And if thou dost send it from the gibbet to be placed for ever in my sight," said Edith, "I will say it is a relic
of a good knight, cruelly and unworthily done to death by" (she checked herself)"by one of whom I shall
only say, he should have known better how to reward chivalry. Minion callest thou him?" she continued, with
increasing vehemence. "He was indeed my lover, and a most true one; but never sought he grace from me by
look or wordcontented with such humble observance as men pay to the saints. And the goodthe
valiantthe faithful must die for this!"
"Oh, peace, peace, for pity's sake," whispered the Queen, "you do but offend him more!"
"I care not," said Edith; "the spotless virgin fears not the raging lion. Let him work his will on this worthy
knight. Edith, for whom he dies, will know how to weep his memory. To me no one shall speak more of
politic alliances to be sanctioned with this poor hand. I could notI would not have been his bride
livingour degrees were too distant. But death unites the high and the lowI am henceforward the spouse
of the grave."
The King was about to answer with much anger, when a Carmelite monk entered the apartment hastily, his
head and person muffled in the long mantle and hood of striped cloth of the coarsest texture which
distinguished his order, and, flinging himself on his knees before the King, conjured him, by every holy word
and sign, to stop the execution.
"Now, by both sword and sceptre," said Richard, "the world is leagued to drive me mad!fools, women, and
monks cross me at every step. How comes he to live still?"
"My gracious liege," said the monk, "I entreated of the Lord of Gilsland to stay the execution until I had
thrown myself at your royal"
"And he was wilful enough to grant thy request," said the King;" but it is of a piece with his wonted
obstinacy. And what is it thou hast to say? Speak, in the fiend's name!"
"My lord, there is a weighty secret, but it rests under the seal of confession. I dare not tell or even whisper it;
but I swear to thee by my holy order, by the habit which I wear, by the blessed Elias, our founder, even him
who was translated without suffering the ordinary pangs of mortality, that this youth hath divulged to me a
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secret, which, if I might confide it to thee, would utterly turn thee from thy bloody purpose in regard to him."
"Good father," said Richard, "that I reverence the church, let the arms which I now wear for her sake bear
witness. Give me to know this secret, and I will do what shall seem fitting in the matter. But I am no blind
Bayard, to take a leap in the dark under the stroke of a pair of priestly spurs."
"My lord," said the holy man, throwing back his cowl and upper vesture, and discovering under the latter a
garment of goatskin, and from beneath the former a visage so wildly wasted by climate, fast, and penance, as
to resemble rather the apparition of an animated skeleton than a human face, "for twenty years have I
macerated this miserable body in the caverns of Engaddi, doing penance for a great crime. Think you I, who
am dead to the world, would contrive a falsehood to endanger my own soul; or that one, bound by the most
sacred oaths to the contraryone such as I, who have but one longing wish connected with earth, to wit, the
rebuilding of our Christian Zionwould betray the secrets of the confessional? Both are alike abhorrent to
my very soul."
"So," answered the King, "thou art that hermit of whom men speak so much? Thou art, I confess, like enough
to those spirits which walk in dry places; but Richard fears no hobgoblins. And thou art he, too, as I bethink
me, to whom the Christian princes sent this very criminal to open a communication with the Soldan, even
while I, who ought to have been first consulted, lay on my sick bed? Thou and they may content
themselvesI will not put my neck into the loop of a Carmelite's girdle. And, for your envoy, he shall die
the rather and the sooner that thou dost entreat for him."
"Now God be gracious to thee, Lord King!" said the hermit, with much emotion; "thou art setting that
mischief on foot which thou wilt hereafter wish thou hadst stopped, though it had cost thee a limb. Rash,
blinded man, yet forbear!"
"Away, away," cried the King, stamping; "the sun has risen on the dishonour of England, and it is not yet
avenged.Ladies and priest, withdraw, if you would not hear orders which would displease you; for, by St.
George, I swear"
"Swear NOT!" said the voice of one who had just then entered the pavilion.
"Ha! my learned Hakim," said the King, "come, I hope, to tax our generosity."
"I come to request instant speech with youinstantand touching matters of deep interest."
"First look on my wife, Hakim, and let her know in you the preserver of her husband."
"It is not for me," said the physician, folding his arms with an air of Oriental modesty and reverence, and
bending his eyes on the ground"it is not for me to look upon beauty unveiled, and armed in its splendours."
"Retire, then, Berengaria," said the Monarch; "and, Edith, do you retire also;nay, renew not your
importunities! This I give to them that the execution shall not be till high noon. Go and be pacifieddearest
Berengaria, begone.Edith," he added, with a glance which struck terror even into the courageous soul of
his kinswoman, "go, if you are wise."
The females withdrew, or rather hurried from the tent, rank and ceremony forgotten, much like a flock of
wildfowl huddled together, against whom the falcon has made a recent stoop.
They returned from thence to the Queen's pavilion to indulge in regrets and recriminations, equally
unavailing. Edith was the only one who seemed to disdain these ordinary channels of sorrow. Without a sigh,
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without a tear, without a word of upbraiding, she attended upon the Queen, whose weak temperament showed
her sorrow in violent hysterical ecstasies and passionate hypochondriacal effusions, in the course of which
Edith sedulously and even affectionately attended her.
"It is impossible she can have loved this knight," said Florise to Calista, her senior in attendance upon the
Queen's person. "We have been mistaken; she is but sorry for his fate, as for a stranger who has come to
trouble on her account."
"Hush, hush," answered her more experienced and more observant comrade; "she is of that proud house of
Plantagenet who never own that a hurt grieves them. While they have themselves been bleeding to death,
under a mortal wound, they have been known to bind up the scratches sustained by their more fainthearted
comrades. Florise, we have done frightfully wrong, and, for my own part, I would buy with every jewel I
have that our fatal jest had remained unacted."
CHAPTER XVIII.
This work desires a planetary intelligence
Of Jupiter and Sol; and those great spirits
Are proud, fantastical. It asks great charges
To entice them from the guiding of their spheres,
To wait on mortals. ALBUMAZAR.
The hermit followed the ladies from the pavilion of Richard, as shadow follows a beam of sunshine when the
clouds are driving over the face of the sun. But he turned on the threshold, and held up his hand towards the
King in a warning, or almost a menacing posture, as he said, "Woe to him who rejects the counsel of the
church, and betaketh himself to the foul divan of the infidel! King Richard, I do not yet shake the dust from
my feet and depart from thy encampment; the sword falls notbut it hangs but by a hair. Haughty monarch,
we shall meet again."
"Be it so, haughty priest," returned Richard, "prouder in thy goatskins than princes in purple and fine linen."
The hermit vanished from the tent, and the King continued, addressing the Arabian, "Do the dervises of the
East, wise Hakim, use such familiarity with their princes?"
"The dervise," replied Adonbec, "should be either a sage or a madman; there is no middle course for him who
wears the khirkhah, [Literally, the torn robe. The habit of the dervises is so called.] who watches by night,
and fasts by day. Hence hath he either wisdom enough to bear himself discreetly in the presence of princes;
or else, having no reason bestowed on him, he is not responsible for his own actions."
"Methinks our monks have adopted chiefly the latter character," said Richard. "But to the matter. In what can
I pleasure you, my learned physician?"
"Great King," said El Hakim, making his profound Oriental obeisance, "let thy servant speak one word, and
yet live. I would remind thee that thou owestnot to me, their humble instrumentbut to the Intelligences,
whose benefits I dispense to mortals, a life"
"And I warrant me thou wouldst have another in requital, ha?" interrupted the King.
"Such is my humble prayer," said the Hakim, "to the great Melech Riceven the life of this good knight,
who is doomed to die, and but for such fault as was committed by the Sultan Adam, surnamed Aboulbeschar,
or the father of all men."
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"And thy wisdom might remind thee, Hakim, that Adam died for it," said the King, somewhat sternly, and
then began to pace the narrow space of his tent with some emotion, and to talk to himself. "Why,
Godamercy, I knew what he desired as soon as ever he entered the pavilion! Here is one poor life justly
condemned to extinction, and I, a king and a soldier, who have slain thousands by my command, and scores
with my own hand, am to have no power over it, although the honour of my arms, of my house, of my very
Queen, hath been attainted by the culprit. By Saint George, it makes me laugh! By Saint Louis, it reminds me
of Blondel's tale of an enchanted castle, where the destined knight was withstood successively in his purpose
of entrance by forms and figures the most dissimilar, but all hostile to his undertaking! No sooner one sunk
than another appeared! Wife kinswomanhermitHakimeach appears in the lists as soon as the other
is defeated! Why, this is a single knight fighting against the whole MELEE of the tournamentha! ha! ha!"
And Richard laughed aloud; for he had, in fact, begun to change his mood, his resentment being usually too
violent to be of long endurance.
The physician meanwhile looked on him with a countenance of surprise, not unmingled with contempt; for
the Eastern people make no allowance for these mercurial changes in the temper, and consider open laughter,
upon almost any account, as derogatory to the dignity of man, and becoming only to women and children. At
length the sage addressed the King when he saw him more composed:
"A doom of death should not issue from laughing lips. Let thy servant hope that thou hast granted him this
man's life."
"Take the freedom of a thousand captives instead," said Richard; "restore so many of thy countrymen to their
tents and families, and I will give the warrant instantly. This man's life can avail thee nothing, and it is
forfeited."
"All our lives are forfeited," said the Hakim, putting his hand to his cap. "But the great Creditor is merciful,
and exacts not the pledge rigorously nor untimely."
"Thou canst show me," said Richard, "no special interest thou hast to become intercessor betwixt me and the
execution of justice, to which I am sworn as a crowned king."
"Thou art sworn to the dealing forth mercy as well as justice," said El Hakim; "but what thou seekest, great
King, is the execution of thine own will. And for the concern I have in this request, know that many a man's
life depends upon thy granting this boon."
"Explain thy words," said Richard; "but think not to impose upon me by false pretexts."
"Be it far from thy servant!" said Adonbec. "Know, then, that the medicine to which thou, Sir King, and
many one besides, owe their recovery, is a talisman, composed under certain aspects of the heavens, when the
Divine Intelligences are most propitious. I am but the poor administrator of its virtues. I dip it in a cup of
water, observe the fitting hour to administer it to the patient, and the potency of the draught works the cure."
"A most rare medicine," said the King, "and a commodious! and, as it may be carried in the leech's purse,
would save the whole caravan of camels which they require to convey drugs and physic stuff; I marvel there
is any other in use."
"It is written," answered the Hakim, with imperturbable gravity, "'Abuse not the steed which hath borne thee
from the battle.' Know that such talismans might indeed be framed, but rare has been the number of adepts
who have dared to undertake the application of their virtue. Severe restrictions, painful observances, fasts,
and penance, are necessary on the part of the sage who uses this mode of cure; and if, through neglect of
these preparations, by his love of ease, or his indulgence of sensual appetite, he omits to cure at least twelve
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persons within the course of each moon, the virtue of the divine gift departs from the amulet, and both the last
patient and the physician will be exposed to speedy misfortune, neither will they survive the year. I require
yet one life to make up the appointed number."
"Go out into the camp, good Hakim, where thou wilt find amany," said the King, "and do not seek to rob my
headsman of HIS patients; it is unbecoming a mediciner of thine eminence to interfere with the practice of
another. Besides, I cannot see how delivering a criminal from the death he deserves should go to make up thy
tale of miraculous cures."
"When thou canst show why a draught of cold water should have cured thee when the most precious drugs
failed," said the Hakim, "thou mayest reason on the other mysteries attendant on this matter. For myself, I am
inefficient to the great work, having this morning touched an unclean animal. Ask, therefore, no further
questions; it is enough that, by sparing this man's life at my request, you will deliver yourself, great King, and
thy servant, from a great danger."
"Hark thee, Adonbec," replied the King, "I have no objection that leeches should wrap their words in mist,
and pretend to derive knowledge from the stars; but when you bid Richard Plantagenet fear that a danger will
fall upon HIM from some idle omen, or omitted ceremonial, you speak to no ignorant Saxon, or doting old
woman, who foregoes her purpose because a hare crosses the path, a raven croaks, or a cat sneezes."
"I cannot hinder your doubt of my words," said Adonbec; "but yet let my Lord the King grant that truth is on
the tongue of his servantwill he think it just to deprive the world, and every wretch who may suffer by the
pains which so lately reduced him to that couch, of the benefit of this most virtuous talisman, rather than
extend his forgiveness to one poor criminal? Bethink you, Lord King, that, though thou canst slay thousands,
thou canst not restore one man to health. Kings have the power of Satan to torment, sages that of Allah to
healbeware how thou hinderest the good to humanity which thou canst not thyself render. Thou canst cut
off the head, but not cure the aching tooth."
"This is overinsolent," said the King, hardening himself, as the Hakim assumed a more lofty and almost a
commanding tone. "We took thee for our leech, not for our counsellor or conscience keeper."
"And is it thus the most renowned Prince of Frangistan repays benefit done to his royal person?" said El
Hakim, exchanging the humble and stooping posture in which he had hitherto solicited the King, for an
attitude lofty and commanding. "Know, then," he said, "that: through every court of Europe and Asiato
Moslem and Nazareneto knight and ladywherever harp is heard and sword worn wherever honour is
loved and infamy detestedto every quarter of the worldwill I denounce thee, Melech Ric, as thankless
and ungenerous; and even the landsif there be any suchthat never heard of thy renown shall yet be
acquainted with thy shame!"
"Are these terms to me, vile infidel?" said Richard, striding up to him in fury. "Art weary of thy life?"
"Strike!" said El Hakim; "thine own deed shall then paint thee more worthless than could my words, though
each had a hornet's sting."
Richard turned fiercely from him, folded his arms, traversed the tent as before, and then exclaimed,
"Thankless and ungenerous! as well be termed coward and infidel! Hakim, thou hast chosen thy boon; and
though I had rather thou hadst asked my crown jewels, yet I may not, kinglike, refuse thee. Take this Scot,
therefore, to thy keeping; the provost will deliver him to thee on this warrant."
He hastily traced one or two lines, and gave them to the physician. "Use him as thy bondslave, to be
disposed of as thou wiltonly, let him beware how he comes before the eyes of Richard. Hark theethou
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art wisehe hath been overbold among those in whose fair looks and weak judgments we trust our honour,
as you of the East lodge your treasures in caskets of silver wire, as fine and as frail as the web of a gossamer."
"Thy servant understands the words of the King," said the sage, at once resuming the reverent style of address
in which he had commenced. "When the rich carpet is soiled, the fool pointeth to the stainthe wise man
covers it with his mantle. I have heard my lord's pleasure, and to hear is to obey."
"It is well," said the King; "let him consult his own safety, and never appear in my presence more. Is there
aught else in which I may do thee pleasure?"
"The bounty of the King hath filled my cup to the brim," said the sage" yea, it hath been abundant as the
fountain which sprung up amid the camp of the descendants of Israel when the rock was stricken by the rod
of Moussa Ben Amram."
"Ay, but," said the King, smiling, "it required, as in the desert, a hard blow on the rock ere it yielded its
treasures. I would that I knew something to pleasure thee, which I might yield as freely as the natural fountain
sends forth its waters."
"Let me touch that victorious hand," said the sage, "in token that if Adonbec el Hakim should hereafter
demand a boon of Richard of England, he may do so, yet plead his command."
"Thou hast hand and glove upon it, man." replied Richard; "only, if thou couldst consistently make up thy
tale of patients without craving me to deliver from punishment those who have deserved it, I would more
willingly discharge my debt in some other form."
"May thy days be multiplied!" answered the Hakim, and withdrew from the apartment after the usual deep
obeisance.
King Richard gazed after him as he departed, like one but half satisfied with what had passed.
"Strange pertinacity," he said, "in this Hakim, and a wonderful chance to interfere between that audacious
Scot and the chastisement he has merited so richly. Yet let him live! there is one brave man the more in the
world. And now for the Austrian. Ho! is the Baron of Gilsland there without?"
Sir Thomas de Vaux thus summoned, his bulky form speedily darkened the opening of the pavilion, while
behind him glided as a spectre, unannounced, yet unopposed, the savage form of the hermit of Engaddi,
wrapped in his goatskin mantle.
Richard, without noticing his presence, called in a loud tone to the baron, "Sir Thomas de Vaux, of Lanercost
and Gilsland, take trumpet and herald, and go instantly to the tent of him whom they call Archduke of
Austria, and see that it be when the press of his knights and vassals is greatest around him, as is likely at this
hour, for the German boar breakfasts ere he hears mass enter his presence with as little reverence as thou
mayest, and impeach him, on the part of Richard of England, that he hath this night, by his own hand, or that
of others, stolen from its staff the Banner of England. Wherefore say to him our pleasure that within an hour
from the time of my speaking he restore the said banner with all reverencehe himself and his principal
barons waiting the whilst with heads uncovered, and without their robes of honour. And that, moreover, he
pitch beside it, on the one hand, his own Banner of Austria reversed, as that which hath been dishonoured by
theft and felony, and on the other, a lance, bearing the bloody head of him who was his nearest counsellor, or
assistant, in this base injury. And say, that such our behests being punctually discharged we will, for the sake
of our vow and the weal of the Holy Land, forgive his other forfeits."
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"And how if the Duke of Austria deny all accession to this act of wrong and of felony?" said Thomas de
Vaux.
"Tell him," replied the King, "we will prove it upon his body ay, were he backed with his two bravest
champions. Knightlike will we prove it, on foot or on horse, in the desert or in the field, time, place, and arms
all at his own choice."
"Bethink you of the peace of God and the church, my liege lord," said the Baron of Gilsland, "among those
princes engaged in this holy Crusade."
"Bethink you how to execute my commands, my liege vassal," answered Richard impatiently. "Methinks men
expect to turn our purpose by their breath, as boys blow feathers to and fro. Peace of the church! Who, I
prithee, minds it? The peace of the church, among Crusaders, implies war with the Saracens, with whom the
princes have made truce; and the one ends with the other. And besides, see you not how every prince of them
is seeking his own several ends? I will seek mine alsoand that is honour. For honour I came hither; and if I
may not win it upon the Saracens, at least I will not lose a jot from any respect to this paltry Duke, though he
were bulwarked and buttressed by every prince in the Crusade."
De Vaux turned to obey the King's mandate, shrugging his shoulders at the same time, the bluntness of his
nature being unable to conceal that its tenor went against his judgment. But the hermit of Engaddi stepped
forward, and assumed the air of one charged with higher commands than those of a mere earthly potentate.
Indeed, his dress of shaggy skins, his uncombed and untrimmed hair and beard, his lean, wild, and contorted
features, and the almost insane fire which gleamed from under his bushy eyebrows, made him approach
nearly to our idea of some seer of Scripture, who, charged with high mission to the sinful Kings of Judah or
Israel, descended from the rocks and caverns in which he dwelt in abstracted solitude, to abash earthly tyrants
in the midst of their pride, by discharging on them the blighting denunciations of Divine Majesty, even as the
cloud discharges the lightnings with which it is fraught on the pinnacles and towers of castles and palaces. In
the midst of his most wayward mood, Richard respected the church and its ministers; and though offended at
the intrusion of the hermit into his tent, he greeted him with respectat the same time, however, making a
sign to Sir Thomas de Vaux to hasten on his message.
But the hermit prohibited the baron, by gesture, look, and word, to stir a yard on such an errand; and holding
up his bare arm, from which the goatskin mantle fell back in the violence of his action, he waved it aloft,
meagre with famine, and wealed with the blows of the discipline.
"In the name of God, and of the most holy Father, the vicegerent of the Christian Church upon earth, I
prohibit this most profane, bloodthirsty, and brutal defiance betwixt two Christian princes, whose shoulders
are signed with the blessed mark under which they swore brotherhood. Woe to him by whom it is
broken!Richard of England, recall the most unhallowed message thou hast given to that baron. Danger and
death are nigh thee!the dagger is glancing at thy very throat!"
"Danger and death are playmates to Richard," answered the Monarch proudly; "and he hath braved too many
swords to fear a dagger."
"Danger and death are near," replied the seer, and sinking his voice to a hollow, unearthly tone, he added,
"And after death the judgment!"
"Good and holy father," said Richard, "I reverence thy person and thy sanctity"
"Reverence not me!" interrupted the hermit; "reverence sooner the vilest insect that crawls by the shores of
the Dead Sea, and feeds upon its accursed slime. But reverence Him whose commands I speakreverence
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Him whose sepulchre you have vowed to rescue revere the oath of concord which you have sworn, and
break not the silver cord of union and fidelity with which you have bound yourself to your princely
confederates."
"Good father," said the King, "you of the church seem to me to presume somewhat, if a layman may say so
much, upon the dignity of your holy character. Without challenging your right to take charge of our
conscience, methinks you might leave us the charge of our own honour."
"Presume!" repeated the hermit. "Is it for me to presume, royal Richard, who am but the bell obeying the
hand of the sextonbut the senseless and worthless trumpet carrying the command of him who sounds it?
See, on my knees I throw myself before thee, imploring thee to have mercy on Christendom, on England, and
on thyself!"
"Rise, rise," said Richard, compelling him to stand up; "it beseems not that knees which are so frequently
bended to the Deity should press the ground in honour of man. What danger awaits us, reverend father? and
when stood the power of England so low that the noisy bluster of this newmade Duke's displeasure should
alarm her or her monarch?"
"I have looked forth from my mountain turret upon the starry host of heaven, as each in his midnight circuit
uttered wisdom to another, and knowledge to the few who can understand their voice. There sits an enemy in
thy House of Life, Lord King, malign at once to thy fame and thy prosperityan emanation of Saturn,
menacing thee with instant and bloody peril, and which, but thou yield thy proud will to the rule of thy duty,
will presently crush thee even in thy pride."
"Away, awaythis is heathen science," said the King. "Christians practise it notwise men believe it not.
Old man, thou dotest."
"I dote not, Richard," answered the hermit"I am not so happy. I know my condition, and that some portion
of reason is yet permitted me, not for my own use, but that of the Church and the advancement of the Cross. I
am the blind man who holds a torch to others, though it yields no light to himself. Ask me touching what
concerns the weal of Christendom, and of this Crusade, and I will speak with thee as the wisest counsellor on
whose tongue persuasion ever sat. Speak to me of my own wretched being, and my words shall be those of
the maniac outcast which I am."
"I would not break the bands of unity asunder among the princes of the Crusade," said Richard, with a
mitigated tone and manner; "but what atonement can they render me for the injustice and insult which I have
sustained?"
"Even of that I am prepared and commissioned to speak by the Council, which, meeting hastily at the
summons of Philip of France, have taken measures for that effect."
"Strange," replied Richard, "that others should treat of what is due to the wounded majesty of England!"
"They are willing to anticipate your demands, if it be possible," answered the hermit. "In a body, they consent
that the Banner of England be replaced on Saint George's Mount; and they lay under ban and condemnation
the audacious criminal, or criminals, by whom it was outraged, and will announce a princely reward to any
who shall denounce the delinquent's guilt, and give his flesh to the wolves and ravens."
"And Austria," said Richard, "upon whom rest such strong presumptions that he was the author of the deed?"
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"To prevent discord in the host," replied the hermit, "Austria will clear himself of the suspicion by submitting
to whatsoever ordeal the Patriarch of Jerusalem shall impose."
"Will he clear himself by the trial by combat?" said King Richard.
"His oath prohibits it," said the hermit; "and, moreover, the Council of the Princes"
"Will neither authorize battle against the Saracens," interrupted Richard, "nor against any one else. But it is
enough, father thou hast shown me the folly of proceeding as I designed in this matter. You shall sooner
light your torch in a puddle of rain than bring a spark out of a coldblooded coward. There is no honour to be
gained on Austria, and so let him pass. I will have him perjure himself, however; I will insist on the ordeal.
How I shall laugh to hear his clumsy fingers hiss, as he grasps the redhot globe of iron! Ay, or his huge
mouth riven, and his gullet swelling to suffocation, as he endeavours to swallow the consecrated bread!"
"Peace, Richard," said the hermit"oh, peace, for shame, if not for charity! Who shall praise or honour
princes who insult and calumniate each other? Alas! that a creature so noble as thou artso accomplished in
princely thoughts and princely daringso fitted to honour Christendom by thy actions, and, in thy calmer
mood, to rule her by thy wisdom, should yet have the brute and wild fury of the lion mingled with the dignity
and courage of that king of the forest!"
He remained an instant musing with his eyes fixed on the ground, and then proceeded"But Heaven, that
knows our imperfect nature, accepts of our imperfect obedience, and hath delayed, though not averted, the
bloody end of thy daring life. The destroying angel hath stood still, as of old by the threshingfloor of
Araunah the Jebusite, and the blade is drawn in his hand, by which, at no distant date, Richard, the
lionhearted, shall be as low as the meanest peasant."
"Must it, then, be so soon?" said Richard. "Yet, even so be it. May my course be bright, if it be but brief!"
"Alas! noble King," said the solitary, and it seemed as if a tear (unwonted guest) were gathering in his dry
and glazened eye, "short and melancholy, marked with mortification, and calamity, and captivity, is the span
that divides thee from the grave which yawns for theea grave in which thou shalt be laid without lineage to
succeed theewithout the tears of a people, exhausted by thy ceaseless wars, to lament thee without
having extended the knowledge of thy subjects without having done aught to enlarge their happiness."
"But not without renown, monknot without the tears of the lady of my love! These consolations, which
thou canst neither know nor estimate, await upon Richard to his grave."
"DO I not know, CAN I not estimate the value of minstrel's praise and of lady's love?" retorted the hermit, in
a tone which for a moment seemed to emulate the enthusiasm of Richard himself. "King of England," he
continued, extending his emaciated arm, "the blood which boils in thy blue veins is not more noble than that
which stagnates in mine. Few and cold as the drops are, they still are of the blood of the royal Lusignanof
the heroic and sainted Godfrey. I amthat is, I was when in the world Alberick Mortemar"
"Whose deeds," said Richard, "have so often filled Fame's trumpet! Is it so?can it be so? Could such a light
as thine fall from the horizon of chivalry, and yet men be uncertain where its embers had alighted?"
"Seek a fallen star," said the hermit, "and thou shalt only light on some foul jelly, which, in shooting through
the horizon, has assumed for a moment an appearance of splendour. Richard, if I thought that rending the
bloody veil from my horrible fate could make thy proud heart stoop to the discipline of the church, I could
find in my heart to tell thee a tale, which I have hitherto kept gnawing at my vitals in concealment, like the
selfdevoted youth of heathenesse. Listen, then, Richard, and may the grief and despair which cannot avail
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this wretched remnant of what was once a man be powerful as an example to so noble, yet so wild, a being as
thou art! YesI willI WILL tear open the longhidden wounds, although in thy very presence they should
bleed to death!"
King Richard, upon whom the history of Alberick of Mortemar had made a deep impression in his early
years, when minstrels were regaling his father's halls with legends of the Holy Land, listened with respect to
the outlines of a tale, which, darkly and imperfectly sketched, indicated sufficiently the cause of the partial
insanity of this singular and most unhappy being.
"I need not," he said, "tell thee that I was noble in birth, high in fortune, strong in arms, wise in counsel. All
these I was. But while the noblest ladies in Palestine strove which should wind garlands for my helmet, my
love was fixed unalterably and devotedly fixedon a maiden of low degree. Her father, an ancient soldier
of the Cross, saw our passion, and knowing the difference betwixt us, saw no other refuge for his daughter's
honour than to place her within the shadow of the cloister. I returned from a distant expedition, loaded with
spoils and honour, to find my happiness was destroyed for ever! I too sought the cloister; and Satan, who had
marked me for his own, breathed into my heart a vapour of spiritual pride, which could only have had its
source in his own infernal regions. I had risen as high in the church as before in the state. I was, forsooth, the
wise, the selfsufficient, the impeccable!I was the counsellor of councilsI was the director of prelates.
How should I stumble?wherefore should I fear temptation? Alas! I became confessor to a sisterhood, and
amongst that sisterhood I found the longlovedthe longlost. Spare me further confession!A fallen nun,
whose guilt was avenged by self murder, sleeps soundly in the vaults of Engaddi; while, above her very
grave, gibbers, moans, and roars a creature to whom but so much reason is left as may suffice to render him
completely sensible to his fate!"
"Unhappy man!" said Richard, "I wonder no longer at thy misery. How didst thou escape the doom which the
canons denounce against thy offence?"
"Ask one who is yet in the gall of worldly bitterness," said the hermit, "and he will speak of a life spared for
personal respects, and from consideration to high birth. But, Richard, I tell thee that Providence hath
preserved me to lift me on high as a light and beacon, whose ashes, when this earthly fuel is burnt out, must
yet be flung into Tophet. Withered and shrunk as this poor form is, it is yet animated with two spiritsone
active, shrewd, and piercing, to advocate the cause of the Church of Jerusalem; one mean, abject, and
despairing, fluctuating between madness and misery, to mourn over my own wretchedness, and to guard holy
relics on which it would be most sinful for me even to cast my eye. Pity me not!it is but sin to pity the loss
of such an abject; pity me not, but profit by my example. Thou standest on the highest, and, therefore, on the
most dangerous pinnacle occupied by any Christian prince. Thou art proud of heart, loose of life, bloody of
hand. Put from thee the sins which are to thee as daughtersthough they be dear to the sinful Adam, expel
these adopted furies from thy breastthy pride, thy luxury, thy bloodthirstiness."
"He raves," said Richard, turning from the solitary to De Vaux, as one who felt some pain from a sarcasm
which yet he could not resent; then turned him calmly, and somewhat scornfully, to the anchoret, as he
replied, "Thou hast found a fair bevy of daughters, reverend father, to one who hath been but few months
married; but since I must put them from my roof, it were but like a father to provide them with suitable
matches. Therefore, I will part with my pride to the noble canons of the churchmy luxury, as thou callest
it, to the monks of the ruleand my bloodthirstiness to the Knights of the Temple."
"O heart of steel, and hand of iron," said the anchoret, "upon whom example, as well as advice, is alike
thrown away! Yet shalt thou be spared for a season, in case it so be thou shouldst turn, and do that which is
acceptable in the sight of Heaven. For me I must return to my place. Kyrie Eleison! I am he through whom
the rays of heavenly grace dart like those of the sun through a burningglass, concentrating them on other
objects, until they kindle and blaze, while the glass itself remains cold and uninfluenced. Kyrie Eleison!the
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poor must be called, for the rich have refused the banquetKyrie Eleison!"
So saying, he burst from the tent, uttering loud cries.
"A mad priest!" said Richard, from whose mind the frantic exclamations of the hermit had partly obliterated
the impression produced by the detail of his personal history and misfortunes. "After him, De Vaux, and see
he comes to no harm; for, Crusaders as we are, a juggler hath more reverence amongst our varlets than a
priest or a saint, and they may, perchance, put some scorn upon him."
The knight obeyed, and Richard presently gave way to the thoughts which the wild prophecy of the monk had
inspired. "To die early without lineagewithout lamentation! A heavy sentence, and well that it is not
passed by a more competent judge. Yet the Saracens, who are accomplished in mystical knowledge, will
often maintain that He, in whose eyes the wisdom of the sage is but as folly, inspires wisdom and prophecy
into the seeming folly of the madman. Yonder hermit is said to read the stars, too, an art generally practised
in these lands, where the heavenly host was of yore the object of idolatry. I would I had asked him touching
the loss of my banner; for not the blessed Tishbite, the founder of his order, could seem more wildly rapt out
of himself, or speak with a tongue more resembling that of a prophet.How now, De Vaux, what news of
the mad priest?"
"Mad priest, call you him, my lord?" answered De Vaux. "Methinks he resembles more the blessed Baptist
himself, just issued from the wilderness. He has placed himself on one of the military engines, and from
thence he preaches to the soldiers as never man preached since the time of Peter the Hermit. The camp,
alarmed by his cries, crowd around him in thousands; and breaking off every now and then from the main
thread of his discourse, he addresses the several nations, each in their own language, and presses upon each
the arguments best qualified to urge them to perseverance in the delivery of Palestine."
"By this light, a noble hermit!" said King Richard. "But what else could come from the blood of Godfrey?
HE despair of safety, because he hath in former days lived PAR AMOURS? I will have the Pope send him an
ample remission, and I would not less willingly be intercessor had his BELLE AMIE been an abbess."
As he spoke, the Archbishop of Tyre craved audience, for the purpose of requesting Richard's attendance,
should his health permit, on a secret conclave of the chiefs of the Crusade, and to explain to him the military
and political incidents which had occurred during his illness.
CHAPTER XIX.
Must we then sheathe our still victorious sword;
Turn back our forward step, which ever trod
O'er foemen's necks the onward path of glory;
Unclasp the mail, which with a solemn vow,
In God's own house, we hung upon our shoulders
That vow, as unaccomplish'd as the promise
Which village nurses make to still their children,
And after think no more of? THE CRUSADE, A TRAGEDY.
The Archbishop of Tyre was an emissary well chosen to communicate to Richard tidings, which from another
voice the lionhearted King would not have brooked to hear without the most unbounded explosions of
resentment. Even this sagacious and reverend prelate found difficulty in inducing him to listen to news which
destroyed all his hopes of gaining back the Holy Sepulchre by force of arms, and acquiring the renown which
the universal all hail of Christendom was ready to confer upon him as the Champion of the Cross.
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But, by the Archbishop's report, it appeared that Saladin was assembling all the force of his hundred tribes,
and that the monarchs of Europe, already disgusted from various motives with the expedition, which had
proved so hazardous, and was daily growing more so, had resolved to abandon their purpose. In this they
were countenanced by the example of Philip of France, who, with many protestations of regard, and
assurances that he would first see his brother of England in safety, declared his intention to return to Europe.
His great vassal, the Earl of Champagne, had adopted the same resolution; and it could not excite surprise
that Leopold of Austria, affronted as he had been by Richard, was glad to embrace an opportunity of
deserting a cause in which his haughty opponent was to be considered as chief. Others announced the same
purpose; so that it was plain that the King of England was to be left, if he chose to remain, supported only by
such volunteers as might, under such depressing circumstances, join themselves to the English army, and by
the doubtful aid of Conrade of Montserrat and the military orders of the Temple and of Saint John, who,
though they were sworn to wage battle against the Saracens, were at least equally jealous of any European
monarch achieving the conquest of Palestine, where, with shortsighted and selfish policy, they proposed to
establish independent dominions of their own.
It needed not many arguments to show Richard the truth of his situation; and indeed, after his first burst of
passion, he sat him calmly down, and with gloomy looks, head depressed, and arms folded on his bosom,
listened to the Archbishop's reasoning on the impossibility of his carrying on the Crusade when deserted by
his companions. Nay, he forbore interruption, even when the prelate ventured, in measured terms, to hint that
Richard's own impetuosity had been one main cause of disgusting the princes with the expedition.
"CONFITEOR," answered Richard, with a dejected look, and something of a melancholy smile"I confess,
reverend father, that I ought on some accounts to sing CULPA MEA. But is it not hard that my frailties of
temper should be visited with such a penancethat, for a burst or two of natural passion, I should be doomed
to see fade before me ungathered such a rich harvest of glory to God and honour to chivalry? But it shall
NOT fade. By the soul of the Conqueror, I will plant the Cross on the towers of Jerusalem, or it shall be
planted over Richard's grave!"
"Thou mayest do it," said the prelate, "yet not another drop of Christian blood be shed in the quarrel."
"Ah, you speak of compromise, Lord Prelate; but the blood of the infidel hounds must also cease to flow,"
said Richard.
"There will be glory enough," replied the Archbishop, "in having extorted from Saladin, by force of arms, and
by the respect inspired by your fame, such conditions as at once restore the Holy Sepulchre, open the Holy
Land to pilgrims, secure their safety by strong fortresses, and, stronger than all, assure the safety of the Holy
City, by conferring on Richard the title of King Guardian of Jerusalem."
"How!" said Richard, his eyes sparkling with unusual light. "I II the King Guardian of the Holy City!
Victory itself, but that it is victory, could not gain morescarce so much, when won with unwilling and
disunited forces. But Saladin still proposes to retain his interest in the Holy Land?"
"As a joint sovereign, the sworn ally," replied the prelate, "of the mighty Richardhis relative, if it may be
permitted, by marriage."
"By marriage!" said Richard, surprised, yet less so than the prelate had expected. "Ha!ayEdith
Plantagenet. Did I dream this? or did some one tell me? My head is still weak from this fever, and has been
agitated. Was it the Scot, or the Hakim, or yonder holy hermit, that hinted such a wild bargain?"
"The hermit of Engaddi, most likely," said the Archbishop, "for he hath toiled much in this matter; and since
the discontent of the princes has became apparent, and a separation of their forces unavoidable, he hath had
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many consultations, both with Christian and pagan, for arranging such a pacification as may give to
Christendom, at least in part, the objects of this holy warfare."
"My kinswoman to an infidelha!" exclaimed Richard, as his eyes began to sparkle.
The prelate hastened to avert his wrath.
"The Pope's consent must doubtless be first attained, and the holy hermit, who is well known at Rome, will
treat with the holy Father."
"How?without our consent first given?" said the King.
"Surely no," said the Bishop, in a quieting and insinuating tone of voice"only with and under your especial
sanction."
"My sanction to marry my kinswoman to an infidel!" said Richard; yet he spoke rather in a tone of doubt than
as distinctly reprobating the measure proposed. "Could I have dreamed of such a composition when I leaped
upon the Syrian shore from the prow of my galley, even as a lion springs on his prey! And nowBut
proceedI will hear with patience."
Equally delighted and surprised to find his task so much easier than he had apprehended, the Archbishop
hastened to pour forth before Richard the instances of such alliances in Spainnot without countenance
from the Holy See; the incalculable advantages which all Christendom would derive from the union of
Richard and Saladin by a bond so sacred; and, above all, he spoke with great vehemence and unction on the
probability that Saladin would, in case of the proposed alliance, exchange his false faith for the true one.
"Hath the Soldan shown any disposition to become Christian?" said Richard. "If so, the king lives not on
earth to whom I would grant the hand of a kinswoman, ay, or sister, sooner than to my noble Saladinay,
though the one came to lay crown and sceptre at her feet, and the other had nothing to offer but his good
sword and better heart!"
"Saladin hath heard our Christian teachers," said the Bishop, somewhat evasively"my unworthy self, and
othersand as he listens with patience, and replies with calmness, it can hardly be but that he be snatched as
a brand from the burning. MAGNA EST VERITAS, ET PREVALEBIT! moreover, the hermit of Engaddi,
few of whose words have fallen fruitless to the ground, is possessed fully with the belief that there is a calling
of the Saracens and the other heathen approaching, to which this marriage shall be matter of induction. He
readeth the course of the stars; and dwelling, with maceration of the flesh, in those divine places which the
saints have trodden of old, the spirit of Elijah the Tishbite, the founder of his blessed order, hath been with
him as it was with the prophet Elisha, the son of Shaphat, when he spread his mantle over him."
King Richard listened to the Prelate's reasoning with a downcast brow and a troubled look.
"I cannot tell," he said, "How, it is with me, but methinks these cold counsels of the Princes of Christendom
have infected me too with a lethargy of spirit. The time hath been that, had a layman proposed such alliance
to me, I had struck him to earthif a churchman, I had spit at him as a renegade and priest of Baal; yet now
this counsel sounds not so strange in mine ear. For why should I not seek for brotherhood and alliance with a
Saracen, brave, just, generouswho loves and honours a worthy foe, as if he were a friendwhilst the
Princes of Christendom shrink from the side of their allies, and forsake the cause of Heaven and good
knighthood? But I will possess my patience, and will not think of them. Only one attempt will I make to keep
this gallant brotherhood together, if it be possible; and if I fail, Lord Archbishop, we will speak together of
thy counsel, which, as now, I neither accept nor altogether reject. Wend we to the Council, my lordthe
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hour calls us. Thou sayest Richard is hasty and proudthou shalt see him humble himself like the lowly
broom plant from which he derives his surname."
With the assistance of those of his privy chamber, the King then hastily robed himself in a doublet and mantle
of a dark and uniform colour; and without any mark of regal dignity, excepting a ring of gold upon his head,
he hastened with the Archbishop of Tyre to attend the Council, which waited but his presence to commence
its sitting.
The pavilion of the Council was an ample tent, having before it the large Banner of the Cross displayed, and
another, on which was portrayed a female kneeling, with dishevelled hair and disordered dress, meant to
represent the desolate and distressed Church of Jerusalem, and bearing the motto, AFFLICTAE SPONSAE
NE OBLIVISCARIS. Warders, carefully selected, kept every one at a distance from the neighbourhood of
this tent, lest the debates, which were sometimes of a loud and stormy character, should reach other ears than
those they were designed for.
Here, therefore, the princes of the Crusade were assembled awaiting Richard's arrival. And even the brief
delay which was thus interposed was turned to his disadvantage by his enemies, various instances being
circulated of his pride and undue assumption of superiority, of which even the necessity of the present short
pause was quoted as an instance. Men strove to fortify each other in their evil opinion of the King of England,
and vindicated the offence which each had taken, by putting the most severe construction upon circumstances
the most trifling; and all this, perhaps, because they were conscious of an instinctive reverence for the heroic
monarch, which it would require more than ordinary efforts to overcome.
They had settled, accordingly, that they should receive him on his entrance with slight notice, and no more
respect than was exactly necessary to keep within the bounds of cold ceremonial. But when they beheld that
noble form, that princely countenance, somewhat pale from his late illness the eye which had been called
by minstrels the bright star of battle and victorywhen his feats, almost surpassing human strength and
valour, rushed on their recollection, the Council of Princes simultaneously arose even the jealous King of
France and the sullen and offended Duke of Austriaarose with one consent, and the assembled princes
burst forth with one voice in the acclamation, "God save King Richard of England! Long life to the valiant
Lion'sheart!"
With a countenance frank and open as the summer sun when it rises, Richard distributed his thanks around,
and congratulated himself on being once more among his royal brethren of the Crusade.
"Some brief words he desired to say," such was his address to the assembly, "though on a subject so
unworthy as himself, even at the risk of delaying for a few minutes their consultations for the weal of
Christendom and the advancement of their holy enterprise."
The assembled princes resumed their seats, and there was a profound silence.
"This day," continued the King of England, "is a high festival of the church, and it well becomes Christian
men, at such a tide, to reconcile themselves with their brethren, and confess their faults to each other. Noble
princes and fathers of this holy expedition, Richard is a soldierhis hand is ever readier than his
tongueand his tongue is but too much used to the rough language of his trade. But do not, for Plantagenet's
hasty speeches and illconsidered actions, forsake the noble cause of the redemption of Palestinedo not
throw away earthly renown and eternal salvation, to be won here if ever they can be won by man, because the
act of a soldier may have been hasty, and his speech as hard as the iron which he has worn from childhood. Is
Richard in default to any of you, Richard will make compensation both by word and action.Noble brother
of France, have I been so unlucky as to offend you?"
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"The Majesty of France has no atonement to seek from that of England," answered Philip, with kingly
dignity, accepting, at the same time, the offered hand of Richard; "and whatever opinion I may adopt
concerning the prosecution of this enterprise will depend on reasons arising out of the state of my own
kingdom certainly on no jealousy or disgust at my royal and most valorous brother."
"Austria," said Richard, walking up to the Archduke, with a mixture of frankness and dignity, while Leopold
arose from his seat, as if involuntarily, and with the action of an automaton, whose motions depended upon
some external impulse"Austria thinks he hath reason to be offended with England; England, that he hath
cause to complain of Austria. Let them exchange forgiveness, that the peace of Europe and the concord of
this host may remain unbroken. We are now joint supporters of a more glorious banner than ever blazed
before an earthly prince, even the Banner of Salvation. Let not, therefore, strife be betwixt us for the symbol
of our more worldly dignities; but let Leopold restore the pennon of England, if he has it in his power, and
Richard will say, though from no motive save his love for Holy Church, that he repents him of the hasty
mood in which he did insult the standard of Austria."
The Archduke stood still, sullen and discontented, with his eyes fixed on the floor, and his countenance
lowering with smothered displeasure, which awe, mingled with awkwardness, prevented his giving vent to in
words.
The Patriarch of Jerusalem hastened to break the embarrassing silence, and to bear witness for the Archduke
of Austria that he had exculpated himself, by a solemn oath, from all knowledge, direct or indirect, of the
aggression done to the Banner of England.
"Then we have done the noble Archduke the greater wrong," said Richard; "and craving his pardon for
imputing to him an outrage so cowardly, we extend our hand to him in token of renewed peace and amity.
But how is this? Austria refuses our uncovered hand, as he formerly refused our mailed glove? What! are we
neither to be his mate in peace nor his antagonist in war? Well, let it be so. We will take the slight esteem in
which he holds us as a penance for aught which we may have done against him in heat of blood, and will
therefore hold the account between us cleared."
So saying, he turned from the Archduke with an air rather of dignity than scorn, leaving the Austrian
apparently as much relieved by the removal of his eye as is a sullen and truant schoolboy when the glance of
his severe pedagogue is withdrawn.
"Noble Earl of Champagneprincely Marquis of Montserrat valiant Grand Master of the TemplarsI am
here a penitent in the confessional. Do any of you bring a charge or claim amends from me?"
"I know not on what we could ground any," said the smoothtongued Conrade, "unless it were that the King
of England carries off from his poor brothers of the war all the fame which they might have hoped to gain in
the expedition."
"My charge, if I am called on to make one," said the Master of the Templars, "is graver and deeper than that
of the Marquis of Montserrat. It may be thought ill to beseem a military monk such as I to raise his voice
where so many noble princes remain silent; but it concerns our whole host, and not least this noble King of
England, that he should hear from some one to his face those charges which there are enow to bring against
him in his absence. We laud and honour the courage and high achievements of the King of England; but we
feel aggrieved that he should on all occasions seize and maintain a precedence and superiority over us, which
it becomes not independent princes to submit to. Much we might yield of our free will to his bravery, his
zeal, his wealth, and his power; but he who snatches all as matter of right, and leaves nothing to grant out of
courtesy and favour, degrades us from allies into retainers and vassals, and sullies in the eyes of our soldiers
and subjects the lustre of our authority, which is no longer independently exercised. Since the royal Richard
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has asked the truth from us, he must neither be surprised nor angry when he hears one, to whom worldly
pomp is prohibited, and secular authority is nothing, saving so far as it advances the prosperity of God's
Temple, and the prostration of the lion which goeth about seeking whom he may devourwhen he hears, I
say, such a one as I tell him the truth in reply to his question; which truth, even while I speak it, is, I know,
confirmed by the heart of every one who hears me, however respect may stifle their voices."
Richard coloured very highly while the Grand Master was making this direct and unvarnished attack upon his
conduct, and the murmur of assent which followed it showed plainly that almost all who were present
acquiesced in the justice of the accusation. Incensed, and at the same time mortified, he yet foresaw that to
give way to his headlong resentment would be to give the cold and wary accuser the advantage over him
which it was the Templar's principal object to obtain. He therefore, with a strong effort, remained silent till he
had repeated a pater noster, being the course which his confessor had enjoined him to pursue when anger was
likely to obtain dominion over him. The King then spoke with composure, though not without an embittered
tone, especially at the outset:
"And is it even so? And are our brethren at such pains to note the infirmities of our natural temper, and the
rough precipitance of our zeal, which may sometimes have urged us to issue commands when there was little
time to hold council? I could not have thought that offences, casual and unpremeditated like mine, could find
such deep root in the hearts of my allies in this most holy cause; that for my sake they should withdraw their
hands from the plough when the furrow was near the endfor my sake turn aside from the direct path to
Jerusalem, which their swords have opened. I vainly thought that my small services might have outweighed
my rash errorsthat if it were remembered that I pressed to the van in an assault, it would not be forgotten
that I was ever the last in the retreatthat, if I elevated my banner upon conquered fields of battle, it was all
the advantage that I sought, while others were dividing the spoil. I may have called the conquered city by my
name, but it was to others that I yielded the dominion. If I have been headstrong in urging bold counsels, I
have not, methinks, spared my own blood or my people's in carrying them into as bold execution; or if I have,
in the hurry of march or battle, assumed a command over the soldiers of others, such have been ever treated
as my own when my wealth purchased the provisions and medicines which their own sovereigns could not
procure. But it shames me to remind you of what all but myself seem to have forgotten. Let us rather look
forward to our future measures; and believe me, brethren," he continued, his face kindling with eagerness,
"you shall not find the pride, or the wrath, or the ambition of Richard a stumbling block of offence in the
path to which religion and glory summon you as with the trumpet of an archangel. Oh, no, no! never would I
survive the thought that my frailties and infirmities had been the means to sever this goodly fellowship of
assembled princes. I would cut off my left hand with my right, could my doing so attest my sincerity. I will
yield up, voluntarily, all right to command in the hosteven mine own liege subjects. They shall be led by
such sovereigns as you may nominate; and their King, ever but too apt to exchange the leader's baton for the
adventurer's lance, will serve under the banner of BeauSeant among the Templarsay, or under that of
Austria, if Austria will name a brave man to lead his forces. Or if ye are yourselves aweary of this war, and
feel your armour chafe your tender bodies, leave but with Richard some ten or fifteen thousand of your
soldiers to work out the accomplishment of your vow; and when Zion is won," he exclaimed, waving his
hand aloft, as if displaying the standard of the Cross over Jerusalem"when Zion is won, we will write upon
her gates, NOT the name of Richard Plantagenet, but of those generous princes who entrusted him with the
means of conquest!"
The rough eloquence and determined expression of the military monarch at once roused the drooping spirits
of the Crusaders, reanimated their devotion, and, fixing their attention on the principal object of the
expedition, made most of them who were present blush for having been moved by such petty subjects of
complaint as had before engrossed them. Eye caught fire from eye, voice lent courage to voice. They
resumed, as with one accord, the warcry with which the sermon of Peter the Hermit was echoed back, and
shouted aloud, "Lead us on, gallant Lion's heart; none so worthy to lead where brave men follow. Lead us
onto Jerusalemto Jerusalem! It is the will of Godit is the will of God! Blessed is he who shall lend an
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arm to its fulfilment!"
The shout, so suddenly and generally raised, was heard beyond the ring of sentinels who guarded the pavilion
of Council, and spread among the soldiers of the host, who, inactive and dispirited by disease and climate,
had begun, like their leaders, to droop in resolution; but the reappearance of Richard in renewed vigour, and
the wellknown shout which echoed from the assembly of the princes, at once rekindled their enthusiasm,
and thousands and tens of thousands answered with the same shout of "Zion, Zion! War, war! Instant battle
with the infidels! It is the will of Godit is the will of God!"
The acclamations from without increased in their turn the enthusiasm which prevailed within the pavilion.
Those who did not actually catch the flame were afraidat least for the time to seem colder than others.
There was no more speech except of a proud advance towards Jerusalem upon the expiry of the truce, and the
measures to be taken in the meantime for supplying and recruiting the army. The Council broke up, all
apparently filled with the same enthusiastic purposewhich, however, soon faded in the bosom of most, and
never had an existence in that of others.
Of the latter class were the Marquis Conrade and the Grand Master of the Templars, who retired together to
their quarters ill at ease, and malcontent with the events of the day.
"I ever told it to thee," said the latter, with the cold, sardonic expression peculiar to him, "that Richard would
burst through the flimsy wiles you spread for him, as would a lion through a spider's web. Thou seest he has
but to speak, and his breath agitates these fickle fools as easily as the whirlwind catcheth scattered straws,
and sweeps them together, or disperses them at its pleasure."
"When the blast has passed away," said Conrade, "the straws, which it made dance to its pipe, will settle to
earth again."
"But knowest thou not besides," said the Templar, "that it seems, if this new purpose of conquest shall be
abandoned and pass away, and each mighty prince shall again be left to such guidance as his own scanty
brain can supply, Richard may yet probably become King of Jerusalem by compact, and establish those terms
of treaty with the Soldan which thou thyself thought'st him so likely to spurn at?"
"Now, by Mahound and Termagaunt, for Christian oaths are out of fashion," said Conrade, "sayest thou the
proud King of England would unite his blood with a heathen Soldan? My policy threw in that ingredient to
make the whole treaty an abomination to him. As bad for us that he become our master by an agreement, as
by victory."
"Thy policy hath ill calculated Richard's digestion," answered the Templar; "I know his mind by a whisper
from the Archbishop. And then thy masterstroke respecting yonder bannerit has passed off with no more
respect than two cubits of embroidered silk merited. Marquis Conrade, thy wit begins to halt; I will trust thy
finespun measures no longer, but will try my own. Knowest thou not the people whom the Saracens call
Charegites?"
"Surely," answered the Marquis; "they are desperate and besotted enthusiasts, who devote their lives to the
advancement of religionsomewhat like Templars, only they are never known to pause in the race of their
calling."
"Jest not," answered the scowling monk. "Know that one of these men has set down in his bloody vow the
name of the Island Emperor yonder, to be hewn down as the chief enemy of the Moslem faith."
"A most judicious paynim," said Conrade. "May Mohammed send him his paradise for a reward!"
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"He was taken in the camp by one of our squires, and in private examination frankly avowed his fixed and
determined purpose to me," said the Grand Master.
"Now the heavens pardon them who prevented the purpose of this most judicious Charegite!" answered
Conrade.
"He is my prisoner," added the Templar, "and secluded from speech with others, as thou mayest suppose; but
prisons have been broken"
"Chains left unlocked, and captives have escaped," answered the Marquis. "It is an ancient saying, no sure
dungeon but the grave."
"When loose, he resumes his quest," continued the military priest; "for it is the nature of this sort of blood
hound never to quit the slot of the prey he has once scented."
"Say no more of it," said the Marquis; "I see thy policyit is dreadful, but the emergency is imminent."
"I only told thee of it," said the Templar, "that thou mayest keep thyself on thy guard; for the uproar will be
dreadful, and there is no knowing on whom the English may vent their rage. Ay, and there is another risk. My
page knows the counsels of this Charegite," he continued; "and, moreover, he is a peevish, self willed fool,
whom I would I were rid of, as he thwarts me by presuming to see with his own eyes, not mine. But our holy
order gives me power to put a remedy to such inconvenience. Or stay the Saracen may find a good dagger
in his cell, and I warrant you he uses it as he breaks forth, which will be of a surety so soon as the page enters
with his food."
"It will give the affair a colour," said Conrade; "and yet"
"YET and BUT," said the Templar, "are words for fools; wise men neither hesitate nor retractthey resolve
and they execute."
CHAPTER XX.
When beauty leads the lion in her toils,
Such are her charms, he dare not raise his mane,
Far less expand the terror of his fangs.
So great Alcides made his club a distaff,
And spun to please fair Omphale. ANONYMOUS.
Richard, the unsuspicious object of the dark treachery detailed in the closing part of the last chapter, having
effected, for the present at least, the triumphant union of the Crusading princes in a resolution to prosecute
the war with vigour, had it next at heart to establish tranquillity in his own family; and, now that he could
judge more temperately, to inquire distinctly into the circumstances leading to the loss of his banner, and the
nature and the extent of the connection betwixt his kinswoman Edith and the banished adventurer from
Scotland.
Accordingly, the Queen and her household were startled with a visit from Sir Thomas de Vaux, requesting
the present attendance of the Lady Calista of Montfaucon, the Queen's principal bower woman, upon King
Richard.
"What am I to say, madam?" said the trembling attendant to the Queen, "He will slay us all."
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"Nay, fear not, madam," said De Vaux. "His Majesty hath spared the life of the Scottish knight, who was the
chief offender, and bestowed him upon the Moorish physician. He will not be severe upon a lady, though
faulty."
"Devise some cunning tale, wench," said Berengaria. "My husband hath too little time to make inquiry into
the truth."
"Tell the tale as it really happened," said Edith, "lest I tell it for thee."
"With humble permission of her Majesty," said De Vaux, "I would say Lady Edith adviseth well; for
although King Richard is pleased to believe what it pleases your Grace to tell him, yet I doubt his having the
same deference for the Lady Calista, and in this especial matter."
"The Lord of Gilsland is right," said the Lady Calista, much agitated at the thoughts of the investigation
which was to take place; "and besides, if I had presence of mind enough to forge a plausible story, beshrew
me if I think I should have the courage to tell it."
In this candid humour, the Lady Calista was conducted by De Vaux to the King, and made, as she had
proposed, a full confession of the decoy by which the unfortunate Knight of the Leopard had been induced to
desert his post; exculpating the Lady Edith, who, she was aware, would not fail to exculpate herself, and
laying the full burden on the Queen, her mistress, whose share of the frolic, she well knew, would appear the
most venial in the eyes of Coeur de Lion. In truth, Richard was a fond, almost a uxorious husband. The first
burst of his wrath had long since passed away, and he was not disposed severely to censure what could not
now be amended. The wily Lady Calista, accustomed from her earliest childhood to fathom the intrigues of a
court, and watch the indications of a sovereign's will, hastened back to the Queen with the speed of a
lapwing, charged with the King's commands that she should expect a speedy visit from him; to which the
bowerlady added a commentary founded on her own observation, tending to show that Richard meant just
to preserve so much severity as might bring his royal consort to repent of her frolic, and then to extend to her
and all concerned his gracious pardon.
"Sits the wind in that corner, wench?" said the Queen, much relieved by this intelligence. "Believe me that,
great commander as he is, Richard will find it hard to circumvent us in this matter, and that, as the Pyrenean
shepherds are wont to say in my native Navarre, Many a one comes for wool, and goes back shorn."
Having possessed herself of all the information which Calista could communicate, the royal Berengaria
arrayed herself in her most becoming dress, and awaited with confidence the arrival of the heroic Richard.
He arrived, and found himself in the situation of a prince entering an offending province, in the confidence
that his business will only be to inflict rebuke, and receive submission, when he unexpectedly finds it in a
state of complete defiance and insurrection. Berengaria well knew the power of her charms and the extent of
Richard's affection, and felt assured that she could make her own terms good, now that the first tremendous
explosion of his anger had expended itself without mischief. Far from listening to the King's intended rebuke,
as what the levity of her conduct had justly deserved, she extenuated, nay, defended as a harmless frolic, that
which she was accused of. She denied, indeed, with many a pretty form of negation, that she had directed
Nectabanus absolutely to entice the knight farther than the brink of the Mount on which he kept watchand,
indeed, this was so far true, that she had not designed Sir Kenneth to be introduced into her tentand then,
eloquent in urging her own defence, the Queen was far more so in pressing upon Richard the charge of
unkindness, in refusing her so poor a boon as the life of an unfortunate knight, who, by her thoughtless prank,
had been brought within the danger of martial law. She wept and sobbed while she enlarged on her husband's
obduracy on this score, as a rigour which had threatened to make her unhappy for life, whenever she should
reflect that she had given, unthinkingly, the remote cause for such a tragedy. The vision of the slaughtered
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victim would have haunted her dreamsnay, for aught she knew, since such things often happened, his
actual spectre might have stood by her waking couch. To all this misery of the mind was she exposed by the
severity of one who, while he pretended to dote upon her slightest glance, would not forego one act of poor
revenge, though the issue was to render her miserable.
All this flow of female eloquence was accompanied with the usual arguments of tears and sighs, and uttered
with such tone and action as seemed to show that the Queen's resentment arose neither from pride nor
sullenness, but from feelings hurt at finding her consequence with her husband less than she had expected to
possess.
The good King Richard was considerably embarrassed. He tried in vain to reason with one whose very
jealousy of his affection rendered her incapable of listening to argument, nor could he bring himself to use the
restraint of lawful authority to a creature so beautiful in the midst of her unreasonable displeasure. He was
therefore reduced to the defensive, endeavoured gently to chide her suspicions and soothe her displeasure,
and recalled to her mind that she need not look back upon the past with recollections either of remorse or
supernatural fear, since Sir Kenneth was alive and well, and had been bestowed by him upon the great
Arabian physician, who, doubtless, of all men, knew best how to keep him living. But this seemed the
unkindest cut of all, and the Queen's sorrow was renewed at the idea of a Saracena medicinerobtaining a
boon for which, with bare head and on bended knee, she had petitioned her husband in vain. At this new
charge Richard's patience began rather to give way, and he said, in a serious tone of voice, "Berengaria, the
physician saved my life. If it is of value in your eyes, you will not grudge him a higher recompense than the
only one I could prevail on him to accept."
The Queen was satisfied she had urged her coquettish displeasure to the verge of safety.
"My Richard," she said, "why brought you not that sage to me, that England's Queen might show how she
esteemed him who could save from extinction the lamp of chivalry, the glory of England, and the light of
poor Berengaria's life and hope?"
In a word, the matrimonial dispute was ended; but, that some penalty might be paid to justice, both King and
Queen accorded in laying the whole blame on the agent Nectabanus, who (the Queen being by this time well
weary of the poor dwarf's humour) was, with his royal consort Guenevra, sentenced to be banished from the
Court; and the unlucky dwarf only escaped a supplementary whipping, from the Queen's assurances that he
had already sustained personal chastisement. It was decreed further that, as an envoy was shortly to be
dispatched to Saladin, acquainting him with the resolution of the Council to resume hostilities so soon as the
truce was ended, and as Richard proposed to send a valuable present to the Soldan, in acknowledgment of the
high benefit he had derived from the services of El Hakim, the two unhappy creatures should be added to it as
curiosities, which, from their extremely grotesque appearance, and the shattered state of their intellect, were
gifts that might well pass between sovereign and sovereign.
Richard had that day yet another female encounter to sustain; but he advanced to it with comparative
indifference, for Edith, though beautiful and highly esteemed by her royal relativenay, although she had
from his unjust suspicions actually sustained the injury of which Berengaria only affected to complainstill
was neither Richard's wife nor mistress, and he feared her reproaches less, although founded in reason, than
those of the Queen, though unjust and fantastical. Having requested to speak with her apart, he was ushered
into her apartment, adjoining that of the Queen, whose two female Coptish slaves remained on their knees in
the most remote corner during the interview. A thin black veil extended its ample folds over the tall and
graceful form of the highborn maiden, and she wore not upon her person any female ornament of what kind
soever. She arose and made a low reverence when Richard entered, resumed her seat at his command, and,
when he sat down beside her, waited, without uttering a syllable, until he should communicate his pleasure.
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Richard, whose custom it was to be familiar with Edith, as their relationship authorized, felt this reception
chilling, and opened the conversation with some embarrassment.
"Our fair cousin," he at length said, "is angry with us; and we own that strong circumstances have induced us,
without cause, to suspect her of conduct alien to what we have ever known in her course of life. But while we
walk in this misty valley of humanity, men will mistake shadows for substances. Can my fair cousin not
forgive her somewhat vehement kinsman Richard?"
"Who can refuse forgiveness to RICHARD," answered Edith, "provided Richard can obtain pardon of the
KING?"
"Come, my kinswoman," replied Coeur de Lion, "this is all too solemn. By Our Lady, such a melancholy
countenance, and this ample sable veil, might make men think thou wert a newmade widow, or had lost a
betrothed lover, at least. Cheer up! Thou hast heard, doubtless, that there is no real cause for woe; why, then,
keep up the form of mourning?"
"For the departed honour of Plantagenetfor the glory which hath left my father's house."
Richard frowned. "Departed honour! glory which hath left our house!" he repeated angrily. "But my cousin
Edith is privileged. I have judged her too hastily; she has therefore a right to deem of me too harshly. But tell
me at least in what I have faulted."
"Plantagenet," said Edith, "should have either pardoned an offence, or punished it. It misbecomes him to
assign free men, Christians, and brave knights, to the fetters of the infidels. It becomes him not to
compromise and barter, or to grunt life under the forfeiture of liberty. To have doomed the unfortunate to
death might have been severity, but had a show of justice; to condemn him to slavery and exile was barefaced
tyranny."
"I see, my fair cousin," said Richard, "you are of those pretty ones who think an absent lover as bad as none,
or as a dead one. Be patient; half a score of light horsemen may yet follow and redeem the error, if thy gallant
have in keeping any secret which might render his death more convenient than his banishment."
"Peace with thy scurrile jests!" answered Edith, colouring deeply. "Think, rather, that for the indulgence of
thy mood thou hast lopped from this great enterprise one goodly limb, deprived the Cross of one of its most
brave supporters, and placed a servant of the true God in the hands of the heathen; hast given, too, to minds
as suspicious as thou hast shown thine own in this matter, some right to say that Richard Coeur de Lion
banished the bravest soldier in his camp lest his name in battle might match his own."
"II!" exclaimed Richard, now indeed greatly moved"am I one to be jealous of renown? I would he were
here to profess such an equality! I would waive my rank and my crown, and meet him, manlike, in the lists,
that it might appear whether Richard Plantagenet had room to fear or to envy the prowess of mortal man.
Come, Edith, thou think'st not as thou sayest. Let not anger or grief for the absence of thy lover make thee
unjust to thy kinsman, who, notwithstanding all thy techiness, values thy good report as high as that of any
one living."
"The absence of my lover?" said the Lady Edith, "But yes, he may be well termed my lover, who hath paid so
dear for the title. Unworthy as I might be of such homage, I was to him like a light, leading him forward in
the noble path of chivalry; but that I forgot my rank, or that he presumed beyond his, is false, were a king to
speak it."
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"My fair cousin," said Richard, "do not put words in my mouth which I have not spoken. I said not you had
graced this man beyond the favour which a good knight may earn, even from a princess, whatever be his
native condition. But, by Our Lady, I know something of this lovegear. It begins with mute respect and
distant reverence; but when opportunities occur, familiarity increases, and soBut it skills not talking with
one who thinks herself wiser than all the world."
"My kinsman's counsels I willingly listen to, when they are such," said Edith, "as convey no insult to my rank
and character."
"Kings, my fair cousin, do not counsel, but rather command," said Richard.
"Soldans do indeed command," said Edith, "but it is because they have slaves to govern."
"Come, you might learn to lay aside this scorn of Soldanrie, when you hold so high of a Scot," said the King.
"I hold Saladin to be truer to his word than this William of Scotland, who must needs be called a Lion,
forsooth; he hath foully faulted towards me in failing to send the auxiliary aid he promised. Let me tell thee,
Edith, thou mayest live to prefer a true Turk to a false Scot."
"Nonever!" answered Edith"not should Richard himself embrace the false religion, which he crossed
the seas to expel from Palestine."
"Thou wilt have the last word," said Richard, "and thou shalt have it. Even think of me what thou wilt, pretty
Edith. I shall not forget that we are near and dear cousins."
So saying, he took his leave in fair fashion, but very little satisfied with the result of his visit.
It was the fourth day after Sir Kenneth had been dismissed from the camp, and King Richard sat in his
pavilion, enjoying an evening breeze from the west, which, with unusual coolness on her wings, seemed
breathed from merry England for the refreshment of her adventurous Monarch, as he was gradually
recovering the full strength which was necessary to carry on his gigantic projects. There was no one with
him, De Vaux having been sent to Ascalon to bring up reinforcements and supplies of military munition, and
most of his other attendants being occupied in different departments, all preparing for the reopening of
hostilities, and for a grand preparatory review of the army of the Crusaders, which was to take place the next
day. The King sat listening to the busy hum among the soldiery, the clatter from the forges, where horseshoes
were preparing, and from the tents of the armourers, who were repairing harness. The voice of the soldiers,
too, as they passed and repassed, was loud and cheerful, carrying with its very tone an assurance of high and
excited courage, and an omen of approaching victory. While Richard's ear drank in these sounds with delight,
and while he yielded himself to the visions of conquest and of glory which they suggested, an equerry told
him that a messenger from Saladin waited without.
"Admit him instantly," said the King, "and with due honour, Josceline."
The English knight accordingly introduced a person, apparently of no higher rank than a Nubian slave, whose
appearance was nevertheless highly interesting. He was of superb stature and nobly formed, and his
commanding features, although almost jet black, showed nothing of negro descent. He wore over his coal
black locks a milkwhite turban, and over his shoulders a short mantle of the same colour, open in front and
at the sleeves, under which appeared a doublet of dressed leopard's skin reaching within a handbreadth of the
knee. The rest of his muscular limbs, both legs and arms, were bare, excepting that he had sandals on his feet,
and wore a collar and bracelets of silver. A straight broadsword, with a handle of boxwood and a sheath
covered with snakeskin, was suspended from his waist. In his right hand he held a short javelin, with a broad,
bright steel head, of a span in length, and in his left he led by a leash of twisted silk and gold a large and
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noble staghound.
The messenger prostrated himself, at the same time partially uncovering his shoulders, in sign of humiliation,
and having touched the earth with his forehead, arose so far as to rest on one knee, while he delivered to the
King a silken napkin, enclosing another of cloth of gold, within which was a letter from Saladin in the
original Arabic, with a translation into NormanEnglish, which may be modernized thus:
"Saladin, King of Kings, to Melech Ric, the Lion of England. Whereas, we are informed by thy last message
that thou hast chosen war rather than peace, and our enmity rather than our friendship, we account thee as one
blinded in this matter, and trust shortly to convince thee of thine error, by the help of our invincible forces of
the thousand tribes, when Mohammed, the Prophet of God, and Allah, the God of the Prophet, shall judge the
controversy betwixt us. In what remains, we make noble account of thee, and of the gifts which thou hast sent
us, and of the two dwarfs, singular in their deformity as Ysop, and mirthful as the lute of Isaack. And in
requital of these tokens from the treasurehouse of thy bounty, behold we have sent thee a Nubian slave,
named Zohauk, of whom judge not by his complexion, according to the foolish ones of the earth, in respect
the dark rinded fruit hath the most exquisite flavour. Know that he is strong to execute the will of his
master, as Rustan of Zablestan; also he is wise to give counsel when thou shalt learn to hold communication
with him, for the Lord of Speech hath been stricken with silence betwixt the ivory walls of his palace. We
commend him to thy care, hoping the hour may not be distant when he may render thee good service. And
herewith we bid thee farewell; trusting that our most holy Prophet may yet call thee to a sight of the truth,
failing which illumination, our desire is for the speedy restoration of thy royal health, that Allah may judge
between thee and us in a plain field of battle."
And the missive was sanctioned by the signature and seal of the Soldan.
Richard surveyed the Nubian in silence as he stood before him, his looks bent upon the ground, his arms
folded on his bosom, with the appearance of a black marble statue of the most exquisite workmanship,
waiting life from the touch of a Prometheus. The King of England, who, as it was emphatically said of his
successor Henry the Eighth, loved to look upon A MAN, was well pleased with the thews, sinews, and
symmetry of him whom he now surveyed, and questioned him in the lingua franca, "Art thou a pagan?"
The slave shook his head, and raising his finger to his brow, crossed himself in token of his Christianity, then
resumed his posture of motionless humility.
"A Nubian Christian, doubtless," said Richard, "and mutilated of the organ of speech by these heathen dogs?"
The mute again slowly shook his head, in token of negative, pointed with his forefinger to Heaven, and then
laid it upon his own lips.
"I understand thee," said Richard; "thou dost suffer under the infliction of God, not by the cruelty of man.
Canst thou clean an armour and belt, and buckle it in time of need?"
The mute nodded, and stepping towards the coat of mail, which hung with the shield and helmet of the
chivalrous monarch upon the pillar of the tent, he handled it with such nicety of address as sufficiently to
show that he fully understood the business of an armourbearer.
"Thou art an apt, and wilt doubtless be a useful knave. Thou shalt wait in my chamber, and on my person,"
said the King, "to show how much I value the gift of the royal Soldan. If thou hast no tongue, it follows thou
canst carry no tales, neither provoke me to be sudden by any unfit reply."
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The Nubian again prostrated himself till his brow touched the earth, then stood erect, at some paces distant, as
waiting for his new master's commands.
"Nay, thou shalt commence thy office presently," said Richard, "for I see a speck of rust darkening on that
shield; and when I shake it in the face of Saladin, it should be bright and unsullied as the Soldan's honour and
mine own."
A horn was winded without, and presently Sir Henry Neville entered with a packet of dispatches. "From
England, my lord," he said, as he delivered it.
"From Englandour own England!" repeated Richard, in a tone of melancholy enthusiasm. "Alas! they little
think how hard their Sovereign has been beset by sickness and sorrowfaint friends and forward enemies."
Then opening the dispatches, he said hastily, "Ha! this comes from no peaceful landthey too have their
feuds. Neville, begone; I must peruse these tidings alone, and at leisure."
Neville withdrew accordingly, and Richard was soon absorbed in the melancholy details which had been
conveyed to him from England, concerning the factions that were tearing to pieces his native dominionsthe
disunion of his brothers John and Geoffrey, and the quarrels of both with the High Justiciary Longchamp,
Bishop of Elythe oppressions practised by the nobles upon the peasantry, and rebellion of the latter against
their masters, which had produced everywhere scenes of discord, and in some instances the effusion of blood.
Details of incidents mortifying to his pride, and derogatory from his authority, were intermingled with the
earnest advice of his wisest and most attached counsellors that he should presently return to England, as his
presence offered the only hope of saving the Kingdom from all the horrors of civil discord, of which France
and Scotland were likely to avail themselves. Filled with the most painful anxiety, Richard read, and again
read, the illomened letters; compared the intelligence which some of them contained with the same facts as
differently stated in others; and soon became totally insensible to whatever was passing around him, although
seated, for the sake of coolness, close to the entrance of his tent, and having the curtains withdrawn, so that
he could see and be seen by the guards and others who were stationed without.
Deeper in the shadow of the pavilion, and busied with the task his new master had imposed, sat the Nubian
slave, with his back rather turned towards the King. He had finished adjusting and cleaning the hauberk and
brigandine, and was now busily employed on a broad pavesse, or buckler, of unusual size, and covered with
steelplating, which Richard often used in reconnoitring, or actually storming fortified places, as a more
effectual protection against missile weapons than the narrow triangular shield used on horseback. This
pavesse bore neither the royal lions of England, nor any other device, to attract the observation of the
defenders of the walls against which it was advanced; the care, therefore, of the armourer was addressed to
causing its surface to shine as bright as crystal, in which he seemed to be peculiarly successful. Beyond the
Nubian, and scarce visible from without, lay the large dog, which might be termed his brother slave, and
which, as if he felt awed by being transferred to a royal owner, was couched close to the side of the mute,
with head and ears on the ground, and his limbs and tail drawn close around and under him.
While the Monarch and his new attendant were thus occupied, another actor crept upon the scene, and
mingled among the group of English yeomen, about a score of whom, respecting the unusually pensive
posture and close occupation of their Sovereign, were, contrary to their wont, keeping a silent guard in front
of his tent. It was not, however, more vigilant than usual. Some were playing at games of hazard with small
pebbles, others spoke together in whispers of the approaching day of battle, and several lay asleep, their
bulky limbs folded in their green mantles.
Amid these careless warders glided the puny form of a little old Turk, poorly dressed like a marabout or
santon of the deserta sort of enthusiasts, who sometimes ventured into the camp of the Crusaders, though
treated always with contumely, and often with violence. Indeed, the luxury and profligate indulgence of the
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Christian leaders had occasioned a motley concourse in their tents of musicians, courtesans, Jewish
merchants, Copts, Turks, and all the varied refuse of the Eastern nations; so that the caftan and turban, though
to drive both from the Holy Land was the professed object of the expedition, were, nevertheless, neither an
uncommon nor an alarming sight in the camp of the Crusaders. When, however, the little insignificant figure
we have described approached so nigh as to receive some interruption from the warders, he dashed his dusky
green turban from his head, showed that his beard and eyebrows were shaved like those of a professed
buffoon, and that the expression of his fantastic and writhen features, as well as of his little black eyes, which
glittered like jet, was that of a crazed imagination.
"Dance, marabout," cried the soldiers, acquainted with the manners of these wandering enthusiasts, "dance, or
we will scourge thee with our bowstrings till thou spin as never top did under schoolboy's lash." Thus
shouted the reckless warders, as much delighted at having a subject to tease as a child when he catches a
butterfly, or a schoolboy upon discovering a bird's nest.
The marabout, as if happy to do their behests, bounded from the earth, and spun his giddy round before them
with singular agility, which, when contrasted with his slight and wasted figure, and diminutive appearance,
made him resemble a withered leaf twirled round and round at the pleasure of the winter's breeze. His single
lock of hair streamed upwards from his bald and shaven head, as if some genie upheld him by it; and indeed
it seemed as if supernatural art were necessary to the execution of the wild, whirling dance, in which scarce
the tiptoe of the performer was seen to touch the ground. Amid the vagaries of his performance he flew here
and there, from one spot to another, still approaching, however, though almost imperceptibly, to the entrance
of the royal tent; so that, when at length he sunk exhausted on the earth, after two or three bounds still higher
than those which he had yet executed, he was not above thirty yards from the King's person.
"Give him water," said one yeoman; "they always crave a drink after their merrygoround."
"Aha, water, sayest thou, Long Allen?" exclaimed another archer, with a most scornful emphasis on the
despised element; "how wouldst like such beverage thyself, after such a morrice dancing?"
"The devil a waterdrop he gets here," said a third. "We will teach the lightfooted old infidel to be a good
Christian, and drink wine of Cyprus."
"Ay, ay," said a fourth; "and in case he be restive, fetch thou Dick Hunter's horn, that he drenches his mare
withal."
A circle was instantly formed around the prostrate and exhausted dervise, and while one tall yeoman raised
his feeble form from the ground, another presented to him a huge flagon of wine. Incapable of speech, the old
man shook his head, and waved away from him with his hand the liquor forbidden by the Prophet. But his
tormentors were not thus to be appeased.
"The horn, the horn!" exclaimed one. "Little difference between a Turk and a Turkish horse, and we will use
him conforming."
"By Saint George, you will choke him!" said Long Allen; "and besides, it is a sin to throw away upon a
heathen dog as much wine as would serve a good Christian for a treble nightcap."
"Thou knowest not the nature of these Turks and pagans, Long Allen," replied Henry Woodstall. "I tell thee,
man, that this flagon of Cyprus will set his brains aspinning, just in the opposite direction that they went
whirling in the dancing, and so bring him, as it were, to himself again. Choke? He will no more choke on it
than Ben's black bitch on the pound of butter."
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"And for grudging it," said Tomalin Blacklees, "why shouldst thou grudge the poor paynim devil a drop of
drink on earth, since thou knowest he is not to have a drop to cool the tip of his tongue through a long
eternity?"
"That were hard laws, look ye," said Long Allen, "only for being a Turk, as his father was before him. Had he
been Christian turned heathen, I grant you the hottest corner had been good winter quarters for him."
"Hold thy peace, Long Allen," said Henry Woodstall. "I tell thee that tongue of thine is not the shortest limb
about thee, and I prophesy that it will bring thee into disgrace with Father Francis, as once about the
blackeyed Syrian wench. But here comes the horn. Be active a bit, man, wilt thou, and just force open his
teeth with the haft of thy dudgeondagger."
"Hold, holdhe is conformable," said Tomalin; "see, see, he signs for the gobletgive him room, boys!
OOP SEY ES, quoth the Dutchmandown it goes like lamb'swool! Nay, they are true topers when once
they beginyour Turk never coughs in his cup, or stints in his liquoring."
In fact, the dervise, or whatever he was, drankor at least seemed to drinkthe large flagon to the very
bottom at a single pull; and when he took it from his lips after the whole contents were exhausted, only
uttered, with a deep sigh, the words, ALLAH KERIM, or God is merciful. There was a laugh among the
yeomen who witnessed this pottledeep potation, so obstreperous as to rouse and disturb the King, who,
raising his finger, said angrily, "How, knaves, no respect, no observance?"
All were at once hushed into silence, well acquainted with the temper of Richard, which at some times
admitted of much military familiarity, and at others exacted the most precise respect, although the latter
humour was of much more rare occurrence. Hastening to a more reverent distance from the royal person, they
attempted to drag along with them the marabout, who, exhausted apparently by previous fatigue, or
overpowered by the potent draught he had just swallowed, resisted being moved from the spot, both with
struggles and groans.
"Leave him still, ye fools," whispered Long Allen to his mates; "by Saint Christopher, you will make our
Dickon go beside himself, and we shall have his dagger presently fly at our costards. Leave him alone; in less
than a minute he will sleep like a dormouse."
At the same moment the Monarch darted another impatient glance to the spot, and all retreated in haste,
leaving the dervise on the ground, unable, as it seemed, to stir a single limb or joint of his body. In a moment
afterward all was as still and quiet as it had been before the intrusion.
CHAPTER XXI
and wither'd Murder,
Alarum'd by his sentinel, the wolf,
Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace,
With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design
Moves like a ghost. MACBETH.
For the space of a quarter of an hour, or longer, after the incident related, all remained perfectly quiet in the
front of the royal habitation. The King read and mused in the entrance of his pavilion; behind, and with his
back turned to the same entrance, the Nubian slave still burnished the ample pavesse; in front of all, at a
hundred paces distant, the yeomen of the guard stood, sat, or lay extended on the grass, attentive to their own
sports, but pursuing them in silence, while on the esplanade betwixt them and the front of the tent lay,
scarcely to be distinguished from a bundle of rags, the senseless form of the marabout.
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But the Nubian had the advantage of a mirror from the brilliant reflection which the surface of the
highlypolished shield now afforded, by means of which he beheld, to his alarm and surprise, that the
marabout raised his head gently from the ground, so as to survey all around him, moving with a
welladjusted precaution which seemed entirely inconsistent with a state of ebriety. He couched his head
instantly, as if satisfied he was unobserved, and began, with the slightest possible appearance of voluntary
effort, to drag himself, as if by chance, ever nearer and nearer to the King, but stopping and remaining fixed
at intervals, like the spider, which, moving towards her object, collapses into apparent lifelessness when she
thinks she is the subject of observation. This species of movement appeared suspicious to the Ethiopian, who,
on his part, prepared himself, as quietly as possible, to interfere, the instant that interference should seem to
be necessary.
The marabout, meanwhile, glided on gradually and imperceptibly, serpentlike, or rather snaillike, till he
was about ten yards distant from Richard's person, when, starting on his feet, he sprung forward with the
bound of a tiger, stood at the King's back in less than an instant, and brandished aloft the cangiar, or poniard,
which he had hidden in his sleeve. Not the presence of his whole army could have saved their heroic
Monarch; but the motions of the Nubian had been as well calculated as those of the enthusiast, and ere the
latter could strike, the former caught his uplifted arm. Turning his fanatical wrath upon what thus
unexpectedly interposed betwixt him and his object, the Charegite, for such was the seeming marabout, dealt
the Nubian a blow with the dagger, which, however, only grazed his arm, while the far superior strength of
the Ethiopian easily dashed him to the ground. Aware of what had passed, Richard had now arisen, and with
little more of surprise, anger, or interest of any kind in his countenance than an ordinary man would show in
brushing off and crushing an intrusive wasp, caught up the stool on which he had been sitting, and exclaiming
only, "Ha, dog!" dashed almost to pieces the skull of the assassin, who uttered twice, once in a loud, and once
in a broken tone, the words ALLAH ACKBAR!God is victoriousand expired at the King's feet.
"Ye are careful warders," said Richard to his archers, in a tone of scornful reproach, as, aroused by the bustle
of what had passed, in terror and tumult they now rushed into his tent; "watchful sentinels ye are, to leave me
to do such hangman's work with my own hand. Be silent, all of you, and cease your senseless clamour!saw
ye never a dead Turk before? Here, cast that carrion out of the camp, strike the head from the trunk, and stick
it on a lance, taking care to turn the face to Mecca, that he may the easier tell the foul impostor on whose
inspiration he came hither how he has sped on his errand.For thee, my swart and silent friend," he added,
turning to the Ethiopian"but how's this? Thou art woundedand with a poisoned weapon, I warrant me,
for by force of stab so weak an animal as that could scarce hope to do more than raze the lion's hide.Suck
the poison from his wound one of youthe venom is harmless on the lips, though fatal when it mingles with
the blood."
The yeomen looked on each other confusedly and with hesitation, the apprehension of so strange a danger
prevailing with those who feared no other.
"How now, sirrahs," continued the King, "are you daintylipped, or do you fear death, that you daily thus?"
"Not the death of a man," said Long Allen, to whom the King looked as he spoke; "but methinks I would not
die like a poisoned rat for the sake of a black chattel there, that is bought and sold in a market like a
Martlemas ox."
"His Grace speaks to men of sucking poison," muttered another yeoman, "as if he said, "Go to, swallow a
gooseberry!"
"Nay," said Richard, "I never bade man do that which I would not do myself."
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And without further ceremony, and in spite of the general expostulations of those around, and the respectful
opposition of the Nubian himself, the King of England applied his lips to the wound of the black slave,
treating with ridicule all remonstrances, and overpowering all resistance. He had no sooner intermitted his
singular occupation, than the Nubian started from him, and casting a scarf over his arm, intimated by
gestures, as firm in purpose as they were respectful in manner, his determination not to permit the Monarch to
renew so degrading an employment. Long Allen also interposed, saying that, if it were necessary to prevent
the King engaging again in a treatment of this kind, his own lips, tongue, and teeth were at the service of the
negro (as he called the Ethiopian), and that he would eat him up bodily, rather than King Richard's mouth
should again approach him.
Neville, who entered with other officers, added his remonstrances.
"Nay, nay, make not a needless halloo about a hart that the hounds have lost, or a danger when it is over,"
said the King. "The wound will be a trifle, for the blood is scarce drawnan angry cat had dealt a deeper
scratch. And for me, I have but to take a drachm of orvietan by way of precaution, though it is needless."
Thus spoke Richard, a little ashamed, perhaps, of his own condescension, though sanctioned both by
humanity and gratitude. But when Neville continued to make remonstrances on the peril to his royal person,
the King imposed silence on him.
"Peace, I pritheemake no more of it. I did it but to show these ignorant, prejudiced knaves how they might
help each other when these cowardly caitiffs come against us with sarbacanes and poisoned shafts. But," he
added, "take thee this Nubian to thy quarters, NevilleI have changed my mind touching himlet him be
well cared for. But hark in thine ear; see that he escapes thee notthere is more in him than seems. Let him
have all liberty, so that he leave not the camp.And you, ye beef devouring, wineswilling English
mastiffs, get ye to your guard again, and be sure you keep it more warily. Think not you are now in your own
land of fair play, where men speak before they strike, and shake hands ere they cut throats. Danger in our
land walks openly, and with his blade drawn, and defies the foe whom he means to assault; but here he
challenges you with a silk glove instead of a steel gauntlet, cuts your throat with the feather of a turtledove,
stabs you with the tongue of a priest's brooch, or throttles you with the lace of my lady's boddice, Go
tokeep your eyes open and your mouths shutdrink less, and look sharper about you; or I will place your
huge stomachs on such short allowance as would pinch the stomach of a patient Scottish man."
The yeomen, abashed and mortified, withdrew to their post, and Neville was beginning to remonstrate with
his master upon the risk of passing over thus slightly their negligence upon their duty, and the propriety of an
example in a case so peculiarly aggravated as the permitting one so suspicious as the marabout to approach
within dagger's length of his person, when Richard interrupted him with, "Speak not of it, Nevillewouldst
thou have me avenge a petty risk to myself more severely than the loss of England's banner? It has been
stolenstolen by a thief, or delivered up by a traitor, and no blood has been shed for it.My sable friend,
thou art an expounder of mysteries, saith the illustrious Soldannow would I give thee thine own weight in
gold, if, by raising one still blacker than thyself or by what other means thou wilt, thou couldst show me the
thief who did mine honour that wrong. What sayest thou, ha?"
The mute seemed desirous to speak, but uttered only that imperfect sound proper to his melancholy
condition; then folded his arms, looked on the King with an eye of intelligence, and nodded in answer to his
question.
"How!" said Richard, with joyful impatience. "Wilt thou undertake to make discovery in this matter?"
The Nubian slave repeated the same motion.
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"But how shall we understand each other?" said the King. "Canst thou write, good fellow?"
The slave again nodded in assent.
"Give him writingtools," said the King. "They were readier in my father's tent than mine; but they be
somewhere about, if this scorching climate have not dried up the ink.Why, this fellow is a jewela black
diamond, Neville."
"So please you, my liege," said Neville, "if I might speak my poor mind, it were ill dealing in this ware. This
man must be a wizard, and wizards deal with the Enemy, who hath most interest to sow tares among the
wheat, and bring dissension into our councils, and"
"Peace, Neville," said Richard. "Hello to your northern hound when he is close on the haunch of the deer, and
hope to recall him, but seek not to stop Plantagenet when he hath hope to retrieve his honour."
The slave, who during this discussion had been writing, in which art he seemed skilful, now arose, and
pressing what he had written to his brow, prostrated himself as usual, ere he delivered it into the King's
hands. The scroll was in French, although their intercourse had hitherto been conducted by Richard in the
lingua franca.
"To Richard, the conquering and invincible King of England, this from the humblest of his slaves. Mysteries
are the sealed caskets of Heaven, but wisdom may devise means to open the lock. Were your slave stationed
where the leaders of the Christian host were made to pass before him in order, doubt nothing that if he who
did the injury whereof my King complains shall be among the number, he may be made manifest in his
iniquity, though it be hidden under seven veils."
"Now, by Saint George!" said King Richard, "thou hast spoken most opportunely.Neville, thou knowest
that when we muster our troops tomorrow the princes have agreed that, to expiate the affront offered to
England in the theft of her banner, the leaders should pass our new standard as it floats on Saint George's
Mount, and salute it with formal regard. Believe me, the secret traitor will not dare to absent himself from an
expurgation so solemn, lest his very absence should be matter of suspicion. There will we place our sable
man of counsel, and if his art can detect the villain, leave me to deal with him."
"My liege," said Neville, with the frankness of an English baron, "beware what work you begin. Here is the
concord of our holy league unexpectedly renewedwill you, upon such suspicion as a negro slave can instil,
tear open wounds so lately closed? Or will you use the solemn procession, adopted for the reparation of your
honour and establishment of unanimity amongst the discording princes, as the means of again finding out
new cause of offence, or reviving ancient quarrels? It were scarce too strong to say this were a breach of the
declaration your Grace made to the assembled Council of the Crusade."
"Neville," said the King, sternly interrupting him, "thy zeal makes thee presumptuous and unmannerly. Never
did I promise to abstain from taking whatever means were most promising to discover the infamous author of
the attack on my honour. Ere I had done so, I would have renounced my kingdom, my life. All my
declarations were under this necessary and absolute qualification;only, if Austria had stepped forth and
owned the injury like a man, I proffered, for the sake of Christendom, to have forgiven HIM."
"But," continued the baron anxiously, "what hope that this juggling slave of Saladin will not palter with your
Grace?"
"Peace, Neville," said the King; "thou thinkest thyself mighty wise, and art but a fool. Mind thou my charge
touching this fellow; there is more in him than thy Westmoreland wit can fathom.And thou, smart and
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silent, prepare to perform the feat thou hast promised, and, by the word of a King, thou shalt choose thine
own recompense.Lo, he writes again."
The mute accordingly wrote and delivered to the King, with the same form as before, another slip of paper,
containing these words, "The will of the King is the law to his slave; nor doth it become him to ask guerdon
for discharge of his devoir."
"GUERDON and DEVOIR!" said the King, interrupting him self as he read, and speaking to Neville in the
English tongue with some emphasis on the words. "These Eastern people will profit by the Crusadersthey
are acquiring the language of chivalry! And see, Neville, how discomposed that fellow looks! were it not for
his colour he would blush. I should not think it strange if he understood what I saythey are perilous
linguists."
"The poor slave cannot endure your Grace's eye," said Neville; "it is nothing more."
"Well, but," continued the King, striking the paper with his finger as he proceeded, "this bold scroll proceeds
to say that our trusty mute is charged with a message from Saladin to the Lady Edith Plantagenet, and craves
means and opportunity to deliver it. What thinkest thou of a request so modestha, Neville?"
"I cannot say," said Neville, "how such freedom may relish with your Grace; but the lease of the messenger's
neck would be a short one, who should carry such a request to the Soldan on the part of your Majesty."
"Nay, I thank Heaven that I covet none of his sunburnt beauties," said Richard; "and for punishing this fellow
for discharging his master's errand, and that when he has just saved my life methinks it were something too
summary. I'll tell thee, Neville, a secret; for although our sable and mute minister be present, he cannot, thou
knowest, tell it over again, even if he should chance to understand us. I tell thee that, for this fortnight past, I
have been under a strange spell, and I would I were disenchanted. There has no sooner any one done me good
service, but, lo you, he cancels his interest in me by some deep injury; and, on the other hand, he who hath
deserved death at my hands for some treachery or some insult, is sure to be the very person of all others who
confers upon me some obligation that overbalances his demerits, and renders respite of his sentence a debt
due from my honour. Thus, thou seest, I am deprived of the best part of my royal function, since I can neither
punish men nor reward them. Until the influence of this disqualifying planet be passed away, I will say
nothing concerning the request of this our sable attendant, save that it is an unusually bold one, and that his
best chance of finding grace in our eyes will be to endeavour to make the discovery which he proposes to
achieve in our behalf. Meanwhile, Neville, do thou look well to him, and let him be honourably cared for.
And hark thee once more," he said, in a low whisper, "seek out yonder hermit of Engaddi, and bring him to
me forthwith, be he saint or savage, madman or sane. Let me see him privately."
Neville retired from the royal tent, signing to the Nubian to follow him, and much surprised at what he had
seen and heard, and especially at the unusual demeanour of the King. In general, no task was so easy as to
discover Richard's immediate course of sentiment and feeling, though it might, in some cases, be difficult to
calculate its duration; for no weathercock obeyed the changing wind more readily than the King his gusts of
passion. But on the present occasion his manner seemed unusually constrained and mysterious; nor was it
easy to guess whether displeasure or kindness predominated in his conduct towards his new dependant, or in
the looks with which, from time to time, he regarded him. The ready service which the King had rendered to
counteract the bad effects of the Nubian's wound might seem to balance the obligation conferred on him by
the slave when he intercepted the blow of the assassin; but it seemed, as a much longer account remained to
be arranged between them, that the Monarch was doubtful whether the settlement might leave him, upon the
whole, debtor or creditor, and that, therefore, he assumed in the meantime a neutral demeanour, which might
suit with either character. As for the Nubian, by whatever means he had acquired the art of writing the
European languages, the King remained convinced that the English tongue at least was unknown to him,
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since, having watched him closely during the last part of the interview, he conceived it impossible for any
one understanding a conversation, of which he was himself the subject, to have so completely avoided the
appearance of taking an interest in it.
CHAPTER XXII.
Who's there!Approach'tis kindly done
My learned physician and a friend. SIR EUSTACE GREY.
Our narrative retrogrades to a period shortly previous to the incidents last mentioned, when, as the reader
must remember, the unfortunate Knight of the Leopard, bestowed upon the Arabian physician by King
Richard, rather as a slave than in any other capacity, was exiled from the camp of the Crusaders, in whose
ranks he had so often and so brilliantly distinguished himself. He followed his new masterfor so he must
now term the Hakimto the Moorish tents which contained his retinue and his property, with the stupefied
feelings of one who, fallen from the summit of a precipice, and escaping unexpectedly with life, is just able to
drag himself from the fatal spot, but without the power of estimating the extent of the damage which he has
sustained. Arrived at the tent, he threw himself, without speech of any kind, upon a couch of dressed buffalo's
hide, which was pointed out to him by his conductor, and hiding his face betwixt his hands, groaned heavily,
as if his heart were on the point of bursting. The physician heard him, as he was giving orders to his
numerous domestics to prepare for their departure the next morning before daybreak, and, moved with
compassion, interrupted his occupation to sit down, crosslegged, by the side of his couch, and administer
comfort according to the Oriental manner.
"My friend," he said, "be of good comfort; for what saith the poetit is better that a man should be the
servant of a kind master than the slave of his own wild passions. Again, be of good courage; because,
whereas Ysouf Ben Yagoube was sold to a king by his brethren, even to Pharaoh, King of Egypt, thy king
hath, on the other hand, bestowed thee on one who will be to thee as a brother."
Sir Kenneth made an effort to thank the Hakim, but his heart was too full, and the indistinct sounds which
accompanied his abortive attempts to reply induced the kind physician to desist from his premature
endeavours at consolation. He left his new domestic, or guest, in quiet, to indulge his sorrows, and having
commanded all the necessary preparations for their departure on the morning, sat down upon the carpet of the
tent, and indulged himself in a moderate repast. After he had thus refreshed himself, similar viands were
offered to the Scottish knight; but though the slaves let him understand that the next day would be far
advanced ere they would halt for the purpose of refreshment, Sir Kenneth could not overcome the disgust
which he felt against swallowing any nourishment, and could be prevailed upon to taste nothing, saving a
draught of cold water.
He was awake long after his Arab host had performed his usual devotions and betaken himself to his repose;
nor had sleep visited him at the hour of midnight, when a movement took place among the domestics, which,
though attended with no speech, and very little noise, made him aware they were loading the camels and
preparing for departure. In the course of these preparations, the last person who was disturbed, excepting the
physician himself, was the knight of Scotland, whom, about three in the morning, a sort of majordomo, or
master of the household, acquainted that he must arise. He did so, without further answer, and followed him
into the moonlight, where stood the camels, most of which were already loaded, and one only remained
kneeling until its burden should be completed.
A little apart from the camels stood a number of horses ready bridled and saddled, and the Hakim himself,
coming forth, mounted on one of them with as much agility as the grave decorum of his character permitted,
and directed another, which he pointed out, to be led towards Sir Kenneth. An English officer was in
attendance, to escort them through the camp of the Crusaders, and to ensure their leaving it in safety; and all
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was ready for their departure. The pavilion which they had left was, in the meanwhile, struck with singular
dispatch, and the tentpoles and coverings composed the burden of the last camelwhen the physician,
pronouncing solemnly the verse of the Koran, "God be our guide, and Mohammed our protector, in the desert
as in the watered field," the whole cavalcade was instantly in motion.
In traversing the camp, they were challenged by the various sentinels who maintained guard there, and
suffered to proceed in silence, or with a muttered curse upon their prophet, as they passed the post of some
more zealous Crusader. At length the last barriers were left behind them, and the party formed themselves for
the march with military precaution. Two or three horsemen advanced in front as a vanguard; one or two
remained a bowshot in the rear; and, wherever the ground admitted, others were detached to keep an
outlook on the flanks. In this manner they proceeded onward; while Sir Kenneth, looking back on the moonlit
camp, might now indeed seem banished, deprived at once of honour and of liberty, from the glimmering
banners under which he had hoped to gain additional renown, and the tented dwellings of chivalry, of
Christianity, andof Edith Plantagenet.
The Hakim, who rode by his side, observed, in his usual tone: of sententious consolation, "It is unwise to look
back when the journey lieth forward;" and as he spoke, the horse of the knight made such a perilous stumble
as threatened to add a practical moral to the tale.
The knight was compelled by this hint to give more attention to the management of his steed, which more
than once required the assistance and support of the checkbridle, although, in other respects, nothing could
be more easy at once, and active, than the ambling pace at which the animal (which was a mare) proceeded.
"The conditions of that horse," observed the sententious physician, "are like those of human fortuneseeing
that, amidst his most swift and easy pace, the rider must guard himself against a fall, and that it is when
prosperity is at the highest that our prudence should be awake and vigilant to prevent misfortune."
The overloaded appetite loathes even the honeycomb, and it is scarce a wonder that the knight, mortified and
harassed with misfortunes and abasement, became something impatient of hearing his misery made, at every
turn, the ground of proverbs and apothegms, however just and apposite.
"Methinks," he said, rather peevishly, "I wanted no additional illustration of the instability of fortune though I
would thank thee, Sir Hakim, for the choice of a steed for me, would the jade but stumble so effectually as at
once to break my neck and her own."
"My brother," answered the Arab sage, with imperturbable gravity, "thou speakest as one of the foolish. Thou
sayest in thy heart that the sage should have given you, as his guest, the younger and better horse, and
reserved the old one for himself. But know that the defects of the older steed may be compensated by the
energies of the young rider, whereas the violence of the young horse requires to be moderated by the cold
temper of the older."
So spoke the sage; but neither to this observation did Sir Kenneth return any answer which could lead to a
continuance of their conversation, and the physician, wearied, perhaps, of administering comfort to one who
would not be comforted, signed to one of his retinue.
"Hassan," he said, "hast thou nothing wherewith to beguile the way?"
Hassan, storyteller and poet by profession, spurred up, upon this summons, to exercise his calling. "Lord of
the palace of life," he said, addressing the physician, "thou, before whom the angel Azrael spreadeth his
wings for flightthou, wiser than Solimaun Ben Daoud, upon whose signet was inscribed the REAL NAME
which controls the spirits of the elementsforbid it, Heaven, that while thou travellest upon the track of
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benevolence, bearing healing and hope wherever thou comest, thine own course should be saddened for lack
of the tale and of the song. Behold, while thy servant is at thy side, he will pour forth the treasures of his
memory, as the fountain sendeth her stream beside the pathway, for the refreshment or him that walketh
thereon."
After this exordium, Hassan uplifted his voice, and began a tale of love and magic, intermixed with feats of
warlike achievement, and ornamented with abundant quotations from the Persian poets, with whose
compositions the orator seemed familiar. The retinue of the physician, such excepted as were necessarily
detained in attendance on the camels, thronged up to the narrator, and pressed as close as deference for their
master permitted, to enjoy the delight which the inhabitants of the East have ever derived from this species of
exhibition.
At another time, notwithstanding his imperfect knowledge of the language, Sir Kenneth might have been
interested in the recitation, which, though dictated by a more extravagant imagination, and expressed in more
inflated and metaphorical language, bore yet a strong resemblance to the romances of chivalry then so
fashionable in Europe. But as matters stood with him, he was scarcely even sensible that a man in the centre
of the cavalcade recited and sung, in a low tone, for nearly two hours, modulating his voice to the various
moods of passion introduced into the tale, and receiving, in return, now low murmurs of applause, now
muttered expressions of wonder, now sighs and tears, and sometimes, what it was far more difficult to extract
from such an audience, a tribute of smiles, and even laughter.
During the recitation, the attention of the exile, however abstracted by his own deep sorrow, was occasionally
awakened by the low wail of a dog, secured in a wicker enclosure suspended on one of the camels, which, as
an experienced woodsman, he had no hesitation in recognizing to be that of his own faithful hound; and from
the plaintive tone of the animal, he had no doubt that he was sensible of his master's vicinity, and, in his way,
invoking his assistance for liberty and rescue.
"Alas! poor Roswal," he said, "thou callest for aid and sympathy upon one in stricter bondage than thou
thyself art. I will not seem to heed thee or return thy affection, since it would serve but to load our parting
with yet more bitterness."
Thus passed the hours of night and the space of dim hazy dawn which forms the twilight of a Syrian morning.
But when the very first line of the sun's disk began to rise above the level horizon, and when the very first
level ray shot glimmering in dew along the surface of the desert, which the travellers had now attained, the
sonorous voice of El Hakim himself overpowered and cut short the narrative of the taleteller, while he
caused to resound along the sands the solemn summons, which the muezzins thunder at morning from the
minaret of every mosque.
"To prayerto prayer! God is the one God.To prayerto prayer! Mohammed is the Prophet of
God.To prayerto prayer! Time is flying from you.To prayerto prayer! Judgment is drawing nigh to
you,"
In an instant each Moslem cast himself from his horse, turned his face towards Mecca, and performed with
sand an imitation of those ablutions, which were elsewhere required to be made with water, while each
individual, in brief but fervent ejaculations, recommended himself to the care, and his sins to the forgiveness,
of God and the Prophet.
Even Sir Kenneth, whose reason at once and prejudices were offended by seeing his companions in that
which he considered as an act of idolatry, could not help respecting the sincerity of their misguided zeal, and
being stimulated by their fervour to apply supplications to Heaven in a purer form, wondering, meanwhile,
what newborn feelings could teach him to accompany in prayer, though with varied invocation, those very
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Saracens, whose heathenish worship he had conceived a crime dishonourable to the land in which high
miracles had been wrought, and where the day star of redemption had arisen.
The act of devotion, however, though rendered in such strange society, burst purely from his natural feelings
of religious duty, and had its usual effect in composing the spirits which had been long harassed by so rapid a
succession of calamities. The sincere and earnest approach of the Christian to the throne of the Almighty
teaches the best lesson of patience under affliction; since wherefore should we mock the Deity with
supplications, when we insult him by murmuring under His decrees? or how, while our prayers have in every
word admitted the vanity and nothingness of the things of time in comparison to those of eternity, should we
hope to deceive the Searcher of Hearts, by permitting the world and worldly passions to reassume the reins
even immediately after a solemn address to Heaven! But Sir Kenneth was not of these. He felt himself
comforted and strengthened, and better prepared to execute or submit to whatever his destiny might call upon
him to do or to suffer.
Meanwhile, the party of Saracens regained their saddles, and continued their route, and the taleteller,
Hassan, resumed the thread of his narrative; but it was no longer to the same attentive audience. A horseman,
who had ascended some high ground on the right hand of the little column, had returned on a speedy gallop to
El Hakim, and communicated with him. Four or five more cavaliers had then been dispatched, and the little
band, which might consist of about twenty or thirty persons, began to follow them with their eyes, as men
from whose gestures, and advance or retreat, they were to augur good or evil. Hassan, finding his audience
inattentive, or being himself attracted by the dubious appearances on the flank, stinted in his song; and the
march became silent, save when a cameldriver called out to his patient charge, or some anxious follower of
the Hakim communicated with his next neighbour in a hurried and low whisper.
This suspense continued until they had rounded a ridge, composed of hillocks of sand, which concealed from
their main body the object that had created this alarm among their scouts. Sir Kenneth could now see, at the
distance of a mile or more, a dark object moving rapidly on the bosom of the desert, which his experienced
eye recognized for a party of cavalry, much superior to their own in numbers, and, from the thick and
frequent flashes which flung back the level beams of the rising sun, it was plain that these were Europeans in
their complete panoply.
The anxious looks which the horsemen of El Hakim now cast upon their leader seemed to indicate deep
apprehension; while he, with gravity as undisturbed as when he called his followers to prayer, detached two
of his bestmounted cavaliers, with instructions to approach as closely as prudence permitted to these
travellers of the desert, and observe more minutely their numbers, their character, and, if possible, their
purpose. The approach of danger, or what was feared as such, was like a stimulating draught to one in apathy,
and recalled Sir Kenneth to himself and his situation.
"What fear you from these Christian horsemen, for such they seem?" he said to the Hakim.
"Fear!" said El Hakim, repeating the word disdainfully. "The sage fears nothing but Heaven, but ever expects
from wicked men the worst which they can do."
"They are Christians," said Sir Kenneth, "and it is the time of trucewhy should you fear a breach of faith?"
"They are the priestly soldiers of the Temple," answered El Hakim, "whose vow limits them to know neither
truce nor faith with the worshippers of Islam. May the Prophet blight them, both root, branch, and twig! Their
peace is war, and their faith is falsehood. Other invaders of Palestine have their times and moods of courtesy.
The lion Richard will spare when he has conquered, the eagle Philip will close his wing when he has stricken
a prey, even the Austrian bear will sleep when he is gorged; but this horde of everhungry wolves know
neither pause nor satiety in their rapine. Seest thou not that they are detaching a party from their main body,
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and that they take an eastern direction? Yon are their pages and squires, whom they train up in their accursed
mysteries, and whom, as lighter mounted, they send to cut us off from our wateringplace. But they will be
disappointed. I know the war of the desert yet better than they."
He spoke a few words to his principal officer, and his whole demeanour and countenance was at once
changed from the solemn repose of an Eastern sage accustomed more to contemplation than to action, into
the prompt and proud expression of a gallant soldier whose energies are roused by the near approach of a
danger which he at once foresees and despises.
To Sir Kenneth's eyes the approaching crisis had a different aspect, and when Adonbec said to him, "Thou
must tarry close by my side," he answered solemnly in the negative.
"Yonder," he said, "are my comrades in armsthe men in whose society I have vowed to fight or fall. On
their banner gleams the sign of our most blessed redemptionI cannot fly from the Cross in company with
the Crescent."
"Fool!" said the Hakim; "their first action would be to do thee to death, were it only to conceal their breach of
the truce."
"Of that I must take my chance," replied Sir Kenneth; "but I wear not the bonds of the infidels an instant
longer than I can cast them from me."
"Then will I compel thee to follow me," said El Hakim.
"Compel!" answered Sir Kenneth angrily. "Wert thou not my benefactor, or one who has showed will to be
such, and were it not that it is to thy confidence I owe the freedom of these hands, which thou mightst have
loaded with fetters, I would show thee that, unarmed as I am, compulsion would be no easy task."
"Enough, enough," replied the Arabian physician, "we lose time even when it is becoming precious."
So saying, he threw his arm aloft, and uttered a loud and shrill cry, as a signal to his retinue, who instantly
dispersed themselves on the face of the desert, in as many different directions as a chaplet of beads when the
string is broken. Sir Kenneth had no time to note what ensued; for, at the same instant, the Hakim seized the
rein of his steed, and putting his own to its mettle, both sprung forth at once with the suddenness of light, and
at a pitch of velocity which almost deprived the Scottish knight of the power of respiration, and left him
absolutely incapable, had he been desirous, to have checked the career of his guide. Practised as Sir Kenneth
was in horsemanship from his earliest youth, the speediest horse he had ever mounted was a tortoise in
comparison to those of the Arabian sage. They spurned the sand from behind them; they seemed to devour
the desert before them; miles flew away with minutesand yet their strength seemed unabated, and their
respiration as free as when they first started upon the wonderful race. The motion, too, as easy as it was swift,
seemed more like flying through the air than riding on the earth, and was attended with no unpleasant
sensation, save the awe naturally felt by one who is moving at such astonishing speed, and the difficulty of
breathing occasioned by their passing through the air so rapidly.
It was not until after an hour of this portentous motion, and when all human pursuit was far, far behind, that
the Hakim at length relaxed his speed, and, slackening the pace of the horses into a handgallop, began, in a
voice as composed and even as if he had been walking for the last hour, a descant upon the excellence of his
coursers to the Scot, who, breathless, half blind, half deaf, and altogether giddy; from the rapidity of this
singular ride, hardly comprehended the words which flowed so freely from his companion.
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"These horses," he said, "are of the breed called the Winged, equal in speed to aught excepting the Borak of
the Prophet. They are fed on the golden barley of Yemen, mixed with spices and with a small portion of dried
sheep's flesh. Kings have given provinces to possess them, and their age is active as their youth. Thou,
Nazarene, art the first, save a true believer, that ever had beneath his loins one of this noble race, a gift of the
Prophet himself to the blessed Ali, his kinsman and lieutenant, well called the Lion of God. Time lays his
touch so lightly on these generous steeds, that the mare on which thou now sittest has seen five times five
years pass over her, yet retains her pristine speed and vigour, only that in the career the support of a bridle,
managed by a hand more experienced than thine, hath now become necessary. May the Prophet be blessed,
who hath bestowed on the true believers the means of advance and retreat, which causeth their ironclothed
enemies to be worn out with their own ponderous weight! How the horses of yonder dog Templars must have
snorted and blown, when they had toiled fetlockdeep in the desert for onetwentieth part of the space which
these brave steeds have left behind them, without one thick pant, or a drop of moisture upon their sleek and
velvet coats!"
The Scottish knight, who had now begun to recover his breath and powers of attention, could not help
acknowledging in his heart the advantage possessed by these Eastern warriors in a race of animals, alike
proper for advance or retreat, and so admirably adapted to the level and sandy deserts of Arabia and Syria.
But he did not choose to augment the pride of the Moslem by acquiescing in his proud claim of superiority,
and therefore suffered the conversation to drop, and, looking around him, could now, at the more moderate
pace at which they moved, distinguish that he was in a country not unknown to him.
The blighted borders and sullen waters of the Dead Sea, the ragged and precipitous chain of mountains
arising on the left, the two or three palms clustered together, forming the single green speck on the bosom of
the waste wildernessobjects which, once seen, were scarcely to be forgottenshowed to Sir Kenneth that
they were approaching the fountain called the Diamond of the Desert, which had been the scene of his
interview on a former occasion with the Saracen Emir Sheerkohf, or Ilderim. In a few minutes they checked
their horses beside the spring, and the Hakim invited Sir Kenneth to descend from horseback and repose
himself as in a place of safety. They unbridled their steeds, El Hakim observing that further care of them was
unnecessary, since they would be speedily joined by some of the best mounted among his slaves, who would
do what further was needful.
"Meantime," he said, spreading some food on the grass, "eat and drink, and be not discouraged. Fortune may
raise up or abase the ordinary mortal, but the sage and the soldier should have minds beyond her control."
The Scottish knight endeavoured to testify his thanks by showing himself docile; but though he strove to eat
out of complaisance, the singular contrast between his present situation and that which he had occupied on
the same spot when the envoy of princes and the victor in combat, came like a cloud over his mind, and
fasting, lassitude, and fatigue oppressed his bodily powers. El Hakim examined his hurried pulse, his red and
inflamed eye, his heated hand, and his shortened respiration.
"The mind," he said, "grows wise by watching, but her sister the body, of coarser materials, needs the support
of repose. Thou must sleep; and that thou mayest do so to refreshment, thou must take a draught mingled
with this elixir."
He drew from his bosom a small crystal vial, cased in silver filigreework, and dropped into a little golden
drinkingcup a small portion of a darkcoloured fluid.
"This," he said, "is one of those productions which Allah hath sent on earth for a blessing, though man's
weakness and wickedness have sometimes converted it into a curse. It is powerful as the winecup of the
Nazarene to drop the curtain on the sleepless eye, and to relieve the burden of the overloaded bosom; but
when applied to the purposes of indulgence and debauchery, it rends the nerves, destroys the strength,
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weakens the intellect, and undermines life. But fear not thou to use its virtues in the time of need, for the wise
man warms him by the same firebrand with which the madman burneth the tent." [Some preparation of opium
seems to be intimated.]
"I have seen too much of thy skill, sage Hakim," said Sir Kenneth, "to debate thine hest;" and swallowed the
narcotic, mingled as it was with some water from the spring, then wrapped him in the haik, or Arab cloak,
which had been fastened to his saddlepommel, and, according to the directions of the physician, stretched
himself at ease in the shade to await the promised repose. Sleep came not at first, but in her stead a train of
pleasing yet not rousing or awakening sensations. A state ensued in which, still conscious of his own identity
and his own condition, the knight felt enabled to consider them not only without alarm and sorrow, but as
composedly as he might have viewed the story of his misfortunes acted upon a stageor rather as a
disembodied spirit might regard the transactions of its past existence. From this state of repose, amounting
almost to apathy respecting the past, his thoughts were carried forward to the future, which, in spite of all that
existed to overcloud the prospect, glittered with such hues as, under much happier auspices, his unstimulated
imagination had not been able to produce, even in its most exalted state. Liberty, fame, successful love,
appeared to be the certain and not very distant prospect of the enslaved exile, the dishonoured knight, even of
the despairing lover who had placed his hopes of happiness so far beyond the prospect of chance, in her
wildest possibilities, serving to countenance his wishes. Gradually as the intellectual sight became
overclouded, these gay visions became obscure, like the dying hues of sunset, until they were at last lost in
total oblivion; and Sir Kenneth lay extended at the feet of El Hakim, to all appearance, but for his deep
respiration, as inanimate a corpse as if life had actually departed.
CHAPTER XXIII.
'Mid these wild scenes Enchantment waves her hand,
To change the face of the mysterious land;
Till the bewildering scenes around us seem
The Vain productions of a feverish dream. ASTOLPHO, A ROMANCE.
When the Knight of the Leopard awoke from his long and profound repose, he found himself in
circumstances so different from those in which he had lain down to sleep, that he doubted whether he was not
still dreaming, or whether the scene had not been changed by magic. Instead of the damp grass, he lap on a
couch of more than Oriental luxury; and some kind hands had, during his repose, stripped him of the cassock
of chamois which he wore under his armour, and substituted a nightdress of the finest linen and a loose
gown of silk. He had been canopied only by the palmtrees of the desert, but now he lay beneath a silken
pavilion, which blazed with the richest colours of the Chinese loom, while a slight curtain of gauze, displayed
around his couch, was calculated to protect his repose from the insects, to which he had, ever since his arrival
in these climates, been a constant and passive prey. He looked around, as if to convince himself that he was
actually awake; and all that fell beneath his eye partook of the splendour of his dormitory. A portable bath of
cedar, lined with silver, was ready for use, and steamed with the odours which had been used in preparing it.
On a small stand of ebony beside the couch stood a silver vase, containing sherbet of the most exquisite
quality, cold as snow, and which the thirst that followed the use of the strong narcotic rendered peculiarly
delicious. Still further to dispel the dregs of intoxication which it had left behind, the knight resolved to use
the bath, and experienced in doing so a delightful refreshment. Having dried himself with napkins of the
Indian wool, he would willingly have resumed his own coarse garments, that he might go forth to see whether
the world was as much changed without as within the place of his repose. These, however, were nowhere to
be seen, but in their place he found a Saracen dress of rich materials, with sabre and poniard, and all befitting
an emir of distinction. He was able to suggest no motive to himself for this exuberance of care, excepting a
suspicion that these attentions were intended to shake him in his religious professionas indeed it was well
known that the high esteem of the European knowledge and courage made the Soldan unbounded in his gifts
to those who, having become his prisoners, had been induced to take the turban. Sir Kenneth, therefore,
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crossing himself devoutly, resolved to set all such snares at defiance; and that he might do so the more firmly,
conscientiously determined to avail himself as moderately as possible of the attentions and luxuries thus
liberally heaped upon him. Still, however, he felt his head oppressed and sleepy; and aware, too, that his
undress was not fit for appearing abroad, he reclined upon the couch, and was again locked in the arms of
slumber.
But this time his rest was not unbroken, for he was awakened by the voice of the physician at the door of the
tent, inquiring after his health, and whether he had rested sufficiently. "May I enter your tent?" he concluded,
"for the curtain is drawn before the entrance."
"The master," replied Sir Kenneth, determined to show that he was not surprised into forgetfulness of his own
condition, "need demand no permission to enter the tent of the slave."
"But if I come not as a master?" said El Hakim, still without entering.
"The physician," answered the knight, "hath free access to the bedside of his patient."
"Neither come I now as a physician," replied El Hakim; "and therefore I still request permission, ere I come
under the covering of thy tent."
"Whoever comes as a friend," said Sir Kenneth, "and such thou hast hitherto shown thyself to me, the
habitation of the friend is ever open to him."
"Yet once again," said the Eastern sage, after the periphrastical manner of his countrymen, "supposing that I
come not as a friend?"
"Come as thou wilt," said the Scottish knight, somewhat impatient of this circumlocution; "be what thou
wiltthou knowest well it is neither in my power nor my inclination to refuse thee entrance."
"I come, then," said El Hakim, "as your ancient foe, but a fair and a generous one."
He entered as he spoke; and when he stood before the bedside of Sir Kenneth, the voice continued to be that
of Adonbec, the Arabian physician, but the form, dress, and features were those of Ilderim of Kurdistan,
called Sheerkohf. Sir Kenneth gazed upon him as if he expected the vision to depart, like something created
by his imagination.
"Doth it so surprise thee," said Ilderim, "and thou an approved warrior, to see that a soldier knows somewhat
of the art of healing? I say to thee, Nazarene, that an accomplished cavalier should know how to dress his
steed, as well as how to ride him; how to forge his sword upon the stithy, as well as how to use it in battle;
how to burnish his arms, as well as how to wear them; and, above all, how to cure wounds, as well as how to
inflict them."
As he spoke, the Christian knight repeatedly shut his eyes, and while they remained closed, the idea of the
Hakim, with his long, flowing dark robes, high Tartar cap, and grave gestures was present to his imagination;
but so soon as he opened them, the graceful and richlygemmed turban, the light hauberk of steel rings
entwisted with silver, which glanced brilliantly as it obeyed every inflection of the body, the features freed
from their formal expression, less swarthy, and no longer shadowed by the mass of hair (now limited to a
welltrimmed beard), announced the soldier and not the sage.
"Art thou still so much surprised," said the Emir, "and hast thou walked in the world with such little
observance, as to wonder that men are not always what they seem? Thou thyselfart thou what thou
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seemest?"
"No, by Saint Andrew!" exclaimed the knight; "for to the whole Christian camp I seem a traitor, and I know
myself to be a true though an erring man."
"Even so I judged thee," said Ilderim; "and as we had eaten salt together, I deemed myself bound to rescue
thee from death and contumely. But wherefore lie you still on your couch, since the sun is high in the
heavens? or are the vestments which my sumptercamels have afforded unworthy of your wearing?"
"Not unworthy, surely, but unfitting for it," replied the Scot. "Give me the dress of a slave, noble Ilderim, and
I will don it with pleasure; but I cannot brook to wear the habit of the free Eastern warrior with the turban of
the Moslem."
"Nazarene," answered the Emir, "thy nation so easily entertain suspicion that it may well render themselves
suspected. Have I not told thee that Saladin desires no converts saving those whom the holy Prophet shall
dispose to submit themselves to his law? violence and bribery are alike alien to his plan for extending the true
faith. Hearken to me, my brother. When the blind man was miraculously restored to sight, the scales dropped
from his eyes at the Divine pleasure. Think'st thou that any earthly leech could have removed them? No. Such
mediciner might have tormented the patient with his instruments, or perhaps soothed him with his balsams
and cordials, but dark as he was must the darkened man have remained; and it is even so with the blindness of
the understanding. If there be those among the Franks who, for the sake of worldly lucre, have assumed the
turban of the Prophet, and followed the laws of Islam, with their own consciences be the blame. Themselves
sought out the bait; it was not flung to them by the Soldan. And when they shall hereafter be sentenced, as
hypocrites, to the lowest gulf of hell, below Christian and Jew, magician and idolater, and condemned to eat
the fruit of the tree Yacoun, which is the heads of demons, to themselves, not to the Soldan, shall their guilt
and their punishment be attributed. Wherefore wear, without doubt or scruple, the vesture prepared for you,
since, if you proceed to the camp of Saladin, your own native dress will expose you to troublesome
observation, and perhaps to insult."
"IF I go to the camp of Saladin?" said Sir Kenneth, repeating the words of the Emir; "alas! am I a free agent,
and rather must I NOT go wherever your pleasure carries me?"
"Thine own will may guide thine own motions," said the Emir, "as freely as the wind which moveth the dust
of the desert in what direction it chooseth. The noble enemy who met and wellnigh mastered my sword
cannot become my slave like him who has crouched beneath it. If wealth and power would tempt thee to join
our people, I could ensure thy possessing them; but the man who refused the favours of the Soldan when the
axe was at his head, will not, I fear, now accept them, when I tell him he has his free choice."
"Complete your generosity, noble Emir," said Sir Kenneth, "by forbearing to show me a mode of requital
which conscience forbids me to comply with. Permit me rather to express, as bound in courtesy, my gratitude
for this most chivalrous bounty, this undeserved generosity."
"Say not undeserved," replied the Emir Ilderim. "Was it not through thy conversation, and thy account of the
beauties which grace the court of the Melech Ric, that I ventured me thither in disguise, and thereby procured
a sight the most blessed that I have ever enjoyedthat I ever shall enjoy, until the glories of Paradise beam
on my eyes?"
"I understand you not," said Sir Kenneth, colouring alternately, and turning pale, as one who felt that the
conversation was taking a tone of the most painful delicacy.
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"Not understand me!" exclaimed the Emir. "If the sight I saw in the tent of King Richard escaped thine
observation, I will account it duller than the edge of a buffoon's wooden falchion. True, thou wert under
sentence of death at the time; but, in my case, had my head been dropping from the trunk, the last strained
glances of my eyeballs had distinguished with delight such a vision of loveliness, and the head would have
rolled itself towards the incomparable houris, to kiss with its quivering lips the hem of their vestments.
Yonder royalty of England, who for her superior loveliness deserves to be Queen of the universe what
tenderness in her blue eye, what lustre in her tresses of dishevelled gold! By the tomb of the Prophet, I scarce
think that the houri who shall present to me the diamond cup of immortality will deserve so warm a caress!"
"Saracen," said Sir Kenneth sternly, "thou speakest of the wife of Richard of England, of whom men think
not and speak not as a woman to be won, but as a Queen to be revered."
"I cry you mercy," said the Saracen. "I had forgotten your superstitious veneration for the sex, which you
consider rather fit to be wondered at and worshipped than wooed and possessed. I warrant, since thou
exactest such profound respect to yonder tender piece of frailty, whose every motion, step, and look bespeaks
her very woman, less than absolute adoration must not be yielded to her of the dark tresses and nobly
speaking eye. SHE indeed, I will allow, hath in her noble port and majestic mien something at once pure and
firm; yet even she, when pressed by opportunity and a forward lover, would, I warrant thee, thank him in her
heart rather for treating her as a mortal than as a goddess."
"Respect the kinswoman of Coeur de Lion!" said Sir Kenneth, in a tone of unrepressed anger.
"Respect her!" answered the Emir in scorn; "by the Caaba, and if I do, it shall be rather as the bride of
Saladin."
"The infidel Soldan is unworthy to salute even a spot that has been pressed by the foot of Edith Plantagenet!"
exclaimed the Christian, springing from his couch.
"Ha! what said the Giaour?" exclaimed the Emir, laying his hand on his poniard hilt, while his forehead
glowed like glancing copper, and the muscles of his lips and cheeks wrought till each curl of his beard
seemed to twist and screw itself, as if alive with instinctive wrath. But the Scottish knight, who had stood the
lionanger of Richard, was unappalled at the tigerlike mood of the chafed Saracen.
"What I have said," continued Sir Kenneth, with folded arms and dauntless look, "I would, were my hands
loose, maintain on foot or horseback against all mortals; and would hold it not the most memorable deed of
my life to support it with my good broadsword against a score of these sickles and bodkins," pointing at the
curved sabre and small poniard of the Emir.
The Saracen recovered his composure as the Christian spoke, so far as to withdraw his hand from his weapon,
as if the motion had been without meaning, but still continued in deep ire.
"By the sword of the Prophet," he said, "which is the key both of heaven and hell, he little values his own life,
brother, who uses the language thou dost! Believe me, that were thine hands loose, as thou term'st it, one
single true believer would find them so much to do that thou wouldst soon wish them fettered again in
manacles of iron."
"Sooner would I wish them hewn off by the shoulderblades!" replied Sir Kenneth.
"Well. Thy hands are bound at present," said the Saracen, in a more amicable tone"bound by thine own
gentle sense of courtesy; nor have I any present purpose of setting them at liberty. We have proved each
other's strength and courage ere now, and we may again meet in a fair fieldand shame befall him who shall
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be the first to part from his foeman! But now we are friends, and I look for aid from thee rather than hard
terms or defiances."
"We ARE friends," repeated the knight; and there was a pause, during which the fiery Saracen paced the tent,
like the lion, who, after violent irritation, is said to take that method of cooling the distemperature of his
blood, ere he stretches himself to repose in his den. The colder European remained unaltered in posture and
aspect; yet he, doubtless, was also engaged in subduing the angry feelings which had been so unexpectedly
awakened.
"Let us reason of this calmly," said the Saracen. "I am a physician, as thou knowest, and it is written that he
who would have his wound cured must not shrink when the leech probes and tests it. Seest thou, I am about
to lay my finger on the sore. Thou lovest this kinswoman of the Melech Ric. Unfold the veil that shrouds thy
thoughtsor unfold it not if thou wilt, for mine eyes see through its coverings."
"I LOVED her," answered Sir Kenneth, after a pause, "as a man loves Heaven's grace, and sued for her
favour like a sinner for Heaven's pardon."
"And you love her no longer?" said the Saracen.
"Alas," answered Sir Kenneth, "I am no longer worthy to love her. I pray thee cease this discoursethy
words are poniards to me.
"Pardon me but a moment," continued Ilderim. "When thou, a poor and obscure soldier, didst so boldly and
so highly fix thine affection, tell me, hadst thou good hope of its issue?"
"Love exists not without hope," replied the knight; "but mine was as nearly allied to despair as that of the
sailor swimming for his life, who, as he surmounts billow after billow, catches by intervals some gleam of the
distant beacon, which shows him there is land in sight, though his sinking heart and wearied limbs assure him
that he shall never reach it."
"And now," said Ilderim, "these hopes are sunkthat solitary light is quenched for ever?"
"For ever," answered Sir Kenneth, in the tone of an echo from the bosom of a ruined sepulchre.
"Methinks," said the Saracen, "if all thou lackest were some such distant meteoric glimpse of happiness as
thou hadst formerly, thy beaconlight might be rekindled, thy hope fished up from the ocean in which it has
sunk, and thou thyself, good knight, restored to the exercise and amusement of nourishing thy fantastic
fashion upon a diet as unsubstantial as moonlight; for, if thou stood'st tomorrow fair in reputation as ever
thou wert, she whom thou lovest will not be less the daughter of princes and the elected bride of Saladin."
"I would it so stood," said the Scot, "and if I did not"
He stopped short, like a man who is afraid of boasting under circumstances which did not permit his being
put to the test. The Saracen smiled as he concluded the sentence.
"Thou wouldst challenge the. Soldan to single combat?" said he.
"And if I did," said Sir Kenneth haughtily, "Saladin's would neither be the first nor the best turban that I have
couched lance at."
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"Ay, but methinks the Soldan might regard it as too unequal a mode of perilling the chance of a royal bride
and the event of a great war," said the Emir.
"He may be met with in the front of battle," said the knight, his eyes gleaming with the ideas which such a
thought inspired.
"He has been ever found there," said Ilderim; "nor is it his wont to turn his horse's head from any brave
encounter. But it was not of the Soldan that I meant to speak. In a word, if it will content thee to be placed in
such reputation as may be attained by detection of the thief who stole the Banner of England, I can put thee in
a fair way of achieving this taskthat is, if thou wilt be governed; for what says Lokman, 'If the child would
walk, the nurse must lead him; if the ignorant would understand, the wise must instruct.'"
"And thou art wise, Ilderim," said the Scot"wise though a Saracen, and generous though an infidel. I have
witnessed that thou art both. Take, then, the guidance of this matter; and so thou ask nothing of me contrary
to my loyalty and my Christian faith, I, will obey thee punctually. Do what thou hast said, and take my life
when it is accomplished."
"Listen thou to me, then," said the Saracen. "Thy noble hound is now recovered, by the blessing of that divine
medicine which healeth man and beast; and by his sagacity shall those who assailed him be discovered."
"Ha!" said the knight, "methinks I comprehend thee. I was dull not to think of this!"
"But tell me," added the Emir, "hast thou any followers or retainers in the camp by whom the animal may be
known?"
"I dismissed," said Sir Kenneth, "my old attendant, thy patient, with a varlet that waited on him, at the time
when I expected to suffer death, giving him letters for my friends in Scotland; there are none other to whom
the dog is familiar. But then my own person is well knownmy very speech will betray me, in a camp where
I have played no mean part for many months."
"Both he and thou shalt be disguised, so as to escape even close examination. I tell thee," said the Saracen,
"that not thy brother in armsnot thy brother in bloodshall discover thee, if thou be guided by my
counsels. Thou hast seen me do matters more difficulthe that can call the dying from the darkness of the
shadow of death can easily cast a mist before the eyes of the living. But mark me: there is still the condition
annexed to this servicethat thou deliver a letter of Saladin to the niece of the Melech Ric, whose name is as
difficult to our Eastern tongue and lips, as her beauty is delightful to our eyes."
Sir Kenneth paused before he answered, and the Saracen observing his hesitation, demanded of him, "if he
feared to undertake this message?"
"Not if there were death in the execution," said Sir Kenneth. "I do but pause to consider whether it consists
with my honour to bear the letter of the Soldan, or with that of the Lady Edith to receive it from a heathen
prince."
"By the head of Mohammed, and by the honour of a soldierby the tomb at Mecca, and by the soul of my
father," said the Emir, "I swear to thee that the letter is written in all honour and respect. The song of the
nightingale will sooner blight the rosebower she loves than will the words of the Soldan offend the ears of
the lovely kinswoman of England."
"Then," said the knight, "I will bear the Soldan's letter faithfully, as if I were his born vassalunderstanding,
that beyond this simple act of service, which I will render with fidelity, from me of all men he can least
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expect mediation or advice in this his strange lovesuit."
"Saladin is noble," answered the Emir, "and will not spur a generous horse to a leap which he cannot achieve.
Come with me to my tent," he added, "and thou shalt be presently equipped with a disguise as unsearchable
as midnight, so thou mayest walk the camp of the Nazarenes as if thou hadst on thy finger the signet of
Giaougi." [Perhaps the same with Gyges.]
CHAPTER XXIV
A grain of dust
Soiling our cup, will make our sense reject
Fastidiously the draught which we did thirst for;
A rusted nail, placed near the faithful compass,
Will sway it from the truth, and wreck the argosy.
Even this small cause of anger and disgust
Will break the bonds of amity 'mongst princes,
And wreck their noblest purposes. THE CRUSADE.
The reader can now have little doubt who the Ethiopian slave really was, with what purpose he had sought
Richard's camp, and wherefore and with what hope he now stood close to the person of that Monarch, as,
surrounded by his valiant peers of England and Normandy, Coeur de Lion stood on the summit of Saint
George's Mount, with the Banner of England by his side, borne by the most goodly person in the army, being
his own natural brother, William with the Long Sword, Earl of Salisbury, the offspring of Henry the Second's
amour with the celebrated Rosamond of Woodstock.
From several expressions in the King's conversation with Neville on the preceding day, the Nubian was left in
anxious doubt whether his disguise had not been penetrated, especially as that the King seemed to be aware in
what manner the agency of the dog was expected to discover the thief who stole the banner, although the
circumstance of such an animal's having been wounded on the occasion had been scarce mentioned in
Richard's presence. Nevertheless, as the King continued to treat him in no other manner than his exterior
required, the Nubian remained uncertain whether he was or was not discovered, and determined not to throw
his disguise aside voluntarily.
Meanwhile, the powers of the various Crusading princes, arrayed under their royal and princely leaders,
swept in long order around the base of the little mound; and as those of each different country passed by, their
commanders advanced a step or two up the hill, and made a signal of courtesy to Richard and to the Standard
of England, "in sign of regard and amity," as the protocol of the ceremony heedfully expressed it, "not of
subjection or vassalage." The spiritual dignitaries, who in those days veiled not their bonnets to created being,
bestowed on the King and his symbol of command their blessing instead of rendering obeisance.
Thus the long files marched on, and, diminished as they were by so many causes, appeared still an iron host,
to whom the conquest of Palestine might seem an easy task. The soldiers, inspired by the consciousness of
united strength, sat erect in their steel saddles; while it seemed that the trumpets sounded more cheerfully
shrill, and the steeds, refreshed by rest and provender, chafed on the bit, and trod the ground more proudly.
On they passed, troop after troop, banners waving, spears glancing, plumes dancing, in long perspectivea
host composed of different nations, complexions, languages, arms, and appearances, but all fired, for the
time, with the holy yet romantic purpose of rescuing the distressed daughter of Zion from her thraldom, and
redeeming the sacred earth, which more than mortal had trodden, from the yoke of the unbelieving pagan.
And it must be owned that if, in other circumstances, the species of courtesy rendered to the King of England
by so many warriors, from whom he claimed no natural allegiance, had in it something that might have been
thought humiliating, yet the nature and cause of the war was so fitted to his preeminently chivalrous
character and renowned feats in arms, that claims which might elsewhere have been urged were there
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forgotten, and the brave did willing homage to the bravest, in an expedition where the most undaunted and
energetic courage was necessary to success.
The good King was seated on horseback about half way up the mount, a morion on his head, surmounted by a
crown, which left his manly features exposed to public view, as, with cool and considerate eye, he perused
each rank as it passed him, and returned the salutation of the leaders. His tunic was of sky coloured velvet,
covered with plates of silver, and his hose of crimson silk, slashed with cloth of gold. By his side stood the
seeming Ethiopian slave, holding the noble dog in a leash, such as was used in woodcraft. It was a
circumstance which attracted no notice, for many of the princes of the Crusade had introduced black slaves
into their household, in imitation of the barbarous splendour of the Saracens. Over the King's head streamed
the large folds of the banner, and, as he looked to it from time to time, he seemed to regard a ceremony,
indifferent to himself personally, as important, when considered as atoning an indignity offered to the
kingdom which he ruled. In the background, and on the very summit of the Mount, a wooden turret, erected
for the occasion, held the Queen Berengaria and the principal ladies of the Court. To this the King looked
from time to time; and then ever and anon his eyes were turned on the Nubian and the dog, but only when
such leaders approached, as, from circumstances of previous illwill, he suspected of being accessory to the
theft of the standard, or whom he judged capable of a crime so mean.
Thus, he did not look in that direction when Philip Augustus of France approached at the head of his splendid
troops of Gallic chivalrynay, he anticipated the motions of the French King, by descending the Mount as
the latter came up the ascent, so that they met in the middle space, and blended their greetings so gracefully
that it appeared they met in fraternal equality. The sight of the two greatest princes in Europe, in rank at once
and power, thus publicly avowing their concord, called forth bursts of thundering acclaim from the Crusading
host at many miles distance, and made the roving Arab scouts of the desert alarm the camp of Saladin with
intelligence that the army of the Christians was in motion. Yet who but the King of kings can read the hearts
of monarchs? Under this smooth show of courtesy, Richard nourished displeasure and suspicion against
Philip, and Philip meditated withdrawing himself and his host from the army of the Cross, and leaving
Richard to accomplish or fail in the enterprise with his own unassisted forces.
Richard's demeanour was different when the darkarmed knights and squires of the Temple chivalry
approachedmen with countenances bronzed to Asiatic blackness by the suns of Palestine, and the
admirable state of whose horses and appointments far surpassed even that of the choicest troops of France
and England. The King cast a hasty glance aside; but the Nubian stood quiet, and his trusty dog sat at his feet,
watching, with a sagacious yet pleased look, the ranks which now passed before them. The King's look turned
again on the chivalrous Templars, as the Grand Master, availing himself of his mingled character, bestowed
his benediction on Richard as a priest, instead of doing him reverence as a military leader.
"The misproud and amphibious caitiff puts the monk upon me," said Richard to the Earl of Salisbury. "But,
Longsword, we will let it pass. A punctilio must not lose Christendom the services of these experienced
lances, because their victories have rendered them overweening. Lo you, here comes our valiant adversary,
the Duke of Austria. Mark his manner and bearing, Longswordand thou, Nubian, let the hound have full
view of him. By Heaven, he brings his buffoons along with him!"
In fact, whether from habit, or, which is more likely, to intimate contempt of the ceremonial he was about to
comply with, Leopold was attended by his SPRUCHSPRECHER and his jester; and as he advanced towards
Richard, he whistled in what he wished to be considered as an indifferent manner, though his heavy features
evinced the sullenness, mixed with the fear, with which a truant schoolboy may be seen to approach his
master. As the reluctant dignitary made, with discomposed and sulky look, the obeisance required, the
SPRUCHSPRECHER shook his baton, and proclaimed, like a herald, that, in what he was now doing, the
Archduke of Austria was not to be held derogating from the rank and privileges of a sovereign prince; to
which the jester answered with a sonorous AMEN, which provoked much laughter among the bystanders.
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King Richard looked more than once at the Nubian and his dog; but the former moved not, nor did the latter
strain at the leash, so that Richard said to the slave with some scorn, "Thy success in this enterprise, my sable
friend, even though thou hast brought thy hound's sagacity to back thine own, will not, I fear, place thee high
in the rank of wizards, or much augment thy merits towards our person."
The Nubian answered, as usual, only by a lowly obeisance.
Meantime the troops of the Marquis of Montserrat next passed in order before the King of England. That
powerful and wily baron, to make the greater display of his forces, had divided them into two bodies. At the
head of the first, consisting of his vassals and followers, and levied from his Syrian possessions, came his
brother Enguerrand; and he himself followed, leading on a gallant band of twelve hundred Stradiots, a kind of
light cavalry raised by the Venetians in their Dalmatian possessions, and of which they had entrusted the
command to the Marquis, with whom the republic had many bonds of connection. These Stradiots were
clothed in a fashion partly European, but partaking chiefly of the Eastern fashion. They wore, indeed, short
hauberks, but had over them partycoloured tunics of rich stuffs, with large wide pantaloons and halfboots.
On their heads were straight upright caps, similar to those of the Greeks; and they carried small round targets,
bows and arrows, scimitars, and poniards. They were mounted on horses carefully selected, and well
maintained at the expense of the State of Venice; their saddles and appointments resembled those of the
Turks, and they rode in the same manner, with short stirrups and upon a high seat. These troops were of great
use in skirmishing with the Arabs, though unable to engage in close combat, like the ironsheathed menat
arms of Western and Northern Europe.
Before this goodly band came Conrade, in the same garb with the Stradiots, but of such rich stuff that he
seemed to blaze with gold and silver, and the milkwhite plume fastened in his cap by a clasp of diamonds
seemed tall enough to sweep the clouds. The noble steed which he reined bounded and caracoled, and
displayed his spirit and agility in a manner which might have troubled a less admirable horseman than the
Marquis, who gracefully ruled him with the one hand, while the other displayed the baton, whose
predominancy over the ranks which he led seemed equally absolute. Yet his authority over the Stradiots was
more in show than in substance; for there paced beside him, on an ambling palfrey of soberest mood, a little
old man, dressed entirely in black, without beard or moustaches, and having an appearance altogether mean
and insignificant when compared with the blaze of splendour around him. But this meanlooking old man
was one of those deputies whom the Venetian government sent into camps to overlook the conduct of the
generals to whom the leading was consigned, and to maintain that jealous system of espial and control which
had long distinguished the policy of the republic.
Conrade, who, by cultivating Richard's humour, had attained a certain degree of favour with him, no sooner
was come within his ken than the King of England descended a step or two to meet him, exclaiming, at the
same time, "Ha, Lord Marquis, thou at the head of the fleet Stradiots, and thy black shadow attending thee as
usual, whether the sun shines or not! May not one ask thee whether the rule of the troops remains with the
shadow or the substance?"
Conrade was commencing his reply with a smile, when Roswal, the noble hound, uttering a furious and
savage yell, sprung forward. The Nubian, at the same time, slipped the leash, and the hound, rushing on, leapt
upon Conrade's noble charger, and, seizing the Marquis by the throat, pulled him down from the saddle. The
plumed rider lay rolling on the sand, and the frightened horse fled in wild career through the camp.
"Thy hound hath pulled down the right quarry, I warrant him," said the King to the Nubian, "and I vow to
Saint George he is a stag of ten tynes! Pluck the dog off; lest he throttle him."
The Ethiopian, accordingly, though not without difficulty, disengaged the dog from Conrade, and fastened
him up, still highly excited, and struggling in the leash. Meanwhile many crowded to the spot, especially
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followers of Conrade and officers of the Stradiots, who, as they saw their leader lie gazing wildly on the sky,
raised him up amid a tumultuary cry of "Cut the slave and his hound to pieces!"
But the voice of Richard, loud and sonorous, was heard clear above all other exclamations. "He dies the death
who injures the hound! He hath but done his duty, after the sagacity with which God and nature have
endowed the brave animal.Stand forward for a false traitor, thou Conrade, Marquis of Montserrat! I
impeach thee of treason."
Several of the Syrian leaders had now come up, and Conrade vexation, and shame, and confusion
struggling with passion in his manner and voiceexclaimed, "What means this? With what am I charged?
Why this base usage and these reproachful terms? Is this the league of concord which England renewed but
so lately?"
"Are the Princes of the Crusade turned hares or deers in the eyes of King Richard that he should slip hounds
on them?" said the sepulchral voice of the Grand Master of the Templars.
"It must be some singular accidentsome fatal mistake," said Philip of France, who rode up at the same
moment.
"Some deceit of the Enemy," said the Archbishop of Tyre.
"A stratagem of the Saracens," cried Henry of Champagne. "It were well to hang up the dog, and put the slave
to the torture."
"Let no man lay hand upon them," said Richard, "as he loves his own life! Conrade, stand forth, if thou
darest, and deny the accusation which this mute animal hath in his noble instinct brought against thee, of
injury done to him, and foul scorn to England!"
"I never touched the banner," said Conrade hastily.
"Thy words betray thee, Conrade!" said Richard, "for how didst thou know, save from conscious guilt, that
the question is concerning the banner?"
"Hast thou then not kept the camp in turmoil on that and no other score?" answered Conrade; "and dost thou
impute to a prince and an ally a crime which, after all, was probably committed by some paltry felon for the
sake of the gold thread? Or wouldst thou now impeach a confederate on the credit of a dog?"
By this time the alarm was becoming general, so that Philip of France interposed.
"Princes and nobles," he said, "you speak in presence of those whose swords will soon be at the throats of
each other if they hear their leaders at such terms together. In the name of Heaven, let us draw off each his
own troops into their separate quarters, and ourselves meet an hour hence in the Pavilion of Council to take
some order in this new state of confusion."
"Content," said King Richard, "though I should have liked to have interrogated that caitiff while his gay
doublet was yet besmirched with sand. But the pleasure of France shall be ours in this matter."
The leaders separated as was proposed, each prince placing himself at the head of his own forces; and then
was heard on all sides the crying of warcries and the sounding of gatheringnotes upon bugles and trumpets,
by which the different stragglers were summoned to their prince's banner, and the troops were shortly seen in
motion, each taking different routes through the camp to their own quarters. But although any immediate act
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of violence was thus prevented, yet the accident which had taken place dwelt on every mind; and those
foreigners who had that morning hailed Richard as the worthiest to lead their army, now resumed their
prejudices against his pride and intolerance, while the English, conceiving the honour of their country
connected with the quarrel, of which various reports had gone about, considered the natives of other countries
jealous of the fame of England and her King, and disposed to undermine it by the meanest arts of intrigue.
Many and various were the rumours spread upon the occasion, and there was one which averred that the
Queen and her ladies had been much alarmed by the tumult, and that one of them had swooned.
The Council assembled at the appointed hour. Conrade had in the meanwhile laid aside his dishonoured
dress, and with it the shame and confusion which, in spite of his talents and promptitude, had at first
overwhelmed him, owing to the strangeness of the accident and suddenness of the accusation. He was now
robed like a prince; and entered the councilchamber attended by the Archduke of Austria, the Grand
Masters both of the Temple and of the Order of Saint John, and several other potentates, who made a show of
supporting him and defending his cause, chiefly perhaps from political motives, or because they themselves
nourished a personal enmity against Richard.
This appearance of union in favour of Conrade was far from influencing the King of England. He entered the
Council with his usual indifference of manner, and in the same dress in which he had just alighted from
horseback. He cast a careless and somewhat scornful glance on the leaders, who had with studied affectation
arranged themselves around Conrade as if owning his cause, and in the most direct terms charged Conrade of
Montserrat with having stolen the Banner of England, and wounded the faithful animal who stood in its
defence.
Conrade arose boldly to answer, and in despite, as he expressed himself, of man and brute, king or dog,
avouched his innocence of the crime charged.
"Brother of England," said Philip, who willingly assumed the character of moderator of the assembly, "this is
an unusual impeachment. We do not hear you avouch your own knowledge of this matter, further than your
belief resting upon the demeanour of this hound towards the Marquis of Montserrat. Surely the word of a
knight and a prince should bear him out against the barking of a cur?"
"Royal brother," returned Richard, "recollect that the Almighty, who gave the dog to be companion of our
pleasures and our toils, hath invested him with a nature noble and incapable of deceit. He forgets neither
friend nor foeremembers, and with accuracy, both benefit and injury. He hath a share of man's intelligence,
but no share of man's falsehood. You may bribe a soldier to slay a man with his sword, or a witness to take
life by false accusation; but you cannot make a hound tear his benefactor. He is the friend of man, save when
man justly incurs his enmity. Dress yonder marquis in what peacockrobes you will, disguise his appearance,
alter his complexion with drugs and washes, hide him amidst a hundred men,I will yet pawn my sceptre
that the hound detects him, and expresses his resentment, as you have this day beheld. This is no new
incident, although a strange one. Murderers and robbers have been ere now convicted, and suffered death
under such evidence, and men have said that the finger of God was in it. In thine own land, royal brother, and
upon such an occasion, the matter was tried by a solemn duel betwixt the man and the dog, as appellant and
defendant in a challenge of murder. The dog was victorious, the man was punished, and the crime was
confessed. Credit me, royal brother, that hidden crimes have often been brought to light by the testimony
even of inanimate substances, not to mention animals far inferior in instinctive sagacity to the dog, who is the
friend and companion of our race."
"Such a duel there hath indeed been, royal brother," answered Philip, "and that in the reign of one of our
predecessors, to whom God be gracious. But it was in the olden time, nor can we hold it a precedent fitting
for this occasion. The defendant in that case was a private gentleman of small rank or respect; his offensive
weapons were only a club, his defensive a leathern jerkin. But we cannot degrade a prince to the disgrace of
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using such rude arms, or to the ignominy of such a combat."
"I never meant that you should," said King Richard; "it were foul play to hazard the good hound's life against
that of such a doublefaced traitor as this Conrade hath proved himself. But there lies our own glove; we
appeal him to the combat in respect of the evidence we brought forth against him. A king, at least, is more
than the mate of a marquis."
Conrade made no hasty effort to seize on the pledge which Richard cast into the middle of the assembly, and
King Philip had time to reply ere the marquis made a motion to lift the glove.
"A king," said he of France, "is as much more than a match for the Marquis Conrade as a dog would be less.
Royal Richard, this cannot be permitted. You are the leader of our expeditionthe sword and buckler of
Christendom."
"I protest against such a combat," said the Venetian proveditore, "until the King of England shall have repaid
the fifty thousand byzants which he is indebted to the republic. It is enough to be threatened with loss of our
debt, should our debtor fall by the hands of the pagans, without the additional risk of his being slain in brawls
amongst Christians concerning dogs and banners."
"And I," said William with the Long Sword, Earl of Salisbury, "protest in my turn against my royal brother
perilling his life, which is the property of the people of England, in such a cause. Here, noble brother, receive
back your glove, and think only as if the wind had blown it from your hand. Mine shall lie in its stead. A
king's son, though with the bar sinister on his shield, is at least a match for this marmoset of a marquis."
"Princes and nobles," said Conrade, "I will not accept of King Richard's defiance. He hath been chosen our
leader against the Saracens, and if his conscience can answer the accusation of provoking an ally to the field
on a quarrel so frivolous, mine, at least, cannot endure the reproach of accepting it. But touching his bastard
brother, William of Woodstock, or against any other who shall adopt or shall dare to stand godfather to this
most false charge, I will defend my honour in the lists, and prove whosoever impeaches it a false liar."
"The Marquis of Montserrat," said the Archbishop of Tyre, "hath spoken like a wise and moderate gentleman;
and methinks this controversy might, without dishonour to any party, end at this point."
"Methinks it might so terminate," said the King of France, "provided King Richard will recall his accusation
as made upon overslight grounds."
"Philip of France," answered Coeur de Lion, "my words shall never do my thoughts so much injury. I have
charged yonder Conrade as a thief, who, under cloud of night, stole from its place the emblem of England's
dignity. I still believe and charge him to be such; and when a day is appointed for the combat, doubt not that,
since Conrade declines to meet us in person, I will find a champion to appear in support of my
challengefor thou, William, must not thrust thy long sword into this quarrel without our special license."
"Since my rank makes me arbiter in this most unhappy matter," said Philip of France, "I appoint the fifth day
from hence for the decision thereof, by way of combat, according to knightly usageRichard, King of
England, to appear by his champion as appellant, and Conrade, Marquis of Montserrat, in his own person, as
defendant. Yet I own I know not where to find neutral ground where such a quarrel may be fought out; for it
must not be in the neighbourhood of this camp, where the soldiers would make faction on the different sides."
"It were well," said Richard, "to apply to the generosity of the royal Saladin, since, heathen as he is, I have
never known knight more fulfilled of nobleness, or to whose good faith we may so peremptorily entrust
ourselves. I speak thus for those who may be doubtful of mishap; for myself, wherever I see my foe, I make
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that spot my battleground."
"Be it so," said Philip; "we will make this matter known to Saladin, although it be showing to an enemy the
unhappy spirit of discord which we would willingly hide from even ourselves, were it possible. Meanwhile, I
dismiss this assembly, and charge you all, as Christian men and noble knights, that ye let this unhappy feud
breed no further brawling in the camp, but regard it as a thing solemnly referred to the judgment of God, to
whom each of you should pray that He will dispose of victory in the combat according to the truth of the
quarrel; and therewith may His will be done!"
"Amen, amen!" was answered on all sides; while the Templar whispered the Marquis, "Conrade, wilt thou
not add a petition to be delivered from the power of the dog, as the Psalmist hath it?"
"Peace, thou!" replied the Marquis; "there is a revealing demon abroad which may report, amongst other
tidings, how far thou dost carry the motto of thy order"FERIATUR LEO."
"Thou wilt stand the brunt of challenge?" said the Templar.
"Doubt me not," said Conrade. "I would not, indeed, have willingly met the iron arm of Richard himself, and
I shame not to confess that I rejoice to be free of his encounter; but, from his bastard brother downward, the
man breathes not in his ranks whom I fear to meet."
"It is well you are so confident," continued the Templar; "and, in that case, the fangs of yonder hound have
done more to dissolve this league of princes than either thy devices or the dagger of the Charegite. Seest thou
how, under a brow studiously overclouded, Philip cannot conceal the satisfaction which he feels at the
prospect of release from the alliance which sat so heavy on him? Mark how Henry of Champagne smiles to
himself, like a sparkling goblet of his own wine; and see the chuckling delight of Austria, who thinks his
quarrel is about to be avenged without risk or trouble of his own. Hush! he approaches.A most grievous
chance, most royal Austria, that these breaches in the walls of our Zion"
"If thou meanest this Crusade," replied the Duke, "I would it were crumbled to pieces, and each were safe at
home! I speak this in confidence."
"But," said the Marquis of Montserrat, "to think this disunion should be made by the hands of King Richard,
for whose pleasure we have been contented to endure so much, and to whom we have been as submissive as
slaves to a master, in hopes that he would use his valour against our enemies, instead of exercising it upon
our friends!"
"I see not that he is so much more valorous than others," said the Archduke. "I believe, had the noble Marquis
met him in the lists, he would have had the better; for though the islander deals heavy blows with the
poleaxe, he is not so very dexterous with the lance. I should have cared little to have met him myself on our
old quarrel, had the weal of Christendom permitted to sovereign princes to breathe themselves in the lists;
and if thou desirest it, noble Marquis, I will myself be your godfather in this combat."
"And I also," said the Grand Master.
"Come, then, and take your nooning in our tent, noble sirs," said the Duke, "and we'll speak of this business
over some right NIERENSTEIN."
They entered together accordingly.
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"What said our patron and these great folks together?" said Jonas Schwanker to his companion, the
SPRUCHSPRECHER, who had used the freedom to press nigh to his master when the Council was
dismissed, while the jester waited at a more respectful distance.
"Servant of Folly," said the SPRUCHSPRECHER, "moderate thy curiosity; it beseems not that I should tell
to thee the counsels of our master."
"Man of wisdom, you mistake," answered Jonas. "We are both the constant attendants on our patron, and it
concerns us alike to know whether thou or IWisdom or Follyhave the deeper interest in him."
"He told to the Marquis," answered the SPRUCHSPRECHER, "and to the Grand Master, that he was
aweary of these wars, and would be glad he was safe at home."
"That is a drawn cast, and counts for nothing in the game," said the jester; "it was most wise to think thus, but
great folly to tell it to othersproceed."
"Ha, hem!" said the SPRUCHSPRECHER; "he next said to them that Richard was not more valorous than
others, or overdexterous in the tiltyard."
"W. of my side," said Schwanker, "this was egregious folly. What next?"
"Nay, I am something oblivious," replied the man of wisdom" he invited them to a goblet of
NIERENSTEIN."
"That hath a show of wisdom in it," said Jonas. "Thou mayest mark it to thy credit in the meantime; but an he
drink too much, as is most likely, I will have it pass to mine. Anything more?"
"Nothing worth memory," answered the orator; "only he wished he had taken the occasion to meet Richard in
the lists."
"Out upon itout upon it!" said Jonas; "this is such dotage of folly that I am wellnigh ashamed of winning
the game by it. Ne'ertheless, fool as he is, we will follow him, most sage SPRUCHSPRECHER, and have
our share of the wine of NIERENSTEIN."
CHAPTER XXV.
Yet this inconstancy is such,
As thou, too, shalt adore;
I could not love thee, love so much,
Loved I not honour more. MONTROSE'S LINES.
When King Richard returned to his tent, he commanded the Nubian to be brought before him. He entered
with his usual ceremonial reverence, and having prostrated himself, remained standing before the King in the
attitude of a slave awaiting the orders of his master. It was perhaps well for him that the preservation of his
character required his eyes to be fixed on the ground, since the keen glance with which Richard for some time
surveyed him in silence would, if fully encountered, have been difficult to sustain.
"Thou canst well of woodcraft," said the King, after a pause, "and hast started thy game and brought him to
bay as ably as if Tristrem himself had taught thee. [A universal tradition ascribed to Sir Tristrem, famous for
his lore of the fair Queen Yseult, the laws concerning the practice of woodcraft, or VENERIE, as it was
called, being those that related to the rules of the chase, which were deemed of much consequence during the
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Middle Ages.] But this is not allhe must be brought down at force. I myself would have liked to have
levelled my hunting spear at him. There are, it seems, respects which prevent this. Thou art about to return
to the camp of the Soldan, bearing a letter, requiring of his courtesy to appoint neutral ground for the deed of
chivalry, and should it consist with his pleasure, to concur with us in witnessing it. Now, speaking
conjecturally, we think thou mightst find in that camp some cavalier who, for the love of truth and his own
augmentation of honour, will do battle with this same traitor of Montserrat."
The Nubian raised his eyes and fixed them on the King with a look of eager ardour; then raised them to
Heaven with such solemn gratitude that the water soon glistened in them; then bent his head, as affirming
what Richard desired, and resumed his usual posture of submissive attention.
"It is well," said the King; "and I see thy desire to oblige me in this matter. And herein, I must needs say, lies
the excellence of such a servant as thou, who hast not speech either to debate our purpose or to require
explanation of what we have determined. An English serving man in thy place had given me his dogged
advice to trust the combat with some good lance of my household, who, from my brother Longsword
downwards, are all on fire to do battle in my cause; and a chattering Frenchman had made a thousand
attempts to discover wherefore I look for a champion from the camp of the infidels. But thou, my silent agent,
canst do mine errand without questioning or comprehending it; with thee to hear is to obey."
A bend of the body and a genuflection were the appropriate answer of the Ethiopian to these observations.
"And now to another point," said the King, and speaking suddenly and rapidly"have you yet seen Edith
Plantagenet?"
The mute looked up as in the act of being about to speaknay, his lips had begun to utter a distinct
negativewhen the abortive attempt died away in the imperfect murmurs of the dumb.
"Why, lo you there!" said the King, "the very sound of the name of a royal maiden of beauty so surpassing as
that of our lovely cousin seems to have power enough wellnigh to make the dumb speak. What miracles
then might her eye work upon such a subject! I will make the experiment, friend slave. Thou shalt see this
choice beauty of our Court, and do the errand of the princely Soldan."
Again a joyful glanceagain a genuflectionbut, as he arose, the King laid his hand heavily on his
shoulder, and proceeded with stern gravity thus: "Let me in one thing warn you, my sable envoy. Even if thou
shouldst feel that the kindly influence of her whom thou art soon to behold should loosen the bonds of thy
tongue, presently imprisoned, as the good Soldan expresses it, within the ivory walls of its castle, beware
how thou changest thy taciturn character, or speakest a word in her presence, even if thy powers of utterance
were to be miraculously restored. Believe me that I should have thy tongue extracted by the roots, and its
ivory palacethat is, I presume, its range of teeth drawn out one by one. Wherefore, be wise and silent
still."
The Nubian, so soon as the King had removed his heavy grasp from his shoulder, bent his head, and laid his
hand on his lips, in token of silent obedience.
But Richard again laid his hand on him more gently, and added, "This behest we lay on thee as on a slave.
Wert thou knight and gentleman, we would require thine honour in pledge of thy silence, which is one
especial condition of our present trust."
The Ethiopian raised his body proudly, looked full at the King, and laid his right hand on his heart.
Richard then summoned his chamberlain.
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"Go, Neville," he said, "with this slave to the tent of our royal consort, and say it is our pleasure that he have
an audiencea private audienceof our cousin Edith. He is charged with a commission to her. Thou canst
show him the way also, in case he requires thy guidance, though thou mayst have observed it is wonderful
how familiar he already seems to be with the purlieus of our camp.And thou, too, friend Ethiop," the King
continued, "what thou dost do quickly, and return hither within the half hour."
"I stand discovered," thought the seeming Nubian, as, with downcast looks and folded arms, he followed the
hasty stride of Neville towards the tent of Queen Berengaria"I stand undoubtedly discovered and unfolded
to King Richard; yet I cannot perceive that his resentment is hot against me. If I understand his wordsand
surely it is impossible to misinterpret themhe gives me a noble chance of redeeming my honour upon the
crest of this false Marquis, whose guilt I read in his craven eye and quivering lip when the charge was made
against him.Roswal, faithfully hast thou served thy master, and most dearly shall thy wrong be
avenged!But what is the meaning of my present permission to look upon her whom I had despaired ever to
see again? And why, or how, can the royal Plantagenet consent that I should see his divine kinswoman, either
as the messenger of the heathen Saladin, or as the guilty exile whom he so lately expelled from his
camphis audacious avowal of the affection which is his pride being the greatest enhancement of his guilt?
That Richard should consent to her receiving a letter from an infidel lover by the hands of one of such
disproportioned rank are either of them circumstances equally incredible, and, at the same time, inconsistent
with each other. But Richard, when unmoved by his heady passions, is liberal, generous, and truly noble; and
as such I will deal with him, and act according to his instructions, direct or implied, seeking to know no more
than may gradually unfold itself without my officious inquiry. To him who has given me so brave an
opportunity to vindicate my tarnished honour, I owe acquiescence and obedience; and painful as it may be,
the debt shall be paid. And yet"thus the proud swelling of his heart further suggested"Coeur de Lion, as
he is called, might have measured the feelings of others by his own. I urge an address to his kinswoman! I,
who never spoke word to her when I took a royal prize from her handwhen I was accounted not the lowest
in feats of chivalry among the defenders of the Cross! I approach her when in a base disguise, and in a servile
habit and, alas! when my actual condition is that of a slave, with a spot of dishonour on that which was
once my shield! I do this! He little knows me. Yet I thank him for the opportunity which may make us all
better acquainted with each other."
As he arrived at this conclusion, they paused before the entrance of the Queen's pavilion.
They were of course admitted by the guards, and Neville, leaving the Nubian in a small apartment, or
antechamber, which was but too well remembered by him, passed into that which was used as the Queen's
presencechamber. He communicated his royal master's pleasure in a low and respectful tone of voice, very
different from the bluntness of Thomas de Vaux, to whom Richard was everything and the rest of the Court,
including Berengaria herself, was nothing. A burst of laughter followed the communication of his errand.
"And what like is the Nubian slave who comes ambassador on such an errand from the Soldan?a negro, De
Neville, is he not?" said a female voice, easily recognized for that of Berengaria. "A negro, is he not, De
Neville, with black skin, a head curled like a ram's, a flat nose, and blubber lipsha, worthy Sir Henry?"
"Let not your Grace forget the shinbones," said another voice, "bent outwards like the edge of a Saracen
scimitar."
"Rather like the bow of a Cupid, since he comes upon a lover's errand," said the Queen."Gentle Neville,
thou art ever prompt to pleasure us poor women, who have so little to pass away our idle moments. We must
see this messenger of love. Turks and Moors have I seen many, but negro never."
"I am created to obey your Grace's commands, so you will bear me out with my Sovereign for doing so,"
answered the debonair knight. "Yet, let me assure your Grace you will see something different from what you
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expect."
"So much the betteruglier yet than our imaginations can fancy, yet the chosen lovemessenger of this
gallant Soldan!"
"Gracious madam," said the Lady Calista, "may I implore you would permit the good knight to carry this
messenger straight to the Lady Edith, to whom his credentials are addressed? We have already escaped hardly
for such a frolic."
"Escaped?" repeated the Queen scornfully. "Yet thou mayest be right, Calista, in thy caution. Let this Nubian,
as thou callest him, first do his errand to our cousinbesides, he is mute too, is he not?"
"He is, gracious madam," answered the knight.
"Royal sport have these Eastern ladies," said Berengaria, "attended by those before whom they may say
anything, yet who can report nothing. Whereas in our camp, as the Prelate of Saint Jude's is wont to say, a
bird of the air will carry the matter."
"Because," said De Neville, "your Grace forgets that you speak within canvas walls."
The voices sunk on this observation, and after a little whispering, the English knight again returned to the
Ethiopian, and made him a sign to follow. He did so, and Neville conducted him to a pavilion, pitched
somewhat apart from that of the Queen, for the accommodation, it seemed, of the Lady Edith and her
attendants. One of her Coptic maidens received the message communicated by Sir Henry Neville, and in the
space of a very few minutes the Nubian was ushered into Edith's presence, while Neville was left on the
outside of the tent. The slave who introduced him withdrew on a signal from her mistress, and it was with
humiliation, not of the posture only but of the very inmost soul, that the unfortunate knight, thus strangely
disguised, threw himself on one knee, with looks bent on the ground and arms folded on his bosom, like a
criminal who expects his doom. Edith was clad in the same manner as when she received King Richard, her
long, transparent dark veil hanging around her like the shade of a summer night on a beautiful landscape,
disguising and rendering obscure the beauties which it could not hide. She held in her hand a silver lamp, fed
with some aromatic spirit, which burned with unusual brightness.
When Edith came within a step of the kneeling and motionless slave, she held the light towards his face, as if
to peruse his features more attentively, then turned from him, and placed her lamp so as to throw the shadow
of his face in profile upon the curtain which hung beside. She at length spoke in a voice composed, yet deeply
sorrowful,
"Is it you? It is indeed you, brave Knight of the Leopard gallant Sir Kenneth of Scotland; is it indeed
you?thus servilely disguisedthus surrounded by a hundred dangers."
At hearing the tones of his lady's voice thus unexpectedly addressed to him, and in a tone of compassion
approaching to tenderness, a corresponding reply rushed to the knight's lips, and scarce could Richard's
commands and his own promised silence prevent his answering that the sight he saw, the sounds he just
heard, were sufficient to recompense the slavery of a life, and dangers which threatened that life every hour.
He did recollect himself, however, and a deep and impassioned sigh was his only reply to the highborn
Edith's question.
"I seeI know I have guessed right," continued Edith. "I marked you from your first appearance near the
platform on which I stood with the Queen. I knew, too, your valiant hound. She is no true lady, and is
unworthy of the service of such a knight as thou art, from whom disguises of dress or hue could conceal a
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faithful servant. Speak, then, without fear to Edith Plantagenet. She knows how to grace in adversity the good
knight who served, honoured, and did deeds of arms in her name, when fortune befriended him.Still silent!
Is it fear or shame that keeps thee so! Fear should be unknown to thee; and for shame, let it remain with those
who have wronged thee."
The knight, in despair at being obliged to play the mute in an interview so interesting, could only express his
mortification by sighing deeply, and laying his finger upon his lips. Edith stepped back, as if somewhat
displeased.
What!" she said, "the Asiatic mute in very deed, as well as in attire? This I looked not for. Or thou mayest
scorn me, perhaps, for thus boldly acknowledging that I have heedfully observed the homage thou hast paid
me? Hold no unworthy thoughts of Edith on that account. She knows well the bounds which reserve and
modesty prescribe to highborn maidens, and she knows when and how far they should give place to
gratitudeto a sincere desire that it were in her power to repay services and repair injuries arising from the
devotion which a good knight bore towards her. Why fold thy hands together, and wring them with so much
passion? Can it be," she added, shrinking back at the idea, "that their cruelty has actually deprived thee of
speech? Thou shakest thy head. Be it a spellbe it obstinacy, I question thee no further, but leave thee to do
thine errand after thine own fashion. I also can be mute."
The disguised knight made an action as if at once lamenting his own condition and deprecating her
displeasure, while at the same time he presented to her, wrapped, as usual, in fine silk and cloth of gold, the
letter of the Soldan. She took it, surveyed it carelessly, then laid it aside, and bending her eyes once more on
the knight, she said in a low tone, "Not even a word to do thine errand to me?"
He pressed both his hands to his brow, as if to intimate the pain which he felt at being unable to obey her; but
she turned from him in anger.
"Begone!" she said. "I have spoken enoughtoo muchto one who will not waste on me a word in reply.
Begone!and say, if I have wronged thee, I have done penance; for if I have been the unhappy means of
dragging thee down from a station of honour, I have, in this interview, forgotten my own worth, and lowered
myself in thy eyes and in my own."
She covered her eyes with her hands, and seemed deeply agitated. Sir Kenneth would have approached, but
she waved him back.
"Stand off! thou whose soul Heaven hath suited to its new station! Aught less dull and fearful than a slavish
mute had spoken a word of gratitude, were it but to reconcile me to my own degradation. Why pause
you?begone!"
The disguised knight almost involuntarily looked towards the letter as an apology for protracting his stay. She
snatched it up, saying in a tone of irony and contempt, "I had forgottenthe dutiful slave waits an answer to
his message. How's thisfrom the Soldan!"
She hastily ran over the contents, which were expressed both in Arabic and French, and when she had done,
she laughed in bitter anger.
"Now this passes imagination!" she said; "no jongleur can show so deft a transmutation! His legerdemain can
transform zechins and byzants into doits and maravedis; but can his art convert a Christian knight, ever
esteemed among the bravest of the Holy Crusade, into the dustkissing slave of a heathen Soldanthe
bearer of a paynim's insolent proposals to a Christian maiden nay, forgetting the laws of honourable
chivalry, as well as of religion? But it avails not talking to the willing slave of a heathen hound. Tell your
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master, when his scourge shall have found thee a tongue, that which thou hast seen me do"so saying, she
threw the Soldan's letter on the ground, and placed her foot upon it"and say to him, that Edith Plantagenet
scorns the homage of an unchristened pagan."
With these words she was about to shoot from the knight, when, kneeling at her feet in bitter agony, he
ventured to lay his hand upon her robe and oppose her departure.
"Heard'st thou not what I said, dull slave?" she said, turning short round on him, and speaking with emphasis.
"Tell the heathen Soldan, thy master, that I scorn his suit as much as I despise the prostration of a worthless
renegade to religion and chivalry to God and to his lady!"
So saying, she burst from him, tore her garment from his grasp, and left the tent.
The voice of Neville, at the same time, summoned him from without. Exhausted and stupefied by the distress
he had undergone during this interview, from which he could only have extricated himself by breach of the
engagement which he had formed with King Richard, the unfortunate knight staggered rather than walked
after the English baron, till they reached the royal pavilion, before which a party of horsemen had just
dismounted. There were light and motion within the tent, and when Neville entered with his disguised
attendant, they found the King, with several of his nobility, engaged in welcoming those who were newly
arrived.
CHAPTER XXVI.
"The tears I shed must ever fall.
I weep not for an absent swain;
For time may happier hours recall,
And parted lovers meet again.
"I weep not for the silent dead.
Their pains are past, their sorrows o'er;
And those that loved their steps must tread,
When death shall join to part no more."
But worse than absence, worse than death,
She wept her lover's sullied fame,
And, fired with all the pride of birth,
She wept a soldier's injured name. BALLAD.
The frank and bold voice of Richard was heard in joyous gratulation.
"Thomas de Vaux! stout Tom of the Gills! by the head of King Henry, thou art welcome to me as ever was
flask of wine to a jolly toper! I should scarce have known how to order my battle array, unless I had thy
bulky form in mine eye as a landmark to form my ranks upon. We shall have blows anon, Thomas, if the
saints be gracious to us; and had we fought in thine absence, I would have looked to hear of thy being found
hanging upon an eldertree."
"I should have borne my disappointment with more Christian patience, I trust," said Thomas de Vaux, "than
to have died the death of an apostate. But I thank your Grace for my welcome, which is the more generous, as
it respects a banquet of blows, of which, saving your pleasure, you are ever too apt to engross the larger
share. But here have I brought one to whom your Grace will, I know, give a yet warmer welcome."
The person who now stepped forward to make obeisance to Richard was a young man of low stature and
slight form. His dress was as modest as his figure was unimpressive; but he bore on his bonnet a gold buckle,
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with a gem, the lustre of which could only be rivalled by the brilliancy of the eye which the bonnet shaded. It
was the only striking feature in his countenance; but when once noticed, it ever made a strong impression on
the spectator. About his neck there hung in a scarf of skyblue silk a WREST as it was calledthat is, the
key with which a harp is tuned, and which was of solid gold.
This personage would have kneeled reverently to Richard, but the Monarch raised him in joyful haste,
pressed him to his bosom warmly, and kissed him on either side of the face.
"Blondel de Nesle!" he exclaimed joyfully"welcome from Cyprus, my king of minstrels!welcome to the
King of England, who rates not his own dignity more highly than he does thine. I have been sick, man, and,
by my soul, I believe it was for lack of thee; for, were I half way to the gate of heaven, methinks thy strains
could call me back. And what news, my gentle master, from the land of the lyre? Anything fresh from the
TROUVEURS of Provence? Anything from the minstrels of merry Normandy? Above all, hast thou thyself
been busy? But I need not ask theethou canst not be idle if thou wouldst; thy noble qualities are like a fire
burning within, and compel thee to pour thyself out in music and song."
"Something I have learned, and something I have done, noble King," answered the celebrated Blondel, with a
retiring modesty which all Richard's enthusiastic admiration of his skill had been unable to banish.
"We will hear thee, manwe will hear thee instantly," said the King. Then, touching Blondel's shoulder
kindly, he added, "That is, if thou art not fatigued with thy journey; for I would sooner ride my best horse to
death than injure a note of thy voice."
"My voice is, as ever, at the service of my royal patron," said Blondel; "but your Majesty," he added, looking
at some papers on the table, "seems more importantly engaged, and the hour waxes late."
"Not a whit, man, not a whit, my dearest Blondel. I did but sketch an array of battle against the Saracens, a
thing of a moment, almost as soon done as the routing of them."
"Methinks, however," said Thomas de Vaux, "it were not unfit to inquire what soldiers your Grace hath to
array. I bring reports on that subject from Ascalon."
"Thou art a mule, Thomas," said the King"a very mule for dullness and obstinacy! Come, noblesa
halla hallrange ye around him! Give Blondel the tabouret. Where is his harp bearer?or, soft, lend
him my harp, his own may be damaged by the journey."
"I would your Grace would take my report," said Thomas de Vaux. "I have ridden far, and have more list to
my bed than to have my ears tickled."
"THY ears tickled!" said the King; "that must be with a W.'s feather, and not with sweet sounds. Hark
thee, Thomas, do thine ears know the singing of Blondel from the braying of an ass?"
"In faith, my liege," replied Thomas, "I cannot well say; but setting Blondel out of the question, who is a born
gentleman, and doubtless of high acquirements, I shall never, for the sake of your Grace's question, look on a
minstrel but I shall think upon an ass."
"And might not your manners," said Richard, "have excepted me, who am a gentleman born as well as
Blondel, and, like him, a guildbrother of the joyeuse science?"
"Your Grace should remember," said De Vaux, smiling, "that 'tis useless asking for manners from a mule."
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"Most truly spoken," said the King; "and an illconditioned animal thou art. But come hither, master mule,
and be unloaded, that thou mayest get thee to thy litter, without any music being wasted on thee. Meantime
do thou, good brother of Salisbury, go to our consort's tent, and tell her that Blondel has arrived, with his
budget fraught with the newest minstrelsy. Bid her come hither instantly, and do thou escort her, and see that
our cousin, Edith Plantagenet, remain not behind."
His eye then rested for a moment on the Nubian, with that expression of doubtful meaning which his
countenance usually displayed when he looked at him.
"Ha, our silent and secret messenger returned?Stand up, slave, behind the back of De Neville, and thou
shalt hear presently sounds which will make thee bless God that He afflicted thee rather with dumbness than
deafness."
So saying, he turned from the rest of the company towards De Vaux, and plunged instantly into the military
details which that baron laid before him.
About the time that the Lord of Gilsland had finished his audience, a messenger announced that the Queen
and her attendants were approaching the royal tent."A flask of wine, ho!" said the King; "of old King
Isaac's longsaved Cyprus, which we won when we stormed Famagosta. Fill to the stout Lord of Gilsland,
gentlesa more careful and faithful servant never had any prince."
"I am glad," said Thomas de Vaux, "that your Grace finds the mule a useful slave, though his voice be less
musical than horsehair or wire."
"What, thou canst not yet digest that quip of the mule?" said Richard. "Wash it down with a brimming flagon,
man, or thou wilt choke upon it. Why, sowell pulled!and now I will tell thee, thou art a soldier as well
as I, and we must brook each other's jests in the hall as each other's blows in the tourney, and love each other
the harder we hit. By my faith, if thou didst not hit me as hard as I did thee in our late encounter! thou gavest
all thy wit to the thrust. But here lies the difference betwixt thee and Blondel. Thou art but my comradeI
might say my pupilin the art of war; Blondel is my master in the science of minstrelsy and music. To thee I
permit the freedom of intimacy; to him I must do reverence, as to my superior in his art. Come, man, be not
peevish, but remain and hear our glee."
"To see your Majesty in such cheerful mood," said the Lord of Gilsland, "by my faith, I could remain till
Blondel had achieved the great romance of King Arthur, which lasts for three days."
"We will not tax your patience so deeply," said the King. "But see, yonder glare of torches without shows that
our consort approaches. Away to receive her, man, and win thyself grace in the brightest eyes of
Christendom. Nay, never stop to adjust thy cloak. See, thou hast let Neville come between the wind and the
sails of thy galley."
"He was never before me in the field of battle," said De Vaux, not greatly pleased to see himself anticipated
by the more active service of the chamberlain.
"No, neither he nor any one went before thee there, my good Tom of the Gills," said the King, "unless it was
ourself, now and then."
"Ay, my liege," said De Vaux, "and let us do justice to the unfortunate. The unhappy Knight of the Leopard
hath been before me too, at a season; for, look you, he weighs less on horseback, and so"
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"Hush!" said the King, interrupting him in a peremptory tone, "not a word of him," and instantly stepped
forward to greet his royal consort; and when he had done so, he presented to her Blondel, as king of
minstrelsy and his master in the gay science. Berengaria, who well knew that her royal husband's passion for
poetry and music almost equalled his appetite for warlike fame, and that Blondel was his especial favourite,
took anxious care to receive him with all the flattering distinctions due to one whom the King delighted to
honour. Yet it was evident that, though Blondel made suitable returns to the compliments showered on him
something too abundantly by the royal beauty, he owned with deeper reverence and more humble gratitude
the simple and graceful welcome of Edith, whose kindly greeting appeared to him, perhaps, sincere in
proportion to its brevity and simplicity.
Both the Queen and her royal husband were aware of this distinction, and Richard, seeing his consort
somewhat piqued at the preference assigned to his cousin, by which perhaps he himself did not feel much
gratified, said in the hearing of both, "We minstrels, Berengaria, as thou mayest see by the bearing of our
master Blondel, pay more reverence to a severe judge like our kinswoman than to a kindly, partial friend like
thyself, who is willing to take our worth upon trust."
Edith was moved by this sarcasm of her royal kinsman, and hesitated not to reply that, "To be a harsh and
severe judge was not an attribute proper to her alone of all the Plantagenets."
She had perhaps said more, having some touch of the temper of that house, which, deriving their name and
cognizance from the lowly broom (PLANTA GENISTA), assumed as an emblem of humility, were perhaps
one of the proudest families that ever ruled in England; but her eye, when kindling in her reply, suddenly
caught those of the Nubian, although he endeavoured to conceal himself behind the nobles who were present,
and she sunk upon a seat, turning so pale that Queen Berengaria deemed herself obliged to call for water and
essences, and to go through the other ceremonies appropriate to a lady's swoon. Richard, who better
estimated Edith's strength of mind, called to Blondel to assume his seat and commence his lay, declaring that
minstrelsy was worth every other recipe to recall a Plantagenet to life. "Sing us," he said, "that song of the
Bloody Vest, of which thou didst formerly give me the argument ere I left Cyprus. Thou must be perfect in it
by this time, or, as our yeomen say, thy bow is broken."
The anxious eye of the minstrel, however, dwelt on Edith, and it was not till he observed her returning colour
that he obeyed the repeated commands of the King. Then, accompanying his voice with the harp, so as to
grace, but yet not drown, the sense of what he sung, he chanted in a sort of recitative one of those ancient
adventures of love and knighthood which were wont of yore to win the public attention. So soon as he began
to prelude, the insignificance of his personal appearance seemed to disappear, and his countenance glowed
with energy and inspiration. His full, manly, mellow voice, so absolutely under command of the purest taste,
thrilled on every ear and to every heart. Richard, rejoiced as after victory, called out the appropriate summons
for silence,
"Listen, lords, in bower and hall;"
while, with the zeal of a patron at once and a pupil, he arranged the circle around, and hushed them into
silence; and he himself sat down with an air of expectation and interest, not altogether unmixed with the
gravity of the professed critic. The courtiers turned their eyes on the King, that they might be ready to trace
and imitate the emotions his features should express, and Thomas de Vaux yawned tremendously, as one who
submitted unwillingly to a wearisome penance. The song of Blondel was of course in the Norman language,
but the verses which follow express its meaning and its manner.
THE BLOODY VEST.
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'Twas near the fair city of Benevent, When the sun was setting on bough and bent, And knights were
preparing in bower and tent, On the eve of the Baptist's tournament; When in Lincoln green a stripling gent,
Well seeming a page by a princess sent, Wander'd the camp, and, still as he went, Inquired for the
Englishman, Thomas a Kent.
Far hath he far'd, and farther must fare, Till he finds his pavilion nor stately nor rare, Little save iron and
steel was there; And, as lacking the coin to pay armourer's care, With his sinewy arms to the shoulders bare,
The good knight with hammer and file did repair The mail that tomorrow must see him wear, For the
honour of Saint John and his lady fair.
"Thus speaks my lady," the page said he, And the knight bent lowly both head and knee, "She is Benevent's
Princess so high in degree, And thou art as lowly as knight may well be He that would climb so lofty a
tree, Or spring such a gulf as divides her from thee, Must dare some high deed, by which all men may see His
ambition is back'd by his hie chivalrie.
"Therefore thus speaks my lady," the fair page he said, And the knight lowly louted with hand and with head,
"Fling aside the good armour in which thou art clad, And don thou this weed of her nightgear instead, For a
hauberk of steel, a kirtle of thread; And charge, thus attir'd, in the tournament dread, And fight as thy wont is
where most blood is shed, And bring honour away, or remain with the dead."
Untroubled in his look, and untroubled in his breast, The knight the weed hath taken, and reverently hath
kiss'd. "Now blessed be the moment, the messenger be blest! Much honour'd do I hold me in my lady's high
behest; And say unto my lady, in this dear nightweed dress'd, To the best armed champion I will not veil my
crest; But if I live and bear me well 'tis her turn to take the test." Here, gentles, ends the foremost fytte of the
Lay of the Bloody Vest.
"Thou hast changed the measure upon us unawares in that last couplet, my Blondel," said the King.
"Most true, my lord," said Blondel. "I rendered the verses from the Italian of an old harper whom I met in
Cyprus, and not having had time either to translate it accurately or commit it to memory, I am fain to supply
gaps in the music and the verse as I can upon the spur of the moment, as you see boors mend a quickset fence
with a fagot."
"Nay, on my faith," said the King, "I like these rattling, rolling Alexandrines. Methinks they come more
twangingly off to the music than that briefer measure."
"Both are licensed, as is well known to your Grace," answered Blondel.
"They are so, Blondel," said Richard, "yet methinks the scene where there is like to be fighting will go best
on in these same thundering Alexandrines, which sound like the charge of cavalry, while the other measure is
but like the sidelong amble of a lady's palfrey."
"It shall be as your Grace pleases," replied Blondel, and began again to prelude.
"Nay, first cherish thy fancy with a cup of fiery Chios wine," said the King. "And hark thee, I would have
thee fling away that newfangled restriction of thine, of terminating in accurate and similar rhymes. They are
a constraint on thy flow of fancy, and make thee resemble a man dancing in fetters."
"The fetters are easily flung off, at least," said Blondel, again sweeping his fingers over the strings, as one
who would rather have played than listened to criticism.
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"But why put them on, man?" continued the King. "Wherefore thrust thy genius into iron bracelets? I marvel
how you got forward at all. I am sure I should not have been able to compose a stanza in yonder hampered
measure."
Blondel looked down, and busied himself with the strings of his harp, to hide an involuntary smile which
crept over his features; but it escaped not Richard's observation.
"By my faith, thou laughest at me, Blondel," he said; "and, in good truth, every man deserves it who
presumes to play the master when he should be the pupil. But we kings get bad habits of selfopinion. Come,
on with thy lay, dearest Blondelon after thine own fashion, better than aught that we can suggest, though
we must needs be talking."
Blondel resumed the lay; but as extemporaneous composition was familiar to him, he failed not to comply
with the King's hints, and was perhaps not displeased to show with how much ease he could newmodel a
poem, even while in the act of recitation.
THE BLOODY VEST.
FYTTE SECOND.
The Baptist's fair morrow beheld gallant feats There was winning of honour and losing of seats; There was
hewing with falchions and splintering of staves The victors won glory, the vanquish'd won graves. Oh,
many a knight there fought bravely and well, Yet one was accounted his peers to excel, And 'twas he whose
sole armour on body and breast Seem'd the weed of a damsel when bouned for her rest.
There were some dealt him wounds that were bloody and sore, But others respected his plight, and forbore.
"It is some oath of honour," they said, "and I trow, 'Twere unknightly to slay him achieving his vow." Then
the Prince, for his sake, bade the tournament cease He flung down his warder, the trumpets sung peace;
And the judges declare, and competitors yield, That the Knight of the Nightgear was first in the field.
The feast it was nigh, and the mass it was nigher, When before the fair Princess low looted a squire, And
deliver'd a garment unseemly to view, With swordcut and spearthrust, all hack'd and pierc'd through; All
rent and all tatter'd, all clotted with blood, With foam of the horses, with dust, and with mud; Not the point of
that lady's small finger, I ween, Could have rested on spot was unsullied and clean.
"This token my master, Sir Thomas a Kent, Restores to the Princess of fair Benevent; He that climbs the tall
tree has won right to the fruit, He that leaps the wide gulf should prevail in his suit; Through life's utmost
peril the prize I have won, And now must the faith of my mistress be shown: For she who prompts knights on
such danger to run Must avouch his true service in front of the sun.
"'I restore,' says my master, 'the garment I've worn, And I claim of the Princess to don it in turn; For its stains
and its rents she should prize it the more, Since by shame 'tis unsullied, though crimson'd with gore.'" Then
deep blush'd the Princessyet kiss'd she and press'd The bloodspotted robes to her lips and her breast. "Go
tell my true knight, church and chamber shall show If I value the blood on this garment or no."
And when it was time for the nobles to pass, In solemn procession to minster and mass, The first walk'd the
Princess in purple and pall, But the bloodbesmear'd nightrobe she wore over all; And eke, in the hall,
where they all sat at dine, When she knelt to her father and proffer'd the wine, Over all her rich robes and
state jewels she wore That wimple unseemly bedabbled with gore.
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Then lords whisper'd ladies, as well you may think, And ladies replied with nod, titter, and wink; And the
Prince, who in anger and shame had look'd down, Turn'd at length to his daughter, and spoke with a frown:
"Now since thou hast publish'd thy folly and guilt, E'en atone with thy hand for the blood thou hast spilt; Yet
sore for your boldness you both will repent, When you wander as exiles from fair Benevent'"
Then out spoke stout Thomas, in hall where he stood, Exhausted and feeble, but dauntless of mood: "The
blood that I lost for this daughter of thine, I pour'd forth as freely as flask gives its wine; And if for my sake
she brooks penance and blame, Do not doubt I will save her from suffering and shame; And light will she
reck of thy princedom and rent, When I hail her, in England, the Countess of Kent,"
A murmur of applause ran through the assembly, following the example of Richard himself, who loaded with
praises his favourite minstrel, and ended by presenting him with a ring of considerable value. The Queen
hastened to distinguish the favourite by a rich bracelet, and many of the nobles who were present followed
the royal example.
"Is our cousin Edith," said the King, "become insensible to the sound of the harp she once loved?"
"She thanks Blondel for his lay," replied Edith, "but doubly the kindness of the kinsman who suggested it."
"Thou art angry, cousin," said the King; "angry because thou hast heard of a woman more wayward than
thyself. But you escape me not. I will walk a space homeward with you towards the Queen's pavilion. We
must have conference together ere the night has waned into morning."
The Queen and her attendants were now on foot, and the other guests withdrew from the royal tent. A train
with blazing torches, and an escort of archers, awaited Berengaria without the pavilion, and she was soon on
her way homeward. Richard, as he had proposed, walked beside his kinswoman, and compelled her to accept
of his arm as her support, so that they could speak to each other without being overheard.
What answer, then, am I to return to the noble Soldan?" said Richard. "The kings and princes are falling from
me, Edith; this new quarrel hath alienated them once more. I would do something for the Holy Sepulchre by
composition, if not by victory; and the chance of my doing this depends, alas, on the caprice of a woman. I
would lay my single spear in the rest against ten of the best lances in Christendom, rather than argue with a
wilful wench who knows not what is for her own good. What answer, coz, am I to return to the Soldan? It
must be decisive."
"Tell him," said Edith, "that the poorest of the Plantagenets will rather wed with misery than with misbelief."
"Shall I say with slavery, Edith?" said the King. "Methinks that is nearer thy thoughts."
"There is no room," said Edith, "for the suspicion you so grossly insinuate. Slavery of the body might have
been pitied, but that of the soul is only to be despised. Shame to thee, King of merry England. Thou hast
enthralled both the limbs and the spirit of a knight, one scarce less famed than thyself."
"Should I not prevent my kinswoman from drinking poison, by sullying the vessel which contained it, if I saw
no other means of disgusting her with the fatal liquor?" replied the King.
"It is thyself," answered Edith, "that would press me to drink poison, because it is proffered in a golden
chalice."
"Edith," said Richard, "I cannot force thy resolution; but beware you shut not the door which Heaven opens.
The hermit of Engaddi he whom Popes and Councils have regarded as a prophethath read in the stars
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that thy marriage shall reconcile me with a powerful enemy, and that thy husband shall be Christian, leaving
thus the fairest ground to hope that the conversion of the Soldan, and the bringing in of the sons of Ishmael to
the pale of the church, will be the consequence of thy wedding with Saladin. Come, thou must make some
sacrifice rather than mar such happy prospects."
"Men may sacrifice rams and goats," said Edith, "but not honour and conscience. I have heard that it was the
dishonour of a Christian maiden which brought the Saracens into Spain; the shame of another is no likely
mode of expelling them from Palestine."
"Dost thou call it shame to become an empress?" said the King.
"I call it shame and dishonour to profane a Christian sacrament by entering into it with an infidel whom it
cannot bind; and I call it foul dishonour that I, the descendant of a Christian princess, should become of free
will the head of a haram of heathen concubines."
"Well, kinswoman," said the King, after a pause, "I must not quarrel with thee, though I think thy dependent
condition might have dictated more compliance."
"My liege," replied Edith, "your Grace hath worthily succeeded to all the wealth, dignity, and dominion of
the House of Plantagenetdo not, therefore, begrudge your poor kinswoman some small share of their
pride."
"By my faith, wench," said the King, "thou hast unhorsed me with that very word, so we will kiss and be
friends. I will presently dispatch thy answer to Saladin. But after all, coz, were it not better to suspend your
answer till you have seen him? Men say he is preeminently handsome."
"There is no chance of our meeting, my lord," said Edith.
"By Saint George, but there is next to a certainty of it," said the King; "for Saladin will doubtless afford us a
free field for the doing of this new battle of the Standard, and will witness it himself. Berengaria is wild to
behold it also; and I dare be sworn not a feather of you, her companions and attendants, will remain
behindleast of all thou thyself, fair coz. But come, we have reached the pavilion, and must part; not in
unkindness thou, ohnay, thou must seal it with thy lip as well as thy hand, sweet Edithit is my right as a
sovereign to kiss my pretty vassals."
He embraced her respectfully and affectionately, and returned through the moonlit camp, humming to himself
such snatches of Blondel's lay as he could recollect.
On his arrival he lost no time in making up his dispatches for Saladin, and delivered them to the Nubian, with
a charge to set out by peep of day on his return to the Soldan.
CHAPTER XXVII.
We heard the Tecbirso these Arabs call
Their shout of onset, when, with loud acclaim,
They challenge Heaven to give them victory. SIEGE OF DAMASCUS.
On the subsequent morning Richard was invited to a conference by Philip of France, in which the latter, with
many expressions of his high esteem for his brother of England, communicated to him in terms extremely
courteous, but too explicit to be misunderstood, his positive intention to return to Europe, and to the cares of
his kingdom, as entirely despairing of future success in their undertaking, with their diminished forces and
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civil discords. Richard remonstrated, but in vain; and when the conference ended he received without surprise
a manifesto from the Duke of Austria, and several other princes, announcing a resolution similar to that of
Philip, and in no modified terms, assigning, for their defection from the cause of the Cross, the inordinate
ambition and arbitrary domination of Richard of England. All hopes of continuing the war with any prospect
of ultimate success were now abandoned; and Richard, while he shed bitter tears over his disappointed hopes
of glory, was little consoled by the recollection that the failure was in some degree to be imputed to the
advantages which he had given his enemies by his own hasty and imprudent temper.
"They had not dared to have deserted my father thus," he said to De Vaux, in the bitterness of his resentment.
"No slanders they could have uttered against so wise a king would have been believed in Christendom;
whereasfool that I am!I have not only afforded them a pretext for deserting me, but even a colour for
casting all the blame of the rupture upon my unhappy foibles."
These thoughts were so deeply galling to the King, that De Vaux was rejoiced when the arrival of an
ambassador from Saladin turned his reflections into a different channel.
This new envoy was an Emir much respected by the Soldan, whose name was Abdallah el Hadgi. He derived
his descent from the family of the Prophet, and the race or tribe of Hashem, in witness of which genealogy he
wore a green turban of large dimensions. He had also three times performed the journey to Mecca, from
which he derived his epithet of El Hadgi, or the Pilgrim. Notwithstanding these various pretensions to
sanctity, Abdallah was (for an Arab) a boon companion, who enjoyed a merry tale, and laid aside his gravity
so far as to quaff a blithe flagon when secrecy ensured him against scandal. He was likewise a statesman,
whose abilities had been used by Saladin in various negotiations with the Christian princes, and particularly
with Richard, to whom El Hadgi was personally known and acceptable. Animated by the cheerful
acquiescence with which the envoy of Saladin afforded a fair field for the combat, a safe conduct for all who
might choose to witness it, and offered his own person as a guarantee of his fidelity, Richard soon forgot his
disappointed hopes, and the approaching dissolution of the Christian league, in the interesting discussions
preceding a combat in the lists.
The station called the Diamond of the Desert was assigned for the place of conflict, as being nearly at an
equal distance betwixt the Christian and Saracen camps. It was agreed that Conrade of Montserrat, the
defendant, with his godfathers, the Archduke of Austria and the Grand Master of the Templars, should appear
there on the day fixed for the combat, with a hundred armed followers, and no more; that Richard of England
and his brother Salisbury, who supported the accusation, should attend with the same number, to protect his
champion; and that the Soldan should bring with him a guard of five hundred chosen followers, a band
considered as not more than equal to the two hundred Christian lances. Such persons of consideration as
either party chose to invite to witness the contest were to wear no other weapons than their swords, and to
come without defensive armour. The Soldan undertook the preparation of the lists, and to provide
accommodations and refreshments of every kind for all who were to assist at the solemnity; and his letters
expressed with much courtesy the pleasure which he anticipated in the prospect of a personal and peaceful
meeting with the Melech Ric, and his anxious desire to render his reception as agreeable as possible.
All preliminaries being arranged and communicated to the defendant and his godfathers, Abdullah the Hadgi
was admitted to a more private interview, where he heard with delight the strains of Blondel. Having first
carefully put his green turban out of sight, and assumed a Greek cap in its stead, he requited the Norman
minstrel's music with a drinking song from the Persian, and quaffed a hearty flagon of Cyprus wine, to show
that his practice matched his principles. On the next day, grave and sober as the waterdrinker Mirglip, he
bent his brow to the ground before Saladin's footstool, and rendered to the Soldan an account of his embassy.
On the day before that appointed for the combat Conrade and his friends set off by daybreak to repair to the
place assigned, and Richard left the camp at the same hour and for the same purpose; but, as had been agreed
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upon, he took his journey by a different routea precaution which had been judged necessary, to prevent the
possibility of a quarrel betwixt their armed attendants.
The good King himself was in no humour for quarrelling with any one. Nothing could have added to his
pleasurable anticipations of a desperate and bloody combat in the lists, except his being in his own royal
person one of the combatants; and he was half in charity again even with Conrade of Montserrat. Lightly
armed, richly dressed, and gay as a bridegroom on the eve of his nuptials, Richard caracoled along by the side
of Queen Berengaria's litter, Pointing out to her the various scenes through which they passed, and cheering
with tale and song the bosom of the inhospitable wilderness. The former route of the Queen's pilgrimage to
Engaddi had been on the other side of the chain of mountains, so that the ladies were strangers to the scenery
of the desert; and though Berengaria knew her husband's disposition too well not to endeavour to seem
interested in what he was pleased either to say or to sing, she could not help indulging some female fears
when she found herself in the howling wilderness with so small an escort, which seemed almost like a
moving speck on the bosom of the plain, and knew at the same time they were not so distant from the camp
of Saladin, but what they might be in a moment surprised and swept off by an overpowering host of his
fieryfooted cavalry, should the pagan be faithless enough to embrace an opportunity thus tempting. But
when she hinted these suspicions to Richard he repelled them with displeasure and disdain. "It were worse
than ingratitude," he said, "to doubt the good faith of the generous Soldan."
Yet the same doubts and fears recurred more than once, not to the timid mind of the Queen alone, but to the
firmer and more candid soul of Edith Plantagenet, who had no such confidence in the faith of the Moslem as
to render her perfectly at ease when so much in their power; and her surprise had been far less than her terror,
if the desert around had suddenly resounded with the shout of ALLAH HU! and a band of Arab cavalry had
pounced on them like vultures on their prey. Nor were these suspicions lessened when, as evening
approached, they were aware of a single Arab horseman, distinguished by his turban and long lance, hovering
on the edge of a small eminence like a hawk poised in the air, and who instantly, on the appearance of the
royal retinue, darted off with the speed of the same bird when it shoots down the wind and disappears from
the horizon.
"We must be near the station," said King Richard; "and yonder cavalier is one of Saladin's
outpostsmethinks I hear the noise of the Moorish horns and cymbals. Get you into order, my hearts, and
form yourselves around the ladies soldierlike and firmly."
As he spoke, each knight, squire, and archer hastily closed in upon his appointed ground, and they proceeded
in the most compact order, which made their numbers appear still smaller. And to say the truth, though there
might be no fear, there was anxiety as well as curiosity in the attention with which they listened to the wild
bursts of Moorish music, which came ever and anon more distinctly from the quarter in which the Arab
horseman had been seen to disappear.
De Vaux spoke in a whisper to the King. "Were it not well, my liege, to send a page to the top of that
sandbank? Or would it stand with your pleasure that I prick forward? Methinks, by all yonder clash and
clang, if there be no more than five hundred men beyond the sandhills, half of the Soldan's retinue must be
drummers and cymbaltossers. Shall I spur on?"
The baron had checked his horse with the bit, and was just about to strike him with the spurs when the King
exclaimed, "Not for the world. Such a caution would express suspicion, and could do little to prevent
surprise, which, however, I apprehend not."
They advanced accordingly in close and firm order till they surmounted the line of low sandhills, and came
in sight of the appointed station, when a splendid, but at the same time a startling, spectacle awaited them.
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The Diamond of the Desert, so lately a solitary fountain, distinguished only amid the waste by solitary groups
of palm trees, was now the centre of an encampment, the embroidered flags and gilded ornaments of which
glittered far and wide, and reflected a thousand rich tints against the setting sun. The coverings of the large
pavilions were of the gayest colours scarlet, bright yellow, pale blue, and other gaudy and gleaming
huesand the tops of their pillars, or tentpoles, were decorated with golden pomegranates and small silken
flags. But besides these distinguished pavilions, there were what Thomas de Vaux considered as a portentous
number of the ordinary black tents of the Arabs, being sufficient, as he conceived, to accommodate,
according to the Eastern fashion, a host of five thousand men. A number of Arabs and Kurds, fully
corresponding to the extent of the encampment, were hastily assembling, each leading his horse in his hand,
and their muster was accompanied by an astonishing clamour of their noisy instruments of martial music, by
which, in all ages, the warfare of the Arabs has been animated.
They soon formed a deep and confused mass of dismounted cavalry in front of their encampment, when, at
the signal of a shrill cry, which arose high over the clangour of the music, each cavalier sprung to his saddle.
A cloud of dust arising at the moment of this manoeuvre hid from Richard and his attendants the camp, the
palmtrees, and the distant ridge of mountains, as well as the troops whose sudden movement had raised the
cloud, and, ascending high over their heads, formed itself into the fantastic forms of writhed pillars, domes,
and minarets. Another shrill yell was heard from the bosom of this cloudy tabernacle. It was the signal for the
cavalry to advance, which they did at full gallop, disposing themselves as they came forward so as to come in
at once on the front, flanks, and rear of Richard's little bodyguard, who were thus surrounded, and almost
choked by the dense clouds of dust enveloping them on each side, through which were seen alternately, and
lost, the grim forms and wild faces of the Saracens, brandishing and tossing their lances in every possible
direction with the wildest cries and halloos, and frequently only reining up their horses when within a spear's
length of the Christians, while those in the rear discharged over the heads of both parties thick volleys of
arrows. One of these struck the litter in which the Queen was seated, who loudly screamed, and the red spot
was on Richard's brow in an instant.
"Ha! Saint George," he exclaimed, "we must take some order with this infidel scum!"
But Edith, whose litter was near, thrust her head out, and with her hand holding one of the shafts, exclaimed,
"Royal Richard, beware what you do! see, these arrows are headless!"
"Noble, sensible wench!" exclaimed Richard; "by Heaven, thou shamest us all by thy readiness of thought
and eye.Be not moved, my English hearts," he exclaimed to his followers; "their arrows have no
headsand their spears, too, lack the steel points. It is but a wild welcome, after their savage fashion, though
doubtless they would rejoice to see us daunted or disturbed. Move onward, slow and steady."
The little phalanx moved forward accordingly, accompanied on all sides by the Arabs, with the shrillest and
most piercing cries, the bowmen, meanwhile, displaying their agility by shooting as near the crests of the
Christians as was possible, without actually hitting them, while the lancers charged each other with such rude
blows of their blunt weapons that more than one of them lost his saddle, and wellnigh his life, in this rough
sport. All this, though designed to express welcome, had rather a doubtful appearance in the eyes of the
Europeans.
As they had advanced nearly half way towards the camp, King Richard and his suite forming, as it were, the
nucleus round which this tumultuary body of horsemen howled, whooped, skirmished, and galloped, creating
a scene of indescribable confusion, another shrill cry was heard, on which all these irregulars, who were on
the front and upon the flanks of the little body of Europeans, wheeled off; and forming themselves into a long
and deep column, followed with comparative order and silence in the rear of Richard's troops. The dust began
now to dissipate in their front, when there advanced to meet them through that cloudy veil a body of cavalry
of a different and more regular description, completely armed with offensive and defensive weapons, and
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who might well have served as a bodyguard to the proudest of Eastern monarchs. This splendid troop
consisted of five hundred men and each horse which it contained was worth an earl's ransom. The riders were
Georgian and Circassian slaves in the very prime of life. Their helmets and hauberks were formed of steel
rings, so bright that they shone like silver; their vestures were of the gayest colours, and some of cloth of gold
or silver; the sashes were twisted with silk and gold, their rich turbans were plumed and jewelled, and their
sabres and poniards, of Damascene steel, were adorned with gold and gems on hilt and scabbard.
This splendid array advanced to the sound of military music, and when they met the Christian body they
opened their files to the right and left, and let them enter between their ranks. Richard now assumed the
foremost place in his troop, aware that Saladin himself was approaching. Nor was it long when, in the centre
of his bodyguard, surrounded by his domestic officers and those hideous negroes who guard the Eastern
haram, and whose misshapen forms were rendered yet more frightful by the richness of their attire, came the
Soldan, with the look and manners of one on whose brow Nature had written, This is a King! In his
snowwhite turban, vest, and wide Eastern trousers, wearing a sash of scarlet silk, without any other
ornament, Saladin might have seemed the plainestdressed man in his own guard. But closer inspection
discerned in his turban that inestimable gem which was called by the poets the Sea of Light; the diamond on
which his signet was engraved, and which he wore in a ring, was probably worth all the jewels of the English
crown; and a sapphire which terminated the hilt of his cangiar was not of much inferior value. It should be
added that, to Protect himself from the dust, which in the vicinity of the Dead Sea resembles the finest ashes,
or, perhaps, out of Oriental pride, the Soldan wore a sort of veil attached to his turban, which partly obscured
the view of his noble features. He rode a milkwhite Arabian, which bore him as if conscious and proud of
his noble burden.
There was no need of further introduction. The two heroic monarchsfor such they both werethrew them
selves at once from horseback, and the troops halting and the music suddenly ceasing, they advanced to meet
each other in profound silence, and after a courteous inclination on either side they embraced as brethren and
equals. The pomp and display upon both sides attracted no further noticeno one saw aught save Richard
and Saladin, and they too beheld nothing but each other. The looks with which Richard surveyed Saladin
were, however, more intently curious than those which the Soldan fixed upon him; and the Soldan also was
the first to break silence.
"The Melech Ric is welcome to Saladin as water to this desert. I trust he hath no distrust of this numerous
array. Excepting the armed slaves of my household, those who surround you with eyes of wonder and of
welcome areeven the humblest of themthe privileged nobles of my thousand tribes; for who that could
claim a title to be present would remain at home when such a Prince was to be seen as Richard, with the
terrors of whose name, even on the sands of Yemen, the nurse stills her child, and the free Arab subdues his
restive steed!"
"And these are all nobles of Araby?" said Richard, looking around on wild forms with their persons covered
with haiks, their countenance swart with the sunbeams, their teeth as white as ivory, their black eyes glancing
with fierce and preternatural lustre from under the shade of their turbans, and their dress being in general
simple even to meanness.
"They claim such rank," said Saladin; "but though numerous, they are within the conditions of the treaty, and
bear no arms but the sabreeven the iron of their lances is left behind."
"I fear," muttered De Vaux in English, "they have left them where they can be soon found a most flourishing
House of Peers, I confess, and would find Westminster Hall something too narrow for them."
"Hush, De Vaux," said Richard, "I command thee.Noble Saladin," he said, "suspicion and thou cannot
exist on the same ground. Seest thou," pointing to the litters, "I too have brought some champions with me,
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though armed, perhaps, in breach of agreement; for bright eyes and fair features are weapons which cannot be
left behind."
The Soldan, turning to the litters, made an obeisance as lowly as if looking towards Mecca, and kissed the
sand in token of respect.
"Nay," said Richard, "they will not fear a closer encounter, brother; wilt thou not ride towards their litters,
and the curtains will be presently withdrawn?" "That may Allah prohibit!" said Saladin, "since not an Arab
looks on who would not think it shame to the noble ladies to be seen with their faces uncovered."
"Thou shalt see them, then, in private, brother," answered Richard.
"To what purpose?" answered Saladin mournfully. "Thy last letter was, to the hopes which I had entertained,
like water to fire; and wherefore should I again light a flame which may indeed consume, but cannot cheer
me? But will not my brother pass to the tent which his servant hath prepared for him? My principal black
slave hath taken order for the reception of the Princesses, the officers of my household will attend your
followers, and ourself will be the chamberlain of the royal Richard."
He led the way accordingly to a splendid pavilion, where was everything that royal luxury could devise. De
Vaux, who was in attendance, then removed the chappe (CAPA), or long ridingcloak, which Richard wore,
and he stood before Saladin in the close dress which showed to advantage the strength and symmetry of his
person, while it bore a strong contrast to the flowing robes which disguised the thin frame. of the Eastern
monarch. It was Richard's twohanded sword that chiefly attracted the attention of the Saracena broad,
straight blade, the seemingly unwieldy length of which extended wellnigh from the shoulder to the heel of
the wearer.
"Had I not," said Saladin, "seen this brand flaming in the front of battle, like that of Azrael, I had scarce
believed that human arm could wield it. Might I request to see the Melech Ric strike one blow with it in
peace, and in pure trial of strength?"
"Willingly, noble Saladin," answered Richard; and looking around for something whereon to exercise his
strength, he saw a steel mace held by one of the attendants, the handle being of the same metal, and about an
inch and a half in diameter. This he placed on a block of wood.
The anxiety of De Vaux for his master's honour led him to whisper in English, "For the blessed Virgin's sake,
beware what you attempt, my liege! Your full strength is not as yet returned give no triumph to the
infidel."
"Peace, fool!" said Richard, standing firm on his ground, and casting a fierce glance around; "thinkest thou
that I can fail in HIS presence?"
The glittering broadsword, wielded by both his hands, rose aloft to the King's left shoulder, circled round his
head, descended with the sway of some terrific engine, and the bar of iron rolled on the ground in two pieces,
as a woodsman would sever a sapling with a hedgingbill.
"By the head of the Prophet, a most wonderful blow!" said the Soldan, critically and accurately examining the
iron bar which had been cut asunder; and the blade of the sword was so well tempered as to exhibit not the
least token of having suffered by the feat it had performed. He then took the King's hand, and looking on the
size and muscular strength which it exhibited, laughed as he placed it beside his own, so lank and thin, so
inferior in brawn and sinew.
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"Ay, look well," said De Vaux in English, "it will be long ere your long jackanape's fingers do such a feat
with your fine gilded reapinghook there."
"Silence, De Vaux," said Richard;"by Our Lady, he understands or guesses thy meaningbe not so broad, I
pray thee."
The Soldan, indeed, presently said, "Something I would fain attemptthough wherefore should the weak
show their inferiority in presence of the strong? Yet each land hath its own exercises, and this may be new to
the Melech Ric." So saying, he took from the floor a cushion of silk and down, and placed it upright on one
end. "Can thy weapon, my brother, sever that cushion?" he said to King Richard.
"No, surely," replied the King; "no sword on earth, were it the Excalibur of King Arthur, can cut that which
opposes no steady resistance to the blow."
"Mark, then," said Saladin; and tucking up the sleeve of his gown, showed his arm, thin indeed and spare, but
which constant exercise had hardened into a mass consisting of nought but bone, brawn, and sinew. He
unsheathed his scimitar, a curved and narrow blade, which glittered not like the swords of the Franks, but
was, on the contrary, of a dull blue colour, marked with ten millions of meandering lines, which showed how
anxiously the metal had been welded by the armourer. Wielding this weapon, apparently so inefficient when
compared to that of Richard, the Soldan stood resting his weight upon his left foot, which was slightly
advanced; he balanced himself a little, as if to steady his aim; then stepping at once forward, drew the
scimitar across the cushion, applying the edge so dexterously, and with so little apparent effort, that the
cushion seemed rather to fall asunder than to be divided by violence.
"It is a juggler's trick," said De Vaux, darting forward and snatching up the portion of the cushion which had
been cut off, as if to assure himself of the reality of the feat; "there is gramarye in this."
The Soldan seemed to comprehend him, for he undid the sort of veil which he had hitherto morn, laid it
double along the edge of his sabre, extended the weapon edgeways in the air, and drawing it suddenly
through the veil, although it hung on the blade entirely loose, severed that also into two parts, which floated
to different sides of the tent, equally displaying the extreme temper and sharpness of the weapon, and the
exquisite dexterity of him who used it.
"Now, in good faith, my brother," said Richard, "thou art even matchless at the trick of the sword, and right
perilous were it to meet thee! Still, however, I put some faith in a downright English blow, and what we
cannot do by sleight we eke out by strength. Nevertheless, in truth thou art as expert in inflicting wounds as
my sage Hakim in curing them. I trust I shall see the learned leech. I have much to thank; him for, and had
brought some small present."
As he spoke, Saladin exchanged his turban for a Tartar cap. He had no sooner done so, than De Vaux opened
at once his extended mouth and his large, round eyes, and Richard gazed with scarce less astonishment, while
the Soldan spoke in a grave and altered voice: "The sick man, saith the poet, while he is yet infirm, knoweth
the physician by his step; but when he is recovered, he knoweth not even his face when he looks upon him."
"A miracle!a miracle!" exclaimed Richard.
"Of Mahound's working, doubtless," said Thomas de Vaux.
"That I should lose my learned Hakim," said Richard, "merely by absence of his cap and robe, and that I
should find him again in my royal brother Saladin!"
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"Such is oft the fashion of the world," answered the Soldan; "the tattered robe makes not always the dervise."
"And it was through thy intercession," said Richard, "that yonder Knight of the Leopard was saved from
death, and by thy artifice that he revisited my camp in disguise?"
"Even so," replied Saladin. "I was physician enough to know that, unless the wounds of his bleeding honour
were stanched, the days of his life must be few. His disguise was more easily penetrated than I had expected
from the success of my own."
"An accident," said King Richard (probably alluding to the circumstance of his applying his lips to the wound
of the supposed Nubian), "let me first know that his skin was artificially discoloured; and that hint once
taken, detection became easy, for his form and person are not to be forgotten. I confidently expect that he will
do battle on the morrow."
"He is full in preparation, and high in hope," said the Soldan. "I have furnished him with weapons and horse,
thinking nobly of him from what I have seen under various disguises."
"Knows he now," said Richard, "to whom he lies under obligation?"
"He doth," replied the Saracen. "I was obliged to confess my person when I unfolded my purpose."
"And confessed he aught to you?" said the King of England.
"Nothing explicit," replied the Soldan; "but from much that passed between us, I conceive his love is too
highly placed to be happy in its issue."
"And thou knowest that his daring and insolent passion crossed thine own wishes?" said Richard.
"I might guess so much," said Saladin; "but his passion had existed ere my wishes had been formedand, I
must now add, is likely to survive them. I cannot, in honour, revenge me for my disappointment on him who
had no hand in it. Or, if this high born dame loved him better than myself, who can say that she did not
justice to a knight of her own religion, who is full of nobleness?"
"Yet of too mean lineage to mix with the blood of Plantagenet," said Richard haughtily.
"Such may be your maxims in Frangistan," replied the Soldan. "Our poets of the Eastern countries say that a
valiant camel driver is worthy to kiss the lip of a fair Queen, when a cowardly prince is not worthy to salute
the hem of her garment. But with your permission, noble brother, I must take leave of thee for the present, to
receive the Duke of Austria and yonder Nazarene knight, much less worthy of hospitality, but who must yet
be suitably entreated, not for their sakes, but for mine own honour for what saith the sage Lokman? 'Say
not that the food is lost unto thee which is given to the stranger; for if his body be strengthened and fattened
therewithal, not less is thine own worship and good name cherished and augmented.'"
The Saracen Monarch departed from King Richard's tent, and having indicated to him, rather with signs than
with speech, where the pavilion of the Queen and her attendants was pitched, he went to receive the Marquis
of Montserrat and his attendants, for whom, with less goodwill, but with equal splendour, the magnificent
Soldan had provided accommodations. The most ample refreshments, both in the Oriental and after the
European fashion, were spread before the royal and princely guests of Saladin, each in their own separate
pavilion; and so attentive was the Soldan to the habits and taste of his visitors, that Grecian slaves were
stationed to present them with the goblet, which is the abomination of the sect of Mohammed. Ere Richard
had finished his meal, the ancient Omrah, who had brought the Soldan's letter to the Christian camp, entered
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with a plan of the ceremonial to be observed on the succeeding day of combat. Richard, who knew the taste
of his old acquaintance, invited him to pledge him in a flagon of wine of Shiraz; but Abdallah gave him to
understand, with a rueful aspect, that selfdenial in the present circumstances was a matter in which his life
was concerned, for that Saladin, tolerant in many respects, both observed and enforced by high penalties the
laws of the Prophet.
"Nay, then," said Richard, "if he loves not wine, that lightener of the human heart, his conversion is not to be
hoped for, and the prediction of the mad priest of Engaddi goes like chaff down the wind."
The King then addressed himself to settle the articles of combat, which cost a considerable time, as it was
necessary on some points to consult with the opposite parties, as well as with the Soldan.
They were at length finally agreed upon, and adjusted by a protocol in French and in Arabian, which was
subscribed by Saladin as umpire of the field, and by Richard and Leopold as guarantees for the two
combatants. As the Omrah took his final leave of King Richard for the evening, De Vaux entered.
"The good knight," he said, "who is to do battle tomorrow requests to know whether he may not tonight pay
duty to his royal godfather!"
"Hast thou seen him, De Vaux?" said the King, smiling; "and didst thou know an ancient acquaintance?"
"By our Lady of Lanercost," answered De Vaux, "there are so many surprises and changes in this land that
my poor brain turns. I scarce knew Sir Kenneth of Scotland, till his good hound, that had been for a short
while under my care, came and fawned on me; and even then I only knew the tyke by the depth of his chest,
the roundness of his foot, and his manner of baying, for the poor gazehound was painted like any Venetian
courtesan."
"Thou art better skilled in brutes than men, De Vaux," said the King.
"I will not deny," said De Vaux, "I have found them ofttimes the honester animals. Also, your Grace is
pleased to term me sometimes a brute myself; besides that, I serve the Lion, whom all men acknowledge the
king of brutes."
"By Saint George, there thou brokest thy lance fairly on my brow," said the King. "I have ever said thou hast
a sort of wit, De Vaux; marry, one must strike thee with a sledgehammer ere it can be made to sparkle. But
to the present gearis the good knight well armed and equipped?"
"Fully, my liege, and nobly," answered De Vaux. "I know the armour well; it is that which the Venetian
commissary offered your highness, just ere you became ill, for five hundred byzants."
"And he hath sold it to the infidel Soldan, I warrant me, for a few ducats more, and present payment. These
Venetians would sell the Sepulchre itself!"
"The armour will never be borne in a nobler cause," said De Vaux.
"Thanks to the nobleness of the Saracen," said the King, "not to the avarice of the Venetians."
"I would to God your Grace would be more cautious," said the anxious De Vaux. "Here are we deserted by
all our allies, for points of offence given to one or another; we cannot hope to prosper upon the land; and we
have only to quarrel with the amphibious republic, to lose the means of retreat by sea!"
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"I will take care," said Richard impatiently; "but school me no more. Tell me rather, for it is of interest, hath
the knight a confessor?"
"He hath," answered De Vaux; "the hermit of Engaddi. who erst did him that office when preparing for death,
attends him on the present occasion, the fame of the duel having brought him hither."
"'Tis well," said Richard; "and now for the knight's request. Say to him, Richard will receive him when the
discharge of his devoir beside the Diamond of the Desert shall have atoned for his fault beside the Mount of
Saint George; and as thou passest through the camp, let the Queen know I will visit her pavilion and tell
Blondel to meet me there."
De Vaux departed, and in about an hour afterwards, Richard, wrapping his mantle around him, and taking his
ghittern in his hand, walked in the direction of the Queen's pavilion. Several Arabs passed him, but always
with averted heads and looks fixed upon the earth, though he could observe that all gazed earnestly after him
when he was past. This led him justly to conjecture that his person was known to them; but that either the
Soldan's commands, or their own Oriental politeness, forbade them to seem to notice a sovereign who desired
to remain incognito.
When the King reached the pavilion of his Queen he found it guarded by those unhappy officials whom
Eastern jealousy places around the zenana. Blondel was walking before the door, and touched his rote from
time to time in a manner which made the Africans show their ivory teeth, and bear burden with their strange
gestures and shrill, unnatural voices.
"What art thou after with this herd of black cattle, Blondel?" said the King; "wherefore goest thou not into the
tent?"
"Because my trade can neither spare the head nor the fingers," said Blondel, "and these honest blackamoors
threatened to cut me joint from joint if I pressed forward."
"Well, enter with me," said the King, "and I will be thy safeguard."
The blacks accordingly lowered pikes and swords to King Richard, and bent their eyes on the ground, as if
unworthy to look upon him. In the interior of the pavilion they found Thomas de Vaux in attendance on the
Queen. While Berengaria welcomed Blondel, King Richard spoke for some time secretly and apart with his
fair kinswoman.
At length, "Are we still foes, my fair Edith?" he said, in a whisper.
"No, my liege," said Edith, in a voice just so low as not to interrupt the music; "none can bear enmity against
King Richard when he deigns to show himself, as he really is, generous and noble, as well as valiant and
honourable."
So saying, she extended her hand to him. The King kissed it in token of reconciliation, and then proceeded.
"You think, my sweet cousin, that my anger in this matter was feigned; but you are deceived. The punishment
I inflicted upon this knight was just; for he had betrayedno matter for how tempting a bribe, fair
cousinthe trust committed to him. But I rejoice, perchance as much as you, that tomorrow gives him a
chance to win the field, and throw back the stain which for a time clung to him upon the actual thief and
traitor. No!future times may blame Richard for impetuous folly, but they shall say that in rendering
judgment he was just when he should and merciful when he could."
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"Laud not thyself, cousin King," said Edith. "They may call thy justice cruelty, thy mercy caprice."
"And do not thou pride thyself," said the King, "as if thy knight, who hath not yet buckled on his armour,
were unbelting it in triumphConrade of Montserrat is held a good lance. What if the Scot should lose the
day?"
"It is impossible!" said Edith firmly. "My own eyes saw yonder Conrade tremble and change colour like a
base thief; he is guilty, and the trial by combat is an appeal to the justice of God. I myself, in such a cause,
would encounter him without fear."
"By the mass, I think thou wouldst, wench," said the King, "and beat him to boot, for there never breathed a
truer Plantagenet than thou."
He paused, and added in a very serious tone, "See that thou continue to remember what is due to thy birth."
"What means that advice, so seriously given at this moment?" said Edith. "Am I of such light nature as to
forget my namemy condition?"
"I will speak plainly, Edith," answered the King, "and as to a friend. What will this knight be to you, should
he come off victor from yonder lists?"
"To me?" said Edith, blushing deep with shame and displeasure. "What can he be to me more than an
honoured knight, worthy of such grace as Queen Berengaria might confer on him, had he selected her for his
lady, instead of a more unworthy choice? The meanest knight may devote himself to the service of an
empress, but the glory of his choice," she said proudly, "must be his reward."
"Yet he hath served and suffered much for you," said the King.
"I have paid his services with honour and applause, and his sufferings with tears," answered Edith. "Had he
desired other reward, he would have done wisely to have bestowed his affections within his own degree."
"You would not, then, wear the bloody nightgear for his sake?" said King Richard.
"No more," answered Edith, "than I would have required him to expose his life by an action in which there
was more madness than honour."
"Maidens talk ever thus," said the King; "but when the favoured lover presses his suit, she says, with a sigh,
her stars had decreed otherwise."
"Your Grace has now, for the second time, threatened me with the influence of my horoscope," Edith replied,
with dignity. "Trust me, my liege, whatever be the power of the stars, your poor kinswoman will never wed
either infidel or obscure adventurer, Permit me that I listen to the music of Blondel, for the tone of your royal
admonitions is scarce so grateful to the ear."
The conclusion of the evening offered nothing worthy of notice.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
Heard ye the din of battle bray,
Lance to lance, and horse to horse? GRAY.
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It had been agreed, on account of the heat of the climate, that the judicial combat which was the cause of the
present assemblage of various nations at the Diamond of the Desert should take place at one hour after
sunrise. The wide lists, which had been constructed under the inspection of the Knight of the Leopard,
enclosed a space of hard sand, which was one hundred and twenty yards long by forty in width. They
extended in length from north to south, so as to give both parties the equal advantage of the rising sun.
Saladin's royal seat was erected on the western side of the enclosure, just in the centre, where the combatants
were expected to meet in mid encounter. Opposed to this was a gallery with closed casements, so contrived
that the ladies, for whose accommodation it was erected, might see the fight without being themselves
exposed to view. At either extremity of the lists was a barrier, which could be opened or shut at pleasure.
Thrones had been also erected, but the Archduke, perceiving that his was lower than King Richard's, refused
to occupy it; and Coeur de Lion, who would have submitted to much ere any formality should have interfered
with the combat, readily agreed that the sponsors, as they were called, should remain on horseback during the
fight. At one extremity of the lists were placed the followers of Richard, and opposed to them were those who
accompanied the defender Conrade. Around the throne destined for the Soldan were ranged his splendid
Georgian Guards, and the rest of the enclosure was occupied by Christian and Mohammedan spectators.
Long before daybreak the lists were surrounded by even a larger number of Saracens than Richard had seen
on the preceding evening. When the first ray of the sun's glorious orb arose above the desert, the sonorous
call, "To prayerto prayer!" was poured forth by the Soldan himself, and answered by others, whose rank
and zeal entitled them to act as muezzins. It was a striking spectacle to see them all sink to earth, for the
purpose of repeating their devotions, with their faces turned to Mecca. But when they arose from the ground,
the sun's rays, now strengthening fast, seemed to confirm the Lord of Gilsland's conjecture of the night
before. They were flashed back from many a spearhead, for the pointless lances of the preceding day were
certainly no longer such. De Vaux pointed it out to his master, who answered with impatience that he had
perfect confidence in the good faith of the Soldan; but if De Vaux was afraid of his bulky body, he might
retire.
Soon after this the noise of timbrels was heard, at the sound of which the whole Saracen cavaliers threw
themselves from their horses, and prostrated themselves, as if for a second morning prayer. This was to give
an opportunity to the Queen, with Edith and her attendants, to pass from the pavilion to the gallery intended
for them. Fifty guards of Saladin's seraglio escorted them with naked sabres, whose orders were to cut to
pieces whomsoever, were he prince or peasant, should venture to gaze on the ladies as they passed, or even
presume to raise his head until the cessation of the music should make all men aware that they were lodged in
their gallery, not to be gazed on by the curious eye.
This superstitious observance of Oriental reverence to the fair sex called forth from Queen Berengaria some
criticisms very unfavourable to Saladin and his country. But their den, as the royal fair called it, being
securely closed and guarded by their sable attendants, she was under the necessity of contenting herself with
seeing, and laying aside for the present the still more exquisite pleasure of being seen.
Meantime the sponsors of both champions went, as was their duty, to see that they were duly armed and
prepared for combat. The Archduke of Austria was in no hurry to perform this part of the ceremony, having
had rather an unusually severe debauch upon wine of Shiraz the preceding evening. But the Grand Master of
the Temple, more deeply concerned in the event of the combat, was early before the tent of Conrade of
Montserrat. To his great surprise, the attendants refused him admittance.
"Do you not know me, ye knaves?" said the Grand Master, in great anger.
"We do, most valiant and reverend," answered Conrade's squire; "but even you may not at present enterthe
Marquis is about to confess himself."
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"Confess himself!" exclaimed the Templar, in a tone where alarm mingled with surprise and scorn"and to
whom, I pray thee?"
"My master bid me be secret," said the squire; on which the Grand Master pushed past him, and entered the
tent almost by force.
The Marquis of Montserrat was kneeling at the feet of the hermit of Engaddi, and in the act of beginning his
confession.
"What means this, Marquis?" said the Grand Master; "up, for shameor, if you must needs confess, am not I
here?"
"I have confessed to you too often already," replied Conrade, with a pale cheek and a faltering voice. "For
God's sake, Grand Master, begone, and let me unfold my conscience to this holy man."
"In what is he holier than I am?" said the Grand Master. "Hermit, prophet, madmansay, if thou darest, in
what thou excellest me?"
"Bold and bad man," replied the hermit, "know that I am like the latticed window, and the divine light passes
through to avail others, though, alas! it helpeth not me. Thou art like the iron stanchions, which neither
receive light themselves, nor communicate it to any one."
"Prate not to me, but depart from this tent," said the Grand Master; "the Marquis shall not confess this
morning, unless it be to me, for I part not from his side."
"Is this YOUR pleasure?" said the hermit to Conrade; "for think not I will obey that proud man, if you
continue to desire my assistance."
"Alas," said Conrade irresolutely, "what would you have me say? Farewell for a whilewe will speak
anon."
"O procrastination!" exclaimed the hermit, "thou art a soul murderer!Unhappy man, farewellnot for a
while, but until we shall both meet no matter where. And for thee," he added, turning to the Grand Master,
"TREMBLE!"
"Tremble!" replied the Templar contemptuously, "I cannot if I would."
The hermit heard not his answer, having left the tent.
"Come! to this gear hastily," said the Grand Master, "since thou wilt needs go through the foolery. Hark
theeI think I know most of thy frailties by heart, so we may omit the detail, which may be somewhat a
long one, and begin with the absolution. What signifies counting the spots of dirt that we are about to wash
from our hands?"
"Knowing what thou art thyself," said Conrade, "it is blasphemous to speak of pardoning another."
"That is not according to the canon, Lord Marquis," said the Templar; "thou art more scrupulous than
orthodox. The absolution of the wicked priest is as effectual as if he were himself a saintotherwise, God
help the poor penitent! What wounded man inquires whether the surgeon that tends his gashes has clean
hands or no? Come, shall we to this toy?"
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"No," said Conrade, "I will rather die unconfessed than mock the sacrament."
"Come, noble Marquis," said the Templar, "rouse up your courage, and speak not thus. In an hour's time thou
shalt stand victorious in the lists, or confess thee in thy helmet, like a valiant knight."
"Alas, Grand Master," answered Conrade, "all augurs ill for this affair, The strange discovery by the instinct
of a dogthe revival of this Scottish knight, who comes into the lists like a spectreall betokens evil."
"Pshaw," said the Templar, "I have seen thee bend thy lance boldly against him in sport, and with equal
chance of success. Think thou art but in a tournament, and who bears him better in the tiltyard than
thou?Come, squires and armourers, your master must be accoutred for the field."
The attendants entered accordingly, and began to arm the Marquis.
"What morning is without?" said Conrade.
"The sun rises dimly," answered a squire.
"Thou seest, Grand Master," said Conrade, "nought smiles on us."
"Thou wilt fight the more coolly, my son," answered the Templar; "thank Heaven, that hath tempered the sun
of Palestine to suit thine occasion."
Thus jested the Grand Master. But his jests had lost their influence on the harassed mind of the Marquis, and
notwithstanding his attempts to seem gay, his gloom communicated itself to the Templar.
"This craven," he thought, "will lose the day in pure faintness and cowardice of heart, which he calls tender
conscience. I, whom visions and auguries shake notwho am firm in my purpose as the living rockI
should have fought the combat myself. Would to God the Scot may strike him dead on the spot; it were next
best to his winning the victory. But come what will, he must have no other confessor than myselfour sins
are too much in common, and he might confess my share with his own."
While these thoughts passed through his mind, he continued to assist the Marquis in arming, but it was in
silence.
The hour at length arrived; the trumpets sounded; the knights rode into the lists armed at all points, and
mounted like men who were to do battle for a kingdom's honour. They wore their visors up, and riding
around the lists three times, showed themselves to the spectators. Both were goodly persons, and both had
noble countenances. But there was an air of manly confidence on the brow of the Scota radiancy of hope,
which amounted even to cheerfulness; while, although pride and effort had recalled much of Conrade's
natural courage, there lowered still on his brow a cloud of ominous despondence. Even his steed seemed to
tread less lightly and blithely to the trumpetsound than the noble Arab which was bestrode by Sir Kenneth;
and the SPRUCHSPRECHER shook his head while he observed that, while the challenger rode around the
lists in the course of the sunthat is, from right to leftthe defender made the same circuit
WIDDERSINSthat is, from left to rightwhich is in most countries held ominous.
A temporary altar was erected just beneath the gallery occupied by the Queen, and beside it stood the hermit
in the dress of his order as a Carmelite friar. Other churchmen were also present. To this altar the challenger
and defender were successively brought forward, conducted by their respective sponsors. Dismounting before
it, each knight avouched the justice of his cause by a solemn oath on the Evangelists, and prayed that his
success might be according to the truth or falsehood of what he then swore. They also made oath that they
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came to do battle in knightly guise, and with the usual weapons, disclaiming the use of spells, charms, or
magical devices to incline victory to their side. The challenger pronounced his vow with a firm and manly
voice, and a bold and cheerful countenance. When the ceremony was finished, the Scottish Knight looked at
the gallery, and bent his head to the earth, as if in honour of those invisible beauties which were enclosed
within; then, loaded with armour as he was, sprung to the saddle without the use of the stirrup, and made his
courser carry him in a succession of caracoles to his station at the eastern extremity of the lists. Conrade also
presented himself before the altar with boldness enough; but his voice as he took the oath sounded hollow, as
if drowned in his helmet. The lips with which he appealed to Heaven to adjudge victory to the just quarrel
grew white as they uttered the impious mockery. As he turned to remount his horse, the Grand Master
approached him closer, as if to rectify something about the sitting of his gorget, and whispered, "Coward and
fool! recall thy senses, and do me this battle bravely, else, by Heaven, shouldst thou escape him, thou
escapest not ME!"
The savage tone in which this was whispered perhaps completed the confusion of the Marquis's nerves, for he
stumbled as he made to horse; and though he recovered his feet, sprung to the saddle with his usual agility,
and displayed his address in horsemanship as he assumed his position opposite to the challenger's, yet the
accident did not escape those who were on the watch for omens which might predict the fate of the day.
The priests, after a solemn prayer that God would show the rightful quarrel, departed from the lists. The
trumpets of the challenger then rung a flourish, and a heraldatarms proclaimed at the eastern end of the
lists"Here stands a good knight, Sir Kenneth of Scotland, champion for the royal King Richard of England,
who accuseth Conrade, Marquis of Montserrat, of foul treason and dishonour done to the said King."
When the words Kenneth of Scotland announced the name and character of the champion, hitherto scarce
generally known, a loud and cheerful acclaim burst from the followers of King Richard, and hardly,
notwithstanding repeated commands of silence, suffered the reply of the defendant to he heard. He, of course,
avouched his innocence, and offered his body for battle. The esquires of the combatants now approached, and
delivered to each his shield and lance, assisting to hang the former around his neck, that his two hands might
remain free, one for the management of the bridle, the other to direct the lance.
The shield of the Scot displayed his old bearing, the leopard, but with the addition of a collar and broken
chain, in allusion to his late captivity. The shield of the Marquis bore, in reference to his title, a serrated and
rocky mountain. Each shook his lance aloft, as if to ascertain the weight and toughness of the unwieldy
weapon, and then laid it in the rest. The sponsors, heralds, and squires now retired to the barriers, and the
combatants sat opposite to each other, face to face, with couched lance and closed visor, the human form so
completely enclosed, that they looked more like statues of molten iron than beings of flesh and blood. The
silence of suspense was now general. Men breathed thicker, and their very souls seemed seated in their eyes;
while not a sound was to be heard save the snorting and pawing of the good steeds, who, sensible of what was
about to happen, were impatient to dash into career. They stood thus for perhaps three minutes, when, at a
signal given by the Soldan, a hundred instruments rent the air with their brazen clamours, and each champion
striking his horse with the spurs, and slacking the rein, the horses started into full gallop, and the knights met
in mid space with a shock like a thunderbolt. The victory was not in doubtno, not one moment. Conrade,
indeed, showed himself a practised warrior; for he struck his antagonist knightly in the midst of his shield,
bearing his lance so straight and true that it shivered into splinters from the steel spearhead up to the very
gauntlet. The horse of Sir Kenneth recoiled two or three yards and fell on his haunches; but the rider easily
raised him with hand and rein. But for Conrade there was no recovery. Sir Kenneth's lance had pierced
through the shield, through a plated corselet of Milan steel, through a SECRET, or coat of linked mail, worn
beneath the corselet, had wounded him deep in the bosom, and borne him from his saddle, leaving the
truncheon of the lance fixed in his wound. The sponsors, heralds, and Saladin himself, descending from his
throne, crowded around the wounded man; while Sir Kenneth, who had drawn his sword ere yet he
discovered his antagonist was totally helpless, now commanded him to avow his guilt. The helmet was
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hastily unclosed, and the wounded man, gazing wildly on the skies, replied, "What would you more? God
hath decided justlyI am guilty; but there are worse traitors in the camp than I. In pity to my soul, let me
have a confessor!"
He revived as he uttered these words.
"The talismanthe powerful remedy, royal brother!" said King Richard to Saladin.
"The traitor," answered the Soldan, "is more fit to be dragged from the lists to the gallows by the heels, than
to profit by its virtues. And some such fate is in his look," he added, after gazing fixedly upon the wounded
man; "for though his wound may be cured, yet Azrael's seal is on the wretch's brow."
"Nevertheless," said Richard, "I pray you do for him what you may, that he may at least have time for
confession. Slay not soul and body! To him one half hour of time may be worth more, by ten thousandfold,
than the life of the oldest patriarch."
"My royal brother's wish shall be obeyed," said Saladin. "Slaves, bear this wounded man to our tent."
"Do not so," said the Templar, who had hitherto stood gloomily looking on in silence. "The royal Duke of
Austria and myself will not permit this unhappy Christian prince to be delivered over to the Saracens, that
they may try their spells upon him. We are his sponsors, and demand that he be assigned to our care."
"That is, you refuse the certain means offered to recover him?" said Richard.
"Not so," said the Grand Master, recollecting himself. "If the Soldan useth lawful medicines, he may attend
the patient in my tent."
"Do so, I pray thee, good brother," said Richard to Saladin, "though the permission be ungraciously
yielded.But now to a more glorious work. Sound, trumpetsshout, Englandin honour of England's
champion!"
Drum, clarion, trumpet, and cymbal rung forth at once, and the deep and regular shout, which for ages has
been the English acclamation, sounded amidst the shrill and irregular yells of the Arabs, like the diapason of
the organ amid the howling of a storm. There was silence at length.
"Brave Knight of the Leopard," resumed Coeur de Lion, "thou hast shown that the Ethiopian may change his
skin, and the leopard his spots, though clerks quote Scripture for the impossibility. Yet I have more to say to
you when I have conducted you to the presence of the ladies, the best judges and best rewarders of deeds of
chivalry."
The Knight of the Leopard bowed assent.
"And thou, princely Saladin, wilt also attend them. I promise thee our Queen will not think herself welcome,
if she lacks the opportunity to thank her royal host for her most princely reception."
Saladin bent his head gracefully, but declined the invitation.
"I must attend the wounded man," he said. "The leech leaves not his patient more than the champion the lists,
even if he be summoned to a bower like those of Paradise. And further, royal Richard, know that the blood of
the East flows not so temperately in the presence of beauty as that of your land. What saith the Book
itself?Her eye is as the edge of the sword of the Prophet, who shall look upon it? He that would not be
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burnt avoideth to tread on hot emberswise men spread not the flax before a bickering torch. He, saith the
sage, who hath forfeited a treasure, doth not wisely to turn back his head to gaze at it."
Richard, it may be believed, respected the motives of delicacy which flowed from manners so different from
his own, and urged his request no further.
"At noon," said the Soldan, as he departed, "I trust ye will all accept a collation under the black camelskin
tent of a chief of Kurdistan."
The same invitation was circulated among the Christians, comprehending all those of sufficient importance to
be admitted to sit at a feast made for princes.
"Hark!" said Richard, "the timbrels announce that our Queen and her attendants are leaving their
galleryand see, the turbans sink on the ground, as if struck down by a destroying angel. All lie prostrate, as
if the glance of an Arab's eye could sully the lustre of a lady's cheek! Come, we will to the pavilion, and lead
our conqueror thither in triumph. How I pity that noble Soldan, who knows but of love as it is known to those
of inferior nature!"
Blondel tuned his harp to his boldest measure, to welcome the introduction of the victor into the pavilion of
Queen Berengaria. He entered, supported on either side by his sponsors, Richard and Thomas Longsword,
and knelt gracefully down before the Queen, though more than half the homage was silently rendered to
Edith, who sat on her right hand.
"Unarm him, my mistresses," said the King, whose delight was in the execution of such chivalrous usages;
"let Beauty honour Chivalry! Undo his spurs, Berengaria; Queen though thou be, thou owest him what marks
of favour thou canst give.Unlace his helmet, Edith;by this hand thou shalt, wert thou the proudest
Plantagenet of the line, and he the poorest knight on earth!"
Both ladies obeyed the royal commandsBerengaria with bustling assiduity, as anxious to gratify her
husband's humour, and Edith blushing and growing pale alternately, as, slowly and awkwardly, she undid,
with Longsword's assistance, the fastenings which secured the helmet to the gorget.
"And what expect you from beneath this iron shell?" said Richard, as the removal of the casque gave to view
the noble countenance of Sir Kenneth, his face glowing with recent exertion, and not less so with present
emotion. "What think ye of him, gallants and beauties?" said Richard. "Doth he resemble an Ethiopian slave,
or doth he present the face of an obscure and nameless adventurer? No, by my good sword! Here terminate
his various disguises. He hath knelt down before you unknown, save by his worth; he arises equally
distinguished by birth and by fortune. The adventurous knight, Kenneth, arises David, Earl of Huntingdon,
Prince Royal of Scotland!"
There was a general exclamation of surprise, and Edith dropped from her hand the helmet which she had just
received.
"Yes, my masters," said the King, "it is even so. Ye know how Scotland deceived us when she proposed to
send this valiant Earl, with a bold company of her best and noblest, to aid our arms in this conquest of
Palestine, but failed to comply with her engagements. This noble youth, under whom the Scottish Crusaders
were to have been arrayed, thought foul scorn that his arm should he withheld from the holy warfare, and
joined us at Sicily with a small train of devoted and faithful attendants, which was augmented by many of his
countrymen to whom the rank of their leader was unknown. The confidants of the Royal Prince had all, save
one old follower, fallen by death, when his secret, but too well kept, had nearly occasioned my cutting off, in
a Scottish adventurer, one of the noblest hopes of Europe.Why did you not mention your rank, noble
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Huntingdon, when endangered by my hasty and passionate sentence? Was it that you thought Richard
capable of abusing the advantage I possessed over the heir of a King whom I have so often found hostile?"
"I did you not that injustice, royal Richard," answered the Earl of Huntingdon; "but my pride brooked not that
I should avow myself Prince of Scotland in order to save my life, endangered for default of loyalty. And,
moreover, I had made my vow to preserve my rank unknown till the Crusade should be accomplished; nor
did I mention it save IN ARTICULO MORTIS, and under the seal of confession, to yonder reverend hermit."
"It was the knowledge of that secret, then, which made the good man so urgent with me to recall my severe
sentence?" said Richard. "Well did he say that, had this good knight fallen by my mandate, I should have
wished the deed undone though it had cost me a limb. A limb! I should have wished it undone had it cost me
my lifesince the world would have said that Richard had abused the condition in which the heir of
Scotland had placed himself by his confidence in his generosity."
"Yet, may we know of your Grace by what strange and happy chance this riddle was at length read?" said the
Queen Berengaria.
"Letters were brought to us from England," said the King, "in which we learned, among other unpleasant
news, that the King of Scotland had seized upon three of our nobles, when on a pilgrimage to Saint Ninian,
and alleged, as a cause, that his heir, being supposed to be fighting in the ranks of the Teutonic Knights
against the heathen of Borussia, was, in fact, in our camp, and in our power; and, therefore, William proposed
to hold these nobles as hostages for his safety. This gave me the first light on the real rank of the Knight of
the Leopard; and my suspicions were confirmed by De Vaux, who, on his return from Ascalon, brought back
with him the Earl of Huntingdon's sole attendant, a thickskulled slave, who had gone thirty miles to unfold
to De Vaux a secret he should have told to me."
"Old Strauchan must be excused," said the Lord of Gilsland. "He knew from experience that my heart is
somewhat softer than if I wrote myself Plantagenet."
"Thy heart soft? thou commodity of old iron and Cumberland flint, that thou art!" exclaimed the King."It
is we Plantagenets who boast soft and feeling hearts, Edith," turning to his cousin with an expression which
called the blood into her cheek, "give me thy hand, my fair cousin, and, Prince of Scotland, thine."
"Forbear, my lord," said Edith, hanging back, and endeavouring to hide her confusion under an attempt to
rally her royal kinsman's credulity. "Remember you not that my hand was to be the signal of converting to the
Christian faith the Saracen and Arab, Saladin and all his turbaned host?"
"Ay, but the wind of prophecy hath chopped about, and sits now in another corner," replied Richard.
"Mock not, lest your bonds be made strong," said the hermit stepping forward. "The heavenly host write
nothing but truth in their brilliant records it is man's eyes which are too weak to read their characters aright.
Know, that when Saladin and Kenneth of Scotland slept in my grotto, I read in the stars that there rested
under my roof a prince, the natural foe of Richard, with whom the fate of Edith Plantagenet was to be united.
Could I doubt that this must be the Soldan, whose rank was well known to me, as he often visited my cell to
converse on the revolutions of the heavenly bodies? Again, the lights of the firmament proclaimed that this
prince, the husband of Edith Plantagenet, should be a Christian; and Iweak and wild interpreter!argued
thence the conversion of the noble Saladin, whose good qualities seemed often to incline him towards the
better faith. The sense of my weakness hath humbled me to the dust; but in the dust I have found comfort! I
have not read aright the fate of others who can assure me but that I may have miscalculated mine own?
God will not have us break into His councilhouse, or spy out His hidden mysteries. We must wait His time
with watching and prayerwith fear and with hope. I came hither the stern seer the proud
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prophetskilled, as I thought, to instruct princes, and gifted even with supernatural powers, but burdened
with a weight which I deemed no shoulders but mine could have borne. But my bands have been broken! I go
hence humble in mine ignorance, penitentand not hopeless."
With these words he withdrew from the assembly; and it is recorded that from that period his frenzy fits
seldom occurred, and his penances were of a milder character, and accompanied with better hopes of the
future. So much is there of selfopinion, even in insanity, that the conviction of his having entertained and
expressed an unfounded prediction with so much vehemence seemed to operate like loss of blood on the
human frame, to modify and lower the fever of the brain.
It is needless to follow into further particulars the conferences at the royal tent, or to inquire whether David,
Earl of Huntingdon, was as mute in the presence of Edith Plantagenet as when he was bound to act under the
character of an obscure and nameless adventurer. It may be well believed that he there expressed with
suitable earnestness the passion to which he had so often before found it difficult to give words.
The hour of noon now approached, and Saladin waited to receive the Princes of Christendom in a tent, which,
but for its large size, differed little from that of the ordinary shelter of the common Kurdman, or Arab; yet
beneath its ample and sable covering was prepared a banquet after the most gorgeous fashion of the East,
extended upon carpets of the richest stuffs, with cushions laid for the guests. But we cannot stop to describe
the cloth of gold and silverthe superb embroidery in arabesquethe shawls of Kashmere and the muslins
of India, which were here unfolded in all their splendour; far less to tell the different sweetmeats, ragouts
edged with rice coloured in various manners, with all the other niceties of Eastern cookery, Lambs roasted
whole, and game and poultry dressed in pilaus, were piled in vessels of gold, and silver, and porcelain, and
intermixed with large mazers of sherbet, cooled in snow and ice from the caverns of Mount Lebanon. A
magnificent pile of cushions at the head of the banquet seemed prepared for the master of the feast, and such
dignitaries as he might call to share that place of distinction; while from the roof of the tent in all quarters, but
over this seat of eminence in particular, waved many a banner and pennon, the trophies of battles won and
kingdoms overthrown. But amongst and above them all, a long lance displayed a shroud, the banner of Death,
with this impressive inscription"SALADIN, KING OF KINGSSALADIN, VICTOR OF
VICTORSSALADIN MUST DIE." Amid these preparations, the slaves who had arranged the
refreshments stood with drooped heads and folded arms, mute and motionless as monumental statuary, or as
automata, which waited the touch of the artist to put them in motion.
Expecting the approach of his princely guests, the Soldan, imbued, as most were, with the superstitions of his
time, paused over a horoscope and corresponding scroll, which had been sent to him by the hermit of Engaddi
when he departed from the camp.
"Strange and mysterious science," he muttered to himself, which, pretending to draw the curtain of futurity,
misleads those whom it seems to guide, and darkens the scene which it pretends to illuminate! who would not
have said that I was that enemy most dangerous to Richard, whose enmity was to be ended by marriage with
his kinswoman? Yet it now appears that a union betwixt this gallant Earl and the lady will bring about
friendship betwixt Richard and Scotland, an enemy more dangerous than I, as a wild cat in a chamber is
more to be dreaded than a lion in a distant desert. But then" he continued to mutter to himself, "the
combination intimates that this husband was to be Christian. Christian!" he repeated, after a pause. "That
gave the insane fanatic stargazer hopes that I might renounce my faith! But me, the faithful follower of our
Prophetme it should have undeceived. Lie there, mysterious scroll," he added, thrusting it under the pile of
cushions; "strange are thy bodements and fatal, since, even when true in themselves, they work upon those
who attempt to decipher their meaning all the effects of falsehood.How now! what means this intrusion?"
He spoke to the dwarf Nectabanus, who rushed into the tent fearfully agitated, with each strange and
disproportioned feature wrenched by horror into still more extravagant uglinesshis mouth open, his eyes
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staring, his hands, with their shrivelled and deformed fingers, wildly expanded.
"What now?" said the Soldan sternly.
"ACCIPE HOC!" groaned out the dwarf.
"Ha! sayest thou?" answered Saladin.
"ACCIPE HOC!" replied the panicstruck creature, unconscious, perhaps,that he repeated the same words as
before.
"Hence, I am in no vein for foolery," said the Emperor.
"Nor am I further fool," said the dwarf, "than to make my folly help out my wits to earn my bread, poor,
helpless wretch! Hear, hear me, great Soldan!"
"Nay, if thou hast actual wrong to complain of," said Saladin, "fool or wise, thou art entitled to the ear of a
King. Retire hither with me;" and he led him into the inner tent.
Whatever their conference related to, it was soon broken off by the fanfare of the trumpets announcing the
arrival of the various Christian princes, whom Saladin welcomed to his tent with a royal courtesy well
becoming their rank and his own; but chiefly he saluted the young Earl of Huntingdon, and generously
congratulated him upon prospects which seemed to have interfered with and overclouded those which he had
himself entertained.
"But think not," said the Soldan, "thou noble youth, that the Prince of Scotland is more welcome to Saladin
than was Kenneth to the solitary Ilderim when they met in the desert, or the distressed Ethiop to the Hakim
Adonbec. A brave and generous disposition like thine hath a value independent of condition and birth, as the
cool draught, which I here proffer thee, is as delicious from an earthen vessel as from a goblet of gold."
The Earl of Huntingdon made a suitable reply, gratefully acknowledging the various important services he
had received from the generous Soldan; but when he had pledged Saladin in the bowl of sherbet which the
Soldan had proffered to him, he could not help remarking with a smile, "The brave cavalier Ilderim knew not
of the formation of ice, but the munificent Soldan cools his sherbet with snow."
"Wouldst thou have an Arab or a Kurdman as wise as a Hakim?" said the Soldan. "He who does on a disguise
must make the sentiments of his heart and the learning of his head accord with the dress which he assumes. I
desired to see how a brave and singlehearted cavalier of Frangistan would conduct himself in debate with
such a chief as I then seemed; and I questioned the truth of a wellknown fact, to know by what arguments
thou wouldst support thy assertion."
While they were speaking, the Archduke of Austria, who stood a little apart, was struck with the mention of
iced sherbet, and took with pleasure and some bluntness the deep goblet, as the Earl of Huntingdon was about
to replace it.
"Most delicious!" he exclaimed, after a deep draught, which the heat of the weather, and the feverishness
following the debauch of the preceding day, had rendered doubly acceptable. He sighed as he handed the cup
to the Grand Master of the Templars. Saladin made a sign to the dwarf, who advanced and pronounced, with
a harsh voice, the words, ACCIPE HOC! The Templar started, like a steed who sees a lion under a bush
beside the pathway; yet instantly recovered, and to hide, perhaps, his confusion, raised the goblet to his lips.
But those lips never touched that goblet's rim. The sabre of Saladin left its sheath as lightning leaves the
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Page No 193
cloud. It was waved in the air, and the head of the Grand Master rolled to the extremity of the tent, while the
trunk remained for a second standing, with the goblet still clenched in its grasp, then fell, the liquor mingling
with the blood that spurted from the veins."
There was a general exclamation of treason, and Austria, nearest to whom Saladin stood with the bloody
sabre in his hand, started back as if apprehensive that his turn was to come next. Richard and others laid hand
on their swords.
"Fear nothing, noble Austria," said Saladin, as composedly as if nothing had happened,"nor you, royal
England, be wroth at what you have seen. Not for his manifold treasonsnot for the attempt which, as may
be vouched by his own squire, he instigated against King Richard's lifenot that he pursued the Prince of
Scotland and myself in the desert, reducing us to save our lives by the speed of our horsesnot that he had
stirred up the Maronites to attack us upon this very occasion, had I not brought up unexpectedly so many
Arabs as rendered the scheme abortive not for any or all of these crimes does he now lie there, although
each were deserving such a doombut because, scarce half an hour ere he polluted our presence, as the
simoom empoisons the atmosphere, he poniarded his comrade and accomplice, Conrade of Montserrat, lest
he should confess the infamous plots in which they had both been engaged."
"How! Conrade murdered?And by the Grand Master, his sponsor and most intimate friend!" exclaimed
Richard. "Noble Soldan, I would not doubt thee; yet this must be proved, otherwise"
"There stands the evidence," said Saladin, pointing to the terrified dwarf. "Allah, who sends the firefly to
illuminate the night season, can discover secret crimes by the most contemptible means."
The Soldan proceeded to tell the dwarf's story, which amounted to this. In his foolish curiosity, or, as he
partly confessed, with some thoughts of pilfering, Nectabanus had strayed into the tent of Conrade, which had
been deserted by his attendants, some of whom had left the encampment to carry the news of his defeat to his
brother, and others were availing themselves of the means which Saladin had supplied for revelling. The
wounded man slept under the influence of Saladin's wonderful talisman, so that the dwarf had opportunity to
pry about at pleasure until he was frightened into concealment by the sound of a heavy step. He skulked
behind a curtain, yet could see the motions, and hear the words, of the Grand Master, who entered, and
carefully secured the covering of the pavilion behind him. His victim started from sleep, and it would appear
that he instantly suspected the purpose of his old associate, for it was in a tone of alarm that he demanded
wherefore he disturbed him.
"I come to confess and to absolve thee," answered the Grand Master.
Of their further speech the terrified dwarf remembered little, save that Conrade implored the Grand Master
not to break a wounded reed, and that the Templar struck him to the heart with a Turkish dagger, with the
words ACCIPE HOC!words which long afterwards haunted the terrified imagination of the concealed
witness.
"I verified the tale," said Saladin, "by causing the body to be examined; and I made this unhappy being,
whom Allah hath made the discoverer of the crime, repeat in your own presence the words which the
murderer spoke; and you yourselves saw the effect which they produced upon his conscience!"
The Soldan paused, and the King of England broke silence.
"If this be true, as I doubt not, we have witnessed a great act of justice, though it bore a different aspect. But
wherefore in this presence? wherefore with thine own hand?"
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Page No 194
"I had designed otherwise," said Saladin. "But had I not hastened his doom, it had been altogether averted,
since, if I had permitted him to taste of my cup, as he was about to do, how could I, without incurring the
brand of inhospitality, have done him to death as he deserved? Had he murdered my father, and afterwards
partaken of my food and my bowl, not a hair of his head could have been injured by me. But enough of
himlet his carcass and his memory be removed from amongst us."
The body was carried away, and the marks of the slaughter obliterated or concealed with such ready
dexterity, as showed that the case was not altogether so uncommon as to paralyze the assistants and officers
of Saladin's household.
But the Christian princes felt that the scene which they had beheld weighed heavily on their spirits, and
although, at the courteous invitation of the Soldan, they assumed their seats at the banquet, yet it was with the
silence of doubt and amazement. The spirits of Richard alone surmounted all cause for suspicion or
embarrassment. Yet he too seemed to ruminate on some proposition, as if he were desirous of making it in the
most insinuating and acceptable manner which was possible. At length he drank off a large bowl of wine, and
addressing the Soldan, desired to know whether it was not true that he had honoured the Earl of Huntingdon
with a personal encounter.
Saladin answered with a smile that he had proved his horse and his weapons with the heir of Scotland, as
cavaliers are wont to do with each other when they meet in the desert; and modestly added that, though the
combat was not entirely decisive, he had not on his part much reason to pride himself on the event. The Scot,
on the other hand, disclaimed the attributed superiority, and wished to assign it to the Soldan.
"Enough of honour thou hast had in the encounter," said Richard, "and I envy thee more for that than for the
smiles of Edith Plantagenet, though one of them might reward a bloody day's work.But what say you,
noble princes? Is it fitting that such a royal ring of chivalry should break up without something being done
for future times to speak of? What is the overthrow and death of a traitor to such a fair garland of honour as is
here assembled, and which ought not to part without witnessing something more worthy of their
regard?How say you, princely Soldan? What if we two should now, and before this fair company, decide
the longcontended question for this land of Palestine, and end at once these tedious wars? Yonder are the
lists ready, nor can Paynimrie ever hope a better champion than thou. I, unless worthier offers, will lay down
my gauntlet in behalf of Christendom, and in all love and honour we will do mortal battle for the possession
of Jerusalem."
There was a deep pause for the Soldan's answer. His cheek and brow coloured highly, and it was the opinion
of many present that he hesitated whether he should accept the challenge. At length he said, "Fighting for the
Holy City against those whom we regard as idolaters and worshippers of stocks and stones and graven
images, I might confide that Allah would strengthen my arm; or if I fell beneath the sword of the Melech Ric,
I could not pass to Paradise by a more glorious death. But Allah has already given Jerusalem to the true
believers, and it were a tempting the God of the Prophet to peril, upon my own personal strength and skill,
that which I hold securely by the superiority of my forces."
"If not for Jerusalem, then," said Richard, in the tone of one who would entreat a favour of an intimate friend,
"yet, for the love of honour, let us run at least three courses with grinded lances?"
"Even this," said Saladin, half smiling at Coeur de Lion's affectionate earnestness for the combat"even this
I may not lawfully do. The master places the shepherd over the flock not for the shepherd's own sake, but for
the sake of the sheep. Had I a son to hold the sceptre when I fell, I might have had the liberty, as I have the
will, to brave this bold encounter; but your own Scripture saith that when the herdsman is smitten, the sheep
are scattered."
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CHAPTER XXVIII. 192
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"Thou hast had all the fortune," said Richard, turning to the Earl of Huntingdon with a sigh. "I would have
given the best year in my life for that one half hour beside the Diamond of the Desert!"
The chivalrous extravagance of Richard awakened the spirits of the assembly, and when at length they arose
to depart Saladin advanced and took Coeur de Lion by the hand.
"Noble King of England," he said, "we now part, never to meet again. That your league is dissolved, no more
to be reunited, and that your native forces are far too few to enable you to prosecute your enterprise, is as well
known to me as to yourself. I may not yield you up that Jerusalem which you so much desire to holdit is to
us, as to you, a Holy City. But whatever other terms Richard demands of Saladin shall be as willingly yielded
as yonder fountain yields its waters. Ay and the same should be as frankly afforded by Saladin if Richard
stood in the desert with but two archers in his train!"
The next day saw Richard's return to his own camp, and in a short space afterwards the young Earl of
Huntingdon was espoused by Edith Plantagenet. The Soldan sent, as a nuptial present on this occasion, the
celebrated TALISMAN. But though many cures were wrought by means of it in Europe, none equalled in
success and celebrity those which the Soldan achieved. It is still in existence, having been bequeathed by the
Earl of Huntingdon to a brave knight of Scotland, Sir Simon of the Lee, in whose ancient and highly
honoured family it is still preserved; and although charmed stones have been dismissed from the modern
Pharmacopoeia, its virtues are still applied to for stopping blood, and in cases of canine madness.
Our Story closes here, as the terms on which Richard relinquished his conquests are to be found in every
history of the period.
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CHAPTER XXVIII. 193
Bookmarks
1. Table of Contents, page = 3
2. The Talisman, page = 4
3. Sir Walter Scott, page = 4
4. INTRODUCTION TO THE TALISMAN., page = 4
5. APPENDIX TO INTRODUCTION., page = 7
6. CHAPTER I., page = 11
7. CHAPTER II., page = 15
8. CHAPTER III., page = 22
9. CHAPTER IV., page = 34
10. CHAPTER V., page = 40
11. CHAPTER VI., page = 43
12. CHAPTER VII., page = 49
13. CHAPTER VIII., page = 56
14. CHAPTER IX., page = 63
15. CHAPTER X., page = 71
16. CHAPTER XI., page = 76
17. CHAPTER XII., page = 87
18. CHAPTER XIII., page = 91
19. CHAPTER XIV., page = 96
20. CHAPTER XV., page = 101
21. CHAPTER XVI., page = 106
22. CHAPTER XVII., page = 109
23. CHAPTER XVIII., page = 115
24. CHAPTER XIX., page = 123
25. CHAPTER XX., page = 130
26. CHAPTER XXI, page = 138
27. CHAPTER XXII., page = 143
28. CHAPTER XXIII., page = 149
29. CHAPTER XXIV, page = 155
30. CHAPTER XXV., page = 162
31. CHAPTER XXVI., page = 167
32. CHAPTER XXVII., page = 174
33. CHAPTER XXVIII., page = 184