 Chapter 11 Part 1 of The Talisman One thing is certain in our northern land. Allow that birth of valor, wealth or wit, give each precedence to their possessor. Envy, that follows on such eminence, as comes the lime-hound on the robux-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, unintended and in disguise, was not one which flowed from Leopold's natural disposition. He 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 tansome, 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 expressions of ill-timed 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. Into this was joined the strong, and sometimes the just, suspicion that others esteemed him lightly accordingly. When he first joined the crusade, with the most princely attendance, the ear-pole had desired much to enjoy the friendship and intimacy of Richard, and 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 Cor de Leon, 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 the 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, was speedily remarked and returned with deep hatred by the suspiciously appalled. The discord between them was fanned by the secret and politic arts of Philippe 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 dominions, retreated himself towards his Leeds-Lord, endeavour to strengthen his own party, and weaken that of Richard, by uniting the crusading princes of inferior degree, in resisting to what he termed the usurping authority of the King of England. Such was the state of politics and opinions entertained by the art duke of Austria, when Conrad 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 pretense, 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 a partake of the archduke or 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 cumbersome profusion than elegance or splendour in the display of provisions under which the board groaned. The Germans, though still possessing the marshal and frank character of their ancestors, who subdued the Roman Empire, had retained with all no slight tinge of their barbarism. The practicals 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 civilisation. Sitting at the table of the archduke, Conrad was at once stunned and amused, with the clang of futonic sounds assaulting his ears on all side, 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 dependents, old and young, attended in the pavilion, mingled at all times in the conversation, received from their masters the relics of the entertainment, and availed them as they stood behind the backs of the company. Gestures, dwarves, and minstrels were therein 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 licence termalt was the more excessive. All this while, and in the midst of a clamour and confusion, which would better become a German tavern during a fair than the tent of a sovereign prince, the Archduke was waded upon with the 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 toque and renish wines from a cup of gold. His duke man to was splendidly adorned with ermine. His coronet might have equaled in value of 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 he served partly to intimate the character of the man, that, although desires to show attention to the Marques of Montserrat, whom he had cautiously placed at his right hand, he gave much more of his attention to his sproch Sprecher. That is, his man of conversation, a sayer of sayings, 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 arched duke was somewhat retwixt 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 good will of the sproch Sprecher. Less too much of this officer's wisdom should become tiresome. The duke's other shoulder was occupied by his hofnach, or court-gester, called Jonas Schoenker, 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. The two personages threw out grave and comic nonsense alternatively, 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 more 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 clung to their flappers in emulation of each other with the most alarming contention. But in general they seemed on such good terms, and so accustomed to support each other's play, that the sproch Sprecher 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 Hoffner, with a piety jest, wound up the conclusion of the orator's tedious harangue. Whatever his real sentiments might be, Conrad took his special care that his countenances 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 sproch Sprecher and the gibbering witt 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 become accustomed to consider dicken of the broom, which a relevant epithet he substituted for Richard Plotangent, as a subject of mirth, acceptable and inexhaustible. The orator, indeed, was silent, and it was only when applied to by Conrad that he observed. The jenestar, or broom-plant, 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 the Plotangent was thus rendered sufficiently manifest. And Jonah's shawanker observed that they who humbled themselves had been exalted with a vengeance, honour unto whom honour is due, on to the marquess of Montserrat. We have all heard some part in these marches and battles, and we think other princes might share a little in the renown, which Richard of England engrosses amongst minstrels and mind-singers. Has no one of the joyous science here present a song in praise of the royal archduke Faustier, our princely entertainer? Three minstrels immoliously stepped forward with voice and harp. Two were silenced with difficulty by the sproch-spracker, who seemed to act as master of the rebels, 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 horses, where the Red Cross legions gather, best of horsemen, best of horses, highest head and fairest feather? Here the orator jingling a staff, interrupted the bard to intimate to the party, what they might not have inferred from the description. That their royal host was the party indicated, and a full-crowned goblet went round to the acclamation, Hoc l'Abe de hazon leopolde. Another stanza followed. Ask not, Austria, why, midst princes, still her banner rise highest, ask as well a strongwing deagle, why to heaven he soars the highest? The eagle, said the expounder of dark sayings, is the cognigance of our noble Lord the Archduke, of as royal grace I would say, and 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 Conrad carelessly. The Archduke reddened, and fixed his eyes on the speaker, while the sproch-spracker answered, after a minute's consideration. The Lord Marquesse will pardon me. A lion cannot fly above an eagle, because no lion hath got wings. Except the lioner sent Mark, responded the gesture. That is the Venetian's banner, said the duke, but assuredly that amphibious race, half nobles, half merchants, were not dared to place their rank in comparison with ours. Nay, it was not of the Venetian lion that I spoke, said the Marquesse of Montserrat, but of the three lions pass on to England. Formerly it is said they were leopards, but now they have become lions at all points, and must take precedence of beast, fish, or fowl, or were worth the gain-stander. Me knew seriously, my Lord! said the Austrian, now considerably flushed with wine. Think you that Richard of England asserts any preeminence over the three sovereigns who have been his voluntary allies in this crusade? I know not but from circumstances, answered Conrad. Yonder hangs his banner alone in the midst of our camp, as if he were king and generalissimo of a whole Christian army. And do you endure this so patiently and speak of it so coldly? said the archduke. Nay, my Lord! answered Conrad. It cannot concern the poor Marquesse 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. 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 usurption of this islander. But he answers me ever with cold respects of their relations together, as surazine 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 Conrad, 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 a half an island, this grandson of a Normand bastard, known by heaven. The camp and all Christian home shall see that I know how to write myself, and whether I yield ground one inch to the English bang-dog. Up my legies and merry men, up and follow me. We will, and that without losing one instant, place 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. Hey, my Lord! said Conrad, affecting to interfere. It will blemish a wisdom to make an affray in the camp at this hour, and perhaps it is better to submit to the usurption of England a little longer than to—not an hour, not a moment longer—voiciferated the Duke, and with the banner in his hand, and followed by a shouting guest in attendance. 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 Schranker, throwing his arms about the Duke. Take heed! Lions have teeth! And doogles have claws! said the Duke, not relinquishing his hold on the banner-staff. 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 sproch Sprecher, as is the lion among the beasts of the field. Each has his dominion, separated as wide as England and Germany. Do thou, noble eagle, know dishonour to the princely lion, but let your banners remain floating in peace side by side. Leopold withdrew his hand from the banner-spear, and looked round for Conrad or Montserrat, but he saw him not. For the Marquesse, as 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 tried 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 progenators, above that of a mere descendant of the Counts of Anjou. And in the meantime he commanded a casque of wine to be brought hither and pierced, for regaling the bystanders, who, with tuck of drum and sound of music, quaffed many a carousel round the Austrian standard. This disorderly scene was not acted without a degree of noise which alarmed the whole camp. End of CHAPTER 11 PART 2 This is a LibriVox recording, while LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information on to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Coming by Lizzie Driver. The Talisman by Sir Walter Scott. CHAPTER 11 PART 2 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 Girlsland, that the fever had entirely left his sovereign, and that, such was the happy strength of his constitution, it would not even be necessary, as in most cases, to give a second dose of the palful medicine. Richard himself seemed to be of the same opinion, for, sitting up and rubbing his eyes, he demanded of D'Vox 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, bestowed all in this learned leech, who hath I trust, given me back again to the service of the Crusade. If it be less than a thousand bisants, let him have jewels to make it up. I saw not the wisdom with which Allah has endowed me. Answer 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 refused the gratuity, said D'Vox to himself. This is more extraordinary than his being a hundred years old. Thomas D'Vox, 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 more, 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 Melesh Rick should thus speak of his servant. Open bracket. Richard was thus called by the Eastern nations. Close bracket. 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 draft, yet injury might ensue from any too early exertion, ere your strength be entirely restored. I must obey thee, Hakeem, said the King, yet believe me, my bosom feels so free from the wasting fire which, for so many days, have scorched it, that I cannot how soon I expose it to a brave man's lance. But Hakeem would mean these shouts and the distant music in the camp. Go, Tom's Dvorks, and make inquiry. It is the Archduke Leopold, said Dvorks, returning after a minute's absence, who makes, with his pot companions, some procession through the camp. The drunken fool exclaimed King Richard, can he not keep his brutal inebriity within the veil of his pavilion, that he must need show his shame to all Christendom? What so you, Sir Marques? He added, addressing himself to Conrad or Montserrat, who, at that moment, ended the tent. This much honoured Prince, answered the Marques, 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 wine-skin? said the Monarch, and what frolic has he found out to cause all this disturbance? Truly, Sir Conrad, I have still held you so good a reveler, that I wonder at your quitting the game. Dvorks, who had got a little behind the King, now exerted himself by look and sign, to make the Marques understand that he should say nothing to Richard of what was passing without. But Conrad understood not, or he did 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 gamble I should not like to share in, since he is pulling down the banner of England from St. George's Mount, in the centre of the Campion d'Ere, and displaying his own in its steed. What sayest thou? exclaimed the King, in a tome which might have waked the dead. Nay, said the Marques, let it not shave 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 Marques, de Molton, I command thee, speak not a word to me. He that breathes but a syllable is no friend to Richard Plantagent. Hakeen, 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 attendants, he rushed out of his pavilion. Conrad, holding up his hands as if in astonishment, seemed willing to enter into conversation with Deforx. But Sir Thomas pushed rudely past him, and calling to one of the royal equiries, said hastily, fly to Lord Salisbury's quarters, and let him get his men together, and follow me instantly to St. George's Mount, till in 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 Deforx addressed us hastily, the equare in his fellow servants 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 an 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 that 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 rationers should occasion some great misfortune to the crusading army. The English trumpets sounded loud, shrill and continuously. The alarm cry of, boughs and bills, boughs 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. St. George from Mary 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, a medicine so threatening, that the earless soul's brie, while he hurried after Devox's summons, with a few only of the readiest Englishmen at arms, directed the rest of the English host to be drawn up and kept under arms, to advance to Richard's succor, if necessity should require, but in fit array and under due command, and not with a 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, pushed his way with the utmost speed, followed only by Devox, and one or two household servants to St. George's Mount. He outspread even the alarm, which his impetuosity only had excited, and passed the quarter of his own gallant troops of Normandy, Poitiers, Gascony, and Anjou, before the disturbance had reached them, although the noise accompanying the German revel had induced many of the soldierry 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 most 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 Devox, who, with some difficulty, kept pace with his impatient and fiery master. Devox 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 St. George's Mount. The sides, as well as platformed 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, disliked 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 self-satisfaction the deed he had and still listening to the shouts of applause which his partisans bestowed, with no sparing breath, while he was in this state of self-gratulation, which had burst into the circle, intended indeed only by two men, but in his own headlong energies and unresistible host. "'Who is dead?' he said, laying his hands upon the Austrian standard, and speaking in a voice like the sound which precedes an earthquake, who was dared to place this paltry rag beside the banner of England. The archduke wanted no 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, the appalled of Austria. "'Then shall the appalled of Austria?' replied Richard, presently see the rate at which his banner and his pretensions are held by Richard of England. So, saying, he pulled up the standard spear, 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 night 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 dally thus?' said the earl of Wallam Road, a gigantic warrior from the frontiers of Hungary. Brethren and noble gentlemen, this man's foot is on the honor of your country. Let us rescue it from violation, and down with the pride of England.' So saying he drew his sword, and struck at the King a blow which might approve to fatal, had not the scotten decepted and courted upon his shield. "'I have sworn,' said King Richard, and his voice was heard above all the tumult, which now waxed wild and loud. No to strike one whose shoulders bear the cross. Therefore live, Wallam Road, 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 witness this extraordinary scene, but over the edge of the mount itself. Down the steep side of which Wallam Road rolled headlong, until, pitching at length upon his shoulder, he dislocated 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 further back did indeed clash their swords and cry out, cut the island massive to pieces. But those who were near availed, perhaps their personal fears, under an affected regard for order, and cried for the most part, "'Peace, peace, the peace of the cross, the 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 stood on the arch-dukele banner, glared round him with a nigh that seemed to seek an enemy, and from which the angry noble shrunk appalled, as from the threatening grasp of a lion. Dvorks 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 sick bed, and confronting their common ally, the Duke of Austria, in such a menacing and insulting posture. Richard himself blasted 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, as tired 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 turned 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 counsel, steady and calm in action, seeing clearly and steadily pursuing the measures most for the interest of his kingdom, dignified and role in his deportment, brave in person, but a politician rather than a warrior. The Crusade would be 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 marreder age, his character might have stood higher than that of the adventurous Cordeleon. But in the Crusade, itself an undertaking wholly irrational, sound reason was the quality of all others least esteemed, and the chivalric fallow 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 high-spirited prince. And it cannot be wondered at if he took such 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 a triumph over obstinacy and impetuous violence. What means this unseemly broil betwixt the sworn brethren of the cross, the royal majesty of England and the princely Duke of Leopold? How is it possible that those who are the chiefs and pillars of this holy expedition? A truth with thy remonstrance, France, said Richard, enraged inwardly, and finding in place 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 him, that is all. Here is a coil for soothe because of a spurning hound. Majesty of France, said the Duke, I appeal to you and every sovereign prince against the foul indignity which I have gained. The King of England hath pulled down my banner, torn and trembled 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. As search such equality for thy person, said King Richard, and by St George, I will treat thy person as I did thy broided 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 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 Oriflam itself, the great burner of France, to which the royal Richard himself, in respect of his French possessions, is but a vassal, holds for the present an inferior place to the lines of England. But a 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 precedents 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 sproch Sprecher and the Jester had both retired to a safe distance, when matters seemed to come 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 in. So far as to say aloud, that he himself had never said a wiser thing in his life. It may be so, whispered Jonas Schwenke, but we shall be whipped if you speak so aloud. The Jew answered suddenly that he would refer his quarrel to the general counsel of the Crusade, a 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 drowsy, this 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. No therefore at once, I will submit a matter touching the honour of England, neither to Prince, Pope, nor counsel. Here stands my banner. Whatsoever pen and shall be reared within three butts length of it, I were it the oriflam of which you were, I think, but now speaking, shall be treated as that dishonoured rag. Or will I yield other satisfaction, than that which these poor limbs can render in the list to any bold challenge? I were it against five champions instead of one. Now, said the Jester, whispering his companion, that is as complete a piece of folly as I myself had said it, but yet I think there may be in this matter a greater fall than Richard yet. And who may that be? asked the man of wisdom. Philip, said the Jester, or her own roll, Duke, should either accept the challenge. But oh, most sage-sprach-spracher, what excellent kings would stow and I have made, since those on whose heads these crowds have fallen can play the proverb monger, and the fall is completely as ourselves. While these worthy's 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 a brother of England, as brothers should part, and the only stripe 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 where 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 half suddenly, half willingly, to enter into some accommodation. I think not of fools nor of their folly, said Richard carelessly, and the archduke turning us back on him withdrew from the ground. Richard looked after him as he retired. There is a sort of glow-worm 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 standard. Watch over the honour of England. Her safety is yet more dear to me, said Devorks. And the life of Richard is the safety of England. I must have your highness back in your tent, and without further tarance. Thou art a rough and preemptory nurse, Devorks. said the king, smiling. And then added, addressing Sir Kenneth. Valiant Scott, I owe thee a boon, and I will pay it richly. There stands the banner of England. Watch it as noviced as 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. Does thou undertake the charge? Willingly, said Kenneth, and will discharge it upon penalty of my head. I will batarm 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 other. Richard against Philip, for what he deemed an officious interference betwixt him and Austria, and Philip against Corde Leon, for the 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 at the events of the day according to their partialities, and while the English charged the Austrian with having afforded the first ground a quarrel, those of other nations concurred in casting the greater blame upon the insular haughtiness and assuming character of Richard. Thou seest, said the Marques of Montserrat, to the grand master of the Templars, that subtler courses are more effective than violence. I have unloosed the bonds which held together this branch of sceptres and lances. Thou 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 cold-blooded 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 had 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-craig only lifts the climate 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 St George's Mount, beside the banner of England, a solitary sentinel, to protect the emblem of that nation against the insults which might be mediated among the thousands whom Richard's pride had made his enemies. His 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 that 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 so Kenneth little wrecked, that the display of royal regard consisted in placing him upon a post so perilous. The diversion of his ambitious and high-placed affection inflamed his military enthusiasm. Hopeless as this 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 death, and he resolved it should be glorious, must deserve the praises as well as cool down the vengeance of Corde Leon, and be followed by the regrets and even the tears of the high-born beauties of the English court, he had now no longer reason to fear that he should die as a full dieth. So Kenneth had full leisure to enjoy these and similar high-sold thoughts, fostered by that wild spirit of chivalry which, amid its most extravagant and fantastic flights, were still pure from all selfish alloy. Generous devoted, and perhaps only thus far sensible, that he 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. Besides the bannestaff lay the large stag hound 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 animals seemed to understand the purpose of their watch, for he looked from time to time at the rich folds of the heavy pen on, and, when the quarry 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 worked his tail, as his master passed and repast him in the short turns which he took upon his post, or when the night 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 night's gauntlet his hand, to solicit a transitory caress, thus pass two hours of the night's watch without anything remarkable occurring. At length and upon a sudden the gallant stag hound bade furiously, and seemed about to dash forward where the shadow lay the darkest, yet waited, as if in the slits, 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 Amorgus,' answered a horse, disagreeable voice, "'tie up your forefoot a 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. "'Beware, I am here for death and life.' "'Take up thy—take up thy long-fanged satherness,' said the voice, or I will conjure him with a bolt from my arbalest. At the same time was heard the sound of a spring or check, as when a crossbow is bent. "'Unbend thy arbalest and come into the moonlight,' said the Scott, or by St Andrew, I will pin thee to the earth, be what to 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 mediating to cast it from his hand. A 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 at the chapel at Ngadi, 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 as 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 render is thou not to nectar Banus, the homage due to his dignity, or is it possible that thou canst have forgotten him? Great Nectar Banus! Answer the night, willing to soothe the creature's humor, that were difficult for anyone 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 pursuance, 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 man at arms in my place may. It shall suffice, said Nectar Banus, so that you presently attend me to the presence of those who have sent me hither to summon you. Great Sir! replied the night, neither in this can I gratify thee, for my orders are to abide by this banner till daybreak. So 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 impotunity. Look you! he said, placing himself before Sir Kenneth, so as to interrupt his way. Either obey me so night, as in duty bound, or I will lay the command upon thee, in the name of one whose beauty could call down the geni from their sphere, and whose grandeur could command the immortal race when they had descended. A wild and improbable conjecture arose in the night'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, Nectar Banus, tell me at once, and as a true man, whether this sublime lady of whom thou speakest, be other than the whoree, with whose assistants I beheld thee sweeping the chapel at Ingadi. How presumptuous night! replied the dwarf. Thinkest 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 facile as thou? No, highly as thou art honoured, thou hast not yet deserved the notice of Queen Guinevere, the lovely bride of Arthur, for whose high seat even princes seem but pygmies. But look thou here, and as thou knowest or dishonest this token. So obey or refuse her commands, who hath dined to impose them on thee. So saying he placed in the night's hand a ruby ring, which, even in the moonlight, he had no difficulty to recognise, as that which usually graced the finger of the high-born lady, to whose service he had devoted himself. Curty had doubted the truth of the token. He would have been convinced by the small knot of carnation-coloured ribbon, which was fastened to the ring. This was his lady's favourite colour, and more than once did he himself, assuming it for that of his own liveries, cause the carnation to triumph over all other hues in the lists and in the battle. So 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. Foolish and foolish knight! said the dwarf, Woods 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 of thou tarriest is a crime against thy allegiance. Be think thyself, said the knight. Can my lady know where, and upon what duty I am this night engaged? Issue her that my life, why I speak of life, but 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 impossible. The princess is pleased to be merry with her servant in sending him such a message. And I must think so, that 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 lady, so fare thee well. Stay, stay, I 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. Orte fidelity to rack and furlongs, or miles, or leagues, like 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 distance from this place than this arbalest consenter-bolt. The night goes 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 not, I feel it not. It is but a shadowy name, a succession of breathing smetting forth by night, by the clank of a bell, by day by a shadow crossing along a dialstone. No is thou not a true night'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 a mouth of folly, said the night, and doth my lady really summon me to some deed of action, in her name and for her sake? And might 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 sand-glass. Harken thou cold-blooded and suspicious night, these are of very words. Tell him that the hand which dropped roses can bestow laurels. This allusion to their meeting in the chapel of Ingadi sent a thousand recollections through Sir Kenneth's brain, and convinced him that the message delivered by the dwarf was genuine. The rose-bruds, withered as they were, were still treasured under his caress, and nearest to his heart. He paused, and could not resolve to forgo an opportunity, the only one which might ever offer, to gain grace in her eyes whom he had installed as sovereign of his infections. The dwarf, in the meantime, augmented his confusion by insisting either that he must return the ring, or instantly attend him. Hold, hold, at a moment hold! said the night, and proceeded to matter to himself. I might either the subject or slave of King Richard, more than as a free night swore unto the service of the crusade. And whom have I come hither to honour with lance and sword? O holy cause and my transcendent lady! The ring, the ring! exclaimed the dwarf impatiently. False and soulful night, return the ring, which thou art unworthy to touch or to look upon. A moment, a moment, good Nectarbanus! 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 a king's pride suffered no humiliation? Or should I speak to the breach and fight for the cross? To the breach assuredly. And next to the cause of God comes the commands of my leech lady. And yet, quarterly on behest, my own promise! Nectarbanus! 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 Nectarbanus! The moon is glimmering on a 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 offer the consequences. I can hear from thence the bay of my dog if any one approaches the standard. I will throw myself up to my lady's feet and pray her leave to return to conclude my watch. Here, Roswell! Calling as hound, and throwing down his mantle by the side of the standard spear. 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 Nectarbanus! said the knight. Let us hasten to obey the commands thou hast bought. Haste thee 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 strides. You do not walk like a man, but bound like an ostrich in the desert. There are but two ways of conquering the obstancy of Nectarbanus. Who, as he spoke, diminished his walk into a snail's pace. For bribes Kenneth had no means, for 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 that there was a small guard or soldier 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, unspoken that his motions might, on the present occasion, required 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. Nectarbanus 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 the tents, he led the knight in silence to the opposite side of the pavilion, which thus screened them from the observations of the waters, who seemed either too negligent or too sleepy to discharge their duty with much accuracy. Arrived there, the dwarf raised the underpart 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. This 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 stopped accordingly, crept beneath the canvas enclosure of the tent, and heard the dwarf whisper from without, Remain here until I call thee. When the fatal fruit was eaten, they parted near 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 to begin 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 which attempted 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 England, and the discovery of his having introduced himself, thus furtively into the rogue villain, might, where 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 canvas petition. 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 the shades of several figures sitting and moving in the adjoining apartment. It cannot be termed as courtesy, in Sir Kenneth that, situated as he was, he overheard a conversation, in which he found himself deeply interested. Call her, call her, for a lady's sake, said the voice of one of those laughing invisibles. Nectarbanus, thou shall be made ambassador to Prestor 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 Nectarbanus has raised my maidens? Hear me, royal madam! said another voice. If the sage and princely Nectarbanus be not over jealous of his most transcendent bride and empress, let it send her to get us rid of this insolent knight-errant. It can be so easily persuaded that Highborn Danes may need the use of his insolent and overweening valour. It were but just, me thinks, replied another, that the Princess Guinevere should dismiss, by her courtesy, him who her husband's wisdom has been able to entice hither. Struck to the heart to his shame and resentment of what he had heard, Sir Kenneth was about to attempt his escape from the tent at all hazards, when what followed attested his purpose. Nay, truly! said the first speaker. Our cousin Edith must first learn how this vaunted white hath conducted himself, and who must reserve the power of giving her ocular proof that he hath failed in his duty. It may be a lesson we'll do good upon her. For, credit me, Callister, 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! What's 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 petition a shade, which glided along slowly until it mixed with those which already clouded it. Despite of the bitter disappointment which he had experienced, despite the insult and injury with which it seemed he had been visited by the malice, or, at best, by the idle humour of Queen Beringera, for he already concluded that she who spoke loudest and in a commanding tone was the wife Richard. The night felt something so soothing to his feelings, in learning that Edith had been no partner to the fraud practiced 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 he might be made eye as well as ear witness to what was to go forward. Surely, said he to himself, the Queen, who had 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 others were reluctant to speak, for fear of being unable to command her laughter and that of her companions. For so Kenneth could only distinguish a sound as of suppressed tittering and merriment. Your Majesty. Said Edith at last, seems in a merry mood, though me thinks 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 been rather 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 all pilgrimage, Satan is strong with you, my gentle cousin, and prompts thee to leasing. Can you deny that you gauged your ruby ring against my golden bracelet, that yonder night of the Liburd, or how you call him, could not be seduced from his post? Your Majesty is too great for me to gain say 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 gauge anything on such a subject. Nay, but, my Lady Edith. Said another voice, you must need's grant, under your favour, that you express to solve very confident of the valour of that same night the Liburd. And if I did, minion, said Edith angrily, is that a good reason why thou should put in thy word to flatter her Majesty's humour? I spoke of that night, 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 safe soldiers and deeds of arms? The noble Lady Edith, said a third voice, have never forgiven Callister and me, since we told your Majesty that she dropped two rose buds 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 guives of awaiting women, and must crave your permission to withdraw. Silence, flurrays! said the Queen, and let not our indulgence lead you to forget the difference between yourself and the King's woman of England. But you, my dear cousin! she continued, resuming her tone of railery. How can you, who are so good-natured, begrudge as poor wretches a few minutes laughing, one who 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 smell for the rest of my life, rather than— She stopped, apparently out of suspect. But Sir Kenneth could hear that she was in much agitation. Forgive me! said Beringera. A thoughtless but good-humoured princess of the House of Navarie. But what is the great offence after all? A young knight has been willed hither. Has stolen, or has been stolen from his post, which no one will disturb in his absence, for the sake of a fair lady. For, to do your champion justice, sweet one, the wisdom of Nectarbanus 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 invinced. You cannot say, so consistently with respect for your own honour and for mine, your husband's kinswoman. Say you are jesting with me, my royal mistress, and forgive me that I could, even for the moment, think it possible that you could be an 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 in 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 Amphidel, 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 that pledge brought him hither, and we cannot for the bait after the fish's court. 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, ear 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 you. The hard even of a lion is made of flesh, not of stone. And believe me, I have interest enough with Richard to save this night, in whose faith Lady Edith is so deeply concerned, from the penalty of disobeying his royal commands. For the love of the Blessed Cross met Royal Lady. Said Edith, and Sir Kenneth, with feelings which it were hard to unravel, heard to 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 Richard. You 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 kinsmen to pardon a military offence. 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? A rise, cousin, rise! said Queen Berengera. And be assured all would be better than you think. Rise, dear Edith! I am sorry I have played my foolery, with a night in whom you take such deep interest. Nay, ring not thy hands. I will believe thou carest not for him. Believe anything rather than see thee look so wrettedly 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 ownedst him not as a friend. Nay, look not so reproachfully. We will send Nectabanus to dismiss this night of the standard to his post, and we ourselves will grace him on some future day, to make amends for his wild goose-chase. He is, I warrant, but lying purred you in some neighbouring tent. By my crown of lilies and my sceptre of especially good water-read, said Nectabanus, your majesty is mistaken. He is nearer at hand than you ought. He lieth in scrawled there behind that canvas-petition. And within hearing of each word we have said, exclaim the queen, out, monster of folly and malignity. As she uttered these words, Nectabanus fled from the pavilion with the yell of such a nature, as leaves it still doubtful, where the Borengora 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. The heavens' sake, forbear, consider, said the queen, my apartment, our dress, the hour, my 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 knight occasioned the undressed, of Queen Borengora, 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 purse less heatfully covered, than was the want 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 pink-coloured 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 accountants, which a mingled sense of modesty and of resentment, and other deep and agitated feelings, had covered with crimson. But, although Edith felt a 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 said too much lustre over her figure. But, whilst the Kenneth stood motionless on the same spot in which he was first discovered, she rather stepped towards them, retired from him, as she exclaimed, hasten to your post-valiant night, you are deceived in being trained hither, ask no questions. I need ask none, said the night, 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 the time dishonoured, lady, and I have heard it from you. Answered Kenneth, what wreck house soon punishment follows? I have put one petition to you, and then I seek, among the sabers of the infidels, where the dishonour may not be washed out with blood. Do not so neither, said the lady. Be wise, telly not here, all may yet be well, if you will, but use dispatch. I wait but for your forgiveness, said the night, still kneeling, for my presumption in believing that my poor services could have been required or valued by you. I do forgive you, I have nothing to forgive, have been the means of injuring you, but I will be gone, I will forgive, I will value you, that is, as I value every brave crusader, if you will but be gone. Receive first this precious yet fatal pledge, said the night, tendering the ring to Edith, who now showed gestures of impatience. Oh, no, no! she said, declining to receive it. Keep it, keep it as a mark of my regard, my regret I would say. Oh, be gone, 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, so 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 conquered 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 brivery, 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 ready aperture by slitting the canvas wall with his poignard. When in the free air he felt rather stupefied and overpowered by a conflict of sensations, then able to ascertain what was the real import of the whole, he was obliged to spur himself to action, by recollecting that the command of the Lady Edith had required haste. Even then, engaged as he was amongst tent robes 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 observations 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 in the 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 St. 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 wildest start at the voice of Roswell, then did Sir Kenneth that what he feared was the death-cry of that noble hound, from whom no ordinary injury could have extracted even the slightest acknowledgement 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 full 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, still on a 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 This is a LibriVox recording, all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information on to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Lizzie Driver. All my long a rear of honour lost. Heaped up in youth, and hoarded up for age. Hath honours found and then sucked up the stream. He hath, and hooting boys may barefoot pass, 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 Roswell, mortally wounded, as it seemed, in discharge in 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 and 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 endeaments, 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 dissolution, 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 night's strength of mind gave way to a burst of agonised 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 reign, cold, comfortless, unfraining 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 leper turned towards the speaker, and beheld the Arabian physician, who, approaching unheard, had seated himself a little behind him cross-legged, and knutted with gravity, yet not without a tone of sympathy, the moral sentences of consolation, with which the Quran and its commentators supplied him. For in the East, wisdom is held to consist, lessen 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 had said, continued the arrow, without noticing the night's adverted look and silent deportment. The ox for the field and the camel for the desert were not the hand of the leech fitter than those of the soldier to cure wounds, though less able to inflict them. This patient-a-keem is beyond thy help, said Sir Kenneth, and besides, he is by thy law an unclean animal. Where Allah hath dined to bestow life, and ascends a pain and pleasure, said the physician, it was 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, or a poor dog, and of a conquering monarch, are events of little distinction. Let me examine this wounded animal. Sir Kenneth exceeded in silence, and the physician inspected and handled Roswell'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 skillful application of pincers, withdrew from the wounded's shoulder the fragment of the weapon, and stopped with styptics and bandages the effusion of blood which followed. The creature all the while suffering impatiently to perform these kind offices, as if he had been aware of his kind intentions. The animal may be cured, said El Hakeem, addressing himself to Sir Kenneth, if you permit me to carry him to my tent, and treat him with the care which the nobleness of his nature deserves. For, no, that thy servant Adambeck is no less skillful in the race and pedigree and distinction 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 of nothing else to pay it with. For myself, I will never again wind-buckle or halloe to hound. The Arabian maiden I 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, Roswell, then, said Sir Kenneth. Fare thee well, my last and only friend. Thou 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, answer 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 speak if 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, Hakeem. 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 Atombeck L. Hakeem. No, then, said Sir Kenneth. Since thou art so importunate, that last night the banner ringland was displayed from this mound, I was its appointed guardian. Morning is now breaking, there lies the broken banner spear, the standard itself is lost, and here I sit a living man. How! said El Hakeem, examining him. Thy armour is whole, there is no blood on thy weapons. A report speaks thee, one unlikely to return thus from fight. Thou hast been trained from thy post. I, trained by the rosy cheek and black eye, of one of those horris, do whom you Nazarene's vow rather such service, as is due to Allah, then such love as may lawfully be rendered to forms of clay like her own. It has been thus assuredly, for so hath man ever fallen, ever since the days of Salt and Adam. And if it were so physician, said Sir Kenneth sullenly, watch remedy. Knowledge is the parent of power. said El Hakeem. As valor supplies strength. Listen to me. Man is not 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 Muslim also know that Muhammad, the prophet of valor, driven forth from the holy city of Mecca, found his refuge and his help-mates at Medina. And what does this concern me? said the Scott. 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. 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 approach, does not thy advice stretch so far as to recommend me to take the turban? Me thinks I want better poste 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 precept 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 brow shall be bound to the turban, save it thine own free choice. My choice were rather, said the knight, that my rhythm feature should blacken, as they are like to do in this evening-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 son, this crusade, as you call your wild enterprise, is as large as a drum-ond, parting asunder in the waves. Open bracket, the largest sort of vessels then known were turned drummons, or drummond-daries. Close bracket. Thou, I self, has borne terms of truth in the kings and princes, whose forces here assembled to the mighty soldan, and knowest 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 envoys of princes when, ere night, I shall be agitated and dishonoured corpse? 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 camps of the kings of Fraginstan, 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 entrusted defection. The king of kings will treat only with the lion king. Saladin will hold treaty with none, but the mellish rick. 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 sores 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 Nazarene lists to worship. Nay, he will so far share even his empire with his brother Richard, that he 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 kingardian of Jerusalem. Yet further, strange and incredible as you may think it, no so night. For to your honour I can commit even that almost incredible secret. No, that Saladin will put a sacred seal on this happy union, but to ex-the bravest and noblest of Fraginstan and Asia. By rising 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 Plantagent. Open bracket. This may appear so extraordinary and improbable a proposition, that it is necessary to say such a one was actually made. The historians, however, substituted 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 Plantagent. See mail's history of the crusade's volume two, page sixty-one. Close bracket. Ha! sayest thou? exclaimed Sir Kenneth. Who, listening with indifference and apathy to the preceding part of El-Hakim's speech, was touched by the 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, failing 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 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. Seeest thou not how the Muhammadian Prince is daily into marry, with the noble Nazarene maidens in Spain, without scandal either to Maura 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 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 ennena, that she shall be in every respect his soul an absolute queen. What! said Sir Kenneth, dearest thou think, Muslim, that Richard would give his king's woman a high-born and virtuous princess, to be at best the foremost concubine in the harem of a misbeliever? No, HaKim, the meanest free Christian noble would scorn on his child's behalf such splendid ignomy. Thou, Erist, 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 arch-priest of Tyre hath undertaken to break the proposal to Richard, not doubting that he should be able to bring the plan to good issue. The sold-end'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 honor. Up, therefore, so knight and to horse, I will give thee a scroll which shall advance thee highly with the sold-end, and do 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. De Saladin, my counsel, will be most acceptable, since thou canst make him aware of much concern in 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 in that he should know. The right hand of the sold-end grasps the treasures of the east, and it is the fountain of generosity. Or, if thou desirest, Saladin, when allied with England, can abut little difficulty to obtain from Richard, not only thy pardon and restoration to favor, 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, amount, there lies a plain path before thee. Hakeem, so the Scottish knight, thou art a man of peace, also thou hast saved the life of Richard of England, and, moreover, of my own poorest squire, Stroken, I have, therefore, heard to end a matter which, being propounded by another Muslim than thyself, I would have cut short with the blow of my dagger. Hakeem, in return for thy kindness, I advise thee to see that the Saracen who shall propose to Richard, a union betwixt the blood of plentagent and that of his accursed race, do bid on a helmet which is capable to endure such a blow of battleaxe, as that which struck down the gate of Acre. Certes, he will be otherwise placed beyond the reach even of Viscill. Thou art, then, willfully determined not to fly to the Saracen host? Said the physician? Yet remember, thou stayest a 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, Hakeem, 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-Hakeem. Only we physicians are sworn not to send away a patient uncured. If the dog recover, he is once more yours. Go to, Hakeem! answered Sir Kenneth. Men speak not of hawk and hound, when there is but an hour of daybreak betwixt them in 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 turban figure was lost among the labyrinths of tents, which lay extended beneath, whitening in the pale light of the dawning, before which the moon-beam had now faded away. But, although the physician Adam Beck'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 solid vestment no longer becoming his wear. March that had passed betwixt himself on the hermit. Besides what he had observed between the anchorite and the Sherkoff, or Ilderim, he now recalled to recollection, and tended to confirm what the Hakeem had told him of the secret article of the treaty. The reverent imposter, he exclaimed to himself, the horror 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 a cursed of God, the beauties of Edith Plantagent, that the hound might judge that the princely Christian lady were fit to be admitted into the harem of a misbeliever? If I had yonder infidel Ilderim, or whatsoever he is called, again in the grip with which I once held him fast, as ever hound held hair, never again should he at least come on errand disgraceful to the honour of Christian king, or noble and virtuous maiden. But I, my hours are fast dwindling into minutes. Yet 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. End of CHAPTER XIV