ALCAZAR; 
 
 Ofi, 
 
 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 A NOVEL. 
 
 BY 
 
 J. RICHARD BESTE, Esq. 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 "TH^ WABASH", "modern SOCIETY IN EOME ", 
 
 ETC. 
 
 " Le donne, i cavalier, Tarme, gli amori, 
 Le cortesie, I'audoci impresi io canto." 
 
 Abiosto. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS, 
 SUCCESSORS TO HENRY COLBURN, 
 
 13, GKEAT MAKLBOKOUGH STKEET. 
 
 1857.
 
 ITbe JMth&r of this Work i-eserves the right of TramlationJ 
 
 T. RICHARDS: 37 GREAT QUEEN STREET.
 
 Hi OH 
 
 V, I 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 The events recorded in the following pages hap- 
 pened seven hundred years ago ; and I assure 
 the reader that neither I nor any of my family 
 now living took any part in them. 
 
 I should have deemed it superfluous to make 
 such a declaration had it not been insisted that I 
 myself and the several members of my household, 
 together with real events that had happened to 
 each of us, had been introduced by me into my 
 recent work entitled Modem Society in Rome. 
 Because, in The Wabash, I had recorded what 
 happened to us in our wild travels in the Back 
 Woods of America, it was thought that we must 
 play a part in every novel or chronicle that I might 
 publish ! 
 
 And as I do not make my novels a vehicle for 
 personal histories, so I would request non-roaders 
 to believe that I do not use them as channels for 
 controversial or religious disquisitions. I write 
 
 b 
 
 13135G7
 
 VI PREFACE. 
 
 for the general public ; and am neither a divine, 
 a polemic, nor a missionary. 
 
 I should have deemed it superfluous to make 
 this declaration also, had not one or two of my 
 reviewers, who had evidently not read that 
 Roman novel (and heaven save reviewers if they 
 were obliged to read all they notice !) had not 
 one or two of my reviewers totally misappre- 
 hended the whole story, and, judging doubtless 
 from precedent or analogy, reported that it was 
 entirely animated by religious or sectarian feel- 
 ings and disquisitions. That such was not the 
 character of the book, is shown by the reception 
 it met with from the three Catholic periodicals 
 to which the publishers sent copies as a matter of 
 course : — the editor of one of these reviewed it in 
 what he thought a safe manner, and was told, by 
 what he considered the highest authority, on 
 such matters, in England, that, if he was unwill- 
 ing to condemn the work, he ought not to have 
 noticed it at all : the editor of the second de- 
 clared that he xoould not write against it, and 
 dared not write in its favour : whilst, for the 
 third publication, an approving notice was pre- 
 pared, at the request of the editor, but was re- 
 jected by the ecclesiastical censorship to which 
 the writer chose to submit his paper ! ! 
 
 This last-mentioned gentleman is no politician,
 
 PREFACE. Vll 
 
 but ranks, amongst his co-religionists, as one of 
 the first theologians in England. His approval of 
 the work showed that it contained nothing which 
 these parties could object to on theological grounds; 
 whilst its condemnation by the others proved 
 that its scope was not the furtherance of their 
 own or any other religious views ; but that they 
 were scandalized by the liberality and freedom 
 and independence of my remarks on the temporal 
 administration of Kome. I knew Pius the Ninth 
 himself to have Italian and liberal aspirations, 
 and I did not spare counsellors and a system 
 Avhich he himself had not energy to discard. I 
 am told that I should have been pardoned if 
 I had condemned the Pontiff and spared the 
 system. 
 
 It may well be believed that it is unpleasant to 
 me to enter into these explanations. I am com- 
 pelled to do so because it has been reported 
 (however erroneously) that my novel has been 
 placed in the Index of Books forbidden at Pome ! 
 No question of faith was involved in the matter 
 of those volumes ; for, as I was not called upon 
 to advance any, so did I not compromise any : — 
 though I have my own religious convictions, I 
 do not feel myself called upon in these books to 
 propose them, nor to shock those of others : — but 
 questions of political government, questions af-
 
 VIU PREFACE. 
 
 fecting the material well-being of Italy were in- 
 volved ; and because I wrote frankly on these 
 subjects, I am denounced by English Catholic 
 writers, who would deny to themselves the liberty 
 of thought, speech and action which is exercised 
 by their co-religionists all over the world. It 
 may be gall and wormwood to these gentlemen : 
 but if they exclude all liberal-minded Catholic 
 politicians in Europe and America from fellow- 
 ship, they will leave themselves, I am happy to 
 say, in a very, very small minority indeed ! 
 
 I trust to the honourable conduct of the ge- 
 neral press of England to protect me from the 
 misrepresentation of bigots and sycophant's. Ca- 
 tholics are constantly told, " If you disapprove 
 the illiberal, violent, ultramontane conduct which 
 we attribute to your co-religionists in this coun- 
 try, why do you not proclaim that you are ani- 
 mated by a different spirit ?" Let those who call 
 for such avowals, recognize and uphold the pub- 
 lic men and the writers who make them. 
 
 But as the divines of whom I have spoken 
 condemned my Homan novel because it was as 
 liberal as Pio Nono himself had been in the 
 first years of his reign, so many other critics ob- 
 jected to it because, instead of the republican 
 principles of Mazzini (which every day shows to 
 be more and more repudiated by Italians), it
 
 PREFACE. IX 
 
 advocated a constitutional government of the 
 Roman States, under the Popes, with the secu- 
 larisation of the government offices. The plan 
 was too moderate, the example of Sardinia (which 
 I instanced as proving that a constitutional go- 
 vernment was possible in Italy) was too con- 
 vincing for my views not to be denounced by 
 revolutionary and republican refugees in Eng- 
 land. Many of these write English fluently : 
 and not all my invectives against Austrian rule 
 and Austrian intervention in Italy, — not all my 
 objurgations against the mean tyranny of King 
 Bomba, — could win me favour in their eyes while 
 I repudiated the Mazzinian dream. From one, 
 who did not favour me with his name, I received 
 fourteen foolscap pages, in manuscript, of mi- 
 nutely-critical abuse ! It was gratifying to me 
 that an anonymous clever man should have 
 thought the book of an author, to whom he said 
 that he also was unknown, worth so much of his 
 time. 
 
 It was also gratifying to me that this writer, 
 and, indeed, almost every other reviewer, re- 
 cognized the truth of all my statements as to the 
 domestic history of the times. I admit that I 
 did not give my authority for everything that I 
 promulgated as an historian : but I put my name 
 to the work, and I so vouched for the truth of
 
 X PREFACE. 
 
 every historic statement which I advanced. 
 Describing events of the truth of which I had 
 gained evidence on the spot, I saw not wherefore 
 my testimony should not be as sufficient as that of 
 any other contemporary writer. I admit also that 
 the fictitious personages whom I have introduced 
 into that story are mere pegs on which to hang 
 anecdotes and incidents of the times : but the 
 line which separates the fictitious and the ima- 
 ginary from the real and the historic characters 
 and portions of my drama, is quite sufficiently 
 evident to whomsoever cares to mark it. 
 
 It is not questioned that the historical novel 
 and drama is an excellent mode of familiarizing 
 the mind with the domestic details of history : 
 Shakespeare, Disraeli, Bulwer, Walter Scott, and 
 a host of imitators, have established this beyond 
 dispute. But it is questioned whether contem- 
 porary history can be properly introduced into a 
 novel ; and I am told that the epoch I have 
 chosen to illustrate is all too recent. Do we not, 
 I ask, do we not find the greatest charm of 
 classical writers to consist in the more minute 
 delineation of the domestic manners of their own 
 times which they occasionally give us ? When- 
 ever they lift the curtain and let us glance into 
 the interior of their domestic life, do we not 
 eagerly peep under it? What would be the
 
 PREFACE. XI 
 
 charm of Tacitus without his withering hits at 
 familiar rascaldom ? S&me centuries hence, will 
 the political novels of Disraeli be less valued 
 because statesmen of contemporary history are 
 introduced and play familiar parts in them ? 
 
 But enough : let me only thank the general 
 public, and the great majority of the reviewers to 
 whom I have alluded in this preface, for the 
 favourable reception they have given the volumes 
 in question. This argument in approval of con- 
 temporaneous history, is one that it were unwise 
 to follow further while I am introducing a work 
 the events recorded in which happened in " The 
 Dark Ages". Why I have given it such a title, 
 I scarcely know ; unless it were that when lately 
 reading again Horace Walpole's Castle of Otranto, 
 which he calls " A Gothic Story", it occurred to 
 me to challenge — not his inimitable style of com- 
 position — but the truthfulness of his description 
 of the manners of the same Cimmerian period 
 through which I myself was then disporting by 
 the sure light of contemporary chronicles. 
 
 For I would be permitted to add that every 
 personage introduced into this story — excepting 
 the Saracen and the couple who are made happy 
 at the end, and who were necessary as types of a 
 class then common in Sicily and Italy — that 
 every other personage had a historical existence
 
 XU PREFACE. 
 
 and really played that part which I have 
 attributed to him or her. I am aware that 
 events and incidents are so multiplied as to have 
 sufficed for a score of novels. This may be a 
 defect : but they all really occurred thus closely 
 one upon the other ; and I could not omit any in 
 justice to the period I had undertaken to illus- 
 trate. 
 
 Botleigh Grange, 
 
 Candlemas Day, 1857.
 
 THE DAPiK AGES. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 " To be or not to be : — that is tlie question." 
 
 Hamlet. 
 
 It was a curious old pile, that castle of 
 Beni-zekher, or, as the Sicilians have since 
 called it by a very easy transition, San 
 Benedetto ! Straight walls of hewn stone, 
 diversified by little Moorish arches and 
 graceful cupolas, were flanked by two oct- 
 angular towers, of rougher masonry, added 
 on the outside of the southern wall, and by 
 a large square Norman keep on the north, 
 rising to the height of twenty feet or more 
 above the rest of the building. The ap- 
 pearance of the whole pile showed, at once, 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 that it was a Saracen dwelling house, con- 
 verted into a fortified castle by its more 
 recent owners from the North. 
 
 It was in a room in one of the smaller 
 octangular towers, a room of the shape of 
 the outer walls, but reduced in size as 
 much as was necessary for steps to wind in 
 the thickness of the wall to the battle- 
 mented roof above — it was in such a room 
 that conversed those who attract oui" notice 
 and bespeak our interest. A sweet female 
 voice, in light and joyous tones, has, for 
 some while, reached our ear ; and its merry 
 prattle has seemed to rise still more gaily 
 after it had momentarily yielded to the 
 expostulating tones of deeper and more 
 mellow accents. Joyous, indeed, was the 
 look of that sweet female speaker : nor was 
 the character of the physiognomy of the 
 knight, who addressed her, so grave and 
 thoughtful as the tones of his voice would 
 have led a listener to suppose. They were 
 both perfect specimens of male and female
 
 THE DARK AGES. 3 
 
 beauty. Let us not be told that every 
 writer of romance so portrays his hero and 
 his heroine ; when a stroke of the jDen can 
 bestow attractions, he must, indeed, be a 
 niggard scribe who would withhold them. 
 Our personages are not, however, of our 
 own imagining. Seven centuries have 
 passed since either smiled on the other : 
 
 " The Knight's hones are dust, 
 And his good sword rust — 
 His soul is with the saints we trust." 
 
 But we must not forestall our story : 
 though, as we have owned that the parties 
 lived nearly seven centuries ago, the reader 
 will naturally imagine that they are not 
 living now. 
 
 At the time, then, of which we write, 
 and on that particular day when they con- 
 versed in the little octagon room, the lady's 
 fair face was lighted up by a smile which 
 showed more soul and expression than one 
 would have thought features so fair could 
 ever have conveyed. Her hair, indeed,
 
 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 was almost as white as flax ; her eyes were 
 of the blue of those southern skies ; her 
 skill was so transparently white that no 
 one would have supposed she could have 
 been exposed for twenty years to the wear 
 and tear of the world. Her figure was 
 slight ; her step active : her dress was in- 
 describable. We do not mean to say that 
 we are incompetent to describe it ; we have 
 it all there before our mind's eye — her 
 little bejewelled Saracenic jackets — her 
 flowing Grecian robes — her JSTorman un- 
 trowsered modesty. But when the dress of 
 so many nations was combined in the attire 
 of one female, it may well be supposed that 
 fashion ruled not with immutable sway ; 
 that the fancy of the wearer was the only 
 guide constantly followed; and, conse- 
 quently, that were we to give up a whole 
 chapter to detail the outward attire of our 
 heroine, we should not be enriching the 
 heads of antiquaries by details of forgotten 
 lore, but should only be describing one
 
 THE DARK AGES. 5 
 
 fanciful woman's fancy of the day. All 
 will admit that this were loss of good 
 room. 
 
 Nor can we give much space to describe 
 the appearance of the person whose deep- 
 toned voice we had heard so finely con- 
 trasted with the musical treble of the lady. 
 And yet he had a noble presence ! A clear 
 olive skin mantled over a set of the finest 
 features ever moulded out of earth, and 
 perfected in five-and-twenty years. Large 
 black eyes seemed to shoot forth the fire of 
 a resolute and undaunted soul. And yet 
 the long dark eye-lashes which added so 
 much to his beauty, seemed to soften an 
 expression which might otherwise have 
 become fixed and stern. You thought it 
 was the eye-lashes which did this ; but as 
 you watched that speaking face, you saw 
 an unsteadiness in the glance itself, and a 
 slight vibration about the well-formed lips 
 and the corners of the mouth, which showed 
 that, in truth, the owner's character was
 
 6 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 not, perhaps, so firm and resolute as the 
 first fire of those black eyes would have led 
 you to believe. A something unsettled — a 
 something wavering seemed to lurk behind, 
 and to be striven against by the conscious 
 mind. But then, how well trimmed was 
 his beard, and what noble locks he wore 
 flowing all around his neck, and lying, like 
 coiled and glistening snakes, upon his satin 
 hood ! 
 
 This hood was now thrown back, so as 
 to show his head to the best advantage, 
 and was joined to a hauberk or outer tunic, 
 Avhich bedecked limbs of perfect symmetry, 
 but of dimensions above the common mould. 
 It was formed of primrose-coloured satin, 
 too slightly wadded, indeed, to resist even 
 a sword-cut, but this insufficiency was 
 guarded against by polished rings of gold 
 and silver, fixed, in alternate rows, upon 
 the dress ; and, although about two inches 
 in diameter, lapping lightly over one ano- 
 ther so accurately as to form a sort of
 
 THE DARK AGES. 7 
 
 chain-armour, which no slight thrust could 
 have pierced. Nothing could be richer 
 than this dress : it was open before and 
 behind, that it might not incommode the 
 wearer when on horseback ; open also at 
 the sleeves, which did not reach below the 
 elbows : but underneath, a close tunic of 
 pale blue silk fitted tightly to the well- 
 formed limbs, and allowed them to be seen 
 in all their fine proportions. Boots of 
 highly prepared leather lined with blue 
 satin, folded back over the calves of his 
 legs : and in front of each leg was a dia- 
 mond brooch to which the long pointed 
 toes of the boots were fastened up by a 
 slight chain of gold. When we add that, 
 on his right hip, he wore, suspended 
 through a loop in his hauberk, a long 
 curved scimeter, whose jewelled handle 
 stood up above its golden scabbard, we 
 shall have given the picture of such a 
 young man as no lady's heart could fail to 
 admire in these degenerate days.
 
 8 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 Was such, however, the feeling of the 
 lady in that little room ? Perhaps the fol- 
 lowing conversation will enlighten us on 
 the subject. 
 
 " Nay, beautiful Countess," interposed 
 the young man (whose person and dress 
 we beg to say we have described as it is 
 portrayed by contemporary historians), 
 " nay, beautiful Countess," he expostulated, 
 " can you not, Avill you not be serious 1" 
 
 " In very truth, then," she lightly an- 
 swered, "I neither can nor will, when I 
 hear you talk of falling on your knees. 
 Don't, I pray you. I should laugh so much 
 that you would be offended outright." 
 
 " And you would be still better pleased 
 if I were offended outright," expostulated 
 the knight in a tone half of sorrow and 
 half of anger. " You, who will never allow 
 me to say what you know I wish to ex- 
 press, would be right joyful were I so dis- 
 pleased as to free you from my importu- 
 nities for ever."
 
 THE DARK AGES. 9 
 
 " 1 know what you wish to express, Don 
 Matteo !" exclaimed the lady. " Why you 
 
 » 
 
 must think me as great a prophet as padre 
 Giovacchino himself. How is it possible 
 that I can know your sentiments when you 
 do not know them yourself?" 
 
 " Is it possible, then, that my devotion 
 for so many years..." 
 
 " Many years ! discourteous Chevalier ; 
 how old, then, would you make meT' 
 gaily interposed the lady. 
 
 " Saint Agatha forbid that I should 
 make you responsible for having tortured 
 mankind for one year longer than you can 
 be justly charged withal," said Don Matteo 
 reproachfully. " But you know that ever 
 since your widowhood — ever since your 
 hand has been free — " 
 
 " You have wished to throw voursclf at 
 my feet, is it not so — when you have seen 
 me ?" she archly asked ; " and have been 
 ready to do the same by half a dozen other 
 Sicilian dames when you have seen them.
 
 10 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 Oh, Don Mattco, I know your heart and 
 character better than you do yourself. You 
 have so much to be proud of justly, that 
 you would never acknowledge to yourself 
 how unstable you are." 
 
 The latter part of this sentence was 
 spoken in more serious tones than any she 
 had yet used, and with an expression of 
 feeling that evidently much moved the 
 young nobleman. His eyes fell beneath 
 her steady look of interest ; and he stood 
 silent and irresolute before the beautiful 
 widow — who, though so young, had now, 
 however, been a widow for several years. 
 She watched him keenly and with an in- 
 creasing look of interest when she saw his 
 glance fall before her own. She allowed 
 time for her words to produce their effect 
 upon his mind ; and only when she saw 
 that he was abo'fl^ to speak, did she again 
 break silence. 
 
 " And say not," she then added, " that 
 my hand is free. What heiress or what fe-
 
 THE DARK AGES. 11 
 
 male holder of any lands is free to dispose of 
 herself or of them as she may please ? You 
 know well what a controul that odious 
 Majone keeps over every fief: and my 
 brother, the king, seems to feel and to own 
 our relation as little as the Church and the 
 laws do. By Saint Martin of Tours," she 
 said in a tone of rising anger, " I am less 
 free than the veriest bondswoman that 
 walks through the streets of Palermo !" 
 
 " This must, this shall be amended !" 
 ejaculated the knight warmly. 
 
 " Nay, do not think I have said it would 
 be any better for you if it were amended, 
 as your valour would doubtless propose," 
 interrupted the lady with forced gaiety. 
 " But now," she added, " leave me. Sir 
 Baron. We have had a long conference 
 to-day: and if the Lord Admiral Majone 
 hears of it, he will be inclined to send me 
 out of harm's way, with my cousin, poor 
 Tancred, and all the other noble prisoners 
 whom he has lodged so snugly under the
 
 12 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 palace. Go, then, before he grow suspi- 
 cious ; and success attend you with the 
 lady to wliom you are about to carry your 
 constant vows." 
 
 " Cruel — cruel Clemence — " began the 
 knight ; but she waved her hand in such a 
 style of remonstrance as, at once, cut short 
 his intended protestations ; and then held 
 it out to him with an air of more than regal 
 condescension, while a tear rose up and suf- 
 fused those bright blue eyes. The Baron 
 caught her fair hand ; and bending one 
 knee, pressed it with devotion to his lips : 
 then, obedient to a second sign, he hastily 
 turned him away and left the apartment. 
 
 In the small court below, the knight 
 found his horse and attendants ; and as 
 this visit had been somewhat private for 
 the reasons hinted at by tlie Countess, he 
 had come with a smaller train than gene- 
 rally followed one so wealthy and so ad- 
 mired for his splendour. Two mounted 
 attendants, besides his squire, were all who
 
 THE DARK AGES. 13 
 
 now waited on liim. One of the former of 
 these held his lord's charger — a small but 
 spirited animal, showing the strength of 
 bone of the Norman war-horse, united to 
 the symmetry and fire of the Arabian 
 breed. Without saying a word, the noble- 
 man leapt into the high-peaked Asiatic 
 saddle, which rested upon a flowing cloth 
 of silk and gold, and turned his horse 
 through the postern gateway; while he 
 drew the hood over his own head, more for 
 the purjDose of sheltering it from the rays 
 of the afternoon sun than as a protection 
 from the balmy air of a Sicilian summer. 
 The squire and attendrjits followed. The 
 two latter were dressed in the red quilted 
 gambaisons of the period, covered, of course, 
 with the iron shirt of steel rings : on their 
 heads were the low iron skull-caps common 
 to men-at-arms. Straight swords on their 
 thighs, and, at their backs, those bows and 
 a quiver of those arrows for which the 
 Normans had ever been so celebrated, were 
 all their offensive arms.
 
 14 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 The squire, however, who closely fol- 
 lowed his lord, calls for our more particular 
 notice. He was a young man of fair com- 
 plexion, who could scarcely have numbered 
 more than twenty- two years ; and whose 
 dress and general appearance were some- 
 what singular, even in a country where so 
 many different nations lived together, and 
 maintained their own several habits. Rich- 
 ard MacMardagh was, by birth, an Irish- 
 man : his father had been a follower of the 
 deputation which, a few years before, had 
 vainly waited upon Adrian IV (the Eng- 
 lishman who then filled St. Peter's chair) ; 
 had vainly waited upon him in the attempt 
 to avert that bull which handed over his 
 country to the gentle mercies of the Eng- 
 lish monarch. Disappointed in the object of 
 their mission, the father had died in Italy: 
 and the son, friendless and a stranger, had 
 had the good fortune to recommend him- 
 self to the noble Baron of Taverna, and to 
 bespeak his goodwill and favour. Being
 
 THE DARK AGES. 15 
 
 of gentle birth (gentle enough, at least, to 
 pass muster with the descendant of one of 
 the Norman adventurers who had accom- 
 panied the great Count Roger, half a cen- 
 tury before, in his first descent upon Sicily) 
 — Richard MacMardagh had been permitted 
 to approach his lord's person in the quality 
 of page. He had soon risen into favour by 
 his trustworthiness, and by his frank and 
 cheerful bearing : and now often attended 
 him as a favoured squire. Still, however, 
 the Irishman could not forget the land of 
 his fathers; and every year, every month 
 that he passed away from it, made his 
 thoughts recur to it more and more often, 
 and dwell upon it more and more fondly. 
 
 Thus, though living among those who 
 placed their greatest pride in the splendour 
 of their arms and in their warlike equip- 
 ments, nothing could induce llichard Mac- 
 Mardagh to forego the prejudices of his 
 own father-land, which taught him to see 
 in all defensive armour only so many proofs
 
 16 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 of the cowardice of the wearer. lie still 
 adhered to the customs of his own country- 
 men as much as his patron would permit 
 him to do so : and the latter, who felt the 
 pride of a young man in having followers 
 from different countries, did not require 
 his favourite squire to forego that dress 
 and equipment which marked him out as a 
 stranger from some unknown land. Richard 
 had, also, many arguments by Avhich to 
 prove his wisdom in refusing to be bur- 
 thened with defensive armour : he had, he 
 said, to bear his knight's helmet or his 
 heavy lance, to carry his shield, and often, 
 when he was on visits of courtesy like the 
 present, to hold the heavy straight war- 
 sword or battle-axe with which he would 
 not encumber his own person. How much 
 more conveniently could he do this when 
 clothed only in his tight-fitting national 
 dress of black woollen, with a sling and a 
 supply of bolts suspended under his left 
 arm ! Thus would he argue ; and although
 
 THE DARK AGES. 17 
 
 he had so far deferred to the habits of his 
 adopted country as to have stuck in his 
 belt a handseax, or Anglo-Saxon dagger, to 
 be used as occasion might require in free- 
 mg his lord or otherwise defending him 
 should he be unhorsed in battle, he never 
 would forego the machue or pile which, in 
 shape much like the Irish shillelah, he had 
 had forged of steel, and now always carried 
 thrust through his belt in the manner in 
 which the others bore their swords. Some 
 Norman laws (those of our English con- 
 queror for example) had marked these piles 
 or maces as the weapons of serfs, who were 
 not allowed to bear lances and swords, the 
 proper arms of knighthood; but not even 
 this disparagement could induce Richard 
 MacMardagh to forego his accustomed 
 weapon. 
 
 Such were those who composed the small 
 cavaleade that now^ emerged from tlie castle 
 of Beni-zekher and rode through the wild 
 scenery around it. Wild, indeed, and beau- 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 18 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 tiful were those wooded hills. Shrubs of 
 every variety covered the rocks above, and 
 opened into green glades as they neared 
 the plain around. Tall clumps of dark 
 green stone pine trees towered, here and 
 there, above the copsewood, and contrasted 
 beautifully with its bright foliage. The 
 ground in the open spaces was covered 
 with wild flowers of every variety — wild 
 flowers in that favoured region — but choice 
 green-house plants could they be trans- 
 ported into our northern clime : and this 
 varied carpeting of every hue was broken, 
 here and there, by large patches of purple 
 convolvulus, matted together in luxuriant 
 masses of flower, or clim^bing up the naked 
 stems of the lofty pine. 
 
 The noble knight rode slowly and pen- 
 sively through this quiet woodland ; and 
 thought, over and over again, on the con- 
 versation which had just passed between 
 him and the lady he loved. She was, in- 
 deed, a beautiful and high-spirited woman :
 
 THE DARK AGES. 19 
 
 and he thought how, two generations ago, 
 one of his haughty Norman race would 
 have been fired in the pursuit of her by 
 those very dangers which she had just 
 hinted at. Was he less brave than they 
 had been ? or was he enervated by having 
 been born in that slothful clime, and by 
 carrying in his veins the blood of that 
 young and noble Sicilian Greek whom his 
 father had rescued from his ruder fellow- 
 northmen and honourably married? At 
 times, he thought it must be so. At times, 
 he was glad to excuse to himself that want 
 of energy and perseverance which he se- 
 cretly felt within him, by throwing the 
 blame on circumstances over which he 
 could have had no control. And yet the 
 Countess Clemence was, indeed, a prize 
 worth contending for — so beautiful in her- 
 self, so wealthy in the many fiefs which her 
 father, the late king, had heaped upon his 
 favourite, though illegitimate daughter. 
 And why should he, why should he, Ma-
 
 20 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 thew of Taverna, fear to strive for the 
 prize? What though the king himself 
 should oppose ? — the king was but one of 
 themselves. His father had, indeed, de- 
 servedly ruled, for more valiant or wiser 
 monarch never won or swayed a kingdom : 
 but this king, his son, had been long 
 known as the least deserving of his off- 
 spring ; had only come to the throne by 
 the unexpected death of his four elder 
 brothers: — why should such an one rule 
 over the descendant of those Norman war- 
 riors who had chosen their sovereign from 
 among the most worthy, and had only 
 bowed to him as such ? 
 
 Long the thoughts of the young knight 
 wandered on in this dangerous and tempt- 
 ing vein, while his horse scarcely moved 
 through the shade of those high overhang- 
 ing boughs. Anon they turned to the 
 High Admiral Majone, the king's favourite 
 — his sole minister. Clemence had alluded 
 to him more strongly even than to the
 
 THE DARK AGES. 21 
 
 king. He would, indeed, be a dangerous 
 enemy with whom to contend : powerful — 
 unprincipled — and surrounded by unscru- 
 pulous dependents. Should he risk an en- 
 counter with such an adversary ? Could 
 not fame and power be more securely won 
 by conciliating him "? Fame and power : 
 — who panted more eagerly than he did to 
 achieve them '? What but his earnest aspi- 
 rations for fame and power, what but his 
 own secret pride had made him hold him- 
 self so much aloof, not only from the High 
 Admiral and the court, but, also, from his 
 brother barons '? This must be no longer. 
 Years were passing : — five-and-twenty had 
 already slipped away ; and yet he had 
 achieved nothing. Brave spirits were astir 
 all over the world. None excelled him in 
 arms, this he well knew ; and he had been 
 told, by those whom he did not deem flat- 
 terers, that he possessed that rude eloquence 
 which was most prized amongst his com- 
 peers. Such opportunities should no longer
 
 22 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 be thrown away. He would do something. 
 He would win Clemence or, at all events, 
 he would win power and fame. 
 
 They were now approaching the natural 
 gorge that winds through the summit of 
 the rocks that enclose that quiet valley ; 
 and such thoughts as we have attempted 
 to portray were coursing more and more 
 wildly through the brain of the ambitious 
 Baron, when he was aroused from his re- 
 veries by Richard MacMardagh, who rode 
 to his side at the same time that a shrill 
 cry overhead caused him to look up to the 
 top of the rock beside the gorge. 
 
 On the very edge of the precipice, stood 
 the figure of a young woman clothed in a 
 plain long robe and flowing white veil. 
 That veil, however, was thrown back and 
 showed features so wan and pale, although 
 so beautifully carved, that the Baron might 
 be well excused for thinking her at first a 
 spirit of the air just alighted on that high 
 rock : her person, though tall, was so slight
 
 THE DARK AGES. 23 
 
 and slim, that she wanted only wings to 
 perfect the angelic illusion to the mind of 
 the pious Norman. MacMardagh had not 
 the slightest doubt that he beheld a hea- 
 venly vision. The figure, however, allowed 
 no time for their observations and conjec- 
 tures. Having drawn their attention by 
 her first shrill cry, she gesticulated violently 
 with her slim arms, and made signs, the 
 purport of which could not be mistaken, to 
 urge them to advance speedily. They did 
 so ; and passing the gorge, the Baron, who 
 rode first, soon looked down on the other 
 side of the ridge of mountain. He then 
 drew rein for a moment ; and signed to his 
 squire to come to his side. Without speak- 
 ing, he took the shield from him and hung 
 it round his own neck ; grasped his long 
 lance and laid it in rest ; put spurs to 
 his horse; and, uttering the war-cry of 
 " Harou ! Harou ! to the rescue !" dashed 
 down the opposite hill. 
 
 Some short way down the steep descent,
 
 24 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 a party, whom their dress showed to be 
 native Saracens, were attacking a group 
 whom one would have been surprised to 
 see in that lonely place had one not re- 
 membered that it was still almost within a 
 walk of the city of Palermo. We said that 
 the Saracens were attacking the group ; we 
 ought to have said dispersing them: for 
 two or three men were, even then, flying 
 oif from the pagan banditti. These seemed 
 on the point of leading away two females 
 whom they had captured, while their leader 
 stood with a drawn scimitar over a prostrate 
 Sicilian. The cry of the Norman Baron 
 soon, however, drew his attention ; and, 
 making one ineffectual blow at his in- 
 tended victim, he sprang upon his horse 
 and turned bravely to meet the new comer, 
 while he fixed an arrow in the bow he held 
 in hand. The Knight's quickness of eye 
 alone saved him : for the slight hauberk he 
 wore could not have resisted the practised 
 force of the other : he dipped his head, and
 
 THE DARK AGES. 25 
 
 the arrow flew harmlessly by. Richard 
 MacMarclagh struck it down with his pile 
 as it fluttered past him with spent power ; 
 and brandishing the heavy weapon as 
 though it had been a willow wand, rode 
 boldly up to the side of his lord. The 
 Saracen had been too wary of the strength 
 of the Norman lance to abide its blow : he 
 had rode ofi" to a little distance ; and with 
 his half-dozen followers, was preparing to 
 send a volley of arrows and resist their 
 assailant: but seeing the squire and the 
 two men-at-arms ride up, they discharged 
 them more in bravado than with any se- 
 rious purpose, and rode off into the forest. 
 Ere he turned his horse's head, the leader 
 came, however, a few steps nearer ; and 
 called out, in the Italian of the country, 
 " Signor Barone, we shall meet again. TeU 
 that screaming white girl that she has 
 foiled Abderachman, but that he never 
 forgives." Shaking his hand towards the 
 mountain, he soon disappeared beneath the 
 boughs of the forest.
 
 26 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 Mathew of Taverna immediately ad- 
 dressed himself to appease the fears of the 
 two females, who still sat on their mules 
 where the bandit — for such, having heard 
 his name, they now knew him to be — had 
 left them. The one was a young girl, 
 about fourteen years old, with the com- 
 plexion and ardent look of a gypsy, but 
 superbly dressed in the richest manufac- 
 tures of Greece ; the other, her companion, 
 was half-a-dozen years older, and, in manner 
 as well as in dress, was much more humble 
 and steady than her young friend or mis- 
 tress appeared to be. 
 
 " Whom has my good angel given me the 
 happiness of assisting V asked the Baron as 
 he leapt from his horse and courteously 
 approached the younger female. 
 
 " One whom thy good angel would have 
 thee make thy wife," answered in soft and 
 sweetest tones, a voice close behind them. 
 The Knight turned abruptly, and started, 
 as he saw, at his side, the figure in white
 
 THE DARK AGES. 27 
 
 whose cry had first drawn him to the 
 rescue. 
 
 " Fear not," said the figure gently, and 
 casting down her dark eyes with a look of 
 angelic purity ; "I saw the pagan banditti 
 about to attack these wanderers ; and, from 
 the hill, I saw thee also draw nigh. Thou 
 earnest in time to save them. But now," 
 she continued, drawing herself up, while 
 every feature sparkled with the flash of in- 
 spiration, " but now save thyself from the 
 dangers thou wouldest court. Beware of 
 joining thyself to Clemence of Catanzaro. 
 This, this is the bride with whom thy days 
 should pass in peace and safety. Aye, look 
 on her. Disregard my words, and vainly, 
 oh vainly those eyes will mourn the remem- 
 brance of all God's heavenly creations !" 
 
 While the young man stood mute with 
 astonishment at this singular address, the 
 gentle prophetess, for such she seemed, 
 turned swiftly around, and was on the 
 point of darting again up the rocks from
 
 28 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 which she had descended unseen, when the 
 elder female of those just rescued from the 
 Saracens, and who had quietly slipped from 
 her saddle, sprang forward, and, catching 
 hold of the skirts of her long white robe, 
 forcibly detained her ; then casting herself 
 on her knees before her, she seized her 
 hand and respectfully kissed it while she 
 bathed it with her tears. 
 
 " At last, at last, dear lady Tlosalia, 1 
 have found you!" she joyfully exclaimed. 
 " Nay, nay you cannot unconvince my de- 
 voted heart. Surely, surely you do not 
 forget your friend Theresa ! Oh, think of 
 the years when she watched over you, and 
 played with you more as an elder sister 
 than as an attendant ; when the lords Wil- 
 liam and Tancred and all of us lived so 
 happily at Lecce ! Oh, how and wherefore 
 did you leave us V 
 
 Thus rapidly the young girl ran on, 
 heedless of all the show of resistance that 
 pale emaciated figure made to check her 
 unwished-for revelations.
 
 THE DARK AGES. 29 
 
 *' It is vain, then, to hope to conceal it," 
 she at length said, with a gentle sigh. 
 " The will of God be done. I am, dear 
 Theresa, that poor Rosalia thou speakest 
 of. But ask me not to say more. God 
 has deigned to call me to Himself; and 
 has put me, as I humbly hope, in the way 
 of saving mine own soul. Why should I 
 have stayed in the world ? Thou knowest 
 how distasteful it had ever been to me. 
 And when, during a retreat which, un- 
 known to all, I had made to this holy con- 
 vent," she said, pointing towards the noble 
 pile of the convent of St. Martin, " when 
 during a pious retreat to its walls, I heard 
 that the new king had imprisoned my 
 brothers, the fear of his anger came to 
 strengthen my religious vows. I dared not 
 return to the palace. Oh, thou knowest 
 not how blessed is a life in these hills, with 
 God and the holy Virgin for sole com- 
 panions !" she added with a look of enthu- 
 siasm. " But follow me not, follow me not,"
 
 30 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 she cried more wildly. " Too many have 
 already discovered my retreat. Follow me 
 not, Theresa : I charge thee on thy love for 
 poor Rosalia." 
 
 She bounded away from them ; and with 
 an agility that seemed superhuman, clomb 
 up amid the shrubs and rocks, and was out 
 of sight in an instant. 
 
 We may well suppose that it was not 
 without some feeling of embarrassment, not 
 to say of shyness, occasioned by the strange 
 injunction given by the singular though 
 beautiful being who had just disappeared, 
 that Taverna again addressed himself to 
 the damsel he had rescued. Aware, how- 
 ever, of the awkwardness of his position, he 
 braved it like a true Norman ; and again 
 repeated in cheerful and humorous tones, 
 " But whom has my good angel given me 
 the happiness of assisting % All about you, 
 fair damoiselle, seems involved in mystery : 
 and delightful as is the recommendation of 
 my doubtless holy but unknown sponsor, it
 
 THE DARK AGES, 31 
 
 but makes me the more anxious to know 
 to whom I dedicate the service of my poor 
 lance. 
 
 " You mean, sir knight, that you would 
 be unwilling to put it in rest for an un- 
 known damsel who might be unworthy of 
 its prowess," replied the young lady with a 
 look of half-saucy forwardness. Then, with 
 a still more self-satisfied air, she added, 
 " But fear not : Corazza, daughter of the 
 Lord High Admiral, who now thanks you, 
 is not likely to need your services again." 
 
 Such a speech as this could hardly have 
 been uttered by a girl of the same age born 
 in any of our northern climates ; but in 
 Sicily, where they are often mothers at 
 thirteen, their manners are, of course, pro- 
 portionately precocious. We cannot say 
 that the great Norman baron was agreeably 
 impressed by the airs which this daughter 
 of an Italian oil-seller (raised by the favor- 
 itism of his sovereign to his present high 
 rank), evidently gave herself. Still his
 
 32 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 mind was so taken aback by the surprise 
 which the announcement of her name oc- 
 casioned him, that he little heeded the 
 manner of the speaker. Tt was, indeed, a 
 strange coincidence that, while his secret 
 thoughts were running upon plans of self- 
 advancement, and even doubting whether 
 he should not seek fame and power in the 
 wake of the Admiral — that, at that very 
 moment, he should have been called upon 
 to save the daughter of the royal favorite 
 from death or captivity ; and that a strange 
 being, apparently half saint and half spirit, 
 should have rushed from the hills and bade 
 him take that daughter for his wife. Our 
 hero, like most men of his time, and in- 
 deed, like most men of every time, was not 
 without a degree of superstition : and was 
 willing to flatter himself that heaven had 
 taken extraordinary methods to interfere 
 in his especial behalf. This, however, was 
 not a time to carry on such a train of 
 thoughts : and turning gallantly to the
 
 THE DARK AGES. 33 
 
 young lady he exclaimed, " If, as a Norman 
 knight, I before deemed myself most for- 
 tunate in having been the means of deli- 
 vering a lady from an unpleasant situation, 
 how much more do I congratulate myself 
 on my good fortune, as a baron of the 
 kingdom, now that I find that lady to be 
 so exalted by the high rank of her father. 
 Permit me, signorina, to conduct you in 
 safety to the Torre de Baych." 
 
 The manner of the young gypsy-looking 
 girl had considerably altered on hearing 
 the rank of her protector ; and it was now 
 in a much less capricious tone that she 
 assured him she felt no further danger, 
 that her own escort was sufficient se- 
 curity, and that she would not have him 
 ride aside from his own road on her 
 account. 
 
 " It will not be necessary that I should 
 do so, fair damoiselle," insisted the baron. 
 " I have this day left my poor castle of 
 Taverna ; and my people already await me 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 in Palermo. Your road, therefore, is 
 doubly mine," 
 
 " Taverna !" thought the young coquette 
 within herself; and a baron of the king- 
 dom ! Surely he must be the handsome 
 and powerful baron of Taverna of whom I 
 have heard so much ! And, indeed, he is 
 very handsome. I marvel it did not strike 
 me before." 
 
 Vulgar and upstart pretension shows 
 itself, in all ages and in all countries, in 
 the same manner. She cast a more timid, 
 or rather, we should say, a less bold look 
 on her companion than she had bestowed 
 on any one for many a month ; and, in 
 half-formed sentences, gave him to under- 
 stand that she not only accepted his escort, 
 but would be flattered by it. 
 
 When the principal personages now on 
 our scene had thus introduced themselves 
 to one another, and begun their ride to- 
 wards Palermo, their followers lost no time 
 in imitating the example set them. Richard
 
 THE DARK AGES. 35 
 
 MacMardagh rode beside the female who 
 had called herself Theresa ; and putting on 
 his most devoted yet winning smile, he 
 blandly said to her, " By St. Patrick, that 
 was a kind spirit that sought to bring my 
 lord and your lady together ! Are such 
 often to be met with in this pretty island 
 of yours, my fair signora V 
 
 " Speak not lightly, 1 beseech you, gentle 
 squire, of the blessed Saint, the Princess 
 Rosalia — for such she most certainly is. 
 And as it is her pleasure now to withdraw 
 herself from our ken, it would ill become 
 me to speak more of her. Excuse me, 
 then, if I ask you to choose some other 
 subject for your discourse." 
 
 " Nay, lady," replied MacMardagh, " I 
 meant not to speak lightly of her. All the 
 world knows that my countrymen of Ireland 
 are famous for the respect they pay the 
 saints : — St. Patrick forgive me for saying 
 that all the world knows it," he added 
 archly, " when the Pope himself is as igno-
 
 36 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 rant of the matter as the pagan Saracen 
 whom we drove away from you e'en now ! 
 But, be that as it may, every one except his 
 Holiness, the Pope, knows it : and he, poor 
 man, has so much to do that he has not 
 time to think of us at all ; and so he has de- 
 creed that we are barbarians and heathens. 
 That is to say, the other, Adrian, did so ; 
 and I take it this one will think so too, 
 rather than give up all the pennies which 
 the king of England is to send him from 
 Ireland." 
 
 " I have heard from a holy English priest 
 at Palermo," replied the young lady, " how 
 your country has been treated ; and, I must 
 say, that, to me, it seems a sad and shame- 
 ful business." 
 
 " Bless your beautiful heart for thinking 
 so !" exclaimed the Irishman. " Oh, I wish 
 the lady Rosalia would present me to you 
 as she did the Baron to the other young 
 lady !" 
 
 A shade of displeasure, not unmixed
 
 THE DARK AGES. 37 
 
 with a smile at the impetuosity of the 
 young man, came over the calm features of 
 Theresa, like a slight cloud stealing over 
 part of the surface of a shining lake. Her 
 face, indeed, wore such a still and unruffled 
 expression of benignity, that the least feel- 
 ing of her soul instantly left an impress 
 upon it. Yet that face had neither a per- 
 petual simper nor a look of unmeaning 
 vacancy. On the contrary, it showed that 
 its owner was alive to every thing around 
 her, and could interest herself in whatever 
 interested others ; but that, on some one 
 subject, she felt too deeply and too plea- 
 santly ever to forget it, though she allowed 
 her spirit cheerfully to waft other matters 
 over the deep under-current of her mind. 
 
 " I see, fair Signora," resumed the Irish- 
 man, " that you are not wont to listen to 
 a plain-speaking honest heart; and you 
 doubt my sincerity because whatever I 
 think rushes out from me without a mo- 
 ment's hesitation. This is the very quality
 
 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 that ought to convince you that I am a 
 true man and mean what I say ; especially 
 when I protest that I am more happy to 
 have become acquainted with your Signoria, 
 than with any woman I have seen since I 
 left the green hills of county Sligo. Nay, 
 don't frown ; for I am sure you could not 
 do it if you tried. You must not expect 
 me to be as deceitful as the poor conquered 
 Greeks of this country, nor as wily as the 
 pagan Saracens, nor as rude and overbear- 
 ing and quarrelsome as the proud Normans 
 who hold them all in thrall: and* when I 
 say this against the Normans, please to 
 observe that I do not mean my own good 
 lord, who has never a fault in him except 
 that he is not an Irishman. But you will 
 be tired to hear me talk so much ; or, at 
 all events, I myself am tired of not hearing 
 your sweet voice : so pray tell me how you 
 and the little black-eyed lady found your- 
 selves so far from Palermo and in the hands 
 of those banditti V
 
 THE DARK AGES. 39 
 
 " You do, indeed, speak the lingua franca 
 of these countries more fluently than any 
 man from the north I have ever met," re- 
 plied Theresa, smiling with good humour. 
 " But, in reply to your question, I really 
 scarce know how we wandered on so far. I 
 had proposed, several times, to return to the 
 city ; but the Lady Corazza ever insisted 
 upon going a little further and again a 
 little further : and I had been so much 
 with the young princes and princesses, that 
 I know not how to thwart her." 
 
 " Or any one else, I hope," interposed 
 MacMardagh. " But how," he asked, "could 
 you like to leave the family of the king to 
 live with that of the Lord High Admiral, 
 whom every one seems to speak so much 
 against V 
 
 " Do they?" inquired Theresa. " In truth, 
 those of a household are not likely soon to 
 hear what is said against it. But I have 
 left the Alcazar for a short time only. At 
 the prayer of the Admiral, the good queen
 
 40 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 besought me take his daughter under my 
 charge for a while." 
 
 " Perhaps that you might not see his 
 own doings in the palace with the queen, 
 if report speak truth," thought Richard 
 MacMardagh, smiling. Despite of his 
 boasted sincerity, he had, however, judg- 
 ment enough to keep this thought to him- 
 self: and went on to converse on other 
 matters in a manner that certainly won 
 upon the good opinion of his mild compa- 
 nion. Nor could her very pleasing and 
 speaking features conceal the favourable 
 impression he made ; and the consequence 
 was that, ere they parted that day, the 
 Irishman had vowed to himself, that he 
 really felt towards her all that he had, at 
 first, insinuated as a matter of course. 
 
 Turn we, however, to the other members 
 of our cavalcade. The Baron had been so 
 much occupied with his own thoughts on 
 the singularity of his adventure and on his 
 schemes of ambition, that he had but ill
 
 THE DARK AGES. 41 
 
 responded to the lively attempts of the little 
 Lady Corazza to inveigle his attention. Her 
 looks were sprightly and complimentary to 
 himself: but there was a degree of vul- 
 garity in her manner (which his Norman 
 pride attributed, as a matter of course, to 
 the base birth of her father) and of vanity 
 in all she said, that was offensive to his 
 sensibilities after the noble bearing and 
 highmindedness of the Countess Clemence. 
 He soon, therefore, fell back from her side 
 as if to give some directions to his attend- 
 ants, and rode after her thoughtfully and 
 alone. But the meditations in which he 
 began to indulge, were again soon inter- 
 rupted. A tall, large-boned man-at-arms, 
 on a gaunt powerful horse like himself, 
 rode up to his side and saluting him with 
 little show of reverence said abruptly : 
 " You do not remember me, my lord. You 
 do not know that I am the man whose 
 throat would soon have become acquainted 
 with Abderachman's scimitar if you had 
 not come to the rescue."
 
 42 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 " Were you the person he stood over V* 
 asked the Baron. 
 
 " I was. These dastardly eunuchs," point- 
 ing to liis companions, " had fled at the 
 Saracen's approach. I, alone, could do no- 
 thing against him. You saved my life. It 
 is a boon for which I thank you. Profes- 
 sions from one like me would seem but idle 
 talk : but the time may come when Gava- 
 retto may be able to repay the great Baron 
 of Taverna." 
 
 Without waiting for farther parley, he 
 rode back to his fellows. But on learning 
 his name, Taverna was not sorry to have 
 made a friend of one who was reported to 
 be the trusted, the unscrupulous and the 
 faithful creature of the High Admiral. 
 
 Meanwhile the cavalcade was rapidly de- 
 scending from the ridge of hills and ap- 
 proaching the populous city beneath them. 
 How beautiful was the view that stretched 
 out on all sides around ! Even those pre- 
 occupied and worldly-minded characters of
 
 THE DARK AGES. 43 
 
 whom we write, could not approach that 
 favoured Palermo — thrice favoured in its 
 glorious situation — unmoved by the en- 
 chanting scene. The noisy and busy city 
 at the foot of its amphitheatre of hills, the 
 distant ridges of the courtly Begaria on the 
 right, the picturesque mountain of Pelle- 
 grino on the left, and that bright glassy sea 
 bathing all the shore with liquid diamonds, 
 flashing back the rays of the evening sun, 
 and bearing upon its glowing bosom the 
 countless navies of the kingdom (so nume- 
 rous as to require an admiral in every sta- 
 tion), the commercial vessels of Europe, 
 Africa, and Constantinople, and the armed 
 galleys of many a northern crusader who 
 loitered amid the delights of Sicily on his 
 way to the Holy Land, must have moved 
 the coldest heart. Add to this that the air 
 was perfumed by the fragrance of every 
 odoriferous tree and shrub that blooms in 
 the most favoured climates, and you will 
 have some idea — no, you will still be unable
 
 44 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 to form any idea equal to that most lovely 
 scene. 
 
 Slowly the cavalcade passed through the 
 fortified gate of St. Agatha, and then, 
 through a narrow street, approached the 
 broad square before the Alcazar, — the Sara- 
 cen, and, therefore, popular name for the 
 royal palace. The broad banner of the 
 Norman king floated on a staff before it; 
 and countless numbers passed and repassed 
 in every direction. Beside the banner, rose 
 several gibbets; and from three of these, 
 fresh slain corpses still dangled. The horrid 
 state of the faces of the dead showed that, 
 before their execution, they had been sub- 
 jected to the king's favourite punishment 
 of the bason : — that is to say, heated basons 
 or plates had been held before their eyes 
 until the sight was perfectly burned out. 
 Hard by the gibbets, lay three or four other 
 bodies purposely left there to be mangled 
 by the dogs that were already beginning to 
 collect round about: and the corpses still
 
 THE DARK AGES. 45 
 
 on the gibbets had been so much lowered 
 for the same purpose, that their knees bent 
 upon the ground, and invited the curs that 
 came and smelt around them in turn. Of 
 the many passers to and fro through the 
 square, none seemed to heed these evidences 
 of a recent execution : still every face bore 
 an expression of constraint and of smo- 
 thered dissatisfaction. Men-at-arms stood 
 heedlessly under the palace walls, and jested 
 boisterously or slept on benches in the shade 
 with the usual thoughtlessness of successful 
 soldiers. 
 
 The Baron of Taverna beckoned his 
 squire to his side, and asked him, in an 
 undertone, if he knew the cause of the 
 butcheries before them. 
 
 " That is what I have just been trying 
 to find out from the very talkative man-at- 
 arms whose life your lordship saved," re- 
 plied Ilichard : " and with a great deal of 
 trouble, I have gained so much as to be 
 able to state that the great Prince of Capua
 
 46 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 has been taken on the pomt of rising in 
 arms against the sovereign, or of being 
 suspected of rising ; and, with his eyes 
 basoned, has been shut up in one of the 
 snug wards below the palace yonder : while 
 these poor creatures whom the dogs do not, 
 to say truth, seem much to fancy, were 
 accused of being his accomplices. But 
 look there, Monseigneur," he continued in 
 a lower voice : " see that man in the purple 
 cognisance of the archbishop, which peers 
 through the ragged great cloak he has cast 
 over it : see ; he is throwing a stone at that 
 dog which comes too close to the furthest 
 body on the gibbet. I would wager this 
 dagger to a helmet of gold that the dead 
 man is some kinsman of the great arch- 
 bishop ; and that yon seeming beggar is 
 put to watch it till night-fall. If it be so, 
 more will come of it." 
 
 The young lady Corazza here called the 
 baron to her side and made some trifling 
 remark on a slight pageant that was passing
 
 THE DARK AGES, 47 
 
 at the other side of the square. While she 
 was yet speaking, they turned into a street 
 which ran in the same direction as the pre- 
 sent splendid Cassaro, (so called by a cor- 
 ruption of Alcazar) and approached the 
 fortified ward in which the Saracen popula- 
 tion of the city dwelt together. No town 
 in Europe has more changed in appearance 
 than has Palermo during the seven cen- 
 turies that have slipped away since the days 
 of which we write ; though sufficient traces 
 of that which then was, still exist to the 
 eye of the antiquary. Stretching around 
 the beautiful bason of the sea, from the old 
 custom house to the modern palace of 
 Conte Federigo, the Kalah then overflowed 
 the delicious Marina and ran up beside each 
 of these now inland points and formed a 
 spacious harbour, ending in the little streams 
 of Papirato and Orcto. But this noble 
 harbour was then parted in two by the 
 body of the city, placed upon a tongue of 
 land that ran out from the palace at the
 
 48 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 upper end as far as the Torre di Baych at 
 the lower extremity. The interval between 
 these two extremes of the peninsula w^as 
 divided into three wards : the centre one of 
 which was, as we have before observed, 
 allotted to the Saracen population of the 
 city. Our cavalcade rode through their 
 narrow streets containing shops and ba- 
 zaars crowded with the richest merchandise 
 in Europe ; and passing thence into the 
 third compartment of the tow^n, approached 
 the spot where now stands the church of 
 Sant' Antonio, in the heart of a crowded 
 city. Here, at the time of which we write, 
 was the extreme point, of the land, sur- 
 rounded on three sides by the blue waters 
 of the finest harbour in the world : and 
 here stood the Saracen tower of Baych — 
 now the residence of the Lord High Ad- 
 miral ; or, to give him his proper title, of 
 the Lord Admiral of Admirals.
 
 THE DARK AGES. 49 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 " Between Ihe acting of a dreaJtul tiling 
 And the first motion, all the interim is 
 Like a phantasma or a hideous dreain : 
 The genius and the mortal instruments 
 Are then in council ; and the state of man, 
 Like to a little kingdom, sufi'ers then 
 The nature of an insurrection." — Julius CcEsar. 
 
 What a glorious opportunity now presents 
 itself to us, to discuss the history, material, 
 and form of crowns and sceptres, — from 
 the first fillet that bound the brows of an 
 Eastern prince, and the sceptre which 
 Homer's chieftain asseverates shall sooner 
 bud and bloom again in its native forest 
 than he forego his anger, down to the 
 jewelled regalia of our own gracious sove- 
 reign! Antiquaries would delight therein. 
 But all the world are not antiquaries, and 
 we write for all the world; who would 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 much rather receive our statements upon 
 our own word, than be delayed by long 
 disquisitions in proof of their veracity. Let 
 it be believed that we pen nothing without 
 warrant of authority. 
 
 In a small room of the fortified tower of 
 Baych, lighted by a large window, deep set 
 in its northern wall and hanging over the 
 beautiful kalah or port of Palermo, stood a 
 tall, corpulent, jovial-faced man, beside a 
 table of white marble, encased in a broad rim 
 of gold. His face, which beamed with ruddy 
 good humour, was fringed by masses of 
 stiff hair of the bluest black, and lighted 
 up by an eye so large, bright, sparkling, 
 and intelligent, that the beholder marvelled 
 how the mind that eye bespoke could con- 
 descend to dwell in a body that seemed 
 made for nothing but the easy pleasures of 
 a careless life. And yet, with all its playful 
 vivacity, there was, at times, a meaning in 
 that eye that belied the no-meaning of the 
 body. On the other side of the table stood
 
 THE DARK AGES. 51 
 
 a withered Saracen artizan, in the dress of 
 his people, apparently cringing before the 
 jovial lord; but, whenever he could do so 
 unobserved, darting up furtive glances with 
 an expression which showed that he plainly 
 read the great man's secret soul, and 
 inwardly chuckled at the discoveries he 
 made. He was a small, spare, pale-com- 
 plexioned man, and his body, unlike that of 
 his patron, seemed to be all over-wrought 
 by the wear and tear of the mind within. 
 But appearances (whatever physiognomists 
 may say to the contrary^ are deceptive: 
 the man of flesh was the man of great 
 thoughts, while the studious-looking Sara- 
 cen had only the cunning of a little spirit. 
 The looks and the thoughts of both these 
 personages seemed intent upon the fur- 
 niture of the marble table between them. 
 There lay, upon folds of white satin and 
 leather, from which they had e\idently 
 been even then unpacked, a regal crown 
 and sceptre. The sceptre was a plain
 
 .^9 
 
 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 golden staff, nearly six feet long, crooked 
 at the upper end like that borne by the 
 early kings of France. The crown was 
 a highly radiated Eastern crown of gold ; 
 but at the top of each pointed ray, were 
 placed little golden ornaments, in the shape 
 of beaks and sterns of ships, but sparkling 
 with diamonds like the evening star. Both 
 the beholders looked at them witli admi- 
 ration. At length the fat man spoke. 
 
 " Well, Azab," he cried, in a tone of 
 exultation ; " I swear by the holy Madonna, 
 that it is a rare device. Dost thou not 
 think sol" 
 
 " Who shall gainsay the word of the 
 Lord High Admiral!" answered the artizan, 
 laying his hand on his forehead, as he re- 
 verently bowed it. " Your servant has 
 worked long at Constantinople ; but I never 
 there saw anything put better out of hand." 
 
 " I speak not, man, of the handicraft of 
 it," replied the High Admiral indignantly : 
 " you artizans can never raise your minds
 
 THE DARK AGES. 53 
 
 above the mere mechanical part of your 
 calling. I spoke of the device of the crown, 
 so much more noble and imposing than the 
 one adopted by his grace the king." 
 
 " Truly, monsignore, it is," answered the 
 workman doubtingly; then, as though he 
 were treading upon a floor of thin ice, such 
 as occasionally skimmed over the ponds of 
 that sunny region, he added, still more 
 doubtingly, " the device of the rays and 
 of the naval ornaments at their points is 
 so — so very appropriate — to " 
 
 " To what ? speak out, good Azab," ex- 
 claimed Majone. " Never utter a half- 
 finished sentence. It is apt to make peo- 
 ple think, either that thou art a fool, afraid 
 of thine own thoughts, or that thou har- 
 bourest some design that thou art fearful 
 of betraying. Always speak out openly, 
 good Azab; frankly, good Azab. Speak 
 as I do. Thanks to the favour of my lord 
 the king, I have as many weighty matters 
 on my mind as most people ; but no one
 
 54 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 can say that I speak or look as if I were 
 afraid of them. Honesty, good Azab, is 
 always frank." 
 
 " Surely your lordship would not have 
 your servant utter his every thought 1 " 
 asked the Saracen, with a look and tone 
 bordering upon familiar cunning. 
 
 " Wherefore not, man ]" said the Lord 
 High Admiral. " Why shouldst thou think 
 thoughts beyond thy calling? I need not 
 tell, then, that secrets may be entrusted 
 even to such as thee, which should not be 
 unveiled. Such secrets I myself, and every 
 person in power, must have store of; but 
 there is no need on this account to begin 
 babbling dangerous sentences, and to bog- 
 gle over forbidden thoughts. Such secrets 
 should be, at once, stored away, till the 
 time comes for acting upon them. They 
 should no more thrust themselves into 
 thine every-day talk, than the thoughts of 
 thy craft should intrude amid thy prayers 
 to thy prophet, — whom may heaven curse. 
 Dost thou understand, good Azab?"
 
 THE DARK AGES. 55 
 
 " I humbly hope so, monsignore; and 
 therefore — ' ' 
 
 " And therefore, good fellow," interposed 
 Majone, " stow away, as carefully as thou 
 wilt stow away the purse of gold I shall 
 give thee anon, all recollection that thou 
 hast made this crown and sceptre for me, 
 and that I am keeping them here ready 
 to make a present of them to our lord the 
 king on his birthday. Forget all that, 
 good Azab, until thou seest them on his 
 royal person ! and then speak, an thou 
 wilt, till thou crack thy thin voice, with 
 boasting that they are thy handicraft. Do 
 this, and I will then give thee another 
 purse as weighty as this one which I now 
 bestow in token that I am well pleased 
 with thee. Farewell, good Azab, fare- 
 well." 
 
 " On my life be it to obey your lordship 
 in all things," meekly replied the Saracen, 
 with a look of more intelligence than he 
 had yet allowed the High Admiral to read
 
 56 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 in his face : then bowing low with eastern 
 reverence, he backed out of the room. 
 
 " So, so : I doubt me if that fellow can 
 make much of his secret, on the footing I 
 have placed it," said the Lord High Ad- 
 miral Majone to himself, as the goldsmith 
 left the apartment. " Beautiful baubles !" 
 he exclaimed, turning towards them, and 
 lifting up his plump, large hands in rapture 
 above the table; " beautiful baubles, it is 
 worth something to possess ye even in 
 secret. Beautiful in yourselves, and more 
 beautiful still for the power which ye be- 
 token in him who bears ye ! And fools 
 only will say that you are worthless in 
 yourselves. "Whatever draws the admira- 
 tion and respect of men, women, or chil- 
 dren, should be cherished by the wise. 
 So, so : let us see how they will fit my 
 lord the king's person," he added, taking 
 up the sceptre : " well, right well ; and 
 it becomes mine own grasp also to a mar- 
 vel ! The crown, too : I should not be
 
 THE DARK AGES. 57 
 
 surprised if it sat not the less well upon 
 these brows," he said, placing it with both 
 hands on his lofty forehead. " Methinks it 
 must become me to perfection ; nor is it so 
 weighty as some people assert. I doubt 
 not I could bear it up, with this good staff 
 to rest upon," he added, grasping the 
 sceptre. " However — however ; patience — 
 patience : thou hast done pretty well thus 
 far, Giorgio Majone, my Lord High Ad- 
 miral of admirals. Bide thy time — bide 
 thy time. But it is as well to be prepared. 
 It is as well to have these pretty things 
 at hand in case of need; it would look 
 better to come forth in the full effulgence 
 of royalty. First impressions are the most 
 important impressions of any. But enough, 
 enough ; patience, patience. Let us put 
 them away — put them away." 
 
 So musing, he raised the glittering jew- 
 elry from the table, and placed it in a 
 recess behind the silk hangings of the 
 walls, dropping and locking over them an
 
 58 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 oaken door, bound with massive hinges, and 
 closed with two of the strong ornamented 
 locks of the days of old. 
 
 " And now," he continued to himself, 
 striding up and down the room, and rub- 
 bing his hands joyously, " now for my lord 
 the Archbishop. He is a clever man, and 
 a popular man, and what fools call a con- 
 scientious man, to boot ; but I fancy I 
 have hooked his reverence. That hanging 
 of his kinsman was an excellent thought — " 
 
 The door was here suddenly burst open, 
 and in rushed one of those unfortunate 
 beings who were then the fashionable at- 
 tendants in royal and princely houses — 
 namely, a deformed Saracen eunuch. The 
 poor creature was dressed in the richest 
 attire ; but there was little time to notice 
 this, as he rushed in, making a loud gurg- 
 ling noise in his throat, from which the 
 tongue had been cut out at the root, to 
 prevent him from betraying the secrets 
 of his masters. He gesticulated violently
 
 THE DARK AGES. 59 
 
 with his arms to supply his sad inability 
 to speak. 
 
 " What, in the fiend's name, ails thee, 
 Hadjar !" cried the admiral, as he hastily 
 left the room. 
 
 On the stairs, he met another servant, 
 who, in reply to his anxious inquiries, 
 rendered more anxious still by a know- 
 ledge of the guilty course he was even then 
 entering upon, informed him that news was 
 just brought that the Signorina Corazza 
 and her escort had been attacked in the 
 mountains, and carried off by the notorious 
 outlaw Abderachman. The father — and 
 Majone was a fond father — was violently 
 moved by this unexpected intelligence. 
 He did not, however, lose his presence of 
 mind ; but calmly gave orders that a score 
 of men at arms should instantly saddle 
 their horses, while he himself would don 
 his gambaison, and prepare to scour the 
 country with them in pursuit of the robbers. 
 He returned into his own rooms ; and a
 
 60 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 quarter of an hour afterwards, came forth 
 agam, hastily armed, and descended into 
 the small court-yard of the fortress. A 
 number of armed followers already sat in 
 their high-peaked saddles. The father said 
 a few words to them, and they were on 
 the point of sallying out beneath the low- 
 browed archway, when Corazza, with the 
 Baron of Taverna at her side, and followed 
 by their scanty escort, came in sight 
 through the open portal. Majone leapt 
 from his saddle with an exclamation of 
 gratitude to Providence; and hastening to 
 his daughter's palfrey, clasped her in his 
 arms, and pressed her little figure to his 
 broad breast as he lifted her to the pave- 
 ment. Corazza returned his kiss affection- 
 ately, and taking his hand, said, " You 
 must thank the noble Baron of Taverna, 
 father: it is he who has saved your little 
 cingara. 
 
 " And right glad J am to be beholden to 
 the Baron," exclaimed Majone, courteously
 
 THE DARK AGES. 61 
 
 hastening up to him. " Per Bacco, I had 
 rather be beholden to the Barone di Ta- 
 verna, than to any other lord in Sicily. 
 Dismount, dismount, noble signor ; and let 
 me quickly hear all about my daughter's 
 folly and your valour." 
 
 " Nay, then, my Lord High Admiral," 
 answered Taverna, " if you are about to 
 charge the Lady Corazza with folly, I must 
 e'en, as a true knight, come down to her 
 rescue." 
 
 He dismounted, and the three together 
 went up stairs to the room Majone had but 
 just left. 
 
 " Now, noble signore," cried the admiral, 
 shaking the baron's two hands warmly in 
 his own, " now let me hear the manner of 
 this fortunate occurrence which has awak- 
 ened between our houses such an alliance of 
 feeling. May it be as lasting as it is accept- 
 able!" 
 
 The upper lip of Don Mattco slightly 
 curled when the son of the oil-seller alluded
 
 62 
 
 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 to their two houses; but the feelmg of scorn 
 soon passed away ; and when, as he ended 
 the sentence, the admiral gazed from the 
 baron to his daughter with a frank and un- 
 mistakeable meaning, the young man's am- 
 bition threw every scornful feeling into the 
 shade, and he at once acceded to the friendly 
 position in which the intriguer sought to 
 place him. 
 
 "My heart, monsignore," he answered, 
 " blesses the meeting as warmly as can even 
 your parental affections. But it is not to 
 my lance, but to the stout resistance which 
 a good knave of your own showed the rob- 
 bers, that I deem the sweet signorina Co- 
 razza mainly indebted. He delayed the 
 banditti till I and my men came up." 
 
 " Not so, father ! " exclaimed the young 
 lady, desirous perhaps to escape, by talking 
 herself, from the equivocal position in which 
 the admiral and her preserver seemed mu- 
 tually inclined to place her. " Not so. I 
 will tell you all about it. The air was so cool
 
 THE DARK AGES. 63 
 
 that we had rode out rather further than 
 usual, when, all at once, out rushes this 
 Saracen, with half-a-dozen others at his 
 back. The eunuchs discharged a flight of 
 arrows, with their eyes shut, and, of course, 
 ran away. Good Gavarretto, however, 
 awaited the coming on of Abderachman, 
 and stoutly exchanged blows with him. 
 He was unhorsed, I know not how ; when 
 just as I had turned away my head, to avoid 
 seeing the Saracen cut his throat, the noble 
 baron dashed down the hill, and charged 
 the robber like a true Norman knight ; 
 while a white spirit flew down the side of 
 the mountain, and made incantations over 
 him, waving her long arms in the air. The 
 robber could not be expected to stand 
 against heaven and earth, so he backed into 
 the forest, while the vision came up and 
 presented us to each other." 
 
 " A vision presented you to each other !" 
 cried the admiral. " Per Bacco, but I am 
 beholden to it. What said the spirit, my 
 child ? "
 
 G4 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 " Oh, some nonsense that 1 forget ; and 
 that the Signor of Taverna has forgotten 
 long ago," she said with an arch look at the 
 baron, as she turned on her heel and tripped 
 lightly out of the room. 
 
 " I am glad she is gone," observed Ma- 
 jone thoughtfully, while with wonderful 
 frankness of manner, he motioned the young 
 man to a couch in the deep window, and sat 
 down beside him. " I am glad she is gone, 
 because her story, lightly as it was told, led 
 me to understand, at once, the motive of 
 the fellow Abderachman ; and it is right 
 that you should know my surmises, that we 
 may take counsel together. I should have 
 consulted with you before, but that you 
 have kept aloof from the court more than 
 your friends would wish ; and, of those 
 friends and well-wishers, let me say, at 
 once, that you have none warmer than 
 Giorgio Majone. Nay, do not interrupt 
 me. We shall be better friends for the 
 future. This Abderachman is, then, the
 
 THE DARK AGES. 65 
 
 last survivor of the powerful Saracen 
 family who formerly owned your castle 
 of Cacabo with some goodly lands about 
 it. The property was forfeit, as a matter 
 of course, to you Normans when you con- 
 quered the country ; and came honourably 
 into the hands of your father. War and 
 the gibbet have given a good account of 
 the old pagan family; so that this Abde- 
 rachman, who was formerly but a disrepu- 
 table hanger-on of the parent stock, is now, 
 it seems, the head of the household." 
 
 " Can he be so well descended ? " asked 
 Tavern a in surprise. 
 
 " He is so ; and, as head of his family, 
 he considers himself the rightful owner of 
 your castle of Cacabo. He had done me 
 some irregular services, and has oftentimes 
 pressed me to restore it to him. He has 
 even appealed to the king, who, you know, 
 always favours the Saracens; and has 
 brought charges of disloyalty against your- 
 self, to which your absence from court 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 gave some appearance of colour. I ought 
 not to say so, but, to you, I will venture to 
 own that our good lord the king is rather 
 given to avarice and bloodthirstiness ; and 
 that I have had some difficulty in prevail- 
 ing upon him to withhold his warrant 
 against you. I succeeded, however; and 
 from the threats half-uttered by this Abde- 
 rachman, I have now no doubt that he 
 intended to carry Corazza into the moun- 
 tains, and to hold her there as a hostage, 
 until I allowed the king to wreak his ven- 
 geance on you, and to restore Cacabo to 
 him. The scheme, you see, is not very deep 
 laid." 
 
 " Is it possible," cried the young man 
 impetuously, " that the king, whose father 
 my father so well and truly served, should 
 thus deem towards me ! " 
 
 "My son, 'put not your trust in princes,' 
 was said long ago," replied the Lord Admi- 
 ral, with an expression of sincere sym- 
 pathy. " But," he added, " I have some
 
 THE DARK AGES. 67 
 
 influence over him ; I can at times mode- 
 rate his passions : and, now that you and I 
 are become acquainted, fear not that he 
 will again move against you. Should there 
 be danger, I can always forewarn you." 
 
 " What ! am I, the descendant of Wil- 
 liam of Bonnel, to live in fear of the 
 descendant of Tancred of Hauteville!" 
 cried the baron haughtily. " Never ! by 
 my father's spirit, I swear it ; never !" 
 
 " Calm yourself," my son, interposed 
 Majone : " Calm yourself, although I own 
 the provocation would move a saint to 
 rebellion." 
 
 '* Rebellion !" ejaculated Taverna, in a 
 faltering tone of inquiry. " I spoke not of 
 rebellion." 
 
 " Far be it from me to suggest that you 
 did," answered the tempter ; " and yet you 
 proud Normans, who have ever elected 
 your king for his personal worth, have not 
 always been so fearful of asserting your 
 own rights."
 
 68 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 " Fear, my Lord Admiral ! do you mean 
 to insinute that I am fearful of William of 
 Hauteville V 
 
 " My dear young friend, I mean to insi- 
 nuate nothing," replied the admiral. " I 
 am a good easy man, who always speak my 
 mind and endeavour to do my duty to my 
 king and to my friends; and am only 
 pained when the one compels me to injure 
 the other. But all loyal subjects would 
 rather suffer in their own persons than 
 right themselves at the expense of their 
 sovereign; and I cannot be expected to 
 take up their quarrels more warmly than 
 they do themselves. For example, there is 
 the good archbishop, whose kinsman the 
 king has lately done to death with his 
 wonted cruelties and indignities. I did all 
 in my power to save him, though the arch- 
 bishop misdoubts me, and broods on plans 
 of vengeance without knowing whom to 
 involve in them. He is a kinsman of your 
 own, my lord, and greatly should I be
 
 THE DARK AGES. 69 
 
 indebted to you if you would act as 
 mediator between us. You have laid ma 
 under a great obligation to-day, Avhich 
 little Corazza's gratitude and mine can 
 never repay : confer upon me another. See 
 the archbishop on my part ; assure him, on 
 mine honour, that I had no hand in the 
 death of his relative, and bring him with 
 you this evening to sup at my poor board." 
 
 " Nay, but" — expostulated the baron. 
 
 " Nay," interposed the admiral, " I know 
 that I am taking a liberty with your lord- 
 ship, but I have personally waited on the 
 archbishop, and he refuses to see me. 
 There is much that ought to be said be- 
 tween us: much in which your interests 
 and his are deeply involved ; and I would 
 take counsel with you both how to turn 
 the king aside from his good will to Ab- 
 derachman at your expense. Appease his 
 reverence, therefore, and bring him with 
 you at nightfall. We will sup quite alone ; 
 not even Corazza shall be of the party."
 
 70 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 Wc tliink we have already seen enough 
 of our hero's character to warrant us in 
 anticipating that he would not withstand 
 so pressing a suggestion. Majone had art- 
 fully awakened in him so much resentment 
 against the king, and so much anxiety as 
 to his supposed hostility towards himself, 
 that the wavering young man felt the want 
 of counsel by which to guide himself; and, 
 a stranger as he was at Palermo, was 
 grateful for the seeming kindness of the 
 king's favourite minister, and for the sug- 
 gestion which called to his help the advice 
 of his kinsman the archbishop. He left 
 the Torre di Baych with a promise to re- 
 turn with the archbishop in the evening. 
 
 '•Bravo! bravo, Giorgio Majone," ejacu- 
 lated the Lord High Admiral to himself, 
 as soon as the other left the room. " Bravo ! 
 all goes well to-day," and his hurley person 
 skipped up and down the room, while he 
 rubbed his hands and snapped his fingers 
 in glee. " In very truth," he continued,
 
 THE DARK AGES. 71 
 
 " the king does love the Saracens, and does 
 love an unusual allowance of blood and 
 cruelty ; but the good man had no more to 
 .do with the death of the priest's kinsman, 
 and knows no more of Abderachman's pro- 
 jects against this foolish Norman baron, 
 than the babe unborn. How fortunate for 
 me that the fool sucks in suspicions as the 
 sandy beach sucks in a shower of rain ! But 
 his name amongst his fellows has a charm 
 derived from his father ; and he is wealthy, 
 and therefore powerful. He must be se- 
 cured: — no very difficult matter. I will 
 make him wed Corazza ; the bond will tie 
 him to my interest, and will raise me in the 
 eyes of his compeers. Plague on this lowly 
 birth of mine ! It is the only thing a man 
 cannot get over: he cannot ennoble his 
 father. However, patienza — patienza ! 1 
 have not forgotten you, pretty baubles ;" 
 and he shook his fist good-humouredly as 
 he passed the recess in which the crown and 
 sceptre were concealed. " Patienza, pati- 
 enza, I will wear ye yet !"
 
 72 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 He clapped his hands together, and the 
 speechless eunuch we have mentioned again 
 stood before him. 
 
 " Let Gavaretto be sought for and brought 
 hither," he said. 
 
 In a few minutes the man-at-arms en- 
 tered the room. " Gavaretto," said the ad- 
 miral, " thou hast done me good service 
 to-day in defending the lady Corazza to the 
 best of thine ability. No one does me good 
 service without being rewarded, nor strives 
 to injure me without punishment. The 
 keeper of the royal prisons under the palace 
 has disobeyed orders: he has allowed the 
 prince of Capua to roam at large in his cell, 
 instead of keeping him in irons. I have 
 had the fellow basoned for his pains. The 
 post of head jailor is vacant, and I give it to 
 thee. Be faithful, be secret, and ever re- 
 member whose creature thou art." 
 
 Gavaretto took the hand of his patron, 
 and bore it to his lips. Then, without say- 
 ing a word, he wheeled round his gaunt 
 person and left the room.
 
 THE DARK AGES. 73 
 
 At nine o'clock on the evening of that 
 day, the Archbishop of Palermo and the 
 Lord of Taverna entered the apartment of 
 the Torre di Baych, with which we are al- 
 ready familiar. They were met at the door 
 by the High Admiral ; who bent on one 
 knee and craved the blessing of the Arch- 
 bishop. " Take it, my son," said the latter, 
 signing the cross over him : " and now," he 
 added, " since you assure me, through my 
 kinsman Matteo, that you had no part in the 
 death of my poor cousin, take my hand once 
 more in friendship." 
 
 " On mine honour !" cried Majone, cast- 
 ing himself into the open arms of the priest. 
 
 Taverna, moved by a feeling of delicacy 
 to turn aside from witnessing whatever ex- 
 planation might ensue, had saun|;ered on 
 through an open door; and in a larger 
 room adjoining, found the Lady Corazza 
 before a musical instrument. She was 
 reclining in a graceful, but languishing at- 
 titude. Her full black eyes were bent down 
 with an expression of sorrow. Her hair
 
 74 The dark ages. 
 
 was rather dishevelled, and fell upon her 
 bare shoulders, from which the lace veil, 
 embroidered with pearls and rubies, had 
 slipped off. She started when the knight 
 entered the room ; and, coming quickly to- 
 wards him, exclaimed, " Oh, monsignore, 
 this is a happy chance. I was told that I 
 was not to meet you to-night; and yet I 
 wished so much to crave your forgiveness 
 for my ungrateful and light bearing towards 
 you this morning." 
 
 " Beautiful Corazza," said the baron, tak- 
 ing her willing hand, " I know not to what 
 you can possibly allude. AVhat can I have 
 to forgive in you V 
 
 " Oh, I spoke slightingly of the great be- 
 nefit you had rendered me. I did not, I 
 feel I did not, thank you as I ought to have 
 done. What might have become of me had 
 you not come up in time to deliver me V 
 
 " But, indeed, my interference," expostu- 
 lated Taverna, "were not worth mentioning, 
 saving only that it gave me the opportunity 
 of assisting you."
 
 THE DARK AGES. 75 
 
 " And, therefore, I ought to have shown 
 my gratitude," persisted the little wily gipsy 
 in a sobbing tone. " But, indeed — indeed, 
 my heart felt, and gave the lie to my words." 
 
 With an assumed childish simplicity of 
 manner, she pressed his hand to her lips : 
 and then, as if overcome by her feelings, 
 rushed from the apartment. 
 
 " What a strange, wilful, pretty child she 
 is !" thought the Norman to himself. His 
 reflections, however, were soon cut short by 
 the entrance of the admiral and the arch- 
 bishop arm-in-arm, and showing, by their 
 bearing to one another, that all ill will was 
 at an end between them. They were both 
 men of about the same age, but singularly 
 different in their manner and appearance. 
 Hugo, Archbishop of Palermo, had the 
 bearing of a noble Norman : yet his tall, 
 spare form had a stoop which one could not 
 account for until one observed the pale face, 
 the hollow glance, and the measured lan- 
 guage of the student. His broad forehead
 
 76 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 was already bald ; and, ever and anon, he 
 drew himself up, as if from the desk, with 
 a proud toss of the head and a sudden flash 
 of the eye, that contrasted strangely with 
 his usual calm and listless manner. He was 
 making some observation on the diappear- 
 ance of the Lady Corazza, of whose retreat- 
 ing figure he had caught a glimpse as he 
 entered the room, when the chamberlain of 
 the high admiral entered and asked his 
 master, in a tone of voice that seemed in- 
 tended to draw the attention of the guests, 
 whether the usual retinue should wait at 
 supper. 
 
 " No, good Adinolfo," said the admiral. 
 " Not even thyself ; for mine honoured 
 guests do not know how much I prize thee, 
 and might feel shy of speaking before thee. 
 No ; let the mute Hadjar alone wait upon 
 us. What an improvement upon nature is 
 the device of these m.utes !" he exclaimed 
 joyfully to his friends as the chamberlain 
 withdrew. " Some may blame nature for
 
 THE DARK AGES. 77 
 
 being too prodigal of her gifts ; but not so 
 do I. We can always curtail those which 
 might be inconvenient. Now a servant 
 without a tongue is an admirable piece 
 of mechanism ; it can hear, it can see, it 
 can do all you require of it ; and it can never 
 repeat what it has overheard: and if you 
 think even this mechanism too complicated, 
 it is easy to take away the hearing and to 
 leave only the sight: and in some instances, 
 I have known masters who found it useful 
 to possess a blind slave who had the full en- 
 joyment of his other faculties." 
 
 " No more of this, I pray you, admiral," 
 said the archbishop gravely. 
 
 " No more, indeed," rejoined the other, 
 "for here comes some one to tell us that 
 supper waits. I am glad of it ; for I am so 
 overjoyed at the events of this day, in hav- 
 ing recovered my friend and my daughter, 
 and in having struck up an alliance with 
 my young friend here, that I shall do justice 
 to it ; so I hope will you, Don Matteo, of 
 Taverna."
 
 78 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 He gave a hand to each, and led them 
 into a small apartment, lined throughout 
 with slabs of polished white marble, in 
 which a table was spread before them. 
 
 We will not describe what they eat and 
 drank: it is what they thought and said 
 that interests us. And, in truth, little was 
 said at first beyond allusions to the events 
 of the day. Gradually these deepened in 
 interest. Gradually Majone spoke of the 
 claims of Abderachman on the estates of the 
 baron, and of the king's favourable inclina- 
 tions towards the Saracen. Gradually the 
 recent imprisonment of the Prince of Capua 
 came to be spoken of; and the innocence, 
 not only of the prince, but of the unfortu- 
 nate kinsman of the archbishop, came to be 
 asserted. 
 
 " You swear that you had no hand in his 
 death?" at length asked the archbishop 
 earnestly. 
 
 " By all the saints I swear it !" fervently 
 responded Majone. "And," he added,
 
 THE DARK AGES. 79 
 
 setting his teeth and speaking in a hollow 
 tone, but with the same heedless frankness 
 of manner, " I marvel that your reverence 
 submits to the indignity." 
 
 " I was not sure who was my enemy," re- 
 plied the other. " But before we say more," 
 he added, " permit me to ask the meaning 
 of words you used as we came into this 
 room: you said that you had, this day, struck 
 up an alliance with my young kinsman of 
 Taverna. What meant youl Have you 
 given him the hand of the Lady Corazza V 
 
 " Per Bacco !" cried Majone in his usual 
 good-humoured style, " per Bacco, he has 
 not done me the honour of asking for it." 
 
 " Then I crave it, for him," said the arch- 
 bishop. " It is an alliance desirable for you 
 both : for you, admiral, in that Taverna is 
 one of the most powerful of our Norman 
 barons whom it is desirable that you should 
 bind to your interests : for you, Taverna, in 
 that the admiral is all-powerful with this 
 king who threatens your possessions. 1 am
 
 80 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 sure my kinsman will gladly promote so de- 
 sirable an union ; and that the Lady Co- 
 razza is too well brought up to oppose her- 
 self to the will of her father. It is a pity 
 she is so young : she seems almost a child." 
 
 " Not so much a child as she looks," said 
 her father : " she is almost fourteen years 
 old." 
 
 " Well, then, what say you both to my 
 plan r 
 
 Taverna's feelings were so contradictory 
 as to prevent him from replying immediately, 
 as in politeness bound to do. How strangely, 
 he thought to himself, was the injunction 
 of the pale figure in the forest about to be 
 realised ! And then the connexion, although 
 grating to his feelings of family pride, was 
 certainly the road to safety, nay to power 
 and fame. And then the Countess Clemence 
 had even on that very day refused his suit. 
 And Corazza was very pretty ; and that very 
 evening she had evidently shown a liking 
 for him which flattered his vanity, which
 
 THE DARK AGES. 81 
 
 he mistook for his heart — as many men 
 do. 
 
 " Well, Matteo V asked the archbishop 
 rather impatiently. 
 
 " If the lord admiral will deign to accept 
 me as his son," faltered the baron, holding 
 out his hand towards him. 
 
 " Nay, I will answer with my usual frank- 
 ness," said the other. " I accept you joy- 
 fully, monsignore, and hasten to embrace 
 my honoured son." 
 
 He rose from the table and folded Ta- 
 Yerna, who rose to meet him, to his ample 
 chest ; rubbing both his black whiskers 
 against the well-trimmed cheeks of the 
 young man. 
 
 " That is well settled," said the archbishop 
 as the two resumed their seats. " Of course, 
 the marriage cannot take place immediately. 
 The child is too young. But now to business." 
 
 " To business, be it," said Majone slowly. 
 " Again I ask how long is the cruelty and 
 tyranny of this man to be borne I You, my 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 lord archbishop, are a Norman : you are 
 connected with many of the Norman lords, 
 and see how they are oppressed and made 
 of little account. I myself am an Italian ; 
 but I cannot see, much less appear to be 
 the prompter of, the indignities the Normans 
 suffer without feeling my spirit rebel within 
 me ; while it is also moved by the grinding 
 avarice of the king which exacts from the 
 native people their substance that it may 
 be hoarded in the coffers of the state." 
 
 " Is there no hope of moving his mind to 
 better counsels'?" inquired the archbishop. 
 
 " Yourself can best answer the question," 
 replied the admiral. " You know what re- 
 monstrances have been made on many ac- 
 counts, but chiefly on account of the diffi- 
 culties he interposes to such matters as we 
 have just now so happily contracted. You 
 know what anger has been excited in dis- 
 appointed lovers, not to mention fading 
 dames, by his constant rule not to allow the 
 female owners of fiefs to marry until they
 
 THE DARK AGES. 83 
 
 are so old that the properties are likely to 
 revert to the crown in default of children. 
 You know how many partial rebellions 
 have broken out owing to a thousand dif- 
 ferent acts of tyranny. Do these move 
 him 1 They move him but to renewed ven- 
 geance and renewed acts of cruelty. No : 
 I know him well. So long as he lives, there 
 is no hope for the country." 
 
 " Good God ! you would not murder 
 him !" cried the archbishop. 
 
 " I, for one, would never be a party to 
 such an act !" added Taverna, encouraged 
 to speak out by the horror expressed by the 
 priest. 
 
 " Nay, your reverence, nay, my son," 
 expostulated Majone, " do I look like a 
 murderer ^. Do I look like a man of blood f 
 
 His ruddy good-humoured face certainly 
 gave the lie to such an imputation ; and 
 his allies were about to say so, when a loud 
 rap was heard at the door, and the cham- 
 berlain Adinolfo entered saying, " Your
 
 84 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 pardon, monsignore, but a messenger is 
 just come from the Alcazar, saying that the 
 King craves your attendance forthwith." 
 
 " Madonna santissima !" exclaimed Ma- 
 jone ; " I am engaged. Go thyself to the 
 palace, good Adinolfo, and present my duty 
 to my lord the king, and tell him that I 
 have been so agitated by the danger of my 
 daughter this afternoon, that I have taken 
 to my bed, far from well ; but that if his 
 grace has a real wish to see me before to- 
 morrow morning, I will rise instantly, and 
 come to him." 
 
 " And if the king's interest in your lord- 
 ship should lead him to come here himself 
 to see you V suggested the chamberlain. 
 
 " Fear not, good Adinolfo ; much as he 
 loves me, he loves his own ease better : so, 
 go thy ways." 
 
 The attendant left the room, and the 
 friends refilled their glasses. But this 
 little incident had marvellously forwarded 
 the plot they were concocting. When they
 
 THE DARK AGES. 85 
 
 recurred to the subject, it was no longer a 
 new thought, but was as familiar to their 
 minds as it would have been at a second 
 meeting planned to debate it. This was 
 the effect of the interruption upon the 
 Archbishop and Taverna. The high ad- 
 miral had turned the pause to even better 
 account. The exclamations of the two 
 whom he sought to win over had shewn 
 him that he must proceed more warily, and 
 discover only a portion of his designs, — that 
 they would be no parties to the death of 
 the king, and to the placing on his own 
 person the crown and sceptre he had so 
 fondly prepared. When, therefore, the 
 other two recurred again to the topic more 
 freely, as to a matter with which their 
 minds were already familiar, he himself 
 met them with increased wariness ; and 
 was heedful, by concealing his ultimate 
 designs, to say nothing that could shock 
 the habits of thought of great feudal lords 
 of those days, — of lords who felt themselves
 
 86 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 aggrieved by their compeer, the sovereign. 
 During a prolonged sitting, it was finally 
 determined that the king had shewn him- 
 self unfit to reign ; that he should therefore 
 be deposed, and his eldest son, Roger, 
 elevated in his place. To this, Majone 
 readily assented, in the hope that, during a 
 revolution, there would be a greater chance 
 of carrying out his own views. The time 
 and manner of doing the deed of justice, as 
 they termed it, — of justice to themselves 
 and country, — was then discussed. Majone 
 remarked upon the growing discontent of 
 the barons and of the people ; showed that 
 the passions of both had been newly aroused 
 by the imprisonment of the Prince of 
 Capua, and the accumulated deeds of 
 cruelty the king had lately done. The 
 archbishop well knew that this anger was 
 principally directed against Majone, whom 
 all considered to be, as he really was, the 
 prime mover in every deed of iniquity ; but 
 it now suited his own purposes to forget
 
 THE DARK AGES. 87 
 
 this ; and he gladly heard from the admiral 
 the avowal, that almost every place of 
 authority in the kingdom or in the navy 
 was already filled by his own creatures; 
 that the guards, and even the eunuchs, of 
 the palace were brought over to him ; and 
 that nothing remained to be done, but to 
 excite still further the anger of the Norman 
 barons. 
 
 " And this," said the admiral, " can best 
 be done by removing the three or four who 
 alone are attached to him. There is, for 
 example, Robert of Basseville, his maternal 
 cousin ; Eberard, Count of Squillace ; and 
 Simon, Count of Policastro, his bastard 
 brother : nothing will ever detach these 
 from him ; we must, therefore, detach him 
 from them. This will be easy, for he is 
 ever suspicious of his relatives." 
 
 "But cannot this be avoided V inter- 
 posed Taverna. 
 
 " My son," observed the archbishop, " I 
 feel that it is a sad necessity : but as we
 
 88 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 have agreed that it is good to remove the 
 tyrant from the power of working evil, all 
 those who would support him must be 
 looked upon as partners in his crimes. 
 Part we, however, for the night. I will 
 attend at the palace to-morrow, admiral, 
 and will give my voice in support of what- 
 ever your greater experience may have set 
 on foot. You also, kinsman, had best show 
 yourself there, to uphold your own interests 
 while yet he encumbers the throne, and to 
 be ready to take part in whatever our judg- 
 ment shall have decided upon. Admiral, I 
 give you good night. May the saints look 
 approvingly upon our endeavours to wrest 
 this country, which our fathers freed from 
 the pagans, from the still greater tyranny 
 of Christians." 
 
 " Amen," replied Majone devoutly, as he 
 prepared to accompany his guests to the 
 drawbridge of the tower. " Bless thee, my 
 son," he said, embracing Taverna ere he 
 mounted his horse. " I thank heaven that
 
 THE DARK AGES. 89 
 
 has formed so dear a tie between us ; may 
 it be cemented by faith and perfected by 
 prosperity." 
 
 He returned in-doors ; and soon after 
 sought his pillow, where he slept the quiet 
 sleep of innocence, until the sun was high 
 in the blue, cloudless skies. 
 
 Thus have we brought to a close the first 
 eventful day and night that opened upon 
 this true chronicle.
 
 90 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 " A hungry, lean-faced villain, 
 A mere anatomy, a mountebank, 
 A threadbare juggler and a fortune teller, 
 A needy, hollow-eyed, sharp-looking wretch, 
 A living dead man : — this pernicious slave. 
 Forsooth took on him as a conjurer ; 
 And gazing in mine eyes, feeling my pulse. 
 And with no face, as 'twere outfacing me. 
 Cries out I was possessed." — Comedy of Errors. 
 
 We must now request the reader to accom- 
 pany us to La Rocca, as the Sicilians termed 
 it, — the Alcazar as it was called by the Sa- 
 racens, — in fact, to the ancient Saracenic 
 citadel, now the residence of the Norman 
 kings of Sicily and Naples. Let us pass 
 from the Cassaro under the wide gateway 
 ^hat leads into the vast court, around which 
 the new lords of Sicily have reared, in the 
 far south, a residence on the plan of those
 
 THE DARK AGES. 91 
 
 northern keeps, familiar ever to their recol- 
 lections. The building runs round the four 
 sides of the court ; and although eventually 
 defended by strong towers at each of the 
 angles, but two of these are yet erected, 
 though Greek and Saracenic workmen are 
 even now engaged in raising the third. 
 Leaving the newly-built chapel (still in 
 complete preservation, and the most perfect 
 relic of aftcient times) on the other hand, 
 let us ascend the great staircase, to the third 
 storey,— for the two lower ranges are occu- 
 pied as. prisons, guard-rooms, and menial 
 offices ; and before turning from the wide 
 corridor that runs all round the court, and 
 leads to the different apartments, let us 
 pause a moment, to examine one of the 
 greatest rarities of the age — a clock moved 
 by a pendulum, erected by the late king on 
 the wall of his chapel, and of which he was 
 so justly proud, that he inserted near it an 
 inscription, in Latin, Greek, and Arabic, 
 the three written languages of the country.
 
 92 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 to record the achievement: the Lathi in- 
 scription is as follows : — 
 
 " Hoc opus horologii prfficepit fieri 
 Dominus magnificus Rex Eogerius 
 Anno Incarnationis Domini 1142, 
 Anno, vero, regni ejus 13 feliciter." 
 
 Let us pass through that square door of 
 wood, the panels of Avhich are so beautifully 
 moulded and overlaid with the carved leaves 
 of that unknown flower: let us pass the 
 guards and the mutes, who watbh the ap- 
 proaches to the royal apartment with all the 
 ceremony and jealousy used in palaces of the 
 Byzantine emperors ; they make way for us, 
 and we stand in the favourite morning room 
 of the king. It is indeed dazzling at first ; 
 but when the eye becomes accustomed to 
 it, you will marvel how so much splendour 
 could be combined with so little gaudiness. 
 At the corners of the room, small Norman 
 pillars of marble rise to the domed ceiling ; 
 this, as well as the walls, is totally encrusted 
 with the richest mosaics. On a ground of 
 gold, are seen Norman huntsmen, armed
 
 THE DARK AGES. 93 
 
 with cross-bows, while stags fly before them ; 
 and peacocks with spreading tails are inter- 
 spersed, as an excuse for introducing the 
 most splendid colours. Leopards, lions, and 
 other beasts of the chase, beloved of Norman 
 sovereigns, cover the carved ceiling with 
 the richest tints, harmonized, on a golden 
 ground, by the skill of the best artists from 
 Constantinople. 
 
 Such is the appearance of this room even 
 now remaining in the palace of Palermo : 
 it tells us plainly whence later ages, unable 
 to command the gorgeous materials and the 
 tasteful workmen of the east, took the idea 
 of those hangings of leather stamped with 
 gold which once covered the bare walls of 
 the halls of England. But a truce to investi- 
 gation. We stand in the presence of royalty. 
 
 William the First of Sicily (whom history 
 has stamped by an unflattering but descrip- 
 tive epithet as " William the Bad") was, 
 like all his family, remarkable for his great 
 strength, his noble bearing, and handsome
 
 94 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 features. These features had, however, a 
 soddened, pale, and unhealthy look, as he 
 now lay at full length upon a low couch, 
 his half-clad limbs swathed in a sort of loose 
 dressing gown of purple satin. In another 
 part of the room, his queen, Margaret, a 
 handsome woman in the prime of life, con- 
 versed with the young girl named Theresa, 
 — the friend of the Lady Corazza, whom we 
 have before met ; while on the carpet in 
 the midst, gamboled the two royal children, 
 Roger and William (handsome, intelligent 
 boys of the age of seven and six years), and 
 their aunt Constance. The latter was a 
 pretty little girl, rather younger than the 
 youngest of the two, being the posthumous 
 daughter of the present king's father by his 
 third wife. The children, as we say, were 
 playing upon the carpet: and amid much 
 merry prattle, were trying to form gay pic- 
 tures, by placing together little square 
 pieces of coloured ivory and gilt wood, in 
 imitation of the mosaics on the walls of the
 
 THE DARK AGES. 95 
 
 room. The king lay listlessly watching 
 them from his low cushions, ever and anon 
 joining in their babble, or answering some 
 eager inquiry of one or other of the lively 
 trio. 
 
 " I do not think I shall be ever able to 
 make the man with the bow and arrow, 
 Costanza," exclaimed the eldest boy, lioger. 
 
 " Well, 'Uggiero," replied the little girl 
 in broken words, " the picture will do quite 
 as well without him. I don't like to have 
 the poor animals killed." 
 
 " Papa," said Ruggiero, suddenly rising 
 from the floor, and running to his father, 
 while his fine open eyes sparkled with ea- 
 gerness, and he shook the hair back from 
 his white forehead, " papa, do tell me what 
 is the pleasure of going a-hunting ?" 
 
 " I am sure I do not know, my boy," an- 
 swered the king, yawning. " It is much 
 less trouble to stay at home." 
 
 " What ! do you not like riding on horse- 
 back, and going to the wars, and conquering 
 every body '?" asked the eager child.
 
 96 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 " Not unless they are very troublesome 
 and lack punishment," replied the king. 
 
 " But why cannot people be happy and 
 quiet, and do as they ought 1" asked the 
 younger boy. 
 
 " For my part, I should not like being 
 obliged to conquer them, and to burn their 
 eyes out and hang them," added Ruggiero. 
 
 " Nonsense, brats !" said the king. " Go 
 back to your mosaics. If my father and 
 grandfather had not made war, you would 
 now be shivering with cold in some miser- 
 able country castle of Normandy." 
 
 " But, papa," said Roger, again darting 
 forwards, " they made war on the pagans, 
 and that was very right, you know ; was it 
 not Theresa ?" he added, turning to the 
 old favourite of the children. 
 
 " By the bye, Theresa," languidly ex- 
 claimed the king, " what do people say of 
 the executions of yesterday ?" 
 
 The young female rose from the low 
 stool where she knelt at the side of the
 
 THE DARK AGES. 97 
 
 queen, and advancing, with lowly reverence 
 said : " I fear they complain, my lord ; and 
 many, I am told, are sorry that the kins- 
 man of the archbishop should have been 
 done to death with so much indignity." 
 
 " Giorgio Majone would have it so," said 
 the king, heedlessly. " I cannot think 
 what made him so eager for it ; and it 
 matters not. Bid some one, Theresa, bring 
 me a jug of mulled wine." 
 
 The young lady hastened out of the 
 room to do the bidding. 
 
 A few moments after she had left, the 
 king sprang suddenly to his feet, surprise, 
 reverence, and terror, depicted on his heavy 
 countenance. As he lay on the couch, his 
 face had been turned towards the door ; he 
 was, therefore, the first to observe the en- 
 trance of a new comer. This was a tall 
 monk, dressed in the long, flowing, ample, 
 woollen robe of the Cistercian order : his 
 head was unusually large ; his eyes in- 
 telligent, but with somewhat of a wild 
 
 VOL. I. II
 
 98 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 brightness about them. He bore in his 
 hand a large vohime of the Holy Scriptures, 
 — his constant companion. 
 
 " So," he exclaimed, " so ; as the hills 
 were to be made low, and the rough ways 
 plain, for the coming of the Christ, so do 
 guards, and slaves, and eunuchs, disappear 
 before the face of His prophet. None dare 
 delay him who comes on the mission of the 
 Lord." 
 
 " Holy abbot Giovacchino," said the 
 king, " what dread announcement do you 
 bring us V 
 
 " Calm yourself, calm yourself, my lord," 
 said the queen in an undertone, as she drew 
 near to the side of her husband ; and the 
 three children (startled, not by the entrance 
 of the reputed prophet, but by the unusual 
 manner of their father), clung around her 
 dress, so as much to impede her steps. Mov- 
 ing across the room, she in some sort dragged 
 them along with her. At the door, she met 
 Theresa returning, and gently bade her send
 
 THE DARK AGES. 99 
 
 some one for the high admiral. " Let them 
 tell him he must come forthwith." 
 
 " Madama," cried the monk, " take not 
 the children away. Oh, king, king, what 
 misfortunes hang over thee." 
 
 " Over me V exclaimed the sovereign, 
 terrified. " What have I done to provoke 
 the wrath of heaven V 
 
 "Cruelty; injustice; murder;" replied 
 the abbot, solemnly. " And here," he added, 
 laying his hand on the fair hair of little 
 Ruggiero, " here stands the avenger." 
 
 " My son against mel" muttered the king, 
 setting his teeth close, while a fiendish ex- 
 pression of the violence of his passions came 
 over his face. 
 
 " Thy son against thee," answered the 
 monk, slowly. " Not from any ill-will of 
 his own, poor child : he is as good a child 
 as ever lived, and long and happily will he 
 reign : but so the justice of heaven will 
 have it. Canst thou not read, oh king "?" 
 
 " Not right-clerkly, I own ; it is not the
 
 100 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 wont of knights to meddle with your call- 
 ing, sir priest," replied the king. " But 
 still I can make out something of letters." 
 
 " I speak not of them," replied the monk, 
 scornfully ; " the gauds of pedants and 
 idlers ! Although I myself have written 
 more books than any man now living, they 
 were on matters above thy comprehension, 
 and I spoke not to thee of them ; but canst 
 thou not read the wide book which nature 
 spreads out, and on which multitudes of 
 men record unmistakable signs as the days 
 fleet by "? Canst thou not read the hearts 
 of men 1 — thy father read them well." 
 
 " What mean you, abbate ?" asked the 
 king, more boldly ; and, with a show of ris- 
 ing anger, he added : " If that boy dare 
 harbour in his heart one thought against 
 mv rights " 
 
 " Wrong not the innocent child," replied 
 Padre Giovacchino ; " his heart is good and 
 dutiful, but it is true and humane. He is 
 but a tool in the hands of heaven. Take
 
 THE DARK AGES. 101 
 
 my warning, and he is an useless, an un- 
 needed tool : disregard it, and the child 
 David was not more the avenger of the 
 Lord than he will become." 
 
 He gave his blessing affectionately to the 
 child, and stalked slowly forth by the door 
 at which he had entered. 
 
 Such was the famous Calabrian abbot of 
 Curacio, whose prophecies, at this time, dis- 
 turbed Europe, as they alarmed the royal 
 family of Sicily. Though his doctrines were 
 afterwards condemned in the council of 
 Lateran, he was not denied the fame of a 
 clever writer ; and Dante does not even 
 scruple to admit him into his paradise as a 
 true prophet : 
 
 " Ilaban e quivi, e lucemi da lato 
 II Calabrese Abate Giovacchino, 
 Di spii-ito profetico dotato." — Dante, Parad. Cant. 12. 
 
 He could scarcely have left the palace, 
 when the archbishop and the lord high ad- 
 miral entered it, and were hastily and 
 eagerly ushered into the presence of the 
 irritated sovereign.
 
 102 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 " Gentle friends, 
 Let's kill him boldly, but not wrathfally ; 
 Let's carve him as a dish fit for the gods, 
 Not hew him as a carcase fit for hounds : 
 And let our hearts, as subtle masters do, 
 Stir up their servants to an act of rage, 
 And after seem to chide them." — Julius Ccesar. 
 
 It may well be supposed that King "William 
 the Bad was not in the best humour pos- 
 sible when the archbishop and the high ad- 
 miral entered the room. The prophecy of 
 the monk, Giovacchino, had aroused his two 
 passion?, jealousy and the desire for ven- 
 geance : and these two passions — the only 
 two which he possessed, and even they 
 awoke but by fits and starts — these two 
 passions were now directed against his child, 
 little Ruggiero. The astonishing abilities 
 and amiable temper of the boy, had long
 
 THE DARK AGES. 103 
 
 predisposed his father against him : for he 
 could not help secretly contrasting these 
 qualities with those which he felt within 
 himself. When, therefore, Giovacchino 
 foretold that the son should be an instru- 
 ment, in the hands of heaven, to punish the 
 father and redress the wrongs of his people, 
 jealousy of the poor unconscious child and 
 a resolution to revenge on him the threats 
 of the supposed prophet, had aroused his 
 slothful mind to its fiercest pitch of cruelty. 
 
 But, at the sight of the high admiral, he 
 instantly calmed down ; like a petulant 
 child who runs, from those who have af- 
 fronted it, to the arms of a favourite nurse. 
 
 " Oh, caro Giorgio, thou art come at 
 last !" he exclaimed, extending both arms 
 to embrace the bulky favourite. " I have 
 much needed thy counsel, against — against 
 — Get out of the room, brats !" he cried, in- 
 terrupting himself, and turning fiercely to 
 the children. 
 
 They started trembling from their play ;
 
 104 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 and, huddling round Theresa, began to drag 
 her to the door: all but the little baby-aunt, 
 Constanza, who tarried awhile to gather 
 some of the mosaics from the floor into her 
 lap : but Queen Margaret took her, rather 
 roughly, by the hand ; and with a scarcely 
 perceptible smile and shrug of the shoulders, 
 which were seen, and intended to be seen 
 by no one but the admiral, she dragged her 
 after the others ; and they all left the royal 
 presence. 
 
 " Well, dear Giorgio ; but how art thou 
 now '?" resumed the king. '* Right glad 
 was I that thou didst not come to me last 
 night : for it might have harmed thee after 
 thy worry for thy daughter. By the holy 
 face of Lucca, but these banditti shall be 
 looked after !" 
 
 " Nay, your grace," interposed the arch- 
 bishop, anxious to check inquiry into the 
 engagements of his confederate during the 
 preceding evening : " nay, your grace, they 
 are but small evils when mightier cares dis-
 
 THE DARK AGES. 105 
 
 turb you and the kingdom. What had the 
 mountebank, Giovacchino, said or done to 
 move your lordship V 
 
 " The mountebank ?" repeated the sove- 
 reign complacently. " Holy archbishop, do 
 you really believe that he is no true pro- 
 phet V 
 
 " He !" exclaimed Majone, who prudently 
 wished to know what had been prophecied 
 before the truth of the prophet was vouched 
 for or condemned ; " he a prophet ! And 
 what is it, I pray you, he threatens now V' 
 
 " The anger of heaven upon what he 
 calls my cruelties : — though thou knowest, 
 Giorgio, they are mostly thine own : I do 
 but quell the rebellious barons when thou 
 hast aroused their insolence. Nay, never 
 fear, man," he added, as the quick eye of 
 sympathy perceived a shrinking in the glance 
 of the admiral : " never fear. I am faithful 
 to my friends ; and never cry ' Haro !' upon 
 those who serve me : least of all upon thee. 
 But the crazy monk — I hope he is crazy,
 
 106 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 sir archbishop — prophecied as I have told 
 you ; and then declared that the boy, Rug- 
 giero, should supplant me from my father's 
 throne. I wish I may see the presumptuous 
 imp wag a finger against my rights !" 
 
 Hugo of Palermo saw it was high time 
 to throw discredit upon the prophecies of 
 Giovacchino, lest they should lead the king 
 to suspect the new alliance formed the night 
 before. 
 
 " If the prophecies of the crazy monk, as 
 your grace rightly calls him," he said, " be 
 all that disturb you, be appeased at once. 
 Why, my lord, he is a heretic. Some of 
 his innumerable books teach doctrines op- 
 posed to those of the holy church. I pledge 
 my word that they are heretical; and a 
 misbeliever, as we all know, can never be 
 so favoured by heaven as to be endowed 
 with the gift of prophecy.* He is a moun- 
 tebank." 
 
 ' " Thank God !" exclaimed the king draw- 
 ing a long breath : " but I will look after
 
 THE DARK AGES. 107 
 
 Master Riiggiero, notwithstanding," he 
 added in a threatening tone. 
 
 What an amiable trio now engage our 
 attentions ! And yet we hardly know whe- 
 ther to condemn or to pity them most. 
 Deluding and deluded, and yet influenced 
 by some honest purposes while embarking 
 in a course of events justified by the man- 
 ners and the habits of the times — how dif- 
 ferently would they all have acted under a 
 different system of society — a system which 
 should have subjected each one, prince and 
 subject, to the action of fixed and certain 
 laws ! Kebellion and conspiracy were not 
 then the crimes that they have since be- 
 come : for redress was not then to be had 
 legally ; and public opinion upheld the ag- 
 grieved who sought that redress by violent 
 means which all knew could not be other- 
 wise obtained. He who sets himself above 
 all law, must not complain if those whom 
 he wrongs fall back upon the law of nature ; 
 which bids them right themselves as they
 
 108 TPIE DARK AGES, 
 
 best may. We bespeak such reflections in 
 excuse of the archbishop and of Matteo of 
 Taverna. Those who like to excuse the 
 king, on the ground that he was deceived by 
 the admiral, are welcome to do so. We fear 
 that w^e can suggest no excuse for the ad- 
 miral himself. 
 
 However, the time was now come for 
 them to begin to act upon the resolutions 
 formed in the Torre di Baych on the pre- 
 ceding evening : and Majone led the way 
 with his wonted appearance of candour. 
 
 " Let us think no more," he said, " of the 
 mad abbot Giovacchino. If he becomes 
 troublesome with his prophecies, we must 
 either hang him or give him a richer mo- 
 nastery. Either way will, I doubt not, 
 silence him equally well. But I grieve, my 
 lord, to say that I have advices of worse 
 evils than any he can bring upon your 
 grace. The barons of Puglia are again in 
 revolt." 
 
 " Burn their castles, and hang them to
 
 THE DARK AGES. 109 
 
 the flaming rafters," said the king lan- 
 guidly. 
 
 " But I fear me it may not be so easy to 
 overcome them," continued the admiral, 
 " while they are countenanced by those so 
 near your person." 
 
 " Whom mean you, Giorgio ? By the 
 holy face of Lucca, speak out !" 
 
 " I will speak out, my lord ; I will speak 
 out," replied the admiral carelessly. "No 
 secrets or double meanings or whisperings 
 for me ! Your cousin the Count of Basse- 
 ville, and Eberard, Count of Squillace, have 
 both lately passed over to Italy ; and I 
 doubt not that it is they who have told these 
 fiery barons that your grace is dead." 
 
 " Dead !" cried the king, grinding his 
 teeth. " What mean they ?" 
 
 " Indeed, my lord," said the archbishop, 
 " it is so long since you have left the palace 
 walls and shown yourself to the people, that 
 we cannot be surprised that the disappointed 
 multitude should have adopted a supposi-
 
 110 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 tion which is fortunately so far from the 
 truth." 
 
 " As they shall find, in due time," mut- 
 tered the sovereign. " And," he added 
 bitterly, " and I take it for certain that these 
 dutiful barons of mine have sworn fealty to 
 their darling, Iluggiero, in my place V 
 
 " Think no more of Giovacchino, my 
 lord," expostulated Majone : " but rather 
 direct me how to act with Robert of Basse- 
 ville and his fellow-conspirator, Eberard." 
 
 " How to act by them, Giorgio," answered 
 the king. " Thou art mighty scrupulous 
 this morning! Get them into the prisons 
 below, by any means thy wit and that of 
 the good archbishop can devise : and do not 
 plague me again about them until they are 
 safely lodged in irons. Now ; shall we have 
 a cup of mulled wine V 
 
 " And the other'?" interposed Hugo, with 
 some diffidence. 
 
 " What other V asked the king impati- 
 ently ; throwing himself, at full length.
 
 THE DARK AGES. Ill 
 
 upon the low couch ; and, with the toe of 
 his slipper, pushing about the mosaic play- 
 things which the children had left on the 
 floor. 
 
 " Did not the lord admiral name him ?" 
 suggested the arclibishop : " The Count 
 Simon" — 
 
 "Ha! what of him?" cried William, 
 rising on one elbow and gazing intently in 
 the faces of his counsellors. " Will the 
 bastard never forget that I took from liim 
 the principality of Taranto, which my father 
 had no business to have given him 1" 
 
 " Exchange is no robbery," said Majone 
 cheerfully. " Your grace made him Count 
 of Policastro instead. Ha ! ha ! ha !" and 
 he shook his fat sides with laughter. 
 
 The king also laughed. When their 
 merriment had somewhat abated, Majone 
 easily convinced the jealous sovereign that 
 his devoted brother was plotting against his 
 authority, By charging him with having 
 fomented some disturbances which had
 
 112 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 broken out amongst the soldiers at Capua, 
 — and which, in fact, he had much striven 
 to appease, — he obtained an order to recall 
 him immediately to Palermo. 
 
 Thus far, all went on well, according to 
 the schemes of the conspirators ; for unpo- 
 pular as the king already was amongst his 
 barons, it was necessary to make him more 
 so before the crowning, or rather the de- 
 throning, blow, could be struck. This could 
 not be more surely brought about, than by 
 disgracing those who were most looked up 
 to by their compeers ; and who, at the same 
 time, were personally and loyally attached 
 to the prince. And yet it was strange that, 
 with all his acuteness, Majone should not 
 have discovered that he himself was the 
 prime object of aversion to the insulted no- 
 biUty ; that they looked upon the king as 
 a mere tool in the hands of a low-born and 
 unscrupulous man, who governed the coun- 
 try for his own advantage, and, as they 
 firmly believed, with a view to supplant his
 
 THE DARK AGES. 113 
 
 sovereign on the throne. Numerous as were 
 the agents whom the admiral had spread 
 over the land, to bring him the earliest in- 
 formation of every movement and of every 
 feeling on the part of the enemy — for such 
 the loyal nobility were esteemed by him — 
 they told him not of his own increasing un- 
 popularity, but left him to think that all 
 the successive outbursts of partial rebellion 
 were directed solely against the sovereign 
 rather than against the modern Sejanus 
 himself. 
 
 But from whatever cause it originated, 
 that dissatisfaction, he felt, must be ap- 
 peased for the present ; the king must show 
 himself, and so silence the rumours which 
 averred him to lie dead in the palace. For 
 more than a month, he had not moved from 
 the private apartments, unless it were that 
 at times he would hang listlessly over the 
 balcony round the inner court-yard, and 
 watch the masons busied in raising the new 
 tower, for he had some taste in architecture. 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 The nobles, who had often craved audiences, 
 had been rudely repulsed. He had seen, 
 he had spoken to no one except Majone and 
 the archbishop, who had been incessantly 
 closeted with him, and had instilled into him 
 their own views of passing events. Sloth had 
 grown upon him by indulgence ; and never 
 had the admiral experienced so much diffi- 
 culty in bending him to his will, as he now 
 found when he urged him to go forth from 
 the palace. At length, overcome by importu- 
 nities, he offered to be borne in a litter to 
 the cathedral, and to show himself there 
 during a public service. But even this 
 would not suit the inexorable Majone. 
 
 " If not dead, they will still say that you 
 are dying, if your grace does not show more 
 life. A litter, per Bacco ! Why every 
 high-born dame is proud to mount her 
 charger, and interlards her discourse with 
 terms of horsemanship. A litter and high 
 mass will never do !" 
 
 " What the devil wouldst thou have V
 
 THE DARK AGES. 115 
 
 expostulated the sovereign, yawning. 
 " Must I have lists raised in the square of 
 the Cassaro, bury myself in a quilted gam- 
 baison, and run bouts with every saucy 
 knight who may choose to splinter a lance 
 against my shield '? I would rather be dead 
 at once, than take so much trouble to show 
 that I am alive." 
 
 " No, no, caro monsignore," replied Ma- 
 jone. " I am not so unreasonable as to ask 
 you to don armour for any less cause than 
 to quell serious rebellion ; and then you 
 will own that the pleasure of overcoming 
 the rebels, of punishing their audacity, and 
 of confiscating their lands, is some compen- 
 sation for the trouble." 
 
 " Well ?" muttered the king, while a 
 twinkle in his pale blue eye, and a down- 
 ward curl of the corners of his large mouth, 
 showed that he was gratified by the flattery 
 and the recollections it awakened. 
 
 *•' Well, then," continued the admiral, 
 " as there is as yet no such cause for exer-
 
 116 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 tioii, I do not ask you to undergo it. I 
 would only suggest that you should let it 
 be known that you will hunt to-morrow in 
 the forest of Monte Pellegrino. It is so 
 near the town, that thousands will gather 
 to testify to your strength and health. And 
 the sport is one which all Norman princes 
 dearly love." 
 
 " Seccatura ! — it is a bore," petulantly 
 replied the monarch. 
 
 " And yet no sovereign more strictly 
 guards the rights of the chase, nor more 
 rigorously punishes any infringement of 
 them," remonstrated the archbishop. 
 
 " As a point of honour, sir archbishop," 
 said the king ; " as I would punish any 
 one who should place my crown on his 
 head, although I may not myself wish to 
 wear at all times the cumbrous bauble." 
 
 The conversation here became more de- 
 sultory; and during a conference of some 
 hours, in which all things, great and small, 
 were talked of and discussed and coloured
 
 THE DARK AGES. 117 
 
 according to the fancy of the favourite, it 
 was finally determined that the king should 
 make an effort to leave his pillow on the 
 following morning, as soon as possible after 
 the break of day ; and should prove to his 
 loving subjects that he was in such robust 
 health, as to be able to " enjoy " the sports 
 of the chase.
 
 118 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 How sweet to ride at early morn 
 
 O'er hill and wooded glen ! 
 How sweet to hear the bugle horn 
 
 Wake up our merry men ! 
 See they gather : see they meet : 
 E'en the very earth smells sweet! 
 See the curling dews uprise, 
 Like a morning sacrifice, 
 Steaming up to bless the skies. 
 
 How beautiful is sunrise in summer ! — 
 enjoyed, admired and described by none so 
 much as by those who seldom leave their 
 pillows till two or three hours before mid- 
 day. Are we amongst the number "? We 
 decline to plead ; and leave the reader to 
 form his own judgment. 
 
 What a freshness was in the morning air, 
 as it dashed against the heated cheeks of 
 the king, like cold water placed to parched 
 lips ! A slight steam uprose from the
 
 THE DARK AGES. 119 
 
 wooded vales and the heathery hills, and 
 curled, in graceful eddies, through the slant- 
 ing purple rays of the glorious sun. Every 
 leaf was tipped with dew, — every flower 
 was spangled with its glittering drop. There 
 was a fragrance in the upturned earth it- 
 self, which blended gratefully with the 
 many sweets of the odoriferous shrubs 
 around. 
 
 But the upturned earth and the cultivated 
 fields were soon left behind, and the royal 
 cavalcade passed over the gently-rising 
 plain around Palermo, and approached the 
 woods which covered the ground where 
 Monreale now stands. Much nearer to the 
 city than that splendid church, the royal 
 chase then extended ; and all the outskirts 
 of the copse were alive with the population 
 that had hurried out on the joyful occasion. 
 It is true that the royal party itself consisted 
 of few besides Majone, the archbishop (for 
 the clergy hunted in the much-bepraised 
 middle ages), the Baron of Taverna, and
 
 120 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 little Kiiggiero, whom the conspirators had 
 caused to be mounted, in order to show him 
 also to the people. But then the whole 
 country swarmed with riders, and with per- 
 sons on foot of every class and age and 
 nation ; native Sicilians, Saracens, Greeks, 
 and Normans, all jostled together in their 
 Avell- contrasting attire of many colours and 
 shapes. Hundreds of beaters and hunts- 
 men, in the royal liveries, lined every ave- 
 nue, and prepared to turn the game at the 
 outskirts of the forest. Dogs leapt up, and 
 tumbled head over heels, in their eagerness at 
 being at length released from the kennel. The 
 huntsman's horn wound cheerily under the 
 leafy covers; and all animate and inanimate 
 nature (if such exists) seemed wide awake, 
 and full of life and health. 
 
 Not so, however, the king himself. Alert 
 as he was in the battle-field, when his pas- 
 sions urged him on, he now went forth for 
 what seemed to him no adequate motive 
 for all the trouble he took ; and frequent
 
 THE DARK AGES. 121 
 
 yawns, as he sat heavily in his high-peaked, 
 saddle, testified how much rather he would 
 still have slumbered under the silken hang- 
 ings of his darkened bed-chamber. Dif- 
 ferent far was the aspect of little Ruggiero, 
 who, on a small well-trained palfrey, cara- 
 coUed now before, now behind, and now at 
 the side of his moody father. A quiver of 
 arrows and a small bow, which he had 
 already been taught to use with some skill, 
 hung at his back ; and he whooped with 
 delight whenever they turned into a fresh 
 glade, or the huntsman's horn gave token 
 of the progress of the chase. 
 
 The present object of the hunters was 
 professedly the wild boar; and each one, 
 except the child, was therefore armed with 
 a strong short spear. Little Roger's strength 
 was still unequal to such a weapon. Those 
 were not the days when beaters gradually 
 hemmed in the game, and drove them, like 
 herds of black swine, down avenues at the 
 side of which the sovereign might stand
 
 122 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 armed with a ready-loaded rifle ; while 
 every courtier should be placed below, in 
 the order of his favour, to shoot at that which 
 should have escaped the king and those 
 next to him. Such a style of sport suits the 
 languid habits of the present sovereigns of 
 Naples, and might indeed have suited the 
 slothful propensities of William the Bad ; 
 but the spirit of Normans would have 
 scorned such uninteresting butchery. 
 Mounted on his good steed, and brandish- 
 ing his steel- tipped spear in hand, each 
 knight was expected to ride after his prey ; 
 and, when the dogs had brought it to a 
 stand, to leap from his saddle and boldly 
 meet it face to face and foot to foot. 
 
 And now, for some while, the king and 
 his party had followed what seemed to be 
 the forefather of all the wild boars in the 
 forest ; so unwieldy was its size, so stubborn 
 were its bristles, and so threatening were 
 the jagged tusks that stood out on each 
 side of its foaming and froth-covered mouth.
 
 THE DARK AGES. 123 
 
 The king had, at length entered thoroughly 
 into the spirit of the chase, and with slack- 
 ened bridle galloped after the eager dogs. 
 Little Roger came up, at some little dis- 
 tance, behind ; and beside him rode the 
 archbishop, careful that he should not come 
 to harm. Majone and Taverna were too 
 good courtiers to interfere with the royal 
 sport ; or, perhaps, had pursuits of their 
 own elsewhere. The boar scudded ahead, 
 the dogs gained upon him, the king went 
 thundering on. It was evident that the 
 chase could not last much longer. The 
 heavy brute was well-nigh spent. At length 
 he reeled, — rose again, — and finding that 
 he could not outspeed his pursuers, turned 
 staggering at bay. Instantly the king leapt 
 from his horse. It stood in the place, well 
 trained to await the issue. " Call off* the 
 dogs !" roared the sovereign to the attend- 
 ants near ; and then placing his ashen spear 
 against his thigh, he advanced boldly to the 
 panting monster. Nor did the boar seem
 
 124 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 to dread the encounter. His tongue hung 
 out; thick white froth covered his tusks, 
 and besprinkled his shaggy breast ; but his 
 small red eyes glared fiercely upon his 
 enemy, and he was evidently prepared to 
 spring upon him, and to bear him down by 
 his huge weight. 
 
 The eye of the king glared no less than 
 that of the brute. The spirit of a Norman 
 huntsman was awake within him ; and wa- 
 rily he advanced towards his foe, prepared 
 to thrust his iron spear down that open 
 throat, when the boar should make the fatal 
 spring. It was a trial of some difficulty. 
 If his hand swerved, or if from any cause 
 he missed his aim, the boar would have the 
 best of it : the contest would be body to 
 body ; and the short dagger in his belt 
 would then be the sovereign's only protec- 
 tion. He trembled with eagerness for the 
 conflict ; for when roused, no one was 
 braver than King William. At this mo- 
 ment little Roger came galloping up behind. 
 He, too, was as excited as his father. He
 
 THE DARK AGES. 125 
 
 knew nought of the rules of venery : there 
 was the boar he had followed so long ; the 
 object of every one, he thought, was to kill 
 it; he pulled up his palfrey beside his 
 father, unslung his bow, and carefully fixed 
 an arrow to the string. The boar had now 
 measured the distance : and, with his hind 
 legs drawn under him, was about to make 
 the fatal spring at the king's spear. An 
 arrow whizzed from the bow of the child, 
 and, more by chance than by skill, fixed 
 itself in the left eye of the monster. It 
 reeled over, and staggered with fatigue and 
 agony. But if the eye of the king had be- 
 fore matched the glare of the wild boar, to 
 what can we liken the flash of anger that 
 now came over him 1 Foaming with rage, 
 mad with vexation and passion, at having 
 been baulked of his sport, he turned eagerly 
 upon the intruder, saw that it was his son, 
 and the prophecy of the monk came across 
 his mind, and added new bitterness to his 
 impulses. Without any formed plan, but 
 without a moment's hesitation, he raised his
 
 126 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 iron spear, and, swerving round, struck fu- 
 riously at the child. A movement made 
 by the palfrey for its own preservation (for 
 little Roger himself was too much aghast 
 by the anger of his father to move a limb), 
 a movement of the palfrey alone saved the 
 child. The spear missed him, only slightly 
 touching his thigh ; and the iron point im- 
 bedded itself in the inside of the animal's 
 hock. It started off with the pain, and the 
 boy was jerked out of the saddle to the 
 heather. 
 
 At this moment, the archbishop rode up ; 
 and anxiously calling out, " For heaven's 
 sake, my lord — " leaped from his own horse, 
 and raised the innocent child. The king 
 did not attempt to renew the blow ; he 
 stept back, without casting a second glance 
 at his son ; and mounting his horse, rode 
 slowly on in the forest. The child was only 
 stunned by the fall ; and soon came to, in 
 the arms of the archbishop, who then placed 
 him on his own saddle before him, and 
 thoucrhtfullv rode back to Palermo.
 
 THE DARK AGES. 127 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 " "What ! keep a week away ? seven days and nights ? 
 Eight score eight hours ? And lovers' absent hours, 
 More tedious than the dial eight score times ! 
 weary reckoning." — Othello. 
 
 We have said that the Baron of Taverna 
 did not follow close upon the king, being 
 too good a courtier to interfere with the 
 royal chase, or having, haply, pursuits of 
 his own more attractive than that of the 
 wild boar. Such, indeed, was the case. He 
 had been presented to the sovereign in the 
 morning by the high admiral ; and as the 
 future son-in-law of the favourite, had been 
 greeted with more civility than King Wil- 
 liam usually showed to his nobility. But 
 when the cavalcade scattered under the 
 boughs of the forest, and huntsmen and dogs 
 gave note of more busy preparation for the
 
 128 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 morning's sport, Don Matteo had gradually 
 dropt behind the royal cavalcade ; and giv- 
 ing way to sweet and bitter thoughts, had 
 soon forgotten the busy scene in which he 
 was supposed to be an actor. Then again, 
 aroused by the burst which told that the 
 game was found, he had peevishly turned 
 his horse's head up a retired alley on the 
 left hand, and had rode smartly over the 
 brow of a hill which separated the scene of 
 the noisy chase from the adjoining valley. 
 
 Here, again, he soon relapsed into the 
 train of thoughts which had, more or less, 
 weighed upon him during the last six-and- 
 thirty hours. He had made his choice ; his 
 dream of life was over ; he had been pre- 
 sented to the king as the future son of Ma- 
 jone ; publicly presented, amid the demon- 
 strative congratulations of the courtiers, 
 which could not hide from his suspicious 
 mind many a suppressed smile or fancied 
 disparaging allusion to the mean origin of 
 his adopted father-in-law. Giorgio Majone,
 
 THE DARK AGES. 129 
 
 the peasant's, the Italian peasant's son, was 
 to mingle his race with that of the proud 
 Norman conqueror. He had sold himself. 
 There was no denying,- — there was no pal- 
 liating the fact. He had sold himself. And 
 for what ? Had it been for a woman whom 
 he really loved, his passion might have 
 coloured the debasement. Had it been for 
 a woman eminent for beauty, virtue, mental 
 qualifications, wealth or high birth, his own 
 compeers might have admitted the plea, 
 might have owned its wisdom, might per- 
 chance have envied him. But to have sold 
 himself for a Corazza, — the vulgar, forward 
 child of the son of the oil-seller, — this was, 
 indeed, degradation. Self-love sought, in 
 vain, for some admissible excuse. 
 
 Aye, but that oil-seller was the king's 
 all-powerful favourite : through him, was 
 his only road to fame, to power, — to safety, 
 even, against the claims of Abderachman 
 on his property, and the supposed hostility 
 of the sovereign. Was this an excuse for 
 
 VOL. I. K.
 
 130 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 self- degradation 1 Would his fathers, wlio 
 had conquered this fairest portion of the 
 garden of the earth, have bowed to such 
 motives 1 They, too, had been ambitious 
 of fame, of wealth, of power ; and they had 
 achieved what they had sought: but they 
 had not done so by self-abasement ; they 
 had not done so by bartering away their 
 liberty to those in everyway their inferiors; 
 they had not done so by sacrificing the af- 
 fections of their hearts to low-born women, 
 incapable of sympathising with their heroic 
 aspirations. Far different had been the 
 example they had set him. The wife of 
 the great Robert Guiscard had partaken all 
 his privations, and had fought in all his 
 wars, at the side of her husband. Erem- 
 burga, the wife of the first conqueror and 
 king of Sicily, — the wife of his own grand- 
 father's brother-in-arms, — had shared her 
 husband's military cloak at the siege of Pa- 
 lermo, — had rode beside him in the thickest 
 of the battle, — had aided him by her lance
 
 THE DARK AGES. lol 
 
 no less than by her noble spirit and counsel. 
 Such had been the wives of the heroes from 
 whom he boasted his descent; and should 
 he, their offspring, sell his heart to a Co- 
 razza ! — 
 
 He put spurs to his horse, galloped fu- 
 riously through the neighbouring valley, 
 and clattered into the courtyard of the 
 castle of Beni-zekher. 
 
 Rapid, however, as had been the course 
 of his fate during the last thirty-six hours, 
 the fame of his engagement with the Lady 
 Corazza had, by some means, preceded 
 him ; and the old chamberlain hesitated, 
 with a look of ill-concealed amazement, ere 
 he answered the baron's hurried enquiry 
 for the Countess Clemence. At length, 
 with solemn courtesy, he led the way to the 
 little octangular room in which we first saw 
 our heroine, and here left him, while he 
 went to announce his arrival to the lady. 
 
 Don Matteo thanked his stars when he 
 found the apartment unoccupied by its usual
 
 132 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 lovely tenant. A few minutes would give 
 him time to collect his scattered thoughts. 
 To collect his thoughts'? And for what 
 purpose ? What was he now about to do ? 
 Had he really resolved to break through 
 his engagement with Majone ? He paced 
 the room with furious strides. How small 
 it was ! He could do nothing but turn and 
 return ; no space to walk and ponder lei- 
 surely. He wondered why she did not 
 come. He would not think at all. He 
 would leave it all to chance. Leave it to 
 chance ] What ! his own honour, — the 
 happiness of his life ? How close the little 
 room became ! He tried to draw up the 
 blinds, and to open the small casements. 
 His hands shook so that he bungled, and 
 could not do it without making a clattering 
 with the iron shutter-bars that startled him. 
 He listened. Not a sound was heard. 
 Would she never come ? 
 
 But, again, what did he intend to do when 
 she did come? Should he throw himself
 
 THE DARK AGES. 133 
 
 at her feet, confess his momentary weak- 
 ness, and pray her to show him that pre- 
 ference she had never yet avowed 1 And 
 so draw down the vengeance of the high 
 admiral, in addition to the machinations of 
 Abderachman and the disfavour of the 
 king ? He started from the couch on 
 which he had seated himself, and again 
 paced up and down that little room. His 
 head grew dizzy with the quick and fre- 
 quent turns. Would she never come ] He 
 must have been there at least half-an-hour, 
 which seemed to him four times as long a 
 period. He struck his forehead, as much 
 in vexation at the little counsel it gave 
 him, as in the hope of calming its throb- 
 bings. He listened. What was that low 
 booming noise ? It must be so : it was the 
 throbbing of his own heart, beating audibly 
 against his ribs ! He laid his hand upon it, 
 and tried to still, by pressure, a violence 
 that was really painful. His lips were 
 parched. His tongue clove to the sides of
 
 lo4 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 his mouth. Some buds of jasmine stood on 
 the table, in a vase of water ; they had 
 stood there when he had last visited that 
 room, and were now withered, and the 
 water had turned yellow. lie raised it 
 with a trembling hand, and drank it eagerly 
 off. How refreshing it was. 
 
 Another half-hour has passed. She must 
 be purposely keeping him in the agony of 
 suspense. How will she receive him, when 
 she does come 1 Her high spmt will most 
 likely spurn his faithless suit. Spurn him 'i 
 Shall he expose himself to be spurned, to 
 be scorned, by any woman living] And 
 yet he scorns himself; and wherefore should 
 not she scorn him ? But yet how foolish 
 not to resolve upon what is to be his own 
 line of conduct, when she does come I Here 
 has he waited two good hours. Who could 
 the strange creature in the wood be, she 
 who warned him against uniting himself 
 with the countess, and told him that Corazza 
 was the bride appointed to him by heaven X
 
 THE DARK AGES. 135 
 
 How he wished he could see her again, and 
 crave her motives, and take counsel with 
 her! 
 
 Ha ! — that light and silvery laugh ! Who 
 could mistake the sweet voice of Clemence, 
 who had once heard it ? She was not, then, 
 so far off. He had begun to think that she 
 was absent from the castle. But could she 
 be so light-hearted, when she might surely 
 guess how much he suffered? and when 
 she knew (for his heart assured him that 
 she did know) of his engagement to Corazza? 
 Most likely she would spurn him, if he 
 sought to renew his suit. 
 
 Hark ! — the huntsman's horn coming up 
 from the scene of the royal chase in the 
 forest below. There he might now be, — 
 there he ought now to be, — the associate of 
 the most powerful man in the kingdom, the 
 brother-conspirator who was pledged to 
 overturn a throne. What a labyrintli of 
 difficulties of every kind he had involved 
 himself in I Oh, for some one to give him
 
 136 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 counsel, and direct his wavering heart ! 
 How readily would the strong mind of 
 Clemence have done this ! He was resolved. 
 He would not give up such a woman, such 
 a noble companion in life, for the trifling, 
 mean-spirited Corazza. He would throw 
 himself at her feet ; he would tell her every 
 thing ; he would own how he had been led 
 on, and how he had been tempted to sacri- 
 fice the love of years, to a base worldly 
 policy : he would confess every thing, and 
 secure her forgiveness. Let him but obtain 
 that and her favour, and he would defy 
 Majone, Abderachman, the king, and the 
 whole world. 
 
 She comes. He hears her merry talk 
 along the passage, as she caresses a favourite 
 wolf-dog. He hears the rustle of her stiff 
 brocaded dress at the door of the room. 
 With a look of resolute enthusiasm, he 
 awaits its opening. In another moment he 
 will be at her feet. 
 
 " Dear Matteo !" exclaimed the countess;
 
 THE DARK AGES. 137 
 
 cheerily entering the room, and extending 
 a hand to him with a kind, frank manner, 
 which he saw at once to be forced, and 
 which she had never shown him before ; 
 " dear Matteo, pardon me that I have kept 
 you waiting a few minutes. But poor Mus- 
 tafa here," patting the shaggy head of her 
 dog, " poor Mustafa had a thorn in his foot, 
 and I could not leave him until I had seen 
 it safely taken out. It was so small, that 
 they had some difficulty in finding it ; but 
 it is all right now, is it not, Mustafa 1" she 
 added, taking his two ears in her little white 
 hands, and shaking his head good-naturedly 
 between them. 
 
 " Oh, bah !" she continued, " how dirty 
 they are ! Where have you been rolling, 
 signer Mustafa V 
 
 She took a golden filagree flask of per- 
 fume from a table, and poured it profusely 
 over her hands. 
 
 It may well be supposed that Taverna 
 was taken aback by this unexpected and
 
 138 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 unnaturally- cheerful greeting. Instead of 
 falling at her feet, and protesting all the 
 vows his heart was bursting with, he stood 
 silently before her, and watched, like a 
 stupid spectator, the forced by-play between 
 her and her dog. 
 
 " Do you know, Don Matteo," continued 
 the lady, " that Mustafa has been so un- 
 happy all this morning ! He heard the 
 horns of the huntsmen in the forest below, 
 and has been whining and leaping about, 
 eager to join in the chase that is going on. 
 But I take too good care of the old fellow 
 to allow that. Brother William were not 
 very unlikely to send an arrow through his 
 honest heart, were he to see a strange wolf 
 dog in his royal chase." 
 
 " Is he so severe"?" awkwardly stammered 
 the baron, forcing himself to say something. 
 
 " Good sooth, that he is," replied the 
 countess. " You know all we Normans are 
 a proud race, and like to preserve our game, 
 like our honour, from being tampered with.
 
 THE DARK AGES. 139 
 
 Now the Italians and Sicilians do not enter 
 into all these feelings. I take it for granted 
 that they have a principle of honour of their 
 own, though we, of a bolder stock, do not 
 always discover it. But, holy Mary," she 
 cried, checking herself, " forgive me, caro 
 Matteo ; I forgot that you are half an 
 Italian yourself. Your poor mother was a 
 Sicilian." 
 
 " A Greek, madama," replied Taverna, 
 somewhat surlily, as he felt that her speech 
 against the Italians was prompted by the 
 knowledge of his engagement to the daugh- 
 ter of Majone. 
 
 " A Greek ; true," observed the countess. 
 Then, anxious, apparently, to keep the con- 
 versation from flagging, and still more 
 anxious to evince her own thoughtless 
 light-heartedness, she ran on in the same 
 unnatural tone : " Do you know what a 
 dreadful thing has just happened in the 
 forest 1 The king has struck at little Rug- 
 giero, because the child marred his sport,
 
 140 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 and has nearly killed him. Wore not you 
 there 1 You seem to be attired in hunting 
 guise." 
 
 " I left the cavalcade early, to come up 
 to see your ladyship ; I — 1 — " 
 
 " A thousand thanks for your kind pre- 
 ference !" exclaimed the countess, inter- 
 rupting what she feared might be the stam- 
 mered commencement of more serious talk. 
 " A thousand thanks for your kind prefer- 
 ence," she repeated, somewhat bitterly. 
 " You were always kind and considerate to 
 me. And now, perhaps, you are going to 
 escort me to La Cuba 1 There is a reunion 
 there this morning of some of the prettiest 
 and noblest of the ladies of Palermo. You 
 ought to come, if you are invited ; for I 
 understand that none but choice spirits are 
 admitted. We are to have excellent music, 
 and are to practise some new dances ; and 
 I doubt not we shall be so gay ! Do come." 
 
 " I have not the advantage to be one of 
 the invited," replied Taverna, " nor would
 
 THE DARK AGES. 141 
 
 my feelings suit so happy a meeting. I 
 will not delay you, lady, from the pleasures 
 for which your lightness of heart so well 
 qualifies you. May you be ever as happy 
 as you now are," 
 
 " Thanks, thanks, dear Don Matteo," an- 
 swered the countess, holding out her hand 
 to the departing baron. He, however, 
 would not trust himself to touch it ; but 
 hastily, and somewhat abruptly, left the 
 room. 
 
 When the door was closed, Clemence 
 raised her two open hands, and pressed them 
 both over her eyes and forehead. For a 
 minute, she stood like a statue on the same 
 spot in the centre of the apartment ; for a 
 minute, she pressed them harder and harder 
 upon her flushed face. The effort she had 
 made was too much for her ; and she fell 
 heavily upon the floor in a swoon.
 
 142 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 " A tygress robb'd of young, a lioness 
 
 Or any interesting beast of prey, 
 
 Are similes at hand for the distress 
 
 Of ladies who cannot have their own way." 
 
 Byron. 
 
 A FORTNIGHT had passed away in anxiety 
 or unhappiness to all the principal person- 
 ages we have mentioned, except to the king 
 himself. He, buried in sloth and indolence, 
 heeded not the progress of events in which 
 he was so deeply interested, nor stirred be- 
 yond the walls of his palace to gain that 
 insight into the feeling of the people which 
 sovereigns, of the age of which we write, 
 were wont to obtain by personal enquiry 
 and investigation. The unusual effort he 
 had made to show himself in the hunt in 
 the woods of Monte Pellegrino, had termi-
 
 THE DARK AGES. 143 
 
 nated in a movement of anger of which he 
 felt sulkily ashamed ; and he was now more 
 than ever disincUned to meet the gaze of 
 his people and barons, or to hear of the 
 progress of the common weal or common 
 woe through any other channels than those 
 which the policy of the high admiral and 
 the archbishop opened to him. 
 
 A fortnight had passed away ; and Pa- 
 lermo was in an uproar. The shops were 
 shut. The doors were barricaded. All the 
 male inhabitants of the town were congre- 
 gated in groups or paraded the streets in 
 idle but threatening guise. Every man 
 bore on his person as many arms, offensive 
 and defensive, as he could well encumber 
 himself with ; and, in those days, all were 
 accustomed to carry weights under which 
 their enervated predecessors and successors 
 would have fainted. The interposition of 
 the quarter of the Saracens alone prevented 
 the rioters from proceeding to the greatest 
 extremities. We have explained that this
 
 144 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 division of the town occupied the middle of 
 the tongue of land on which Palermo then 
 stood — separating the extreme point on 
 which rose the Torre di Baych from the 
 upper third of the city occupied by the 
 royal palace. The Saracens took no part 
 in the present affray. Although armed, 
 they stood within their own quarters : and 
 their neutrality separating the two bodies 
 of the excited inhabitants, prevented them, 
 in some degree, from acting with earnest- 
 ness and decision. They, the Saracens, 
 cared not for any quarrels that might occur 
 either between the king and his Norman 
 vassals or between the king and the native 
 Sicilians : the one party was that of their 
 conquerors, the others had been their slaves: 
 and little cause had they to interfere in 
 favour either of the one or the other. 
 
 Nevertheless the riot had now lasted two 
 days, and had increased to such a pitch, 
 that the suppression of it was absolutely 
 necessary either by fair words or by force.
 
 THE DARK AGES. 145 
 
 The Lord Admiral, Majone, sat in his 
 study in the Torre di Baych : piles of papers 
 and letters were on the table before him. 
 He was leaning over it, and studying a 
 lurge map of the south of Italy that also 
 encumbered the board. His face was more 
 than usually thoui^htful ; and the cheerful 
 expression it ever wore in the presence of 
 another, had given place to one of anxiety. 
 His daughter, Corazza, entered, and walked 
 to a recess in the window. Her father saw 
 her but did not rise. from the map or speak 
 to her. For a few moments, the worthy 
 daughter of xS intriguer stood silent against 
 the marble pier: then heavy sighs broke 
 from her labouring chest. Still the father 
 took no notice, further than to clear up the 
 frown of anxiety that had gathered upon 
 his brow and to restore his usual frank ex- 
 pression. As the sighs availed not to draw 
 his attention, they grew in intensity ; loud 
 and more loud, they burst from her and 
 assumed a convulsive violence that quickly 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 ended in sobs and inarticulate screams that 
 shook her whole body. 
 
 " Nonsense, Corazza, nonsense!" exclaimed 
 the admiral at length. " It boots not to 
 labour so hard when we are all alone. 
 What wouldst thou V 
 
 The sobs and tears now came forth faster 
 than ever. 
 
 " It is good practice," said her father 
 coolly : " but I am busy now and cannot 
 wait. So if thou wilt not speak out like a 
 rational being, I must go back to my 
 papers." 
 
 He moved again towards the table ; but 
 she caught his hand and stayed him. 
 
 " He has never been here," she said, 
 " since that first day." 
 
 " I know it, carina : what then ?" asked 
 the admiral. " What then ? What wouldst 
 thou r' 
 
 " Kill him !" cried the daughter Avith a 
 look of most intense malice, and stamping 
 her foot on the floor.
 
 THE DARK AGES. 147 
 
 *' Kill him !" repeated her father : " nay, 
 methinks that would not be the way to 
 bring him to thy feet. His dead body would 
 profit thee little." 
 
 " It would keep him from that haughty 
 old countess, at all events !" cried the little 
 vixen in tones of savage jealousy. 
 
 " Ho ! ho ! so thou hast heard of his visit 
 to Beni-zekher." 
 
 "It has been just told me: did not you 
 know of it, father ?" asked Corazza eagerly. 
 
 " Dost think I take so little heed of my- 
 self and of the kingdom r' asked the admiral 
 exultingly. " I knew of it on the very day 
 on which the visit was paid. But calm 
 thyself; he has not repeated it. He has 
 been living quietly at his castle of Taverna; 
 and the old countess as thou callest her — 
 though, by heaven ! she is one of the pret- 
 tiest dames of Sicily — has received no one 
 since. He cannot have gained much by his 
 visit, since it has not been repeated." 
 
 "But it maybe," insisted Corazza. "While
 
 148 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 they^re both alive and free, nothing can be 
 depended on," 
 
 " Fear not, child : there breathes not the 
 man who would dare to slight our alliance : 
 and I place undoubting confidence in the 
 fears of thy betrothed, if not in his love. 
 However, I am about to remove him from 
 that thou deemest a trial of his constancy." 
 
 " But she, she, father : she may follow 
 him ?" cried the little jealous maiden. 
 
 " That, too, shall be cared for. Go thy 
 ways, Corazza : thou art a clever child ; 
 but thou canst not teach thy father." 
 
 He patted her cheek affectionately, and 
 gave her a push towards the door, as the 
 chamberlain, Adinolfo. ushered in the new 
 jailor, Gavaretto. 
 
 " AVell, friend," said the lord admiral, 
 turning good-humouredly towards his new 
 protege, " how dost thou fare with the four- 
 score pets under thy charge ? But thou 
 must resign one or two of them, Gavaretto ; 
 and that by the way which, as a good jailor.
 
 THE DARK AGES. 149 
 
 ouiJ^ht to be most distasteful to thee — alive 
 and immutilated. The Count Simon of 
 Policastro must go forth." 
 
 " At your lordship's pleasure," muttered 
 the jailor. 
 
 " Nay, it is no pleasure of mine," replied 
 the admiral : "• but these disturbances must 
 be appeased by some means. And if the 
 rabble of the town will not allow us to keep 
 their favourite out of harm's way, we must 
 e'en give him the opportunity of rushing 
 into it, and of meeting worse than he now 
 has. Here is a written order for his dis- 
 charge : and tell him that I advise him, as 
 a friend, to go quietly to one of his estates 
 in Sicily." 
 
 Gavaretto silently took the parchment 
 and was leaving the room, when Majone 
 called him back. 
 
 " Is the Saracen robber, Abderachman, 
 executed yet ?" he asked. 
 
 " Monsignore, no ; he was only taken last 
 night."
 
 150 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 " But I sent an order to have him broken 
 on the wheel, the first thing this morning. 
 Thou must be more exact in future," said 
 the admiral with a frown. " However," 
 he continued, " thy remissness is fortunate 
 in this case, as I have changed my mind 
 about him. Remove him to the grated cell ; 
 and show him the trick of the bars by which 
 he may escape. And tell him that the lord 
 high admiral stands his friend." 
 
 " My throat once felt the edge of his 
 scimitar," muttered Gavaretto sulkily. 
 
 " And thou wouldst be revenged on him, 
 I warrant me," said Majone laughing. 
 " Why, pazzo die sei, thou art revenged 
 while he lives to see thee honoured for 
 withstanding him. Go thy ways, and let 
 him go his ;" he added, as the jailor left 
 the room." 
 
 " It is quite as well," continued Majone 
 to himself ; " it is quite as well to keep the 
 robber alive, as a rod over Master Mattco, 
 who is so mightily afraid of him. Besides,
 
 THE DARK AGES. 151 
 
 his death might displease the Saracens, 
 whom I would have well-disposed towards 
 me in the chances that are thickening 
 around." 
 
 He paced the room thoughtfully till a 
 sound of horses' hoofs was heard in the 
 court-yard below. A few minutes after, 
 the Baron of Taverna greeted him in a 
 manner that would have been cordial had 
 it not exhibited more deference than their 
 relative positions justified. But Taverna 
 was a bad actor, and could not disguise 
 doubt and hesitation as completely as long 
 practice had enabled the minister to do 
 so. 
 
 " Caro Matteo !" he cried, hastening up 
 to him and embracing him as warmly as if 
 no momentary doubt of his love and devo- 
 tion to his daughter had ever crossed his 
 mind ; " caro Matteo, I am dehghted to see 
 thee again. We have much gi'ieyed, Co- 
 razza and I, to hear of the unwellness that 
 has kept thee so secluded at Taverna. But
 
 152 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 thou art better now ; though it has told 
 somewhat upon thy fine features." 
 
 The baron felt grateful to Majone for 
 having furnished so good an excuse for his 
 prolonged absence; and glad he was that 
 his mental anxieties had somewhat dimmed 
 the lustre of his usual appearance. He felt 
 more at his ease ; and conversed freely with 
 his brother-conspirator on the progress of 
 their plot and the tumults that disturbed 
 the streets of Palermo. 
 
 " The fact is," said the admiral, " our 
 arrest of Simon of Policastro and the others 
 has not acted upon the minds either of the 
 people or of their compeers as we had ex- 
 pected it would. Instead of arousing their 
 anger against the king, it has led them to 
 charge the whole blame upon me ; and to 
 impute to me that I force William to offend 
 every one with the hope of supplanting him. 
 Now thou knowest how false are all these 
 surmises ; as we have agreed that the boy, 
 Ruggiero, shall replace his father on the
 
 THE DARK AGES. 153 
 
 throne : and it seems that the king's attack 
 on his son during the hunt has made the 
 good archbishop more eager than ever in 
 our designs." 
 
 Taverna expressed, and unfeignedly, his 
 delight at hearing this : for while the arch- 
 bishop was stanch, he felt that he had some 
 one whose guidance he could follow more 
 surely than that of the father of his be- 
 trothed. 
 
 " The truth is," resumed Majone, " the 
 truth is that one of my agents w^hom I sent 
 to the new Pope, Alexander, was led on by 
 the wily Tuscan to betray more of our plans 
 than he should have done. Who would 
 have deemed that the Pope would scorn the 
 heavy bribes offered to him ! However, 
 the fact is so; and his Holiness has now 
 turned his knowledge against us, and has 
 roused all the barons of Puglia and Calabria 
 to rebel, under pretence of freeing their 
 king from my thraldom. The king has 
 written letters to them all, commanding
 
 154 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 them to disband their followers and to sub- 
 mit to the orders of his most dear and de- 
 voted lord high admiral — Ha ! ha ! thou 
 mayst well smile, Matteo ! But I do not 
 expect they will pay much reverence to the 
 injunctions of his Highness : and I need to 
 send them one of their own order in whom 
 they will trust and in whose truth I my- 
 self can confide. No one can so well under- 
 take this mission as thou, my dear son that 
 soon wilt be." 
 
 " Me !" cried the baron, with a sudden 
 feeling of shame at appearing before all the 
 nobility of the kingdom as the defender and 
 future son-in-law of the upstart. 
 
 " Thou," persisted the admiral. " They 
 will attend to thee. Thy name and station, 
 as one of the most powerful of their number, 
 will have weight with them. Thou canst 
 explain to them what an indolent yet bloody- 
 minded brute their king is ; that I can no 
 longer temper his savage moods ; thou canst 
 suggest our plot, wherever thou canst do so
 
 THE DARK AGES. 155 
 
 with safety. Thou canst do an infinity of 
 good ; and canst hasten matters which, 
 having been once determined upon, ought 
 to be completed without delay. The change, 
 too, will be good for thy health." 
 
 The young man thought to himself that 
 it would, at all events, remove him from any 
 necessity of waiting upon the hateful Co- 
 razza — for in that light he looked upon her 
 since his last interview with the countess : 
 and would prevent his mind from brooding 
 upon the difficulties of the position in which 
 he had so inconsiderately placed himself, 
 by taking him amongst stirring scenes and 
 obliging him to play an active part in the 
 most exciting affairs. He eagerly, therefore, 
 caught at the admiral's proposal ; and ex- 
 pressed his willingness to set off instantly to 
 meet the rebel barons. 
 
 " Instantly, nay ; thanks for thy zeal," 
 replied the admiral ; " but I would not put 
 thee to so much inconvenience : as soon as 
 thy preparations will permit thee — "
 
 156 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 " To-morrow, tlien, monsignore," replied 
 the baron ; " if you will give me this after- 
 noon to make my arrangements, I shall be 
 ready to receive your final instructions to- 
 morrow morning ; and, ere night fall, I 
 shall be far advanced on my road to 
 Messina." 
 
 Congratulating himself that, by this ar- 
 rangement, he escaped an interview with 
 his betrothed as well as a prolonged dis- 
 course with her father, upon whom no small 
 share of the antipathy he now felt for the 
 daughter was reflected, he extended his 
 hand to the admiral, and the two conspira- 
 tors and seeming friends took an apparently- 
 cordial farewell of each other.
 
 THE DARK AGES. 157 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Those happy smiles, 
 
 That plaved on her ripe lip seem'd not to know 
 What guests were in her eyes, whieli parted thence 
 As pearls from diamonds dropp'd. In brief, sorrow 
 Would be a rarity most beloved, if all 
 Could so become it." — Kiiu) Lear. 
 
 Another week had slipped away, and the 
 Baron of Taverna had escaped all the clas- 
 sical dangers of Scylla and Charybdis, and 
 was proceeding on his mission di qua del 
 Faro — as that part of what ought to be one 
 of the most important states of modern 
 Europe is now designated. The tumults 
 in Palermo had been appeased by the re- 
 lease of the Count Simon of Policastro ; 
 and all was proceeding much in its usual 
 course, save that an undefined dread, or 
 rather presentiment of events about to hap-
 
 158 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 pen, weighed upon the minds of even the 
 most thoughtless Sicilians. The Countess 
 Clemence, recovered from the swoon in 
 which she had long lain after her last 
 interview with Don Matteo, strove to cast 
 from her thoughts one who had shown 
 such fickleness of disposition as to make 
 him unworthy the regard of a strong- 
 minded woman. So, at least, she tried to 
 argue with herself: while feelings which 
 belonged to her more indissolubly than did 
 strength of mind, pleaded still in his fa- 
 vour; and told her that, if he had been 
 swayed by the threats and courtesies of an 
 all-powerful and unscrupulous minister 
 and by her own refusal of his suit, the 
 thraldom had lasted but a few hours ; and 
 that the next succeeding day had again 
 seen him at her feet would she only have 
 accepted his homage. But no : her woman's 
 pride had resented his courtship of power 
 and of safety rather than of her: by an 
 effort under which her heart had almost
 
 THE DAUK AGES, 159 
 
 broken, she had shown indifference, igno- 
 rance even of his lonjj-tried and still en- 
 during affection : had led him to think that 
 she was light of heart and heedless as a 
 sister of the feelings of his inmost soul. 
 And, thanks be to the saints ! she had been 
 able to maintain the show of heartlessness 
 so long as he had been before her ! That 
 was, at all events, a comfort. He had not 
 seen her faint beneath the eiforts she had 
 made. 
 
 Such and so contradictory were the re- 
 flections and the fancies that, by turns, 
 agitated the swelling breast of our noble- 
 minded but tender-hearted heroine. Days 
 passed away, and strenuously she laboured 
 to recover that serenity of look and that 
 peace of mind which the events of a few 
 hours had so terribly shaken. The old 
 castle of Beni-zekher loomed amongst the 
 hills in its wonted sturdy pride of tower 
 and battlement. The trees and the heather 
 around it reflected, as gaily as ever, the
 
 160 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 gorgeous tints of those beaming skies : the 
 birds carolled amongst the boughs ; and all 
 nature looked as cheerful as if none were 
 near to pine ; or as if it strove to offer con- 
 solation to the mourners who would not be 
 consoled. 
 
 A small courtly train entered the yard 
 of the castle on the seventh day after the 
 departure of the baron ; and the old cham- 
 berlain soon craved admission for the 
 Gaito,* Pietro : the chamberlain of Queen 
 Margaret: — one who enjoyed as much of 
 his mistress's favour as she could spare 
 from the High Admiral. And much pious 
 Christians marveled that a Catholic sove- 
 reign should place so much confidence in a 
 Saracen eunuch who was more than sus- 
 pected of still being, in heart, a follower of 
 the false prophet of Mecca. 
 
 He was admitted into the presence of 
 the countess : and in courtly language, re- 
 
 * Gaito originally meant captain ; but was granted as a title 
 of honour by the Normans to their Saracen functionaries.
 
 THE DARK AGES. 161 
 
 peated the invitation of the queen that the 
 noble Clemence would immediately grace 
 the circle which she had collected around 
 her at the palace of the Favara. 
 
 "At the Favara !" exclaimed the countess : 
 " how long has she been there 1 I had not 
 heard that she had left the Alcazar." 
 
 " It is but a sudden fancy of her High- 
 ness," replied the chamberlain. " Since 
 noon only has she sought the Mar Dolce :* 
 she deemed that the waters of the Albehiraf 
 and the shady plantations around would 
 be delightful in this oppressive weather. 
 Messengers have been sent to summon the 
 most noble ladies of Palermo to join in her 
 pastime ; but her Grace wished to show 
 peculiar honour to the Countess of Catan- 
 zaro, and I myself was specially directed to 
 wait upon her." 
 
 * Mar Dolce, or Sweet Sea, is the translation of the Ai-abic 
 name Favara. 
 
 f Albebira is a corruption of Al Bahar, the sea or lake 
 around the palace. 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 " I am beliolden to her kindness," ob- 
 served the countess rather sulkily : " and 
 though in no mood for court festivities, I 
 will immediately attend her summons." 
 
 She clapped her hands, and her cham- 
 berlain came to the call. 
 
 " Have three or four archers mounted, 
 good Philip," she said, " to escort us to the 
 Favara on the summons of the queen. 
 Come, Catherine," she said to a bright-eyed 
 girl who had been bent over an embroidery 
 frame in the recess of a window during the 
 preceding conference, but whose wander- 
 ina' slances showed how much more she 
 thought of the invitation she overheard 
 than of the needlework before her — " come, 
 Catherine, thou shalt accompany me to this 
 festive gathering." 
 
 The young girl started from her stool, 
 and clapped her hands with glee. 
 
 " Shall I order a litter for your ladyship 
 and the signorina 1 " asked the chamber- 
 lain.
 
 THE DARK AGES. 1G8 
 
 " A litter, Philip, no," replied the coun- 
 tess ; " let my women follow in one with my 
 things, an thou wilt: but I and Catherine 
 will ride. We must remember whose blood 
 flows in our veins, and not degenerate into 
 Greeks. Come, Carina, the ride will be 
 pleasant." 
 
 They left the room together ; the arm of 
 the countess twined round the waist of her 
 humble friend. Half an hour afterwards, 
 both were mounted on strong Norman 
 horses — very different from the little pal- 
 freys used by the Saracen and Greek na- 
 tives of the island — and sallied from the 
 gate of the old castle. Four mounted 
 troopers followed their lady; and with 
 them, in friendly converse, rode the court 
 chamberlain, Pietro, and his three attend- 
 ants. The lady Clemence felt her spirits 
 revive within her ; and gladly strove to co- 
 operate with the influence of the scenery, 
 and to cast off" the anxious thoughts and 
 feelings that had depressed her for the last 
 week.
 
 164 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 The lady's light-heartedness, however, 
 soon received a check. They had but just 
 emerged from the gorge in the hills which 
 formed the shortest road from the castle of 
 Beni-zekher to Palermo, and had entered 
 the beautiful forest from which, a few years 
 later, sprang the gorgeous church of Mon- 
 reale, when the escort was joined by a score 
 of mounted and well-armed troopers, who 
 had evidently been in wait for them in that 
 wooded glade. No word of explanation 
 passed between the new comers and the 
 Gaito; who, with his personal attendants 
 and half of the strangers, placed himself at 
 the head of the little cavalcade, while the 
 others fell silently to the rear, and closely 
 followed the countess. She instantly sus- 
 pected some foul play ; and, shaking the 
 reins of her charger, cantered up to the side 
 of the eunuch. 
 
 " What means this addition to my escort, 
 signer Gaito V she cried, anxiously and 
 angrily : " and what means this warlike 
 division of the party V
 
 THE DARK AGES. 165 
 
 " The wish of her highness the Queen, 
 to show all honour to the Countess of Ca- 
 tanzaro," answered the man, with the same 
 civility as he had before sliown ; although 
 our heroine could not fail to perceive a cer- 
 tain expression of subdued irony play about 
 the dark corner of his mouth. 
 
 " I decline such courtesy," cried the coun- 
 tess. " Ho, Catherine, and you, my faith- 
 ful followers, let us ride back to the castle!" 
 
 " That may scarcely be, lady," interposed 
 the Gaito, making a motion as though he 
 would seize her bridle ; while his followers 
 closed round her little party : " That may 
 scarcely be : as my orders are to conduct 
 you to the Favara." 
 
 The four men-at-arms of the countess in- 
 stantly drew their swords, on perceiving 
 the threatening aspect of their escort ; while 
 the countess made her horse curvet to the 
 left, and, with his huge hind quarters, nearly 
 pushed the African and his slender palfrey 
 to the heather together. But she perceived
 
 166 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 how hopeless would be any attempt to resist, 
 with her four followers, the endeavour to 
 restrain her that might be made by six 
 times their number of armed men. She, 
 therefore, quietly signed to them to put up 
 their arms ; while, turning to the discom- 
 fited Saracen, she said, " To the Favara be 
 it, then : and well for thee, sir knave, if 
 thou exceed not the orders of thy mistress." 
 Once more they rode forward : and, pass- 
 ing the beautiful gardens of the Ziza, they 
 skirted those lovely hills that environ Pa- 
 lermo. They soon crossed the stream of 
 the Oreto, and rode through the towering 
 wood of palm trees that had been long re- 
 nowned as the oldest and largest in the 
 known regions of the earth.* The church 
 of San Giovanni (now De' Leprosi), the 
 oldest erection of the Normans that now 
 
 * This wood was afterwards (in 1325) cut down in mere 
 spite by the troops of one of the kings of Naples who devas- 
 tated Sicily duriijg some civil war. Thus have the Spanish 
 soveroicns laboured to secure the affection of the Italians.
 
 THE DARK AGES. 167 
 
 remains in the island (having been built at 
 the very time when the gallant Roger was 
 carrying on the siege of Palermo) — the 
 church of San Giovanni soon showed its 
 little cupola, bright in the rays of the sun, 
 now setting behind the hills of Monte Pel- 
 legrino. 
 
 It was the festival of what the Sicilians, 
 owing to their long connexion with the 
 Greeks, still called the " Sleep," or the 
 " Repose of the Blessed Virgin:" — the day 
 of her death, on which she had ceased 
 from the labours of life : — but which in the 
 west, out of deference to a pious but un- 
 established opinion, that the body was taken 
 up to heaven, is denominated the Assump- 
 tion. A crowd, when compared with the 
 size of the building itself, was pouring from 
 the open gate of the church as our caval- 
 cade came in sight. The people had been 
 attending vespers with all the fervour of 
 Christians in a pagan community, from 
 whose thrall they had been wonderfully
 
 168 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 delivered ; and they soon dispersed through 
 the inviting lanes and alleys that led back 
 to different parts of the city. From the 
 crowd of the placid-looking devotees, two 
 ladies, followed by a small escort, quickly 
 disengaged themselves, and approached the 
 cavalcade. They were joined by Richard 
 MacMardagh, the baron of Taverna's squire ; 
 and he and Theresa, who had undertaken 
 this little pilgrimage of piety with a friend, 
 were soon buried in such serious converse 
 that they had not yet become aware of its 
 approach. Suddenly, they both looked up ; 
 and were then so near the Countess Cle- 
 mence that Theresa darted between the 
 horsemen at her side, before they could 
 foresee the intended movement, and grasped 
 her hand, and bore it to her lips with 
 fervour. 
 
 " Maria Santissima I what means this es- 
 cort V she anxiously whispered, as the lady 
 pulled up her charger. 
 
 " I know not, Theresa," answered the
 
 THE DARK AGES. 169 
 
 countess, in an under tone, " but I suspect 
 some treachery on the part of the queen or 
 king — it matters not which, as the admiral 
 must be at the bottom of it." 
 
 " And whither are they taking you, 
 lady ]" asked the thoughtful friend of her 
 childhood. 
 
 " To the Favara, I am told ; to meet 
 Queen Margaret. Let some one watch, and 
 take word to my uncles." 
 
 Theresa made a slight gesture towards 
 MacMardagh, who stood behind her, as 
 though she would indicate him as the one 
 who should fulfil the duty she spoke of. 
 
 " No ! no : not him," interposed the 
 countess, hurriedly, while a deep crimson 
 overspread her fair face. " Why is he not 
 with his lord V 
 
 " Lady," said MacMardagh, stepping for- 
 ward respectfully, but boldly, "I shall serve 
 you with my life, and shall look to no con- 
 sequences but your safety. My lord is far 
 away : but trust in me, and your bidding
 
 170 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 shall be my law until you are in safety with 
 your friends. I am an Irishman — not an 
 Italian." 
 
 " Excuse me, noble countess," exclaimed 
 the Gaito, Pietro, riding up ; "but the queen 
 will grieve if so much of the day be spent 
 before you join her. I must pray you ride 
 on." 
 
 " Farewell," said Clemence to Theresa, as 
 she squeezed her hand, which the other fer- 
 vently pressed to her lips. A look of min- 
 gled gratitude and confidence rewarded the 
 professions of the honest Irishman, and the 
 cavalcade again moved on towards its desti- 
 nation. 
 
 And now they approached the dull square 
 building of plain ashlar stones, joined with- 
 out cement, which former generations of 
 Saracens had raised to be the delight of the 
 age of which we write, and the admiration 
 of antiquaries of our own period. Differ- 
 ing from the other Saracenic palaces of the 
 Cuba and Ziza, it had one row of windows
 
 THE DARK AGES. 171 
 
 looking towards the outside at the summit 
 of the building ; but as the other parts of 
 the walls, in which Europeans were wont 
 to expect to see windows, were filled up 
 with panels, slightly sunk in the wall, these 
 few pointed apertures could not take from 
 the whole pile the appearance of a prison, 
 with the character of which Clemence of 
 Catanzaro now readily invested it in her 
 own mind. A taller pile, more in the cha- 
 racter of a Norman keep, had been added 
 by the late king ; and, while this towered 
 above it on one side, the other portion of 
 the quadrangle was encumbered by remains 
 of Mahomedan baths, which, unsuited to 
 the taste of the present owners of the villa, 
 had been long sufiered to go to decay. But 
 it was for its beautiful gardens, and the 
 abundance of water that bathed its walls, 
 that the Favara had been most renowned 
 amongst successive generations. Favara in 
 Arabic, or Mar Dolce in Italian, being the 
 appropriate name of this palace of " the
 
 172 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 sweet waters;" while the pond around it 
 was so extensive as to have won from its 
 first possessors the name of Al Bahar and 
 Albahira — or the sea. 
 
 On the side of this lake, furthest from 
 that on which our cavalcade approached, 
 extended the " park," which, rising on the 
 sloping ground behind, showed to the spec- 
 tator its delightful gardens beyond the 
 water. Here all kinds of trees vied which 
 should give the most delightful shade or 
 the most aromatic perfume. Perpetual 
 springs and streams w^ound through the 
 turf, and imparted a delightful verdure and 
 freshness to the grounds. Thickets of bay 
 and of evergreen myrtles shed their perfume 
 through the air. Little ornamented plea- 
 sure-houses and pavilions studded the gar- 
 dens ; and, in one part of the grounds, that 
 were used as a chase, served as safe retreats, 
 from which the ladies of the court might 
 observe all kinds of wild animals, that are 
 either delightful to the taste or pleasing
 
 THE DARK AGES. 173 
 
 to the eye, wander freely in their shady 
 enclosure. 
 
 Such is the enthusiastic description which 
 writers of the period, in which we are in- 
 terested, give of this ancient African re- 
 treat. Our heroine approached it by the 
 side of the lake out of which it seemed to 
 rise ; and could not help marking with de- 
 light the different attractions of the spot, 
 and the elegance of the little pavilion that 
 sprung out of the centre of the water, and 
 was joined to the palace by a slender bridge 
 of almost aerial lightness. The cavalcade 
 turned an angle of the building, and was 
 soon lost to sight in its large inner court.
 
 174 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 " Before the mansion lay a lucid lake, 
 
 Broad as transparent, deep, and freshly fed 
 
 By a river, which its softened way did take 
 In currents through the calmer waters spread 
 
 Around: the wild fowl nestled in the brake 
 And sedges, brooding in their liquid bed : 
 
 The woods sloped downwards to its brink and stood 
 
 With their green faces fixed upon the flood." — Byron. 
 
 One hour later, Richard MacMardagh re- 
 joined Theresa and her friend, who had 
 waited for him in the church and the wood 
 of palm-trees we have mentioned. She 
 hurried forwards as she saw him approach, 
 and anxiously inquired what he had dis- 
 covered. 
 
 " Treachery, Signorina; treachery, as 
 usual, in this bright land of yours. There 
 is no sign of any Queen at the Favara. I 
 followed the cavalcade, and saw it enter the
 
 THE DARK AGES. 175 
 
 courtyard. The outer bars were imme- 
 diately closed ; but I could see through 
 them that the building is much too quiet 
 for Queen Margaret to be holding her 
 court therein. Not a knight or dame was 
 stirring about the place : and the men-at- 
 arms led their horses to the stables, and 
 then laid themselves about the benches, or 
 began to play at the Mora, with more noise 
 than they would have dared make had the 
 queen been in the palace." 
 
 " Santa Maria, how strange V exclaimed 
 Theresa, 
 
 " I did more," continued MacMardagh. 
 " I inquired of the cottagers near if the 
 queen were holding court at the place, and 
 they told me to use my eyes and ears." 
 
 " It is clear the sweet lady is entrapped 
 into a prison, as she suspected," said The- 
 resa sighing. " What is to be done V 
 
 " By St. Patrick, set her free, to be sure !" 
 replied the Irishman : " though I have no 
 notion, as yet, how it can be managed."
 
 176 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 " What a blessed chance it was," said 
 Theresa, as she turned to resume her walk 
 towards Palermo, " what a blessed chance 
 it was that the baron did not take you 
 with him into Italy !" 
 
 " No chance in the matter, fair mistress. 
 He had need to leave some one behind him 
 in whom he could trust ; and naturally 
 preferred an Irishman to a Greek or an 
 Italian or a Saracen, or even to a Norman, 
 if it may be said without offence ; — so at 
 least I always thought until I became 
 acquainted with your fair self, Madamina." 
 
 " A truce then to your Irish nonsense," 
 replied the maiden gravely. " Let us think 
 what can be done for the dear countess." 
 
 " As to that, mistress," replied MacMar- 
 dagh, " as to that, I shall take the liberty 
 of watching your own lord, the High Ad- 
 miral, amongst others. Methinks the Lady 
 Clemence spoke truly when she deemed 
 that he was at the bottom of her present 
 trouble."
 
 THE DARK AGES. 177 
 
 Theresa made no answer ; and, buried in 
 thought, they walked on side by side for a 
 few minutes. At length she again spoke. 
 " What I marvel at most," she said, " is 
 that your lord and the archbishop, who is 
 his kinsman, should have become sucli 
 great friends, as they seem to be of late, 
 with the Lord High Admiral." 
 
 "And why should they not, I pray?" 
 asked the Irishman. 
 
 " Only," said the female, " only that it is 
 not so many weeks since the kinsman of 
 the archbishop was done to death on the 
 square of the Alcazar. Have you forgotten 
 the circumstance V 
 
 " In faith, no. Could I forget the day 
 on which I first became acquainted with 
 you ? Do you not remember, as we were 
 riding back to the Torre di Baych, that 
 we saw the gibbets on the square ; and I 
 pointed out the seeming beggar beneath 
 whose cloak the archbishop's livery peeped 
 out ; and told you how he was slyly pelting 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 stones at the dogs Avho Avanted to mangle 
 one of the bodies? That body was, as I 
 suspected, tliat of a kinsman of the arch- 
 bishop. But what of that? The king 
 would have him done to death. The Ad- 
 miral had no hand in the matter." 
 
 " Are you sure of that ?" asked Theresa 
 hurriedly ; and then as suddenly checking 
 herself. 
 
 " What mean you?" asked MacMar- 
 dagh, stopping in his walk and turning 
 short upon her. 
 
 Theresa remained silent. 
 
 " By all the saints in heaven ! tell me 
 what you mean," repeated MacMardagh, 
 seizing her hand with energy. 
 
 " Leave me. Let me think for a few 
 moments," replied his companion gently 
 and seriously. " Let me think." 
 
 The Irishman let fall her hand ; and 
 turning peevishly round, stamped with his 
 foot upon the dusty ground. Every second 
 that he \\aited thus seemed an age to his
 
 THE DARK AGES. 179 
 
 impatience. At length, he turned again, 
 half angrily, towards his companion. A 
 sweet calm was upon her features. Her 
 lips were moving almost imperceptibly. 
 Her eyes were cast up to heaven ; and she 
 was secretly making the sign of the cross 
 upon her chest within her veil. 
 
 " By heavens !" cried MacMardagh an- 
 grily, " she is praying ! Much as I like 
 you, Signorina, and much as you slight my 
 words, methinks you might find some other 
 time for your prayers than when you know 
 that I am bursting with impatience, and 
 that life or death to more than one may 
 depend upon your answer !" 
 
 " And therefore, good Riccardo, did I 
 pray," replied the young girl meekly, laying 
 her hand upon his arm to stay his impa- 
 tient gestures. " I knew what influence 
 my answer might have upon the proud and 
 fiery nature of those to whom it might be 
 repeated, and I prayed for light from above 
 to show me whether I ought to tell all that 
 I know of the matter."
 
 180 THE DARK AG^S. 
 
 " Well ?" inquired MacMardagh, half 
 surlily. "Wein" 
 
 " I hope I have not erred in the judg- 
 ment I have come to," she answered ; " it 
 surely cannot be wrong to unmask trea- 
 chery such as, I fear me, is now at work. 
 Listen, then. On the day after the execu- 
 tion, I was with the queen and the children 
 at the palace. The king was lying on a 
 couch ; and he carelessly asked me what 
 people said of the executions. I replied 
 that 1 feared they were displeased that the 
 kinsman of the archbishop should have 
 been done to death with so much indignity. 
 The king replied, in his languid manner: 
 ' Majone would have it so : I cannot think 
 what made him so eager for it.'" 
 
 " He did, did he ?" cried MacMardagh. 
 "Let friend Majone look to it! Mistress 
 Theresa, cannot you walk a little quicker V 
 he said, impetuously hurrying on before 
 her. " These are matters that must not go 
 to sleep. I will hie me instantly to the
 
 THE DARK AGES. 181 
 
 archbishop ; — I will overtake rny Lord of 
 Taverna ; — I will — " 
 
 " Do nothing rashly, good Riccardo," in- 
 terposed Theresa kindly. " Think how 
 much may follow from whatever course 
 you may adopt. Think ; and, would you 
 believe me, pray." 
 
 He returned quietly to her side ; and, 
 apologizing to her friend for having so 
 neglected her, more slowly even than be- 
 fore they all continued their walk back to 
 Palermo. 
 
 Meanwhile, the Countess Clemence had 
 been invited to dismount in the court of 
 the Favara, and had been conducted, by 
 the Gaito, with all courtesy, to the further 
 side of the quadrangle — one of those that 
 rose from the fair waters around. Here 
 he had obsequiously taken his leave of her ; 
 beseeching her to entertain herself until 
 his royal mistress should make her appear- 
 ahce. 
 
 "And when will that bel" asked the
 
 }^2 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 lady, with a look of scorn and irony equal 
 to that which she saw the African felt, but 
 dared not openly exhibit. 
 
 " The holy prophet — I mean the blessed 
 face of Lucca," he repeated, correcting his 
 first exclamation by using, not very intelli- 
 gibly, an ejaculation frequent in the mouth 
 of his sovereign, — " the blessed face of 
 Lucca only knows ! Meanwhile, here be 
 two slaves will give all attendance upon 
 your signoria; and the apartments of the 
 palace will afford you exercise and amuse- 
 ment. It is only a pity that his grace, the 
 king, should be so unwilling to enjoy him- 
 self, as to have allowed this fair spot to 
 have fallen into a decay very different from 
 the blissful appearance I am told that it 
 wore under its rightful owners. Allah have 
 you in his keeping, lady !" 
 
 " The treason and blasphemy of tliy 
 speech, knave, show that thou thinkest 
 thyself safe in the presence of a pri- 
 soner," said the Countess indignantly.
 
 THE DARK AGES. 183 
 
 " Begone, sirrah," she added, as he still 
 lingered. 
 
 The African hesitated a moment, and 
 then with a lowly Eastern obeisance backed 
 out of the vaulted chamber. 
 
 On his return to the courtyard, the four 
 followers of the Countess were, by his 
 orders, quickly disarmed, and locked in a 
 guardroom above the dungeon. Sentinels 
 were placed on the different terraces, and 
 in several of the long galleries of the build- 
 ing, with orders to watch and ward as if 
 the palace were in a state of siege: and 
 then, having made these preparations, the 
 chamberlain found his way to the mouth of 
 one of those secret passages which, old 
 chronicles tell us, led under the ground to 
 the royal palace of Palermo. By one of 
 these he quickly retraced his way to the 
 alcazar, and reported to the Queen and the 
 High Admiral, whom he found closeted 
 together, the success of his morning's expe- 
 dition.
 
 184 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 " Then your son-in-law, that is to be, is 
 safe from her blandishments at all events," 
 remarked the sovereign complacently to her 
 friend. 
 
 " I am the more obliged to your grace 
 for having permitted her to be decoyed in 
 your honoured name," replied the minister. 
 
 When left alone by the departure of the 
 African, the Countess had thrown herself 
 disconsolately on a couch at the upper end 
 of the apartment, and buried her face in 
 her hands. Her young companion, Cathe- 
 rine, cast herself on another near, and 
 sobbed bitterly. Neither spoke. For a few 
 minutes Clemence maintained the same 
 position unmoved ; but no sign betrayed 
 tliat she felt any of the sorrow that con- 
 vulsed her companion. She might be, and 
 probably was, buried in deep thought. 
 After a short while she started lightly to 
 her feet, and exclaiming, " Cheer up, Catta- 
 rina mia ! cheer up ! we shall never get 
 out of our prison by despondency and
 
 THE DARK AGES. 185 
 
 tears," she put her arm round her waist, 
 and led her to the long gallery or balcony, 
 which, in those days, ran round that side of 
 the palace, nearly on a level with the sur- 
 face of the pond. 
 
 The sun was setting in front of them. 
 Its bright rays gleamed over the water, 
 unruffled by the slightest wavelet, save 
 where some rare aquatic fowls swam slowly 
 across it, and, curling it up on each side of 
 their broad breasts, left a bright line of 
 light on its surface to mark the quickly- 
 closing way. An armed sentinel already 
 paced the further extremity of the gallery. 
 
 "Let us see how far our liberty extends," 
 said the Countess ; and, arm in arm with 
 her companion, she walked boldly up to 
 where he stood. As the ladies approached, 
 the soldier lowered his partisan across the 
 way, with a look of deference ; but yet he 
 so forbade their further advance. 
 
 " So, then," said the lady, turning back, 
 " we know the extent of our walks in this
 
 186 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 direction. Let us examine the inside of 
 the old palace." And they turned into an- 
 other apartment by one of the windows 
 which communicated between it and the 
 balcony. " I will tell thee frankly, dear 
 Catherine," she continued, " that I do not 
 mean to remain here one hour longer than 
 is absolutely necessary. I wish to examine 
 well our prison bounds, that we may devise 
 the best means of escaping beyond them." 
 
 They walked through various apartments 
 in that side of the building, all communi- 
 cating with one another. All the rooms 
 had vaulted ceilings, ornamented with the 
 beautiful Moorish honeycomb carvings and 
 mosaics ; and the floors of all were inlaid 
 with marble of many colours. All were 
 furnished richly, although the garniture 
 bore evidence of not having been recently 
 used. A narrow stair led them to a succes- 
 sion of rooms above. Here they missed 
 the gallery that ran round in front of the 
 lower rooms ; and here also, were no win-
 
 THE DARK AGES. 187 
 
 dows, save those that looked into the wide 
 courtyard by which they had entered the 
 palace. These rooms were furnished in a 
 less costly manner than those below, as not 
 being needed by the royal family and by 
 their guests when they came here to spend 
 the day only : and, since the reign of the 
 present king, these expeditions had not 
 been extended for a longer period. One 
 or two rooms were handsomely furnished : 
 others again contained only a few broken 
 articles of ancient Saracen upholstery ; and 
 not a few were completely empty. The 
 Countess tried the several doors in each 
 room : all were bolted on the outside that 
 led to other divisions of the palace. The 
 last room of all joined on to a turret built 
 in later years : a door seemed to lead into 
 the body of the tower. She tried it also ; 
 but, on opening, it only showed her an 
 empty circular room, on the floor of which 
 was piled, in much disorder, ancient and 
 broken armour of many different ages and
 
 188 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 countries : — probably some of the spoils 
 which the warlike ancestor of the present 
 king had won from the former owners of 
 the Favara and of the country when he 
 was encamped in the beautiful plain below. 
 
 " Alas ! dear lady," exclaimed Catherine, 
 as they slowly closed the door and began 
 to retrace their steps ; " alas ! it is impossible 
 and useless to think of escaping !" 
 
 " Tush ! tush, ma chere !" replied her 
 friend. " I own that I see no possible out- 
 let: but what will despondency avail US'? 
 Let us trust in the protection of the good 
 saints, and of the blessed Mother of God, 
 who died this day. And now," she con- 
 tinued cheerfully, " let us go down and see 
 if our jailors will give us some refreshment ; 
 for I own that I am fatigued by our morn- 
 ing s ride.
 
 THE DARK AGES. 189 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 " How poor an instrument 
 May do a noble deed ! he brings me liberty. 
 My resolution 's placed, and I have nothing 
 Of woman in me : now, from head to foot, 
 I am marble constant : now the fleeting moon 
 No planet is of mine." Antony and Cleopatra. 
 
 We have said that the Baron of Taverna 
 had landed at Taranto, and was proceeding, 
 as the representative of the king and Ma- 
 jone, to endeavour to persuade the confe- 
 derate barons of Calabria and PugUa to 
 lay down their arms and believe in the 
 loyalty of the omnipotent minister. Envoys 
 had announced his coming ; and a day had 
 been appointed on which he should meet 
 the rebels amid the ruins of the strong 
 town of Bari. Meanwhile, Taverna him- 
 self lingered in his castle of Monte Cassano
 
 190 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 in the neighbourhood. He had been long 
 accustomed to spend there many months of 
 each summer, in the midst of his Calabrian 
 fiefs ; and bitter was the contrast which he 
 now drew between his present anxious feel- 
 ings and his foregone lightheartedness. 
 
 As the day approached on which he was 
 to meet his brother peers, more and more 
 distasteful to him became the character he 
 had assumed. When every rumour that 
 met his ear told of some fresh city or count 
 that had risen in arms to resist the orders 
 of the detested High- Admiral, how could 
 he run counter to the general feeling, and 
 face the proudest nobility in the world as 
 the apologist of the upstart minister, as the 
 future son-in-law of the low-born dispenser 
 of kingly favours ] His pride alone would 
 have made his position hateful to him : but 
 when he remembered that he had withdrawn 
 his suit of the noble Countess Clemence to 
 attain this degrading place, he idly and 
 madly reprobated his own folly, which had
 
 THE DARK AGES. 191 
 
 left no possible escape, either for his pride 
 or for his love. 
 
 It was the day of the conference ; and 
 the envoy of the king and of the minister 
 rode into Bari at the head of a splendid 
 escort of armed followers. One large church 
 alone remained standing amid the ruins of 
 the city; and many a banner, planted in 
 the ground around it, declared the names 
 of the powerful feudatories who were there 
 assembled to hear the excuses and the or- 
 ders of their sovereign. Further off, be- 
 yond the demolished ramparts, tents of silk 
 and of gold and silver cloth brightly shone, 
 in the noonday sun, amid multitudes of 
 armed men ; and declared the power and 
 the wealth of the Count of Consa, of Boe- 
 mondo of Manopello, of Philip of Sangro, 
 of Ruggiero dell' Aquila, and of many 
 other leaders of the wide-spread conspiracy. 
 Even the banner of Gilbert, Count of Gra- 
 vina, a cousin of the queen, was there, to 
 testify his zeal to release his sovereign from
 
 192 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 the thraldom in which the High -Admiral 
 was supposed to hold him. Melfi, Salerno, 
 Naples, and other cities, had their repre- 
 sentatives amid the warlike host : and the 
 military instruments of all resounded half 
 in defiance and half in honour of the young 
 envoy, as, with brows contracted and cheeks 
 flushed with shame, he slowly rode forward 
 to justify him of whom a nation in arms 
 declared their abhorrence and contempt. 
 
 He was received with deference by the 
 leaders around the old church, and honour- 
 ably conducted within its walls. His chap- 
 lain then read the letters, countersigned 
 with the royal signet, in which William 
 called upon his unruly vassals to disperse 
 their followers, and receive the officers ap- 
 pointed over the diff'erent towns by his 
 faithful and trusted Lord High-Admiral. 
 A burst of execration from the assembly 
 hailed the name, and showed in what con- 
 tempt the odious favourite was held. The 
 meeting became disorderly. The reading
 
 THE DARK AGES. 193 
 
 of the remainder of the letters was unat- 
 tended to, amid exclamations that the do- 
 cuments were forged, — that the king him- 
 self had been poisoned by Majone, — and 
 that the latter only waited an opportunity 
 to place the crown on his own base-born 
 brows. 
 
 " Peace and silence all !" exclaimed Ta- 
 verna, now aroused to anger, and forgetting 
 the feelings of shame and shyness which 
 had weighed him down in solitude : " Peace 
 and silence all ! — Forgive me, brother ba- 
 rons and counts," he continued, as the as- 
 sembly was startled into angry silence by 
 his fierce and domineering outburst ; " for- 
 give me that I speak in this tone of autho- 
 rity, I adopt it not as the envoy of the 
 sovereign ; but as one of yourselves, as a 
 Norman nobleman, I resent the imputation 
 that I would be the bearer of forged docu- 
 ments. My own honour resents it; and 
 sure I am that you would not wish one of 
 yourselves to listen tamely to a charge 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 194 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 which you would each indiYidually resent. 
 Such a charge against one of our order is 
 an imputation upon us all. Let it not be 
 repeated. I say the king lives." 
 
 " Better, then, that he were dead !" cried 
 the Count of Sangro, in a somewhat sub- 
 dued tone. 
 
 " Deem you so V asked Taverna. " It 
 was not I who said so," he continued, in an 
 ambiguous tone of voice which implied 
 even more than the words insinuated. 
 " But I am not surprised that the people of 
 Bari should feel exasperated when they 
 look on these yet almost smoking ruins. I 
 am not an old man, brother Normans and 
 Italians — for we have now all the same in- 
 terest at heart, the good of our native or 
 adopted country — I am not an old man ; 
 but yet, for how many years have I de- 
 lighted in the magnificence of this the most 
 ancient and noble seat of Grecian empire 
 in Italy ! How I used to marvel at its 
 warehouses thronged with the merchandise
 
 THE DARK AGES. 195 
 
 of the world ; at the splendid palaces of its 
 nobles ; at the countless multitudes of its 
 citizens ; at the refinement of its people ; 
 at the impregnable strength of its walls ! 
 Where are they now, I ask 1 Who laid low 
 all this wealth, all this grandeur, all this 
 civilization'? During a popular tumult, 
 the citadel, which had been built to overawe 
 its just liberties, was destroyed by an ex- 
 cited people. AVho then led an avenging 
 army to its gates '? Who received its sup- 
 pliant people when they crawled out to ask 
 for pardon ? Who cried, in a voice of fury, 
 ' As ye have served my house, the citadel, 
 so will I serve your own' 1 Who gave this 
 countless multitude of old men and young, 
 of tender virgins, of innocent infants, of 
 holy priests, and of decrepid veterans worn 
 out in the wars of our fathers, — who gave 
 them two short days to remove themselves 
 and all that was dear to them ] Who un- 
 dermined those walls that had been the 
 terror of the Easf? Who unroofed those
 
 196 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 houses in which the wealthy and the poorest 
 citizens had heaped up the pride of ages ? 
 Who levelled every stone that stood upon 
 a stone, and made a plough turn up these 
 once noble streets ? Was that done by the 
 High-Admiral'? Is it his handiwork that 
 you see smoking around you? Not so, in- 
 deed ! Majone was then, as usual, busy 
 with the fleet or in his study in Sicily, la- 
 bouring for the good of the kingdom ; 
 while one, whose cause you are here to vin- 
 dicate, arose from his sloth and gave vent 
 to his natural fierceness. The High-Ad- 
 miral, however, laboured but to control his 
 passions. See what they prompt when 
 freed from his guidance." 
 
 Unbroken silence greeted the conclusion 
 of this address. Not one of the assembled 
 barons could deny that the king had ever 
 shown the relentless cruelty of a barbarian 
 when freed from the superintendence of 
 Majone ; and they were at the same time 
 startled by the boldness of the envoy wlio
 
 THE DARK AGES. 197 
 
 strove to exonerate the minister though at 
 the expense of the sovereign. At length 
 Mario Borello — a professor in what was, 
 even then, the celebrated college of Salerno, 
 a man whose influence had not only drawn 
 his own town into the conspiracy, but was 
 exerted widely over the chivalry of the 
 kingdom — came forward ; and waving his 
 arm majestically to the impetuous knights, 
 who were on the point of giving vent to 
 their feelings, exclaimed: "Your defence, 
 Signer Barone, proves too much. You 
 excuse the minister by criminating the 
 king. Who, then, will doubt the truth of 
 those rumours which charge the minister 
 with designs against his sovereign, since 
 his very . son-in-law almost instigates feel- 
 ings of rebellion 1 You have pledged your- 
 self, monsignore, that the king is alive : no 
 one here will dispute your word. But what 
 avails his life to his nobility and to his 
 people, if, buried in the recesses of the 
 palace, he commits the whole charge of the
 
 198 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 kingdom to an unworthy favourite 1 We 
 all know that King William is revengeful, 
 is cruel ; but his passions are excited by 
 great events only. AVhat we object to, is, 
 that a low-born adventurer should possess 
 every place of honour and of power with 
 his own creatures : should remove the 
 noble-born and the trustworthy from every 
 situation of command : should oppress the 
 country with taxes imposed by his own 
 avarice : should condemn our daughters to 
 the cloister, or to unmarried lives in their 
 homes, that their possessions may revert to 
 their feudal sovereign : should debar us all 
 from his presence, and from holding with 
 him that intercourse which one noble Nor- 
 man is entitled to hold with the most 
 worthy of his peers. In this light only 
 have we been taught to look upon our 
 sovereign. We are not Greeks, to tremble 
 at the thought of an unseen and unknown 
 despot! The days are not so long past 
 since our fathers, and the father of William
 
 THE DARK AGES. 199 
 
 of Hauteville, fought together around the 
 plains of Aversa : the days are not so long 
 past since together, brother pilgrims, or 
 brother knights, we invaded this garden of 
 the world, and called on its degraded inha- 
 bitants to yield to stronger arms the land 
 which they were unworthy to possess, and 
 unable to defend : the days are not so long 
 past since, brothers in arms, we defeated 
 the emperors of Germany and of Constan- 
 tinople, leagued with the Pope against us ; 
 and since, falling on our knees before the 
 imprisoned successor of St. Peter, we be- 
 sought him to pardon the victory which he 
 had compelled us to win over him : the 
 days are not so long past since, in an open 
 boat, we, brothers in arms, invaded the 
 proud empire which the Saracens had esta- 
 blished in Sicily, and won back that sea- 
 girt paradise to the faith of Christians : — 
 and shall we — we who achieved all these 
 wondrous victories under the guidance of 
 chieftains elected from amongst ourselves
 
 200 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 because they were the most worthy of our- 
 selves, and enthroned on a buckler to 
 receive the fealty of brothers in arms, — 
 shall we, who are the sons of those who 
 thus elected the father of the present king 
 to be the most honoured of themselves, 
 obey his authority when delegated, by the 
 son of an Italian oil-seller, to the eunuchs 
 and minions of a court ? Deem it not ! 
 Away with so degrading an usurpation ! 
 Of yourself, Monsignore, I would not speak 
 harshly. I crave pardon for having been 
 compelled to express myself as I have done 
 of one who is to be honoured by your alli- 
 ance. But the spirit of Norman chivalry 
 lives in the breasts of those around me; 
 and they, at least, will not forget whose 
 blood still beats in their hearts." 
 " Down with Majone !" 
 " Down with the base-born oil-seller !" 
 " Harou on the knave !" exclaimed many 
 a voice from the excited throng at the con- 
 clusion of this stirring address.
 
 THE DARK AGES. 201 
 
 " You see, young man," exclaimed the 
 old Count of Tricario, raising his grey head 
 above the shoulders of the most stalwart 
 knight near him; "you see what spirit 
 animates the chivalry of Normandy. Belie 
 not your own parentage by uniting yourself 
 to the daughter of the upstart." 
 
 " Join us ! join us !" exclaimed a dozen 
 frank and manly voices. " Surely there be 
 noble damsels of your own degree as fair as 
 the daughter of the villain." 
 
 " You see, young man," expostulated the 
 old Count again, " you see what spirit ani- 
 mates us. We will never succumb to 
 Majone ; and in warring with the base-born 
 knave we would not willingly war with the 
 father-in-law of one of ourselves." 
 
 " You are all too solemn," said Ruggiero 
 deir Aquila, Count of Avellino, pressing 
 forward. He was a handsome young man, 
 whose regular features and fine bright com- 
 plexion made him look to be scarcely more 
 than twenty years of age. " You are too
 
 202 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 solemn," he said cheerfully. " No doubt 
 we are all heroes, and are m arms for the 
 good of our country ; but, perhaps, some 
 other little private motives urge us on. For 
 my own part I confess that I hate old 
 Majone ten times more than ever, since he 
 has refused me the king's permission to 
 wed the lady of my heart, as the trouveurs 
 say ;" and he laid his hand frankly on the 
 shoulder of the young Count of Sanseverino 
 beside him. " Now, seigneur of Taverna," 
 he said, " join our patriot squadrons, and we 
 will pledge ourselves to see you married to 
 the Lady Clemence of Catanzaro. Ha! 
 ha ! I have touched you, have I V 
 
 The Baron of Taverna did, indeed, start 
 visibly at this unexpected appeal to his secret 
 feelings. A link of sympathy was touched, 
 and ran through the meeting. Many of 
 those present remembered the thoughtless 
 talk of former days, which had attributed 
 to the present envoy an attachment for the 
 high-born widow. The formality of tlie
 
 THE DARK AGES. 203 
 
 conference was at an end. Old friends 
 crowded round him, and urged him not to 
 sacrifice himself. Those who were more 
 intimate represented to him the degrada- 
 tion of an union with one so much beneath 
 his own rank. All besought him to burst 
 asunder the unworthy bonds that enthralled 
 him, and to join his peers and countrymen 
 in their efforts to remove the hated minis- 
 ter: and all pledged their w^ord that, so 
 soon as Maj one's death or exile was accom- 
 plished, they would compel the king to 
 reward him with the hand of the Countess. 
 It may be well surmised that such lan- 
 guage could not have been held, or such 
 proposals have been made to one in the po- 
 sition then occupied by our hero, unless he 
 himself had shown an unsteadiness of pur- 
 pose, and a wavering intention that en- 
 couraged the tamperers with his loyalty. 
 True it is that his want of resolution had 
 again betrayed him : and that, after all the 
 regrets he had so long secretly but bitterly
 
 204 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 felt at having involved himself with Majonc, 
 this appeal from those whose opinion he 
 feared and respected, this appeal to his 
 family pride and to his secret love, came 
 with a power that he could not at once re- 
 sist. Still he spoke not. Although he 
 permitted others to call upon him, in the 
 name of honour, to betray his patron and 
 pledged father-in-law, there was another 
 sense of honour within that saved him from 
 giving w^ay to his and their passions. He 
 was perplexed : he doubted : and the ap- 
 pearance of perplexity and of doubt but 
 encouraged the tempters to press around 
 him with their arguments. 
 
 Voices in subdued contention were heard 
 outside the porch of the old cathedral ; and 
 shortly afterwards a squire, followed by a 
 trooper heated and white with dust, pushed 
 into the assembly. The former pressed up 
 to the side of his lord, the Baron of Ta- 
 verna, and drew his attention to the breath- 
 less man-at-arms.
 
 THE DARK AGES, 205 
 
 " I hope your lordship will call these in- 
 solent warders to account," exclaimed the 
 latter angrily, " for delaying one on a mis- 
 sion to your signoria. Methinks the fol- 
 lowers of the king's own oratore might pass 
 without challenge." 
 
 " Peace, Giacomo," cried our hero. " What 
 wouldst thou V 
 
 " Nay, then," replied the man, " an it 
 pleases your signoria, perhaps I had better 
 hold my peace and go back again to the 
 castle." 
 
 A frown from his master made his bold 
 humour quail : and with awkward reve- 
 rence he added, " Here, in this gauntlet 
 which the knaves outside thought I had 
 taken off my hand ready to cast down before 
 them, in this gauntlet, is one who will tell 
 my errand as well as her own. Such mes- 
 sengers are not sent without cause : and 
 your lordship has always wished to see them 
 as soon as they alighted at Monte Cassano." 
 
 He opened the gauntlet, which he bore
 
 206 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 in his uncovered hand, and, with some 
 little difficulty, drew out a trembling car- 
 rier pigeon, such as, in those days, were 
 constantly employed in Sicily in all cases of 
 emergency. The Saracens had formerly 
 introduced the use of them ; and few were 
 the lords of any power who did not now 
 keep such to communicate between their 
 different castles. Taverna took the flutter- 
 ing bird, and raised its trembling wing. 
 Underneath was a tiny packet, closed with 
 a silken band. It bore no superscripture ; 
 but Taverna recognized the seal of the 
 signet ring which he had left with Richard 
 MacMardagh in Palermo, and, drawing his 
 dagger from his belt, anxiously cut the 
 thread. He gave back the bird to the 
 squire, and perused tlie writing in silence. 
 His brow became contracted ; he clenched 
 his teeth : then stamping angrily with his 
 heavy boot, he held out one hand to Rug- 
 giero deir Aquila, and the other to the old 
 gray-haired Count of Tricario ; and ex-
 
 THE DARK AGES. 207 
 
 claimed, vehemently, " I am with you ! 
 Friends, your cause is mine. Death or 
 exile to Majone !" 
 
 A shout of rapture hailed the avowal: 
 and the assembled barons repeated with 
 
 fierce sympathy, " Death or exile to Ma- 
 
 I" 
 jone ! 
 
 " Think me not fickle," exclaimed our 
 hero, when the noise had somewhat sub- 
 sided. " Here I find evidence that the 
 butcher has betrayed me and the good 
 archbishop, by causing one to be put to 
 death whose murder he solemnly charged 
 upon the king. Moreover, he has — he has," 
 he repeated, with some hesitation, " seized 
 upon the Countess of Catanzaro and con- 
 fined her a prisoner in the Favara. I can- 
 not doubt the writer of this. I have been 
 betrayed and deluded ; — and I will be re- 
 venged !" 
 
 It is needless to say how the assembled 
 conspirators fanned the flame which the un- 
 expected intelligence he had just received
 
 208 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 had awakened iu tlie breast of the late 
 envoy ; while they listened to the details 
 he gave of the Admiral's duplicity, and of 
 the wiles by which he had engaged the 
 Archbishop of Palermo and himself to join 
 in the conspiracy which was to have placed 
 little Roger on the throne of his father. 
 This was a step to which the feelings of the 
 assembled nobles did not, at present, impel 
 them. Majone was the one object of their 
 hostility ; and they were willing to give 
 the king a chance of amending his evil 
 ways when he, who was supposed to be the 
 instigator of them, should be removed. The 
 idea sank, however, into their minds, and 
 became settled there, as a possible contin- 
 gency for the future ; but as yet they were 
 loyal subjects ; and they bent all their re- 
 solves to the removal of the obnoxious 
 minister whom they believed to be plot- 
 ting against the life and throne of their 
 sovereign. 
 
 Nothing remained to be done but to
 
 THE DARK AGES. 209 
 
 settle their plans of operation ; and these 
 were soon determined. The kingdom, from 
 the Papal States to the Faro, was to be 
 aroused; and all the orders issued and 
 officers appointed by the king were to be 
 disregarded, so long as Majone was minister. 
 Matteo of Taverna was impatient to return 
 to Sicily. There could he arm his own 
 vassals, and encourage the disaffection of 
 the islanders ; there could he explain to 
 the archbishop the manner in which they 
 had been deluded — 
 
 " And there," interposed Ruggiero dell' 
 Aquila, " thou canst set at large the Lady 
 Clemence. Nay, blush not, friend : we all 
 understand one another, and we will re- 
 deem our pledge." 
 
 Strange as it may seem, a serenity and 
 light-heartedness, which he had not known 
 since his first interview with Majone, came 
 over the mind of our hero. His wavering 
 and unsettled fancies were all laid at rest. 
 He marvelled how he could ever have been 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 210 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 entangled by them. His course in life was 
 clear — had ever been so, could he but have 
 followed it. With those of liis own order, 
 he must strive against the oppressor. With 
 them he must rise or fall. As an indepen- 
 dent chieftain, he must woo the partner 
 suited to him by birth and fortune ; and if 
 Abdcrachman, or the king himself, laid 
 snares for his property or his life, as an in- 
 dependent chieftain must he do battle for 
 his rights, and defend the walls of his many 
 castles against whomsoever should attack 
 them. 
 
 At times, it is true that the prophecy 
 or warning of the white figure of the 
 mountains of San Martino came across his 
 mind. But, strong in his own resolve, 
 he thought of it only as a man, reco- 
 vered from illness, thinks of the hallu- 
 cinations of his delirium. He was backed 
 by friends, and had emerged from boy- 
 hood. Pie was a man, resolved and ready 
 to do.
 
 THE DARK AGES. 211 
 
 Full of high purposes, he rode back to 
 his castle of Monte Cassano, and two days 
 afterwards set forth on his return to Pa- 
 lermo, with all the followers whom he 
 could collect and arm on so short a 
 notice.
 
 212 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 " Would he were fatter ! — But I fear him not. 
 Yet if my name were liable to fear, 
 I do not know the man I should avoid 
 So soon as that spare Cassius. He reads much ; 
 He is a great observer, and he looks 
 Quite through the deeds of men." Julius Casar. 
 
 While this meeting was being held at 
 Bari, events no less important to the 
 success of the conspiracy which the High 
 Admiral had so carefully organized, were 
 taking place at Palermo. Acting upon his 
 avowed maxim that, when a thing was once 
 determined on, the sooner it was done the 
 better, that worthy plotter sallied forth 
 from his tower of Baych, and, attended by 
 the small escort of eunuchs who always 
 guarded his person, walked beyond the 
 ramparts of the city to visit the archbishop
 
 THE DARK AGES. 213 
 
 at his palace outside the walls. A friendly 
 greeting opened the counsel of the allies ; 
 and then the primate, rather anxiously, in- 
 quired if Majone had received any account 
 of the progress made by his future son-in- 
 law amongst the revolted barons. 
 
 " Not yet, monsignore, not yet," replied 
 the admiral : " nothing of importance could 
 have taken place as yet, or word would 
 have been sent to me through the air. We 
 are, indeed, much beholden to the little 
 birds who, as the ignorant vulgar think, 
 whisper so many secrets to us : but still the 
 plan has its inconveniences. The messengers 
 may be shot on their flight by a thought- 
 less sportsman, or they may fall alive into 
 other hands ; and even should they arrive 
 safe, the packets which they are able to 
 bear are necessarilv so small, that the in- 
 formation they convey is often defective. 
 Surely some improved mode of convey- 
 ance might be invented, instead of heavy 
 chargers stumbling over stony roads, or
 
 214 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 ships dependant upon every breath of the 
 wind !" 
 
 " No doubt it might," replied the arch- 
 bishop ; " the Almighty gave in charge to 
 man to subdue the earth : but instead of at- 
 tending to this divine behest and making the 
 very elements his creatures, man thinks of 
 nothing but of subduing his fellow blunder- 
 ers through a brutal existence. And much, 
 indeed, it grieves me that the fair prospects 
 opened by the late king for the civilization 
 of Sicily should have been so soon over- 
 shaded ; and that I myself should, in some 
 sort, have been compelled to take part in a 
 matter that may retard still further the im- 
 provement of mankind, by producing dis- 
 turbances which we cannot now foresee." 
 
 " Never fear, never fear, monsignore !" 
 answered Majone, cheerfully : " we must 
 fulfil our part, and leave the rest to heaven !" 
 
 " Aye ; but we must adopt human means 
 to maintain that which we know to be the 
 will of heaven — glory to God and peace on
 
 THE DARK AGES. 215 
 
 earth. And with the prayers of the saints 
 to help me," continued the archbishop, " I 
 will take such order that this revolution 
 shall pass without violence or bloodshed." 
 
 " It was precisely on this matter that I 
 came to consult with your reverence," said 
 the admiral ; " and I doubt not that, when 
 the king is removed, our joint wisdom will 
 subdue the earth and all our enemies. And, 
 reverend sir, methinks the sooner we act 
 upon our plans the better. Delay can avail 
 us nothing. If Matteo of Taverna appeases 
 the barons, they will go with us ; and if he 
 does not succeed in his mission of peace, it 
 were well that we should have carried our 
 designs into execution before they are able 
 to organize their strength against us. I, 
 therefore, propose that we commence the 
 game forthwith." 
 
 " I conjure you, my Lord Admiral, speak 
 not so lightly of a matter so serious, not 
 only to us, but, maybe, to thousands. I am, 
 however, glad to discuss the topic with you.
 
 216 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 that we may discover if we clearly under- 
 stand the plans we each entertain. In the 
 first place, we are agreed that the king is 
 to be removed." 
 
 " Like the ship which foundered yester- 
 day in the Kaleh," said Majone, scoffingly. 
 
 " You would not kill him, monsignore 1" 
 exclaimed the archbishop, eagerly. " The 
 preservation of his life was the first article 
 of the compact we formed." 
 
 "Harbour not such thoughts against me," 
 remonstrated the conspirator. " I know 
 our compact, and I have a conscience, per 
 Bacco !" 
 
 " I trust so," said the primate. " Let us 
 proceed : the king removed, his son, little 
 liuggiero, is to be proclaimed in his place." 
 
 Majone nodded assent. 
 
 " And," continued the archbishop, " and 
 we are to have no riots, no revolutions, no 
 private vengeances" — 
 
 " Had mine been a vengeful disposition," 
 interposed the admiral, in a somewhat boast-
 
 THE DARK AGES. 217 
 
 ful tone, " methinks I could have gratified 
 it as well by using the king's name as in 
 my own." 
 
 "It is true," rejoined the archbishop. 
 " The change, then," he pursued, " is to be 
 effected with as little commotion or violence 
 as possible. By whom is the government 
 to be afterwards carried on, during the child- 
 hood and minority of the young king V 
 
 " By those who shall have made him 
 king, per Bacco !" cried Majone. " By a 
 council composed of your lordship, myself, 
 and Taverna. You will represent the 
 clergy, I the Italians, and my son the Nor- 
 man barons of the kingdom." 
 
 " I do not object to the proposal," said 
 the archbishop, thoughtfully. " Perhaps 
 we shall make as good a foundation as any, 
 on which to form a regency or a council. 
 But such a council being the representative 
 of the sovereign, could only maintain its 
 influence over the people so long as the 
 people knew the boy-king to be advancing
 
 218 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 worthily to that period at which he shoukl 
 take the supreme power into his own hands. 
 To wliom would you entrust the education 
 and the formation of the character of the 
 boy on whom so much must hereafter 
 depend V 
 
 " I would take charge of him myself," 
 replied the admiral. 
 
 " You ! my lord. Think you the people 
 — above all, think you the Norman barons 
 would be satisfied with such an arrange- 
 ment V 
 
 " Satisfied or not, I would allow of no 
 other. Why, bethink you, my lord arch- 
 bishop, that he who possesses the person of 
 the boy .... I mean that it would not 
 be safe to entrust him to any one who is 
 not in our interests." 
 
 " Your manner, my Lord Admiral, alarms 
 me : it would lead one to imagine that 
 we might have difierent interests among 
 ourselves." 
 
 " And if we had," retorted Majone, " I
 
 THE DARK AGES. 219 
 
 know not why mine should not be sup- 
 ported as well as those of another." 
 
 " Let us discuss the matter calmly, and 
 in good faith," remonstrated the archbishop, 
 in whom the sinister manner of the admiral 
 had reawakened ancient antipathies and 
 prejudices, which their more recent alliance 
 had barely hushed to sleep. " Let us dis- 
 cuss the question rationally. We have one 
 object in view, — the good of the kingdom, 
 and the education of the boy in such a 
 manner as to make those who come after 
 us, not only excuse our violence, but bless 
 our memories for that we placed him upon 
 his father's throne. Now, I say not one 
 word against your lordship's competence to 
 administer the affairs of the kingdom, — 
 against your sagacity as a ruler, or your 
 valour as a leader : but the education of 
 youth demands different talents ; the pre- 
 judices of the people different instructors." 
 
 " Your reverence, doubtless "?" asked Ma- 
 jone, with a sneer.
 
 220 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 " Even so;" continued the primate. " The 
 clergy have ever been considered the best 
 instructors of youth ; and, in this particular 
 instance, it is most desirable that the young 
 prince should be in the hands of those to 
 whom the people can impute no sinister 
 motive, — to whom they cannot attribute a 
 design of supplanting him." 
 
 Majone bit his lips ; and a flash of mean- 
 ing, or rather of inquiry, lit up his eyes. 
 It was instantly suppressed ; but not before 
 it had been marked by the archbishop. 
 
 " I speak frankly," continued the latter : 
 " not, as you may well suppose, to insinuate 
 any suspicion of your signoria on my own 
 part ; but because, in the predicament in 
 which we stand, it is necessary that we 
 should consider in what light our proceed- 
 ings may be viewed by others ; and that 
 we should form our plans accordingly." 
 
 " And your reverence has finally deter- 
 mined that the education of the boy should 
 be entrusted to the clergy V
 
 THE DARK AGES. 221 
 
 " So much so, that, on this condition 
 alone, would I proceed with our under- 
 taking; because I am convinced that, on 
 this condition alone would the people be 
 without suspicion, and cheerfully obey the 
 authority of his regents. I myself, mon- 
 signore, know you to be actuated by the 
 purest motives for the good of our country ; 
 but we are not blind to the suspicions which 
 have already caused the barons of Puglia 
 to arm ; and we must secure the peace of 
 the country by removing every cause of 
 dissatisfaction. May I hope that I have 
 convinced you, and that you forgive my 
 frankness V 
 
 " My good lord, frankness to me is never 
 an offence. Would that all the world were 
 as open-hearted as are we two ! But I 
 have not time to discuss this matter further 
 at present. Permit me to come and sup 
 with you to-night. We will then finally 
 resolve upon all our plans." 
 
 The invitation was of course cheerfully
 
 222 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 given ; and the Lord High Admiral took 
 an affectionate leave of the primate. From 
 the outer room, however, he turned back 
 again, and said : " You are quite resolved, 
 my lord, that the boy must be given in 
 charge to the clergy V 
 
 " Most immoveably so," replied the Arch- 
 bishop. 
 
 Majone nodded good-humouredly, and 
 withdrew. " The cunning old fox !" he 
 muttered to himself. " As if I should un- 
 dertake all the labour and peril to place the 
 boy in his keeping ! No, no : the pretty 
 baubles I have prepared me at home, must 
 not so long lack a wearer as his saintly 
 guardianship would contrive." 
 
 The archbishop, too, had his soliloquy. 
 " I suspect him," he said : " notwithstand- 
 ing his assumed frankness, I read danger to 
 the boy's life in his eyes. Is it possible 
 that the accusations of the barons and of 
 the Pope are true ?" 
 
 At the usual hour of supper, the friends
 
 THE DARK AGES. 223 
 
 again met. Majone seemed full of open 
 light-heartedness. He referred but casu- 
 ally to the subject of their morning discus- 
 sion ; but casually he argued against the 
 proposal of the primate : and, having drawn 
 from him a reiteration of his resolve respect- 
 ing the guardianship of the prince, he re- 
 ferred not again to the subject. They 
 parted early ; Majone, in the Norman fa- 
 shion, proposing a toast to the success of 
 their enterprise. The archbishop assented, 
 quaffed the wine poured out for him, and, 
 with it, the poison which his friend had 
 adroitly mixed in the goblet. 
 
 The plans of the Lord High Admiral 
 had reached a crisis. His imprisonment of 
 the Countess Clemence had driven his be- 
 trothed son-in-law into the ranks of his 
 enemies ; and his eagerness to obtain pos- 
 session of the person of his royal ward, had 
 well-nigh betrayed his ultimate designs to 
 the other conscientious conspirator. Poison 
 should relieve him from the one : how
 
 224: THE DARK AGES. 
 
 would he receive the news of the defection 
 of the other 1 As yet, he knew it not. 
 He went home, and again slept the sleep of 
 innocence.
 
 THE DARK AGES. 225 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 " Griiii reader! did you ever see a ghost? 
 
 No, but you've heard — I understand. Be dumb. 
 And don't regret the time you may have lost, 
 Because you've got that pleasure still to come." 
 
 Byron. 
 
 The short-lived twilight of the south was 
 giving place to the shades of night: the 
 moon would not rise for some hours : and 
 all was dark and shadowy around the Sara- 
 cenic palace of the Favara. Two soldiers 
 paced one of the long galleries, to which 
 we have alluded as abutting upon the apart- 
 ments occupied by the Countess Clemence. 
 In broken whispers, they conversed to- 
 gether as they peered through the increas- 
 ing darkness. 
 
 " But when didst thou see it first ?" 
 eagerly asked one of the interlocutors. 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 " I myself have not been long in this 
 accursed castle," replied the man, " so that 
 I did not come across it before last night : 
 but Picard of Normandy and Giovanni tell 
 me that they have often seen it. All the 
 Saracens swear that it has ever haunted 
 these ruins." 
 
 " Bah ! what should they know of the 
 matter!" exclaimed the other. 
 
 " Marry, comrade, more than we do : 
 since it is the spirit of one of their own 
 princes that walks these ruins. They say 
 it is the last emir, who was killed in battle 
 by dame Eremburga, the wife of the Great 
 Count." 
 
 " No wonder he cannot rest satisfied, if 
 he was such an ass as to let himself be 
 killed by a woman !" replied the other sol- 
 dier, scoffingly. 
 
 " Hist ! dame Eremburga was as good a 
 knight as ever laid lance in rest," interposed 
 the more credulous soldier. " Men do say 
 that, when she had unhorsed him and given
 
 THE DARK AGES. 227 
 
 him the mortal wound, she took some water in 
 her skull-cap and baptized the dying infidel, 
 all the while that he was protesting against 
 the holy rite ; and that, for this reason, he 
 can neither go to heaven or purgatory, 
 which he ought to have done as a Chris- 
 tian ; nor to hell, which would have been 
 awarded to him as a Saracen. His own 
 people admit that there is some truth in 
 the story ; and certain it is they all tell 
 that his spirit walks these places in which 
 he died." 
 
 " And thou didst see it last night, com- 
 rade ?" / 
 
 " As plain as I see thee now. I was on 
 guard at the end of the long terrace above 
 the water. The night was dark, and the 
 crescent of the moon was just rising over 
 the hills there. Suddenly, I heard an un- 
 earthly sound of jingling chains, — soft and, 
 I should say, a far way off, but that I soon 
 saw this figure appear at the other end of 
 the gallery. It glided towards mc slowly 
 and silentlv."
 
 228 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 " What was it like V 
 
 " I know not. It must have been like a 
 Saracen prince, to judge by the tales we 
 have heard from the old men who con- 
 quered the country from the infidels. It 
 was clad in armour of shining rings, from 
 the neck to the knees. It wore a glittering 
 skull-cap, round which was a silver turban, 
 from which palm leaves, or something of 
 that kind, stood out all around. It had 
 one of the round shields, too, that all the 
 Saracens wear: and in its right hand a 
 silver lance, twice as long as those our 
 knights carry. We have all heard of the 
 wonderful enchanted lance the last soldan 
 used to bear to the wars." 
 
 " 'Tis strange, Giacomo ; it must have 
 been him," observed the other soldier. " The 
 saints grant it may not come to me when I 
 am on watch to-night !" 
 
 " If it does, I advise thee to do as I did," 
 replied his companion. " W^hen I saw it 
 gliding my way, as stately as if it had been
 
 THE DARK AGES. 229 
 
 the king of the devils, and pointing that 
 enchanted lance right towards me, I shut 
 my eyes and made the sign of the cross, 
 and muttered over all the prayers I could 
 think of." 
 
 " And what happened V 
 
 " When I opened them again, after a 
 while, the figure was gone. No doubt those 
 prayers had scared it away : and the sign 
 of the cross ; — there is nothing like the sign 
 of the cross !" 
 
 The two were silent for a few minutes. 
 At length one of them, gazing along the 
 balcony, said, in a whisper, " Look ! Here 
 comes our prisoner, the lady of Catanzaro. 
 I marvel if she knows of the spirit." 
 
 "Most likely not," replied the soldier, 
 Giacomo ; " else she would not dare to 
 roam about as she does at nightfall along 
 that terrace and the bridge to the pavilion. 
 These gentles seldom know anything; or 
 else they pretend not to believe anything 
 of the ghosts and spirits which all their fol-
 
 230 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 lowers swear to. Why, thou knowest, as 
 well as I, that there is scarcely a castle in 
 the country that is not haunted." 
 
 " Only when some horrid murder, or 
 some other devilry, has been committed in 
 them," replied the other. 
 
 " And how many, I should like to know, 
 be there that have not been so accursed V 
 expostulated Giacomo. '" But, hist !" he 
 continued, " the lady comes this way. Let 
 us not seem to watch her. I will go and 
 lie down till my time comes to mount 
 guard." 
 
 " And remember to make the sign of the 
 cross if the spirit comes upon thee." 
 
 " That I will," replied the second soldier ; 
 and they both withdrew into the interior of 
 the palace. 
 
 Slowly sauntering, like one in listless 
 idleness, the Countess Clemence advanced 
 along the balcony that stretched barely 
 above the level surface of the lake. At 
 times, she paused and leaned over the
 
 THE DARK AGES. 231 
 
 carved rail, with an appearance of languor 
 well suited to a prisoner in hopeless cap- 
 tivity; for several days had now passed 
 away since she had been lured from her 
 home, and as yet no message had arrived 
 from the queen, nor had a doubt been left 
 in her mind that she was imprisoned, per- 
 haps for years, on som^e unknown charge. 
 Anon, she moved on again ; and carelessly 
 turned her steps upon the light bridge that 
 spanned the water between the castle and 
 the little pavilion that arose in the centre 
 of the lake. Notwithstanding the apparent 
 languor of her steps, her eyes gazed anx- 
 iously around; and her ears were open to 
 the slightest sound that floated upon the 
 night wind. She knew not what spies 
 might be watching her every moment ; and, 
 bent upon discovering some means of escape, 
 she put on the bearing of a captive whom 
 hope had given up to a sense of wearying 
 monotony. 
 
 She entered the pavilion in the lake. It
 
 232 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 was formed by a miniature cupola crowning 
 a small square room, in each side of which 
 was a large window down to the marble 
 pavement. A slim pillar of the whitest 
 marble divided each of the windows into 
 two compartments : but the interior of the 
 little pleasure-house was darker than the 
 air without, so that the bright gilding of 
 the mosaics in the dome no longer reflected 
 the tints of the departed sun. From the 
 window furthest from the palace, were 
 steps by which the ladies of the harem had 
 been wont to descend into the fairy barges 
 that were wafted upon the crystal lake 
 around. These had all disappeared. The 
 new conquerors of the country had had 
 little leisure for the luxurious pastimes of 
 their predecessors ; and not the smallest 
 galley now floated upon the artificial lake, 
 though it still bore the proud name of Al 
 Bahira. 
 
 How soothing was the quiet scenery 
 around ; and how beautiful the transparent
 
 THE DARK AGES. 233 
 
 skies above, where the stars came out slowly, 
 one by one ! Not a sound was heard, save 
 the distant bark of some faithful watch-dog, 
 or the bells of some church or convent 
 tower that pealed out the hour, and called 
 their inmates, or the pious neighbourhood, 
 to remember the object for which they lived. 
 Not a wild animal was seen to move in the 
 shadowy glades of the chase beyond the 
 lake. Not a water- fowl skimmed across it 
 and ruffled its glassy surface with its noise- 
 less pinion. Like a mirror, it lay beside 
 her. She seated herself on one of the 
 marble benches within the pavilion, and 
 gave herself up to sad thoughts. Gradually 
 the night closed around her. Gradually the 
 stars in the firmament above looked up at 
 her from the glassy surface in which they 
 were reflected, in brilliancy almost as great 
 as they wore in their blue home overhead. 
 She forgot where she was, amid the thoughts 
 of days long passed away, — in thoughts of 
 Taverna's long-evident, but unavowed de-
 
 234 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 votion ; in thoughts of his recent fickleness, 
 and of his last visit to Beni-zekher. Mi- 
 nutes, nay almost hours, glided away. 
 
 She had risen to return to her prison- 
 chamber, when her eye was arrested by a 
 large bough of myrtle, which she had not 
 before observed, on the surface of the water. 
 She wondered how it could have been bro- 
 ken off, as no storm had recently shaken 
 the bowers of the chase, and no wind had 
 blown to waft it from the shore. Trifles 
 become interesting in the monotony of a 
 prison. When she had idly gazed for a 
 few seconds at the object of her speculation, 
 she became still more surprised to see it 
 wafted nearer and nearer to the pavilion ; 
 and yet no breath of air stirred upon the 
 water. What power moved it forward "? 
 She watched with awakened and real curi- 
 osity ; and this was not diminished as she 
 perceived that it still approached nearer 
 and nearer in a straight line ; and that, in- 
 stead of gliding forward in one unbroken
 
 THE DARK AGES. 235 
 
 motion, as it would have done had it been 
 moved by the wind or a current in the 
 water, its course was, every now and then, 
 stayed for a few moments ; after which it 
 would advance with a sudden jerk, as if 
 impelled by some re-awakened power. 
 
 It is needless to say that the observation 
 of these circumstances caused the Countess 
 Clemence to recall all that energy, and those 
 quick perceptions, which her heart and 
 fancy had, for the last two hours, allowed 
 to wander through many a fairy, region of 
 vanished and future hopes. She reseated 
 herself on the marble bench, and gazed 
 more intently still, as the myrtle bough slid 
 near and nearer to the pavilion. At length, 
 as it approached more closely and her ob- 
 servation became more intent, she clearly 
 perceived a human head amid the evergreen 
 leaves; and that a slight ripple extended 
 beyond the bough, which could only be 
 made by hands moving beneath the water. 
 She was convinced that some man was there,
 
 236 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 who had adopted this means of approaching 
 unobserved to the Favara — perhaps of gain- 
 ing admittance within its walls. What 
 ought she to do 1 Should she give the 
 alarm, or retire quietly to her own rooms ; 
 or should she remain and meet the invader 
 of her narrow domain 1 But a few moments 
 determined her. She considered that who- 
 ever approached so furtively, must come 
 against the will of her keepers ; probably, 
 therefore, he came to befriend herself. She 
 resolved to wait and meet him, whoever he 
 might be. 
 
 She had scarcely come to this determi- 
 nation, when a whisper came from amid the 
 myrtle boughs. 
 
 " Honoured lady," said the voice, " fear 
 not; I come to aid you." 
 
 The Countess made no reply; and the 
 pavilion being now placed between the pa- 
 lace of Favara and the swimmer, the latter 
 struck out more boldly, and soon bore his 
 myrtle branch to the steps of the pavilion,
 
 THE DARK AGES. 237 
 
 at the feet of our heroine. In a few mo- 
 ments more, a man rose from the water ; 
 and she recognized, with a delight that 
 sprang from many feelings, the slim figure 
 of Richard MacMardagh, in his tight-fitting 
 dress of black serge.
 
 238 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 -" Lis bold head 
 
 'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar'd 
 
 Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke 
 
 To the shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bow'd 
 
 As stooping to relieve him. I not doubt 
 
 He came alive to land." Tempest. 
 
 "Thanks to St. Martin of Tours!" joy- 
 fully whispered the Countess Clemence on 
 recognizing, through the darkness, the 
 features of Richard MacMardagh, as, pant- 
 ing for breath, he clung to the steps that 
 descended from the pavilion into the water, 
 and seated himself upon one just above the 
 surface of the lake : " Thanks to St. Martin 
 of Tours !" she said with the first thought- 
 less feeling of delight ; and then as quickly 
 added, in a more anxious tone, " Who sent 
 thee here, good Riccardo ?"
 
 THE DARK AGES. 239 
 
 " No one, lady," replied the squire. " I 
 pledged the faith of an Irishman that I 
 would assist you. I am here to redeem 
 my pledge." 
 
 " Alas ! good youth," answered the 
 countess, with a feeling of disappointment 
 the cause of which we need not pause to 
 investigate, " I fear me, that, alone, thou 
 canst do little against these prison walls 
 and the jailors of Majone." 
 
 " Not if you despond, noble lady : not if 
 that proud spirit which, forgive me for 
 saying so, I believed to live within you, be 
 broken by your imprisonment. But we 
 are not alone, lady. I bear within me a 
 willing heart that never yet failed its 
 owner; and in the cause that now ani- 
 mates me, I reckon surely on the help 
 of good St. Patrick and of all the holy 
 saints of my own country. Will not yours, 
 also, come to the rescue'?" 
 
 " Thou art, indeed, a gallant youth !" re- 
 plied the Lady Clemcnce : and making an
 
 240 
 
 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 effort to overcome the tone of disappoint- 
 ment in which she had first spoken, and 
 which he had evidently noted, she re- 
 peated, "Thou art a gallant youth: and 
 full soon, I foretell, wilt thou win thy 
 spurs. Nor shalt thou be held back by 
 any want of spirit in Clemence of Catan- 
 zaro. Thou hast judged of me rightly. The 
 soul I bear within me is ready for any high 
 enterprise. If courage and truth can break 
 through this prison, I feel that, with thee 
 to help me, I shall not linger here long." 
 
 " Thanks, noble countess," replied the 
 squire reverently kissing the gloved hand 
 she held towards him. Both were silent 
 for a few moments : for the lady felt some 
 awkwardness in enquiring into the plans 
 of the squire without asking whether they 
 were sanctioned or instigated by his pa- 
 tron : and engrossed with thoughts of the 
 Baron of Taverna, she saw not how she 
 could discuss schemes of escape without 
 mentioning his name. This, however, was
 
 THE DARK AGES. 241 
 
 a passing weakness. She soon rallied her 
 natural high and light spirit, and gaily 
 inquired — ■ 
 
 " Well, my brave champion, how is it to 
 her 
 
 " I know not, as yet, noble lady," replied 
 the Irishman. " I am here to offer you my 
 life, were it needed : and to concert with 
 you a plan for your deliverance. My lord 
 is still in Italy. I have sent word to him 
 how the High Admiral has betrayed you 
 and him and others. Were he here, I 
 doubt not he would gather his followers 
 and overpower the garrison : but if I could 
 release you before he comes, I should be 
 very proud " 
 
 And in the bright moonlight, she saw 
 tears almost start to his eyes as the youth 
 looked up to her with a fine open expres- 
 sion of self-reliance and devotion. 
 
 " Indeed, good Riccardo, I should much 
 prefer to recover my freedom without vio- 
 lence or bloodshed : — to show that a woman 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 242 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 and a squire can outwit the cunning Admi- 
 ral. How, then, is it to be ?" 
 
 " I have quartered my horse and those 
 of three troopers — and one of them is a 
 right noble destrier, fit to save a princess — 
 at a house near the little church of San 
 Giovanni : and could you but get across 
 the water, you could easily outspeed all 
 pursuit," suggested the youth. 
 
 " If I were but a bird or a fish for five 
 minutes !" ejaculated the countess gaily ; 
 but still in a voice little raised above a 
 whisper. 
 
 " I have looked all round on the side of 
 the Chase," continued MacMardagh, " in 
 the hope that a boat might lie hid under 
 the boughs : but not a plank is there." 
 
 "What a pity that I never learned to 
 swim !" said the lady half-seriously. " I can 
 mount a charger and even wield a lance 
 almost as well as my kinswoman Dame 
 Eremburga herself. I wish I had ever 
 been taught to swim !"
 
 THE DARK AGES. 243 
 
 " Would to heaven you had !" sighed 
 the squire. " But say, lady," he continued, 
 while even the w^hisper in which he spoke 
 showed that his voice was grown some- 
 what tremulous — "say, lady; have you seen 
 the vision that walks the terraces of the 
 Fa vara V 
 
 " What vision 1" asked the countess. 
 
 " You saw how I crossed the lake e'en 
 now under the shelter of the bough. I had 
 swam to thi«; -npvilion the night before last 
 also : and had just landed on these steps, 
 when an awful apparition, in strange un- 
 known armour, glided along the bridge 
 from the palace. It drew near the pavilion. 
 As you may well suppose, I was too fearful 
 to meet it : and so I dived down close be- 
 side the stone work, and scarcely kept my 
 mouth above the water. Of course, I could 
 not see anything : but I heard the rattle of 
 a chain as the figure glided into the pavi- 
 lion ; and many a sigh, that betokened a 
 spirit ill at ease, broke from it just above
 
 244 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 my head. I have learned this morning, 
 from the people about, that it is the ghost 
 of a Saracen chief, and that it ever haunts 
 the galleries of the palace: and that the 
 soldiers are fearful of mounting guard lest 
 it come across their watch. I wish to 
 heaven, God would damn the infidel dog at 
 once ! However, luckily the convent bell 
 told that it was midnight: and the sound 
 of the chains retreating announced that it 
 was leaving the bridge. I said a few 
 prayers, and then swam back as fast as I 
 could to the other side." 
 
 " Thou art a brave youth to have come 
 again after such a fright !" said the countess 
 enthusiastically. 
 
 " 1 own I was afraid to venture again 
 last night," said the Irishman. " But I had 
 sworn to help you ; and my conscience was 
 ill at ease under my cowardice. I only 
 wish the accursed ghost would show itself 
 now ! But they never appear to two peo- 
 ple at once."
 
 THE DARK AGES. 245 
 
 " It will certainly not show itself while I 
 am with thee," exclaimed the Countess 
 laughing exceedingly. MacMardagh mur- 
 mured something which shewed that he 
 disliked her merriment ; and this only 
 made her laugh the more. At length, she 
 checked herself, for she had been almost 
 choked by the necessity of keeping her 
 mirth within such compass that it could not 
 reach the ears of the sentinels on the ter- 
 race. 
 
 " Listen, good Riccardo," she said at 
 length ; " and excuse me that I laugh at 
 the success of my plot. I am the ghost !" 
 
 " You !" 
 
 " I myself. I remembered some legend 
 that the Favara was haunted by the spirit 
 of a Saracen — as, in fact, almost every 
 castle in Sicily is said to be : and I deter- 
 mined to raise the ghost myself in the hope 
 that I might disappear some night with it." 
 
 " Oh, what a brave idea !" cried the 
 squire joyfully.
 
 246 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 " It has answered thus far, at all events," 
 continued the lady : " although if thou hadst 
 been less true, I might have lost thy ser- 
 vices. All the soldiers on guard believe 
 in me. But it is now getting late : and 
 to avoid suspicion I must return. Meet 
 me here to-morrow night at the same hour : 
 and think, in the meanwhile, what thou 
 canst devise. I myself will send the lady 
 Catherine to the queen to ask her to supply 
 me with a barge that I may spend some 
 weary hours in fishing on the lake. Her 
 guards will go with me, even if it is 
 granted : that I know : but perchance the 
 boat may be left within thy reach at night : 
 and, if so, it may be useful. Farewell brave 
 Mardano : the saints protect thee." 
 
 She moved briskly back to the palace; 
 and delighted her more timid companion 
 by telling her that she had met with a 
 champion through whose aid she had good 
 hope of recovering the liberty of them 
 both.
 
 THE DARK AGES. 247 
 
 chapte:r XIV. 
 
 " let me have 
 
 A dram of poison ; such soon-speedmg geer 
 
 As will disperse itself through all the veins, 
 
 That the life-weary taker may fall dead. 
 
 And that the trunk may he discharged of breath, 
 
 As violently as hasty powder fir'd 
 
 Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb." 
 
 Romeo and Juliet. 
 
 That same evening the Baron of Taverna 
 had returned to Palermo. He had deferred 
 his arrival till nightfall, that the lateness of 
 the hour might excuse his not making any 
 report to the King and Majone of the re- 
 sults of his expedition to Bari, until he 
 should have had an opportunity of consult- 
 ing his kinsman, the archbishop, on their 
 present mutual position. Gladly would he 
 have taken some immediate active step to- 
 wards the liberation of the countess ; but
 
 248 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 prudence bade him to do nothing rashly, and 
 first to learn full particulars of her capture 
 from his squire, MacMardagh, and concert 
 with him a mode for her deliverance. Kich- 
 ard MacMardagh, however, was not to be 
 found. He was vainly inquired for in his 
 lord's residence in Palermo. He had dis- 
 appeared, a few days before, with three of 
 the best mounted troopers, and had not 
 since been heard of. 
 
 We think that we have already stated 
 that the old cathedral and archiepiscopal 
 residence were situated beyond the western 
 horn of the Kalah, or port of Palermo, and, 
 consequently, beyond the tongue of land 
 on which stood the more strongly fortified 
 heart of the city. Beyond the old gate of 
 Santa Agata, our hero slowly rode in the 
 dusk of the evening, and skirted the little 
 river Papireto and the beautiful bay, formed 
 by its junction with the sea, until the broad 
 mass of the cathedral loomed before him in 
 the twilight. The palace of the primate
 
 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 249 
 
 adjoined it; and much did the Baron of 
 Taverna marvel at the military aspect that 
 now surrounded its peaceful cloisters. Men- 
 at-arms kept guard before the principal en- 
 trance ; mounted troopers came and went 
 in haste; and the whole residence bore 
 more of the characteristics proper to the 
 castle of a feudal chieftain than to the 
 house of a peaceful prelate. Two or three 
 of the most powerful barons of the island, 
 followed by strong escorts of armed re- 
 tainers, left the palace, in different compa- 
 nies, ere Taverna had gained the inner 
 apartments and spoken to the trusted cham- 
 berlain of his kinsman. 
 
 " What mean all this warlike show and 
 funeral solemnity, good Roberto V he 
 anxiously inquired. " How fares his re- 
 verence V 
 
 " 111, my lord," replied the faithful fol- 
 lower ; " confined to his bed, and that by 
 foul practices. But he has inquired impa- 
 tiently for your signoria ; and I must pray
 
 250 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 you to allow me to conduct you to him 
 without delay." 
 
 They passed on through several apart- 
 ments, where anxious retainers — soldiers 
 and clergy — were mingled together in whis- 
 pering groups. Beyond, in a small room 
 overlooking the gardens and the bay, the 
 Archbishop Hugo lay on a wide pillowed 
 couch. A lamp, fed by aromatic oil, scented 
 and partially lighted the apartment: but 
 the broad rays of the moon eclipsed its 
 feebler light, and, falling upon the vene- 
 rable head of the prelate, showed his fea- 
 tures worn and distorted in a manner that 
 shocked Taverna as much as it surprised 
 him. 
 
 " I thank God, thou art come at last, 
 Matteo," exclaimed the sick man, with fe- 
 verish eagerness. " I trust thou hast not 
 induced the nobles of Italy to succumb to 
 the traitor ?" 
 
 " I rejoice that your reverence has seen 
 through his wiles," replied the baron, de-
 
 THE DARK AGES. 251 
 
 voutly kissing the hand of the prelate ; 
 " though I fear me he has ah-eady wrought 
 disloyally upon you." 
 
 " Disloyally ! no boy : he has acted ac- 
 cording to his nature ; and as there was no 
 loyalty in it, he could not belie it. I was 
 a fool to believe and trust him : and he has 
 poisoned me for my pains." 
 
 " I well believe that he may have wished 
 to do so ; but I trust that he has not suc- 
 ceeded in his base attempt," observed Ta- 
 verna, soothingly. 
 
 " I know not ; I know not ;" insisted the 
 archbishop. " He poured poison into my 
 goblet ; that the Arabian mediciner has 
 proved. Whether his skill will avail to 
 raise me up from this couch of pain, rests 
 with God to determine. Dost know how it 
 came to pass ? No. Listen then ; and be 
 prepared to act the part of a man. Thou 
 hast been too easily led heretofore ; thou 
 must now learn to lead others. He was 
 urging forward the conspiracy thou know-
 
 252 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 est of, when I was moved, by the old sus- 
 picions, to doubt the honesty of his inten- 
 tions towards the boy, Ruggiero. I ques- 
 tioned him. He almost avowed that his 
 plan was to obtain possession of the child 
 that he might exercise the sovereign power 
 himself. I knew that neither Normans, 
 Saracens, nor Italians, would submit to this; 
 and I protested against it. He saw he 
 could not bend my resolve ; invited himself 
 to sup with me, and poisoned me. It seems 
 the dose was not strong enough, or the 
 leech was too well skilled, for I am still 
 alive. How long I may be permitted to 
 continue so, is now the question." 
 
 " Deem you, then, he would again at- 
 tempt your life V 
 
 " Aye, that do I, cousin : deemest thou 
 that a serpent will ever grow into a dove 1 
 He has made other attempts : but I am now 
 too well guarded. His creatures are not 
 admitted : and the pretended healing pos- 
 sets he sends me are thrown to the dogs —
 
 THE DARK AGES. 253 
 
 who die of them. But it cannot stop here. 
 He is working against me with the king. 
 Ill as I am, William has not scrupled to 
 send to claim some pretended debts of old 
 standing — first-fruits of the see, or sacrile- 
 gious claims never made before. This 
 shows the mind of the king. What can I 
 do"? No attempt to justify myself would 
 be of avail. By secret means or by open 
 calumny, Majone will have my life. I hate 
 bloodshed ; — I loathe murder : but he is 
 above all human law ; and self-defence is 
 the law and the right of nature. Either 
 Majone or I must die." 
 
 " Your hand on it, monsignore," ex- 
 claimed the Baron of Taverna. " I, too, 
 have discovered his treacheries; and have 
 pledged myself, to the lords of Italy, to 
 remove the usurper. With your sanction, 
 I go into the work joyfully." 
 
 " Joyfully no," said the prelate. " It is 
 a sad necessity. But the king will not 
 receive my explanations: and neither the
 
 254 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 justice of heaven nor of man demands that 
 1 should lie here and await till the poisoner 
 find means to accomplish his purpose upon 
 me. I must defend myself by the weapons 
 he has himself selected, since no others are 
 left to me. Arouse then our friends. I 
 have seen many. I am convinced that we 
 were deluded : that the villain does aim at 
 the dethronement of his sovereign in order 
 that he may usurp his crown. Sure proof 
 has been brought to me. If Majone cannot 
 be displaced without removing the king to 
 make way for the boy in the manner we 
 had planned, it must be done : but, perhaps, 
 the plan of the Italian barons had better 
 be tried first. Gather all against Majone. 
 His death or exile must be secured." 
 
 " Doubt me not, monsignore. None will 
 more willingly arm against him," said the 
 baron rising. 
 
 " Aye : but it must be done quickly, I 
 tell thee," insisted the sick man. " Else 
 while thou art arming thy followers, I may
 
 THE DARK AGES. 255 
 
 be put out of the way. Collect thy people, 
 an thou wilt: but keep thine own sword 
 loose in its scabbard. My life may depend 
 upon the ready hand of a single friend. In 
 such a case, will thine fail me T' 
 
 " Never, never, my lord !" exclaimed 
 Taverna with fervour. 
 
 " May God bless thee, my son !" sighed 
 the archbishop : " and may Pie not lay to 
 our charge what we are compelled to do. 
 Heaven knows that I am moved by no 
 feeling of anger or personal revenge ; and 
 that if law and justice could protect inno- 
 cence, deeds of violence would be far from 
 my thoughts. But while the world is 
 what it is, we must meet it with its own 
 tools. Now leave me, Taverna. See all 
 the friends thou canst. Get them to arm 
 and to join thee : but, above all, be on the 
 alert : and take heed to thine own self if 
 thou hast any cause to dread his anger. 
 He will not spare thee if he distrusts 
 thee."
 
 256 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 A violent spasm of pain here came on ; 
 and with many words of sympathy and of 
 caution to the chamberlain, the Baron of 
 Taverna left the sufferer in the hands of 
 his attendants.
 
 THE DARK AGES. 2o7 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 " They followed from the snowy hank 
 The footsteps one hy one 
 Into the middle of the plank, 
 And further there was none." 
 
 Wordsicorth. 
 
 The following clay was spent by our hero 
 in removing himself and his followers from 
 Palermo to his castle of Cacabo, in the 
 neighbourhood of the city; in collecting 
 around him all the vassals he could assem- 
 ble at the shortest notice; and in arming 
 and fortifying that important stronghold. 
 Couriers were sent by him to all the other 
 barons whom he deemed he could arouse 
 against the High Admiral : and every pre- 
 caution was taken to defend himself and 
 his partisans from the wiles of the trea- 
 cherous minister. Nor, amid all these 
 
 VOL. I. s
 
 258 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 cares, was the state of the Countess of 
 Catanzaro forgotten. Richard MacMar- 
 dagh was, indeed, sought after in vain : but 
 every inquiry was made into the present 
 position of the lady and the state of the 
 Favara palace and of its garrison; and 
 plans were laid for her deliverance on 
 the following morning by force of arms. 
 Matteo of Taverna appeared to have, in- 
 deed, assumed a new character; and in 
 casting aside the wavering temper which 
 had been engendered by the false position 
 in which he had placed himself in a mo- 
 ment of ambition and weakness, to have 
 suddenly put on a sternness of determina- 
 tion which was, perhaps, equally foreign to 
 his nature. 
 
 It may well be supposed that the arrival 
 of the royal envoy in Palermo, and his sub- 
 sequent retreat to his castle without having 
 reported to the king the result of his mis- 
 sion, could not be overlooked by so jealous 
 a minister as was Giorgio Majone. He
 
 THE DARK AGES. 259 
 
 had been early informed of all his move- 
 ments : — of his nocturnal visit to the arch- 
 bishop, and of the forces he was collecting 
 at Cacabo. Such conduct told the history 
 of his mission ; told that he had leagued 
 Avith those whom he was sent to appease, 
 and with the late fellow-conspirator on 
 whom poison had failed to do its work. 
 When, therefore, the minister saw the Lady 
 Catherine, the companion of the Countess 
 Clemence, enter the apartment in which he 
 sat with Queen Margaret, and crave for 
 favours and a less restricted prison for her 
 noble mistress, all the bitter feelings which 
 had risen up within him against his rebel- 
 lious son-in-law, all his own and Corazza's 
 jealousy of the Countess, rushed to his 
 remembrance, and urged him to gratify the 
 first movement of spite and disappoint- 
 ment. 
 
 " The lady would have a barge to take 
 her pleasure in on the Bahira, would she !" 
 he tauntingly cried when the young girl
 
 260 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 had timidly given her message. " I doubt 
 not she would ! Such a barge might enable 
 her to take her pleasure beyond the Bahira, 
 likewise : her fancies must not be entrusted 
 to her own wild keeping. I gather from 
 what you say, mistress, that she has already 
 more freedom than befits one who, either 
 by herself or her friends, is rising in arms 
 against her sovereign. Your grace," he 
 continued, turning to the queen, " knows 
 to whom I allude : and methinks it would 
 be as well to prevent this young messenger 
 from going back and reporting to her 
 friend what she will doubtless hear spoken 
 of by many." 
 
 " Sooth to say, the Favara is a dull place 
 for one so young," observed the queen. 
 " Thou shalt stay with me, child, instead of 
 returning to it." 
 
 " Oh, noble lady, let me return to my 
 sweet friend !" implored the young girl, pas- 
 sionately. " The old place is, indeed, dull ; 
 but how much worse it will be to her with- 
 out me !"
 
 THE DARK AGES. 261 
 
 " I trust that in a few days she, also, may 
 be able to leave it," continued Queen Mar- 
 garet. " Meanwhile thou shalt remain and 
 attend upon me." 
 
 A female in waiting was called, and the 
 weeping messenger was given over into her 
 charge. The queen and Majone continued 
 their conference. 
 
 Meanwhile, dull and anxious were the 
 hours spent by the Countess Clemence in 
 anticipation of the return of her messenger. 
 At first, she had been all hope that her 
 prayer would be granted for instant admit- 
 tance to the queen, in order that she might 
 meet whatever charge was against her. 
 Then had succeeded an hour or two of de- 
 spondency. Then again she imagined that 
 the lesser favour of the pleasure-boat could 
 not be denied her; and many a plan was 
 formed in which the boat was to be the 
 means of freeing her from wearisome thral- 
 dom. The day passed away — still Cattarina 
 returned not ; and no messenger summoned
 
 262 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 her to the Alcazar, as she had fondly antici- 
 pated at first. She grew excited and fever- 
 ish. She cast down the framework in which 
 she was embroidering a sash in the richest 
 silks of Constantinople, and hurried out to 
 pace the bridge, and to see whether aught 
 could be observed stirring from the pavilion 
 in the lake. She stept upon the terrace 
 which, as we have explained, ran along the 
 whole length of the front of the Favara, 
 just above the water. A sentinel advanced 
 towards her from each end, and intimated 
 to her, civily but firmly, that she was not 
 to pass to the bridge. 
 
 Our heroine was too high-minded to ex- 
 postulate with servants who, she well knew, 
 but obeyed the orders of their superiors. 
 She returned to her apartments and resumed 
 her embroidery. More regularly and care- 
 fully than ever she plied her needle. Her 
 whole soul seemed to be engrossed in the 
 work before her. It was, in truth, but a 
 vent to her anxiety, — a means she adopted
 
 THE DARK AGES. 263 
 
 to keep herself bodily quiet, while she 
 thought over this new change in the con- 
 duct of her enemies. Long and bitterly 
 she thought ; and he who could have looked 
 into the soul of that gentle-minded woman, 
 would have seen stern resolve and contempt 
 of danger gradually rise up and possess its 
 every faculty. She was not one to be cast 
 down by difficulties ; and she doubted not 
 that, if she was true to herself, some means 
 would be found for her deliverance. 
 
 She prayed long and fervently. The 
 lightest hearts are ever the most pious ; and 
 her lively and hopeful disposition originated 
 as much in the feeling of God within her, 
 as in natural light-heartedness and a happy 
 temperament. 
 
 The eunuch who usually waited upon 
 her, brought in her afternoon meal. She 
 had gained the goodwill of the poor slave 
 by her kindness and condescension ; and he 
 looked sad when he saw her seat herself 
 at the table. She observed that he did
 
 264 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 SO, and a sudden thought came over 
 her : — 
 
 " Is this food safe ?" she asked. " Thou 
 wilt not deceive me, Hassan ; may I eat in 
 safely V 
 
 " Oh, si — si — noble lady," responded the 
 African cheerfully, " The viands have not 
 been practised upon. I only looked sad to 
 think that you can have little appetite after 
 losing the Signorina Cattarina, and being 
 forbidden to take any exercise." 
 
 " Wherefore is this change made, good 
 Hassan V she asked. 
 
 " I know not, Signora Contessa. But the 
 guards are doubled in the Favara. There 
 is some talk of a rising amongst the 
 barons." 
 
 " I drink to their success, Hassan," she 
 said, taking a small goblet of wine. " Thou 
 seest that I mean to bear my imprisonment 
 with a light heart." 
 
 " Do so, noble lady. It is good that you 
 should keep up your strength for whatever 
 may chance."
 
 THE DARK AGES. 265 
 
 The meal was spon over. The attendant 
 withdrew. The sun fell lower on the ho- 
 rizon. The hours of evening came on. But 
 few would pass away ere that appointed for 
 her meeting with Kichard MacMardagh 
 would come round. And even then, would 
 she be permitted to cross the bridge to the 
 pavilion at which he would expect her 1 
 Would the new guards be more watchful 
 over the face of the waters, and discover the 
 approach of her sole humble champion 1 
 Perhaps their vigilance might abate at 
 night, and both she and the squire be able 
 to elude it This was her only hope. She 
 would not tempt them by oiFering unneces- 
 sarily to exceed the limits assigned to her. 
 She would stay within her apartments ; 
 and, perhaps, they would think her re- 
 signed. 
 
 Hour after hour passed on. The sun was 
 set. The short-lived twilight had also disap- 
 peared. She rose gently and peered through 
 the lattice. The eternal guards were there.
 
 266 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 Like a guilty thing, she drew back, and 
 again hurried to her couch. How her 
 heart beat ! Audibly. After a while, she 
 rose and dismissed her only female attend- 
 ant for the night. She removed the lamp 
 into a darkened closet, that those hateful 
 sentinels might think it extinguished, and 
 that she was retired to her rest, — for there 
 were no shutters in those days to prevent 
 the glimmer of the flame from within. But 
 in the bright moonbeams, her rooms were 
 were still sufficiently light for her to find 
 her way about them. Again she noiselessly 
 stepped, on tiptoe, to the window. There 
 still paced the weary sentries ; — nay, they 
 had been changed ; for she now recognized 
 one of those whom she had before often 
 marked. He was at the further end of the 
 terrace. A change of guard betokened a 
 vigilant watch through the night. She had 
 not a chance of passing unnoticed to the 
 pavilion ! And yet, if she missed this ap- 
 pointment, how could she, unaided, escape
 
 THE DARK AGES. 267 
 
 from her persecutors'? With a feeling akin 
 to despair, she drew back from the case- 
 ment and threw herself on her couch. Two 
 more weary hours passed on. All was 
 silence around, save the measured tread of 
 the sentry. Midnight was near at hand. 
 
 The soldier Giacomo, whose account of 
 the vision he had seen on a former evening 
 we have before listened to, had begun his 
 midnight watch. He strove to think that 
 he had now no fear of the apparition, for it 
 had not been seen on the night before. 
 Besides, the sentries were now doubled : 
 and he secretly felt that he should derive 
 a great accession of valour from the guard 
 at the other end of the terrace. Valiantly, 
 therefore, he went to his post, and cheerily 
 he gazed at the moon and at the stars 
 above. Objects underneath them were less 
 distinctly marked, and it was some while 
 ere he ventured to examine them. But he 
 soon began to whistle, scarce audibly, an 
 old Northman lay, to prove his valour to
 
 268 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 himself as he peered into the lights and 
 shadows that lay upon the lake and the 
 surrounding scenery. All was still. Not a 
 breath was stirring. And no single object 
 met his trembling gaze that he was not 
 able to define, recognize, or account for 
 after three or four more and more prolonged 
 glances. He shouldered his arms and be- 
 gan to swagger, up and down the terrace, 
 with a devil-me-care bearing. Suddenly, 
 the sound of a bell reverberated on the 
 darkened air. He started. It was repeated : 
 and he recognized the midnight call to 
 prayer from the neighbouring monastery. 
 He smiled contemptuously as he thought 
 how a coward would have been frightened 
 by it ; and he, a brave man, resumed his 
 measured tread. 
 
 Suddenly, he heard an unearthly sound 
 as of the rattle of chains. It must be — it 
 was the same ! He only half-turned his 
 head over his shoulder (for he was pacing, 
 at the time, in the opposite direction) and
 
 THE DARK AGES. 269 
 
 there, sure enough, was the image of the 
 Saracen emir: — his unearthly solemnity of 
 gait — his round concave buckler — his awful 
 turban — his terrific spear. One glance was 
 sufficient. With little of military preci- 
 sion, he continued his walk away from the 
 advancing ghost. Quicker and quicker he 
 strided to the furthest end of the balcony : 
 and there leaned against the rail, while he 
 muttered prayer after prayer, and cut the 
 air into shivers by the frequent signs of the 
 cross he made upon his breast. 
 
 The bridge to the pavilion was midway 
 between the two ends of the balcony : and 
 the rattle of the chains seemed to die away 
 along it. The soldier Giacomo wished for 
 no better exit to the ghost : and manfully 
 repeated his prayers as he leant upon the 
 balustrade and gazed, with startling eye- 
 balls, on the marble pavement beneath his 
 feet. The sounds died away. In a quarter 
 of an hour, he again raised his head and 
 looked timidly around him. He neither
 
 270 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 saw nor heard anything to disturb the 
 awful stilhiess of the hour and place. He 
 resumed his walk ; but, as may be well 
 presumed, he turned back ere he reached 
 the bridge branching off to the pavilion. 
 
 On the steps of that pavilion, half- im- 
 mersed in the water, Richard MacMardagh 
 had ensconced himself before the convent 
 bell had tolled. He had soon recovered his 
 wind and had laid the myrtle bough on the 
 water beside him. He, too, had heard the 
 startling call to prayer : he, too, heard the 
 jangle of the chain as it slowly advanced 
 along the bridge nearer and nearer to the 
 pavilion. A peevish muttered oath against 
 unseasonable mummery died upon his lips, 
 and the vision of the slaughtered Saracen 
 stood beside him. 
 
 " Riccardo," gently whispered a voice. 
 
 " I am here, lady," he answered. " But 
 wherefore this disguise to-night ?" 
 
 " To keep faith with thee and to es- 
 cape. Knowest thou not the guards are
 
 THE DARK AGES. 271 
 
 doubled and that my prison-bounds are 
 narrowed "?" 
 
 " I knew that some fresh men-at-arms 
 had been sent into the Favara, and I feared 
 for you the more, lady." 
 
 " Listen, brave Riccardo," said the Lady 
 Clemence. " For some reason the guards 
 are doubled, and vigilant. I know not what 
 time we may have to speak. I had need to 
 come thus or not at all. Now say, frankly : 
 — hast thou devised any plan for my deli- 
 verance "?" 
 
 " Alas ! I have been able to perfect 
 nothing more. I hoped to hear that you 
 had obtained the fishing-boat." 
 
 " There is no hope of it. Cattarina, too, 
 is detained from me : so that I have only 
 myself to encumber thee withal. Are thy 
 horses in readiness 1" 
 
 " At a moment's notice. Would that 
 your signoria were on the other side, to try 
 their speed !" 
 
 " It depends on thee to place me there,"
 
 272 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 said the countess. " Barest thou entrust 
 thy life to my courage V 
 
 *' I dare any thing to save you, lady." 
 
 " Answer not rashly. Hast thou, I ask 
 thee solemnly, hast thou that opinion of my 
 courage and, presence of mind that thou 
 wilt stake thy life upon it 1" 
 
 " So help me God and St. Patrick, I am 
 yours !" answered the youth fervently. 
 
 " If I misdoubted myself, believe me that 
 I would not expose thee to the danger," 
 continued Clemence. " I must escape from 
 the Favara as thou hast come to it." 
 
 " You cannot swim, lady !" expostulated 
 MacMardagh. 
 
 " Nor sink, with thee and a brave heart 
 to bear me up. Listen. I was educated 
 with brothers. I have lived near the sea. 
 Thou knowest how the people of this coun- 
 try pride themselves on their swimming. I 
 have heard enough of it, to know that every 
 one can swim who does not fear to sink. I 
 tell thee, forestiere, that I fear nothing
 
 THE DARK AGES. 273 
 
 in the attempt to escape from this place. 
 Not only do I consider my life in danger 
 here, but my pride rebels at the manner in 
 which I allowed myself to be entrapped." 
 
 « Still, noble lady—" 
 
 " Hist. Let me tell thee my plan. Thou 
 shalt then aid me or not as thou wilt. I 
 know enough of the art of swimming to 
 know that a swimmer can buoy up and 
 ^uide through the water any person who 
 will hold a stake and float passively in his 
 wake. The only danger is that the un- 
 skilled follower may become frightened and 
 cling to the swimmer so as to hinder him 
 from using his limbs. I believe myself to 
 have resolution enough to lie passive in 
 the deep water. If thou wilt trust me, the 
 only pledge I ask of thee is to let go the 
 stick by which I shall hold on, if thou seest 
 that I am growing fearful and am likely to 
 catch hold of thee in my terror. Promise 
 me that, if I ofter to do so, thou wilt leave 
 me to sink." 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 " Let us start, noble countess : let us start 
 at once !" cried the Irishman delighted. 
 " The holy Virgin inspires the scheme. 
 Let me seek for a pole for you to cling to." 
 
 " The half of this lance will suffice," said 
 the lady. " Break it across thy knee ; 
 under the water, to deaden the sound. 
 See ; now I will tie this kerchief over this 
 hollow Saracen buckler. I will hold it in 
 my left hand, and it will help to buoy me 
 up. Lie there, thou infidel badge," she 
 said, taking oif the turban. " Though thou 
 hast served me a good turn thus far, I pre- 
 ferred to swim and ride in a close iron 
 scull-cap that I also found in the heap of 
 old armour in the tower. Now, Irishman, 
 in the name of the blessed Mother of God, 
 let us start. I shall not speak again till 
 we are on the other side. Lead me whither 
 thou wilt, and I will follow trusting in 
 thee: if need be, let go thy hold of the 
 lance, and I will sink silently to the bottom, 
 trusting in God." 
 
 She went down the steps of the pavilion
 
 THE DARK AGES. 275 
 
 and, without hesitation, entered the water. 
 She stood on the lowest step, and a sign 
 answered the squire's look of inquiry to see 
 if she were ready. Both made the holy 
 sign of the cross devoutly on their breasts : 
 and then the Irishman struck boldly out 
 into the deep water. He was obliged to 
 leave his myrtle bough ; the hand that had 
 before upheld it being now engaged with 
 the broken lance to which clung his pre- 
 cious charge. With the other arm, he 
 laboured manfully along. Few were better 
 swimmers than Richard MacMardagh ; and 
 good need he had to put forth all his 
 energy. But the countess behaved nobly. 
 From the time when he wafted her from 
 the steps of the pavilion into the deep 
 water, she moved not a limb nor drew a 
 breath through her mouth. Scarcely her 
 lip quivered in prayer. 
 
 MacMardagh was obliged to keep the 
 pavilion, as long as possible, between him- 
 self and the sentinels on the palace. When 
 he could no longer avail himself of the
 
 276 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 shelter it interposed, he turned himself on 
 his shoulders and rested for a few seconds. 
 Fearful, however, that the strength of his 
 charge might give way, he soon again 
 struck out and steered, in the most direct 
 line, to the little grassy beach where he 
 purposed to land. The moon shone bright 
 overhead and, fortunately for the fugitives, 
 gleamed upon many a white cygnet and 
 strange waterfowl that scudded from them 
 as they disturbed its lazy career. Had a 
 guard from the Favara perceived them, he 
 could not have distinguished their heads 
 from the floating water-birds and the 
 masses of gorgeous lily around. 
 
 And now they neared the bank: and 
 still the countess kept her hold. An old 
 family legend had first inspired her with 
 the thought of attempting to escape by this 
 means. She had severely questioned her- 
 self of her resolution and strength of mind 
 before she resolved to adopt it ; and she 
 now thanked heaven that she had not over 
 estimated her courage. As Richard Mac-
 
 THE DARK AGES. 277 
 
 Mardagh rose upon the beach, she rested 
 her knees upon the gravel ; and, still in the 
 water, fervently returned thanks to the 
 Almighty power who had preserved her 
 through so strange an adventure. 
 
 The Irishman led her some little dis- 
 tance beside the walls that skirted the 
 chase : and then left her amid myrtle and 
 arbutus bushes while he went to fetch his 
 horses. In half an hour, he returned on 
 horseback, followed by two mounted troop- 
 ers who led a fourth horse saddled and 
 caparisoned. 
 
 " My men were all ready. They are 
 faithful and vigilant. Whither, lady, will 
 you ride V he asked, as he assisted her into 
 the saddle. 
 
 " To my uncle's castle — to Mistretto, 
 brave youth," answered the countess. 
 
 They all put spurs to their horses and 
 were soon out of sight. Before the break 
 of day, the bugle at the bars of the castle 
 of Mistretto reechoed the cheering sum- 
 mons of the Countess of Catanzaro.
 
 278 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 " Sleeping within mine orchard, 
 My custom always of the afternoon, 
 Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole, 
 With juice of cursed hebenon in a vial, 
 And in the porches of mine ears did pour 
 The leperous distilment." Hamlet. 
 
 Late on the same evening on which the 
 Countess Clemence thus effected her escape 
 from that imprisonment which had had the 
 effect of drawing away the Baron of Ta- 
 verna from the party of the High Admiral 
 and firmly binding him to the leaguers, 
 Majone took his way towards the archiepi- 
 scopal residence. It was true that he had 
 attempted to poison the primate ; but he 
 had done so under the guise of friendship ; 
 and nothing had openly occurred between 
 them to occasion a cessation of the usual
 
 THE DARK AGES. 279 
 
 courtesies of life. He had, therefore, no 
 reason to abstain from visiting his sick 
 friend, and many motives urged him to do 
 so; — the principal one of which was — that 
 the said friend did not die fast enough. 
 
 The character of the High Admiral was 
 so strangely composed of frankness, deceit, 
 and villany, that we never approach it with- 
 out fearing lest the reader should reproach 
 us with outraging humanity by sketching 
 impossible features. We can only say that 
 the events we are about to relate actually 
 occurred a.d. 1160. 
 
 The same or similar groups of anxious 
 retainers and friends surrounded the dwell- 
 ing of the archbishop, or thronged its walls, 
 as had greeted the Baron of Taverna on the 
 preceding evening. All inwardly cursed 
 the great minister as he made his way 
 through them ; but all retired with more 
 or less anxiety to escape either from his 
 observation, or from closer contact with 
 him. His greeting of the chamberlain,
 
 280 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 Roberto, was so frank and cordial that that 
 functionary wanted presence of mind to de- 
 bar him from the chamber of his lord ; and 
 the admiral closely followed him thither 
 without permitting himself to be announced. 
 
 " Caro Hugo !" he exclaimed to the sick 
 prelate ; " forgive the familiarity of my ad- 
 dress, dear monsignore, but it touches me 
 to the heart to see you in this plight." 
 
 The archbishop turned away his head in 
 disgust. 
 
 " Rejoiced I am to see so many friends 
 and followers in attendance around you," 
 continued Majone. " This is not such a 
 wicked world, after all ! The sympathy 
 your friends show for you proves that a 
 good man is prized — even in this life." 
 
 " Do not leave the room, Roberto !" cried 
 the archbishop to his chamberlain. 
 
 " No, do not leave us, good Roberto !" 
 said the admiral. " I have brought here a 
 medicine prepared by the most skilful me- 
 diciner of Italy ; and you shall administer
 
 THE DARK AGES. 281 
 
 it to his reverence. Sure I am that it will 
 soon restore him to his wonted health." 
 
 " I am deeply beholden to your lordship, 
 but I had rather decline it," said the sick 
 man, in a tone and with a look of concen- 
 trated and bitter irony. 
 
 " You are too fond of the infidel Sara- 
 cens, monsignore; I shall really suspect 
 that you are only half a Christian," per- 
 sisted Majone, jestingly. "I never trust 
 those Saracen leeches myself. One cannot 
 be certain that they have a conscience." 
 
 " Roberto !" cried the archbishop, " come 
 hither. Here, to this side of the couch. 
 Stoop down. It is poison," he whispered. 
 " I know it is poison, and he will force me 
 to swallow it. Send and summon Taverna, 
 or some other kinsman ; tell them, for the 
 love of heaven, to come and save me." 
 
 The chamberlain left the couch hastily. 
 
 " Send in the Bishop of Syracuse before 
 you go," cried the sick man. " Did you 
 not say he was in waiting 1 Send him in. 
 Instantly ! instantly !"
 
 282 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 " You had really better take this medi- 
 cament first," persisted Majone ; " it will 
 give you strength to enjoy the converse of 
 your friends." 
 
 The chamberlain, however, without quit- 
 ting the room, had, through the half-opened 
 door, made a sign to those in the adjoining 
 apartment; and the Bishop of Syracuse 
 here entered and took a seat beside the 
 pillow of the invalid. 
 
 " I am endeavouring to persuade our 
 worthy friend," said the High Admiral, ad- 
 dressing him, " to take a potion which I 
 have had mixed with the greatest care. I 
 saw the leech myself pour it into this flask," 
 and he produced one of gold from the folds 
 of his ample cloak. 
 
 " Is not his lordship too kind V said the 
 archbishop to his friend, in the sarcastic 
 humour that comes over some men when ill. 
 
 " Indeed, I fear me that the stomach of 
 his reverence is too weak to permit him to 
 take anything at this hour," observed the 
 Bishop of Syracuse.
 
 THE DARK AGES. 283 
 
 " Set it down on the table, good admiral," 
 said the archbishop, emboldened by the 
 vicinity of the other prelate, and feeling that 
 no violence would be attempted in his pre- 
 sence. " Set it down on the table, and I 
 will swallow it to-morrow. Will not that 
 be soon enough V 
 
 " As you will ; as you will," ejaculated 
 Majone, with seeming carelessness. " I will 
 carry back the precious medicine with me ; 
 but you are ill-advised, per Bacco ! Let us 
 talk of other matters. The king presses 
 you hard for some pretended debt, as I have 
 heard." 
 
 " I thought your lordship had heard of 
 it !" sarcastically remarked the sick man. 
 
 " Why, caro archivescovo, ye know that 
 Giorgio Majone hears of everything that 
 the king does ; and that his enemies charge 
 him with instigating every harshness." 
 
 " Poor injured man !" sighed the arch- 
 bishop. 
 
 " Indeed it is time that our scheme
 
 284 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 were put into execution," persisted Majone. 
 " What says Matteo of Taverna ^. You have 
 seen him since his return V 
 
 " He heard of my illness, and, as a kins- 
 man, hastened to inquire after me," replied 
 the primate. 
 
 A fit of spasmodic suffering here came 
 on — perhaps the show of it was rather en- 
 couraged by the archbishop in order to 
 break off a conversation that might impli- 
 cate his relat,ive. It effectually prevented 
 the contimif ■ don of the dialogue. Majone 
 proposedir ; the Bishop of Syracuse to ad- 
 minister l?s boasted potion while the in- 
 valid was rin this almost senseless state ; 
 but to this the other strenuously objected. 
 Foiled and angry, the High Admiral at 
 length withdrew. 
 
 The chamberlain, Roberto, meanwhile, 
 had been on the point of sending messen- 
 gers to the Baron of Taverna, and other 
 friends of his patron, when the young lord 
 rode up to the gate of the archbishop's 
 palace.
 
 THE DARK AGES. 285 
 
 " For God's sake, my lord," cried the 
 chamberlain, " put an end to this. Majone 
 is with my lord, and trying to make him 
 swallow some fresh poisonous drug. His 
 life is not sure for an hour." 
 
 Taverna half drew his sword from the 
 scabbard. " As well do it now, as later !" 
 he cried, and was pushing forward. 
 
 " Not in my lord's presence," said the 
 chamberlain; "besides he has his friends 
 and followers in the adjoining room. But 
 what better time could you -"vp than as 
 he returns home ^ You could ne upon 
 him in the shadows of the street 
 
 " Dost take me for a dastard murderer!" 
 exclaimed Taverna, angrily. 
 
 Another noble Sicilian here rode up to 
 our hero, and his conversation with the 
 servant of the archbishop was broken off. 
 But the new comer was not one likely to 
 tame down the excited feelings of the baron; 
 it was Guglielmo Count of Lesina — a man 
 of a stern and fierce temper, and one of the
 
 286 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 most violent enemies of the admiral. The 
 two rode aside together. 
 
 Half an hour later, Majone, preceded 
 and followed by a large body of friends and 
 of servants carrying torches, was making 
 his way towards the gate of Santa Agata, 
 on his return to his tower of Baych. With 
 many a laugh and witty jest at the good- 
 nature of the admiral, who had allowed 
 himself to be foiled of the object with which 
 he had visited the archbishop, and which 
 seemed to be pretty accurately surmised, 
 the escort came boisterously onwards. Sud- 
 denly, one hastened back and whispered to 
 the minister that the street was lined with 
 groups of men in the colours of the Baron 
 of Taverna and the Count of Lesina. Ma- 
 jone turned pale ; but after a few moments' 
 consideration, he said, " It is too late to re- 
 treat. We are a strong body, also. Go 
 and greet the Baron of Taverna on my part, 
 and bid him to come to me," he said to the 
 man who had brought the information.
 
 THE DARK AGES. 287 
 
 The message was repeated to our hero, 
 who stood beside the gateway with the 
 Count of Lesina. 
 
 "We are discovered, friend," cried, the 
 latter. " On him, at once !" 
 
 Both set spurs to their chargers, and Ta- 
 verna soon came in sight of the bulky 
 admiral. 
 
 " Here I am, traitor, villain, poisoner !" 
 he cried. " Here I am, thou monster of all 
 wickedness, thou dishonourer of thy king ! 
 Draw, and defend thyself!" 
 
 He struck at him furiously with his 
 sword ; but the admiral had also drawn. 
 He was a good swordsman, and he easily 
 parried the blow. A few more were inter- 
 changed. They were well matched ; but 
 the youth and skill of the younger man 
 prevailed ; and Giorgio Majone fell to the 
 earth — dead ; while, strange to say, the 
 whole company of his friends and followers 
 fled from his side without having raised an 
 arm in his defence.
 
 288 THE DARK AGES. 
 
 We must request the reader not to admit 
 any feeling of ill-will against our hero for 
 this act of " wild justice." Such were the 
 manners of those centuries to which some 
 look back with such fond regret. Our next 
 chapter will show in what light the deed 
 he had done was considered by the nobles 
 and the people of the kingdom. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 T. RICHARDS, 37, GREAT QUEEN STREET. 
 
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