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ate ec oe oeENGLISH CLASSIC SERIES—No. 141-142.

SCONT’S THE ’EALISMAN

(CONDENSED)

@Hith Biography, Lutrovuctiow and Notes
BY

Poe Rev. BE. Grupnrae

Assistant Master at Harrow School

NEW YORK
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PUBLISHERS’ NOTE.

This Selection from Scott’s Novels is intended for the
use of average boys and girls of from ten to twelve
years old. It is hoped that it will form a pleasant in-
troduction to Scott, and induce many to read his books
who would otherwise be deterred by their length and
the leisurely introductions.

It will be seen on examination that the story is con-

tinuous and entirely in the author’s own language, and

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SHORT LIFE. OF SIR WALTER SCOTT

ALTER SCOTT was born in Edinburgh on the 15th of
August, 1771. He was the ninth of twelve children, of
whom the first six died young. When Walter was only
eighteen months old he suffered from a fever, which left him
lame all his life. He was shortly afterward sent for change
of air to his grandfather’s house at Sandyknowe, where the
shepherd would often take him out and lay him down under
the rocks beside the sheep. Scott used to say in after-life, that
‘the habit of lying on the turf there among the sheep and the
lambs had given his mind a peculiar tenderness for these ani-
mals, which it had ever since retained.”

In childhood his hair was light chestnut, turning to brown.

in youth. His mouth was large and good-tempered, his eyes
light blue, his eyebrows bushy. In spite of his lameness, he
could climb rocks with the most daring, and he soon learned
toride. He was fond of declaiming poetry, but his progress at
school was not steady: he protested against the study of Greek.
Out of school he was known as a leader in two different ac-
complishments: he could tell his schoolfellows stories of won-
derful adventures, which always held their attention; or he
could lead them across the ‘‘kittle nine stanes”’ under the
castle to attack the boys of the town.

After leaving the High School, Edinburgh, Scott was sent to

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LIFE OF STIR WALTER SCOTT.

a school at Kelso, where he seems to have worked with more
interest.

Scott’s father was a lawyer. As soon therefore as Walter
left school he attended the law classes at the University, where
he was noted for his remarkable memory. In the second year
of his apprenticeship an illness compelled him to keep his bed
for many weeks, and he now began to study the great cam-
paigns of history, as well as to learn Italian. On his recovery,
he loved nothing better than scouring the country in search of
old battlefields or sieges; so that his father in anger said he
was better fitted for a peddler than a lawyer. It was on such
expeditions that Scott learned to know the speech and ways of
the peasantry, whom he describes so well in his books. Of
course, when it became known among the lawyers that Walter
Scott was always reading Border legends, or studying the
fights of old ; that he was tramping about the Highlands when
he should have been in his chambers, and that he actually
wrote verses, solicitors were not very anxious to employ his
services. In fact, the most he ever made in one year was £230.

In 1797 he married Miss Charpentier, the daughter of a
French royalist of Lyons, though his income was barely suffi-
cient to keep himself. His first venture at publication was a
verse translation of a German specter-ballad, which was no
great success; but he had long been collecting the songs of the
country-side in Liddesdale, and in 1802 he brought out the
Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, with notes, which showed
great antiquarian learning. He also wrote ballads of his own,
in imitation of the old. This was his first literary success.

He was living now in a cottage at Lasswade, on the Esk, six
miles from Edinburgh. Scott had made the dining-table with
his own hands, and was very proud of his various exploits inLIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. 5

carpentering. Here he used to sit up late, and work far into
the morning hours; but this gave rise to serious headaches,
which induced him to change his habits in this respect.

In 1804 Scott quitted Lasswade for Ashestiel, in Selkirkshire,
where he lived in a pretty house belonging to his cousin. Here
he began his life of sport. He would rise at five, and work
steadily till breakfast; by noon he had finished his day’s work,
and was ready to ride forth with dog and gun or fishing-tackle.
Salmon spearing by torchlight was a favorite amusement with
him. His dogs and his horses he treated as personal friends.
- On the death of his deerhound Camp, he refused an invitation
to dinner, giving as his reason ‘‘ the death of an old friend.”

In 1805 his poem the Lay of the Last Minstrel appeared, of
which 44,600 copies were sold before 1830. For this work Scott
received £769, a large sum in those days. But for Marmion
he received 1000 guineas in 1808.

In 1812 Scott obtained the Clerkship of Session, and thought
he might indulge himself in his passion for land. He bought a
mountain farm five miles lower down the Tweed, at Abbots-
ford, whither he transferred his family. He says, ‘‘ We had
twenty-five cartloads of the veriest trash in nature, besides
dogs, pigs, ponies, poultry, cows, calves, bare-headed wenches,
and bare-breeched boys.” For this farm Scott gave £4000;
but half of this sum he borrowed from his brother, and half he
raised on the security of a poem not yet written. Theruins of
Melrose Abbey could be seen from the grounds, which had, in
fact, once belonged to the abbot. Abbotsford was one of the
causes which helped to ruin Scott. He was not content with
his mountain farm; before long he had spent £29,000 in the
purchase of land alone. Another cause was his partnership
with the Ballantynes. James Ballantyne had been Scott's

    
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 

Crasure se se re gre sara rapc pert je fst

HHURM BAA deithdried6 UIP OF SiR WALTEr SCOTT,

friend at school, and this prompted Scott first to help and then
to join the Ballantynes in their publishing business at Edin-
burgh. In 1813 there were signs of something being wrong in
the publishing house ; all through that year and the next Scott
feared their bankruptcy.

But in 1814 he finished a Jacobite story— Waverley, which
had so enormous a sale that the crash was for a while averted.
In the next fourteen years Scott wrote twenty-three novels, be-
sides shorter tales. It is computed that in his hfetime he must
have earned £140,000 by his literary work. But all this was too
little.

In 1820 George IV. made Walter Scott a baronet, and from
this time Sir Walter launched out into greater extravagances.
He began to rebuild Abbotsford on a large scale, and his sons
became a great expense to him. He was forced to borrow on
the security of four unnamed and unwritten works of fiction.

On January, 1826, the crash came, and it involved him in a
debt of £117,000. About this time too his wife died, and he
himself felt the first touch of the paralysis which afterward
killed him. These were blows enough to daunt most men;
perhaps the blow to his pride was the heaviest. He says in his
diary: ‘‘ I felt rather sneaking as I came home from the Par-
liament House—felt as if I were liable monstrari digito in no
very pleasant way. But this must be borne cum ceteris ; and,
thank God, however uncomfortable, I do not feel despondent.”’

No; Scott came of a line of fighting ancestors, and he was
not one to sit down tamely under difficulties. This misfortune
was the touchstone of his character, and brought out all its
beauty and generosity. He might have declared himself bank-
rupt, and have risen again with debts partly paid off; but
‘‘for this,” he says, ‘‘in a court of honor I should deserve toALP OF SIR WALTER SGOLE.

lose my spurs. No; if they permit me I will be their vassal
for life, and dig in the mine of my imagination to find dia-
monds to maké good my engagements, not to enrich myself.”

He did not wait long before he began work. Two days after

the failure he calmly went on with the writing of Woodstock.
‘I have been rash in anticipating funds to buy land; but then
I made from £5000 to £10,000 a year, and land was my temp-
tation. I think nobody can lose a penny by me, that is one
comfort. My children are provided for: thank God for that!
I was to have gone home on Saturday to receive my friends.
My dogs will wait for me in vain. It is foolish, but the
thoughts of parting from these dumb creatures have moved me
more than any of the painful reflections I have put down.
Poor things! I must get them kind masters.” Again he
writes in a more cheerful strain: ‘I experience a sort of de-
termined pleasure in confronting the very worst aspect of this
sudden reverse ; in standing, as it were, in the breach that has
overthrown my future, and saying, ‘ Here I stand, at least an
honest man.’ ”

In the next six years he had placed £120,000, the proceeds
of his writings, at the disposal of his creditors ; but the strain
on his mind had been too great. In 1831 Sir Walter went
abroad, in the hope that change of scene might restore elastic-
ity to his jaded brain. But he was brought home almost in a
dying state, and passed away in the autumn of 1832 at his own
loved Abbotsford, one month after completing his sixtieth
year. About seven years before he had written in his diary:
‘‘ Square the odds and good-night, Sir Walter, about sixty. I
care not, if leave my name unstained and my family property
settled. Sat est viwisse.”

It is interesting to note in the lives of literary men how trueZiti OF STR WALTER SCOTT.

is the old saying, Poeta nascitur, non fit. We can trace the
genesis of many of the qualities which made Scott what he
was. In the first place, Sir Walter was no idle dreamer, trust-
ing to the inspiration of the moment. He had the patience
and laboriousness of an intiquary. He wrote with a rampart
of heavy books of reference lying around him on the floor of
his study. We cannot be far wrong in believing that he owed
his accurate and painstaking spirit of research to his father,
the plodding methodical Writer to the Signet. Again, Scott’s
mother was a well-educated woman, and had the talent of
vivid description. Of her Scott says: ‘‘She had a mind pecul-
larly well stored with much-acquired information and natural
talent ; and as she was very old, and had an excellent mem-
ory, she could draw, without the least exaggeration or affecta-
tion, the most striking pictures of the past age. If I have been
able to do anything in the way of painting the past times, it is
very much from the studies with which she presented me.”

It is observed that mental qualities pass most frequently
from mother to son, and from father to daughter. Sir Walter
Scott seems to have inherited the talent of both his parents.
But we can also trace in his grandfather the same speculative,
happy-go-lucky spirit which ruined Scott. For Robert Scott is
said to have once borrowed £30 from a shepherd, in order to
purchase some sheep. Accompanied by the shepherd he went
into Northumberland to look at a flock; but when the shep-
herd returned to the inn to recommend the sheep, he found
that his master had already invested the £30 in a hunter, which
he was then galloping to and fro. Hence it was that Sir Wal-
ter in the days of his fallen fortunes used to say: ‘‘Blood will
out. My building and planting was but his buying the hunter
before he had stocked his sheep-walk over again.”LIVE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. 9

Poeta nascitur ; that is to say, he inherits from parents and
ancestors the qualities which they have developed. If they
have not left him the gifts of insight and observation, of sen-
timent and happy expression, in vain will he attempt to pro-
duce the manufactured article—non Jit. But something, and
a good deal, must be attributed to the personal energy of the
heir of genius. Mental power, like a keen rapier, may be kept
bright and serviceable, or may be allowed to rust from disuse.
Scott’s long struggle against fate; his employment of that
capacity for taking trouble which some Say constitutes genius,
reads a salutary lesson to those who think that ‘clever people

need not work.” Rather is it true that clever people cannot
help working.SCOTT'S NOVELS

COTT’S historical novels took the reading world by storm,
Nothing had been done before with such life-like effect.
Now, for the first time, the actors were dressed for their
part in a garb that denoted the age in which they lived,
and they spoke a language something like their own. In
his Scotch characters Sir Walter is at his best. Here he
was painting from the life, and evidently enjoyed the
scenes and dialogues which he was describing. But even
here he always seems most happy in portraying low life.
His peasants, robbers, servants, lawyers’ clerks, are far
more entertaining than his ladies and gentlemen.

In Ivanhoe, of course, he could not give us realism in
conversation, because the priests in those days used Latin,
the nobles French, and the lower classes English. Con-
versations therefore between these mixed classes must have
been carried on with great difficulty. 3

It has been remarked that the characters in Ivanhoe are
not individual enough; that is, they are too much alike,
are not marked off from one another by little peculiarities
or eccentricities which distinguish his lowland Scots. His
strong knights have only their vigour and their passions to
mark them off from the rest. Robin Hood is too much of
a yentleman, too full of honour and generous feeling yetSCOTT’S NOVELS. xvii

Scott could depict a Donald Bean or a Rob Roy to the life
But, it may be said, Scott found Robin Hood a gentleman
in the ballads, and only developed the character as he
found it.

The character of Rebecca has been pronounced too gentle
and refined, considering her parents and bringing up. There
is certainly a strong contrast between her and old Isaac ;
but perhaps the fault lies rather in the portrayal of the
Jew, who is made too mean and cringing. For, as a fact,
the Jews in those days were inclined to be haughty and
ostentatious, feeling themselves specially safe under the
patronage and protection of the king. It was the king's
interest to preserve these rich capitalists much as wild
game is preserved in these days. They alone lived in
stone houses, they alone could afford luxurious living. Bat
when the king’s purse got low he used to “go a-hunting”
amongst these Jews and take from them what he wanted.

Perhaps the characters of Richard and the Friar are the
most attractive, and the descriptions of the siege and of
the tournament the most effective, though the shooting of
Locksley and the others is almost too accurate to win our
belief.

Ivanhoe may not be the best of Scott’s novels, but its
romantic blending of war and love, of k'~z, noble, and
outlaw, give it an interest to us when we are young which
a more accurate picture might not excite. We are always
glad when the mysterious figure of the Black Knight comes
apon the scene. Then we know that there will be some
thing to be done. Rea, non verba—that is our motto in the
days of our youth.

Scott has not given a very correct picture of the clergy
3

   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   

BOSH eta abtMeee or, ae

 

xviii SCOTT'S NOVELS.

and friara. Flere he reams to have made the mistake of

investing them with the vices of a later age, for the friars
were, shortly after the times of Richard, in the first fluso
of a new enthusiasm, busied in visiting the sick, preaching
in the open air, and calling men to repentance not only by
eloquent appeals but by that higher eloquence—the example
of a holy, unselfish life.

If we compare Scott’s historical novels with those of
Bulwer Lytton, or almost any other modern novelist, we
are struck by the modesty and self-restraint of Scott
There ig no straining after effect, no extravagance of word-
painting; all is said in the simple, matter-of-fact style of
one who is narrating fact and not-fiction. He sometimes
lets his zeal for antiquarian research run away with him.
He is a long time before he gets well into his story, so
much has he to explain; but when the magic wand is
waved, and the characters come trooping in, we forget the
tedious interruptions, and find ourselves introduced to real
flesh and blood ; for, as it has been 8ala, Scott never forgets
that even his kings and queens are men and women. They
do not despise “that poor creature, small beer.” But, after
all, as he himself tells us, “I am a bad hand at depicting
a hero, my rogue always, in despite of me, turns out m y
hero,”INTRODUCTION

HE TALISMAN is founded on the events of the Third

Crusade (1188-1192), in which the chief Christian
leaders were Richard [I of England and Philip IL of
France. But the incidents of the stery are mainly the
invention of Scott.

The Crusades have sometimes been treated as a signal
instance of human folly. It is true that for nearly two
centuries (1095-1291) they caused untold misery and blood-
shed ; nor did they permanently succeed in their first object,
which was to open Jerusalem to Christian pilgrims. But
they did a lasting service to Christendom in checking the
advance of the Turks ; and they brought out heroic qualities
in the warriors who undertook them.

The Talisman gives a vivid picture not only of the bitter
dissensions, but also of the heroism, the chivalry, and the
religious fervour of the Crusaders. It is, first and foremost,
an exciting romance. But, at the same time, and without an
effort, it helps us, more than any other book, to understand
the spirit of the Crusades.

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CHAPTER IL

T was almost noon when a Knight of the Red Cross, or
Crusader, was riding slowly along the sandy deserts near
the Dead Sea. Crossing himself as he viewed the dark mass
of rolling waters, the traveller shuddered as he remembered
that beneath these sluggish waves lay the once proud cities 5
of the plain. The heat was terrible, yet was the rider clad
in full armour, wearing a coat of linked mail with plated
gauntlets. Round his neck hung a triangular shield. Over
his steel armour he wore a surcoat of embroidered cloth,
which bore in several places the arms of the owner, a 10
couchant leopard with the motto “I sleep—wake me not.”
The horse was also heavily armed, and in addition to falchion
and lance a steel axe or hammer, called a mace-of-arms, hung
to the plated saddle-bow.

The knight was young and strongly knit. He rode alone 15
because the small train of followers which he had brought
from his northern home had diminished to one squire, who
lay at present on a sick-bed. He was advancing towards a
cluster of palm trees, when he fancied he saw some object
moving amongst them. ‘The distant form separated itself 20
from the trees, and he soon made out a turbaned horseman
galloping to meet him. “In the desert,” saith an Eastern
proverb, “ No man meets a friend !”

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The Saracen came on at the speedy gallop of an Arab
25 horseman, managing his, steed more by his limbs, and the
inflection of his body, than by any use of the reins, which
hung loosely in his left hand. His own long spear was not
couched or levelled like that of his antagonist, but grasped
by the middle with his right hand, and brandished at arm’s
30 length above his head. As the cavalier approached his
enemy at full career, he seemed to expect that the Knight of
the Leopard should put his horse to the gallop to encounter
him. But the Christian knight, well acquainted with the
customs of Eastern warriors, did not mean to exhaust his
85 good horse by any unnecessary exertion; and, on the contrary,
made a dead halt, confident that if the enemy advanced to
the actual shock, his own weight, and that of his powerful
charger, would give him sufficient advantage without the
additional momentum of rapid motion. Equally sensible and
40 apprehensive of such a probable result, the Saracen cavalier,
when he had approached towards the Christian within twice —
the length of his lance, wheeled his steed to the left with
inimitable dexterity, and rode twice round his antagonist,
who, turning without quitting his ground, and presenting his
45 front constantly to his enemy, frustrated his attempts to
attack him on an unguarded point, so that the Saracen,
wheeling his horse, was fain to retreat to the distance of a
hundred yards. A second time, like a hawk attacking a heron,
the Heathen renewed the charge, and a second time was fain
60 to retreat without coming to a close struggle. A third time
he approached in the same manner, when the Christian knight,
desirous to terminate this elusory warfare, in which he might
at length have been worn out by the activity of his foeman,
suddenly seized the mace which hung at his saddlebow, and,
65 with a strong hand and unerring aim, hurled it against the
head of the Emir, for such and not less his enemy appeared.
The Saracen was just aware of the formidable missile in timeTHE TALISMAN. II

30 interpose his hight buckler betwixt the mace and his head;
but the violence of the blow forced the buckler down on his
turban, and though that defence also contributed to deaden
its violence, the Saracen was beaten from his horse. Ere the
Christian could avail himself of this mishap, his nimble foe-
man sprung froio the ground, and calling on his horse, which
instantly returned to his side, he leaped into his seat without
touching the stirrup, and regained ali the advantage of which
the Knight of the Leopard hoped to deprive him. But the
latter had in the meanwhile recovered his mace, and the
Eastern cavalier, planting his long spear in the sand at a
distance from the scene of combat, strung with great address
a short bow, which he carried at his back, and putting his
horse to the gallop, once more described two or three circles
of a wider extent than formerly, in the course of which he
discharged six arrows at the Christian with such unerring
skill, that the goodness of his harness alone saved him from
being wounded in as many places. The seventh shaft
apparently found a less perfect part of the armour, and the
Christian dropped heavily from his horse. But what was the
surprise of the Saracen, when, dismounting to examine the
rondition of his prostrate enemy, he found himself suddenly
within the grasp of the European, who had had recourse to
this artifice to bring his enemy within his reach! Even in
this deadly grapple the Saracen was saved by his agility and
presence of mind. He unloosed the sword-belt, in which the
Knight of the Leopard had fixed his hold, and, thus eluding
his fatal grasp, mounted his horse, which seemed to watch his
motions with the intelligence of a human being, and again
rode off. But in the last encounter the Saracen had lost his
sword and his quiver of arrows, both of which were attached
to the girdle, which he was obliged to abandon. He had also
lost his turban in the struggle. These disadvantages seemed
to incline the Moslem to a truce. He approached the

 

   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  

78

90aaiaoanaess in

THE TALISMAN.

Christian with his right hand extended, but no longer in a
menacing attitude.

‘There is a truce betwixt our nations,” he said, in the

95 lingua franca commonly used for the purpose of commurica-
tion with the Crusaders; “‘ wherefore should there be war
betwixt thee and me? Let there be peace betwixt us.”

“T am well contented,” answered he of the Couchant
Leopard ; ‘“‘ but what security dost thou offer that thou wilt

100 observe the truce 4”

“The word of a follower of the Prophet was never broken,”
answered the Emir. ‘lt is thou, brave Nazarene, from whom
I should demand security, did I not know that treason seldom
dwells with courage.”

105 The Crusader felt that the confidence of the Moslem made
him ashamed of his own doubts.

‘By the cross of my sword,” he said, laying his hand on
the weapon as he spoke, “‘I will be true companion to thee,
Saracen, while our fortune wills that we remain in company

110 together.”

‘“‘By Mahommed, Prophet of God, and by Allah, God of
the Prophet,” replied his late foeman, ‘“‘there is not treachery
in my heart towards thee. And now wend we to yonder
fountain, for the hour of rest is at hand, and the stream had

115 hardly touched my lip when I was called to battle by thy
approach,” ?

The Knight of the Couchant Leopard yielded a ready and
courteous assent, and the late foes, without an angry look or
gesture of doubt, rode side by side to the little cluster of palm

120 trees.CHAPTER IL

T was under the influence of those milder feelings, which
soften the horrors of warfare, that the Christian and
Saracen now rode towards the fountain. Each was rapt
for some time in his own reflections, taking breath after the
late encounter, and their good horses seemed no less to enjoy 5
the interval of repose. But soon the Christian jumped
from his saddle to relieve his heavily burdened horse.

“You are right,” said the Saracen, “your strong horse
deserves your care: but what do you in the desert with
an animal which sinks over the fetlock at every step, 10
as if he would plant each foot deep as the root of a
date tree?” |

“Thou speakest rightly, Saracen,” said the Christian
knight, ‘rightly according to thy knowledge and observa-
tion. But my good horse hath ere now borne me, in mine 15
own land, over as wide a lake as thou seest yonder spread
out behind us, yet not wet one hair above his hoof.”

The Saracen looked at him with a disdainful smile, which
hardly curled perceptibly the broad thick moustache which
enveloped his upper lip.

_“Tt is justly spoken,” he said, instantly composing himself
to his usual serene gravity, “list to a Frank, and hear a
fable.”

“Thou art not courteous, misbeliever,” replied the
Crusader, “to doubt the word of a dubbed knight. 25
Thinkest thou I tell thee an untruth when I say that 1 have

20

o
“es
=
ar
oe)
ae
pe 4
Be

GPOOGIUPCPETE epee ones rg Ee gt14 THE TALISMAN.

ridden for miles upon water as solid as crystal and ten times
less brittle t”
“Yonder inland sea,” replied the Moslem, “suffereth
80 nothing to sink in its waves, but wafts them away; yet
neither the Dead Sea nor any of the seven oceans which
environ the earth will endure on their surface the pressure
of a horse’s foot.”

‘* You speak after your knowledge, Saracen, and yet, trust

35 me, I fable not. In my land cold often converts the water
itself into a substance as hard as rock. Let us speak of this
no longer, for the thoughts of the calm, clear, blue
refuleence of a winter's lake aggravate the horrors of
this fiery desert, where the very air which we breathe is

40 like the vapour of a fiery furnace seven times heated.”

They had now arrived at the knot of palm trees and the
fountain, which welled out from beneath their shade.

The champions formed a striking contrast to each other in
person and features, and might have formed no inaccurate

45 representatives of their different nations. The Frank
seemed a powerful man, with light brown hair, which,
on the removal of his helmet, was seen to curl thick and
profusely over his head. His age could not exceed thirty,
but if the effects of toil and climate were allowed for, might

50 be three or four years under that period. His form was tall,
powerful, and athletic, like that of a man whose strength
might in later life become unwieldy, but which was hitherto
united with lightness and activity. A military hardihood,
and careless frankness of expression, characterised his

55 language and his motions; and his voice had the tone of
one more accustomed to command than to obey.

The Saracen Emir formed a marked and striking contrast
with the western Crusader. His stature was indeed above
the middle size, but he was at least three inches shoiter than

60 the European, whose size approached the gigantic. But onTHE TALISMAN. 15

looking more closely his limbs, where exposed to view,
seemed divested of all that was fleshy or cumbersome; so
that nothing was left but bone, brawn, and sinew. The
person and proportions of the Saracen, in short, stretched on
the turf near to his powerful antagonist, might have been 65
compared to his sheeny and crescent-formed sabre, with its
narrow and light, but bright and keen Damascus blade,
contrasted with the long and ponderous Gothic war-sword
which was flung unbuckled on the same sod.

After their repast they rode on across the sandy desert: 70
at length the Saracen asked the name of his companion.

“Kenneth of the Couchant Leopard. And thine?”

“ Sheerkohf, the Lion of the Mountain, of the noble family.
of Seljook.”

“T have heard,” answered the Christian, “that your great 75
Soldan claims his blood from the same source.”

“Thanks to the Prophet, that hath so far honoured our
mountains, as to send from their bosom him whose word is
victory,” answered the Paynim. “I am but as a worm
before the king of Egypt and Syria, and yet in my own land 80
something my name may avail. Stranger, with how many
men didst thou come on this warfare?”

“By my faith,” said Sir Kenneth, “with aid of friends
and kinsmen, I was hardly pinched to furnish forth ten
well-appointed lances, with maybe some fifty more men 85
archers and varlets included. Some have deserted my
unlucky pennon ; some have fallen in battle; several have
died of disease; and one trusty armour-bearer, for whose
lifs I am doing my pilgrimage, lies on the bed of sickness.”

“ Christian,” said Sheerkohf, ‘here I have five arrows in 90
my quiver, each feathered from the wing of an eagle. When
I send one of them to my tents, a thousand warriors mount
on horseback; when I send another, an equal force will
arise; for the five I can command five thousand men; and16 THE TALISMAN.

95 if I send my bow, ten thousand mounted riders will shake
the desert. And with thy fifty followers thou hast come to
invade a land in which I am one of the meanest!”

“Now, by the rood, Saracen,” retorted the western warrior,
‘thou shouldst know, ere thou vauntest thyself, that one

100 steel glove can crush a whole handful of hornets.”

“Ay, but it must first enclose them within its grasp,”
said the Saracen, with a smile which might have endangered
their new alliance, had he not changed the subject.

The light was now verging low, and the Saracen began to

1065 sing snatches of song, when a strange figure was seen
skipping over rock and bush with surprising agility. At
length the figure, which was that of a tall man clothed in
goat-skins, sprung into the midst of the path, and seized a
rein of the Saracen’s bridle in either hand, confronting thus

110 and bearing back the noble horse, which, unable to endure
the manner in which this sudden assailant pressed the long-
armed bit, reared upright, and finally fell backwards on his
master, who, however, avoided the peril of the fall by lightly
throwing himself to one side.

115 The assailant then shifted his grasp from the bridle of the
horse to the throat of the rider, flung himself above the
struggling Saracen, and, despite of his youth and activity,
kept him undermost, wreathing his long arms above those of
his prisoner, who called out angrily, and yet, half laughing

120 at the same time, ‘‘ Hamako—fool—unloose me; this passes
thy privilege. Unloose me, or I will use my dagger.”

“Thy dagger! infidel dog!” said the figure in the goat-
skins. ‘Hold it in thy gripe if thou canst!” and in an
instant he wrenched the Saracen’s weapon out of its owner’s

125 hand.

‘Help, Nazarene!” cried Sheerkohf, now seriously
alarmed. ‘“ Help, or the Hamako will slay me!”

The Christian knight had hitherto looked on as oneTHE TALISMAN. 17

stupefied, so strangely had this rencontre contradicted, in its
progress and event, all that he had previously conjectured. 130
He felt, however, at length, that it touched his honour to
interfere in behalf of his discomfited companion, and there-
fore addressed himself to the victorious figure in the goat-
skins ;

‘’ Whosoe’er thou art,” he said, “and whether of good or 135
of evil, know that I am sworn for the time to be true com-
panion to the Saracen whom thou holdest under thee;
therefore I pray thee to let him arise, else I will do battle
with thee in his behalf.”

“ And a proper quarrel it were,” answered the Hamako, 140
“ for a crusader to do battle in—for the sake of an unbaptized
dog to combat one of his own holy faith !”

Yet, while he spoke thus, he arose himself, and, suffering
the Saracen to arise also, returned him his cangiar, or
poniard. 145

‘Who is this strange creature?” asked Sir Kenneth.

“The anchorite whom thou art come hither to visit.”

“This,” said Sir Kenneth, looking at the athletic, yet
wasted, figure before him—“ this—thou mockest, Saracen—
this cannot be the venerable Theodorick !” 150

“ Ask himself, if thou wilt not believe me,” answered
Sheerkohf; and ere the words had left his mouth, the
hermit gave evidence in his own behalf.

“TI am Theodorick of Engaddi,” he said ; ‘I am the walker
of the desert; I am friend of the cross, and flail of all 155
infidels, heretics, and devil-worshippers. Avoid ye! avoid
ye! Down with Mahound, Termagaunt, and all their
adherents!” So saying, he pulled from under his shaggy
garment a sort of flail, or jointed club, bound with iron,
which he brandished round his head with singular dexterity. 160

“Thou see’st thy saint,” said the Saracen, laughing, for
the first time, at the unmitigated astonishment with which
B

     
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
     

Seve eesti bese

eiercre rs crescents

ratte ce SeDrESURn Tene oe tate setad

perboviststst rye ise cist seprerey gicae ree reuntenete secocstres ec heensas ang18 THE TALISMAN.

Sir Kenneth looked on the wild gestures, and heard the
wayward muttering of Theodorick, who, after swinging his

165 flail in every direction, apparently quite reckless whether it
encountered the head of either of his companions, finally
shewed his own strength, and the soundness of the weapon,
by striking into fragments a large stone which lay near
him.

170 ©. This is a madman,” said Sir Kenneth.

‘“‘Not the worse saint,” returned the Moslem, speaking
according to the well-known Eastern belief, that madmen
are under the influence of immediate inspiration.

The two horsemen now followed their mad guide, and

175 were led by him to a large cavern, There they supped and
went to sleep.CHAPTER IIL

ENNETH was uncertain how long he had slept when
he was roused by a sense of oppression on his chest.
He was about to demand who was there, when, opening his
eyes, he beheld the figure of the anchorite, wild and savage-
looking as we have described him, standing by his bedside, 5
and pressing his right hand upon his breast, while he held a
small silver lamp in the other. “ Be silent,” said the hermit,
as the prostrate knight looked up in surprise. ‘‘I have that
to say to you which yonder infidel must not hear. You
bring me a greeting from Richard of England?” 1¢

“T come from the Council of Christian princes,” said the
knight; “but the king of England being indisposed, I am
not honoured with His Majesty’s commands.”

‘Your token?” demanded the recluse.

Sir Kenneth hesitated. ‘My pass-word,” at length he 15
said, ‘“‘is this: Kings begged of a beggar.”

‘““Tt is right,” said the hermit while he paused. “I know
you well, but the sentinel upon his post—and mine is an
important one—challenges friend as well as foe.”

He then moved forward with the lamp, leading the way 20
into the chapel, where he left the Scotch knight alone.

Kenneth had not waited long ere a silken curtain was
pulled aside, and a fragment of the true cross presented to
his view, at the same time a choir of female voices sang the
Gloria Patri. Then came a procession of choristers, scatter- 25
ing flowers and swinging censers, followed by maidens and
nuns. They moved in procession around the chapel without

erercrern cpescenre cers ral he

 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   

tbbirhhiisiiaainslis

Patan gestae ge ot Pura ys eleth ti tee
iybeiabsbglalglaltteledeleietebeleded-drii-

pearresvee ttre rsor20 THE TALISMAN.

appearing to take the slightest notice of Kenneth, although
passing so near him that they almost touched him. But as
80 a second time they passed the spot on which he kneeled, one
of the white-stoled maidens, as she glided by him, dropped
a rose-bud, perhaps unconsciously, at the feet of Sir Kenneth.
The knight started as if a dart had suddenly struck his
person; and as the procession for the third time passed round
85 the chapel, his thoughts and eyes followed exclusively the one
among the novices who had dropped the rose-bud. As she
passed for the third time the kneeling crusader, a part of a
little and well-proportioned hand stole through the folds of
the gauze, and again a rose-bud lay at the feet of the Knight
40 of the Leopard.

This second intimation could not be’ accidental, the hand,
too, resembled one which his lps had once touched. Had
further proof been wanting, there was the glimmer of that
matchless ruby ring on that snow-white finger, and, veiled as

45 she was, he might see by chance, or by favour, a stray curl
of the dark tresses, each hair of which was dearer to him a
hundred times than a chain of massive gold. It was the
lady of his love! the Lady Edith Plantagenet, cousin of the
English king. But that she should be here, in the savage

50 and sequestered desert, seemed too incredible. While these
thoughts passed through the mind of Kenueth, the pro-
cession, the young sacristans, the sable nuns, vanished
through the open door. The last chorister had no sooner
crossed the threshold than the door shut with a loud sound,

55 and at the same instant the lights of the chapel were ex-
tinguished and Sir Kenneth remained in total darkness.

To the knight of chivalry the motions of the lady of his
love were those of a superior being, who was to rejoice him
by her appearance or depress him by her absence, animate

60 him by her kindness, or drive him to despair by her cruelty,

all at her own free willTHE TALISMAN. 21

Such were the rules of chivalry and of the love which
vas its ruling principle.

But Sir Kenneth’s attachment was rendered romantic
by other and still more peculiar circumstances. He had 65
never even heard the sound of his lady’s voice, though he
had often beheld her beauty with rapture. She moved in a
a circle which his rank of knighthood permitted him indeed
to approach, but not to mingle with, and highly as he stood
distinguished for warlike skill and enterprise, still the poor
Scottish soldier was compelled to worship his divinity at a
distance, almost as great as divides the Persian from the sun
which he adores. But when was the pride of woman too
lofty to overlook the passionate devotion of a lover, however
inferior in degree ? 75

For wellnigh two hours after the disappearance of his
lady Kenneth remained in the chapel. At length he went
in search of the hermit, whom he found crouched humbly at
the door.

“ All is over,” said the hermit, as he heard the knight 80
approaching, “and the most wretched of earthly sinners,
with him who should think himself most honoured, and most
happy among the race of humanity, must retire from this
place. Take the light and guide me down the descent, for I
may not uncover my eyes until I am far from this hallowed 85
spot. 93

The Scottish knight obeyed in silence, until at length they
found themselves in the outward cell of the hermit’s cavern.

‘The condemned criminal is restored to his dungeon,
reprieved from one miserable day to another, until his awful 90
judge shall at length appoint the well-deserved sentence to
be carried into execution.”

As the hermit spoke these words he laid aside the veil
with which his eyes had been bound, and looked at it with
a suppressed and hollow sigh,

“I
a3)

    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    

Mepeneie ernst abate

pepe res pee euvoustressetr irre seats22 THE TALISMAN.

100 Nosooner had he restored it to the crypt from which he
had caused the Scot to bring it, than he said hastily and
sternly to his companion, ‘‘ Begone, begone—to rest, to rest.
You may sleep—you can sleep. I neither can nor may.”

Respecting the profound agitation with which this was

105 spoken, the knight retired into the inner cell; but, casting
back his eye as he left the exterior grotto, he beheld the
anchorite stripping his shoulders with frantic haste of their
shaggy mantle, and ere he could shut the frail door which
separated the two compartments of the cavern, he heard the

110 clang of the scourge and the groans of the penitent under

his self-inflicted penance. A cold shudder came over the

knight as he reflected what could be the foulness of the sin,
what the depth of the remorse, which, apparently, such
severe penance could neither cleanse nor assuage.

He told his beads devoutly, and flung himself on his rude
couch, after a glance at the still sleeping Moslem; and,
wearied by the various scenes of the day and night, soon
slept as sound as infancy.

~
nt
eyeCHAPTER IV.

" was on the decline of a Syrian day that Richard lay on
his couch of sickness, loathing it as much in his mind as
his illness made it irksome to his body. His bright blue
eye, which at all times shone with uncommon keenness and
splendour, had its vivacity augmented by fever and mental 5
impatience, and glanced from among his curled and unshorn
locks of yellow hair, as fitfully and as vividly as the last
gleams of the sun shoot through the clouds of an approaching
thunder-storm, which still, however, are gilded by its beams.
His manly features shewed the progress of wasting illness, 10
and his beard, neglected and untrimmed, had overgrown
both lips and chin.

Beside his couch stood Thomas de Vaux, a giant in
stature, one of the chief champions of England on the
Scotch border. 15

‘“‘So thou hast no better news to bring me from without,
Sir Thomas?” said the king, after a long and perturbed
silence, spent in the feverish agitation which we have
endeavoured to describe. ‘All our knights turned women,
and our ladies become devotees, and neither a spark of 20
valour nor of gallantry to enlighten a camp which contains
the choicest of Europe’s chivalry. Ha!”

“The truce, my lord,” said De Vaux, with the same
patience with which he had twenty times repeated the
explanation—‘“the truce prevents us bearing ourselves as 25
men of action ; and, for the ladies, [ am no great reveller,
as is well known to your Majesty, and seldom exchange steel

Fe
ae is
¢
oH
=
=

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
   

ii peresevetatrests rir tgs,Pet pe tera t ee eee ee ee

     
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   

24 THE TALISMAN.

and buff for velvet and gold. But thus far I know, that
our choicest beauties are waiting upon the Queen’s Majesty
30 and the Princess, to a pilgrimage to the convent of Engaddi,
to accomplish their vows for your Highness’s deliverance
from this trouble.”
“And is it thus,” said Richard, with the impatience of
indisposition, “that royal matrons and maidens should risk
35 themselves, where the dogs who defile the land have as little
truth to man as they have faith towards God?”
“Nay, my lord,” said De Vaux; “they have Saladin’s
word for their safety.”
“True, true!” replied Richard, “and I did the heathen
40 Soldan injustice. I owe him reparation for it. Would God
L were but fit to offer it him upon my body between the
two hosts, Christendom and Heathenesse both looking on!”
As Richard spoke, he thrust his right arm out of bed,
naked to the shoulder, and painfully raising himself in
45 his couch, shook his clenched hand as if it grasped sword or
battle-axe, and was then brandished over the jewelled turban
of the Soldan. It was not without a gentle degree of
violence, which the king would scarce have endured from
another, that De Vaux, in his character of sick-nurse, com-
60 pelled his royal master to replace himself in the couch, and
covered his sinewy arm, neck, and shoulders with the care
which a mother bestows upon an impatient child.
“Thou art a rough nurse, though a willing one, De
Vaux,” said the king, laughing with a bitter expression.
55 “Methinks a coif would become thy lowering features as
well as a child’s biggin would beseem mine. We should be
a babe and nurse to frighten girls with.”
“We have frightened men in our time, my liege,” said
De Vaux; “and I trust may live to frighten them again.
60 What is a fever fit, that we should not endure it patiently,
in order to get rid of it easily 1”THE TALISMAN. 25

“Fever fit!” exclaimed Richard impetuously; “thou
mayest think, and justly, that it is a fever fit with me; but
what is it with all the other Christian princes—with Philip
of France, with that dull Austrian, with him of Montserrat, 65
with the Hospitallers, with the Templars—what is it with
all them? I will tell thee. It is a cold palsy, a canker
that has eaten into the heart of all that is noble, and
chivalrous, and virtuous among them, that has made them
false to the noblest vow ever knights were sworn to, has 70
made them indifferent to their fame, and forgetful of their
God !”

“For the love of heaven, my liege,” said De Vaux, “take
it less violently ; you will be heard without doors, where
such speeches are but too current already among the common 75
soidiery, and engender discord and contention in the Christian
host. Bethink you that your illness mars the mainspring of
their enterprise. A mangonel will work without screw and
lever better than the Christian host without King Richard.”

“Thou flatterest me, De Vaux,” said Richard. ‘This is 80
smoothly said to soothe a sick man; for why should Richard’s
illness or Richard’s death check the march of thirty thousand
men as brave as himself? Why do not the powers assemble,
and choose someone to whom they may entrust the guidance
of the host ?” 85

To this De Vaux replied that the royal leaders had held
counsel for such purpose; that they had named Philip, King
of France, the Archduke of Austria, the Grand Master of
the Templars, the Marquis of Montserrat, as likely leaders.
But Richard, irritable and jealous, had sneers for all. As 90
they talked a clash and clang was heard.

‘“‘ By heavens, the Turks are in the camp! I hear their
war-cry. Go, Thomas, and bring me word what strangers
are come hither.”

Sir Thomas went forth from the tent and met Sir Kenneth, 38

Passe

     
 
 
 
    
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 

re SG Rte ACA EEL yUSEEC SE Se RERG MEPL ILD ONT

heh luRnuUahishioneens |

   

26 THE TALISMAN.

whom, as being a Scot, he did not much love; but Kenneth
stopped him, and said, “I pray you, may I see the king 4
I bring with me a Moorish physician, who undertakes to
work a cure on King Richard.”

100 ‘A Moorish physician!” said De Vaux; “and who will
warrant that he brings not poisons instead of remedies?”

“ His own life, my lord—his head, which he offers as 2
guarantee.”

“T have known many a resolute ruffian,” said De Vaux,

105 “who valued his own life as little as it deserved, and would
troop to the gallows as merrily as if the hangman were his
partner in a dance.”

“But thus it is, my lord,” replied the Scot; “Saladin, to
whom none will deny the credit of a generous and valiant

110 enemy, hath sent this leech hither with an honourable
retinue and guard.”

‘¢Wonderful!” said De Vaux, as speaking to himself.
‘¢ And who will vouch for the honour of Saladin, in a case
when bad faith would rid him at once of his most powerful

115 adversary ?”

“T myself,” replied Sir Kenneth, “will be his guarantee,
with honour, life, and fortune.”

“Strange!” again ejaculated De Vaux; “the North
vouches for the South, the Scot for the Turk! May I

120 crave of you, Sir Knight, how you became concerned in
this affair?”

“T have been absent on a pilgrimage, in the course of
which,” replied Sir Kenneth, ‘I had a message to discharge
towards the holy hermit of Engaddi.”

125 ‘May I not be intrusted with it, Sir Kenneth, and with
the answer of the holy man?”

“Tt may not be, my lord,” answered the Scot.

“T am of the secret council of: England,” said the English-

man haughtily.THE TALISMAN. 27

*To which land I know no allegiance,” said Kenneth 13
“Though I have voluntarily followed in this war the
personal fortunes of England’s sovereign, I was despatched
by the General Council of the kings, princes, and supreme
leaders of the army of the Blessed Cross, and to them only
I render my errand.” 135

“Ha! say’st thou?” said the proud Baron de Vaux.
“But know, messenger of the kings and princes as thou
muy’st be, no leech shall approach the sick-bed of Richard
of England, without the consent of him of Gilsland; and
they will come on evil errand who dare to intrude them- 140
selves against it.”

On this Kenneth took a solemn oath that he desired
but the safety of Richard Coeur de Lion, that the leech
had already ministered remedies to his own squire, who was
suffering from the same fever as the king, and a refreshing 145
sleep had fallen on him in the last two hours.

Accordingly De Vaux went to see for himself if the
Scotch squire was really improved in health. But El Hakim,
the leech, begged them to return in the evening, as it might
be fatal to disturb the slumberer. As they quitted the 150
tent, Kenneth’s deerhound pressed after them, and thrust
his long, rough countenance into the hand of his master, as
if modestly soliciting some mark of his kindness. He had
no sooner received the notice he desired, in the shape of
a kind word and slight caress, than, eager to acknowledge 155
his gratitude and joy for his master’s return, he flew off
at full speed, galloping in full career and with outstretched
tail here and there, about and around, crossways and
end-long, through the decayed huts and the esplanade,
but never transgressing those limits which his sagacity 160
knew were protected by his master’s pennon. After
a few gambols of this kind, the dog, coming close
to his master, laid at once aside his frolicsome mood,

   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
  

pele Sene hott, aaa28 THE TALISMAN.

relapsed into his usual gravity, and slowness of gesture

165 and deportment, and looked as if he were ashamed that
anything should have moved him to depart so far out
of his sober self-control.

Poth knights looked on with pleasure; for Sir Kenneth
was justly proud of his noble hound; and the northern

170 English baron was, of course, an admirer of the chase, and
a judge of the animal’s merits.

“A right able dog,” he said. ‘TI think, fair sir, King
Richard hath not a hound which may match him, if he be
as stanch as he is swift.

175 ‘‘But let me pray you, speaking in all honour and kind-
ness, have you not heard the proclamation, that no one
under the rank of earl shall keep hunting dogs within
King Richard’s camp without the royal license, which, I
think, Sir Kenneth, hath not been issued to yout I speak

180 as Master of the Horse.”

‘And I answer as a free Scottish knight,” said Kenneth
sternly. ‘‘ For the present I follow the banner of England,
but I cannot remember that I have ever subjected myself to
the forest laws of that kingdom, nor have I such respect for

185 them as would incline me to do so. When the trumpet
sounds to arms, my foot is in the stirrup as soon as any;
when it clangs for the charge, my lance has not yet been the
last laid in the rest. But for my hours of liberty or of
idleness, King Richard has no title to bar my recreation.”

1909 ‘ Nevertheless,” said De Vaux, ‘it is a folly to disobey
the king’s ordinance, so, with your good leave, I, as having
authority in that matter, will send you a protection for my
friend here.”

“TI thank you,” said the Scot coldly ; “ but he knows my

195 allotted quarters, and within these I can protect him myself.
And yet,” he said, suddenly changing his manner, “this is

but a cold return for a well-meant kindnesa, I thank you,THE TALISMAN. 29

my lord, most heartily. The king’s grooms might find
Roswal at disadvantage, and do him some injury, which I
should not, perhaps, be slow in returning, and so ill might 200
come of it.”

“Well, Sir Kenneth, I must now bid you adieu, having
presently to return to the king’s pavilion. At vespers, I
will again, with your leave, visit your quarters, and speak
with this same infidel physician. I would in the meantime, 205
were it no offence, willingly send you what would somewhat
mend your cheer.”

‘“‘T thank you, sir,” said Sir Kenneth, “but it needs not;
Roswal hath already stocked my larder for two weeks, since
the sun of Palestine, if it brings diseases, serves also to dry 210
venison.”

The two warriors parted much better friends than they
had met; but ere they separated, Thomas De Vaux
informed himself at more length of the circumstances
attending the mission of the Eastern physician, and 215
received from the Scottish knight the credentials which
he had brought to King Richard on the part of Saladin.

    
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  

sreiascperameereisteniveseitse se veM erect aos, aan

RIRHRY HSUEH ERRATA ANUS She
ponaie) GICs ase se peMeccnere restaapo se pegCHAPTER V.

HEN the evening was come De Vaux, with the Arch.

bishop of Tyre, repaired to the poor hut where
Kenneth had his quarters. There they found the Moorish
physician, who bade them wait for the critical moment, and

5 behold in wonder the marvellous event. After turning to
Mecca, and saying his evening prayer, the Hakim drew a
sponge from a silver box, dipt in some aromatic distillation.
For the patient, when this was put to his nose, sneezed,
awoke, and sat up. ifis fever had left him, though he was
10 very thin and weak. .

Meanwhile Richard, growing impatient at the delay, had
sent for Kenneth.

“Thy name,” said the King, “is Kenneth of the Leopard.
From whom hadst thou degree of knighthood 9”

15 “TI took it from the sword of William the Lion, King of
Scotland,” replied the Scot.

“A weapon,” said the King, “well worthy to confer
honour, nor has it been laid on an undeserving shoulder.
We have seen thee bear thyself knightly and valiantly in

20 press of battle, when most need there was; and thou hadst
not been yet to learn that thy deserts were known to us, but
that thy presumption in other points has been such that thy
services can challenge no better reward than that of pardon
for thy transgression. What sayest thou, ha?”

25 Kenneth attempted to speak, but was unable to express

himself distinctly; the consciousness of his too ambitiousTHE TALISMAN. 31

love, and the keen falcon glance with which Cour de Lion
seemed to penetrate his inmost soul, combining to dis-
concert him.

“So please you, my lord,” he said at length, “your majesty 36
must be good to us poor gentlemen of Scotland in this matter.
We are far from home, scant of revenues, and cannot support
ourselves as your wealthy nobles, who have credit of the
Lombards. The Saracens shall feel our blows the harder that
we eat a piece of dried venison from time to time, with our 35
herbs and barley-cakes.”

“T wot well it is said abroad that we of the line of
Anjou resent offence against our forest laws as highly as we
would do treason against our crown. To brave and worthy
men, however, we could pardon either misdemeanour. But 40
enough of this. I desire to know of you, Sir Knight,
wherefore, and by whose authority, you took this recent
journey to the wilderness of the Dead Sea, and Engaddi ?”

“ By order,” replied the knight, ‘of the Council of Princes
of the Holy Crusade.” 45

“ And how dared any one to give such an order, when I—
not the least, surely, in the league—was unacquainted with
it?”

“Tt was not my part, please your highness,” said the Scot,
“to enquire into such particulars. I am a soldier of the 5¢
Cross—serving, doubtless, for the present, under your high-
ness’s banner, and proud of the permission to do so—but
still, one who hath taken on him the holy symbol for the
rights of Christianity, and the recovery of the Holy Sepulchre,
and bound, therefore, to obey, without question, the orders of 55
the princes and chiefs by whom the blessed enterprise 1s
directed.”

“Thou say’st well,” said King Richard; “and the blame
rests not with thee, but with those with whom, when it shall
please heaven to raise me from this accursed bed of pain aud 60iene sire ty. f

ere pee Le ae)

     
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
   

32 THE TALISMAN.

inactivity, I hope to reckon roundly. What was the purport
of thy message ?”

“My lord,” said the Scot, “I will speak the truth. Be
pleased, therefore, to know my charge was to propose,

65 through the medium of the hermit of Engaddi—a holy man,
respected and protected by Saladin himself y

“ A continuation of the truce, I doubt not,” said Richard,
hastily interrupting him.

“No, by Saint Andrew, my liege,” said the Scottisn

70 knight, “but the establishment of a lasting peace, and the
withdrawing our armies from Palestine.”

“Saint George !” said Richard in astonishment—“ Ill as I
have justly thought of them, I could not have dreamed
they would have humbled themselves to such dishonour.

75 Speak, Sir Kenneth, with what will did you carry such
@ message ?”

“With right good will, my lord,” said Kenneth; “because,
when we had lost our noble leader, under whose guidance
alone I hoped for victory, I saw none who could succeed him

80 likely to lead us to conquest, and I accounted it well in such
circumstances to avoid defeat.”

‘And on what conditions was this hopeful peace to be
contracted?” said King Richard, painfully suppressing the
passion with which his heart was almost bursting.

s5 “These were not entrusted to me, my lord,” answered the
Knight of the Couchant Leopard. ‘TI delivered them sealed
to the hermit.”

“T must know more from you than you have yet told me,
Saw you my royal consort when at Engaddi 1”

90 “To my knowledge—no, my lord,” replied Sir Kenneth,
with considerable perturbation; for he remembered the mid-
night procession in the chapel of the rocks.

“T ask you,” said the King, in a sterner voice, “ whether

6)

you were not in the chapel of the Carmelite nuns at Engaddi,THE TALISMAN. 33

 

and there saw Berengaria, Queen of England, and the ladies 95

of her court who went thither on pilgrimage ?”

“My lord,” said Sir Kenneth, “1 will speak the truth as
in the confessional. In a subterranean chapel to which the
anchorite conducted me, I beheld a choir of ladies do homage
to a relic of the highest sanctity, but as I saw not their faces,
nor heard their voices, unless in the hymns which they
chanted, I cannot tell whether the Queen of England was ot
the bevy.”

‘And was there no one of these ladies known to you ?”

Sir Kenneth stood silent.

“Task you,” said Richard, raising himself on his elbow,
‘as a knight and a gentleman, and I shall know by your
answer how you value either character—did you, or did you
not, know any lady amongst that band of worshippers?”

“My lord,” said Kenneth, not without much hesitation,
““T might guess.”

‘And I also might guess,” said the King, frowning sternly,
“but it is enough. Leopard as you are, Sir Knight, beware
tempting the lion’s paw. To fall in love with the moon

105

110

would be an act of folly. Enough, begone! Speed to De 115

‘Vaux, and send him hither with the Arabian physician,”CHAPTER VL

HEN Kenneth had quitted Richard’s tent Conrade of
Montserrat and the Grand Master of the Templars

came to dissuade Richard from committing his life to the
charge of an infidel. But De Vaux, just returned from the
5 squire’s bedside, declared he was satisfied that the leech could
cure his master, and thus they sought the fever-stricken King.

After the sage had filled a medicated cup with spring
water he was about to offer it, when Richard prevented him,
by saying, “ Hold an instant. Thou hast felt my pulse, let

10 me lay my finger on thine. I, too, as becomes a good knight,
know something of thine art.”

The Arabian yielded his hand without hesitation, and his
long slender dark fingers were, for an instant, enclosed, and
almost buried, in the large enfoldment of King Richard’s hana.

15 “His blood beats calm as an infant’s,” said the king, “so
throb not theirs who poison princes. De Vaux, whether we
live or die, dismiss this Hakim with honour and safety.
Commend us, friend, to the noble Saladin. Should I die,
it is without doubt of his faith; should I live, it will be to

20 thank him as a warrior would desire to be thanked ”

He then raised himself in bed, took the cup in his hand,
and, turning to the Marquis and the Grand Master, “ Mark
what I say, and let my royal brethren pledge me in Cyprus
wine, ‘To the immortal honour of the first crusader, who

95 shall strike lance or sword on the gate of Jerusalem ; and
to the shame and eternal infamy of whomsoever shall turn

back from the plough on which he had laid his hand !’”THE TALISMAN. 35

He drained the cup to the bottom, resigned it to the
Arabian, and sunk back, as if exhausted, upon the cushions
which were arranged to receive him. The physician then, 30
with silent but expressive signs, directed that all should
leave the tent excepting himself and De Vaux, whom no
remonstrance could induce to withdraw. ‘The apartment
was cleared accordingly.

The Marquis of Montserrat and the Grand Master of the 35
Templars remained standing together before Richard’s tent
discussing the hopes of the war.

“Tell me thy real reason,” said the Templar, ‘for pressing
upon the council that northern Englishman, or Scot, or
whatever you call yonder Knight of the Leopard, to carry 40
their proposals for a treaty ?”

“There was a policy in it,” replied the Italian, “his
character of native of Britain was sufficient to meet what
Saladin required, while his character of Scot, and certaim
other personal grudges which I wot of, rendered it most un- 45
likely that our envoy should on his return hold any com-
munication with the sick bed of Richard, to whom his
presence was ever unacceptable.”

“Oh, too fine spun policy,” said the Grand Master. “Trust
me that Italian spiders’ webs will never bind this unshorn 59
Sampson of the Isle; ’bis well if you can do it with new
cords, and those of the toughest. See you not that the
envoy whom you have selected so carefully, hath brought us,
in this physician, the means of restoring the lion-hearted,
bull-necked Englishman, to prosecute his crusading enter- 55
prise ; and so soon as he is able once more to rush on, which
of the princes dare hold back? They must follow him for
very shame, although they would march under the banner of
Satan as soon.” |

‘Be content,” said Conrade of Montserrat, “ere this 60
physician, if he work by anything short of miraculous36 THE TALISMAN

agency, can accomplish Richard’s cure, it may be possible to
put some open rupture betwixt the Frenchman, or at least
the Austrian and his allies of England, so that the breach

65 shall be irreconcilable ; and Richard may rise from his bed,
perhaps to command his own native troops, but never again,
by his sole energy, to wield the force of a whole crusade,”

“Thou art a willing archer,” said the Templer, “ but,
Conrade of Montserrat, thy bow is over slack to carry an

70 arrow to the mark.”

He then stopped short, cast a suspicious glance to see that
no one had overheard him, and taking Conrade by the hand,
pressed it eagerly as he looked the Italian in the face, and
repeated slowly, ‘‘ Richard arise from his bed, say’st thou

75 Conrade, he must never arise!”

The Marquis of Montserrat started. “What! spoke you
of Richard of England, of Coeur de Lion, the champion of
Christendom ”

His cheek turned pale, and his knees trembled as he spoke.

80 The Templar looked at him, with his iron visage contorted
into a smile of contempt.

“Know’st thou what thou look’st like, Sir Conrade, at
this moment? Not like the politic and valiant Marquis of
Montserrat, not like him who would direct the council of

éf princes, and determine the fate of empires, but like a novice
who stumbling upon a conjuration in his master’s book of
magic, has raised the devil when he least thought of
it, and now stands terrified at the spirit which appears
before him.”

90 “I grant you,” said Conrade, recovering himself, “ that,
unless some other sure road could be discovered, thou hast
hinted at that which leads most direct to our purpose. But,
blessed Mary! we shall become the curse of all Europe, the
malediction of everyone, from the Pope on his throne to the

95 very beggar at the church gate,THE TALISMAN. 37

“Tf thou takest it thus,” said the Grand Master, with the
same composure which had characterized him all through
this remarkable dialogue, “‘let us hold that there has nothing
passed between us; that we have spoken in our sleep, have
awakened, and the vision is gone.” 100

‘‘Tt can never depart,” answered Conrade.

‘‘ Visions of ducal crowns and kingly diadems are, indeed,
somewhat tenacious of their place in the imagination,” replied
the Grand Master.

‘ Well,” answered Conrade, “let me but first try to break 105
peace between Austria and England.”

They parted. Conrade remained standing still upon the spot,
debating with himself the devilish projects of the Templar.

“To-morrow,” he exclaimed at length, “I sit at the board
of the Archduke of Austria. We will see what can be done 11¢
to advance our purpose before prosecuting the dark suggestions
of the Templar.”

At the next day’s banquet he acted upon the thought.
The minstrel of the Archduke had just sung the following
lines in honour of his master: 115

“ Ask not Austria why, ’midst princes,
Still her banner rises highest.

Ask as well the strong-winged eagle
Why to heaven he soars the nighest.”

“The eagle,” said the interpreter, “is the cognisance of 120
our noble lord, the Archduke, of his royal grace, I would say;
aud the eagle flies the highest and nearest to the sun of all
the feathered creation.”

“The lion hath taken a spring above the eagle,” said Conrade-
carelessly. 125

The Archduke reddened, and fixed his eyes on the speaker,
while the sage answered, after a minute’s consideration,
“The Lord Marquis will pardon me; a lion cannot fly above
an eagle, because no lion hath got wings.”

  

    
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    

Dicretnee nese serene ta tennsrirtesese PEM err) t 00a: b.5,, a

inkdnishi

arabs ates rar)

eT irEa arate es
peta ete pe teeet res Creaaes38 THE TALISMAN.

130 Except the lion of Saint Mark,” responded the jester.
“That is the Venetian’s banner,” said the Duke; ‘but
assuredly that amphibious race, half nobles, half merchants,
will not dare to place their rank in comparison with ours?”
“ Nay, it was not of the Venetian lion that I spoke,” said

135 the Marquis of Montserrat, “ but of the three lons passant
of England. Formerly, it is said, they were leopards ; but
now they are become lions at all points, and must take
precedence of beast, fish, or fowl, or woe betide the gain-
stander.” 4

140 “Mean you seriously, my lord?” said the Austrian, now
considerably flushed with wine. ‘Think you that Richard
of England asserts any pre-eminence over the free sovereigns
who are his voluntary allies in this crusade?”

“T know not but from circumstances,” answered Conrade.

145 “ Yonder hangs his banner alone in the midst of our camp,
as if he were king and generalissimo of our whole Christian
army.”

“ And do you endure this so patiently, and speak of it so
coldly?” said the Archduke.

150 “Nay, my lord; it cannot concern the poor Marquis of
Montserrat, to contend against an injury patiently submitted
to by such potent princes as Philip of France and Leopold
of Austria. What dishonour you are pleased to submit to
cannot be a disgrace to me.”

155 Leopold closed his fist, and struck on the table with
violence.

“By heaven!” he cried; ‘“‘the camp and all Christendom
shall see that I know how to right myself, and whether I
yield ground one inch to the English bandog. Up, my

160 lieges and merry men, up, and follow me. We will, and
that without losing one instant, place the eagle of Austria
where she shall float as high as ever floated the cognisance

of king or emperor.”THE TALISMAN. 39

With that he started from his seat, and, amidst the
tumultuous cheering of his guests and followers, made for 165
the door of the pavilion, and seized his own banner, which
stood pitched before it.

“‘ Nay, my lord,” said Conrad, affecting to interfere. “It
will blemish your wisdom to make an affray in the camp at
this hour; and perhaps it is better to submit to the usurpation 170
of England a little longer than to ——”

‘“Not an hour, not a moment longer,” vociferated the
Duke ; and, with the banner in his hand, and followed by
his shouting guests and attendants, marched hastily to the
central mound from which the banner of England floated, 175
and laid his hand on the standard spear, as if to pluck it
from the ground.

‘“My master, my dear master,” said the jester, throwing
his arms about the Duke, “take heed; lions have teeth.”

“And eagles have claws,” said the Duke, not relinquishing 180
his hold on the banner-staff, yet hesitating to pull it from
the ground.

The sage here clashed his staff loudly, and Leopold, as if
by habit, turned his head towards his man of counsel.

“The eagle is king among the fowls of the air,” said the 185
sage, ‘‘as is the lion among the beasts of the field—each has
his dominion, separated as wide as England and Germany.
Do thou, noble eagle, no dishonour to the princely lion;
but let your banners remain floating in peace side by side.”

Leopold withdrew his hand from the banner-spear, and 190
looked round for Conrade of Montserrat, but he saw him
not; for the Marquis, so soon as he saw the mischief afoot,
had withdrawn himself from the crowd, taking care, in the
first place, to express before several neutral persons his
regret that the Archduke should have chosen the hours after 195
dinner to avenge any wrong of which he thought he had a
right to complain.

    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    

SEpea soe Ons Has yest tess PEDAL asee ee te ee AS

—
: oe
¢ ae

ae

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
   

CHAPTER VIL

EANTIME the critical hour had arrived, at which the
physician, according to the rules of his art, had pre-
dicted that his royal patient might be awakened with safety,
and the sponge had been applied for that purpose ; and the
5 leech had not made many observations ere he assured the
Baron of Gilsland that the fever had entirely left his
sovereign, and that such was the happy strength of his con-
stitution, it would not be even necessary, as in most cases, to
give a second dose of the powerful medicine, Richard
10 himself seemed to be of the same opinion, for, sitting up
and rubbing his eyes, he demanded of De Vaux what present
sum of money was in the royal coffers.
The baron could not exactly inform him of the amount.
“T sell not the wisdom with which Allah has endowed
15 me,” said the Arabian.

“Tt is reward enough for me that so great a king as the
Melech Ric should speak kindly of his servant. But now,
let me pray you again to compose yourself on your couch ;
for though I think there needs no farther repetition of the

20 divine draught, yet injury might ensue from any too early
exertion, ere your strength be entirely restored.”

“1 must obey thee, Hakim,” said the King. “But hark!
what mean these shouts, and that distant music in the
camp?”

25 Sir Conrade at that moment entered, saying, “‘ The Arch-
duke of Austria is engaged in a gambol I should not like to
share in, since he is pulling down the banner of EnglandTHE TALISMAN. 4t

from Saint George’s Mount in the centre of the camp yonder,
and displaying his own in its stead.”

“What say’st thou?” said the King, in a tone which 80
might have waked the dead.

“ Nay,” said the Marquis, ‘‘let it not chafe your Highness,
that a fool should act according to his folly ,

“Speak not to me,” said Richard, springing from his
couch, and casting on his clothes with a despatch which 35
seemed marvellous. ‘Speak not to me, Lord Marquis! De
Multon, I command thee speak not a word tome! He that
breathes but a syllable is no friend to Richard Plantagenet.
Hakim, be silent, I charge thee!”

All this while the King was hastily clothing himself, and, 40
with the last word, snatched his sword from the pillar of the
tent, and without any other weapon, or calling any attend-
ance, he rushed out of the tent. Conrade holding up his
hands, as if in astonishment, seemed willing to enter into
conversation with De Vaux, but Sir Thomas pushed rudely 45
past him, and calling to one of the royal grooms, said
hastily, ‘Fly to Lord Salisbury’s quarters, and let him get
his men together, and follow me instantly to Saint George’s
Mount. Tell him the King’s fever has left his blood, and
settled in his brain.” 50

The groom and his fellow-servants of the royal chamber
rushed hastily into the tents of the neighbouring nobility,
and quickly spread an alarm, as general as the cause seemed
vague, through the whole British forces. The English
soldiers, waked in alarm from that noonday rest which the 55
neat of the climate had taught them to enjoy as a luxury,
hastily asked each other the cause of the tumult, and, without
waiting an answer, supplied by the force of their own fancy,
the want of information. The King was soon at the foot of
St. George’s Mount. 60
“Who has dared,” he said, laying his hands upop the

 

SEPM ere asec bate

   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
 

bglglablgatieteleg-tefeledededtiiats42 LHE TALISMAN,

 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
    

Austrian standard, and speaking in a voice like the sound
which precedes an earthquake—“ who has dared to place
this paltry rag beside the banner of England?”

65 The Archduke wanted not personal courage, and it was
impossible he could hear this question without reply. Yet,
so much was he troubled and surprised by the unexpected
arrival of Richard, and affected by the general awe inspired
by his ardent and unyielding character, that the demand was

70 twice repeated, in a tone which seemed to challenge heaven
and earth, ere the Archduke replied with such firmness as
he could command, “It was I, Leopold of Austria.”

‘Then shall Leopold of Austria,” replied Richard, ‘ pre-
sently see the rate at which his banner and his pretensions

75 are held by Richard of England.”

So saying, he pulled up the standard-spear, splintered it to
pieces, threw the banner itself on the ground, and placed his
foot upon it.

“Thus,” said he, “I trample on the banner of Austria.

80 Is there a knight among your Teutonic chivalry dare
impeach my deed ?”

There was a momentary silence; but there are no braver
men than the Germans.

“7,” and “I,” and “I,” was heard from several knights of

85 the Duke’s followers; and he himself added his voice to
those which accepted the King of England’s defiance.

“Why do we dally thus?” said the Earl Wallenrode, a
gigantic warrior from the frontiers of Hungary: ‘‘ Brethren,
and noble gentlemen, this man’s foot is on the honour of

90 your country. Let us rescue it from violation, and down
with the pride of England !”

So saying, he drew his sword, and struck at the King a
blow which might have proved fatal, had not the Scot inter-
cepted and caught it upon his shield.

95 ‘I have sworn,” said King Richard—and his voice wasTHE TALISMAN. 43

heard above all the tumult, which now waxed wild and loud
—““never to strike one whose shoulder bears the cross;
therefore live, Wallenrode—but live to remember Richard
of England.”

As he spoke, he grasped the tall Hungarian round the 100
waist, and, unmatched in wrestling, as in other military
exercises, hurled him backwards with such violence that the
mass flew as if discharged from a military engine, not only
through the ring of spectators who witnessed the extra-
ordinary scene, but over the edge of the mount itself, down 105
the steep side of which Wallenrode rolled headlong, until,
pitching at length upon his shoulder, he dislocated the bone,
and lay like one dead. This almost supernatural display of
strength did not encourage either the Duke or any of his
followers, to renew a personal contest so inauspiciously 110
commenced, Fortunately Philip of France came up at this
crisis, and so smoothed matters by his tact and courtesy that
Richard and Leopold agreed to act together again as comrades
and friends.

“But I must not leave my banner here unguarded,” said 115
Richard to himself. Then addressing Kenneth, ‘Valiant Scot,

I owe thee a boon, and I will pay it richly. There stands
the banner of England. Watch it as a novice does his
armour on the night before he is dubbed. Sound thy bugle

if thou art assailed by more than three at once. Dost thou 120
undertake the charge?”

“ Willingly,” said Kenneth. “I will but arm me and
return hither instantly.”

The first hours of the knight’s watch passed in silence.

At length, and upon a sudden, the gallant staghound 125
bayed furiously, and seemed about to dash forward where
the shadow lay the darkest, yet waited, as if in the slips,
till he should know the pleasure of his master.

“Who goes there?” said Sir Kenneth, aware that there

  

    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 

TEC rune esc ee rt ot ao, ae

Sraeht

ePerti tes afar usasace re rar sc cpa

aibalglisetnidddebeledtspatseitsls"Ay THE TALISMAN.

130 was something creeping forward on the shadowy side of the
mount.

“Tn the name of Merlin and Maugis,” answered a hoarse,
disagreeable voice, ‘tie up your four-footed demon there, or
I come not at you.”

135 ‘And who art thou, that would approach my post?” said
Sir Kenneth, bending his eyes as keenly as he could on
some object which he could just observe at the bottom of
the ascent, without being able to distinguish its form.
“‘Beware! Iam here for death and life.”

140 “Take up thy long-fanged devil,” said the voice, “or I
will conjure him with a bolt from my arblast.”

At the same time was heard the sound of a spring or
check, as when a crossbow is bent.

“ Unbend thy arblast, and come into the moonlight,” said

145 the Scot, “‘or, by Saint Andrew, I will pin thee to the
earth, be what or whom thou wilt.”

“How, presumptuous knight?” replied a dwarfish figure
stepping forward. ‘“ Look thou here, and as thou knowest or
disownest this token, so obey or refuse her commands, who

150 hath deigned to impose them on thee.”

So saying, he placed in the knight’s hands a ruby ring,
which, even in the moonlight, he had no difficulty to
recognize as that which usually graced the finger of the
high-born lady to whose service he had devoted himself.

155 Could he have doubted the truth of the token, he would
have been convinced by the small knot of carnation-coloured
ribbon which was fastened to the ring. This was his lady’s
favourite colour; and more than once had he himself,
assuming it for that of his own liveries, caused the carnation

160 to triumph over all other hues in the lists and in the battle.

Sir Kenneth was struck nearly mute by seeing such a
token in such hands.

“In the name of all that is sacred, from whom didst

dTHE TALISMAN. 48

thou receive this witness?” said the knight. “ Bring, if
thou canst, thy wavering understanding to a right settle- 165
ment for a minute or two, and tell me the person by whom
thou art sent, and the real purpose of thy message ; and take
heed what thou say’st, for this is no subject for buffoonery.”

“Thy lady requires thy presence instantly,” said the dwarf,
“and without the loss of so much time as would be told by 170
ten grains of the sand-glass. Hearken, thou cold-blooded
and suspicious knight, these are her very words: ‘Tell him
that the hand which dropped roses can bestow laurels.’ ”

This allusion to their meeting in the chapel of Engaddi
sent a thousand recollections through Sir Kenneth’s brain, 178
and convinced him that the message delivered by the
dwarf was genuine. The rose-buds, withered as they were,
were still treasured under his cuirass, and nearest to his
heart. He paused, and could not resolve to forego an
opportunity—the only one which might ever offer—to gain 180
grace in her eyes, whom he had installed as sovereign of
his affections. The dwarf, in the meantime, augmented his
confusion by insisting either that he must return the ring or
instantly attend him.

“‘T can return in an instant,” said the knight, after long 185
hesitation, shutting his eyes desperately to all farther
consequences, “I can hear from thence the bay of my
dog, if any one approaches the standard—I will throw
myself at my lady’s feet, and pray her leave to return to
conclude my watch. Here, Roswal” (calling his hound, 190
and throwing down his mantle by the side of the standard-
spear), “‘ watch thou here, and let no one approach.”

The majestic dog looked in his master’s face, as if to be
sure that he understood his charge, then sat down beside
the mantle, with ears erect and head raised, like a sentinel, 195
understanding perfectly the purpose for which he was
stationed there.

  

    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
   
 
   
  
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
  
   

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bhbkiaihbbhlaaeddab hehe.

peteaacaPararerticry scrofa rarest erera scene

iver a eae eapotatc eras criptpe curt

eer eebe SRST IAL, SERPS HRS
Peres ese pees tencts re seartacs Eeagene art7
ao
se

; ae.

    
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   

CHAPTER VIIL

ENNETH hastened with the dwarf to Edith’s pavilion ;
but as he waited he overheard Queen Berengaria and
her maidens laughing because they had seduced the Knight
of the Leopard from his post. The Queen, unknown to

6 Edith, had sent the ring in order to gain a wager which she
had, that she could fetch the knight from his post of
honour.

Edith, now informed of the trick, bitterly upbraided the
Queen for her folly; then tearing down the curtain which

10 separated the women’s apartment from that where Kenneth
stood—* Hasten to your post,” she said. ‘‘You are deceived
in being trained hither. Ask no questions.”

“T need ask none,” said the knight, sinking upon one
knee with the reverential derotion of a saint at the altar,

15 and bending his eyes on the ground, lest his looks should
increase the lady’s embarrassment.

“ Have you heard all?” said Edith impatiently. “Gracious
saints, then wherefore wait you here, when each minute
that passes is loaded with dishonour !”

20 “I have heard that I am dishonoured, lady, and I have
heard it from you,” answered Kenneth. ‘“ What reck I
how soon punishment follows? I have but one petition to
you, and then I seek among the sabres of the infidels
whether dishonour may not be washed out with blood.”

25 ‘Do not so neither,” said the lady. ‘‘ Be wise—dally not
here—all may yet be well, if you will but use despatch.”

“JT wait but for your forgiveness,” said the knight, stillTHE TALISMAN. 47

kneeling, “for my presumption in believing my poor
services could have been required or valued by you.”

“T do forgive you. Oh, I have nothing to forgive! I 30
have been the means of injuring you. Butoh, begone! I
will forgive ; I will value you, that is, as I value every brave
Crusader, if you will but begone !”

‘Receive first this precious yet fatal pledge,” said the
knight, tendering the ring to Edith, who now shewed 35
gestures of impatience,

“Oh, no, no,” she said, declining to receive it. ‘Keep
it; keep it as a mark of my regard—my regret, I would say.
Oh, begone, if not for your own sake, for mine !”

Almost recompensed for the loss even of honour, which 40
her voice had denounced to him, by the interest which she
seemed to testify in his safety, Sir Kenneth rose from his
knee, and, casting a momentary glance on Edith, bowed low
and withdrew. When in the free air he felt rather stupefied
and overpowered by a conflict of sensations, than able to 45
ascertain what was the real import of the whole. He was
obliged to spur himself to action, by recollecting that the
commands of the Lady Edith had required haste. Even
then he was obliged to move slowly, and with precaution, to
avoid giving an alarm, either by falling or by the clashing 50
of his armour. A thin cloud had obscured the moon, too,
at the very instant of his leaving the tent, and Sir Kenneth
had to struggle with this inconvenience at a moment when
the dizziness of his head, and the fulness of his heart,
scarce left him powers of intelligence sufficient to direct his 55
motions.

But at once sounds came upon his ear, which instantly
recalled him to the full energy of his faculties. These
proceeded from the Mount of Saint George. He heard
first a single fierce, angry, and savage bark, which was 60
immediately followed by a yell of agony. No deer ever

   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   

bthrintsisiag oii tlalaeaadeinss ition

ore tiaras crap asain ct oe fare oo

east seneer arse sitet:48 ee

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 

  

WE ie

 

TALISMAN.

bounded with a wilder start at the voice of Roswal than did
Sir Kenneth at what he feared was the death-cry of that
noble hound, from whom no ordinary injury could have

65 extracted even the slightest acknowledgment of pain. He
surmounted the space which divided him from the avenue,
and, having attained it, began to run towards the mount,
although loaded with his mail, faster than most men could
have accompanied him even if unarmed, relaxed not his

70 pace for the steep sides of the artificial mound, and in a few
minutes stood on the platform upon its summit.

The moon broke through the cloud at this moment, and
shewed him that the standard of England was vanished, .
that the spear on which it floated lay broken on the ground,

75 and beside it was his faithful hound, apparently in the
agonies of death,

 

A ee eC erveyCHAPTER IX,

S Kenneth was moaning and lamenting over the

wounded hound, the Arabian sage, Adonbeck, ap-
proached and offered to tend his wound. In talking he
informed Kenneth that many of the Prince Crusaders
wished for peace, and that amongst the terms Saladin had 5
proposed to take as his wife Lady Edith of Plantagenet.
He urged Kenneth to flee to the Saracen camp from the
wrath of Richard, but Kenneth obstinately refused, and
took his way to Richard’s tent in sullen mood.

Tt was about the hour of sunrise when a slow, armed tread 10
was heard approaching the king’s pavilion; and ere De
Vaux, who slumbered beside his master’s bed as lightly as
ever sleep sat upon the eyes of a watch-dog, had time to do
more than arise and say, “‘ Who comes ?” the Knight of the
Leopard entered the tent, with a deep and devoted gloom 15
seated upon his manly features,

“ Whence this bold intrusion, Sir Knight?” said De Vaux
sternly, yet in a tone which respected his master’s slumbers,

“Hold! De Vaux,” said Richard, awakening on the
instant ; “Sir Kenneth cometh like a good soldier to render 26
an account of his guard; to such the general’s tent is ever
accessible.” Then rising from his slumbering posture, and
leaning on his elbow, he fixed his large bright eye upon the
warrior. “Speak, Sir Scot; thou comest to tell me of a
vigilant, safe, and honourable watch, dost thou not? The 25
rustling of the folds of the Banner of England were enough
to guard it, even without the body of such a knight as men
hold thee.”

Doo a
oS
Eo
=.
be
> age
ee
ae;

   

50 THE TALISMAN.

“ As men will hold me no more,” said Sir Kenneth; “my
watch neither hath been vigilant, safe, nor honourable. The

30 Banner of England has been carried off.”

“And thou alive to tell it?” said Richard, in a tone of
derisive incredulity. ‘Away, it cannot be. There is not
even a scratch on thy face. Why dost thou stand thus
mute? Speak the truth—it is ill jesting with a king—yet I

85 will forgive thee if thou hast lied.”

“Lied! Sir King!” returned the unfortunate knight, with
fierce emphasis, and one glance of fire from his eye, bright
and transient as the flash from the cold and stony flint.
“ But this also must be endured—I have spoken the truth.”

40 “By God, and by Saint George!” said the King, bursting
into fury, which, however, he instantly checked—‘ De
Vaux, go view the spot—This fever has disturbed his
brain—This cannot be—The man’s courage is proof—lt
cannot be! Go speedily—or send, if thou wilt not go.”

45 The King was interrupted by Sir Henry Neville, who
came, breathless, to say that the banner was gone, and the
knight who guarded it overpewered, and most probably
murdered, as there was a pool of blood where the banner-
spear lay shivered.

60 ‘But whom do I see here?” said Neville, his eyes suddenly
resting upon Sir Kenneth.

“A traitor,” said the King, starting to his feet, and seizing
the curtal-axe, which was ever near his bed—“‘a traitor!
whom thou shalt see die a traitor’s death.” And he drew

55 back the weapon as in act to strike.

Colourless, but firm as a marble statue, the Scot stood
before him with his bare head uncovered by any protection,
his eyes cast down to the earth, his lips scarcely moving, yet
muttering probably in prayer.

60 The King stood for an instant, prompt to strike—then

sinking the head of the weapon towards the ground, heTHE TALISMAN. SI

exclaimed, “ But there was blood, Neville—there was blood
upon the place. Hark thee, Sir Scot—brave thou wert once,
for I have seen thee fight—say thou hast slain two of the
thieves in defence of the standard—say but one—say thou 65
hast struck but a good blow in our behalf, and get thee out
of the camp with thy life and thy infamy!”

“You have called me liar, my lord King,” replied
Kenneth firmly; ‘‘and therein at least you have done me
wrong. Know that there was no blood shed in defence of 70
the standard save that of a poor hound, which, more faithful
than his master, defended the charge which he deserted.”

Kenneth was ordered to be kept in close custody. As
De Vaux left him he said solemnly to the unhappy
criminal—“‘It is King Richard’s pleasure that you die 75
undegraded—without mutilation of your body, or shame
to your arms—and that your head be severed from the
trunk by the sword of the executioner.”

“It is kind, said the knight, in a low and rather submissive
tone of voice, as one who received an unexpected favour ; 80
‘““my family will not then hear the worst of the tale, Oh,
my father—my father!”

This muttered invocation did not escape the blunt but
kindly-natured Englishman, and he brushed the back of his
large hand over his rough features ere he could proceed. 85

“Tt is Richard of England’s farther pleasure,” he said at
length, “that you have speech with a holy man, and I have
met on the passage hither with a Carmelite friar, who may fit
you for your passage. He waits without, until you are ina
habit of mind to receive him.” 90

‘‘Let it be instantly,” said the knight. “In this also
Richard is kind. I cannot be more fit to see the good father
at any time than now; for life and I have taken farewell, as
two travellers who have arrived at the crossway, where their
roads separate.”

    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

BSP SRPENCNE Ee TEa Sb)

ee tite
tatotesese!
Co eae eyed

Meventer eats yeat that sett seatsone orc fetes nie Pose pe pee se oe ae,CHAPTER X.

OTH Queen Berengaria and Edith Plantagenet now tried

to turn the King to clemency, but when he heard that

Kenneth had been in the Queen’s tent his anger blazed out

all the more fiercely; for he resented the impertinence of a
5 poor Scotch lord looking so high as to Edith Plantagenet.

Then came the Carmelite and begged for pardon, saying
that Kenneth had confessed a secret to him, which, if known
to Richard, would turn him utterly from his purpose. This
was no other than the hermit of Engaddi; but the King

10 still refused.

At length the Arabian physician came, asking as his
reward the life of Sir Kenneth. ‘Not that life—any other,”
said Richard.

“And is it thus the most renowned Prince of Frangistan

15 repays benefit done to his royal person?” said El Hakim,
exchanging the humble and stooping posture in which he had
hitherto solicited the King, for an attitude lofty and com-
manding. ‘‘Know then,” he said, ‘‘that through every
court of Europe and Asia—to Moslem and Nazarene—to

20 knight and lady—wherever harp is heard and sword worn—
wherever honour is loved and infamy detested—to every
quarter of the world will I denounce thee, Melech Rie, as
thankless and ungenerous , and even the lands—if there be
any such—that never heard of thy renown, shall yet be

25 acquainted with thy shame!”

“Are these terms to me, vile infidel!” said Richard,
striding up to him in fury. ‘Art weary of thy life?”THE TALISMAN, 53

“Strike!” said El Hakim; “thine own deed shall then
paint thee more worthless than could my words, though each
had an hornet’s sting.” 30

Richard turned fiercely from him, folded his arms, traversed
the tent as before, and then exclaimed, “Thankless and
ungenerous!—-as well be termed coward and _ infidel!
Hakim, thou hast chosen thy boon; and though I had
rather thou hadst asked my crown-jewels, yet I may not, 35
king-like, refuse thee. Take this Scot, therefore, to thy
keeping—the provost will deliver him to thee on this
warrant.”

He hastily traced one or two lines, and gave them to the
physician. ‘Use him as thy bond-slave, to be disposed of 40
as thou wilt—only, let him beware how he comes before the
eyes of Richard.”

When the Hakim had departed, the Archbishop of Tyre
entered Richard’s tent to inform him of the general desire
for peace, and to ask his sanction for the Lady Edith to be 45
given to the Soldan.

‘“‘Hath the Sultan shown any disposition to become
Christian?” said Richard. ‘If so, the king lives not on
earth to whom I would grant the hand of a kinswoman
sooner than to my noble Salacir.” > * 50

The Archbishop then invited’ Richard to attend a council
of the princes, when he nobly asked forgiveness, if he had
by impulsive temper offended any.

The Archduke alone stood sullen and discontented; but the
Patriarch of Jerusalem hastened to bear witness that Leopold 55
had sworn by a solemn oath that he knew nought of the
hurt done to the banner of England.

Then Coeur de Lion made a generous speech to the princes,
offering to yield up the command, and ending with these
words: ‘Or, if ye are yourselves a-weary of this war, and 60
feel your armour chafe your tender bodies, leave but with

    
  
 
 
 
  
  
   
   
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
   

PTA Sese PENNE Ponsa tt css.64 THE TALISMAN.

Richard some ten or fifteen thousand of your soldiers to
work out the accomplishment of your vow; and when Zion
is won,” he exclaimed, waving his hand aloft, as if display-
65 ing the standard of the Cross over J erusalem—“ when Zion
is won, we will write upon her gates, NoT the name of
Richard Plantagenet, but of those generous princes who
intrusted him with the means of conquest !”
The rough eloquence and determined expression of the
70 military monarch, at once roused the drooping spirits of the
Crusaders, re-animated their devotion, and, fixing their
attention on the principal object of the expedition, made
most of them who were present blush for having been moved
by such petty subjects of complaint as had before engrossed
75 them. Eye caught fire from eye, voice lent courage to voice.
They resumed, as with one accord, the war-cry with which
the sermon of Peter the Hermit was echoed back, and
shouted aloud, “Lead us on, gallant Lion’s-heart—none so
worthy to lead where brave men follow. Lead us on—to
80 Jerusalem—to Jerusalem! It is the will of God—it is the
will of God! Blessed is he who shall lend an arm to its
fulfilment !”
The shout, so suddenly and generally raised, was heard
beyond the ring of sentinels ‘who guarded the pavilion of
35 Council, and spread arhiong the soldiers of the host, who,
inactive and dispirited by disease and climate, had begun, like
their leaders, to droop in resolution; but the reappearance
of Richard in renewed vigour, and the well-known shout
which echoed from the assembly of the princes, at once
90 rekindled their enthusiasm, and thousands and tens of
thousands answered with the same shout of ‘“ Zion, Zion 1
War, war !—instant battle with the infidels ! It is the will
of God—it is the will of God!”
It was the fourth day after Sir Kenneth had been dismissed
95 from the camp; and King Richard sat in his pavilion, listen-THE TALISMAN. 55

ing to the busy hum among the soldiery, the clatter from the
forges, where horse-shoes were preparing, and from the tents
of the armourers, who were repairing harness—the voice of
the soldiers too, as they passed and repassed, was loud and
cheerful, carrying with its very tone an assurance of high 100
and excited courage, and an omen of approaching victory.
While Richard’s ear drank in these sounds with delight, and
while he yielded himself to the visions of conquest and of
glory which they suggested, a groom told him that a
messenger from Saladin waited without. 105

“Admit him instantly,” said the King, “and with due
honour, Josceline.”

The English knight accordingly introduced a person,
apparently of no higher rank than a Nubian slave, whose
appearance was neveitheless highly interesting. He was of 110
superb stature and nobly formed, and his commanding
features, although almost jet-black, shewed nothing of negro
descent. He wore over his coal-black locks a milk-white
turban, and over his shoulders a short mantle of the same
colour, open in front and at the sleeves, under which
appeared a doublet of dressed leopard’s skin reaching within
a handbreadth of the knee, The rest of his muscular
limbs, both legs and arms, were bare, excepting that he had
sandals on his feet, and wore a collar and bracelets of silver.
A straight broadsword, with a handle of boxwood, and a 12¢
sheath covered with snake-skin, was suspended from his
waist. In his right hand he held a short javelin, with a
broad, bright steel head, of a span in length, and in his left
he led, by a leash of twisted silk and gold, a large and noble
stag-hound. 125

The messenger prostrated himself, at the same time partially
uncovering his shoulders, in sign of humiliation, and having
touched the earth with his forehead, arose as far as to rest
on one knee, while he delivered to the King a silken napkin,

ps
—
qn

  

PERN PE HORT cocSPIT eee rene y ewes teat re

   
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  

THE TALISMAN.

130 enclosing another of cloth of gold, within which was a letter
from Saladin, requesting the King of England to accept a
Nubian slave, wise to keep counsel, for the lord of speech
hath been stricken with silence betwixt the ivory walls of
his palace.

335 Richard surveyed the Nubian in sile..ce as he stood before
him, his looks bent upon the ground, his arms folded on his
bosom, with the appearance of a black marble statue of the
most exquisite workmanship, waiting life from the touch of
a Prometheus. The King of England, who, as it was

140 emphatically said of his successor Henry the Eighth, loved
to look upon a MAN, was well pleased with the thewes,
sinews, and symmetry of him whom he now surveyed, and
questioned him in the lingua franca, “Art thou a pagan 4”

The slave shook his head, and raising his finger to his

145 brow, crossed himself in token of his Christianity, then
resumed his posture of motionless humility.

«A Nubian Christian, doubtless,” said Richard, “and
mutilated of the organ of speech by these heathen dogs?”

The mute again slowly shook his head in token of negative,

150 pointed with his forefinger to Heaven, and then laid it upon
his own lips.

“J understand thee,” said Richard; “thou dost suffer
under the infliction of God, not by the cruelty of man.
Canst thou clean an armour and belt, and buckle it in time

155 of need?”

The mute nodded, and stepping towards the coat of mail,
which hung with the shield and helmet of the chivalrous
monarch, upon the pillar of the tent, he handled it with
such nicety of address, as sufficiently to shew that he fully

160 understood the business of the armour-bearer.

‘Thou art an apt, and wilt doubtless be a useful knave—
thou shalt wait in my chamber, and on my person,” said the

King.CHAPTER XI,

Wc whilst the King busied himself with
letters just received from England, his Nubian slave
began to burnish his armour, sitting with his back to the
door of the tent.

While the Monarch and his new attendant were thus 5
occupied, another actor crept upon the scene, and mingled
among the group of English yeomen, about a score of whom,
respecting the unusually pensive posture and close occupa-
tion of their sovereign, were, contrary to their wont, keeping
a silent guard in front of his tent. It was not, however, 10
more vigilant than usual. Some were playing at games of
hazard with small pebbles, others spoke together in whispers
of the approaching day of battle, and several lay asleep,
their bulky limbs folded in their green mantles,

Amid these careless warders glided the puny form of a 15
little old Turk, poorly dressed like a marabout or santon of
the desert, a sort of enthusiasts, who sometimes ventured
into the camp of the Crusaders, though treated always with
contumely, and often with violence. When the little
insignificant figure we have described approached so 2
nigh as to receive some interruption from the warders, he
dashed his dusky green turban from his head, shewed that
his beard aud eyebrows were shaved like those of a
professed buffoon, and that the expression of his fantastic
and writhen features, as well as of his little black eyes, 25
which glittered like jet, was that of a crazed imagination.

* Dance, marabout,” cried the soldiers, acquainted with

~
oSa, al

58 THE TALISMAN.

the manners of these wandering enthusiasts—‘‘ dance, or we
will scourge thee with our bow-strings, till thou spin as never
30 top did under schoolboy’s lash.”
~The marabout, as if happy to do their behests, bounded
from the earth, and spun his giddy roynd before them with
singular agility, which, when contrasted with his slight and
wasted figure, and diminutive appearance, made him
35 resemble a withered leaf twirled round and around at
the pleasure of the winter's breeze. His single lock of
hair streamed upwards from his bald and shaven head, as if
some genie upheld him by it; and indeed it seemed as if
supernatural art were necessary to the execution of the wild
40 whirling dance, in which scarce the tiptoe of the performer
was seen to touch the ground. Amid the vagaries of his
performance, he flew here and there, from one spot to
another, still approaching, however, though almost im-
perceptibly, to the entrance of the royal tent; so that,
45 when at length he sunk exhausted on the earth, after two
or three bounds still higher than those which he had yet
executed, he was not above thirty yards from the King’s
person.
The soldiers of the guard amused themselves by making
50 the marabout drink some wine, and laughed to see him fall
senseless on the ground. After a time the Nubian saw
reflected in the King’s shield, as in a mirror, the figure of
the marabout, who lifted his head, and stealthily crept
nearer and nearer to the King.
v5 This species of movement appeared suspicious to the
Ethiopian, who, on his part, prepared himself, as quietly as
possible, to interfere, the instant that interference should
seem to be necessary.
The marabout meanwhile glided on gradually and im-
60 perceptibly, serpent-like, or rather snail-like, till he was
about ten yards’ distance from Richard’s person, when,LHE

 

TALISMAN. 59

starting on his feet, he sprung forward with the bound of a
tiger, stood at the King’s back in less than an instant, and
brandished aloft the cangiar, or poniard, which he had hidden
in his sleeve. Not the presence of his whole army could 65
have saved their heroic Monarch—but the motions of the
Nubian had been as well calculated as those of the
enthusiast, and ere the latter could strike, the former
caught his uplifted arm. Turning his fanatical wrath
upon what thus unexpectedly interposed betwixt him and 70
his object, the Charegite, for such was the seeming mara-
bout, dealt the Nubian a blow with the dagger, which,
however, only grazed his arm, while the far superior strength
of the Ethiopian easily dashed him to the ground. Aware
of what had passed, Richard had now arisen, and with little 75
more of surprise, anger, or interest of any kind in his counte-
nance, than an ordinary man would shew in brushing off and
crushing an intrusive wasp, caught up the stool on which he
had been sitting, and exclaiming only, ‘‘ Ha, dog!” dashed
almost to pieces the skull of the assassin, who uttered twice, 80
once in a loud, and once in a broken tone, the words “ Allah
ackbar !”—-God is victorious—and expired at the King’s
feet.

‘Ye are careful warders,” said Richard to his archers, in
a tone of scornful reproach, as, aroused by the bustle of what 85
had passed, in terror and tumult they now rushed into his
tent. ‘Here, cast that carrion out of the camp, strike the
head from the trunk, and stick it on a lance, taking care to
turn the face to Mecca, that he may the easier tell the foul
impostor, on whose inspiration he came hither, how he has 90
sped on his errand. For thee, my swart and silent friend,”
he added, turning to the Ethiopian—‘ But how’s this }—
thou art wounded—and with a poisoned weapon, I warrant
me, for by force of stab so weak an animal as that could
scarce hope to do more than graze the lion’s hide, Suck the 95

SUB RUNEEEEURE EAE

  

riphiebennthaauk60 THE JALISMAN.

poison from his wound, one of you—the venom is harmless
on the lips, though fatal when it mingles with the
blood.”
The yeomen looked on each other confusedly and with
100 hesitation, the apprehension of so strange a danger prevail-
ing with those who feared no other.
“How now, sirrahs,” continued the King, ‘fare you
dainty-lipped, or do you fear death that you dally thus ?”
“Not the death of a man,” said Long Allen, to whom the
108 King looked as he spoke; ‘but methinks I would not die
like a poisoned rat for the sake of a black chattel there, that
is bought and sold in a market like a Martlemas ox.”
“His Grace speaks to men of sucking poison,” muttered
another yeoman, “as if he said, ‘Go to, swallow a goose-
110 berry !’”
“Nay,” said Richard, “I never bade man do that which I
would not do myself.”
And, without further ceremony, and in spite of the
general expostulations of those around, and the respectful
115 opposition of the Nubian himself, the King of England
applied his lips to the wound of the black slave, treating
with ridicule all remonstrances.
“Peace, I prithee—make no more of it—I did it but to
shew these ignorant prejudiced knaves how they might help
120 each other when these cowardly caitiffs come against us with
sarbacanes and poisoned shafts. But,” he added, “‘take thee
this Nubian to thy quarters, Neville—I have changed my
mind touching him—let him be well cared for. But, hark
in thine ear—see that he escapes thee not—there is more in
125 him than seems. Let him have all liberty, so that he leave
not the camp. And you, ye beef-devouring, wine-swilling
English mastiffs, get ye to your guard again, and be sure you
keep it more warily. Go to—keep your eyes open and your
mouths shut—drink less and look sharper about you; or ITHE TALISMAN. 61

 

will place your huge stomachs on such short allowance, as 180
would pinch the stomach of a patient Scotchman.”

The yeomen, abashed and mortified, withdrew to their
posts.

Richard then turning to the Nubian, said, “iy sable
friend, thou art an expounder of mysteries, saith the 135
illustrious Soldan—now would I give thee thine own weight
in gold, if, by raising one still blacker than thyself, or by
what other means thou wilt, thou couldst shew me the thief
who did mine honour that wrong. What say’st thou? ha!”

The youth seemed desirous to speak, but uttered only that 140
imperfect sound proper to his melancholy condition, then
folded his arms, looked on the King with an eye of in-
telligence, and nodded in answer to his question.

“How!” said Richard, with joyful impatience. ‘“ Wilt
thou undertake to make discovery in this matter?” 145

The Nubian slave repeated the same motion.

“But how shall we understand each other?” said the
King. ‘Canst thou write, good fellow?”

The slave again nodded in assent.

‘Give him writing-tools,” said the King. ‘They were 150
readier in my father’s tent than mine—but they be some-
where about, if this scorching climate hath not dried up the
ink, Neville.”

The slave, after writing for a few moments, arose, and
pressing what he had written to his brow, prostrated himself 155
as usual, ere he delivered it into the King’s hands, The
scroll was in French, although their intercourse had hitherto
been conducted by Richard in the lingua franca.

“To Richard, the conquering and invincible King of
England, this from the humblest of his slaves. Mysteries 160
are the sealed caskets of Heaven, but wisdom may devise
means to open the lock.. Were your slave stationed where
the leaders of the Christian host were made to pass before

Mobeni Sa62 THE TALISMAN.

him in order, doubt nothing, that if he who did the injury
165 whereof my King complains shall be among the number, he
may be made manifest in his iniquity, though it be hidden
under seven veils.”
“Now, by Saint George!” said King Richard, “thou hast
spoken most opportunely. Neville, thou know’st, that when
170 we muster our troops to-morrow, the princes have agreed,
that to expiate the affront offered to England in the theft of
her banner, the leaders should pass our new standard as it
floats on Saint George’s Mount, and salute it with formal
regard. Believe me, the secret traitor will not dare to
175 absent himself from an expurgation so solemn, lest his very
absence should be matter of suspicion. There will we place
our sable man of counsel, and, if his art can detect the
villain, leave me to deal with him.”
“My liege,” said Neville, with the frankness of an English
180 baron, “ beware what work you begin. Here is the concord
of our holy league unexpectedly renewed—will you, upon
such suspicion as a negro slave can instil, tear open wounds
so lately closed—or will you use the solemn procession as
the means of again finding out new cause of offence, or
185 reviving ancient quarrels? It were scarce too strong to say,
this were u breach of the declaration your Grace made to
the assembled Council of the Crusade.”
‘Peace, Neville,” said the King; “thou think’st thyself
mighty wise, and art but a fool. Mind thou my charge
190 touching this fellow—there is more in him than thy West-
moreland wit can fathom. And thou, swart and silent,
prepare to perform the feat thou hast promised, and, by the
word of a King, thou shalt choose thine own recompense.
Lo, he writes again.”
195 The mute accordingly wrote and delivered to the King,
with the same form as before, another slip of paper, containing
these words.——“‘ The will of the King is the law to his slaveTHE TALISMAN. 63

—nor doth it become him to ask guerdon for discharge of
nis devoir.”

“Guerdon and devoir/” said the King, interrupting him- 200
self as he read, and speaking to Neville in the English
tongue with some emphasis on the words—‘ These Eastern
people will profit by the Crusaders—they are acquiring the
language of chivalry! And see, Neville, how discomposed
that fellow looks—were it not for his colour, he would blush. 205
I should not think it strange if he understood what I say—
they are perilous linguists.”

‘The poor slave cannot endure your Grace’s eye,” said
Neville; ‘it is nothing more.”

“Well, but,” continued the King, striking the paper with 210
his finger, as he proceeded, “this bold scroll proceeds to say,
that our trusty mute is charged with a message from Saladin
to the Lady Edith Plantagenet, and craves means and oppur-
tunity to deliver it, What think’st thou of a request so
modest—ha! Neville?” 215

“‘T cannot say,” said Neville, “how such freedom may
relish with your Grace; but the lease of the messenger’s
neck would be a short one, who should carry such a request
to the Soldan on the part of your Majesty.”

“Nay, I thank Heaven that 1 covet none of his sunburnt 220
beauties,” said Richard ; “‘and for punishing this fellow for
discharging his master’s errand, and that when he has just
saved my life—methinks it were something too summary.
I’ll tell thee, Neville, a secret—for, although our sable and
mute minister be present, he cannot, thou know’st, tell it 295
over again, even if he should chance to understand us—I
tell thee, that for this fortnight past, I have been under a
strange spell, and I would I were disenchanted. There has
no sooner any one done me good service, but, lo you, he
cancels his interest in me by some deep injury; and, on the 939
other hand, he who hath deserved death at my hands for

  
  
 
 
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
   

RePSeROA NET aeott abt04 THE TALISMAN,

some treachery or some insult, is sure to be the very person,
of all others, who confers upon me some obligation that
overbalances his demerits, and renders respite of his sentence
235 a debt due from my honour. Thus, thou see’st, I am deprived
of the best part of my royal function, since I can neither
punish men nor reward them. Until the influence of this
disqualifying planet be passed away, I will say nothing
concerning the request of this our sable attendant, save that
240 it is an unusually bold one, and that his best chance of
finding grace in our eyes will be, to endeavour to make the
discovery which he proposes to achieve in our behalf. Mean-
while, Neville, do thou look well to him, and let him be
honourably cared for. And hark thee once more,” he said,
945 ina low whisper, ‘“‘seek out yonder hermit of Engaddi, and
bring him to me forthwith, be he saint or savage, madman
or sane. Let me see him privately.”
Neville retired from the royal tent, signing to the Nubian
to follow him, and much surprised at what he had seen
950 and heard, and especially at the unusual demeanour of the
King.CHAPTER XYL

FY\HE Nubian slave, as the reader has doubtless divined,
was none other than Sir Kenneth, and the hound none
other than the faithful Roswal.

Kl] Hakim, on leaving the Christian camp with his new
slave, had halted at the fountain called the Diamond of the 5
Desert. There he revealed himself to his prisoner as the
Emir Sheerkohf, restored Sir Kenneth to liberty, and sent
him back to King Richard, disguised as has been said, and
bearing a proposal of marriage from Saladin to the Lady
Edith. It was at the Emir’s prompting that the Nubian 10
offered his hound to Richard for the discovery of him who
had stolen the standard.

The fateful moment had now come. The army of the
Crusaders swept in long order around the base of the little
mound, troop after troop, banners waving, spears glancing, 15
plumes dancing in long perspective, making a signal of
courtesy as they passed to Richard and to the standard of
England.

The good King was seated on horseback about half-way
up the Mount, a morion on his head, surmounted by a 20
crown, which left his manly features exposed to public
view, as, with cool and considerate eye, he perused each
rank as it passed him, and returned the salutation of the
leaders. His tunic was of sky-coloured velvet, covered with
plates of silver, and his hose of crimson silk, slashed with 25
cloth of gold. By his side stood the seeming Ethiopian
slave, holding the noble dog in a leash, such as was used in
E

peese Meneses Serr rn ie HEC SE PEM MOSS pti ci 5.5, el66 THE TALISMAN.

wood-craft. It was a circumstance which attracted no
notice, for many of the princes of the Crusade had intro-

30 duced black slaves into their household, in imitation of the
barbarous splendour of the Saracens. Over the King’s
head streamed the large folds of the banner, and, as he
looked to it from time to time, he seemed to regard a
ceremony, indifferent to himself personally, as important,

85 when considered as atoning an indignity offered to the
kingdom which he ruled. In the background, and on the
very summit of the Mount, a wooden turret, erected for the
occasion, held the Queen Berengaria, and the principal
ladies of the court. To this the king looked from time

40 to time, and then ever and anon his eyes were turned on
the Nubian and the dog, but only when such _ leaders
approached as, from circumstances of previous ill-will, he
suspected of being accessory to the theft of the standard, or
whom: he judged capable of a crime so mean.

45 Thus, he did not look in that direction when Philip
Augustus of France approached at the head of his splendid
troops of Gallic chivalry—nay, he anticipated the motions
of the French King, by descending the Mount as the latter
came up the ascent, so that they met in the middle space,

50 and blended their greetings so gracefully, that it appeared
they met in fraternal equality.

Richard’s demeanour was different when the dark-armed
knights and squires of the Temple chivalry approached—
men with countenances bronzed to Asiatic blackness by the

55 suns of Palestine, and the admirable state of whose horses
and appointments far surpassed even that of the choicest
troops of France and England. The King cast a hasty
glance aside, but the Nubian stood quiet, and his trusty dog
sat at his feet, watching, with a sagacious yet pleased look,

60 the ranks which now passed before them, The King’s look

turned again on the procession.THE TALISMAN. ay

“Lo you, here comes our valiant adversary, the Duke
of Austria—mark his manner and bearing, Longsword—
and thou, Nubian, let the hound have full view of him.
By heaven, he brings his buffoons along with him!” 65

King Richard looked more than once at the Nubian and
his dog; but the former moved not, nor did the latter strain
at the leash, so that Richard said to the slave with some
scorn, ‘Thy success in this enterprise, my sable friend,
even though thou hast brought thy hound’s sagacity to back 70
thine own, will not, I fear, place thee high in the rank
of wizards, or much augment thy merits towards our
person.”

The Nubian answered, as usual, only by a lowly obeisance.

Meantime the troops of the Marquis of Montserrat next 75
passed in order before the King of England.

Before his troops rode Conrade, clad in such rich stuff
that he seemed to blaze with gold and silver. The King
of England descended a step or two to meet him with
words of courtesy. 80

Conrade was commencing his reply with a smile, when
Roswal, the noble hound, uttering a furious and savage yell,
sprung forward. The Nubian, at the same time, slipped
the leash, and the hound, rushing on, leaped upon Conrade’s
noble charger, and, seizing the Marquis by the throat, 85
pulled him down from the saddle. The plumed rider lay
rolling on the sand, and the frightened horse fled in wild
career through the camp.

“Thy hound hath pulled down the right quarry, I
warrant him,” said the King to the Nubian, “and I vow 90
to Saint George he is a stag of ten tynes!—Pluck the dog
off, lest he throttle him.”

The Ethiopian, accordingly, though not without difficulty,
disengaged the dog from Conrade, and fastened him up,
still lighly excited, and struggling in the leash, Mean- 95

   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
 
 
 
 
  
   
 
 
 
 
  
   

SeTUE ETE Rec Mee ACO RtTTSeNEHESe SE PED CPST OTE: ois, a

SFC eganateN a sUst a He eae seNeSETe

    

   
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
   

68 THE TALISMAN.

while many crowded to the spot, especially followers of
Conrade and officers of the Stradiots, who, as they saw
their leader lie gazing wildly on the sky, raiscd him up
amid a tumultuary cry of—“Cut the slave and his hound

100 to pieces!”

But the voice of Richard, loud and sonorous, was heard
clear above all other exclamations—“ He dies the death
who injures the hound! He hath but done his duty, after
the sagacity with which God and nature have endowed the

105 brave animal. Stand forward for a false traitor, thou
Conrade, Marquis of Montserrat? I impeach thee of
treason.”

Several of the Syrian leaders had now come up, and
Conrade, vexation, and shame, and confusion struggling

110 with passion in his manner and voice, exclaimed, “ What
means this? With what am I charged? Why this base
usage, and these reproachful terms! Is this the league of
concord which England renewed but so lately 1”

« Are the Princes of the Crusade turned hares or deers

115 in the eyes of King Richard, that he should slip hounds on
them?” said the sepulchral voice of the Grand Master of
the Templars.

“Tt must be some singular accident—some fatal mis-
take,” said Philip of France, who rode up at the same

120 moment.

“ Some deceit of the Enemy,” said the Archbishop of Tyre.

“A stratagem of the Saracens,” cried Henry of Cham- ~
pagne. “It were well to hang up the dog, and put the
slave to the torture.”

125 ‘Let no man lay hand upon them,” said Richard, “as he
loves his own life! Conrade, stand forth, if thou darest, and
deny the accusation which this mute animal hath in his
noble instinct brought against thee, of injury done to him,

and foul scorn to England %”THE TALISMAN. 69

“I never touched the banner,” said Conrade hastily. 130

“Thy words betray thee, Conrade!” said Richard; “for
how didst thou know, save from conscious guilt, that the
question is concerning the banner?”

** Hast thou then not kept the camp in turmoil on that
and no other score?” answered Conrade; “and dost thou 135
impute to a prince and an ally a crime, which, after all, was
probably committed by some paltry felon for the sake ot
the gold thread? Or wouldst thou now impeach a con-
federate on the credit of a dog?”

By this time the alarm was becoming general, so that
Philip of France interposed.

‘“‘ Princes and nobles,” he said, “ you speak in presence of
those whose swords will soon be at the throats of each other,
if they hear their leaders at such terms together. In the
name of Heaven, let us draw off, each his own troops, into 145
their separate quarters, and ourselves meet an hour hence in
the Pavilion of Council, to take some order in this new
state of confusion.”

“Content,” said King Richard, “though I should have
liked to have interrogated that caitiff while his gay doublet 150
was yet besmirched with sand. But the pleasure of France
shall be ours in this matter.”

The leaders separated as was proposed, each prince placing
himself at the head of his own forces,

peel

40CHAPTER XL

HE Council met at the appointed hour, where Richard
openly charged Conrade with having stolen the banner,
though he saw that the majority were against him.

Conrade arose boldly to answer, and in despite, as he

5 expressed himself, of man and brute, king or dog, avouched
his innocence of the crime charged.

‘Brother of England,” said Philip, who willingly assumed
the character of moderator of the assembly, “this is an
unusual impeachment. We do not hear you avouch your

10 own knowledge of this matter, farther than your belief
resting upon the demeanour of this hound towards the
Marquis of Montserrat. Surely the word of a knight and
a prince should bear him out against the barking of a cur?”

‘Royal brother,” returned Richard, “recollect that the

15 Almighty, who gave the dog to be companion of our
pleasures and our toils, hath invested him with a nature
noble and incapable of deceit. He forgets neither friend
nor foe—remembers, and with accuracy, both benefit and
injury. He hath a share of man’s intelligence, but no share

20 of man’s falsehood. You may bribe a soldier to slay a man
with his sword, or a witness to take life by false accusation ;
but you cannot make a hound tear his benefactor—he is the
friend of man, save when man justly incurs his enmity.
Dress yonder Marquis in what peacock robes you will—

25 disguise his appearance—alter his complexion with drugs

and washes—hide him amidst an hundred men—I will yet
pawn my sceptre that the hound detects him, and expressesTHE TALISMAN. ae

his resentment, as you have this day beheld. This is no
new incident, although a strange one. Murderers and
robbers have been, ere now, convicted, and suffered death 30
under such evidence, and men have said that the finger of
God was in it.”

Richard ended by challenging Conrade to the trial of
battle, but as the Princes objected, his half-brother William
Woodstock, Earl of Salisbury, threw down his glove instead. 35

‘Since my rank makes me arbiter in this most unhappy
matter,” said Philip of France, “I appoint the fifth day
from hence for the decision thereof, by way of combat,
according to knightly usage—Richard, King of England, to
appear by his champion as appellant, and Conrade, Marquis 40
of Montserrat, in his own person as defendant. Yet I own,

I know not where to find neutral ground where such a
quarrel may be fought out; for it must not be in the neigh-
bourhood of this camp, where the soldiers would make
factior on the different sides.” 45

“‘Tt were well,” said Richard, “to apply to the generosity
of the royal Saladin, since, heathen as he is, I have never
known knight more fulfilled of nobleness, or to whose good
faith we may so peremptorily intrust ourselves.”

When King Richard returned to his tent, he commanded
the Nubian to be brought before him. He entered with his
usual ceremonial reverence, and having prostrated himself,
remained standing before the King, in the attitude of a
slave awaiting the orders of his master. It was perhay's
well for him, that the preservation of his character required 55
his eyes to be fixed on the ground, since the keen glance
with which Richard for some time surveyed him in silence,
would, if fully encountered, have been difficult to sustain.

“Thou canst well of wood-craft,” said the King, after a
pause, “and hast started thy game and brought him to bay, 60
as ably as if Tristram himself had taught thee. But this is

 

Qn
cebesotted seria, | :

   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  

72 THE TALISMAN.

not all —he must be brought down at force. JI myself would
have liked to have levelled my hunting-spear at him. There
are, it seems, respects which prevent this. Thou art about to

65 return to the camp of the Soldan, bearing a letter, requiring
of his courtesy to appoint neutral ground for the deed of
chivalry, and, should it consist with his pleasure, to concur
with us in witnessing it. Now, speaking conjecturally, we
think thou might’st find in that camp some cavalier, who,

70 for the love of truth, and his own augmentation of honour,
will do battle with this same traitor of Montserrat.”

The Nubian raised his eyes and fixed them on the King
with a look of eager ardour; then raised them to Heaven
with such solemn gratitude, that the water soon glistened in

75 them—then bent his head, as affirming what Richard
desired, and resumed his usual posture of submissive
attention.

“Tt is well,” said the king; “and I see thy desire to
oblige me in this matter.”

80 Richard then bade the Nubian carry Saladin’s letter to the
Lady Edith, but on no account was he to utter a word.

“T stand discovered,” thought the seeming Nubian, as,
with downcast looks and folded arms. he followed the hasty
stride of Neville towards the tent of Queen Berengaria.

85 “‘I stand undoubtedly discovered and unfolded to King
Richard ; yet I cannot perceive that his resentment is hot
against me. If I understood his words, and surely it 1s
impossible to misinterpret them, he gives me a noble chance
of redeeming my honour upon the crest of this false Marquis,

90 whose guilt I read in his craven eye and quivering lip, when
the charge was made against him. Roswal, faithfully hast
thou served thy master, and most dearly shall thy wrong be
avenged! But what is the meaning of my present permission
to look upon her, whom I had despaired ever to see again ”

95 On being ushered into the lady’s tent the Nubian fell onTHE TALISMAN. 73

one knee, with looks bent on the ground, and arms folded on
his bosom, like a criminal who expects his doom. Edith held
in her hand a silver lamp, fed with some aromatic spirit,
which burned with unusual brightness,

When she came within a step of the kneeling and
motionless slave, she held the light towards his face, as if to
peruse his features more attentively, then turned from hin,
and placed her lamp so as to throw the shadow of his face in
profile upon the curtain which hung beside. She at length
spoke in a voice composed, yet deeply sorrowful.

“Ts it you? Is it indeed you, brave Knight of the
Leopard— gallant Sir Kenneth of Scotland—is it indeed
you ?—thus servilely disguised—thus surrounded by an
hundred dangers?”

At hearing the tones of his lady’s voice thus unexpectedly
addressed to him, and in a tone of compassion approaching
to tenderness, a corresponding reply rushed to the knight’s
lips, and scarce could Richard’s commands, and his own
promised silence, prevent his answering, that the sight he
saw, the sounds he just heard, were sufficient to recompense
the slavery of a life, and dangers which threatened that life
every hour. He did recollect himself, however, and a deep
and impassioned sigh was his only reply to the high-born
Edith’s question.

“T see—I know I have guessed right”—-continued Edith.
“T marked you from your first appearance near the platform
on which I stood with the Queen. I knew, too, your valiant
hound. She is no true lady, and is unworthy of the service
of such a knight as thou art, from whom disguises of dress

106

108

bh

10

120

or hue could conceal a faithful servant. Speak then, without 125

fear, to Edith Plantagenet. She knows how to grace in
adversity the good knight who served, honoured, and did
deeds of arms in her name, when fortune befriended him.
Still silent! Is it fear or shame that keeps thee so} Fear

   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
   

MEHERORUETHUGEREORMeramec | ;

   

74 THE TALISMAN.

130 should be unknown to thee; and for shame, let it remain with
those who have wronged thee.”

The disguised knight made an action as if at once
lamenting his own condition, and deprecating her displeasure,
while at the same. time he presented to her, wrapped, as

135 usual, in fine silk and cloth of gold, the letter of the Soldan.
She took it, surveyed it carelessly, then laid it aside, and
bending her eyes once more on thie knight, she said in a low
tone—‘ Not even a word to do thine errand to me ?”

He pressed both his hands to his brow, as if to intimate

140 the pain which he felt at being unable to obey her; but she
turned from him in anger.

“Begone!” she said. ‘I have spoken enough—too much
—to one who will not waste on me a word in reply.
Begone !—and say, if I have wronged thee, I have done

145 penance ; for if I have been the unhappy means of dragging
thee down from a station of honour, I have, in this interview,
forgotten my own worth, and lowered myself in thy eyes and
in my own.”

She covered her eyes with her hand, and seemed deeply

150 agitated. Sir Kenneth would have approached, but she
waved him back.

“Stand off! thou whose soul Heaven hath suited to its
new station! Aught less dull and fearful than a slavish
mute had spoken a word of gratitude, were it but to reconcile

155 me to my own degradation. Why pause you t—begone!”

The disguised knight almost involuntarily looked towards
the letter as an apology for protracting his stay. She
snatched it up, saying, in a tone of irony and contempt, “I
had forgotten—the dutiful slave waits an answer to his

160 message. How’s this—from the Soldan !”

She hastily ran over the contents, which were expressed
both in Arabic and French, and when she had done, she
laughed in bitter anger.THE TALISMAN. 75

“Now this passes imagination!” she said. “Tell you
master, when his scourge shall have found thee a tongue,
that which thou hast seen me do.” So saying, she threw the
Soldan’s letter on the ground, and placed her foot upon it—
“And say to him, that Edith Plantagenet scorns the homage
of an unchristened Pagan.”

With these words she was about to shoot from the knight, 170
when, kneeling at her feet in bitter agony, he ventured to
lay his hand upon her robe and oppose her departure.

“Heardst thou not what I said, dull slave?” she said,
turning short round on him, and speaking with emphasis ;
‘tell the heathen Soldan, thy master, that I scorn his suit as 176
much as I despise the prostration of a worthless renegade to
religion and chivalry, to God and to his lady!”

So saying, she burst from him, tore her garment from his
grasp, and left the tent.

i
oz
enCHAPTER XIV.

HE station, called the Diamond of the Desert, was
assigned for the place of conflict, as being nearly at an
equal distance betwixt the Christian and Saracen camps. It
was agreed that Conrade of Montserrat, the defendant, with
Bhis godfathers, the Archduke of Austria and the Grand
Master of the Templars, should appear there on the day
fixed for the combat, with an hundred armed followers, and
no more; that Richard of England, and his brother
Salisbury, who supported the accusation, should attend
10 with the same number, to protect his champion; and that
the Soldan should bring with him a guard of five hundred
chosen followers, a band considered as not more than equal
to the two hundred Christian lances.
The. Diamond of the Desert, so lately a solitary fountain,
15 distinguished only amid the waste by solitary groups of
pal trees, was now the centre of an encampment, the
embroidered flags and gilded ornaments of which glittered
far and wide, and reflected a thousand rich tints against the
setting sun. The coverings of the large pavilions were of
20 the gayest colours, scarlet, bright yellow, pale blue, and
other gaudy and gleaming hues, and the tops of their pillars,
or tent-poles, were decorated with golden pomegranates, and
small silken flags.
The Saracens rode up as the royal party approached, and
25 uttered wild shouts, brandishing and tossing their lances in
every possible direction, with the wildest cries and halloos,
and frequently only reining up their horses when within a

4THE TALISMAN. 77

spears length of the Christians, while those in the rear
discharged over the heads of both parties thick volleys of
arrows. One of these struck the litter in which the Queen 30
was seated, who loudly screamed, and the red spot was on
Richard’s brow in an instant.

“Ha! Saint George,” he exclaimed, “we must take some
order with this infidel scum !”

But Edith; whose litter was near, thrust ber head out, and 35
with her hand holding one of the shafts, ervlaimed. ‘‘ Roya:
Richard, beware what you do! see, these arrows are neadless!”

“Noble, sensible wench!” exclaimed Richard; ‘‘ by
Heaven, thou shamest us all by thy readiness of thought
and eye. Be not moved, my English hearts,” he exclaimed 40
to his followers—‘“ their arrows have no heads—and their
spears, too, lack the steel points. It is but a wild welcome,
after their savage fashion, though doubtless they would rejoice
to see us daunted or disturbed. ‘Move onward, slow and
steady.” 45

At length in the midst of a splendid body-guard came the
Soldan, with the look and manners of one on whose brow
Nature had written, “This is a King!” In his snow-white
turban, vest, and wide Eastern trousers, wearing a sash of
scarlet silk, without any other ornament, Saladin might have 50
seemed the plainest dressed man in his own guard. But
closer inspection discerned in his turban that inestimable
gem, which was called by the poets, the Sea of Light; the
diamond on which his signet was engraved, and which he
wore in a ring, was probably worth all the jewels of the 55
English crown, and a sapphire, which terminated the hilt of
his cangiar, was of not much inferior value.

He led the way to a splendid pavilion, where was
every thing that royal luxury could devise. De Vaux,
who was in attendance, then removed the long riding-cloak 60
which Richard wore, and he stood before Saladin in the

   
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   

osm Lesese PEM Ne HTT ORE bebe

Mabeesa sate sere

dpe 0EIC3E 0 pe Ue begetsrichiaseeininaae :

78 THE TALISMAN.

close dress which shewed to advantage the scrength and
symmetry of his person, while it bore a strong contrast to
the flowing robes which disguised the thin frame of the
65 Eastern monarch. It was Richard’s two-handed sword that
chiefly attracted the attention of the Saracen, a broad straight
blade, the seemingly unwieldy length of which extended
well-nigh from the shoulder to the heel of the wearer.

‘Had I not,” said Saladin, “seen this brand flaming in

70 the front of battle, like that of Azrael, I had scarce believed
that human arm could wield it. Might I request to see the
Melech Ric strike one blow with it in peace, and in pure
trial of strength ?”

«‘ Willingly, noble Saladin,” answered Richard ; and look-

75 ing around for something whereon to exercise his strength,
he saw a steel mace, held by one of the attendants, the handle
being of the same metal, and about an inch and a half in
diameter—this he placed on a block of wood.

The anxiety of De Vaux for his master’s honour led him

s0 to whisper in English—‘ For the blessed Virgin’s sake,
beware what you attempt, my liege! Your full strength is
not as yet returned—give no triumph to the infidel.”

‘Peace, fool!” said Richard, standing firm on his ground,
and casting a fierce glance around—‘thinkest thou that |

85 can fail in hés presence.”

The glittering broadsword, wielded by both his hands, rose
aloft to the King’s left shoulder, circled round his head,
descended with the sway of some terrific engine, and the
bar of iron rolled on the ground in two pieces, as a woods-

90 man would sever sapling with a hedging-bill.

“By the head of the Prophet, a most wonderful blow!”
said the Soldan, critically and accurately examining the
iron bar which had been cut asunder; and the blade of the
sword was so well tempered as to exhibit not the least token

g5 of having suffered by the feat it had performed. He thenTHE TALISMAN. 79

took the King’s hand, and looking on the size and muscular
strength which it exhibited, laughed as he placed it beside
his own, so lank and thin, so inferior in brawn and sinew.

“ Ay, look well,” said De Vaux in English, ‘it will be
long ere your long jackanape’s fingers do such a feat with
your fine gilded reaping-hook there.”

“Silence, De Vaux,” said Richard: “by Our Lady, he
understands or guesses thy meaning—be not so broad, I pray
thee.”

The Soldan, indeed, presently said—‘‘ Something I would
fain attempt — though, wherefore should the weak shew
their inferiority in presence of the strong? Yet, each land
hath its own exercises, and this may be new to the Melech
Ric.” So saying, he took from the floor a cushion of silk
and down, and placed it upright on one end. “Can thy
weapon, my brother, sever that cushion?” he said to King
Richard.

‘No surely,” replied the King; ‘no sword on earth, were
it the Excalibur of King Arthur, can cut that which opposes
no steady resistance to the blow.”

‘Mark, then,” said Saladin; and tucking up the sleeve of
his gown, shewed his arm, thin indeed and spare, but_which
constant exercise had hardened into a mass consisting of
nought but bone, brawn, and sinew. He unsheathed his
scimitar, a curved and narrow blade, which glittered not like
the swords of the Franks, but was, on the contrary, of a dull
blue colour, marked with ten millions of meandering lines,
which shewed how anxiously the metal had been welded by
the armourer. Wielding this weapon, apparently so in-
efficient when compared to that of Richard, the Soldan
stood resting his weight upon his left foot, which was
slightly advanced; he balanced himself a litle as if to
steady his aim, then stepping at once forward, drew the
scimitar across the cushion, applying the edge so dexterously,

105

110

115

—

ev

rrterks
areerersa

ones EE rey

   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   

go THE TALISMAN.

130 and with so little apparent effort, that the cushion seemed
rather to fall asunder than to be divided by violence.

“Tt is a juggler’s trick,” said De Vaux, darting forward
and snatching up the portion of the cushion which had been
cut off, as if to assure himself of the reality of the feat—

135 “there is magic in this.”

The Soldan seemed to comprehend him, for he undid the
sort of veil which he had hitherto worn, laid it double along
the edge of his sabre, extended the weapon edgeways in the
air, and drawing it suddenly through the veil, although it

140 hung on the blade entirely loose, severed that also into two
parts, which floated to different sides of the tent, equally
displaying the extreme temper and sharpness of the weapon,
and the exquisite dexterity of him who used it.

“Now, in good faith, my brother,” said Richard, ‘ thou

145 art even matchless at the trick of the sword, and right
perilous were it to meet thee! Still, however, I put some
faith in a downright English blow, and what we cannot do
by sleight, we eke out by strength. Nevertheless, in truth
thou art as expert in inflicting wounds, as my sage Hakim

150 in curing them. I trust I shall see the learned leech—-I
have much to thank him for, and had brought some small
present.”

As he spoke, Saladin exchanged his turban for a Tartar |
cap. He had no sooner done so, than De Vaux openeil at

155 once his extended mouth and his large round eyes, and
Richard gazed with scarce less astonishment, while the
Soldan spoke in a grave and altered voice: “ The sick man,
sayeth the poet, while he is yet infirm, knoweth the |
physician by his step; but when he is recovered, he

160 knoweth not even his face when he looks upon him.”

‘‘ A miracle !—a miracle!” exclaimed Richard.
‘Of Mahound’s. working, doubtless,” said Thomas de

Vaux,THE TALISMAN, St

iaiabina iii

“That I should lose my learned Hakim,” said Richard,
“merely by absence of his cap and robe, and that I should
find him again in my royal brother Saladin !”

“Such is oft the fashion of the world,” answered the
Soldan ; “the tattered robe makes not always the dervish.”

“And it was through thy intercession,” said Richard,
‘that yonder Knight of the Leopard was saved from death 170
—and by thy artifice that he revisited my camp in disguise ?”

‘‘ Even so,” replied Saladin; “I was physician enough to
know that unless the wounds of his bleeding honour were
stanched, the days of his life must be few. His disguise was
more easily penetrated than I had expected, from the success 175
of my own.”

“ An accident,” said King Richard (probably alluding to
the circumstance of his applying his lips to the wound of tho
supposed Nubian), “let me first know that his skin was
artificially discoloured ; and that hint once taken, detection
became easy, for his form and person are not to be forgotten.
I confidently expect that he will do battle on the morrow.”

“He is full in preparation, and high in hope,” said the
Soldan. ‘I have furnished him with weapons, and horse,
thinking nobly of him from what I have seen under various 185
disguises.”

“Knows he now,” said Sir Richard, “to whom he hes
under obligation t”

“He doth,” replied the Saracen—“I was obliged to

1

65

e

80

confess my person when I unfolded my purpose. | 190
“And confessed he aught to you?” said the King of
England.

“Nothing explicit,” replied the Soldan; “ but from much
that passed between us, I conceive his love is too highly
placed to be happy in its issue.” 195

“ And thou knowest, that his daring and insolent passion
crossed thine own wishes$” said Richard,
¥82 THE TALISMAN.

“I might guess so much,” said Saladin ; “but his passion

had existed ere my wishes had been formed—and, I must

200 now add, is likely to survive them. I cannot, in honour,
revenge me for my disappointment on him who had no hand
in it. Or, if this high-born dame loved him better than
myself, who can say that she did not justice to a knight of
her own religion, who is full of nobleness ?”

205 “Yet of too mean lineage to mix with the blood of
Plantagenet,” said Richard haughtily.

‘“‘Such may be your maxims in Frangistan,” replied the
Soldan. ‘Our poets of the Eastern countries say, that a
valiant camel-driver is worthy to kiss the lip of a fair Queen,

210 when a cowardly prince is not worthy to salute the hem af
her garment.”CHAPTER XV.

T was one hour before dawn. The sun had arisen in

mist. Conrade of Montserrat had refused to confess his
sins, and was feeling very uneasy in conscience.

A temporary altar was erected just beneath the gallery
occupied by the Queen, and beside it stood the Hermit in
the dress of his order, as a Carmelite friar. Other churchmen
were also present. To this altar the challenger and defender
were successively brought forward, conducted by their
respective sponsors. Dismounting before it, each knight
avouched the justice of his cause by a solemn oath on
the Evangelists, and prayed that his success might be
according to the truth or falsehood of what he then
swore. They also made oath, that they came to do battle
in knightly guise, and with the usual weapons, disclaiming
the use of spells, charms, or magical devices, to incline
victory to their side. The challenger pronounced his vow
with a firm and manly voice, and a bold and cheerful
countenance.

Conrade also presented himself before the altar with
boldness enough; but his voice, as he took the oath, sounded
hollow, as if drowned in his helmet. The lips with which
he appealed to Heaven to adjudge victory to the just quarrel,
grew white as they uttered the impious mockery. As he
turned to remount his horse, the Grand Master approached
him closer, as if to rectify something about the sitting of his
gorget, and whispered —“ Coward and fool! Recall thy

20

25

sibdatglacaaatyczeseae Tien. | sie: ae

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
  

    

THE TALISMAN.

 

84

senses, and do me this battle bravely, else, by Heaven,
shouldst thou escape him, thou escapest not me/”

The savage tone in which this was whispered, perhaps

30 completed the confusion of the Marquis.

The silence of suspense was now general—men breathed
thicker, and their very souls seemed seated in their eyes,
while not a sound was to be heard save the snorting and
pawing of the good steeds, who, sensible of what was about

35 to happen, were impatient to dash into career. They stood
thus for perhaps three minutes, when, at a signal given by the
Soldan, an hundred instruments rent the air with their brazen
clamours, and each champion striking his horse with the
spurs, and slacking the rein, the horses started into full

40 gallop, and the knights met in mid space with a shock like a
thunderbolt. The victory was not in doubt—no, not one
moment. Conrade, indeed, shewed himself a practised
warrior; for he struck his antagonist knightly in the midst
of his shield, bearing his lance so straight and true, that it

45 shivered into splinters from the steel spear-head up to the
very gauntlet. The horse of Sir Kenneth recoiled two or
three yards and fell on his haunches, but the rider easily
raised him with hand and rein. But for Conrade there was
no recovery.. Sir Kenneth’s lance had pierced through the

60 shield, through a plated corslet of Milan steel, through a
secret, or coat of linked mail, worn beneath the corslet, had
wounded him deep in the bosom, and borne him from his
saddle, leaving the lance fixed in his wound. ‘The sponsors,
heralds, and Saladin himself, descending from his throne,

55 crowded around the wounded man; while Sir Kenneth, who
had drawn his sword ere yet he discovered that his
antagonist was totally helpless, now commanded him to avow
his guilt. The helmet was hastily unclosed, and the wounded
man, gazing wildly on the skies, replied —‘‘ What would you

60 more !—God hath decided justly —I am guilty—but thereTHE TALISMAN. 8s

are worse traitors in the camp than I. In pity to my soul,
let me have a confessor!”

He revived as he uttered these words.

“The talisman—the powerful remedy, royal brother,” said
King Richard to Saladin. 65
‘“‘The traitor,” answered the Soldan, “is more fit to be

dragged from the lists to the gallows by the heels, than to
profit by its virtues; and some such fate is in his look,” he
added, after gazing fixedly upon the wounded man; “for
though his wound may be cured, yet Azrael’s seal is on the 70
wretch’s brow.”

“ Nevertheless,” said Richard, “I pray you do for him
what you may, that he may at least have time for confession.
Slay not soul and body! To him one half hour of time
may be worth more, by ten thousand fold, than the life of 75
the oldest patriarch.”

“My royal brother’s wish shall be obeyed,” said Saladin
“Slaves, bear this wounded man to our tent.”

Blondel tuned his harp to its boldest measure, to welcome
the introduction of the victor into the pavilion of Queen 80
Berengaria. He entered, supported on either side by his
sponsors, Richard and Thomas Longsword, and knelt grace-
fully down before the Queen, though more than half the
homage was silently rendered to Edith, who sat on her right
hand. 85

‘Unarm him, my mistresses,” said the King, whose delight
was in the execution of such chivalrous usages. “Let
Beauty honour Chivalry! Undo his spurs, Berengaria ;
Queen though thou be, thou owest him what marks of
favour thou canst give. Unlace his helmet, Edith—by this 98
hand, thou shalt, wert thou the proudest Plantagenet of the
line, and he the poorest knight on earth !”

Both ladies obeyed the royal commands—Berengaria with
bustling assiduity, as anxious to gratify her husband’sHae

  

   

86 THE TALISMAN.

95 humour, and Edith blushing and growing pale alternately,
as slowly and awkwardly she undid, with Longsword’s
assistance, the fastenings which secured the helmet to the
gorget.

“And what expect you from beneath this iron shell?” said

100 Richard, as the removal of the casque gave to view the
noble countenance of Sir Kenneth, his face glowing with
recent exertion, and not less so with present emotion.
“What think ye of him, gallants and beauties?” said
Richard. ‘Doth he resemble an Ethiopian slave, or doth

105 he present the face of an obscure and nameless adventurer 1
No, by my good sword! Here terminate his various
disguises. He hath knelt down before you, unknown save —
by his worth—he arises, equally distinguished by birth and
by fortune. The adventurous knight, Kenneth, arises |

110 David, Earl of Huntingdon, Prince Royal of Scotland !”

There was a general exclamation of surprise, and Edith
dropped from her hand the helmet, which she had just
received.

“Yes, my masters,” said the King, “it is even so, Ye

115 know how Scotland deceived us when she proposed to send
this valiant Earl, with a bold company of her best and
noblest, to aid our arms in this conquest of Palestine, but
failed to comply with her engagements. This noble youth,
under whom the Scottish Crusaders were to have been

120 arrayed, thought foul scorn that his arm should be withheld
from the holy warfare, and joined us at Sicily with a small
train of devoted and faithful attendants, which was aug-
mented by many of his countrymen to whom the rank of
their leader was unknown. The confidants of the Royal

125 Prince have all, saving one old follower, fallen by death.

But why did you not mention your rank, noble Huntingdon,
when endangered by my hasty and passionate sentence!
Was it that you thought Richard capable of abusing the

>THE TALISMAN. 87

advantage I possessed over the heir of a King whom I have
so often found hostile ?” 130

“T did you not that injustice, royal Richard,” answered
the Earl of Huntingdon; “but my pride brooked not that I
should avow myself Prince of Scotland in order to save my
life, endangered for default of loyalty. And, moreover, I
had made my vow to preserve my rank unknown till the 135
Crusade should be accomplished ; nor did I mention it save
in articulo mortis, and under the seal of confession, to
yonder reverend hermit.”

“Yet, may we know of your Grace by what strange and
happy chance this riddle was at length read?” said the 140
Queen Berengaria.

“Letters were brought to us from England,” said the
King, “which gave me the first light on the real rank of
the Knight of the Leopard, and my suspicions were con-
firmed by De Vaux. 145

“ Come, Edith,” turning to his cousin, with an expression
which called the blood into her cheeck—‘“Give me thy
hand, my fair cousin, and, Prince of Scotland, thine.”

“Forbear, my lord,” said Edith, hanging back, and en-
deavouring to hide her confusion, under an attempt to 150
rally her royal kinsman’s credulity. ‘“ Remember you not
that my hand was to be the signal of converting to the
Christian faith the Saracen and Arab, Saladin and all his
turbaned host 4”

“ Ay, but the wind of prophecy hath chopped about, and 155
sits now in another corner,” replied Richard.

In the midst of their conversation the Sultan was in-
formed that a dwarf desired to speak with him.

“ What now,” said the Soldan sternly.

“Accipe hoc!” groaned out the dwarf. 160
“Hat say’st thou?” answered Saladin.
“Accipe hoc/” replied the panic-struck creature, un-Tere Caren. | oo ae

  

88 THE TALISMAN.

conscious, perhaps, that he repeated the same words as
before. |
165 ‘Hence, I am in no vein for foolery,” said the Emperor.

‘“Nor am I farther fool,” said the dwarf, ‘than to make
my folly help out my wits to earn my bread, poor helpless
wretch !—Hear, hear me, great Soldan !”

“Nay, if thou hast actual wrong to complain of,” said

170 Saladin, “fool or wise, thou art entitled to the ear of a
King. Retire hither with me”; and he led him into the
inner tent.

Whatever their conference related to, it was soon broken
off by the fanfare of the trumpets, announcing the arrival

175 of the various Christian princes, whom Saladin welcomed to
his tent with a royal courtesy well becoming their rank and
his own; but chiefly he saluted the young Earl of Hunting-
don, and generously congratulated him upon prospects,
which seemed to have interfered with and overclouded

180 those which he had himself entertained.

‘But think not,” said the Soldan, “thou noble youth,
that the Prince of Scotland is more welcome to Saladin,
than was Kenneth to the solitary Ilderim when they met in
the desert, or the distressed Ethiop to the Hakim Adonbec.

185 A brave and generous disposition like thine hath a value
independent of condition and birth, as the cool draught which
I here proffer thee, is as delicious from an earthen vessel as
from a goblet of gold.”

The Earl of Huntingdon made a suitable reply, gratefully

190 acknowledging the various important services he had received
from the generous Soldan; but when he had pledged
Saladin in the bowl of sherbet, which the Soldan had
proffered to him, he could not help remarking with a
smile, “The brave cavalier Ilderim, knew not of the for-

195 mation of ice, but the munificent Soldan cools his sherbet

with snow.”THE TALISMAN. 89

“ Wouldst thou have an Arab or a Curdman as wise as
a Hakim?” said the Soldan. ‘He who does on a disguise
must make the sentiments of his heart and the learning of
his head accord with the dress which he assumes. I desired 200
to see how a brave and single-hearted cavalier of Frangistan
would conduct himself in debate with such a chief as I
then seemed; and I questioned the truth of a well-known
fact. to know by what arguments thou wouldst support thy
assertion.”

While they were speaking, the Archduke of Austria,
who stood a little apart, was struck with the mention of
iced sherbet, and took with pleasure and some bluntness
the deep goblet, as the Earl of Huntingdon was abont
to replace it.

“ Most delicious!” he exclaimed, after a deep draught,
which the heat of the weather, and the feverishness follow-
ing the debauch of the preceding day, had rendered doubly
acceptable. He sighed as he handed the cup to the Grand
Master of the Templars. 215

Saladin made a sign to the dwarf, who advanced, and
pronounced, with a harsh voice, the words, “Acczpe hoe {”

The Templar started like a steed who sees a lion under a
bush beside the pathway, yet instantly recovered, and to
hide, perhaps, his confusion, raised the goblet to his lips ; 220
but those lips never touched that goblet’s rim. The sabre
of Saladin left its sheath as lightning leaves the cloud. It
was waved in the air—and the head of the Grand Master
rolled to the extremity of the tent, while the trunk re-
majned for a second standing, with the goblet still clenched 225
in its grasp, then fell, the liquor mingling with the bloo
that spurted from the veins. ,

There was a general exclamation of treason, and Austria,
nearest to whom Saladin stood with the bloody sabre in
his hand, started back as if apprehensive that his turn was 230

205

210

    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
  

Apeahaeeheyesteletehehnele yt aa

i

STSESEIMTTER I Mae a ea ee see:
Petre hestinets secretes CheeseSere sce as.

90 THE TALISMAN.

to come next. Richard and others laid hand on thei: |

swords,

“Fear nothing, noble Austria,” said Saladin, as composedly

as if nothing had happened; “nor you, royal England, be

235 wroth at what you have seen. Not for his manifold
treasons ; not for the attempt which, as may be vouched by
his own squire, he instigated against King Richard’s life;
not that he pursued the prince of Scotland and myself in
the desert, reducing us to save our lives by the speed of our

240 horses; not that he had stirred up the Maronites to attack
us upon this very occasion, had I not brought up unex-
pectedly so many Arabs as rendered the scheme abortive ;
not for any or all of these crimes does he now lie there,
although each were deserving such a doom; but because,

245 scarce half an hour ere he polluted our presence, he stabbed
his comrade and accomplice, Conrade of Montserrat, lest he
should confess the infamous plots in which they had both
been engaged.”

“How! Conrade murdered? And by the Grand Master

250 his sponsor and most intimate friend!” exclaimed Richard.
‘Noble Soldan, I would not doubt thee—yet this must be
proved—otherwise : P

‘There stands the evidence,” said Saladin, pointing tc

the terrified dwarf. “Allah, who sends the fire-fly tc
65 illuminate the night-season, can discover secret crimes by
the most contemptible means,”

The Soldan proceeded to tell the dwarf’s story, which
amounted to this. In his foolish curiosity, or, as he partly
confessed, with some thoughts of pilfering, the dwarf had

260 strayed into the tent of Conrade, which had been deserted
by his attendants, some of whom had left the encampment
to carry the news of his defeat to his brother, and others
were availing themselves of the means which Saladin had
supplied for revelling, The wounded man slept under theTHE TALISMAN. 91

influence of Saladin’s wonderful talisman, so that the dwarf 265
had opportunity to pry about at pleasure, until he was
frightened into concealment by the sound of a heavy step.
He skulked behind a curtain, yet could see the motions and
hear the words of the Grand Master, who entered, and
carefully secured the covering of the pavilion behind him. 270
His victim started from sleep, and it would appear that he
instantly suspected the purpose of his old associate, for it
was in a tone of alarm that he demanded wherefore he
disturbed him.

“JT come to confess and absolve thee,” answered the 275
Grand Master.

Of their farther speech the terrified dwarf remembered
little, save that Conrade implored the Grand Master not to
break a wounded reed, and that the Templar struck him to
the heart with a Turkish dagger, with the words Accipe hoc 286
—words which long afterwards haunted the terrified imagina-
tion of the concealed witness.

“T verified the tale,” said Saladin, “by causing the body
to be examined; and I made this unhappy being, whom
Allah hath made the discoverer of the crime, repeat in your 285
own presence words which the murderer spoke; and you
yourselves saw the effect which they produced upon his
conscience |”

The Soldan paused, and the King of England broke
silence: “If this be true, as I doubt not, we have witnessed 290
a great act of justice, though it bore a different aspect.
But wherefore in this presence? wherefore with thine own
hand ¢”

“T had designed otherwise,” said Saladin; “but had I
not hastened his doom, it had been altogether averted, since 295
if I had permitted him to taste of my cup, as he was about
to do, how could I, without incurring the brand of in-
hospitality, have done him to death as he deserved? Had92 THE TALISMAN.

he murdered my father, and afterwards partaken of my
300 food and bowl, not a hair of his head could have been
injured by me. But enough of him—let his carcass and his
memory be removed from amongst us.”
The next day saw Richard’s return to his own camp, and
in a short space afterwards the young Earl of Huntingdon
305 was espoused by Edith Plantaganet. The Soldan sent, as a
nuptial present on this occasion, the celebrated Talisman ;
but, though many cures were wrought by means of it in
Europe, none equalled in success and celebrity those which
the Soldan had himself achieved.NOTES

CHAPTER I.

9 ‘Plated’ gauntlets were uncommon at this period. The earliest
armour was chain armour, very supple and easy to wear; but in
Edward III. it began to give way to plate armour, because the stroke
slipped lightly off the plate armour, whereas the chain armour could
be picked to pieces by the sharp end of the martel. The surcoat and
the armorial bearings were new inventions in the twelfth century. The
Arab horse is smaller than our English race-horses, has a small head,
prominent eyes, and a large hoof, which enables it to gallop well on
the sand. It is not pace so much as endurance which distinguishes it
from other breeds.

56 ‘Emir.’ An Arabic word (Amir), leader.

91 ‘Moslem,’ or Mussulman, from Arab sa/ama, to submit, because
the followers of Mahomet believe in a blind submission to the will of
God (islam), or fate.

102 ‘Nazarene.’ A contemptuous name given by Mussulmans to
the Christians, as disciples of Jesus of Nazareth.

Cuapter II.

22 ‘Frank.’ So not only the French, bat all Europeans, were
called by the Saracens.

79 ‘Paynim.’ Infidel.

98 ‘Rood,’ The cross.

147 ‘Anchorite.’ Hermit.

157 ‘Mahound,’ Mahomet.
‘Termagaunt.’ A supposed god of the Saracens,Sees aati. fl

   
 
  
  
  
   
    
   
 
 
 
      
 
    
 
 
  
   
   
 
 
    

THE TALISMAN.

CHAPTER IV,

55 ‘Coif.’ A lady’s head-dress,
56 ‘Biggin.’ A baby’s cap.

66 ‘Hospitallers.’ A military order founded early in the twelfth
century to protect the Christian pilgrims at Jerusalem. Their head-
quarters continued to be in the Holy Land till the eud of the crusades
(1291). They then withdrew to Cyprus; a few years later to Rhodes ;
and when Rhodes was taken by the Turks (1522), to Malta. There
they remained till Malta was taken by Napoleon on his way to Egypt
(1798).

‘Templars.’ A similar order, founded about the same time to
guard the pilgrims on their way to Jerusalem. Their order was abolished,
on the charge of deep corruption, at the beginning of the fourteenth
century. But the buildings and church which belonged to them in
London, though now the property of the Bar, are still known as the
Temple.

78 ‘Mangonel.’ An engine for hurling stones ; used in sieges.

184 In the great forests, such as the New Forest, which abounded in
England, none might hunt except the king and his servants. All
breaches of the Forest-iaw were cruelly punished by the Norman and
Plantagenet kings. The Forest-law was hated by the people, as may
be seen from the story of Robin Hood, and was gradually limited by
the parliament,

CHAPTER V.
6 ‘Hakim.’ A physician.

34 ‘Lombards.’ At this time the merchants of Lombardy were
the chief money-lenders of Europe.

94 ‘Carmelite,’ or White Friars, an order of monks founded by
the Christian Patriarch of Jerusalem in the middle of the twelfth
century.

130 ‘The winged lion,’ which is the symbol of St. Mark, was the
crest of the Venetian Republic,NOTES.

Cuaprer VII.
17 ‘Melech Ric.’ King Richard.
119 ‘Dubbed.’ Struck by the sword, as is still done in conferring
knighthood.
144 ‘Arblast.’? Cross-bow.

CHAPTER [X.

53 ‘Curtal-axe.’? A short sword. The words are probably a
corruption of the French couselas (English cutlass).

CHAPTER X.

14 ‘Frangistan’ properly meant France, but was used by the
“Mussufmans for Christendom.

77 Peter the Hermit had roused the first e~usade (1095) by passionate
accounts of the persecution suffered by the Christians of Palestine at the
hand of the Turks. Those who heard him were said to have raised the
cry, “It is the will of God” (that the Turks should be punished by the

sword),
139 Prometheus was said by the Greeks to have breathed life into

the bexiy of man.
CuaPTER XI.
27 ‘Marabout.’ A priestly order of Arabs.
107 ‘Martlemas.’ St. Martin’s Day (November 11th) was the great
time for slaughtering cattle, seeing that grass was growing scarce,
200 ‘Guerdon.’ Reward.
*Devoir.’ Duty.
Cuaprer XII.
20 ‘Morion.’ Open helmet.

8g ‘Quarry.’ Prey.
91 ‘Tynes.’ The branches which spring from the antlers of the stag.

CHAPTER XIII.

35 ‘Woodstock.’ Son of Henry II. and Fair Rosamond.

59 ‘Thou canst of.’ Art skilled in.

61 ‘Tristram,’ one of King Arthur’s knights, was held to have
devised the laws of the Chase.THE TALISMAN.

CHAPTER XIV.

yo ‘Azrael.’ The angel of death.

114 ‘Excalibur.’ The sword of Arthur, given him by the Lady of
the Lake. See Tennyson, Passing of Arthur.

168 ‘Dervish.’ The dervish in the East answered to the monk in
Christendom.

CHAPTER XV.
26 ‘Gorget.’? Armour protecting the throat.

79 ‘Blondel.’ Richard’s favourite minstrel. He is said to have
found out the prison in which Richard was confined by the Duke of
Austria on his return from the crusade, and to have borne the maxngs
by which Richard called on the English to ransom him,

137 ‘In articulo mortis.’ At the point of death.
i160 ‘Accipe hoc.’ ‘Take this,’SHAKESPEARE’S PLAYS
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