<p><SPAN name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"></SPAN></p>
<h2> CHAPTER XXVIII. </h2>
<p>Heard ye the din of battle bray,<br/>
Lance to lance, and horse to horse?<br/>
GRAY.<br/></p>
<p>It had been agreed, on account of the heat of the climate, that the
judicial combat which was the cause of the present assemblage of various
nations at the Diamond of the Desert should take place at one hour after
sunrise. The wide lists, which had been constructed under the inspection
of the Knight of the Leopard, enclosed a space of hard sand, which was one
hundred and twenty yards long by forty in width. They extended in length
from north to south, so as to give both parties the equal advantage of the
rising sun. Saladin's royal seat was erected on the western side of the
enclosure, just in the centre, where the combatants were expected to meet
in mid encounter. Opposed to this was a gallery with closed casements, so
contrived that the ladies, for whose accommodation it was erected, might
see the fight without being themselves exposed to view. At either
extremity of the lists was a barrier, which could be opened or shut at
pleasure. Thrones had been also erected, but the Archduke, perceiving that
his was lower than King Richard's, refused to occupy it; and Coeur de
Lion, who would have submitted to much ere any formality should have
interfered with the combat, readily agreed that the sponsors, as they were
called, should remain on horseback during the fight. At one extremity of
the lists were placed the followers of Richard, and opposed to them were
those who accompanied the defender Conrade. Around the throne destined for
the Soldan were ranged his splendid Georgian Guards, and the rest of the
enclosure was occupied by Christian and Mohammedan spectators.</p>
<p>Long before daybreak the lists were surrounded by even a larger number of
Saracens than Richard had seen on the preceding evening. When the first
ray of the sun's glorious orb arose above the desert, the sonorous call,
"To prayer—to prayer!" was poured forth by the Soldan himself, and
answered by others, whose rank and zeal entitled them to act as muezzins.
It was a striking spectacle to see them all sink to earth, for the purpose
of repeating their devotions, with their faces turned to Mecca. But when
they arose from the ground, the sun's rays, now strengthening fast, seemed
to confirm the Lord of Gilsland's conjecture of the night before. They
were flashed back from many a spearhead, for the pointless lances of the
preceding day were certainly no longer such. De Vaux pointed it out to his
master, who answered with impatience that he had perfect confidence in the
good faith of the Soldan; but if De Vaux was afraid of his bulky body, he
might retire.</p>
<p>Soon after this the noise of timbrels was heard, at the sound of which the
whole Saracen cavaliers threw themselves from their horses, and prostrated
themselves, as if for a second morning prayer. This was to give an
opportunity to the Queen, with Edith and her attendants, to pass from the
pavilion to the gallery intended for them. Fifty guards of Saladin's
seraglio escorted them with naked sabres, whose orders were to cut to
pieces whomsoever, were he prince or peasant, should venture to gaze on
the ladies as they passed, or even presume to raise his head until the
cessation of the music should make all men aware that they were lodged in
their gallery, not to be gazed on by the curious eye.</p>
<p>This superstitious observance of Oriental reverence to the fair sex called
forth from Queen Berengaria some criticisms very unfavourable to Saladin
and his country. But their den, as the royal fair called it, being
securely closed and guarded by their sable attendants, she was under the
necessity of contenting herself with seeing, and laying aside for the
present the still more exquisite pleasure of being seen.</p>
<p>Meantime the sponsors of both champions went, as was their duty, to see
that they were duly armed and prepared for combat. The Archduke of Austria
was in no hurry to perform this part of the ceremony, having had rather an
unusually severe debauch upon wine of Shiraz the preceding evening. But
the Grand Master of the Temple, more deeply concerned in the event of the
combat, was early before the tent of Conrade of Montserrat. To his great
surprise, the attendants refused him admittance.</p>
<p>"Do you not know me, ye knaves?" said the Grand Master, in great anger.</p>
<p>"We do, most valiant and reverend," answered Conrade's squire; "but even
you may not at present enter—the Marquis is about to confess
himself."</p>
<p>"Confess himself!" exclaimed the Templar, in a tone where alarm mingled
with surprise and scorn—"and to whom, I pray thee?"</p>
<p>"My master bid me be secret," said the squire; on which the Grand Master
pushed past him, and entered the tent almost by force.</p>
<p>The Marquis of Montserrat was kneeling at the feet of the hermit of
Engaddi, and in the act of beginning his confession.</p>
<p>"What means this, Marquis?" said the Grand Master; "up, for shame—or,
if you must needs confess, am not I here?"</p>
<p>"I have confessed to you too often already," replied Conrade, with a pale
cheek and a faltering voice. "For God's sake, Grand Master, begone, and
let me unfold my conscience to this holy man."</p>
<p>"In what is he holier than I am?" said the Grand Master.—"Hermit,
prophet, madman—say, if thou darest, in what thou excellest me?"</p>
<p>"Bold and bad man," replied the hermit, "know that I am like the latticed
window, and the divine light passes through to avail others, though, alas!
it helpeth not me. Thou art like the iron stanchions, which neither
receive light themselves, nor communicate it to any one."</p>
<p>"Prate not to me, but depart from this tent," said the Grand Master; "the
Marquis shall not confess this morning, unless it be to me, for I part not
from his side."</p>
<p>"Is this YOUR pleasure?" said the hermit to Conrade; "for think not I will
obey that proud man, if you continue to desire my assistance."</p>
<p>"Alas," said Conrade irresolutely, "what would you have me say? Farewell
for a while—-we will speak anon."</p>
<p>"O procrastination!" exclaimed the hermit, "thou art a soul-murderer!—Unhappy
man, farewell—not for a while, but until we shall both meet no
matter where. And for thee," he added, turning to the Grand Master,
"TREMBLE!"</p>
<p>"Tremble!" replied the Templar contemptuously, "I cannot if I would."</p>
<p>The hermit heard not his answer, having left the tent.</p>
<p>"Come! to this gear hastily," said the Grand Master, "since thou wilt
needs go through the foolery. Hark thee—I think I know most of thy
frailties by heart, so we may omit the detail, which may be somewhat a
long one, and begin with the absolution. What signifies counting the spots
of dirt that we are about to wash from our hands?"</p>
<p>"Knowing what thou art thyself," said Conrade, "it is blasphemous to speak
of pardoning another."</p>
<p>"That is not according to the canon, Lord Marquis," said the Templar;
"thou art more scrupulous than orthodox. The absolution of the wicked
priest is as effectual as if he were himself a saint—otherwise, God
help the poor penitent! What wounded man inquires whether the surgeon that
tends his gashes has clean hands or no? Come, shall we to this toy?"</p>
<p>"No," said Conrade, "I will rather die unconfessed than mock the
sacrament."</p>
<p>"Come, noble Marquis," said the Templar, "rouse up your courage, and speak
not thus. In an hour's time thou shalt stand victorious in the lists, or
confess thee in thy helmet, like a valiant knight."</p>
<p>"Alas, Grand Master," answered Conrade, "all augurs ill for this affair,
the strange discovery by the instinct of a dog—the revival of this
Scottish knight, who comes into the lists like a spectre—all
betokens evil."</p>
<p>"Pshaw," said the Templar, "I have seen thee bend thy lance boldly against
him in sport, and with equal chance of success. Think thou art but in a
tournament, and who bears him better in the tilt-yard than thou?—Come,
squires and armourers, your master must be accoutred for the field."</p>
<p>The attendants entered accordingly, and began to arm the Marquis.</p>
<p>"What morning is without?" said Conrade.</p>
<p>"The sun rises dimly," answered a squire.</p>
<p>"Thou seest, Grand Master," said Conrade, "nought smiles on us."</p>
<p>"Thou wilt fight the more coolly, my son," answered the Templar; "thank
Heaven, that hath tempered the sun of Palestine to suit thine occasion."</p>
<p>Thus jested the Grand Master. But his jests had lost their influence on
the harassed mind of the Marquis, and notwithstanding his attempts to seem
gay, his gloom communicated itself to the Templar.</p>
<p>"This craven," he thought, "will lose the day in pure faintness and
cowardice of heart, which he calls tender conscience. I, whom visions and
auguries shake not—-who am firm in my purpose as the living rock—I
should have fought the combat myself. Would to God the Scot may strike him
dead on the spot; it were next best to his winning the victory. But come
what will, he must have no other confessor than myself—our sins are
too much in common, and he might confess my share with his own."</p>
<p>While these thoughts passed through his mind, he continued to assist the
Marquis in arming, but it was in silence.</p>
<p>The hour at length arrived; the trumpets sounded; the knights rode into
the lists armed at all points, and mounted like men who were to do battle
for a kingdom's honour. They wore their visors up, and riding around the
lists three times, showed themselves to the spectators. Both were goodly
persons, and both had noble countenances. But there was an air of manly
confidence on the brow of the Scot—a radiancy of hope, which
amounted even to cheerfulness; while, although pride and effort had
recalled much of Conrade's natural courage, there lowered still on his
brow a cloud of ominous despondence. Even his steed seemed to tread less
lightly and blithely to the trumpet-sound than the noble Arab which was
bestrode by Sir Kenneth; and the SPRUCH-SPRECHER shook his head while he
observed that, while the challenger rode around the lists in the course of
the sun—that is, from right to left—the defender made the same
circuit WIDDERSINS—that is, from left to right—which is in
most countries held ominous.</p>
<p>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. When the ceremony was finished, the Scottish Knight looked at
the gallery, and bent his head to the earth, as if in honour of those
invisible beauties which were enclosed within; then, loaded with armour as
he was, sprung to the saddle without the use of the stirrup, and made his
courser carry him in a succession of caracoles to his station at the
eastern extremity of the lists. Conrade also presented himself before the
altar with boldness enough; but his voice as he took the oath sounded
hollow, as if drowned in his helmet. The lips with which he appealed to
Heaven to adjudge victory to the just quarrel grew white as they uttered
the impious mockery. As he turned to remount his horse, the Grand Master
approached him closer, as if to rectify something about the sitting of his
gorget, and whispered, "Coward and fool! recall thy senses, and do me this
battle bravely, else, by Heaven, shouldst thou escape him, thou escapest
not ME!"</p>
<p>The savage tone in which this was whispered perhaps completed the
confusion of the Marquis's nerves, for he stumbled as he made to horse;
and though he recovered his feet, sprung to the saddle with his usual
agility, and displayed his address in horsemanship as he assumed his
position opposite to the challenger's, yet the accident did not escape
those who were on the watch for omens which might predict the fate of the
day.</p>
<p>The priests, after a solemn prayer that God would show the rightful
quarrel, departed from the lists. The trumpets of the challenger then rung
a flourish, and a herald-at-arms proclaimed at the eastern end of the
lists—"Here stands a good knight, Sir Kenneth of Scotland, champion
for the royal King Richard of England, who accuseth Conrade, Marquis of
Montserrat, of foul treason and dishonour done to the said King."</p>
<p>When the words Kenneth of Scotland announced the name and character of the
champion, hitherto scarce generally known, a loud and cheerful acclaim
burst from the followers of King Richard, and hardly, notwithstanding
repeated commands of silence, suffered the reply of the defendant to be
heard. He, of course, avouched his innocence, and offered his body for
battle. The esquires of the combatants now approached, and delivered to
each his shield and lance, assisting to hang the former around his neck,
that his two hands might remain free, one for the management of the
bridle, the other to direct the lance.</p>
<p>The shield of the Scot displayed his old bearing, the leopard, but with
the addition of a collar and broken chain, in allusion to his late
captivity. The shield of the Marquis bore, in reference to his title, a
serrated and rocky mountain. Each shook his lance aloft, as if to
ascertain the weight and toughness of the unwieldy weapon, and then laid
it in the rest. The sponsors, heralds, and squires now retired to the
barriers, and the combatants sat opposite to each other, face to face,
with couched lance and closed visor, the human form so completely
enclosed, that they looked more like statues of molten iron than beings of
flesh and blood. The silence of suspense was now general. Men breathed
thicker, and their very souls seemed seated in their eyes; while not a
sound was to be heard save the snorting and pawing of the good steeds,
who, sensible of what was about to happen, were impatient to dash into
career. They stood thus for perhaps three minutes, when, at a signal given
by the Soldan, a hundred instruments rent the air with their brazen
clamours, and each champion striking his horse with the spurs, and
slacking the rein, the horses started into full gallop, and the knights
met in mid space with a shock like a thunderbolt. The victory was not in
doubt—no, not one moment. Conrade, indeed, showed himself a
practised warrior; for he struck his antagonist knightly in the midst of
his shield, bearing his lance so straight and true that it shivered into
splinters from the steel 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 shield, through a
plated corselet of Milan steel, through a SECRET, or coat of linked mail,
worn beneath the corselet, had wounded him deep in the bosom, and borne
him from his saddle, leaving the truncheon of the lance fixed in his
wound. The sponsors, heralds, and Saladin himself, descending from his
throne, crowded around the wounded man; while Sir Kenneth, who had drawn
his sword ere yet he discovered his antagonist was totally helpless, now
commanded him to avow his guilt. The helmet was hastily unclosed, and the
wounded man, gazing wildly on the skies, replied, "What would you more?
God hath decided justly—I am guilty; but there are worse traitors in
the camp than I. In pity to my soul, let me have a confessor!"</p>
<p>He revived as he uttered these words.</p>
<p>"The talisman—the powerful remedy, royal brother!" said King Richard
to Saladin.</p>
<p>"The traitor," answered the Soldan, "is more fit to be dragged from the
lists to the gallows by the heels, than to profit by its virtues. And some
such fate is in his look," he added, after gazing fixedly upon the wounded
man; "for though his wound may be cured, yet Azrael's seal is on the
wretch's brow."</p>
<p>"Nevertheless," said Richard, "I pray you do for him what you may, that he
may at least have time for confession. Slay not soul and body! To him one
half hour of time may be worth more, by ten thousandfold, than the life of
the oldest patriarch."</p>
<p>"My royal brother's wish shall be obeyed," said Saladin.—"Slaves,
bear this wounded man to our tent."</p>
<p>"Do not so," said the Templar, who had hitherto stood gloomily looking on
in silence. "The royal Duke of Austria and myself will not permit this
unhappy Christian prince to be delivered over to the Saracens, that they
may try their spells upon him. We are his sponsors, and demand that he be
assigned to our care."</p>
<p>"That is, you refuse the certain means offered to recover him?" said
Richard.</p>
<p>"Not so," said the Grand Master, recollecting himself. "If the Soldan
useth lawful medicines, he may attend the patient in my tent."</p>
<p>"Do so, I pray thee, good brother," said Richard to Saladin, "though the
permission be ungraciously yielded.—But now to a more glorious work.
Sound, trumpets—shout, England—in honour of England's
champion!"</p>
<p>Drum, clarion, trumpet, and cymbal rung forth at once, and the deep and
regular shout, which for ages has been the English acclamation, sounded
amidst the shrill and irregular yells of the Arabs, like the diapason of
the organ amid the howling of a storm. There was silence at length.</p>
<p>"Brave Knight of the Leopard," resumed Coeur de Lion, "thou hast shown
that the Ethiopian may change his skin, and the leopard his spots, though
clerks quote Scripture for the impossibility. Yet I have more to say to
you when I have conducted you to the presence of the ladies, the best
judges and best rewarders of deeds of chivalry."</p>
<p>The Knight of the Leopard bowed assent.</p>
<p>"And thou, princely Saladin, wilt also attend them. I promise thee our
Queen will not think herself welcome, if she lacks the opportunity to
thank her royal host for her most princely reception."</p>
<p>Saladin bent his head gracefully, but declined the invitation.</p>
<p>"I must attend the wounded man," he said. "The leech leaves not his
patient more than the champion the lists, even if he be summoned to a
bower like those of Paradise. And further, royal Richard, know that the
blood of the East flows not so temperately in the presence of beauty as
that of your land. What saith the Book itself?—Her eye is as the
edge of the sword of the Prophet, who shall look upon it? He that would
not be burnt avoideth to tread on hot embers—wise men spread not the
flax before a flickering torch. He, saith the sage, who hath forfeited a
treasure, doth not wisely to turn back his head to gaze at it."</p>
<p>Richard, it may be believed, respected the motives of delicacy which
flowed from manners so different from his own, and urged his request no
further.</p>
<p>"At noon," said the Soldan, as he departed, "I trust ye will all accept a
collation under the black camel-skin tent of a chief of Kurdistan."</p>
<p>The same invitation was circulated among the Christians, comprehending all
those of sufficient importance to be admitted to sit at a feast made for
princes.</p>
<p>"Hark!" said Richard, "the timbrels announce that our Queen and her
attendants are leaving their gallery—and see, the turbans sink on
the ground, as if struck down by a destroying angel. All lie prostrate, as
if the glance of an Arab's eye could sully the lustre of a lady's cheek!
Come, we will to the pavilion, and lead our conqueror thither in triumph.
How I pity that noble Soldan, who knows but of love as it is known to
those of inferior nature!"</p>
<p>Blondel tuned his harp to his boldest measure, to welcome the introduction
of the victor into the pavilion of Queen Berengaria. He entered, supported
on either side by his sponsors, Richard and Thomas Longsword, and knelt
gracefully down before the Queen, though more than half the homage was
silently rendered to Edith, who sat on her right hand.</p>
<p>"Unarm him, my mistresses," said the King, whose delight was in the
execution of such chivalrous usages; "let Beauty honour Chivalry! Undo his
spurs, Berengaria; Queen though thou be, thou owest him what marks of
favour thou canst give.—Unlace his helmet, Edith;—by this hand
thou shalt, wert thou the proudest Plantagenet of the line, and he the
poorest knight on earth!"</p>
<p>Both ladies obeyed the royal commands—Berengaria with bustling
assiduity, as anxious to gratify her husband's humour, and Edith blushing
and growing pale alternately, as, slowly and awkwardly, she undid, with
Longsword's assistance, the fastenings which secured the helmet to the
gorget.</p>
<p>"And what expect you from beneath this iron shell?" said Richard, as the
removal of the casque gave to view the noble countenance of Sir Kenneth,
his face glowing with recent exertion, and not less so with present
emotion. "What think ye of him, gallants and beauties?" said Richard.
"Doth he resemble an Ethiopian slave, or doth he present the face of an
obscure and nameless adventurer? No, by my good sword! Here terminate his
various disguises. He hath knelt down before you unknown, save by his
worth; he arises equally distinguished by birth and by fortune. The
adventurous knight, Kenneth, arises David, Earl of Huntingdon, Prince
Royal of Scotland!"</p>
<p>There was a general exclamation of surprise, and Edith dropped from her
hand the helmet which she had just received.</p>
<p>"Yes, my masters," said the King, "it is even so. Ye know how Scotland
deceived us when she proposed to send this valiant Earl, with a bold
company of her best and noblest, to aid our arms in this conquest of
Palestine, but failed to comply with her engagements. This noble youth,
under whom the Scottish Crusaders were to have been arrayed, thought foul
scorn that his arm should be withheld from the holy warfare, and joined us
at Sicily with a small train of devoted and faithful attendants, which was
augmented by many of his countrymen to whom the rank of their leader was
unknown. The confidants of the Royal Prince had all, save one old
follower, fallen by death, when his secret, but too well kept, had nearly
occasioned my cutting off, in a Scottish adventurer, one of the noblest
hopes of Europe.—Why did you not mention your rank, noble
Huntingdon, when endangered by my hasty and passionate sentence? Was it
that you thought Richard capable of abusing the advantage I possessed over
the heir of a King whom I have so often found hostile?"</p>
<p>"I did you not that injustice, royal Richard," answered the Earl of
Huntingdon; "but my pride brooked not that I should avow myself Prince of
Scotland in order to save my life, endangered for default of loyalty. And,
moreover, I had made my vow to preserve my rank unknown till the Crusade
should be accomplished; nor did I mention it save IN ARTICULO MORTIS, and
under the seal of confession, to yonder reverend hermit."</p>
<p>"It was the knowledge of that secret, then, which made the good man so
urgent with me to recall my severe sentence?" said Richard. "Well did he
say that, had this good knight fallen by my mandate, I should have wished
the deed undone though it had cost me a limb. A limb! I should have wished
it undone had it cost me my life—-since the world would have said
that Richard had abused the condition in which the heir of Scotland had
placed himself by his confidence in his generosity."</p>
<p>"Yet, may we know of your Grace by what strange and happy chance this
riddle was at length read?" said the Queen Berengaria.</p>
<p>"Letters were brought to us from England," said the King, "in which we
learned, among other unpleasant news, that the King of Scotland had seized
upon three of our nobles, when on a pilgrimage to Saint Ninian, and
alleged, as a cause, that his heir, being supposed to be fighting in the
ranks of the Teutonic Knights against the heathen of Borussia, was, in
fact, in our camp, and in our power; and, therefore, William proposed to
hold these nobles as hostages for his safety. This gave me the first light
on the real rank of the Knight of the Leopard; and my suspicions were
confirmed by De Vaux, who, on his return from Ascalon, brought back with
him the Earl of Huntingdon's sole attendant, a thick-skulled slave, who
had gone thirty miles to unfold to De Vaux a secret he should have told to
me."</p>
<p>"Old Strauchan must be excused," said the Lord of Gilsland. "He knew from
experience that my heart is somewhat softer than if I wrote myself
Plantagenet."</p>
<p>"Thy heart soft? thou commodity of old iron and Cumberland flint, that
thou art!" exclaimed the King.—"It is we Plantagenets who boast soft
and feeling hearts. Edith," turning to his cousin with an expression which
called the blood into her cheek, "give me thy hand, my fair cousin, and,
Prince of Scotland, thine."</p>
<p>"Forbear, my lord," said Edith, hanging back, and endeavouring to hide her
confusion under an attempt to rally her royal kinsman's credulity.
"Remember you not that my hand was to be the signal of converting to the
Christian faith the Saracen and Arab, Saladin and all his turbaned host?"</p>
<p>"Ay, but the wind of prophecy hath chopped about, and sits now in another
corner," replied Richard.</p>
<p>"Mock not, lest your bonds be made strong," said the hermit stepping
forward. "The heavenly host write nothing but truth in their brilliant
records. It is man's eyes which are too weak to read their characters
aright. Know, that when Saladin and Kenneth of Scotland slept in my
grotto, I read in the stars that there rested under my roof a prince, the
natural foe of Richard, with whom the fate of Edith Plantagenet was to be
united. Could I doubt that this must be the Soldan, whose rank was well
known to me, as he often visited my cell to converse on the revolutions of
the heavenly bodies? Again, the lights of the firmament proclaimed that
this prince, the husband of Edith Plantagenet, should be a Christian; and
I—weak and wild interpreter!—argued thence the conversion of
the noble Saladin, whose good qualities seemed often to incline him
towards the better faith. The sense of my weakness hath humbled me to the
dust; but in the dust I have found comfort! I have not read aright the
fate of others—who can assure me but that I may have miscalculated
mine own? God will not have us break into His council-house, or spy out
His hidden mysteries. We must wait His time with watching and prayer—with
fear and with hope. I came hither the stern seer—the proud prophet—skilled,
as I thought, to instruct princes, and gifted even with supernatural
powers, but burdened with a weight which I deemed no shoulders but mine
could have borne. But my bands have been broken! I go hence humble in mine
ignorance, penitent—and not hopeless."</p>
<p>With these words he withdrew from the assembly; and it is recorded that
from that period his frenzy fits seldom occurred, and his penances were of
a milder character, and accompanied with better hopes of the future. So
much is there of self-opinion, even in insanity, that the conviction of
his having entertained and expressed an unfounded prediction with so much
vehemence seemed to operate like loss of blood on the human frame, to
modify and lower the fever of the brain.</p>
<p>It is needless to follow into further particulars the conferences at the
royal tent, or to inquire whether David, Earl of Huntingdon, was as mute
in the presence of Edith Plantagenet as when he was bound to act under the
character of an obscure and nameless adventurer. It may be well believed
that he there expressed with suitable earnestness the passion to which he
had so often before found it difficult to give words.</p>
<p>The hour of noon now approached, and Saladin waited to receive the Princes
of Christendom in a tent, which, but for its large size, differed little
from that of the ordinary shelter of the common Kurdman, or Arab; yet
beneath its ample and sable covering was prepared a banquet after the most
gorgeous fashion of the East, extended upon carpets of the richest stuffs,
with cushions laid for the guests. But we cannot stop to describe the
cloth of gold and silver—the superb embroidery in arabesque—the
shawls of Kashmere and the muslins of India, which were here unfolded in
all their splendour; far less to tell the different sweetmeats, ragouts
edged with rice coloured in various manners, with all the other niceties
of Eastern cookery. Lambs roasted whole, and game and poultry dressed in
pilaus, were piled in vessels of gold, and silver, and porcelain, and
intermixed with large mazers of sherbet, cooled in snow and ice from the
caverns of Mount Lebanon. A magnificent pile of cushions at the head of
the banquet seemed prepared for the master of the feast, and such
dignitaries as he might call to share that place of distinction; while
from the roof of the tent in all quarters, but over this seat of eminence
in particular, waved many a banner and pennon, the trophies of battles won
and kingdoms overthrown. But amongst and above them all, a long lance
displayed a shroud, the banner of Death, with this impressive inscription—"SALADIN,
KING OF KINGS—SALADIN, VICTOR OF VICTORS—SALADIN MUST DIE."
Amid these preparations, the slaves who had arranged the refreshments
stood with drooped heads and folded arms, mute and motionless as
monumental statuary, or as automata, which waited the touch of the artist
to put them in motion.</p>
<p>Expecting the approach of his princely guests, the Soldan, imbued, as most
were, with the superstitions of his time, paused over a horoscope and
corresponding scroll, which had been sent to him by the hermit of Engaddi
when he departed from the camp.</p>
<p>"Strange and mysterious science," he muttered to himself, "which,
pretending to draw the curtain of futurity, misleads those whom it seems
to guide, and darkens the scene which it pretends to illuminate! Who would
not have said that I was that enemy most dangerous to Richard, whose
enmity was to be ended by marriage with his kinswoman? Yet it now appears
that a union betwixt this gallant Earl and the lady will bring about
friendship betwixt Richard and Scotland, an enemy more dangerous than I,
as a wildcat in a chamber is more to be dreaded than a lion in a distant
desert. But then," he continued to mutter to himself, "the combination
intimates that this husband was to be Christian.—Christian!" he
repeated, after a pause. "That gave the insane fanatic star-gazer hopes
that I might renounce my faith! But me, the faithful follower of our
Prophet—me it should have undeceived. Lie there, mysterious scroll,"
he added, thrusting it under the pile of cushions; "strange are thy
bodements and fatal, since, even when true in themselves, they work upon
those who attempt to decipher their meaning all the effects of falsehood.—How
now! what means this intrusion?"</p>
<p>He spoke to the dwarf Nectabanus, who rushed into the tent fearfully
agitated, with each strange and disproportioned feature wrenched by horror
into still more extravagant ugliness—his mouth open, his eyes
staring, his hands, with their shrivelled and deformed fingers, wildly
expanded.</p>
<p>"What now?" said the Soldan sternly.</p>
<p>"ACCIPE HOC!" groaned out the dwarf.</p>
<p>"Ha! sayest thou?" answered Saladin.</p>
<p>"ACCIPE HOC!" replied the panic-struck creature, unconscious, perhaps,
that he repeated the same words as before.</p>
<p>"Hence, I am in no vein for foolery," said the Emperor.</p>
<p>"Nor am I further fool," said the dwarf, "than to make my folly help out
my wits to earn my bread, poor, helpless wretch! Hear, hear me, great
Soldan!"</p>
<p>"Nay, if thou hast actual wrong to complain of," said Saladin, "fool or
wise, thou art entitled to the ear of a King. Retire hither with me;" and
he led him into the inner tent.</p>
<p>Whatever their conference related to, it was soon broken off by the
fanfare of the trumpets announcing the arrival of the various Christian
princes, whom Saladin welcomed to his tent with a royal courtesy well
becoming their rank and his own; but chiefly he saluted the young Earl of
Huntingdon, and generously congratulated him upon prospects which seemed
to have interfered with and overclouded those which he had himself
entertained.</p>
<p>"But think not," said the Soldan, "thou noble youth, that the Prince of
Scotland is more welcome to Saladin than was Kenneth to the solitary
Ilderim when they met in the desert, or the distressed Ethiop to the Hakim
Adonbec. A brave and generous disposition like thine hath a value
independent of condition and birth, as the cool draught, which I here
proffer thee, is as delicious from an earthen vessel as from a goblet of
gold."</p>
<p>The Earl of Huntingdon made a suitable reply, gratefully acknowledging the
various important services he had received from the generous Soldan; but
when he had pledged Saladin in the bowl of sherbet which the Soldan had
proffered to him, he could not help remarking with a smile, "The brave
cavalier Ilderim knew not of the formation of ice, but the munificent
Soldan cools his sherbet with snow."</p>
<p>"Wouldst thou have an Arab or a Kurdman as wise as a Hakim?" said the
Soldan. "He who does on a disguise must make the sentiments of his heart
and the learning of his head accord with the dress which he assumes. I
desired to see how a brave and 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."</p>
<p>While they were speaking, the Archduke of Austria, who stood a little
apart, was struck with the mention of iced sherbet, and took with pleasure
and some bluntness the deep goblet, as the Earl of Huntingdon was about to
replace it.</p>
<p>"Most delicious!" he exclaimed, after a deep draught, which the heat of
the weather, and the feverishness following the debauch of the preceding
day, had rendered doubly acceptable. He sighed as he handed the cup to the
Grand Master of the Templars. Saladin made a sign to the dwarf, who
advanced and pronounced, with a harsh voice, the words, ACCIPE HOC! The
Templar started, like a steed who sees a lion under a bush beside the
pathway; yet instantly recovered, and to hide, perhaps, his confusion,
raised the goblet to his lips. But those lips never touched that goblet's
rim. The sabre of Saladin left its sheath as lightning leaves the cloud.
It was waved in the air, and the head of the Grand Master rolled to the
extremity of the tent, while the trunk remained for a second standing,
with the goblet still clenched in its grasp, then fell, the liquor
mingling with the blood that spurted from the veins.</p>
<p>There was a general exclamation of treason, and Austria, nearest to whom
Saladin stood with the bloody sabre in his hand, started back as if
apprehensive that his turn was to come next. Richard and others laid hand
on their swords.</p>
<p>"Fear nothing, noble Austria," said Saladin, as composedly as if nothing
had happened,—"nor you, royal England, be wroth at what you have
seen. Not for his manifold 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 horses—not
that he had stirred up the Maronites to attack us upon this very occasion,
had I not brought up unexpectedly so many Arabs as rendered the scheme
abortive—not for any or all of these crimes does he now lie there,
although each were deserving such a doom—but because, scarce half an
hour ere he polluted our presence, as the simoom empoisons the atmosphere,
he poniarded his comrade and accomplice, Conrade of Montserrat, lest he
should confess the infamous plots in which they had both been engaged."</p>
<p>"How! Conrade murdered?—And by the Grand Master, his sponsor and
most intimate friend!" exclaimed Richard. "Noble Soldan, I would not doubt
thee; yet this must be proved, otherwise—"</p>
<p>"There stands the evidence," said Saladin, pointing to the terrified
dwarf. "Allah, who sends the fire-fly to illuminate the night season, can
discover secret crimes by the most contemptible means."</p>
<p>The Soldan proceeded to tell the dwarf's story, which amounted to this. In
his foolish curiosity, or, as he partly confessed, with some thoughts of
pilfering, Nectabanus had strayed into the tent of Conrade, which had been
deserted by his attendants, some of whom had left the encampment to carry
the news of his defeat to his brother, and others were availing themselves
of the means which Saladin had supplied for revelling. The wounded man
slept under the influence of Saladin's wonderful talisman, so that the
dwarf had opportunity to pry about at pleasure until he was frightened
into concealment by the sound of a heavy step. He skulked behind a
curtain, yet could see the motions, and hear the words, of the Grand
Master, who entered, and carefully secured the covering of the pavilion
behind him. His victim started from sleep, and it would appear that he
instantly suspected the purpose of his old associate, for it was in a tone
of alarm that he demanded wherefore he disturbed him.</p>
<p>"I come to confess and to absolve thee," answered the Grand Master.</p>
<p>Of their further speech the terrified dwarf remembered little, save that
Conrade implored the Grand Master not to break a wounded reed, and that
the Templar struck him to the heart with a Turkish dagger, with the words
ACCIPE HOC!—words which long afterwards haunted the terrified
imagination of the concealed witness.</p>
<p>"I verified the tale," said Saladin, "by causing the body to be examined;
and I made this unhappy being, whom Allah hath made the discoverer of the
crime, repeat in your own presence the words which the murderer spoke; and
you yourselves saw the effect which they produced upon his conscience!"</p>
<p>The Soldan paused, and the King of England broke silence.</p>
<p>"If this be true, as I doubt not, we have witnessed a great act of
justice, though it bore a different aspect. But wherefore in this
presence? wherefore with thine own hand?"</p>
<p>"I had designed otherwise," said Saladin. "But had I not hastened his
doom, it had been altogether averted, since, if I had permitted him to
taste of my cup, as he was about to do, how could I, without incurring the
brand of inhospitality, have done him to death as he deserved? Had he
murdered my father, and afterwards partaken of my food and my bowl, not a
hair of his head could have been injured by me. But enough of him—let
his carcass and his memory be removed from amongst us."</p>
<p>The body was carried away, and the marks of the slaughter obliterated or
concealed with such ready dexterity, as showed that the case was not
altogether so uncommon as to paralyze the assistants and officers of
Saladin's household.</p>
<p>But the Christian princes felt that the scene which they had beheld
weighed heavily on their spirits, and although, at the courteous
invitation of the Soldan, they assumed their seats at the banquet, yet it
was with the silence of doubt and amazement. The spirits of Richard alone
surmounted all cause for suspicion or embarrassment. Yet he too seemed to
ruminate on some proposition, as if he were desirous of making it in the
most insinuating and acceptable manner which was possible. At length he
drank off a large bowl of wine, and addressing the Soldan, desired to know
whether it was not true that he had honoured the Earl of Huntingdon with a
personal encounter.</p>
<p>Saladin answered with a smile that he had proved his horse and his weapons
with the heir of Scotland, as cavaliers are wont to do with each other
when they meet in the desert; and modestly added that, though the combat
was not entirely decisive, he had not on his part much reason to pride
himself on the event. The Scot, on the other hand, disclaimed the
attributed superiority, and wished to assign it to the Soldan.</p>
<p>"Enough of honour thou hast had in the encounter," said Richard, "and I
envy thee more for that than for the smiles of Edith Plantagenet, though
one of them might reward a bloody day's work.—But what say you,
noble princes? Is it fitting that such a royal ring of chivalry should
break up without something being done for future times to speak of? What
is the overthrow and death of a traitor to such a fair garland of honour
as is here assembled, and which ought not to part without witnessing
something more worthy of their regard?—How say you, princely Soldan?
What if we two should now, and before this fair company, decide the
long-contended question for this land of Palestine, and end at once these
tedious wars? Yonder are the lists ready, nor can Paynimrie ever hope a
better champion than thou. I, unless worthier offers, will lay down my
gauntlet in behalf of Christendom, and in all love and honour we will do
mortal battle for the possession of Jerusalem."</p>
<p>There was a deep pause for the Soldan's answer. His cheek and brow
coloured highly, and it was the opinion of many present that he hesitated
whether he should accept the challenge. At length he said, "Fighting for
the Holy City against those whom we regard as idolaters and worshippers of
stocks and stones and graven images, I might confide that Allah would
strengthen my arm; or if I fell beneath the sword of the Melech Ric, I
could not pass to Paradise by a more glorious death. But Allah has already
given Jerusalem to the true believers, and it were a tempting the God of
the Prophet to peril, upon my own personal strength and skill, that which
I hold securely by the superiority of my forces."</p>
<p>"If not for Jerusalem, then," said Richard, in the tone of one who would
entreat a favour of an intimate friend, "yet, for the love of honour, let
us run at least three courses with grinded lances?"</p>
<p>"Even this," said Saladin, half smiling at Coeur de Lion's affectionate
earnestness for the combat—"even this I may not lawfully do. The
master places the shepherd over the flock not for the shepherd's own sake,
but for the sake of the sheep. Had I a son to hold the sceptre when I
fell, I might have had the liberty, as I have the will, to brave this bold
encounter; but your own Scripture saith that when the herdsman is smitten,
the sheep are scattered."</p>
<p>"Thou hast had all the fortune," said Richard, turning to the Earl of
Huntingdon with a sigh. "I would have given the best year in my life for
that one half hour beside the Diamond of the Desert!"</p>
<p>The chivalrous extravagance of Richard awakened the spirits of the
assembly, and when at length they arose to depart Saladin advanced and
took Coeur de Lion by the hand.</p>
<p>"Noble King of England," he said, "we now part, never to meet again. That
your league is dissolved, no more to be reunited, and that your native
forces are far too few to enable you to prosecute your enterprise, is as
well known to me as to yourself. I may not yield you up that Jerusalem
which you so much desire to hold—it is to us, as to you, a Holy
City. But whatever other terms Richard demands of Saladin shall be as
willingly yielded as yonder fountain yields its waters. Ay and the same
should be as frankly afforded by Saladin if Richard stood in the desert
with but two archers in his train!"</p>
<p>The next day saw Richard's return to his own camp, and in a short space
afterwards the young Earl of Huntingdon was espoused by Edith Plantagenet.
The Soldan sent, as a nuptial present on this occasion, the celebrated
TALISMAN. But though many cures were wrought by means of it in Europe,
none equalled in success and celebrity those which the Soldan achieved. It
is still in existence, having been bequeathed by the Earl of Huntingdon to
a brave knight of Scotland, Sir Simon of the Lee, in whose ancient and
highly honoured family it is still preserved; and although charmed stones
have been dismissed from the modern Pharmacopoeia, its virtues are still
applied to for stopping blood, and in cases of canine madness.</p>
<p>Our Story closes here, as the terms on which Richard relinquished his
conquests are to be found in every history of the period.</p>
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