"I come to confess and absolve thee," answered the Grand Master.
Of their further speech the terrified dwarf remembered little, save that Conrade implored the Grand Master not to break a wounded reed, and that the Templar struck him to the heart with a Turkish dagger, with the words _Accipe hoc_,--words which long afterward haunted the terrified imagination of the concealed witness.
"I verified the tale," said Saladin, "by causing the body to be examined; and I made this unhappy being, whom Allah hath made the discoverer of the crime, repeat in your own presence the words which the murderer spoke, and you yourselves saw the effect which they produced upon his conscience."
The Soldan paused, and the King of England broke silence:--
"If this be true, as I doubt not, we have witnessed a great act of justice, though it bore a different aspect. But wherefore in this presence? wherefore with thine own hand?"
"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 afterward 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 carca.s.s and his memory be removed from amongst us."
The body was carried away, and the marks of the slaughter obliterated or concealed with such ready dexterity, as showed that the case was not altogether so uncommon, as to paralyze the a.s.sistants and officers of Saladin"s household.
But the Christian princes felt that the scene which they had beheld weighed heavily on their spirits, and although, at the courteous invitation of the Soldan, they a.s.sumed 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 embarra.s.sment. 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 honored the Earl of Huntingdon with a personal encounter.
Saladin answered with a smile, that he had proved his horse and his weapons with the heir of Scotland, as cavaliers are wont to do with each other when they meet in the desert; and modestly added that, though the combat was not entirely decisive, he had not, on his part, much reason to pride himself on the event. The Scot, on the other hand, disclaimed the attributed superiority, and wished to a.s.sign it to the Soldan.
"Enough of honor 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 b.l.o.o.d.y day"s work.--But what say you, n.o.ble 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 honor as is here a.s.sembled, 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 honor, we will do mortal battle for the possession of Jerusalem."
There was a deep pause for the Soldan"s answer. His cheek and brow colored 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 pa.s.s to Paradise by a more glorious death. But Allah has already given Jerusalem to the true believers, and it were a tempting the G.o.d of the Prophet to peril, upon my own personal strength and skill, that which I hold securely by the superiority of my forces."
"If not for Jerusalem, then," said Richard, in the tone of one who would entreat a favor of an intimate friend, "yet, for the love of honor, let us run at least three courses with grinded lances."
"Even this," said Saladin, half smiling at Coeur de Lion"s affectionate earnestness for the combat, "even this I may not lawfully do. The Master places the shepherd over the flock, not for the shepherd"s own sake, but for the sake of the sheep. Had I a son to hold the sceptre when I fell, I might have had the liberty, as I have the will, to brave this bold encounter; but your own Scripture sayeth, that when the herdsman is smitten, the sheep are scattered."
"Thou hast had all the fortune," said Richard, turning to the Earl of Huntingdon with a sigh. "I would have given the best year of my life for that one half-hour beside the Diamond of the Desert!"
The chivalrous extravagance of Richard awakened the spirits of the a.s.sembly, and when at length they arose to depart, Saladin advanced and took Coeur de Lion by the hand.
"n.o.ble 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!"
FOOTNOTES:
[I] While the army of the crusaders was inactive near Ascalon, a truce having been agreed to between the Saracens and their a.s.sailants, the Grand Master of the Templars, Conrade Marquis of Montserrat, and others of the Christian Princes, were plotting to effect its dismemberment. Richard of England was the leading spirit of the crusade, and the plotters wished either to get rid of him or to inspire his colleagues with jealousy of his leadership. The Grand Master sought to have the King a.s.sa.s.sinated. Conrade tried to break up the league by milder means: he first provoked the Duke of Austria to insult the English banner; and then thinking rightly that the suspicion and wrath of Richard would fall upon Austria, he secretly stole the banner from its place. Its safe-keeping, after Austria"s insult, had been entrusted by the King to Sir Kenneth, known as the Knight of the Leopard, in reality David Prince of Scotland, who in the disguise of an obscure gentleman had joined the crusade as a follower of the English King. Sir Kenneth was innocently decoyed from his watch, and in his absence, the banner, left with but his dog to guard it, was stolen by Conrade. For his failure of duty. Sir Kenneth was condemned to immediate death, but Saladin, who in the disguise of an Arab physician was in the English camp, and who had rescued the King from death by fever, urgently interceding, his life was spared.
Saladin took Sir Kenneth to the camp of the Saracens, and knowing his worth and valor, having previously had knightly encounter with him in the desert, disguised him as a Nubian slave, and sent him as a present to Richard with the hope that he might in some way discover by whom the banner had been stolen. Attending Richard as a slave Sir Kenneth saved the king from the a.s.sa.s.sination which the Grand Master had instigated, and aided by the instinct of his dog, also disguised, he detected the thief in Conrade. Richard thereupon, at once charged Conrade with the theft, and challenged him to mortal combat. The King was prevented by the Council of the Princes from fighting in person, but having divined in the Nubian slave the former Knight of the Leopard, he permitted Sir Kenneth to fight in his stead, that the knight might atone for the dishonor of being faithless in his watch.
Conrade"s cause was espoused by the Grand Master, who had been his confidant, and by the Duke of Austria. The encounter was appointed to take place at the Diamond of the Desert, in the territory of Saladin, who was asked to act as umpire. It had been stipulated that but five hundred Saracens should be present at the trial; Saladin, however, having been apprised of further plotting on the part of the Grand Master, for safety"s sake caused a larger attendance of his followers. Sir Kenneth had long loved Edith Plantagenet, but being known to her only as a poor and nameless adventurer, he had not yet openly avowed his love.
x.x.xI. TO A HIGHLAND GIRL.
(AT INVERSNEYDE, UPON LOCH LOMOND.)
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.--1770-1850.
Sweet Highland girl, a very shower Of beauty is thy earthly dower!
Twice seven consenting years have shed Their utmost bounty on thy head: And these gray rocks; this household lawn; These trees, a veil just half withdrawn; This fall of water, that doth make A murmur near the silent lake; This little bay, a quiet road That holds in shelter thy abode; In truth, together do ye seem Like something fashion"d in a dream; Such forms as from their covert peep When earthly cares are laid asleep!
Yet, dream and vision as thou art, I bless thee with a human heart: G.o.d shield thee to thy latest years!
Thee neither know I nor thy peers; And yet my eyes are fill"d with tears.
With earnest feeling I shall pray For thee when I am far away: For never saw I mien, or face, In which more plainly I could trace Benignity and home-bred sense Ripening in perfect innocence.
Here scatter"d like a random seed, Remote from men, thou dost not need The embarra.s.s"d look of shy distress, And maidenly shamefacedness: Thou wear"st upon thy forehead clear The freedom of a mountaineer: A face with gladness overspread!
Soft smiles, by human kindness bred!
And seemliness complete, that sways Thy courtesies, about thee plays; With no restraint, but such as springs From quick and eager visitings Of thoughts that lie beyond the reach Of thy few words of English speech: A bondage sweetly brook"d, a strife That gives thy gestures grace and life!
So have I, not unmov"d in mind, Seen birds of tempest-loving kind, Thus beating up against the wind.
What hand but would a garland cull For thee who art so beautiful?
O happy pleasure! here to dwell Beside thee in some heathy dell; Adopt your homely ways, and dress, A shepherd, thou a shepherdess!
But I could frame a wish for thee More like a grave reality: Thou art to me but as a wave Of the wild sea; and I would have Some claim upon thee, if I could, Though but of common neighborhood.
What joy to hear thee, and to see!
Thy elder brother I would be, Thy father, anything to thee!
Now thanks to Heaven! that of its grace Hath led me to this lonely place.
Joy have I had; and going hence I bear away my recompense.
In spots like these it is we prize Our memory, feel that she hath eyes: Then, why should I be loth to stir?
I feel this place was made for her; To give new pleasure like the past, Continued long as life shall last.
Nor am I loth, though pleas"d at heart, Sweet Highland girl! from thee to part; For I, methinks, till I grow old, As fair before me shall behold, As I do now, the cabin small, The lake, the bay, the waterfall; And thee, the spirit of them all!
x.x.xII. FRANCE: AN ODE.
(1797.)
SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE.--1772-1834.
I.
Ye Clouds! that far above me float and pause, Whose pathless march no mortal may control!
Ye Ocean-Waves! that, wheresoe"er ye roll, Yield homage only to eternal laws!
Ye Woods! that listen to the night-birds singing, Midway the smooth and perilous slope reclin"d, Save when your own imperious branches, swinging, Have made a solemn music of the wind!
Where, like a man belov"d of G.o.d, Through glooms, which never woodman trod, How oft, pursuing fancies holy, My moonlight way o"er flowering weeds I wound, Inspir"d, beyond the guess of folly, By each rude shape and wild unconquerable sound!
O ye loud Waves! and O ye Forests high!
And O ye Clouds that far above me soar"d!
Thou rising Sun! thou blue rejoicing Sky!
Yea, every thing that is and will be free!
Bear witness for me, wheresoe"er ye be, With what deep worship I have still ador"d The spirit of divinest Liberty.
II.
When France in wrath her giant-limbs uprear"d, And with that oath, which smote air, earth, and sea, Stamp"d her strong foot and said she would be free, Bear witness for me, how I hoped and fear"d!
With what a joy my lofty gratulation Unaw"d I sang, amid a slavish band; And when to whelm the disenchanted nation, Like fiends embattled by a wizard"s wand.
The Monarchs march"d in evil day, And Britain join"d the dire array, Though dear her sh.o.r.es and circling ocean, Though many friendships, many youthful loves, Had swoll"n the patriot emotion, And flung a magic light o"er all her hills and groves; Yet still my voice, unalter"d, sang defeat To all that brav"d the tyrant-quelling lance, And shame too long delay"d and vain retreat!