"thou seest how it is even with the greatest, and that the Emperor, in
moments of difficulty, is a subject of misconstruction, as well as the
meanest burgess of Constantinople; nevertheless, my trust is so great
in thee, Edward, that I would have thee believe, that my daughter, Anna
Comnena, is not of the temper of her mother, but rather of my own;
honouring, thou mayst see, with religious fidelity, the unworthy ties
which I hope soon to break, and assort her with other fetters of Cupid,
which shall be borne more lightly. Edward, my main trust is in thee.
Accident presents us with an opportunity, happy of the happiest, so it
be rightly improved, of having all the traitors before us assembled on
one fair field. Think, _then_, on that day, as the Franks say at
their tournaments, that fair eyes behold thee. Thou canst not devise a
gift within my power, but I will gladly load thee with it."
"It needs not," said the Varangian, somewhat coldly; "my highest
ambition is to merit the epitaph upon my tomb, 'Hereward was faithful.'
I am about, however, to demand a proof of your imperial confidence,
which, perhaps, you may think a startling one."
"Indeed!" said the Emperor. "What, in one word, is thy demand?"
"Permission," replied Hereward, "to go to the Duke of Bouillon's
encampment, and entreat his presence in the lists, to witness this
extraordinary combat."
"That he may return with his crusading madmen," said the Emperor, "and
sack Constantinople, under pretence of doing justice to his
Confederates? This, Varangian, is at least speaking thy mind openly."
"No, by Heavens!" said Hereward suddenly; "the Duke of Bouillon shall
come with no more knights than may be a reasonable guard, should
treachery be offered to the Countess of Paris."
"Well, even in this," said the Emperor, "will I be conformable; and if
thou, Edward, betrayest my trust, think that thou forfeitest all that
my friendship has promised, and dost incur, besides, the damnation that
is due to the traitor who betrays with a kiss."
"For thy reward, noble sir," answered the Varangian, "I hereby renounce
all claim to it. When the diadem is once more firmly fixed upon thy
brow, and the sceptre in thy hand, if I am then alive, if my poor
services should deserve so much, I will petition thee for the means of
leaving this court, and returning to the distant island in which I was
born. Meanwhile, think me not unfaithful, because I have for a time the
means of being so with effect. Your Imperial Highness shall learn that
Hereward is as true as is your right hand to your left." - So saying, he
took his leave with a profound obeisance.
The Emperor gazed after him with a countenance in which doubt was
mingled with admiration.
"I have trusted him," he said, "with all he asked, and with the power
of ruining me entirely, if such be his purpose. He has but to breathe a
whisper, and the whole mad crew of crusaders, kept in humour at the
expense of so much current falsehood, and so much more gold, will
return with fire and sword to burn down Constantinople, and sow with
salt the place where it stood. I have done what I had resolved never to
do, - I have ventured kingdom and life on the faith of a man born of
woman. How often have I said, nay, sworn, that I would not hazard
myself on such peril, and yet, step by step, I have done so! I cannot
tell - there is in that man's looks and words a good faith which
overwhelms me; and, what is almost incredible, my belief in him has
increased in proportion to his showing me how slight my power was over
him. I threw, like the wily angler, every bait I could devise, and some
of them such as a king would scarcely have disdained; to none of these
would he rise; but yet he gorges, I may say, the bare hook, and enters
upon my service without a shadow of self-interest. - Can this be double-
distilled treachery? - or can it be what men call disinterestedness? - If
I thought him false, the moment is not yet past - he has not yet crossed
the bridge - he has not passed the guards of the palace, who have no
hesitation, and know no disobedience - But no - I were then alone in the
land, and without a friend or confidant. - I hear the sound of the outer
gate unclose, the sense of danger certainly renders my ears more acute
than usual. - It shuts again - the die is cast. He is at liberty - and
Alexius Comnenus must stand or fall, according to the uncertain faith
of a mercenary Varangian." He clapt his hands; a slave appeared, of
whom he demanded wine. He drank, and his heart was cheered within him.
"I am decided," he said, "and will abide with resolution the cast of
the throw, for good or for evil."
So saying, he retired to his apartment, and was not again seen during
that night.
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SECOND.
And aye, as if for death, some lonely trumpet peal'd.
CAMPBELL.
The Varangian, his head agitated with the weighty matters which imposed
on him, stopt from time to time as he journeyed through the moonlight
streets, to arrest passing ideas as they shot through his mind, and
consider them with accuracy in all their bearings. His thoughts were
such as animated or alarmed him alternately, each followed by a
confused throng of accompaniments which it suggested, and banished
again in its turn by reflections of another description. It was one of
those conjunctures when the minds of ordinary men feel themselves
unable to support a burden which is suddenly flung upon them, and when,
on the contrary, those of uncommon fortitude, and that best of Heaven's
gifts, good sense, founded on presence of mind, feel their talents
awakened and regulated for the occasion, like a good steed under the
management of a rider of courage and experience.
As he stood in one of those fits of reverie, which repeatedly during
that night arrested his stern military march, Hereward thought that his
ear caught the note of a distant trumpet. This surprised him; a trumpet
blown at that late hour, and in the streets of Constantinople, argued
something extraordinary; for as all military movements were the subject
of special ordinance, the etiquette of the night could hardly have been
transgressed without some great cause. The question was, what that
cause could be?
Had the insurrection broken out unexpectedly, and in a different manner
from what the conspirators proposed to themselves? - If so, his meeting
with his plighted bride, after so many years' absence, was but a
delusive preface to their separating for ever. Or had the crusaders, a
race of men upon whose motions it was difficult to calculate, suddenly
taken arms and returned from the opposite shore to surprise the city?
This might very possibly be the case; so numerous had been the
different causes of complaint afforded to the crusaders, that, when
they were now for the first time assembled into one body, and had heard
the stories which they could reciprocally tell concerning the perfidy
of the Greeks, nothing was so likely, so natural, even perhaps so
justifiable, as that they should study revenge.
But the sound rather resembled a point of war regularly blown, than the
tumultuous blare of bugle-horns and trumpets, the accompaniments at
once, and the annunciation, of a taken town, in which the horrid
circumstances of storm had not yet given place to such stern peace as
the victors' weariness of slaughter and rapine allows at length to the
wretched inhabitants. Whatever it was, it was necessary that Hereward
should learn its purport, and therefore he made his way into a broad
street near the barracks, from, which the sound seemed to come, to
which point, indeed, his way was directed for other reasons.
The inhabitants of that quarter of the town did not appear violently
startled by this military signal. The moonlight slept on the street,
crossed by the gigantic shadowy towers of Sancta Sophia. No human being
appeared in the streets, and such as for an instant looked from their
doors or from their lattices, seemed to have their curiosity quickly
satisfied, for they withdrew their heads, and secured the opening
through which they had peeped.
Hereward could not help remembering the traditions which were recounted
by the fathers of his tribe, in the deep woods, of Hampshire, and which
spoke of invisible huntsmen, who were heard to follow with viewless
horses and hounds the unseen chase through the depths of the forests of
Germany. Such it seemed were the sounds with which these haunted woods
were wont to ring while the wild chase was up; and with such apparent
terror did the hearers listen to their clamour.
"Fie!" he said, as he suppressed within him a tendency to the same
superstitious fears; "do such childish fancies belong to a man trusted
with so much, and from whom so much is expected?" He paced down the
street, therefore, with his battle-axe over his shoulder, and the first
person whom he saw venturing to look out of his door, he questioned
concerning the cause of this military music at such an unaccustomed
hour.
"I cannot tell, so please you, my lord," said the citizen, unwilling,
it appeared, to remain in the open air, or to enter into conversation,
and greatly disposed to decline further questioning. This was the
political citizen of Constantinople whom we met with at the beginning
of this history, and who, hastily stepping into his habitation,
eschewed all further conversation.
The wrestler Stephanos showed himself at the next door, which was
garlanded with oak and ivy leaves, in honour of some recent victory. He
stood unshrinking, partly encouraged by the consciousness of personal
strength, and partly by a rugged surliness of temper, which is often
mistaken among persons of this kind for real courage. His admirer and
flatterer, Lysimachus, kept himself ensconced behind his ample
shoulders.
As Hereward passed, he put the same question as he did to the former
citizen, - "Know you the meaning of these trumpets sounding so late?"
"You should know best yourself," answered Stephanos, doggedly; "for, to
judge by your axe and helmet, they are your trumpets, and not ours,
which disturb honest men in their first sleep."
"Varlet!" answered the Varangian, with an emphasis which made the
prizer start, - "but - when that trumpet sounds, it is no time for a
soldier to punish insolence as it deserves."
The Greek started back and bolted into his house, nearly overthrowing
in the speed of his retreat the artist Lysimachus, who was listening to
what passed.
Hereward passed on to the barracks, where the military music had seemed
to halt; but on the Varangian crossing the threshold of the ample
courtyard, it broke forth again with a tremendous burst, whose clangour
almost stunned him, though well accustomed to the sounds. "What is the
meaning of this, Engelbrecht?" he said to the Varangian sentinel, who
paced axe in hand before the entrance.
"The proclamation of a challenge and combat," answered Engelbrecht.
"Strange things towards, comrade; the frantic crusaders have bit the
Grecians, and infected them with their humour of tilting, as they say
dogs do each other with madness."
Hereward made no reply to the sentinel's speech, but pressed forward
into a knot of his fellow-soldiers who were assembled in the court,
half-armed, or, more properly, in total disarray, as just arisen from
their beds, and huddled around the trumpets of their corps, which were
drawn out in full pomp. He of the gigantic instrument, whose duty it
was to intimate the express commands of the Emperor, was not wanting in
his place, and the musicians were supported by a band of the Varangians
in arms, headed by Achilles Tatius himself. Hereward could also notice,
on approaching nearer, as his comrades made way for him, that six of
the Imperial heralds were on duty on this occasion; four of these (two
acting at the same time) had already made proclamation, which was to be
repeated for the third time by the two last, as was the usual fashion
in Constantinople with Imperial mandates of great consequence. Achilles
Tatius, the moment he saw his confidant, made him a sign, which
Hereward understood as conveying a desire to speak with him after the
proclamation was over. The herald, after the flourish of trumpets was
finished, commenced in. these words:
"By the authority of the resplendent and divine Prince Alexius Comnenus,
Emperor of the most holy Roman Empire, his Imperial Majesty desires it
to be made known to all and sundry the subjects of his empire, whatever
their race of blood may be, or at whatever shrine of divinity they
happen, to bend - Know ye, therefore, that upon the second day after
this is dated, our beloved son-in-law, the much esteemed Caesar, hath
taken upon, him to do battle with our sworn enemy, Robert, Count of
Paris, on account of his insolent conduct, by presuming publicly to
occupy our royal seat, and no less by breaking, in our Imperial
presence, those curious specimens of art, ornamenting our throne,
called by tradition the Lions of Solomon. And that there may not remain
a man in Europe who shall dare to say that the Grecians are behind
other parts of the world in any of the manly exercises which Christian
nations use, the said noble enemies, renouncing all assistance from
falsehood, from spells, or from magic, shall debate this quarrel in
three courses with grinded spears, and three passages of arms with
sharpened swords; the field to be at the judgment of the honourable
Emperor, and to be decided at his most gracious and unerring pleasure.
And so God show the right!"
Another formidable flourish of the trumpets concluded the ceremony.
Achilles then dismissed the attendant troops, as well as the heralds
and musicians, to their respective quarters; and having got Hereward
close to his side, enquired of him whether he had learned any thing of
the prisoner, Robert, Count of Paris.
"Nothing," said the Varangian, "save the tidings your proclamation
contains."
"You think, then," said Achilles, "that the Count has been a party to
it."
"He ought to have been so," answered the Varangian. "I know no one but
himself entitled to take burden for his appearance in the lists."
"Why, look you," said the Acolyte, "my most excellent, though blunt-
witted Hereward, this Caesar of ours hath had the extravagance to
venture his tender wit in comparison to that of Achilles Tatius. He
stands upon his honour, too, this ineffable fool, and is displeased
with the idea of being supposed either to challenge a woman, or to
receive a challenge at her hand. He has substituted, therefore, the
name of the lord instead of the lady. If the Count fail to appear, the
Caesar walks forward challenger and successful combatant at a cheap
rate, since no one has encountered him, and claims that the lady should
be delivered up to him as a captive of his dreaded bow and spear. This
will be the signal for a general tumult, in which, if the Emperor be
not slain on the spot, he will be conveyed to the dungeon of his own
Blacquernal, there to endure the doom which his cruelty has inflicted
upon so many others."
"But" - -said the Varangian.
"But - -but - but," said his officer; "but thou art a fool. Canst thou
not see that this gallant Caesar is willing to avoid the risk of
encountering with this lady, while he earnestly desires to be supposed
willing to meet her husband? It is our business to fix the combat in
such a shape as to bring all who are prepared for insurrection together
in arms to play their parts. Do thou only see that our trusty friends
are placed near to the Emperor's person, and in such a manner as to
keep from him the officious and meddling portion of guards, who may be
disposed to assist him; and whether the Caesar fights a combat with
lord or lady, or whether there be any combat at all or not, the
revolution shall be accomplished, and the Tatii shall replace the
Comneni upon the Imperial throne of Constantinople. Go, my trusty
Hereward. Thou wilt not forget that the signal word of the insurrection
is Ursel, who lives in the affections of the people, although his body,
it is said, has long lain a corpse in the dungeons of the Blacquernal."
"What was this Ursel," said Hereward, "of whom I hear men talk so
variously?"
"A competitor for the crown with Alexius Comnenus - good, brave, and
honest; but overpowered by the cunning, rather than the skill or
bravery of his foe. He died, as I believe, in the Blacquernal; though
when, or how, there are few that can say. But, up and be doing, my
Hereward! Speak encouragement to the Varangians - Interest whomsoever
thou canst to join us. Of the Immortals, as they are called, and of the
discontented citizens, enough are prepared to fill up the cry, and
follow in the wake of those on whom we must rely as the beginners of
the enterprise. No longer shall Alexius's cunning, in avoiding popular
assemblies, avail to protect him; he cannot, with regard to his honour,
avoid being present at a combat to be fought beneath his own eye; and
Mercury be praised for the eloquence which inspired him, after some
hesitation, to determine for the proclamation!"
"You have seen him, then, this evening?" said the Varangian.
"Seen him! Unquestionably," answered the Acolyte. "Had I ordered these
trumpets to be sounded without his knowledge, the blast had blown the
head from my shoulders."
"I had wellnigh met you at the palace," said Hereward; while his heart
throbbed almost as high as if he had actually had such a dangerous
encounter.
"I heard something of it," said Achilles; "that you came to take the
parting orders of him who now acts the sovereign. Surely, had I seen
you there, with that steadfast, open, seemingly honest countenance,
cheating the wily Greek by very dint of bluntness, I had not forborne
laughing at the contrast between that and the thoughts of thy heart."
"God alone," said Hereward, "knows the thoughts of our hearts; but I
take him to witness, that I am faithful to my promise, and will
discharge the task intrusted to me."
"Bravo! mine honest Anglo-Saxon," said Achilles. "I pray thee to call
my slaves to unarm me; and when thou thyself doffest those weapons of
an ordinary life-guardsman, tell them they never shall above twice
more enclose the limbs of one for whom fate has much more fitting
garments in store."
Hereward dared not intrust his voice with an answer to so critical a
speech; he bowed profoundly, and retired to his own quarters in the
building.
Upon entering the apartment, he was immediately saluted by the voice of
Count Robert, in joyful accents, not suppressed by the fear of making
himself heard, though prudence should have made that uppermost in his
mind.
"Hast thou heard it, my dear Hereward," he said - "hast thou heard the
proclamation, by which this Greek antelope hath defied me to tilting
with grinded spears, and fighting three passages of arms with sharpened
swords? Yet there is something strange, too, that he should not think
it safer to hold my lady to the encounter! He may think, perhaps, that
the crusaders would not permit such a battle to be fought. But, by our
Lady of the Broken Lances! he little knows that the men of the West
hold their ladies' character for courage as jealously as they do their
own. This whole night have I been considering in what armour I shall
clothe me; what shift I shall make for a steed; and whether I shall not
honour him sufficiently by using Tranchefer, as my only weapon, against
his whole armour, offensive and defensive."
"I shall take care, however," said Hereward, "that, thou art better
provided in case of need. - Thou knowest not the Greeks."
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-THIRD.
The Varangian did not leave the Count of Paris until the latter had in
his hands his signet-ring, _semee_, (as the heralds express it,)
_with lances splintered_, and bearing the proud motto, "Mine yet
unscathed." Provided with this symbol of confidence, it was now his
business to take order for communicating the approaching solemnity to
the leader of the crusading army, and demanding from him, in the name
of Robert of Paris, and the Lady Brenhilda, such a detachment of
western cavaliers as might ensure strict observance of honour and
honesty in the arrangement of the lists, and during the progress of the
combat. The duties imposed on Hereward were such as to render it
impossible for him to proceed personally to the camp of Godfrey: and
though there were many of the Varangians in whose fidelity he could
have trusted, he knew of none among those under his immediate command
whose intelligence, on so novel an occasion, might be entirely depended
on. In this perplexity, he strolled, perhaps without well knowing why,
to the gardens of Agelastes, where fortune once more produced him an
interview with Bertha.
No sooner had Hereward made her aware of his difficulty, than the
faithful bower-maiden's resolution was taken.
"I see," said she, "that the peril of this part of the adventure must
rest with me; and wherefore should it not? My mistress, in the bosom of
prosperity, offered herself to go forth into the wide world for my
sake; I will for hers go to the camp of this Frankish lord. He is an
honourable man, and a pious Christian, and his followers are faithful
pilgrims. A woman can have nothing to fear who goes to such men upon
such an errand."
The Varangian, however, was too well acquainted with the manners of
camps to permit the fair Bertha to go alone. He provided, therefore,
for her safe-guard a trusty old soldier, bound to his person by long
kindness and confidence, and having thoroughly possessed her of the
particulars of the message she was to deliver, and desired her to be in
readiness without the enclosure at peep of dawn, returned once more to
his barracks.
With the earliest light, Hereward was again at the spot where he had
parted overnight with Bertha, accompanied by the honest soldier to
whose care he meant to confide her. In a short time, he had seen them
safely on board of a ferry-boat lying in the harbour; the master of
which readily admitted them, after some examination of their license,
to pass to Scutari, which was forged in the name of the Acolyte, as
authorised by that foul conspirator, and which agreed with the
appearance of old Osmund and his young charge.
The morning was lovely; and erelong the town of Scutari opened on the
view of the travellers, glittering, as now, with a variety of
architecture, which, though it might be termed fantastical, could not
be denied the praise of beauty. These buildings rose boldly out of a
thick grove of cypresses, and other huge trees, the larger, probably,
as they were respected for filling the cemeteries, and being the
guardians of the dead.
At the period we mention, another circumstance, no less striking than
beautiful, rendered doubly interesting a scene which must have been at
all times greatly so. A large portion of that miscellaneous army which
came to regain the holy places of Palestine, and the blessed Sepulchre
itself, from the infidels, had established themselves in a camp within
a mile, or thereabouts, of Scutari. Although, therefore, the crusaders
were destitute in a great measure of the use of tents, the army
(excepting the pavilions of some leaders of high rank) had constructed
for themselves temporary huts, not unpleasing to the eye, being
decorated with leaves and flowers, while the tall pennons and banners
that floated over them with various devices, showed that the flower of
Europe were assembled at that place. A loud and varied murmur,
resembling that of a thronged hive, floated from the camp of the
crusaders to the neighbouring town of Scutari, and every now and then
the deep tone was broken by some shriller sound, the note of some
musical instrument, or the treble scream of some child or female, in
fear or in gaiety.
The party at length landed in safety; and as they approached one of the
gates of the camp, there sallied forth a brisk array of gallant
cavaliers, pages, and squires, exercising their masters' horses or
their own. From the noise they made, conversing at the very top of
their voices, galloping, curvetting, and prancing their palfreys, it
seemed as if their early discipline had called them to exercise ere the
fumes of last night's revel were thoroughly dissipated by repose. So
soon as they saw Bertha and her party, they approached them with cries
which marked their country was Italy - "Al'erta! al'erta! - Roba de
guadagno, cameradi!" [Footnote: That is - "Take heed! take heed! there
is booty, comrades!"]
They gathered round the Anglo-Saxon maiden and her companions,
repeating their cries in a manner which made Bertha tremble. Their
general demand was, "What was her business in their camp?"
"I would to the general-in-chief, cavaliers," answered Bertha, "having
a secret message to his ear."
"For whose ear?" said a leader of the party, a handsome youth of about
eighteen years of age, who seemed either to have a sounder brain than
his fellows, or to have overflowed it with less wine. "Which of our
leaders do you come hither to see?" he demanded.
"Godfrey of Bouillon."
"Indeed!" said the page who had spoken first; "can nothing of less
consequence serve thy turn? Take a look amongst us; young are we all,
and reasonably wealthy. My Lord of Bouillon is old, and if he has any
sequins, he is not like to lavish them in this way."
"Still I have a token to Godfrey of Bouillon," answered Bertha, "an
assured one; and he will little thank any who obstructs my free passage
to him;" and therewithal showing a little case, in which the signet of
the Count of Paris was enclosed, "I will trust it in your hands," she
said, "if you promise not to open it, but to give me free access to the
noble leader of the crusaders."
"I will," said the youth, "and if such be the Duke's pleasure, thou
shalt be admitted to him."
"Ernest the Apulian, thy dainty Italian wit is caught in a trap," said
one of his companions.
"Thou art an ultramontane fool, Polydore," returned Ernest; "there may
be more in this than either thy wit or mine is able to fathom. This
maiden and one of her attendants wear a dress belonging to the
Varangian Imperial guard. They have perhaps been intrusted with a
message from the Emperor, and it is not irreconcilable with Alexius's
politics to send it through such messengers as these. Let us, therefore,
convey them in all honour to the General's tent."
"With all my heart," said Polydore. "A blue-eyed wench is a pretty
thing, but I like not the sauce of the camp-marshal, nor his taste in
attiring men who gave way to temptation. [Footnote: Persons among the
Crusaders found guilty of certain offences, did penance in a dress of
tar and feathers though it is supposed a punishment of modern
invention.] Yet, ere I prove a fool like my companion, I would ask who
or what this pretty maiden is, who comes to put noble princes and holy
pilgrims in mind that they have in their time had the follies of men?"
Bertha advanced and whispered in the ear of Ernest. Meantime joke
followed jest, among Polydore and the rest of the gay youths, in
riotous and ribald succession, which, however characteristic of the
rude speakers, may as well be omitted here. Their effect was to shake
in some degree the fortitude of the Saxon maiden, who had some
difficulty in mustering courage to address them. "As you have mothers,
gentlemen," she said, "as you have fair sisters, whom you would protect
from dishonour with your best blood - as you love and honour those holy
places which you are sworn to free from the infidel enemy, have
compassion on me, that you may merit success in your undertaking!"
"Fear nothing, maiden," said Ernest, "I will be your protector; and you,
my comrades, be ruled by me. I have, during your brawling, taken a view,
though somewhat against my promise, of the pledge which she bears, and
if she who presents it is affronted or maltreated, be assured Godfrey
of Bouillon will severely avenge the wrong done her."
"Nay, comrade, if thou canst warrant us so much," said Polydore, "I
will myself be most anxious to conduct the young woman in honour and
safety to Sir Godfrey's tent."
"The Princes," said Ernest, "must be nigh meeting there in council.
What I have said I will warrant and uphold with hand and life. More I
might guess, but I conclude this sensible young maiden can speak for
herself."
"Now, Heaven bless thee, gallant squire," said Bertha, "and make thee
alike brave and fortunate! Embarrass yourself no farther about me, than
to deliver me safe to your leader, Godfrey."
"We spend time," said Ernest, springing from his horse. "You are no
soft Eastern, fair maid, and I presume you will find yourself under no
difficulty in managing a quiet horse?"
"Not the least," said Bertha, as, wrapping herself in her cassock, she
sprung from the ground, and alighted upon the spirited palfrey, as a
linnet stoops upon a rose-bush. "And now, sir, as my business really
brooks no delay, I will be indebted to you to show me instantly to the
tent of Duke Godfrey of Bouillon."
By availing herself of this courtesy of the young Apulian, Bertha
imprudently separated herself from the old Varangian; but the
intentions of the youth were honourable, and he conducted her through
the tents and huts to the pavilion of the celebrated General-in-chief
of the Crusade.
"Here," he said, "you must tarry for a space, under the guardianship of
my companions," (for two or three of the pages had accompanied them,
out of curiosity to see the issue,) "and I will take the commands of
the Duke of Bouillon upon the subject."
To this nothing could be objected, and Bertha had nothing better to do,
than to admire the outside of the tent, which, in one of Alexius's fits
of generosity and munificence, had been presented by the Greek Emperor
to the Chief of the Franks. It was raised upon tall spear-shaped poles,
which had the semblance of gold; its curtains were of thick stuff,
manufactured of silk, cotton, and gold thread. The warders who stood
round, were (at least during the time that the council was held) old
grave men, the personal squires of the body, most of them, of the
sovereigns who had taken the Cross, and who could, therefore, be
trusted as a guard over the assembly, without danger of their blabbing
what they might overhear. Their appearance was serious and considerate,
and they looked like men who had taken upon them the Cross, not as an
idle adventure of arms, but as a purpose of the most solemn and serious
nature. One of these stopt the Italian, and demanded what business
authorized him to press forward into the council of the crusaders, who
were already taking their seats. The page answered by giving his name,
"Ernest of Otranto, page of Prince Tancred;" and stated that he
announced a young woman, who bore a token to the Duke of Bouillon,
adding that it was accompanied by a message for his own ear.
Bertha, meantime, laid aside her mantle, or upper garment, and disposed
the rest of her dress according to the Anglo-Saxon costume. She had
hardly completed this task, before the page of Prince Tancred returned,
to conduct her into the presence of the council of the Crusade. She
followed his signal; while the other young men who had accompanied her,
wondering at the apparent ease with which she gained admittance, drew
back to a respectful distance from the tent, and there canvassed the
singularity of their morning's adventure.
In the meanwhile, the ambassadress herself entered the council chamber,
exhibiting an agreeable mixture of shamefacedness and reserve, together
with a bold determination to do her duty at all events. There were
about fifteen of the principal crusaders assembled in council, with
their chieftain Godfrey. He himself was a tall strong man, arrived at
that period of life in - which men are supposed to have lost none of
their resolution, while they have acquired a wisdom and circumspection
unknown to their earlier years. The countenance of Godfrey bespoke both
prudence and boldness, and resembled his hair, where a few threads of
silver were already mingled with his raven locks.
Tancred, the noblest knight of the Christian chivalry, sat at no great
distance from him, with Hugh, Earl of Vermandois, generally called the
Great Count, the selfish and wily Bohemond, the powerful Raymond of
Provence, and others of the principal crusaders, all more or less
completely sheathed in armour.
Bertha did not allow her courage to be broken down, but advancing with
a timid grace towards Godfrey, she placed in his hands the signet which
had been restored to her by the young page, and after a deep obeisance,
spoke these words: "Godfrey, Count of Bouillon, Duke of Lorraine the
Lower, Chief of the Holy Enterprise called the Crusade, and you, his
gallant comrades, peers, and companions, by whatever titles you may be
honoured, I, an humble maiden of England, daughter of Engelred,
originally a franklin of Hampshire, and since Chieftain of the
Foresters, or free Anglo-Saxons, under the command of the celebrated
Edric, do claim what credence is due to the bearer of the true pledge
which I put into your hand, on the part of one not the least
considerable of your own body, Count Robert of Paris" - -
"Our most honourable confederate," said Godfrey, looking at the ring.
"Most of you, my lords, must, I think, know this signet - a field sown
with the fragments of many splintered lances." The signet was handed
from one of the Assembly to another, and generally recognised.
When Godfrey had signified so much, the maiden resumed her message. "To
all true crusaders, therefore, comrades of Godfrey of Bouillon, and
especially to the Duke himself, - to all, I say, excepting Bohemond of
Tarentum, whom he counts unworthy of his notice" -
"Hah! me unworthy of his notice," said Bohemond. "What mean you by that,
damsel? - But the Count of Paris shall answer it to me."
"Under your favour, Sir Bohemond," said Godfrey, "no. Our articles
renounce the sending of challenges among ourselves, and the matter, if
not dropt betwixt the parties, must be referred to the voice of this
honourable council."
"I think I guess the business now, my lord," said Bohemond. "The Count
of Paris is disposed to turn and tear me, because I offered him good
counsel on the evening before we left Constantinople, when he neglected
to accept or be guided by it" -
"It will be the more easily explained when we have heard his message,"
said Godfrey. - "Speak forth Lord Robert of Paris's charge, damsel, that
we may take some order with that which now seems a perplexed business."
Bertha resumed her message; and, having briefly narrated the recent
events, thus concluded: - "The battle is to be done to-morrow, about two
hours after daybreak, and the Count entreats of the noble Duke of
Lorraine that he will permit some fifty of the lances of France to
attend the deed of arms, and secure that fair and honourable conduct
which he has otherwise some doubts of receiving at the hands of his
adversary. Or if any young and gallant knight should, of his own free
will, wish to view the said combat, the Count will feel his presence as
an honour; always he desires that the name of such knight be numbered
carefully with the armed crusaders who shall attend in the lists, and
that the whole shall be limited, by Duke Godfrey's own inspection, to
fifty lances only, which are enough to obtain the protection required,
while more would be considered as a preparation for aggression upon the
Grecians, and occasion the revival of disputes which are now happily at
rest."
Bertha had no sooner finished delivering her manifesto, and made with
great grace her obeisance to the council, than a sort of whisper took
place in the assembly, which soon assumed a more lively tone.
Their solemn vow not to turn their back upon Palestine, now that they
had set their hands to the plough, was strongly urged by some of the
elder knights of the council, and two or three high prelates, who had
by this time entered to take share in the deliberations. The young
knights, on the other hand, were fired with indignation on hearing the
manner in which their comrade had been trepanned; and few of them could
think of missing a combat in the lists in a country in which such
sights were so rare, and where one was to be fought so near them.
Godfrey rested his brow on his hand, and seemed in great perplexity. To
break with the Greeks, after having suffered so many injuries in order
to maintain the advantage of keeping the peace with them, seemed very
impolitic, and a sacrifice of all he had obtained by a long course of
painful forbearance towards Alexius Comnenus. On the other hand, he
was bound as a man of honour to resent the injury offered to Count
Robert of Paris, whose reckless spirit of chivalry made him the darling
of the army. It was the cause, too, of a beautiful lady, and a brave
one: every knight in the host would think himself bound, by his vow, to
hasten to her defence. When Godfrey spoke, it was to complain of the
difficulty of the determination, and the short time there was to
consider the case.
"With submission to my Lord Duke of Lorraine," said Tancred, "I was a
knight ere I was a crusader, and took on me the vows of chivalry, ere I
placed this blessed, sign upon my shoulder: the vow first made must be
first discharged. I will therefore do penance for neglecting, for a
space, the obligations of the second vow, while I observe that which
recalls me to the first duty of knighthood, - the relief of a distressed
lady in the hands of men whose conduct towards her, and towards this
host, in every respect entitles me to call them treacherous faitours."
"If my kinsman Tancred," said Bohemond, "will check his impetuosity,
and you, my lords, will listen, as you have sometimes deigned to do, to
my advice, I think I can direct you how to keep clear of any breach of
your oath, and yet fully to relieve our distressed fellow-pilgrims. - I
see some suspicious looks are cast towards me, which are caused perhaps
by the churlish manner in which this violent, and, in this case, almost
insane young warrior, has protested against receiving my assistance. My
great offence is the having given him warning, by precept and example,
of the treachery which was about to be practised against him, and
instructed him to use forbearance and temperance. My warning he
altogether contemned - my example he neglected to follow, and fell into
the snare which was spread, as it were, before his very eyes. Yet the
Count of Paris, in rashly contemning me, has acted only from a temper
which misfortune and disappointment have rendered irrational and
frantic. I am so far from bearing him ill-will, that, with your
lordship's permission, and that of the present council, I will haste to
the place of rendezvous with fifty lances, making up the retinue which
attends upon each to at least ten men, which will make the stipulated
auxiliary force equal to five hundred; and with these I can have little
doubt of rescuing the Count and his lady."
"Nobly proposed," said the Duke of Bouillon; "and with a charitable
forgiveness of injuries which becomes our Christian expedition. But
thou hast forgot the main difficulty, brother Bohemond, that we are
sworn never to turn back upon the sacred journey."
"If we can elude that oath upon the present occasion," said Bohemond,