The Rival Heirs; being the Third and Last Chronicle of Aescendune by A. D. Crake (the mitten read aloud txt) 📕

a few brief intervals.

And now the scene changed: the pilgrims, who through innumerable dangers had reached the holy city, only entered it to become the victims of contumely and savage insult, and often perished by brutal violence before they reached their goal--the Holy Sepulchre.

The very patriarch of Jerusalem was dragged by the hair and cast into a filthy dungeon, in order to exact a heavy ransom from the sympathy of his flock, and the tale of his sufferings harrowed all hearts.

For twenty years all this was borne.

At length came a pilgrim--then unknown to fame. He was a hermit, named Peter, and came from Picardy in France. He mingled his tears with those of the patriarch, to whom he obtained access.

"What can we do?" said the poor prelate. "The successors of Constantine are no match for the fiery Turk."

"I will rouse the martial nations of Europe in your cause," was the reply.

History tells how Peter the Hermit kept his word: how his fiery eloquence aroused and kindled all hearts; how Christendom sent forth her myriads, as under some potent spell.

At the council of Clermont, in November 1095, took place that famous scene in the presence of Pope Urban, when the cry, "God wills it," thrilled from myriad lips, and became the watchword of the Crusaders.

Men sold their estates for mere trifles; kings and dukes, like Robert of Normandy, mortgaged their very crowns, that they might fight in so holy a cause; and avaricious, cunning, and greedy monarchs, like Rufus, stayed at home and bought cheaply.

And as with the monarch, so with the vassal; land was a drug in the market, and horses and arms went up cent per cent.

The principal leaders of the first great Crusade {xxvi} were Godfrey de Bouillon (duke of the empire), Hugh of Vermandois, Robert of Normandy, Raymond of Toulouse, Bohemond and Tancred of the race of Robert Guiscard, the Norman conqueror of southern Italy.

Under their leadership, Constantinople was reached in safety. Nicea was besieged, and taken from the Turkish Sultan, Soliman.

Then they first met the Turks in battle array at Dorylaeum--an awful conflict which took place on the 4th of July 1097, in which nearly four hundred thousand Moslems were arrayed against the Crusaders.

The Sultan evacuated Asia Minor, and the expedition passed through a wasted land and deserted towns, without meeting a single enemy.

Nine months they were delayed before the city of Antioch, from October 1097 to June 1098, when the city was taken by storm.

Then they were besieged themselves in that city, by nearly half a million of Turks, and though reduced to the shadow of their former strength, they sallied forth and utterly defeated their besiegers, whose camp fell into their hands. Nothing could stand before the enthusiasm of the western warriors, who fancied they saw spectral forms of saints and martyrs fighting by their side.

At length, all obstacles removed, in the month of May, in the last year of the eleventh century, they entered the Holy Land.

On this sacred soil the action of our tale recommences.

. . . . .

It was a lovely evening in May, and the year was the last of the eleventh century.

The sun had gone down about half an hour, but had left behind him a flood of golden light in the west, glorious to behold--so calm, so transparent was that heavenly after glow, wherein deep cerulean blue was flecked with the brightest crimson or the ruddiest gold.

The moon had risen in the east, and was shining from a deep dark-blue background, which conveyed the idea of immeasurable space, with a brilliancy which she seldom or never attains in our northern sky.

A group of warriors had kindled a fire beneath the wide-spreading branches of an immense cedar tree, which had, perhaps, been planted in the reign of Solomon to supply the loss of those cut down for the temple by Hiram of Tyre.

The landscape was a striking one.

Above them, in the distance, opened a mighty gorge, through which flowed the rushing waters of a mountain torrent, one of the sources of the Jordan, issuing from the snows of Hermon.

Below, the country expanded into a gently undulating plain, studded with cedars, which resembled in no small degree the precincts of some old English park.

Let us glance at the warriors, and we shall speedily learn that they are no natives of the soil.

The armour they have laid aside, the coats of linked mail, with long sleeves of similar material, the big triangular shields, plated gauntlets, and steel breastplates, sufficiently bespoke their western nationality; but the red cross, conspicuous on the right sleeve, told that they were Crusaders.

Their leader appeared to be a young knight who, one would think, had scarcely won his spurs, or had but recently done so; and his retinue was limited to the customary attendance upon a single "lance," a dozen men-at-arms, completely equipped, and twice that number of light archers.

Their horses were picketed at a slight distance, so that they might graze easily, and like their owners, were divested of their armour--for the steeds also were usually loaded with defensive mail covering the more vital parts of their frames.

The flesh of a deer was roasting at the general fire, and diffusing a savoury odour around, and all the members of the company were intent upon rest and enjoyment.

Apart from them stood their solitary sentinel, looking with dreamy gaze over the fair landscape, and musing, perchance, of far-off England--of his distant love, or of wife and children, and wondering, very likely, whether, the war ended, he would live to return, with all the prestige of a warrior of the Cross, and tell of the marvels of Eastern climes to many a rustic audience.

Amidst these musings a sound fell upon his ear, which at first he did not recognise, but which rapidly assumed the character of that rumbling, earth-shaking, thunder-like sound which a large body of cavalry, approaching at a gallop, but yet afar off, would make.

He strained his gaze along the desert wastes, beneath the spreading branches of many cedars; but as yet no sight met the eye to support the impressions made already upon the ear.

It was not long, however, before the rapidly approaching sounds became too distinct to suffer him to hesitate, and he gave the alarm.

The merry song ceased; the conversation dropped; and in the awful stillness the senses of each man confirmed the report of the sentinel.

"They may be friends," said the young knight.

"Friends are scarce in the desert," said an aged man-at-arms, the Nestor of the expedition; "permit us to arm, my lord."

The word was given, and each man-at-arms hastened to his steed; the archers--footmen--adjusted their bows, when a troop of wild horsemen, approaching with the speed of the wind, became visible.

They appeared to number a hundred men, so far as they could be discerned and their force estimated amidst the dust which they created, and their ever-changing evolutions. Anon grim forms and wild faces appeared from the cloud; spears glanced in every direction--now whirled around their heads, now thrown and caught with the dexterity of jugglers.

They seemed to manage their horses less by the bridle than by the inflections of their bodies, so that they could spare, at need, both hands for combat--the one to hold the bucklers of rhinoceros skin or crocodile hide, the other to wield spear or scimitar.

Turbans surrounded their heads, and light garments their bodies; but defensive armour had they none.

"Let them come on," said the young knight; "we would not give way, though the desert yielded twenty times such scum."

But they knew too well their own inferiority in the charge to venture upon the steel of their mail-clad opponents. At about a hundred yards distance from their quarry they swerved, divided into two parties, and, riding to the right and left of their Christian opponents, discharged upon them such a storm of darts and arrows that the very air seemed darkened.

"Charge," shouted the young knight, "for God and the Holy Sepulchre."

They charged, but might as well have ridden after the mirage of the desert; the speed of the Arab horses seemed incredible, and they eluded the charge as easily as a hare might elude that of a tortoise. The Crusaders returned to their original station around the cedar.

They looked at each other. Ten bodies, dead or wounded, lay still, or writhing on the ground; for they had not had time to cover themselves fully with their defensive armour, ere the storm of arrows came down upon them, and most of the party were bleeding.

"They are gone," said the young knight.

"Not they, my lord," replied his Nestor; "a hungry wolf does not so easily satisfy his craving with a mouthful--not they; they will come again, and in such a fashion, I fear, as to try our strength rarely. See, they are wheeling round. Let each man look well to his armour, steady his spear, guard himself well with shield. They may charge this time, seeing our strength so sadly reduced."

"Hourra! hourra!" rang over the desert, and once more the savage horsemen came down like eagles swooping upon their prey.

Again they divided; again they passed at a slight interval of time--just enough to prevent their receiving, on either side, such arrows from their own brethren as found no sheath in English shield or flesh--passed like the wind, and the deadly cloud of death-dealing darts came like the fatal simoon of the desert, upon their helpless foe.

Nay, not quite helpless; for at least a dozen Arab steeds roamed the plain riderless. English archers, for they were from England, were English archers still.

But in so unequal a strife numbers must have finally prevailed.

It was impossible for the English to charge so impalpable an assailant; all they could do was to protect themselves, as far as possible, by shield and coat of mail, while behind the living rampart of steel-clad warriors, the archers returned arrow for arrow, so far as time and numbers suffered them.

"Shall we not charge?" whispered more than once our boyish knight to the old warrior, who had fought thirty years before at Hastings, by whose advice his elders had instructed him to abide in case of emergency.

"Nay, were we separated, they would find out every joint in our mail, and riddle us with arrows till we looked like porcupines, while they would never tarry to abide one honest blow of a battle-axe. Upon our archers depends our chance."

It would be a waste of time to tell in detail how the assailants again and again repeated the same manoeuvre, until their Christian opponents were reduced to a handful, when at length the Turks changed their tactics and suddenly charged with all their force.

All would have been over with the Crusaders, crushed beneath the weight of numbers, in spite of their superior weapons, at close quarters. All seemed ended; the young knight, indeed, protected by his excellent armour, still fought with all the valour of his Norman race--fought like a paladin of romance--when--

A sudden cry, "Holy Cross to the rescue!" and a gallant band of light horsemen charged the Infidels in the rear.

The assailants became the assailed, and fled in all directions.

"Rise up, sir knight--for knight you should be," said a stern manly voice; and a warrior of noble mien, whose features were yet hidden behind his visor, raised the youthful hero from the ground.

CHAPTER XXVI. "QUANTUM MUTATUS AB ILLO HECTORE."

An hour had passed away since the conflict had ceased, and all was again peaceful and still. The Christian dead were buried; the Moslems yet dotted the plain with prostrate corpses, whose unclosed and glassy eyes met the gazer in every direction.

Of these the Crusaders reckoned little, nor did the ghastly spectacle at all disturb their rest. They sorrowed, indeed, for their own comrades; but when the parting prayers were breathed over their desert graves, they dismissed even them from their thoughts.

"They have given their lives in a noble cause, and the saints will take good care of them and make their beds in Paradise," was the general sentiment.

And now the fire was rekindled, the wine skins passed round, the venison steaks again placed on the glowing embers, and they refreshed the inner man, with appetites sharpened by their desperate exertions in the late struggle.

Close by the side of the young knight sat their deliverer, whose followers mingled with the Englishmen around at one or other of the fires they had kindled.

"A health," said the young knight--"a health to our deliverer. Had he not come so opportunely to our rescue, we were now supping in Paradise.

"What name shall I give to our honoured guest?"

"Men call me the Knight of the Holy Sepulchre, but it is too proud a title to be borne by mortal man."

"Art thou he, then, whose fame has filled our ears, of whom minstrels sing, who with a band of stout followers defied the Moslem's rage in these forest fastnesses, before even Peter preached the word of God?"

"Thou hast exaggerated my merits, but be they many, or as I would say few, I