But while successful in beating off all assaults, the defenders of Acre

were now nearly at the end of their resources. The Emperor Saladin,

although he had collected an army of 200,000 men, yet feared to advance

and give battle to the crusaders in their own lines--for they had thrown

up round their camp strong entrenchments, to prevent the progress of the

siege being disturbed by forces from without.

The people of Acre seeing the time pass and no sign of a rescuing force,

their provisions being utterly exhausted, and pestilence and fever making

frightful ravages in the city, at last determined to surrender.

For over two years they had made a resistance of the most valiant

description, and now, despairing of success or rescue, and seeing the

hosts of their besiegers increasing day by day, they hoisted a flag upon

the walls, and sent a deputation to the kings, asking for terms if they

submitted. They would have done well had they submitted upon the arrival

of the French and English reinforcements. For the monarchs, annoyed by

the defeat of their forces and by the heavy losses they had sustained,

and knowing that the besieged were now at their last crust, were not

disposed to be merciful.

However, the horrors which then attended the capture of cities in a

war in which so little quarter was given on either side, were avoided.

The city was to be surrendered; the much-prized relic contained within

its walls--said to be a piece of the true Cross which had been

captured by the Saracens at the battle of Tiberias, in which they had

almost annihilated the Christian armies a few years before--was to be

surrendered; the Christian prisoners in their hands were to be given

up unharmed; and the inhabitants undertook to pay 200,000 pieces of

gold to the kings within forty days, under the condition that the

fighting men now taken prisoners were to be put to death should this

ransom not be paid.

The conquest of Acre was hailed throughout Christendom as a triumph of

the highest importance. It opened again the gates of the Holy Land; and

so tremendous was the strength of the fortress, that it was deemed that

if this stronghold were unable to resist effectually the arms of the

crusaders, and that if Saladin with so great an army did not dare to

advance to its rescue, then the rest of the Holy Land would speedily fall

under the hands of the invading army.

With the fall of Acre, however, the dissensions between the two kings,

which had for a while been allowed to rest while the common work was to

be done, broke out again with renewed intensity. The jealousy of Phillip

Augustus was raised to the highest point by the general enthusiasm of the

combined armies for the valiant King of England, and by the authority

which that monarch exercised in the councils. He therefore suddenly

announced his intention of returning to France.

This decision at first occasioned the greatest consternation in the ranks

of the crusaders; but this feeling was lessened when the king announced

that he should leave a large portion of the French army behind, under the

command of the Duke of Burgundy. The wiser councillors were satisfied

with the change. Although there was a reduction of the total fighting

force, yet the fact that it was now centred under one head, and that King

Richard would now be in supreme command, was deemed to more than

counterbalance the loss of a portion of the French army.

Before starting on the march for Jerusalem, King Richard sullied his

reputation by causing all the defenders of Acre to be put to death, their

ransom not having arrived at the stipulated time.

Then the allied army set out upon their journey. The fleet cruised along

near them, and from it they obtained all that was requisite for their

wants, and yet, notwithstanding these advantages, the toil and fatigue

were terrible. Roads scarcely existed, and the army marched across the

rough and broken country. There was no straggling, but each kept his

place; and if unable to do so, fell and died. The blazing sun poured down

upon them with an appalling force; the dust which rose when they left the

rocks and came upon flat sandy ground, almost smothered them. Water was

only obtainable at the halts, and then was frequently altogether

insufficient for the wants of the army; while in front, on flank, and in

rear hovered clouds of the cavalry of Saladin.

At times King Richard would allow parties of his knights to detach

themselves from the force to drive off these enemies. But it was the

chase of a lion after a hare. The knights in their heavy armour and

powerful steeds were left behind as if standing still, by the fleet

Bedouins on their desert coursers; and the pursuers, exhausted and worn

out, were always glad to regain the ranks of the army.

These clouds of cavalry belonging to the enemy did not content

themselves with merely menacing and cutting off stragglers. At times,

when they thought they saw an opening, they would dash in and attack the

column desperately, sometimes gaining temporary advantages, killing and

wounding many, then fleeing away again into the desert.

Finding that it was impossible to catch these wary horsemen, King Richard

ordered his bowmen to march outside his cavalry, so that when the enemy's

horse approached within bowshot they should open upon them with arrows;

then, should the horsemen persist in charging, the archers were at once

to take refuge behind the lines of the knights.

Day after day passed in harassing conflicts. The distance passed over

each day was very small, and the sufferings of the men from thirst, heat,

and fatigue enormous. Cuthbert could well understand now what he had

heard of great armies melting away, for already men began to succumb in

large numbers to the terrible heat, and the path traversed by the army

was scattered with corpses of those who had fallen victims to sunstroke.

Not even at night did the attacks of the enemy cease, and a portion of

the harassed force was obliged to keep under arms to repel assaults.

So passed the time until the army arrived at Azotus, and there, to the

delight of the crusaders, who only longed to get at their foes, they

beheld the whole force of Saladin, 200,000 strong, barring their way. Had

it not been for the stern discipline enforced by King Richard, the

knights of England and France would have repeated the mistake which had

caused the extermination of the Christian force at Tiberias, and would

have levelled their lances and charged recklessly into the mass of their

enemies. But the king, riding round the flanks and front of the force,

gave his orders in the sternest way, with the threat that any man who

moved from the ranks should die by his hand.

The army was halted, the leaders gathered round the king, and a hasty

consultation was held. Richard insisted upon the fight being conducted

upon the same principles as the march--that the line of archers

should stand outside the knights, and should gall the advancing force

with arrows till the last moment, and then retire among the cavalry,

only to sally out again as the Bedouins fell back from the steel wall

of horsemen.

Cuthbert had now for the first time donned full armour, and rode behind

the Earl of Evesham as his esquire, for the former esquire had been left

behind, ill with fever, at Acre.

CHAPTER XII.

THE ACCOLADE.

It was now a year since they had left England, and Cuthbert had much

grown and widened out in the interval, and had never neglected an

opportunity of practising with arms; and the earl was well aware that he

should obtain as efficient assistance from him in time of need as he

could desire.

This was the first time that Cuthbert, and indeed the great proportion of

those present in the Christian host, had seen the enemy in force, and

they eagerly watched the vast array. It was picturesque in the extreme,

with a variety and brightness of colour rivalling that of the Christian

host. In banners and pennons the latter made a braver show; but the

floating robes of the infidel showed a far brighter mass of colour than

the steel armour of the Christians.

Here were people drawn from widely separated parts of Saladin's

dominions. Here were Nubians from the Nile, tall and powerful men, jet

black in skin, with lines of red and white paint on their faces, giving a

ghastly and wild appearance to them. On their shoulders were skins of

lions and other wild animals. They carried short bows, and heavy clubs

studded with iron. By them were the Bedouin cavalry, light, sinewy men,

brown as berries, with white turbans and garments. Near these were the

cavalry from Syria and the plains of Assyria--wild horsemen with

semi-barbarous armour and scarlet trappings. Here were the solid lines of

the Egyptian infantry, steady troops, upon whom Saladin much relied. Here

were other tribes, gathered from afar, each distinguished by its own

particular marks. In silence did this vast array view awhile the solid

mass of the Christians. Suddenly a strange din of discordant music from

thousands of musical instruments--conches and horns, cymbals and drums,

arose in wild confusion. Shouts of defiance in a dozen tongues and from

200,000 throats rose wild and shrill upon the air, while clear above all

the din were heard the strange vibratory cries of the warriors from the

Egyptian highlands.

"One would think," said Cnut grimly to Cuthbert, "that the infidels

imagine we are a flock of antelopes to be frightened by an outcry. They

would do far better to save their wind for future use. They will want it,

methinks, when we get fairly among them. Who would have thought that a

number of men, heathen and infidel though they be, could have made so

foul an outcry?"

Cuthbert laughed.

"Every one fights according to his own method, Cnut; and I am not sure

that there is not something to be said for this outcry, for it is really

so wild and fearful that it makes my blood almost curdle in my veins; and

were it not that I know the proved valour of our knights and footmen, I

should feel shaken by this terrible introduction to the fight."

"I heed it no more," said Cnut, "than the outcry of wild fowl, when one

comes upon them suddenly on a lake in winter. It means no more than that;

and I reckon that they are trying to encourage themselves fully as much

as to frighten us. However, we shall soon see. If they can fight as well

as they can scream, they certainly will get no answering shouts from us.

The English bulldog fights silently, and bite as hard as he will, you

will hear little beyond a low growl. Now, my men," he said, turning to

his archers, "methinks the heathen are about to begin in earnest. Keep

steady; do not fire until you are sure that they are within range. Draw

your bows well to your ears, and straightly and steadily let fly. Never

heed the outcry or the rush, keep steady to the last moment. There is

shelter behind you, and fierce as the attack may be, you can find a sure

refuge behind the line of the knights."

Cnut with his archers formed part of the line outside the array of

English knights, and the arrows of the English bowmen fell fast as bands

of the Bedouin horse circled round them in the endeavour to draw the

Christians on to the attack. For some time Saladin persisted in these

tactics. With his immense superiority of force he reckoned that if the

Christian chivalry would but charge him, the victory of Tiberias would be

repeated. Hemmed in by numbers, borne down by the weight of armour and

the effects of the blazing sun, the knights would succumb as much to

fatigue as to the force of their foes. King Richard's orders, however,

were well obeyed, and at last the Moslem chief, urged by the entreaties

of his leading emirs, who felt ashamed that so large a force should

hesitate to attack one so vastly inferior in numbers, determined upon

taking the initiative, and forming his troops in a semicircle round the

Christian army, launched his horsemen to the attack. The instant they

came within range, a cloud of arrows from the English archers fell among

them, but the speed at which the desert horses covered the ground

rendered it impossible for the archers to discharge more than one or two

shafts before the enemy were upon them. Quickly as they now slipped back

and sought refuge under the lances of the knights, many of them were

unable to get back in time, and were cut down by the Saracens. The rest

crept between the horses or under their bellies into the rear, and there

prepared to sally out again as soon as the enemy retired, The Christian

knights sat like a wall of steel upon their horses, their lances were

levelled, and, brave as the Bedouin horsemen were, they felt to break

this massive line was impossible. The front line, however, charged well

up to the points of the lances, against which they hewed with their sharp

scimitars, frequently severing the steel top from the ashpole, and then

breaking through and engaging in hand-to-hand conflict with the knights.

Behind the latter sat their squires, with extra spears and arms ready to

hand to their masters; and in close combat, the heavy maces with their

spike ends were weapons before which the light clad horsemen went down

like reeds before a storm.

Hour after hour the Arab horsemen persisted in their attack, suffering

heavily, but determined to conquer if possible. Then Saladin suddenly

ordered a retreat, and at seeing their enemy fly, the impetuosity of the

crusaders at last broke out. With a shout they dashed after the foe. King

Richard, knowing that his followers had already shown a patience far

beyond what he could have expected, now headed the onslaught, performing

prodigies of valour with his single arm, and riding from point to point

to see that all was well.

The early resistance of the infidel host was comparatively slight.

The heavy mass of the Christian cavalry, with their levelled lances,

swept through the ranks of the light horsemen, and trampled them down

like grass beneath their feet; but every moment the resistance became

more stubborn.

Saladin, knowing the Christians would sooner or later assume the

offensive, had gathered his troops line in line behind the front ranks,

and as the force of the crusaders' charge abated, so did the number of

foes in their front multiply. Not only this, but upon either side chosen

bands swept down, and ere long the Christians were brought to a stand,

and all were fighting hand to hand with their enemies. The lances were

thrown away now, and with axe and mace each fought for himself.

The Earl of Evesham was one of a group of knights whom King Richard had

that day ordered to keep close to his person, and around this group the

fight raged most furiously.

Saladin, aware of the extreme personal valour and warlike qualities of

King Richard, set the greatest value upon his death or capture, and had

ordered a large number of his best troops to devote their whole attention

to attacking the King of England. The royal standard carried behind the

king was a guide to their onslaught, and great as was the strength and

valour of King Richard, he with difficulty was able to keep at bay the

hosts that swept around him.

Now that the lance had been abandoned for battle-axe, Cuthbert was able

to take an active part in the struggle, his duties consisting mainly in

guarding the rear of his master, and preventing his being overthrown by

any sudden attack on the flank or from behind.

King Richard was bent not only on defending himself from the attacks of

his foes, but on directing the general course of the battle; and from

time to time he burst, with his own trusty knights, through the ring of

foes, and rode from point to point of the field, calling the knights

together, exhorting them to steadiness, and restoring the fight where its

fortunes seemed doubtful. At one time the impetuosity of the king led him

into extreme danger. He had burst through the enemy surrounding him, and

these, by order of their captain, allowed him to pass through their

ranks, and then threw themselves together in his rear, to cut him off

from the knights who rode behind. The maneuver was successful. The rush

of horsemen fairly carried away the Christian knights, and one or two

alone were able to make their way through.

Amid the wild confusion that raged, where each man was fighting for his

own life, and but little view of what was passing could be obtained

through the barred visor, the fact that the king was separated from them

was known to but few. Sir Walter himself was engaged fiercely in a

hand-to-hand fight with four Bedouins who surrounded him, when Cuthbert

shouted,--

"The king, Sir Walter! the king! He is cut off and surrounded! For

heaven's sake ride to him. See! the royal standard is down."

With a shout the earl turned, brained one of his foes with a sweep of his

heavy axe, and, followed by Cuthbert, dashed to the assistance of the

king. The weight of his horse and armour cleft through the crowd, and in

a brief space he penetrated to the side of King Richard, who was borne

upon by a host of foes. Just as they reached them a Bedouin who had been

struck from his horse crawled beneath the noble charger of King Richard,

and drove his scimitar deep into its bowels. The animal reared high in

its sudden pain, and then fell on the ground, carrying the king, who was

unable to disengage himself quickly enough.

In an instant the Earl of Evesham had leapt from his horse and with his

broad triangular shield extended sought to cover him from the press of

enemies. Cuthbert imitated his lord, and strove to defend the latter from

attacks from the rear. For a moment or two the sweep of the earl's heavy

axe and Cuthbert's circling sword kept back the foe, but this could not

last. King Richard in vain strove to extricate his leg from beneath his

fallen steed. Cuthbert saw at a glance that the horse still lived, and

with a sudden slash of his sword he struck it on the hind quarter. Goaded

by the pain the noble animal made a last effort to rise, but only to fall

back dead. The momentary action was, however, sufficient for King

Richard, who drew his leg from under it, and with his heavy battle-axe in

hand, rose with a shout, and stood by the side of the earl.

In vain did the Bedouins strive to cut down and overpower the two

champions; in vain did they urge their horses to ride over them. With

each sweep of his axe the king either dismounted a foe or clove in the

head of his steed, and a wall of slain around them testified to the

tremendous power of their arms. Still, even such warriors as these could

not long sustain the conflict. The earl had already received several

desperate wounds, and the king himself was bleeding from some severe

gashes with the keen-edged scimitars. Cuthbert was already down, when a

shout of "St. George!" was heard, and a body of English knights clove

through the throng of Saracens and reached the side of King Richard.

Close behind these in a mass pressed the British footmen with bill and

pike, the enemy giving way foot by foot before their steady discipline.

The king was soon on horseback again, and rallying his troops on, led

them for one more great and final charge upon the enemy.

The effect was irresistible. Appalled by the slaughter which they had

suffered, and by the tremendous strength and energy of the Christian

knights, the Saracens broke and fled; and the last reserves of Saladin

gave way as the king, shouting his war-cry of "God help the holy

sepulchre!" fell upon them. Once, indeed, the battle still seemed

doubtful, for a fresh band of the enemy at that moment arrived and joined

in the fray. The crusaders were now, however, inspired with such courage

and confidence that they readily obeyed the king's war-cry, gathered in a

firm body, and hurled themselves upon this new foe. Then the Saracens

finally turned and fled, and the Christian victory was complete.

It was one of the features of this war that however thorough the

victories of the Christians, the Saracens very speedily recovered from

their effects. A Christian defeat was crushing and entire; the knights

died as they stood, and defeat meant annihilation. Upon the other hand,

the Saracens and Bedouins when they felt that their efforts to win the

battle were unsuccessful, felt no shame or humiliation in scattering like

sheep. On their fleet horses and in their light attire they could easily

distance the Christians, who never, indeed, dreamt of pursuing them. The

day after the fight, the enemy would collect again under their chiefs,

and be as ready as before to renew their harassing warfare.

On his return from the field, the king assembled many of his principal

knights and leaders, and summoned the Earl of Evesham, with the message

that he was to bring his esquire with him. When they reached the tent,

the king said,--

"My lords, as some of you may be aware, I have this day had a narrow

escape from death. Separated from you in the battle, and attended only by

my standard-bearer, I was surrounded by the Saracens. I should doubtless

have cleft my way through the infidel dogs, but a foul peasant stabbed my

charger from below, and the poor brute fell with me. My standard-bearer

was killed, and in another moment my nephew Arthur would have been your

king, had it not been that my good lord here, attended by this brave lad,

appeared. I have seen a good deal of fighting, but never did I see a

braver stand than they made above my body. The Earl of Evesham, as you

all know, is one of my bravest knights, and to him I can simply say,

'Thanks; King Richard does not forget a benefit like this.' But such aid

as I might well look for from so stout a knight as the Earl of Evesham, I

could hardly have expected on the part of a mere boy like this. It is not

the first time that I have been under a debt of gratitude to him; for it

was his watchfulness and bravery which saved Queen Berengaria from being

carried off by the French in Sicily. I deemed him too young then for the

order of knighthood--although indeed bravery has no age; still for a

private benefit, and that performed against allies, in name at least, I

did not wish so far to fly in the face of usage as to make him a knight.

I promised him then, however, that the first time he distinguished

himself against the infidel he should win his spurs. I think that you

will agree with me, my lords, that he has done so. Not only did he stand

over me, and with great bravery defend Sir Walter from attacks from

behind, but his ready wit saved me, when even his sword and that of Sir

Walter would have failed to do so. Penned down under poor Robin, I was

powerless to move until our young esquire, in an interval of slashing at

his assailants, found time to give a sharp blow together with a shout to

Robin. The poor beast tried to rise, and the movement, short as it was,

enabled me to draw my leg from under him, and then with my mace I was

enabled to make a stand until you arrived at my side. I think, my lords,

that you will agree with me that Cuthbert, the son of Sir William de

Lance, is fit for the honour of knighthood."

A general chorus of approval arose from the assembly, and the king,

bidding Cuthbert kneel before him, drew his sword and laid it across his

shoulders, dubbing him Sir Cuthbert de Lance. When he had risen, the

great barons of England pressed round to shake his hand, and Cuthbert,

who was a modest young fellow, felt almost ashamed at the honours which

were bestowed upon him. The usual ceremonies and penances which young

knights had to undergo before admission into the body--and which in those

days were extremely punctilious, and indeed severe, consisting, among

other things, in fasting, in watching the armour at night, in seclusion

and religious services--were omitted when the accolade was bestowed for

bravery in the field.

The king ordered his armourer at once to make for Cuthbert a suit of the

finest armour, and authorized him to carry on his shield a sword raising

a royal crown from the ground, in token of the deed for which the honour

of knighthood had been bestowed upon him.

Upon his return to the earl's camp the news of his new dignity spread at

once among the followers of Sir Walter, and many and hearty were the

cheers that went up from the throats of the Saxon foresters, led by Cnut.

These humble friends were indeed delighted at his success, for they felt

that to him they owed very much; and his kindness of manner and the

gaiety of heart which he had shown during the hardships they had

undergone since their start, had greatly endeared him to them.

Cuthbert was now to take rank among the knights who followed the banner

of the earl. A tent was erected for him, an esquire assigned to him, and

the lad as he entered his new abode felt almost bewildered at the change

which had taken place in one short day--that he, at the age of sixteen,

should have earned the honour of knighthood, and the approval of the King

of England, expressed before all the great barons of the realm, was

indeed an honour such as he could never have hoped for; and the thought

of what his mother would say should the news reach her in her quiet Saxon

home, brought the tears into his eyes. He had not gone through the usual

religious ceremonies, but he knelt in his tent alone, and prayed that he

might be made worthy of the honours bestowed upon him; that he might

fulfil the duties of a Christian knight fearlessly and honourably; that

his sword might never be raised but for the right; that he might devote

himself to the protection of the oppressed, and the honour of God; that

his heart might be kept from evil; and that he might carry through life,

unstained his new escutcheon.

If the English had thought that their victory would have gained them

immunity from the Saracen attacks, they were speedily undeceived. The

host, indeed, which had barred their way had broken up; but its fragments

were around them, and the harassing attacks began again with a violence

and persistency even greater than before. The crusaders, indeed, occupied

only the ground upon which they stood. It was death to venture 100 yards

from the camp, unless in a strong body; and the smallest efforts to bring

in food from the country round were instantly met and repelled. Only in

very strong bodies could the knights venture from camp even to forage for

their horses, and the fatigues and sufferings of all were in a way

relieved by the great victory of Azotus.

CHAPTER XIII.

IN THE HANDS OF THE SARACENS.

The English had hoped that after one pitched battle they should be able

to advance upon Jerusalem, but they had reckoned without the climate

and illness.

Although unconquered in the fray, the Christian army was weakened by its

sufferings to such an extent that it was virtually brought to a

standstill. Even King Richard, with all his impetuosity, dared not

venture to cut adrift from the seashore, and to march direct upon

Jerusalem; that city was certainly not to be taken without a long siege,

and this could only be undertaken by an army strong enough, not only to

carry out so great a task, but to meet and defeat the armies which

Saladin would bring up to the rescue, and to keep open the line down to

Joppa, by which alone provisions, and the engines necessary for the

siege, could be brought up. Hence the war resolved itself into a series

of expeditions and detached fights.

The British camp was thoroughly fortified, and thence parties of the

knights sallied out and engaged in conflicts with the Saracens, with

varying success. On several of these expeditions Cuthbert attended the

earl, and behaved with a bravery which showed him well worthy of the

honours which he had received.

Upon one occasion the news reached camp that a party of knights, who had

gone out to guard a number of footmen cutting forage and bringing it

into camp, had been surrounded and had taken refuge in a small town,

whose gates they had battered in when they saw the approach of an

overwhelming host of the enemy. King Richard himself headed a strong

force and advanced to their assistance. Their approach was not seen until

within a short distance of the enemy, upon whom the crusaders fell with

the force of a thunderbolt, and cleft their way through their lines.

After a short pause in the little town, they prepared to again cut their

way through, joined by the party who had there been besieged. The task

was now however, far more difficult; for the footmen would be unable to

keep up with the rapid charge of the knights, and it was necessary not

only to clear the way, but to keep it open for their exit. King Richard

himself and the greater portion of his knights were to lead the charge;

another party were to follow behind the footmen, who were ordered to

advance at the greatest speed of which they were capable, while their

rearguard by charges upon the enemy, kept them at bay. To this latter

party Cuthbert was attached.

The Saracens followed their usual tactics, and this time with great

success. Dividing as the king with his knights charged them, they

suffered these to pass through with but slight resistance, and then

closed in upon their track, while another and still more numerous body

fell upon the footmen and their guard. Again and again did the knights

charge through the ranks of the Moslems, while the billmen stoutly kept

together and resisted the onslaughts of the enemy's cavalry. In spite of

their bravery, however, the storm of arrows shot by the desert horsemen

thinned their ranks with terrible rapidity. Charging up to the very point

of the spears, these wild horsemen fired their arrows into the faces of

their foe, and although numbers of them fell beneath the more formidable

missiles sent by the English archers, their numbers were so overwhelming

that the little band melted away. The small party of knights, too, were

rapidly thinned, although performing prodigious deeds of valour. The

Saracens when dismounted or wounded still fought on foot, their object

being always to stab or hough the horses, and so dismount the riders.

King Richard and his force, though making the most desperate efforts to

return to the assistance of the rearguard, were baffled by the sturdy

resistance of the Saracens, and the position of those in the rear was

fast becoming hopeless.

One by one the gallant little band of knights fell, and a sea of turbans

closed over the fluttering plumes. Cuthbert, after defending himself with

extreme bravery for a long time, was at last separated from the small

remainder of his comrades by a rush of the enemy's horse, and when

fighting desperately he received a heavy blow at the back of the head

from the mace of a huge Nubian soldier, and fell senseless to the ground.

When he recovered his consciousness, the first impression upon his mind

was the stillness which had succeeded to the din of battle; the shouts

and war-cries of the crusaders, the wild yells of the Moslems, were

hushed, and in their place was a quiet chatter in many unknown tongues,

and the sound of laughter and feasting. Raising his head and looking

round, Cuthbert saw that he and some ten of his comrades were lying

together in the midst of a Saracen camp, and that he was a prisoner to

the infidels. The sun streamed down with tremendous force upon them;

there was no shelter; and though all were wounded and parched with

thirst, the Saracens of whom they besought water, pointing to their

mouths and making signs of their extreme thirst, laughed in their faces,

and signified by a gesture that it was scarcely worth the trouble to

drink when they were likely so soon to be put to death.

It was late in the afternoon before any change was manifest. Then

Cuthbert observed a stir in the camp; the men ran to their horses, leapt

on their backs, and with wild cries of "Welcome!" started off at full

speed. Evidently some personage was about to arrive, and the fate of the

prisoners would be solved. A few words were from time to time exchanged

between these, each urging the other to keep up his heart and defy the

infidel. One or two had succumbed to their wounds during the afternoon,

and only six were able to stand erect when summoned to do so by some of

their guard, who made signs to them that a great personage was coming.

Soon the shouts of the horsemen and other sounds announced that the great

chief was near at hand, and the captives gathered from the swelling

shouts of the Arabs that the new arrival was Sultan Suleiman--or Saladin,

for he was called by both names--surrounded by a body-guard of

splendidly-dressed attendants. The emir, who was himself plainly attired,

reined up his horse in front of the captives.

"You are English," he said, in the lingua-franca which was the medium of

communication between the Eastern and Western peoples in those days. "You

are brave warriors, and I hear that before you were taken you slaughtered

numbers of my people. They did wrong to capture you and bring you here to

be killed. Your cruel king gives no mercy to those who fall into his

hands. You must not expect it here, you who without a pretence of right

invade my country, slaughter my people, and defeat my armies. The murder

of the prisoners of Acre has closed my heart to all mercy. There, your

king put 10,000 prisoners to death in cold blood, a month after the

capture of the place, because the money at which he had placed their

ransom had not arrived. We Arabs do not carry huge masses of gold about

with us; and although I could have had it brought from Egypt, I did not

think that so brave a monarch as Richard of England could have committed

so cruel an action in cold blood. When we are fresh from battle, and our

wounds are warm, and our hearts are full of rage and fury, we kill our

prisoners; but to do so weeks after a battle is contrary to the laws

alike of your religion and of ours. However, it is King Richard who has

sealed your doom, not I. You are knights, and I do not insult you with

the offer of turning from your religion and joining me. Should one of you

wish to save his life on these conditions, I will, however, promise him a

place of position and authority among us."

None of the knights moved to accept the offer, but each, as the eye of

the emir ran along the line, answered with an imprecation of contempt and

hatred. Saladin waved his hand, and one by one the captives were led

aside, walking as proudly to their doom as if they had been going to a

feast. Each wrung the hand of the one next to him as he turned, and then

without a word followed his captors. There was a dull sound heard, and

one by one the heads of the knights rolled in the sand.

Cuthbert happened to be last in the line, and as the executioners laid

hands upon him and removed his helmet, the eye of the sultan fell upon

him, and he almost started at perceiving the extreme youth of his

captive. He held his hand aloft to arrest the movements of the

executioners, and signalled for Cuthbert to be brought before him again.

"You are but a boy," he said. "All the knights who have hitherto fallen

into my hands have been men of strength and power; how is it that I see a

mere youth among their ranks, and wearing the golden spurs of

knighthood?"

"King Richard himself made me a knight," Cuthbert said proudly, "after

having stood across him when his steed had been foully stabbed at the

battle of Azotus, and the whole Moslem host were around him."

"Ah!" said the emir, "were you one of the two who, as I have heard,

defended the king for some time against all assaults? It were hard

indeed to kill so brave a youth. I doubt me not that at present you are

as firmly determined to die a Christian knight as those who have gone

before you? But time may change you. At any rate for the present your

doom is postponed."

He turned to a gorgeously-dressed noble next to him, and said,--

"Your brother, Ben Abin, is Governor of Jerusalem, and the gardens of

the palace are fair. Take this youth to him as a present, and set him to

work in his gardens. His life I have spared, in all else Ben Abin will

be his master."

Cuthbert heard without emotion the words which changed his fate from

death to slavery. Many, he knew, who were captured in these wars were

carried away as slaves to different parts of Asia, and it did not seem to

him that the change was in any way a boon. However, life is dear, and it

was but natural that a thought should leap into his heart that soon

either the crusaders might force a way into Jerusalem and there rescue

him, or that he himself might in some way escape.

The sultan having thus concluded the subject, turned away, and galloped

off surrounded by his body-guard.

Those who had captured the Christians now stripped off the armour of

Cuthbert; then he was mounted on a bare-backed steed, and with four

Bedouins, with their long lances, riding beside him, started for

Jerusalem. After a day of long and rapid riding, the Arabs stopped

suddenly, on the crest of a hill, with a shout of joy, and throwing

themselves from their horses, bent with their foreheads to the earth at

the sight of their holy city. Cuthbert, as he gazed at the stately walls

of Jerusalem, and the noble buildings within, felt bitterly that it was

not thus that he had hoped to see the holy city. He had dreamt of

arriving before it with his comrades, proud and delighted at their

success so far, and confident in their power soon to wrest the town

before them from the hands of the Moslems. Instead of this he was a

slave--a slave to the infidel, perhaps never more to see a white face,

save that of some other unfortunate like himself.

Even now in its fallen state no city is so impressive at first sight as

Jerusalem; the walls, magnificent in height and strength, and picturesque

in their deep embattlements, rising on the edge of a deep valley. Every

building has its name and history. Here is the church built by the first

crusaders; there the mighty mosque of Suleiman on the site of the Temple;

far away on a projecting ridge the great building known as the Tomb of

Moses; on the right beyond the houses rise the towers on the Roman walls;

the Pool of Bethsaida lies in the hollow; in the centre are the cupolas

of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Among all the fairest cities of the

world, there are none which can compare in stately beauty with Jerusalem.

Doubtless it was a fairer city in those days, for long centuries of

Turkish possession have reduced many of the former stately palaces to

ruins. Then, as now, the banner of the Prophet floated over the high

places; but whereas at present the population is poor and squalid, the

city in those days contained a far large number of inhabitants,

irrespective of the great garrison collected for its defence.

The place from which Cuthbert had his first sight of Jerusalem is that

from which the best view is to be obtained--the crest of the Mount of

Olives. After a minute or two spent in looking at the city, the Arabs

with a shout continued their way down into the valley. Crossing this

they ascended the steep road to the walls, brandishing their lances and

giving yells of triumph; then riding two upon each side of their

prisoner, to protect him from any fanatic who might lay a hand upon him,

they passed under the gate known as the Gate of Suleiman into the city.

The populace thronged the streets; and the news brought by the horsemen

that a considerable portion of the Christian host had been defeated and

slain, passed from mouth to mouth, and was received with yells of

exultation. Execrations were heaped upon Cuthbert, who rode along with an

air as quiet and composed as if he were the centre of an ovation instead

of that of an outburst of hatred.

He would, indeed, speedily have been torn from his guards, had not these

shouted that he was placed in their hands by Saladin himself for conduct

to the governor. As the emir was as sharp and as ruthless with his own

people as with the prisoners who fell into his hands, the name acted as a

talisman, and Cuthbert and his escort rode forward without molestation

until they reached the entrance to the palace.

Dismounting, Cuthbert was now led before the governor himself, a stern

and grave-looking man, sitting cross-legged on a divan surrounded by

officers and attendants. He heard in silence the account given him by the

escort, bowed his head at the commands of Suleiman, and, without

addressing a word to Cuthbert, indicated to two attendants that he was to

be removed into the interior of the house. Here the young knight was led

to a small dungeon-like room; bread and dates with a cruse of water were

placed before him; the door was then closed and locked without, and he

found himself alone with his thoughts.

No one came near him that night, and he slept as soundly as he would have

done in his tent in the midst of the Christian host. He was resolved to

give no cause for ill-treatment or complaint to his captors, to work as

willingly, as cheerfully, as was in his power, and to seize the first

opportunity to make his escape, regardless of any risk of his life which

he might incur in doing so.

In the morning the door opened, and a black slave led him into the

garden, which was surrounded by a very high and lofty wall. It was large,

and full of trees and flowers, and far more beautiful than any garden

that Cuthbert had seen in his native land. There were various other

slaves at work; and an Arab, who appeared to be the head of the

gardeners, at once appointed to Cuthbert the work assigned to him. A

guard of Arabs with bow and spear watched the doings of the slaves.

With one glance round, Cuthbert was assured that escape from this garden,

at least, was not to be thought of, and that for the present, patience

alone was possible. Dismissing all ideas of that kind from his mind, he

set to work with a steady attention to his task. He was very fond of

flowers, and soon he became so absorbed in his work as almost to forget

that he was a slave. It was not laborious--digging, planting, pruning and

training the flowers, and giving them copious draughts of water from a

large fountain in the centre of the garden.

The slaves were not permitted to exchange a word with each other. At the

end of the day's work they were marched off to separate chambers, or, as

they might be called, dungeons. Their food consisted of water, dried

dates, and bread, and they had little to complain of in this respect;

indeed, the slaves in the gardens of the governor's house at Jerusalem

enjoyed an exceptionally favoured existence. The governor himself was

absorbed in the cares of the city. The head gardener happened to be a man

of unusual humanity, and it was really in his hands that the comfort of

the prisoners was placed.

Sometimes in the course of the day, veiled ladies would issue in groups

from the palace, attended by black slaves with drawn scimitars. They

passed without unveiling across the point where the slaves were at work,

and all were forbidden on pain of death to look up, or even to approach

the konak or pavilion, where the ladies threw aside their veils, and

enjoyed the scent and sight of the flowers, the splash of murmuring

waters, and the strains of music touched by skilful hands.

Although Cuthbert wondered in his heart what these strange wrapped-up

figures might look like when the veils were thrown back, he certainly did

not care enough about the matter to run any risk of drawing the anger of

his guards upon himself by raising his eyes towards them; nor did he ever

glance up at the palace, which was also interdicted to the slaves. From

the lattice casements during the day the strains of music and merry

laughter often came down to the captives; but this, if anything, only

added to the bitterness of their position, by reminding them that they

were shut off for life from ever hearing the laughter of the loved ones

they had left behind.

For upwards of a month Cuthbert remained steadily at work, and during

that time no possible plan of escape had occurred to him, and he had

indeed resigned himself to wait, either until, as he hoped, the city

would be taken by the Christians, or until he himself might be removed

from his present post and sent into the country, where, although his

lot would doubtless be far harder, some chance of escape might open

before him.

One night, long after slumber had fallen upon the city, Cuthbert was

startled by hearing his door open. Rising to his feet, he saw a black

slave, and an old woman beside him. The latter spoke first in the

lingua-franca,--

"My mistress, the wife of the governor, has sent me to ask your story.

How is it that, although but a youth, you are already a knight? How is it

that you come to be a slave to our people? The sultan himself sent you to

her lord. She would fain hear through me how it has happened. She is the

kindest of ladies, and the sight of your youth has touched her heart."

With thanks to the unknown lady who had felt an interest in him, Cuthbert

briefly related the events which had led to his captivity. The old woman

placed on the ground a basket containing some choice fruit and white

bread, and then departed with the negro as quietly as she had come,

leaving Cuthbert greatly pleased at what had taken place.

"Doubtless," he said to himself, "I shall hear again; and it may be that

through the pity of this lady some means of escape may open to me."

Although for some little time no such prospect appeared, yet the visits

of the old woman, which were frequently repeated, were of interest to

him, and seemed to form a link between him and the world.

After coming regularly every night for a week, she bade the young knight

follow her, holding her finger to her lips in sign that caution must be

observed. Passing through several passages, he was at length led into a

room where a lady of some forty years of age, surrounded by several

slaves and younger women, was sitting. Cuthbert felt no scruple in making

a deep obeisance to her; the respect shown to women in the days of

chivalry was very great, and Cuthbert in bowing almost to the ground

before the lady who was really his mistress, did not feel that he was

humiliating himself.

"Young slave," she said, "your story has interested us. We have

frequently watched from the windows, and have seen how willingly and

patiently you have worked; and it seems strange indeed that one so young

should have performed such feats of bravery as to win the honour of

knighthood from the hand of that greatest of warriors, Richard of

England. What is it, we would fain learn from your lips, that stirs up

the heart of the Christian world that they should launch their armies

against us, who wish but to be left alone, and who have no grudge against

them? This city is as holy to us as it is to you; and as we live around

it, and all the country for thousands of miles is ours, is it likely that

we should allow it to be wrested from us by strangers from a distance?"

This was spoken in some Eastern language of which Cuthbert understood no

word, but its purport was translated to him by the old woman who had

hitherto acted as his mistress's messenger.

Cuthbert reported the circumstances of the fight at Azotus and

endeavoured to explain the feelings which had given rise to the Crusade.

He then, at the orders of the lady, related the incidents of his voyage

out, and something of his life at home, which was more interesting even

than the tale of his adventures to his hearers, as to them the home-life

of these fierce Christian warriors was entirely unknown.

After an audience of two hours Cuthbert was conducted back to his cell,

his mistress assuring him of her good-will, and promising to do all in

her power to make his captivity as light as possible.

CHAPTER XIV.

AN EFFORT FOR FREEDOM.

Two or three nights afterwards the old woman again came to Cuthbert, and

asked him, in her mistress's name, if in any way he could suggest a

method of lightening his captivity, as his extreme youth, and bravery of

demeanour, had greatly pleased her.

Cuthbert replied that nothing but freedom could satisfy his longings;

that he was comfortable and not overworked, but that he pined to be back

again with his friends.

The old woman brought him on the following night a message to the

effect that his mistress would willingly grant him his liberty, but as

he was sent to her husband by the sultan, it would be impossible to

free him openly.

"From what she said," the old woman continued, "if you could see some

plan of making your escape, she would in no way throw difficulties in

your path; but it must not be known that the harem in any way connived at

your escape, for my lord's wrath would be terrible, and he is not a man

to be trifled with."

Looking round at the high walls that surrounded the garden, Cuthbert said

that he could think of no plan whatever for escaping from such a place;

that he had often thought it over, but that it appeared to him to be

hopeless. Even should he manage to scale these walls, he would only find

himself in the town beyond, and his escape from that would be altogether

hopeless. "Only," he said, "if I were transported to some country palace

of the governor could I ever hope to make my escape." The next night the

messenger brought him the news that his mistress was disposed to favour

his escape in the way he had pointed out, and that she would in two or

three days ask the governor for permission to pay a visit to their palace

beyond the walls, and that with her she would take a number of

gardeners--among them Cuthbert--to beautify the place. Cuthbert returned

the most lively and hearty thanks to his patroness for her kind

intentions, and hope began to rise rapidly in his heart.

It is probable, however, that the black guards of the harem heard

something of the intentions of their mistress, and that they feared the

anger of the governor should Cuthbert make his escape, and should it be

discovered that this was the result of her connivance. Either through

this or through some other source the governor obtained an inkling that

the white slave sent by the sultan was receiving unusual kindness from

the ladies of the harem.

Two nights after Cuthbert had begun to entertain bright hopes of his

liberty, the door of the cell was softly opened. He was seized by four

slaves, gagged, tied hand and foot, covered with a thick burnous, and

carried out from his cell. By the sound of their feet he heard that they

were passing into the open air, and guessed that he was being carried

through the garden; then a door opened and was closed after them; he was

flung across a horse like a bale of goods, a rope or two were placed

around him to keep him in that position, and then he felt the animal put

in motion, and heard by the trampling of feet that a considerable number

of horsemen were around him. For some time they passed over the rough,

uneven streets of the city; then there was a pause and exchange of

watchword and countersign, a creaking of doors, and a lowering of a

drawbridge, and the party issued out into the open country. Not for very

long did they continue their way; a halt was called, and Cuthbert was

taken off his horse.

On looking round, he found that he was in the middle of a considerable

group of men. Those who had brought him were a party of the governor's

guards; but he was now delivered over to a large band of Arabs, all of

whom were mounted on camels. One of these creatures he was ordered to

mount, the bonds being loosed from his arms and feet. An Arab driver,

with lance, bows, and arrows, and other weapons, took his seat on the

neck of the animal, and then with scarcely a word the caravan marched

off, with noiseless step, and with their faces turned southwards.

It seemed to Cuthbert almost as a dream. A few hours before he had been

exalted with the hope of freedom; now he was being taken away to a

slavery which would probably end but with his life. Although he could not

understand any of his captors, the repetition of a name led him to

believe that he was being sent to Egypt as a present to some man in high

authority there; and he doubted not that the Governor of Jerusalem,

fearing that he might escape, and dreading the wrath of the sultan,

should he do so, had determined to transfer the troublesome captive to a

more secure position and to safer hands.

For three days the journey continued; they had now left the fertile

lowlands of Palestine, and their faces were turned west. They were

entering upon that sandy waste which stretches between the southern

corner of Palestine and the land of Egypt, a distance which can be

travelled by camels in three days, but which occupied the Children of

Israel forty years.

At first the watch had been very sharply kept over the captive; but now

that they had entered the desert the Arabs appeared to consider that

there was no chance of an attempt to escape. Cuthbert had in every way

endeavoured to ingratiate himself with his guard. He had most willingly

obeyed their smallest orders, had shown himself pleased and grateful for

the dates which formed the staple of their repasts. He had assumed so

innocent and quiet an appearance that the Arabs had marvelled much among

themselves, and had concluded that there must have been some mistake in

the assertion of the governor's guard who had handed the prisoner over to

them, that he was one of the terrible knights of King Richard's army.

Cuthbert's heart had not fallen for a moment. He knew well that if he

once reached Cairo all hope of escape was at an end; and it was before

reaching that point that he determined if possible to make an effort for

freedom. He had noticed particularly the camel which appeared to be the

fleetest of the band; it was of lighter build than the rest, and it was

with difficulty that its rider had compelled it to accommodate itself to

the pace of the others. It was clear from the pains he took with it, by

the constant patting and the care bestowed upon its watering and

feeding, that its rider was extremely proud of it; and Cuthbert

concluded that if an escape was to be made, this was the animal on which

he must accomplish it.

Upon arriving at the end of each day's journey the camels were allowed

to browse at will, a short cord being tied between one of their hind and

one of their fore feet. The Arabs then set to work to collect sticks and

to make a fire--not for cooking, for their only food was dried dates and

some black bread, which they brought with them--but for warmth, as the

nights were damp and somewhat chilly, as they sat round the fire, talked,

and told stories. Before finally going off to rest, each went out into

the bushes and brought in his camel; these were then arranged in a circle

around the Arabs, one of the latter being mounted as sentry to prevent

any sudden surprise--not indeed that they had the smallest fear of the

Christians, who were far distant; but then, as now, the Arabs of the

desert were a plundering race, and were ever ready to drive off each

other's camels or horses. Cuthbert determined that if flight was possible

it must be undertaken during the interval after the arrival at the

halting-place and before the bringing in of the camels. Therefore, each

day upon the halt he had pretended great fatigue from the rough motion of

the camel, and had, after hastily eating the dates handed to him, thrown

himself down, covered himself with his Arab robe, and feigned instant

sleep. Thus they had in the three days from starting come to look upon

his presence sleeping close to them as a matter of course.

The second day after entering the desert, however, Cuthbert threw himself

down by the side of an uprooted shrub of small size and about his own

length. He covered himself as usual with his long, dark-blue robe, and

pretended to go to sleep. He kept his eyes, however, on the alert through

an aperture beneath his cloth, and observed particularly the direction in

which the camel upon which he had set his mind wandered into the bushes.

The darkness came on a very few minutes after they had halted, and when

the Arabs had once settled round their fire, Cuthbert very quietly

shifted the robe from himself to the long low bush near him, and then

crawled stealthily off into the darkness.

He had no fear of his footfall being heard upon the soft sand, and was

soon on his feet, looking for the camels. He was not long in finding

them, or in picking out the one which he had selected. The bushes were

succulent, and close to the camping ground; indeed, it was for this that

the halting-places were always chosen. It was not so easy, however, to

climb into the high wooden saddle, and Cuthbert tried several times in

vain. Then he repeated in a sharp tone the words which he had heard the

Arabs use to order their camels to kneel, striking the animal at the same

moment behind the fore-legs with a small switch. The camel immediately

obeyed the order to which he was accustomed, and knelt down, making,

however, as he did so, the angry grumble which those creatures appear to

consider it indispensable to raise when ordered to do anything.

Fortunately this noise is so frequently made, and the camels are so given

to quarrel among themselves, that although in the still air it might have

been heard by the Arabs sitting a short hundred yards away, it attracted

no notice, and Cuthbert, climbing into the seat, shook the cord that

served as a rein, and the animal, rising, set off at a smooth, steady

swing in the direction in which his head was turned--that from which they

had that day arrived.

Once fairly away from the camping-ground, Cuthbert, with blows of his

stick, increased the speed of the camel to a long shuffling trot, and the

fire in the distance soon faded out into the darkness.

Cuthbert trusted to the stars as guides. He was not unarmed, for as he

crawled away from his resting-place, he had picked up one of the Arabs'

spears and bow and arrows, and a large bag of dates from the spot where

they had been placed when their owner dismounted. He was already clad in

Eastern garb, and was so sun-burnt and tanned that he had no fear

whatever of any one at a distance detecting that he was a white man.

Steering his course by the stars, he rode all night without stopping. He

doubted not that he would have at least three hours' start, for the

Arabs were sure to have sat that time round the fires before going out to

bring in their camels. Even then they would suppose for some time that

the animal upon which he was seated had strayed, and no pursuit would be

attempted until it was discovered that he himself had made his escape,

which might not be for a long time, as the Arabs would not think of

looking under the cloth to see if he were there. He hoped, therefore,

that he would reach the cultivated land long before he was overtaken. He

had little fear but that he should then be able to journey onward without

attracting attention.

A solitary Arab when travelling rides straight, and his communications to

those whom he meets are confined to the set form of two or three words,

"May Allah protect you!" the regular greeting of Moslems when they meet.

When morning broke Cuthbert, even when ascending to the top of a somewhat

lofty mound, could see no signs of pursuers in the vast stretch of desert

behind him. In front, the ground was already becoming dotted here and

there with vegetation, and he doubted not that after a few hours' ride he

should be fairly in the confines of cultivated country. He gave his camel

a meal of dates, and having eaten some himself, again set the creature in

motion. These camels, especially those of good breed, will go on for

three or four days with scarcely a halt; and there was no fear of that on

which he rode breaking down from fatigue, for the journeys hitherto had

been comparatively short.

By mid-day Cuthbert had reached the cultivated lands of Palestine. Here

and there over the plain, villages were dotted, and parties of men and

camels were to be seen. Cuthbert now arranged his robes carefully in Arab

fashion, slung the long spear across his shoulders, and went boldly

forward at a slinging trot, having little fear that a passer-by would

have any suspicion whatever as to his being other than an Arab bent upon

some rapid journey. He soon found that his hopes were justified. Several

times he came upon parties of men whom he passed with the salute, and who

scarcely raised their eyes as he trotted by them. The plain was an open

one, and though cultivated here and there, there were large tracts lying

unworked. There was no occasion therefore to keep to the road; so riding

across country, and avoiding the villages as far as possible, stopping

only at a stream to give his camel water, Cuthbert rode without ceasing

until nightfall. Then he halted his camel near a wood, turned it in to

feed on the young foliage, and wrapping himself in his burnous was soon

asleep, for he ached from head to foot with the jolting motion which had

now been continued for so many hours without an interval. He had little

fear of being overtaken by the party he had left behind; they would, he

was convinced, be many hours behind, and it was extremely improbable that

they would hit upon the exact line which he had followed, so that even if

they succeeded in coming up to him, they would probably pass him a few

miles either to the right or left.

So fatigued was he with his long journey, that the next day he slept

until after the sun had risen. He was awakened suddenly by being seized

by a party of Arabs, who, roughly shaking him, questioned him as to

where he came from, and what he was doing there. He saw at a glance that

they were not with the party from which he had escaped, and he pointed to

his lips to make signs that he was dumb. The Arabs evidently suspected

that something was wrong. They examined the camel, and then the person of

their captive. The whiteness of his skin at once showed them that he was

a Frank in disguise, and without more ado or questioning, they tied him

hand and foot, flung him across the camel, and, mounting their own

animals, rode rapidly away.

From the position of the sun, Cuthbert saw that they were making their

course nearly due east, and therefore that it could not be their

intention to take him to Jerusalem, which was to the north of the line

they were following. A long day's journeying, which to Cuthbert seemed

interminable, found them on the low spit of sand which runs along by the

side of the Dead Sea. Behind, lofty rocks rose almost precipitously, but

through a cleft in these the Arabs had made their way. Cuthbert saw at

once that they belonged to some desert tribe over whom the authority of

Suleiman was but nominal. When summoned for any great effort, these

children of the desert would rally to his armies and fight for a short

time; but at the first disaster, or whenever they became tired of the

discipline and regularity of the army, they would mount their camels and

return to the desert, generally managing on the way to abstract from the

farms of those on their route either a horse, cattle, or some other

objects which would pay them for the labours they had undergone.

They were now near the confines of their own country, and apparently had

no fear whatever of pursuit. They soon gathered some of the dead wood

cast on the shores of the sea, and with these a fire was speedily

lighted, and an earthenware pot was taken down from among their baggage:

it was filled with water from a skin, and then grain having been placed

in it, it was put among the wood ashes. Cuthbert, who was weary and

aching in every limb from the position in which he had been placed on

the camel, asked them by signs for permission to bathe in the lake.

This was given, principally apparently from curiosity, for but very few

Arabs were able to swim; indeed, as a people they object so utterly to

water, that the idea of any one bathing for his amusement was to them a

matter of ridicule.

Cuthbert, who had never heard of the properties of the Dead Sea, was

perfectly astonished upon entering the water to find that instead of

wading in it up to the neck before starting-to swim, as he was accustomed

to do at home, the water soon after he got waist-deep took him off his

feet, and a cry of astonishment burst from him as he found himself on

rather than in the fluid. The position was so strange and unnatural that

with a cry of alarm he scrambled over on to his feet, and made the best

of his way to shore, the Arabs indulging in shouts of laughter at his

astonishment and alarm. Cuthbert was utterly unable to account for the

strange sensations he had experienced; he perceived that the water was

horribly salt, and that which had got into his mouth almost choked him.

He was, however, unaware that saltness adds to the weight of water, and

so to the buoyancy of objects cast into it. The saltness of the fluid he

was moreover painfully conscious of by the smarting of the places on his

wrists and ankles where the cords had been bound that fastened him to the

camel. Goaded, however, by the laughter of the Arabs, he determined once

more to try the experiment of entering this strange sheet of water, which

from some unaccountable cause appeared to him to refuse to allow anybody

to sink in it. This time he swam about for some time, and felt a little

refreshed. When he returned to the shore he soon re-attired himself in

his Bedouin dress, and seated himself a little distance from his captors,

who were now engaged in discussing the materials prepared by themselves.

They made signs to Cuthbert that he might partake of their leavings, for

which he was not a little grateful, for he felt utterly exhausted and

worn out with his cruel ride and prolonged fasting.

The Arabs soon wrapped themselves in their burnouses, and feeling

confident that their captive would not attempt to escape from them, in a

place where subsistence would be impossible, paid no further attention to

him beyond motioning to him to lie down at their side.

Cuthbert, however, determined to make another effort to escape; for

although he was utterly ignorant of the place in which he found himself,

or of the way back, he thought that anything would be better than to be

carried into helpless slavery into the savage country beyond the Jordan.

An hour, therefore, after his captors were asleep he stole to his feet,

and fearing to arouse them by exciting the wrath of one of the camels by

attempting to mount him, he struck up into the hills on foot. All night

he wandered, and in the morning found himself at the edge of a strange

precipice falling abruptly down to a river, which, some fifty feet wide,

ran at its foot. Upon the opposite side the bank rose with equal

rapidity, and to Cuthbert's astonishment he saw that the cliffs were

honeycombed by caves.

Keeping along the edge for a considerable distance, he came to a spot

where it was passable, and made his way down to the river bank. Here he

indulged in a long drink of fresh water, and then began to examine the

caves which perforated the rocks. These caves Cuthbert knew had formerly

been the abode of hermits. It was supposed to be an essentially sacred

locality, and between the third and fourth centuries of Christianity some

20,000 monks had lived solitary lives on the banks of that river. Far

away he saw the ruins of a great monastery, called Mar Saba, which had

for a long time been the abode of a religious community, and which at the

present day is still tenanted by a body of monks. Cuthbert made up his

mind at once to take refuge in these caves. He speedily picked out one

some fifty feet up the face of the rock, and approachable only with the

greatest difficulty and by a sure foot. First he made the ascent to

discover the size of the grotto, and found that although the entrance was

but four feet high and two feet wide, it opened into an area of

considerable dimensions. Far in the corner, when his eyes became

accustomed to the light, he discovered a circle of ashes, and his

conjectures that these caves had been the abode of men were therefore

verified. He again descended, and collected a large bundle of grass and

rushes for his bed. He discovered growing among the rocks many edible

plants, whose seeds were probably sown there centuries before, and

gathering some of these he made his way back to the cavern. The grass

furnished him with an excellent bed, and he was soon asleep.

CHAPTER XV.

A HERMIT'S TALE.

The next day he discovered on his excursions plenty of eatable berries on

the bushes; and now that he had no longer fear of hunger he resolved to

stay for some little time, until his wounds, which had festered badly,

had recovered, before making an attempt to rejoin the Christian army.

One day when employed in gathering berries he was surprised by meeting a

wild-looking figure, who appeared suddenly from one of the caves. It was

that of a very old man, with an extremely long white beard flowing to his

waist; his hair, which was utterly unkempt, fell to the same point. He

was thin to an extraordinary extent, and Cuthbert wondered how a man

could have been reduced to such a state of starvation, with so plentiful

a supply of fruit and berries at hand.

The old man looked at Cuthbert attentively, and then made the sign of the

cross. Cuthbert gave a cry of joy, and repeated the sign. The old man at

once came down from his cavern, and looked at him with surprise and

astonishment, and then addressed him in the French language.

"Are you a Christian truly; and if so, whence do you come?"

Cuthbert at once explained that he had been taken prisoner when with King

Richard's army, and had effected his escape. He also told the old man

that he had been remaining for the last four days in a cave higher up the

stream. The hermit--for he was one--beckoned him to follow him, and

Cuthbert found himself in a cave precisely similar to that which he

himself inhabited. There were no signs of comfort of any kind; a

bed-place made of great stones stood in one corner, and Cuthbert,

remembering the comforts of his own grassy couch, shuddered at the

thought of the intense discomfort of such a sleeping-place. In another

corner was an altar, upon which stood a rough crucifix, before which the

hermit knelt at once in prayer, Cuthbert following his example. Rising

again, the hermit motioned to him to sit down, and then began a

conversation with him.

It was so long since the hermit had spoken to any living being, that he

had almost lost the use of his tongue, and his sentences were slow and

ill-formed. However, Cuthbert was able to understand him, and he to

gather the drift of what Cuthbert told him. The old man then showed him,

that by touching a stone in the corner of his cave the apparently solid

rock opened, and revealed an entrance into an inner cave, which was lit

by a ray of light, which penetrated from above.

"This," he said, "was made centuries ago, and was intended as a refuge

from the persecutors of that day. The caves were then almost all

inhabited by hermits, and although many recked not of their lives, and

were quite ready to meet death through the knife of the infidel, others

clung to existence, and preferred to pass many years of penance on earth

for the sake of atoning for their sins before called upon to appear

before their Maker.

"If you are pursued, it will be safer for you to take up your abode here.

I am known to all the inhabitants of this country, who look upon me as

mad, and respect me accordingly. None ever interfere with me, or with the

two or three other hermits, the remains of what was once almost an army,

who now alone survive. I can offer you no hospitality beyond that of a

refuge; but there is water in the river below, fruits and berries in

abundance on the shrubs. What would you have more?"

Cuthbert accepted the invitation with thanks; for he thought that even at

the worst the presence of this holy man would be a protection to him from

any Arabs who might discover him.

For three or four days he resided with the hermit, who, although he

stretched his long lean body upon the hard stones of his bed, and passed

many hours of the night kneeling on the stone floor in front of his

alter, yet had no objection to Cuthbert making himself as comfortable as

he could under the circumstances.

At the end of the fourth day Cuthbert asked him how long he had been

there, and how he came to take up his abode in so desolate and fearsome a

place. The hermit was silent for a time, and then said,--

"It is long indeed since my thoughts have gone back to the day when I was

of the world. I know not whether it would not be a sin to recall them;

but I will think the matter over to-night, and if it appears to me that

you may derive good from my narrative, I will relate it to you

to-morrow."

The next day Cuthbert did not renew the request, leaving it to the hermit

to speak should he think fit. It was not until the evening that he

alluded to the subject; and then taking his seat on a bank near the edge

of the river, he motioned to Cuthbert to sit beside him, and began,--

"My father was a peer of France, and I was brought up at the court.

Although it may seem strange to you, looking upon this withered frame,

sixty-five years back I was as bold and comely a knight as rode in the

train of the king, for I am now past ninety, and for sixty years I have

resided here. I was a favourite of the king's, and he loaded me with

wealth and honour. He, too, was young, and I joined with him in the mad

carousals and feastings of the court. My father resided for the most part

at one of his castles in the country, and I, an only son, was left much

to myself. I need not tell you that I was as wild and as wicked as all

those around me; that I thought little of God, and feared neither Him nor

man.

"It chanced that one of the nobles--I need not mention his name--whose

castle lay in the same province as that of my father, had a lovely

daughter, who, being an only child, would be his heiress. She was

considered one of the best matches in France, and reports of her

exceeding beauty had reached the court. Although my allowance from my

father, and from the estates which the king had give me personally,

should have been more than enough for my utmost wants, gambling and

riotous living swallowed up my revenue faster than it came in, and I was

constantly harassed by debt.

"Talking one night at supper with a number of bold companions, as to the

means we should take for restoring our wasted fortunes, some said in jest

that the best plan would be for one of us to marry the beauty of

Dauphiny. I at once said that I would be the man to do it; the ideas was

a wild one, and a roar of laughter greeted my words. Her father was known

to be a stern and rigid man, and it was certain that he would not consent

to give his daughter to a spendthrift young noble like myself. When the

laughter had subsided I repeated my intention gravely, and offered to

wager large sums with all around the table that I would succeed.

"On the morrow I packed up a few of my belongings, put in my valise the

dress of a wandering troubadour, and taking with me only a trusty

servant, started for Dauphiny. It would be tedious to tell you the means

I resorted to to obtain the affections of the heiress. I had been well

instructed in music and could play on the lute, and knew by heart large

numbers of ballads, and could myself, in case of necessity, string verses

together with tolerable ease. As a troubadour I arrived at the castle

gate, and craved permission to enter to amuse its occupants. Troubadours

then, as now, were in high esteem in the south, and I was at once made a

welcome guest.

"Days passed, and weeks; still I lingered at the castle, my heart being

now as much interested as my pride in the wager which I had undertaken.

Suffice it to say, that my songs, and perhaps my appearance--for I cannot

be accused of vanity now in saying nature had been bountiful to me--won

my way to her heart. Troubadours were licensed folk, and even in her

father's presence there was nought unseemly in my singing songs of love.

While he took them as the mere compliments of a troubadour, the lady, I

saw, read them as serious effusions of my heart.

"It was only occasionally that we met alone; but ere long she confessed

that she loved me. Without telling her my real name, I disclosed to her

that I was of her own rank, and that I had entered upon the disguise I

wore in order to win her love. She was romantic, and was flattered by my

devotion. I owned to her that hitherto I had been wild and reckless; and

she told me at once that her father destined her for the son of an old

friend of his, to whom it appeared she had been affianced while still a

baby. She was positive that nothing would move her father. For the man

she was to marry she entertained no kind of affection, and indeed had

never seen him, as she had been brought up in a convent to the age of

fifteen; and just before she had returned thence, he had gone to finish

his education at Padua.

"She trembled when I proposed flight; but I assured her that I was

certain of the protection of the king, and that he would, I was sure,

when the marriage was once celebrated, use his influence with her father

to obtain his forgiveness.

"The preparations for her flight were not long in making. I purchased a

fleet horse in addition to my own, and ordered my servant to bring it to

a point a short distance from the castle gate. I had procured a long rope

with which to lower her down from her lattice to the moat below, which

was at present dry, intending myself to slide after her. The night chosen

was one when I knew that the count was to have guests, and I thought that

they would probably, as is the custom, drink heavily, and that there

would be less fear of any watch being kept.

"The guests arrived just at nightfall. I had feigned illness, and kept my

room. From time to time I heard through the windows of the banqueting

hall bursts of laughter. These gradually ceased; and at last, when all

was still, I, awaiting some time, stole from my room with a rope in my

hand to the apartment occupied by her. A slight tap at the door, as

arranged, was at once answered, and I found her ready cloaked and

prepared for the enterprise. She trembled from head to foot, but I

cheered her to the best of my power, and at last she was in readiness to

be lowered. The window was at a considerable height from the ground; but

the rope was a long one, and I had no fear of its reaching the bottom.

Fastening it round her waist, I began to lower her from the window.

"The night was a windy one, and she swung backwards and forwards as she

went down. By what chance it was I know not,--for I had examined the

rope and found it secure--but methinks in swaying backwards and

forwards it may have caught a sharp stone, maybe it was a punishment

from Heaven upon me for robbing a father of his child--but suddenly I

felt there was no longer a weight on my arms. A fearful shriek rang

through the air, and, looking out, I saw far below a white figure

stretched senseless in the mud!

"For a minute I stood paralyzed. But the cry had aroused others, and,

turning round, I saw a man at the door with a drawn sword. Wild with

grief and despair, and thinking, not of making my escape, or of

concealing my part in what had happened, but rushing without an instant's

delay to the body of her I loved so well, I drew my sword, and like a

madman rushed upon him who barred the door. The combat was brief but

furious, and nerved by the madness of despair I broke down his guard and

ran him through the body. As he fell back, his face came in the full

light of the moon, which streamed through the open door of the passage,

and to my utter horror and bewilderment I saw that I had slain my father.

"What happened after that night I know not. I believe that I made my

escape from the castle and rushed round to the body of her whose life I

had destroyed, and that there finding her dead, I ran wildly across the

country. When I came to my senses months had passed, and I was the inmate

of an asylum for men bereaved of their senses, kept by noble monks. Here

for two years I remained, the world believing that I was dead. None knew

that the troubadour whose love had cost the lady her life, who had slain

the guest of her father, and had then disappeared, was the unhappy son of

that guest. My friends in Paris when they heard of the tragedy of course

associated it with me, but they all kept silent. The monks, to whom I

confessed the whole story, were shocked indeed, but consoled me in my

grief and despair by the assurance that however greatly I had sinned, the

death of the lady had been accidental, and that if I were a parricide it

was at least unintentionally.

"My repentance was deep and sincere; and after a while, under another

name, I joined the army of the crusaders, to expiate my sin by warring

for the holy sepulchre. I fought as men fight who have no wish to live;

but while all around me fell by sword and disease, death kept aloof from

me. When the crusade had failed I determined to turn for ever from the

world, and to devote my life to prayer and penance; and so casting aside

my armour, I made my way here, and took up my abode in a cave in this

valley, where at that time were many thousands of other hermits--for the

Saracens, while they gained much money from fines and exactions from

pilgrims who came to Jerusalem, and fought stoutly against those who

sought to capture that city, were in the main tolerant, and offered no

hindrance to the community of men whom they looked upon as mad.

"Here, my son, for more than sixty years have I prayed, with much

fasting and penance. I trust now that the end is nearly at hand, and

that my long life of mortification may be deemed to have obliterated the

evil deeds which I did in my youth. Let my fate be a warning to you.

Walk steadily in the right way; indulge not in feasting and evil

companionship; and above all, do not enter upon evil deeds, the end of

which no man can see."

The hermit was silent, and Cuthbert, seeing that his thoughts had again

referred to the past, wandered away, and left him sitting by the river

side. Some hours later he returned, and found the hermit kneeling before

the altar; and the next morning the latter said,--

"I presume, my son, you do not wish to remain here as a hermit, as I have

done? Methinks it were well that we made our arrangements for your return

to the Christian host, who will, I hope, ere long be at the gates of

Jerusalem."

"I should like nothing better," Cuthbert said. "But ignorant as I am of

the nature of the country, it seems to be nigh impossible to penetrate

through the hosts of the Saracens to reach the camp of King Richard."

"The matter is difficult and not without danger," the hermit said. "As to

the nature of the country, I myself know but little, for my dealings with

the natives have been few and simple. There are, however, several

Christian communities dwelling among the heathen. They are poor, and are

forced to live in little-frequented localities. Their Christianity may be

suspected by their neighbours, but as they do no man harm, and carry on

their worship in secret, they are little interfered with. There is one

community among the hills between this and Jerusalem, and I can give you

instructions for reaching this, together with a token which will secure

you hospitality there, and they will no doubt do their best to forward

you to another station. When you approach the flat country where the

armies are maneuvering you must doubtless trust to yourself; but as far

as the slopes extend, methinks that our friends will be able to pass you

without great difficulty."

Cuthbert's heart rose greatly at the prospect of once again entering upon

an active life, and the next evening, with many thanks for his kindness,

he knelt before the aged hermit to receive his blessing.

With the instructions given him he had no difficulty in making his way

through the mountains, until after some five hours' walk he found himself

at a little village situated in a narrow valley.

Going to the door of the principal hut, he knocked, and upon entering

showed the owner--who opened the door--a rosette of peculiar beads, and

repeated the name of Father Anselm. The peasant at once recognized it,

and bade Cuthbert welcome. He knew but a few words of French, although

doubtless his ancestors had been of European extraction. In the morning

he furnished Cuthbert with the sheepskin and short tunic which formed the

dress of a shepherd, and dyeing his limbs and face a deep brown, he

himself started with Cuthbert on his journey to the next Christian

community.

This was a small one, consisting of two huts only, built almost on the

summit of a mountain, the inhabitants living partly on the milk and

cheese of their goats, and partly upon the scanty vegetables which grew

around the huts.

His welcome was as cordial as that of the night before; and the next

morning, his former guide taking leave of him, the peasant in whose house

he had slept, again conducted him forward to another community. This was

the last station, and stood in a narrow gorge on the face of the hills

looking down over the plain, beyond which in the far distance a faint

line of blue sea was visible.

This community was far more prosperous and well-to-do than those at which

the previous nights had been passed. The head of the village appeared to

be a personage of some importance; and although clinging in secret to his

Christian faith, he and his belongings had so far adopted the usages of

the Mussulmen that apparently no thought of their Christianity entered

into the minds of the authorities. He was the owner of two or three

horses, and of some extensive vineyards and olive grounds. He was also

able to speak French with some degree of fluency.

At considerable length he explained to Cuthbert the exact position of the

Christian army, which had moved some distance along the coast since

Cuthbert had left it. It was, he said, exposed to constant attacks by the

Saracens, who harassed it in every way, and permitted it no repose. He

said that the high hopes which had been raised by the defeat of the

Saracens at Azotus, had now fallen, and that it was feared the Christians

would not be able to force their way forward to Jerusalem. The great

portion of their animals had died, and the country was so eaten up by the

Saracen hosts, that an advance upon Jerusalem without a large baggage

train was next to impossible; and indeed if the Christians were to arrive

before that city, they could effect nothing without the aid of the heavy

machines necessary for battering the walls or effecting an escalade.

Cuthbert was vastly grieved when he heard of the probable failure of the

expedition, and he burned with eagerness to take his part again in the

dangers and difficulties which beset the Christian army. His host pointed

out to him the extreme difficulty and danger of his crossing the enemy's

lines, but at the same time offered to do all in his power to assist him.

After two days' stay at the village, and discussing the pros and cons of

all possible plans, it was decided that the best chance lay in a bold

effort. The host placed at his disposal one of his horses, together with

such clothes as would enable him to ride as an Arab chief of rank and

station; a long lance was furnished him, a short and heavy mace, and

scimitar; a bag of dates was hung at the saddle-bow; and with the

sincerest thanks to his protector, and with a promise that should the

Christian host win their way to Jerusalem the steed should be returned

with ample payment, Cuthbert started on his journey.

CHAPTER XVI.

A FIGHT OF HEROES.

The horse was a good and spirited one, and when he had once descended to

the plains, Cuthbert rode gaily along, exulting in his freedom, and in

once again possessing arms to defend himself should it be needed. His

appearance was so exactly that of the horsemen who were continually

passing and repassing that no observation whatever was attracted by it.

Through villages, and even through camps, Cuthbert rode fearlessly, and

arrived, without having once been accosted, near the main camp of the

Saracens, which extended for miles parallel to the sea. But at a distance

of some three leagues beyond, could be seen the white tents of the

Christian host, and Cuthbert felt that the time of trial was now at hand.

He dismounted for an hour to allow his steed to rest itself, fed it with

dates from his wallet, and gave it a drink of water at the stream. Then,

when he felt that it had thoroughly recovered its strength and freshness,

he re-mounted, and rode briskly on as before. He passed unchallenged,

attracting no more notice than a person now-a-days would do in walking

along a crowded street. Without hesitation he passed through the tents

and started across the open country. Bands of horsemen were seen here and

there, some going, and some coming from the direction of the Christian

camp. As it was doubtless supposed that he was on his way to join some

band that had gone on in advance, the passage of the solitary horseman

excited no comment until he approached within about two miles of the

Christian camp. There were now, so far as he could see, no enemies

between him and the point he so longed to gain. But at this minute a

group of Arab horsemen, gathered, apparently on the look-out against any

movement of the Christians, shouted to him "Halt!" demanding whither he

was going.

Up to this point Cuthbert had ridden at a gentle canter; but at the

challenge he put spurs into his steed and made across the plain at full

speed. With a wild yell the Arabs started in pursuit. They lay at first

some 200 yards on his right, and he had therefore a considerable start of

them. His horse was fairly fresh, for the journey that he had made had

only been about fifteen miles--an inconsiderable distance to an Arab

steed. For half a mile he did not think that his pursuers gained much

upon him, riding as they had done sideways. They had now gathered in his

rear, and the nearest was some 150 yards behind him. A quarter of a mile

farther he again looked round, and found that two of the Arabs, far

better mounted than the others, had come within half the distance which

separated them from him when he last glanced back. His horse was

straining to the utmost, and he felt that it could do no more; he

therefore prepared himself for a desperate fight should his pursuers

overtake him. In another quarter of a mile they were but a short distance

behind, and an arrow whizzing by Cuthbert's ear told him they had

be-taken themselves to their bows.

Half a mile ahead he saw riding towards him a group of Christian knights;

but he felt that it was too late for him to hope to reach them, and that

his only chance now was to boldly encounter his pursuers. The main body

of the Arabs was fully 200 yards behind--a short distance when going at a

gallop--which left him but little time to shake off the pursuit of the

two immediately behind him.

A sharp stinging pain in his leg told him that it was time to make his

effort; and checking his horse, he wheeled suddenly round. The two Arabs

with a yell rode at him with pointed lance. With his right hand Cuthbert

grasped the short heavy mace which hung at his saddle-bow, and being well

practised in the hurling of this weapon--which formed part of the

education of a good knight--he cast it with all his force at the chest of

the Arab approaching on that side. The point of the spear was within a

few yards of his breast as he flung the mace; but his aim was true, for

it smote the Saracen full on the chest, and hurled him from his horse as

if struck with a thunderbolt. At the same instant Cuthbert threw himself

flat on the neck of his steed and the lance of the Arab who came up on

the other side passed harmlessly between his shoulders, tearing his

clothes as it went. In an instant Cuthbert had wheeled his horse, and

before the Arab could turn his steed Cuthbert, coming up from behind,

had run him through the body.

Short as the delay had been, the main body of the pursuers were scarcely

fifty yards away; but Cuthbert now continued his flight towards the

knights, who were galloping forward at full speed; and a moment

afterwards glancing back, he saw that his pursuers had turned and were in

full flight.

With a shout of joy he rode forward to the party who had viewed with

astonishment this conflict between what appeared to be three of the

infidels. Even louder than his first shout of exultation was the cry of

joy which he raised at seeing among the party to whom he rode up, the

Earl of Evesham, who reined in his horse in astonishment, and drew his

sword as the supposed enemy galloped towards him.

"My lord, my lord!" Cuthbert said. "Thank heaven I am safe with

you again."

The earl lowered his sword in astonishment.

"Am I mad," he said, "or dreaming, or is this really Sir Cuthbert?"

"It is I sure enough," Cuthbert exclaimed, "although truly I look more

like a Bedouin soldier than a Christian knight."

"My dear boy!" exclaimed the earl, galloping forward and throwing his

arms around Cuthbert's neck, "we thought you were dead. But by what

wonderful fortune have you succeeded in escaping?"

In a few words Cuthbert related the principal incidents of his

adventures, and he was heartily congratulated by the assembled knights.

There was, however, no time for long explanations. Large bodies of the

Saracen horse were already sweeping down, to capture, if possible, this

small band of knights who had ventured so far from the camp; and as King

Richard's orders were that none should venture upon conflicts except by

his orders, the party reluctantly turned their horses and galloped back

to the camp.

Great as had been the earl's joy, it was, if possible, exceeded by that

of Cnut on discovering in the Arab chief who rode up alongside the earl,

the lad he loved so well. Loud and hearty were the cheers which rang out

from the earl's camp as the news spread, and Cuthbert was compelled to

shake hands with the whole party before entering the earl's tent, to

refresh himself and give the narrative of what had happened.

Cuthbert, retiring to his tent with the Earl of Evesham, inquired of him

what had taken place during his absence.

"For," he said, "although but a short three days' march from here, I have

been as one of the dead, and have heard nothing whatever of what has

taken place."

"Nothing could have gone worse," the earl said. "We have had nothing

but dissensions and quarrels. First, the king fell out with the

Archduke of Austria."

"On what ground did this happen?" Cuthbert asked.

"For once," the earl said, "the king our master was wholly in the wrong,

which is not generally the case. We had just taken Ascalon, and were hard

at work fortifying the place. King Richard with his usual zeal, in order

to encourage the army, seized heavy stones and himself bore them into

their place. The Archduke stood near with some of his knights: and it may

be that the haughty Austrian looked somewhat superciliously at our king,

thus labouring.

"'Why do you not make a show of helping?' King Richard said, going up to

him. 'It would encourage the men, and show that the labour upon which we

are engaged can be undertaken by all without derogation.'

"To this the Archduke replied,--

"'I am not the son of a mason!'

"Whereupon Richard, whose blood no doubt had been excited by the air of

the Austrian, struck him with his hand a fierce blow across the face. We

nearly betook ourselves to our swords on both sides; but King Richard

himself could have scattered half the Austrians, and these, knowing that

against his impetuous valour they could do nothing, simply withdrew from

our camp, and sailed the next day for home. Then the king, in order to

conciliate some at least of his allies, conferred the crown of Jerusalem

upon Conrad of Montferat. No sooner had he done this than Conrad was

mysteriously wounded. By whom it was done none knew. Some say that it was

by emissaries of the Old Man of the Mountain. Others affirm that it was

the jealousy of some of the knights of the holy orders. But be that as it

may, he died. Some of the French, ever jealous of the valour of our king,

ascribed it to his orders. This monstrous accusation coming to the ears

of King Richard, he had hot words with the Duke of Burgundy. In this I

blame him not, for it is beyond all reason that a man like the king,

whose faults, such as they are, arise from too much openness, and from

the want of concealment of such dislikes as he may have, should resort to

poison to free himself of a man whom he himself had but a day or two

before appointed King of Jerusalem. However it be, the consequences were

most unfortunate, for the result of the quarrel was that the Duke of

Burgundy and his Frenchmen followed the example of the Austrians, and we

were left alone. Before this we had marched upon Jerusalem. But the

weather had been so bad, and our train was so insufficient to carry the

engines of war, that we had been forced to fall back again. King Richard

again advanced, and with much toil we went as far as the village of

Bethany."

"Why," Cuthbert exclaimed, "I passed through that village, and it is but

three miles from the holy city."

"That is so," the earl said; "and many of us, ascending the hill in

front, saw Jerusalem. But even then it was certain that we must again

retrace our steps; and when we asked King Richard to come to the crest of

the hill to see the holy city, he refused to do so, saying, 'No; those

who are not worthy of conquering Jerusalem should not look at it!' This

was but a short time since, and we are now retracing our steps to Acre,

and are treating with Saladin for a peace."

"Then," Cuthbert said sadly, "all our hopes and efforts are thrown away;

all this blood has been shed for nothing; and after the three great

powers of Europe have engaged themselves solemnly in the war, we are

baffled, and have to fall back before the hordes of the infidels."

"Partly before them," the earl said, "partly as the result of our own

jealousies and passions. Had King Richard been a lesser man than he is,

we might have conquered Jerusalem. But he is so extraordinary a warrior

that his glory throws all others into the shade. He is a good general,

perhaps the best in Europe; and had he done nothing but lead, assuredly

we should have carried out our purpose. See how ably he maneuvered the

army at the fight of Azotus. Never was a more complete defeat than that

which he inflicted there upon the Saracens; and although the fact that

his generalship achieved this, might have caused some jealousy to the

other commanders, this might have died away could he between the battles

have been a general, and nothing more. But alas! he is in addition a

knight-errant--and such a knight-errant as Europe has never seen before.

Wherever there is danger, Richard will plunge into the midst. There are

brave men in all the three armies; but the strongest and bravest are as

children to King Richard. Alone he can dart into ranks of the infidels,

and cut a lane for himself by the strength of his right arm. More than

this, when danger has threatened he has snatched up his battle-axe and

dashed into the fray without helm or cuirass, performing such prodigies

of valour and strength that it has been to his prowess alone that victory

was to be ascribed. Hence he is the idol of all the soldiers, whatever

their nationality; for he is as ready to rush to the rescue of a French

or Austrian knight when pressed as to that of his own men. But the

devotion which the whole army felt for him was as gall and wormwood to

the haughty Austrian and the indolent Frenchman; and the retirement of

the King of France, which left Richard in supreme command, was in every

way unfortunate."

Upon the following day the army again marched, and Cuthbert could not but

notice the difference, not only in number but in demeanour, from the

splendid array which had left Acre a few months before. There was little

now of the glory of pennon and banner; the bright helms and cuirasses

were rusted and dinted, and none seemed to care aught for bravery of

show. The knights and men-at-arms were sunburnt and thin, and seemed but

half the weight that they had been when they landed. Fatigue, hardship,

and the heat had done their work; disease had swept off vast numbers. But

the remains of the army were so formidable in their fighting powers that

the Saracens, although following them at a distance in vast numbers, did

not venture an attack upon them.

A few days after their arrival at Acre, the king gave orders for the

embarcation of the troops. Just as they were preparing to enter the ships

a small vessel was seen entering the harbour. It drew up to the shore,

and a knight leaped from it, and, inquiring where King Richard was to be

found, made his way to the king, who was standing superintending the

embarcation of some of the horses.

"The Saracens, sire!" he exclaimed. "The Saracens are besieging Jaffa,

and the place must be lost unless assistance arrives in a day or two."

The king leaped on board the nearest ship, shouted to his leading

officers to follow him, and gave orders to others to bring down the

troops with all possible speed, to waste not a moment, and to see that

all was done, and then, in five minutes after the receipt of the news he

started for Jaffa. The Earl of Evesham and Cuthbert had been standing

near the king when the order was given, and followed him at once on board

the bark which he had chosen.

"Ah, my gallant young knight," the king exclaimed, "I am right glad to

see you with me. We shall have more fighting before we have done, and I

know that that suits your mood as well as my own."

The king's vessel was far in advance of any of the others, when early the

following morning it arrived at Jaffa.

"Your eyes are better than mine," the king said to Cuthbert. "Tell me

what is that flag flying on the top of the town."

Cuthbert looked at it earnestly.

"I fear, sire, that it is the crescent. We have arrived too late."

"By the holy cross," said King Richard, "that shall not be so; for if the

place be taken, we will retake it."

As the vessel neared the shore a monk ran out into the water up to his

shoulders, and said to the king that the citadel still held out, and that

even now the Saracens might be driven back. Without delay the king leaped

into the water, followed by the knights and men-at-arms, and entering the

gate, threw himself upon the infidels within, who, busy plundering, had

not noticed the arrival of the ship.

The war cry of "St. George! St. George!" which the king always shouted

in battle, struck panic among the infidels; and although the king was

followed but by five knights and a few men-at-arms, the Saracens, to

the number of 3000, fled before him, and all who tarried were smitten

down. The king followed them out upon the plain, driving them before

him as a lion would drive a flock of sheep, and then returned

triumphant into the city.

The next day, some more ships having arrived, King Richard found that in

all, including the garrison, he could muster 2000 combatants. The enemy

renewed the attack in great numbers, and the assaults upon the walls were

continuous and desperate. King Richard, who loved fighting in the plain

rather than behind walls, was impatient at this, and at one time so

fierce was the attack that he resolved to sally out. Only ten horses

remained in the town, and King Richard, mounting one, called upon nine of

the knights to mount and sally out with him. The little band of ten

warriors charged down upon the host of the Saracens and swept them before

them. It was a marvellous sight indeed to see so small a group of

horsemen dashing through a crowd of Saracen warriors. These, although at

first beaten back, yet rallied, and the ten knights had great difficulty

in fighting their way back to the town. When near the walls the

Christians again made a stand, and a few knights sallied out from the

town on foot and joined them. Among these was Cuthbert, the Earl of

Evesham having accompanied King Richard in his charge. In all, seventeen

knights were now rallied round the king. So fierce was the charge of the

Saracens that the king ordered those on horseback to dismount, and with

their horses in the centre, the little body knelt with their lances

opposed to the Saracens. Again and again the wild cavalry swept down upon

this little force, but in vain did they attempt to break their ranks. The

scene was indeed an extraordinary one. At last the king, seeing that the

enemy were losing heart, again ordered the knights to mount, and these

dashing among the enemy, completed their defeat.

While this had been going on, news came to the king that the Saracens

from another side had made their way into Jaffa, and were massacring the

Christians. Without an instant's delay he flew to their succour, followed

only by two knights and a few archers, the rest being so worn by their

exertions as to be unable to move. The Mamelukes, the chosen guard of

Saladin, had headed the attack; but even these were driven out from the

town, and Richard dashed out from the city in their pursuit. One Saracen

emir, distinguished for his stature and strength, ventured to match

himself against the king, and rode boldly at him. But with one blow

Richard severed his head, and his right shoulder and arm, from his body.

Then having, by his single arm, put to rout the Saracens at this point,

he dashed through them to the aid of the little band of knights who had

remained on the defensive when he left them at the alarm of the city

being entered. These were almost sinking with fatigue and wounds; but

King Richard opened a way around them by slaying numbers of the enemy,

and then charged again alone into the midst of the Mussulman host, and

was lost to the sight of his companions. All thought that they would

never see him again. But he soon reappeared, his horse covered with

blood, but himself unwounded; and the attack of the enemy ceased.

From the hour of daybreak, it is said, Richard had not ceased for a

moment to deal out his blows, and the skin of his hand adhered to the

handle of his battle-axe. This narration would appear almost fabulous,

were it not that it is attested in the chronicles of several

eye-witnesses, and for centuries afterwards the Saracen women hushed

their babes when fractious by threatening them with Malek-Rik, the name

which they gave to King Richard.

Glorious as was the success, it was a sad one, for several of the most

devoted of the followers of King Richard were wounded badly, some few to

death. Among these last, to the terrible grief of Cuthbert, was his

friend and patron, the Earl of Evesham. The king, on taking off his

armour, hurried to his tent.

"The glory of this day is marred indeed," he said to the wounded knight,

"if I am to lose you, Sir Walter."

"I fear that it must even be so, my lord," the dying earl said. "I am

glad that I have seen this day, for never did I think to witness such

feats as those which your Majesty has performed; and though the crusade

has failed, and the Holy City remains in the hands of the infidel, yet

assuredly no shadow of disgrace has fallen upon the English arms, and,

indeed, great glory has accrued to us. Whatever may be said of the Great

Crusade, it will, at least, be allowed by all men, and for all time, that

had the princes and soldiers of other nations done as your Majesty and

your followers have done, the holy city would have fallen into our hands

within a month of our putting foot upon the soil. Your Majesty, I have a

boon to ask."

"You have but to name it, Sir Walter, and it is yours."

"Sir Cuthbert, here," he said, pointing to the young knight, who was

sorrowfully kneeling by his bedside, "is as a son to me. The relationship

by blood is but slight, but by affection it is as close as though he were

mine own. I have, as your Majesty knows, no male heirs, and my daughter

is but young, and will now be a royal ward. I beseech your Majesty to

bestow her in marriage, when the time comes, upon Sir Cuthbert. They have

known each other as children, and the union will bring happiness,

methinks, to both, as well as strength and protection to her; and

further, if it might be, I would fain that you should bestow upon him my

title and dignity."

"It shall be so," the king said. "When your eyes are closed, Sir Walter,

Sir Cuthbert shall be Earl of Evesham, and, when the time comes, the

husband of your daughter."

Cuthbert was too overwhelmed with grief to feel a shadow of exaltation at

the gracious intimation of the king; although, even then, a thought of

future happiness in the care of the fair young lady Margaret passed

before his mind. For the last time the king gave his hand to his faithful

servant, who pressed it to his lips, and a few minutes afterwards

breathed his last.

CHAPTER XVII.

AN ALPINE STORM.

The tremendous exertions which King Richard had made told upon him, and

attacks of fever succeeded each other at short intervals. This, however,

mattered the less, since negotiations were now proceeding between him and

Saladin. It was impossible, with the slight means at his disposal, for

Richard further to carry on the crusade alone. Moreover, pressing news

had arrived from his mother in England, urging him to return, as his

brother John was intriguing against him, and had already assumed all but

the kingly tide. Saladin was equally desirous of peace. His wild troops

were, for the most part, eager to return to their homes, and the defeats

which they had suffered, and the, to them, miraculous power of King

Richard's arm, had lowered their spirit and made them eager to be away.

Therefore he consented without difficulty to the terms proposed. By

these, the Christians were to surrender Ascalon, but were to keep Jaffa,

Tyre, and the fortresses along the coast. All hostilities were to be

suspended on both sides for the space of three years, three months, three

weeks, three days, and three hours, when Richard hoped to return again

and to recommence the struggle.

Between the sultan and King Richard a feeling approaching that of

friendship had sprung up during the campaign. Saladin was himself brave

in the extreme, and exposed his life as fearlessly as did his Christian

rival, and the two valiant leaders recognized the great qualities of each

other. Several times during the campaign, when Richard had been ill, the

emir had sent him presents of fruit and other matters, to which Richard

had responded in the same spirit. An interview had taken place between

them which further cemented their friendship; and when Richard promised

to return again at the end of the truce with a far larger army, and to

accomplish the rescue of the holy city, the sultan smiled, and said that

it appeared that valour alone was not sufficient to conquer in the Holy

Land, but that if Jerusalem were to fall into the hands of the

Christians, it could fall into no worthier hands than those of Malek-Rik.