brew, the horn sounded at the gate, and the old porter, who had been
watching the mummery, elbowed his way out with some grumbling to see who
could be there. In a few minutes a tall man entered the hall, wearing
the garb of a Palmer or pilgrim from the Holy Land--a long cloak with a
cape and a hood that shadowed the face, a staff, a scrip and sandals.
At sight of him a surprised hush fell upon the company. The common folk
drew apart to let him pass, not quite sure but this was a new figure in
the play. But Sir Walter Giffard rose to his feet after one swift glance
at the newcomer, and as the latter threw back his cowl, the host quickly
advanced to embrace him, crying, “Stephen! We feared that you were
dead!”
Lady Philippa came forward also, with shining eyes and parted lips,
beckoning to the children to join in the welcome of the stranger.
Eleanor scarcely remembered this uncle of hers, whom she had not seen
since leaving Normandy. His eyes were so sad that she felt very sorry
for him, but his smile was so kind that no one could help loving him.
He reminded her of Saint Christopher, who had always been a favorite of
hers because he kept away bad dreams.
Stephen Giffard had been ransomed by John de Matha, the Provencal monk
who had given himself to the work of rescuing and befriending prisoners.
Hearing from his rescuers that Lady Adelicia, his wife, had gone with
rich gifts to the Holy Land in the hope that her prayers might bring
him home, he took ship to Jaffa and there learned that she had died in
Jerusalem. Now he had settled his affairs and come in the guise of a
pilgrim to spend the Christmas season with his kinfolk in England.
The two brothers sat and talked by the smoldering fire until late that
night, speaking of divers things. It was no wish of Sir Stephen's that
his unexpected coming should interrupt or change the holiday plans.
Indeed, many of the guests were his friends as well as his brother's.
Eleanor wondered a little next day, why this recovered kinsman made in
one way so little difference in the life of the household, and yet made
so deep an impression. He was not himself merry, and still he seemed to
enter into the joy of others and make it more satisfying. She tried to
express this thought to her mother. The lady smiled, and sighed.
“He is a very good man,” she said. “He was always good, and although he
has had great troubles they have not made him hard or bitter--which is
not a common thing. We must do all that we can for him while he is here,
for that will not be long. He is going back among the paynim.”
“But why, mother?” asked Eleanor, bewildered.
Lady Philippa shook her head. “I think because he is almost--or quite--a
saint. Perhaps he will tell you by-and-by.”
It seemed passing strange that Sir Stephen should wish to return to the
Moslems after suffering as he had suffered among them, but there was no
time for further discussion then.
Later in the day, when Sir Walter was talking with his steward and Lady
Philippa was giving final directions to maids and cooks and dapifers,
Eleanor and Roger found Sir Stephen seated alone by the flickering,
purring Yule-log. Before they quite knew it they were telling him of all
their favorite occupations and plays. He seemed as much interested as if
they had been his own children.
“This Yule,” he said musingly after a little, “might be in another world
from the last. And once I spent the day in Bethlehem of Judea.”
It sounded almost as if he had said he had been to heaven. They had
never seen any one who had actually been in Bethlehem.
“There was a company of us,” he went on, “some twenty in all, who landed
after a rough voyage, very sea-weary and thankful to the saints. Glad
were we to find the Knights Templars ready to guard us through the
desert. Since our people have built churches and shrines in the Holy
Land, and pilgrims who visit these places bring with them gold and gems
for the decking thereof, there be many bands of robbers who infest the
desert in the hope of plunder. Often finding no spoil, they maltreat
or murder their victims. For this cause were the Templars and the
Hospitallers established. The Templars may have grown proud and arrogant
as some say, but I must give them this credit, that their black and
white banner is mightily respected by the heathen.
“Having come safely through the wilderness, we entered Bethlehem as
it chanced upon Christmas Eve, and the town was full of pilgrims and
travelers, so that we had to find shelter where we could. The inns there
are builded in a very old fashion. I think they have not changed since
the time of our Lord. A large open space is walled in with mud or brick
or stone, and hath a well in the middle. Around the inside of the
walls are shelters for horses and pack animals, and sometimes--not
always--there is a house where rooms are let to those who can pay. The
one at our inn was already crowded, so that we had to make shift with
fresh straw in the stalls with our beasts. They gave us flat unleavened
cakes of bread, dried dates, and something like frumenty, with kebobs of
mutton roasted, and water to drink. When we had supped we sat about on
our baggage and watched the people still coming in.
“You have never seen a camel? No? They be marvelous beasts. They stand
taller than the tallest charger, and travel like the wind on four feet.
I saw three humps like mountains against the sky, coming in at the gate,
and the beasts kneeled down at the word of command and were unloaded.
Their masters came from the East, somewhere beyond Arabia, and were wise
in the lore of the stars. How know I that? Wait and I will tell.
“Shepherds came also with their sheep, softly bleating and huddling in
their cramped quarters. Last of all came a poor man and his wife with a
very small babe, and they and their donkey took the last bit of space in
our corner.
“I tell you it is surprising what men will do for a tiny child and its
tender mother. There was a grumpy old Flanders merchant in our company,
who thought only of his own comfort, but now he sent his servant to take
a mantle to the mother because she looked like his daughter at home, who
had named her boy for him. And there was a peevish clerk who had paid
for the last bowl of pottage they had, who gave it to the little family
and supped on bread.
“Weary as we were, and much as our bones ached, we found solace in
looking at the child as it slept and thinking of the children we had
known at home. I think,” the knight added with a half smile, “that if
it had wakened and cried out, the spell might have broken. But it was a
sweet small thing, and it slumbered as if it had been cradled in down.
“Through the still air we heard the bells calling the monks to prayer.
And then the baby woke, and looked about with wondering innocent eyes,
and stretched out its little hands and laughed. I would you could have
seen that grave company then. Every man of them sought a share in that
sweet sudden laughter. The merchant dangled his gold chain, the clerk
made clownish gestures, the merchant put a golden zecchin into the tiny
fingers for a toy. And when it slept again we slept also, or watched the
stars and thought of that star which long ago stood over Bethlehem.
“There was a learned doctor in our company who understood Eastern
languages and could converse in Arabic with the wise men from the East.
They told him that in their country there is a tradition that their
astrologers, reading the heavens as is their wont, saw Saturn, Jupiter
and Mercury foregather in the House of the Fishes that rules Judea, and
knew by this that at such a time and in such a place a prophet should be
born. Therefore came they to visit the child with rich gifts, and gained
from the parents a promise that when he was of an age to learn, he
should be brought to their country to learn of their wisdom, even as
Moses was skilled in all the wisdom of the Egyptians. I know not whether
there can be any truth in the legend, but that is their belief. And yet
they are not Christians, but heathen.”
Sir Stephen smiled at the two puzzled young faces.
“Nay, more,” he went on, “even the followers of Mahound revere Christ as
a prophet. Their name for Him is Ruh' Allah. I have seen a Moslem
beat his Christian slave for using an oath that dishonored the name
of Christ. In truth, I have come to think that there are very few
unbelievers in the world. Much wickedness there is--but not unbelief.”
“Mother says,” Eleanor ventured shyly, “that you are going away to live
among the paynim.”
“Aye.” The knight smiled his fleeting, tender smile. “It is a grief to
her, sweet lady, that I cannot dwell in comfort among you and think no
more of voyages. But there is a work laid upon me, which I must do.”
“A Crusade?” The word was just inside Roger's lips, and it slipped out
before he thought. Sir Stephen smiled again.
“Nay. My fighting days are over. But I believe that even a broken man
may serve if he be honestly so minded. I must tell you that for many
years I had been troubled, and found no peace, because even among
churchmen there was sloth and selfish greed, and the desire to rule, and
the pilgrims whom I met seemed often moved rather by vanity and love of
change than from any true fear of God. But as you know, I had but begun
my homeward journey when our ship was taken by pirates and the few who
were left alive were sold as slaves.
“It is not needful to tell all that befell me as a bondman among the
Moors of Barbary. My master was a renegade knight who had forsworn the
Cross and risen to some preferment among the Almohades. His hate was
upon me day and night, and I knew that my lady and my kindred must
believe me dead. And in that black horror of loneliness and despair I
found my faith.
“God speaks to us not always in books, nor in words, nor in one place
more than another. His ways are as the wind that blows where it will.
It is not what men do to us that kills--it is what they make of us. They
cannot make a soul cruel or foul or treacherous, that hath not lost God.
What is the power of a multitude? Christ died. And His life is the light
of men.
“Knighthood is a fair and noble thing, but its vows have no magic--no
more than the oaths of the guilds, or the monastic orders, or the
allegiance of the vassal to his lord. It is the living spirit that keeps
the vows--and when that is gone their power is less than nothing. Once
I could not see how it was possible for a man to renounce his knighthood
and his Lord. I have lived with such a man, and I know that it came of
his losing faith. He lost the power to believe in good. I think that
he hated me because I reminded him of his own land and all that he no
longer wished to remember.
“Now having known the scourge and the fetters, I may speak to the
bondman as a brother. I am alone, with none to need me. Therefore I go
hence to join the brethren who are giving their lives to this ministry.”
The Palmer rose to his feet as if in haste to be gone. “I weary you
perchance with talk too serious for holiday-time,” he said with that
quick smile of his, “but when you come to your own work you will know
how close to the heart that lies. Now be glad and make others glad--it
was never God's will, I am right sure, that this world should be a
doleful place for the young.”
The piercing silvery notes of the trumpets in the chill air, the
trampling of horses in the bailey, gave notice of the arrival of guests.
There was no more leisure that day.
In the glitter and glow and splendor of the banquet hall, with its music
and gayety, the tall gray figure of the Palmer moved like a spirit. As
the guests came one after another to speak with him of his experiences
and his plans, their kindling faces proved his rare power of making them
see what he saw. To Stephen Giffard the presence of God was as real
as the sunrise. In the light of his utter self-sacrifice the loyalty,
sweetness and courage of other lives seemed to shine out more brightly.
It was all one with the immortal world of Christendom--ruled by the
living spirit of the child cradled in Bethlehem centuries ago.
THE CRUSADERS
Daily we waited word or sign--
They were our children, these
Who held the unsleeping battle-line
Beyond the haunted seas,
Who gave their golden unlived years
And that clear pathway trod
Lifting through sunset gates of fire
To the far tents of God.
Through trackless realms of unknown space
They wander, unafraid,
For nothing do they fear to face
In worlds that God has made.
Freed from the shattered bonds of earth
They meet their comrades free,
To share the service of the Lord
In truth and loyalty.
Elizabeth's wise admirals guard
Their dear-loved England's coast.
From Somme and Meuse no cannon barred
The Maid's undaunted host.
And still the Foreign Legion hears
In every desperate chance
Her children's crashing battle-cry--
“For France! For France! For France!”
The captains of the hosts of God
Know every man by name,
When from the torn and bleeding sod
Their spirits pass like flame.
The maid must wait her lover still,
The mother wait her son,--
For very love they may not leave
The task they have begun.
If secret plot of greed or fear
Shall bid the trumpets cease,
And bind the lands they held so dear
To base dishonored peace,
How shall their white battalions rest
Or sheathe the sword of light,--
The unbroken armies of our dead,
Who have not ceased to fight!
NOTES
PEIROL OF THE PIGEONS
The troubadour, minstrel and jongleur or joglar, were not the same
in dignity. A troubadour or trouvere was a poet who sang his own
compositions to his own music. A jongleur was a singer who was not a
poet, though he might make songs. He corresponded more nearly to the
modern vaudeville performer. The minstrel was something between the two.
THE TAPESTRY CHAMBER
Saint George was not formally adopted as the patron saint of England
until some time after this.
LULLABY OF THE PICT MOTHER
This song may be sung to a very old Scotch air called “O can ye sew
cushions.”
THE WOLVES OF OSSORY
The werewolf superstition is very persistent, and has been held in many
countries until quite recent times.
ST. HUGH AND THE BIRDS
The reference is to St. Hugh, Bishop of Lincoln, who is represented with
his pet swan in most of his portraits. He founded a Carthusian monastery
by the invitation of Henry II., at Witham in Somerset, and built the
choir and a considerable part of Lincoln Cathedral. The stories of his
love for birds are found in old chronicles.
THE SWORD OF DAMASCUS
An armorer's shop very like the one described has been brought from
Abbeville and set up in the Metropolitan Museum of Art in one of the
rooms devoted to armor.
THE WISDOM OF THE GALLEYS
“Y'Allah!” (O God!) is a common exclamation, often used as meaning “Make
Haste!” Abu Hassan is “the father of Hassan,” In Moslem countries a
father often uses his son's name in this way, allowing his own to be
almost forgotten.
Khawaja, Khawadji or Howadji is a title of respect given exclusively to
unbelievers.
The Breach of Roland--Roncesvalles.
Jebel el Tarik--Gibraltar.
Iskanderia--Alexandria.
“Ma sh' Allah!” (What does God mean!) the commonest exclamation of
surprise.
Feringhi--Frankish, French.
Kafir--Infidel, heathen, a term of extreme contempt.
Ahmed ibn Said--Ahmed the son of Said.
THE EBBING TIDE
Hy-Brasail is the Celtic name for the Fortunate Islands, the Isles of
Avilion, said to be situated somewhere west of Europe. The dead were
said to go westward to these islands, which were a paradise.
THE END OF A PILGRIMAGE
John de Matha founded the Order of the Holy Trinity, sometimes known as
the Redemptorist Fathers, sometimes as the Mathurins. He was afterward
made a saint. He was the first to make any serious effort to alleviate
the condition of prisoners, especially slaves among the Moslems.
The legend of the Star of Bethlehem referred to is one which is still
current in India.