We must now return to the dungeon of the Blacquernal, where
circumstances had formed at least a temporary union between the stout
Varangian and Count Robert of Paris, who had a stronger resemblance to
each other in their dispositions than probably either of them would
have been willing to admit. The virtues of the Varangian were all of
that natural and unrefined kind which Nature herself dictates to a
gallant man, to whom a total want of fear, and the most prompt alacrity
to meet danger, had been attributes of a life-long standing. The Count,
on the other hand, had all that bravery, generosity, and love of
adventure, which was possessed by the rude soldier, with the virtues,
partly real, partly fantastic, which those of his rank and country
acquired from the spirit of chivalry. The one might be compared to the
diamond as it came from the mine, before it had yet received the
advantages of cutting and setting; the other was the ornamented gem,
which, cut into facets and richly set, had lost perhaps a little of its
original substance, yet still, at the same time, to the eye of an
inspector, had something more showy and splendid than when it was,
according to the phrase of lapidaries, _en brut_. In the one case, the
value was more artificial; in the other, it was the more natural and
real of the two. Chance, therefore, had made a temporary alliance
between two men, the foundation of whose characters bore such strong
resemblance to each other, that they were only separated by a course of
education, which had left rigid prejudices on both sides, and which
prejudices were not unlikely to run counter to each other. The
Varangian commenced his conversation with the Count in a tone of
familiarity, approaching nearer to rudeness than the speaker was aware
of, and much of which, though most innocently intended by Hereward,
might be taken amiss by his new brother in arms. The most offensive
part of his deportment, however, was a blunt, bold disregard to the
title of those whom he addressed, adhering thereby to the manners of
the Saxons, from whom he drew his descent, and which was likely to be
at least unpleasing to the Franks as well as Normans, who had already
received and become very tenacious of the privileges of the feudal
system, the mummery of heraldry, and the warlike claims assumed by
knights, as belonging only to their own order.
Hereward was apt, it must be owned, to think too little of these
distinctions; while he had at least a sufficient tendency to think
enough of the power and wealth of the Greek empire which he served,--of
the dignity inherent in Alexius Comnenus, and which he was also
disposed to grant to the Grecian officers, who, under the Emperor,
commanded his own corps, and particularly to Achilles Tatius. This man
Hereward knew to be a coward, and half-suspected to be a villain.
Still, however, the Follower was always the direct channel through
which the Imperial graces were conferred on the Varangians in general,
as well as upon Hereward himself; and he had always the policy to
represent such favours as being more or less indirectly the consequence
of his own intercession. He was supposed vigorously to espouse the
quarrel of the Varangians, in all the disputes between them and the
other corps; he was liberal and open-handed; gave every soldier his
due; and, bating the trifling circumstance of valour, which was not
particularly his forte, it would have been difficult for these
strangers to have demanded a leader more to their wishes. Besides this,
our friend Hereward was admitted by him into his society, attended him,
as we have seen, upon secret expeditions, and shared, therefore,
deeply, in what may be termed by an expressive, though vulgar phrase,
the sneaking kindness entertained for this new Achilles by the greater
part of his myrmidons. Their attachment might be explained, perhaps, as
a liking to their commander, as strong as could well exist with a
marvellous lack of honour and esteem. The scheme, therefore, formed by
Hereward to effect the deliverance of the Count of Paris, comprehended
as much faith to the Emperor, and his representative, the Acolyte or
Follower, as was consistent with rendering justice to the injured Frank.
In furtherance of this plan, he conducted Count Robert from the
subterranean vaults of the Blacquernal, of the intricacies of which he
was master, having been repeatedly, of late, stationed sentinel there,
for the purpose of acquiring that knowledge of which Tatius promised
himself the advantage in the ensuing conspiracy. When they were in the
open air, and at some distance from the gloomy towers of the Palace, he
bluntly asked the Count of Paris whether he knew Agelastes the
Philosopher. The other answered in the negative.
"Look you now, Sir Knight, you hurt yourself in attempting to impose
upon me," said Hereward. "You must know him; for I saw you dined with
him yesterday."
"O! with that learned old man?" said the Count. "I know nothing of him
worth owning or disguising to thee or any one. A wily person he is,
half herald and half minstrel."
"Half procurer and whole knave," subjoined the Varangian. "With the
mask of apparent good-humour he conceals his pandering to the vices of
others; with the specious jargon of philosophy, he has argued himself
out of religious belief and moral principle; and, with the appearance
of the most devoted loyalty, he will, if he is not checked in time,
either argue his too confiding master out of life and empire, or, if he
fails in this, reason his simple associates into death and misery."
"And do you know all this," said Count Robert, "and permit this man to
go unimpeached?"
"O, content you, sir," replied the Varangian; "I cannot yet form any
plot which Agelastes may not countermine; but the time will come, nay
it is already approaching, when the Emperor's attention shall be
irresistibly turned to the conduct of this man, and then let the
philosopher sit fast, or by St. Dunstan the barbarian overthrows him! I
would only fain, methinks, save from his clutches a foolish friend, who
has listed to his delusions."
"But what have I to do," said the Count, "with this man, or with his
plots?"
"Much," said Hereward, "although you know it not. The main supporter of
this plot is no other than the Caesar, who ought to be the most
faithful of men; but ever since Alexius has named a Sebastocrator, an
officer that is higher in rank, and nearer to the throne than the
Caesar himself, so long has Nicephorus Briennius been displeased and
dissatisfied, though for what length of time he has joined the schemes
of the astucious Agelastes it is more difficult to say. This I know,
that for many months he has fed liberally, as his riches enable him to
do, the vices and prodigality of the Caesar. He has encouraged him to
show disrespect to his wife, although the Emperor's daughter; has put
ill-will between him and the royal family. And if Briennius bears no
longer the fame of a rational man, and the renown of a good leader, he
is deprived of both by following the advice of this artful sycophant."
"And what is all this to me?" said, the Frank. "Agelastes may be a true
man or a time-serving slave; his master, Alexius Comnenus, is not so
much allied to me or mine that I should meddle in the intrigues of his
court."
"You may be mistaken in that," said the blunt Varangian; "if these
intrigues involve the happiness and virtue"'--
"Death of a thousand martyrs!" said the Frank, "doth paltry intrigues
and quarrels of slaves involve a single thought of suspicion of the
noble Countess of Paris? The oaths of thy whole generation were
ineffectual to prove but that one of her hairs had changed its colour
to silver!"
"Well imagined, gallant knight," said the Anglo-Saxon; "thou art a
husband fitted for the atmosphere of Constantinople, which calls for
little vigilance and a strong belief. Thou wilt find many followers and
fellows in this court of ours."
"Hark thee, friend," replied the Frank, "let us have no more words, nor
walk farther together than just to the most solitary nook of this
bewildered city, and let us there set to that work which we left even
now unfinished."
"If thou wert a Duke, Sir Count," replied the Varangian, "thou couldst
not invite to a combat one who is more ready for it. Yet consider the
odds on which we fight. If I fall, my moan is soon made; but will my
death set thy wife at liberty if she is under restraint, or restore her
honour if it is tarnished?--Will it do any thing more than remove from
the world the only person who is willing to give thee aid, at his own
risk and danger, and who hopes to unite thee to thy wife, and replace
thee at the head of thy forces?"
"I was wrong," said the Count of Paris; "I was entirely wrong; but
beware, my good friend, how thou couplest the name of Brenhilda of
Aspramonte with the word of dishonour, and tell me, instead of this
irritating discourse, whither go we now?"
"To the Cytherean gardens of Agelastes, from which we are not far
distant," said the Anglo-Saxon; "yet he hath a nearer way to it than
that by which we now travel, else I should be at a loss to account for
the short space in which he could exchange the charms of his garden for
the gloomy ruins of the Temple of Isis, and the Imperial palace of the
Blacquernal."
"And wherefore, and how long," said Count Robert, "dost thou conclude
that my Countess is detained in these gardens?"
"Ever since yesterday," replied Hereward. "When both I, and several of
my companions, at my request, kept close watch upon the Caesar and your
lady, we did plainly perceive passages of fiery admiration on his part,
and anger as it seemed on hers, which Agelastes, being Nicephorus's
friend, was likely, as usual, to bring to an end, by a separation of
you both from the army of the crusaders, that your wife, like many a
matron before, might have the pleasure of taking up her residence in
the gardens of that worthy sage; while you, my Lord, might take up your
own permanently in the castle of Blacquernal."
"Villain! why didst thou not apprize me of this yesterday?"
"A likely thing," said Hereward, "that I should feel myself at liberty
to leave the ranks, and make such a communication to a man, whom, far
from a friend, I then considered in the light of a personal enemy!
Methinks, that instead of such language as this, you should be thankful
that so many chance circumstances have at length brought me to befriend
and assist you."
Count Robert felt the truth of what was said, though at the same time
his fiery temper longed to avenge itself, according to its wont, upon
the party which was nearest at hand.
But now they arrived at what the citizens of Constantinople called the
Philosopher's Gardens. Here Hereward hoped to obtain entrance, for he
had gained a knowledge of some part, at least, of the private signals
of Achilles and Agelastes, since he had been introduced to the last at
the ruins of the Temple of Isis. They had not indeed admitted him to
their entire secret; yet, confident in his connexion with the Follower,
they had no hesitation in communicating to him snatches of knowledge,
such as, committed to a man of shrewd natural sense like the
Anglo-Saxon, could scarce fail, in time and by degrees, to make him
master of the whole. Count Robert and his companion stood before an
arched door, the only opening in a high wall, and the Anglo-Saxon was
about to knock, when, as if the idea had suddenly struck him,--
"What if the wretch Diogenes opens the gate? We must kill him, ere he
can fly back and betray us. Well, it is a matter of necessity, and the
villain has deserved his death by a hundred horrid crimes."
"Kill him then, thyself," retorted Count Robert; "he is nearer thy
degree, and assuredly I will not defile the name of Charlemagne with
the blood of a black slave."
"Nay, God-a-mercy!" answered the Anglo-Saxon, "but you must bestir
yourself in the action, supposing there come rescue, and that I be
over-borne by odds."
"Such odds," said the knight, "will render the action more like a
_melee_, or general battle; and assure yourself, I will not be slack
when I may, with my honour, be active."
"I doubt it not," said the Varangian; "but the distinction seems a
strange one, that before permitting a man to defend himself, or annoy
his enemy, requires him to demand the pedigree of his ancestor."
"Fear you not, sir," said Count Robert. "The strict rule of chivalry
indeed bears what I tell thee, but when the question is, Fight or not?
there is great allowance to be made for a decision in the affirmative."
"Let me give then the exorciser's rap," replied Hereward, "and see what
fiend will appear."
So saying, he knocked in a particular manner, and the door opened
inwards; a dwarfish negress stood in the gap--her white hair contrasted
singularly with her dark complexion, and with the broad laughing look
peculiar to those slaves. She had something in her physiognomy which,
severely construed, might argue malice, and a delight in human misery.
"Is Agelastes"---said the Varangian; but he had not completed the
sentence, when she answered him, by pointing down a shadowed walk.
The Anglo-Saxon and Frank turned in that direction, when the hag rather
muttered, than said distinctly, "You are one of the initiated,
Varangian; take heed whom you take with you, when you may hardly,
peradventure, be welcomed even going alone."
Hereward made a sign that he understood her, and they were instantly
out of her sight. The path winded beautifully through the shades of an
Eastern garden, where clumps of flowers and labyrinths of flowering
shrubs, and the tall boughs of the forest trees, rendered even the
breath of noon cool and acceptable.
"Here we must use our utmost caution," said Hereward, speaking in a low
tone of voice; "for here it is most likely the deer that we seek has
found its refuge. Better allow me to pass before, since you are too
deeply agitated to possess the coolness necessary for a scout. Keep
concealed beneath yon oak, and let no vain scruples of honour deter you
from creeping beneath the underwood, or beneath the earth itself, if
you should hear a footfall. If the lovers have agreed, Agelastes, it is
probable, walks his round, to prevent intrusion."
"Death and furies! it cannot be!" exclaimed the fiery Frank.--"Lady of
the Broken Lances, take thy votary's life, ere thou torment him with
this agony!"
He saw, however, the necessity of keeping a strong force upon himself,
and permitted, without further remonstrance, the Varangian to pursue
his way, looking, however, earnestly after him.
By advancing forward a little, he could observe Hereward draw near to a
pavilion which arose at no great distance from the place where they had
parted. Here he observed him apply, first his eye, and then his ear, to
one of the casements, which were in a great measure grown over, and
excluded from the light, by various flowering shrubs. He almost thought
he saw a grave interest take place in the countenance of the Varangian,
and he longed to have his share of the information which he had
doubtless obtained.
He crept, therefore, with noiseless steps, through the same labyrinth
of foliage which had covered the approaches of Hereward; and so silent
were his movements, that he touched the Anglo-Saxon, in order to make
him aware of his presence, before he observed his approach.
Hereward, not aware at first by whom he was approached, turned on the
intruder with a countenance like a burning coal. Seeing, however, that
it was the Frank, he shrugged his shoulders, as if pitying the
impatience which could not be kept under prudent restraint, and drawing
himself back allowed the Count the privilege of a peeping place through
plinths of the casement, which could not be discerned by the sharpest
eye from the inner side. The sombre character of the light which
penetrated into this abode of pleasure, was suited to that species of
thought to which a Temple of Cytherea was supposed to be dedicated.
Portraits and groups of statuary were also to be seen, in the taste of
those which they had beheld at the Kiosk of the waterfall, yet
something more free in the ideas which they conveyed than were to be
found at their first resting-place. Shortly after, the door of the
pavilion opened, and the Countess entered, followed by her attendant
Agatha. The lady threw herself on a couch as she came in, while her
attendant, who was a young and very handsome woman, kept herself
modestly in the background, so much so as hardly to be distinguished.
"What dost thou think," said the Countess, "of so suspicious a friend
as Agelastes? so gallant an enemy as the Caesar, as he is called?"
"What should I think," returned the damsel, "except that what the old
man calls friendship is hatred, and what the Caesar terms a patriotic
love for his country, which will not permit him to set its enemies at
liberty, is in fact too strong an affection for his fair captive?"
"For such an affection," said the Countess, "he shall have the same
requital as if it were indeed the hostility of which he would give it
the colour.--My true and noble lord; hadst thou an idea of the
calamities to which they have subjected me, how soon wouldst thou break
through every restraint to hasten to my relief!"
"Art thou a man," said Count Robert to his companion; "and canst thou
advise me to remain still and hear this?"
"I am one man," said the Anglo-Saxon; "you, sir, are another; but all
our arithmetic will not make us more than two; and in this place, it is
probable that a whistle from the Caesar, or a scream from Agelastes,
would bring a thousand to match us, if we were as bold as Bevis of
Hampton.--Stand still and keep quiet. I counsel this, less as
respecting my own life, which, by embarking upon a wild-goose chase
with so strange a partner, I have shown I put at little value, than for
thy safety, and that of the lady thy Countess, who shows herself as
virtuous as beautiful."
"I was imposed on at first," said the Lady Brenhilda to her attendant.
"Affectation of severe morals, of deep learning, and of rigid
rectitude, assumed by this wicked old man, made me believe in part the
character which he pretended; but the gloss is rubbed off since he let
me see into his alliance with the unworthy Caesar, and the ugly picture
remains in its native loathsomeness. Nevertheless, if I can, by address
or subtlety, deceive this arch-deceiver,--as he has taken from me, in a
great measure, every other kind of assistance,--I will not refuse that
of craft, which he may find perhaps equal to his own?"
"Hear you that?" said the Varangian to the Count of Paris. "Do not let
your impatience mar the web of your lady's prudence. I will weigh a
woman's wit against a man's valour where there is aught to do! Let us
not come in with our assistance until time shall show us that it is
necessary for her safety and our success."
"Amen," said the Count of Paris; "but hope not, Sir Saxon, that thy
prudence shall persuade me to leave this garden without taking full
vengeance on that unworthy Caesar, and the pretended philosopher, if
indeed he turns out to have assumed a character"---The Count was here
beginning to raise his voice, when the Saxon, without ceremony, placed
his hand on his mouth. "Thou takest a liberty," said Count Robert,
lowering however his tones.
"Ay, truly," said Hereward; "when the house is on fire, I do not stop
to ask whether the water which I pour on it be perfumed or no."
This recalled the Frank to a sense of his situation; and if not
contented with the Saxon's mode of making an apology, he was at least
silenced. A distant noise was now heard--the Countess listened, and
changed colour. "Agatha," she said, "we are like champions in the
lists, and here comes the adversary. Let us retreat into this side
apartment, and so for a while put off an encounter thus alarming." So
saying, the two females withdrew into a sort of anteroom, which opened
from the principal apartment behind the seat which Brenhilda had
occupied.
They had scarcely disappeared, when, as the stage direction has it,
enter from the other side the Caesar and Agelastes. They had perhaps
heard the last words of Brenhilda, for the Caesar repeated in a low
tone--
"Militat omnis amans, habet et sua castra Cupido.
"What, has our fair opponent withdrawn her forces? No matter, it shows
she thinks of the warfare, though the enemy be not in sight. Well, thou
shalt not have to upbraid me this time, Agelastes, with precipitating
my amours, and depriving myself of the pleasure of pursuit. By Heavens,
I will be as regular in my progress as if in reality I bore on my
shoulders the whole load of years which make the difference between us;
for I shrewdly suspect that with thee, old man, it is that envious
churl Time that hath plucked the wings of Cupid."
"Say not so, mighty Caesar," said the old man; "it is the hand of
Prudence, which, depriving Cupid's wing of some wild feathers, leaves
him still enough to fly with an equal and steady flight."
"Thy flight, however, was less measured, Agelastes, when thou didst
collect that armoury--that magazine of Cupid's panoply, out of which
thy kindness permitted me but now to arm myself, or rather to repair my
accoutrements."
So saying, he glanced his eye over his own person, blazing with gems,
and adorned with a chain of gold, bracelets, rings, and other
ornaments, which, with a new and splendid habit, assumed since his
arrival at these Cytherean gardens, tended to set off his very handsome
figure.
"I am glad," said Agelastes, "if you have found among toys, which I now
never wear, and seldom made use of even when life was young with me,
anything which may set off your natural advantages. Remember only this
slight condition, that such of these trifles as have made part of your
wearing apparel on this distinguished day, cannot return to a meaner
owner, but must of necessity remain the property of that greatness of
which they had once formed the ornament."
"I cannot consent to this, my worthy friend," said the Caesar; "I know
thou valuest these jewels only in so far as a philosopher may value
them; that is, for nothing save the remembrances which attach to them.
This large seal-ring, for instance, was--I have heard you say--the
property of Socrates; if so, you cannot view it save with devout
thankfulness, that your own philosophy has never been tried with the
exercise of a Xantippe. These clasps released, in older times, the
lovely bosom of Phryne; and they now belong to one who could do better
homage to the beauties they concealed or discovered than could the
cynic Diogenes. These buckles, too"---
"I will spare thy ingenuity, good youth," said Agelastes, somewhat
nettled; "or rather, noble Caesar. Keep thy wit--thou wilt have ample
occasion for it."
"Fear not me," said the Caesar. "Let us proceed, since you will, to
exercise the gifts which we possess, such as they are, either natural
or bequeathed to us by our dear and respected friend. Hah!" he said,
the door opening suddenly, and the Countess almost meeting him, "our
wishes are here anticipated."
He bowed accordingly with the deepest deference to the Lady Brenhilda,
who, having made some alterations to enhance the splendour of her
attire, now moved forward from the withdrawing-room into which she had
retreated.
"Hail, noble lady," said the Caesar, "whom I have visited with the
intention of apologizing for detaining you, in some degree against your
will, in those strange regions in which yon unexpectedly find yourself."
"Not in some degree," answered the lady, "but entirely contrary to my
inclinations, which are, to be with my husband, the Count of Paris, and
the followers who have taken the cross under his banner."
"Such, doubtless, were your thoughts when you left the land of the
west," said Agelastes; "but, fair Countess, have they experienced no
change? You have left a shore streaming with human blood when the
slightest provocation occurred, and thou hast come to one whose
principal maxim is to increase the sum of human happiness by every mode
which can be invented. In the west yonder, he or she is respected most
who can best exercise their tyrannical strength in making others
miserable, while, in these more placid realms, we reserve our garlands
for the ingenious youth, or lovely lady, who can best make happy the
person whose affection is fixed upon her."
"But, reverend philosopher," said the Countess, "who labourest so
artificially in recommending the yoke of pleasure, know that you
contradict every notion which I have been taught from my infancy. In
the land where my nurture lay, so far are we from acknowledging your
doctrines, that we match not, except like the lion and the lioness,
when the male has compelled the female to acknowledge his superior
worth and valour. Such is our rule, that a damsel, even of mean degree,
would think herself heinously undermatched, if wedded to a gallant
whose fame in arms was yet unknown."
"But, noble lady," said the Caesar, "a dying man may then find room for
some faint hope. Were there but a chance that distinction in arms could
gain those affections which have been stolen, rather than fairly
conferred, how many are there who would willingly enter into the
competition where the prize is so fair! What is the enterprise too bold
to be under-taken on such a condition! And where is the individual
whose heart would not feel, that in baring his sword for the prize, he
made vow never to return it to the scabbard, without the proud boast,
What I have not yet won, I have deserved!"
"You see, lady," said Agelastes, who, apprehending that the last speech
of the Caesar had made some impression, hastened to follow it up with a
suitable observation---"You see that the fire of chivalry burns as
gallantly in the bosom of the Grecians as in that of the western
nations."
"Yes," answered Brenhilda, "and I have heard of the celebrated siege of
Troy, on which occasion a dastardly coward carried off the wife of a
brave man, shunned every proffer of encounter with the husband whom he
had wronged, and finally caused the death of his numerous brothers, the
destruction of his native city, with all the wealth which it contained,
and died himself the death of a pitiful poltroon, lamented only by his
worthless leman, to show how well the rules of chivalry were understood
by your predecessors."
"Lady, you mistake," said the Caesar; "the offences of Paris were those
of a dissolute Asiatic; the courage which avenged them was that of the
Greek Empire."
"You are learned, sir," said the lady; "but think not that I will trust
your words until you produce before me a Grecian knight, gallant enough
to look upon the armed crest of my husband without quaking."
"That, methinks, were not extremely difficult," returned the Caesar;
"if they have not flattered me, I have myself been thought equal in
battle to more dangerous men than him who has been strangely mated with
the Lady Brenhilda."
"That is soon tried," answered the Countess. "You will hardly, I think,
deny, that my husband, separated from me by some unworthy trick, is
still at thy command, and could be produced at thy pleasure. I will ask
no armour for him save what he wears, no weapon but his good sword
Tranchefer; then place him in this chamber, or any other lists equally
narrow, and if he flinch, or cry craven, or remain dead under shield,
let Brenhilda be the prize of the conqueror.--Merciful Heaven!" she
concluded, as she sunk back upon her seat, "forgive me for the crime of
even imagining such a termination, which is equal almost to doubting
thine unerring judgment!"
"Let me, however," said the Caesar, "catch up these precious words
before they fall to the ground,--Let me hope that he, to whom the
heavens shall give power and strength to conquer this highly-esteemed
Count of Paris, shall succeed him in the affections of Brenhilda; and
believe me, the sun plunges not through the sky to his resting-place,
with the same celerity that I shall hasten to the encounter."
"Now, by Heaven!" said Count Robert, in an anxious whisper to Hereward,
"it is too much to expect me to stand by and hear a contemptible Greek,
who durst not stand even the rattling farewell which Tranchefer takes
of his scabbard, brave me in my absence, and affect to make love to my
lady _par amours!_ And she, too--methinks Brenhilda allows more license
than she is wont to do to yonder chattering popinjay. By the rood! I
will spring into the apartment, front them with my personal appearance,
and confute yonder braggart in a manner he is like to remember."
"Under favour," said the Varangian, who was the only auditor of this
violent speech, "you shall be ruled by calm reason while I am with you.
When we are separated, let the devil of knight-errantry, which has such
possession of thee, take thee upon his shoulders, and carry thee full
tilt wheresoever he lists."
"Thou art a brute," said the Count, looking at him with a contempt
corresponding to the expression he made use of; "not only without
humanity, but without the sense of natural honour or natural shame. The
most despicable of animals stands not by tamely and sees another assail
his mate. The bull offers his horns to a rival--the mastiff uses his
jaws--and even the timid stag becomes furious, and gores."
"Because they are beasts," said the Varangian, "and their mistresses
also creatures without shame or reason, who are not aware of the
sanctity of a choice. But thou, too, Count, canst thou not see the
obvious purpose of this poor lady, forsaken by all the world, to keep
her faith towards thee, by eluding the snares with which wicked men
have beset her? By the souls of my fathers! my heart is so much moved
by her ingenuity, mingled as I see it is with the most perfect candour
and faith, that I myself, in fault of a better champion, would
willingly raise the axe in her behalf!"
"I thank thee, my good friend," said the Count; "I thank thee as
heartily as if it were possible thou shouldst be left to do that good
office for Brenhilda, the beloved of many a noble lord, the mistress of
many a powerful vassal; and, what is more, much more than thanks, I
crave thy pardon for the wrong I did thee but now."
"My pardon you cannot need" said the Varangian; "for I take no offence
that is not seriously meant.--Stay, they speak again."
"It is strange it should be so," said the Caesar, as he paced the
apartment; "but methinks, nay, I am almost certain, Agelastes, that I
hear voices in the vicinity of this apartment of thy privacy." "It is
impossible," said Agelastes; "but I will go and see." Perceiving him to
leave the pavilion, the Varangian made the Frank sensible that they
must crouch down among a little thicket of evergreens, where they lay
completely obscured. The philosopher made his rounds with a heavy step,
but a watchful eye; and the two listeners were obliged to observe the
strictest silence, without motion of any kind, until he had completed
an ineffectual search, and returned into the pavilion. "By my faith,
brave man," said the Count, "ere we return to our skulking-place, I
must tell thee in thine ear, that never, in my life, was temptation so
strong upon me, as that which prompted me to beat out that old
hypocrite's brains, provided I could have reconciled it with my honour;
and heartily do I wish that thou, whose honour no way withheld thee,
had experienced and given way to some impulse of a similar nature."
"Such fancies have passed through my head," said the Varangian; "but I
will not follow them till they are consistent both with our own safety,
and more particularly with that of the Countess."
"I thank thee again for thy good-will to her," said Count Robert; "and,
by Heaven! if fight we must at length, as it seems likely, I will
neither grudge thee an honourable antagonist, nor fair quarter if the
combat goes against thee."
"Thou hast my thanks," was the reply of Hereward; "only, for Heaven's
sake, be silent in this conjecture, and do what thou wilt afterwards."
Before the Varangian and the Count had again resumed their posture of
listeners, the parties within the pavilion, conceiving themselves
unwatched, had resumed their conversation, speaking low, yet with
considerable animation.
"It is in vain you would persuade me," said the Countess, "that you
know not where my husband is, or that you have not the most absolute
influence over his captivity. Who else could have an interest in
banishing or putting to death the husband, but he that affects to
admire the wife?" "You do me wrong, beautiful lady," answered the
Caesar, "and forget that I can in no shape be termed the moving-spring
of this empire; that my father-in-law, Alexius, is the Emperor; and
that the woman who terms herself my wife, is jealous as a fiend can be
of my slightest motion.-What possibility was there that I should work
the captivity of your husband and your own? The open affront which the
Count of Paris put upon the Emperor, was one which he was likely to
avenge, either by secret guile or by open force. Me it no way touched,
save as the humble vassal of thy charms; and it was by the wisdom and
the art of the sage Agelastes, that I was able to extricate thee from
the gulf in which thou hadst else certainly perished. Nay, weep not,
lady, for as yet we know not the fate of Count Robert; but, credit me,
it is wisdom to choose a better protector, and consider him as no more."
"A better than him," said Brenhilda, "I can never have, were I to
choose out of the knighthood of all the world!"
"This hand," said the Caesar, drawing himself into a martial attitude,
"should decide that question, were the man of whom thou thinkest so
much yet moving on the face of this earth and at liberty."
"Thou art," said Brenhilda, looking fixedly at him with the fire of
indignation flashing from every feature--"thou art--but it avails not
telling thee what is thy real name; believe me, the world shall one day
ring with it, and be justly sensible of its value. Observe what I am
about to say--Robert of Paris is gone--or captive, I know not where. He
cannot fight the match of which thou seemest so desirous--but here
stands Brenhilda, born heiress of Aspramonte, by marriage the wedded
wife of the good Count of Paris. She was never matched in the lists by
mortal man, except the valiant Count, and since thou art so grieved
that thou canst not meet her husband in battle, thou canst not surely
object, if she is willing to meet thee in his stead!"
"How, madam?" said the Caesar, astonished; "do you propose yourself to
hold the lists against me?"
"Against you!" said the Countess; "against all the Grecian Empire, if
they shall affirm that Robert of Paris is justly used and lawfully
confined."
"And are the conditions," said the Caesar, "the same as if Count Robert
himself held the lists? The vanquished must then be at the pleasure of
the conqueror for good or evil."
"It would seem so," said the Countess, "nor do I refuse the hazard;
only, that if the other champion shall bite the dust, the noble Count
Robert shall be set at liberty, and permitted to depart with all
suitable honours."
"This I refuse not," said the Caesar, "provided it is in my power."
A deep growling sound, like that of a modern gong, here interrupted the
conference.