The Varangian and Count Robert, at every risk of discovery, had
remained so near as fully to conjecture, though they could not
expressly overhear, the purport of the conversation.
"He has accepted her challenge!" said the Count of Paris.
"And with apparent willingness," said Hereward.
"O, doubtless, doubtless,"--answered the Crusader; "but he knows not
the skill in war which a woman may attain; for my part, God knows I
have enough depending upon the issue of this contest, yet such is my
confidence, that I would to God I had more. I vow to our Lady of the
Broken Lances, that I desire every furrow of land I possess--every
honour which I can call my own, from the Countship of Paris, down to
the leather that binds my spur, were dependent and at issue upon this
fair field, between your Caesar, as men term him, and Brenhilda of
Aspramonte."
"It is a noble confidence," said the Varangian, "nor durst I say it is
a rash one; only I cannot but remember that the Caesar is a strong man,
as well as a handsome, expert in the use of arms, and, above all, less
strictly bound than you esteem yourself by the rules of honour. There
are many ways in which advantage may be given and taken, which will
not, in the Caesar's estimation, alter the character of the field from
an equal one, although it might do so in the opinion of the chivalrous
Count of Paris, or even in that of the poor Varangian. But first let me
conduct you to some place of safety, for your escape must be soon, if
it is not already, detected. The sounds which we heard intimate that
some of his confederate plotters have visited the garden on other than
love affairs. I will guide thee to another avenue than that by which we
entered. But you would hardly, I suppose, be pleased to adopt the
wisest alternative?"
"And what may that be?" said the Count.
"To give thy purse, though it were thine all, to some poor ferryman to
waft thee over the Hellespont, then hasten to carry thy complaint to
Godfrey of Bouillon, and what friends thou mayst have among thy
brethren crusaders, and determine, as thou easily canst, on a
sufficient number of them to come back and menace the city with instant
war, unless the Emperor should deliver up thy lady, most unfairly made
prisoner, and prevent, by his authority, this absurd and unnatural
combat."
"And would you have me, then," said Count Robert, "move the crusaders
to break a fairly appointed field of battle? Do you think that Godfrey
of Bouillon would turn back upon his pilgrimage for such an unworthy
purpose; or that the Countess of Paris would accept as a service, means
of safety which would stain her honour for ever, by breaking an
appointment solemnly made on her own challenge?--Never!"
"My judgment is then at fault," said the Varangian, "for I see I can
hammer out no expedient which is not, in some extravagant manner or
another, controlled by your foolish notions. Here is a man who has been
trapped into the power of his enemy, that he might not interfere to
prevent a base stratagem upon his lady, involving both her life and
honour; yet he thinks it a matter of necessity that he keeps faith as
precisely with these midnight poisoners, as he would had it been
pledged to the most honourable men!"
"Thou say'st a painful truth," said Count Robert; "but my word is the
emblem of my faith; and if it pass to a dishonourable or faithless foe,
it is imprudently done on my part; but if I break it, being once
pledged, it is a dishonourable action, and the disgrace can never be
washed from my shield."
"Do you mean, then," said the Varangian, "to suffer your wife's honour
to remain pledged as it at present is, on the event of an unequal
combat?"
"God and the saints pardon thee such a thought!" said the Count of
Paris. "I will go to see this combat with a heart as firm, if not as
light, as any time I ever saw spears splintered. If by the influence of
any accident or treachery,--for fairly, and with such an antagonist,
Brenhilda of Aspramonte cannot be overthrown,--I step into the lists,
proclaim the Caesar as he is--a villain--show the falsehood of his
conduct from beginning to end,--appeal to every noble heart that hears
me, and then--God show the right!"
Hereward paused, and shook his head. "All this," he said, "might be
feasible enough provided the combat were to be fought in the presence
of your own countrymen, or even, by the mass! if the Varangians were to
be guards of the lists. But treachery of every kind is so familiar to
the Greeks, that I question if they would view the conduct of their
Caesar as any thing else than a pardonable and natural stratagem of Dan
Cupid, to be smiled at, rather than subjected to disgrace or
punishment."
"A nation," said Count Robert, "who could smile at such a jest, may
heaven refuse them sympathy at their utmost need, when their sword is
broken in their hand, and their wives and daughters shrieking in the
relentless grasp of a barbarous enemy!"
Hereward looked upon his companion, whose flushed cheeks and sparkling
eyes bore witness to his enthusiasm.
"I see," he said, "you are resolved, and I know that your resolution
can in justice be called by no other name than an act of heroic folly:
--What then? it is long since life has been bitter to the Varangian
exile. Morn has raised him from a joyless bed, which night has seen him
lie down upon, wearied with wielding a mercenary weapon in the wars of
strangers. He has longed to lay down his life in an honourable cause,
and this is one in which the extremity and very essence of honour is
implicated. It tallies also with my scheme of saving the Emperor, which
will be greatly facilitated by the downfall of his ungrateful
son-in-law." Then addressing himself to the Count, he continued, "Well,
Sir Count, as thou art the person principally concerned, I am willing
to yield to thy reasoning in this affair; but I hope you will permit me
to mingle with your resolution some advices of a more everyday and less
fantastic nature. For example, thy escape from the dungeons of the
Blacquernal must soon be generally known. In prudence, indeed, I myself
must be the first to communicate it, since otherwise the suspicion will
fall on me--Where do you think of concealing yourself? for assuredly
the search will be close and general."
"For that," said the Count of Paris, "I must be indebted to thy
suggestion, with thanks for every lie which thou findest thyself
obliged to make, to contrive, and produce in my behalf, entreating thee
only to render them as few as possible, they being a coin which I
myself never fabricate."
"Sir knight," answered Hereward, "let me begin first by saying, that no
knight that ever belted sword is more a slave to truth, when truth is
observed towards him, than the poor soldier who talks to thee; but when
the game depends not upon fair play, but upon lulling men's
cautiousness asleep by falsehood, and drugging their senses by opiate
draughts, they who would scruple at no means of deceiving me, can
hardly expect that I, who am paid in such base money, should pass
nothing on my part but what is lawful and genuine. For the present thou
must remain concealed within my poor apartment, in the barracks of the
Varangians, which is the last place where they will think of seeking
for thee. Take this, my upper cloak, and follow me; and now that we are
about to leave these gardens, thou mayst follow me unsuspected as a
sentinel attending his officer; for, take it along with you, noble
Count, that we Varangians are a sort of persons upon whom the Greeks
care not to look very long or fixedly."
They now reached the gate where they had been admitted by the negress,
and Hereward, who was intrusted with the power, it seems, of letting
himself out of the philosopher's premises, though not of entering
without assistance from the portress, took out a key which turned the
lock on the garden side, so that they soon found themselves at liberty.
They then proceeded by by-paths through the city, Hereward leading the
way, and the Count following, without speech or remonstrance, until
they stood before the portal of the barracks of the Varangians.
"Make haste," said the sentinel who was on duty, "dinner is already
begun." The communication sounded joyfully in the ears of Hereward, who
was much afraid that his companion might have been stopt and examined.
By a side passage he reached his own quarters, and introduced the Count
into a small room, the sleeping chamber of his squire, where he
apologized for leaving him for some time; and, going out, locked the
door, for fear, as he said, of intrusion.
The demon of suspicion was not very likely to molest a mind so frankly
constituted as that of Count Robert, and yet the last action of
Hereward did not fail to occasion some painful reflections.
"This man," he said, "had needs be true, for I have reposed in him a
mighty trust, which few hirelings in his situation would honourably
discharge. What is to prevent him to report to the principal officer of
his watch, that the Frank prisoner, Robert, Count of Paris, whose wife
stands engaged for so desperate a combat with the Caesar, has escaped,
indeed, this morning, from the prisons of the Blacquernal, but has
suffered himself to be trepanned at noon, and is again a captive in the
barracks of the Varangian Guard?---what means of defence are mine, were
I discovered to these mercenaries?--What man could do, by the favour of
our Lady of the Broken Lances, I have not failed to achieve. I have
slain a tiger in single combat--I have killed one warder, and conquered
the desperate and gigantic creature by whom he was supported. I have
had terms enough at command to bring over this Varangian to my side, in
appearance at least; yet all this does not encourage me to hope that I
could long keep at bay ten or a dozen such men as these beef-fed knaves
appear to be, led in upon me by a fellow of thewes and sinews such as
those of my late companion.--Yet for shame, Robert! such thoughts are
unworthy a descendant of Charlemagne. When wert thou wont so curiously
to count thine enemies, and when wert thou wont to be suspicious, since
he, whose bosom may truly boast itself incapable of fraud, ought in
honesty to be the last to expect it in another? The Varangian's look is
open, his coolness in danger is striking, his speech is more frank and
ready than ever was that of a traitor. If he is false, there is no
faith in the hand of nature, for truth, sincerity, and courage are
written upon his forehead."
While Count Robert was thus reflecting upon his condition, and
combating the thick-coming doubts and suspicions which its
uncertainties gave rise to, he began to be sensible that he had not
eaten for many hours; and amidst many doubts and fears of a more heroic
nature, he half entertained a lurking suspicion, that they meant to let
hunger undermine his strength before they adventured into the apartment
to deal with him.
We shall best see how far these doubts were deserved by Hereward, or
how far they were unjust, by following his course after he left his
barrack-room. Snatching a morsel of dinner, which he ate with an
affectation of great hunger, but, in fact, that his attention to his
food might be a pretence for dispensing with disagreeable questions, or
with conversation of any kind, he pleaded duty, and immediately leaving
his comrades, directed his course to the lodgings of Achilles Tatius,
which were a part of the same building. A Syrian slave, who opened the
door, after a deep reverence to Hereward, whom he knew as a favourite
attendant of the Acolyte, said to him that his master was gone forth,
but had desired him to say, that if he wished to see him, he would find
him at the Philosopher's Gardens, so called, as belonging to the sage
Agelastes.
Hereward turned about instantly, and availing himself of his knowledge
of Constantinople to thread its streets in the shortest time possible,
at length stood alone before the door in the garden-wall, at which he
and the Count of Paris had previously been admitted in the earlier part
of the day. The same negress appeared at the same private signal, and
when he asked for Achilles Tatius, she replied, with some sharpness,
"Since you were here this morning, I marvel you did not meet him, or
that, having business with him, you did not stay till he arrived. Sure
I am, that not long after you entered the garden the Acolyte was
enquiring for you."
"It skills not, old woman" said the Varangian; "I communicate the
reason of my motions to my commander, but not to thee." He entered the
garden accordingly, and avoiding the twilight path that led to the
Bower of Love,--so was the pavilion named in which he had overheard the
dialogue between the Caesar and the Countess of Paris,--he arrived
before a simple garden-house, whose humble and modest front seemed to
announce that it was the abode of philosophy and learning. Here,
passing before the windows, he made some little noise, expecting to
attract the attention either of Achilles Tatius, or his accomplice
Agelastes, as chance should determine. It was the first who heard, and
who replied. The door opened; a lofty plume stooped itself, that its
owner might cross the threshold, and the stately form of Achilles
Tatius entered the gardens. "What now," he said, "our trusty sentinel?
what hast thou, at this time of day, come to report to us? Thou art our
good friend, and highly esteemed soldier, and well we wot thine errand
must be of importance, since thou hast brought it thyself, and at an
hour so unusual."
"Pray Heaven," said Hereward, "that the news I have brought deserve a
welcome."
"Speak them instantly," said the Acolyte, "good or bad; thou speakest
to a man to whom fear is unknown." But his eye, which quailed as he
looked on the soldier--his colour, which went and came--his hands,
which busied themselves in an uncertain manner in adjusting the belt of
his sword,--all argued a state of mind very different from that which
his tone of defiance would fain have implied. "Courage," he said, "my
trusty soldier! speak the news to me. I can bear the worst thou hast to
tell."
"In a word, then," said the Varangian, "your Valour directed me this
morning to play the office of master of the rounds upon those dungeons
of the Blacquernal palace, where last night the boisterous Count Robert
of Paris was incarcerated"--
"I remember well," said Achilles Tatius.--"What then?"
"As I reposed me," said Hereward, "in an apartment above the vaults, I
heard cries from beneath, of a kind which attracted my attention. I
hastened to examine, and my surprise was extreme, when looking down
into the dungeon, though I could see nothing distinctly, yet, by the
wailing and whimpering sounds, I conceived that the Man of the Forest,
the animal called Sylvan, whom our soldiers have so far indoctrinated
in our Saxon tongue as to make him useful in the wards of the prison,
was bemoaning himself on account of some violent injury. Descending
with a torch, I found the bed on which the prisoner had been let down
burnt to cinders; the tiger which had been chained within a spring of
it, with its skull broken to pieces; the creature called Sylvan,
prostrate, and writhing under great pain and terror, and no prisoner
whatever in the dungeon. There were marks that all the fastenings had
been withdrawn by a Mytilenian soldier, companion of my watch, when he
visited the dungeon at the usual hour; and as, in my anxious search, I
at length found his dead body, slain apparently by a stab in the
throat, I was obliged to believe that while I was examining the cell,
he, this Count Robert, with whose daring life the adventure is well
consistent, had escaped into the upper air, by means, doubtless, of the
ladder and trap-door by which I had descended."
"And wherefore didst thou not instantly call treason, and raise the hue
and cry?" demanded the Acolyte.
"I dared not venture to do so," replied the Varangian, "till I had
instructions from your Valour. The alarming cry of treason, and the
various rumours likely at this moment to ensue, might have involved a
search so close, as perchance would have discovered matters in which
the Acolyte himself would have been rendered subject to suspicion."
"Thou art right," said Achilles Tatius, in a whisper: "and yet it will
be necessary that we do not pretend any longer to conceal the flight of
this important prisoner, if we would not pass for being his
accomplices. Where thinkest thou this unhappy fugitive can have taken
refuge?"
"That I was in hopes of learning from your Valour's greater wisdom,"
said Hereward.
"Thinkest thou not," said Achilles, "that he may have crossed the
Hellespont, in order to rejoin his own countrymen and adherents?"
"It is much to be dreaded," said Hereward. "Undoubtedly, if the Count
listened to the advice of any one who knew the face of the country,
such would be the very counsel he would receive."
"The danger, then, of his return at the head of a vengeful body of
Franks," said the Acolyte, "is not so immediate as I apprehended at
first, for the Emperor gave positive orders that the boats and galleys
which yesterday transported the crusaders to the shores of Asia should
recross the strait, and bring back no single one of them from the step
upon their journey on which he had so far furthered them.--Besides,
they all,--their leaders, that is to say,--made their vows before
crossing, that they would not turn back so much as a foot's pace, now
that they had set actually forth on the road to Palestine."
"So, therefore," said Hereward, "one of the two propositions is
unquestionable; either Count Robert is on the eastern side of the
strait, having no means of returning with his brethren to avenge the
usage he has received, and may therefore be securely set, at
defiance,--or else he lurks somewhere in Constantinople, without a
friend or ally to take his part, or encourage him openly to state his
supposed wrongs; in either case, there can, I think, be no tact in
conveying to the palace the news that he has freed himself, since it
would only alarm the court, and afford the Emperor ground for many
suspicions.--But it is not for an ignorant barbarian like me to
prescribe a course of conduct to your valour and wisdom, and methinks
the sage Agelastes were a fitter counsellor than such as I am."
"No, no, no," said the Acolyte, in a hurried whisper; "the philosopher
and I are right good friends, sworn good friends, very especially bound
together; but should it come to this, that one of us must needs throw
before the footstool of the Emperor the head of the other, I think thou
wouldst not advise that I, whose hairs have not a trace of silver,
should be the last in making the offering; therefore we will say
nothing of this mishap, but give thee full power, and the highest
charge to seek for Count Robert of Paris, be he dead or alive, to
secure him within the dungeons set apart for the discipline of our own
corps, and when thou hast done so, to bring me notice. I may make him
my friend in many ways, by extricating his wife from danger by the axes
of my Varangians. What is there in this metropolis that they have to
oppose them?"
"When raised in a just cause," answered Hereward, "nothing."
"Hah!--say'st thou?" said the Acolyte; "how meanest thou by that?--but
I know--Thou art scrupulous about having the just and lawful command of
thy officer in every action in which thou art engaged, and, thinking in
that dutiful and soldierlike manner, it is my duty as thine Acolyte to
see thy scruples satisfied. A warrant shalt thou have, with full
powers, to seek for and imprison this foreign Count of whom we have
been speaking--And, hark thee, my excellent friend," he continued, with
some hesitation, "I think thou hadst better begone, and begin, or
rather continue thy search. It is unnecessary to inform our friend
Agelastes of what has happened, until his advice be more needful than
as yet it is on the occasion. Home--home to the barracks; I will
account to him for thy appearance here, if he be curious on the
subject, which, as a suspicious old man, he is likely to be. Go to the
barracks, and act as if thou hadst a warrant in every respect full and
ample. I will provide thee with one when I come back to my quarters."
The Varangian turned hastily homewards.
"Now, is it not," he said, "a strange thing, and enough to make a man a
rogue for life--to observe how the devil encourages young beginners in
falsehood! I have told a greater lie--at least I have suppressed more
truth--than on any occasion before in my whole life--and what is the
consequence? Why, my commander throws almost at my head a warrant
sufficient to guarantee and protect me in all I have done, or propose
to do! If the foul fiend were thus regular in protecting his votaries,
methinks they would have little reason to complain of him, or better
men to be astonished at their number. But a time comes, they say, when
he seldom fails to desert them. Therefore, get thee behind me, Satan!
If I have seemed to be thy servant for a short time, it is but with an
honest and Christian purpose."
As he entertained these thoughts, he looked back upon the path, and was
startled at an apparition of a creature of a much greater size, and a
stranger shape than human, covered, all but the face, with a reddish
dun fur; his expression an ugly, and yet a sad melancholy; a cloth was
wrapped round one hand, and an air of pain and languor bespoke
suffering from a wound. So much was Hereward pre-occupied with his own
reflections, that at first he thought his imagination had actually
raised the devil; but after a sudden start of surprise, he recognised
his acquaintance Sylvan. "Hah! old friend," he said, "I am happy thou
hast made thy escape to a place where them wilt find plenty of fruit to
support thee. Take my advice--keep out of the way of discovery--Keep
thy friend's counsel."
The Man of the Wood uttered a chattering noise in return to this
address.
"I understand thee," said Hereward, "thou wilt tell no tales, thou
sayest; and faith, I will trust thee rather than the better part of my
own two-legged race, who are eternally circumventing or murdering each
other."
A minute after the creature was out of sight, Hereward heard the shriek
of a female, and a voice which cried for help. The accents must have
been uncommonly interesting to the Varangian, since, forgetting his own
dangerous situation, he immediately turned and flew to the suppliant's
assistance.