The lips of the King moved. The nobleman who stood behind his throne,
and whom I conceived to be his favorite, bent down and received his
orders; then disappeared behind one of the columns whose richly
decorated, but slender shafts, rose up directly behind him, like some
graceful stems of the forest, over which the wildering vine, and the
gaudy parasite clambers with an embrace that kills. But a few moments
elapsed when the favorite re-appeared. He was accompanied by a person,
whose peculiar form and aspect will deserve especial description.
In that hall, in the presence of princes, surrounded by knights and
nobles of the proudest in the land, the person newly come—though
seemingly neither knight nor noble, was one of the most lofty in his
carriage, and most imposing and impressive in his look and manner. He
was not only taller than the race of men in general, but he was
obviously taller than any in that select circle by which he was
surrounded. Nor did his features misbeseem his person. These were
singularly noble, and of Italian cast and character. His face was large,
and of the most perfect oval. Though that of a man who had probably seen
and suffered under sixty winters, it still bore the proofs of a beauty
once remarkable. It still retained a youthful freshness, which spoke for
a conscience free from remorse and self-reproach. His eyes were of a
mild, but holily expressive blue; and, beneath their rather thin white
brows, were declarative of more than human benevolence. His forehead was
very large and lofty, of great breadth and compass, in the regions of
ideality and sublimity, as well as causality; while his hair, thick
still, and depending from behind his head in numerous waving curls, was,
like his beard, of the most silvery whiteness. This was spread,
massively, upon his breast, which it covered almost to the waist. His
complexion was very pale, but of a clear whiteness, and harmonized
sweetly with the antique beauty and power of his head. His costume
differed in style, texture and stuff, entirely from that which prevailed
in the assembly. A loose white robe, which extended from his shoulders
to the ground, was bound about his body by a belt of plain Spanish
leather, and worn with a grace and nobleness perfectly majestical. His
feet were clothed in Jewish sandals. But there was nothing proud or
haughty in his majesty. On the contrary, it was in contrast with the
evident humility in his eye and gesture, that his dignity of bearing
betrayed itself. This seemed to be as much the fruit of pure and
elevated thoughts, calm and resigned, as of that superior physical
organization which made this aged man tower as greatly above the rest,
in person, as he certainly did in air and manner.
He advanced, as he appeared, to the foot of the throne, gracefully sunk
before it, then rising, stood in quiet, as awaiting the royal command to
speak. His appearance seemed to fill the assembly with eager curiosity.
A sudden hush prevailed as he approached, the natural result of that awe
which great superiority usually inspires in the breast of ignorance.
There was but one face among the spectators that seemed to betray no
curiosity as he came in sight. This was that of the accused. With the
first coming of the ancient man, I had instinctively fixed my gaze upon
the countenance of the nobleman. I could easily discern that his lips
were compressed as if by sudden effort, while his usually florid
features were covered with a momentary paleness. This emotion, with the
utter absence of that air of curiosity which marked every other visage,
struck me, at once, as somewhat significant of guilt.
“Behold thy accuser!” exclaimed the sovereign.
“He! the bookworm!—the dreamer!—the mad-man!—sorcerer to the vulgar,
but less than dotard to the wise! Does your majesty look to a star-gazer
for such evidence as will degrade with shame the nobles of your realm?
Sire!—if no sorcerer, this old man is verily distraught! He is lunatic
or vile—a madman, or a bought servitor of Satan!”
The venerable man thus scornfully denounced, stood, meanwhile, looking
sorrowful and subdued, but calm and unruffled, at the foot of the
_dais_. His eye rested a moment upon the speaker, then turned, as if to
listen to that speech, with which the favorite, behind the throne of the
monarch, appeared to reply to the language of the accused. This I did
not hear, nor yet that which the sovereign addressed to the same person.
But the import might be divined by the answer of the accused.
“And I say, your majesty, that what he hath alleged is false—all a
false and bitter falsehood, devised by cunning and malice to work out
the purposes of hate. My word against his—my gauntlet against the
world. I defy him to the proof! I defy all my accusers!”
“And he shall have the truth, your majesty;” was the firm, clear answer
with which the venerable man responded to this defiance. His tones rang
through the assembly like those of a sweet bell in the wilderness.—“My
life, Sire, is sworn to the truth! I can speak no other language! That I
have said nothing falsely of this lord, I invoke the attestation of the
Lord of all. I have had his sacred volume brought into this presence.
You shall know, Sire, what I believe, by what I swear!”
He made a sign, even while he spoke, to a little girl whom I had not
before seen, but who had evidently followed him into the assembly. She
now approached, bearing in her hands one of those finely illuminated
manuscripts of an early day of Christian history in Europe, which are
now worth their weight in gold. I could just perceive, as he opened the
massive volume, by its heavy metallic clasps, that the characters were
strange, and readily conjectured them to be Hebrew. The work, from what
he said, and the use to which he applied it, I assumed to be the Holy
Scriptures. He received it reverently from the child, placed it
deliberately upon one of the steps of the _dais_, then knelt before it,
his venerable head for a moment, being bowed to the very floor. Then
raising his eyes, but without rising from his position, he placed one
hand upon this volume, raised the other to heaven, and, with a deep and
solemn voice, called upon God and the Holy Evangelists, to witness that
what he had spoken, and was about to speak, was “the truth, and the
truth only—spoken with no malice—no wicked or evil intent—and rather
to defeat and prevent the evil designs of the person he accused.” In
this posture, and thus affirming, he proceeded to declare that “the
accused had applied to him for a potent poison which should have the
power of usurping life slowly, and without producing any of those
striking effects upon the outward man, as would induce suspicion of
criminal practice.” He added, with other particulars, that “the accused
had invited him, under certain temptations, which had been succeeded by
threats, to become one of a party to his designs, the victim of which
was to be his majesty then sitting upon the throne.”