A feudal castle, of massive stone, with donjon keep and high
crenellated wall, gateway tower, moat and drawbridge, was a strange,
incongruous sight in one of the purple-red stony slopes of
Palestine, with Hermon's snowy peak rising high above. It was
accounted for, however, by the golden crosses of the kingdom of
Jerusalem waving above the watch-tower, that rose like a pointing
finger above the keep, in company with a lesser ensign bearing a
couchant hound, sable.
It was a narrow rocky pass that the Castle of Gebel-Aroun guarded,
overlooking a winding ravine between the spurs of the hills,
descending into the fertile plain of Esdraelon from the heights of
Galilee Hills, noted in many an Israelite battle, and now held by
the Crusaders.
Bare, hard, and rocky were the hills around--the slopes and the
valley itself, which in the earlier season had been filled with rich
grass, Calvary clover, blood-red anemones, and pale yellow
amaryllis, only showed their arid brown or gray remnants. The moat
had become a deep waterless cleft; and beneath, on the accessible
sides towards the glen, clustered a collection of black horsehair
tents, the foremost surmounted by the ill-omened crescent.
The burning sun had driven every creature under shelter, and no one
was visible; but well was it known that watch and ward was closely
kept from beneath those dark tents, that to the eyes within had the
air of couching beasts of prey. Yes, couching to devour what could
not fail to be theirs, in spite of the mighty walls of rock and
impregnable keep, for those deadly and insidious foes, hunger and
thirst, were within, gaining the battle for the Saracens without,
who had merely to wait in patience for the result.
Some years previously, Sir William de Hundberg, a Norman knight, had
been expelled from his English castle by the partisans of Stephen,
and with wife and children had followed Count Fulk of Anjou to his
kingdom of Palestine, and had been endowed by him with one of the
fortresses which guarded the passes of Galilee, under that
exaggeration of the feudal system which prevailed in the crusading
kingdom of Jerusalem.
Climate speedily did its work with the lady, warfare with two of her
sons, and there only remained of the family a youth of seventeen,
Walter, and his sister Mabel, fourteen, who was already betrothed to
the young Baron of Courtwood, then about to return to England. The
treaty with Stephen and the success of young Henry of Anjou gave Sir
William hopes of restitution; but just as he was about to conduct
her to Jerusalem for the wedding, before going back to England, he
fell sick of one of the recurring fevers of the country; and almost
at the same time the castle was beleaguered by a troop of Arabs,
under the command of a much-dreaded Sheik.
His constitution was already much shaken, and Sir William, after a
few days of alternate torpor and delirium, passed away, without
having been conscious enough to leave any counsel to his children,
or any directions to Father Philip, the chaplain, or Sigbert, his
English squire.
At the moment, sorrow was not disturbed by any great alarm, for the
castle was well victualled, and had a good well, supplied by springs
from the mountains; and Father Philip, after performing the funeral
rites for his lord, undertook to make his way to Tiberias, or to
Jerusalem, with tidings of their need; and it was fully anticipated
that succour would arrive long before the stores in the castle had
been exhausted.
But time went on, and, though food was not absolutely lacking, the
spring of water which had hitherto supplied the garrison began to
fail. Whether through summer heats, or whether the wily enemy had
succeeded in cutting off the source, where once there had been a
clear crystal pool in the rock, cold as the snow from which it came,
there only dribbled a few scanty drops, caught with difficulty, and
only imbibed from utter necessity, so great was the suspicion of
their being poisoned by the enemy.
The wine was entirely gone, and the salted provision, which alone
remained, made the misery of thirst almost unbearable.
On the cushions, richly embroidered in dainty Eastern colouring, lay
Mabel de Hundberg, with dry lips half opened and panting, too weary
to move, yet listening all intent.
Another moment, and in chamois leather coat, his helmet in hand,
entered her brother from the turret stair, and threw himself down
hopelessly, answering her gesture.
"No, no, of course no. The dust was only from another swarm of
those hateful Saracens. I knew it would be so. Pah! it has made my
tongue more like old boot leather than ever. Have no more drops
been squeezed from the well? It's time the cup was filled!"
"It was Roger's turn. Sigbert said he should have the next," said
Mabel.
Walter uttered an imprecation upon Roger, and a still stronger one
on Sigbert's meddling. But instantly the cry was, "Where is
Sigbert?"
Walter even took the trouble to shout up and down the stair for
Sigbert, and to demand hotly of the weary, dejected men-at-arms
where Sigbert was; but no one could tell.
"Gone over to the enemy, the old traitor," said Walter, again
dropping on the divan.
"Never! Sigbert is no traitor," returned his sister.
"He is an English churl, and all churls are traitors," responded
Walter.
The old nurse, who was fitfully fanning Mabel with a dried palm-
leaf, made a growl of utter dissent, and Mabel exclaimed, "None was
ever so faithful as good old Sigbert."
It was a promising quarrel, but their lips were too dry to keep it
up for more than a snarl or two. Walter cast himself down, and bade
old Tata fan him; why should Mabel have it all to herself?
Then sounds of wrangling were heard below, and Walter roused himself
to go down and interfere. The men were disputing over some
miserable dregs of wine at the bottom of a skin. Walter shouted to
call them to order, but they paid little heed.
"Do not meddle and make, young sir," said a low-browed, swarthy
fellow. "There's plenty of cool drink of the right sort out there."
"Traitor!" cried Walter; "better die than yield."
"If one have no mind for dying like an old crab in a rock," said the
man.
"They would think nought of making an end of us out there," said
another.
"I'd as lief be choked at once by a cord as by thirst," was the
answer.
"That you are like to be, if you talk such treason," threatened
Walter. "Seize him, Richard--Martin."
Richard and Martin, however, hung back, one muttering that Gil had
done nothing, and the other that he might be in the right of it; and
when Walter burst out in angry threats he was answered in a gruff
voice that he had better take care what he said, "There was no
standing not only wasting with thirst and hunger, but besides being
blustered at by a hot-headed lad, that scarce knew a hauberk from a
helmet."
Walter, in his rage, threw himself with drawn sword on the mutineer,
but was seized and dragged back by half a dozen stalwart arms, such
as he had no power to resist, and he was held fast amid rude laughs
and brutal questions whether he should thus be carried to the
Saracens, and his sister with him.
"The old Sheik would give a round sum for a fair young damsel like
her!" were the words that maddened her brother into a desperate
struggle, baffled with a hoarse laugh by the men-at-arms, who were
keeping him down, hand and foot, when a new voice sounded: "How
now, fellows! What's this?"
In one moment Walter was released and on his feet, and the men fell
back, ashamed and gloomy, as a sturdy figure, with sun-browned face,
light locks worn away by the helmet, and slightly grizzled, stood
among them, in a much-rubbed and soiled chamois leather garment.
Walter broke out into passionate exclamations; the men, evidently
ashamed, met them with murmurs and growls. "Bad enough, bad
enough!" broke in Sigbert; "but there's no need to make it worse.
Better to waste with hunger and thirst than be a nidering fellow--
rising against your lord in his distress."
"We would never have done it if he would have kept a civil tongue."
"Civility's hard to a tongue dried up," returned Sigbert. "But look
you here, comrades, leave me a word with my young lord here, and I
plight my faith that you shall have enow to quench your thirst
within six hours at the least."
There was an attempt at a cheer, broken by the murmur, "We have
heard enough of that! It is always six hours and six hours."
"And the Saracen hounds outside would at least give us a draught of
water ere they made away with us," said another.
"Saracens, forsooth!" said Sigbert. "You shall leave the Saracens
far behind you. A few words first with my lord, and you shall hear.
Meanwhile, you, John Cook, take all the beef remaining; make it in
small fardels, such as a man may easily carry."
"That's soon done," muttered the cook. "The entire weight would
scarce bow a lad's shoulders."
"The rest of you put together what you would save from the enemy,
and is not too heavy to carry." One man made some attempt at
growling at a mere lad being consulted, while the stout warriors
were kept in ignorance; but the spirit of discipline and confidence
had returned with Sigbert, and no one heeded the murmur. Meantime,
Sigbert followed the young Lord Walter up the rough winding stairs
to the chamber where Mabel lay on her cushions. "What! what!"
demanded the boy, pausing to enter. Sigbert, by way of answer,
quietly produced from some hidden pouch two figs. Walter snatched
at one with a cry of joy. Mabel held out her hand, then, with a
gasp, drew it back. "Has Roger had one?"
Sigbert signed in the affirmative, and Mabel took a bite of the
luscious fruit with a gasp of pleasure, yet paused once more to hold
the remainder to her nurse.
"The Saints bless you, my sweet lamb!" exclaimed the old woman;
"finish it yourself. I could not."
"If you don't want it, give it to me," put in Walter.
"For shame, my lord," Sigbert did not scruple to say, nor could the
thirsty girl help finishing the refreshing morsel, while Walter,
with some scanty murmur of excuse, demanded where it came from, and
what Sigbert had meant by promises of safety.
"Sir," said Sigbert, "you may remember how some time back your
honoured father threw one of the fellaheen into the dungeon for
maiming old Leo."
"The villain! I remember. I thought he was hanged."
"No, sir. He escaped. I went to take him food, and he was gone! I
then found an opening in the vault, of which I spoke to none, save
your father, for fear of mischief; but I built it up with stones.
Now, in our extremity, I bethought me of it, and resolved to try
whether the prisoner had truly escaped, for where he went, we might
go. Long and darksome is the way underground, but it opens at last
through one of the old burial-places of the Jews into the thickets
upon the bank of the Jordan."
"The Jordan! Little short of a league!" exclaimed Walter.
"A league, underground, and in the dark," sighed Mabel.
"Better than starving here like a rat in a trap," returned her
brother.
"Ah yes; oh yes! I will think of the cool river and the trees at
the end."
"You will find chill enough, lady, long ere you reach the river,"
said Sigbert. "You must wrap yourself well. 'Tis an ugsome
passage; but your heart must not fail you, for it is the only hope
left us."
The two young people were far too glad to hear of any prospect of
release, to think much of the dangers or discomforts of the mode.
Walter danced for joy up and down the room like a young colt, as he
thought of being in a few hours more in the free open air, with the
sound of water rippling below, and the shade of trees above him.
Mabel threw herself on her knees before her rude crucifix, partly in
thankfulness, partly in dread of the passage that was to come first.
"Like going through the grave to life," she murmured to her nurse.
And when the scanty garrison was gathered together, as many as
possible provided with brands that might serve as torches, and
Sigbert led them, lower and lower, down rugged steps hewn in the
rock, through vaults where only a gleam came from above, and then
through deeper cavernous places, intensely dark, there was a shudder
perceptible by the clank and rattle of the armour which each had
donned. In the midst, Walter paused and exclaimed--
"Our banner! How leave it to the Paynim dogs?"
"It's here, sir," said Sigbert, showing a bundle on his back.
"Warning to the foe to break in and seek us," grumbled Gilbert.
"Not so," replied Sigbert. "I borrowed an old wrapper of nurse's
that will cheat their eyes till we shall be far beyond their ken."
In the last dungeon a black opening lay before them, just seen by
the light of the lamp Sigbert carried, but so low that there was no
entrance save on hands and knees.
"That den!" exclaimed Walter. "'Tis a rat-hole. Never can we go
that way."
"I have tried it, sir," quoth Sigbert. "Where I can go, you can go.
Your sister quails not."
"It is fearful," said Mabel, unable to repress a shiver; "but,
Walter, think what is before us if we stay here! The Saints will
guard us."
"The worst and lowest part only lasts for a few rods," explained
Sigbert. "Now, sir, give your orders. Torches and lanterns, save
Hubert's and nurse's, to be extinguished. We cannot waste them too
soon, but beware of loosing hold on them."
Walter repeated the orders thus dictated to him, and Sigbert
arranged the file. It was absolutely needful that Sigbert should go
first to lead the way. Mabel was to follow him for the sake of his
help, then her brother, next nurse, happily the only other female.
Between two stout and trustworthy men the wounded Roger came. Then
one after another the rest of the men-at-arms and servants, five-
and-twenty in number. The last of the file was Hubert, with a lamp;
the others had to move in darkness. There had been no horse of any
value in the castle, for the knight's charger had been mortally hurt
in his last expedition, and there had been no opportunity of
procuring another. A deerhound, however, pushed and scrambled to
the front, and Sigbert observed that he might be of great use in
running before them. Before entering, however, Sigbert gave the
caution that no word nor cry must be uttered aloud, hap what might,
until permission was given, for they would pass under the Saracen
camp, and there was no knowing whether the sounds would reach the
ears above ground.
A strange plunge it was into the utter darkness, crawling on hands
and knees, with the chill cavernous gloom and rock seeming to press
in upon those who slowly crept along, the dim light of Sigbert's
lamp barely showing as he slowly moved on before. One of the two in
the rear was dropped and extinguished in the dismal passage, a loss
proclaimed by a suppressed groan passing along the line, and a
louder exclamation from Walter, causing Sigbert to utter a sharp
'Hush!' enforced by a thud and tramp above, as if the rock were
coming down on them, but which probably was the trampling of horses
in the camp above.
The smoke of the lamp in front drifted back, and the air was more
and more oppressive. Mabel, with set teeth and compressed lips,
struggled on, clinging tight to the end of the cord which Sigbert
had tied to his body for her to hold by, while in like manner
Walter's hand was upon her dress. It became more and more difficult
to breathe, or crawl on, till at last, just as there was a sense
that it was unbearable, and that it would be easier to lie still and
die than be dragged an inch farther, the air became freer, the roof
seemed to be farther away, the cavern wider, and the motion freer.
Sigbert helped his young lady to stand upright, and one by one all
the train regained their feet. The lamp was passed along to be
rekindled, speech was permitted, crevices above sometimes admitted
air, sometimes dripped with water. The worst was over--probably the
first part had been excavated, the farther portion was one of the
many natural 'dens and caves of the earth,' in which Palestine
abounds. There was still a considerable distance to be traversed,
the lamps burnt out, and had to be succeeded by torches carefully
husbanded, for the way was rough and rocky, and a stumble might end
in a fall into an abyss. In time, however, openings of side
galleries were seen, niches in the wall, and tokens that the outer
portion of the cavern had been once a burial-place of the ancient
Israelites--'the dog Jews,' as the Crusaders called them, with a
shudder of loathing and contempt.
And joy infinite--clear daylight and a waving tree were perceptible
beyond. It was daylight, was it? but the sun was low. Five hours
at least had been spent in that dismal transit, before the
exhausted, soiled, and chilled company stepped forth into a green
thicket with the Jordan rushing far below. Five weeks' siege in a
narrow fortress, then the two miles of subterranean struggle--these
might well make the grass beneath the wild sycamore, the cork-tree,
the long reeds, the willows, above all, the sound of the flowing
water, absolute ecstasy. There was an instant rush for the river,
impeded by many a thorn-bush and creeper; but almost anything green
was welcome at the moment, and the only disappointment was at the
height and steepness of the banks of rock. However, at last one
happy man found a place where it was possible to climb down to the
shingly bed of the river, close to a great mass of the branching
headed papyrus reed. Into the muddy but eminently sweet water most
of them waded; helmets became cups, hands scooped up the water,
there were gasps of joy and refreshment and blessing on the cool
wave so long needed.
Sigbert and Walter between them helped down Mabel and her nurse, and
found a secure spot for them, where weary faces, feet, and hands
might be laved in the pool beneath a rock.
Then, taking up a bow and arrows laid down by one of the men,
Sigbert applied himself to the endeavour to shoot some of the water-
fowl which were flying wildly about over the reeds in the unwonted
disturbance caused by the bathers. He brought down two or three of
the duck kind, and another of the party had bethought him of angling
with a string and one of the only too numerous insects, and had
caught sundry of the unsuspecting and excellent fish. He had also
carefully preserved a little fire, and, setting his boy to collect
fuel, he produced embers enough to cook both fish and birds
sufficiently to form an appetising meal for those who had been
reduced to scraps of salt food for full a fortnight.
"All is well so far," said Walter, with his little lordly air. "We
have arranged our retreat with great skill. The only regret is that
I have been forced to leave the castle to the enemy! the castle we
were bound to defend."
"Nay, sir, if it be your will," said Sigbert, "the tables might yet
be turned on the Saracen."
With great eagerness Walter asked how this could be, and Sigbert
reminded him that many a time it had been observed from the tower
that, though the Saracens kept careful watch on the gates of the
besieged so as to prevent a sally, they left the rear of their camp
absolutely undefended, after the ordinary Eastern fashion, and
Sigbert, with some dim recollection of rhymed chronicles of Gideon
and of Jonathan, believed that these enemies might be surprised
after the same fashion as theirs. Walter leapt up for joy, but
Sigbert had to remind him that the sun was scarcely set, and that
time must be given for the Saracens to fall asleep before the
attack; besides that, his own men needed repose.
"There is all the distance to be traversed," said Walter.
"Barely a league, sir."
It was hard to believe that the space, so endless underground, was
so short above, and Walter was utterly incredulous, till, climbing
the side of the ravine so high as to be above the trees, Sigbert
showed him the familiar landmarks known in hunting excursions with
his father. He was all eagerness; but Sigbert insisted on waiting
till past midnight before moving, that the men might have time to
regain their vigour by sleep, and also that there might be time for
the Saracens to fall into the deepest of all slumbers in full
security.
The moon was low in the West when Sigbert roused the party, having
calculated that it would light them on the way, but would be set by
the time the attack was to be made.
For Mabel's security it was arranged that a small and most unwilling
guard should remain with her, near enough to be able to perceive how
matters went; and if there appeared to be defeat and danger for her
brother, there would probably be full time to reach Tiberias even on
foot.
However, the men of the party had little fear that flight would be
needed, for, though perhaps no one would have thought of the scheme
for himself, there was a general sense that what Sigbert devised was
prudent, and that he would not imperil his young lord and lady upon
a desperate venture.
Keeping well and compactly together, the little band moved on, along
arid, rocky paths, starting now and then at the howls of the jackals
which gradually gathered into a pack, and began to follow, as if--
some one whispered--they scented prey, "On whom?" was the question.
On a cliff looking down on the Arab camp, and above it on the dark
mass of the castle, where, in the watch-tower, Sigbert had left a
lamp burning, they halted just as the half-moon was dipping below
the heights towards the Mediterranean. Here the Lady Mabel and her
guard were to wait until they heard the sounds which to their
practised ears would show how the fight went.
The Arab shout of victory they knew only too well, and it was to be
the signal of flight towards Tiberias; but if success was with the
assailants, the war-cry 'Deus vult,' and 'St. Hubert for Hundberg,'
were to be followed by the hymn of victory as the token that it was
safe to descend.
All was dark, save for the magnificent stars of an Eastern night, as
Mabel, her nurse, and the five men, commanded by the wounded Roger,
stood silently praying while listening intently to the muffled tramp
of their own people, descending on the blacker mass denoting the
Saracen tents.
The sounds of feet died away, only the jackal's whine and moan, were
heard. Then suddenly came a flash of lights in different
directions, and shouts here, there, everywhere, cries, yells,
darkness, an undistinguishable medley of noise, the shrill shriek of
the Moslem, and the exulting war-cry of the Christian ringing
farther and farther off, in the long valley leading towards the
Jordan fords.
Dawn began to break--overthrown tents could be seen. Mabel had time
to wonder whether she was forgotten, when the hymn began to sound,
pealing on her ears up the pass, and she had not had time for more
than an earnest thanksgiving, and a few steps down the rocky
pathway, before a horse's tread was heard, and a man-at-arms came
towards her leading a slender, beautiful Arab horse. "All well! the
young lord and all. The Saracens, surprised, fled without ever
guessing the number of their foes. The Sheik made prisoner in his
tent. Ay, and a greater still, the Emir Hussein Bey, who had
arrived to take possession of the castle only that very evening.
What a ransom he would pay! Horses and all were taken, the spoil of
the country round, and Master Sigbert had sent this palfrey for Lady
Mabel to ride down."
Perhaps Sigbert, in all his haste and occupation, had been able to
discern that the gentle little mare was not likely to display the
Arab steed's perilous attachment to a master, for Mabel was safely
mounted, and ere sunrise was greeted by her joyous and victorious
brother. "Is not this noble, sister? Down went the Pagan dogs
before my good sword! There are a score of them dragged off to the
dead man's hollow for the jackals and vultures; but I kept one
fellow uppermost to show you the gash I made! Come and see."
Roger here observed that the horse might grow restive at the
carcase, and Mabel was excused the sight, though Walter continued to
relate his exploits, and demand whether he had not won his spurs by
so grand a ruse and victory.
"Truly I think Sigbert has," said his sister. "It was all his
doing."
"Sigbert, an English churl! What are you thinking of, Mabel?"
"I am thinking to whom the honour is due."
"You are a mere child, sister, or you would know better. Sigbert is
a very fair squire; but what is a squire's business but to put his
master in the way of honour? Do not talk such folly."
Mabel was silenced, and after being conducted across the bare
trampled ground among the tents of the Arabs, she re-entered the
castle, where in the court groups of disarmed Arabs stood, their
bournouses pulled over their brows, their long lances heaped in a
corner, grim and disconsolate at their discomfiture and captivity.
A repast of stewed kid, fruit, and sherbet was prepared for her and
her brother from the spoil, after which both were weary enough to
throw themselves on their cushions for a long sound sleep.
Mabel slept the longer, and when she awoke, she found that the sun
was setting, and that supper was nearly ready.
Walter met her just as she had arranged her dress, to bid nurse make
ready her bales, for they were to start at dawn on the morrow for
Tiberias. It was quite possible that the enemy might return in
force to deliver their Emir. A small garrison, freshly provisioned,
could hold out the castle until relief could be sent; but it would
be best to conduct the two important prisoners direct to the King,
to say nothing of Walter's desire to present them and to display
these testimonies of his prowess before the Court of Jerusalem.
The Emir was a tall, slim, courteous Arab, with the exquisite
manners of the desert. Both he and the Sheik were invited to the
meal. Both looked startled and shocked at the entrance of the fair-
haired damsel, and the Sheik crouched in a corner, with a savage
glare in his eye like a freshly caught wild beast, though the Emir
sat cross-legged on the couch eating, and talking in the LINGUA
FRANCA, which was almost a native tongue, to the son and daughter of
the Crusader. From him Walter learnt that King Fulk was probably at
Tiberias, and this quickened the eagerness of all for a start. It
took place in the earliest morning, so as to avoid the heat of the
day. How different from the departure in the dark underground
passage!
Horses enough had been captured to afford the Emir and the Sheik
each his own beautiful steed (the more readily that the creatures
could hardly have been ridden by any one else), and their parole was
trusted not to attempt to escape. Walter, Mabel, Sigbert, and Roger
were also mounted, and asses were found in the camp for the nurse,
and the men who had been hurt in the night's surprise.
The only mischance on the way was that in the noontide halt, just as
the shimmer of the Lake of Galilee met their eyes, under a huge
terebinth-tree, growing on a rock, when all, except Sigbert, had
composed themselves to a siesta, there was a sudden sound of loud
and angry altercation, and, as the sleepers started up, the Emir was
seen grasping the bridle of the horse on which the Sheik sat
downcast and abject under the storm of fierce indignant words hurled
at him for thus degrading his tribe and all Islam by breaking his
plighted word to the Christian.
This was in Arabic, and the Emir further insisted on his prostrating
himself to ask pardon, while he himself in LINGUA FRANCA explained
that the man was of a low and savage tribe of Bedouins, who knew not
how to keep faith.
Walter broke out in loud threats, declaring that the traitor dog
ought to be hung up at once on the tree, or dragged along with hands
tied behind him; but Sigbert contented himself with placing a man at
each side of his horse's head, as they proceeded on their way to the
strongly fortified town of the ancient Herods, perched at the head
of the dark gray Lake of Galilee, shut in by mountain peaks. The
second part of the journey was necessarily begun in glowing heat,
for it was most undesirable to have to spend a night in the open
country, and it was needful to push on to a fortified hospice or
monastery of St. John, which formed a half-way house.
Weary, dusty, athirst, they came in sight of it in the evening; and
Walter and Roger rode forward to request admittance. The porter
begged them to wait when he heard that the party included women and
Saracen prisoners; and Walter began to storm. However, a few
moments more brought a tall old Knight Hospitalier to the gate, and
he made no difficulties as to lodging the Saracens in a building at
the end of the Court, where they could be well guarded; and Mabel
and her nurse were received in a part of the precincts appropriated
to female pilgrims.
It was a bare and empty place, a round turret over the gateway, with
a stone floor, and a few mats rolled up in the corner, mats which
former pilgrims had not left in an inviting condition.
However, the notions of comfort of the twelfth century were not
exacting. Water to wash away the dust of travel was brought to the
door, and was followed by a substantial meal on roasted kid and thin
cakes of bread. Sigbert came up with permission for the women to
attend compline, though only strictly veiled; and Mabel knelt in the
little cool cryptlike chapel, almost like the late place of her
escape, and returned thanks for the deliverance from their recent
peril.
Then, fresh mats and cushions having been supplied, the damsel and
her nurse slept profoundly, and were only roused by a bell for a
mass in the darkness just before dawn, after which they again set
forth, the commander of the Hospice himself, and three or four
knights, accompanying them, and conversing familiarly with the Emir
on the current interests of Palestine.
About half-way onward, the glint and glitter of spears was seen amid
a cloud of dust on the hill-path opposite. The troop drew together
on their guard, though, as the Hospitalier observed, from the side
of Tiberias an enemy could scarcely come. A scout was sent forward
to reconnoitre; but, even before he came spurring joyously back, the
golden crosses of Jerusalem had been recognised, and confirmed his
tidings that it was the rearguard of the army, commanded by King
Fulk himself, on the way to the relief of the Castle of Gebel-Aroun.
In a brief half-hour more, young Walter de Hundberg, with his sister
by his side, was kneeling before an alert, slender, wiry figure in
plain chamois leather, with a worn sunburnt face and keen blue eyes--
Fulk of Anjou--who had resigned his French county to lead the
crusading cause in Palestine.
"Stand up, fair youth, and tell thy tale, and how thou hast
forestalled our succour."
Walter told his tale of the blockaded castle, the underground
passage, and the dexterous surprise of the besiegers, ending by
presenting, not ungracefully, his captives to the pleasure of the
King.
"Why, this is well done!" exclaimed Fulk. "Thou art a youth of
promise, and wilt well be a prop to our grandson's English throne.
Thou shalt take knighthood from mine own hand as thy prowess well
deserveth. And thou, fair damsel, here is one whom we could scarce
hold back from rushing with single hand to deliver his betrothed.
Sir Raymond of Courtwood, you are balked of winning thy lady at the
sword's point, but thou wilt scarce rejoice the less."
A dark-eyed, slender young knight, in bright armour, drew towards
Mabel, and she let him take her hand; but she was intent on
something else, and exclaimed--
"Oh, sir, Sir King, let me speak one word! The guerdon should not
be only my brother's. The device that served us was--our squire's."
The Baron of Courtwood uttered a fierce exclamation. Walter
muttered, "Mabel, do not be such a meddling fool"; but the King
asked, "And who may this same squire be?"
"An old English churl," said Walter impatiently. "My father took
him as his squire for want of a better."
"And he has been like a father to us," added Mabel
"Silence, sister! It is not for you to speak!" petulantly cried
Walter. "Not that the Baron of Courtwood need be jealous," added
he, laughing somewhat rudely. "Where is the fellow? Stand forth,
Sigbert."
Travel and heat-soiled, sunburnt, gray, and ragged, armour rusted,
leathern garment stained, the rugged figure came forward, footsore
and lame, for he had given up his horse to an exhausted man-at-arms.
A laugh went round at the bare idea of the young lady's preferring
such a form to the splendid young knight, her destined bridegroom.
"Is this the esquire who hath done such good service, according to
the young lady?" asked the King.
"Ay, sir," returned Walter; "he is true and faithful enough, though
nothing to be proud of in looks; and he served us well in my sally
and attack."
"It was his--" Mabel tried to say, but Sigbert hushed her.
"Let be, let be, my sweet lady; it was but my bounden duty."
"What's that? Speak out what passes there," demanded young
Courtwood, half-jealously still.
"A mere English villein, little better than a valet of the camp!"
were the exclamations around. "A noble damsel take note of him!
Fie for shame!"
"He has been true and brave," said the King. "Dost ask a guerdon
for him, young sir?" he added to Walter.
"What wouldst have, old Sigbert?" asked Walter, in a patronising
voice.
"I ask nothing, sir," returned the old squire. "To have seen my
lord's children in safety is all I wish. I have but done my duty."
King Fulk, who saw through the whole more clearly than some of those
around, yet still had the true Angevin and Norman contempt for a
Saxon, here said: "Old man, thou art trusty and shrewd, and mayst
be useful. Wilt thou take service as one of my men-at-arms?"
"Thou mayst," said Walter; "thou art not bound to me. England hath
enough of Saxon churls without thee, and I shall purvey myself an
esquire of youthful grace and noble blood."
Mabel looked at her betrothed and began to speak.
"No, no, sweet lady, I will have none of that rough, old masterful
sort about me."
"Sir King," said Sigbert, "I thank thee heartily. I would still
serve the Cross; but my vow has been, when my young lord and lady
should need me no more, to take the Cross of St. John with the
Hospitaliers."
"As a lay brother? Bethink thee," said Fulk of Anjou. "Noble blood
is needed for a Knight of the Order."
Sigbert smiled slightly, in spite of all the sadness of his face,
and the Knight Commander who had ridden with them, a Fleming by
birth, said--
"For that matter, Sir King, we are satisfied. Sigbert, the son of
Sigfrid, hath proved his descent from the old English kings of the
East Saxons, and the Order will rejoice to enrol in the novitiate so
experienced a warrior."
"Is this indeed so?" asked Fulk. "A good lineage, even if English!"
"But rebel," muttered Courtwood.
"It is so, Sir King," said Sigbert. "My father was disseised of the
lands of Hundberg, and died in the fens fighting under Hereward le
Wake. My mother dwelt under the protection of the Abbey of
Colchester, and, by and by, I served under our Atheling, and, when
King Henry's wars in Normandy were over, I followed the Lord of
Hundberg's banner, because the men-at-arms were mine own neighbours,
and his lady my kinswoman. Roger can testify to my birth and
lineage."
"So, thou art true heir of Hundberg, if that be the name of thine
English castle?"
"Ay, sir, save for the Norman! But I would not, if I could, meddle
with thee, my young lord, though thou dost look at me askance, spite
of having learnt of me to ride and use thy lance. I am the last of
the English line of old Sigfrid the Wormbane, and a childless man,
and I trust the land and the serfs will be well with thee, who art
English born, and son to Wulfrida of Lexden. And I trust that thou,
my sweet Lady Mabel, will be a happy bride and wife. All I look for
is to end my days under the Cross, in the cause of the Holy
Sepulchre, whether as warrior or lay brother. Yes, dear lady, that
is enough for old Sigbert."
And Mabel had to acquiesce and believe that her old friend found
peace and gladness beneath the eight-pointed Cross, when she and her
brother sailed for England, where she would behold the green fields
and purple heather of which he had told her amid the rocks of
Palestine.
Moreover, she thought of him when on her way through France, she
heard the young monk Bernard, then rising into fame, preach on the
beleaguered city, saved by the poor wise man; and tell how, when the
city was safe, none remembered the poor man. True, the preacher
gave it a mystic meaning, and interpreted it as meaning the
emphatically Poor Man by Whom Salvation came, and Whom too few bear
in mind. Yet such a higher meaning did not exclude the thought of
one whose deserts surpassed his honours here on earth.