surprise and grief, is governed by a brother of Duke Sevinus, and your
uncle. You have no doubt heard that a young brother of the Duke of
Guienne was stolen away from the sea-shore, with his companions, by
some corsairs. I was then his page, and we were carried by those
corsairs to Barbary, where we were sold for slaves. The Barbary prince
sent us as part of the tribute which he yearly paid to his sovereign,
the Sultan Gaudisso. Your uncle, who had been somewhat puffed up by the
flattery of his attendants, thought to increase his importance with his
new master by telling him his rank. The Sultan, who, like a true
Mussulman, detested all Christian princes, exerted himself from that
moment to bring him over to the Saracen faith. He succeeded but too
well. Your uncle, seduced by the arts of the Santons, and by the
pleasures and indulgences which the Sultan allowed him, committed the
horrid crime of apostasy; he renounced his baptism, and embraced
Mahometanism. Gaudisso then loaded him with honors, made him espouse
one of his nieces, and sent him to reign over this city and adjoining
country. Your uncle preserved for me the same friendship which he had
had when a boy; but all his caresses and efforts could not make me
renounce my faith. Perhaps he respected me in his heart for my
resistance to his persuasions, perhaps he had hopes of inducing me in
time to imitate him. He made me accompany him to this city, of which he
was master, he gave me his confidence, and permits me to keep in my
service some Christians, whom I protect for the sake of their faith."
"Ah!" exclaimed Huon, "take me to this guilty uncle. A prince of the
house of Guienne, must he not blush at the cowardly abandonment of the
faith of his fathers?"
"Alas!" replied Floriac, "I fear he will neither be sensible of shame
at your reproaches, nor of pleasure at the sight of a nephew so worthy
of his lineage. Brutified by sensuality, jealous of his power, which he
often exercises with cruelty, he will more probably restrain you by
force or put you to death."
"Be it so," said the brave and fervent Huon, "I could not die in a
better cause; and I demand of you to conduct me to him to-morrow, after
having told him of my arrival and my birth." Floriac still objected,
but Huon would take no denial, and he promised obedience.
Next morning Floriac waited upon the Governor and told him of the
arrival of his nephew, Huon of Bordeaux; and of the intention of the
prince to present himself at his court that very day. The Governor,
surprised, did not immediately answer; though he at once made up his
mind what to do. He knew that Floriac loved Christians and the princes
of his native land too well to aid in any treason to one of them; he
therefore feigned great pleasure at hearing of the arrival of the
eldest born of his family at his court. He immediately sent Floriac to
find him; he caused his palace to be put in festal array, his divan to
be assembled, and after giving some secret orders, went himself to meet
his nephew, whom he introduced under his proper name and title to all
the great officers of his court.
Huon burned with indignation at seeing his uncle with forehead
encircled with a rich turban, surmounted with a crescent of precious
stones. His natural candor made him receive with pain the embraces
which the treacherous Governor lavished upon him. Meanwhile the hope of
finding a suitable moment to reproach him for his apostasy made him
submit to those honors which his uncle caused to be rendered to him.
The Governor evaded with address the chance of being alone with Huon
and spent all the morning in taking him through his gardens and palace.
At last, when the hour of dinner approached, and the Governor took him
by the hand to lead him into the dining-hall, Huon seized the
opportunity and said to him in a low voice, "O my uncle! O Prince,
brother of the Duke Sevinus! in what condition have I the grief and
shame of seeing you!" The Governor pretended to be moved, pressed his
hand, and whispered in his ear, "Silence! my dear nephew; to-morrow
morning I will hear you fully."
Huon, comforted a little by these words, took his seat at the table by
the side of the Governor. The Mufti, some Cadis, Agas, and Santons,
filled the other places. Sherasmin sat down with them; but Floriac, who
would not lose sight of his guests, remained standing, and passed in
and out to observe what was going on within the palace. He soon
perceived a number of armed men gliding through the passages and
antechambers connected with the dining-hall. He was about to enter to
give his guests notice of what he had seen when he heard a violent
noise and commotion in the hall. The cause was this.
Huon and Sherasmin were well enough suited with the first course and
ate with good appetite; but the people of their country not being
accustomed to drink only water at their meals, Huon and Sherasmin
looked at one another, not very well pleased at such a regimen. Huon
laughed outright at the impatience of Sherasmin, but soon, experiencing
the same want himself, he drew forth Oberon's cup and made the sign of
the cross. The cup filled and he drank it off, and handed it to
Sherasmin, who followed his example. The Governor and his officers,
seeing this abhorred sign, contracted their brows and sat in silent
consternation. Huon pretended not to observe it, and having filled the
cup again handed it to his uncle, saying, "Pray, join us, dear uncle;
it is excellent Bordeaux wine, the drink that will be to you like
mother's milk." The Governor, who often drank in secret with his own
favorite Sultanas the wines of Greece and Shiraz, never in public drank
anything but water. He had not for a long time tasted the excellent
wines of his native land; he was sorely tempted to drink what was now
handed to him, it looked so bright in the cup, outshining the gold
itself. He stretched forth his hand, took the brimming goblet, and
raised it to his lips, when immediately it dried up and disappeared.
Huon and Sherasmin, like Gascons as they were, laughed at his
astonishment. "Christian dogs!" he exclaimed, "do you dare to insult me
at my own table? But I will soon be revenged." At these words he threw
the cup at the head of his nephew, who caught it with his left hand,
while with the other he snatched the turban, with its crescent, from
the Governor's head and threw it on the floor. All the Saracens started
up from table, with loud outcries, and prepared to avenge the insult.
Huon and Sherasmin put themselves on their defence, and met with their
swords the scimitars directed against them. At this moment the doors of
the hall opened and a crowd of soldiers and armed eunuchs rushed in,
who joined in the attack upon Huon and Sherasmin. The Prince and his
followers took refuge on a broad shelf or side-board, where they kept
at bay the crowd of assailants, making the most forward of them smart
for their audacity. But more troops came pressing in and the brave
Huon, inspired by the wine of Bordeaux, and not angry enough to lose
his relish for a joke, blew a gentle note on his horn, and no sooner
was it heard than it quelled the rage of the combatants and set them to
dancing. Huon and Sherasmin, no longer attacked, looked down from their
elevated position on a scene the most singular and amusing. Very soon
the Sultanas, hearing the sound of the dance and finding their guards
withdrawn, came into the hall and mixed with the dancers. The favorite
Sultana seized upon a young Santon, who performed jumps two feet high;
but soon the long dresses of this couple got intermingled and threw
them down. The Santon's beard was caught in the Sultana's necklace, and
they could not disentangle them. The Governor by no means approved this
familiarity, and took two steps forward to get at the Santon, but he
stumbled over a prostrate Dervise and measured his length on the floor.
The dancing continued till the strength of the performers was
exhausted, and they fell, one after the other, and lay helpless. The
Governor at length made signs to Huon that he would yield everything if
he would but allow him to rest. The bargain was ratified; the Governor
allowed Huon and Sherasmin to depart on their way, and even gave them a
ring which would procure them safe passage through his country and
access to the Sultan Gaudisso. The two friends hastened to avail
themselves of this favorable turn, and taking leave of Floriac, pursued
their journey.
HUON OF BORDEAUX (Continued)
HUON had seen many beauties at his mother's court, but his heart had
never been touched with love. Honor had been his mistress, and in
pursuit of that he had never found time to give a thought to softer
cares. Strange that a heart so insensible should first be touched by
something so unsubstantial as a dream; but so it was.
The day after the adventure with his uncle night overtook the
travellers as they passed through a forest. A grotto offered them
shelter from the night dews. The magic cup supplied their evening meal;
for such was its virtue that it afforded not only wine, but more solid
fare when desired. Fatigue soon threw them into profound repose. Lulled
by the murmur of the foliage, and breathing the fragrance of the
flowers, Huon dreamed that a lady more beautiful than he had ever
before seen hung over him and imprinted a kiss upon his lips. As he
stretched out his arms to embrace her a sudden gust of wind swept her
away.
Huon awoke in an agony of regret. A few moments sufficed to afford some
consolation in showing him that what had passed was but a dream; but
his perplexity and sadness could not escape the notice of Sherasmin.
Huon hesitated not to inform his faithful follower of the reason of his
pensiveness; and got nothing in return but his rallyings for allowing
himself to be disturbed by such a cause. He recommended a draught from
the fairy goblet, and Huon tried it with good effect.
At early dawn they resumed their way. They travelled till high noon,
but said little to one another. Huon was musing on his dream, and
Sherasmin's thoughts flew back to his early days on the banks of the
flowery Garonne.
On a sudden they were startled by the cry of distress, and turning an
angle of the wood, came where a knight hard pressed was fighting with a
furious lion. The knight's horse lay dead, and it seemed as if another
moment would end the combat, for terror and fatigue had quite disabled
the knight for further resistance. He fell, and the lion's paw was
raised over him, when a blow from Huon's sword turned the monster's
rage upon a new enemy. His roar shook the forest, and he crouched in
act to spring, when, with the rapidity of lightning, Huon plunged his
sword into his side. He rolled over on the plain in the agonies of
death.
They raised the knight from the ground, and Sherasmin hastened to offer
him a draught from the fairy cup. The wine sparkled to the brim, and
the warrior put forth his lips to quaff it, but it shrunk away, and did
not even wet his lips. He dashed the goblet angrily on the ground, with
an exclamation of resentment. This incident did not tend to make either
party more acceptable to the other; and what followed was worse. For
when Huon said, "Sir knight, thank God for your deliverance,"--"Thank
Mahomet, rather, yourself," said he, "for he has led you this day to
render service to no less a personage than the Prince of Hyrcania."
At the sound of this blasphemy Huon drew his sword and turned upon the
miscreant, who, little disposed to encounter the prowess of which he
had so lately seen proof, betook himself to flight. He ran to Huon's
horse, and lightly vaulting on his back, clapped spurs to his side, and
galloped out of sight.
The adventure was vexatious, yet there was no remedy. The prince and
Sherasmin continued their journey with the aid of the remaining horse
as they best might. At length, as evening set in, they descried the
pinnacles and towers of a great city full before them, which they knew
to be the famous city of Bagdad.
They were well-nigh exhausted with fatigue when they arrived at its
precincts, and in the darkness, not knowing what course to take, were
glad to meet an aged woman, who, in reply to their inquiries, offered
them such accommodations as her cottage could supply. They thankfully
accepted the offer, and entered the low door. The good dame busily
prepared the best fare her stores supplied,--milk, figs, and
peaches,--deeply regretting that the bleak winds had nipped her
almond-trees.
Sir Huon thought he had never in his life tasted any fare so good. The
old lady talked while her guests ate. She doubted not, she said, they
had come to be present at the great feast in honor of the marriage of
the Sultan's daughter, which was to take place on the morrow. They
asked who the bridegroom was to be, and the old lady answered, "The
Prince of Hyrcania," but added, "Our princess hates him, and would
rather wed a dragon than him." "How know you that?" asked Huon; and the
dame informed him that she had it from the princess herself, who was
her foster-child. Huon inquired the reason of the princess's aversion;
and the woman pleased to find her chat excite so much interest, replied
that it was all in consequence of a dream. "A dream!" exclaimed Huon.
"Yes! a dream. She dreamed that she was a hind, and that the Prince, as
a hunter, was pursuing her, and had almost overtaken her, when a
beautiful dwarf appeared in view, drawn in a golden car, having by his
side a young man of yellow hair and fair complexion, like one from a
foreign land. She dreamed that the car stopped where she stood, and
that, having resumed her own form, she was about to ascend it, when
suddenly it faded from her view, and with it the dwarf and the
fair-haired youth. But from her heart that vision did not fade, and
from that time her affianced bridegroom, the Hyrcanian prince, had
become odious to her sight. Yet the Sultan, her father, by no means
regarding such a cause as sufficient to prevent the marriage, had named
the morrow as the time when it should be solemnized, in presence of his
court and many princes of the neighboring countries, whom the fame of
the princess's beauty and the bridegroom's splendor had brought to the
scene."
We may suppose this conversation woke a tumult of thoughts in the
breast of Huon. Was it not clear that Providence led him on, and
cleared the way for his happy success? Sleep did not early visit the
eyes of Huon that night; but, with the sanguine temper of youth, he
indulged his fancy in imagining the sequel of his strange experience.
The next day, which he could not but regard as the decisive day of his
fate, he prepared to deliver the message of Charlemagne. Clad in his
armor, fortified with his ivory horn and his ring, he reached the
palace of Gaudisso when the guests were assembled at the banquet. As he
approached the gate a voice called on all true believers to enter; and
Huon, the brave and faithful Huon, in his impatience passed in under
that false pretention. He had no sooner passed the barrier than he felt
ashamed of his baseness, and was overwhelmed with regret. To make
amends for his fault he ran forward to the second gate, and cried to
the porter, "Dog of a misbeliever, I command you in the name of Him who
died on the cross, open to me!" The points of a hundred weapons
immediately opposed his passage. Huon then remembered for the first
time the ring he had received from his uncle, the Governor. He produced
it, and demanded to be led to the Sultan's presence. The officer of the
guard recognized the ring, made a respectful obeisance, and allowed him
free entrance. In the same way he passed the other doors to the rich
saloon where the great Sultan was at dinner with his tributary princes.
At sight of the ring the chief attendant led Huon to the head of the
hall, and introduced him to the Sultan and his princes as the
ambassador of Charlemagne. A seat was provided for him near the royal
party.
The Prince of Hyrcania, the same whom Huon had rescued from the lion,
and who was the destined bridegroom of the beautiful Clarimunda, sat on
the Sultan's right hand, and the princess herself on his left. It
chanced that Huon found himself near the seat of the princess, and
hardly were the ceremonies of reception over before he made haste to
fulfill the commands of Charlemagne by imprinting a kiss upon her rosy
lips, and after that a second, not by command, but by good will. The
Prince of Hyrcania cried out, "Audacious infidel! take the reward of
thy insolence!" and aimed a blow at Huon, which, if it had reached him,
would have brought his embassy to a speedy termination. But the ingrate
failed of his aim, and Huon punished his blasphemy and ingratitude at
once by a blow which severed his head from his body.
So suddenly had all this happened that no hand had been raised to
arrest it; but now Gaudisso cried out, "Seize the murderer!" Huon was
hemmed in on all sides, but his redoubtable sword kept the crowd of
courtiers at bay. But he saw new combatants enter, and could not hope
to maintain his ground against so many. He recollected his horn, and
raising it to his lips, blew a blast almost as loud as that of Roland
at Roncesvalles. It was in vain. Oberon heard it; but the sin of which
Huon had been guilty in bearing, though but for a moment, the character
of a believer in the false prophet, had put it out of Oberon's power to
help him. Huon, finding himself deserted, and conscious of the cause,
lost his strength and energy, was seized, loaded with chains, and
plunged into a dungeon.
His life was spared for the time, merely that he might be reserved for
a more painful death. The Sultan meant that, after being made to feel
all the torments of hunger and despair, he should be flayed alive.
But an enchanter more ancient and more powerful than Oberon himself
interested himself for the brave Huon. The enchanter was Love. The
Princess Clarimunda learned with horror the fate to which the young
prince was destined. By the aid of her governante she gained over the
keeper of the prison, and went herself to lighten the chains of her
beloved. It was her hand that removed his fetters, from her he received
supplies of food to sustain a life which he devoted from thenceforth
wholly to her. After the most tender explanations the princess
departed, promising to repeat her visit on the morrow.
The next day she came according to promise, and again brought supplies
of food. These visits were continued during a whole month. Huon was too
good a son of the Church to forget that the amiable princess was a
Saracen, and he availed himself of these interviews to instruct her in
the true faith. How easy it is to believe the truth when uttered by the
lips of those we love! Clarimunda ere long professed her entire belief
in the Christian doctrines, and desired to be baptized.
Meanwhile the Sultan had repeatedly inquired of the jailer how his
prisoner bore the pains of famine, and learned to his surprise that he
was not yet much reduced thereby. On his repeating the inquiry, after a
short interval, the keeper replied that the prisoner had died suddenly,
and had been buried in the cavern. The Sultan could only regret that he
had not sooner ordered the execution of the sentence.
While these things were going on the faithful Sherasmin, who had not
accompanied Huon in his last adventure, but had learned by common rumor
the result of it, came to the court in hopes of doing something for the
rescue of his master. He presented himself to the Sultan as Solario,
his nephew. Guadisso received him with kindness, and all the courtiers
loaded him with attentions. He soon found means to inform himself how
the Princess regarded the brave but unfortunate Huon, and having made
himself known to her, confidence was soon established between them.
Clarimunda readily consented to assist in the escape of Huon, and to
quit with him her father's court to repair to that of Charlemagne.
Their united efforts had nearly perfected their arrangement, a vessel
was secretly prepared, and all things in forwardness for the flight,
when an unlooked-for obstacle presented itself. Huon himself positively
refused to go leaving the orders of Charlemagne unexecuted.
Sherasmin was in despair. Bitterly he complained of the fickleness and
cruelty of Oberon in withdrawing his aid at the very crisis when it was
most necessary. Earnestly he urged every argument to satisfy the prince
that he had done enough for honor, and could not be held bound to
achieve impossibilities. But all was of no avail, and he knew not which
way to turn, when one of those events occurred which are so frequent
under Turkish despotisms. A courier arrived at the court of the Sultan,
bearing the ring of his sovereign, the mighty Agrapard, Caliph of
Arabia, and bringing the bow-string for the neck of Gaudisso. No reason
was assigned; none but the pleasure of the Caliph is ever required in
such cases; but it was suspected that the bearer of the bow-string had
persuaded the Caliph that Gaudisso, whose rapacity was well known, had
accumulated immense treasures, which he had not duly shared with his
sovereign, and thus had obtained an order to supersede him in his
Emirship.
The body of Gaudisso would have been cast out a prey to dogs and
vultures, had not Sherasmin, under the character of nephew of the
deceased, been permitted to receive it, and give it decent burial,
which he did, but not till he had taken possession of the beard and
grinders, agreeably to the orders of Charlemagne.
No obstacle now stood in the way of the lovers and their faithful
follower in returning to France. They sailed, taking Rome in their way,
where the Holy Father himself blessed the union of his nephew, Duke
Huon of Bordeaux, with the Princess Clarimunda.
Soon afterward they arrived in France, where Huon laid his trophies at
the feet of Charlemagne, and, being restored to the favor of the
Emperor, hastened to present himself and his bride to the Duchess, his
mother, and to the faithful liegemen of his province of Guienne and his
city of Bordeaux, where the pair were received with transports of joy.
OGIER, THE DANE
OGIER, the Dane, was the son of Geoffrey, who wrested Denmark from the
Pagans, and reigned the first Christian king of that country. When
Ogier was born, and before he was baptized, six ladies of ravishing
beauty appeared all at once in the chamber of the infant. They
encircled him, and she who appeared the eldest took him in her arms,
kissed him, and laid her hand upon his heart. "I give you," said she,
"to be the bravest warrior of your times." She delivered the infant to
her sister, who said, "I give you abundant opportunities to display
your valor." "Sister," said the third lady, "you have given him a
dangerous boon; I give him that he shall never be vanquished." The
fourth sister added, as she laid her hand upon his eyes and his mouth,
"I give you the gift of pleasing." The fifth said, "Lest all these
gifts serve only to betray, I give you sensibility to return the love
you inspire." Then spoke Morgana, the youngest and handsomest of the
group. "Charming creature, I claim you for my own; and I give you not
to die till you shall have come to pay me a visit in my isle of
Avalon." Then she kissed the child and departed with her sisters.
After this the king had the child carried to the font and baptized with
the name of Ogier.
In his education nothing was neglected to elevate him to the standard
of a perfect knight, and render him accomplished in all the arts
necessary to make him a hero.
He had hardly reached the age of sixteen years when Charlemagne, whose
power was established over all the sovereigns of his time, recollected
that Geoffroy, Ogier's father, had omitted to render the homage due to
him as Emperor, and sovereign lord of Denmark, one of the grand fiefs
of the empire. He accordingly sent an embassy to demand of the king of
Denmark this homage, and on receiving a refusal, couched in haughty
terms, sent an army to enforce the demand. Geoffroy, after an
unsuccessful resistance, was forced to comply, and as a pledge of his
sincerity delivered Ogier, his eldest son, a hostage to Charles, to be
brought up at his court. He was placed in charge of the Duke Namo of
Bavaria, the friend of his father, who treated him like his own son.
Ogier grew up more and more handsome and amiable every day. He
surpassed in form, strength, and address all the noble youths his
companions; he failed not to be present at all tourneys; he was
attentive to the elder knights, and burned with impatience to imitate
them. Yet his heart rose sometimes in secret against his condition as a
hostage, and as one apparently forgotten by his father.
The King of Denmark, in fact, was at this time occupied with new loves.
Ogier's mother having died, he had married a second wife, and had a son
named Guyon. The new queen had absolute power over her husband, and
fearing that, if he should see Ogier again, he would give him the
preference over Guyon, she had adroitly persuaded him to delay
rendering his homage to Charlemagne, till now four years had passed
away since the last renewal of that ceremony. Charlemagne, irritated at
this delinquency, drew closer the bonds of Ogier's captivity until he
should receive a response from the king of Denmark to a fresh summons
which he caused to be sent to him.