mountain, so called from Julius Caesar, the great Emperor, who made the
road by help of the black art, and set up two pillars on the summit to
commemorate his deeds: and then, passing through a beautiful valley,
where all flowers of the year were out together, and there was a lovely
chain of lakes,--(which naughty Amaury scornfully called crocuses and
dirty water!)--we wound up hill after hill, until at last it really
seemed as if we must have reached the top of the world. Here were two
small lakes, at the foot of a drear slope of ice, which in these parts
they call a glacier: and they call them the Black Lake and the White
Lake. We had two sturdy peasants as guides over the mountains, and I
should have liked dearly to talk with them about their country, but of
course it would not have been seemly in a damsel of my rank: _noblesse
oblige_. But I got Marguerite to ask them several questions, for their
language is sufficiently like the Langue d'Oc[#] for us to understand
them, though they speak very thickly and indistinctly. They told
Marguerite that their beautiful valley is named the Val Engiadina,[#]
and they were originally a colony from Italy, who fled from a
persecution of the Saracens.[#] This pass is called the Bernina, for
_berne_ in their tongue signifies a bear, and there are many bears about
here in winter. And they say this mountain is the top of the world, for
here the waters separate, on the one side flowing far away into Asia,
near the place where Adam dwelt in Paradise;[#] and on the other, into
the great western sea,[#] which we shall shortly have to cross. And
here, on the very summit of this mountain, dwelt a holy hermit, who gave
me a shelter in his hut, while the men camped outside round great fires;
for though it was August, yet at this great height it was quite cold.
And so, through the pass, we wound slowly down into Italy.
[#] Two cognate languages were at this time spoken in France; north of
the Loire, the Langue d'Oil, and south, the Langue d'Oc, both words
meaning _yes_ in the respective languages. The more northern language
was the harsher, _ch_ being sounded as _k_, just as _church_ in England
becomes _kirk_ in Scotland. _Cher, chaise, chien_, therefore, were
pronounced _ker, kaise, kien_, in the Langue d'Oil.
[#] The Engadine.
[#] All the evil done or doing in the world was at this time attributed
to the Saracens. The colony is supposed to have arisen from the flight
of a group of Christians in the persecution under Diocletian.
[#] The Black Sea.
[#] The Mediterranean.
Marguerite and Perette were both full of the beauty they had seen in the
great glacier, on which they went with the guides: but it would not have
done for a damsel of my rank, and really I saw no beauty in it from
across the lake; it looked like a quantity of very dirty ice, with ashes
scattered over it. But they said it was full of deep cracks or
fissures, in which were the loveliest colours that human eye could see
or heart imagine.
"Ah! I can guess now!" said Marguerite. "I could not think what
Monseigneur Saint John meant when he said the city was gold like clear
crystal. I know now. Damoiselle, in the glacier there are walls of
light, the sweetest green shading into blue that my Damoiselle can
possibly imagine: they must be like that, but golden. Ha! if my
Damoiselle had seen it! The great nobles have not all the good things.
It is well not to be so high up that one cannot see the riches of the
good God."
She has the queerest notions!
Well!--we travelled on through Lombardy, and tarried a few days at
Milan, whence we journeyed to Venice, which is the strangest place I
ever saw or dreamed of, for all the streets are canals, and one calls
for one's boat where other people order their horses. The Duke of
Venice, who is called the Doge, was very kind to us. He told us at
supper a comical story of a Duchess of Venice who lived about a hundred
years ago. She so dearly loved ease and luxury that she thought it too
much trouble to eat with her fingers like everybody else; and she
actually caused her attendants to cut her meat into little pieces, like
dice, and then she had a curious instrument with two prongs,[#] made of
gold, with which she picked up the bits and put them in her dainty
mouth. Only fancy!
[#] The first fork on record.
At Venice we embarked, and sailed to Messina, where most of the pilgrims
for the Holy Land assemble, as it is the most convenient port. We did
not go overland, as some pilgrims do, through the dominions of the
Byzantine Caesar;[#] but we sailed thence to Crete. I was rather sorry
to miss Byzantium,[#] both on account of the beautiful stuffs which are
sold there, and the holy relics: but since I have seen a spine of the
crown of thorns, which the Lady de Montbeillard has--she gave seven
hundred crowns for it to Monseigneur de Rheims[#]--I did not care so
much about the relics as I might otherwise have done. Perhaps I shall
meet with the same kind of stuffs in Palestine; and certainly there will
be relics enough.
[#] The Eastern Emperor; his dominions in Europe extended over Greece
and Turkey.
[#] Constantinople.
[#] The Archbishop.
From Crete we sailed to Rhodes, and thence to Cyprus. They all say that
I am an excellent sailor, for I feel no illness nor inconvenience at
all; but poor Bertrade has been dreadfully ill, and Marguerite and
Perette say they both feel very uncomfortable on the water. At Cyprus
is an abbey of monks, on the Hill of the Holy Cross; and here Amaury and
his men were housed for the night, and I and my women at a convent of
nuns not far off. At the Abbey they have a cross, which they say is the
very cross on which our Lord suffered, but some say it is only the cross
of Ditmas, the good thief. I was rather puzzled to know whether, there
being a doubt whether it really is the holy cross, it ought to be
worshipped. If it be only a piece of common wood, I suppose it would be
idolatry. So I thought it more right and seemly to profess to have a
bad headache, and decline to mount the hill. I asked Amaury what he had
done.
"Oh! worshipped it, of course," said he.
"But how if it were not the true cross?" I asked.
"My sister, wouldst thou have a knight thus discourteous? The monks
believe it true. It would have hurt their feelings to show any doubt."
"But, Amaury, it would be idolatry!"
"Ha, bah!" he answered. "The angels will see it put to the right
account--no doubt of that. Dear me!--if one is to be for ever
considering little scruples like that, why, there would be no end to
them--one would never do any thing."
Then I asked Marguerite if she went up to worship the holy cross.
"No, Damoiselle," said she. "The Grey Friar said we worship not the
cross, but the good God that died thereon. And I suppose He is as near
to us at the bottom of the hill as at the top."
Well, it does look reasonable, I must say. But it must be one of
Marguerite's queer notions. There would be no good in relics and holy
places if that were always true.
This island of Cyprus is large and fair. It was of old time dedicated
by the Paynims to Venus, their goddess of beauty: but when it fell into
Christian hands, it was consecrated anew to Mary the holy Mother.
From Cyprus we sailed again, a day and a half, to Tyre; but we did not
land there, but coasted southwards to the great city of Acre, and there
at last we took land in Palestine.
Here we were lodged in the castle, which is very strong: and we found
already here some friends of Amaury, the Baron de Montluc and his two
sons, who had landed about three weeks before us. Hence we despatched a
letter to Guy. I was the writer, of course, for Amaury can write
nothing but his name; but he signed the letter with me. Messire Renaud
de Montluc, who was setting out for the Holy City, undertook to see the
letter safe. We were to follow more slowly.
We remained at Acre about ten days. Then we set forth, Amaury and I,
the Baron de Montluc and his son Messire Tristan, and several other
knights who were waiting for a company, with our respective trains; and
the Governor of Acre lent us an additional convoy of armed men, to see
us safe to the Holy City.
This was my first experience of tent life; and very strange it felt, and
horribly insecure. I, accustomed to dwell within walls several feet
thick, with portcullis and doors guarded by bolts and bars, in a chamber
opening on an inner court, to have no more than one fold of goats' hair
canvas between me and the outside world! True, the men-at-arms were
camped outside; but that was no more than a castle garrison: and where
was the castle?
"Margot," said I, "dost thou not feel horribly frightened?"
For of course, she, a villein, would be more accessible to fear than a
noble.
"Oh no, my Damoiselle," she said very quietly. "Is it not in the holy
Psalter that 'the Angel of the Lord encampeth round about them that fear
Him, and delivereth them'? We are as safe as in the Castle of
Lusignan."
It is a very good thing for Marguerite and the maidens that I am here.
Because, of course, the holy angels, who are of high rank, would never
think of taking care of mere villeins. It must mean persons of noble
blood.
We journeyed on southwards slowly, pausing at the holy
places--Capernaum, where Messeigneurs Saint Peter and Saint Andrew dwelt
before they followed our Lord; and where Monseigneur Saint Peter left
Madame his wife, and his daughter, Madame Saint Petronilla, when he
became our Lord's disciple. Of course, he was obliged to leave them
behind, for a holy apostle could not have a wife. (Marguerite says that
man in sackcloth, who preached at the Cross at Lusignan, said that in
the early ages of the Church, priests and even bishops used to be
married men, and that it would have been better if they had continued to
be so. I am afraid he must be a very wicked person, and one of those
heretical Waldenses.) We also tarried a while at Caesarea, where our
Lord gave the keys to Monseigneur Saint Peter, and appointed him the
first Bishop of Rome; and Nazareth, where our Lady was born and spent
her early life. Not far from Neapolis,[#] anciently called Sychem, they
show the ruins of a palace, where dwelt King Ahab, who was a very wicked
Paynim, and had a Saracen to his wife. At Neapolis is the well of
Monseigneur Saint Jacob, on which our Lord once sat when He was weary.
This was the only holy place we passed which old Marguerite had the
curiosity to go and see.
[#] Nablous.
"Now, what made thee care more for that than any other?" I asked her.
"Of course it was a holy place, but there was nothing to look at save a
stone well in a valley. Our Lady's Fountain, at Nazareth, was much
prettier."
"Ah, my Damoiselle is young and blithe!" she said, and smiled. "It is
long, long since I was a young mother like our Lady, and longer still
since I was a little child. But the bare old well in the stony
valley--that came home to me. He was weary! Yet He was God. He is
rested now, on the throne of His glory: yet He cares for me, that am
weary still. So I just knelt down at the old well, and I said to Him,
in my ignorant way,--'Fair Father,[#] Jesu Christ, I thank Thee that
Thou wert weary, and that by Thy weariness thou hast given me rest.' It
felt to rest me,--a visit to the place where He sat, tired and hungry.
But my Damoiselle cannot understand."
[#] "Bel Pere"--one of the invocations then usual.
"No, Margot, I don't at all," said I.
"Ah, no! It takes a tired man to know the sweetness of rest."
Three days' journey through the Val de Luna, which used to be called the
Vale of Ajalon, brought us to the city of Gran David, which was of old
named Gibeon. The valley is styled De Luna because it was here that
Monseigneur Saint Joshua commanded the sun and moon to stand still while
he vanquished the Paynims. From Gran David it is only one day's journey
to the Holy City.
"To-morrow, Margot!" said I, in great glee. "Only to-morrow, we shall
see the Holy Sepulchre!"
"Ha! Thanks be to the good God. And we need not wait till to-morrow to
see Him that rose from it."
"Why, Marguerite, dost thou ever have visions?"
"Visions? Oh no! Those are for the holy saints; not for a poor
ignorant villein woman like me."
"Then what didst thou mean, just now?"
"Ah, my Damoiselle cannot understand."
"Margot, I don't like that. Thou art always saying it. I want to
understand."
"Then she must ask the good God to show her."
And that is all I can get out of her.
Short of a league from the Holy City is the little hill called Mont
Joie, because from it the palmers catch the first glimpse of the blessed
Jerusalem. We were mounting, as it seemed to me, a low hillock, when
Amaury rode up beside me, and parting the curtains, said--
"Now, Elaine, look out, for we are on the Mont Joie. Wilt thou light
down?"
"Certainly," I answered.
So Amaury stopped the litter, and gave me his hand, and I jumped out.
He took me to the place where the palmers kneel in thanksgiving for
being brought thus far on their journey: and here I had my first sight
of the Holy City.
It is but a small city, yet strongly fortified, having three walls. No
Paynim is permitted to enter it, nor of course any heathen Jew. I
cannot imagine how it was that the good God ever suffered the Holy City,
even for an hour, to be in the hands of those wicked people. Yet last
night, in the tent, if Marguerite did not ask me whether Monseigneur
Saint Paul was not a Jew! I was shocked.
"Oh dear, no!" said I.
"I heard somebody say so," she replied.
"I should think it was some Paynim," said I. "Why, of course none of the
holy Apostles were Jews. That miscreant Judas Iscariot, and Pontius
Pilatus, and all those wicked people, I suppose, were Jews: but not the
holy Apostles and the saints. It is quite shocking to think of such a
thing!"
"Then what were they, if my Damoiselle pleases?" said Marguerite.
"Oh, they were of some other nation," said I.
For really, I do not know of what nation they were,--only that they
could never have been Jews.
Amaury said that we must first visit the Holy Sepulchre; so, though I
was dying to have news of Guy, I comforted myself with the thought that
I should hereby acquire so much more merit than if I had not cared about
it.
We entered the Holy City by the west gate, just as the dusk was
beginning; and passing in single file along the streets, we descended
the hill of Zion to the Holy Sepulchre.
In this church are kept many holy relics. In the courtyard is the
prison where our Lord was confined after His betrayal, and the pillar to
which He was bound when scourged: and in the portico the lance which
pierced His side. The stone which the Angel rolled away from the
sepulchre is now broken in two. Here our Lady died, and was buried in
the Church of Saint Mary, close by. In this church is kept the cup of
our Lord, out of which He habitually drank: it is of silver, with a
handle on each side, and holds about a quart. Here also is the sponge
which was held to His mouth, and the crown of thorns. (By a miracle of
the good God, one half of the crown is also at Byzantium.) The tomb of
our Lord is seven feet long, and rises three palms from the floor;
fifteen golden lamps burn before it, day and night. I told the whole
Rosary at the holy tomb, or should have done, for I felt that the longer
I waited to see Guy, the more merit I should heap up: but Amaury became
impatient, and insisted on my coming when a Pater and eight Aves were
still to say.
Then we mounted the hill of Zion again, passing the church built in
honour of the Prince of the Apostles, on the spot where he denied our
Lord: and so we reached the King's Palace at last.
Amaury sprang from his horse, and motioned my postilion to draw up in
front of the chief gate. I heard him say to the porter--
"Is Sir Guy de Lusignan here?"
"My gracious Lord, the Count of Joppa and Ascalon, is here, if it like
you, noble Sir," replied the porter. "He is at this moment in audience
of my Lady the Queen."
I was so glad to hear it. Then Guy had really been created a Count! He
must be in high favour. One half of his prophecy was fulfilled. But
what about the other?
"Pray you," said Amaury to the porter, "do my Lord Count to wit that his
brother, Sir Amaury de Lusignan, and his sister, the Lady Elaine, are
before the gate."
I hardly know how I got through the next ten minutes. Then came quick
steps, a sound of speech, a laugh, and then my curtains were pushed
aside, and the voice I loved best in all the world said--
"Lynette! Lynette, my darling!"
Ay, it was my own Guy who came back to me. Changed?--no, not really
changed at all. A little older; a little more bronzed; a little longer
and fuller in the beard:--that was all. But it was my Guy, himself.
"Come! jump out," he said, holding his hand, "and let me present thee to
the Lady Queen. I long to see my Lynette the fairest ornament of her
Court. And how goes it with Monseigneur, our fair father?"
So, talking all the way, I walked with Guy, hand in hand, up the stairs,
and into the very bower of the imperial lady who bears the crown of all
the world, since it is the flower of all the crowns.
"I can assure thee," said Guy, "the Lady Queen has often talked of thee,
and is prepared to welcome thee."
It was a beautiful room, though small, decorated with carved and
fragrant cedar-work, and hung with blue and gold. Round the walls were
blue and gold settles, and three curule chairs in the midst. There were
only three ladies there,--but I must describe them.
The Queen, who sat in one of the curule chairs, was rather short and
stout, with a pleasant, motherly sort of look. She appeared to be
between forty and fifty years of age. Her daughter, the Lady Isabel,
who sat in another chair, busied with some embroidery, was apparently
about eighteen; but Guy told me afterwards that she is only fifteen, for
women ripen early in these Eastern lands, and grow old fast. She has
luxuriant black hair and dark shining eyes. On the settle was a damsel a
little older than the Princess, not quite so dark, nor so handsome.
She, as I afterwards found, was the Damoiselle Melisende de
Courtenay,[#] a distant relative of the King, who dwells with the
Princesses. Guy led me up to the Queen.
[#] A fictitious person. Millicent is the modern version of this old
Gothic name. It comes from Amala-suinde, and signifies
_heavenly-wisdom_.
"Madam," said he, "your Highness has heard me often speak of my younger
sister."
"Ha! the little Damoiselle Helena?"[#] replied the Queen, smiling very
kindly. "Be welcome, my child. I have indeed heard much of you; this
brother of yours thinks nobody like you in the world,--not even one, eh,
Sir Count?--Isabel! I desire thee to make much of the Damoiselle, and
let her feel herself at home. And,--Melisende! I pray thee, give order
for her lodging, and let her women be seen to. Ah!--here comes another
who will be glad to be acquainted with you."
[#] Helen is really quite distinct from Ellen, of which lost Elaine is
the older form. The former is a Greek name signifying _attractive,
captivating_. The latter is the feminine of the Celtic name
Alain,--more generally written Alan or Allan,--and means
_bright-haired_. Eleanor (it is a mistake as regards philology to write
Elinor) is simply an amplification of Ellen by the addition of "or,"
_gold_. It denotes, therefore, _hair bright as gold_. Annora is a
corruption of Eleanor, and Nora or Norah a further contraction of
Annora.
I turned round to see at whom the Queen was looking. An inner door of
the chamber had just opened, and two ladies were coming into the room.
At the one I scarcely looked, save to see that she was old, and wore the
garb of a nun. The other fixed my eyes in an instant.
Shall I say she was beautiful? I do not know. She has a face about
which one never thinks whether it is beautiful or not. She is so sweet,
so sweet! Her hair is long, of a glossy golden hue: her eyes are dark
grey, and all her soul shines out in them. Her age seemed about twenty.
And Guy said behind me, in a whisper--
"The Lady Sybil of Montferrat."
Something in Guy's tone made me glance suddenly at his face. My heart
felt for a moment as if it stopped beating. The thing that I feared was
come upon me. The whole prophecy was fulfilled: the beautiful lady
stood before me. I should be first with Guy no longer.
But I did not feel so grieved as I expected. And when Lady Sybil put
her arms round me, and kissed me, and told me I should be her dear
little sister,--though I felt that matters must have gone very far
indeed, yet somehow I was almost glad that Guy had found a heart to love
him in this strange land.
The old nun proved to be a cousin of the Queen, whom they call Lady
Judith.[#] She is an eremitess, and dwells in her cell in the very
Palace itself. I notice that Lady Sybil seems very fond of her.
[#] A fictitious person.
Damoiselle Melisende showed me a nice bed-chamber, where I and my three
women were to lodge. I was very tired, and the Queen saw it, and in her
motherly way insisted on my having some supper, and going to bed at
once. So I did not even wait to see Amaury again, and Guy went to look
for him and bring him up to the Queen. The King, being a mesel, dwells
alone in his own rooms, and receives none. When Guy has to communicate
with him, he tells me that he talks with him through a lattice, and a
fire of aromatic woods burns between them. But I can see that Guy is a
very great man here, and has the affairs of the State almost in his own
hands.
I said to Marguerite as I was undressing,--"Margot, I think Count Guy is
going to marry somebody."
"Why, if it please my Damoiselle?"
"From the way he looks at Lady Sybil, and--other things."
"Your gracious pardon, but--is he less loving to my Damoiselle?"
"Oh no!--more loving and tender than ever, if that be possible."
"Then it is all right," said Marguerite. "He loves her."
"What dost thou mean, Margot?"
"When a man marries, my Damoiselle, one of three things happens. Either
he weds from policy, and has no love for his lady; but Monseigneur Guy
loves to look at her, so it is not that. Or, he loves himself, and she
is merely a toy which ministers to his pleasure. Then he would be
absorbed in himself and her, and not notice whether any other were happy
or unhappy. But if he loves her, with that true, faithful, honourable
love, which is one of God's best gifts, then he will be courteous and
tender towards all women, because she is one. And especially to his own
relatives, being women, who love him, he will be very loving indeed.
That is why I asked."
"O Margot, Margot!" I said, laughing. "Where on earth dost thou find
all thy queer notions?"
"Not all on earth, my Damoiselle. But, for many of them, all that is
wanted is just to keep one's eyes open."
"Are my eyes open, Margot?"
"My Damoiselle had better shut them now," replied Marguerite, a little
drily. "She can open them again to-morrow."
So I went to sleep, and dreamed that Guy married Lady Judith, in her
nun's attire, and that I was in great distress at the sacrilege, and
could do nothing to avert it.
*CHAPTER V.*
_*CURIOUS NOTIONS*_*.*
"The soul, doubtless, is immortal--where a soul can be discerned."
--ROBERT BROWNING.
For the last few weeks, since we reached Jerusalem, I have been very
busy going about with the Damoiselle Melisende, and sometimes the Lady
Isabel, with Amaury as escort. We have now visited all the holy places
within one day's journey. I commanded Marguerite to attend me, for it
amuses me afterwards to hear what she has to say.
We went to the Church of Saint Mary, in the Valley of Jehoshaphat, which
is built in a round form; and in it is the empty tomb in which our Lady
was buried. So some say, and that the angels carried her body away in
the night: but other some say, that while the holy Apostles were
carrying her to her burial, the angels came down and bore her away to
Paradise. I asked Margot (as she always listens) if she had heard
Father Eudes read about it from the holy Evangel: but she said he had
never read the story of that, at least in French. In this church there
is a stone in the wall, on which our Lord knelt to pray on the night of
His betrayal; and on it is the impression of His knees, as if the stone
were wax. There is no roof to the church, but by miraculous provision
of the good God, the rain never falls on it. Here also, our Lord's
body, when taken down from the cross, was wrapped and anointed.