THE OLD MAN OF THE MOUNTAIN.
The benevolent Louis could not rest in the palace of Vincennes while the
Mamelukes were slaughtering the Christians, or destroying their souls by
forcing them to renounce their faith. In his protracted devotions in the
Sainte Chapelle, he fancied he heard the groans of the dying in Palestine,
and his soul was stirred for their relief. He convened the barons in the
great hall of the Louvre, and entered bearing the holy crown of thorns. He
took the cross in their presence, and made his sons and brothers take it,
and after those no one dared refuse. Especially did he exert himself to
gain the concurrence of the English. Edward joyfully assented to the
proposal, and Eleanora, with her female train, departed in the spring of
1270 for Bordeaux, where she superintended the preparations for the
crusade campaign. Thither Edward followed her when his own arrangements
were complete. From Bordeaux they sailed for Sicily, where they remained
the winter, and where they heard the melancholy intelligence of the death
of King Louis, who had advanced as far as Tunis on his way to Egypt. With
his last breath, the sainted king whispered the name that was set as a
seal upon his heart. "Oh! Jerusalem! Jerusalem!" His brother, Charles
d'Anjou, King of Sicily, attempted to dissuade Edward from prosecuting the
expedition. But the noble prince, striking his hand upon his breast,
exclaimed, with energy, "Sangue de Dieu! if all should desert me, I would
redeem Acre if only attended by my groom."
When Edward turned the prow of his vessel up the Mediterranean, Acre was
in a state of closer siege than it had formerly been, at the advent of
Richard Coeur de Lion. But now it was the Mussulmans who lay encamped
around its walls, and the Christians who feebly defended it from their
fierce attack. The fate of the principality of Antioch was closely
connected with that of the Latin kingdom of Jerusalem.
The family of Bohemond, the first sovereign, who married Constantia,
daughter of Phillip I., King of France, had reigned there in unbroken
succession nearly to the period of the last Crusade--though the State was
tributary to Frederic II. and to his son Conrad. The last king was made a
knight by St. Louis. When the Egyptians commenced their conquests in
Syria, Antioch surrendered without even the formality of a siege, and thus
the link between the Greek Empire and Palestine was sundered, and all
prospect of aid from that quarter entirely cut off.
In Acre were assembled the last remains of all the Christian
principalities of the East; the descendants of the heroes who, under
Godfrey of Boulogne, took up their residence there; the remnants of the
military friars who had so long and so strenuously battled for the
ascendency of the "Hospital" and the "Temple" no less than for the
redemption of the Holy Sepulchre; and all the proselytes who, through
years of missionary efforts, had been gathered from the Pagan world. But
the defenceless were more numerous than the defenders, and the factions
which divided their councils would have ripened into treachery and ended
in ruin, had it not been for the presence of Sir Henry Courtenay. From the
day of his estrangement from Eva, he had bestowed his devotion upon those
objects which he thought best calculated to fill the void in his heart. At
the first news of the disasters in Palestine, he had assembled all the
partisans and vassals of the noble house of Courtenay, and, furnishing
them from his own purse, rallied them around the standard _or torteaux_,
and led them to the rescue of their eastern brethren. He reached the city
at the critical moment when, wearied with the strife, the Templars had
begun to negotiate with Melech Bendocar upon the terms of a capitulation.
His courteous and noble bearing harmonized the jarring spirits, and his
ardent valor inspired them with new hopes, and enabled them to maintain
the last stronghold in Palestine, till the arrival of Edward.
The knowledge that a Plantagenet had come to lift the dishonored banner of
the cross from the dust, spread terror and dismay among the ranks of the
Moslem, the Sultan of Egypt fled from the city of Acre, all the Latins in
Palestine crowded round the standard of the English prince, and Edward
found himself at the head of seven thousand veteran soldiers. With this
force he made an expedition to Nazareth, which he besieged with the most
determined valor. In the fight, Edward was unhorsed, and might have
perished in the melee, had not Henry Courtenay relinquished his own steed
for his master's use. The gallant youth then took his station by the side
of a tall knight, whose falchion gleamed in the front of the battle like
the sword of Azrael. They were the first to mount the scaling-ladders and
drive the Moslem from the walls. Nazareth was thus, by one decisive blow,
added to the dominions of Christendom.
But the wing of victory was paralyzed by the scorching sun of Syria.
Edward was prostrated by the acclimating fever that wasted the energies of
Richard Coeur de Lion, and in the palace of Acre he longed, in vain, for
the cooling draughts of iced sherbet, that the courteous Saladin had
bestowed upon his royal predecessor. Sir Francis d'Essai had followed the
fortunes of Edward, or rather of Eva, to Palestine, hoping to win the
favor of his lady's smiles. The sight of de Courtenay roused all his
former jealousy, and the cordial manner of Eva towards his rival almost
drove him to desperation. Various circumstances had excited an
apprehension in Edward's mind, that the count was seeking to make common
cause with the Arabs, but as no tangible proof of treasonable practices
appeared, the suspicion passed away.
The illness of the monarch continuing, Eleanora determined to make a
pilgrimage to the Jordan, to pray at the shrine of St. John for her
husband's recovery, and, at his own earnest solicitations, Sir Francis was
permitted to conduct the party. Eleanora afterwards remembered that he
rode most of the way in close attendance upon Eva, and seemed engaged in
earnest conversation, though several muttered oaths gave her the
impression that the colloquy was not so satisfactory as he could have
wished. They accomplished their pilgrimage safely, and commenced their
return, when, stopping to refresh themselves in a small grove near Mount
Tabor, a band of mounted Saracens fell upon them. There was a fierce
struggle, and, for a few moments, the gleaming of swords and the flash of
scimeters seemed to menace instant destruction. Both the assailants and
defenders were scattered through the wood, and a few of the frantic
females attempted flight. The Moslems at length retreated, but when the
princess summoned her retainers to set forward, neither Sir Francis nor
Eva could be found.
Alarmed for the safety of her lovely companion, Eleanora caused the
vicinity to be searched in every direction. Her palfrey was discovered
idly cropping the grass, but all trace of its fair rider was lost. With a
bursting heart the princess gave orders to proceed with all haste to Acre,
that scouts in greater numbers might be sent in quest of the lost jewel.
The state of Edward's health was such, that it was not deemed advisable to
acquaint him with the melancholy result of their pious enterprise. But de
Courtenay at once comprehended the plot. Such a melee, without bloodshed,
proved no hostile intention on the part of the Arabs, and there could be
no doubt that Sir Francis was the instigator of the attack, and the
possession of Eva, its object. His impatience to set off for her rescue
did not prevent him from taking every precaution, both for the safety of
Acre, and the success of his expedition. Eleanora, whose characteristic
self-possession had left her at liberty to observe, described with the
most scrupulous exactness the circumstances of the fray, and each trifling
peculiarity in the appearance of the robbers.
Fortified with this intelligence, he set off at once, with a select
party, and a few hours after leaving Acre, was unexpectedly joined by the
tall knight, and a reinforcement of converted _Pullani_. From him he
learned that the Arabs had taken the direction of Mt. Lebanon, and from
his knowledge of the Assassin band, his heart sunk within him, at the
thought of what might have been the fate of his lovely Eva. In his anxiety
for her rescue, all her faults were forgotten, and he only remembered the
gentle kindness that characterized every action, and the nameless charm,
that made her friends as numerous as her acquaintances. Prompted by these
considerations, they spurred forward, stopping only to refresh their
wearied steeds, till they began to wind among the rocky passes of Mt.
Lebanon.
The tall knight seemed perfectly familiar with the locality, and guided
the pursuers directly to the tower, called The Vulture's Nest, which was
the chief residence of the Old Man of the Mountain. There seemed to be an
intelligence between the tall knight and all the marabouts who guarded the
entrance to this "Castle Dangerous." Leaving their followers, the two
leaders advanced, and the knight presenting a piece of shrivelled
parchment to an Arab, who filled the office of porter, they were ushered
into a long hall, at the door of which stood a swarthy Turk, partly
leaning upon an immense battle-axe, the handle of which was stuck full of
daggers. The Sheik received them with an obsequiousness scarcely to be
expected from one of his bloody trade, and in answer to the knight's eager
inquiries, motioned his attendant, and instantly that which had appeared a
solid masonry, rolled silently back, as if by magic, revealing an
apartment fitted up with every appliance of eastern magnificence. Before
they recovered from their surprise, voices were heard from the farther
extremity of the room, soft female pleading, and then the loud menacing
tones of passion.
"Eva, thou shalt be mine! I swear it by all the fiends of hell. Nay, anger
me not by thy cold repulse. Thou art now beyond the protection of the
smooth-tongued de Courtenay." He seized her arm as he spoke, and a
piercing shriek rang through the hall.
"Traitor! viper! release thy hold," exclaimed de Courtenay, springing
forward and receiving the fainting girl in his arms.
"And who art thou, that darest to cross the purpose of D'Essai? By what
right dost thou interfere between me and my bride?"
"By the right of a father," said a deep, stern voice at his side, and the
tall knight advancing, tenderly clasped his unresisting daughter to his
heart, and stood by like one lost in a tide of long-repressed emotions,
while the two nobles fiercely drew their swords, and with deadly hatred,
each sought the life of his foe. But the Sheik interposed, reminding them,
that his castle walls were sacred, and that if his tributaries chose to
slay one another, they must seek the open field for the pastime.
Reluctantly, and with eyes that glared with baffled vengeance, the lords
sheathed their swords, and the tall knight, laying his daughter gently
upon a couch, spake a few words apart to the Sheik.
The Old Man made a sign of assent, and instantly two Arabs sprang forward,
seized D'Essai, bound him with thongs, and conveyed him from the
apartment. Relieved of her fears, and reassured by the presence of a
father, for whose affection she had always pined, and a lover, on whom she
now contrived to smile in a way that completely satisfied his heart, Eva
declared herself impatient to set off immediately for Acre. The Sheik
pressed them to partake of some refreshments, and while Eva enjoyed a few
moments' delicious conversation with her sire, a troop of slaves prepared
and set before them an entertainment that would have done honor to the
palace of a king. As the cavalcade set out, the tender heart of Eva was
pained to see Sir Francis placed upon the back of a mule, blindfolded,
with his face to the crupper, and his arms firmly pinioned to the body of
the Arab who had him in charge.
"Thou seemest on excellent terms with the Sheik of the mountain, noble
Clare," said de Courtenay, as they rode along. "Had I not a guarantee in
thy kindred," said he glancing at Eva, "I should somewhat challenge the
familiarity that has given such success to our expedition."
"Nay, and that thou well mightst," returned the Clare, "for the history of
mankind does not furnish the idea of so daring and desperate a band as
these assassins of Mt. Lebanon."
"Heaven save us!" exclaimed Eva, her lips white with fear. "From what
terrible fate have I been delivered! That vile Sir Francis declared that
he had snatched me from the hostile Arabs, and would bring me safe to
Acre, and that it was in pity for my fatigue he turned aside to a castle
of christian natives. It makes me shudder, even now, to think that I have
been in the presence of the man whose very name hath made me tremble, when
beyond the sea, in merrie England."
"Nay, love," said her father, tenderly, "the Sheik owed thee no malice,
and might have rescued thee, had not Sir Francis been his tributary."
"They exact, then, toll and custom?" said Courtenay, inquiringly.
"Thou sayest well _exact_," replied the knight. "Didst not mark the
battle-axe of the rude seneschal? 'Tis said the Danish weapon once
belonged to the founder of the band, and each dagger stuck in the oaken
helve, inscribed with a sentence in a different dialect, is significantly
pointed against the prince or ruler who shall dare withhold tribute from
their chief. One of my ancestors, I reck not whom, once resided in the
vicinity of Croyland, and received from the venerable abbot the parchment
which thou sawest me use with such marvellous effect. My ancestor fought
in the first crusade under the Atheling, and, unlike most of his
companions, returned in safety, whence a tradition arose in the family
that the scroll was a charm.
"On my setting out for the holy wars, I placed the heirloom in my
_aumoniere_, and had nearly forgotten its existence, when a startling
circumstance recalled it to memory. My plan for the redemption of
Palestine (for I have not been without ambition) was the organization of
troops collected from the mixed races which are now an important part of
the population. I was warned at the outset that tribute would be demanded
by the chief of the assassins, but I steadily resisted every tax-gatherer
who presented his claims, till I awoke one morning in my tent, surrounded
by my faithful guard, and found a dagger stuck in the ground not two
fingers' breadth from my head. I examined the inscription upon the weapon
and found it the same with that upon the scroll, and forthwith determined
to form the acquaintance of this rival chief. He respected my passport and
showed me the wonders of his habitation, which heaven grant I may never
see again. So perfect is the discipline of his followers, so invincible
their faith, that every word of their chief is a law. He led me up a lofty
tower, at each battlement of which stood two Fedavis. At a sign from him,
two of these devotees flung themselves from the tower, breaking their
bones, and scattering their brains upon the rock below. 'If you wish it,'
said the chief, 'all these men shall do the same.' But I had seen enough,
and I resolved from that hour never to tempt the enmity of the Old Man of
the Mountain.
"I have ransomed yon traitor, at heavy cost, for I would that Edward
should know and punish his baseness. You are now beyond the reach of
danger. I may not enter Acre--the reasons shall be told ere long.
Farewell, my daughter, sweet image of thy sainted mother; guard my secret
safely till we meet again. Adieu."
He dashed the rowels into his steed, and was soon lost among the hills.