A FIGHT OF HEROES.
The horse was a good and spirited one, and when he had once descended to
the plains, Cuthbert rode gayly along, exulting in his freedom, and in
once again possessing arms to defend himself should it be needed. His
appearance was so exactly that of the horsemen who were continually
passing and repassing that no observation whatever was attracted by it.
Through villages, and even through camps, Cuthbert rode fearlessly, and
arrived, without having once been accosted, near the main camp of the
Saracens, which extended for miles parallel to the sea. But at a
distance of some three leagues beyond could be seen the white tents of
the Christian host, and Cuthbert felt that the time of trial was now at
hand.
He dismounted for an hour to allow his steed to rest itself, fed it with
dates from his wallet, and gave it a drink of water at the stream. Then,
when he felt that it had thoroughly recovered its strength and
freshness, he remounted, and rode briskly on as before. He passed
unchallenged, attracting no more notice than a person nowadays would do
in walking along a crowded street. Without hesitation he passed through
the tents and started across the open country. Bands of horsemen were
seen here and there, some going, and some coming from the direction of
the Christian camp. As it was doubtless supposed that he was on his way
to join some band that had gone on in advance, the passage of the
solitary horseman excited no comment until he approached within about
two miles of the Christian camp. There were now, so far as he could see,
no enemies between him and the point he so longed to gain. But at this
minute a group of Arab horsemen, gathered, apparently on the lookout
against any movement of the Christians, shouted to him "Halt!" demanding
whither he was going.
Up to this point Cuthbert had ridden at a gentle canter; but at the
challenge he put spurs into his steed and made across the plain at full
speed. With a wild yell the Arabs started in pursuit. They lay at first
some two hundred yards on his right, and he had therefore a considerable
start of them. His horse was fairly fresh, for the journey that he had
made had only been about fifteen miles--an inconsiderable distance to an
Arab steed. For half a mile he did not think that his pursuers gained
much upon him, riding as they had done sideways. They had now gathered
in his rear, and the nearest was some one hundred and fifty yards behind
him. A quarter of a mile further he again looked around, and found that
two of the Arabs, far better mounted than the others, had come within
half the distance which separated them from him when he last glanced
back. His horse was straining to the utmost, and he felt that it could
do no more; he therefore prepared himself for a desperate fight should
his pursuers overtake him. In another quarter of a mile they were but a
short distance behind, and an arrow whizzing by Cuthbert's ear told him
they had betaken themselves to their bows.
Half a mile ahead he saw riding toward him a group of Christian knights;
but he felt that it was too late for him to hope to reach them, and that
his only chance now was to boldly encounter his pursuers. The main body
of the Arabs was fully two hundred yards behind--a short distance when
going at a gallop--which left him but little time to shake off the
pursuit of the two immediately behind him.
A sharp stinging pain in his leg told him that it was time to make his
effort; and checking his horse, he wheeled suddenly round. The two Arabs
with a yell rode at him with pointed lance. With his right hand Cuthbert
grasped the short heavy mace which hung at his saddlebow, and being well
practiced in the hurling of this weapon--which formed part of the
education of a good knight--he cast it with all his force at the chest
of the Arab approaching on that side. The point of the spear was within
a few yards of his breast as he flung the mace; but his aim was true,
for it smote the Saracen full on the chest, and hurled him from his
horse as if struck with a thunderbolt. At the same instant Cuthbert
threw himself flat on the neck of his steed and the lance of the Arab
who came up on the other side passed harmlessly between his shoulders,
tearing his clothes as it went. In an instant Cuthbert had wheeled his
horse, and before the Arab could turn his steed Cuthbert, coming up from
behind, had run him through the body.
Short as the delay had been, the main body of the pursuers were scarcely
fifty yards away; but Cuthbert now continued his flight toward the
knights, who were galloping forward at full speed; and a moment
afterward glancing back, he saw that his pursuers had turned and were in
full flight.
With a shout of joy he rode forward to the party who had viewed with
astonishment this conflict between what appeared to be three of the
infidels. Even louder than his first shout of exultation was the cry of
joy which he raised at seeing among the party to whom he rode up the
Earl of Evesham, who reined in his horse in astonishment, and drew his
sword as the supposed enemy galloped toward him.
"My lord, my lord!" Cuthbert said. "Thank Heaven I am safe with you
again."
The earl lowered his sword in astonishment.
"Am I mad," he said, "or dreaming, or is this really Sir Cuthbert?"
"It is I, sure enough," Cuthbert exclaimed, "although truly I look more
like a Bedouin soldier than a Christian knight."
"My dear boy!" exclaimed the earl, galloping forward and throwing his
arms around Cuthbert's neck, "we thought you were dead. But by what
wonderful fortune have you succeeded in escaping?"
In a few words Cuthbert related the principal incidents of his
adventures, and he was heartily congratulated by the assembled knights.
There was, however, no time for long explanations. Large bodies of the
Saracen horse were already sweeping down to capture, if possible, this
small band of knights who had ventured so far from the camp; and as King
Richard's orders were that none should venture upon conflicts except by
his orders, the party reluctantly turned their horses and galloped back
to the camp.
Great as had been the earl's joy, it was, if possible, exceeded by that
of Cnut on discovering in the Arab chief who rode up alongside the earl
the lad he loved so well. Loud and hearty were the cheers which rang out
from the earl's camp as the news spread, and Cuthbert was compelled to
shake hands with the whole party before entering the earl's tent, to
refresh himself and give the narrative of what had happened.
Cuthbert, retiring to his tent with the Earl of Evesham, inquired of him
what had taken place during his absence.
"For," he said, "although but a short three days' march from here, I
have been as one of the dead, and have heard nothing whatever of what
has taken place."
"Nothing could have gone worse," the earl said. "We have had nothing but
dissensions and quarrels. First, the king fell out with the Archduke of
Austria."
"On what ground did this happen?" Cuthbert asked.
"For once," the earl said, "the king our master was wholly in the wrong,
which is not generally the case. We had just taken Ascalon, and were
hard at work fortifying the place. King Richard with his usual zeal, in
order to encourage the army, seized heavy stones and himself bore them
into their place. The archduke stood near with some of his knights: and
it may be that the haughty Austrian looked somewhat superciliously at
our king thus laboring.
"'Why do you not make a show of helping?' King Richard said, going up to
him. 'It would encourage the men, and show that the labor upon which we
are engaged can be undertaken by all without derogation.'
"To this the archduke replied:
"'I am not the son of a mason!'
"Whereupon Richard, whose blood no doubt had been excited by the air of
the Austrian, struck him with his hand a fierce blow across the face. We
nearly betook ourselves to our swords on both sides; but King Richard
himself could have scattered half the Austrians, and these, knowing that
against his impetuous valor they could do nothing, simply withdrew from
our camp, and sailed the next day for home. Then the king, in order to
conciliate some at least of his allies, conferred the crown of Jerusalem
upon Conrad of Montferat. No sooner had he done this than Conrad was
mysteriously wounded. By whom it was done none knew. Some say that it
was by emissaries of the Old Man of the Mountain. Others affirm that it
was the jealousy of some of the knights of the holy orders. But be that
as it may, he died. Some of the French, ever jealous of the valor of our
king, ascribed it to his orders. This monstrous accusation coming to the
ears of King Richard, he had hot words with the Duke of Burgundy. In
this I blame him not, for it is beyond all reason that a man like the
king, whose faults, such as they are, arise from too much openness, and
from the want of concealment of such dislikes as he may have, should
resort to poison to free himself of a man whom he himself had but a day
or two before appointed King of Jerusalem. However it be, the
consequences were most unfortunate, for the result of the quarrel was
that the Duke of Burgundy and his Frenchmen followed the example of the
Austrians, and we were left alone. Before this we had marched upon
Jerusalem. But the weather had been so bad, and our train was so
insufficient to carry the engines of war, that we had been forced to
fall back again. King Richard again advanced, and with much toil we went
as far as the village of Bethany."
"Why," Cuthbert exclaimed, "I passed through that village, and it is but
three miles from the holy city."
"That is so," the earl said; "and many of us, ascending the hill in
front, saw Jerusalem. But even then it was certain that we must again
retrace our steps; and when we asked King Richard to come to the crest
of the hill to see the holy city, he refused to do so, saying, 'No;
those who are not worthy of conquering Jerusalem should not look at it!'
This was but a short time since, and we are now retracing our steps to
Acre, and are treating with Saladin for a peace."
"Then," Cuthbert said sadly, "all our hopes and efforts are thrown away;
all this blood has been shed for nothing; and after the three great
powers of Europe have engaged themselves solemnly in the war, we are
baffled, and have to fall back before the hordes of the infidels."
"Partly before them," the earl said, "partly as the result of our own
jealousies and passions. Had King Richard been a lesser man than he is,
we might have conquered Jerusalem. But he is so extraordinary a warrior
that his glory throws all others into the shade. He is a good general,
perhaps the best in Europe; and had he done nothing but lead, assuredly
we should have carried out our purpose. See how ably he maneuvered the
army at the fight of Azotus. Never was a more complete defeat than that
which he inflicted there upon the Saracens; and although the fact that
his generalship achieved this, might have caused some jealousy to the
other commanders, this might have died away could he between the battles
have been a general, and nothing more. But, alas! he is in addition a
knight-errant--and such a knight-errant as Europe has never seen before.
Wherever there is danger, Richard will plunge into the midst. There are
brave men in all the three armies; but the strongest and bravest are as
children to King Richard. Alone he can dart into ranks of the infidels,
and cut a lane for himself by the strength of his right arm. More than
this, when danger has threatened he has snatched up his battle-ax and
dashed into the fray without helm or cuirass, performing such prodigies
of valor and strength that it has been to his prowess alone that victory
was to be ascribed. Hence he is the idol of all the soldiers, whatever
their nationality; for he is as ready to rush to the rescue of a French
or Austrian knight when pressed as to that of his own men. But the
devotion which the whole army felt for him was as gall and wormwood to
the haughty Austrian and the indolent Frenchman; and the retirement of
the King of France, which left Richard in supreme command, was in every
way unfortunate."
Upon the following day the army again marched, and Cuthbert could not
but notice the difference, not only in number but in demeanor, from the
splendid array which had left Acre a few months before. There was little
now of the glory of pennon and banner; the bright helms and cuirasses
were rusted and dinted, and none seemed to care aught for bravery of
show. The knights and men-at-arms were sunburnt and thin, and seemed but
half the weight that they had been when they landed. Fatigue, hardship,
and the heat had done their work; disease had swept off vast numbers.
But the remains of the army were so formidable in their fighting powers
that the Saracens, although following them at a distance in vast
numbers, did not venture an attack upon them.
A few days after their arrival at Acre, the king gave orders for the
embarkation of the troops. Just as they were preparing to enter the
ships a small vessel was seen entering the harbor. It drew up to the
shore, and a knight leaped from it, and, inquiring where King Richard
was to be found, made his way to the king, who was standing
superintending the embarkation of some of the horses.
"The Saracens, sire!" he exclaimed. "The Saracens are besieging Jaffa,
and the place must be lost unless assistance arrives in a day or two."
The king leaped on board the nearest ship, shouted to his leading
officers to follow him, and gave orders to others to bring down the
troops with all possible speed, to waste not a moment, and to see that
all was done, and then, in five minutes after the receipt of the news he
started for Jaffa. The Earl of Evesham and Cuthbert had been standing
near the king when the order was given, and followed him at once on
board the bark which he had chosen.
"Ah, my gallant young knight," the king exclaimed, "I am right glad to
see you with me. We shall have more fighting before we have done, and I
know that that suits your mood as well as my own."
The king's vessel was far in advance of any of the others, when early
the following morning it arrived at Jaffa.
"Your eyes are better than mine," the king said to Cuthbert. "Tell me
what is that flag flying on the top of the town."
Cuthbert looked at it earnestly.
"I fear, sire, that it is the crescent. We have arrived too late."
"By the holy cross," said King Richard, "that shall not be so; for if
the place be taken, we will retake it."
As the vessel neared the shore a monk ran out into the water up to his
shoulders, and said to the king that the citadel still held out, and
that even now the Saracens might be driven back. Without delay the king
leaped into the water, followed by the knights and men-at-arms, and
entering the gate, threw himself upon the infidels within, who, busy
plundering, had not noticed the arrival of the ship.
The war cry of "St. George! St. George!" which the king always shouted
in battle, struck panic among the infidels; and although the king was
followed but by five knights and a few men-at-arms, the Saracens, to the
number of three thousand, fled before him, and all who tarried were
smitten down. The king followed them out upon the plain, driving them
before him as a lion would drive a flock of sheep, and then returned
triumphant into the city.
The next day, some more ships having arrived, King Richard found that in
all, including the garrison, he could muster two thousand combatants.
The enemy renewed the attack in great numbers, and the assaults upon
the walls were continuous and desperate. King Richard, who loved
fighting in the plain rather than behind walls, was impatient at this,
and at one time so fierce was the attack that he resolved to sally out.
Only ten horses remained in the town, and King Richard, mounting one,
called upon nine of the knights to mount and sally out with him. The
little band of ten warriors charged down upon the host of the Saracens
and swept them before them. It was a marvelous sight indeed to see so
small a group of horsemen dashing through a crowd of Saracen warriors.
These, although at first beaten back, yet rallied, and the ten knights
had great difficulty in fighting their way back to the town. When near
the walls the Christians again made a stand, and a few knights sallied
out from the town on foot and joined them. Among these was Cuthbert, the
Earl of Evesham having accompanied King Richard in his charge. In all,
seventeen knights were now rallied round the king. So fierce was the
charge of the Saracens that the king ordered those on horseback to
dismount, and with their horses in the center, the little body knelt
with their lances opposed to the Saracens. Again and again the wild
cavalry swept down upon this little force, but in vain did they attempt
to break their ranks. The scene was indeed an extraordinary one. At last
the king, seeing that the enemy were losing heart, again ordered the
knights to mount, and these dashing among the enemy, completed their
defeat.
While this had been going on news came to the king that the Saracens
from another side had made their way into Jaffa, and were massacring the
Christians. Without, an instant's delay he flew to their succor,
followed only by two knights and a few archers, the rest being so worn
by their exertions as to be unable to move. The Mamelukes, the chosen
guard of Saladin, had headed the attack; but even these were driven out
from the town, and Richard dashed out from the city in their pursuit.
One Saracen emir, distinguished for his stature and strength, ventured
to match himself against the king, and rode boldly at him. But with one
blow Richard severed his head, and his right shoulder and arm, from his
body. Then having, by his single arm, put to rout the Saracens at this
point, he dashed through them to the aid of the little band of knights
who had remained on the defensive when he left them at the alarm of the
city being entered. These were almost sinking with fatigue and wounds;
but King Richard opened a way around them by slaying numbers of the
enemy, and then charged again alone into the midst of the Mussulman
host, and was lost to the sight of his companions. All thought that they
would never see him again. But he soon reappeared, his horse covered
with blood, but himself unwounded; and the attack of the enemy ceased.
From the hour of daybreak, it is said, Richard had not ceased for a
moment to deal out his blows, and the skin of his hand adhered to the
handle of his battle-ax. This narration would appear almost fabulous,
were it not that it is attested in the chronicles of several
eye-witnesses, and for centuries afterward the Saracen women hushed
their babes when fractious by threatening them with Malek-Rik, the name
which they gave to King Richard.
Glorious as was the success, it was a sad one, for several of the most
devoted of the followers of King Richard were wounded badly, some few to
death. Among these last, to the terrible grief of Cuthbert, was his
friend and patron, the Earl of Evesham. The king, on taking off his
armor, hurried to his tent.
"The glory of this day is marred indeed," he said to the wounded knight,
"if I am to lose you, Sir Walter."
"I fear that it must even be so, my lord," the dying earl said. "I am
glad that I have seen this day, for never did I think to witness such
feats as those which your majesty has performed; and though the Crusade
has failed, and the holy city remains in the hands of the infidel, yet
assuredly no shadow of disgrace has fallen upon the English arms, and,
indeed, great glory has accrued to us. Whatever may be said of the Great
Crusade, it will at least be allowed by all men, and for all time, that
had the princes and soldiers of other nations done as your majesty and
your followers have done, the holy city would have fallen into our hands
within a month of our putting foot upon the soil. Your majesty, I have a
boon to ask."
"You have but to name it, Sir Walter, and it is yours."
"Sir Cuthbert, here," he said, pointing to the young knight, who was
sorrowfully kneeling by his bedside, "is as a son to me. The
relationship by blood is but slight, but by affection it is as close as
though he were mine own. I have, as your majesty knows, no male heirs,
and my daughter is but young, and will now be a royal ward. I beseech
your majesty to bestow her in marriage, when the time comes, upon Sir
Cuthbert. They have known each other as children, and the union will
bring happiness, methinks, to both, as well as strength and protection
to her; and further, if it might be, I would fain that you should bestow
upon him my title and dignity."
"It shall be so," the king said. "When your eyes are closed, Sir Walter,
Sir Cuthbert shall be Earl of Evesham, and, when the time comes, the
husband of your daughter."
Cuthbert was too overwhelmed with grief to feel a shadow of exaltation
at the gracious intimation of the king; although, even then, a thought
of future happiness in the care of the fair young lady Marguerite passed
before his mind. For the last time the king gave his hand to his
faithful servant, who pressed it to his lips, and a few minutes
afterward breathed his last.