HOW RICHARD RECEIVED GREAT MERCY
In later days wise monks wrote that at the moment the great cry went
up at Clermont, all the Christians of the world from cold Hibernia to
parching Africa thrilled with joy ineffable, and on all the paynims
there fell fear and trembling. Be this true or false, from the
Pyrenees to the Rhine over wide France ran a fire; from Auvergne to
Aquitaine, to Anjou, to the Ile de France, to Normandy.
There were signs and wonders in the heavens--stars fell from the
firmament; the clouds pictured armies and knights who wore the red
cross on their breasts. The shade of mighty Charlemagne was seen
coming forth in his hoary majesty, with sword pointing toward
Jerusalem. Not knights only, but women and little children ran after
those who preached the gospel of steel and fire. Quiet monks forgot
their abbey kitchens; hermits forsook their solitudes on the
hills--greater merit to win the pilgrim's absolution! The peasants
wandered from their fields in masterless companies, roving on
aimlessly, conscious only that Jerusalem lay toward the sun-rising.
And bandits left their lairs, confessing their crimes, eager to take
the cross. Up and down France went Urban and Peter; at Rouen, at
Tours, at Nimes, there were other Clermonts: each bishop called forth
his flock. Too often the tales of Eastern gold and of paynim beauties
were more enticing to the roistering knights, than summons to holy
warfare. But the sense of sin hung heavy on the land. No avarice drove
Stephen of Chartres to take the cross, great count that he was with
more castles than days in the year; nor did Robert of Flanders pour
out his father's princely treasure in hopes of pelf; nor Robert of
Normandy pawn his duchy. In the south, Raymond of Toulouse, haughtiest
lord in France, whom more lances followed than followed even the king,
set forth for Palestine, determined there to leave his bones. With him
went his wife, the Princess Elvira of Spain, and at Raymond's back
were all the chivalry of the south country, of Gascony, Languedoc,
Limousin, and Auvergne, along with Bishop Adhemar, and the great
prelates of Apt, Lodève, and Orange. So from the least to the greatest
all were stirred; and if King Philip, and William the Red, and Emperor
Henry moved not--what matter? For the might of Christendom lay not in
its phantom kings, but in its great barons and knights whose good
swords would hew the way to Jerusalem. Thus the winter sped, and with
the coming of spring France was ready to pour forth her flood of life!
* * * * *
So with France. And how with Richard? He had returned to his tent
after the great day at Clermont with a light heart and a merry laugh.
Duke Godfrey was with him, and Renard of Toul and Louis de Valmont.
They had left little Bernard with his father, and Richard saw the lad
no more, until after many years he heard him preaching as never Peter
the Hermit preached, and calling on men not to go to Jerusalem, but to
cast from their hearts their own dark sins. The night was cold, a keen
wind was again whistling from the western _puys_, and Richard brought
all his friends with him to his tent, to cement friendship by passing
the night in his company. Before the roaring camp-fire they sat a long
time, talking of the brave days in store. Godfrey gulped down eagerly
all that Louis and Richard had gathered in Sicily of the country and
manners of warfare of the infidels, and they knew in turn that a great
captain and master-at-arms was speaking with them. Already Godfrey was
ordering his campaign.
"And the number of the unbelievers?" he would ask.
"More than the sea-sands," Longsword replied, "and they say they are
all light cavalry and archers."
"By Our Lady of Antwerp!" cried the Duke, "we must pray then for a
close country and a hand to hand _mêlée_!"
"Ah!" declared Renard of Toul, "what matter how we fight! Is not the
Lord on our side, and St. Michael and St. George!"
The Duke laughed merrily.
"You are the same mad Renard as ever," said he. "Is it not written,
'Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy God?' But," continued he, gayly,
"in good time let me see the Holy City on high; yet not until I have
had a good joust, chasing the paynims from that on earth!"
Thus ran the talk, but presently Louis said:--
"And did you, De St. Julien, see in the multitude a certain dwarfish,
dark-skinned fellow, who stood right back of you all the time the Holy
Father was speaking, his eyes fastened not on the Lord Pope, but on
you?"
"I did not; why did you ask?"
"Because, though I was some little way off, I could have sworn that he
was Zeyneb, the body-servant of Iftikhar Eddauleh, and he seemed as if
devouring you with his eyes."
"Zeyneb? He who gave his master the iron lance instead of the reed,
when Iftikhar rode against Musa the Spaniard?"
Louis nodded.
"You are bewitched, fair sir," laughed Richard, gayly; "the rascal was
long since in Syria or Egypt." And here his face grew dark, as he
thought of the sack of Cefalu, and that Eleanor might be in the
clutches of Zeyneb himself that moment. It was well to forgive
Christian enemies, but to hate infidel foes took on new merit by
wearing the cross, and Richard was not minded to forget Iftikhar
Eddauleh.
"On the relics I could swear I saw him!" protested Louis.
"It is true," added Godfrey; "I set eyes on such a knave. Not that I
set him down as infidel. But I had little liking to have such a fellow
within arm's length; my ribs nigh itched with a dagger at merely
seeing him. When he sidled up to us, I gave him a frown that made him
hide his black head in the crowd."
"Well, fair Duke," said Richard, "rest assured, he has not come to
hear the Holy Father, if this is Zeyneb, the slave of Iftikhar. Bishop
Robert wrote something of his coming to France, but entirely doubted
the tale."
"By St. Michael of Antwerp," declared Godfrey, "what do infidels at
Clermont?"
Richard shook his head, but Herbert, who heard all, came to him only a
moment afterwards and led him aside.
"Little lord,--you must wear the ring-shirt."
The Baron resisted. "You grow fearful as an old woman, Herbert.
Godfrey and Louis dream, when they say a creature of Iftikhar is in
Clermont."
But Sebastian urged as well.
"Theroulde and Herbert have seen him also. As you love our Lord, do
not peril your life. Why has Zeyneb come to Clermont, save to do what
failed at Cefalu?"
"Faugh!" growled Richard, "will not God despise me, if I shiver at
every gust of danger?"
"As you love my Lady Mary, do this!" pressed Herbert shrewdly, and at
Mary's name Richard submitted meekly as a lamb. Thus all that evening
Longsword grumbled at the precaution, and swore he would wear no more
mail till he came face to face with the unbelievers. But he grumbled
no longer, for just as the stars told it was past midnight, he was
waked from sound sleep by a blow that sent him to his feet blinking
and staggering. And lo, the wall of the tent against which he lay was
pierced clean through by a dagger that had broken against the Valencia
shirt; for a bit of the blade lay on the canvas. Herbert and De Carnac
were swearing loudly that they had not closed an eye all night, but it
was Louis who darted into the darkness, and came back with a strange
fellow held in no gentle grip. He dragged the prisoner to the dying
firelight; they saw his coarse villain's blouse, a spine so bent that
he was nigh hunchback, a poll of coarse black hair that scarcely came
up to Richard's elbow, a face not unhandsome, but with black eyes
very small and teeth sharp and white. One shout greeted him, as he was
held before the fire.
"Zeyneb! Zeyneb, the slave of Iftikhar Eddauleh!"
The fellow held down his head, and twisted his face as if to defy
recognition.
"Ha!" cried Renard of Toul, "he has a dagger-sheath in his belt!
Empty? Ah, the crows will love his bones!"
Richard had found his tongue.
"And does my Lord Iftikhar," asked he in Arabic, "think it
cavalier-wise to send out assassins like your worthy self, when he
cannot reach his foe with his own arm? This and the deeds at Cefalu
put me greatly in his debt--let him be well paid!"
"The arm and eye of the grand prior of the Ismaelians reach to
farthest Frankland, my Cid," quoth Zeyneb, standing very limp in
Louis's clutch.
"And the arm shall be soon lopped off," retorted the Auvergner. But at
that instant his firm hold weakened. Untimely slackening! with a
lightning twist and turn Zeyneb had slid from De Valmont's clutches,
as if of oil; gone in the dark before the knights could cry out. The
night swallowed him as if he were a spectre.
"After! after!" thundered Godfrey. "Fifty Tours deniers to him that
seizes!"
There was a mighty shout. All the neighboring tents were in uproar. A
friendly baron loaned bloodhounds; but which of the many trails was
Zeyneb's who might say? All night they beat the camp; a hundred idle
knaves were haled before Richard, each one of whom doubtless would
have been the better for being knocked on the head; but none was the
dwarf. At dawn Richard went wearily to rest, but criers scoured the
country, calling on all good Christians to begin the Crusade by
catching this infidel assassin. Several townspeople told how the
fugitive had come to Clermont a few days since, pretending he was an
Eastern Christian exiled by Moslem persecutors. They had given him
great compassion, and answered his questions as to the whereabouts of
Richard de St. Julien, whom he said he was seeking. But all the search
brought nothing.
"Strange," commented Richard, "Iftikhar should use him as agent; his
crooked back stops all disguise."
"You do not know him, little lord," answered Herbert. "Satan has given
him a heart as darkly crafty as his black eyes. I have heard his fame
at Palermo. Undisguised, he is a rat sly enough to creep through a
hole too small for a beetle."
And Sebastian piously admonished:--
"Dear son, now that you have taken the cross and your sins are
forgiven, great mercy is shown you. Be very humble, for God has some
wondrous service in store!"
The admonition Richard treasured in his heart; but he did not so far
tempt Providence as to put by the Valencia hauberk, and Herbert kept
guard over him night and day. Also a courier speeded to La Haye with a
letter bidding Baron Hardouin have a care that Iftikhar did not try to
repeat his Cefalu raid, and to leave no Syrian dwarf unhanged in his
barony.
A few days thereafter the great gathering at Clermont scattered; and
Heaven knew there was much to be done, if the hosts of the Lord were
not to set forth with scrip and staff merely! The Duke of Bouillon
parted with Richard and Louis as became Christian brothers-in-arms,
and went homeward to rouse his vassals. As for De Valmont, he had need
to go to Champagne; but Longsword rode straight for St. Julien. Every
peasant he met on the road, when they saw he was a gallant knight,
begged him to be their leader to Jerusalem. Almost every breast wore
the red cross; women bore it, and little children. "God wills it! To
Jerusalem!" That was the one cry. Yet Richard was sad at times; for he
saw that men acted in ignorance, and that their very zeal would
destroy them.
As for Sebastian, he had a word of the prophets at all moments in his
mouth, and saw in everything a manifest sign that the days foretold in
the Apocalypse were at hand, when "the Beast" and all that served him
were nigh their end, and the righteous should rule forever.
"Now is fulfilled the word of the Lord!" was his cry. "Fear not, for I
am with thee. I will bring thy seed from the East and gather thee from
the West; I will say unto the North, 'Give up,' and to the South,
'Keep not back; bring my sons from far and my daughters from the ends
of the earth.'"
Only Richard saw that the shrewd cleric was not lacking in worldly
wisdom. When they passed two shouting monks, who were showing their
naked breasts on which they had branded the Cross, and whom many were
declaring to be saints indeed, Sebastian had only the shake of the
head.
"They are blind leaders of the blind," was his comment; "they will
suffer pains enough before they see the Holy City to forget all their
fiery zeal. The kingdom of heaven is not to be won by tortures
inflicted for the praise of men."
When they reached St. Julien, there was work for Richard all that
winter. The Baron convoked his "_Ost_," the fighting-men of the
seigneury, and, standing upon the great stone before the castle, told
how for his own sins and the souls of his kinsfolk he had taken the
cross--"and who would go with him?" Whereupon, as Sebastian declared,
"A new pentecostal fire spread among the St. Julieners;" and so many
cried they would make the crusade, that Richard had trouble to make it
plain, enough must stay behind to care for the aged, the harvests, and
the castle, and that no family be left to charity. Up and down the
barony went Sebastian, showing his scars inflicted by paynims, drawing
all after him. Even the lord abbot was stricken in conscience,
confessed his lax rule, and wished to go to Jerusalem. But Sebastian
told him God were better pleased to have him remain and teach the
brethren fasts and vigils. Yet to the fighting-men the priest had but
one message, "that now was come the time for the righteous to wash
their hands in the blood of the ungodly." And Richard was busy on his
part arranging the seigneury, raising money by sale of rights to pig
pasture held on certain lands, and more money by allowing a rich Jew,
who dwelt in the barony and now wished to go to Spain, to buy his
right of departure; for a rich Jew was a very precious possession to a
seigneur, who never let him withdraw, with his wealth--for a trifle.
Richard was happier in this work than he had been for many a long day.
The blood of Gilbert de Valmont no longer hung heavy on his soul.
Louis de Valmont was his friend. He could look up into heaven and see
there only peace and mercy. But he was sad when his thoughts ran to
Mary Kurkuas and the many years that might speed before he could call
her his bride; for this was no time to think of home and marriage.
Even a greater sadness came over him, when he thought of Musa. All his
faith, all the teachings of Holy Church and her ministers, left him
only the assurance that the Spaniard's soul was doomed to the fire
unquenchable. This life so short, the after-life so long, and Musa
thus doomed! Why did God create amongst the unbelievers such high
manhood, such knightly prowess, and then consign it all to the same
torments reserved for the utterly wicked? Yet could he doubt his own
religion--he, the ardent champion of the Cross, whose new-found
happiness depended on this very belief, that the death of infidels was
most pleasing in God's sight?
At times Sebastian could see that his mind was still clouded, and
would say:--
"Dear son, do not hide what makes your face so sad."
"_Ai_, father, I am thinking of Musa, and how I love him, and how
terrible is the state of his soul."
"Love him not," Sebastian would cry sternly; "as for his soul, it is
given to be buffeted of Satan, at which all good Christians should
rejoice."
"But we are bidden to 'love our enemies,' and Musa is no enemy; I
count him as my brother."
Then Sebastian would frown more fiercely than ever.
"Yes, love 'our' enemies, not those of Holy Church. Give heed lest to
your former sins you add not a greater--that of sinful pity toward the
hated of God!"