The night succeeding the day on which Jerusalem had been captured, there
was great rejoicing in the Crusaders’ camp, outside the city. In almost
every tent they celebrated with drinking bouts, and noise and roystering
were heard in every direction.
Raniero di Raniero sat and drank with some comrades; and in his tent it
was even more hilarious than elsewhere. The servants barely had time to
fill the goblets before they were empty again.
Raniero had the best of reasons for celebrating, because during the day
he had won greater glory than ever before. In the morning, when the city
was besieged, he had been the first to scale the walls after Godfrey of
Boulogne; and in the evening he had been honored for his bravery in the
presence of the whole corps.
When the plunder and murder were ended, and the Crusaders in penitents’
cloaks and with lighted candles marched into the Church of the Holy
Sepulchre, it had been announced to Raniero by Godfrey that he should be
the first who might light his candle from the sacred candles which burn
before Christ’s tomb. It appeared to Raniero that Godfrey wished in this
manner to show that he considered him the bravest man in the whole
corps; and he was very happy over the way in which he had been rewarded
for his achievements.
As the night wore on, Raniero and his guests were in the best of
spirits; a fool and a couple of musicians who had wandered all over the
camp and amused the people with their pranks, came into Raniero’s tent,
and the fool asked permission to narrate a comic story.
Raniero knew that this particular fool was in great demand for his
drollery, and he promised to listen to his narrative.
“It happened once,” said the fool, “that our Lord and Saint Peter sat a
whole day upon the highest tower in Paradise Stronghold, and looked down
upon the earth. They had so much to look at, that they scarcely found
time to exchange a word. Our Lord kept perfectly still the whole time,
but Saint Peter sometimes clapped his hands for joy, and again turned
his head away in disgust. Sometimes he applauded and smiled, and anon he
wept and commiserated. Finally, as it drew toward the close of day, and
twilight sank down over Paradise, our Lord turned to Saint Peter and
said that now he must surely be satisfied and content. ‘What is it that
I should be content with?’ Saint Peter asked, in an impetuous tone.
‘Why,’ said our Lord slowly, ‘I thought that you would be pleased with
what you have seen to-day.’ But Saint Peter did not care to be
conciliated. ‘It is true,’ said he, ‘that for many years I have bemoaned
the fact that Jerusalem should be in the power of unbelievers, but after
all that has happened to-day, I think it might just as well have
remained as it was.’”
Raniero understood now that the fool spoke of what had taken place
during the day. Both he and the other knights began to listen with
greater interest than in the beginning.
“When Saint Peter had said this,” continued the fool, as he cast a
furtive glance at the knights, “he leaned over the pinnacle of the tower
and pointed toward the earth. He showed our Lord a city which lay upon a
great solitary rock that shot up from a mountain valley. ‘Do you see
those mounds of corpses?’ he said. ‘And do you see the naked and
wretched prisoners who moan in the night chill? And do you see all the
smoking ruins of the conflagration?’ It appeared as if our Lord did not
wish to answer him, but Saint Peter went on with his lamentations. He
said that he had certainly been vexed with that city many times, but he
had not wished it so ill as that it should come to look like this. Then,
at last, our Lord answered, and tried an objection: ‘Still, you can not
deny that the Christian knights have risked their lives with the utmost
fearlessness,’ said He.”
Then the fool was interrupted by bravos, but he made haste to continue.
“Oh, don’t interrupt me!” he said. “Now I don’t remember where I left
off—ah! to be sure, I was just going to say that Saint Peter wiped away
a tear or two which sprang to his eyes and prevented him from seeing. ‘I
never would have thought they could be such beasts,’ said he. ‘They have
murdered and plundered the whole day. Why you went to all the trouble of
letting yourself be crucified in order to gain such devotees, I can’t in
the least comprehend.’”
The knights took up the fun good-naturedly. They began to laugh loud and
merrily. “What, fool! Is Saint Peter so wroth with us?” shrieked one of
them.
“Be silent now, and let us hear if our Lord spoke in our defense!”
interposed another.
“No, our Lord was silent. He knew of old that when Saint Peter had once
got a-going, it wasn’t worth while to argue with him. He went on in his
way, and said that our Lord needn’t trouble to tell him that finally
they remembered to which city they had come, and went to church
barefooted and in penitents’ garb. That spirit had, of course, not
lasted long enough to be worth mentioning. And thereupon he leaned once
more over the tower and pointed downward toward Jerusalem. He pointed
out the Christians’ camp outside the city. ‘Do you see how your knights
celebrate their victories?’ he asked. And our Lord saw that there was
revelry everywhere in the camp. Knights and soldiers sat and looked upon
Syrian dancers. Filled goblets went the rounds while they threw dice for
the spoils of war and——”
“They listened to fools who told vile stories,” interpolated Raniero.
“Was not this also a great sin?”
The fool laughed and shook his head at Raniero, as much as to say,
“Wait! I will pay you back.”
“No, don’t interrupt me!” he begged once again. “A poor fool forgets so
easily what he would say. Ah! it was this: Saint Peter asked our Lord if
He thought these people were much of a credit to Him. To this, of
course, our Lord had to reply that He didn’t think they were.
“‘They were robbers and murderers before they left home, and robbers and
murderers they are even to-day. This undertaking you could just as well
have left undone. No good will come of it,’ said Saint Peter.”
“Come, come, fool!” said Raniero in a threatening tone. But the fool
seemed to consider it an honor to test how far he could go without some
one jumping up and throwing him out, and he continued fearlessly.
“Our Lord only bowed His head, like one who acknowledges that he is
being justly rebuked. But almost at the same instant He leaned forward
eagerly and peered down with closer scrutiny than before. Saint Peter
also glanced down. ‘What are you looking for?’ he wondered.”
The fool delivered this speech with much animated facial play. All the
knights saw our Lord and Saint Peter before their eyes, and they
wondered what it was our Lord had caught sight of.
“Our Lord answered that it was nothing in particular,” said the fool.
“Saint Peter gazed in the direction of our Lord’s glance, but he could
discover nothing except that our Lord sat and looked down into a big
tent, outside of which a couple of Saracen heads were set up on long
lances, and where a lot of fine rugs, golden vessels, and costly
weapons, captured in the Holy City, were piled up. In that tent they
carried on as they did everywhere else in the camp. A company of knights
sat and emptied their goblets. The only difference might be that here
there were more drinking and roystering than elsewhere. Saint Peter
could not comprehend why our Lord was so pleased when He looked down
there, that His eyes fairly sparkled with delight. So many hard and
cruel faces he had rarely before seen gathered around a drinking table.
And he who was host at the board and sat at the head of the table was
the most dreadful of all. He was a man of thirty-five, frightfully big
and coarse, with a blowsy countenance covered with scars and scratches,
calloused hands, and a loud, bellowing voice.”
Here the fool paused a moment, as if he feared to go on, but both
Raniero and the others liked to hear him talk of themselves, and only
laughed at his audacity. “You’re a daring fellow,” said Raniero, “so let
us see what you are driving at!”
“Finally, our Lord said a few words,” continued the fool, “which made
Saint Peter understand what He rejoiced over. He asked Saint Peter if He
saw wrongly, or if it could actually be true that one of the knights had
a burning candle beside him.”
Raniero gave a start at these words. Now, at last, he was angry with the
fool, and reached out his hand for a heavy wine pitcher to throw at his
face, but he controlled himself that he might hear whether the fellow
wished to speak to his credit or discredit.
“Saint Peter saw now,” narrated the fool, “that, although the tent was
lighted mostly by torches, one of the knights really had a burning wax
candle beside him. It was a long, thick candle, one of the sort made to
burn twenty-four hours. The knight, who had no candlestick to set it in,
had gathered together some stones and piled them around it, to make it
stand.”
The company burst into shrieks of laughter at this. All pointed at a
candle which stood on the table beside Raniero, and was exactly like the
one the fool had described. The blood mounted to Raniero’s head; for
this was the candle which he had a few hours before been permitted to
light at the Holy Sepulchre. He had been unable to make up his mind to
let it die out.
“When Saint Peter saw that candle,” said the fool, “it dawned upon him
what it was that our Lord was so happy over, but at the same time he
could not help feeling just a little sorry for Him. ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘it
was the same knight that leaped upon the wall this morning immediately
after the gentleman of Boulogne, and who this evening was permitted to
light his candle at the Holy Sepulchre ahead of all the others. ‘True!’
said our Lord. ‘And, as you see, his candle is still burning.’”
The fool talked very fast now, casting an occasional sly glance at
Raniero. “Saint Peter could not help pitying our Lord. ‘Can’t you
understand why he keeps that candle burning?’ said he. ‘You must believe
that he thinks of your sufferings and death whenever he looks at it. But
he thinks only of the glory which he won when he was acknowledged to be
the bravest man in the troop after Godfrey.’”
At this all Raniero’s guests laughed. Raniero was very angry, but he,
too, forced himself to laugh. He knew they would have found it still
more amusing if he hadn’t been able to take a little fun.
“But our Lord contradicted Saint Peter,” said the fool. “‘Don’t you see
how careful he is with the light?’ asked He. ‘He puts his hand before
the flame as soon as any one raises the tent-flap, for fear the draught
will blow it out. And he is constantly occupied in chasing away the
moths which fly around it and threaten to extinguish it.’”
The laughter grew merrier and merrier, for what the fool said was the
truth. Raniero found it more and more difficult to control himself. He
felt he could not endure that any one should jest about the sacred
candle.
“Still, Saint Peter was dubious,” continued the fool. “He asked our Lord
if He knew that knight. ‘He’s not one who goes often to Mass or wears
out the prie-dieu,’ said he. But our Lord could not be swerved from His
opinion.
“‘Saint Peter, Saint Peter,’ He said earnestly. ‘Remember that
henceforth this knight shall become more pious than Godfrey. Whence do
piety and gentleness spring, if not from my sepulchre? You shall see
Raniero di Raniero help widows and distressed prisoners. You shall see
him care for the sick and despairing as he now cares for the sacred
candle flame.’”
At this they laughed inordinately. It struck them all as very ludicrous,
for they knew Raniero’s disposition and mode of living. But he himself
found both the jokes and laughter intolerable. He sprang to his feet and
wanted to reprove the fool. As he did this, he bumped so hard against
the table—which was only a door set up on loose boxes—that it wabbled,
and the candle fell down. It was evident now how careful Raniero was to
keep the candle burning. He controlled his anger and gave himself time
to pick it up and brighten the flame, before he rushed upon the fool.
But when he had trimmed the light the fool had already darted out of the
tent, and Raniero knew it would be useless to pursue him in the
darkness. “I shall probably run across him another time,” he thought,
and sat down.
Meanwhile the guests had laughed mockingly, and one of them turned to
Raniero and wanted to continue the jesting. He said: “There is one
thing, however, which is certain, Raniero, and that is—this time you
can’t send to the Madonna in Florence the most precious thing you have
won in the battle.”
Raniero asked why he thought that he should not follow his old habit
this time.
“For no other reason,” said the knight, “than that the most precious
thing you have won is that sacred candle flame, which you were permitted
to light at the church of the Holy Sepulchre in presence of the whole
corps. Surely you can’t send that to Florence!”
Again the other knights laughed, but Raniero was now in the mood to
undertake the wildest projects, just to put an end to their laughter. He
came to a conclusion quickly, called to an old squire, and said to him:
“Make ready, Giovanni, for a long journey. To-morrow you shall travel to
Florence with this sacred candle flame.”
But the squire said a blunt no to this command. “This is something which
I don’t care to undertake,” he said. “How should it be possible to
travel to Florence with a candle flame? It would be extinguished before
I had left the camp.”
Raniero asked one after another of his men. He received the same reply
from all. They scarcely seemed to take his command seriously.
It was a foregone conclusion that the foreign knights who were his
guests should laugh even louder and more merrily, as it became apparent
that none of Raniero’s men wished to carry out his order.
Raniero grew more and more excited. Finally he lost his patience and
shouted: “This candle flame shall nevertheless be borne to Florence; and
since no one else will ride there with it, I will do so myself!”
“Consider before you promise anything of the kind!” said a knight. “You
ride away from a principality.”
“I swear to you that I will carry this sacred flame to Florence!”
exclaimed Raniero. “I shall do what no one else has cared to undertake.”
The old squire defended himself. “Master, it’s another matter for you.
You can take with you a large retinue but me you would send alone.”
But Raniero was clean out of himself, and did not consider his words.
“I, too, shall travel alone,” said he.
But with this declaration Raniero had carried his point. Every one in
the tent had ceased laughing. Terrified, they sat and stared at him.
“Why don’t you laugh any more?” asked Raniero. “This undertaking surely
can’t be anything but a child’s game for a brave man.”