<p>He led the way accordingly to a splendid pavilion, where was everything
that royal luxury could devise. De Vaux, who was in attendance, then
removed the chappe (CAPA), or long riding-cloak, which Richard wore, and
he stood before Saladin in the close dress which showed to advantage the
strength and symmetry of his person, while it bore a strong contrast to
the flowing robes which disguised the thin frame. of the Eastern monarch.
It was Richard's two-handed sword that chiefly attracted the attention of
the Saracen—a broad, straight blade, the seemingly unwieldy length
of which extended well-nigh from the shoulder to the heel of the wearer.</p>
<p>"Had I not," said Saladin, "seen this brand flaming in the front of
battle, like that of Azrael, I had scarce believed that human arm could
wield it. Might I request to see the Melech Ric strike one blow with it in
peace, and in pure trial of strength?"</p>
<p>"Willingly, noble Saladin," answered Richard; and looking around for
something whereon to exercise his strength, he saw a steel mace held by
one of the attendants, the handle being of the same metal, and about an
inch and a half in diameter. This he placed on a block of wood.</p>
<p>The anxiety of De Vaux for his master's honour led him to whisper in
English, "For the blessed Virgin's sake, beware what you attempt, my
liege! Your full strength is not as yet returned—give no triumph to
the infidel."</p>
<p>"Peace, fool!" said Richard, standing firm on his ground, and casting a
fierce glance around; "thinkest thou that I can fail in HIS presence?"</p>
<p>The glittering broadsword, wielded by both his hands, rose aloft to the
King's left shoulder, circled round his head, descended with the sway of
some terrific engine, and the bar of iron rolled on the ground in two
pieces, as a woodsman would sever a sapling with a hedging-bill.</p>
<p>"By the head of the Prophet, a most wonderful blow!" said the Soldan,
critically and accurately examining the iron bar which had been cut
asunder; and the blade of the sword was so well tempered as to exhibit not
the least token of having suffered by the feat it had performed. He then
took the King's hand, and looking on the size and muscular strength which
it exhibited, laughed as he placed it beside his own, so lank and thin, so
inferior in brawn and sinew.</p>
<p>"Ay, look well," said De Vaux in English, "it will be long ere your long
jackanape's fingers do such a feat with your fine gilded reaping-hook
there."</p>
<p>"Silence, De Vaux," said Richard; "by Our Lady, he understands or guesses
thy meaning—be not so broad, I pray thee."</p>
<p>The Soldan, indeed, presently said, "Something I would fain attempt—though
wherefore should the weak show their inferiority in presence of the
strong? Yet each land hath its own exercises, and this may be new to the
Melech Ric." So saying, he took from the floor a cushion of silk and down,
and placed it upright on one end. "Can thy weapon, my brother, sever that
cushion?" he said to King Richard.</p>
<p>"No, surely," replied the King; "no sword on earth, were it the Excalibur
of King Arthur, can cut that which opposes no steady resistance to the
blow."</p>
<p>"Mark, then," said Saladin; and tucking up the sleeve of his gown, showed
his arm, thin indeed and spare, but which constant exercise had hardened
into a mass consisting of nought but bone, brawn, and sinew. He unsheathed
his scimitar, a curved and narrow blade, which glittered not like the
swords of the Franks, but was, on the contrary, of a dull blue colour,
marked with ten millions of meandering lines, which showed how anxiously
the metal had been welded by the armourer. Wielding this weapon,
apparently so inefficient when compared to that of Richard, the Soldan
stood resting his weight upon his left foot, which was slightly advanced;
he balanced himself a little, as if to steady his aim; then stepping at
once forward, drew the scimitar across the cushion, applying the edge so
dexterously, and with so little apparent effort, that the cushion seemed
rather to fall asunder than to be divided by violence.</p>
<p>"It is a juggler's trick," said De Vaux, darting forward and snatching up
the portion of the cushion which had been cut off, as if to assure himself
of the reality of the feat; "there is gramarye in this."</p>
<p>The Soldan seemed to comprehend him, for he undid the sort of veil which
he had hitherto worn, laid it double along the edge of his sabre, extended
the weapon edgeways in the air, and drawing it suddenly through the veil,
although it hung on the blade entirely loose, severed that also into two
parts, which floated to different sides of the tent, equally displaying
the extreme temper and sharpness of the weapon, and the exquisite
dexterity of him who used it.</p>
<p>"Now, in good faith, my brother," said Richard, "thou art even matchless
at the trick of the sword, and right perilous were it to meet thee! Still,
however, I put some faith in a downright English blow, and what we cannot
do by sleight we eke out by strength. Nevertheless, in truth thou art as
expert in inflicting wounds as my sage Hakim in curing them. I trust I
shall see the learned leech. I have much to thank him for, and had brought
some small present."</p>
<p>As he spoke, Saladin exchanged his turban for a Tartar cap. He had no
sooner done so, than De Vaux opened at once his extended mouth and his
large, round eyes, and Richard gazed with scarce less astonishment, while
the Soldan spoke in a grave and altered voice: "The sick man, saith the
poet, while he is yet infirm, knoweth the physician by his step; but when
he is recovered, he knoweth not even his face when he looks upon him."</p>
<p>"A miracle!—a miracle!" exclaimed Richard.</p>
<p>"Of Mahound's working, doubtless," said Thomas de Vaux.</p>
<p>"That I should lose my learned Hakim," said Richard, "merely by absence of
his cap and robe, and that I should find him again in my royal brother
Saladin!"</p>
<p>"Such is oft the fashion of the world," answered the Soldan; "the tattered
robe makes not always the dervise."</p>
<p>"And it was through thy intercession," said Richard, "that yonder Knight
of the Leopard was saved from death, and by thy artifice that he revisited
my camp in disguise?"</p>
<p>"Even so," replied Saladin. "I was physician enough to know that, unless
the wounds of his bleeding honour were stanched, the days of his life must
be few. His disguise was more easily penetrated than I had expected from
the success of my own."</p>
<p>"An accident," said King Richard (probably alluding to the circumstance of
his applying his lips to the wound of the supposed Nubian), "let me first
know that his skin was artificially discoloured; and that hint once taken,
detection became easy, for his form and person are not to be forgotten. I
confidently expect that he will do battle on the morrow."</p>
<p>"He is full in preparation, and high in hope," said the Soldan. "I have
furnished him with weapons and horse, thinking nobly of him from what I
have seen under various disguises."</p>
<p>"Knows he now," said Richard, "to whom he lies under obligation?"</p>
<p>"He doth," replied the Saracen. "I was obliged to confess my person when I
unfolded my purpose."</p>
<p>"And confessed he aught to you?" said the King of England.</p>
<p>"Nothing explicit," replied the Soldan; "but from much that passed between
us, I conceive his love is too highly placed to be happy in its issue."</p>
<p>"And thou knowest that his daring and insolent passion crossed thine own
wishes?" said Richard.</p>
<p>"I might guess so much," said Saladin; "but his passion had existed ere my
wishes had been formed—and, I must now add, is likely to survive
them. I cannot, in honour, revenge me for my disappointment on him who had
no hand in it. Or, if this high-born dame loved him better than myself,
who can say that she did not justice to a knight of her own religion, who
is full of nobleness?"</p>
<p>"Yet of too mean lineage to mix with the blood of Plantagenet," said
Richard haughtily.</p>
<p>"Such may be your maxims in Frangistan," replied the Soldan. "Our poets of
the Eastern countries say that a valiant camel-driver is worthy to kiss
the lip of a fair Queen, when a cowardly prince is not worthy to salute
the hem of her garment. But with your permission, noble brother, I must
take leave of thee for the present, to receive the Duke of Austria and
yonder Nazarene knight, much less worthy of hospitality, but who must yet
be suitably entreated, not for their sakes, but for mine own honour—for
what saith the sage Lokman? 'Say not that the food is lost unto thee which
is given to the stranger; for if his body be strengthened and fattened
therewithal, not less is thine own worship and good name cherished and
augmented.'"</p>
<p>The Saracen Monarch departed from King Richard's tent, and having
indicated to him, rather with signs than with speech, where the pavilion
of the Queen and her attendants was pitched, he went to receive the
Marquis of Montserrat and his attendants, for whom, with less goodwill,
but with equal splendour, the magnificent Soldan had provided
accommodations. The most ample refreshments, both in the Oriental and
after the European fashion, were spread before the royal and princely
guests of Saladin, each in their own separate pavilion; and so attentive
was the Soldan to the habits and taste of his visitors, that Grecian
slaves were stationed to present them with the goblet, which is the
abomination of the sect of Mohammed. Ere Richard had finished his meal,
the ancient Omrah, who had brought the Soldan's letter to the Christian
camp, entered with a plan of the ceremonial to be observed on the
succeeding day of combat. Richard, who knew the taste of his old
acquaintance, invited him to pledge him in a flagon of wine of Shiraz; but
Abdallah gave him to understand, with a rueful aspect, that self-denial in
the present circumstances was a matter in which his life was concerned,
for that Saladin, tolerant in many respects, both observed and enforced by
high penalties the laws of the Prophet.</p>
<p>"Nay, then," said Richard, "if he loves not wine, that lightener of the
human heart, his conversion is not to be hoped for, and the prediction of
the mad priest of Engaddi goes like chaff down the wind."</p>
<p>The King then addressed himself to settle the articles of combat, which
cost a considerable time, as it was necessary on some points to consult
with the opposite parties, as well as with the Soldan.</p>
<p>They were at length finally agreed upon, and adjusted by a protocol in
French and in Arabian, which was subscribed by Saladin as umpire of the
field, and by Richard and Leopold as guarantees for the two combatants. As
the Omrah took his final leave of King Richard for the evening, De Vaux
entered.</p>
<p>"The good knight," he said, "who is to do battle tomorrow requests to know
whether he may not to-night pay duty to his royal godfather!"</p>
<p>"Hast thou seen him, De Vaux?" said the King, smiling; "and didst thou
know an ancient acquaintance?"</p>
<p>"By our Lady of Lanercost," answered De Vaux, "there are so many surprises
and changes in this land that my poor brain turns. I scarce knew Sir
Kenneth of Scotland, till his good hound, that had been for a short while
under my care, came and fawned on me; and even then I only knew the tyke
by the depth of his chest, the roundness of his foot, and his manner of
baying, for the poor gazehound was painted like any Venetian courtesan."</p>
<p>"Thou art better skilled in brutes than men, De Vaux," said the King.</p>
<p>"I will not deny," said De Vaux, "I have found them ofttimes the honester
animals. Also, your Grace is pleased to term me sometimes a brute myself;
besides that, I serve the Lion, whom all men acknowledge the king of
brutes."</p>
<p>"By Saint George, there thou brokest thy lance fairly on my brow," said
the King. "I have ever said thou hast a sort of wit, De Vaux; marry, one
must strike thee with a sledge-hammer ere it can be made to sparkle. But
to the present gear—is the good knight well armed and equipped?"</p>
<p>"Fully, my liege, and nobly," answered De Vaux. "I know the armour well;
it is that which the Venetian commissary offered your highness, just ere
you became ill, for five hundred byzants."</p>
<p>"And he hath sold it to the infidel Soldan, I warrant me, for a few ducats
more, and present payment. These Venetians would sell the Sepulchre
itself!"</p>
<p>"The armour will never be borne in a nobler cause," said De Vaux.</p>
<p>"Thanks to the nobleness of the Saracen," said the King, "not to the
avarice of the Venetians."</p>
<p>"I would to God your Grace would be more cautious," said the anxious De
Vaux. "Here are we deserted by all our allies, for points of offence given
to one or another; we cannot hope to prosper upon the land; and we have
only to quarrel with the amphibious republic, to lose the means of retreat
by sea!"</p>
<p>"I will take care," said Richard impatiently; "but school me no more. Tell
me rather, for it is of interest, hath the knight a confessor?"</p>
<p>"He hath," answered De Vaux; "the hermit of Engaddi, who erst did him that
office when preparing for death, attends him on the present occasion, the
fame of the duel having brought him hither."</p>
<p>"'Tis well," said Richard; "and now for the knight's request. Say to him,
Richard will receive him when the discharge of his devoir beside the
Diamond of the Desert shall have atoned for his fault beside the Mount of
Saint George; and as thou passest through the camp, let the Queen know I
will visit her pavilion—and tell Blondel to meet me there."</p>
<p>De Vaux departed, and in about an hour afterwards, Richard, wrapping his
mantle around him, and taking his ghittern in his hand, walked in the
direction of the Queen's pavilion. Several Arabs passed him, but always
with averted heads and looks fixed upon the earth, though he could observe
that all gazed earnestly after him when he was past. This led him justly
to conjecture that his person was known to them; but that either the
Soldan's commands, or their own Oriental politeness, forbade them to seem
to notice a sovereign who desired to remain incognito.</p>
<p>When the King reached the pavilion of his Queen he found it guarded by
those unhappy officials whom Eastern jealousy places around the zenana.
Blondel was walking before the door, and touched his rote from time to
time in a manner which made the Africans show their ivory teeth, and bear
burden with their strange gestures and shrill, unnatural voices.</p>
<p>"What art thou after with this herd of black cattle, Blondel?" said the
King; "wherefore goest thou not into the tent?"</p>
<p>"Because my trade can neither spare the head nor the fingers," said
Blondel, "and these honest blackamoors threatened to cut me joint from
joint if I pressed forward."</p>
<p>"Well, enter with me," said the King, "and I will be thy safeguard."</p>
<p>The blacks accordingly lowered pikes and swords to King Richard, and bent
their eyes on the ground, as if unworthy to look upon him. In the interior
of the pavilion they found Thomas de Vaux in attendance on the Queen.
While Berengaria welcomed Blondel, King Richard spoke for some time
secretly and apart with his fair kinswoman.</p>
<p>At length, "Are we still foes, my fair Edith?" he said, in a whisper.</p>
<p>"No, my liege," said Edith, in a voice just so low as not to interrupt the
music; "none can bear enmity against King Richard when he deigns to show
himself, as he really is, generous and noble, as well as valiant and
honourable."</p>
<p>So saying, she extended her hand to him. The King kissed it in token of
reconciliation, and then proceeded.</p>
<p>"You think, my sweet cousin, that my anger in this matter was feigned; but
you are deceived. The punishment I inflicted upon this knight was just;
for he had betrayed—no matter for how tempting a bribe, fair cousin—the
trust committed to him. But I rejoice, perchance as much as you, that
to-morrow gives him a chance to win the field, and throw back the stain
which for a time clung to him upon the actual thief and traitor. No!—future
times may blame Richard for impetuous folly, but they shall say that in
rendering judgment he was just when he should and merciful when he could."</p>
<p>"Laud not thyself, cousin King," said Edith. "They may call thy justice
cruelty, thy mercy caprice."</p>
<p>"And do not thou pride thyself," said the King, "as if thy knight, who
hath not yet buckled on his armour, were unbelting it in triumph—Conrade
of Montserrat is held a good lance. What if the Scot should lose the day?"</p>
<p>"It is impossible!" said Edith firmly. "My own eyes saw yonder Conrade
tremble and change colour like a base thief; he is guilty, and the trial
by combat is an appeal to the justice of God. I myself, in such a cause,
would encounter him without fear."</p>
<p>"By the mass, I think thou wouldst, wench," said the King, "and beat him<br/>
to boot, for there never breathed a truer Plantagenet than thou."<br/>
<br/>
He paused, and added in a very serious tone, "See that thou<br/>
continue to remember what is due to thy birth."<br/></p>
<p>"What means that advice, so seriously given at this moment?" said Edith.
"Am I of such light nature as to forget my name—my condition?"</p>
<p>"I will speak plainly, Edith," answered the King, "and as to a friend.
What will this knight be to you, should he come off victor from yonder
lists?"</p>
<p>"To me?" said Edith, blushing deep with shame and displeasure. "What can
he be to me more than an honoured knight, worthy of such grace as Queen
Berengaria might confer on him, had he selected her for his lady, instead
of a more unworthy choice? The meanest knight may devote himself to the
service of an empress, but the glory of his choice," she said proudly,
"must be his reward."</p>
<p>"Yet he hath served and suffered much for you," said the King.</p>
<p>"I have paid his services with honour and applause, and his sufferings
with tears," answered Edith. "Had he desired other reward, he would have
done wisely to have bestowed his affections within his own degree."</p>
<p>"You would not, then, wear the bloody night-gear for his sake?" said King
Richard.</p>
<p>"No more," answered Edith, "than I would have required him to expose his
life by an action in which there was more madness than honour."</p>
<p>"Maidens talk ever thus," said the King; "but when the favoured lover
presses his suit, she says, with a sigh, her stars had decreed otherwise."</p>
<p>"Your Grace has now, for the second time, threatened me with the influence
of my horoscope," Edith replied, with dignity. "Trust me, my liege,
whatever be the power of the stars, your poor kinswoman will never wed
either infidel or obscure adventurer. Permit me that I listen to the music
of Blondel, for the tone of your royal admonitions is scarce so grateful
to the ear."</p>
<p>The conclusion of the evening offered nothing worthy of notice.</p>
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