CHAPTER VIII.
A wise physician, skilled our wounds to heal, Is more than armies to the common weal. POPE'S ILLIAD.
"This is a strange tale, Sir Thomas," said the sick monarch, when he hadheard the report of the trusty Baron of Gilsland. "Art thou sure thisScottish man is a tall man and true?"
"I cannot say, my lord," replied the jealous Borderer. "I live a littletoo near the Scots to gather much truth among them, having found themever fair and false. But this man's bearing is that of a true man,were he a devil as well as a Scot; that I must needs say for him inconscience."
"And for his carriage as a knight, how sayest thou, De Vaux?" demandedthe King.
"It is your Majesty's business more than mine to note men's bearings;and I warrant you have noted the manner in which this man of the Leopardhath borne himself. He hath been full well spoken of."
"And justly, Thomas," said the King. "We have ourselves witnessed him.It is indeed our purpose in placing ourselves ever in the front ofbattle, to see how our liegemen and followers acquit themselves, andnot from a desire to accumulate vainglory to ourselves, as some havesupposed. We know the vanity of the praise of man, which is but avapour, and buckle on our armour for other purposes than to win it."
De Vaux was alarmed when he heard the King make a declaration soinconsistent with his nature, and believed at first that nothing shortof the approach of death could have brought him to speak in depreciatingterms of military renown, which was the very breath of his nostrils. Butrecollecting he had met the royal confessor in the outer pavilion, hewas shrewd enough to place this temporary self-abasement to the effectof the reverend man's lesson, and suffered the King to proceed withoutreply.
"Yes," continued Richard, "I have indeed marked the manner in which thisknight does his devoir. My leading-staff were not worth a fool's baublehad he escaped my notice; and he had ere now tasted of our bounty, butthat I have also marked his overweening and audacious presumption."
"My liege," said the Baron of Gilsland, observing the King's countenancechange, "I fear I have transgressed your pleasure in lending somecountenance to his transgression."
"How, De Multon, thou?" said the King, contracting his brows, andspeaking in a tone of angry surprise. "Thou countenance his insolence?It cannot be."
"Nay, your Majesty will pardon me to remind you that I have by mineoffice right to grant liberty to men of gentle blood to keep them ahound or two within camp, just to cherish the noble art of venerie; andbesides, it were a sin to have maimed or harmed a thing so noble as thisgentleman's dog."
"Has he, then, a dog so handsome?" said the King.
"A most perfect creature of Heaven," said the baron, who was anenthusiast in field-sports--"of the noblest Northern breed--deep in thechest, strong in the stern--black colour, and brindled on the breastand legs, not spotted with white, but just shaded into grey--strength topull down a bull, swiftness to cote an antelope."
The King laughed at his enthusiasm. "Well, thou hast given him leave tokeep the hound, so there is an end of it. Be not, however, liberal ofyour licenses among those knights adventurers who have no prince orleader to depend upon; they are ungovernable, and leave no game inPalestine.--But to this piece of learned heathenesse--sayest thou theScot met him in the desert?"
"No, my liege; the Scot's tale runs thus. He was dispatched to the oldhermit of Engaddi, of whom men talk so much--"
"'Sdeath and hell!" said Richard, starting up. "By whom dispatched,and for what? Who dared send any one thither, when our Queen was in theConvent of Engaddi, upon her pilgrimage for our recovery?"
"The Council of the Crusade sent him, my lord," answered the Baron deVaux; "for what purpose, he declined to account to me. I think it isscarce known in the camp that your royal consort is on a pilgrimage;and even the princes may not have been aware, as the Queen has beensequestered from company since your love prohibited her attendance incase of infection."
"Well, it shall be looked into," said Richard. "So this Scottishman, this envoy, met with a wandering physician at the grotto ofEngaddi--ha?"
"Not so my liege," replied De Vaux? "but he met, I think, near thatplace, with a Saracen Emir with whom he had some MELEE in the way ofproof of valour, and finding him worthy to bear brave men company, theywent together, as errant knights are wont, to the grotto of Engaddi."
Here De Vaux stopped, for he was not one of those who can tell a longstory in a sentence.
"And did they there meet the physician?" demanded the King impatiently.
"No, my liege," replied De Vaux; "but the Saracen, learning yourMajesty's grievous illness, undertook that Saladin should send his ownphysician to you, and with many assurances of his eminent skill; and hecame to the grotto accordingly, after the Scottish knight had tarried aday for him and more. He is attended as if he were a prince, with drumsand atabals, and servants on horse and foot, and brings with him lettersof credence from Saladin."
"Have they been examined by Giacomo Loredani?"
"I showed them to the interpreter ere bringing them hither, and beholdtheir contents in English."
Richard took a scroll, in which were inscribed these words: The blessingof Allah and his Prophet Mohammed ["Out upon the hound!" said Richard,spitting in contempt, by way of interjection], Saladin, king of kings,Saldan of Egypt and of Syria, the light and refuge of the earth, to thegreat Melech Ric, Richard of England, greeting. Whereas, we have beeninformed that the hand of sickness hath been heavy upon thee, our royalbrother, and that thou hast with thee only such Nazarene and Jewishmediciners as work without the blessing of Allah and our holy Prophet["Confusion on his head!" again muttered the English monarch], we havetherefore sent to tend and wait upon thee at this time the physicianto our own person, Adonbec el Hakim, before whose face the angel Azrael[The Angel of Death.] spreads his wings and departs from the sickchamber; who knows the virtues of herbs and stones, the path of the sun,moon, and stars, and can save man from all that is not written on hisforehead. And this we do, praying you heartily to honour and make useof his skill; not only that we may do service to thy worth and valour,which is the glory of all the nations of Frangistan, but that we maybring the controversy which is at present between us to an end, eitherby honourable agreement, or by open trial thereof with our weapons, in afair field--seeing that it neither becomes thy place and courage to diethe death of a slave who hath been overwrought by his taskmaster, norbefits it our fame that a brave adversary be snatched from our weapon bysuch a disease. And, therefore, may the holy--"
"Hold, hold," said Richard, "I will have no more of his dog of aprophet! It makes me sick to think the valiant and worthy Soldan shouldbelieve in a dead dog. Yes, I will see his physician. I will putmyself into the charge of this Hakim--I will repay the noble Soldanhis generosity--I will meet Saladin in the field, as he so worthilyproposes, and he shall have no cause to term Richard of Englandungrateful. I will strike him to the earth with my battle-axe--I willconvert him to Holy Church with such blows as he has rarely endured. Heshall recant his errors before my good cross-handled sword, and I willhave him baptized on the battle-field, from my own helmet, though thecleansing waters were mixed with the blood of us both.--Haste, De Vaux,why dost thou delay a conclusion so pleasing? Fetch the Hakim hither."
"My lord," said the baron, who perhaps saw some accession of fever inthis overflow of confidence, "bethink you, the Soldan is a pagan, andthat you are his most formidable enemy--"
"For which reason he is the more bound to do me service in this matter,lest a paltry fever end the quarrel betwixt two such kings. I tell theehe loves me as I love him--as noble adversaries ever love each other. Bymy honour, it were sin to doubt his good faith!"
"Nevertheless, my lord, it were well to wait the issue of thesemedicines upon the Scottish squire," said the Lord of Gilsland. "My ownlife depends upon it, for worthy were I to die like a dog did I proceedrashly in this matter, and make shipwreck of the weal of Christendom."
"I never knew thee before hesit
ate for fear of life," said Richardupbraidingly.
"Nor would I now, my liege," replied the stout-hearted baron, "save thatyours lies at pledge as well as my own."
"Well, thou suspicious mortal," answered Richard, "begone then, andwatch the progress of this remedy. I could almost wish it might eithercure or kill me, for I am weary of lying here like an ox dying ofthe murrain, when tambours are beating, horses stamping, and trumpetssounding without."
The baron hastily departed, resolved, however, to communicate his errandto some churchman, as he felt something burdened in conscience at theidea of his master being attended by an unbeliever.
The Archbishop of Tyre was the first to whom he confided his doubts,knowing his interest with his master, Richard, who both loved andhonoured that sagacious prelate. The bishop heard the doubts which DeVaux stated, with that acuteness of intelligence which distinguishes theRoman Catholic clergy. The religious scruples of De Vaux he treatedwith as much lightness as propriety permitted him to exhibit on such asubject to a layman.
"Mediciners," he said, "like the medicines which they employed, wereoften useful, though the one were by birth or manners the vilest ofhumanity, as the others are, in many cases, extracted from the basestmaterials. Men may use the assistance of pagans and infidels," hecontinued, "in their need, and there is reason to think that one causeof their being permitted to remain on earth is that they might ministerto the convenience of true Christians. Thus we lawfully make slaves ofheathen captives. Again," proceeded the prelate, "there is no doubt thatthe primitive Christians used the services of the unconverted heathen.Thus in the ship of Alexandria, in which the blessed Apostle Paul sailedto Italy, the sailors were doubtless pagans; yet what said the holysaint when their ministry was needful?--'NISI HI IN NAVI MANSERINT, VOSSALVI FIERI NON POTESTIS'--Unless these men abide in the ship, yecannot be saved. Again, Jews are infidels to Christianity, as well asMohammedans. But there are few physicians in the camp excepting Jews,and such are employed without scandal or scruple. Therefore,Mohammedans may be used for their service in that capacity--QUOD ERATDEMONSTRANDUM."
This reasoning entirely removed the scruples of Thomas de Vaux, who wasparticularly moved by the Latin quotation, as he did not understand aword of it.
But the bishop proceeded with far less fluency when he considered thepossibility of the Saracen's acting with bad faith; and here he came notto a speedy decision. The baron showed him the letters of credence. Heread and re-read them, and compared the original with the translation.
"It is a dish choicely cooked," he said, "to the palate of King Richard,and I cannot but have my suspicions of the wily Saracen. They arecurious in the art of poisons, and can so temper them that they shallbe weeks in acting upon the party, during which time the perpetratorhas leisure to escape. They can impregnate cloth and leather, nay, evenpaper and parchment, with the most subtle venom. Our Lady forgive me!And wherefore, knowing this, hold I these letters of credence so closeto my face? Take them, Sir Thomas--take them speedily!"
Here he gave them at arm's-length, and with some appearance of haste,to the baron. "But come, my Lord de Vaux," he continued, "wend we to thetent of this sick squire, where we shall learn whether this Hakim hathreally the art of curing which he professeth, ere we consider whetherthere be safety in permitting him to exercise his art upon KingRichard.--Yet, hold! let me first take my pouncet-box, for these feversspread like an infection. I would advise you to use dried rosemarysteeped in vinegar, my lord. I, too, know something of the healing art."
"I thank your reverend lordship," replied Thomas of Gilsland; "but hadI been accessible to the fever, I had caught it long since by the bed ofmy master."
The Bishop of Tyre blushed, for he had rather avoided the presence ofthe sick monarch; and he bid the baron lead on.
As they paused before the wretched hut in which Kenneth of the Leopardand his follower abode, the bishop said to De Vaux, "Now, of a surety,my lord, these Scottish Knights have worse care of their followers thanwe of our dogs. Here is a knight, valiant, they say, in battle, andthought fitting to be graced with charges of weight in time of truce,whose esquire of the body is lodged worse than in the worst dog-kennelin England. What say you of your neighbours?"
"That a master doth well enough for his servant when he lodgeth him inno worse dwelling than his own," said De Vaux, and entered the hut.
The bishop followed, not without evident reluctance; for though helacked not courage in some respects, yet it was tempered with a strongand lively regard for his own safety. He recollected, however, thenecessity there was for judging personally of the skill of the Arabianphysician, and entered the hut with a stateliness of manner calculated,as he thought, to impose respect on the stranger.
The prelate was, indeed, a striking and commanding figure. In his youthhe had been eminently handsome, and even in age was unwilling to appearless so. His episcopal dress was of the richest fashion, trimmed withcostly fur, and surrounded by a cope of curious needlework. The ringson his fingers were worth a goodly barony, and the hood which he wore,though now unclasped and thrown back for heat, had studs of pure gold tofasten it around his throat and under his chin when he so inclined. Hislong beard, now silvered with age, descended over his breast. One of twoyouthful acolytes who attended him created an artificial shade, peculiarthen to the East, by bearing over his head an umbrella of palmettoleaves, while the other refreshed his reverend master by agitating a fanof peacock-feathers.
When the Bishop of Tyre entered the hut of the Scottish knight, themaster was absent, and the Moorish physician, whom he had come to see,sat in the very posture in which De Vaux had left him several hoursbefore, cross-legged upon a mat made of twisted leaves, by the side ofthe patient, who appeared in deep slumber, and whose pulse he felt fromtime to time. The bishop remained standing before him in silence fortwo or three minutes, as if expecting some honourable salutation, orat least that the Saracen would seem struck with the dignity of hisappearance. But Adonbec el Hakim took no notice of him beyond a passingglance, and when the prelate at length saluted him in the linguafranca current in the country, he only replied by the ordinary Orientalgreeting, "SALAM ALICUM--Peace be with you."
"Art thou a physician, infidel?" said the bishop, somewhat mortified atthis cold reception. "I would speak with thee on that art."
"If thou knewest aught of medicine," answered El Hakim, "thou wouldst beaware that physicians hold no counsel or debate in the sick chamber oftheir patient. Hear," he added, as the low growling of the staghound washeard from the inner hut, "even the dog might teach thee reason, Ulemat.His instinct teaches him to suppress his barking in the sick man'shearing. Come without the tent," said he, rising and leading the way,"if thou hast ought to say with me."
Notwithstanding the plainness of the Saracen leech's dress, and hisinferiority of size when contrasted with the tall prelate andgigantic English baron, there was something striking in his manner andcountenance, which prevented the Bishop of Tyre from expressing stronglythe displeasure he felt at this unceremonious rebuke. When without thehut, he gazed upon Adonbec in silence for several minutes before hecould fix on the best manner to renew the conversation. No locks wereseen under the high bonnet of the Arabian, which hid also part of a browthat seemed lofty and expanded, smooth, and free from wrinkles, as werehis cheeks, where they were seen under the shade of his long beard. Wehave elsewhere noticed the piercing quality of his dark eyes.
The prelate, struck with his apparent youth, at length broke a pause,which the other seemed in no haste to interrupt, by demanding of theArabian how old he was?
"The years of ordinary men," said the Saracen, "are counted by theirwrinkles; those of sages by their studies. I dare not call myself olderthan a hundred revolutions of the Hegira." [Meaning that his attainmentswere those which might have been made in a hundred years.]
The Baron of Gilsland, who took this for a literal assertion that he wasa century old, looked doubtfully upon the prelate, who, though he betterunderstood the meaning
of El Hakim, answered his glance by mysteriouslyshaking his head. He resumed an air of importance when he againauthoritatively demanded what evidence Adonbec could produce of hismedical proficiency.
"Ye have the word of the mighty Saladin," said the sage, touching hiscap in sign of reverence--"a word which was never broken towards friendor foe. What, Nazarene, wouldst thou demand more?"
"I would have ocular proof of thy skill," said the baron, "and withoutit thou approachest not to the couch of King Richard."
"The praise of the physician," said the Arabian, "is in the recovery ofhis patient. Behold this sergeant, whose blood has been dried up by thefever which has whitened your camp with skeletons, and against which theart of your Nazarene leeches hath been like a silken doublet against alance of steel. Look at his fingers and arms, wasted like the claws andshanks of the crane. Death had this morning his clutch on him; but hadAzrael been on one side of the couch, I being on the other, his soulshould not have been left from his body. Disturb me not with furtherquestions, but await the critical minute, and behold in silent wonderthe marvellous event."
The physician had then recourse to his astrolabe, the oracle of Easternscience, and watching with grave precision until the precise time of theevening prayer had arrived, he sunk on his knees, with his face turnedto Mecca, and recited the petitions which close the Moslemah's day oftoil. The bishop and the English baron looked on each other, meanwhile,with symptoms of contempt and indignation, but neither judged it fit tointerrupt El Hakim in his devotions, unholy as they considered them tobe.
The Arab arose from the earth, on which he had prostrated himself, andwalking into the hut where the patient lay extended, he drew a spongefrom a small silver box, dipped perhaps in some aromatic distillation,for when he put it to the sleeper's nose, he sneezed, awoke, and lookedwildly around. He was a ghastly spectacle as he sat up almost naked onhis couch, the bones and cartilages as visible through the surface ofhis skin as if they had never been clothed with flesh. His face waslong, and furrowed with wrinkles; but his eye, though it wandered atfirst, became gradually more settled. He seemed to be aware of thepresence of his dignified visitors, for he attempted feebly to pullthe covering from his head in token of reverence, as he inquired, in asubdued and submissive voice, for his master.
"Do you know us, vassal?" said the Lord of Gilsland.
"Not perfectly, my lord," replied the squire faintly. "My sleep has beenlong and full of dreams. Yet I know that you are a great English lord,as seemeth by the red cross, and this a holy prelate, whose blessing Icrave on me a poor sinner."
"Thou hast it--BENEDICTIO DOMINI SIT VOBISCUM," said the prelate, makingthe sign of the cross, but without approaching nearer to the patient'sbed.
"Your eyes witness," said the Arabian, "the fever hath been subdued.He speaks with calmness and recollection--his pulse beats composedly asyours--try its pulsations yourself."
The prelate declined the experiment; but Thomas of Gilsland, moredetermined on making the trial, did so, and satisfied himself that thefever was indeed gone.
"This is most wonderful," said the knight, looking to the bishop; "theman is assuredly cured. I must conduct this mediciner presently to KingRichard's tent. What thinks your reverence?"
"Stay, let me finish one cure ere I commence another," said the Arab; "Iwill pass with you when I have given my patient the second cup of thismost holy elixir."
So saying he pulled out a silver cup, and filling it with water from agourd which stood by the bedside, he next drew forth a small silkenbag made of network, twisted with silver, the contents of which thebystanders could not discover, and immersing it in the cup, continued towatch it in silence during the space of five minutes. It seemed to thespectators as if some effervescence took place during the operation; butif so, it instantly subsided.
"Drink," said the physician to the sick man--"sleep, and awaken freefrom malady."
"And with this simple-seeming draught thou wilt undertake to cure amonarch?" said the Bishop of Tyre.
"I have cured a beggar, as you may behold," replied the sage. "Arethe Kings of Frangistan made of other clay than the meanest of theirsubjects?"
"Let us have him presently to the King," said the Baron of Gilsland. "Hehath shown that he possesses the secret which may restore his health. Ifhe fails to exercise it, I will put himself past the power of medicine."
As they were about to leave the hut, the sick man, raising his voiceas much as his weakness permitted, exclaimed, "Reverend father, nobleknight, and you, kind leech, if you would have me sleep and recover,tell me in charity what is become of my dear master?"
"He is upon a distant expedition, friend," replied the prelate--"on anhonourable embassy, which may detain him for some days."
"Nay," said the Baron of Gilsland, "why deceive the poorfellow?--Friend, thy master has returned to the camp, and you willpresently see him."
The invalid held up, as if in thankfulness, his wasted hands to Heaven,and resisting no longer the soporiferous operation of the elixir, sunkdown in a gentle sleep.
"You are a better physician than I, Sir Thomas," said the prelate--"asoothing falsehood is fitter for a sick-room than an unpleasing truth."
"How mean you, my reverend lord?" said De Vaux hastily. "Think you Iwould tell a falsehood to save the lives of a dozen such as he?"
"You said," replied the bishop, with manifest symptoms of alarm--"yousaid the esquire's master was returned--he, I mean, of the CouchantLeopard."
"And he IS returned," said De Vaux. "I spoke with him but a few hourssince. This learned leech came in his company."
"Holy Virgin! why told you not of his return to me?" said the bishop, inevident perturbation.
"Did I not say that this same Knight of the Leopard had returnedin company with the physician? I thought I had," replied De Vauxcarelessly. "But what signified his return to the skill of thephysician, or the cure of his Majesty?"
"Much, Sir Thomas--it signified much," said the bishop, clenchinghis hands, pressing his foot against the earth, and giving signs ofimpatience, as if in an involuntary manner. "But where can he be gonenow, this same knight? God be with us--here may be some fatal errors!"
"Yonder serf in the outer space," said De Vaux, not without wonderat the bishop's emotion, "can probably tell us whither his master hasgone."
The lad was summoned, and in a language nearly incomprehensible tothem, gave them at length to understand that an officer had summoned hismaster to the royal tent some time before their arrival at that of hismaster. The anxiety of the bishop appeared to rise to the highest, andbecame evident to De Vaux, though, neither an acute observer nor of asuspicious temper. But with his anxiety seemed to increase his wish tokeep it subdued and unobserved. He took a hasty leave of De Vaux, wholooked after him with astonishment, and after shrugging his shoulders insilent wonder, proceeded to conduct the Arabian physician to the tent ofKing Richard.