The Talisman

  CHAPTER IV.

  Kenneth the Scot was uncertain how long his senses had been lost inprofound repose, when he was roused to recollection by a sense ofoppression on his chest, which at first suggested a flirting dream ofstruggling with a powerful opponent, and at length recalled him fullyto his senses. He was about to demand who was there, when, opening hiseyes, he beheld the figure of the anchorite, wild and savage-looking aswe have described him, standing by his bedside, and pressing his righthand upon his breast, while he held a small silver lamp in the other.

  "Be silent," said the hermit, as the prostrate knight looked up insurprise; "I have that to say to you which yonder infidel must nothear."

  These words he spoke in the French language, and not in the linguafranca, or compound of Eastern and European dialects, which had hithertobeen used amongst them.

  "Arise," he continued, "put on thy mantle; speak not, but tread lightly,and follow me."

  Sir Kenneth arose, and took his sword.

  "It needs not," answered the anchorite, in a whisper; "we are goingwhere spiritual arms avail much, and fleshly weapons are but as the reedand the decayed gourd."

  The knight deposited his sword by the bedside as before, and, armed onlywith his dagger, from which in this perilous country he never parted,prepared to attend his mysterious host.

  The hermit then moved slowly forwards, and was followed by the knight,still under some uncertainty whether the dark form which glidedon before to show him the path was not, in fact, the creation of adisturbed dream. They passed, like shadows, into the outer apartment,without disturbing the paynim Emir, who lay still buried in repose.Before the cross and altar, in the outward room, a lamp was stillburning, a missal was displayed, and on the floor lay a discipline, orpenitential scourge of small cord and wire, the lashes of which wererecently stained with blood--a token, no doubt, of the severe penance ofthe recluse. Here Theodorick kneeled down, and pointed to the knight totake his place beside him upon the sharp flints, which seemed placed forthe purpose of rendering the posture of reverential devotion as uneasyas possible. He read many prayers of the Catholic Church, and chanted,in a low but earnest voice, three of the penitential psalms. These lasthe intermixed with sighs, and tears, and convulsive throbs, which borewitness how deeply he felt the divine poetry which he recited. TheScottish knight assisted with profound sincerity at these acts ofdevotion, his opinion of his host beginning, in the meantime, to be somuch changed, that he doubted whether, from the severity of his penanceand the ardour of his prayers, he ought not to regard him as a saint;and when they arose from the ground, he stood with reverence beforehim, as a pupil before an honoured master. The hermit was, on his side,silent and abstracted for the space of a few minutes.

  "Look into yonder recess, my son," he said, pointing to the farthercorner of the cell; "there thou wilt find a veil--bring it hither."

  The knight obeyed, and in a small aperture cut out of the wall, andsecured with a door of wicker, he found the veil inquired for. When hebrought it to the light, he discovered that it was torn, and soiled insome places with some dark substance. The anchorite looked at it witha deep but smothered emotion, and ere he could speak to the Scottishknight, was compelled to vent his feelings in a convulsive groan.

  "Thou art now about to look upon the richest treasure that the earthpossesses," he at length said; "woe is me, that my eyes are unworthy tobe lifted towards it! Alas! I am but the vile and despised sign, whichpoints out to the wearied traveller a harbour of rest and security, butmust itself remain for ever without doors. In vain have I fled to thevery depths of the rocks, and the very bosom of the thirsty desert. Mineenemy hath found me--even he whom I have denied has pursued me to myfortresses."

  He paused again for a moment, and turning to the Scottish knight, said,in a firmer tone of voice, "You bring me a greeting from Richard ofEngland?"

  "I come from the Council of Christian Princes," said the knight;"but the King of England being indisposed, I am not honoured with hisMajesty's commands."

  "Your token?" demanded the recluse.

  Sir Kenneth hesitated. Former suspicions, and the marks of insanitywhich the hermit had formerly exhibited, rushed suddenly on histhoughts; but how suspect a man whose manners were so saintly? "Mypassword," he said at length, "is this--Kings begged of a beggar."

  "It is right," said the hermit, while he paused. "I know you well; butthe sentinel upon his post--and mine is an important one--challengesfriend as well as foe."

  He then moved forward with the lamp, leading the way into the room whichthey had left. The Saracen lay on his couch, still fast asleep. Thehermit paused by his side, and looked down on him.

  "He sleeps," he said, "in darkness, and must not be awakened."

  The attitude of the Emir did indeed convey the idea of profound repose.One arm, flung across his body, as he lay with his face half turned tothe wall, concealed, with its loose and long sleeve, the greater partof his face; but the high forehead was yet visible. Its nerves, whichduring his waking hours were so uncommonly active, were now motionless,as if the face had been composed of dark marble, and his long silkeneyelashes closed over his piercing and hawklike eyes. The open andrelaxed hand, and the deep, regular, and soft breathing, all gave tokensof the most profound repose. The slumberer formed a singular group alongwith the tall forms of the hermit in his shaggy dress of goat-skins,bearing the lamp, and the knight in his close leathern coat--the formerwith an austere expression of ascetic gloom, the latter with anxiouscuriosity deeply impressed on his manly features.

  "He sleeps soundly," said the hermit, in the same low tone as before;and repeating the words, though he had changed the meaning from thatwhich is literal to a metaphorical sense--"he sleeps in darkness, butthere shall be for him a dayspring.--O Ilderim, thy waking thoughtsare yet as vain and wild as those which are wheeling their giddy dancethrough thy sleeping brain; but the trumpet shall be heard, and thedream shall be dissolved."

  So saying, and making the knight a sign to follow him, the hermit wenttowards the altar, and passing behind it, pressed a spring, which,opening without noise, showed a small iron door wrought in the sideof the cavern, so as to be almost imperceptible, unless upon the mostsevere scrutiny. The hermit, ere he ventured fully to open the door,dropped some oil on the hinges, which the lamp supplied. A smallstaircase, hewn in the rock, was discovered, when the iron door was atlength completely opened.

  "Take the veil which I hold," said the hermit, in a melancholy tone,"and blind mine eyes; For I may not look on the treasure which thou artpresently to behold, without sin and presumption."

  Without reply, the knight hastily muffled the recluse's head in theveil, and the latter began to ascend the staircase as one too muchaccustomed to the way to require the use of light, while at the sametime he held the lamp to the Scot, who followed him for many steps upthe narrow ascent. At length they rested in a small vault of irregularform, in one nook of which the staircase terminated, while in anothercorner a corresponding stair was seen to continue the ascent. In athird angle was a Gothic door, very rudely ornamented with the usualattributes of clustered columns and carving, and defended by a wicket,strongly guarded with iron, and studded with large nails. To thislast point the hermit directed his steps, which seemed to falter as heapproached it.

  "Put off thy shoes," he said to his attendant; "the ground on whichthou standest is holy. Banish from thy innermost heart each profane andcarnal thought, for to harbour such while in this place were a deadlyimpiety."

  The knight laid aside his shoes as he was commanded, and the hermitstood in the meanwhile as if communing with his soul in secret prayer,and when he again moved, commanded the knight to knock at the wicketthree times. He did so. The door opened spontaneously--at least SirKenneth beheld no one--and his senses were at once assailed by a streamof the purest light, and by a strong and almost oppressive sense of therichest perfumes. He stepped two or three paces back, and it was thespace of a minute ere he recovered the dazzling and overpowering e
ffectsof the sudden change from darkness to light.

  When he entered the apartment in which this brilliant lustre wasdisplayed, he perceived that the light proceeded from a combination ofsilver lamps, fed with purest oil, and sending forth the richest odours,hanging by silver chains from the roof of a small Gothic chapel, hewn,like most part of the hermit's singular mansion, out of the sound andsolid rock. But whereas, in every other place which Sir Kenneth hadseen, the labour employed upon the rock had been of the simplest andcoarsest description, it had in this chapel employed the invention andthe chisels of the most able architects. The groined roofs rose from sixcolumns on each side, carved with the rarest skill; and the manner inwhich the crossings of the concave arches were bound together, as itwere, with appropriate ornaments, were all in the finest tone of thearchitecture of the age. Corresponding to the line of pillars, therewere on each side six richly-wrought niches, each of which contained theimage of one of the twelve apostles.

  At the upper and eastern end of the chapel stood the altar, behindwhich a very rich curtain of Persian silk, embroidered deeply with gold,covered a recess, containing, unquestionably, some image or relic of noordinary sanctity, in honour of which this singular place of worshiphad been erected, Under the persuasion that this must be the case, theknight advanced to the shrine, and kneeling down before it, repeated hisdevotions with fervency, during which his attention was disturbed by thecurtain being suddenly raised, or rather pulled aside, how or by whom hesaw not; but in the niche which was thus disclosed he beheld a cabinetof silver and ebony, with a double folding-door, the whole formed intothe miniature resemblance of a Gothic church.

  As he gazed with anxious curiosity on the shrine, the two folding-doorsalso flew open, discovering a large piece of wood, on which wereblazoned the words, VERA CRUX; at the same time a choir of female voicessung GLORIA PATRI. The instant the strain had ceased, the shrine wasclosed, and the curtain again drawn, and the knight who knelt at thealtar might now continue his devotions undisturbed, in honour of theholy relic which had been just disclosed to his view. He did this underthe profound impression of one who had witnessed, with his own eyes, anawful evidence of the truth of his religion; and it was some time ere,concluding his orisons, he arose, and ventured to look around him forthe hermit, who had guided him to this sacred and mysterious spot. Hebeheld him, his head still muffled in the veil which he had himselfwrapped around it, crouching, like a rated hound, upon the threshold ofthe chapel; but, apparently, without venturing to cross it--the holiestreverence, the most penitential remorse, was expressed by his posture,which seemed that of a man borne down and crushed to the earth by theburden of his inward feelings. It seemed to the Scot that only thesense of the deepest penitence, remorse, and humiliation could have thusprostrated a frame so strong and a spirit so fiery.

  He approached him as if to speak; but the recluse anticipated hispurpose, murmuring in stifled tones, from beneath the fold in which hishead was muffled, and which sounded like a voice proceeding from thecerements of a corpse,--"Abide, abide--happy thou that mayest--thevision is not yet ended." So saying, he reared himself from the ground,drew back from the threshold on which he had hitherto lain prostrate,and closed the door of the chapel, which, secured by a spring boltwithin, the snap of which resounded through the place, appeared so muchlike a part of the living rock from which the cavern was hewn, thatKenneth could hardly discern where the aperture had been. He was nowalone in the lighted chapel which contained the relic to which he hadlately rendered his homage, without other arms than his dagger, or othercompanion than his pious thoughts and dauntless courage.

  Uncertain what was next to happen, but resolved to abide the course ofevents, Sir Kenneth paced the solitary chapel till about the time of theearliest cock-crowing. At this dead season, when night and morning mettogether, he heard, but from what quarter he could not discover, thesound of such a small silver bell as is rung at the elevation of thehost in the ceremony, or sacrifice, as it has been called, of the mass.The hour and the place rendered the sound fearfully solemn, and, bold ashe was, the knight withdrew himself into the farther nook of thechapel, at the end opposite to the altar, in order to observe, withoutinterruption, the consequences of this unexpected signal.

  He did not wait long ere the silken curtain was again withdrawn, and therelic again presented to his view. As he sunk reverentially on his knee,he heard the sound of the lauds, or earliest office of the CatholicChurch, sung by female voices, which united together in the performanceas they had done in the former service. The knight was soon aware thatthe voices were no longer stationary in the distance, but approached thechapel and became louder, when a door, imperceptible when closed, likethat by which he had himself entered, opened on the other side of thevault, and gave the tones of the choir more room to swell along theribbed arches of the roof.

  The knight fixed his eyes on the opening with breathless anxiety, and,continuing to kneel in the attitude of devotion which the place andscene required, expected the consequence of these preparations. Aprocession appeared about to issue from the door. First, four beautifulboys, whose arms, necks, and legs were bare, showing the bronzecomplexion of the East, and contrasting with the snow-white tunicswhich they wore, entered the chapel by two and two. The first pair borecensers, which they swung from side to side, adding double fragranceto the odours with which the chapel already was impregnated. The secondpair scattered flowers.

  After these followed, in due and majestic order, the females whocomposed the choir--six, who from their black scapularies, and blackveils over their white garments, appeared to be professed nuns of theorder of Mount Carmel; and as many whose veils, being white, argued themto be novices, or occasional inhabitants in the cloister, who werenot as yet bound to it by vows. The former held in their hands largerosaries, while the younger and lighter figures who followed carriedeach a chaplet of red and white roses. They moved in procession aroundthe chapel, without appearing to take the slightest notice of Kenneth,although passing so near him that their robes almost touched him, whilethey continued to sing. The knight doubted not that he was in one ofthose cloisters where the noble Christian maidens had formerly openlydevoted themselves to the services of the church. Most of them had beensuppressed since the Mohammedans had reconquered Palestine, but many,purchasing connivance by presents, or receiving it from the clemencyor contempt of the victors, still continued to observe in private theritual to which their vows had consecrated them. Yet, though Kennethknew this to be the case, the solemnity of the place and hour, thesurprise at the sudden appearance of these votaresses, and thevisionary manner in which they moved past him, had such influence on hisimagination that he could scarce conceive that the fair processionwhich he beheld was formed of creatures of this world, so much didthey resemble a choir of supernatural beings, rendering homage to theuniversal object of adoration.

  Such was the knight's first idea, as the procession passed him, scarcemoving, save just sufficiently to continue their progress; so that,seen by the shadowy and religious light which the lamps shed through theclouds of incense which darkened the apartment, they appeared rather toglide than to walk.

  But as a second time, in surrounding the chapel, they passed the spot onwhich he kneeled, one of the white-stoled maidens, as she glided by him,detached from the chaplet which she carried a rosebud, which droppedfrom her fingers, perhaps unconsciously, on the foot of Sir Kenneth. Theknight started as if a dart had suddenly struck his person; for, whenthe mind is wound up to a high pitch of feeling and expectation,the slightest incident, if unexpected, gives fire to the trainwhich imagination has already laid. But he suppressed his emotion,recollecting how easily an incident so indifferent might have happened,and that it was only the uniform monotony of the movement of thechoristers which made the incident in the slightest degree remarkable.

  Still, while the procession, for the third time, surrounded the chapel,the thoughts and the eyes of Kenneth followed exclusively the one amongthe novices who had dropped the rosebud
. Her step, her face, her formwere so completely assimilated to the rest of the choristers that itwas impossible to perceive the least marks of individuality; and yetKenneth's heart throbbed like a bird that would burst from its cage, asif to assure him, by its sympathetic suggestions, that the female whoheld the right file on the second rank of the novices was dearer to him,not only than all the rest that were present, but than the whole sexbesides. The romantic passion of love, as it was cherished, and indeedenjoined, by the rules of chivalry, associated well with the no lessromantic feelings of devotion; and they might be said much more toenhance than to counteract each other. It was, therefore, with a glowof expectation that had something even of a religious character thatSir Kenneth, his sensations thrilling from his heart to the ends ofhis fingers, expected some second sign of the presence of one who, hestrongly fancied, had already bestowed on him the first. Short asthe space was during which the procession again completed a thirdperambulation of the chapel, it seemed an eternity to Kenneth. At lengththe form which he had watched with such devoted attention drew nigh.There was no difference betwixt that shrouded figure and the others,with whom it moved in concert and in unison, until, just as she passedfor the third time the kneeling Crusader, a part of a little andwell-proportioned hand, so beautifully formed as to give the highestidea of the perfect proportions of the form to which it belonged, stolethrough the folds of the gauze, like a moonbeam through the fleecy cloudof a summer night, and again a rosebud lay at the feet of the Knight ofthe Leopard.

  This second intimation could not be accidental---it could not befortuitous, the resemblance of that half-seen but beautiful female handwith one which his lips had once touched, and, while they touched it,had internally sworn allegiance to the lovely owner. Had further proofbeen wanting, there was the glimmer of that matchless ruby ring on thatsnow-white finger, whose invaluable worth Kenneth would yet have prizedless than the slightest sign which that finger could have made; and,veiled too, as she was, he might see, by chance or by favour, a straycurl of the dark tresses, each hair of which was dearer to him a hundredtimes than a chain of massive gold. It was the lady of his love! Butthat she should be here--in the savage and sequestered desert--amongvestals, who rendered themselves habitants of wilds and of caverns, thatthey might perform in secret those Christian rites which they darednot assist in openly; that this should be so, in truth and in reality,seemed too incredible--it must be a dream--a delusive trance of theimagination. While these thoughts passed through the mind of Kenneth,the same passage, by which the procession had entered the chapel,received them on their return. The young sacristans, the sable nuns,vanished successively through the open door. At length she from whom hehad received this double intimation passed also; yet, in passing, turnedher head, slightly indeed, but perceptibly, towards the place where heremained fixed as an image. He marked the last wave of her veil--it wasgone--and a darkness sunk upon his soul, scarce less palpable than thatwhich almost immediately enveloped his external sense; for the lastchorister had no sooner crossed the threshold of the door than it shutwith a loud sound, and at the same instant the voices of the choir weresilent, the lights of the chapel were at once extinguished, and SirKenneth remained solitary and in total darkness. But to Kenneth,solitude, and darkness, and the uncertainty of his mysterious situationwere as nothing--he thought not of them--cared not for them--cared fornought in the world save the flitting vision which had just glided pasthim, and the tokens of her favour which she had bestowed. To grope onthe floor for the buds which she had dropped--to press them to his lips,to his bosom, now alternately, now together--to rivet his lips to thecold stones on which, as near as he could judge, she had so latelystepped--to play all the extravagances which strong affection suggestsand vindicates to those who yield themselves up to it, were but thetokens of passionate love common to all ages. But it was peculiar to thetimes of chivalry that, in his wildest rapture, the knight imagined ofno attempt to follow or to trace the object of such romantic attachment;that he thought of her as of a deity, who, having deigned to showherself for an instant to her devoted worshipper, had again returnedto the darkness of her sanctuary--or as an influential planet, which,having darted in some auspicious minute one favourable ray, wrappeditself again in its veil of mist. The motions of the lady of his lovewere to him those of a superior being, who was to move without watch orcontrol, rejoice him by her appearance, or depress him by her absence,animate him by her kindness, or drive him to despair by her cruelty--allat her own free will, and without other importunity or remonstrance thanthat expressed by the most devoted services of the heart and sword ofthe champion, whose sole object in life was to fulfil her commands, and,by the splendour of his own achievements, to exalt her fame.

  Such were the rules of chivalry, and of the love which was its rulingprinciple. But Sir Kenneth's attachment was rendered romantic by otherand still more peculiar circumstances. He had never even heard the soundof his lady's voice, though he had often beheld her beauty with rapture.She moved in a circle which his rank of knighthood permitted himindeed to approach, but not to mingle with; and highly as he stooddistinguished for warlike skill and enterprise, still the poor Scottishsoldier was compelled to worship his divinity at a distance almost asgreat as divides the Persian from the sun which he adores. But when wasthe pride of woman too lofty to overlook the passionate devotion ofa lover, however inferior in degree? Her eye had been on him in thetournament, her ear had heard his praises in the report of the battleswhich were daily fought; and while count, duke, and lord contendedfor her grace, it flowed, unwillingly perhaps at first, or evenunconsciously, towards the poor Knight of the Leopard, who, to supporthis rank, had little besides his sword. When she looked, and when shelistened, the lady saw and heard enough to encourage her in a partialitywhich had at first crept on her unawares. If a knight's personal beautywas praised, even the most prudish dames of the military court ofEngland would make an exception in favour of the Scottish Kenneth;and it oftentimes happened that, notwithstanding the very considerablelargesses which princes and peers bestowed on the minstrels, animpartial spirit of independence would seize the poet, and the harp wasswept to the heroism of one who had neither palfreys nor garments tobestow in guerdon of his applause.

  The moments when she listened to the praises of her lover becamegradually more and more dear to the high-born Edith, relieving theflattery with which her ear was weary, and presenting to her a subjectof secret contemplation, more worthy, as he seemed by general report,than those who surpassed him in rank and in the gifts of fortune. As herattention became constantly, though cautiously, fixed on Sir Kenneth,she grew more and more convinced of his personal devotion to herself andmore and more certain in her mind that in Kenneth of Scotland she beheldthe fated knight doomed to share with her through weal and woe--and theprospect looked gloomy and dangerous--the passionate attachment to whichthe poets of the age ascribed such universal dominion, and which itsmanners and morals placed nearly on the same rank with devotion itself.

  Let us not disguise the truth from our readers. When Edith became awareof the state of her own sentiments, chivalrous as were her sentiments,becoming a maiden not distant from the throne of England--gratified asher pride must have been with the mute though unceasing homage renderedto her by the knight whom she had distinguished, there were momentswhen the feelings of the woman, loving and beloved, murmured against therestraints of state and form by which she was surrounded, and when shealmost blamed the timidity of her lover, who seemed resolved not toinfringe them. The etiquette, to use a modern phrase, of birth and rank,had drawn around her a magical circle, beyond which Sir Kenneth mightindeed bow and gaze, but within which he could no more pass than anevoked spirit can transgress the boundaries prescribed by the rod of apowerful enchanter. The thought involuntarily pressed on her that sheherself must venture, were it but the point of her fairy foot, beyondthe prescribed boundary, if she ever hoped to give a lover so reservedand bashful an opportunity of so slight a favour as but to salute hershoe-tie.
There was an example--the noted precedent of the "King'sdaughter of Hungary," who thus generously encouraged the "squire of lowdegree;" and Edith, though of kingly blood, was no king's daughter, anymore than her lover was of low degree--fortune had put no such extremebarrier in obstacle to their affections. Something, however, withinthe maiden's bosom--that modest pride which throws fetters even on loveitself forbade her, notwithstanding the superiority of her condition, tomake those advances, which, in every case, delicacy assigns to the othersex; above all, Sir Kenneth was a knight so gentle and honourable, sohighly accomplished, as her imagination at least suggested, togetherwith the strictest feelings of what was due to himself and to her,that however constrained her attitude might be while receiving hisadorations, like the image of some deity, who is neither supposed tofeel nor to reply to the homage of its votaries, still the idol fearedthat to step prematurely from her pedestal would be to degrade herselfin the eyes of her devoted worshipper.

  Yet the devout adorer of an actual idol can even discover signs ofapprobation in the rigid and immovable features of a marble image;and it is no wonder that something, which could be as favourablyinterpreted, glanced from the bright eye of the lovely Edith, whosebeauty, indeed, consisted rather more in that very power of expression,than an absolute regularity of contour or brilliancy of complexion. Someslight marks of distinction had escaped from her, notwithstanding herown jealous vigilance, else how could Sir Kenneth have so readily andso undoubtingly recognized the lovely hand, of which scarce two fingerswere visible from under the veil, or how could he have rested sothoroughly assured that two flowers, successively dropped on the spot,were intended as a recognition on the part of his lady-love? By whattrain of observation--by what secret signs, looks, or gestures--by whatinstinctive freemasonry of love, this degree of intelligence came tosubsist between Edith and her lover, we cannot attempt to trace; for weare old, and such slight vestiges of affection, quickly discovered byyounger eyes, defy the power of ours. Enough that such affectiondid subsist between parties who had never even spoken to oneanother--though, on the side of Edith, it was checked by a deep sense ofthe difficulties and dangers which must necessarily attend the furtherprogress of their attachment; and upon that of the knight by a thousanddoubts and fears lest he had overestimated the slight tokens of thelady's notice, varied, as they necessarily were, by long intervalsof apparent coldness, during which either the fear of exciting theobservation of others, and thus drawing danger upon her lover, or thatof sinking in his esteem by seeming too willing to be won, made herbehave with indifference, and as if unobservant of his presence.

  This narrative, tedious perhaps, but which the story renders necessary,may serve to explain the state of intelligence, if it deserves so stronga name, betwixt the lovers, when Edith's unexpected appearance in thechapel produced so powerful an effect on the feelings of her knight.