CHAPTER VII.
There never was a time on the march parts yet, When Scottish with English met, But it was marvel if the red blood ran not As the rain does in the street. --BATTLE OF OTTERBOURNE.
A considerable band of Scottish warriors had joined the Crusaders,and had naturally placed themselves under the command of the Englishmonarch, being, like his native troops, most of them of Saxon andNorman descent, speaking the same languages, possessed, some of them, ofEnglish as well as Scottish demesnes, and allied in some cases by bloodand intermarriage. The period also preceded that when the graspingambition of Edward I. gave a deadly and envenomed character to the warsbetwixt the two nations--the English fighting for the subjugationof Scotland, and the Scottish, with all the stern determination andobstinacy which has ever characterized their nation, for the defenceof their independence, by the most violent means, under the mostdisadvantageous circumstances, and at the most extreme hazard. As yet,wars betwixt the two nations, though fierce and frequent, had beenconducted on principles of fair hostility, and admitted of thosesoftening shades by which courtesy and the respect for open and generousfoemen qualify and mitigate the horrors of war. In time of peace,therefore, and especially when both, as at present, were engaged in war,waged in behalf of a common cause, and rendered dear to them by theirideas of religion, the adventurers of both countries frequently foughtside by side, their national emulation serving only to stimulate them toexcel each other in their efforts against the common enemy.
The frank and martial character of Richard, who made no distinctionbetwixt his own subjects and those of William of Scotland, excepting asthey bore themselves in the field of battle, tended much toconciliate the troops of both nations. But upon his illness, and thedisadvantageous circumstances in which the Crusaders were placed, thenational disunion between the various bands united in the Crusade, beganto display itself, just as old wounds break out afresh in the human bodywhen under the influence of disease or debility.
The Scottish and English, equally jealous and high-spirited, and apt totake offence--the former the more so, because the poorer and the weakernation--began to fill up by internal dissension the period when thetruce forbade them to wreak their united vengeance on the Saracens.Like the contending Roman chiefs of old, the Scottish would admit nosuperiority, and their southern neighbours would brook no equality.There were charges and recriminations, and both the common soldieryand their leaders and commanders, who had been good comrades in time ofvictory, lowered on each other in the period of adversity, as if theirunion had not been then more essential than ever, not only to thesuccess of their common cause, but to their joint safety. The samedisunion had begun to show itself betwixt the French and English, theItalians and the Germans, and even between the Danes and Swedes; but itis only that which divided the two nations whom one island bred, and whoseemed more animated against each other for the very reason, that ournarrative is principally concerned with.
Of all the English nobles who had followed their King to Palestine,De Vaux was most prejudiced against the Scottish. They were his nearneighbours, with whom he had been engaged during his whole life inprivate or public warfare, and on whom he had inflicted many calamities,while he had sustained at their hands not a few. His love and devotionto the King was like the vivid affection of the old English mastiff tohis master, leaving him churlish and inaccessible to all others eventowards those to whom he was indifferent--and rough and dangerous toany against whom he entertained a prejudice. De Vaux had never observedwithout jealousy and displeasure his King exhibit any mark of courtesyor favour to the wicked, deceitful, and ferocious race born on theother side of a river, or an imaginary line drawn through waste andwilderness; and he even doubted the success of a Crusade in which theywere suffered to bear arms, holding them in his secret soul littlebetter than the Saracens whom he came to combat. It may be added that,as being himself a blunt and downright Englishman, unaccustomedto conceal the slightest movement either of love or of dislike, heaccounted the fair-spoken courtesy which the Scots had learned, eitherfrom imitation of their frequent allies, the French, or which mighthave arisen from their own proud and reserved character, as a false andastucious mark of the most dangerous designs against their neighbours,over whom he believed, with genuine English confidence, they could, byfair manhood, never obtain any advantage.
Yet, though De Vaux entertained these sentiments concerning his Northernneighbours, and extended them, with little mitigation, even to such ashad assumed the Cross, his respect for the King, and a sense of the dutyimposed by his vow as a Crusader, prevented him from displaying themotherwise than by regularly shunning all intercourse with his Scottishbrethren-at-arms as far as possible, by observing a sullen taciturnitywhen compelled to meet them occasionally, and by looking scornfully uponthem when they encountered on the march and in camp. The Scottish baronsand knights were not men to bear his scorn unobserved or unreplied to;and it came to that pass that he was regarded as the determined andactive enemy of a nation, whom, after all, he only disliked, and in somesort despised. Nay, it was remarked by close observers that, if he hadnot towards them the charity of Scripture, which suffereth long, andjudges kindly, he was by no means deficient in the subordinate andlimited virtue, which alleviates and relieves the wants of others.The wealth of Thomas of Gilsland procured supplies of provisions andmedicines, and some of these usually flowed by secret channels intothe quarters of the Scottish--his surly benevolence proceeding on theprinciple that, next to a man's friend, his foe was of most importanceto him, passing over all the intermediate relations as too indifferentto merit even a thought. This explanation is necessary, in order thatthe reader may fully understand what we are now to detail.
Thomas de Vaux had not made many steps beyond the entrance of the royalpavilion when he was aware of what the far more acute ear of the Englishmonarch--no mean proficient in the art of minstrelsy--had instantlydiscovered, that the musical strains, namely, which had reached theirears, were produced by the pipes, shalms, and kettle-drums of theSaracens; and at the bottom of an avenue of tents, which formed a broadaccess to the pavilion of Richard, he could see a crowd of idle soldiersassembled around the spot from which the music was heard, almost in thecentre of the camp; and he saw, with great surprise, mingled amid thehelmets of various forms worn by the Crusaders of different nations,white turbans and long pikes, announcing the presence of armedSaracens, and the huge deformed heads of several camels or dromedaries,overlooking the multitude by aid of their long, disproportioned necks.
Wondering, and displeased at a sight so unexpected and singular--for itwas customary to leave all flags of truce and other communications fromthe enemy at an appointed place without the barriers--the baron lookedeagerly round for some one of whom he might inquire the cause of thisalarming novelty.
The first person whom he met advancing to him he set down at once, byhis grave and haughty step, as a Spaniard or a Scot; and presently aftermuttered to himself, "And a Scot it is--he of the Leopard. I have seenhim fight indifferently well, for one of his country."
Loath to ask even a passing question, he was about to pass Sir Kenneth,with that sullen and lowering port which seems to say, "I know thee, butI will hold no communication with thee." But his purpose was defeatedby the Northern Knight, who moved forward directly to him, and accostinghim with formal courtesy, said, "My Lord de Vaux of Gilsland, I have incharge to speak with you."
"Ha!" returned the English baron, "with me? But say your pleasure, so itbe shortly spoken--I am on the King's errand."
"Mine touches King Richard yet more nearly," answered Sir Kenneth; "Ibring him, I trust, health."
The Lord of Gilsland measured the Scot with incredulous eyes, andreplied, "Thou art no leech, I think, Sir Scot; I had as soon thought ofyour bringing the King of England wealth."
Sir Kenneth, though displeased with the manner of the baron'sreply, answered calmly, "Health to Richard is glory and wealth toChristendom.--But my time presses; I pray you
, may I see the King?"
"Surely not, fair sir," said the baron, "until your errand be told moredistinctly. The sick chambers of princes open not to all who inquire,like a northern hostelry."
"My lord," said Kenneth, "the cross which I wear in common withyourself, and the importance of what I have to tell, must, for thepresent, cause me to pass over a bearing which else I were unapt toendure. In plain language, then, I bring with me a Moorish physician,who undertakes to work a cure on King Richard."
"A Moorish physician!" said De Vaux; "and who will warrant that hebrings not poisons instead of remedies?"
"His own life, my lord--his head, which he offers as a guarantee."
"I have known many a resolute ruffian," said De Vaux, "who valued hisown life as little as it deserved, and would troop to the gallows asmerrily as if the hangman were his partner in a dance."
"But thus it is, my lord," replied the Scot. "Saladin, to whom none willdeny the credit of a generous and valiant enemy, hath sent thisleech hither with an honourable retinue and guard, befitting the highestimation in which El Hakim [The Physician] is held by the Soldan, andwith fruits and refreshments for the King's private chamber, and suchmessage as may pass betwixt honourable enemies, praying him to berecovered of his fever, that he may be the fitter to receive a visitfrom the Soldan, with his naked scimitar in his hand, and a hundredthousand cavaliers at his back. Will it please you, who are of theKing's secret council, to cause these camels to be discharged oftheir burdens, and some order taken as to the reception of the learnedphysician?"
"Wonderful!" said De Vaux, as speaking to himself.--"And who will vouchfor the honour of Saladin, in a case when bad faith would rid him atonce of his most powerful adversary?"
"I myself," replied Sir Kenneth, "will be his guarantee, with honour,life, and fortune."
"Strange!" again ejaculated De Vaux; "the North vouches for theSouth--the Scot for the Turk! May I crave of you, Sir Knight, how youbecame concerned in this affair?"
"I have been absent on a pilgrimage, in the course of which," repliedSir Kenneth "I had a message to discharge towards the holy hermit ofEngaddi."
"May I not be entrusted with it, Sir Kenneth, and with the answer of theholy man?"
"It may not be, my lord," answered the Scot.
"I am of the secret council of England," said the Englishman haughtily.
"To which land I owe no allegiance," said Kenneth. "Though I havevoluntarily followed in this war the personal fortunes of England'ssovereign, I was dispatched by the General Council of the kings,princes, and supreme leaders of the army of the Blessed Cross, and tothem only I render my errand."
"Ha! sayest thou?" said the proud Baron de Vaux. "But know, messengerof the kings and princes as thou mayest be, no leech shall approach thesick-bed of Richard of England without the consent of him of Gilsland;and they will come on evil errand who dare to intrude themselves againstit."
He was turning loftily away, when the Scot, placing himself closer, andmore opposite to him, asked, in a calm voice, yet not without expressinghis share of pride, whether the Lord of Gilsland esteemed him agentleman and a good knight.
"All Scots are ennobled by their birthright," answered Thomas de Vaux,something ironically; but sensible of his own injustice, and perceivingthat Kenneth's colour rose, he added, "For a good knight it were sin todoubt you, in one at least who has seen you well and bravely dischargeyour devoir."
"Well, then," said the Scottish knight, satisfied with the frankness ofthe last admission, "and let me swear to you, Thomas of Gilsland, that,as I am true Scottish man, which I hold a privilege equal to my ancientgentry, and as sure as I am a belted knight, and come hither to acquireLOS [Los--laus, praise, or renown] and fame in this mortal life, andforgiveness of my sins in that which is to come--so truly, and by theblessed Cross which I wear, do I protest unto you that I desire but thesafety of Richard Coeur de Lion, in recommending the ministry of thisMoslem physician."
The Englishman was struck with the solemnity of the obtestation, andanswered with more cordiality than he had yet exhibited, "Tell me, SirKnight of the Leopard, granting (which I do not doubt) that thou artthyself satisfied in this matter, shall I do well, in a land where theart of poisoning is as general as that of cooking, to bring thisunknown physician to practise with his drugs on a health so valuable toChristendom?"
"My lord," replied the Scot, "thus only can I reply--that my squire, theonly one of my retinue whom war and disease had left in attendance onme, has been of late suffering dangerously under this same fever, which,in valiant King Richard, has disabled the principal limb of our holyenterprise. This leech, this El Hakim, hath ministered remedies to himnot two hours since, and already he hath fallen into a refreshing sleep.That he can cure the disorder, which has proved so fatal, I nothingdoubt; that he hath the purpose to do it is, I think, warranted by hismission from the royal Soldan, who is true-hearted and loyal, so far asa blinded infidel may be called so; and for his eventual success, thecertainty of reward in case of succeeding, and punishment in case ofvoluntary failure, may be a sufficient guarantee."
The Englishman listened with downcast looks, as one who doubted, yet wasnot unwilling to receive conviction. At length he looked up and said,"May I see your sick squire, fair sir?"
The Scottish knight hesitated and coloured, yet answered at last,"Willingly, my Lord of Gilsland. But you must remember, when you see mypoor quarter, that the nobles and knights of Scotland feed not so high,sleep not so soft, and care not for the magnificence of lodgment whichis Proper to their southern neighbours. I am POORLY lodged, my Lord ofGilsland," he added, with a haughty emphasis on the word, while, withsome unwillingness, he led the way to his temporary place of abode.
Whatever were the prejudices of De Vaux against the nation of his newacquaintance, and though we undertake not to deny that some of thesewere excited by its proverbial poverty, he had too much noblenessof disposition to enjoy the mortification of a brave individualthus compelled to make known wants which his pride would gladly haveconcealed.
"Shame to the soldier of the Cross," he said, "who thinks of worldlysplendour, or of luxurious accommodation, when pressing forward tothe conquest of the Holy City. Fare as hard as we may, we shall yet bebetter than the host of martyrs and of saints, who, having trod thesescenes before us, now hold golden lamps and evergreen palms."
This was the most metaphorical speech which Thomas of Gilsland was everknown to utter, the rather, perhaps (as will sometimes happen), that itdid not entirely express his own sentiments, being somewhat a lover ofgood cheer and splendid accommodation. By this time they reached theplace of the camp where the Knight of the Leopard had assumed his abode.
Appearances here did indeed promise no breach of the laws ofmortification, to which the Crusaders, according to the opinionexpressed by him of Gilsland, ought to subject themselves. A space ofground, large enough to accommodate perhaps thirty tents, according tothe Crusaders' rules of castrametation, was partly vacant--because,in ostentation, the knight had demanded ground to the extent of hisoriginal retinue--partly occupied by a few miserable huts, hastilyconstructed of boughs, and covered with palm-leaves. These habitationsseemed entirely deserted, and several of them were ruinous. The centralhut, which represented the pavilion of the leader, was distinguished byhis swallow-tailed pennon, placed on the point of a spear, from whichits long folds dropped motionless to the ground, as if sickening underthe scorching rays of the Asiatic sun. But no pages or squires--not evena solitary warder--was placed by the emblem of feudal power and knightlydegree. If its reputation defended it not from insult, it had no otherguard.
Sir Kenneth cast a melancholy look around him, but suppressing hisfeelings, entered the hut, making a sign to the Baron of Gilsland tofollow. He also cast around a glance of examination, which implied pitynot altogether unmingled with contempt, to which, perhaps, it is asnearly akin as it is said to be to love. He then stooped his loftycrest, and entered a lowly hut, which his bulky form seemed almostentirely
to fill.
The interior of the hut was chiefly occupied by two beds. One was empty,but composed of collected leaves, and spread with an antelope's hide. Itseemed, from the articles of armour laid beside it, and from a crucifixof silver, carefully and reverentially disposed at the head, to be thecouch of the knight himself. The other contained the invalid, of whomSir Kenneth had spoken, a strong-built and harsh-featured man, past, ashis looks betokened, the middle age of life. His couch was trimmedmore softly than his master's, and it was plain that the more courtlygarments of the latter, the loose robe in which the knights showedthemselves on pacific occasions, and the other little spare articlesof dress and adornment, had been applied by Sir Kenneth to theaccommodation of his sick domestic. In an outward part of the hut,which yet was within the range of the English baron's eye, a boy,rudely attired with buskins of deer's hide, a blue cap or bonnet, and adoublet, whose original finery was much tarnished, sat on his knees bya chafing-dish filled with charcoal, cooking upon a plate of iron thecakes of barley-bread, which were then, and still are, a favourite foodwith the Scottish people. Part of an antelope was suspended against oneof the main props of the hut. Nor was it difficult to know how it hadbeen procured; for a large stag greyhound, nobler in size and appearancethan those even which guarded King Richard's sick-bed, lay eyeingthe process of baking the cake. The sagacious animal, on their firstentrance, uttered a stifled growl, which sounded from his deep chestlike distant thunder. But he saw his master, and acknowledged hispresence by wagging his tail and couching his head, abstaining from moretumultuous or noisy greeting, as if his noble instinct had taught himthe propriety of silence in a sick man's chamber.
Beside the couch sat on a cushion, also composed of skins, the Moorishphysician of whom Sir Kenneth had spoken, cross-legged, after theEastern fashion. The imperfect light showed little of him, save thatthe lower part of his face was covered with a long, black beard, whichdescended over his breast; that he wore a high TOLPACH, a Tartar cap ofthe lamb's wool manufactured at Astracan, bearing the same dusky colour;and that his ample caftan, or Turkish robe, was also of a dark hue.Two piercing eyes, which gleamed with unusual lustre, were the onlylineaments of his visage that could be discerned amid the darkness inwhich he was enveloped.
The English lord stood silent with a sort of reverential awe; fornotwithstanding the roughness of his general bearing, a scene ofdistress and poverty, firmly endured without complaint or murmur, wouldat any time have claimed more reverence from Thomas de Vaux than wouldall the splendid formalities of a royal presence-chamber, unless thatpresence-chamber were King Richard's own. Nothing was for a time heardbut the heavy and regular breathings of the invalid, who seemed inprofound repose.
"He hath not slept for six nights before," said Sir Kenneth, "as I amassured by the youth, his attendant."
"Noble Scot," said Thomas de Vaux, grasping the Scottish knight's hand,with a pressure which had more of cordiality than he permitted his wordsto utter, "this gear must be amended. Your esquire is but too evil fedand looked to."
In the latter part of this speech he naturally raised his voice to itsusual decided tone, The sick man was disturbed in his slumbers.
"My master," he said, murmuring as in a dream, "noble Sir Kenneth, tastenot, to you as to me, the waters of the Clyde cold and refreshing afterthe brackish springs of Palestine?"
"He dreams of his native land, and is happy in his slumbers," whisperedSir Kenneth to De Vaux; but had scarce uttered the words, when thephysician, arising from the place which he had taken near the couch ofthe sick, and laying the hand of the patient, whose pulse he had beencarefully watching, quietly upon the couch, came to the two knights,and taking them each by the arm, while he intimated to them to remainsilent, led them to the front of the hut.
"In the name of Issa Ben Mariam," he said, "whom we honour as you,though not with the same blinded superstition, disturb not the effectof the blessed medicine of which he hath partaken. To awaken him now isdeath or deprivation of reason; but return at the hour when the muezzincalls from the minaret to evening prayer in the mosque, and if leftundisturbed until then, I promise you this same Frankish soldier shallbe able, without prejudice to his health, to hold some brief conversewith you on any matters on which either, and especially his master, mayhave to question him."
The knights retreated before the authoritative commands of the leech,who seemed fully to comprehend the importance of the Eastern proverbthat the sick chamber of the patient is the kingdom of the physician.
They paused, and remained standing together at the door of the hut--SirKenneth with the air of one who expected his visitor to say farewell,and De Vaux as if he had something on his mind which prevented him fromdoing so. The hound, however, had pressed out of the tent after them,and now thrust his long, rough countenance into the hand of his master,as if modestly soliciting some mark of his kindness. He had no soonerreceived the notice which he desired, in the shape of a kind word andslight caress, than, eager to acknowledge his gratitude and joy for hismaster's return, he flew off at full speed, galloping in full career,and with outstretched tail, here and there, about and around, cross-waysand endlong, through the decayed huts and the esplanade we havedescribed, but never transgressing those precincts which his sagacityknew were protected by his master's pennon. After a few gambols of thiskind, the dog, coming close up to his master, laid at once aside hisfrolicsome mood, relapsed into his usual gravity and slowness of gestureand deportment, and looked as if he were ashamed that anything shouldhave moved him to depart so far out of his sober self-control.
Both knights looked on with pleasure; for Sir Kenneth was justly proudof his noble hound, and the northern English baron was, of course, anadmirer of the chase, and a judge of the animal's merits.
"A right able dog," he said. "I think, fair sir, King Richard hath notan ALAN which may match him, if he be as stanch as he is swift. But letme pray you--speaking in all honour and kindness--have you not heard theproclamation that no one under the rank of earl shall keep hunting dogswithin King Richard's camp without the royal license, which, I think,Sir Kenneth, hath not been issued to you? I speak as Master of theHorse."
"And I answer as a free Scottish knight," said Kenneth sternly. "Forthe present I follow the banner of England, but I cannot remember that Ihave ever subjected myself to the forest-laws of that kingdom, nor haveI such respect for them as would incline me to do so. When the trumpetsounds to arms, my foot is in the stirrup as soon as any--when it clangsfor the charge, my lance has not yet been the last laid in the rest. Butfor my hours of liberty or of idleness King Richard has no title to barmy recreation."
"Nevertheless," said De Vaux, "it is a folly to disobey the King'sordinance; so, with your good leave, I, as having authority in thatmatter, will send you a protection for my friend here."
"I thank you," said the Scot coldly; "but he knows my allotted quarters,and within these I can protect him myself.--And yet," he said, suddenlychanging his manner, "this is but a cold return for a well-meantkindness. I thank you, my lord, most heartily. The King's equerriesor prickers might find Roswal at disadvantage, and do him some injury,which I should not, perhaps, be slow in returning, and so ill might comeof it. You have seen so much of my house-keeping, my lord," he added,with a smile, "that I need not shame to say that Roswal is our principalpurveyor, and well I hope our Lion Richard will not be like the lionin the minstrel fable, that went a-hunting, and kept the whole booty tohimself. I cannot think he would grudge a poor gentleman, who followshim faithfully, his hour of sport and his morsel of game, moreespecially when other food is hard enough to come by."
"By my faith, you do the King no more than justice; and yet," said thebaron, "there is something in these words, vert and venison, that turnsthe very brains of our Norman princes."
"We have heard of late," said the Scot, "by minstrels and pilgrims, thatyour outlawed yeomen have formed great bands in the shires of York andNottingham, having at their head a most stout archer, called Robin Hood,with his li
eutenant, Little John. Methinks it were better that Richardrelaxed his forest-code in England, than endeavour to enforce it in theHoly Land."
"Wild work, Sir Kenneth," replied De Vaux, shrugging his shoulders, asone who would avoid a perilous or unpleasing topic--"a mad world, sir.I must now bid you adieu, having presently to return to the King'spavilion. At vespers I will again, with your leave, visit your quarters,and speak with this same infidel physician. I would, in the meantime,were it no offence, willingly send you what would somewhat mend yourcheer."
"I thank you, sir," said Sir Kenneth, "but it needs not. Roswal hathalready stocked my larder for two weeks, since the sun of Palestine, ifit brings diseases, serves also to dry venison."
The two warriors parted much better friends than they had met; but erethey separated, Thomas de Vaux informed himself at more length ofthe circumstances attending the mission of the Eastern physician, andreceived from the Scottish knight the credentials which he had broughtto King Richard on the part of Saladin.