{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_25651/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_25651","id":"gutenberg_25651","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25651","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Historical Novels","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction","Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction","Knights and knighthood -- Juvenile fiction"],"text":"Produced by Suzanne Shell, Janet Blenkinship and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: \"'Ah, my ill-starred blade!' he cried; 'no longer may I\nbe thy guardian!'\" _Frontispiece_]\n\n\n\n\n  With Spurs of Gold\n\n  _Heroes of Chivalry and Their Deeds_\n\n  By\n\n  Frances Nimmo Greene\n\n  and\n\n  Dolly Williams Kirk\n\n     Boston\n     Little, Brown, and Company\n     1928\n\n     _Copyright, 1905,_\n     BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY\n\n  _All rights reserved_\n\n  PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\n\nThese brief historical sketches were written primarily for young people,\nthough it is hoped that some older readers may find pleasure in renewing\ntheir acquaintance with heroes of chivalry whose names are familiar\nstill, but whose deeds are recalled to mind but vaguely.\n\nIt is the purpose of the book to enliven the study of history by giving\nthe romantic details omitted in text-books, and to enable the readers to\nform a more vivid and lifelike conception of the great men with whom it\ndeals and the turbulent and picturesque times in which they lived.\n\nThe endeavor of the authors has been to narrate events and portray\ncharacter accurately and impartially, but in the sympathetic spirit that\nrecognizes the wide difference between modern standards of conduct and\nthe ideals of the Middle Ages,--the spirit that strives to depict\nvividly and adequately the fine, strong virtues and great deeds that won\nfor these knights the unbounded admiration of their own age, rather than\nto dwell upon those traits and acts that are justly condemned by the\nfiner moral sense of the twentieth century. Emphasis is laid upon the\nnoble in character and deed rather than the ignoble, on the great rather\nthan the little.\n\nIn the preparation of the book many histories, chronicles, and legends\nhave been consulted, and it is hoped that a fair degree of accuracy has\nbeen attained where the narrative belongs to the domain of history. The\nstories of Roland and the Cid, of course, are largely legendary, and\nthere is evidently a considerable admixture of fiction in the\ncontemporary accounts of Godfrey and Richard. The authors have\nendeavored to follow recognized historical authority closely when\npracticable; but historians differ so widely among themselves that it is\noften impossible to determine which version of events is most reliable.\nNo important fact has been stated without good historical authority, but\none or two minor incidents of Godfrey's life and crusade were taken from\nTasso's \"Jerusalem Delivered.\" In the treatment of a few unimportant\nevents, some imaginative details and circumstances strictly in harmony\nwith the meagre historical record of facts have been added to give color\nand interest to the narrative. Also in several instances where the\nsubject-matter of a conversation or speech is purely legendary, or is\ngiven by historians in the third person, it has been put in the first\nperson in order to render the story livelier and more vivid. No other\nliberties have been taken with facts as related by historians of\nlearning and repute.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n                                                                    PAGE\n\n   INTRODUCTORY                                                       xi\n\n   \"THIS IS THE RULE FOR THE GALLANT KNIGHT\"                           1\n\n   A STEED! A STEED!                                                   3\n\n   ROLAND AND OLIVER                                                   7\n\n   THE CID RODRIGO DIAZ DE BIVAR                                      51\n\n   THE CID'S WEDDING                                                  84\n\n   GODFREY AND THE FIRST CRUSADE                                      89\n\n   THE TROUBADOUR                                                    139\n\n   THE CARRIER DOVE                                                  140\n\n   THE CAPTIVE KNIGHT                                                141\n\n   RICHARD COEUR-DE-LION                                           145\n\n   RICHARD'S LAMENT                                                  196\n\n   THE LAST CRUSADER                                                 198\n\n   THE CHEVALIER BAYARD                                              203\n\n   SIR PHILIP SIDNEY                                                 255\n\n   SIDNEY IN TOURNAMENT                                              291\n\n\n\n\nLIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS\n\n\n   \"'Ah, my ill-starred blade!' he cried; 'no longer\n       may I be thy guardian!'\"                            _Frontispiece_\n\n   The Knighting of the Cid                                   _Page_ 59\n\n   \"'Look, my lord, my dear lord! the hound hath\n       found water!' cried Sigier\"                               \"  109\n\n   \"There for months he was kept a close prisoner,\n       loaded with chains\"                                       \"  190\n\n   \"As Bayard lay thus, there was hardly an officer\n       among the Spanish who did not come to\n       speak kindly to him\"                                      \"  251\n\n  Sir Philip Sidney and Penelope Devereux                        \"  266\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTORY\n\n\nTHE MOORS IN SPAIN\n\nIn the seventh century an Arab by the name of Mohammed, or Mahomet,\nestablished a new religion in the East. This religion was called Islam,\nmeaning The Faith, and its followers were known as Mohammedans,\nMussulmans, or Moslems. The principal article of their belief is\nexpressed in the formula, \"There is no God but Allah, and Mohammed is\nhis prophet.\"\n\nThe new faith spread rapidly, and Mohammed soon became the ruler of all\nthe people who received him as a prophet. His successors, called\nCaliphs, or Khalifs, conquered Palestine, Syria, Persia, and northern\nAfrica. The inhabitants of the countries thus added to the Mohammedan\nempire usually adopted the faith of their conquerors, and undertook to\ncarry it into other lands.\n\nIn 711 A. D., a body of these Mohammedans, under the leadership of\nTarik, crossed the strait between Africa and Spain and landed at the\nplace since known as Gibraltar (Jebel-el-Tarik, or The Rock of Tarik).\nThe invaders were met near Xeres by the Christians, under the command of\nRoderick, King of the Visigoths, and the fierce battle of Jerez de La\nFrontera, or Guadalete, took place. At the end of three days' fighting,\nRoderick was slain, and the Christians were completely routed. Victory\nafter victory for Tarik followed, and in three short years all Spain,\nexcept the extreme northern part, was in the hands of the invaders.\n\nThese victorious followers of Mohammed, though people of various\nnationalities, were all designated by the Spaniards _Moors_, from the\nname of a tribe that came from Morocco, or _Saracens_, from an Arabic\nword meaning eastern. Often they were called simply _infidels_, meaning\nunbelievers.\n\nThe Moors were not only skilled warriors, but a people of much\nintelligence, and made far more rapid advances in civilization than the\nSpaniards. They fostered education, and founded schools and libraries.\nThey possessed a considerable knowledge of astronomy, algebra,\nchemistry, and natural history, and attained great excellence in the\narts of music, poetry, and architecture. They built splendid cities,\nadorned with magnificent mosques and palaces. The wonderful mosque of\nCordova and the beautiful Alhambra at Granada remain to this day as\nmonuments of the Moorish skill in architecture.\n\nNor were the Moors cruel or tyrannical rulers. It was not often that a\nMoorish emir or king ill-treated or persecuted his Christian subjects.\nAs a rule, the Christians were allowed more privileges and greater\nfreedom than was usually accorded to a conquered people in those days.\nBut the Spaniards were proud and intensely religious, and they bitterly\nresented their state of subjection to a foreign and \"infidel\" people.\nAgain and again they attempted to overthrow the power of the Moors and\nto drive them from Spain. For more than seven hundred years, war was\nwaged at intervals between the conquerors and the conquered. There could\nbe no permanent peace between Mohammedans and Christians, for each\npeople despised the religion of the other, and each was determined to\nrule in Spain.\n\nGradually, Moorish Spain, at first under the rule of one emir, became\nseparated into a number of small kingdoms, which were often hostile to\neach other. This state of disunion among the Mohammedans materially\naided the efforts of the Christians to regain control of Spain. Little\nby little the Spaniards reconquered their native land. In 1492 A. D.,\nFerdinand and Isabella, sovereigns of Castile, Leon, and Aragon,\nconquered Granada; and with the fall of Granada ended the long rule of\nthe Moors in Spain.\n\n\nTHE AGE OF CHARLEMAGNE\n\nIn the fifth century that part of Europe then called Gaul was invaded in\nsuccession by three Germanic races. The Visigoths first conquered and\ntook possession of the southern part of the country. They were followed\nby the Burgundians, who settled in the eastern portion. Then came the\nterrible Franks, who were not content with seizing the northern\nterritory, but immediately began a war of conquest against the other two\ntribes. The long conflict that followed ended at length in the triumph\nof the Franks. These fierce Franks then established themselves firmly as\nthe ruling race, and in course of time Gaul came to be known as the land\nof the Franks, or France.\n\nThe kingdom thus established by the Franks under their dreaded chief,\nClovis, flourished for a time; but eventually the kings of his line\nbecame so weak in character and so wicked in conduct as to be unfit to\nrule, and the country fell into a state of wretched disorder. At last\nthese Merovingian princes became so utterly incapable that the kingly\nauthority fell into the hands of certain state officials called \"Mayors\nof the Palace.\"\n\nIn the eighth century one of these mayors--a bold and energetic warrior,\nby the name of Charles, or Karl--became in reality the ruler of France,\nthough a weak Merovingian prince still bore the empty title of king.\n\nAt that time the Mohammedans who had conquered Spain some years before\nwere seized with the ambition to conquer all Europe and add it to the\nempire of Islam. Under the leadership of Abderrahman, Moorish governor\nof Spain, these Saracens crossed the Pyrenees and invaded France. The\nChristians of all races, roused by the greatness of the threatened\ndanger, ceased warring among themselves and rallied as one people to the\ndefence of their country and their religion. A large army under the\ncommand of Charles, or Karl, ruler of the Franks, met the invaders near\nTours. There, in 732 A. D., was fought the famous battle of Tours, or\nPoictiers, in which Charles and his Christian warriors utterly routed\nthe formidable Mohammedan army. By this great victory, the threatened\nadvance of the Moslem power was checked, and Europe was saved to the\nChristian faith. The victorious general, Charles, because of this great\nblow dealt to the _Infidels_, received the surname of Martel, or the\nHammer.\n\nBut the fame of Karl Martel, though great and well-deserved, is far\nsurpassed by the renown of his grandson, Charlemagne, or Charles the\nGreat. The kingship of France, Charlemagne inherited from his father,\nPepin, who, more ambitious than Karl Martel, dethroned the Merovingian\npuppet king and made himself king in name as well as in fact.\nCharlemagne, during his reign of forty-five years, added vast\nterritories to his Frankish kingdom by successful wars waged against\nsurrounding tribes of heathen Saxons, against the Moors in northern\nSpain, the inhabitants of Bavaria, the Avars beyond that country, and\nthe people of Lombardy, in what is now Italy.\n\nIn the year 800 A. D., on Christmas Day, the great Frankish king was\ncrowned emperor by the Pope at Rome. He was hailed as a successor to the\nRoman Caesars, the people shouting,--\n\n\"Long life and victory to Charles Augustus, crowned by God, the great,\npious, and pacific Emperor of the Romans!\"\n\nCharlemagne, in truth, well deserved the title of emperor, for at that\ntime his sway extended over France, northern Spain, northern Italy, the\ngreater part of Germany, Belgium, and Switzerland,--almost half of\nEurope. But Charlemagne was more than a successful warrior, a conqueror\nof nations. He was a man of powerful intellect, whose keen insight,\nsound judgment, and iron will enabled him to rule wisely and well the\nvarious races of his vast empire. Charlemagne was an earnest student and\na man of extensive learning for those days, familiar with Latin and\nGreek, proficient in logic, rhetoric, music, astronomy, and theology.\nDelighting in study himself, the emperor recognized the vital importance\nof general education. By founding schools and compelling attendance upon\nthem, by himself setting an example of devotion to study, thus\nencouraging others to intellectual pursuits, by inviting to his court\nfamous scholars from neighboring countries,--in every way possible,\nCharlemagne endeavored to impress upon his people the value of mental\nculture and the importance of education.\n\nHis court became the resort of learned men and renowned knights from\nall lands, and the fame of Charlemagne spread far and wide. Poets\ncelebrated his achievements as a warrior, his virtues as a man, his\nwisdom as a ruler. Nor was their praise unmerited. By the most wonderful\nmilitary genius, this chieftain of a wild Frankish tribe carried out his\nambitious project of establishing a great Christian empire. That he only\npartially succeeded in his more noble purpose of civilizing the\nbarbarous tribes he ruled, was due solely to the magnitude of the task.\nThe zealous and splendid effort he made, the measure of success he\nattained, in battling against the darkness and ignorance of his time,\nentitle Charlemagne to a place among the truly great men of the world.\nHis greatness has stamped his name on the time, and the \"Age of\nCharlemagne\" stands out in happy contrast to the darkness of preceding\nand subsequent times.\n\n\nTHE CRUSADES\n\nIt was the custom in the earliest ages of Christianity for its followers\nto make pilgrimages to Palestine. All pious Christians desired to visit\nthe land where Christ had lived and died for their redemption, and they\nbelieved firmly that the blessing of God awaited those pilgrims who\nmade long and perilous journeys to worship at the tomb of their Lord.\nThese pilgrimages became much more numerous in the fourth century, when\nthe Roman emperor, Constantine, was converted to Christianity and put a\nstop to the persecution of the Christians. This emperor and his mother,\nSaint Helena, restored Jerusalem, and there erected magnificent churches\nfor the worship of Christ. Then, from all parts of the Christian world,\nthousands of pilgrims journeyed to the Holy City in peace and safety.\n\nBut Jerusalem was not destined to remain in the hands of the Christians.\nAfter having been taken by the Persians and retaken by the Christians,\nthe city yielded in the seventh century to the Mohammedans, under the\nCaliph Omar, a successor of Mohammed. From that time on, Christians\nliving in Palestine and pilgrims from other countries were oppressed and\npersecuted, and the pilgrimage to Jerusalem became both difficult and\ndangerous. During the reign of Charlemagne, respect for the fame and\npower of that great Christian emperor induced the celebrated Caliph\nHaroun-al-Raschid to treat the Christians with mildness, and to allow\nthem to worship in peace at Jerusalem; but under the succeeding\nMohammedan rulers of Palestine, the Christians were subjected to every\nmanner of insult and outrage. Those courageous pilgrims who dared all\nthe perils of a journey to Jerusalem and returned home in safety, spread\nabroad throughout Europe the sad story of their own trials, the\nsufferings of their fellow-Christians in Palestine, and the desecration\nof holy places.\n\nThese stories excited deep indignation and pious horror in all hearers,\nfor it was an age of intense religious faith and enthusiasm; and the\nfeeling arose in the hearts of Christian people that it was an\nimperative religious duty to rescue the Holy Land and the Sepulchre of\ntheir Lord from the Infidels. This feeling grew and spread and\nstrengthened into a religious conviction throughout Christendom. So when\nPeter the Hermit, a monk returned from Palestine, traveled through\nEurope, and preached eloquently the sacred duty of delivering the Holy\nLand, he found everywhere enthusiastic hearers.\n\nThe people burned with zeal to undertake the pious task; and when Pope\nUrban, at the Council of Clermont, in 1095 A. D., gave the sanction of\nthe Church to the enterprise, all Europe rushed to arms. Those who vowed\nto do battle for the holy cause bore the sign of the cross, and hence\nthe expedition to Palestine was called a \"crusade,\" from the Latin word\n_crux_, meaning cross.\n\nThe history of this First Crusade is given in the sketch of Godfrey de\nBouillon, and that of the Third Crusade in connection with the story of\nRichard Coeur-de-Lion. These two were the most famous crusades,\nalthough others were undertaken at different periods. The last crusade\ntook place in the thirteenth century, under the leadership of Louis IX.\nof France--Saint Louis--and was unsuccessful. After that time, the\nChristians made no further attempt to rescue the Holy Land, and it is\nstill in the hands of the Mohammedans.\n\n\n\n\nWith Spurs of Gold\n\n\n\n\n\"THIS IS THE RULE FOR THE GALLANT KNIGHT\"\n\n\n    Amend your lives, ye who would fain\n    The order of the knights attain;\n    Devoutly watch, devoutly pray;\n    From pride and sin, oh turn away!\n    Shun all that's base; the Church defend;\n    Be the widow's and the orphan's friend;\n    Be good and leal; take naught by might;\n    Be bold and guard the people's right;--\n        This is the rule for the gallant knight.\n\n    Be meek of heart; work day by day;\n    Tread, ever tread, the knightly way;\n    Make lawful war; long travel dare;\n    Tourney and joust for ladye fair;\n    To everlasting honour cling,\n    That none the barbs of blame may fling;\n    Be never slack in work or fight;\n    Be ever least in self's own sight;--\n        This is the rule for the gallant knight.\n\n    Love the liege lord; with might and main\n    His rights above all else maintain;\n    Be open-handed, just and true;\n    The paths of upright men pursue;\n    No deaf ear to their precepts turn;\n    The prowess of the valiant learn;\n    That ye may do things great and bright,\n    As did Great Alexander hight;--\n        This is the rule for the gallant knight.\n\n    EUSTACHE DESCHAMPS\n    (_Fourteenth century_).\n\n\n\nA STEED! A STEED!\n\n\n    A steed! a steed! of matchless speed!\n      A sword of metal keene!\n    Al else to noble hearts is drosse--\n      Al else on earth is meane.\n    The neighing of the war-horse proude,\n      The rowling of the drum,\n    The clangour of the trumpet loude--\n      Be soundes from heaven that come.\n    And, oh! the thundering presse of knightes,\n      When as their war-cryes swelle,\n    May tole from heaven an angel bright,\n      And rouse a fiend from hell.\n\n    Then mounte! Then mounte! brave gallants all,\n      And don your helms amain;\n    Deathe's couriers, Fame and Honour, call\n      Up to the field againe;\n    No shrewish tear shall fill our eye\n      When the sword hilt's in our hand;\n    Heart-whole we'll parte and no whit sighe\n      For the fayrest of the land.\n    Let piping swaine and craven wight,\n      Thus weepe and puling aye;\n    Our business is like to men to fighte\n      And like to Heroes, die!\n\n    MOTHERWELL'S _Ancient Minstrelsy_\n    (_Author unknown_).\n\n\n\n\nROLAND AND OLIVER\n\n\nTHE TRAGEDY OF RONCESVALLES\n\n     \"Roland is daring and Oliver wise,\n    Both of marvelous high emprise;\n    On their chargers mounted and girt in mail,\n    To the death in battle they will not quail.\"\n\n\n\n\nROLAND AND OLIVER\n\n    \"Montjoie! Whoever heard that cry\n     Would hold remembrance of chivalry.\"\n\n\nIn days of old there lived a powerful Christian emperor by the name of\nCharlemagne. His kingdom extended over the greater part of the territory\nwhich now constitutes the countries of France, Germany, and Italy; and\nthe \"Franks,\" as his people were called, followed him with a loving\nloyalty that has been celebrated in song and story for twelve hundred\nyears. Around Charlemagne were gathered not a few knights whose names\nwill forever be remembered with that of their emperor, and whose deeds\nwill live as long as the chivalric instinct thrills the breast of man.\n\nNow this great emperor, though loving and generous toward his subjects,\ncould yet brook no shadow of opposition; and when he discovered that his\nbeloved sister Bertha had, without his consent, wedded the knight,\nMilon, he at once banished the disobedient pair from the land of\nFrance.\n\nFleeing before the awful displeasure of Charlemagne, Milon and his wife\nwandered about in foreign parts as mendicants, and at length took refuge\nin a cave near a small town in Italy. Here, under these adverse\ncircumstances, a little son was born to them--one destined to be the\nhero of two countries, the \"Roland\" of \"the French Iliad\" and the\n\"Orlando\" of Italian song and story.\n\nWhile Roland was yet a little lad, his father departed for unknown lands\nto seek fame and fortune, leaving the boy and his mother to eke out a\nscanty existence as best they might.\n\nAs Roland grew in years and in youthful graces, he became a favorite\nwith the peasant boys of the village, and, in spite of his ragged\nclothes and his humble abode, was soon made their leader. But there was\none lad in Sutri who had no love for the stalwart young mendicant.\nOliver, son of the governor of the town, and consequently a youth of\nhigh station, conceived quite a dislike for him, and a feud existed\nbetween the two until it was ended by Roland in a most singular way.\n\nMeeting the son of the governor on neutral ground one day, the fiery\nyoung cave-dweller proposed that they settle their quarrel with their\nfists. Oliver, being in no whit a coward, quickly consented. The contest\nwhich ensued was a long and stubborn one, for the two lads were very\nnearly equally matched in strength and endurance and courage. Finally,\nhowever, the half-clad, disowned nephew of Charlemagne stood triumphant.\nThe quarrel was indeed settled; for Oliver, being a lad of mettle, and\nloving and admiring valor wherever he found it, arose from his honorable\ndefeat the sworn friend and admirer of his doughty conqueror.\n\nAnd the friendship of Oliver meant much to the poor lad who had defeated\nhim. It often meant food when he was hungry, and clothes when he was\ncold, and always insured him support in all the boyish contests in their\nnative village. But, better than all these, it meant to Roland the\nloyal, lifelong devotion of a comrade who became as part of his own\nsoul.\n\nWhile Roland was yet only a stripling, the great emperor, Charlemagne,\npassed through the town of Sutri, and while there dined in public on the\nvillage green. Now the young Roland had not yet come to the age when he\ncould provide for his mother and himself. The times were hard with\nthem--especially hard on this great feast-day of the emperor, for they\nwere hungry, and knew not where to turn for food.\n\nNow it chanced that Roland, fierce with the fierceness of the\nhalf-starved, came suddenly upon some of the emperor's attendants just\nas they were bearing trays of rich viands to place before their master.\nThe sight of food and the thought of his mother's sufferings instantly\nswept all things else from the lad's mind. Rushing upon the attendants,\nhe wrested the viands from them, and made off to his mother's cave\nbefore they could realize what had happened.\n\nWhen the emperor was informed of the incident, his brows knitted in deep\nthought, for he had dreamed a dream on the night before, which troubled\nhim sorely. He had seen the fierce, half-famished lad in his vision, and\nhad been warned to follow him.\n\nAfter a moment's thought, Charlemagne dispatched three of his knights to\nfind the boy and bring him to the royal presence. The three who were so\ncommissioned had little trouble in finding the lad, but they came near\nhaving a serious conflict with him when they attempted to enter,\nuninvited, the cave he felt to be his castle. His mother, however,\nrestrained the impetuous youth with her pleadings, and the messengers\nof Charlemagne entered.\n\nWhen Bertha learned that the knights had come from the emperor, she\ndisclosed to them her own identity and the identity of the lad they had\ncome to seize. This was Roland's first knowledge of his great lineage,\nand he heard and beheld as in a dream, as the knights knelt before his\nmother and promised to obtain for her the emperor's pardon.\n\nDazed, dreaming still, the gaunt, sinewy lad took his way to\nCharlemagne, in company with the knights who had been sent to fetch him.\nBut in the presence of his emperor,--his kinsman,--the dream feeling\npassed, and Roland rose to the occasion with the pride and independence\nof his race.\n\nWhen the white-haired, careworn emperor looked upon his sister's son,\nhis heart went out to him with a great yearning; for the lad was tall\nand strong, the lad was proud and unconquered. And Charles the Great\nopened his empty arms and took the boy to his heart, nevermore to be\nexiled from it.\n\nRoland and his mother returned to France with the emperor to be, from\nthat time on, part of the royal household, and to enjoy riches and\nhonor.\n\nBut the great happiness that was Roland's was not without its heartache.\nHe and his beloved Oliver were completely separated by this change, and\ndrifted further away from each other with the drift of years.\n\nAs soon as Roland was grown to manhood, Charlemagne made him captain of\nhis \"peers,\"--the twelve knights who, for their bravery and their\ntrustworthiness, were chosen to be next to the emperor himself in\nauthority.\n\nAmong all the twelve, young Roland was the most daring, the most\nimpetuous. His splendid qualities won for him the hearts of the many;\nbut the few were jealous of him, and charged that he exercised undue\ninfluence over the emperor and incited the white-haired Charlemagne to\ndeeds of daring and violence that were none of his own conceiving. Chief\namong Roland's accusers was the envious Count Ganelon. Ganelon had\nbecome step-sire to the young peer by wedding the widowed Bertha, but\nthe nearness of the tie between him and Roland only seemed to make him\nyet more bent on injuring the emperor's favorite.\n\nHowever much of truth there was in the charges of Roland's enemies, this\nis certain,--he did become the very darling of the emperor's heart, and\nhe did perform such deeds of daring and prowess as made even the\nknightly peerage of Charlemagne behold with wonder and amazement.\n\nThe first act of personal daring by which he distinguished himself was\nhis engaging and slaying the giant Ferragus. This achievement won for\nRoland the hearts of the people, and led them to watch his crescent\nglory with national pride.\n\nNow in these days a terrible heathen enemy threatened the Christian\nfaith and civilization of Europe. Years before, several Mohammedan races\nfrom Asia--dark, relentless, resistless--had swept over northern Africa,\nand, crossing Gibraltar, overrun the fair land of Spain. North, east,\nand west they spread, conquering the Christians and preaching their\nheathen doctrines with fire and sword. So the beautiful and once\nChristian Spain came to be ruled for many years by the invaders, who\nfounded cities, built palaces, and raised Moslem kings to her thrones.\nNor were the Mohammedans content here. They repeatedly attempted to\ncross the Pyrenees Mountains and overrun the rest of Europe.\n\nNow it chanced that just as a Moorish invasion seemed most imminent,\nCharlemagne had serious trouble within his own kingdom. Guerin de\nMontglave, Lord of Vienne and vassal to Charlemagne, revolted against\nthe emperor.\n\nWith his usual determination, King Karl dispatched a large army against\nGuerin, and would have waged bloody war against him had not the peers\ninterposed and counselled otherwise. They represented to the emperor the\nseriousness of beginning civil war when the Moors were daily threatening\ninvasion from the south, and finally succeeded in getting his consent to\na settlement of the quarrel with Guerin by single combat.\n\nGuerin signifying his willingness to this plan, arrangements were soon\nmade for the combat. As all expected, Roland was chosen to maintain the\njustice of the emperor's cause; and as both Roland's friends and enemies\nwished a happy settlement of the quarrel with Guerin, the selection was\nheartily approved.\n\nGuerin de Montglave chose his youngest grandson to do battle for Vienne;\nand many a smile was exchanged between Franks when they heard that this\nyoung knight accepted with delight the honor that his grandsire\nconferred upon him.\n\nThe combat was to be held upon a small island in the Rhone, and the\nwarriors of the two camps were accordingly grouped on opposite sides of\nthe river, as spectators.\n\nWhen Roland and his antagonist faced each other at opposite ends of the\nfield, each armed from top to toe, each with his face concealed by his\nvisor, they were so nearly of the same size and bearing that they might\neasily have been mistaken, the one for the other, but for the colors\nthat fluttered from their lances. Yet there was almost sorrow in the\nranks of Charlemagne's army for the young stranger knight so soon to be\nlaid in the dust,--for who could hope to match with Roland?\n\nTheir sympathy was all too soon changed to astonishment, for in hardly a\nmoment after the sound of the trumpet in signal for the onset, the\nchampions clashed together in the center of the lists with apparently\nequal force. Both lances were shivered; both horses reeled from the\nshock; both riders kept their seats; both banks of the Rhone echoed and\nre-echoed with cheering.\n\nThe combatants dismounted and drew their swords. For two hours and more\nthey fought--stroke for stroke and thrust for thrust. The spectators\nstood breathless with amazement. Neither champion showed sign of\nweakening; neither gained advantage. Suddenly, with one mighty stroke,\nRoland buried his blade in the shield of his antagonist so deep that he\ncould not withdraw it, and at almost the same instant the stranger\nknight struck so fiercely upon Roland's breastplate that his sword\nsnapped off at the hilt.\n\nHaving thus disarmed themselves, the two antagonists rushed together,\neach attempting to fling the other to earth. Long and full stoutly they\nstruggled; and when at last it became apparent to the now silent,\nfearful spectators that neither would be likely to gain advantage, the\ncombatants each suddenly snatched at the other's helmet to tear it away.\nBoth succeeded. The straining spectators then beheld a most amazing\nsight. The two antagonists fell apart for an instant and looked into\neach others' uncovered faces, then rushed into each others' outstretched\narms. This time there was no striving; they were apparently embracing\neach other in an ecstasy of delight.\n\nAnd such was indeed the case, for the stranger knight was _Oliver_. For\nnearly three hours had he and Roland striven against each other as\nstrangers and enemies. Now they were face to face and heart to heart\nafter the cruel striving--after years of separation. What wonder, then,\nthat cause and country were forgotten!\n\nAnd in spite of cause and country and king and kinsman, the two boyhood\ncomrades could not be induced to oppose each other further. Happily for\nall concerned, the trouble between Charlemagne and Guerin was settled in\na few days in peaceful conference.\n\nRoland and Oliver, having thus found each other, refused to be separated\nagain; and the good emperor honored the redoubtable Oliver by making him\none of his peers.\n\nNo longer was Roland undisputedly first in valor at the court of\nCharlemagne. Oliver had so grown in prowess since his first encounter\nwith Roland that he was now the peer of his friend in every point.\nIndeed, so exactly equal were the achievements of these two that from\ntheir story has come the well-known expression \"a Roland for an Oliver,\"\nmeaning, matching a deed with a deed as great. There was this difference\nbetween them, however: whereas Roland was fearless to recklessness and\nproud and presumptuous to his own destruction, Oliver was wise,\ndiscreet, and modest. Yet this very difference seemed to bind them more\nclosely to each other. But there was a yet stronger and closer tie\nbetween them in Alda, the beautiful sister of Oliver.\n\nAfter their grandfather, Guerin, had repented of his revolt and again\nbecome submissive to the emperor, Alda came with her brother to the\ncourt of Charlemagne. Of all the ladies in the land she was the most\nbeautiful, and the gentleness which distinguished her brother was hers\nin a marked degree. Many a mighty knight strove to win her favor; but\nthough she was kind to all, her smiles were reserved for her brother's\ncomrade, and erelong she became his promised wife.\n\nGreat was Oliver's delight to find that the friend who had been a\nbrother to him was to be his brother in yet another sense. King Karl,\ntoo, consented joyously to the troth, for he loved the gentle Alda even\nas he loved her courageous brother.\n\nBut no time was there then for marriage feasts and rejoicings. The\nheathen were clamoring at the gates of Christendom, and it became the\nduty of every knight of the true religion to bid a hasty farewell to his\nlady and buckle on his sword.\n\nAll France rushed to arms, and not a moment too soon. Marsilius, Saracen\nKing of Spain, was preparing to cross the Pyrenees!\n\nLong and bitter was the war which ensued, but Charlemagne saved France\nto the Franks and to the true faith. But King Karl and his men were not\ncontent with merely saving France from the infidels. At one time the\nFrankish hosts crossed the Pyrenees and conquered nearly all of northern\nSpain. For seven long years King Karl and his Franks warred in the\npeninsula. Keep and castle went down before the Christians; city after\ncity capitulated to them; the land was theirs from mountain to sea,\nexcept the single town of Saragossa, in which the Moslem king,\nMarsilius, together with a powerful army, had taken refuge.\n\nThe beautiful Saracen city of Cordres was the last to fall before the\narms of Charlemagne. Long and stoutly did the besieged stronghold hold\nout against the conqueror, but at last its gates were carried and its\ntowers and walls battered to earth.\n\n    \"Not a heathen did there remain,\n    But confessed him Christian, or else was slain.\"\n\nIn celebration of the taking of Cordres, Charlemagne shortly afterwards\nheld court with great pomp and splendor in a beautiful orchard in the\nheart of the conquered city.\n\nIt was the custom of the emperor to take counsel of his peers and\nknights in all matters of import, and he now desired to discuss with\nthem how best to bring to a happy close this long and bitter war,--for\nMarsilius was still in possession of Saragossa. With the fall of Cordres\nthe end seemed near at hand; and Charlemagne rejoiced, for he had grown\nold and weary of strife, and he longed to return to his own again. No\nless relieved at heart, his warriors gathered about him that day, eager\nto plan some means of ending their cruel exile.\n\nThe sky was fair, as with the promise of yet fairer things; and the\nolive-trees of Cordres spread out their branches above and about the\nChristian hosts as if in token of the peace they so earnestly craved.\n\nSeated upon a throne of beaten gold was the Emperor of ample France.\nProud, and mighty of frame was he, but the curls that rested on his\nshoulders and the beard that flowed over his bosom were white as the\nsnow-caps of the Sierra Nevadas. Small wonder the Moslems believed that\ntwo hundred winters had piled their snows upon his head!\n\nThe flower of Frankish chivalry pressed about him--fifteen thousand\ndoughty knights of France. Gorgeous carpets were spread upon the\ngreensward, upon which the cavaliers sat at games or practised fencing\nwith light arms. But nearest to the great Charlemagne--and dearest\ntoo--were the two sworn comrades, Roland and Oliver.\n\nKing Karl had not yet opened the council when there rode into the\norchard twelve messengers from King Marsilius, each mounted upon a\nsnow-white mule, each bearing an olive-branch of peace. A gallant\ncompany they seemed--fair and honest--as they alighted from their beasts\nand knelt at the feet of the Christian emperor.\n\nGreat was the astonishment among the Franks to behold what seemed to\nthem a miraculous answer to their prayers for peace; and they listened,\nspell-bound, as the leader of the heathens bowed to the earth and\nsaid:--\n\n\"O king, may thy God of glory save thee! Our lord, Marsilius, doth send\ngreeting to thee. Much hath he mused on thy Christian law, and now he\nhath determined to embrace it as his own. If it please thee to depart\nfrom the land of Spain, where too long thou hast tarried, King Marsilius\nwill hasten after thee, and in thine own city of Aix, at Michaelmas,\nwill receive Christian baptism and swear fealty to thy royal self\nforever. Our lord doth further say that, an so it please thee to hearken\nunto him, he will lay much of his wealth at thy feet. Bears and lions\nand dogs of chase will he send to thee; seven hundred camels that bend\nthe knee, and a thousand hawks also. Four hundred mules laden with gold\nand silver such as fifty wains could scarce bear away shall be thine, so\nit please thee to depart, O king!\"\n\nThe Frankish lords stood silent.\n\nKing Charlemagne, never hasty of speech, bent his hoary head in thought\nfor many minutes. When he raised it again, a lofty look was on his face.\n\n\"Thou hast spoken well,\" he said, \"but King Marsilius was ever a deadly\nfoe to us. How may we know that his fair promises will not lack of\nfulfilment?\"\n\n\"Hostages wilt thou, my lord?\" cried the heathen. \"Ten or twenty or more\nwill I give thee,--mine own son the first. King Marsilius will come to\nredeem them, for he would fain be laved in the fountain of thy Christ.\"\n\n\"Yea, he may yet be saved!\" cried the pious emperor. Then he caused good\ncheer to be made for the Saracen emissaries. Twelve servitors were\ndetailed to attend their bidding, and they remained in the Christian\ncamp till morning.\n\nNow when the dawn came, Charlemagne arose and attended mass, as was his\nwont. Then he betook himself to the orchard, and again summoned his\nbarons around him. He had pondered much during the hours of darkness,\nand was now determined to act as his lords advised.\n\nA goodly company they gathered about him--Archbishop Turpin, the warlike\nchurchman, Duke Ogier bold, and Richard the Old were close about the\nthrone. Gerien and Gerier, brothers-in-arms, were there, and Roland and\nhis faithful Oliver, and many other knights, including, alas! Count\nGanelon.\n\nThen Karl spoke to his barons concerning the offer of the Saracen king.\nHe reviewed the rich promises of Marsilius, and reminded the Christian\ncompany of the heathen king's desire to be baptized, adding, however,\n\n\"I know not what may lie in his heart.\" When he had ceased speaking,\nthere arose a warning cry from the Franks--\n\n\"Beware! Beware!\"\n\nScarcely was the word repeated when Count Roland came forward and faced\nhis uncle.\n\n\"Believe not this Marsilius!\" he cried. \"For full seven years we have\nwarred in Spain, and he hath been ever a traitor. Hast thou forgot the\ntime when he sent unto thee fifteen of his heathen bearing olive boughs\nof peace and speaking flattering words, as now? Hast thou forgot that\nwhen thou didst hearken unto his words and send two of thy chiefest\nknights to treat with him, he did cause their heads to be stricken off?\nWar! I say. End as you began. Besiege him in Saragossa!\"\n\nRoland ceased, and the Franks were silent; but every eye was bent on him\nas he stood in his youthful pride before the emperor. Right well beloved\nwas he among his people, for many a brave city had gone down before him.\nThere was not his peer for courage and spirit in all the Frankish hosts,\nexcept, perhaps, the gentle Oliver. The emperor bent his head and mused.\nSuddenly Count Ganelon sprang to his feet.\n\n\"Be not misled by me or others!\" he cried, addressing the emperor. \"Look\nto thine own interest, my lord. King Marsilius assures thee of his\nfaith. He will be thy vassal, and receive thy Christian law even as\nourselves. Who counsels thee against this treaty cares not what death we\ndie. Good does not come from counsel of pride, my lord; list to wisdom,\nand let madmen be.\"\n\nThen the white-haired and reverend Duke of Naimes arose; there was than\nhe no better vassal in all France.\n\n\"My King,\" he said in deepest reverence, \"well hath Count Ganelon made\nreply. King Marsilius is broken and beaten in battle. Thou hast captured\nhis castles and shattered his walls; thou hast burned his cities and\nslain his soldiers; it were a sin to molest him further. Receive the\nhostages he offers, and send him in return one of thy Christian knights\nto arrange terms of peace with him. It is time this war were closed.\"\n\n\"The duke hath spoken well!\" the Franks exclaimed. The emperor paused,\nthen said, at length,\n\n\"Who, then, amongst you were best to take this mission?\"\n\n\"I,\" said the duke, quickly. \"I pray thee yield me thy royal grace.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" answered King Karl; \"thou art my wisest counsellor. By my beard I\nswear thou shalt not depart from my side.\"\n\n\"I,\" cried Count Roland, \"will go right gladly.\"\n\n\"Not so,\" said Oliver; \"thou art too fiery to play such perilous part. I\nshall go myself, if the king so will.\"\n\n\"Silence, I command ye both!\" said the king. \"Neither of you shall\nperform this errand.\" Then he commanded his knights to make a choice\nfrom among their number for the perilous journey.\n\nAgain Roland spoke:\n\n\"Be it, then, my step-sire, Ganelon. In vain will ye seek for a meeter\nman.\"\n\nInstantly the Franks echoed Roland's choice, crying,\n\n\"So it please the king, it is right and just!\"\n\nGanelon heard, and his rage against Roland was fierce indeed. He flung\nhis mantle from him, and faced the younger knight in a mighty wrath.\n\n\"Thou madman!\" he cried. \"What meaneth this rage against me? I am thy\nstep-sire, and thou doomest me to danger like this! So God my safe\nreturn bestow, I promise to work thee ill as long as thou hast the\nbreath of life.\" Then Roland answered him haughtily--\n\n\"Am I known to reck of the threats of men? But this is work for the\nsagest. So it please the king, I will go in thy stead.\"\n\nAt this, Count Ganelon's anger was deep and bitter indeed; and he\nspurned the insulting offer of his step-son to go in his stead, after\nwhich he turned to King Karl, saying,\n\n\"O righteous emperor! I stand ready to execute thy high command.\"\n\nThen the emperor bade him go to King Marsilius with the terms of peace,\nwhich were that he, the Moslem, was to hold half of Spain in vassalage\nto Charlemagne; that the other half of the conquered territory was to be\nruled by the emperor's well-beloved Roland; and that Marsilius was to\njourney to France at Michaelmas and receive Christian baptism.\n\nBitter indeed it was to Count Ganelon that his enemy should thus profit\nby the perilous service to which he himself had been thus condemned, but\nhe was too proud to retreat in the face of danger.\n\nNow, when all was arranged, the emperor handed Ganelon a missive to\nMarsilius; he gave the count his right-hand glove also, in token of the\nhigh authority with which he vested him.\n\nAs the count bent low to receive his commission, the emperor's glove\ndropped to the ground, and the startled Franks whispered to one another:\n\n\"God! What is this? Evil will come of this quest.\" But it was treated as\nan accident, and Ganelon passed on his journey.\n\nAnd on that journey he held deep and evil converse with the heathen\nconcerning Roland and his overweening pride.\n\nNow when the Saracen emissaries were returned to Saragossa, they stood\nbefore Marsilius, crying, \"Mahomet save thee!\" and presented Ganelon,\nwho bore King Karl's answer.\n\nWhen the Christian was summoned to speak, he gave his emperor's answer\nboldly. Marsilius listened in silence to the terms of treaty till\nGanelon reached the part where Charlemagne declared that if his terms\nwere rejected, he would besiege Saragossa, and bear Marsilius captive to\nFrance, there to die a \"villainous death of shame.\" At this Marsilius\nwas sorely enraged, and, forgetting how serious were his straits, sprang\nfrom his throne, and would have dealt death to the Christian had not his\nwise nobles interposed and persuaded him to temper his wrath with\njudgment.\n\nWhen Marsilius was pacified, Ganelon was again asked for the terms of\nthe treaty, and he again gave them as they had been intrusted to him.\nMuch the heathen questioned him concerning King Karl, and he answered\nwithout fear, always praising his emperor; but when Marsilius desired of\nhim the secret of Charlemagne's aggressive and warlike policy,--for the\nemperor was past the age when men are given over to ambition,--Ganelon\nassured him that Roland was the evil genius of the emperor, always\nurging him to greater deeds of violence, always inciting him to greater\nheights of power.\n\nThe wily heathen put the question several times, in as many forms, but\nGanelon's answer was always the same,--Roland ruled the emperor, and as\nlong as Roland lived, so long would Charlemagne slay and oppress. And he\nended significantly,--\n\n\"Whoso shall bring death to Roland shall wring from Karl his greatest\nstrength; he shall see the marvelous hosts of Franks melt away and leave\nthis mighty land at peace.\"\n\nThen villainous heathen and treacherous Christian devised there a plan\nby which the gallant Roland was to suffer death, and the Frankish power\nin Spain was to be forever destroyed. It was Ganelon's evil brain that\nconceived the plot; it was the heathen, Marsilius, who was to execute\nit.\n\nBy his own terms of treaty, Charlemagne agreed to withdraw his Franks\nfrom Spain; and to do this, it would be necessary for him to lead them\nthrough a deep and narrow defile in the Pyrenees Mountains. Ganelon knew\nfull well that the emperor would intrust the rear-guard of his army in\nthe retreat to none but his valiant Roland, for there would be great\ndanger of the treacherous Moslems' falling upon the rear and dealing\nslaughter among the retiring hosts. This fact Ganelon pointed out to the\nSaracen king, and he undertook to have Roland placed in the rear-guard\nof the Franks. He suggested that the Moslem hosts be massed together in\noverwhelming numbers, ready to make a sudden descent upon the rear-guard\nwhen Karl should be too far in front to save them.\n\nMarsilius agreed eagerly, and in his joy at the thought of revenge, he\nfell upon Ganelon's neck and kissed him. Then he bade his attendants\nbring royal gifts, which he bestowed upon the traitor; after which they\nboth took a solemn oath to compass the fall of Roland,--Ganelon swearing\nby the cross on his sword-hilt, and Marsilius by the Koran, the sacred\nbook of the Mohammedans.\n\nThe joyful Moslems closed around Ganelon, and he pledged them Roland's\ndeath with many kisses, receiving from them costly gifts and great\nriches. Then Marsilius made ready the riches he had promised to\nCharlemagne, and sent them and twenty hostages, with Ganelon, to the\nemperor.\n\nSo Count Ganelon came back to his emperor with treason in his heart and\na lie on his lips, and \"Charles the Great\" believed him.\n\nThen all was astir in the Frankish camps; a thousand bugles sounded\nretreat, and a hundred thousand faces were turned toward France and\nhome. There was eager joy in the Christian ranks that day, and the\nmighty Karl sighed with relief,--\n\n\"My wars are done.\"\n\nBut the ambitious and fiery Roland was ill-satisfied, and Count Ganelon\ncarried in his breast fiendish hatred and jealousy.\n\nFrom the nature of the country, and the plan of the march homeward, it\nwas plain to all that the rear of the army was the position most exposed\nto danger; so it was of great concern to Charlemagne who should be left\nto guard it. As was his custom in matters of great import, the emperor\ntook counsel with his knights as to who should be left to command the\nrear-guard, and before any one else could speak, Count Ganelon\nanswered,--\n\n\"My liege, on my step-son let thy royal choice fall. Knight like him\nthou hast none beside.\"\n\nRoland heard, and he knew full well the deep hatred that prompted the\ncount's reply, but he made answer in full knightly fashion,--\n\n\"Sir step-sire, I thank thee that thou hast named me for this trust, and\nI do assure thee that if King Karl lose aught in this retreat, our\nswords shall tell the reason.\"\n\nSo it was settled as Ganelon and the Saracen king had schemed,--Roland,\nthe first of Charlemagne's peers and the darling of the emperor's heart,\nwas left to guard the rear of the retiring hosts; and the heathen,\nsilently, and by thousands and tens of thousands, were massing\ntogether,--watchful, alert.\n\nCount Roland hastened to make him ready. He donned a suit of peerless\narmor, and hung his flower-emblazoned shield about his neck. Girt at his\nside was his matchless \"Durindana,\"--the blade that had been given to\nCharlemagne by an angel, who told the emperor that it must be the sword\nof a valorous captain. Thus arrayed and armed, with the gold fringe of\nhis white pennon floating over his shoulders, Roland rode out on his\nfiery \"Veillantif\"; and his men, as with one voice, exclaimed,--\n\n\"We will follow thee!\"\n\nThe ones who followed him were the flower of the Frankish army,--twenty\nthousand picked men. First chosen of all was Oliver, and among the\nothers was the valorous Archbishop Turpin.\n\nThen right cautiously the van-guard began the homeward march. Beyond the\nPyrenees lay their well-beloved France; and they pressed on toward her\nvine-clad provinces, but with anxious thoughts of the rear-guard,\nleagues behind, between them and the Moslem hosts. The way to home and\nloved ones lay through the Vale of Roncesvalles. This vale was a long\nand narrow defile in the mountains, through which the army was obliged\nto march in a scattered and dismembered way; and so it was that Karl and\nthe van had already gained France, while the beloved Roland and his\nchosen followers were just entering the pass of Roncesvalles.\n\nNow Charlemagne knew full well where the danger lay, and he was\ngrievously concerned for his sister's son. Moreover, on the night\nbefore, he had dreamed a dream, in which he beheld a vision, symbolizing\nthe treachery of Ganelon. But it was not a time to hearken to the\nmisgivings of his heart, and the emperor pressed on, solacing himself\nwith the thought that his best and bravest were behind with the\nrear-guard.\n\nFrom far over the marches of Spain the heathen hosts were gathering.\nSwiftly, surely, their serried ranks were closing in on the Christian\nband. Mountain, plain, and valley glittered red with their burnished\narms, as on their light Arab steeds they swept like the wind of the\ndesert on Roland's track. And as the rear-guard of the Christian army\nrode into the deep defile of Roncesvalles, the Saracen bugles rang out a\nchallenge from the far distance.\n\nNow Oliver, though brave as any of King Karl's peers, was wise enough to\nrecognize danger and to fear it. The sound of the war-trumpet brought\nhim at once to Roland's side, and he said,--\n\n\"Sir Comrade, there is battle at hand with the heathen!\"\n\nBut Roland lacked wisdom, and exclaimed with his usual pride,--\n\n\"God grant it may be so! Let us be strong for mighty blows, lest songs\nof scorn be sung against us. No craven part shalt thou see me fill this\nday.\"\n\nOliver was not so anxious for an encounter with the enemy, and he\nhastily climbed to a high point to get some idea of their numbers. Far\nover the plain his eye could reach, and he was bewildered and dismayed\nby the sight before him. Greater far than he had reckoned were the\nPaynim hosts, and many times more ominous was their battle-array. One\nlong look at their serried, glittering masses, and he hastened down to\nRoland.\n\n\"My comrade,\" urged he, \"I have seen the enemy, and never on earth did\nsuch host appear. I pray thee, sound thy horn, that Karl may hear and\nreturn to our succor.\" But Roland answered:\n\n\"Such deed were madness! Lost in France would be my glory. My good sword\nshall seal the felons' fate.\"\n\n\"Nay, Roland, sound on thine ivory horn, that Karl may bend his legions\nback and lend us aid,\" exclaimed his wise companion. In vain he pleaded.\n\nNearer and nearer the Moslems swept, and Oliver exclaimed in reproach,--\n\n\"See, comrade, see how close are they, and help, alas, how far! The\nrear-guard will make their last brave stand this day!\"\n\nBut Roland was drunk with the joy of battle and cried,--\n\n\"My friend, my brother, my Oliver, the emperor hath left us here his\nbravest. Full twenty-thousand men he gave to us, and among them no\ncoward heart. I shall so strike with this matchless blade that he who\nwears it when I lie dead shall say, ''Twas the sword of a valorous\ncaptain.'\"\n\nThe time was all too short--the Moslems were almost upon them.\nArchbishop Turpin, seeing their straits, spurred his horse to a jutting\ncrag, and addressed the men. There was silence among the Franks as the\nvoice of the beloved churchman rang through the hollow pass:\n\n\"Barons, we are here for our emperor's sake; strike we for him, though\ndeath be our portion.\" He stretched out his arms above them, and the\nFranks alighted and knelt on the ground, crying, \"_Mea culpa!_\" Then he\nassoiled them and blessed them, giving them for penance, to smite their\nbest.\n\nThe next instant the storm of battle broke, and Paynim and Christian\nclosed in the death-struggle, each hoping, believing, to find in the\nblood of the other his passport into Paradise; each with the name of God\non his lips.\n\nWell might the emperor bow his white head in woful fear, though the blue\nskies of his native France were smiling above him. Death stalked\ntriumphant at Roncesvalles, and Frank and Saracen yielded him tribute\ntill the pass was covered with the dying and the dead.\n\nIf only King Karl could have seen his knights that day, the glory of\nthe sight would have blotted out its tragedy. Roland was proud, but\nthere was none braver than he; and he flung himself upon the enemies of\nhis king, his country, and his God with a fierce courage that none might\nwithstand. Wherever his splendid form was seen, his followers greeted\nhim with loud acclaim, and he cheered them on with their emperor's\nbattle-cry,--\"Montjoie, Saint Denis!\"\n\nNo less courageous was his dear comrade. But no fierce joy impelled\nOliver to the great deeds that he performed. He saw his duty, and met it\nlike a true knight.\n\nNor were the ten others of the emperor's peers less zealous in his\ncause. Each gave his all for Charlemagne; and if that all was less than\nthe mighty Roland gave, it was not the fault of the knight who pledged\nit.\n\nConspicuous in the fight was the great archbishop,--here blessing and\nassoiling according to his holy office; there rushing to the charge like\nthe warrior that nature had made him, crying,--\n\n\"Strike, barons! Remember your chivalry!\"\n\nBut not to the Franks alone belong all the glory and all the praise. The\nMoslem hosts that opposed them were \"worthy of their steel,\"--equally\nzealous in their own cause, equally certain of the approval of God.\n\nWilder and fiercer grew the strife, and Paynim and Christian mingled\ntogether in dire confusion. At length the Moslem ranks wavered for an\ninstant, gave back a little, and then broke in panic. And a pitiful\nremnant of the mighty host of King Marsilius fled from the field,\nleaving slain in the pass the great body of that once proud army. But\neven this remnant did not escape, for they were followed by the\nChristians; and only one, wounded and bleeding, escaped to tell King\nMarsilius the story of his woful loss.\n\nNearly an hundred thousand Moslems lay dead in the pass of Roncesvalles.\nBut they had sold their lives full dearly. Beneath, above, and beside\nthem were piled the flower of the Frankish army--Christian and Paynim,\nasleep on one mother's breast, unheedful alike of triumph and defeat.\n\nIn spite of the fact that theirs had been the places of greatest danger\nall through the battle, Roland and Oliver and the good archbishop had\nescaped unhurt; and they and their comrades betook them to the sad duty\nof searching the bloody field for their best-beloved dead. Long they had\nwandered thus among the dead and dying, when a mighty blast of trumpets\nsmote on their ears.\n\n\"O God, our Father, what straits are ours!\" they cried, as looking up\nthey beheld in the distance another Saracen host, greater by far than\nthe one they had crushed, bearing down upon them.\n\nNow happened a thing most wondrous to tell. In far-away France an awful\ndarkness came down upon the land; a great whirlwind swept the face of\nthe country; the rain fell, the earth rocked, and the thunder rolled\nalong the sky. For a long time the darkness was unbroken, save when the\nlightning cleft the storm-clouds and gave to the scene a yet wilder\nfear. On all there came a mighty dread, and they deemed the end of the\nworld at hand. They knew not that it was an augury of the fateful\ntragedy at the gates of Spain.\n\nThe lone heights about Roncesvalles had looked upon the Christian in his\npride and triumph; now were they destined to behold another sight.\n\nLike that awful storm-cloud, the heathen came down upon the Christian\nfew, the thunder of hoof-beats waked the echoes of Roncesvalles, and the\nhard earth reeled with the shock of arms.\n\nThe rear-guard made their last brave stand that day. Lance to lance and\nsword to sword, they held their own while there was yet life in them,\nand they achieved all but the impossible. Twice did the heathen swarms\nbreak and fly before the fierce onslaughts of the Christians, but twice,\nreinforced, they rushed to the attack again. Knight after knight went\ndown before them,--Engelier, Duke Sampson, Anseis, Gerien, and Gerier!\nWhere might the emperor find their like again?\n\nAt length only sixty of the Franks were left, pressed together by the\nMoslem thousands. Every man in that \"marvelous little companie\" knew\nthat death that day would be his portion; but each was stanch and true,\nand was resolved to sell his life \"full hardily.\"\n\nAs the once haughty Roland gazed on his slaughtered men and on the\npitiful few who rallied around him in his last stand against the Moslem\npower, his heart smote him grievously for the ruin he had wrought, and\nhe cried to his companion,--\n\n\"Would to God he had been with us--our emperor and friend! Speak,\nOliver, and lend thy counsel. How may we yet send tidings to Karl?\" But\nOliver, in spite of his usual gentleness, was bitter against his\nfriend, and he said mockingly,--\n\n\"'Such deed were madness; lost in France would be thy glory!'\"\n\nBut Roland's anguish and humility were great, and he insisted,--\n\n\"I will sound upon my horn that Karl may hear.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" cried Oliver. \"Wouldst thou _call for aid_?\"\n\nThe broken-hearted Roland protested, but Oliver continued bitterly,--\n\n\"See how our Franks lie slain of thy madness, nevermore to render\nservice to our emperor. Thou too shalt die, and forever shall France be\ndishonored!\"\n\nThus, in face of death, did these two quarrel--they who had been dearer\nthan all else to each other. The good archbishop heard their strife, and\nrebuked them sadly, saying,--\n\n\"Sir Roland, and thou, Sir Oliver, I pray ye, in the name of God,\ncontend not. To wind the horn shall not avail to save us now. Yet were\nit meet to sound it, too; for Karl will return to avenge our fall, and\nbear our bodies back to gentle France to sleep in hallowed earth.\"\n\nThen Roland sounded a mighty blast upon his horn,--so mighty that a\nvein in his temple burst with the effort, and the bright blood flowed\nfrom his lips. But the powerful strain, echoing and re-echoing along the\nhollow pass of Roncesvalles, came faintly to the ear of Karl, and told\nits tale of tragedy.\n\n\"It is Roland's horn,\" cried the white-haired emperor. \"He had not blown\nit save in dire distress.\" Then, though the traitor, Ganelon, did all in\nhis power to dissuade him, Charlemagne turned back along the mountain\npath toward Spain.\n\nAnd even in that hour, though weakened by loss of blood, and heart-sick\nat the fate he had brought upon his comrades, Roland rushed to the fight\nonce more,--fleeter, fiercer, and more terrible.\n\n\"Oh, Oliver, brother,\" he cried in his anguish, \"I die of shame and\ngrief if I escape unhurt!\"\n\nDeeper yet he pressed into the fight, and showered blows as only Roland\ncould, driving the foe before him. But, alas! the heathen hosts were\nthick as the sands of their native deserts, and thousands upon thousands\ncame to reinforce their wavering ranks. Then Roland cried,--\n\n\"Our hour of fate is come!\" and even as he spoke, a villainous heathen\nbore down upon Sir Oliver and thrust him through with his lance.\n\n\"Sir Roland, Sir Comrade,\" the dying Oliver cried--for his anger against\nhis friend had burned out--\"ride near me still; our parting is at hand.\"\n\n\"O God, my gentle Oliver!\" cried the anguished Roland, \"is this the end\nof all thy valor? Ah, hapless France, bereft of thy bravest! Who shall\nmeasure thy loss!\" His grief was greater than he could bear, and he\nswooned upon his charger's neck.\n\nNow Sir Oliver's eyes were dimmed with bleeding, so that he knew not\nfriend from foe; and soon, in the surge of battle, he mistook his\nswooning comrade for a Moslem, and dealt a fierce blow on Roland's\ngolden crest. The stroke did naught but rouse his unconscious friend,\nfor the arm of the dying Oliver had lost its wonted power.\n\n\"My comrade,\" said Roland, softly, \"didst thou strike me knowingly? I am\nRoland, who loves thee so dearly.\"\n\nAnd Oliver answered,--\n\n\"Have I struck thee, brother? Forgive it me. I hear thee, but I see thee\nnot.\" Then Roland pressed closer to him, saying,--\n\n\"I am not hurt, my Oliver.\"\n\nThen Oliver alighted from his horse, and couching upon the red earth,\ncried aloud his _Mea Culpa_. Then passed his gentle spirit to Paradise;\nand Roland cried in his anguish,--\n\n\"Since thou art dead, to live is pain!\"\n\nBut life and pain were Roland's for yet a little space, and he had need\nto bear him to the end a cavalier. Rousing himself from his grief, he\nbeheld about him a mere handful of the sixty he had counted last, each\nfighting \"as if knight there were none beside\"; so, grasping Durindana,\nhe pressed into the strife. The next instant he beheld the good\narchbishop flung to the ground from a dying charger. But Turpin was on\nhis feet almost instantly; and though he bore four lance-wounds in his\nbody, he raised his sword on high and ran to the side of Roland,\ncrying,--\n\n\"I am not defeated! A brave soldier yields with life alone!\" Then\nwreaked he such vengeance upon the heathen hordes that some say God\nwrought a miracle in his behalf.\n\nIf miracle of God there was, it was not granted to save the Christian\nfew from destruction. In the last struggle, the valiant Turpin, wounded\nand afoot, and the matchless Roland faced the Moslem hosts alone.\n\nFled was Count Roland's pride and vanity. With certain death before him,\nhis one thought was to summon Karl to vengeance, and to die like a\ncavalier. The pain in his brow, from the bursting of the vein, was\ngrowing more and more intense; not long, he knew, could his fainting\nspirit bide. Once again he raised his ivory horn to his lips, and\nsounded a call to the hosts of Charlemagne.\n\nIt was but a feeble strain, but on the north wind an answer came.\nSuddenly, along the pass, rang a peal of sixty thousand clarions, and\nthe mountains caught up the strain and shouted it back again.\n\n\"King Karl! King Karl!\" the echoes seemed to call to each other.\n\n\"Let us flee and save us!\" cried the heathen. \"These are the trumpets of\nFrance! Karl, the mighty emperor, is upon us!\"\n\nNever was heathen but trembled at that name. Aghast for one moment the\nhosts of the Moslem stood, then, like hunted things, they broke and fled\nfrom the field.\n\nAs the infidels gave way in dire panic, Count Roland called to the\narchbishop,--\n\n\"Let us give the heathen back their onset!\" and he spurred his\nVeillantif after their flying numbers.\n\n\"Who spares to strike is base,\" answered the valiant churchman; and\nwounded though he was, he joined in the pursuit.\n\n\"Leave not this Roland alive!\" cried one of the fleeing infidels; and he\nturned and flung his javelin at the Christian knight. A hundred Moslems\nat once followed his lead. Weapon after weapon was hurled upon the\ndauntless Roland; but though his armor was all broken, and his raiment\nfrayed, his flesh remained unscathed. Veillantif, his noble charger,\nhowever, was slain under him, and fell to the ground, pierced by thirty\nwounds.\n\nThe heathen vanished; and Roland, unable to keep up on foot, was left\nalone on the field. His first thought was to succor the good archbishop,\nwho had been grievously wounded in the fight, so he turned back and\nsearched till he found the faithful Turpin.\n\n\"The field is thine, and God's the glory,\" was Turpin's greeting to him;\nand even as he spoke, his head drooped upon his breast, and his pious\nspirit passed away. So died the great Archbishop Turpin,--a champion\never of the Christian faith with word and weapon.\n\nNoble and generous always, Roland had thought of his comrade first. Now,\nleft alone, his thoughts turned upon himself, and he knew from the pain\nin his brow that his end was at hand. Karl and his legions were still\nsome leagues away; he might not hope to meet his emperor again, but he\ndesired much that Charlemagne should know that his Roland had died\nunconquered.\n\nSo he grasped his Durindana and his ivory horn, and recrossed the\nmarches of Spain--as far as he had followed the fleeing heathen. There,\non a mound, between two great trees, he laid him down to die. Yet was\nhis spirit troubled, for he knew that if he died thus, his good sword\nmight fall into unworthy and unknightly hands.\n\n\"Ah, my ill-starred blade!\" he cried; \"no longer may I be thy guardian.\nYet never shalt thou know master who shall turn his face from mortal\nenemy.\"\n\nSo saying, he struggled to his feet, and essayed to shatter his blade\nupon a great rock. Many blows he smote with it, yet it broke not. Then\nRoland was sorely grieved. Once more he summoned his failing strength,\nand showered such mighty strokes upon the stone that the blade, unbroken\nstill, was bent \"past word to tell.\"\n\nThen, for death was upon him, Roland laid him down in the shade of a\npine. His sword and his horn he placed beneath his head, that Karl might\nknow he had not surrendered. When this was done, he raised his right\nglove to heaven as a sign of repentance, and cried aloud,--\n\n\"O God, I do repent me of my sins, both great and small, from my natal\nhour to this day. Father, receive my soul!\"\n\nSaint Gabriel leaned from heaven, so the legend says, and took the\nraised glove from his hand.\n\nAnd Karl, his emperor, came, and found him with his head upon his\nunsurrendered sword, and his face toward Spain.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe vengeance that Charlemagne wreaked upon the traitor, Ganelon, and\nupon the Moslems in Spain was unspeakably terrible.\n\nIt is touching to know, however, that Roland's lady-love--Oliver's\ngentle sister Alda--refused to be comforted when she heard of her\nlover's death. She died of a broken heart at the feet of Charlemagne,\neven as the emperor begged her to accept his own son in marriage, and\nthus become, in time, empress of all the Franks.\n\n\n\n\nTHE CID\n\n\n    As warlike sons, with mighty deeds,\n    Exalt the power of Rome;\n    And Arthur deathless glory adds\n    Unto his island home;\n    As France will ever nobler seem\n    Because of Charlemagne--\n    So dost thou, ever-conquering Cid,\n    Immortalize thy Spain!\n\n    _Paraphrase of Latin epitaph_,\n    D. W. K.\n\n\n\n\nTHE CID RODRIGO DIAZ DE BIVAR\n\n(1035-1099 A. D.)\n\n\nIn the eleventh century there lived in Castile a Spanish noble of high\ndegree, called Diego Laynez. His family estates of Bivar lay near the\ncity of Burgos, and in his castle there, Don Diego, when not in\nattendance upon the king, dwelt in the state befitting his rank and\nwealth. A stern and proud man was Don Diego, and justly renowned for his\ngreat valor in battle.\n\nThis knight had long desired an heir to his ancient name, and was happy\nbeyond measure when his wish was gratified by the coming of a little\nson. The child was named Rodrigo, and soon grew to be a wonderfully\nstrong and fearless youth. Doubtless Diego hoped that his son would\nbecome a valiant warrior, for fighting was then the chief business of\nlife, and peaceful occupations were held in little esteem. In those\ndays, a man was obliged to fight to defend life and property, and a\nbrave knight, with only the help of his good sword, could win fame and\nfortune. But even the fond parents of Rodrigo could never have dreamed\nof the glory that awaited their son, who was to become the greatest\nwarrior in all Spain, the delight and admiration and envy of every true\nSpanish knight.\n\nIt was a stormy age,--that in which the little Rodrigo lived. For three\nhundred years there had been almost constant warfare in Spain. Sometimes\nthe Christians battled against the Moors, sometimes Christians against\nChristians, and Moors against Moors; but always there was conflict and\nstruggle. And well was the son of Diego Laynez fitted for that rough\nage, as you shall see.\n\nWhile still very young, Rodrigo showed a most independent spirit. Once\nhe asked his godfather, the priest Don Pedro, to give him a colt, and\nthe kind old man took him to the paddock and told him to choose one as\nthe colts were driven slowly by. After all the finest had passed, a very\nugly and mangy colt came ambling along, and Rodrigo called out,--\n\n\"This is the one for me!\" His godfather, angry at a choice that seemed\nso foolish, exclaimed,--\n\n\"Booby, [Babieca] thou hast chosen ill!\" but the boy, not at all\nabashed, laughed as he replied confidently,--\n\n\"This will be a good horse, and Booby shall be his name.\"\n\nTime proved the boy to have shown excellent judgment, and Babieca became\nalmost as famous as his master.\n\nNot only self-reliance, but a fierce and warlike temper, was shown in\nthe first youthful exploit of Rodrigo. His father Diego, when too old to\nbear arms, was grossly insulted by an enemy, the Count of Gormaz. Diego\nwept and raged at the insult put upon him and his inability to resent\nit. Moved deeply by his father's grief, Rodrigo determined to avenge the\ninsult to the honor of his family.\n\nDonning the discarded armor of Diego, the youth next took down from the\nwall an ancient sword. This treasured weapon had once belonged to a\ncelebrated warrior, Mudarra, and with it that knight had avenged the\ndeath of his seven brothers. Buckling on the good blade, Rodrigo said,--\n\n\"O valiant sword! bethink thee that mine is Mudarra's arm! Thou hast now\nas great a wrong as his to right. Thou lackest thy great master's hand;\nyet never shalt thou see me turn my back on a foe. Thou shalt find me\ntrue as thy tempered steel, for thy second master, like thy first, was\nnot born to yield. Should the foe overmaster me, not long will I endure\nthe shame, but plunge thee straightway in my breast!\"\n\nThen Rodrigo sallied forth secretly from Bivar, and seeking the haughty\ncount, challenged him to battle. Gormaz laughed him to scorn.\n\n\"Fight thee? Thou art mad, thou silly boy. Get thee hence, or thy skin\nshall suffer for thine insolence.\"\n\n\"Thou art no true knight,\" cried Rodrigo, \"but a craven who dost insult\nold men! If thou fight me not, all Castile shall hear of thy shameful\ndeed!\" Many more deadly insults he added, until the enraged count\nconsented to fight him, expecting an easy victory over the youth. But\nRodrigo was strong as a man, and his deadly hate of the count added\nvigor to his arm. Though soon wounded and bleeding, he yet parried with\nskill the blows aimed at his heart, and finally, with one desperate\neffort, drove the sword of Mudarra through and through the body of\nGormaz. The head of his fallen enemy Rodrigo carried home in triumph to\nthe proud Diego. Thus did the youthful Ruy Diaz de Bivar avenge the\nwrongs of his father.\n\nSoon after this combat with Gormaz, Rodrigo, while riding with some\ncompanions, unexpectedly met a band of Moors. These men were returning\nto Aragon from a thieving expedition into Castile, driving their\ncaptives and stolen cattle before them. Rodrigo and his friends fell\nupon this band with great fury and soon defeated the infidels; but the\nprisoners taken were generously set free by their youthful captor.\nLater, when Rodrigo went to the Saracen court of Saragossa, these Moors,\nin return for his kindness, gave him the title of Sidy, or Said,--an\nArabic word, meaning lord, or my lord. In Spanish this became Cid; and\nas the Cid, Rodrigo is best known, though he has still another title,\nwon in the following manner. In those days any knight who had suffered\nwrong at the hands of another, could, with the king's consent, challenge\nhis enemy. Then, in the presence of the king and court, the two knights\nwould fight on horseback until one was killed or acknowledged himself\nvanquished. The victor was deemed to have right on his side, and\njudgment was given accordingly. Sometimes either party to the quarrel\nwas allowed to choose a substitute to fight for him. It was also the\ncustom when hostile armies met, for the boldest warrior to challenge one\nof the enemy to come out and fight in single combat. Often, wars were\ndecided by such a contest between two or more knights chosen from each\narmy. By his wonderful success in many combats of this kind, Rodrigo won\nthe title of Campeador, or Champion, and came to be called the Cid\nCampeador.\n\nOn his way to engage in one of these contests as a champion of the King\nof Castile, Rodrigo met with a marvelous adventure. He and his knights\ncame upon a leper fallen into a ditch by the wayside, and calling upon\nthe passers-by for help. Now, none would heed his call for fear of the\nterrible disease, with which the poor wayfarer was afflicted. But\nRodrigo dismounted, pulled the leper out of the ditch, and placing him\non Babieca, brought him to the inn where they were to lodge. Not another\nknight would come near the outcast, so Rodrigo, out of pure kindness,\nate from the same dish with him, and afterwards had a bed prepared, in\nwhich they two slept together.\n\nIn the middle of the night, a cold blast seemed to strike through\nRodrigo, and he waked and put out his hand to touch his bedfellow; but\nthe leper was gone. The Cid called aloud; none answered. While Rodrigo\nwas considering this strange thing, a man in white, shining garments\nappeared, and asked softly,--\n\n\"Sleepest thou, Rodrigo?\"\n\n\"Nay, I am awake; but who art thou who bearest about thee so bright a\nlight and so sweet a smell?\"\n\n\"I am Saint Lazarus,\" answered the vision, \"and would have thee know\nthat I am that leper to whom thou didst show such kindness for the love\nof God. And for that deed, God bestows on thee this great boon,--that\nwhen the blast thou didst feel but now shall come upon thee, thou mayest\nundertake that on which thy heart is fixed, whether it be fighting or\nother matters, and it shall go well with thee. For never shalt thou be\nconquered, but ever victorious; for God grants thee His blessing. So\nrest thee well and do ever the right.\" And so Rodrigo prayed until\nmorning, and then went on his way rejoicing.\n\nMeanwhile the day came, on which the combat was to be fought between the\nCid and a knight of Aragon, to decide whether the city of Calahorra\nshould belong to the King of Castile or the King of Aragon. The two\nkings, with a splendid company of nobles, had taken places to watch the\ncombat, the lists were all prepared, and the heralds stood ready to give\nthe signal; but the Cid did not appear. Very uneasy was King Fernando at\nthe absence of his champion. A cousin of the tardy knight offered to\ntake his place, and was about to mount and enter the lists, when the Cid\ncame spurring up in hot haste. Leaping from his tired horse, he sprang\nupon the steed that stood ready, and, wasting no time in words, lowered\nhis lance and charged fiercely on his waiting adversary. The two met\nwith a shock that shivered the lances. Both knights were badly wounded,\nbut they drew their swords and prepared to fight on. The knight of\nAragon now thought to frighten the Cid, and exclaimed boastfully,--\n\n\"Right sorely shalt thou rue that thou hast come into this place with\nme, for never shalt thou return alive to Castile!\"\n\nBut Rodrigo was not at all troubled by the threat.\n\n[Illustration: The Knighting of the Cid]\n\n\"Don Martin Gonzales,\" he replied coolly, \"thou art a good knight, but\nsuch words befit not this place. We must fight with our hands, and not\nwith empty words.\" And grasping his sword, he suddenly brought it down\non the helmet of his foe with such tremendous force that it wellnigh\ndrove the head of Gonzales down to the neck of his steed. The knight of\nAragon, however, was a stout fighter, and rallying from the shock, he\ndealt a blow that cut through the edge of the Cid's shield. So firmly\nfixed was the sword that, when drawn back, it brought the shield with\nit. Enraged at this loss, the Cid cut his adversary fiercely across the\nface; but Gonzales, though bleeding copiously, still fought on bravely.\nOnly after a long, fierce fight did the Champion unhorse and slay this\nvaliant knight. Then the umpires announced that the Cid had conquered,\nand so won the good city of Calahorra for his king.\n\nAfter this Rodrigo did such valiant service to King Fernando at the\nsiege of Coimbra, a city of Portugal, that he was there formally dubbed\na knight. The ceremony took place in the principal mosque of the\ncaptured city. In order to do the hero signal honor, the king kissed\nhim, the queen girt on his sword, and the Princess Urraca buckled on his\ngolden spurs.\n\nIn many battles against the Moors the Cid fought valiantly with King\nFernando, whose ambition it was to win back all Spain from the\ninfidels.\n\nWhen Fernando died, he unwisely left his territory to be divided among\nhis five children. This led to much jealousy, and Sancho, the eldest\nson, was greatly aggrieved, because he thought the entire kingdom should\nhave been his. So it was not long after Fernando's death before war\nbroke out between Sancho, King of Castile, and his brothers.\n\nSancho soon defeated the youngest brother, Garcia, and seized his\nKingdom of Galicia. This conquest was due mainly to the wonderful valor\nof Rodrigo, who now \"waxed great and became a mighty man of war, and\nCampeador at the court of King Don Sancho.\"\n\nSancho now demanded that Alfonso give up the Kingdom of Leon. The\nbrothers finally agreed that a battle should be fought between their\nrespective armies, the crown of Leon to belong to the king whose army\nshould be victorious. When this combat took place, Alfonso conquered\nSancho, and drove the Castilian army from the field. Supposing the\nmatter settled, the triumphant Alfonso did not pursue the fugitives, but\nreturned to his camp rejoicing.\n\nKing Sancho, fleeing from the field, saw with joy the green banner of\nthe Cid in the distance. When the two met, Rodrigo persuaded the king\nto renew the fight at dawn, assuring him that he could then take the\nenemy by surprise.\n\n\"The Galicians and Leonese,\" said the cunning Cid, \"are given to much\ntalking, and at this moment they are with the King Don Alfonso their\nlord, boasting of what they have done, for they love big words. If it be\nGod's will, their joy of to-day shall be turned to grief, and if it\nplease Him, sir, you shall regain honor.\" Now it befell as the Cid had\nhoped. In the early morning, while the troops of Alfonso were stupid\nfrom their night of feasting and drinking, the Cid attacked and routed\nthem completely. During the battle, King Sancho was captured, and was\nbeing carried off by thirteen knights, when the Cid rushed to his help\nwith no weapon but a broken lance. He offered to exchange Alfonso,\ncaptured by his men, for Sancho, and upon refusal, the Champion cried\nwrathfully, \"Give me but one of your lances, and I alone, against the\nthirteen of you, will quit my lord of you!\"\n\nThe Leonese knights laughed him to scorn, and in sport threw him a\nlance. Thereupon he fell upon them suddenly, slew eleven, put the others\nto flight, and rode back in triumph with his rescued king.\n\nElated by this victory, King Sancho now determined that his sister\nUrraca should yield him her strong city of Zamora; but thinking to gain\nit without force, he asked the Cid to go as his messenger and urge her\nto peaceably surrender the city. This he did because he knew his sister\nhad long loved the Cid. The Cid, who held the princess dear for her\nfriendship to him, though he loved her not, replied to the king's\nrequest,--\n\n\"Sir, it is not for me to carry such a message, seeing that I was reared\nwith Dona Urraca, in the same house of Arias Gonzalo, and would not\nwillingly do her a wrong.\"\n\nHowever, when the king pointed out that the Cid might thus prevent a\nbloody conflict, he consented to undertake the unpleasant mission. With\nfifteen knights he passed into the city, and was gladly received by\nUrraca at the entrance of the palace. Together they went into the\nsplendid hall of audience, and the princess right graciously bade the\nCid be seated with her. Then she asked,--\n\n\"I pray thee, Don Rodrigo, tell me wherefore is this great army encamped\noutside my walls? Is my brother Sancho going to make war upon Moors or\nChristians, and of what state?\"\n\n\"Dona Urraca,\" replied the Cid, gravely, \"thou knowest that as a herald\nI am come hither, and whether my message please thee or not, yet ought\nI to suffer no insult nor wrong.\"\n\n\"Yea,\" answered Urraca, quickly; \"and _thou_ knowest well, Don Rodrigo,\nthat I wish thee no harm, so speak out boldly. Perhaps my loving brother\nonly needs some aid of mine to go against the Moors. Gladly will I lend\nhim fifteen lances fully equipped, even though it be for ten years.\"\n\nNow the Cid flushed red at the mocking tones of the princess and spoke\nwith difficulty, though still calmly,--\n\n\"I am but a messenger, princess. The king, thy brother, bids me speak\nthus: he needs this city Zamora for a defence against his enemies. Nor\nshould so great a stronghold be in the hands of a woman. He will give\nthee for it money or lands or another city. But if thou dost refuse, he\nwill, without delay, take Zamora from thee by force of arms.\" Then tears\nof indignation and rage came into the eyes of the princess.\n\n\"I call on God,\" she cried, \"and all these noble knights here present to\nbear witness that Sancho again seeks to make naught our father's will!\nHe hath taken away their inheritance from Garcia and Alfonso, and now he\nwould rob me of the city my father gave me. Well hath Sancho merited our\nfather's curse upon the son who should disobey his will! Let him beware\nlest he die by violence, or by treachery like his own!\" The counsellors\nof the princess, troubled at this rash speech, besought her to be calm,\nand at last persuaded her to call together the townsmen and hold council\nwith them.\n\nWhen assembled, all the chief men of Zamora loyally promised to aid the\nprincess in defending the city, and swore not to forsake her until\ndeath. Then the proud Urraca, turning to the Cid, cried impetuously,--\n\n\"Does it not shame thee, O Cid, that all these are willing to die for\nme, while thou who wast my playfellow in youth hast come hither to take\naway mine inheritance?\" The Cid answered not, but his face turned yet\nmore ruddy, and he raised not his eyes from the floor.\n\n\"Truly a noble thing for the great Cid Ruy Diaz,--to make war against a\nwoman!\" went on the angry princess; then with a burst of noble\nfrankness, \"And well thou knowest that the woman once loved thee,\nRodrigo! Ay, thou mayest boast that the Princess Urraca once gave thee\nher heart; but the Cid whom Urraca loved drew not his sword against a\nwoman. Begone, Don Rodrigo de Bivar; I would not look longer upon thy\nface! Tell thy robber king that never will I yield to a false traitor\nthe city my father gave me! Sooner will I die with these true men than\ngive up Zamora!\"\n\nSilent and ashamed, the Cid withdrew. Fain would the knight have served\nthe fair princess, the friend of his youth, but fealty to his king\nforbade.\n\nWhen King Sancho received Urraca's defiance, he flew into a terrific\nrage, and accused the Cid of having counselled the resistance of the\nprincess because of love for her. Not a word of explanation would he\nhear, but straightway banished the Cid from the kingdom. Rodrigo was\nhighly enraged at the injustice of the king whom he had served so\nfaithfully, even to the sacrifice of Urraca's cherished friendship. But\nin silence, though pale and defiant, he heard his sentence. Then\ncrying,--\n\n\"Never, ungrateful king, shalt thou find a vassal like Rodrigo, and\nhumbly, Don Sancho, shalt thou beg him to return!\" the Champion strode\nfrom the kingly presence and rode away from Castile. So true was the\nCid's proud boast, that only a short time elapsed before King Sancho,\nrealizing the value of the banished warrior, entreated him to return to\nCastile. The insulted Champion, after receiving an humble apology from\nthe king and the position of governor of the royal household, consented\nto return.\n\nNow, in spite of his friendship for Urraca, the Cid continued the siege\nof Zamora with great vigor and zeal, for loyalty to his king compelled\nhostility to the princess, and the memory of her bitter scorn rankled in\nhis heart.\n\nBut long the city held out, though the people were suffering greatly\nwith famine and disease. At last a pretended traitor, Bellido Dolfos,\noffered to deliver the city into the hands of Sancho. While riding along\nwith the king, under pretence of pointing out the gate whereby the\ntroops might enter Zamora, this lying wretch stabbed the unsuspecting\nSancho through and through with his own royal golden spear, given by the\nking to the knave to carry. Bellido then fled fast to the city. On the\nway he was seen by the Cid, who called to the flying horseman to stop,\nthough knowing nothing of his crime. The villain only rode the faster,\nhotly pursued by Rodrigo, who now suspected something wrong. Just as the\nCid was about to overtake the fugitive, he darted through the gate of\nZamora and escaped. Rodrigo, riding back, discovered the dead body of\nhis king, and was sorely grieved that he had not captured the murderer.\n\nBy the death of King Sancho, his brother Alfonso, driven into exile\nafter his defeat, and then living among the Moors at Saragossa, fell\nheir to the throne. But many great nobles of the kingdom believed that\nAlfonso and Urraca had planned the murder of Sancho, and so they were\nunwilling to acknowledge a murderer as their king.\n\nWhen these nobles were called upon to do homage to Alfonso, the Cid--for\nnone other dared to be so bold--said to the king,--\n\n\"Sir, all here do suspect that you did contrive the murder of your\nbrother, King Don Sancho. Therefore, I declare to you that until you\nclear yourself by oath, never will I or these nobles kiss your hand or\nreceive you as lord.\"\n\nThe king flushed with anger, but he replied meekly,--\n\n\"I swear to God and Saint Mary that I did not kill Sancho or counsel his\ndeath, though he had stolen my kingdom. Advise me, therefore, how I may\nclear myself of this matter.\"\n\nThen the nobles decided that the king and twelve of his knights who had\nbeen with him in exile at Toledo should in public swear solemnly to his\ninnocence. So on the day appointed, the king appeared before the high\naltar of the church at Burgos; and the Cid, in presence of the nobles of\nthe kingdom, placed the book of the Gospels on the altar and said,--\n\n\"King Don Alfonso, you are come hither to swear that you had no part in\nthe death of the King Don Sancho; and if you swear falsely, may God slay\nyou by the hand of your own vassal, even as Don Sancho was slain.\"\n\n\"Amen!\" said Alfonso, though he turned very pale. Again the Cid spoke,--\n\n\"King Don Alfonso, you are here to swear that neither did you order the\nKing Don Sancho to be slain; and if you swear falsely, may a traitor\nslay you even as the traitor Bellido slew Don Sancho.\"\n\nAgain Alfonso replied, \"Amen!\" but he grew yet paler with rage and shame\nat this second oath required of him. When the twelve knights had taken a\nsimilar oath, the nobles were satisfied of Alfonso's innocence; and all\nswore fealty to him as king. But when the Cid took the oath of loyalty\nand stooped to kiss the hand of Alfonso, the humiliated and resentful\nking drew away his hand, and would not permit the act of homage.\n\nSmall wonder that after being forced to undergo this mortification, the\nking \"hated the Cid, in spite of his valor.\" Yet either from fear or\nthrough policy, Alfonso treated Rodrigo with great honor. On one\noccasion, the Champion came to court, and was invited by King Alfonso to\nsit with him. When Rodrigo modestly refused the proffered honor, the\nking said,--\n\n\"Since you will not sit with me, sit on your ivory seat, for you won it\nlike a good man. From this day I order that none save king or prelate\nsit with you; for you have conquered so many high-born men and so many\nkings that for this reason there is none worthy to sit with you, or none\nwho is your peer. Sit, therefore, like a king and lord on your ivory\nseat.\"\n\nThe honor in which Rodrigo was held is shown by the fact that he married\na cousin of the king, Ximena,--daughter of the Count of Oviedo, a\npowerful noble. Doubtless it was his love for the beautiful Ximena that\nrendered the Cid so indifferent to the affection of Princess Urraca.\nMost dearly and tenderly he loved Ximena, and after his marriage to her,\ngave up warfare for many years, and lived in peace and tranquil\nhappiness near Burgos. During this quiet period, the Cid fought only a\nfew single combats as champion of the king. By these he gained even\ngreater glory, for, as promised by good Saint Lazarus, he was never\novercome, but ever victorious. Because of this good fortune, the old\nballads sing of Rodrigo as, \"He who was born in happy hour.\"\n\nBut the king loved not the Cid, and finally, accusing him falsely of\ntreachery, banished the Champion from the kingdom. The Cid, who was poor\nat this time, devised a trick to get money for the journey. He made\nready two great chests covered with crimson leather and studded with\ngilt nails, and filled them with sand. Then, sending for two Jews,\nmoney-lenders, he offered to pawn the chests, saying they were full of\nrefined gold taken from the Moors; but that he feared to dispose of them\nopenly, because Alfonso, who had accused him of having taken\ntribute-money belonging to the crown, would certainly seize the\ntreasure. He made the condition that the chests be not opened for a\nyear, but if not redeemed at the end of that time, should become the\nproperty of the Jews. They fell into the trap, and giving the Cid six\nhundred marks, carried off the chests, rejoicing at the great treasure\nthat would surely become theirs, for they believed that the owner would\nbe in exile many years. When, at the end of the twelve months, they\ndiscovered the fraud that had been practised upon them, great was their\nwrath.\n\nBut on the return of the Cid from exile, he repaid the Jews in full. An\nold chest preserved in the cathedral of Burgos is said to be one of\nthese coffers of the Cid.\n\nTwice was Rodrigo recalled from exile by the king, who needed him sadly\nin the fierce war for the possession of Spain, that had now broken out\nafresh between the Christians and Mohammedans.\n\nFinally the Cid, when banished once more, renounced his allegiance to\nAlfonso, and made war upon his former lord, carrying fire and sword into\nCastile. Thus the Champion became a free lance, making war for gain upon\nwhom he pleased, and serving any prince, Christian or Mohammedan, who\nmade it worth his while. This conduct cannot be admired, but we must not\njudge the Cid as we would a hero of our own times. In his day the\nstandard of conduct was very different, and even the best men frequently\ncommitted deeds that shock us unspeakably. It was an age of violence and\nfraud. To make war upon your neighbor, with or without good cause, was\nthought to be worthy of all praise, especially if you conquered him.\nMight made right; and as the Cid was always victorious, he received\nlittle or no blame for acts that we should consider cruel or\ntreacherous, but won great admiration and renown by his courage,\nboldness, and marvelous skill in warfare.\n\nThe poets of that day delight in relating the various exploits of the\nCid. In a celebrated battle with Count Berenger, Rodrigo captured a vast\nstore of treasure, and many swords made in olden days. Among these was\nthe wonderful blade, Colada, worth a thousand marks in silver. With this\nweapon, he afterwards slew many score of enemies in battle.\n\nBut the crowning glory of the Cid's adventurous life was the capture of\nValencia. This splendid city, on the east coast of Spain, was besieged\nby him for many months. At length, the city fell into such straits that,\nin the words of the old chronicler, \"the inhabitants counted themselves\nas dead men, and walked through the streets as though they were drunken.\nThey understood not the words of one another, and lost all of their\nmemory, even as a man who falls into the waves of the sea. Then came the\nChristians up to the walls, and called aloud in words of thunder, making\nmockery of them, and threatening them, and saying: 'False traitors and\nrenegades, give up your city to the Cid, Ruy Diaz, for ye cannot save\nit!' And the Moors remained silent, so great was their grief and\ndespair.\"\n\nA famous poem, the \"Dirge of Valencia,\" composed by one of its Arab\ninhabitants during the siege, gives us a picture of the wretched state\nof the once beautiful city.\n\n    \"Valencia! Valencia! many troubles are come upon thee,\n      and in such peril art thou set that, if thou escape, the\n      wonder will be great among all that behold thee.\n\n    \"Thy lofty towers and beautiful, which gleamed from afar\n      and comforted the hearts of the people, are falling piece\n      by piece.\n\n    \"Thy white bulwarks which shewed so fair in the distance\n      have lost the beauty whereby they shone so brightly in\n      the beams of the sun.\n\n    \"Thy famous and delightful gardens that are round about\n      thee, the ravening wolf has torn up their roots and\n      they give no fruits.\"[1]\n\n[Footnote 1: From \"The Cid Campeador,\" by H. Butler Clarke, by\npermission of G. P. Putnam's Sons.]\n\nAt last the unhappy city surrendered to the Cid, and he became its sole\nruler and a personage of still greater power and renown. In Valencia,\nfor some years, the conqueror lived in the royal magnificence of an\nOriental prince.\n\nWhen the Moors under King Yusef came from Morocco, fifty thousand\nstrong, to retake the city, the Cid was not at all alarmed. As soon as\nthe Moors had encamped before Valencia, the Cid led his wife and\ndaughter up into the tower of the Alcazar. They raised their eyes, and\nsaw the thousands of tents pitched on the plain.\n\n\"Heaven save thee, Cid, what is this?\" they cried.\n\n\"Good wife, fear nothing. Riches are these to increase our store,--right\nmarvelous and grand. As soon as thou art come, they wish to make us a\npresent. Wife, sit thou in the Alcazar, and be not afraid when thou\nseest me in the fight.\"\n\nThe next day the drums sounded, and the Cid's heart was glad. He drew up\nthe Christians, and they sped forth to do battle with the infidels.\n\"They drove them from the garden in royal style; straight up to the camp\nwas the pursuit continued. Glad is my Cid for all they have done.\"\n\n\"Hearken to me, my knights,\" he said. \"A good day is to-day, but\nto-morrow shall be better.\" In the morning the battle was renewed. With\nonly four thousand men, the Cid routed Yusef with fifty thousand. So\nmany of the Moors did Rodrigo slay that they could not be counted. Three\nstrokes the Cid gave King Yusef, who only escaped by the swiftness of\nhis horse. His wonderful sword, Tizona, fell into the hands of the Cid.\nGold and silver and precious stuff in great quantities was captured.\n\n\"Joyful is my Cid and all his vassals, that God had shown such favor to\nthem that they had conquered in the field.\"\n\nIn yet another battle against the Moors the Cid was victorious. Bucar,\nthe brother of Yusef, attacked Valencia, but was soon put to flight by\nthe Champion. Rodrigo pursued the flying king, brandishing his sword and\nshouting,--\n\n\"Turn thee, Bucar, thou who camest over seas to behold the Cid with the\nlong beard! We must meet and cut out a friendship!\"\n\n\"God confound such friendship!\" cried the frightened king, as he fled\nstill faster. But Rodrigo, determined to be friendly in his way, flung\nhis sword after Bucar. It struck between the shoulders of the fleeing\nking. But Bucar's horse was the swifter, and he escaped by riding into\nthe sea and taking boat.\n\nNow the Cid was left for some time in possession of Valencia and became\nan independent prince,--in fact, if not in name. The neighboring kings\nwere glad to make friendly alliance with the great warrior who had never\nyet met with a defeat.\n\nSome time after the victory over Bucar, the Cid laid siege to Murviedro.\nThis town was the ancient Saguntum, once besieged by Hannibal. It was a\nstrongly fortified place, and there seemed little chance of Rodrigo's\ntaking it. But after the siege had lasted some time, the citizens saw\nplainly that they could not hold their city against the great conqueror.\nSo they begged him to grant them a truce in order that they might send\nto the neighboring princes for help. The proud warrior, disdaining any\nnumber of enemies, readily consented to the truce.\n\nNow when the messengers from Murviedro reached the courts of the\nneighboring princes, and implored their help, not one would lend aid to\nthe distressed city. Alfonso of Castile replied to their petition,--\n\n\"Certes, I will not succor you. I would liefer Rodrigo have your town\nthan a Saracen king.\"\n\nAnd Al Mustain, the Moorish King of Saragossa, gave the envoys this\ndiscouraging answer,--\n\n\"Go and take such comfort as ye may, and fight bravely, for Rodrigo is\ninvincible, and therefore I am afraid to do battle with him.\"\n\nWhen the sorely disappointed envoys returned to Murviedro, great was the\ndistress of its inhabitants. But in order to gain time, they pretended\nthat the messengers had not returned, and therefore besought Rodrigo to\nextend the time of the truce. The Cid knew well that their statement was\nfalse, and that the envoys were even then in Murviedro, but he\nreplied,--\n\n\"In order to show you that I fear none of your kings, I grant you a\nfurther truce of twelve days for them to come to your aid. If then they\ncome not, and you do not surrender, I will slay all of you that I\ncapture.\"\n\nBut at the end of the twelve days the Cid granted yet another delay.\nWhen that time had expired, and the city was forced to surrender, the\nCid did not carry out his threat, but mercifully granted the inhabitants\ntheir lives, and permitted them to take their wives and children and go\nwhere they would. But some who presumed on his generosity to send all\ntheir wealth out of the city, against the Cid's express command, the\nconqueror sold into slavery.\n\nThis conquest of Murviedro was the last great exploit of the Champion.\nFor the day was approaching when the conqueror must yield himself to the\nconqueror of all. The Cid fell ill, and while in this state, heard that\nBucar was again coming with a great force against Valencia. One night\nsoon after, so runs the old legend, there swept through the palace of\nthe dying Champion a great wave of light and a marvelous sweet perfume.\nAnd there appeared to the Cid a tall and stately old man, with long\nsnowy hair, holding keys in his hand; and thus he spoke,--\n\n\"Sleepest thou, Rodrigo?\"\n\n\"What man art thou?\" the Cid asked his strange visitor boldly.\n\n\"I am Saint Peter, prince of the apostles,\" he said; \"and I am come to\ntell thee that when thirty days be past, thou must quit this world and\ngo to the life that hath no end. But God will so favor thee that after\nthy death thou shalt conquer and rout King Bucar. This does Christ grant\nthee for love of me and for the honor thou didst ever pay me in my\nchurch at Cardenas.\" And after he had spoken, Saint Peter straightway\ndeparted. Then the Cid rejoiced greatly, and the next day he called his\nchief men, and said to them,--\n\n\"My friends and kinsmen, be sure that I am now come upon the end of my\nlife, and thirty days hence shall see my end. I have seen visions of my\nfather and son, and each time they say: 'Long hast thou tarried here;\nlet us begone to the eternal life.'\n\n\"And last night Saint Peter came to me and told me that in thirty days I\nshall pass away; but before I leave you, I will show you how you shall\nconquer King Bucar, as Saint Peter did promise me.\"\n\nThen the Cid betook himself to the church of Saint Peter. There all the\npeople assembled, and he bade them farewell, weeping sore. After\nconfessing his sins and receiving absolution, he went back to the\nAlcazar and cast himself upon the bed, and never again did he rise up.\nSeven days before the end of the thirty he bade them bring him a gold\ncup, and in it he mixed with rose-water a little balsam and myrrh, sent\nhim by the Sultan of Persia, and drank the mixture.\n\nThis he did each day, as was the custom of Moorish princes; and so his\nbody and face became fresh and healthy-looking, though he grew weaker\nevery hour. At last he called his wife, Ximena, Bishop Hieronymo, and\nhis three most trusty friends, and said,--\n\n\"As soon as I be dead, ye shall wash my body many times with rose-water\nand balsam. And thou, Ximena, take heed that thou and the women cry not\naloud nor wail for me so that the Moors get knowledge of my death. And\nwhen Bucar is come, bid all the folk of Valencia go forth on the wall\nand sound trumpets, and show great glee. Also bid the people get\ntogether their goods in secret, that the Moors know it not, for ye may\nnot tarry here after my death, but must needs go back to Castile. Thou,\nGil Diaz, deck my body with care, and saddle Babieca, and bind me on him\nso that I fall not, and place in my hand my sword, Tizona; and thou, Don\nHieronymo, shalt ride by my side; and thou, Bermudez, bear my banner as\nthou wast wont to do; and thou, Don Fanez, shalt draw up the host as\nthou hast ever done. Then go ye forth and battle with Bucar, for be\nassured and doubt not that ye shall win the battle.\"\n\nHaving said these words, the dying hero received the sacrament, and then\nprayed, weeping:\n\n\"Lord Jesus Christ, I pray Thee of thy grace that Thou wilt pardon my\nsins, and that my soul be placed in the light that hath no end.\"\n\nAnd so saying, \"the Cid gave to God his soul.\"\n\nThen the faithful friends and loving wife did even as he had commanded\nthem. The body had been embalmed by the myrrh and balsam, and thus\nremained fresh-looking as in life. So they clothed the dead warrior in\nall his armor of war, with coat of arms and shield, and placed in his\nhand the precious sword, Tizona. His arms were raised aloft, and tied up\nso cunningly that he held the sword straight and even. When bound\nstrongly upon his good horse, Babieca, any man not knowing the truth\nwould have sworn the knight to be alive.\n\nAt last all things were in readiness. And at midnight a strange\nprocession rode through the silent, deserted streets of the city. First\nwent forth Pero Bermudez, bearing aloft the great green banner of the\nChampion, that had never yet failed to strike terror into the hearts of\nhis foes. Then all silently, in battle-array, the warriors of the Cid\npassed through the gates of Valencia; and with them, as of old, rode\ntheir dead leader, Ruy Diaz de Bivar. A hundred chosen knights pressed\nclose about the Champion; and before him, with breaking heart, but\ntearless and quiet as her lord had commanded, rode the high-hearted\nXimena. So went forth to his last conflict the ever-victorious Cid, the\ngreat conqueror of banners.\n\nAt daylight the little army fell upon the sleeping camp of King Bucar,\nand slew many Moors before they could mount or arm. And it seemed to\nKing Bucar and the other kings that there joined the host of the\nChristians full seventy thousand knights, all white as snow. Ahead of\nall rode a tall knight on a white horse. In his left hand he held a\nwhite banner, and in his right a sword of fire; and he slew many Moors\nas they fled. So terrified were King Bucar and his men that they drew\nnot rein until they reached the sea; and more than twenty thousand were\ndrowned. Bucar and those who escaped to the ships hoisted sails and sped\naway, nor did they dare look back.\n\nThen the Christians rode back in triumph to the presence of the dead\nChampion, and laden with the treasure of the Moorish camp, marched in\npeace to Castile.\n\nAll along the way the people came forth in multitudes to see the great\nChampion on his last journey; and much they marveled at his lifelike\nappearance, and greatly they mourned for him. But the Cid's own men, as\nhe had bidden them, made no open show of grief. And so, with banners\nflying, with gleam of spear and sound of trumpet, the strange funeral\ntrain passed through the land, until it came at last to the church of\nSan Pedro de Cardenas. There they placed the Cid on a horse of wood,\nbefore the high altar. After many masses had been sung for the repose of\nhis soul, a tabernacle was built on the right of the altar, and in it\nwas placed the ivory throne on which the Cid was wont to sit. There,\nclothed in royal purple, with right hand clasping his mantle and the\nleft grasping Tizona sheathed, sat the Champion like a king and lord for\nten long years. And each day until her death, Ximena knelt for hours,\nmorning and evening, at the feet of her lord, and wept and mourned and\nwould not be comforted.\n\nAt last, seated thus on his ivory throne, the Cid was entombed in a\nvault before the high altar. His hand could never be unclasped from his\nsword, and thus, says the legend, it remains to this day. Well might the\npeople believe that even in death the great warrior would not loose his\nhold on his cherished sword Tizona; for with it he had done such\nmarvelous deeds that even his enemies looked on him as \"a miracle of the\nmiracles of God,\" and bestowed on him the proud title of \"The Conqueror\nof Banners.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE CID'S WEDDING\n\n\n    Within his hall of Burgos, the king prepares a feast,\n    He makes his preparation for many a noble guest.\n    It is a joyful city, it is a happy day;\n    'Tis the Campeador's wedding, and who will bide away?\n\n    Layn Calvo, the Lord Bishop, he first comes forth the gate,\n    Behind him Ruy Diaz in all his bridal state.\n    The crowd makes way before them as up the street they go;\n    For the multitude of people, their steps must need be slow.\n\n    The King had given order that they should rear an arch,\n    From house to house all over, in the way where they must march:\n    They have hung it all with lances, and shields, and glittering helms,\n    Brought by the Campeador from out the Moorish realms.\n\n    They have scattered olive branches and rushes on the street,\n    And the ladies fling down garlands at the Campeador's feet;\n    With tapestry and broidery their balconies between,\n    To do his bridal honor, their walls the burghers screen.\n\n    They lead the bulls before them all covered o'er with trappings;\n    The little boys pursue them with hootings and with clappings;\n    The fool, with cap and bladder, upon his ass goes prancing\n    'Midst troops of captive maidens with bells and cymbals dancing.\n\n    With antics and with fooleries, with shouting and with laughter,\n    They fill the streets of Burgos--and the Devil he comes after;\n    For the King has hired the horned fiend for sixteen maravedis,\n    And there he goes, with hoofs for toes, to terrify the ladies.\n\n    Then comes the bride Ximena--the King he holds her hand;\n    And the Queen; and, all in fur and pall, the nobles of the land.\n    All down the street the ears of wheat are round Ximena flying,\n    But the King lifts off her bosom sweet whatever there was lying.\n\n    Quoth Suero, when he saw it (his thought you understand),\n    \"'Tis a fine thing to be a King, but Heaven make me a _hand_!\"\n    The King was very merry, when he was told of this,\n    And swore the bride, ere eventide, must give the boy a kiss.\n\n    The King went always talking, but she held down her head,\n    And seldom gave an answer to anything he said;\n    It was better to be silent, among such crowds of folk,\n    Than utter words so meaningless as she did when she spoke.\n\n    _Ballad translated by J. G. Lockhart\n    from \"Poems of Places.\"_\n\n\n\n\nGODFREY AND THE FIRST CRUSADE\n\n\n    I sing the pious arms and Chief, who freed\n    The Sepulchre of Christ from thrall profane:\n    Much did he toil in thought, and much in deed;\n    Much in the glorious enterprise sustain;\n    And Hell in vain opposed him; and in vain\n    Afric and Asia to the rescue poured\n    Their mingled tribes; Heaven recompensed his pain,\n    And from all fruitless sallies of the sword,\n    True to the Red-cross flag, his wandering friends restored.\n\n    _Tasso._\n\n\n\n\nGODFREY AND THE FIRST CRUSADE\n\n(1060-1100 A. D.)\n\n\nIt was a bright autumn day of the year 1095 A. D., and since early\nmorning the inhabitants of the little French village of Clermont had\nbeen astir, and feasting their eyes on the unusual spectacle of\nstrangers from all France, Germany, and Italy. It was the day appointed\nby the Pope for a council to consider the state of the Christians in\nPalestine; and loyal sons and daughters of the Church had gathered from\nfar and near. Outside the limits of the town for miles around, their\nwhite tents and many-colored banners gleamed in the sunshine, for the\nvillage could not accommodate the throngs of visitors.\n\nNow the tents and houses were deserted, as all had crowded into the town\nto witness the proceedings of the Council. No building could contain the\nthousands of people, so the Pope had decided to hold the meeting in the\ngreat public square of Clermont. Here the vast crowds had assembled. As\nfar as the eye could reach, down every street leading into the square,\nextended a closely packed multitude. They stood silent, almost\nmotionless, their faces turned toward the platform in the center of the\nwide square.\n\nPeople of all classes, ages, and conditions were there: nobles, clad in\nrich dress or glittering armor; priests in dark robes; peasants in\ncoarse frieze; ladies of rank, merchants, beggars,--all stood side by\nside, forgetful of everything worldly, listening eagerly to the words of\nthe man who looked down on them from the high stand in their midst.\n\nThis man was small and mean in his appearance. His bony figure was\ncovered by a woolen tunic and a coarse serge gown that reached to the\nbare feet. From the neck drooped a monk's hood. His thin, haggard face,\nburned brown by long exposure to the hot sun and winds of the East,\nwould have been ugly but for the deep, dark, flashing eyes, lit up with\nwild enthusiasm and fiery earnestness. The monk held erect with the left\narm a great wooden cross that overtopped his head. Gesticulating\nfiercely as he addressed the absorbed multitude, his slight frame\nquivered with the violence of his emotions, and tears rolled down the\nsunken cheeks. In a voice often broken by sobs he cried:--\n\n\"Men of Clermont, people of France, Christians of all nations, come\nhither at the call of our Holy Father, the Pope! I tell you not of\nthings learned by hearsay; I myself have beheld all these horrors in the\nHoly Land of Palestine. Through the ancient streets of Jerusalem the\naccursed infidels stalk in the evil pride of conquest. They insult and\noppress, they torture and murder the followers of Christ. They rob and\nmaltreat the pious pilgrims from all lands who toil through desert and\nover mountain to worship at the tomb of their Lord. Scarcely will these\nheathen suffer the adoration of Christ in the blessed city of His cross\nand passion. Nay, not content with persecuting our brethren, the vile\ncrew of Mohammed, accursed of God, attack the very majesty of the most\nhigh God. They cast down and burn the churches of Christ; they tear His\nministers from the very altar and drag them to a shameful death; they\nprofane the holy places; they mock and spit upon the symbol of His holy\nreligion,--this blessed cross, the sign of our redemption.\n\n\"O people of Christ, God hath already stretched forth His hand to the\ndestruction of the wicked. To me, the most humble of His servants,--to\nPeter the Hermit, despised of men,--hath He revealed His purpose. For\nwhile I lay prone upon the rock before the Holy Sepulchre, calling upon\nGod for mercy, the voice of the Lord Christ came to mine ears,--\n\n\"'Peter, arise! Hasten to proclaim the tribulations of my people. It is\ntime that my servants should receive help, that the holy places should\nbe delivered!'\n\n\"When I heard this, I hastened in fearful and joyful obedience to tell\nto Christian nations the sore straits of Christ's land and followers.\nHere stands God's priest to call the people of God to this holy\nwork,--Christ himself calls you to the rescue of the Holy Land. Arm\nyourselves and hasten to Palestine! There shall ye cast out the heathen!\nThere shall ye restore Jerusalem and the Holy City to the keeping of\nGod's people!\"\n\nAs Peter sank down exhausted with emotion, the Pope, Urban II., in all\nthe splendor of his pontifical robes, arose from his throne in the midst\nof the prelates of the Church, and came forward. It was he who had\ncalled this solemn council of priests and nobles to consider the state\nof the Holy Land and to devise means for its rescue. Now, with dignity\nand eloquence, Urban added the sanction of the Church to Peter's wild\nappeal, saying:--\n\n\"I will not seek to dry the tears which images so painful must draw from\nyou. Let us weep, my brethren; but evil be to us if in our sterile pity\nwe longer leave the heritage of the Lord in the hands of the impious.\nFor I called ye hither, not to weep over the afflictions of the Holy\nLand, but to gird on your swords and go forth to its deliverance.\n\n\"Christian warriors, rejoice! for to-day ye have found a true cause for\nbattle. Go forth and fight the barbarians. Go and fight for the delivery\nof Jerusalem,--that royal city which the Redeemer of the human race has\nhallowed by His passion, has purchased by His blood, has distinguished\nby His burial. She now demands of you her deliverance. Men of France,\nmen from beyond the mountains, nations chosen and beloved of God, right\nvaliant knights, recall the virtues and greatness of Charlemagne and\nyour other kings. It is from you, above all, that Jerusalem awaits the\nhelp she invokes, for to you, above all, has God given glory in arms.\nTake ye, therefore, the road to Jerusalem for the remission of your\nsins,--for all sins shall be forgiven to the warrior of Christ,--and\ndepart assured of the deathless glory that awaits ye in the kingdom of\nheaven!\"\n\nAs the Pope ceased speaking, the people cried aloud in wild\nenthusiasm,--\n\n\"The cross! the cross! Give us the cross!\"\n\nAdhemar, Bishop of Puy, was first to receive the holy symbol. Then all\nthe multitude, pressing eagerly forward, received from Pope or priest a\nred cross of silk or cloth. Fastened on shoulder or breast, it\nhenceforth stamped the wearer as one sworn to fight for the delivery of\nthe Holy Land,--a Crusader.\n\nIn the throng surrounding the platform on which stood the Pope, Peter\nthe Hermit, and many princes of the Church, was a certain young knight.\nHis dress betokened high station. He bore himself modestly, with easy\ngrace; and yet a peculiarly stern dignity of mien, and the air of one\nused to command, bespoke the military leader. He gave close heed\nthroughout to the speech of the poor monk and that of the proud Head of\nthe Church. As Peter spoke of the persecuted Christians and the wretched\nstate of the Holy Land, the calm and steadfast eyes of the young man\nkindled with rage or glistened with sorrow. When the Pope mentioned the\nrenowned Charlemagne, the knight's smooth, pale cheek flushed with\npride, for the blood of that great emperor flowed warm in his veins.\nWhen the pardon of all sins was promised by Christ's vicar to the\nsoldier of the cross, the listener started. To his mind came the\nrecollection of past exploits,--deeds glorious in the eyes of the world,\nbut which left a sting in that tender conscience. And the troubled\nknight mused:--\n\n\"The cause of my emperor was just when he warred against Rodolphe of\nRhenfield; and the many slain in that quarrel trouble me not. I was glad\nwhen my lance pierced the breast of the upstart who dared to claim the\nthrone of Germany and the crown of Henry. Alas! if but the emperor had\nnot warred against the Holy Father! If I had not drawn my sword against\nHoly Church! When Henry stormed the battlements of Rome, my young blood\nwas hot with the joy of battle. I thought not of sin, but of glory, in\nthat wild charge, and I was first to plant our banner on the city wall.\nHenry himself gave me thanks and saluted me as Duke of Antwerp and\nLorraine. But, alas! God rebuked me soon for my pride in that warfare\nagainst His Holy Church by sending me a most grievous sickness. Then I\nswore to atone for my impiety by an humble pilgrimage to the Holy Land.\nBut _now_, God be thanked! Godfrey de Bouillon goes not with scrip and\nstaff to Jerusalem, there to weep over the captivity of Zion--with sword\nand spear will he march to the Holy Land and wrest the Sepulchre of the\nLord from the hands of the infidels!\"\n\nThus determining, the knight, with a look of high resolve, strode\nforward to the feet of the Pope. Urban received him joyously.\n\n\"Now God be praised!\" he said fervently, \"that the valiant Godfrey de\nBouillon turns his erstwhile hostile arms to the cause of Holy Church.\nHis young renown shall be increased a thousandfold, for God will give\nyet greater victories to his banner.\"\n\nThen after fastening the cross upon the shoulder of the kneeling knight,\nUrban bestowed upon him a sword with these words,--\n\n\"Son Godfrey, receive this sword consecrated by God's high priest to the\nservice of Christ. Draw it not save against the enemies of His holy\nreligion; but strike and spare not the infidel. So shalt thou advance\nthe glory of God, cleanse thy soul from every sin, and purchase\nParadise!\"\n\nGodfrey's pious heart throbbed within him at these great promises. He\nheeded not the crowd about him, nor the congratulations of his friends\nupon this signal honor, but betook himself to solitude, there to pray,\nand to plan the execution of this high enterprise.\n\nErelong the Pope held council with Godfrey and other great princes who\nhad taken the cross, and it was decided that the Crusaders should not\nstart on their expedition until the following August, for it was then\nNovember and much was to be done. The armies were to march in several\ndivisions, each by a different route, but all were to meet at\nConstantinople. Having arranged these matters, the princes and lords\nbade one another farewell and proceeded to their several domains, each\nto collect and prepare an army for the coming Crusade.\n\nBut Peter the Hermit, impatient of delay, set out at once for Palestine\nat the head of a vast, undisciplined multitude, ill-clad, lacking arms\nand provisions, unprepared in every way for the perilous undertaking,\nbut confident that God would supply all their needs, guide them, and\ndeliver the Holy City into their hands.\n\nWhen Duke Godfrey reached his duchy of Lorraine, he found that the wave\nof enthusiasm started at Clermont had already dashed over his people.\nThere was no need to urge them on to the holy work. Each and every one\nwas eager to don the cross and set out to the rescue of Palestine. Men\ngave their gold, their land; women sold their jewels, their costly\nraiment, to provide means for the equipment of God's soldiers. The Duke\nof Lorraine himself pledged his province of Bouillon to the Bishop of\nLiege for money to fit out the thousands who flocked to his banner from\nBouillon and Lorraine, from both sides of the Rhine, from northern\nFrance and western Germany.\n\nKnowing both Frank and Teuton,--able to greet each in his native\ntongue,--Godfrey was well fitted by birth and education to lead the vast\narmy that now gathered on the banks of the Meuse and Moselle. Indeed,\nall the qualities of a great general and of \"a very gentle, perfect\nknight\" were Godfrey's. From his father, Eustace, Count of Boulogne, a\nnotable warrior, he inherited valor and wisdom, and learned early \"to be\namong the first to strike the foe.\" His mother, Ida de Bouillon, a most\nlearned and pious lady, taught him to fear God, to be gentle, courteous,\njust, and merciful. \"Even in youth,\" says the old chronicler, \"a rival,\non seeing him, was forced to exclaim, 'For zeal in battle, behold his\nfather; for serving God, behold his mother!'\"\n\nSuch was the character of Godfrey de Bouillon, Duke of Lorraine, \"in\nwhom the luster of nobility was enhanced by the splendor of the most\nexalted virtues.\" Nor was his appearance less to be admired. He was of\ntall, powerful frame and most dignified bearing. He was \"beautiful in\ncountenance,\" and the glance of his dark gray eyes, though usually\ngentle and kind, could command respect and obedience from the most\nlawless.\n\nGodfrey was indeed an imposing figure when he rode forth that autumn day\nof September, 1096, at the head of his army of Crusaders. He wore the\nusual dress and armor of a knight. On his head was a silver casque,\nsurmounted by a black plume. A hauberk, or coat of mail, composed of\nsteel rings, protected his body. He carried on the left arm a round\nbuckler, which bore simply the red cross of the Crusader,--the same\nsymbol as that worn on his breast. A sword and lance, borne by his\nsquire, completed the knight's equipment of arms.\n\nWith the duke were his brothers, Baldwin and Eustace, his kinsman,\nBaldwin du Bourg, and his squire, Sigier. Before the leader, rode the\nstandard-bearers with the banner of Lorraine and the great standard of\nthe Crusade, emblazoned with a blood-red cross.\n\nTen thousand knights on horseback followed, attired like Godfrey, but\nwith gayer ornaments and colors. Their shields, from which floated\nscarfs of red, green, or white, were ornamented with painted leopards,\nlions, birds, towers, or other fanciful devices. From each lance a\npennant drooped.\n\nAfter the knights, marched eighty thousand foot-soldiers, carrying long\noval shields and armed with lances, swords, cross-bows, or heavy clubs.\nBehind these soldiers, trudged thousands of women and children.\n\nOn every breast shone the red cross and from every lip rang the\nCrusader's battle-cry, \"God wills it!\" So the army of Godfrey de\nBouillon marched forth from Lorraine to the rescue of the Holy Land.\n\nAfter traveling many long days through Germany, the Crusaders reached\nthe country of the Hungarians, a rude though Christian people. There the\narmy was stopped on the border by armed forces. Godfrey, attended by\nonly a few followers, sought the presence of the king. Carloman received\nhim with simple but courteous hospitality.\n\n\"I have come,\" said the Duke, \"to ask that the soldiers of my army,\nbound to the rescue of the Holy Land, be allowed to pass through thy\ncountry in peace and safety.\"\n\n\"Truly,\" said Carloman, \"I would fain grant thy request, but it is not\nlong since a great multitude, also Crusaders, were suffered to\npass,--they robbed and murdered my people. Then came hundreds of\nthousands who fell upon us--in revenge, they said, for the death of\ntheir brethren, many of whom, in truth, had been justly slain by my\nill-treated subjects. How can I dare to let loose thy soldiers upon my\nland?\"\n\n\"Nay,\" said the just Godfrey, \"I come not for war, or to avenge those\nunhappy pilgrims,--God pardon them! They were but ignorant and misguided\npeasants; for their leader, the monk, Peter, though a man of God, is\noften too fierce in his zeal. I pledge thee my faith as a Christian that\nthy land and thy people shall not suffer if thou let my army march\nthrough Hungary.\"\n\nNow Godfrey's speech and look were so noble and sincere that the king\nput faith in his word, but as was the custom, demanded hostages,--the\nduke's brother among the number. Baldwin demurred, saying aside to\nGodfrey,--\n\n\"How do I know that thou canst hinder thy soldiers from plunder? And if\nthou do not, my life is forfeit. Thou knowest that I risk it with joy\non the battlefield, but I care not to die a shameful death in this\nbarbarous land.\"\n\n\"And will it be a shameful death to die thus in aiding the march of the\ndeliverers to Jerusalem?\" asked Godfrey, reproachfully. \"Nay, say no\nmore; I myself will be hostage,\" and he turned toward the king. But\nBaldwin, at this generous offer, was sorry and ashamed, and he said,--\n\n\"Not so, Godfrey, thou shalt not risk thy life; it is more precious than\nmine. I will stay.\"\n\nThus it was arranged, and so potent was the influence of the beloved\nleader that his men marched through Hungary harming neither land nor\npeople. At the border, Baldwin and the other hostages were returned, and\nthe king and his people, giving Godfrey abundant supplies, parted from\nthem in good-will and friendship.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNow when Godfrey neared Constantinople, he learned that Hugh, Duke of\nVermandois, brother to the King of France, and leader of an army of\nCrusaders from that country, was held prisoner by the Greek emperor,\nAlexius. The Duke of Lorraine sent at once to Alexius, demanding the\nrelease of the French prince. Alexius immediately set free the captive\nduke, whom in truth he had treated with much courtesy, and also\npromised aid to Godfrey, and allowed his army to encamp near\nConstantinople. Shortly after, however, the emperor made a move\nindicating treachery. Godfrey at once sounded the trumpets and prepared\nto assault the city; but when Alexius quickly sought peace, the placable\nduke accepted his explanations and assurances of friendship. Then\nAlexius entertained Godfrey with unheard-of splendor, and soon thought\nso highly of the knight as to adopt him as a son, according to Eastern\ncustom.\n\nHere the Duke of Lorraine was joined by other armies, one commanded by\nRaymond, Count of Toulouse,--a tried warrior who had fought in youth\nunder the banner of the Cid; the other led by brave and crafty Bohemond,\nPrince of Tarentum. In the host of Crusaders from France, Germany,\nItaly, Spain, England, and even far-off Ireland, were many renowned\nprinces, prelates, and nobles: Adhemar, Bishop of Puy, the Pope's\nlegate; Robert, Duke of Normandy, the heroic and reckless son of William\nthe Conqueror; Count Robert of Paris, wild and ferocious; the gallant\nCount of Flanders; Stephen of Blois, Count of Chartres; and the pure and\nperfect knight, Tancred.\n\nAll these leaders Alexius flattered and cajoled with soft words and\nmagnificent gifts, promising them help and support on condition that\nthe cities in Asia Minor formerly belonging to his empire, if captured\nby the Crusaders, be returned to him. But Alexius was a weak and\ndeceitful prince, caring naught for anything save his own interest, as\nthe Crusaders soon discovered. So it was without regret, in spite of his\nsumptuous entertainment of them, that Godfrey and the other leaders took\nleave of the Greek emperor and crossed the Bosphorus. This took some\ntime, for the immense armies numbered one hundred thousand knights on\nhorseback, clad in armor, five hundred thousand foot-soldiers, and\nnumerous priests, women, and little children. They outnumbered \"the\nsands of the sea, the leaves of the forest, the stars of heaven,\" writes\nthe daughter of Alexius.\n\nThis vast host soon encamped before the large city of Nicaea, its strong\nwalls and hundreds of towers swarming with Turks. Here, Godfrey's men\nfound, wandering in the desert, Peter the Hermit and a few wretched men\nwho had escaped when their companions were slaughtered by the Turks.\nThese few were the remnant of the hundred thousand pilgrims--men, women,\nand children--whom the wild monk had undertaken to lead to Palestine\nsoon after the Council of Clermont. So numerous were the bones of these\nslain Crusaders, near Nicaea, that the soldiers of Godfrey used them in\nbuilding the walls and divisions of his great camp before that city.\n\nScarcely had this camp been completed when the Sultan of Nicaea,\nKilidge-Arslan, the \"Sword of the Lion,\" swept down from the mountain on\nthe Christian army. \"Then the two armies joined, mingled, and attacked\neach other with equal fury. Everywhere glittered casques and shields;\nlances rung against cuirasses; the air resounded with piercing cries;\nthe terrified horses recoiled at the din of arms and the hissing of\narrows; the earth trembled under the tread of the combatants; and the\nplain was for a vast space bristling with javelins.\"\n\nGodfrey was here, there, everywhere, in the fiercest of the fight,\nslaying the infidels on all sides. His high contempt of danger and death\ninspired his men to fight with equal ardor. At last the Turks were\ndriven back, but they returned next day to the attack, nor did they\nretreat until the Crusaders had slain four thousand of them. The heads\nof these Turks were cut off and thrown over the walls of Nicaea, there to\ninform the garrison of the Crusaders' victory and to frighten them into\nsurrender.\n\nBut the Turks held out long, in spite of the many brave assaults made by\nthe besiegers. In these attacks the Crusaders used many strange machines\nof war,--great rams of wood to batter down the walls; ballistas for\ncasting stones, beams, and arrows; and catapults for throwing fire and\nhuge stones into the city.\n\nThe Turks had similar machines and also great iron hands with which they\nreached down from the walls, seized the Crusaders, and drew them up into\nthe city. Then, killing these luckless captives and stripping the\nbodies, the infidels would hurl them back by machines into the camp of\nthe Christians. These cruelties and the vengeance of the Crusaders made\nthe warfare very horrible.\n\nWonderful deeds were performed on both sides. A huge giant among the\nTurks made himself admired and dreaded by his great skill and\nextraordinary strength. With every cast of his javelin he slew an enemy,\nand he destroyed scores of the besiegers by hurling down upon them great\nmasses of rock. One day he stood on the city wall and, single-handed,\nheld at bay a great number of Christians. While fighting, he shouted\ndefiance to the whole army of Crusaders, ridiculing them and grossly\ninsulting their religion. Hundreds of arrows flew at him, but still he\nremained unhurt. Then Godfrey, who had been in another part of the\nfield, came rushing up to discover the cause of the tumult. The infidel,\npoising an arrow, exclaimed,--\n\n\"Dog of a Christian, thou too shalt die! Let us see if thy crucified God\ncan save thee!\"\n\nEnraged at this insolence and blasphemy, Godfrey seized a cross-bow and\ntook aim quickly. Through the heart of the scoffing giant went the\narrow, and down into the ditch tumbled the dreaded infidel. Cries of\ndistress from the Turks and shouts of joy from the Christians greeted\nthis deed of the valiant Godfrey.\n\nAfter seven weeks of almost continuous fighting, the Crusaders were on\nthe point of taking Nicaea, when to their astonishment they saw the\nstandard of Alexius raised on the city wall. The cunning Greek emperor,\nlearning that the city was about to surrender, had sent an envoy and\npersuaded the Turks to deliver Nicaea to him. So the indignant Crusaders\nreceived no reward for their hardships and valor. Swearing vengeance on\nthe emperor at some later day, they took up the march to Jerusalem.\n\nOver mountains, beside deep precipices, through swift torrents, they\ntoiled, suffering agonies from heat, hunger, fatigue, and thirst. On\nthe plain of Dorylaeum, in Phrygia, part of the army under Bohemond,\nPrince of Tarentum, was attacked by Kilidge-Arslan with two hundred\nthousand Turks, and was on the verge of defeat when Godfrey, at the head\nof a small body of knights, rushed to the rescue and put the Turks to\nheadlong flight. The conquerors found the camp of the enemy near by, and\ntook possession of large stores of provisions, tents, horses, camels,\nand treasures of all kinds. Rejoicing, the leaders divided the spoils,\nand after a short rest took up the march once more.\n\nSoon the Crusaders suffered terribly, for only a land made waste met\ntheir eyes,--smoking villages and crops swept away.\n\nThe \"Sword of the Lion\" had gone before and cut down and destroyed\neverything in their path. The vengeful Turk had even poisoned the wells,\nand in this desert country of Phrygia the pilgrims died by thousands.\n\nThe tender heart of Godfrey was wrung by the pitiable distress of his\npeople. All that was possible of help and comfort he gave them, but he\ncould not quench their thirst.\n\nAlmost in despair he sat in his tent one day, grieving bitterly, for the\nmoans of the suffering came to his ears.\n\n[Illustration: \"'Look, my lord, my dear lord! the hound hath found\nwater!' cried Sigier!\"]\n\n\"O Christ, save Thy people,\" he prayed devoutly. Suddenly the hound of\nhis faithful squire, Sigier, bounded into the tent and threw himself\nupon his master, who stood in sad silence near Godfrey.\n\n\"Look, my lord, my dear lord! the hound hath found water!\" cried Sigier;\nand, in truth, the paws of the dog were covered with wet sand.\n\nAlready, ere the two could step outside, they heard the wild shouts and\ntumult of the people, racing madly in the tracks of the dogs. It was in\nvain that Godfrey and the other leaders strove to check that multitude.\nDashing to the brink of the river so opportunely found by the dogs of\nthe camp, thousands threw themselves bodily into the water, many\ndrinking so greedily that they perished. Yet the timely discovery saved\nthe army from total destruction.\n\nAt last the almost exhausted host reached Antiochetta,--a city in a\nfertile plain, where the Christians were kindly received. Here they\nrested and regained the strength lost during their long and perilous\njourney. Many of the surrounding cities sent supplies to Godfrey and the\nother princes, and swore obedience to them.\n\nIn the midst of these pleasant happenings the army narrowly escaped a\nterrible loss. Godfrey and a few companions went hunting one day, taking\ntheir falcons and dogs. While the duke was riding in advance of his\ncomrades, he heard savage growls, then piteous cries of distress, \"Help,\nhelp, for the love of God!\"\n\nGalloping in the direction of the sounds, Godfrey soon came upon a\npilgrim engaged in a struggle with a huge bear. The poor man was about\nto be killed. Drawing his sword, Godfrey spurred his horse fiercely on\nthe bear; but the steed, frightened by the sight of the strange beast\nand its angry growls, reared back, and threw its rider to the ground. In\na moment, however, Godfrey was on his feet, and as the bear turned upon\nhim, met the attack with a mighty blow. Now a fearful struggle took\nplace; but finally, with a fierce thrust of his sword, Godfrey killed\nthe beast, just as Sigier and others, summoned by the pilgrim, came\nhurrying up.\n\n\"Alas, my lord, you are wounded!\" cried Sigier; and indeed so badly was\nthe knight hurt that he fainted away and was thought to be dead. The\nsoldiers were grieved beyond measure, and the camp resounded with\nlamentations; great was the joy when it was found that Godfrey would\nrecover. For weeks, however, he had to be carried on a litter,--saved\nby a miracle, said the people.\n\nNow came the march over Mount Taurus, which was almost as difficult and\ndangerous as that through the desert. Over one steep mountain, which the\nCrusaders called \"The Mountain of the Devil,\" there was only a narrow\nfootpath, up which the soldiers could scarcely scramble in single file.\nMany horses lost their footing and fell over the precipice. Numbers of\nthe Crusaders became so weary that they threw away their arms; and many\nwere left to perish by the wayside, though Godfrey strove to have the\nweak and exhausted carried forward by the strong.\n\nBut still struggling on bravely, the Christian host at last found\nthemselves before the rich and splendid city of Antioch. It was strongly\nfortified with high walls and more than four hundred towers. Many of the\nleaders thought that it would be prudent to wait to besiege the place\nuntil spring, when new Crusaders were to arrive, and when the army would\nnot be exposed to famine and to the rains and tempests of the winter\nseason now approaching. But Godfrey spoke eloquently against this delay.\n\n\"Why,\" said he, \"should we wait for others to come and share the\nglories of this army without having shared its labors and dangers? It is\nan insult to the army of Jesus Christ to think that they cannot endure\ncold and rain and famine. Are we like those birds of passage which fly\naway and conceal themselves on the approach of the bad season? Moreover,\nabundance awaits us in the city of Antioch, which will soon open its\ngates to us.\"\n\nMoved by these brave words, the princes decided to begin the siege at\nonce. But the city held out; and when the winter came, the army suffered\nmost fearfully. A pestilence broke out, and thousands died of disease,\nin addition to those who perished of hunger or were killed in daily\nbattles with the Turks.\n\nThe Crusaders had not time or space to bury their dead. Many deserted\nthe army. Peter the Hermit could not bear the hardships, and reproaches\nof the suffering, and fled from the camp. He was pursued and brought\nback by Tancred; and the soldiers, who had been as much astonished by\nPeter's desertion as if \"the stars had fallen from heaven,\" made him\nswear on the Bible not to abandon them again.\n\nGodfrey and the good Bishop of Puy strove earnestly to put heart into\nthe soldiers.\n\n\"God will soon deliver us,\" said the duke. \"He has sent these\nafflictions upon us because we took merit to ourselves for the victory\nof Dorylaeum and gave not all the glory to Him.\" But in vain his hopeful\nwords; the army gave way to despair.\n\nLong days of misery, each more wretched than the last, dragged slowly\nby, when suddenly the courage of the Crusaders was revived by a great\nvictory. A body of the troops who had gone to the seaport of St. Simeon\nto buy provisions was unexpectedly attacked by a body of Turks and\ncompelled to retreat. Godfrey, hearing of the battle, sallied forth and\ndefeated the enemy, but was attacked by a large force sent out from\nAntioch. Then Turks and Crusaders battled desperately beneath the very\nwalls of Antioch and in sight of the people on its ramparts. The fight\nwas man to man, without order or plan. The Christian leaders all\nperformed wonderful deeds. Godfrey seemed to possess more than mortal\nstrength and valor. No enemy could stand against his attack; and before\nthe terrible stroke of his great sword, lances, helmets, and armor flew\nto pieces.\n\nA bold Saracen offered battle to Godfrey, and with the first blow dashed\nto pieces the shield of the Christian knight. Enraged, Godfrey rose up\nin his stirrups, and with all his force delivered such a mighty blow on\nthe shoulder of the Turk as to divide his body into two parts. One fell\nto the ground, while the other part remained upright in the saddle. The\nfrightened horse rushed back into the city, where the horrible sight\nadded to the terror of the inhabitants.\n\nSo great was the number of Turks slain in this battle, that the people\nof Antioch were greatly cast down, while the Crusaders renewed their\nassaults with fresh vigor and spirit. Daily conflicts were fought, in\nwhich many women took part. Even the children formed companies, and\nchallenged the Turkish boys to combat. These battles of the children\nwere watched with fierce interest by the Saracens on the city walls and\nthe Crusaders in their camp, each party cheering on its small champions.\nAt last the city became so reduced that it would doubtless soon have\nsurrendered had not the Crusaders imprudently consented to a truce.\n\nWhile this truce was in force the soldiers gave themselves up to\nrioting, and the Christian princes disputed among themselves, for there\nwas a spirit of rivalry among them, and some were haughty and\nquarrelsome.\n\nBohemond received by mistake a magnificent tent sent by an Armenian\nprince to the Duke of Lorraine. The Prince of Tarentum was very\navaricious and pretended that the gift was intended for him. Now the\nDuke of Lorraine, though gentle and generous, and never haughty in his\nbearing toward the other princes, was not at all meek, nor inclined to\nsuffer any trespass upon his rights or dignity. He at once demanded his\nproperty of Bohemond in peremptory terms, and when refused, would have\nseized it by force of arms, had not the prince, seeing that all sided\nwith Godfrey, reluctantly delivered the tent to him, its rightful owner.\n\nWhile these disputes were going on, the people of Antioch had received\nfresh supplies of provisions and arms, and now, refusing to surrender,\nagain resumed the conflict. Bohemond, however, had found a traitor\nwithin the walls. This man, Phirous, had formerly been a Christian, but\nhad become a Mohammedan. He told Bohemond that Jesus Christ had appeared\nto him and commanded him to betray the city into the hands of the\nChristians. The leaders of the Crusade were not willing to win the city\nby treachery, and for some time rejected the offer of Bohemond to lead\nthem into it by the aid of Phirous. But at last, in June, 1098, the\nrumor that a vast army of Turks was approaching, led the princes to\nconsent to the stratagem.\n\nOn the night appointed by Phirous to admit the Crusaders, rain poured in\ntorrents, peals of thunder shook the air, lightning flashed\ncontinuously, and the entire western sky was strangely illuminated. But\nthe Crusaders were undaunted by the storm. They even deemed it an omen\nof success when a fiery comet flamed across the heavens. Silently,\nstealthily, the appointed soldiers crept up close to the wall; but when\nthey found the frail rope-ladder, let down by Phirous, dangling against\nthe wall, a strange fright seized upon them. Not one made a move toward\nit; all hesitated to dare the ascent. But Bohemond, as daring as he was\ncrafty and ambitious, soon shamed his men by setting foot on the ladder.\nAll followed and scrambled up to the tower where Phirous awaited them.\nHe yielded it to them, and then pointed out a gate that could easily be\nforced. Into the city poured the Crusaders; and the people of Antioch,\nwaking in terror, were slaughtered or made prisoners. The city was soon\nin the hands of the Crusaders, though the citadel, a strong tower on a\nsteep hill in the center of the town, could not be taken.\n\nBut scarcely had the victors ceased to rejoice over their conquest, when\nthey found themselves besieged in turn by an immense army under the\ncommand of Kerbogha, Sultan of Mossoul, a celebrated Turkish warrior.\nThen the Christians, with an enemy in their city and surrounded by\ncountless enemies without, endured the most dreadful hardships. Food\nbecame so scarce that even the horses were eaten. Godfrey generously\nshared his means with his soldiers, and was finally compelled to kill\nhis favorite war-horse for food. So wretched were the Christians that\nmany threw themselves over the battlements. Others deserted to the\nenemy, letting themselves down at night by cords from the city walls.\nThese latter traitors were cursed most bitterly by their indignant\ncomrades for such base cowardice and were called in derision\n\"Rope-dancers.\" But truly it was only the stoutest hearts and strongest\nbodies that could stand the misery to which the Crusaders were now\nreduced. In spite of the brave efforts of Godfrey and some of the other\nprinces, most of the wretched people gave up all hope. They hid\nthemselves in their houses to await the end, and the silence of death\nsettled down upon the stricken city.\n\nIt is said that several of the leaders proposed to secure their own\nsafety by fleeing in the night from the beleaguered city, and were only\nprevented from taking this step by the appeals of Adhemar and Godfrey,\nwho represented to them in strongest terms the everlasting disgrace that\nsuch a step would bring upon them. Kerbogha had scornfully refused any\nterms of surrender except \"Death or captivity for all,\" and it seemed\nthat such must be the fate of the Crusaders, when the aspect of affairs\nwas suddenly changed by a miracle.\n\nA priest, Bartholomew by name, announced that Saint Andrew had appeared\nto him three times, saying,--\n\n\"Go to the church of my brother Peter in Antioch. Dig up the earth near\nthe altar, and there you will find the head of the lance that pierced\nthe side of our Redeemer. This sacred sign borne at the head of the army\nshall deliver the Christians and pierce the heart of the infidels.\"\n\nAll the army believed in this vision, and after three solemn days of\nfasting and praying, Bartholomew, in the presence of twelve priests and\nknights, directed the workmen where to dig beneath the altar of the\nchurch. All day the digging went on, while the great crowd outside\nwaited in silent impatience. At midnight, Bartholomew threw himself into\nthe hole, and soon reappeared, bearing a spear-head in his hand. The joy\nof all was frantic, for they firmly believed that this holy relic would\ninsure them a victory. Famine and fear were forgotten! All demanded to\nbe led at once against the enemy.\n\nThe next day the gates of Antioch were thrown open, and the army marched\nforth in solemn and imposing procession. At the head walked the priests,\nbearing aloft the holy lance, and chanting, \"Let the Lord arise and let\nHis enemies be scattered.\" The army followed in twelve divisions, each\nled by one of the princes in such state as he could muster. Godfrey had\ngiven away his all and rode a horse borrowed from the rich Raymond. Many\nof the soldiers were without weapons and were so weak from want of food\nthat they could scarcely walk; yet their faith gave them courage, and\nthey surveyed the vast army of the Saracens with calm confidence in\nvictory,--for was not God himself with them? Not a sound was heard in\nthe ranks.\n\nThe Saracens, seeing this strange procession, at first supposed that the\nChristians had come out to surrender; but soon perceiving their error,\nthey let fly a shower of arrows. A strong wind blew back these infidel\ndarts and seemed to the Crusaders yet another sign of heavenly favor;\nand they awaited with renewed confidence the attack of the Turks. It\nsoon came. The bodyguard of Kerbogha, three thousand strong, both man\nand horse clad in complete steel armor, hurled themselves against the\nChristian ranks, beating down the soldiers with ponderous clubs armed\nwith steel points. Behind these warriors followed the immense host of\nSaracens. The battle raged for some time without decided advantage on\neither side, but the Sultan of Nice at last ordered burning flax to be\nthrown among the bushes and grass of the plain. At once the blaze and\nsmoke surrounded the Christians. Stifled and confused, they fell back,\nand the sultan was about to drive them from the field, when suddenly a\nbody of soldiers was seen descending the mountain-side, led by three\nknights in glittering white armor.\n\n\"Behold,\" cried the Bishop of Puy, \"the holy saints, George, Demetrius,\nand Theodore, come to fight for us!\"\n\nTo the Christians this sight gave irresistible valor. With a mighty\nshout, \"God wills it!\" the army hurled itself as one man against the\nSaracens. Nothing could withstand that inspired charge. The Turks fell\nback, broke their ranks, and fled in terror, leaving a hundred thousand\ndead.\n\nTheir camp was found rich in treasures of all kinds. The gorgeous tent\nof Kerbogha, arranged in streets, like a city, lavishly decorated with\ngold and jewels, and large enough to shelter two thousand men, was\ncaptured by Bohemond. This vast pavilion was sent to Italy, where it was\nan object of even greater wonder and admiration to the Italians than it\nhad been to the Crusaders. The leaders now found themselves rich, and\nfor some time remained in peace at Antioch, enjoying the relief from\nwant and warfare.\n\nBut again a pestilence broke out, and carried off thousands. Among these\nvictims was the good and beloved Adhemar, Bishop of Puy. The soldiers\nbelieved that God was angry because of the inaction and delay of the\nprinces that were sworn to deliver the sepulchre of Christ. Then news\ncame that Jerusalem had been taken from the Turks by the Khalif of\nEgypt, and the Christians were struck with deep remorse that the Holy\nCity had been again captured, and not by the followers of Christ.\nAshamed of their delay and forgetfulness of their sacred mission, the\nCrusaders resumed their march to the Holy City, eight months after the\ncapture of Antioch.\n\nBut the army lacked some of its former leaders. Count Stephen, of\nChartres, and the Count of Vermandois, weary of hardships, had returned\nto France,--there to face the bitter scorn of all Europe. Bohemond\nremained in Antioch as ruler of the city his cunning had won. Baldwin,\nwho had established himself as prince of the rich city, Edessa, thought\nno more about Jerusalem. This conduct of Baldwin grieved his brother\ndeeply, and it was with a saddened heart that the pious Godfrey now led\nhis army toward Jerusalem.\n\nMarching along the coast, the Crusaders soon neared Ptolemais. The emir\nof that city sent them supplies, and promised to surrender it to them as\nsoon as they should conquer Jerusalem. The princes had not intended to\nattack Ptolemais and were delighted at this unexpected promise. But the\nfalseness of the Mohammedan was soon revealed to them in a strange way.\nFor soon after, while the army was encamped near Caesarea, the Bishop of\nApt, sitting before his tent one day, saw a large falcon in pursuit of a\ndove. Fluttering swiftly downward, the tiny bird escaped the claws of\nits pursuer and fell at the feet of the bishop. The kind priest picked\nit up carefully, and was tenderly smoothing its ruffled plumage when he\nsaw a letter tied under its wing. Setting the trembling bird free, the\nbishop hastened to the tent where the princes were holding council.\nGodfrey broke the seal, and with an exclamation of surprise read the\nletter aloud.\n\nIt was from the Emir of Ptolemais to the Emir of Caesarea, and ran\nthus:--\n\n     \"The cursed race of Christians have just passed through my\n     territory, and will soon reach thine. Let the chiefs of all the\n     Mussulman cities be warned of their approach and let them take\n     measures to crush our enemies.\"\n\nThe princes were much astonished on hearing this, and Godfrey\nexclaimed,--\n\n\"Surely we cannot doubt that God is with us, since He sends the birds of\nthe air to reveal to us the secrets of our enemies!\"\n\nSo said all the soldiers when the letter was read to them, and they\npursued their journey with new enthusiasm and stronger hope.\n\nOn a night not long after, the Crusaders were watching with awe an\neclipse of the moon. Suddenly the momentary darkness passed away, and\nthe lurid light of a _blood-red_ moon shone down. But their terror at\nthis strange sight was changed to joy when \"those familiar with the\nsigns of the stars\" said,--\n\n\"This doth portend the fall of the infidels and the triumph of Christ's\narmy!\"\n\nThe following day, at sunrise, the Crusaders climbed to the summit of\nthe hills of Emmaus, when--\n\n\"Lo! Jerusalem appears in sight. Lo! every hand points out Jerusalem.\nLo! a thousand voices are heard as one in salutation of Jerusalem!\"\n\nAfter the first moment of pure gladness, a feeling of deep awe and great\nsorrow came over the Crusaders as they gazed at the city where Christ\nhad suffered and died for their redemption. Following the example of\ntheir loved Godfrey, the Christians laid aside with tears and sighs\ntheir gay scarfs and glittering ornaments of knighthood; barefoot, in\ntoken of humility and reverence, they traveled the road once trodden by\nthe feet of their Lord. And as they marched, they sang the words of\nIsaiah:--\n\n\"Jerusalem, lift up thine eyes and behold the liberator who comes to\nbreak thy chains!\"\n\nAt last the pilgrims were encamped before the city of their pious hopes\nand dreams. But only a small remnant of the once magnificent army was\nleft,--a weak body of perhaps forty thousand, lacking provisions and all\nmachinery of war.\n\nA few days after encamping, the Crusaders made a fierce assault on\nJerusalem, but having no engines of attack and no scaling ladders, they\nwere beaten back.\n\nRealizing that the city could never be taken without these machines,\nGodfrey set the army at work to construct them. But it was with the\ngreatest difficulty that wood, iron, and stone for making towers,\nladders, and catapults could be procured. Soon the soldiers suffered the\nagonies of thirst, for most of the springs had been choked up or\npoisoned by the enemy. A less determined army would have given up the\nsiege in despair. But though a few weak ones, unable to stand the\nhardships, deserted, nothing could daunt the courage or lessen the zeal\nof the greater part of the army.\n\nWhen at last some reinforcements and supplies arrived, all the army,\nwomen and children as well as men, set to work again with the greatest\nspirit to build engines of war and to prepare for the assault. Godfrey,\nRaymond, and Tancred constructed three movable towers, each higher than\nthe city wall. Godfrey's had three platforms, and on the topmost one a\ndrawbridge to be let down upon the wall.\n\nAfter four weeks of hard labor, Godfrey decided that the attack could\nbe made. Three days the army fasted and prayed. Then all the Crusaders,\nin full armor, led by the priests praying and chanting, marched around\nJerusalem, viewing with awe the holy places of the Lord's pilgrimage. On\nthe mount whence Christ ascended to heaven, the priests absolved and\nblessed the multitude.\n\nMeanwhile the Egyptians and Turks on the city walls mocked at these\nceremonies. The infidels raised crosses and spat upon them, insulting in\nevery way the symbol of Christ in the sight of His followers. Peter the\nHermit, on seeing this sacrilege, cried aloud to the Crusaders,--\n\n\"I swear to you by your faith that to-morrow these proud blasphemers of\nChrist shall be frozen with fear! Their mosques shall become temples of\nthe Lord, and Jerusalem shall hear only the praises of the true God!\" At\nthese words the whole army shouted with joy and triumph.\n\nThat night the wise Godfrey, with great labor and difficulty, removed\nhis immense engines of war to another position, where the Saracens had\nnot made such great preparations for the defence of the walls.\n\nThen Godfrey and the other leaders planned the attack. Raymond was to\nassault the southern wall; Godfrey himself the northern; and between\nthem the two Roberts and Tancred were to be stationed.\n\nAt daybreak, the Count of Toulouse came to Godfrey's tent. After\ngreeting Godfrey, Raymond exclaimed in surprise,--\n\n\"How is this, my Lord? Where is thy strong breastplate and the rest of\nthy steel armor? Why hast thou put on this weak suit? Don thy vantbrace\nand helmet, and thy steel casque, and mask thy face. Do not risk thy\nlife thus rashly.\"\n\nBut Godfrey replied calmly,--\n\n\"When Pope Urban girt this blade on me at Clermont, and bade me perform\nthe duties of a true knight of Christ in this divine Crusade, I made a\nsecret vow that on this day I would not fight as a prince and leader,\nbut would assume the arms and armor of a common soldier. I shall station\nmy men and see to all things as a general should; then, in this light\narmor of a foot-soldier, I shall strive to plant the banner of the cross\non the ramparts of Jerusalem. God will protect my life.\"\n\nWhen Raymond heard this resolution, he protested no more, but hastened\naway and told the other princes, who all quickly decided to follow\nGodfrey's example of brave humility.\n\nSoon everything was in readiness, and from all quarters of the camp the\ndrums and trumpets sounded.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWith a mighty shout, the army rushes to the assault. The engines of war\nare all put in motion at the same moment. Bands of men, under cover of\ntheir upraised shields, drag the rams close to the wall. With these\nbattering-rams they hammer at the wall, while stones and arrows hurtle\ndown on their steel roof. Other companies rush intrepidly forward with\nlong scaling-ladders, and strive to hook them to the top of the wall.\nThe Saracens, with equal energy and courage, labor to cast them down. If\nperchance a ladder be fixed, men swarm up, undaunted by the weapons\nhurled at them. Scores, struck dead or wounded, loosen their hold and\nfall to the ground; but as many more clamber over their dead bodies and\nspring to their places. If a knight but reach the top of the ladder, he\nis cut down by the scimitars of the Egyptians.\n\nHuge stones, showers of sharp flints, and heavy beams cast from\nmangonels and catapults, fly through the air in every direction,\ncrushing Saracens or Christians. The great towers, alive with soldiers,\nroll forward nearer and nearer to the city wall, though its defenders\nfight desperately to stay the advance of the dreaded machines,--casting\nblazing arrows and balls of fire against the towers, aiming countless\nweapons at the Christians upon them. Women and children mingle in the\nfray, bringing missiles for the machines, or food and water for the\nsoldiers. They lay hold on the towers and help to drag them forward.\n\nOn the tallest tower, high above all, stands Godfrey, fighting\nfuriously, and urging his men to yet more heroic efforts. Above all\ntumult--shouts of defiance and cries of triumph, shrieks of mortal\nanguish, din and clatter of arms, and hissing of arrows--rings out his\nbattle-cry: \"Christ and the Holy Sepulchre! God wills it!\"\n\nNow Christians raise a shout of joy as they gain the wall; now infidels\nhowl in derision as the besiegers are driven back. Through the smoke and\nflame and flying weapons the horrified Crusaders behold two hideous\nwitches on the highest rampart. Their hair and garments stream in the\nwind. With horrid curses and impious cries, they call upon the demons of\nearth and air to smite the Crusaders. But their sorcery does not avail\nto save themselves from death; pierced by countless Christian arrows,\nthey fall headlong from the battlements. With wilder zeal the exultant\nCrusaders battle, and with greater fury the enraged infidels.\n\nHours pass. The tower of Raymond is set on fire, and the long flames\nshoot up to heaven and brighten the darkening sky. Night falls, and\nJerusalem is still in the hands of the unbelievers. Exhausted and\nbleeding, the Christians draw back from the walls; but it is not of\ntheir suffering and losses they think. One long wail goes up from those\nbursting hearts:--\n\n\"Alas! God has not yet thought us worthy to enter His Holy City!\"\n\nBut those stout hearts are not long cast down. At daybreak the\nChristians once more hurl themselves against the battered walls of\nJerusalem--with tenfold fiercer determination than before. Infidels and\nChristians know that one or the other will this day be swept from the\nface of the earth. The Christian leaders fight as even these knights of\nthe cross have never fought before. The veteran Raymond is on foot in\nthe midst of his men. He urges them against the wall where stands the\nEmir of Jerusalem, and bids them aim their darts at the Egyptian prince,\nwhose splendid armor flashes golden in the sunlight. But though the\narrows fall thick about him, Iftikhar stands haughtily erect, and\ncontinues to direct the efforts of his men.\n\nTancred and the two Roberts exhaust their arrows and at last stand\nmotionless on the tower, awaiting with fierce impatience the moment,\nfast approaching, when they can pierce with lance or cut down with sword\nthe Saracens on the city wall, now almost within reach.\n\nBut the conflict centers about the great tower of Godfrey. If only that\ntower reach the wall! On the summit shines a great cross of gold, and\nbeneath its arms stands Godfrey, his brother Eustace, his cousin,\nBaldwin du Bourg, Sigier, and other knights. The sight of the sacred\nsymbol of Christ throws the followers of Mohammed into a frenzy of\nimpious rage. They hurl showers of blazing arrows, stones, and balls of\nfire against its defenders. Godfrey remains unhurt, but the faithful\nSigier falls beside him. Slowly but surely the tower creeps nearer the\nwall. The Saracens redouble their efforts. They throw down between the\nwall and the tower, pots of burning oil, blazing wood, and Greek fire.\nThey fortify the wall with mattresses of lighted straw until it seems\none sheet of flame. The tower approaches this barricade of fire, but\nthe smoke and flame stifle the Crusaders. They falter and fall back.\n\nThe Crusaders on all sides begin to waver, and the infidels shout for\njoy. But at this moment a knight in glittering white armor appears on\nthe Mount of Olives, and waves his fiery shield toward the Holy City.\nGodfrey, first to behold the strange warrior, shouts exultantly,--\n\n\"Saint George! Saint George to our aid!\"\n\nAt the same moment a strong wind suddenly blows the flame away from\nGodfrey's tower and back upon the infidels, who stagger and retreat from\nthe fiery blast. Now is the Christians' opportunity. One mighty effort,\nand the tower is within reach of the wall. The bridge of the tower falls\nwith a crash, and the Christian knights spring upon it. A brief, fierce\nstruggle,--and then, with a glad shout, \"God wills it!\" Godfrey de\nBouillon stands triumphant on the walls of Jerusalem!\n\nIt is Friday,--the day and the very hour of the death of his Lord.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe city was won. Animated by Godfrey's triumph, beholding him plant the\nbanner of the cross on the wall of Jerusalem, Raymond and Tancred\nredoubled their efforts. Soon from all points of attack the victorious\nCrusaders poured into the city. Maddened by battle and the remembrance\nof the cruel persecutions their brethren had suffered, the Crusaders\nmassacred all in their way.\n\nVery rarely, in those fierce days, was mercy shown to a defeated foe;\nand the Crusaders, fully persuaded that the slaughter of infidels is\npleasing to the Lord, shouted, while hewing down the Saracens, \"God\nwills it!\"\n\nBut the merciful Godfrey did not take part in this bloody work. With\nthree companions he stole away from the army; and clothing himself in a\npure white robe, barefoot, and without arms, he sought the Church of the\nHoly Sepulchre. There he worshiped at the tomb of Christ, and gave\nthanks that it had been rescued from the infidels. When the other\nCrusaders heard of this pious act, all followed Godfrey's example, and\noffered up prayers at the Holy Sepulchre. But their piety did not soften\ntheir hearts. For a week they hunted down and killed the Mohammedans and\nthe Jews of the city.\n\nAt last, when weary of slaughter, the Crusaders turned their attention\nto matters concerning the safety and welfare of the city they had so\nhardly won. It was decided to elect a king who should remain in the\nHoly Land, and protect the city against the attacks of the infidels.\nAfter long consideration, prayer, and inquiry into the private character\nof the various princes, Godfrey de Bouillon was chosen as possessing in\nthe highest degree the requisite qualities of virtue, piety, wisdom, and\nvalor. In the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, before the assembled\nCrusaders, Godfrey took an oath to rule justly and to defend with his\nlife the Holy City. But so great was his piety and humility that he\nrefused to be crowned, saying,--\n\n\"Never will I wear a crown of gold in the place where the Saviour of the\nworld wore a crown of thorns!\" Nor would he be called king, but took the\ntitle of \"Baron and Defender of the Holy Sepulchre.\" Yet in history he\nis called the first King of Jerusalem, and never was there a more kingly\nman, one more fitted to wear a crown.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nScarcely had Godfrey taken the vow to defend Jerusalem when he was\ncalled upon to fulfill it. Tidings came that an immense army of\nEgyptians and Turks was advancing upon the city. Realizing that\nJerusalem could not hold out if besieged, Godfrey wisely and boldly\nmarched out to meet the enemy, though both Raymond and Robert of\nNormandy refused to go with him, affecting not to believe in the\nreported approach of the infidels. But after Godfrey's departure these\nprinces yielded to the prayers of the people, and joined him at Ascalon.\n\nThere, countless thousands of the infidels were completely crushed by\nGodfrey. He captured the sword and great standard of Afdhal, the\nEgyptian leader, and hung them up as trophies in the Church of the\nSepulchre.\n\nGodfrey soon conquered many parts of the surrounding country. During his\nsiege of Asur, a conquered city that had rebelled against him, Godfrey\ninspired a touching act of heroism. He was advancing to attack the city\nwalls when a knight, Gerard of Avesnes, who had been left there as a\nhostage by Godfrey, was bound by the Turks to a long pole and fastened\nto the wall in such a manner that he must be killed by the weapons of\nGodfrey's men should the assault be made. When Godfrey drew near, the\npoor knight cried aloud with tears,--\n\n\"Godfrey, for the love of Christ, pity thy wretched friend. Alas! do not\ncause me to die in this shameful way,--like a miserable felon, bound\nand helpless! I do not fear death, but would fain die like a true\nknight, sword in hand, on the battlefield!\"\n\nBut Godfrey, though moved to the heart by the sad plight and piteous\nappeals of Gerard, did not falter or fail in his hard duty. With tears\nin his eyes, he besought the unfortunate knight to resign himself\nbravely to the fate of a martyr.\n\n\"It is not in my power to save thee,\" said he. \"The city must be taken.\nIf my own brother were in thy place I could not deliver him from death.\nDie, then, illustrious and brave knight, for the safety of thy brethren\nand the glory of thy Lord Jesus Christ!\"\n\nInspired by these noble words, Gerard found the faith to meet death with\na splendid courage. He begged that his armor be offered up at the Holy\nSepulchre, and that prayers be said there for the repose of his soul.\nThen bidding his friends farewell, he urged on their attack, and died\nwithout a murmur under a shower of darts from their hands.\n\nMany chiefs of the Turks visited Godfrey during this siege, and were\nsurprised to find the great prince living as simply as the poorest\nsoldier, without luxuries of any kind, his bed a pallet of straw. But he\ngained the respect and admiration of these barbarians by showing them\nhis great strength and skill in arms. The fame of his valor traveled\nover the land, and many emirs came of their own accord to swear fealty\nto the ruler of Jerusalem.\n\nThe wisdom of Godfrey was as great as his bravery. He called a council\nof the wise men of the kingdom, and with their help drew up good and\njust laws for the government of the people. Not long after these laws\nwere drawn up and deposited in the Church of the Resurrection, Godfrey\nwas called to the help of his friend Tancred, ruler of Galilee, who had\nbeen attacked by the Saracens. Godfrey quickly defeated this army, and\nwas on his way back to Jerusalem when he was met by the Emir of Caesarea,\nwho made him a present of some fruit. Godfrey ate only one cedar-apple,\nbut was at once taken very sick, and his friends believed that he had\nbeen poisoned by the emir. Though suffering greatly, the stricken hero\nhastened on to his beloved city.\n\nOn the anniversary of the taking of Jerusalem, in that Holy City so dear\nto his heart, the greatest of the Crusaders calmly passed away, and \"The\nLord received him into Paradise.\"\n\nNear the sacred tomb of his divine captain, the body of this true and\nloyal soldier of Christ was laid to rest. Never had he wavered in his\ndevotion to the cause of his Lord. Hardships of desert and mountain,\nsuffering by pestilence and famine, agonies of thirst, labors and perils\nof the battlefield,--all had failed to daunt this soldier of the Cross.\nWhat matter if his ideals of duty and religion seem fantastic to our\nmodern minds? He gave his life for them; and so long as men admire the\nbrave deeds of a fearless heart, so long as they reverence a pure and\nselfless purpose, so long will they honor the name and fame of The Great\nCrusader.\n\n\n\n\nTHE TROUBADOUR\n\n\n    Gaily the Troubadour touched his guitar,\n    As he was hastening home from the war,\n    Singing, \"From Palestine hither I come,--\n    Ladye-love, ladye-love, welcome me home!\"\n\n    She for her Troubadour hopelessly wept,\n    Sadly she thought on him whilst others slept,\n    Sighing, \"In search of thee, would I might roam,\n    Troubadour, Troubadour, come to thy home!\"\n\n    Hark! 'twas the Troubadour breathing her name,\n    As under the battlement softly he came,\n    Singing, \"From Palestine hither I come,\n    Ladye-love, ladye-love, welcome me home!\"\n\n    _Old Song._\n\n\n\n\nTHE CARRIER DOVE\n\n\n    Fly away to my native land, sweet dove,\n    Fly away to my native land,\n    And bear these lines to my ladye-love,\n    That I've traced with a feeble hand.\n    She marvels much at my long delay,\n    A rumor of death she hath heard,\n    Or she thinks, perhaps, that I falsely stray--\n    Then fly to her bower, sweet bird!\n\n    I shall miss thy visit at dawn, sweet dove,\n    I shall miss thy coming at eve,\n    But bring me a line from my ladye-love,\n    And then I shall cease to grieve.\n    No friend to my lattice a solace brings,\n    Except when your voice is heard,\n    As you beat the bars with your snowy wings,\n    Then fly to her bower, sweet bird!\n\n    Oh! fly to her bower and say the chain\n    Of the tyrant is over me now,\n    That I never shall mount my steed again,\n    With helmet upon my brow.\n    I can bear in a dungeon to waste away youth,\n    I can fall by the conqueror's sword,\n    But I cannot endure she should doubt my truth,\n    Then fly to her bower, sweet bird!\n\n    _Old Song._\n\n\n\n\nTHE CAPTIVE KNIGHT\n\n\n    'Twas a trumpet's pealing sound!\n    And the Knight looked down from the Paynim's tower;\n    As a Christian host, in its pride and power,\n    Thro' the pass beneath him wound.\n    \"Cease awhile, clarion! clarion, wild and shrill!\n    Cease, let them hear the captive's voice! be still, be still!\n\n    \"I knew 'twas a trumpet's note!\n    And I see my brethren's lances gleam,\n    And their pennons wave by the mountain stream,\n    And their plumes to the glad wind float.\n    Cease awhile, clarion! clarion, wild and shrill!\n    Cease, let them hear the captive's voice! be still, be still!\n\n    \"I am here with my heavy chain!\n    And I look on a torrent sweeping by.\n    And an eagle rushing to the sky,\n    And a host to its battle plain.\n    Cease awhile, clarion! clarion wild and shrill!\n    Cease, let them hear the captive's voice! be still, be still!\n\n    \"Must I pine in my fetters here?\n    With the wild waves' foam, and the free bird's flight,\n    And the tall spears glancing on my sight,\n    And the trumpet in my ear?\n    Cease awhile, clarion! clarion wild and shrill!\n    Cease, let them hear the captive's voice! be still, be still!\n\n    \"They are gone! they have all passed by!\n    They in whose wars I have borne my part,\n    They that I loved with a brother's heart,\n    They have left me here to die!\n    Sound again, clarion! clarion, pour thy blast!\n    Sound, for the captive's dream of hope is past!\"\n\n    FELICIA HEMANS.\n\n\n\n\nRICHARD COEUR-DE-LION\n\n\n    Honor enough his merit brings,\n      He needs no alien praise\n    In whose train, Glory, like a king's,\n      Follows through all his days.\n\n    _Itinerarium Regis Ricardi._\n\n\n\n\nRICHARD COEUR-DE-LION\n\n(1157-1199 A. D.)\n\n\nThere was once a prince of England who was married when only five years\nold. This youthful bridegroom was Richard, the son of Henry II. and\nEleanor of Aquitaine; and his bride was a maiden of three, Alice,\ndaughter of Louis VII. of France. The ceremony was a curious one, for of\ncourse such babies could not really take the marriage vows. But the\nparents of the small couple made the required vows in the name of their\nchildren, and solemnly promised that the little prince and princess\nshould marry as soon as they were old enough. Though the children were\ntoo young to understand the meaning of the ceremony, it was considered\nas binding upon them as if they had been a man and a woman.\n\nIt seems strange for such babies to be married, but it was the custom in\nthose days for kings to arrange marriages for the royal children in\norder to increase their own power and dominions, or for other reasons\nconnected with the welfare of the country. Thus Henry II., by this\nmarriage, obtained possession of lands in France, and the City of\nGisors, given by Louis as a dower to Alice. The little girl and her\nlands were placed in the hands of Henry to be guarded for Richard until\nthe boy should be old enough to claim his bride.\n\nDoubtless the tiny bride of three and her little groom played together\nhappily after their marriage, with little thought of the imposing\nceremony; for it meant nothing to them then, though destined to have sad\nconsequences for both in later years. But not for long were the married\nchildren together. Alice was taken to England, while Richard spent most\nof his early life in France. He was destined to be duke of his mother's\nFrench province of Aquitaine; and it was thought best that he should be\neducated in the country of which he would be ruler.\n\nRichard was a sturdy, bold, and adventurous lad. He engaged in all the\nboyish sports of the day, and later in those chivalric pastimes that\nformed part of the training of a noble youth. He was taught every\naccomplishment deemed necessary for a knight,--to ride like a centaur,\nto cast a lance, to wield the sword, and to swing the battle-axe. He\neven learned to bend the great cross-bow, the weapon of the English\npeasant, and could send an arrow straight to the mark. These exercises\nwere severe training for the young prince, but they developed the\nprodigious strength and skill in arms that later made him the greatest\nwarrior of his age.\n\nIn addition to these knightly accomplishments, Richard learned to read\nand write,--not such common acquirements in those days as now. From his\nbrilliantly educated mother the prince inherited a taste for literature,\npoetry, and music. It was an age of poetry, and poets were held in much\nhonor, influencing men to great deeds by their stirring songs. Richard\ntook great delight in the songs of the troubadours of Aquitaine and\nAnjou. Several of these poets, especially Blondel de Nesle, were his\nwarm friends, and taught him the arts of verse-making and music, in\nwhich Richard acquired admirable skill.\n\nIn the rich land of Aquitaine, with its gay, pleasure-loving people,\nRichard was surrounded by luxury and splendor, but, alas! not by an\natmosphere of peace or love. His mother was a frivolous woman, and his\nfather, Henry, a violent-tempered, despotic, and wicked man. The two\ndid not love each other, and when together quarreled continually in the\nmost violent manner. So Richard and his brothers--Henry, Geoffrey, and\nJohn--passed their youth in an atmosphere of strife; and all that was\nviolent and contentious in their natural dispositions was fostered by\ntheir home life and the bad example of their parents.\n\nThe princes quarreled among themselves, and as they grew older,\nnaturally took part in the bitter disputes continually taking place\nbetween Henry and Eleanor. As Geoffrey once said, it was their\ninheritance _not_ to love one another. The princes were all proud,\nheadstrong, and selfwilled, and hence little disposed to obey their\nimperious father; and Henry, though in some ways weakly indulgent to his\nsons, was most autocratic in disposition. As his sons became young men,\nhe gave them certain provinces in France to rule. But he would allow\nthem no real power, and the proud young princes were determined not to\nsubmit to their father's authority, but to be rulers in fact as well as\nin name. So they rebelled against Henry time and again, and fierce wars\ntook place between the father and his sons.\n\nTheir mother, Eleanor, encouraged the princes in their attitude of\nrebellion against Henry, for he had long treated her with great\nindignity. He neglected his wife for other fair ladies, and at last put\nher in prison, where she remained nearly sixteen years. This severe\ntreatment of Eleanor served to enrage her sons and to alienate them\nstill more from Henry; for they loved their mother dearly in spite of\nall her faults. So the strife continued in the royal family until two\nsons, Henry and Geoffrey, died while at enmity with their father. Then a\nreconciliation took place between the other members of the family; but\nit lasted only a short time.\n\nRichard, who was then of age, wished to claim and really marry his\nchild-bride, Alice; but Henry made excuse after excuse for not giving up\nAlice to his son, though he maintained that Richard was legally bound to\nher and could not marry any other woman.\n\nIt is said that the wicked old man had himself fallen in love with\nAlice, and intended to obtain a divorce from Eleanor and marry the young\nprincess. Whether this be true or not, it is certain that Richard's\ndemands to be given his bride, or else to be declared free to marry whom\nhe pleased, were treated with contempt by the old king. Meanwhile the\ngallant and handsome young prince had met at the court of Navarre the\nPrincess Berengaria, daughter of King Sancho, and had been much charmed\nby her beauty and grace; but the entanglement with Alice prevented a\nserious love affair.\n\nAt last Richard became weary of his absurd position,--supposed to be\nmarried and yet without a wife.\n\nHe appealed to the brother of Alice, Philip of France, who readily\nconsented to aid him. The two demanded of Henry that he give up Alice to\nRichard, and also acknowledge him as heir to the English throne, for\nthey feared that Henry purposed to leave that kingdom to John. During an\ninterview between Henry and Richard, at which Philip was present,\nRichard demanded that his father recognize him, the elder son, as the\nfuture King of England. Henry made an evasive reply, whereupon,\nreferring to the rumor that _John_ would be heir to the English crown,\nRichard exclaimed passionately,--\n\n\"Then I am compelled to believe that which I before had believed\nimpossible!\" and ungirding his sword and handing it to Philip, he knelt\nto him and said,--\n\n\"To you, Sire, I commit the protection of my rights, and to you I now do\nhomage for all my father's dominions in France!\"\n\nPhilip accepted his homage, and gave to Richard all the cities taken\nfrom Henry. Naturally, that king was enraged when his son thus haughtily\nrenounced allegiance to him, and war soon followed. Henry was defeated\nseveral times, and many of his barons left him to join the cause of\nRichard. Finally, the king was forced to make peace with his rebellious\nson on very hard conditions; and this mortified his kingly pride so\nsorely that he fell ill of grief and rage. During this sickness, he\ncould think of nothing save his own defeat, and raved constantly,\n\"Shame, shame on a conquered king!\" When he learned that his\nbest-beloved son, John, had been a party to Richard's rebellion, the\nblow was too severe for the old king's broken strength. He died of\ngrief, cursing his rebellious sons with his last breath.\n\nNo sooner had the fierce but affectionate Richard heard of his father's\ndeath at Chinon than he was overcome with sorrow and remorse. He came to\ntake leave of the king's body, but as he drew near the bier, blood\ngushed from the eyes and mouth of the dead man. Richard was\nhorror-stricken, and rushed away, exclaiming,--\n\n\"I have murdered him; his blood accuses me!\"\n\nThe repentant son caused the corpse to be buried with due ceremony at\nFontevraud, the ancient burial-place of the Norman kings, and he showed\nmany signs of penitence for his unfilial conduct.\n\nAs soon as the unhappy old king had been laid away, Richard's thoughts\nturned to his mother, Eleanor, who had been for many years a state\nprisoner in Winchester Castle. Sending at once to England, he ordered\nthat the queen be released, and appointed regent of the kingdom. Indeed,\nRichard was always a tender and dutiful son to his mother, who calls\nhim, \"My brave, my generous, my high-minded, my all-worthy son,\nRichard.\" If he were not a good son to his father also, it is some\nexcuse that Henry was a most unpleasant, tyrannical man, whose treatment\nof his wife and children was not such as to beget love and dutiful\nconduct.\n\nAfter tarrying some months in France, attending to matters in his\nprovinces of Anjou, Poitou, Normandy, and Aquitaine, Richard crossed\nover to England. There he was received most joyfully by his new\nsubjects.\n\nIn Westminster Abbey, on Sept. 3, 1189, his coronation took place with\ngreat splendor. It is the first coronation ceremony of an English king\nfully described by eye-witnesses.\n\nThe Archbishop of Canterbury and other bishops, richly robed, and\ncarrying the cross, holy water, and censers, led the stately procession\nthat escorted the king from his palace to the Abbey. After these\ndignitaries of the Church, came four barons in court dress, bearing each\na golden candlestick; then four earls, carrying the king's cup, the\ngolden spurs, the scepter of state, and the royal rod of majesty--a mace\nadorned with a golden dove. Four great earls walked next, brandishing\naloft their glittering swords; and behind these noblemen marched six\nmore, as bearers of the royal robes and regalia. William, Earl of Essex,\nproudly carried the gold and jeweled crown immediately before Richard\nhimself, who walked beneath a magnificent canopy of state, upheld by\nrichly clad nobles.\n\nBefore the brilliant assemblage of lords Richard took the solemn oath to\nbe a just and righteous ruler. Then after the archbishop had anointed\nhim with holy oil, shoes of golden tissue were put on the king's feet,\nthe golden spurs were buckled on, and he was clad in the vestments of\nroyalty and led to the high altar. There he promised to be faithful to\nhis kingly oath, and was crowned with the royal diadem and given the\nscepter and rod of office.\n\nSo Richard Plantagenet became King of England. No one beholding the\nproud bearing of the new monarch would have supposed that his family\nemblem, the lowly broom-plant (_Planta genista_), from which came the\nname Plantagenet, had been adopted by an ancestor of Richard's in token\nof humility. For, in very truth, the Plantagenets were an arrogant race,\nand Richard was the proudest of his line.\n\nAs he strode down the aisle of Westminster in all the glittering and\njeweled splendor of his coronation robes, Richard's appearance was truly\nroyal. He looked every inch a king. The people gazed with delight on his\ntall, powerful frame, graceful and strong as that of Mars himself; on\nhis proudly poised head, whose red-gold curls waved beneath the jeweled\ncrown; on the fair, haughty face with its square, determined jaw,\naquiline nose, full, proud lips, and fierce, restless blue eyes.\nHeartily the multitude admired Richard's manly beauty, his lordly air;\nand with a right good-will they shouted joyously: \"Long live the king!\nLong live our Richard Lionheart!\"\n\nBefore his accession to the throne, Richard had determined to go as a\nCrusader to the rescue of the Holy Land. From his mother, who had\nherself taken part in the Second Crusade, he had heard many stories of\nthe East,--that land of wonders and marvelous adventures. Richard was by\nnature a rover, a warrior, a knight-errant. So it seemed to him a most\ndelightful prospect to travel, to see strange lands and peoples, to\nfight in a holy war; and thus to indulge his own love of adventure and\nof battle while advancing the glory of God. Nay, to do him justice,\nRichard was religious too, in the strange fierce fashion of those\ndays,--days when one could be pious without being good; when the warrior\nprayed and fought with equal zeal, deeming both acts of equal merit in\nthe sight of heaven; when the Christian believed the slaughter of\ninfidels well-pleasing to God; when the knight of the Cross was\nconfident that Christ pardoned all sins to the warrior who did battle\nfor His Holy Sepulchre. So Richard, though far from pious or exemplary\nin his daily life, was moved by a genuine and fervent desire to deliver\nJerusalem from the infidels, into whose hands it had fallen again after\nits conquest by Godfrey de Bouillon.\n\nWhen all the tedious and costly preparations necessary for the Crusade\nhad been completed, Richard sent his fleet around by the Strait of\nGibraltar. He himself crossed over to France with the troops, intending\nto march through that country to meet his ships at Marseilles, and there\nto embark for Palestine.\n\nAt Vezelai, Richard met Philip of France, who had agreed to join him in\nthe Crusade. The two kings and their great armies marched together for\nsome distance, but finally separated, and proceeded southward by\ndifferent routes,--the French to Genoa, the English to Marseilles.\n\nWhen Richard reached that seaport, he was much disappointed to find that\nthe fleet had not arrived. Leaving the main body of troops there to\nawait the arrival of the vessels, he procured a ship, and proceeded on\nhis way by sea, sailing along the coast of France and Italy. He stopped\nat many cities, and sometimes traveled on land with only a few\nattendants, like a simple knight-errant.\n\nWhen he reached the Gulf of Salernum, Richard was joined by his fleet,\nand sailed toward Messina, a coast town of Sicily, where he was to meet\nPhilip. On approaching the city, Richard ordered every trumpet to be\nsounded. The people, rushing to the walls, beheld with surprise the\ngreat fleet of England, manned by thousands of steel-clad warriors, and\nflying the red cross of Saint George, the lion-emblazoned banner of\nRichard, and hundreds of gay baronial flags. The arrival is thus\ndescribed:--\n\n        \"O Holy Mary, no man ever saw\n      Such galleys, such dromonds, such transports before;\n        Rowing on, rowing on, across the deep sea,\n      Rowing on, rowing on to fair Sicily!\n\n    \"What pennons and banners from the top of the spears\n    To the fair winds are streaming all graceful and proud;\n    What a great host of warriors, whose breasts know no fears\n    Pace the decks, whilst the oarsmen are chanting aloud--\n    Row on, lads, row on, lads, across the deep sea;\n    Crowd the sail and row on, lads, to fair Sicily!\n\n    \"Hark, hark to the voice of the trumpets so clear\n    As they enter the harbor and make for the pier;\n    See what bright gilded beaks, what finely wrought bows,\n    And what thousands of shields hang out on the prows.\n    Oh! such a staunch fleet never sailed on the sea\n    As this armament anchored off fair Sicily.\n\n    \"And now from his trim galley, named Cut-the-Sea\n    The proud Richard lands midst uproarious glee;\n    Clad in bright scale-linked mail with axe in his hand,\n    He, the chief of his hero band, paces the strand,\n    Whilst the people and warriors in wild ecstasy,\n    Shout hurrah for King Richard and fair Sicily!\"\n\nSuch was the brilliant spectacle of Coeur-de-Lion's arrival in Sicily.\nWhen Richard had landed and camped near Messina, he sent envoys at once\nto Tancred, the King of Sicily, who had usurped the throne and\nimprisoned Richard's sister Joan, widow of the former king. These envoys\nwere bidden to demand of Tancred the instant release of Joan, the\npayment of her dowry, and the delivery of a rich legacy which Richard\nasserted had been left by her husband to Henry II. This bequest included\na gold table twelve feet long, twenty-four gold cups and saucers, a\nlarge silk tent, and a hundred fine galleys. On receiving King Richard's\nperemptory message, Tancred at once sent Joan to her royal brother with\na large sum of money, but denied any knowledge of the rich legacy that\nRichard claimed.\n\nNow the French king had previously arrived in Sicily, and the forces of\nboth kings were encamped about Messina. There was much jealousy between\nthe two monarchs. Philip was envious of Richard's greater fame as a\nwarrior, and Richard resented the fact that as Duke of Normandy he was a\nvassal of the French king. This feeling of ill-will extended to the\nsoldiers of the two armies, hostile from birth, and gave rise to much\nquarreling and continual brawls. The French contrived to arouse in the\npeople of Sicily a suspicious dread of the King of England. So when\nthese natives saw Richard building and fortifying strongholds, they\nconcluded that he intended to take possession of their island. Then\nfierce disputes arose between them and the English soldiers.\n\nAt length, the trouble ended in an open fight; and Richard promptly\nattacked the city of Messina. Though the French sided with the natives,\nwho were fifty thousand strong, \"King Richard got possession of Messina\nquicker than any priest could chant matins. Aye, and many more of the\ncitizens would have perished had not the King in his compassion ordered\ntheir lives to be spared.\"\n\nAfter the capture of the city, King Tancred agreed to give Richard forty\nthousand ounces of gold in lieu of all claims against him in behalf of\nJoan. Richard accepted this offer, and peace was restored. One-third of\nthe money he gave to Philip, and the two kings made a new compact of\nfriendship, solemnly swearing to be faithful to each other in all things\nduring this Crusade.\n\nA period of peace followed, during which the kings and nobles amused\nthemselves in various ways while awaiting a favorable season for their\nvoyage to Palestine.\n\nOne day while riding, Richard and Philip met a peasant bringing a load\nof tough canes to town. The two kings and all their knights took each a\nreed, and using it as a lance, began to tilt against one another.\nRichard and a French knight, William des Barres, charged each other. The\nreeds were shattered, and the headpiece of Richard was broken. Enraged\nat this mishap, the king dashed furiously on William, but his own saddle\nwas upset, and he fell to the ground \"quicker than he liked.\"\n\nHastily mounting a fresh horse, Richard again attacked Des Barres, but\ncould not unhorse the knight, who stuck fast to his saddle. Then the\nEarl of Leicester attempted to aid Richard, but the king cried, \"Let be,\nRobert; hold off and leave us alone!\" But when, after many vain efforts,\nhe had failed to overthrow the stout French warrior, Richard flew into a\nterrific rage, and cried, \"Get thee hence, and appear no more before me,\nfor I shall be thine enemy hereafter!\" Whereupon William des Barres\nwithdrew in much distress of mind, and asked the intercession of the\nKing of France. Not until Philip, all the bishops, and the chiefs of the\narmy had repeatedly besought Richard for grace, would the mortified king\nconsent to the peaceable return of the knight. So unwise is it to\nsuccessfully combat a king!\n\nSoon after this episode fresh trouble arose between Richard and Philip.\nThe King of France was brother to Alice, the betrothed bride of Richard.\nWhen he heard that Queen Eleanor was on her way to Sicily, bringing\nBerengaria, daughter of the King of Navarre, as a bride for the English\nking, Philip was enraged. He insisted that Richard was legally bound to\nAlice and could not marry any one else. Richard, who had been much\ncharmed with Berengaria some years before while visiting her father's\ncourt at Pampeluna, now flatly refused to marry Alice. He accused her of\nmost wicked conduct, such as rendered her unworthy to be his wife.\nProbably these charges were well founded, for Philip finally agreed, on\ncertain conditions, to release Richard from the engagement with Alice.\nThe French princess, then held prisoner in England by Eleanor, was to be\nreturned to France, and Philip was to receive a large sum of money. An\necclesiastical court was then held, and it adjudged that Richard was no\nlonger bound to Alice, but was free to marry as he pleased.\n\nThese matters settled, Philip set sail for Palestine on the very day\nthat Eleanor arrived with Berengaria. The two royal ladies received a\njoyful welcome from the king, who went to meet them in his gayly\ndecorated galley, _Trenc-le-Mer_.\n\nHe found Berengaria even lovelier than the young girl he had admired so\nlong ago in Navarre. His heart yielded at once to the charms of the\ndark-eyed Spanish beauty, and the princess could not help loving such a\nhandsome, brave, and eloquent prince; for Richard was no less ready with\nhis tongue than with his sword, and won hearts as easily as battles. He\nhad long before won the devotion and friendship of Berengaria's brother\nSancho, a renowned warrior and poet; and this friendship doubtless\ncommended him to Berengaria. At any rate, the betrothed pair were soon a\npair of lovers and as happy as humbler sweethearts.\n\nAs it was then the solemn season of Lent, they resolved to postpone the\nwedding until after Easter. Richard, however, in token of his joy, gave\na sumptuous betrothal feast, at which he instituted a new order of\nknights, vowed to deeds of valor in the Holy Land. Queen Eleanor, after\nremaining a few days with her dearly loved daughter and son, gave\nBerengaria into the care of Queen Joan, and herself returned to England.\n\nRichard then made final preparations for the voyage. Before leaving, he\ngave Tancred, to whom he had become reconciled, \"that best of swords,\nwhich the Britons call Caliburne (Excalibur), formerly the sword of\nArthur, once the noble King of England.\"\n\nAt length the great fleet of busses, dromonds, and galleys set sail for\nPalestine. Berengaria and Joan sailed first in a large ship under the\ncare of Stephen de Turnham, and Richard embarked last on _Trenc-le-Mer_.\nErelong a storm arose, and the fleet was dispersed. Berengaria was very\nmuch alarmed for her lover's safety.\n\n    \"She sighed not for her own,\n    But King Richard's safety;\n    And kept crying, 'Oh! look out,\n    For sore is my fright,\n    Whilst the King and his galleys\n    Are all out of sight!'\"\n\nTwo ships escorting the vessel of the princess and Joan were wrecked on\nthe coast of Cyprus. Isaac, the emperor of that island, plundered the\nships and imprisoned the survivors. He also refused to allow the vessel\nof the royal ladies to take shelter in the harbor of Limasol (now\nLimoussa).\n\nMeanwhile, Richard's galley had taken shelter at Rhodes. As soon as the\nking learned of the straits in which the princesses were, he came to\ntheir aid with many war galleys. When he found them outside of the\nharbor, exposed to the violence of wind and sea, he was greatly\nenraged. But restraining his anger fairly well for so passionate a man,\nhe sent messengers thrice to Isaac, \"humbly begging him for the love of\nGod and reverence for the life-giving cross\" to free the captive\nCrusaders, and to restore their goods. The emperor, evidently not\nknowing with whom he had to deal, returned a haughty refusal.\n\nThen Richard, very wroth, called his men to arms, and said: \"Follow me,\nand we will take vengeance for the wrongs which this villainous emperor\nhas done to God and to us in thus unjustly keeping our pilgrims in\nchains!\" Without delay the forces rowed to the shore, where Isaac had\ndrawn up his army to oppose them.\n\nThe English archers landed first, and their arrows fell upon the enemy\n\"as a shower upon the grass.\" The doughty King Richard and his knights\nthen rushed in, and quickly drove the Greeks before them like a flock of\nsheep. After Isaac's affrighted army had taken refuge in the mountains,\nhe tried to make peace, but could come to no agreement with Richard, and\nfled from Limasol. The English king then stormed the town and took\npossession. Here he first used his famous battle-axe, for the old rhymer\ntells us:--\n\n\n      \"The valiant King Richard, as I understand,\n      Before he departed from old England,\n      Made an axe to slaughter that infidel band,\n      The Saracen dogs in the Holy Land.\n      The head in sooth was wondrously wrought,\n      Of steel twenty pounds, the best to be bought.\n      And when that he landed in Cyprus land,\n      He first took this terrible axe in hand;\n    And he hewed and he hewed with such direful slaughter,\n    That the blood flowed around him like pools of water.\"\n\nWith such a valiant leader, it is small wonder that the English were\nsoon masters of the whole island of Cyprus. Isaac, after making a treaty\nwith Richard and immediately breaking it, was captured by the English\nking, who bound him with silver fetters, kept him in prison, and gave\nhis beautiful daughter to Berengaria as an attendant.\n\nEre this, Richard and Berengaria had been married with pomp and ceremony\nat Limasol, and crowned king and queen of Cyprus. The bride was simply\nattired in a white lawn dress, but wore a splendid girdle of jewels; and\nher flowing black tresses were adorned with a double crown. Richard wore\na rose-colored tunic of satin, belted with jewels. A mantle of silk\ntissue, brocaded in silver crescents, fell from his shoulders, and on\nhis head was a scarlet brocaded cap. By his side hung a Damascus blade\nin a silver-scaled sheath. Before the king was led his beautiful\nCyprian steed, Favelle, gorgeously caparisoned, and bitted with gold,\nthe saddle adorned with two little golden lions.\n\nNot long after this grand ceremony, word came to Richard that Acre, a\ncity of Palestine long besieged by the Crusaders already in the Holy\nLand, was about to surrender. Exclaiming, \"Heaven grant that it be not\ntaken before I arrive!\" Richard immediately set sail for that port.\n\nWhen near Beyrout, the English fell in with a large Saracen ship, and\nafter a desperate but vain attempt to board the vessel, pierced its\nsides with the iron beaks of their galleys. The ship sank, and its crew\nwere slain or drowned. Among the floating bodies that covered the sea,\nwere seen many deadly serpents, which the infidels \"had destined to work\nhavoc among the Christians\" besieging Acre.\n\nCheered by this victory, Richard and his men rejoiced still more when\nthe walls and citadels and the great \"accursed tower\" of Acre came in\nsight. For long months this famous city, its walls lapped by the blue\nMediterranean, had been girt round by a vast host of Crusaders,--\"men of\nevery Christian nation under heaven.\" Their camp was like an immense\ncity, with streets and walls, and strong fortifications, especially on\nthe landward side; for beyond this vast Christian camp, crowned by the\nhigh tower from which floated the great white banner of the Crusaders,\nlay a countless body of Turkish troops, swarming over the adjacent\nplains and mountain-sides. Thus the besieging Christians were themselves\nbesieged.\n\nThe tents of the infidels were gay with colored devices and the yellow\nensigns of Islam. As Richard neared the shore, these hated emblems of\nMohammed and the famous black standard of Saladin, Sultan of the\nSaracens, were plainly visible to him, and stirred him to deep wrath.\nHis anger burned the hotter when he recalled the stories told of the\nterrible havoc wrought by these infidels on the Christian hosts\nbesieging the city. Night and day these fierce warriors of Saladin\nswooped down on the Christian camp. Scores of bloody battles had taken\nplace. Almost beyond belief was the suffering that had been patiently\nendured by the soldiers of the Cross. Battles, hunger, and disease had\nthinned their ranks and sorely tried their souls. No wonder they hailed\nwith joy the arrival of that famous warrior, Richard Coeur-de-Lion,\nfor they believed that he would soon lead them to victory.\n\nSo amidst the din of drum and trumpet and clarion, and the deafening\nshouts of exultant thousands, King Richard set foot upon the Holy Land.\nAnd the red glare of huge bonfires and numberless torches carried the\nalarming tidings to Saladin and his army.\n\nThe King of France and the many princes met Richard, and welcomed him in\na manner befitting his rank and his renown as the \"most skilful warrior\namong Christian men.\" The camp was that night a scene of rejoicing and\nmerriment. \"Richard Coeur-de-Lion has come; Acre will soon be ours!\"\nwas the universal cry.\n\nBut, alas! the hopes built on the arrival of Coeur-de-Lion were not\nspeedily realized. Richard fell ill of a fever, and could not lead the\nassault. Then Philip also became sick; so that the two kings could not\nlead their armies against the city at the same time. The feeling of\njealousy between them also prevented united action. When one king\nundertook an assault, the other sulked in his tent. All the princes and\nleaders were at this time disputing about the rival claims of Guy de\nLusignan and Conrade, Marquis of Montferrat, to the throne of the\nKingdom of Jerusalem. Philip favored the Marquis of Montferrat, but\nRichard supported Guy de Lusignan. These disputes were made more bitter\nby the haughty bearing of the King of England, who wished to rule in\ncamp and council, and treated with scant courtesy the princes who\npresumed to oppose him. So discord reigned among the leaders, and\nprevented the united action that might soon have reduced the city.\n\nNevertheless, the fighting went vigorously on. Battle after battle was\nfought on the plain between the forces of Saladin and the Crusaders;\nassault after assault was made by the Christians on the beleaguered\ncity.\n\nEven during his illness, Richard had directed the making of\nstone-casters, slings, rams, and wooden towers for assaulting the walls\nof the besieged city. As soon as he was well enough, the king caused\nhimself to be carried near the city wall and placed under the shelter of\na kind of wooden hurdle. Seated there, he directed the movements of his\nmen, who were endeavoring to undermine and carry by storm a tower of the\nfortifications.\n\nAs his soldiers rushed to the assault, Richard shouted that he would\ngive three goldpieces to every man who should detach a stone from the\ntower wall. So the hope of reward, as well as the love of glory, led to\ndeeds of reckless daring. While some soldiers dug underground, trying to\nsap the tower foundations, others plied the stone-casters and hurled\nimmense stones into the city,--at one time killing twenty Turks with a\nsingle huge missile. Other bands of Christians strove to tear down or\nscale the walls; while the Turks, equally valiant, strained every nerve\nto hurl them back. The Christians \"climbed the half-ruined battlements\nas wild goats climb precipitous rocks, while the Saracens threw\nthemselves on the besiegers like stones unloosed from the top of a\nmountain.\" Huge stones and Greek fire rained down on the Crusaders.\n\nMeanwhile King Richard, weak though he was, plied his great cross-bow\nvigorously and slew many Turks. One of the infidels was disporting\nhimself on the wall, clad in the well-known armor of Alberic Clement,--a\nrenowned and beloved Christian warrior, slain several days before by the\nTurks, after he had fought his way into the city itself. Richard sent a\nshaft through the very heart of this braggart Turk.\n\nNow, when the tower had been almost battered down, other warriors from\nthe Christian camp gathered to the assault; but the watchers on the\ncity wall raised a cry of alarm, and all the Turkish warriors flew to\narms. Then followed a fierce hand-to-hand conflict. In spite of most\nheroic efforts, the Crusaders were finally driven back. \"Never,\" says\nthe Christian chronicler, \"has there been such a people for prowess in\nbattle as these Turks.\"\n\nThough wroth at this repulse, Richard continued to make frequent attacks\nof the same sort, and kept his stone-casters and other engines of war\nbusy night and day until the defences of the city were much weakened.\nThe inhabitants, disheartened also by famine and other hardships,\nfinally sent envoys to Saladin, requesting permission to surrender the\ncity. After much parley about conditions, the city capitulated, and the\ntwo Christian kings took possession. Soon the red-cross standard of the\nCrusade, the oriflamme of Saint Denis, and the banner of Saint George\ncrowned the walls of Acre. The standard of Austria was also raised by\nthe Archduke Leopold; but not long did it wave. The haughty\nCoeur-de-Lion flew into a rage on seeing the ensign of a mere duke\nflying beside the banners of kings. With his own royal hands he tore\ndown the offending flag, and contemptuously ground it beneath his royal\nheel. Nor did the outraged archduke dare to resent the insult, though he\ncherished the memory of it in his heart, and well avenged himself at a\nlater day.\n\nThe kings of France and England divided the city between them. Philip\nlodged himself in the splendid palace of the Templars,--a military order\nof Christian knights; and Richard established his court in the royal\npalace, with the two queens, Berengaria and Joan, and their ladies. Here\nfor some time the kings lived in luxury and splendor, while all the\nCrusaders took their ease and rested from warfare.\n\nBut again quarrels arose over the kingship of Jerusalem. Finally it was\nagreed among the princes that Guy de Lusignan should be recognized as\nking, and the Marquis of Montferrat as his successor to the throne.\nAfter this agreement, Philip fell sick, and actually suspected Richard\nof having poisoned him. Weary of battle, exhausted by sickness, and\nmortified by the knowledge that Richard's fame as a warrior far\nsurpassed his own, Philip resolved to return to France. As bound by\ntreaty, he requested the consent of the English king to his departure.\n\n\"Eternal shame on him and all France if for any cause he leave the holy\nwork unfinished!\" cried Richard, when the messenger of Philip had\nspoken. But finally he was persuaded to give a reluctant consent in\nthese words,--\n\n\"Well, let him go if his health require it, or if he cannot live without\nseeing Paris.\"\n\nSo the King of France, abandoning the Crusade, gladly set sail for his\nown country; but he left a large force under the Duke of Burgundy to aid\nRichard in the conquest of Jerusalem.\n\nNow, Saladin had failed to carry out the terms of the surrender of Acre.\nAt the time agreed upon, he had not delivered to Richard the stipulated\nsum of money, the Christian captives, or the true cross, which was in\nhis possession. So the English king and the Duke of Burgundy led all\ntheir Saracen prisoners outside the walls of Acre and put them to death.\n\nAfter this massacre and a fierce battle with the outraged warriors of\nSaladin, who in vain attempted to prevent the execution of their kinsmen\nand friends before their very eyes, Richard and his army set out by way\nof the coast for the city of Ascalon, the fleet accompanying them.\nSaladin, frenzied with rage at the massacre before Acre, though he\nhimself was partly to blame, followed Richard, with vengeance in his\nheart. At every favorable opportunity, the sultan attacked the\nChristians and slew all who fell into his hands.\n\nNever was there a more dreadful or fatal march. Countless arrows rained\ndown on the soldiers from the Turks on the mountain heights. The\nscorching sun of Syria blazed upon their weary bodies by day, and deadly\ntarantulas poisoned them by night. Ever and anon the Turks, mounted on\nhorses swifter than swallows, swooped down on the struggling ranks of\nChristians and wrought bloody havoc among them, escaping vengeance by\nthe speed of their steeds. Thus tormented and harassed, it is little\nwonder that when encamped at night, the distressed Crusaders should all\njoin with tears and groans and heart-felt fervor in the thrice-repeated\nevening cry of the heralds: \"Help us, O Holy Sepulchre!\" Sorely did they\nneed divine help.\n\nKing Richard did all that valor and kindness could prompt for the\nprotection and aid of his people. He led the van and was ever in the\nfront of every fight, heedless of danger. In one of these battles he was\npainfully wounded. In another combat that French knight, William des\nBarres, who had incurred the king's displeasure at Messina,\ndistinguished himself so greatly by his valor that he was fully restored\nto the favor and friendship of Richard. The king caused the pilgrims\nwho fell from exhaustion or wounds to be carried to the ships and thus\nsaved from death at the hands of Saladin.\n\nWhen the exhausted Crusaders reached the plain of Arsur, Saladin, with a\nvast host of Saracens, hemmed in and attacked the Christian army. Never\nwas there a more terrible battle. All day it raged, so furiously that\nthe old chronicler confesses that \"in the stress and bitter peril of\nthat day, there was not one who did not wish himself safe at home with\nhis pilgrimage finished.\" At one time the Hospitallers who were\ndefending the rear, and who had been forbidden by Richard to charge the\nenemy, were so harassed by the Turks that they sent and besought the\nking's permission to attack the Saracens. But he forbade the move,\ncommanding them to close their lines and wait in patience. Finally these\ntormented knights, stuck full of arrows, beaten with mallets, pierced by\nlances, crushed by maces, became frenzied with rage and shame at their\ninaction. They cried aloud, \"Alas! we shall be convicted of cowardly\nsloth and disgraced forevermore!\" Then, suddenly, exasperated beyond\nendurance, they faced about, and with a loud shout, \"Holy Sepulchre aid\nus!\" charged furiously into the midst of the infidels. Hundreds they\nslew, but their disobedient act threw the entire army into confusion.\n\nCoeur-de-Lion, seeing this, put spurs to Favelle and galloped into the\nranks of the Hospitallers. Then he bore down upon the Turks, \"thundering\nagainst them, and mightily astonishing them by the blows that he dealt.\"\nRight and left they fell. Pressing on furiously and alone, Richard cut a\nwide path for himself through the Turkish ranks, brandishing his sword\nand mowing them down like grass before the sickle. For half a mile the\nground was strewn with the bodies of those who dared to oppose the\nirresistible warrior. At last the terrified Turks fled in every\ndirection before the attack of Richard. In vain Saladin strove to rally\nthe Saracens. In vain his brazen kettle-drums and trumpets called to the\nflying infidels. The battle was lost, and the defeated sultan sadly\nretreated before the exultant Christians.\n\nAfter this famous victory, Richard marched to Jaffa, where the army\nencamped in a fair olive orchard, and there abode some time in peace and\nplenty. Richard sailed to Acre, where he stirred up slothful pilgrims\nand entreated them to join his army at Jaffa for the march to Jerusalem.\nOn his return, he brought with him Queen Berengaria and Joan. While\nwaiting for recruits to the army, Richard occupied his time in\nexcursions around Jaffa, and met with many romantic adventures.\n\nOne day he rode out with his falcons and a few knights to hunt, and also\nto spy on the Turks. When tired out by the chase, he lay down in the\nshade and fell asleep. Some Turks, hearing that he was thus off guard,\nrode swiftly up, hoping to take the dreaded king prisoner. Richard and\nhis knights, roused by the noise of the hoof-beats, had barely time to\nmount their horses when the Turks were upon them. Coeur-de-Lion and\nhis comrades met the attack fiercely; and the Turks, making a pretence\nof flight, drew the little band into an ambush, where it was surrounded\nby a great number of the infidels. Richard, in spite of his prowess,\nwould certainly have been taken prisoner, had not one of his comrades,\nWilliam de Preaux, called out, \"I am the king; save my life!\" The\nSaracens, knowing no better, quickly seized the generous knight and\ngalloped off, thinking they had captured King Richard. The king, thus\nsaved, returned to his camp, where he found the army in great distress\nover his reported capture.\n\nEvery effort was made to rescue William de Preaux, but in vain, and\nthere was universal sorrow for the knight who had purchased the safety\nof the king by the sacrifice of his own freedom and the risk of his own\nlife. \"O fealty worthy of all renown! O rare devotion! that a man should\nwillingly subject himself to danger to save another!\" exclaims the\nchronicler. Surely there must have been much that was fine and lovable\nin the character of a king who called forth such rare devotion in a\nfollower,--one who was not a vassal of his own.\n\nAs soon as possible, the grateful Richard ransomed his friend by\nexchanging ten noble Turkish captives for the brave French knight.\n\nThe king's friends now tried to persuade him to be more prudent and not\nto expose himself so rashly to danger. But Coeur-de-Lion delighted in\ndanger, rejoiced to be first in onset and last in retreat. He loved to\nmake the most perilous sallies against the Turks with but a few of his\nfollowers, and whether \"by reason of his valor or the divine aid,\" he\nusually succeeded in capturing or slaying the infidels.\n\nMeanwhile Richard was in communication with Saladin, trying to persuade\nthe sultan to deliver Jerusalem to the Christians. Saladin steadfastly\nrefused to surrender the city, but the two kings became friendly, and\nfrequently sent each other rich gifts. Though they had a sincere\nadmiration for each other, strange to relate, these warring kings never\nmet. Though often opposed in battle, a meeting did not take place on any\nfield; perhaps because Saladin, though personally brave, did not\nconsider it the province of a king to fight in person, as did Richard.\nThis Saracen sultan was a wise, just, and humane ruler,--a most\nadmirable character, and much loved throughout his vast empire, an\nempire stretching from the Nile to the Tigris.\n\nHis brother Saphadin (Saf-ad-Din), a famous warrior, came often to visit\nRichard, who became very fond of him. The English king proposed to\nSaladin that Saphadin should marry Queen Joan, and the two be made\nsovereigns of Jerusalem. But this projected union of heathen and\nChristian was detestable to both nations, and the plan served only to\nbring reproach on Richard, who was much blamed for his friendly dealings\nwith the unbelievers. All negotiations with Saladin came to nothing, and\nRichard finally marched on toward Jerusalem, which had meanwhile been\nstrongly fortified by the sultan. When the army had reached Beit-Nuba,\nabout twelve miles from the Holy City, a council of the chief men\ndecided that it would be neither prudent to besiege Jerusalem at that\ntime nor possible to take it. The army was smitten with grief at this\ndecision, and it was a sad host that marched back to Ascalon.\n\nThis city had been destroyed by Saladin, and the English king thought it\nnecessary to rebuild the town as a base of supplies for his army when\nthe siege of Jerusalem should be undertaken. Richard and his nobles\nworked with their own hands at rebuilding the walls. But many of the\nFrench, unwilling to labor thus in menial fashion, left the army and\nwent off to Acre. Leopold, Archduke of Austria, refused to join in the\nlabor, and when reproached by Richard, replied sulkily, \"I am not the\nson of a mason.\" Richard, justly incensed, abused him in no gentle\nterms, and even went so far as to strike the titled shirker. Whereupon\nthe archduke straightway left the camp and hied him back to his own\ncountry.\n\nOther bitter disputes broke out among the chiefs, and actual fighting\ntook place between the troops of different countries. Conrade of\nMontferrat and Richard fell out again, and the marquis left the camp and\nentered into a secret treaty with Saladin, who agreed to aid him in his\nschemes of conquest.\n\nNow, Richard, hearing that his brother John was conspiring against him,\nthought at first that he must return to England. It was necessary to\nhave a leader in Richard's stead, and the council of chiefs elected\nConrade to be chief of the armies, and also declared him King of\nJerusalem. Richard consented to this choice, though he had no love for\nConrade. But shortly afterwards, ere the coronation could take place,\nthe marquis was murdered in the streets of Tyre. It is most probable\nthat he fell a victim to the hatred of \"The Old Man of the Mountains.\"\nThis mysterious and dreaded personage was Sinan, the chief of a strange\nand fanatical sect of robbers and murderers, called the Ismaelians. He\nhad many castles and strongholds in the mountains of Syria, and his very\nname struck terror to the hearts of its inhabitants. For this Sinan held\ndespotic rule over his followers, and at his slightest word they were\nready to kill themselves or any one else. He was accustomed to send\nthese deluded disciples of his to assassinate any person who displeased\nhim, promising paradise to the murderers in reward for their deed.\n\nThis Sinan sent two of the assassins to murder Conrade, who had seized\ngoods from one of his followers. But some of the friends of the marquis\naccused Richard of the infamous deed,--as if the bold King of England\nwould have stooped to rid himself of an enemy in that cowardly way. The\nsuspicion, though without any foundation, strengthened the enmity that\nmany of the chiefs felt for the English king, because of his\nhaughtiness.\n\nWhen at last Richard had led them within a few leagues of Jerusalem the\nsecond time, disputes arose about the advisability of then attacking the\nHoly City. Many of the princes did not wish Richard to have the glory of\nthe conquest. Finally, the council of twenty knights, to which the\nmatter was referred, decided that the siege should not be attempted at\nthat time. So the order was given to retreat. It was sadly obeyed by the\nsoldiers, who groaned and wept at giving up their cherished hopes of\nvisiting the Holy Sepulchre.\n\nOne of these pilgrims, while the army was near Jerusalem, reached the\nsummit of a hill, and called to Richard in much excitement, \"Sire, sire,\ncome hither and I will show you Jerusalem!\" But the king, casting his\ncoat-of-arms before his eyes, wept as he cried out, \"Fair Lord God, I\npray Thee not to let me see Thy Holy City, if so be that I may not\ndeliver it out of the hands of Thine enemies.\"\n\nAs sadly grieved as their king at thus leaving the Holy City in infidel\nhands, the army marched despondently back to Jaffa, and thence to Acre,\nthe French and English mutually accusing each other of having been the\ncause of the failure to take Jerusalem. The Duke of Burgundy vented his\nspite by composing a scurrilous song about Richard, which was sung in\nthe French camp. The King of England, much annoyed, revenged himself in\na similar manner by writing a few stinging lines, in which he answered\nthese \"_trumped-up scandals_ with a few plain truths\" about the duke and\nhis other enemies. The singing of these princely satires did not add to\nthe harmony of the camp.\n\nWhen Richard reached Acre, he began to make preparations to return to\nEngland, for John was again conspiring to seize the throne. As the king\nwas about to embark, envoys came in great haste, and besought him to\ncome to the relief of Jaffa. They related that the town had been taken\nby Saladin, and that only the citadel yet held out. The king cut short\nthe entreaties of the messenger by exclaiming, \"God yet lives, and with\nHis guidance I will set out to do what I can.\"\n\nThe French refused to go with him, but some noble knights started to the\nrescue by land, while the king and a few chosen comrades set out by\nsea. When the galleys reached Jaffa, the Turks, by thousands, swarmed to\nthe shore, ready to destroy all who should attempt to land. The king's\nfriends said to him, \"It will be vain to attempt a landing in the face\nof so many enemies.\" But when a fugitive priest, leaping from the wall,\nswam to the galley and told Richard that some of his fellow-Christians\nwere still alive and holding the citadel, Coeur-de-Lion exclaimed,--\n\n\"Then, even though it please God, in whose service I come hither, that\nwe should die here with our brethren, let him perish who will not go\nforward with me.\" So saying, the king, with a shout of \"Saint George!\nSaint George!\" leaped from his red galley into the water, with shield\nhung round his neck and huge battle-axe in hand. Unheeding the countless\ndarts of the enemy, he gained the beach, followed by a few faithful\nknights. There the redoubtable Richard actually put to flight the\nthousands of Turks, dashed into the town, rescued the citadel, and drove\nevery infidel out of the gates of Jaffa.\n\nThe story seems incredible, but it is true.\n\nNext day the generous Saladin, hearing that Richard had no horse,\nexclaimed, \"It is a disgrace that so great a king should lack a steed!\"\nSo he sent one of his men with a charger to Richard. The king accepted\nthe gift and bade one of his men mount the beautiful Arabian.\nImmediately the spirited steed took the bit between its teeth and\ngalloped back to the Saracen camp. \"Right shamefaced was Saladin when\nthe horse returned,\" for he knew that some would suspect him of trying\nto entrap Richard. He sent another horse to the king, and many apologies\nfor the bad behavior of the first. Richard, incapable of treachery\nhimself, had no suspicion of Saladin's good faith. He thanked the\nmessenger, and to show his confidence in the sultan, at once mounted and\nrode the horse.\n\nA few days afterwards, a large body of Turks unexpectedly attacked\nRichard, who was encamped outside the walls of Jaffa with only fifteen\nknights and a few thousand foot-soldiers. It was early morning, and a\nsoldier flew to Richard's tent, crying, \"O king, we are dead men!\"\n\n\"Silence,\" ordered the suddenly aroused king, \"or I will kill you!\"\nRichard and his knights, throwing on their armor, mounted their horses\namid a shower of arrows from the Saracens. Hurriedly the king posted his\nmen to receive the attack. While doing this, he exhorted them to courage\nwith many brave words.\n\n\"Hold out stubbornly,\" he cried. \"It is the duty of brave men to\ntriumph bravely or to die gloriously! Death threatens, but if it come,\nlet us receive martyrdom with a thankful mind. But before we die we will\ntake vengeance, and yield God thanks for granting us the martyr's death!\nThis is the true reward of our toils,--the end at once of life and\nbattles!\"\n\nThen this heroic Richard, grasping his lance, rode _alone_ across the\nwhole front of the enemies' lines, defying them to combat; and not one\ndared to do battle with him single-handed. But they set his armor as\nthick with javelins as \"a hedgehog with bristles,\" and his horse was\nsoon covered with innumerable arrows sticking to its harness. The Turks,\ncharging the little band of Christians, fought with desperate bravery.\nThey made many attempts to slay Richard, ever pressing on by scores\ntoward his lion-emblazoned banner. But the \"incredible valor\" and\nstrength of the king not only preserved his own life, but won the\nbattle. After hours of conflict, Richard put the Turks to flight.\n\nNow, these Saracens had boasted to Saladin that they would bring him the\ncaptured King of England. After the battle, when they had fled before\nRichard, the sultan mockingly inquired of these warriors,--\n\n\"Where are those who are bringing me Melek (King) Richard as my\nprisoner? Who was first to seize him? Where is he, I say, and why is he\nnot brought before me?\"\n\nThe shamefaced Turks were silent at this mockery, until one plucked up\nthe courage to reply thus:--\n\n\"Know, O king, for a surety, that this Melek of whom you speak is not\nlike other men. Truly, we tried hard to capture him, but all in vain,\nfor no one can bear the brunt of his sword unharmed; his onset is\nterrible, and it is death to encounter him. His deeds are more than\nhuman.\"\n\nThough unharmed in this battle, as in so many others, the heroic Richard\nwas soon after laid low by an attack of fever. He grew steadily worse,\nand despairing of recovery in the unwholesome air of Jaffa, determined\nto leave the city. But the other chiefs refused to try to hold the town\nif he should depart. So Richard, not able to fight, was compelled to\nmake a truce of three years with Saladin. The conditions were that\nAscalon should be abandoned, and Jaffa remain in the possession of the\nChristians, who were also to be allowed free access to Jerusalem and the\nHoly Sepulchre without payment, and without hindrance from the\ninfidels.\n\nWhen this treaty had been concluded, and Richard had recovered, he held\na magnificent tournament at Acre, in celebration of peace. This festival\nwas attended by many Turks, as well as by Christian knights.\n\nHis preparations having been completed, Richard set sail from Acre in\nOctober, 1192, having sent the queens ahead in another vessel. As the\nshore of Palestine faded from his sight, Richard prayed: \"O Holy Land,\nto God I commend thee. May He of his mercy only grant me such space of\nlife that by His good-will I may yet bring thee aid. For it is my hope\nand intention to bring thee aid at some future day!\"\n\nLong did the memory of the king thus bidding farewell to the Holy Land\nlinger in the memory of its people. A hundred years afterwards, the\nSaracen mother frightened her child into silence by the words, \"Hush,\nKing Richard is coming!\" And if a horse started aside, the rider would\ncry, \"What! is the King of England in front of thee?\"\n\nPerils of battle and sickness had been escaped, but greater dangers were\nin store for the returning Crusader. After being tempest-tossed for\nweeks, the vessel of Richard was wrecked on the Adriatic coast. Knowing\nthat the Archduke of Austria had good reason to hate him, Richard tried\nto make his way through that country in the disguise of a Templar.\n\nAfter many adventures, he stopped at an inn near Vienna, and sent his\nonly attendant, a young boy, to the market to buy provisions. The youth,\nin paying, displayed so much money and bore himself so haughtily that he\nwas arrested. But on telling the magistrate that he was the servant of a\nrich merchant, who would not arrive in the city until three days later,\nthe boy was set free. Returning secretly to the king's retreat, the\nyouth told of his misadventure, and begged the king to flee. But the\nrash Richard, weary and exhausted, decided to risk remaining a few days\nlonger.\n\nThe lad, while visiting the market again, was imprudent enough to carry\nunder his belt the fine embroidered gloves of his master. Knowing these\ngloves could not belong to a merchant, the suspicious magistrates seized\nthe boy again, and after torturing him, threatened to cut out his tongue\nunless he revealed his master's name. On learning the truth from the\nfrightened lad, they informed the archduke, who sent soldiers to\nsurround the inn. When the troopers questioned the landlord, he said:--\n\n\"There is no one here except a poor Templar, who is now in the kitchen\nturning the spit for the cook.\" Going into the kitchen, the soldiers saw\nthe Templar sitting before the fire, industriously turning a fowl on the\nspit. But one of the soldiers who had been in the Holy Land knew\nRichard, and he shouted, \"That is the king; seize him!\" Richard sprang\nup, and using the spit for a weapon, defended himself valiantly; but he\nwas overcome by numbers, and carried prisoner to the castle of\nTyernstern. There for months he was kept a close prisoner, loaded with\nchains. The archduke then gave him up to the German emperor, who\nimprisoned him at Trifels.\n\nFor a long time no one except his jailers knew where the King of England\nwas. Berengaria, who had seen a jeweled belt of Richard's on sale at\nRome, knew that some misfortune had happened to him, and she and his\nmother, Eleanor, were wild with anxiety.\n\n[Illustration: \"There for months he was kept a close prisoner, loaded\nwith chains\"]\n\nFinally, Blondel de Nesle, the minstrel friend, who had been with\nRichard on the Crusade, journeyed through Germany, looking for his lost\nking. One day, beneath the walls of a castle where he had heard that a\nprisoner of rank was held captive, Blondel halted and sang a verse of\na song that he and Richard had composed together:--\n\n    \"Your beauty, ladye faire,\n    None views without delight,\n    But still so cold an air\n    No passion can excite;\n    Yet this I patient see,\n    While _all_ are shunned like me.\"\n\nInstantly the king's well-known voice took up the strain and sang the\nnext stanza:--\n\n    \"No nymph my heart can wound\n    If favor she divide\n    And smile on all around,\n    Unwilling to decide;\n    I'd rather hatred bear,\n    Than love with others share!\"\n\nThen the overjoyed Blondel hastened back to England, and told the queen\nand people of Richard's sad plight and his place of imprisonment.\n\nBerengaria and Eleanor immediately besought the emperor to release\nRichard, and also implored the intercession of the Pope and the\nsovereigns of Europe. The emperor was at last compelled to bring Richard\nbefore the council of the empire. To these princes and lords he accused\nthe king of many crimes, among them the murder of Conrade. Richard\ndefended himself with so much force and eloquence that these groundless\ncharges were dropped; but the emperor still refused to liberate his\nprisoner, except upon payment of a ransom of one hundred and fifty\nthousand marks,--nearly a million dollars.\n\nThe people of England, who loved their heroic king, gladly raised this\nlarge sum; and in 1194, Eleanor journeyed to Germany, paid the ransom,\nand had the happiness of seeing her son set at liberty. She accompanied\nher beloved Richard to England, where he was received most joyfully.\nAfter being crowned again in Westminster, the king made a royal progress\nthrough the kingdom. Those nobles who had joined in the rebellion of\nJohn were called to account; but on profession of repentance, all were\ngenerously pardoned. Richard then set out for Normandy to subdue John,\nwho had fled to that country on receiving King Philip's warning message\nafter Richard's release, \"Look to yourself; the Devil is unchained.\"\n\nBut the craven John dared not battle against Coeur-de-Lion. He came to\nmeet Richard, and, falling at his feet, implored pardon. The king,\nstretching out his hand to the penitent, said,--\n\n\"Arise, John, I forgive thee; and may I forget thy misdeeds as quickly\nas thou wilt my pardon.\"\n\nNow, Richard fell in with evil companions in Anjou and lived a very\ndissipated life. But at length some good priests moved him to\nrepentance, and he forsook his evil ways and joined his good Queen\nBerengaria, whom he had not seen since his release, though she was at\nPoictiers. Berengaria readily forgave his neglect, and, if we may\nbelieve a friendly chronicler, Richard was ever afterwards faithful and\nkind to her.\n\nThe ill-will that had always existed between Richard and the King of\nFrance now led to constant petty wars between them. To secure his Norman\nprovince, Richard built on its border a splendid fortress, which he\ncalled his Chateau Gaillard,--\"Saucy Castle.\" Amazed and enraged at the\nwonderful strength of this stronghold, perched on a rocky mount five\nhundred feet high, the French king exclaimed,--\n\n\"I would take it if its walls were of iron!\"\n\nRichard, with all of his old insolence, retorted, \"And I would hold it,\nwere its walls of butter!\"\n\nBut the final struggle that both kings were planning never took place.\n\nRichard, who was in much need of money for his army, heard that a\nvassal of his had found a hidden treasure of great value, including\ntwelve gold knights seated around a golden table. This Vidomar, Lord of\nChaluz, when Richard demanded that, according to law, he share the\ntreasure with his lord the king, replied that nothing had been found\nexcept a pot of ancient coins. The king did not believe this story, and\nset siege to the castle of Chaluz, determined to obtain the golden\nknights. There Richard was struck down by an arrow from the bow of\nBertrand de Gourdan, a nobleman of Poictiers. The wound proved to be a\nmortal one. The king, when assured that he was dying, sent for Bertrand,\nfor the castle had meanwhile been taken and the knight captured.\n\n\"Wretch,\" said the dying king, \"what have I done to thee that thou\nshouldst attempt my life?\"\n\n\"Thou hast had my father and two brothers put to death, and hast\nthreatened to slay me,\" replied the undaunted youth. The prostrate king,\nlooking at him in silence a moment, said,--\n\n\"I forgive thee.\" Then turning to his captain, Richard added, \"Let his\nchains be removed, set him free, and give him a hundred shillings.\"\n\nThis act of noble forgiveness was the last deed of the erring but\ngreat-hearted king.\n\nThe death so often defied on the battlefield, Richard met calmly, with\nthe courage that had never failed him in life,--that splendid courage\nwhich won for him the heroic title of Lionheart.\n\n\n\n\nRICHARD'S LAMENT\n\n\n    No captive knight, whom chains confine,\n    Can tell his fate and not repine;\n    Yet with a song he cheers the gloom\n    That hangs around his living tomb.\n    Shame to his friends!--the king remains\n    Two years unransomed and in chains.\n\n    Now let them know, my brave barons,\n    My English, Normans, and Gascons,\n    Not one liege-man so poor have I,\n    That I would not his freedom buy.\n    I'll not reproach their noble line,\n    Though chains and dungeon still are mine.\n\n    The dead,--nor friends nor kin have they!\n    Nor friends nor kin my ransom pay!\n    My wrongs afflict me--yet far more\n    For faithless friends my heart is sore.\n    Oh, what a blot upon their name,\n    If I should perish thus in shame!\n\n    Nor is it strange I suffer pain\n    When sacred oaths are thus made vain,\n    And when the king with bloody hands\n    Spreads war and pillage through my lands.\n    One only solace now remains--\n    I soon shall burst these servile chains.\n\n    Ye troubadours and friends of mine,\n    Brave Chail and noble Pensauvine,\n    Go tell my rivals, in your song,\n    This heart hath never done them wrong.\n    He infamy--not glory--gains,\n    Who strikes a monarch in his chains!\n\n    _Written by Richard I. while prisoner in Germany._\n\n    (_From_ SPOFFORD'S _Library of Historic\n    Character and Famous Events_.)\n\n\n\n\nTHE LAST CRUSADER\n\n\n    Slowly The Last Crusader eyed\n    The towers, the mount, the stream, the plain,\n    And thought of those whose blood had dyed\n    The earth with crimson streams in vain!\n\n    He thought of that sublime array,\n    The hosts, that over land and deep\n    The hermit marshall'd on their way,\n    To see those towers, and halt to weep!\n\n    Resign'd the loved, familiar lands,\n    O'er burning wastes the cross to bear,\n    And rescue from the Paynim's hands\n    No empire save a sepulchre!\n\n    And vain the hope, and vain the loss,\n    And vain the famine and the strife;\n    In vain the faith that bore the cross,\n    The valour prodigal of life.\n\n    And vain was Richard's lion-soul,\n    And guileless Godfrey's patient mind--\n    Like waves on shore, they reach'd the goal,\n    To die, and leave no trace behind!\n\n    \"O God!\" The Last Crusader cried,\n    \"And art Thou careless of Thine own?\n    For us Thy Son in Salem died,\n    And Salem is the scoffer's throne!\n\n    \"And shall we leave, from age to age,\n    To godless hands the holy tomb?\n    Against Thy saints the heathen rage--\n    Launch forth Thy lightnings, and consume!\"\n\n    Swift as he spoke, before his sight\n    A form flashed, white-robed, from above;\n    All Heaven was in those looks of light,\n    But Heaven, whose native air is love.\n\n    \"Alas!\" the solemn vision said,\n    \"_Thy_ God is of the shield and spear--\n    To bless the quick and raise the dead,\n    The Saviour-God descended here!\n\n    \"Ah! know'st thou not the very name\n    Of Salem bids thy carnage cease--\n    A symbol in itself to claim\n    God's people to a house of peace!\n\n    \"Ask not the Father to reward\n    The hearts that seek, through blood, the Son;\n    O warrior! never by the sword\n    The Saviour's Holy Land is won.\"\n\n    EDWARD BULWER LYTTON\n\n\n    Deep is the bliss of the belted knight,\n    When he kisses at dawn the silken glove,\n    And goes, in his glittering armour dight,\n    To shiver a lance for his ladye-love!\n\n    Lightly he couches the beaming spear;\n    His mistress sits with her maidens by,\n    Watching the speed of his swift career\n    With a whispered prayer, and a murmured sigh.\n\n    WINTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE CHEVALIER BAYARD\n\n   \"_The Adopted Son of Dame Courtesy_\"\n   _and_\n   \"_Le Chevalier sans Peur et sans Reproche._\"\n\n\n\"Bayard was perhaps the only hero of the middle ages who deserved the\nunmingled praise and admiration bestowed upon him. Simple, modest, a\nsterling friend and tender lover, pious, humane, and magnanimous, he\nheld together in rare symmetrical union the whole circle of the\nvirtues.\"\n\n\n\nTHE CHEVALIER BAYARD\n\nPIERRE BAYARD DE TERRAIL (1476-1523 A. D.)\n\n\nIn the reign of Louis XI. there was born in southern France a little\ndark-eyed boy who was destined to be known in all subsequent ages and in\nall climes as \"the knight without fear and without reproach.\" Pierre\nBayard de Terrail was his real name, but in song and story and history\nwe know him as \"The Chevalier Bayard.\"\n\nBayard was of gentle birth, and had the good fortune to be descended\nfrom a long line of valiant gentlemen who ever held king and country\ndearer than self, and honor a thing to die for. He also had a good and\npious mother. If to his knightly forefathers he owed his fearlessness,\nit is an everlasting monument to his mother's influence that he lived\nwithout reproach.\n\nHe first saw the light in the beautiful Chateau Bayard, in Dauphiny.\nHere he spent his boyhood much as other little boys of his time spent\ntheirs, and soon developed into a sturdy youth.\n\nWhen Bayard attained his fourteenth year, his father, then nearing\ndeath, called his children around him, and asked each what profession he\nwished to choose. The eldest boy spoke first, and said that he preferred\nto remain on his father's estates, leading the life of a quiet country\ngentleman. But the young Pierre was more ambitious. When it came his\nturn to speak, he told his father that there was nothing he so much\ndesired as to become a soldier and a knight, and to win glory and honor\nto the name already made illustrious by his noble ancestors.\n\nHis father was much pleased with Pierre's choice, and answered,--\n\n\"My son, thou art already very like thy noble grandfather, and I am\nrejoiced that thou shouldst choose to follow in his footsteps. I shall\ntry immediately to place thee as page in the house of some prince, where\nthou canst be in training for knighthood.\"\n\nThe father lost no time in fulfilling his promise. The very next day he\nsent for his brother-in-law, the Bishop of Grenoble, to ask his advice\nabout Pierre.\n\nThe good bishop came, attended by many noble knights, and a great\nbanquet was prepared in his honor.\n\nNow, in days of chivalry, a boy's dress and manners were considered of\nno slight importance. Indeed, most of his early training was especially\ndesigned to give him ease and grace in the company of great ladies and\ngentlemen. As may be easily imagined, the little Pierre's education had\nnot been neglected. He did not fail to array himself in a manner\nbefitting the occasion; and at the banquet he served his father's guests\nwith so much modesty and grace that he drew forth praise from all the\ncompany.\n\nThe gratified father then told them of Pierre's ambition to become a\nknight, and asked their advice about his education.\n\nEach gave his friendly counsel, and then the Bishop of Grenoble said,--\n\n\"Brother, the good Duke of Savoy, who hath ever been friendly to our\nhouse, will be at Chambery to-morrow; and if it please thee, I will ride\nthither with my nephew and present him as page to his Grace. I will also\ntake pleasure in equipping the lad properly, so be at no expense.\"\n\nAmid the applause of the company, Aymond Terrail presented his son to\nthe good bishop, and said with tears in his eyes,--\n\n\"I give him into thy hands, and pray God that wherever thou place him,\nhe may do thee honor.\"\n\nThe bishop, true to his promise, provided his nephew with an outfit, and\ngave him a well-caparisoned horse. Then they made ready to go to\nChambery to meet the Duke of Savoy.\n\nIt was with no little interest that the bishop and his friends watched\nthe young page mount his new steed, for it was a mettlesome one, and\nused only to a man's weight. When Pierre bounded into the saddle, the\nhorse reared and plunged; but the boy kept his seat, and soon, with the\naid of bit and spur, had the animal under complete control. The guests\npraised him greatly, and his father asked him if he felt no fear.\n\n\"I hope,\" answered the young Pierre, \"by God's help, to manage my horse\namong the enemies of the prince I am going to serve.\"\n\nThen he bade farewell to father and mother and to home and childhood,\nand went forth to enter upon a chivalric career.\n\nArrived at Chambery, the bishop and his company were graciously received\nby the Duke of Savoy. The duke maintained a brilliant court, and was\nalways the faithful ally of France. He invited the uncle and nephew to\ndine with him, and again Pierre's graceful manners commended him to the\nnotice of his elders. The duke was gracious enough to notice him\nespecially, and asked who the boy was.\n\n\"Sir,\" said the bishop, \"it is my nephew, Pierre de Terrail, whom I have\nbrought to present to thee if thou shouldst like to have his services.\"\n\n\"I accept him at once,\" answered the duke. \"I should indeed be hard to\nplease if I declined such a gift.\"\n\nSo it was that Pierre became attached to the household of Savoy. He\nremained in the duke's service for some time, and easily surpassed his\nfellow pages in all the knightly exercises in which they were being\ntrained. Yet with all his prowess he was so modest and so manly that he\nexcited no envy among his companions, and the duke and duchess came to\nlove him as if he were their own son.\n\nPierre's chivalric traits won to him the hearts of his fellows and his\npatrons; but it was perhaps his personal beauty and his charm of manner\nthat went furthest toward winning him yet another love--a love that he\nvalued more than all others. There was in the train of the good duchess\na little maid of honor, whose heart soon went out to the handsome youth.\nAt service in the same palace, the two saw much of each other, and soon\nPierre had no eyes for any maid but this one.\n\nThe little coquette did not fail to make Pierre quite miserable by\nrepelling his attentions for a time, when she saw that she had won him;\nbut at length, one day, while not in waiting on her mistress, she was\ncaptured by the little page, and made to listen to the story of his\nlove.\n\n\"I am going to make myself a great knight some day,\" he declared with\nthe pride and faith of youth, \"and then I am coming back for thee, and\nwe shall be married.\"\n\n\"Alas,\" cried the damsel, now quite as earnest as he, \"thou art of an\nillustrious house, and canst marry some great lady who can advance thee\nin the world. I am but a poor maid, and if I accept thy love, I destroy\nthy hopes.\"\n\n\"What care I for that?\" cried the impatient lover. \"The question is,\ndost thou _love_ me.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" she whispered.\n\n\"Then I shall not give thee up,\" he declared, \"and I shall tell the\nduchess all about it.\"\n\nThe maid was more worldly wise than he, however, and insisted that for\nthe time they should be only friends. Shortly after this a change took\nplace in Pierre's affairs,--a change which was to separate him for years\nfrom the maid he loved.\n\nThe young page had been with the house of Savoy only six months when it\npleased the duke to pay a visit to King Charles VIII. of France. The\nking had moved his court to Lyons--a beautiful city in southeastern\nFrance--and was holding high revel there. When Charles heard of the\napproach of his friend and ally, the Duke of Savoy, he sent the Count of\nLigny with a number of attendants to meet him. These met the duke at a\nplace about two leagues from Lyons, and welcomed him heartily in the\nname of the King of France.\n\nNow Pierre was in close attendance on his master, and the Count of Ligny\nat once noticed him and remarked to the duke on his good horsemanship.\n\nThe duke, much pleased, explained who the boy was, and then called out\nto him,--\n\n\"Spur, Bayard, spur!\"\n\nWithout waiting for explanations, Bayard obeyed his master, returning\nfrom his run with his horse completely under control. Afterwards,\nPierre's fine horsemanship won for him the nickname \"Piquet\"--a spur.\n\nThe count was surprised and charmed, and told the duke that the King of\nFrance would be glad to have the boy in his service.\n\nThrough the influence of Ligny, the youth was brought to the notice of\nKing Charles; and the king was so charmed with his manners and his\nhorsemanship that he at once persuaded the Duke of Savoy to permit the\nboy to be transferred to the royal service.\n\nThe good duke granted the king's request, for he knew it would be a\ngreat advancement for the lad; and Pierre was placed under the Count of\nLigny for training.\n\nThough Pierre loved the Duke of Savoy, he was very glad of this change\nin his own fortunes; for he had all the romantic devotion to king and\ncountry that chivalry was wont to implant in the hearts of men, and he\nwas first, last, and always a true Frenchman.\n\nThe next several years of Pierre's life were spent in service as page to\nLigny; after which the count made him a man-at-arms in his own company\nand a gentleman of his household. This meant that the page, Pierre, had\nbecome a knight, and was thenceforth to be known as \"the Chevalier\nBayard.\"\n\nBayard's first exploit as a knight was to challenge and meet in\ntournament the invincible Lord of Vaudray. The young chevalier was then\nonly seventeen years of age, and was weak and delicate in appearance,\nwhile his opponent was reckoned one of the most powerful knights of the\ntime.\n\nWhen the combatants entered the lists, it was easy to be seen that the\nyellow-haired, black-eyed knight of seventeen was the one on whom every\nlady's glance was bent. Men watched him too, but not on account of his\ngood looks; they had laughed at him scornfully when he presumed to\nstrike in challenge the shield of the celebrated Vaudray, and they now\nlooked to see him ignobly defeated.\n\nTo the astonishment of all, however, Bayard won the day. The men said\nthat he was too bold for one so young; but \"the ladies praised him\nenthusiastically,\" and the king exclaimed to Ligny,--\n\n\"By my faith, cousin, he hath given us to-day a foretaste of what he\nwill be as a man!\"\n\nThe next several years of the young knight's life were spent in training\nfor the stern services of war. He failed in nothing that he conceived it\nhis duty to perform, and he neglected nothing that he felt would tend\nto his own development, for he bore always in his heart the admonition\nof the king he so reverenced: \"Piquet, my friend, may God develop in\nthee that fearless manhood which thy noble youth so graciously\npromises.\"\n\nAt this time Italy was not under one government, but was separated into\nsix great divisions--the Duchy of Milan, the Kingdom of Naples, the\nKingdom of Piedmont, the Republics of Venice and Florence, and the Papal\nStates. There were also several petty states which were always more or\nless dependent on some one of the greater powers. Unfortunately for\nthemselves, there was little sympathy or unity among the Italian States;\nand the nations around were constantly stirring up strife between them,\nor invading the peninsula for the sake of conquest. So it was that for a\nlong time Italy was the field on which the contests of Europe were\nwaged.\n\nIt was during this period--when the French, the Spanish, the Germans,\nand the Italian States were variously pitted against one another, and\nvariously allied--that Bayard made his name forever an emblem of\nchivalry. In those days \"king\" stood for \"country\" in the mind of the\nloyal knight; and in following his king on whatever fantastic campaign,\nBayard believed that he was only performing his sacred duty to his\nbeloved France.\n\nHe served successively under three sovereigns--Charles VIII., Louis\nXII., and Francis I.,--and distinguished himself in Italy, Spain, and\nFrance, holding his own against Italian, Spaniard, German, and Briton\nalike.\n\n\"I hope one day to be worthy the name of soldier,\" was the chevalier's\nmodest, yet truly exalted, ambition; and he proved unquestionably his\nright to the title in his very first campaign. Bayard's first service\nwas with Charles VIII., when that king invaded Italy and conquered the\nKingdom of Naples.\n\nThe young chevalier, though then only eighteen years of age, and slender\nand boyish in appearance, soon became the admiration of even old and\nexperienced warriors. Wherever there was hottest fighting--wherever\nthere was greatest danger--there was this black-eyed, fair-haired youth.\nAnd there was hardly an engagement with the enemy which was not\nsignalized by some brilliant feat of the young knight's.\n\nAfter conquering the Kingdom of Naples and leaving there the larger part\nof the French army to maintain his sovereignty, King Charles returned\nto France at the head of only a small force. But his exodus from Italy\nwas not so easy as his invasion into that country had been. The Pope,\nthe Doge of Venice, the Duke of Milan, and other Italian princes, had\nformed a league against the ambitious Charles, and had gathered a large\narmy in northern Italy to cut off his return to France.\n\nAs King Charles advanced to within a few miles of Fornovo, the allies\nunexpectedly descended on him with a force six times as great as his\nown, and a bloody battle ensued. The plan of the allies was to destroy\nthe French army and take King Charles prisoner. So anxious were they to\nmake the king their captive that they offered a prize of a hundred\nthousand ducats to the man who would bring him, dead or alive, to their\ncamp.\n\nBut the annihilation of the French army and the capture of King Charles\nwere not such light tasks as the allies had expected. The little band\nmet their all but overwhelming onset with a stubborn resistance that was\nwonderful to behold. By charge and counter-charge the field was\ncontested, and victory still hung in the balance when suddenly out of\nthe French ranks rode a fair-haired boy knight, calling on his company\nto follow him. Instantly his men caught the infection of his wild\ndaring, and in the face of almost certain death they swept to the charge\nwith the dashing Bayard.\n\n\"A greyhound for attack, and a wild boar in defence,\" Bayard fell upon\nthe enemies of his king with such splendid courage that none whom he met\ncould withstand his prowess.\n\nTwo horses were killed under him, but he mounted a third, and, dashing\nalone into the thickest of the fight, captured an ensign from fifty\nmen-at-arms.\n\nThanks to the valor of such knights as Bayard, the French gained a\nsignal victory, laying low in the dust full as many men as King Charles\nhad led to Fornovo.\n\nAfter several more encounters with the allies, in which Bayard won added\nlaurels, the king led his much-diminished army back to France.\n\nShortly after this campaign Charles VIII. died, and was succeeded on the\nthrone by Louis XII.\n\nThe new king busied himself with the internal affairs of state; and\nBayard, whose business was that of a soldier merely, was for awhile left\nfree to do as he chose. He accordingly occupied the time in visiting\nfriends in Savoy. The good Duke of Savoy was now dead; but the duchess\nreceived the chevalier at her court with her oldtime friendliness.\n\nHere for a second time Bayard met the love of his boyhood. But alas for\nhim! she had become the wife of the Lord of Fluxas.\n\nWhen the two met, the lady received Bayard with every sign of\nfriendship. She praised him greatly for the noble part he had borne in\nthe king's service--for all France had heard of the chevalier's great\ndeeds in Italy--and then they talked over their youthful love-affair.\n\nIn the course of his stay, the Lady Fluxas asked Bayard to give a\ntournament, for she very much wished to see him engage in some of the\nknightly exercises in which he had become distinguished.\n\nThe chevalier was delighted to comply with her request, and promised\nthat the tournament should be arranged to take place in a very short\nwhile; then, kissing the hand of his fair sponsor, he asked for one of\nher sleeves. When the lady gave him the favor he treasured it carefully,\nintending that it should be the victor's prize in the coming joust.\n\nThe tournament was held in good time, some fifteen gallant gentlemen\ntaking part and acquitting themselves much to the satisfaction of the\nlady for whose amusement the entertainment had been devised.\n\nWhen the trial at arms was ended, the duchess bade the Lord of Fluxas\ninvite the combatants and the judges and a number of ladies to sup with\nher. According to her wishes, the judges reserved their decision until\nthe guests were gathered about the table that evening.\n\nAs every one expected, the prize was awarded to Bayard. The chevalier\nblushed and declined to take it, saying further that the lady who had\nprovided the sleeve should be the one to bestow it.\n\nAs the giver of the tournament, Bayard was, in a sense, the host of\nthose who accepted the challenge; and it was very like his extreme\ncourteousness to decline to carry off the prize from them, however much\nhe may have wished in his heart to possess this particular lady's favor.\n\nLady Fluxas, thus called upon to make the decision, paused a moment,\nthen said she would keep the sleeve herself \"for the sake of the\nvictor.\" She then gave a beautiful ruby pendant to the Lord of\nMondragon, who, next to Bayard, had been the most successful in the\ncombat.\n\nHowever much the chevalier's heart may have inclined him to linger near\nthe home of the lady he still loved, his stern sense of duty soon\nsummoned him away. News had come to King Louis that the people of Milan,\nwho owed fealty to the French king, had revolted, and made Ludovic\nSforza their duke.\n\nOn hearing this, the king at once despatched the Count of Ligny with a\nlarge force to besiege the disloyal city. Bayard, as a member of Ligny's\ncompany, went of course with his commander.\n\nThe French had been encamped before Milan for some time, when one day\nBayard learned from a spy that three hundred horse of the Milanese were\nat the little town of Binasco; and, always on the lookout for a skirmish\nwith the enemy, he persuaded about fifty of his companions to join him\nin a descent upon that town. They set off early the next morning, but\nthe Milanese learned of the intended surprise, and were ready for them.\n\nWith the cry, \"France! France!\" the chevalier and his companions flung\nthemselves upon the whole three hundred; but the Milanese were no\ncowards, and for one hour they withstood even the firebrand impetuosity\nof Bayard himself. They were not many who could stand so long before\nBayard. At length the knight, impatient at this stubborn resistance,\ncried out to his fellows--\n\n\"What, my comrades! shall we let these few keep us fighting all day?\nCourage! Let us multiply our strokes and give wings to their feet!\"\n\nAt the sound of his deep voice the French rushed to the attack again,\nand with such enthusiasm that the enemy wavered--fell back--then fled,\npell-mell, toward Milan. The victors followed in hot pursuit, with the\npeerless knight far in the lead.\n\nThe fugitives reached Milan scarcely ahead of their pursuers, and\nthundered in through the gate. One of the leaders of the French, seeing\nthe danger into which he and his companions were rushing, cried out just\nin time,--\n\n\"Turn, men-at-arms, turn!\"\n\nThe order was obeyed by all except Bayard, who had ears for nothing but\nhis own battle-cry, and eyes only for the enemy. Right into the heart\nof the city, nay, up to the very steps of the duke's palace, he chased\nthe flying Milanese; then he suddenly found himself surrounded by an\nangry populace, who, when they saw the white crosses of France upon him,\ncried,--\n\n\"Seize him! Seize him!\"\n\nHe was soon disarmed and taken prisoner by the commander he had just\npursued from Binasco. When Cazache--for such was the Milanese captain's\nname--got his enemy thus in his power, he did not, as might be supposed,\nwreak any petty vengeance on the head of the chevalier. He treated\nBayard as a soldier and a gentleman, and by so doing evinced a\nchivalrous spirit close akin to the chevalier's own.\n\nLudovic, Duke of Milan, hearing the uproar before the palace, asked the\ncause thereof, and was soon told that the Milanese at Binasco had been\ndefeated, and that a young chevalier had pursued Cazache and his company\nto the very palace door.\n\n\"By my sword, but I'd like to see this daring Frenchman!\" roared the\nduke. \"Captain, fetch the prisoner hither.\"\n\nCazache obeyed in fear and trembling for his captive. The captain--a\ngenerous-hearted fellow--had conceived a deep admiration for Bayard, and\nhe feared for the chevalier's head; for Duke Ludovic was of a most\nuncertain temperament.\n\nWhen, however, he ushered the knight before the duke, Cazache realized\nthat his fears were groundless. Instead of flying into a fury, as he\ntoo often did, Ludovic surveyed the handsome figure of the captive and\nsaid, not unkindly,\n\n\"My brave young gentleman, come hither and tell me what brought thee to\nMilan.\"\n\nBayard was used to surprises, and answered frankly--\n\n\"I came in the footsteps of some of thy men for a little adventure. I\ndid not know that I was alone, for I thought my comrades were close\nbehind me. They are wiser in the ways of war than I, or they too would\nhave been captured. In the mean time, I thank God that I have fallen\ninto such good hands; and I do assure thee that if anything could make\ncaptivity pleasant to me, it would be such treatment as I have received\nfrom this good captain.\"\n\nThe duke smiled kindly, and then asked him the number in the French\narmy.\n\n\"Sir,\" replied the knight, truthfully, \"there are not more than fourteen\nor fifteen hundred men-at-arms, and from sixteen to eighteen thousand\nfoot-soldiers; but they are all picked men, and are resolved to win back\nthe Duchy of Milan to the king, their master. As for thee, sir, let me\nwarn thee that thou wilt be safer in Germany than in this city.\"\n\nInstead of being incensed by Bayard's frankness, Ludovic answered him in\nthe same friendly strain, and assured him that there was nothing he so\nmuch desired as an encounter between his own and the king's troops.\nBayard replied that such an event would be a great pleasure to himself\nalso, provided he were not in prison.\n\n\"Do not let that trouble thee,\" replied the duke, \"for I intend to set\nthee free. If there is anything else thou desirest of me, thou hast only\nto ask it.\"\n\nThis unexpected kindness on the part of Ludovic took the knight\ncompletely by surprise. Up to that time he had stood before his enemy\nproud and erect; but when Ludovic announced his generous intention\ntoward him, the young knight sank on his knee to thank him.\n\n\"Sir,\" said he, \"the greatest favor thou canst grant me is to restore my\narms and my horse, and allow me a guide to the French garrison.\" He\npaused a moment and then added earnestly, \"Believe me, sir, I shall\nalways be ready to serve thee, if I can do so in honor to my king and to\nmy country.\" And after again thanking the duke for his generosity, the\nyoung knight rode away with the promised guide.\n\nWhen Bayard arrived at the French camp, the Count of Ligny was\nastonished and overjoyed to see him, for all had heard of Bayard's\nsolitary descent on Milan and his consequent capture.\n\n\"What, Piquet!\" exclaimed the count, \"thou out of prison! How didst thou\npay thy ransom? I was about to send a herald to pay it, and bring thee\nback.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" replied the knight, \"I thank thee most sincerely, but Ludovic\nSforza hath spared thee the trouble, and in doing so, he hath proved\nhimself a rival in courtesy and generosity even to thyself--he hath made\nme a present of my freedom, and provided me with a guide hither.\"\n\nMilan afterwards fell into the hands of the king, but Bayard was not\nable to return the great kindness Ludovic had shown to him.\n\nAfter conquering Milan, King Louis turned his attention to the Kingdom\nof Naples, which had, during the last days of Charles VIII., thrown off\nthe yoke of France and raised a Spanish prince to the throne.\n\nBayard counted it great good fortune to be allowed to go on the\nexpedition sent by the king into Naples; and there he performed such\nwonderful feats of arms that the Spanish allies of the Neapolitans\ndeclared him to be a devil instead of a man. It was, indeed, through no\nfault of Bayard's that the French ultimately lost Naples.\n\nThe fame of Bayard's exploits spread. The Pope, a bitter enemy to the\nKing of France, sent for the chevalier, and tried to persuade him to\nrenounce the service of King Louis for that of the States of the Church.\nIn order to make his proposition exceedingly tempting, the Pontiff\noffered to load the knight with riches and honors, and make him\nCaptain-General of the Church. To all this Bayard gave the simple,\nearnest answer,--\n\n\"I have but one master in heaven,--God,--and one upon earth,--the King\nof France.\"\n\nOnce, while the good Duke of Nemours commanded the French army in Italy,\nhe and several of his officers had occasion to spend a few days in the\nlittle town of Carpi. While there, they were hospitably entertained by\nthe Count of Carpi, who provided many amusements for them. For their\ndiversion, the count one day caused an astrologer--a little withered\nblack man--to appear at court, and read the future for the distinguished\nguests.\n\nThe astrologer came, and astonished all by the accuracy with which he\nrelated past events in their lives. Then he told them that on the next\nGood Friday or Easter Day the French and Spanish armies would come\ntogether in a battle which would be one of the bloodiest ever fought. He\nsaid that the victory would remain with the French, but that it would be\nbought with the best blood of France. And he said to Bayard, privately,\n\n\"Your prince\"--meaning the Duke of Nemours--\"seems very dear to you; be\nnear him on the day of battle. I see that he is threatened with a sad\nfate.\"\n\nBayard had little faith in the seer's powers, and laughed when it came\nhis turn to question the mystic; however, it was amusement for the\ncompany.\n\n\"My master,\" he said with a twinkle in his eye, \"shall I ever be a man\nof consequence? And shall I become rich?\"\n\nThe astrologer looked at him sharply and answered,\n\n\"Thou wilt be richer in noble qualities than ever French gentleman was\nbefore thee, but thou wilt have few of fortune's goods. Thou wilt serve\nyet another king of France, who will love and esteem thee much; but the\nenvy of those about him will prevent his bestowing on thee the wealth\nand honors thou wilt so richly deserve.\"\n\n\"But,\" asked Bayard, \"shall I escape from this bloody battle thou hast\npredicted?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" answered the seer; \"but twelve years hence thou wilt die in\nbattle of an arquebuse-shot,--in no other way, for thy soldiers do so\nadore thee that they would die to the last man to save thee.\"\n\nIt chanced that in the fortunes of war the French once captured and held\nfor a long time the beautiful Italian town of Brescia. This city was in\ntime recaptured by the Venetians, to whom it had first belonged, and\nagain possessed by the French,--albeit, at the cost of many valuable\nlives.\n\nAt this retaking of Brescia by the French, Bayard again distinguished\nhimself. The first skirmish before the town was won by the chevalier,\nwho was so eager to attack that he went into battle in his\nnight-clothes.\n\nWhen the time came for a general assault, the question arose as to whom\nshould put himself in front, at the mercy of the enemy's arquebuses.\n\n\"I will,\" responded Bayard to the Duke of Nemours's question; \"and I\npromise thee that the company I command will do good service to the\nking, our master.\"\n\nThis was no idle boast, for Bayard's company was composed of picked\nmen, the greater number of whom had been commanders themselves, but who\npreferred the honor of serving under the noted chevalier to leading\ncompanies of their own.\n\nSo it was arranged that the chevalier and his company should open battle\nby storming the first fort that protected Brescia. A better selection\ncould not have been made, for the very name of Bayard had become a\nterror to the enemies of France.\n\nWhen the Venetian commander saw who was leading the assault, he cried\nout to encourage his men,--\n\n\"Hold fast, comrades! If this _Bayard_ but be defeated, all the rest\nwill be easy.\"\n\nBut Bayard was not defeated. The splendid charge of his company was met\nwith a blinding storm of shot from the Venetian guns, but not a man gave\nback. Right up to the cannon they charged, shouting in the face of the\nfire--\"France! France!\"--but the cry was changed to \"_Bayard_!\n_Bayard!_\" as the chevalier leaped the ramparts, crying,\n\n\"Follow me!\"\n\nAnd they did follow.\n\nOnly for an instant Bayard's tall form was seen in the thick of his\nenemies, his black eyes blazing with the fire of battle. The next moment\nhe fell, face downward, in the struggling mass, with a Venetian pike\nthrust through his thigh.\n\nWhen word was carried to the Duke of Nemours that Bayard had fallen, he\nexclaimed,--\n\n\"Let us go, my friends and comrades, and avenge the death of the most\naccomplished knight that ever lived.\" And they swept forward with the\nbrave duke, completing the victory that Bayard had so well begun. The\nVenetian loss in this battle exceeded twenty thousand, while the French\nloss was less than fifty men.\n\nWhen the French occupied the town, they gave themselves over to all\nkinds of excesses, perpetrating atrocious cruelties on defenceless women\nand children, and pillaging convents and churches for their riches.\n\nThe soldiers in those days were, in the main, rough and brutal men; but\nthere were always among them many knightly gentlemen, who never failed\nto use their utmost power to protect the defenceless. Such a gentleman\nwas Bayard, and he was never known to allow cruelties where it was in\nhis power to prevent them. But--alas for the wretched city--the knight\nwithout reproach was now helpless!\n\nHaving been mortally wounded, as all supposed, the chevalier was carried\nby two of his men to a large mansion within the town, that he might\nreceive needed attention.\n\nThe Brescian citizen who owned the house had fled upon the entry of the\nFrench, leaving his wife and two beautiful daughters alone and\nunprotected.\n\nNow when Bayard's men brought their wounded captain to the house, the\nlady herself opened the gate, and assisted the men in making the knight\ncomfortable. Bayard's first order to the two soldiers was that they\nstation themselves at the gate, and, on pain of death, admit no one save\nhis own men.\n\n\"I am sure,\" he said, \"that when they know I am lodged here, they will\nnot force a passage.\"\n\nWhen he had despatched his soldiers, the lady fell upon her knees at\nBayard's feet and said--\n\n\"Noble lord, this house and all that it contains is thine by the laws of\nwar; but I beseech thee, by the Holy Mother, to preserve the safety of\nmyself and my daughters.\"\n\n\"Madam,\" answered the almost fainting chevalier, \"I may not recover from\nthe wound I have received, but as long as I live neither thou nor thy\ndaughters shall sustain more injury than myself. I assure thee that no\none shall enter the house contrary to thy wish; and for myself, I\npromise thee all respect and friendship. But fetch me help, I pray thee,\nand that quickly!\"\n\nThe lady was much relieved by the knight's assuring words, and went\nherself, attended by one of his soldiers, and fetched a surgeon to him.\nWhen the Duke of Nemours learned where Bayard had been carried, and that\nhe still lived, he sent his own surgeon to attend him.\n\nAs soon as Bayard was sufficiently recovered to give the orders, he\ncaused the husband of his hostess to be sought out and conducted back in\nsafety to his home and family.\n\nFor six weeks the knight lay ill, and during that time he was the\nrecipient of many kindnesses from the members of the household. The\nladies were especially attentive, and spent many hours by his bedside,\nministering to his needs or amusing him. These days of convalescence\nwere pleasant indeed to the great-hearted man who had known so little of\nthe comforts of home and the tender ministrations of women. But he grew\nimpatient of his captivity when he heard that there was probability of\na fight between the French and a large army of Spanish then in northern\nItaly.\n\n\"Meseems that I am well,\" he said to his surgeon; \"and I assure thee\nthat biding here will harm me more than mend me, for I do most\ngrievously fret.\"\n\nThe surgeon knew him too well to doubt his word, so he taught Bayard's\nvalet how to dress the wound, which was now almost healed, and the\nknight made ready to rejoin his company.\n\nNow when the lady and her husband heard of Bayard's approaching\ndeparture they were much concerned lest the knight should demand at\nleast ten thousand ducats as a ransom for their property. The two\ndiscussed their dilemma earnestly, and decided that the lady should go\nto Bayard with twenty-five hundred ducats and beg him to be satisfied\nwith this sum. Accordingly, she took the gold and sought the knight's\npresence.\n\n\"My lord,\" she said, \"myself and family shall always thank God that it\npleased Him, in the midst of the horrors of war, to lead such a noble\nknight to our house for our protection. We shall ever remember that it\nis to thee we owe our all. Since thou camest among us, we have received\nnaught but kindness at thy hands. We are thy prisoners; the house, with\nits contents, is thine by right of conquest, but thou hast ever been so\ngraciously generous that I have come to beseech thee to have pity on us\nand be content with this little gift that I have the honor to offer\nthee.\"\n\nShe opened her coffer and showed its contents to Bayard, who smiled as\nhe asked,--\n\n\"How much is it, madam?\"\n\nThe lady, not knowing how little he valued riches and fearing he thought\nthe gift too small, said hastily--\n\n\"My lord, there are only twenty-five hundred ducats; but we will strive\nto make up the sum that thou desirest, if thou wilt mention it.\"\n\n\"Thou didst not understand me, lady,\" replied the knight. \"Thou hast\nalready paid me many times over, in kindnesses such as money cannot\npurchase. Keep thy gold; and remember that I am forever thy debtor, thy\nchampion, and thy friend.\"\n\nThe lady, much pleased and astonished at this unexpected reply, begged\nhim again to accept her gift.\n\n\"I shall be, indeed, a most unhappy woman,\" she declared, \"if thou\nrefuse it.\"\n\nBayard was too gallant to withstand a woman's pleadings, so he said--\n\n\"Since thou desirest it so much, lady, I yield.\" Then he requested her\nto send her daughters in.\n\nThe lady went to call the two damsels; and while she was gone, Bayard\ndivided the money into three lots,--two of one thousand ducats each and\none of five hundred.\n\nIn a little while the young girls came, and threw themselves on their\nknees before the knight; but he at once made them rise and be seated\nnear him. Then they too strove to express their gratitude to him, and\npromised to pray to God for him so long as they should live.\n\nBayard was much affected, and thanked them in turn for their kindly\nministrations. Then he said to them gently--\n\n\"Dear demoiselles, you know that fighting men are not ordinarily laden\nwith jewels and pretty things to present to ladies, but I have here a\nsum of money which your lady mother hath just compelled me to accept. I\ngive thee each a thousand ducats to form part of thy marriage portion.\"\n\nThe damsels would fain have declined his generous offer, but he would\nnot hear nay; and he said to their mother, who had once more entered--\n\n\"Madam, these five hundred ducats I leave to thee to distribute amongst\nthe convents that have suffered most from the pillage. And I must now\nmake ready to depart.\"\n\nAgain they fell on their knees, this time pressing his hands and weeping\nas if their hearts would break; and the mother exclaimed through her\ntears--\n\n\"Too generous knight, God alone can reward thee!\"\n\nThen, amid tears and farewells, he departed.\n\nOn leaving these good ladies, the knight took his way to the French\ncamp, where he was received with as much joy as if he were a\nreinforcement of ten thousand men.\n\nNow at that time the French were masters of the Duchy of Milan, in\nnorthern Italy, and the presence of the Spanish army in that part of the\ncountry was adjudged by Louis to be a constant menace to his interests\nthere. The king was in France, but his nephew, the Duke of Nemours,\ncommanded the French army in Italy.\n\nScarcely had Bayard arrived in camp, when Nemours determined to give\nbattle to the Spanish. All was soon astir in the French camps, in\npreparation; and Bayard and the duke were in high spirits.\n\nNemours admired the chevalier extravagantly. He was too truly great to\nbe envious of Bayard's fame, and nothing delighted him more than to hear\nthe knight's praises.\n\n\"My Lord Bayard,\" he said, shortly after the chevalier's arrival, \"I am\ntold that the Spanish fear thee more than they fear any other man on\nearth, and that they are constantly asking if thou art in camp. I wish\nthou wouldst go out and show thyself to them.\"\n\n\"By thy leave,\" answered the knight, laughing, \"I will pay them a little\nvisit to-morrow.\"\n\nOn the next morning, which was Good Friday, Bayard paid the \"little\nvisit\" he promised. He had a way of calling on his enemies very scantily\nattended, and this time he took with him a mere handful of men.\n\nThe two armies were encamped within a few miles of each other before the\ncity of Ravenna, which the Spaniards had undertaken to defend against\nKing Louis's forces.\n\nIt is needless to say that the Spanish were not expecting Bayard's\nvisit. They were in readiness, however, for another skirmishing party of\nFrench had descended upon them only an hour before. It seems that these\nearlier visitors were being badly worsted when the fearless knight\nappeared on the scene. In an instant the tide of victory turned. Bayard\nrallied the flying French and reversed the pursuit, chasing the\nSpaniards back to their garrison. Nor did he stop at that. Mindful of\nthe visit he had promised to make the enemy, he dashed into the midst of\ntheir camp, knocked down tents and pavilions, laid men flat to right and\nto left, and made good his escape before the Spanish had time to realize\nwhat was happening to them.\n\nWhen the laughing chevalier got back from his adventure, the Duke of\nNemours exclaimed in admiration--\n\n\"Thou art the man, Lord Bayard, for skirmishes. No one knows so well as\nthou dost either how to begin or how to end them. Thou art our master in\nthe art of war.\"\n\nTwo days later, on Easter Sunday, the French and Spanish met in the\nterrible battle of Ravenna,--one of the most cruel and bloody\nengagements in all history. The field remained to the French,--sixteen\nthousand out of an army of twenty thousand Spanish being slain or\ncaptured; but the victory was too dearly bought, for the \"best blood of\nFrance\" was the price paid for it.\n\nProbably the knight Bayard forgot the gloomy predictions of the\nastrologer of Carpi. He did not keep near the duke that day, but went\ndashing about wherever his venturesome spirit led, performing almost\nincredible feats of arms. But, alas! he came back from his last\nbrilliant charge to find the gallant Nemours dead on the field. The\nnoble duke had been fairly cut to pieces by the many strokes received in\nhis last brave stand against the enemy.\n\nIn the year 1513, Henry VIII., King of England, and Maximilian I. of\nGermany, invaded northern France and captured several towns. In the\nbeginning of this campaign occurred what is known as the \"Battle of\nSpurs;\" and this engagement is of special interest on account of\nBayard's part in it.\n\nThe English were investing the town of Terouana, in which there was\nalmost a famine.\n\nA French force under the Lord of Chabannes had been sent to the relief\nof the city, but it was found to be much too small to hurl against the\noutnumbering allies in open battle. Still was it imperative to revictual\nthe suffering town, so Chabannes decided on a difficult stratagem.\n\nA body of cavalry--under Bayard and others--was to feign an attack on\nthe besieging English, and then retreat rapidly, to draw the enemy in\npursuit, in order that other troops might take advantage of the\nconfusion, and provision the invested town.\n\nThis plan was put in execution; but the English and their German allies\nplayed their unconscious part in their adversaries' program so well that\nthey not only pursued the decoy cavalry, but fell upon other companies\nof French, throwing them into utter confusion.\n\nAs may be imagined, the seemingly ignoble flight of his cavalry was\ngalling to a spirit like Bayard's. To \"the knight without fear\" it was\nalmost impossible to refrain from fighting when an enemy was within\nstriking distance; and now, as had often been the case, his warlike\ninstinct got the better of his sense of obedience.\n\nHe was under orders not to fight, but to retreat at full speed when the\nenemy should give chase. The latter command he obeyed; the former might\nas well have been given to the storm. He would fly with his company\nawhile,--till his fiery spirit could no longer be curbed,--then he would\nwheel about and charge the pursuing English with such impetuous courage\nthat numbers would be compelled to fall back for an instant before his\nmatchless prowess.\n\nAt length the chevalier and his company reached a bridge which spanned a\nswift torrent. He could not resist the temptation of making a stand\nagainst the enemy, though he had a mere handful of men about him, so he\nwhirled his horse about and faced the foe. It mattered little how great\nwere the odds against him, for the spirit of battle possessed him. He\ngave one glance at the remnant that rallied to him, then said to a\nmessenger quickly,--\n\n\"Go tell my Lord of Chabannes that I will hold this bridge and whip them\nif he will but send me reinforcements.\"\n\nThe reinforcements did not come; but Bayard and his little company held\nthe bridge with sword and lance till they saw a large division of German\ntroops fording the stream in their rear. Seeing that they were thus\nsurrounded, and by overwhelming numbers, Bayard said to his men\ncheerily--\n\n\"Let us give ourselves up, comrades; further resistance were but a\nbootless sacrifice.\" Not the least noteworthy of Bayard's many fine\nqualities were his rare good sense and his cheerfulness under\nmisfortune. If he won, he enjoyed his victory; if he lost, he accepted\ndefeat like a philosopher.\n\nHis men now followed his advice, each surrendering to the nearest enemy.\n\nNow it chanced, in the confusion, that Bayard saw an exhausted German\nthrow himself down under a near-by tree and unbuckle his sword. In an\ninstant the chevalier sprang to him, snatched up the sword, and\npresented its point to the officer's throat.\n\n\"Surrender or die!\" he demanded of the astonished man-at-arms.\n\nNot caring to give up his life, the officer surrendered himself captive\nto the chevalier, saying,\n\n\"As I am without weapon, I render myself to thee. But tell me, pray, to\nwhom I have surrendered.\"\n\n\"To Captain Bayard,\" replied the chevalier, enjoying the joke, \"and I am\nin turn thy prisoner, by the result of this battle.\"\n\nSo saying, Bayard unbuckled his own sword and handed it to the fellow\nwith mock gravity.\n\nThe officer was mystified; but Bayard soon made him see the philosophy,\nif not the fun, of the situation, and the two marched off together to\nthe English camp--each captive to the other--each bearing the other's\nsurrendered sword.\n\nHere the chevalier remained for some days as prisoner to the man he had\ncaptured. But he soon tired of this restraint, and one morning said to\nhis captor with suspicious gravity--\n\n\"My worthy friend, I am beginning to tire of doing nothing. Thou wilt\noblige me much if thou wilt have me escorted to the camp of my king.\"\n\nThe other was astounded.\n\n\"What? eh?\" he exclaimed. \"But thou sayest nothing of thy ransom!\"\n\n\"Nor thou of thine,\" answered the knight, with a grave face. \"Art thou\nnot my prisoner and bound to obey me? I have thy word of surrender, and\nthou shalt keep it. If not, I shall challenge thee.\"\n\nHis captor hardly knew how to take this sally, or what answer to make to\nit. However, he did know that the last thing in the world he desired was\na duel with the invincible Bayard, so he said--\n\n\"Sir Captain, let us report our case to higher authority. I will abide\nby whatever decision is made.\"\n\nSo, according to agreement, the case was reported to the King of England\nand the Emperor Maximilian, who were in camp together. Bayard, who had\na witty mind and a ready tongue, laid the matter before their Majesties\nvery drolly; and the judgment rendered by them goes to show that even\ngreat princes can appreciate humorous situations. They agreed that as\nBayard and his captor-captive were prisoner each to the other, they were\n\"quits;\" and that Bayard should have the liberty of returning to his\ncommander without ransom. King Henry, however, stipulated that the\nknight should remain _en parole_ in Flanders for six weeks. Bayard\ncheerfully consented to the terms, and being \"le chevalier sans\nreproche,\" kept his promise to the letter.\n\nAfter this interview, the King of England secretly offered to take\nBayard into his own service, promising to load the knight with riches\nand honors if he would desert the cause of France and cast his fortunes\nwith the English.\n\nBayard answered the King of England as he had before answered the Pope\nof Rome,--\n\n\"I have but one master in heaven--God, and one upon earth--the King of\nFrance.\"\n\nOn the first of January, 1514, Louis XII. died. He was succeeded by\nFrancis I., who was then only twenty years of age.\n\nFrancis, like his predecessors, was haunted by the idea of his Italian\nrights, but was never able to maintain them for any great length of\ntime. One of his first acts of sovereignty was to raise a large army and\ninvade Italy to recover the Duchy of Milan, which had again been wrested\nfrom France.\n\nBayard was with the king on this expedition. Indeed, he preceded Francis\ninto Italy, and by a brilliant stratagem took prisoner Lord Prospero\nColonna, Lieutenant-General of the Pope. Prospero it was who had boasted\nthat sooner or later he would take Bayard like a bird in a trap.\n\nSoon afterwards, King Francis crossed the mountains with a great army,\nand marched upon Milan, at that time defended by a large body of Swiss.\nThe two armies met in a hard-fought battle, and the French were\nvictorious, driving the Swiss entirely out of the duchy.\n\nIn this battle, as in many others, Bayard's splendid courage won the\nday. No other knight could equal him in arms, and none other could so\nrouse the spirit of the French soldiers; but his greatest service to\nFrance that day was the lesson in chivalry he taught her boyish king.\n\nFired by the noble example of the chevalier, young Francis bore himself\nin battle like a king indeed, and made old soldiers wonder at his\nfortitude and courage.\n\nWhen the battle was over, the gallant young king was the first to\nascribe the honor of the victory to Bayard, and the nobles and captains\nagreed with him heartily.\n\nAnxious to show conspicuous honor to the knight, King Francis then\nastonished the assembled company--and none more than the chevalier\nhimself--by a most strange request.\n\n\"Bayard, my friend,\" he exclaimed in loving familiarity, \"I wish to be\nknighted by thy hand this day; for thou hast fought on foot and on\nhorseback, in many battles against many nations, and better than all\nothers. Thou art indeed the most worthy knight of all.\"\n\nNever before had monarch honored a subject with such a request.\n\nThe modest chevalier sought to decline this embarrassingly great\ndistinction, saying that such honor belonged only to princes of the\nblood, but the enthusiastic Francis would not take refusal.\n\n\"Nay,\" he exclaimed, \"quote me neither laws nor canons, chevalier; but\ndo my will and command, if thou wouldst still be numbered amongst my\nloyal servants and subjects.\"\n\n\"Since my king commands, I can but obey,\" answered the knight, simply.\n\nThen the King of mighty France knelt at the feet of the unassuming\nchevalier,--a picture to the world forever of how that manhood which is\nwithout fear and without reproach is above the majesty of kings.\n\n\"Sire,\" said the chevalier--his great heart too full for many\nwords--\"may this be as efficacious as if done by Roland or Oliver,\nGodfrey or Baldwin, his brother. God grant that in battle thou mayest\nnever flee!\"\n\nHe laid the flat of his sword on the king's strong shoulder; and when he\nremoved the blade, he kissed it reverently, saying--\n\n\"Glorious sword, that to-day hath knighted the greatest of kings, I will\nhenceforth employ thee only against the enemies of Christ's name. And\nthou shalt be kept as a sacred relic and honored above all others.\"[2]\n\n[Footnote 2: Unfortunately, this blade has been lost; but there is still\npreserved another sword of Bayard's. It bears the two legends \"Soli Deo\nGloria\" and \"Vincere aut Mors.\"]\n\nBayard's next service to King Francis was the defeating of an invading\narmy of Germans,--forty thousand strong.\n\nIn recognition of this and other great services, the king did all that\nhis jealous nobles could not prevent to show honor to the valiant\nchevalier. He made Bayard a knight of the king's own order, and gave him\ncommand of a hundred picked men-at-arms,--a privilege which belonged\nonly to princes of the blood.\n\nThe people of France went wild with enthusiasm over their hero, giving\ngorgeous _fetes_ in his honor wherever he went; and the French\nparliament actually sent a deputation of its members to congratulate him\nupon the services he had rendered the king and the whole people.\n\nYet these were but empty honors compared to what the noble chevalier\ndeserved. As the astrologer had predicted, Bayard never received the\nriches and great appointments he so conspicuously merited.\n\nHis last undertaking was another expedition into the troublesome Duchy\nof Milan. During this campaign the Lord of Bonivet, Admiral of France,\nwas in command of the French, and Bayard and many other gallant captains\nwere under him.\n\nThe task before them was to subdue Milan, which had, with the aid of\nCharles V., Emperor of Germany and King of Spain, again thrown off its\nallegiance to France.\n\nThe French encamped before Milan in the little town of Biagras; but it\nsoon developed that they were no match for the powerful army of allied\nMilanese, Germans, Spaniards, and Venetians. Moreover, their forces were\nbeing daily depleted by sickness and desertion. Added to these\nmisfortunes were bad faith and bad generalship on the part of the\ncommander, Bonivet.\n\nMatters in the French camp went from bad to worse, while on the other\nhand the ranks of the emperor were being continually reinforced.\n\nAn attack from the powerful and well-equipped enemy was now daily\nexpected, so the admiral determined that there was nothing to do but\nretire from his position at Biagras. In the retreat, however, he took\nthe post of danger with Bayard in the rear-guard, between the retiring\nFrench and their allied foes.\n\nAs Bonivet had feared, the French had no sooner moved out of Biagras\nthan the hitherto passive enemy woke to action and gave pursuit.\n\nIt had been rumored in the emperor's army that the wonderful Bayard was\nin the rear-guard of the French, and this report held the pursuers at a\nrespectful distance for some time.\n\nOn the morning of the second day, however, the allies determined to\nforce an engagement; and, supported by heavy artillery, made a furious\ncharge upon the retiring French.\n\nIf the allied foes had expected to rout the retreating forces, they must\nhave been sadly disappointed, for the French instantly faced about and\nmet their onset with stubborn valor. The odds were overwhelmingly\nagainst the sons of France; but Bayard was among them, and where he was,\nwas always desperate courage.\n\nIn the very first of the engagement the Lord of Bonivet was wounded and\nhad to be carried from the field, thus leaving Bayard in command. As he\nwas being borne away, Bonivet said to the chevalier--\n\n\"I pray and conjure thee, for the honor and glory of France, to defend\nthe artillery and flags to-day. Thou alone canst save them!\"\n\nBayard had had too much experience not to see that it was then\nimpossible to retrieve what the admiral had lost, but he answered\nsimply--\n\n\"Too late! But my life is my country's, and while I live, the flags and\nthe artillery shall not fall into the enemy's hands.\" That promise was\nnot broken.\n\nCalm and collected in that supreme hour, the peerless knight put forth\nhis all for his beloved France. All that unexampled generalship and\ncourage and fidelity could accomplish in the face of overwhelming odds,\nhe performed that day.\n\nNot content with merely repelling the attacks of the enemy, he charged\ntheir advancing columns again and again, and with such fierce onslaughts\nthat each time they were compelled to give back. He had promised for the\nhonor and glory of his country to defend the flags and the artillery\nthat day; and while he lived not a flag was lowered nor a gun lost. But\nalas for France that day!\n\nJust as the fighting was hottest, and when it seemed that the\noutnumbered French _must_ break, Bayard once more dashed forward against\nthe foe, as if by sheer force of courage, to wrest victory from\ninexorable Fate. For one mad, glorious moment he and his company swept\nirresistibly against the victors; the next, he was struck by a stone\nfrom an arquebuse and mortally wounded.\n\nWith the cry \"Jesus!\" he reeled in his saddle. He would have fallen to\nthe ground had not some of his men rushed forward and helped him to\ndismount. In their anxiety for him, his soldiers would fain have borne\nhim off the field; but Bayard, though dying, was Bayard still, and he\nsaid to them--\n\n\"It is all over; but I do not wish in my last hour to turn my back to\nthe foe for the first time in my life. Place me beneath yonder tree with\nmy face toward the enemy.\"\n\nStill did they beg that they might be allowed to bear him beyond danger\nof capture--for the French had broken before the enemy when Bayard fell.\nBut the knight feebly answered them--\n\n\"Let me devote the short space that remains to me to thinking of my\nsins. I pray you all to leave me for fear that you should be taken. My\nLord d'Alegre, commend me to the king, my master, and say to him that my\nonly regret in dying is my inability to render him further service.\"\n\nAs he ceased speaking, a body of Spaniards, under the Marquis of\nPescara, arrived where he lay. The gallant Pescara knelt beside his\nwounded enemy, and with tears in his eyes exclaimed--\n\n\"Would to God, Lord Bayard, that I might have taken thee prisoner\nunhurt! Thou shalt know how much I have always esteemed thy prowess and\nthy virtues; for since I have held arms, I have never known thy equal!\"\n\n[Illustration: \"As Bayard lay thus, there was hardly an officer among\nthe Spanish who did not come to speak kindly to him\"]\n\nThe marquis then caused his own tent to be brought and placed for the\nuse of the wounded knight. Then he himself helped to lay Bayard in\nbed. He smoothed the dying man's pillow, and kissed the hands that had\nfought so valiantly against him. Pescara then placed a guard around the\ntent and went himself and fetched a priest to console the dying\nchevalier.\n\nAs Bayard lay thus, there was hardly an officer among the Spanish who\ndid not come to speak kindly to him. Among the distinguished men who\nvisited his bedside was the Constable of Bourbon, who shortly before had\ndeserted the cause of France for a position in the emperor's army. When\nthe constable beheld the expiring knight, he exclaimed--\n\n\"Ah, Captain Bayard, how it troubles me to see thee thus! I have always\nloved and honored thee for thy great valor and wisdom. How I pity thee!\"\n\nBayard looked at him steadily and replied--\n\n\"My lord, I thank thee, but thy pity is wasted. I die like an honest\nman, serving my king. Thou art the man to be pitied, for bearing arms\nagainst thy prince, thy country, and thy oath.\"\n\nA little while longer he talked to them; then, feeling his strength\nfleeting rapidly, he clasped his hands and prayed aloud--\n\n\"My God! my Father! forget my sins; listen only to Thine infinite\nmercy----Let Thy justice be softened by the merits of the blood of\nJesus Christ--\"\n\nDeath laid a gentle hand upon his lips; and the man who had dealt with\nhis fellow-man without reproach went fearless to his God.\n\n\n\n\nSIR PHILIP SIDNEY\n\n\n    Sidney, thou star of beaming chivalry,\n    That rose and set 'mid valor's peerless day:\n    Rich ornament of knighthood's Milky-way;\n    How much our youth of England owe to thee!\n\n    EDWARD MOXON\n\n\n\n\nSIR PHILIP SIDNEY\n\n(1554-1586 A. D.)\n\n\nWhen Mary Tudor was Queen of England, and after she had become the wife\nof Philip II. of Spain, there was born at \"Penshurst Place,\" in the\nvalley of the Medway, the immortal Philip Sidney.\n\nHis mother's family were the powerful house of Dudley, and were among\nthe noblest in the land. The Sidneys were of high birth too,--not so\nexalted as the Dudleys in point of lineage, but of impregnable honor and\nintegrity.\n\nThe little Philip's youth was spent under what would seem to have been\nvery happy circumstances. While he was yet only four years of age, Queen\nElizabeth came to the throne, and recalled the Sidneys from the social\nand political exile to which her sister Mary had condemned them.\n\nPhilip's father, Sir Henry Sidney, was made Lord Deputy of Ireland, and\nhis mother became lady-in-waiting to the queen. Then, too, they owned\nthe beautiful and historic home, Penshurst Place, and had powerful\nfriends at court.\n\nBut there was another side to the picture. The Sidneys were not rich;\nand holding the high position they did, they were obliged to live in a\nway they could ill afford. This was bad enough; but, worse still,\nPhilip's affectionate parents were forced to spend many years of their\nmarried life apart from each other and from their children. The mother\nwas, for the most part, at Whitehall or at Hampton Court with the queen,\nand the father in turbulent, rebellious Ireland; while the children\nwere, perforce, left at home in the care of servants.\n\nThough his loving father and mother were rarely at Penshurst, the little\nPhilip lived very happily there with his brothers and sisters.\n\nHe soon found other companions too,--companions who fired his young\nblood and filled his boyish heart with dreams that were forever to haunt\nhim. Under the great trees at Penshurst he lay on the grass, by the\nhour, and pored over stories of bygone days of chivalry. As he lay thus\nand read, the present would fade from him, and the past with all its\nglamour and its romance would steal up about him and claim him for its\nown. The great trees that clashed their boughs together in the wind\nbecame warriors struggling with each other; the blast of a hunting-horn\nfrom the forest near by was Roland's call at Roncesvalles, while the\nechoes that repeated the strain again and again were the answering\nclarions of Charlemagne. Little delicate Philip Sidney no longer lay on\nthe grass in sunny England; in coat-of-mail and golden spurs he followed\nthe heroes of old,--now with the lion-hearted king at Arsur; now with\ntriumphant Godfrey on the walls of Jerusalem!\n\nBut Philip could not always read and dream; in a short time came the\nreality of school-days and boyish struggles. But though he was called\naway from the chivalric companionship of the knights of old, the\nimpression made upon his mind by their courage and fortitude and\ndevotion to duty ever after ran, like a thread of gold, through the warp\nand woof of his character.\n\nDuring the brief reign of Edward VI., Sir Henry Sidney had been\nnicknamed \"the only odd man and paragon of the court.\" The same stanch\nvirtues that made him \"odd\" in Edward's time rendered him a man apart at\nthe fawning, flattering, self-seeking court of Queen Elizabeth.\n\n\"Good Queen Bess,\" as she has been miscalled, cared little for blunt\nhonesty. She was a vain and selfish woman, fond of flattery and\ncapricious in the extreme. She liked the soft speeches and fulsome\ncompliments of such men as the Earl of Leicester far better than she\nliked the simple sincerity of the honest Sir Henry. Then, too, the queen\nwas avaricious. The condition of Ireland was of less moment to her than\nthe condition of her exchequer; and she was continually at odds with Sir\nHenry because he spent more money than she thought necessary on the\nunfortunate people whom she had sent him to rule.\n\nBut though the queen had little love for Philip Sidney's father, she was\nall too partial to his brilliant uncle. The most conspicuous figure at\nElizabeth's court for many years was Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester.\nLeicester was own brother to Lady Sidney, but he had few of that lady's\nnoble qualities. He was a courtier of the most ignoble type, being a man\nwho ever sought his own advancement by flattery and cajolery--always\nready to \"crook the pregnant hinges of the knee, that thrift might\nfollow fawning.\" For many years Leicester was the avowed lover of the\nvirgin queen, and there was some talk of a secret marriage having been\ncontracted between them, though there was probably no truth in the\nrumor.\n\nThis much is certain, however--the queen favored Leicester in every\npossible way, showering honor after honor upon him, and giving him great\nriches.\n\nWhen young Philip Sidney was not yet seventeen years of age, a dread\nplague broke out in England and, reaching Oxford University, where he\nwas studying, necessitated the closing of that institution. Philip's\neducation was thus cut short before he had obtained his college degree,\nbut not before he had become one of the most scholarly men of the day.\n\nShortly after the closing of the university, he was summoned to court to\nbe in attendance on her majesty, and to take a place among the gay\ncompany with which she was surrounded. This was considered a marked\nadvancement for him, and, at once, all thought that the queen would\nspecially honor him on account of his being nephew to the prime\nfavorite, Leicester.\n\nThe queen did favor Sidney--in her own capricious, selfish way--and he\nshortly became the youngest darling of the court. He was only seventeen\nwhen he took his place among Elizabeth's courtiers, but he was well\ngrown, and was exceedingly talented and handsome.\n\nThe power to win stanch and loving friends was inborn in him, and when\nhe left the quiet halls of Oxford for the frivolous court of Queen\nElizabeth, there was more than one heart that was anxious for him. The\nIrish Sea lay between him and his sober, upright father; while the\nvoluptuous and insincere Earl of Leicester was to be his patron, and all\nthe hollow, glittering, pleasure-loving men and women of the court were\nto be his daily companions. No wonder his friends watched the young\ncourtier's career with anxiety! But time soon showed how truly the young\nPhilip was stanch old Sir Henry's son. As was natural, Sidney loved the\nbrilliant Leicester, and failed to see his uncle's vices as plainly as\nhe might have seen another man's, but he did not make those vices his\nown. It was natural, too, that he should feel a youthful enjoyment in\nthe gayety and glitter about him, but he somehow kept himself unstained\nby what lay beneath.\n\nThere were two influences at work in the youth which, together, saved\nhim from the follies about him: first, and greater, the nobleness of\ncharacter which was his by heredity; and, second, the high ideals formed\nin his boyhood.\n\nSidney had dreamed of a truth unsullied, of a manhood devoted to high\nand noble deeds, of a faith that was stronger than death. He waked to\nfind himself, in satin and gold lace, dawdling about a vain and\nlicentious court.\n\nFortunately for the ambitious youth, a change now took place in his\naffairs which enabled him to see something of the world, and to pursue\nhis studies further. Before he had been a year at court, he was sent to\nParis in the train of the Earl of Lincoln, whose mission it was to\narrange a marriage between the English queen and the Duke d'Alencon,\nbrother to King Charles IX. of France.\n\nA clause from Sidney's passport, issued in the queen's name, shows for\nwhat purpose her young courtier was sent abroad: \"Her truly and\nwell-beloved Philip Sidney, Esquire, licensed to go out of England into\nparts beyond the seas, with three servants, four horses, and all other\nrequisites, and to remain the space of two years immediately following\nhis departure out of the realm, for his attaining the knowledge of\nforeign languages.\"\n\nFor reasons of Church and State, Lincoln's mission to France failed, and\nSidney was left free to spend the time of his voluntary exile at his\nown discretion. He wisely chose to remain abroad, and spent nearly three\nyears traveling in France, Germany, and Italy. But these three years\nwere not given up to sight-seeing and social enjoyment. Sidney devoted\nhis time to studying literature, science, music, foreign languages, and\nthe politics of the day.\n\nFor two great reasons this last subject was of most vital interest to\nhim: it was the time of a great religious upheaval throughout Europe,\nand also the time of the ambitious aggressions of Spain under Philip II.\n\nSidney, an ardent adherent of the Church of England, conceived the idea\nof championing his beloved faith, even as the knights of old had\nchampioned theirs. Then, too, his whole heart was with his native\ncountry in her rapid rise to a place of power among the nations of\nearth, and he recognized Spain as an ever-present menace to her\nadvancement.\n\nHis sympathies were especially aroused for the condition of the harassed\nNetherlands, to the complete subjugation of which Spain was then bending\nher strongest efforts. Then it was that Sidney's chivalric spirit took\nfire with hope,--the hope that his beloved England would rise and\ndeliver the oppressed, and that he, her son, would be allowed to be her\nhumble instrument in the great and glorious work.\n\nAll that was seething in his fertile brain he wrote from time to time to\nEngland; and he kept her statesmen informed of the state of foreign\npolitics in a time when newspapers and telegraph lines had not been\ndreamed of. All unconsciously, he was making a name for himself in\nEngland; and when he returned, at the age of twenty-one, he found that\nhe had established for himself a reputation as politician, statesman,\nand man of letters.\n\nWhile abroad, Sidney had been associated with \"many men of many minds.\"\nHe had learned to think and feel deeply on deep subjects, and had formed\ndefinite ideals as to a man's proper part in life. He came back to his\nnative land with his young heart filled with hopes that were never to be\nrealized--at least, not in the way that he had conceived. It is true\nthat he was one of a brilliant circle of men who made the England of\nElizabeth's time great by the very greatness that was theirs; but the\nEngland of Elizabeth's time was not the England of Sidney's hopes, and a\ncourtiership under the virgin queen was the vanity of vanities to his\nheroic spirit. From that time on, life was a struggle to him--a\nstruggle to live nobly amid a court given over to pleasure; a struggle\nto revive the spirit of chivalry among men who were already forgetting\nthe very name.\n\nShortly after Sidney's return from abroad, and while he was in high\nfavor at court, it pleased the queen to make a \"royal progress\" through\na portion of her realm. These \"progresses\" were journeys through certain\nparts of the kingdom, broken by visits to favored nobles at their\nmagnificent castles or halls. On these tours, the queen was always\nbrilliantly attended by ladies and gentlemen of her court; and the\nsubjects whom she pleased to visit devised for her the most gorgeous and\nsumptuous entertainment.\n\nSidney had the good or bad fortune to be in attendance on her Majesty\nduring this progress, for it was then that he first met and admired\nlittle Penelope Devereux. It was while her Majesty and train were\nstopping to visit the Earl of Essex at Chartley Castle that the meeting\nbetween the two young people took place. Lady Penelope, daughter of the\nEarl of Essex, was then only twelve years of age, but she was a maiden\nwell grown for her years, and extremely beautiful; so it is not to be\nwondered at that Sidney--so old in worldly wisdom, but so young in\nyears--should have been fascinated by the little maid's grace and\nbeauty. The two frolicked and danced together at Chartley, and though\nthere were no vows of love exchanged between them then, that visit was\nthe beginning of a friendship which was to ripen into the passion of\nSidney's life. It was also the beginning of another friendship, and one\nwhich proved far happier for Sidney. The Earl of Essex conceived a deep\nlove and admiration for him, and invited him often to Chartley, making\nhim--young though he was--his bosom friend.\n\nAfterwards, when Essex incurred the deep displeasure of Queen Elizabeth,\nSidney was one of the few courtiers who dared to show him open\nfriendship,--thus tacitly condemning the action of the queen, who, in\ntruth, was at fault.\n\nDuring his visits to Chartley Castle, Sidney became more and more in\nlove with the little Penelope; but when he declared his passion, she\nheld him off, like the coquette that she was, while she took pains to\nspin the web of her fascination more hopelessly about him.\n\nThe earl, her father, was always in favor of a marriage between the two;\nand at his death, which took place in Penelope's fourteenth year, he\nsaid of Sidney:--\n\n\"Oh, that good gentleman! have me commended unto him. And tell him I\nsend him nothing, but I wish him well,--so well that if God do move\ntheir hearts, I wish that he might match with my daughter. I call him\nson--he is so wise, virtuous, and godly. If he go on in the course he\nhath begun, he will be as famous and worthy a gentleman as ever England\nbred.\"\n\nTwo years after Essex's death, his widow was secretly married to\nSidney's uncle, the Earl of Leicester. This made a sad change in Philip\nSidney's fortunes. As long as Leicester was unmarried and childless,\nPhilip Sidney, as his natural heir, was a man of great prospects and a\nvery desirable match; but Leicester, married, with the probability of\nchildren to inherit his titles and wealth, left Sidney only a poor\ncommoner.\n\n[Illustration: Sir Philip Sidney and Penelope Devereux]\n\nWith Sidney's prospects ruined by her own marriage, Penelope's mother\ndecided that her daughter should make a more ambitious match, and\nbetrothed her to the powerful and cruel Lord Rich. Too late, the little\nmaid realized the value of the love with which she had been playing.\nWhen she could no longer look forward to a match with the noble young\nSidney, she waked to the knowledge that her whole heart was bound up\nin him; and she protested, even at the altar, against the marriage into\nwhich her mother was forcing her. \"Being in the power of her friends,\"\nas the Earl of Devonshire afterwards wrote concerning her, \"she was by\nthem married against her will unto one against whom she did protest at\nthe very solemnity and ever after.\"\n\nHis love for Penelope was the supreme passion of Sidney's life. His was\na heart too true to change. And as Orpheus gave to his harp his love for\nthe lost Eurydice and charmed all nature into silence, so Philip Sidney,\nbereft of the woman he loved, poured out his soul in poems that still\ntouch every loving heart.\n\nFrom politician and courtier, Sidney rose to be one of the most\ndistinguished poets of his day. He wrote many poems which are still\nconsidered of high order, but his \"Astrophel and Stella,\" which contains\nthe story of his love for the Lady Penelope, is his most popular work.\n\nThough possessed of all the grace and elegance of an Elizabethan\ncourtier, as well as of a gentle and artistic temperament, Philip Sidney\nwas no weakling. Under the costly trappings of his court finery beat a\nheart as bold and passionate as King Richard's own.\n\nThroughout all his varied experiences, public and private, he did not\nonce relinquish his double hope of aiding the Netherlands and crippling\nthe overshadowing power of Spain. Still did he implore help for the\noppressed. Long did he carry in his heart a picture of the queen--whom\nhe adored in spite of her unworthiness--as the zealous and devoted\nchampion of a great cause. But Elizabeth was no zealot, nor could she be\nmade one. When Sidney at length realized that the queen could not be\ninduced to move in the cause of the Netherlands, he made up his mind to\ngo as a volunteer to the assistance of William, Prince of Orange, ruler\nof that country.\n\nThe idea had to be abandoned, however, for a while; for Sir Henry\nSidney--still too honest to please the queen--was again having stormy\ntimes with her Majesty, and appealed to his son to assist him in\nbringing her to a right view of his Irish policy. Sidney espoused his\nfather's cause with his characteristic boldness. Shortly after his\narrival at court he was met face to face by the Earl of Ormond,--a\nbitter enemy to his father, and the man who had traduced Sir Henry to\nthe queen. Ormond approached Sidney with a suave and condescending\ngreeting, but the young courtier only stared at him coldly for a\nminute, then turned his back squarely on him. As Ormond was one of the\npeers of the realm, and Philip Sidney but a plain commoner, this was a\nmost daring act. But this was not the limit of his daring. Incensed at\nthe injustice done his father, Sidney indited a most memorable letter to\nthe queen, which was at once a masterly defence of Sir Henry and a\ntrenchant attack on the queen's favorite, Ormond. Strange to say, Queen\nElizabeth seemed to be influenced by Sidney's plain and fearless\nstatements, for she sometime thereafter treated his father with more\nconsideration.\n\nBut a greater trouble than that in connection with his father's business\nnow stirred the passionate Sidney to the depths. The Duke d'Alencon, who\nhad become the Duke of Anjou, renewed his proposition of marriage to the\nEnglish queen. Sidney despised the private character of the duke, and he\nhad, besides, come to object to the proposed alliance for deep and\npatriotic reasons; so he opposed the projected union with all the\nfearless strength that was his.\n\nAs by far the greater number of Elizabeth's advisers approved of the\nmatch, and the queen herself inclined to it, Sidney's position soon\nmade him unpopular with both queen and court. Another thing happened\nabout this time that rendered his relations at court exceedingly\nstrained. The Earl of Leicester's secret marriage with the widowed\nCountess of Essex, a twelvemonth before, now came out in a storm of\ngossip, and threw the jealous queen into a rage. Leicester was dismissed\nfrom court; and Philip Sidney, as his nephew, though not actually exiled\nfrom the queen's presence, received treatment at her hands that was far\nmore galling to his proud spirit than would have been dismissal.\n\nNothing could have been more humiliating to Sidney's highstrung and\nsensitive temperament than to be kept dangling about a court where the\nqueen turned but cold glances upon him, and where her nobles were\npermitted to slight him, after the usual manner of courtiers who \"kick\nwhom royalty kicks, and hug whom royalty hugs.\"\n\nPhilip Sidney was a most unusual courtier. He had more than once held\nout a manly hand to one who had come under her Majesty's disfavor, but\nwhom he regarded as stanch and deserving; and he had not failed to\ncondemn where she smiled, if he felt that condemnation was deserved.\n\nWith his great patron dismissed from royal favor, and London full of gay\nFrench and English courtiers who looked upon him as an enemy, Philip\nSidney stood almost alone. Yet was he in no whit daunted, nor did he\nyield one hair's breadth of the high ground he had taken. His was that\nfiner courage that can dare the whole world for a principle and stand\nalone upon the right.\n\nAs may be imagined, this independence of spirit was most distasteful to\nthe vain and fickle queen; but Sidney's grace and talents and personal\nbeauty rendered him a courtier with whom she was unwilling to dispense.\nThe queen had favored him for these lesser gifts, but the great heart of\nthe English people loved him for the chivalric spirit _she_ valued not,\nand for the indomitable manliness that would not truckle--not even to\nthe queen.\n\nDuring this period of her Majesty's displeasure toward him, Sidney was\noften stung to the quick by petty slights from his fellow-courtiers, but\non one occasion the offender went too far. The brutal but powerful Earl\nof Oxford--head of the party who favored the proposed marriage--had long\nbeen a rival of Sidney's in the queen's favor, and there was no love\nlost between them.\n\nOne day at Whitehall, as Philip Sidney and some of his friends were\nengaged in a game of tennis, the Earl of Oxford entered the court,\nuninvited, and demanded a part in the game. The presence of a number of\nFrench courtiers as lookers-on and listeners led him to assume a tone\nthat was even more arrogant and offensive than was usual with him.\n\nAt first, Sidney took no notice of the intrusion; but the studied\nrudeness becoming unbearable, he at length reproved the offender firmly.\nAt this, Oxford fell into a rage, and ended by ordering the players out\nof the tennis-court. Sidney met the earl's haughty gaze with one of\nproud defiance, and answered,--\n\n\"If your Lordship had been pleased to express the wish in courteous\nterms, you would have been met with courtesy, and perchance might have\nled out those who will not now be driven out with any scourge of fury.\"\n\n\"Puppy!\" exclaimed the infuriated earl.\n\nA coarse laugh went up from the spectators, and they immediately began\nto crowd the tennis-court to see the end of the quarrel. This pleased\nOxford much, for he was seeking to make a fine show before them.\n\nSidney realized that he was surrounded by enemies; but the fact only\nput him on his mettle, and he demanded, calmly,\n\n\"My Lord of Oxford, what is that which you called me?\"\n\n\"A _puppy_,\" repeated the earl, and his followers laughed again.\n\n\"That is a _lie_!\" answered Sidney, in tones that rang out clear and\nsharp.\n\nA bolt from the skies could not have taken his listeners more aback. The\nspectators looked to see Oxford attack or challenge the slender young\ncourtier who had flung the lie in his teeth; and Sidney himself waited\nin a fierce quiet for the answer which he, and all present, felt Oxford\nwas bound to make.\n\nThe answer did not come. Oxford contented himself with quarreling in a\nloud voice; but those whom he was trying to impress were not deceived by\nhis bluster, and all present knew that he had proved himself a coward.\n\nWhen Sidney saw that his opponent was not going to challenge him, he\nmade up his mind to throw down the gauntlet himself, for he was too\nindignant to let the matter drop without a personal encounter.\n\n\"My Lord of Oxford,\" he said coolly, \"this is a business that can be\nsettled better in a more private place.\" With that, he turned and\nwalked out of the court.\n\nThis, of course, was a challenge; and all the next day Sidney looked for\nthe message of acceptance which Oxford was bound, by the code of honor,\nto send him. At length it became apparent that Oxford was trying to\navoid the duel. This, Sidney had no idea of allowing him to do; so he\nsent a messenger to the earl, asking whether he should hear from him or\nnot, and adding--\n\n\"His Lordship's French companions can teach him, if he does not know,\nwhat course he ought to take in this affair.\"\n\nThus goaded, Oxford sent an acceptance; but before the duel could take\nplace, the lords of the Privy Council forbade it, and besought the queen\nto effect a reconciliation between the two.\n\nThe queen's way of reconciling them was to send for Sidney and scold him\nroundly. She pointed out to him the difference between peers and\ncommoners and the respect that inferiors owed to superiors, then she\ncommanded him to apologize to the earl.\n\n\"That, your Majesty,\" he answered, steadily, \"I _cannot_ do. No peer\nhas, by his rank, privilege to do wrong; and though the Earl of Oxford\nbe a great lord by virtue of his birth and your Majesty's favors, he is\nno lord over Philip Sidney.\"\n\nIn spite of queen and court and Privy Council, Philip Sidney would not\nretreat an inch from this position; and Oxford was compelled to take\nrefuge in her Majesty's order, to avoid fighting with the fiery young\ncourtier. Shortly afterwards, the earl sent a messenger--supposed to be\nSir Walter Raleigh--with the proposition to Sidney that their\ndisagreement cease. Thus was the coward peer compelled to humble himself\nto the proud commoner.\n\nNegotiations for the queen's marriage to Anjou progressed favorably for\na while, to the deep distress of Sidney. Actuated by his great distrust\nof Anjou and his equally great dislike to any sort of alliance with\nFrance, he at length addressed a letter to the queen, setting forth\nwithout reserve his objections to her marriage. He warned her Majesty,\nin the most unmistakable terms, of the worthlessness and viciousness of\nher suitor, and ended with a passionate appeal to her not to enter into\nan alliance which would so surely cripple the advancement of the English\nChurch. But Sidney's letter was not one of reproof and entreaty only.\nAll through its pages could be seen the romantic devotion of subject to\nsovereign, and the chivalric respect of a man for the woman whom he\nimagined to be possessed of all feminine virtues.\n\nThe \"most excellent lady\" to whom the letter was indited answered it by\nflying into a rage and dismissing the writer from court.\n\nThis was scarcely punishment to Sidney. He hated the vanities of court\nlife with his whole heart, and when he was thus dismissed, he was as one\nfrom whom heavy shackles had been struck. He spent the time of his exile\nwith his beloved sister, the Countess of Pembroke, and while at her\nhome, wrote some of his best poems.\n\nThe queen forgave Sidney, all too soon for him, for he had to be\npersuaded, nay, almost forced back into her silken fetters. The Earl of\nLeicester was already reinstated in her Majesty's good-will when Sidney\ncame back, with reluctant grace, to be again an ornament of her court.\n\nBut he was not an ornament merely. He was soon elected to Parliament,\nand through his fearless and untiring zeal did much toward making\nEngland great.\n\nSidney was now becoming more and more prominent as a literary man, and\nwas closely associated with Raleigh, Lyly, Hooker, Christopher Marlowe,\nSir Francis Bacon, and Edmund Spenser. He was also one of the first to\npatronize a rising young actor and playwright by the name of Will\nShakespeare.\n\nIn 1583 Philip Sidney was knighted, and became \"_Sir_ Philip Sidney,\nknight, of Penshurst.\" This was, however, but a poor acknowledgment of\nhis virtues, his high attainments, and his services to the State. He was\nappointed by the queen to several minor offices, but he was never given\nwhat he merited at her hands--so much for being better and greater than\nthose who have the power to reward.\n\nFor some years Sidney's friends had been pressing him to marry, for they\nfelt that it would be an irrevocable loss to England for such a man to\ndie without sons to perpetuate his talents and sterling qualities. But\nSidney for a long time turned a deaf ear to their persuasions. He had\nloved one woman passionately, and she had become the wife of another\nman. Since that time he had paid devoted attention to none, though he\nalways held the gentler sex in deepest respect.\n\nConsidering his natural attractions, and the exalted place he had won\nfor himself among both the writers and the statesmen of the day, it is\nnot to be wondered at that he was much sought after. One chronicle\ntells us that \"many noble ladies ventured as far as modesty would permit\nto signify their affections for him.\"\n\nSidney himself thought it his _duty_ to marry, and in the fall of 1583\ntook to wife the daughter of his old friend, Sir Francis Walsingham. The\nqueen objected bitterly, being selfish enough to want her courtier's\nwhole attention; but she finally relented. She afterwards stood\ngodmother to Sidney's only child--a daughter--who was named for herself.\n\nSidney's married life was a very happy one. Frances Walsingham made him\na good wife, and he was very tenderly attached to her.\n\nAlways jealous for his native country, Sidney now became much aroused by\nthe continued success of Spain in the New World. The then recent\ndiscoveries in America, and the consequent advancement of the power of\nPhilip II., were a menace to the political prestige of England. Sidney\nhad been quick to perceive this, and had been stirred to a keen interest\nin English colonization in the New World. He rightly believed that the\nsurest means of retarding the growth of the power of Spain was to plant\nin the New World colonies of English-speaking people. Disappointed in\nhis desire to join in the warfare in the Netherlands against King\nPhilip, he conceived a great scheme for crippling that monarch's power\nin America and on the high seas, and he threw himself into the project\nwith his whole heart.\n\nIt is interesting to know that in his colonization schemes Sidney was\nintimately associated with such men as Martin Frobisher, Sir Humphrey\nGilbert, Sir Walter Raleigh, and Sir Francis Drake.\n\nHis connection with Sir Francis Drake came near involving him in serious\ntrouble, but ultimately ended by procuring him the commission he had so\nlong desired. Tired of a life of inactivity, anxious to foil the Spanish\nin the New World, and sick to death of the busy idleness of the court,\nSidney at length determined to go with Drake to a new world and a new\ncareer. Accordingly, he made ready, and actually went as far as\nPlymouth, where he was to take ship, when he was overtaken by a\nmessenger bearing \"grace in one hand and thunder in the other,\" and the\nqueen's command that he return to court.\n\nThe _grace_ was that he was to have his long-desired commission in the\nNetherlands, if he would but return. Her Majesty had evidently learned\nthat she would have to compromise with her spirited subject.\n\nSidney did return, and received the commission promised. The queen\nsigned a patent making him governor of Flushing and Rammekins in the\nNetherlands. Leicester she made commander-in-chief of the forces she had\nat last agreed to send to the aid of the oppressed Dutch.\n\nSidney was not one-and-thirty years of age when he received his\nappointment. He went into the project with all the fire of his youth and\nchivalry. At last he was free from court fetters; at last he could play\na man's part in life. All the dreams of his boyhood now waked again. No\nmimic warfare of joust and tournament for him now! With naked sword he\nwas to face the enemies of a weak and oppressed people.\n\nWhen Sidney landed at Flushing, he had yet to learn that war demands\nmore courage than is needed in merely facing the foe--the courage to\nendure delays, hardships, injustice, and all the cruel accompaniments of\na campaign. He learned his lesson well and shortly, for when he was\nweighed in the balance, he was not found wanting in a single quality\nthat belongs to the hero.\n\nFlushing, which had been assigned to English control, was at the mouth\nof the Scheldt River, and on the opposite bank stood the Castle of\nRammekins. These were important points, as they commanded the entrance\nfrom the sea. The people of the town hailed Sidney as a deliverer and\nprotector, for they were worn with the long struggle against the\nSpanish, and were wellnigh disheartened. The defences of the place were\nin wretched condition, and the town itself in a most unhealthy state, so\nSir Philip set to work at once to put the place in a more sanitary\ncondition and to strengthen its fortifications.\n\nShortly after Sidney had begun to get ready for real war, his uncle, the\nEarl of Leicester, arrived in the Netherlands with the main body of the\ntroops sent by her Majesty, and made a spectacular tour through several\nleading cities. He took up his position at the Hague, where he\nimmediately began to live in almost royal state, spending the funds sent\nfrom England, wasting the resources of the people he had ostensibly come\nto help, and making no move against the Spanish, who were daily gaining\nground.\n\nIf Sidney had hoped that, in changing her mind about assisting the\nNetherlands, Queen Elizabeth had changed some of her personal\ncharacteristics too, he was very quickly undeceived. The supply of men\nand money sent by her Majesty was entirely inadequate to existing\nnecessities; and having shipped her small quota of troops, the queen\napparently washed her hands of them.\n\nWith his superior officer, Leicester, wasting time and the resources of\nthe troops, in dissipation, and the queen careless of their straits,\nSidney was reduced almost to despair. Yet if he had come to hope little,\nhe worked as if the whole responsibility of the cause rested on his\nshoulders. He not only put the places of his own command in as good\ncondition as was possible, but he went from one city to another,\nassisting and advising. He made journey after journey to the Hague to\nrouse Leicester to a more active policy, and at one time went even into\nGermany to implore help for the wretched country. All this time he was\nwriting to Leicester, to the queen, to her advisers, the most passionate\nletters. He set forth the condition of affairs in language that stripped\ntruth of all dissembling, and implored her Majesty and her officers to\nlet him do the work for which he had been sent. Like the king of the\nforest in the narrow confines of a cage, Sidney's fierce soul raged\nagainst the orders that kept his sword idle while the Spanish were\nwasting the land. There is not a more pathetically tragic figure in\nhistory than that of the heroic Sidney in the power of the unworthy\nQueen of England and of the doubly unworthy Earl of Leicester.\n\nMore than a year was wasted by the luxurious earl, Sidney the while\nchafing at his idleness, and the Spanish gaining post after post. Time\nand again, Sidney pleaded with Leicester to give him adequate troops and\nleave to act, but the troops were not given; and when, on his own\nresponsibility, Sidney undertook to besiege Steenbergen, he was\nforbidden to prosecute the plan.\n\nIt was not until he had spent nearly two years of hard work and\ndiscouragement in the Netherlands that Sir Philip was at last allowed to\nproceed against the enemy in active warfare.\n\nA most unwilling permission being wrung from Leicester, Sidney joined\nforces with Lord Willoughby and Count Maurice and proceeded against the\ntown of Axel, which was then in the hands of the Spaniards.\n\nA moonless night was chosen for the expedition, and the advance was made\nstealthily and swiftly. While the attacking forces approached the\nsleeping town, Sir Philip spoke so earnestly to the men that one who was\nwith him afterwards said, \"he did so link our minds that we did desire\nrather to die in that service than to live in the contrary.\"\n\nAxel was surrounded by a wall and a moat, and was regarded as\nimpregnable to all save overwhelming forces; but Sidney depended more on\nthe spirit of his men than on mere numbers, and he pressed hardily\nforward. When the moat was reached, he plunged boldly in, and was soon\nfollowed by some fifty others. A few moments more, and they had gained\nthe opposite bank and were scaling, as best they could, the wall of\nAxel. A little while of breathless suspense, and then their dark forms\nwere outlined against the sky on the top of the wall, only to disappear\nquickly on the other side. Presently there were cries of surprise and\nterror and sounds of sharp fighting, then the drawbridge was lowered and\nthe great gate opened to admit the crush of men who rushed to the\nassistance of Sir Philip and his valiant little band.\n\nThe scene inside told its own story. Sir Philip had surprised and slain\nthe guard and opened the gate to his men. Instantly the startled city\nflew to arms, but it was too late. Over half the twelve hundred men who\ngarrisoned the town were put to the sword, a great quantity of riches\nwas captured, and a large amount of property destroyed. Besides this,\nfour neighboring citadels were attacked and forced to surrender. Sir\nPhilip then garrisoned the town with English soldiers, and cut the\ndikes, flooding a vast tract of country to hamper the movements of the\nSpanish.\n\nWhen it was all over, Leicester wrote proudly to the queen, \"My nephew,\nSidney, is to be thanked for the bravest deed yet done by the English in\nthe Low Countries.\"\n\nBut stanch old Sir Henry died a few weeks before his \"darling Philip\"\nthus won his first laurels in war, and Lady Sidney passed away shortly\nafter the news of her boy's heroism reached her.\n\nOne would think that the knowledge of that heroism would have touched\nthe fickle queen to do, at least, simple justice to the young officer\nwho had stormed Axel; but unfortunately it did not. Not only could\nSidney not persuade her Majesty to give him the necessary troops and\nmoney for better defences, but he could not move her to pay the wretched\nsoldiers their hire. The wages of his men were already months in\narrears, and the soldiers were daily threatening mutiny. So the time\ndragged on, and nothing of importance was accomplished for several more\nweary months.\n\nLeicester had had as little patience with his nephew as the queen\nherself, \"bearing a hand over him as a forward young man;\" but after\nSidney proved his sword at Axel, his uncle treated him with more\nrespect, and was at last brought to take counsel of him.\n\nA few months after Sidney's capture of Axel, Leicester reviewed her\nMajesty's troops at Arnhem; and it was then that Sir Philip at last\npersuaded him to strike a decisive blow at the Spanish. Having actually\nobtained his uncle's permission to fight, Sidney lost no time in\nunsheathing his sword. Five days after the review at Arnhem, he and his\nbrother Robert and the young Earl of Essex, with a small force, stormed\nand carried the fortress of Doesburg, each one of the three fighting\nbrilliantly.\n\nThe Earl of Essex was son to Sir Philip's old friend, and brother to\nPenelope Devereux, and was that Essex whom Elizabeth caused to be\nbeheaded some years after.\n\nAs another result of Sidney's importunities, Leicester laid siege to\nZutphen, which was a very important post, and the strongest city in\nGelderland. A week was spent in throwing up intrenchments about the city\nand making ready for an attack. Sidney, together with the Count of\nNassau and Sir John Norris, was put in command of a body of cavalry and\ndirected to hold Gilbert Hill,--a rise of ground less than a mile from\nthe east gate of Zutphen.\n\nWhen the English were nearly ready to attack, news was brought to\nLeicester that large quantities of provisions were being transported to\nthe besieged city by the Spanish, and that an attempt would be made to\nsmuggle them in.\n\nOn receipt of the news, Leicester ordered Sir John Norris and Sir\nWilliam Stanley to take five hundred men and cut off the convoys as they\napproached.\n\nSir Philip was not included in the commission, but he was so eager to\nact that he joined Norris and Stanley of his own accord. He was fully\narmed as he rode up to the troops, but meeting one of his friends\nwithout leg-armour, he rashly cast off his own cuisses, that he might\nrun equal risk.\n\nThe Spanish convoys were expected to arrive in the night, but a gray,\nfoggy morning dawned before the tramp of their horses' feet was heard.\nNearer and nearer it came to the waiting five hundred,--when suddenly\nthe fog lifted and the little band of English found themselves face to\nface with a splendidly equipped Spanish force of over five times their\nown number. They had not dreamed that the wagon-train would be so\naccompanied.\n\nThe sun rose clear--fatally clear for that gallant little band of\nBritons. The guns of the city were trained on them; they were in easy\nshot of the Spanish in front and the Spanish behind--surprised, tricked,\nsurrounded. And there was no mist to puzzle the enemy's terrible aim!\nBut English chivalry stood the test that day, and English swords rang\ntrue.\n\nYoung Essex, a boy of twenty, made the first dash, crying to his men as\nhe went,\n\n\"For the honor of England, good fellows, follow me!\" They followed him,\nand for a while, at least, beat back the enemy with their curtle-axes.\nLord Willoughby, and many another gallant cavalier, carved his way to\nfame that day.\n\nBut Sidney was the hero of Zutphen--Sidney \"of the delicate form and\ngolden hair.\" One might almost fancy him the matchless Bayard come\nagain, or the very incarnate spirit of battle, so splendidly did his\ngenius and courage rise in the storm of carnage. None might hope to\nequal him or match his many deeds that day. Once, seeing Willoughby\nsurrounded and far over among the enemy, Sidney, with a few followers,\nfought through to him and accomplished his rescue. Twice he charged the\nSpanish, pressing them back and hacking them down in his path.\n\nAt the crisis of the second charge, his horse was shot under him; but he\nquickly mounted another. Then in one last glorious dash, he cut his way\nstraight through the Spanish masses, and he did not stop while there was\na foe to be beaten out of his path. But when he had blazed his solitary\nway entirely through the ranks of the enemy, and was faced with empty\ntrenches beyond, he turned his horse to press back again. As he wheeled\nback, a musket-ball struck him in the thigh and gave him a mortal wound.\nThe horse he was riding was not trained to battle, and, taking fright at\nthe din about him, became utterly unmanageable to Sidney's weakening\ngrasp. The terror-stricken animal struggled out of the press and dashed,\nwith his almost fainting rider, back to Leicester's distant camp.\n\nAs some of the soldiers rushed to him to help him down, Sidney was\nseized with the terrible thirst of the wounded, and begged for a drink\nof water. He was about to press the flagon to his parched lips when he\nsaw the eyes of a wounded foot-soldier turned agonizingly toward it.\nWithout tasting it, he at once handed it to the dying man, with the\nwords,--\n\n\"Thy necessity is greater than mine.\"\n\nBut Sidney's necessity was great--so great that the skill of man could\nnot avail to save him; and after a long, agonizing illness, he expired\nat Arnhem in the arms of his heart-broken wife.\n\nSo lived and died Sir Philip Sidney, the last and most perfect flower of\nknighthood,--failing in his efforts to revive the old passing chivalry,\nbut, all unconsciously, achieving more than his cherished ideal in\nteaching men how to live and die nobly in the changed order of things.\n\n\n\n\nSIDNEY IN TOURNAMENT\n\n\n    Call back the gorgeous past!\n    The lists are set, the trumpets sound,\n    Bright eyes, sweet judges, throned around;\n    And stately on the glittering ground\n    The old chivalric life!\n    \"Forward!\" The signal word is given;\n    Beneath the shock the greensward shakes;\n    The lusty cheer, the gleaming spear,\n    The snow-plume's falling flakes,\n    The fiery joy of strife!\n    Thus, when, from out a changeful heaven\n    O'er waves in eddying tumult driven\n    A stormy smile is cast,\n    Alike the gladsome anger takes\n    The sunshine and the blast!\n    Who is the victor of the day?\n    Thou of the delicate form, and golden hair,\n    And manhood glorious in its midst of May;\n    Thou who upon thy shield of argent bearest\n    The bold device, \"The loftiest is the fairest!\"\n    As bending low thy stainless crest,\n    \"The vestal throned by the west\"\n    Accords the old Provencal crown\n    Which blends her own with thy renown;\n    Arcadian Sidney, nursling of the muse,\n    Flower of fair chivalry, whose bloom was fed\n    With daintiest Castaly's most silver dews,\n    Alas! how soon thy amaranth leaves were shed;\n    Born, what the Ausonian minstrel _dream'd to be_,\n    Time's knightly epic pass'd from earth with thee!\n\n    EDWARD BULWER LYTTON\n\n\n    \"_The knight's bones are dust,_\n    _And his good sword rust;_\n    _His soul is with the saints, I trust._\"","title":"With Spurs of Gold: Heroes of Chivalry and their Deeds","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":58381}