The Talisman

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"Be content," said Conrade of Montserrat; "ere this physician, if
he work by anything short of miraculous agency, can accomplish
Richard's cure, it may be possible to put some open rupture
betwixt the Frenchman--at least the Austrian--and his allies of
England, so that the breach shall be irreconcilable; and Richard
may arise from his bed, perhaps to command his own native troops,
but never again, by his sole energy, to wield the force of the
whole Crusade."

"Thou art a willing archer," said the Templar; "but, Conrade of
Montserrat, thy bow is over-slack to carry an arrow to the mark."

He then stopped short, cast a suspicious glance to see that no
one overheard him, and taking Conrade by the hand, pressed it
eagerly as he looked the Italian in the face, and repeated
slowly, "Richard arise from his bed, sayest thou? Conrade, he
must never arise!"

The Marquis of Montserrat started. "What! spoke you of Richard
of England--of Coeur de Lion--the champion of Christendom?"

His cheek turned pale and his knees trembled as he spoke. The
Templar looked at him, with his iron visage contorted into a
smile of contempt.

"Knowest thou what thou look'st like, Sir Conrade, at this
moment? Not like the politic and valiant Marquis of Montserrat,
not like him who would direct the Council of Princes and
determine the fate of empires--but like a novice, who, stumbling
upon a conjuration in his master's book of gramarye, has raised
the devil when he least thought of it, and now stands terrified
at the spirit which appears before him."

"I grant you," said Conrade, recovering himself, "that--unless
some other sure road could be discovered--thou hast hinted at
that which leads most direct to our purpose. But, blessed Mary!
we shall become the curse of all Europe, the malediction of every
one, from the Pope on his throne to the very beggar at the church
gate, who, ragged and leprous, in the last extremity of human
wretchedness, shall bless himself that he is neither Giles Amaury
nor Conrade of Montserrat."

"If thou takest it thus," said the Grand Master, with the same
composure which characterized him all through this remarkable
dialogue, "let us hold there has nothing passed between us--that
we have spoken in our sleep--have awakened, and the vision is
gone."

"It never can depart," answered Conrade.

"Visions of ducal crowns and kingly diadems are, indeed, somewhat
tenacious of their place in the imagination," replied the Grand
Master.

"Well," answered Conrade, "let me but first try to break peace
between Austria and England."

They parted. Conrade remained standing still upon the spot, and
watching the flowing white cloak of the Templar as he stalked
slowly away, and gradually disappeared amid the fast-sinking
darkness of the Oriental night. Proud, ambitious, unscrupulous,
and politic, the Marquis of Montserrat was yet not cruel by
nature. He was a voluptuary and an epicurean, and, like many who
profess this character, was averse, even upon selfish motives,
from inflicting pain or witnessing acts of cruelty; and he
retained also a general sense of respect for his own reputation,
which sometimes supplies the want of the better principle by
which reputation is to be maintained.

"I have," he said, as his eyes still watched the point at which
he had seen the last slight wave of the Templar's mantle--"I
have, in truth, raised the devil with a vengeance! Who would
have thought this stern, ascetic Grand Master, whose whole
fortune and misfortune is merged in that of his order, would be
willing to do more for its advancement than I who labour for my
own interest? To check this wild Crusade was my motive, indeed,
but I durst not think on the ready mode which this determined
priest has dared to suggest. Yet it is the surest--perhaps even
the safest."

Such were the Marquis's meditations, when his muttered soliloquy
was broken by a voice from a little distance, which proclaimed
with the emphatic tone of a herald, "Remember the Holy
Sepulchre!"

The exhortation was echoed from post to post, for it was the duty
of the sentinels to raise this cry from time to time upon their
periodical watch, that the host of the Crusaders might always
have in their remembrance the purpose of their being in arms.
But though Conrade was familiar with the custom, and had heard
the warning voice on all former occasions as a matter of habit,
yet it came at the present moment so strongly in contact with his
own train of thought, that it seemed a voice from Heaven warning
him against the iniquity which his heart meditated. He looked
around anxiously, as if, like the patriarch of old, though from
very different circumstances, he was expecting some ram caught in
a thicket some substitution for the sacrifice which his comrade
proposed to offer, not to the Supreme Being, but to the Moloch of
their own ambition. As he looked, the broad folds of the ensign
of England, heavily distending itself to the failing night-breeze, caught his eye. It was displayed upon an
artificial
mound, nearly in the midst of the camp, which perhaps of old some
Hebrew chief or champion had chosen as a memorial of his place of
rest. If so, the name was now forgotten, and the Crusaders had
christened it Saint George's Mount, because from that commanding
height the banner of England was supereminently displayed, as if
an emblem of sovereignty over the many distinguished, noble, and
even royal ensigns, which floated in lower situations.

A quick intellect like that of Conrade catches ideas from the
glance of a moment. A single look on the standard seemed to
dispel the uncertainty of mind which had affected him. He walked
to his pavilion with the hasty and determined step of one who has
adopted a plan which he is resolved to achieve, dismissed the
almost princely train who waited to attend him, and, as he
committed himself to his couch, muttered his amended resolution,
that the milder means are to be tried before the more desperate
are resorted to.

"To-morrow," he said, "I sit at the board of the Archduke of
Austria. We will see what can be done to advance our purpose
before prosecuting the dark suggestions of this Templar."

CHAPTER XI.

One thing is certain in our Northern land--
Allow that birth or valour, wealth or wit,
Give each precedence to their possessor,
Envy, that follows on such eminence,
As comes the lyme-hound on the roebuck's trace,
Shall pull them down each one. SIR DAVID LINDSAY.

Leopold, Grand Duke of Austria, was the first possessor of that
noble country to whom the princely rank belonged. He had been
raised to the ducal sway in the German Empire on account of his
near relationship to the Emperor, Henry the Stern, and held under
his government the finest provinces which are watered by the
Danube. His character has been stained in history on account of
one action of violence and perfidy, which arose out of these very
transactions in the Holy Land; and yet the shame of having made
Richard a prisoner when he returned through his dominions;
unattended and in disguise, was not one which flowed from
Leopold's natural disposition. He was rather a weak and a vain
than an ambitious or tyrannical prince. His mental powers
resembled the qualities of his person. He was tall, strong, and
handsome, with a complexion in which red and white were strongly
contrasted, and had long flowing locks of fair hair. But there
was an awkwardness in his gait which seemed as if his size was
not animated by energy sufficient to put in motion such a mass;
and in the same manner, wearing the richest dresses, it always
seemed as if they became him not. As a prince, he appeared too
little familiar with his own dignity; and being often at a loss
how to assert his authority when the occasion demanded it, he
frequently thought himself obliged to recover, by acts and
expressions of ill-timed violence, the ground which might have
been easily and gracefully maintained by a little more presence
of mind in the beginning of the controversy.

Not only were these deficiencies visible to others, but the
Archduke himself could not but sometimes entertain a painful
consciousness that he was not altogether fit to maintain and
assert the high rank which he had acquired; and to this was
joined the strong, and sometimes the just, suspicion that others
esteemed him lightly accordingly.

When he first joined the Crusade, with a most princely
attendance, Leopold had desired much to enjoy the friendship and
intimacy of Richard, and had made such advances towards
cultivating his regard as the King of England ought, in policy,
to have received and answered. But the Archduke, though not
deficient in bravery, was so infinitely inferior to Coeur de Lion
in that ardour of mind which wooed danger as a bride, that the
King very soon held him in a certain degree of contempt.
Richard, also, as a Norman prince, a people with whom temperance
was habitual, despised the inclination of the German for the
pleasures of the table, and particularly his liberal indulgence
in the use of wine. For these, and other personal reasons, the
King of England very soon looked upon the Austrian Prince with
feelings of contempt, which he was at no pains to conceal or
modify, and which, therefore, were speedily remarked, and
returned with deep hatred, by the suspicious Leopold. The
discord between them was fanned by the secret and politic arts of
Philip of France, one of the most sagacious monarchs of the time,
who, dreading the fiery and overbearing character of Richard,
considering him as his natural rival, and feeling offended,
moreover, at the dictatorial manner in which he, a vassal of
France for his Continental domains, conducted himself towards his
liege lord, endeavoured to strengthen his own party, and weaken
that of Richard, by uniting the Crusading princes of inferior
degree in resistance to what he termed the usurping authority of
the King of England. Such was the state of politics and opinions
entertained by the Archduke of Austria, when Conrade of
Montserrat resolved upon employing his jealousy of England as the
means of dissolving, or loosening at least, the league of the
Crusaders.

The time which he chose for his visit was noon; and the pretence,
to present the Archduke with some choice Cyprus wine which had
lately fallen into his hands, and discuss its comparative merits
with those of Hungary and of the Rhine. An intimation of his
purpose was, of course, answered by a courteous invitation to
partake of the Archducal meal, and every effort was used to
render it fitting the splendour of a sovereign prince. Yet the
refined taste of the Italian saw more cumbrous profusion than
elegance or splendour in the display of provisions under which
the board groaned.

The Germans, though still possessing the martial and frank
character of their ancestors--who subdued the Roman Empire--had
retained withal no slight tinge of their barbarism. The
practices and principles of chivalry were not carried to such a
nice pitch amongst them as amongst the French and English
knights, nor were they strict observers of the prescribed rules
of society, which among those nations were supposed to express
the height of civilization. Sitting at the table of the
Archduke, Conrade was at once stunned and amused with the clang
of Teutonic sounds assaulting his ears on all sides,
notwithstanding the solemnity of a princely banquet. Their dress
seemed equally fantastic to him, many of the Austrian nobles
retaining their long beards, and almost all of them wearing short
jerkins of various colours, cut, and flourished, and fringed in a
manner not common in Western Europe.

Numbers of dependants, old and young, attended in the pavilion,
mingled at times in the conversation, received from their masters
the relics of the entertainment, and devoured them as they stood
behind the backs of the company. Jesters, dwarfs, and minstrels
were there in unusual numbers, and more noisy and intrusive than
they were permitted to be in better regulated society. As they
were allowed to share freely in the wine, which flowed round in
large quantities, their licensed tumult was the more excessive.

All this while, and in the midst of a clamour and confusion which
would better have become a German tavern during a fair than the
tent of a sovereign prince, the Archduke was waited upon with a
minuteness of form and observance which showed how anxious he was
to maintain rigidly the state and character to which his
elevation had entitled him. He was served on the knee, and only
by pages of noble blood, fed upon plate of silver, and drank his
Tokay and Rhenish wines from a cup of gold. His ducal mantle was
splendidly adorned with ermine, his coronet might have equalled
in value a royal crown, and his feet, cased in velvet shoes (the
length of which, peaks included, might be two feet), rested upon
a footstool of solid silver. But it served partly to intimate
the character of the man, that, although desirous to show
attention to the Marquis of Montserrat, whom he had courteously
placed at his right hand, he gave much more of his attention to
his SPRUCH-SPRECHER--that is, his man of conversation, or SAYER-OF-SAYINGS --who stood behind
the Duke's right shoulder.

This personage was well attired in a cloak and doublet of black
velvet, the last of which was decorated with various silver and
gold coins stitched upon it, in memory of the munificent princes
who had conferred them, and bearing a short staff to which also
bunches of silver coins were attached by rings, which he jingled
by way of attracting attention when he was about to say anything
which he judged worthy of it. This person's capacity in the
household of the Archduke was somewhat betwixt that of a minstrel
and a counsellor. He was by turns a flatterer, a poet, and an
orator; and those who desired to be well with the Duke generally
studied to gain the good-will of the SPRUCH-SPRECHER.

Lest too much of this officer's wisdom should become tiresome,
the Duke's other shoulder was occupied by his HOFF-NARR, or
court-jester, called Jonas Schwanker, who made almost as much
noise with his fool's cap, bells, and bauble, as did the orator,
or man of talk, with his jingling baton.

These two personages threw out grave and comic nonsense
alternately; while their master, laughing or applauding them
himself, yet carefully watched the countenance of his noble
guest, to discern what impressions so accomplished a cavalier
received from this display of Austrian eloquence and wit. It is
hard to say whether the man of wisdom or the man of folly
contributed most to the amusement of the party, or stood highest
in the estimation of their princely master; but the sallies of
both seemed excellently well received. Sometimes they became
rivals for the conversation, and clanged their flappers in
emulation of each other with a most alarming contention; but, in
general, they seemed on such good terms, and so accustomed to
support each other's play, that the SPRUCH-SPRECHER often
condescended to follow up the jester's witticisms with an
explanation, to render them more obvious to the capacity of the
audience, so that his wisdom became a sort of commentary on the
buffoon's folly. And sometimes, in requital, the HOFF-NARR, with
a pithy jest, wound up the conclusion of the orator's tedious
harangue.

Whatever his real sentiments might be, Conrade took especial care
that his countenance should express nothing but satisfaction with
what he heard, and smiled or applauded as zealously, to all
appearance, as the Archduke himself at the solemn folly of the
SPRUCH-SPRECHER and the gibbering wit of the fool. In fact, he
watched carefully until the one or other should introduce some
topic favourable to the purpose which was uppermost in his mind.

It was not long ere the King of England was brought on the carpet
by the jester, who had been accustomed to consider Dickon of the
Broom (which irreverent epithet he substituted for Richard
Plantagenet) as a subject of mirth, acceptable and inexhaustible.
The orator, indeed, was silent, and it was only when applied to
by Conrade that he observed, "The GENISTA, or broom-plant, was an
emblem of humility; and it would be well when those who wore it
would remember the warning."

The allusion to the illustrious badge of Plantagenet was thus
rendered sufficiently manifest, and Jonas Schwanker observed that
they who humbled themselves had been exalted with a vengeance.
"Honour unto whom honour is due," answered the Marquis of
Montserrat. "We have all had some part in these marches and
battles, and methinks other princes might share a little in the
renown which Richard of England engrosses amongst minstrels and
MINNE-SINGERS. Has no one of the joyeuse science here present a
song in praise of the royal Archduke of Austria, our princely
entertainer?"

Three minstrels emulously stepped forward with voice and harp.
Two were silenced with difficulty by the SPRUCH-SPRECHER, who
seemed to act as master of the revels, and a hearing was at
length procured for the poet preferred, who sung, in high German,
stanzas which may be thus translated:--

"What brave chief shall head the forces,
Where the red-cross legions gather?
Best of horsemen, best of horses,
Highest head and fairest feather."

Here the orator, jingling his staff, interrupted the bard to
intimate to the party--what they might not have inferred from the
description--that their royal host was the party indicated, and a
full-crowned goblet went round to the acclamation, HOCH LEBE DER
HERZOG LEOPOLD! Another stanza followed:--

"Ask not Austria why, 'midst princes,
Still her banner rises highest;
Ask as well the strong-wing'd eagle,
Why to heaven he soars the highest."

"The eagle," said the expounder of dark sayings, "is the
cognizance of our noble lord the Archduke--of his royal Grace, I
would say--and the eagle flies the highest and nearest to the sun
of all the feathered creation."

"The lion hath taken a spring above the eagle," said Conrade
carelessly.

The Archduke reddened, and fixed his eyes on the speaker, while
the SPRUCH-SPRECHER answered, after a minute's consideration,
"The Lord Marquis will pardon me--a lion cannot fly above an
eagle, because no lion hath got wings."

"Except the lion of Saint Mark," responded the jester.

"That is the Venetian's banner," said the Duke; "but assuredly
that amphibious race, half nobles, half merchants, will not dare
to place their rank in comparison with ours."

"Nay, it was not of the Venetian lion that I spoke," said the
Marquis of Montserrat, "but of the three lions passant of
England. Formerly, it is said, they were leopards; but now they
are become lions at all points, and must take precedence of
beast, fish, or fowl, or woe worth the gainstander."

"Mean you seriously, my lord?" said the Austrian, now
considerably flushed with wine. "Think you that Richard of
England asserts any pre-eminence over the free sovereigns who
have been his voluntary allies in this Crusade?"

"I know not but from circumstances," answered Conrade. "Yonder
hangs his banner alone in the midst of our camp, as if he were
king and generalissimo of our whole Christian army."

"And do you endure this so patiently, and speak of it so coldly?"
said the Archduke.

"Nay, my lord," answered Conrade, "it cannot concern the poor
Marquis of Montserrat to contend against an injury patiently
submitted to by such potent princes as Philip of France and
Leopold of Austria. What dishonour you are pleased to submit to
cannot be a disgrace to me."

Leopold closed his fist, and struck on the table with violence.

"I have told Philip of this," he said. "I have often told him
that it was our duty to protect the inferior princes against the
usurpation of this islander; but he answers me ever with cold
respects of their relations together as suzerain and vassal, and
that it were impolitic in him to make an open breach at this time
and period."

"The world knows that Philip is wise," said Conrade, "and will
judge his submission to be policy. Yours, my lord, you can
yourself alone account for; but I doubt not you have deep reasons
for submitting to English domination."

"I submit!" said Leopold indignantly--"I, the Archduke of
Austria, so important and vital a limb of the Holy Roman Empire
--I submit myself to this king of half an island, this grandson
of a Norman bastard! No, by Heaven! The camp and all
Christendom shall see that I know how to right myself, and
whether I yield ground one inch to the English bandog.--Up, my
lieges and merry men; up and follow me! We will--and that
without losing one instant--place the eagle of Austria where she
shall float as high as ever floated the cognizance of king or
kaiser."

With that he started from his seat, and amidst the tumultuous
cheering of his guests and followers, made for the door of the
pavilion, and seized his own banner, which stood pitched before
it.

"Nay, my lord," said Conrade, affecting to interfere, "it will
blemish your wisdom to make an affray in the camp at this hour;
and perhaps it is better to submit to the usurpation of England a
little longer than to--"

"Not an hour, not a moment longer," vociferated the Duke; and
with the banner in his hand, and followed by his shouting guests
and attendants, marched hastily to the central mount, from which
the banner of England floated, and laid his hand on the standard-spear, as if to pluck it from the ground.

"My master, my dear master!" said Jonas Schwanker, throwing his
arms about the Duke, "take heed--lions have teeth--"

"And eagles have claws," said the Duke, not relinquishing his
hold on the banner-staff, yet hesitating to pull it from the
ground.

The speaker of sentences, notwithstanding such was his
occupation, had nevertheless some intervals of sound sense. He
clashed his staff loudly, and Leopold, as if by habit, turned his
head towards his man of counsel.

"The eagle is king among the fowls of the air," said the SPRUCH-SPRECHER, "as is the lion among the
beasts of the field--each has
his dominion, separated as wide as England and Germany. Do thou,
noble eagle, no dishonour to the princely lion, but let your
banners remain floating in peace side by side."

Leopold withdrew his hand from the banner-spear, and looked round
for Conrade of Montserrat, but he saw him not; for the Marquis,
so soon as he saw the mischief afoot, had withdrawn himself from
the crowd, taking care, in the first place, to express before
several neutral persons his regret that the Archduke should have
chosen the hours after dinner to avenge any wrong of which he
might think he had a right to complain. Not seeing his guest, to
whom he wished more particularly to have addressed himself, the
Archduke said aloud that, having no wish to breed dissension in
the army of the Cross, he did but vindicate his own privileges
and right to stand upon an equality with the King of England,
without desiring, as he might have done, to advance his banner
--which he derived from emperors, his progenitors--above that of
a mere descendant of the Counts of Anjou; and in the meantime he
commanded a cask of wine to be brought hither and pierced, for
regaling the bystanders, who, with tuck of drum and sound of
music, quaffed many a carouse round the Austrian standard.

This disorderly scene was not acted without a degree of noise,
which alarmed the whole camp.

The critical hour had arrived at which the physician, according
to the rules of his art, had predicted that his royal patient
might be awakened with safety, and the sponge had been applied
for that purpose; and the leech had not made many observations
ere he assured the Baron of Gilsland that the fever had entirely
left his sovereign, and that, such was the happy strength of his
constitution, it would not be even necessary, as in most cases,
to give a second dose of the powerful medicine. Richard himself
seemed to be of the same opinion, for, sitting up and rubbing his
eyes, he demanded of De Vaux what present sum of money was in the
royal coffers.

The baron could not exactly inform him of the amount.

"It matters not," said Richard; "be it greater or smaller,
bestow it all on this learned leech, who hath, I trust, given me
back again to the service of the Crusade. If it be less than a
thousand byzants, let him have jewels to make it up."

"I sell not the wisdom with which Allah has endowed me," answered
the Arabian physician; "and be it known to you, great Prince,
that the divine medicine of which you have partaken would lose
its effects in my unworthy hands did I exchange its virtues
either for gold or diamonds."

"The Physician refuseth a gratuity!" said De Vaux to himself.
"This is more extraordinary than his being a hundred years old."

"Thomas de Vaux," said Richard, "thou knowest no courage but what
belongs to the sword, no bounty and virtue but what are used in
chivalry. I tell thee that this Moor, in his independence, might
set an example to them who account themselves the flower of
knighthood."

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